Page 78 of Changelings
Leaning down to kiss Imogen’s temple, Balar hustled to join the harpy.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming—and for being patient with me over these past months.” The crowd chuckled with good humor. “First, thank you for your warm welcome to my beautiful mate, Imogen.”
The crowd turned to look at her, still standing with the dragons. Her eyes went wide, and he could see how much she wanted to tug her hair into her face, but she stood her ground. The villagers clapped and cheered, calling more greetings and well-wishes to her.
“Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to feast. So let’s get these votes out of the way. First, the official village name. Blue stones for Feathertown, red stones for Otherton, and yellow for Dannan. Pick up the stone and place it in the counting basket.”
Balar watched on as the crowd formed orderly lines to pick their stone and cast their vote. He cleared his throat when Maritza leaned a little too far over the basket, no doubt wanting to see how her contender was doing.
When the others had finished, he and Maritza both threw in their stones. Blue for Maritza, of course, but Balar chose yellow. He’d been touched to know that Soren of all people had recommended Dannan, from the mantii word forhaven.
Taking up the basket, he replaced it with an empty one. “As I count, please now cast your votes for mayor. Blue stones for Maritza, red stones for Briseis, and yellow stones for Ema. Candidates, please cast your votes and leave the square until called.” No one needed Maritza breathing down their neck as they voted.
Balar counted the first vote, the candidates voted then left, and the other villagers lined up again to cast their second vote.
By the time they were done and the candidates returned, Balar was pleased to announce, “As for the village name, I’m pleased to welcome everyone to Dannan!”
A cheer rang out from the crowd, and Balar picked up the second basket. “Let’s eat!” he declared.
As Balar counted the second vote, hot drinks were passed around. He was happy to note, from the corner of his eye, that his brothers were taking care of Imogen, bringing her a drink and staying in a loose circle around her so that others couldn’t crowd her too close.
In the end, there were almost as many yellow stones as red, but at final count—“Your attention please!” he called. “Help me congratulate and welcome our next mayor, Briseis!”
Gasps and cheers went through the crowd. All eyes searched for the dragoness, and it was Theron who, with a wing, had to usher her forwards. Briseis looked positively shocked, and as Balar congratulated her, she couldn’t seem to stop rapidly blinking.
“Congratulations, Briseis,” he said just loud enough for her to hear. “You will make a fine mayor.”
Briseis smiled, hands going to hold her cheeks. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured.
“You will take excellent care of Dannan, I know this for certain.”
There were a few papers to sign that’d be sent to Dundúran,and Balar would need to give her the village charter—now with the name filled in. But that was all for later. For now, it was time to drink and celebrate.
Panting, Balar strode from the bonfire to riotous applause, back to where he belonged—Imogen’s side. Smacks of appreciation and good cheer landed on his shoulders, but he hardly felt them.
After some of the orcs had shown off one of their impressive mating dances, Balar and his brothers decided they weren’t to be outdone. With the drums already out, they showed the whole village what a mantii dance could be. Although, in truth, Balar danced only for Imogen.
He loved the way she watched him, the firelight reflected in her eyes. She seemed so entranced that she eventually forgot to clap along with the crowd and the rhythm.
Heart pounding, Balar led his brothers through the movements. They tumbled and roared, Kiri went sailing through the air, they beat the ground with their paws and swept it with their wings. His pulse and breath kept time to the clapping, his tail whipping behind him as they pounced and leapt.
His blood sang hotly through the dance, and when it was done, he downright prowled right for his mate.
Ibás, he needed to calm down. He’d frighten her with his predatory hunger.
But Imogen, his minx of a mate, trailed her fingers down his bare chest, feeling how his skin ran hot and his breath came quickly. “Why don’t you show me your cabin now?” she said.
Balar’s heart kicked in his chest—and his cock with interest behind his kilt.
Kud, was that the best idea?
It didn’t matter, because in the next moment, he was leading her through the shadows to his cabin.
The little home was dark, of course, the fireplace empty and cold. Balar went to light a wick for the lantern but found his paws shaking too badly.
“Here,” Imogen murmured, taking the flint and wick from him. “Are you cold?”
“No.” Plowing his claws through his mane, he admitted, “I didn’t realize having you in my cabin would affect me so.”
