Two Mates for the Dragon

Rikard shrugged. “What are we going to tell them? That he fell from the sky as a dragon and bleeds green blood? Shifters heal fast; I have to assume he will also.”

“Then I guess we should clear out the guest room,” Trudy suggested practically as Rikard shut the bedroom door. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere for a little while at least.”

They consolidated the open boxes, emptying several of them with an efficiency that had been lacking when they’d first tackled the task, and in short order had cleared the bed.

“I should put sheets on it,” Trudy said faintly, but Rikard was taking her by the hand and pulling her close for a hungry kiss before she could go out to the hall closet and find them.

She slipped her arms up around his neck, pressing her familiar curves up against him, against the erection that was pressing on the zipper of his jeans.

Rikard had wanted his bride when he’d watched her working in the garden not even an hour earlier, but it was more urgent now, with the adrenaline from their shock just ebbing from his veins. Trudy met him, heat for heat.

Trudy chucked out of her gardening clothes like they were on fire, desperate for the feel of Rikard’s skin against hers.

He was undressing as rapidly as she was, and was putting hands to worship her as she was kicking the last leg of her jeans away, touching all the places that were guaranteed to make her ready. He was already tantalizingly hard, his erection firm and ready between them as he kissed her neck and nibbled her shoulder.

Wet and burning with need, Trudy pulled him back onto the bed on top of her, spreading her legs in welcome. He entered her like a force of nature, stoking her fire as she clawed desperately at his shoulders and bit back the cries of pleasure she wanted to voice.

She was aware of the stranger in the next room, too aware, and she knew from Rikard’s muffled sounds that he was, too.

Neither of them had been exactly unaffected by the stranger or his gorgeous nudity, but a handsome figure had never set them off quite like this before. Rikard was almost frenzied as he took her, and Trudy was lost in a flurry of unexpected orgasms as he thrust into her. When he emptied into her at last, she was gasping and dizzy and felt like she’d just fallen from a great height.

Rather like a dragon had recently fallen into her garden.

Danyen swam back to consciousness slowly. He could feel the threads of energy feeding into him more strongly now and it didn’t take the not-so-quiet creak of bed springs through the wall to help him realize why.

He opened eyes onto a quaint, sweet country bedroom, sunlight streaming in through the windows. There were photos of a family on the walls: children growing through the years and finally posed with their own children, as well as photographs of ancestors, silver with age. There were wedding photos of the couple who had found him. A few unpacked boxes stood in the corner, with plain, practical clothing draped along the edges.

Outside, it was idyllically quiet. Crickets and wind were the loudest sounds.

This whole world was such a patchwork of contradictions: bustling cities, vast wilderness, sleepy little towns, perfect gridwork suburban neighborhoods with matching doors and windows, and then strangely isolated rural places like this, nestled in cultivated agricultural swaths.

He had lived here ten years, and still he could not make sense of the humans who populated the planet they called Earth. They clustered in such odd, spiraling units. Couples. Families. Circles of friendship. Business associates. Frenemies.

Race and gender were birthrights, not choices.

And they tapped the energy of their world without even noticing it while they chased lesser sources across the surface layers, fighting mighty wars for fuel they didn’t even need.

The rush of energy from the next bedroom gave him the strength to stand again; he found a pair of sweatpants that would suffice for their modesty standards and pulled them on.

He wandered out of the room, finding a cozy living room and a more modern kitchen than the rest of the house suggested. A black cat was sleeping on the back of the sofa in the living room. It lifted sleepy eyes at his footsteps, then fluffed up to twice its original size and fled to some safer place.

The bathroom was barely large enough to accommodate the toilet and ancient tub. It was decorated with plush teal rugs and tropical fish. Danyen used the mirror to peel off his bandages and inspect the tender wounds beneath. His flesh was healing, but the underlying exhaustion would require more time and energy to combat.

Danyen was trying to work out how to make the kettle produce hot water on their baffling stove when the couple emerged from the room, their intimate chuckles fading to surprise when they found him upright.

“You’re looking better,” the woman said, blushing behind her freckles and the fascinating lines of her skin.

“You have my thanks for that,” he told them sincerely.

“Let me,” the man said, sweeping knowledgeably into the kitchen to light the stove – an odd ring of blue flame rather than the electric burner Danyen had finally mastered at his last residence. “We’ve got tea in the cabinet behind you. Blue box.”

The woman showed him where. “What’s to your taste?” she asked.

There was a dizzying array of hot chocolate and cider packets, as well as a dozen choices of black tea, mint, chamomile, and a cylinder of instant coffee.

Danyen picked a slim bag of Earl Grey gravely, and within a few minutes, they were all sitting with hot beverages around the small kitchen table.

Such a cozy, human habit. It was probably his favorite Earth custom.