5. Vidar

Was there anything more humiliating for an alpha than wasting away to such a state that he needed an omega to help him walk?

And not just any omega.

Hisomega.

Myomega. Lianna. Mine.

"Are you good?"

Was I good? I turned my self-loathing upon the stars as I slouched over her. No, darling one, I'm not good. I'm fucking pathetic.

"It's not me I worry about here?—"

"I'm stronger than I look," she insisted with a grunt, squirming beneath the heft of my arm across her shoulders. "Seriously."

Pathetic. I had no doubt she was strong at heart, for she had proven her valor already, her boldness, her caring nature. But that didn't change our size discrepancies, and that was what mattered now. Left arm perched on her bare shoulders, mindful of her hair, I did my best not to put all my dead weight on her, but that proved tougher than expected. Legs weak, we shuffled up the beach at a glacial pace. Useless body. Useless pride. A useless alpha for a perfect omega.

An omega who was clearly caught in her own struggle. I had scented it—her—long before we crashed into the bay. Her need. Our connection. The spark of a fated mate bond falling perfectly into place. All that and more summoned me from my miserable slumber, and it swaddled us both now.

My omega's perfume was cozy and warm, with subtle notes of cardamom amidst the vanilla and sandalwood. She had a sweet side too, akin to pale violets preening on a summer's day. She complemented my own scent profile, these alpha pheromones beleaguered, struggling to mark the absolute fuck out of her by proximity alone. Lianna smelled divine. There was no other way to put it.

Dragons were accustomed to luxury. We sought it, hunted it, hoarded it until the end of time. My lot collected antiquities and scoured the many realms, forever lusting after indulgences that sang siren songs to our ancient hearts. Our dark desires. Our greed.

I had indulged in many flavors of luxury, all manner of fine goods. I had sampled renowned omegas across the vast sea of time, scenting them, tasting them on a whim—only for a night.

Yet none smelled finer than her.

Lianna's slick was the new gold standard, its scent thick and aromatic, distracting and needy. Slumped over her, I could only imagine how she would taste, longing to feast between her thighs at my leisure, selfish, devouring her until…

Well, we dragons would never be sated; it wasn't in our nature. A dragon always craved more. We loved fiercely, coveted possessively, and guarded the most precious treasure with our lives. While I couldn't speak to the habits of my brethren, I had never kept an omega in all my long life. Never claimed a mate because I knew—for sweet goddess Freya had whispered it in my ear after Queen Frigga of the Aesir gifted me these golden scales—that the wise Norns had woven a true mate into my story.

I needed only be patient. Hardly a virtue among dragonkind, patience, but I was a Deathless God, and I had nothing but duty and time.

Now she was here, the one I had waited so very long to scent, to caress, to hold. Beautiful. Strong. Kind and determined. Bold and stubborn and delicious.

And I could barely walk.

"Here we are," I growled the second we hit the tree line. "You're free, little omega." I all but threw myself off her and grabbed at the nearest pine. Shoving through its ticklish boughs, my hand snapped around its truck. "The trees will carry me the rest of the way, eh, old friend?"

But I leaned too heavy and my old friend buckled immediately, the snap of its trunk so loud Lianna jumped with a lovely little gasp-giggle. Affection and embarrassment warmed in my chest, and, determined not to burden her again, I lurched for another old friend.

Only this time, I tore a branch clean off mid-stumble, barely managing to keep from crashing, naked and semi-erect, into some particularly thorny underbrush.

"Okay, okay, I think the trees are gonna pass on that." Lianna seemed to be battling back a smile as she patted the air and shuffled around the brush. Before I could stop her, she slipped under my arm and wrapped both of hers around my middle. "We'll spare them a maiming."

"Lianna—" How I already adored the simple act of whispering her name. "I apologize for?—"

"Which way?" Sweat shone on her brow as she peered up at me, but the exertion only made her lovelier. Hers was a beauty akin to a dark goddess, her heart-shaped face all sharp lines and defined features. Full lips. An adorable nose. Hooded eyes, her black winged liner smudged beneath a pair of neat brows. That determined gaze I was so taken with was gunmetal blue, the kind that changed with the light, awash with blue and gray and the tender spark of fire.

