Chapter Two

“Holy fuck,” I whispered as we circled into a landing.

Gunrel, of course, heard me and chuckled. “It”s beautiful, isn”t it?”

“Yeah, that”s an understatement.”

We had flown over a beach of butter-yellow sand, then a length of thick jungle before we came to a vast city. Enleran, the crown city of Latur. It was magnificent and so different from Riscavik. Most of the buildings were made of wood, with semi-enclosed terraces along the upper floors, framed in delicate arches with walls that were cut through by designs to let air through. Every surface that could be carved was, and those arches were special too. They didn”t simply curve smoothly, like normal arches. Oh, no, these arches had little half circles cut out of the top and were angled inward two-thirds of the way up before bulging out again. Sort of like a keyhole. Sorry for going on, they were impressive arches.

The whole damn city was impressive, with sandstone streets and enclosed courtyards full of tropical plants. I spotted three varieties of palm and even a date tree! Oh, and there was a bird of vanity—a plant, not an actual bird. I had never seen one in person, but there was no mistaking the bright orange, hardy petals that formed a sort of crest for the “beak” of brilliant blue. Amazing. I couldn”t wait to get an up-close look at one.

But the city and its plant life paled in comparison to the royal castle.

Rising in the middle of it all was an edifice of stone that sprawled the length and width of several city blocks. The central portion, what I would have called the keep in a normal castle, was a tiered cake of many layers, precisely square. There were no castle wings exactly, the castle just spread out from that main cake into much lower buildings. But the precision remained, with every building constructed square or rectangle and connected to the central one with covered paths that formed grids. This would have been boring had it not been for the staggering amount of cylindrical towers rising from every boxy structure.

The central cake building was mostly a tower, albeit an enormous one. Its square base went up a couple of stories before it sprouted towers at each corner, then a main tower rose from their center, the surrounding space used as a terrace, open to the elements and spotted with delicate iron furniture and plants. The central tower looked to be maybe two or three stories. Hard to tell, what with the domed cap topping it. All the towers were topped with domes—very phallic, and I was good with that. But those outlying penis-spires had nothing on the big bastard in the middle. The thick dick of a tower was circled by more slender shafts, each of them ribbed with ridges like an exotic beast. Were dragon dicks ribbed? I really wanted to find out.

Then I saw him.

A man stood on the topmost level of the central tower. The domed roof was cut by those pretty arches all the way around, emitting sunlight into what I could now see was a massive bedroom. The man, who I assumed was the Dragon King of Latur, His Indifferentness himself, stood surveying his kingdom with the look of a steward. Very critical, but in a contemplative way. Not at all possessive or proud.

He looked up.

My whole body went tight. My heart raced in the middle of that tightness and breath left me. I”d never reacted to someone like that before. Not even the King of Sken. Dragon, human, fucking Raltven, no man, and especially no woman, had ever made my body feel as if it were a felled tree, cut down and still falling.

I couldn”t look away.

He had white hair. I don”t mean platinum blond. It was white like the petals of the elvaren flowers that only grew in the mountains of Sken. No hint of yellow or even blue. Just white. And it flowed around his broad shoulders as if they were mountains, parting around them to head down to his waist in a thick, wavy cascade. But he didn”t look like a mountain, wasn”t nearly as big as the other Dragons I”d met. Granted, some Dragons were smaller than others, but Dragon Kings had to fight to win their thrones, and the King of Sken had been huge. This guy was . . . he was imposing, not massive. Tall and muscular, but in a sleek and graceful way. Yeah, I could tell he was graceful even with him standing still. More of a birch than an oak, but just as strong. Power practically radiated from him, even at that distance.

His skin was pale—unexpected for someone of that region. He should have been tanned, maybe even dark bronze. But there was only a hint of copper to his creamy complexion and some soft blushing at his lips and cheeks. Although his hair was white, his eyebrows were dark blond, almost brown, standing out against that pale skin. A dream. I was staring at a dream come to life, and part of me wondered if I was hallucinating. Maybe he was a ghost.

