Page 33 of Randall
Darvon took a breath, pleased to see where Artor’s priorities lie.
Chapter 23
Flynn
Oh…
Darvon.Mate. He was thinking of Flynn. His mate needed him, but he couldn’t leave the dragon. Nor did he have any desire to leave the warmth of the sun bearing down on him. He'd gotten a burst of energy after lying with his mates, but that had long since worn off, and now he was just so tired.
Days of running, of submersion within the cold river, followed by nights of broken sleep, fearing those dark creatures’ return. He dozed in a circle of sunlight, chasing it in a fitful daze, body stretching and coiling as he soaked up its heat. Flynn suspected that when he finally felt safe, he’d sleep for days.
Well, maybe not days… There were his mates to think about. How many ways could they copulate? Top, bottom, middle. How many times in a row could he come, or how could he make his mates come? Hands, mouths, asses, cocks. He’d once fantasized through the long, star-filled nights, alone on his mat in the back of Master’s home. Flynn would wait until he heard his mastersnore before daring to touch himself, imagining someone—usually a man—lying beside him.
Those kinds of thoughts and desires were never to be spoken of. He’d harbored his secrets in his heart.
Mates…
Darvon. Fae. With his shiny silvery braid, his bright-blue eyes and the starburst within. Willowy limbs. Pale skin. Flynn’s sun-warmed appearance like a twilight darkness beside Darvon’s soft, creamy, flawless flesh.
Randall. Mage. Thick black hair, dark brown eyes that seemed to peer right into one’s soul, pulling out every secret. There were flecks of white in his hair, but they didn’t detract from his handsomeness. They enhanced it, as did the scruff on his jaw that felt wonderful against his skin.
“Flynn.”
Timur’s hushed tone roused Flynn from his thoughts. He stretched and then shifted, blinking open his eyes. He took a moment to scan the dragon, spending a little extra time examining the wound.
“What do you need?”
Timur swallowed and made smacking noises. “Water, please. My mouth is very dry.”
“Sure.” Flynn scooped up the makeshift bowl and eased down to the river’s edge. There, he splashed water on his face and neck before drinking a few mouthfuls and refilling the bowl.
Returning, he held the bowl for the dragon to lap at. While Timur drank, Flynn looked around the area, his gaze alighting on a raven watching them from above. “Hello, friend.”
“Who’s there?” Timur asked, twisting to look, but he quickly stopped with a wince of pain. “Damn it. When are your people arriving?”
“Soon, I think. Another of Randall’s ravens is sitting in the tree behind you.”
“Another…? Your mage is powerful.”
“How do you know?” Flynn sat beside Timur’s head and ran a hand across the dragon’s smooth scales.
“Familiars are usually singular. That your mate can tame many at once requires profound skill. Again, I am sorry to keep you from them.” Timur rolled his eyes up to peer at Flynn.
“I offered to seek you out. They know where I am, and I know they will be here as soon as they are able. It’s strange… I dreamed of them and prayed to the Mother Goddess, but I never thought they would be real, flesh-and-blood men. Not until after the first night, after I dragged myself from the water to rest on the river’s edge. I had a vision of them saving me from the water’s icy clutches, and though I thought it might be a fever-dream, I still hoped. In a matter of hours since I met them, I’ve fallen completely whiskers over tail.”
“That’s the way it is with mates, or so I’m told. It’s been years since any of my kind have found their fated. Once, I suggested that perhaps our mates weren’t other dragons and nearly had my head ripped off in the rising outrage. Fools, the lot of them.” Timur’s laughter dissolved into a choking cough that racked his body.
Flynn rubbed across the scales on Timur’s head, trying to calm him as the wound oozed. “Easy, please. Rest.” He didn’t like the way the area of blackened skin and scales around the ragged cut had expanded. “Raven! Please! Fly to Randall. Tell him to hurry.”
The bird bobbed and took flight, allowing Flynn to take a breath. He grabbed the bowl and ran to the river to refill it. Upon his return, Timur opened his mouth, and Flynn poured in a small amount, the motion of swallowing helping to slow and stop the coughing. They repeated the action several times until Timur laid his massive head on the ground in exhaustion. Hischest heaved, and the sound of his heart beat loud enough that Flynn could hear it.
“Quickly, mates of mine. Quickly, please,” he murmured over and over, his words both a mantra and a prayer.
Chapter 24
Randall
The raven’s blaring caw as he sped toward us shocked me. We had only just started on the road, the horses trotting at an easy pace. I stuck out my arm and braced it, expecting the jarring impact as the raven landed. It quickly hopped to my shoulder and relayed Flynn’s frantic plea.