She was a beautiful creature, yes, but what I was most infatuated with was the steadfast glint in her eyes, the unflinching way she commanded me, cared for me at my lowest. Clearing my throat, my sigh defeated in D-flat, I thrust my chin leftward. "That way."

"Okay." Lianna wheeled us around. "Let's roll."

We struggled through the forest no quicker than we did the beach, pausing here and there to pluck the harsher elements from her dress.

"It's ruined, I'm afraid," I muttered after pruning some brambles from the ragged material by her knees. It was rather lovely when I first saw it in the pit, a luxe mulberry A-line cut. Sleeveless, strapless, the structured bodice was laced at her back, snug to her curves and modest across her cleavage. The skirt flared away from her hips, initially giving her a more exaggerated hourglass figure, and it trailed ever so gently across the ground—once. Now, as Lianna kicked her leg out, she seemed more inclined to just rip the whole thing off and be done with it.

And I would be quite happy to help, of course.

With my teeth.

Huffing hair from her face, she straightened as best she could beneath my arm and shrugged. "That's fine. It's just a dress."

"I'll buy you a new one."

She side-eyed me, smirking. "You don't?—"

"Ten new ones," I growled. It wasn't a suggestion or an offer for her to accept or reject—this was fact. "As many as you like."

Her cheeks pinked in the moonlight, and the soft circling of her perfume intensified, followed swiftly by another waft of sweetness from between her thighs. My mouth watered in response to this ruthless omega assault on the senses, and a low, possessive growl echoed in my chest. It stung, the blasted thing, but in the grip of her perfume, her slick the dangling carrot that kept me putting one exhausted foot in front of the other, pain was but a memory.

Lianna faltered when her gaze briefly met mine, a whine catching in her throat, and I could only imagine what she saw staring back. A starved alpha. A lusting predator. An unwavering dragon marking his mate with his eyes before he claimed her with his bite. For both our sakes, I distracted myself with the island, the familiarity of the landscape.

The trees had grown rounder, thicker, taller since my last visit. The brush laid firmer claim to the forest floor. It was, however, a welcome sight. Nearly a century ago, I had chosen one of many uninhabited isles in the Pacific Northwest for my West Coast hoard. Close enough that it was a quick flight to Cedar Cove, but unremarkable enough, far enough from my current base, that no one would think to scour the maze of green and blue, the scattered islands like flicked paint on a blank canvas. This world was forever in flux, changing, growing, modernizing at an alarming rate this past century alone. Old haunts smelled different with every visit, but here, this—all my secret caches across the globe—forever welcomed me home with a calm, quiet, earthy embrace.

"Lianna?"

"Hmm?"

"What year is it?"

I snarled when she told me. Fifteen summer solstices had passed since my attack. Fifteen years I wasted away in that pit.

"I hear you were down there a long time."

For her, it would have felt like a lifetime. For me, it was but a miserable drop in the ocean of eternity. Still, I rumbled and nodded. "Yes."

"Why didn't you ask for help?"

"Pride." I flashed a hollow grin as she grabbed my dangling wrist, using my arm for support just as I used her. "Stubbornness." Lips twitching into a sneer, I looked to the stars again, some truths so terribly bitter. "Suspicion. Fear, perhaps, to show humans, any of them, precisely where to drive the knife deeper."

I wouldn't die if they did. I couldn't die. Yet I had no interest in some upstart Synn descendant putting me in a coma and doing whatever he willed with my body.

Lianna hugged my torso tighter, but she said nothing. Fair enough. Her heavy breathing, her sweaty face, her torn dress—this trek was starting to exact a heavier toll. My jaw clenched as I rode out another wave of rage and self-loathing.

After all, she couldn't fathom how hard she hit the nail on the head earlier. I had been a martyr of my own making. For these many years, pride and pain forced my hand, and I bullied anyone back who dared so much as look at the injury. When it first happened, I hoped I could sleep it off, but nights turned into days, days to weeks, to months, to years, and I wasted away. Barely eating enough to sustain a fledgling, never mind a dragon of my age, I stewed and slept, miserable, guilt-ridden. The only light was the solstice, a chance to prove I could still perform my sacred duty.

But, really, no one was at fault for my predicament but me.

And now, after scenting my fated mate, I was so fucking useless Lianna had to support me, physically, perhaps even emotionally. Not only that, but she shouldered the burden of reconnecting me with my heart.

