6. Drake

SIX

DRAKE

T he trek back to the mountainous region was an arduous one. The king, along with his dragon shifter comrades, were very capable of flying back to the kingdom. But Thalia and her ailing father, of course, were not capable of flight, nor did Drake believe that the Creation Sorceress would accept such an invitation to ride on his back.

Nor would she allow her father to do such a thing. She was fiercely protective, and the king could see why. The old man was far more ill than he had anticipated. His willowy frame bounced along with the horse-drawn carriage as if being punched from the ground below. Drake sat opposite them in the wagon, envisioning the elder being held up by marionette strings.

It would take days for them to return to the kingdom at the pace they were moving. Though it incensed him, it was the only way. He had the Creation Sorceress in his grasp, and he hadn't taken his attention from her since they'd left the meager village nearly twelve hours before.

"We have to stop soon," Thalia said. "My father can't sleep in this carriage. He needs proper rest."

The king offered her no rebuttal. He had been trying to find a way to earn her favor during the entire trip, inquiring about her spells and practices, and as to the moment when her abilities flowered. All that he was met with was a tight-lipped scowl, and prickly, one-word replies.

His dragon was not happy with it. As much as she appeared to loathe him, he wanted her, with every terrible second that labored by. She had changed into a dress that clung to the contours of her anatomy like a silk glove, ending bluntly at her knees. It wasn't nearly as tattered as the one he'd found her in.

The thoughts Drake was having weren't appropriate in the slightest, but he was practiced in the art of enshrouding his expression with grave stoicism. He accepted her pleas for rest and ordered the driver to stop at the next village to inquire about an inn.

The carriage halted a few minutes later inside a quaint town. It was populated by both humans and supernaturals alike, the kind of environment that royals within his council tended to mock. It meant nothing to Drake himself, whose only golden rule was the practice of harmony.

The driver found a small inn and asked for the innkeeper's discretion about the king's visit. They guaranteed his silence with a stealthy palming of gold coins concealed in a black leather pouch.

The king pulled up the hood of his cloak and stepped out of the carriage. The air was damp, the scent of rain lingering. Streep lamps flickered a dull cream yellow along the muddied streets, light throwing itself across the sheen surface of puddles.

Drake drew the door of the wagon open, then held out his hand. Thalia had pulled on her cape and was tying it to her neck as she spoke in the dark.

"I will help my father," she said curtly.

"Let me help you first," Drake retorted.

She peered out onto the mucky ground, then took his hand begrudgingly. The king felt the urge to lift her by the waist but didn't. She stepped out in boots that ran up her calves and disappeared into the hem of her tunic, splashing dirt up against the material.

She whipped her hand away immediately, then stood at the carriage for her father.

"Come on, Father. I've got you. We're going to rest now."

Drake helped. Though Evanth was sylphlike, he was higher up in the carriage, and could easily trap Thalia under his dead weight if he were to fall. She stubbornly held onto one hand as he took each step, legs quaking as if learning to walk for the first time.

The king held him with the other, sturdy, and unwavering. Once that was dealt with, they were led inside by the driver and innkeeper. Drake ordered his men to tuck the carriage away and keep their eyes open for any sign of an ambush.

It wasn't likely that Lucien was nearby, but he had to be perpetually vigilant. Once they were taken to their rooms, which were grouped together in a nook at the end of the hall, the king invited them to dine at the inn tavern.

Drake thought Thalia's head might pop off with how hard she shook it.

"There is no possible way. We have traveled too long. Can't you see that my father is sick?"

He spoke gruffly at her, standing in the doorway of his room, his cloak dripping faintly with rainfall.

"You have yet to allow me to forget."

Thalia ignored him, helping her father out of his clothes and draping his arm around her neck to limp over to the wash basin. As cantankerous as she was toward him, Drake could feel the love that resided in her, existing plainly for the comfort of her father.

"I will have meals sent up," he grunted. "Enjoy your slumber."