Then we coasted closer, and the ghost king moved his head to keep staring at me. He stared harder. We flew close enough for me to see his eyes, but just for a moment. A moment was all I needed to know that he was real, and I really wanted him.

Teal. His eyes were a vivid teal blue. So bright that they appeared to be glowing. And then he was gone. Or I was, rather. Gunrel flew us into a curve, going to the front of the castle to glide over several pools. Not a moat, mind you. These were man-made pools sectioned off into a precise grid by stone walkways, some of those paths extending into the center of the pools to widen into round platforms that held gazebos. I spotted fish in the largest pool to the left, but the other two pools on the right were clear. All three had steps going down to them from the largest walkway that ran from the castle”s main steps to the courtyard where Gunrel landed. Around it all—pools and structures—was a huge stone wall. An arched gate of gilded iron pierced the wall but was guarded by soldiers.

Gunrel set me down, and I scurried to my feet, functioning purely on instinct. I knew the procedure well. The dragon puts you down, and you run to get out of his way so he can land—and you don”t get squished. I settled my pack on my shoulder and ran for the walkway that crossed the pools. Gunrel set my trunk and his pack on the ground beside the stone arch that fronted the walkway, then landed.

I was still dumbstruck by the Dragon King, but the sight of Gunrel shifting into his man”s body jolted me out of my daze. It”s not something you can watch without reacting to it. That enormous body shimmered and shrunk, scales vanishing, and all the poky bits sucking in. Well, almost all the poky bits. I hurried to Gunrel”s pack and pulled out a set of clothes for him. By the time he was a man, I was standing beside him, holding out the clothing. And not looking at his remaining poky bits. Mostly.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” Gunrel surprised me by using my name.

“You”re welcome.” I grinned. “Thank you for the ride.”

As he fastened his pants in place, he glanced at me and grunted. “Be careful here. You”re handsome for a human, and there will be those who will want to use you to sate their lust.”

I lifted my brows at his brutal honesty. “Uh, sure. I”ll be careful. Thank you, Sir Gunrel.”

He pulled on a thin cotton tunic, the style more streamlined than the tunics we wore in Sken, but with a wider bottom and buttons down the front. He belted it with a wide sash and grunted again. “Are you a lover of women?”

“Me?” I asked, then laughed boisterously.

Gunrel frowned.

I cleared my throat. “No, I”m about as gay as they can make ”em. Why? Are you looking to use me to sate your lust?” I waggled my brows at him.

Gunrel grunted, slung his pack over his shoulder, and picked up my trunk. With one hand. And it was not a small trunk. Then he walked past me.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. Then louder, “Is that a yes?” I ran up beside him.

Gunrel may not have made my heart stop, but he was a fine-looking man with dirty blond hair and a pair of beautiful green eyes. He was also big enough to toss me around like a toy. And I loved that.

He looked sideways at me, his lips twitching, then said, “You should weigh your options first, human. You”ll have many offers by tonight.”

“Oh, we”re back to ”human,” are we?” I rolled my eyes. “You lose points for that.”

Gunrel”s lips almost lost their battle to stay firm. “Points?”

“Yeah, you know, fuck points.”

He jerked to a halt. “Did you just say fuck points?”

“Uh-huh.” I kept going, sauntering past him so my ass swished. I had a great ass, and I knew it. “Points I give potential lovers to decide on who to fuck.” I looked back over my shoulder to find him staring at my ass. “And just so we”re clear. I”m a bottom.”

“You are indeed,” he said under his breath.

I jerked my head forward before he saw me grin. “Are you coming?”

“Not yet,” Gunrel muttered and stepped up beside me.

Oh, yeah, I was going to have a glorious adventure in Latur. The Dragon King was probably out of my reach, but I could dream about that dream man or even fantasize about him when someone else had me beneath them. When you”re on your hands and knees, you can imagine whoever you want.

I had a feeling King Shaleros would be featured in all of my future fuck dreams.