An immense task for a little goddess who deserved to be carried in my arms, on my back, my shoulders—however she saw fit to ride me.

Alphas should protect and cherish their omegas. There was no more precious a thing in all the realms now than her. I had waited lifetimes to find the mate written in the stars for me, to scent her for the first time, to bask in a bond so powerful that marking each other was just a formality. The day had arrived. She was here. She was exquisite. And I was a husk.

How she must despise me. Her body responded because it didn't know better, but her heart, her mind, were wild, untamable beasts.

What had I done to impress her? To make her decide that I was worthy of her love?

No. I closed my eyes tight against the flood of guilt and anger. No. Enough. She wouldn't have pulled that bloody bolt free if she thought so little of me.

The island wasn't big, but we were slow going. Every step was a chore. Every tree passed and brush broken a victory.

Until I spotted the mouth of my cave. Nestled amid dark slate stone, the innocuous tunnel delved underground with no great fanfare.

"There." I grunted and wrapped my arm around Lianna to hustle us both along. Once we reached the rock formation, shrouded with curling vine and blanketed by reaching branches, I pulled away and clambered over alone. My omega had led us this far, but she needed to note where to step, and it was my duty to guide her, no matter how exhausted, a rut nipping at my heels the kind this world had never seen.

"Go down feet first," I told her. As I slipped one leg in, I found her standing some distance away over my shoulder, hesitating on the first rock, the easiest one to climb. She licked those delectable lips as she scoped out the route I had just taken, then slowly nodded. Her eyes turned dark and distant without the moonlight. No less alluring, but she wasn't an omega easily read, and I lingered until the weight of that shadowy gaze darted to mine. "I'll be waiting at the bottom."

And with that, I squatted, wincing when my balls—blasted human form—scraped over the rock as I shimmied into the opening. Few dragons held on to the old tradition of crafting a grand, regal entrance to their hoards. History and experience had taught my kind that the brighter the spotlight, the more feet made pilgrimage to pilfer our treasures. I selected this because it was such an awkward fit. Who would expect a burly alpha dragon to scoot and wiggle and worm about down a narrow, biting corridor into the earth.

Many alphas would never suffer the indignity.

The few tight corners I remembered, that I instinctively avoided, weren't as tight this time. I'd lost too much mass, too much heft. Lianna needed me at my prime; when we left this place, my omega sated and thoroughly tended to, I would struggle to fit at all.

My feet hit level ground first, and I grunted and growled as I worked the rest of my lumbering frame out. Then, panting, I braced a hand on the nearby wall, my back to a small, narrow, intentionally claustrophobic tunnel to nowhere.

"Come, Lianna," I called, fighting to keep the bark out of the command. My omega would only ever come to me of her own free will. "I'm here. I'll catch you."

Would she run? Perhaps regret might drive her hand, force her back to the beach in search of ships on the black horizon. My gut twisted at the thought. My dangling hand coiled to a trembling fist.

But then I heard her soft exhales, her puffs and muffled squeaks as she made her way down.

Forced to crouch lest I skin my forehead like I did my balls, I put the last of my strength into seeing this first promise through. As soon as her feet edged out of the opening in the ceiling, I caught her by the calves, then slid my hands to her knees, smirking at her startled yelp. Easy as it would have been to wander higher, simple as breathing, the smeared slick on her thighs beckoning my fingers home, I braced somewhere safe—her hips, on top of her dress—and carefully lowered her by degrees until she was flat on her own two feet again.

"Hold my hand," I urged, threading my fingers through hers. "I imagine humans haven't developed night vision in the last fifteen years?"

She gave a little scoff as her fingers dug into my knuckles. "Uh, no."

"I shall install torches, then." I eased her forward, perfectly adept in total darkness. Of course, in my true form, the world was even clearer, but it didn't exactly fit down here—yet. "For next time."

She made a strangled noise, her eyes briefly closed, her head bowed. Violets peppered her perfume, a sweet, fresh floral that dragged my eager cock from a paltry half-mast to near full salute.