The king shut the door and lumbered toward his own room, which was shabby compared to the luxury and opulence he was used to, but it would do. His men had brought in his belongings, then Thalia's and Evanth's. He sat on the bed hard, forcing it to rattle against the thin wall.

Drake's frustration was getting the best of him. He understood why what he was doing didn't seem appealing to the Creation Sorceress, at first. But he had been generous, hadn't he? He had provided her the solace of a dry and quiet night's stay. He had offered his hand to her to avoid soiling her charming tunic. What else could she possibly require from a king seeking to do his solemn duty?

His dragon lamented and longed to be assuaged of its plight.

She must be ours!

It wasn't going to work that way. She had to consent to the marking. Plus, Drake was absent of the desire to force himself upon a woman.

He rose from bed, the mattress rocking against the wall roughly. He thumped down the steps of the inn and walked briskly out into the night, skipping his meal entirely.

Drake was far too flustered to settle down in his room, knowing that his fated mate was on the other side of the flimsy wall. He strode far enough from town so no one on the street would see him, and then he stripped down and let himself shift.

Flitting scales of purple, metallic silver, and a dusting of myrtle green burst from his skin as he swelled nearly ten feet into the air. His neck elongated, his claws protruded, wings sprouting from his back like suffocating tendrils. When the transformation was complete, he let out a menacing roar, head craned up into the sky, bathed in lustrous moonlight.

When he was done, he opened his eyes and found he could see the inn through the trees. It sat like a lonely ship at sea, the lamplight drawing him in like a siren's song.

He ambled, captivated, toward the glow. He realized slowly that it was Thalia's room he was peering into, and that she stood at the window staring at him.

Drake went to her cautiously, doing what he could not to scare her away. She opened the window she was standing before, her beautiful eyes glittering with curiosity.

"I… I've never seen a dragon before," she muttered.

The king responded telepathically, causing the witch to jolt with surprise.

Would you like to take a ride? Fly with me, gaze over the lands?

She blinked at him heedfully, then looked over her shoulder at her father. He was turned away from them, dozing.

Thalia continued to speak aloud, whispering to the mighty beast that lingered at her open window.

"I don't want to wake him," she said.

You won't. Don't be afraid. I would never let anything happen to you, Creation Sorceress. You are far too precious to me.

She took one last glance at her father, then opened the window wider, straddling the pane.

Drake crouched and shifted his body so it was easier for her to mount him. She was still wearing the tunic but had removed the tights and calf-hugging boots. When she straddled his neck and grabbed hold of his scales, her cool, bare skin was folded around him.

Hold on as tight as you can. You won't hurt me.

The truth was that she could hurt him if she wanted to, especially if she dug her nails beneath the sheath of the scales, and tried to pluck at their armored surface. He'd fought an enemy once. She used a blade on him, and the pain was immeasurable, imprinted like a branding on in his memory.

But Thalia did nothing of the sort. She leaned forward on his head, flattening her stomach and breasts against him. The king felt a hot current flow through his dragon body and leaped into the night sky to escape it.

Her thighs tightened against his neck for a moment, but then soon enough, she began to ease. He soared over the darkened landscape smoothly, floating along the cool gusts of damp air. The moon shined down on them as did a scattering of winking stars, casting the houses below in a gleaming white silhouette.

They were not in the sky very long, but Drake felt a warmth spread through to his heart. She whispered into his ear that she wanted to get back to her father, the subdued beat of her heart a melody to the king.

He did as she asked, leaving her at the window where he'd found her. Once on solid ground, she turned and looked deep into his dragon's eyes.

Carefully, she reached out and laid a hand on his long snout. She stroked it softly. Drake in his dragon form gently nuzzled into the touch. He closed his eyes slightly, reveling in the feeling of her palm against his scales.

It was the most intimate moment he'd ever shared with a woman.

"Thank you," she said, biting her lip. "That was incredible."

You are very welcome, Sorceress. Get some rest.

The gold in her eyes flashed like a shooting star. She closed the window and then snuffed out the lamplight, leaving the king gnawing for more.