Fortunately, the rational part of my alpha brain stayed the course, determined to replenish my strength, my power—for her. Every step was for her. Every moment resisting her body's flirtations was for my omega's benefit. Protective, possessive, I leaned into the emotions that triggered my pheromones. As we shuffled along the tunnel, me hunched and Lianna clutching my hand, her expression wide-eyed and alert, my scent worked hard to cradle her, calm her, reassure her that with me, she was the safest she had ever been.

Twenty-five paces in, we came to a dead end. Any hunter who made it this far would pound their fists and blow their dynamite to no avail, the wall so solid, enhanced by spells and charms no longer in living memory, that not even a titan could blast through. Excitement shivered through me as I pressed Lianna's palm to it.

"W-what…?"

"Your first taste of warding magic." Hopefully, she could hear my smile, the delight in my words. For I would introduce her to every magic, teach her, indulge her curiosity. Not those Synn boys. Me. "The door only opens to my blood." While I once considered allowing my fated mate's blood to do the same, I'd then have to worry about unscrupulous cunts bleeding her to access my fortune. No. Torn flesh and spilled blood—that fell squarely on me.

I slashed my palm on the dagger imbedded in the wall, blade-side out. I wasn't trying to hide it when I stuck it in there; let the other bastards water the stone with their life if they were so desperate for riches. When I was good and bloody, dripping ichor onto the ground, I pressed my hand to the wall, and Lianna cried out when it vanished from beneath our fingertips.

Keeping a firm grasp on her wrist, I steered her into the thick gray veil on the other side. As the last and most lethal security measure on the island, it was cursed to smother those with ill intentions. Thieves would suffocate on their shredded insides, drown in their own blood, burn with every breath.

Lianna passed through like it was just another Tuesday.

My heart thundered harder for her, for us.

Charcoal gave way to warm orange, the torches I had left burning long ago still bright on the other side, my enchantments holding strong. As we emerged from the fog, I glanced down at her, my pheromones softening, wanting to experience her earnest reaction to what lay ahead. Lianna coughed and brushed the nonexistent smog from her face, then blinked hurriedly as she straightened up to?—

"Oh." She exhaled, her features going slack. "Oh, wow."

"One of my smaller hoards." I said it knowing this was all rather impressive to her—which was the point. We dragons got off on the surprise, the sheer awe of an outsider gazing upon our collection, each item painstakingly gathered, preserved, and treasured. "I keep my larger collections at the edge of the world."

My omega nodded like that made complete sense, arms limp at her sides as she took it all in.

What was once a cramped corridor was now a cavern with gothic arches and cathedral ceilings. Forged of the region's native stone, these main caves were magically enhanced to hold mountains of gold, pearls, jewels, statues, and marble. Immense black iron torches flickered on the columns scattered throughout, suited best to the halls of giants, blanketing the space in firelight. Here, for a good thirty feet left, right, and forward, was the only clear space, cobble detailing beneath our feet and an iron chandelier hanging high above our heads. Hundreds of candles sat unlit but well-worn, their wax dripping sculptures of past visits, the stone underfoot dotted with white droplets.

"My art has its own h-hall," I insisted, lest she think I was one of those magpie types who only hoarded silver and gold. "Clothing in another. Tomes from this continent in a third—cooled for their pleasure."

Releasing her with a waning grin, I sank to the ground, unable to stand as the last of my physical strength slipped away. "I keep the p-pantry charmed so the food is always fresh when I arrive, a bath with running water—one in the old Roman style. Big."

At my prime, I could wax poetic about all my treasures, my design choices—every fleck of seasoning in my cupboards. Now, as my chest ached deeper and my once keen erection deflated, words lolled from my tongue like tepid molasses. "I-if you should need food, the bath, the toilet—I can direct you. You… You will need to do some climbing."

Omegas instinctively ignored the need to eat, to sleep, during a heat, which was why good alphas ensured they stayed fed, hydrated, and rested—and, most importantly, full of knots, seed, and praise. This, however, was no regular heat. Lianna had impressive control over herself, but she still appeared trapped in the throes of a mating heat, the flash-bang of desire and need and desperation that came with scenting her soulmate.

No matter how collected she appeared, she was, without a doubt, overwhelmed and overstimulated. The least I could do was offer the basics before I sent her to fetch my heart.

She ignored all three offers, however, as she gawked at the peaks and valleys of my hoard. "You have more than this?"

"In this location or…" I grimaced when the pain in my chest sharpened. "… in general?"

"Uh, both?"

"Yes." I gritted my teeth and slowly eased onto my back. "To both. A great deal more." She rounded on me, eyebrows practically in her hairline, and I managed a thin grin in return. "I'm a very old dragon, sweet omega. Tales of my kind and our gold are… not exaggerated, though m-many wish they were."

She planted her hands on her hips, then let out a long, purposeful breath. Her perfume splashed us both in frantic, chaotic bursts, the sandalwood especially prominent. Then, clearing her throat, she lifted her damp, frizzing hair and fanned the back of her neck. Only when she caught me watching, smitten with every detail, did she drop that black mane into place.

"Okay." She massaged the pink in her cheeks, gaze darting about. "So, your heart?"

I pointed to a massive wooden chest set against the wall behind her, just next to the entrance. "There. Inside."

This was the greatest trust a dragon could put in another. As I watched her hurry over and heave the lid up, no hesitation, all business, I knew this moment could make or break us. The fog hadn't detected any ill will, but Lianna had now seen a fraction of my hoard with her own two eyes. She knew there was more. She could take my heart, my power, and go.

"Okay?"

Instead, she crouched in front of the open chest, her side profile showing off pursed lips and a furrowed brow. What greeted her would give anyone pause: old animal skin hides, broken sandals, rope, fishing nets, and rusted tools—as if I hadn't used magic to build this underground kingdom.

"The small wooden box"—I motioned toward her with a weak flick of my hand—"with the dragon painted on its top."

She rooted around for a few moments, elbows deep in the mess and the dust, offering an excellent view of her ass. My mouth watered again, cock stirring at the thought of grabbing hold of each full cheek and squishing the flesh between my fingers, bruising her, marking her, making sure she would feel my affections for days after.

"This one?" Lianna whirled around, a small keepsake box in her hand. Made of polished birch, it had followed me from hoard to hoard through the centuries.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. "Y-yes."

She traced the design on top with one finger. "Did you paint this?"

"I did." I wasn't born gold. In fact, my original scales blended seamlessly with the fjords, awash with greens and browns and subtle blues, changing ever so slightly with the seasons. When I put paint to birch, I had wanted to commemorate my induction into the Deathless Gods, in case the Aesir ever changed their minds.

"It's lovely." Lianna sounded quiet, thoughtful, her perfume leaning into the warmer, cozier scents as she squinted at my handiwork. "The detailing, I…" Her head shot up, gaze crash-landing on me. "I-I paint."

"Do you?" My next breath was the harshest yet, but I maintained my charmed smile. "I would very much… like to see your work."

She went bright red, then lifted the lid. A few confused beats passed. "Uh, Vidar…?"

"Bring it here."

My omega tiptoed over and carefully placed the box at my side, then scampered back like it was a newly pinless grenade. Once again, the mundane awaited anyone who somehow made it this far, the birch box full of loose screws, nails, tacks—all broken, twisted, and bent. Iron. Silver. Gold. A mini pencil from the time I tried golfing.

Dullest activity in all the realms, honestly, the company on the green even worse.

Sifting through yet another of my collections, I hunted until I found it. Then, relieved beyond measure, I held it up for her to see: a thimble.

Lianna frowned. "It's… so little."

"It's deceptive," I corrected. Plain, boring, metal—it would never catch a collector's eye. But even as I held it, power heated my thumb and forefinger. "Some dragons are so ostentatious about their hearts. One look and you know where they are hiding their power, thus defeating the purpose.

"If a h-hunter steals a dragon's heart, they steal his power, Lianna. It will consume them, yes. Men and monster alike were not built to take what we dragons carry in our blood. Still, for a time…" I cradled the thimble in my palm, holding it out for us both to see. "The owner of a dragon's heart, dragon o-or otherwise, will possess all the power of a dragon. All our abilities. All that we stored away to move through this world undetected.

"In the wrong hands, the heart of a dragon is a very dangerous thing."

I scooped it up and slipped it onto the tip of my pinkie. Sunlight flooded my veins. The next breath came pain-free as the bruise across my chest dispersed. Adrenaline doused my blood, and I popped up on an elbow, growling, fixed on her.

In mere minutes, I would be what she needed, who she needed, the alpha my Lianna deserved.

Now and forever.