“Dragons tend to give birth in groups.” Adam chuckled as Layla watched the proceedings. “It’s called a group-hatch, though we give live birth. Every fifty years or so, a new generation gets birthed, usually within ten years of each other. Adrian and I are part of our generation. The previous hatch was forty years before us, and the one before that was almost seventy years. It’s a pheromone thing. Dragons aren’t often fertile. We get almost no magical or human diseases so we can live a long time, but our women don’t get pregnant unless they’re in estrus. Talk to Rachida; she’ll be able to advise you on what to look for when that happens.”
Layla blinked; some of that was way too personal. But it was good information, and looking at Adam, she decided it hadn’t been meant as innuendo, just explanation of how her biology worked. She hadn’t had a period since her magics opened. She’d missed periods before so it wasn’t alarming, but Layla made a mental note to talk to Rachida about it. The Hotel had methods of keeping guests and staff disease-free and clear of pregnancy, though it sounded like being a Dragon would have additional benefits.
“Thanks. I’ll make sure to ask her.”
Almost everyone was mounted now, only five or six people without steeds yet. Horses were getting un-hitched from the cross-ties, prancing eagerly beneath their riders and tossing their heads. Adrian had claimed an impressively tall black gelding with a flowing mane and tail – a Friesian. Layla had spent some time riding as a girl, and moved up to a dappled grey mare that looked just like her stuffed comfort toy, holding out her hand. The mare snuffled Layla but then her eyes rolled back, wild. She whinnied, shying sideways in the traces.
“Not that one. She’s afraid of your Dragon-scent.” Adam moved up beside her, indicating a bay gelding to Layla’s right. “Try him.”
Dusk had stepped to the dappled mare, soothing her with low vibrations. She calmed beneath his touch and he was soon mounted up, reining his horse around to follow Adam and Layla as they stepped to the bay gelding. Holding out her hand, Layla let the bay snuffle her. His nostrils flared and then the big horse gave a deep groan, his eyes settling half-closed. With a languid movement, the gelding pressed his forehead to Layla’s chest, practically falling asleep on her. His black eyelashes closed and Layla realized she could feel a deep serenity coursing through the animal as he smelled her orange-bourbon scent.
“You’ve made a friend.” Adam grinned with a wink. Stepping to a white mare beside Layla’s besotted gelding, he held out his hand and was immediately rewarded by an excited whinny. Her ears perked and she pranced, practically jumping with delight as Adam mounted up. He stroked her neck and she calmed, though her body still shivered as if she was eager to run like the wind for him.
“Looks like you have, too,” Layla smiled.
“Horses love me.” He grinned back with a rapier wit. “Apples in my scent, you know.”
Layla laughed. She took up the bay’s reins and set her hands to the saddle, needing no help mounting, though not flashing anyone in her skirt was a bit of a problem. But the skirt was pleated, and tucking the long bustle beneath her thighs, she found she was protected from chafing. The call of a hunting-horn blared and hounds were brought out by the grooms, yipping on their leashes. These were handed over to three younger Dragons including Rachida’s Greek valet. Just like that, the party began to move into the trees – Layla clicking her sleepy bay into a walk between Dusk and Adam.
The day was darkening as they selected a well-used trail through the dappled underbrush and thick moss. They soon left the trail and the horses spread out, moving down into fern-filled hollows and up rises, the dogs sniffing through the brush in front. Adam rode at Layla’s left, Dusk on her right. Adrian had pulled his horse up next to his cousin, though he was quiet as they ambled through the shadowy forest. Above, Layla could see the sky blackening; clouds roiled in a charcoal mass as the brisk autumn wind blew the storm closer. Even though Adrian had rained on everyone’s parade with his cutting attitude earlier, it looked like it was going to rain again.
Beating through the brush, the dogs suddenly bayed. Unclipping their leashes, the men gave them release and the dogs rushed into a thicket, baying and snarling. With a whirring of wings, six pheasant flew up into the grey sky. As they did, a brutal roar exploded from dozens of throats; magic thickening so fast around Layla that she felt like she was breathing molten glass. Whipping her horse forward, Rachida dashed up a rise after the pheasants. Suddenly, the Dragon-matron stood in her stirrups and screamed into the burgeoning sky – her body bending like a bow from the force. Like a lance, that scream tore the air, hurtling up toward the birds.
And like they’d been skewered, all six suddenly fell out of the sky; dead.
Rachida laughed like a girl, clapping her hands at her kill. Wheeling her horse, she gave it a flick with her quirt and laughed with bravado at the group. “That’show you bring down a brace of birds, children! Quickly, off to gather them!”
The party wheeled their horses in the direction the birds had fallen, but Layla reined in atop a rise, stunned at what she had just seen. Like an eagle or a falcon, Rachida’s scream had pierced her ears with fierce talons. Layla had felt Rachida’s Dragon-essence in it; she’d actually seen a fiery red streak of magic lance up through the darkening sky to make that kill.
“Showoff.” Adam reined his horse up next to Layla’s with a chuckle. “Gods, that woman loves to kill things. It’s always the meanest old drakainas who love a good slaughter.”
“How old is she, your adopted mother?” Layla glanced at Adam.
“Rachida?” He seemed to think about it as if doing mental calculations. “Well, she did give birth to Gaius Julius Caesar, so pretty damn old.”
“Come on.” Layla smiled wryly at him. “Really?”
“You think I’m pulling your leg.” Adam tilted his head, a bemused smile on his face. He nodded at Rachida, now laughing with a number of young men who ogled her with delight, including the Greek. “Gaius was her first son, a Royal Desert Dragon in our Italian clan. Conquered half the known human world and got famous for it. Marcus Junius Brutus was also a Royal Desert Dragon, Gaius’ Second. Brutus was the only one strong enough in his magic to bring Rachida’s son down when Gaius became too power-hungry. Check your history books, Layla Price. A lot of world events attributed to humans weren’t human at all. Twilight Lineage-wars spill out all over the human realm. Constantly.”
Layla gave Adam a slow blink, then looked back to Rachida. Her pheasants had arrived and she took them up, slinging the dead birds over her saddle like trophies. Slapping her horse with the quirt, they walked on. “What did she do after her son was killed?”
“Found the Dragons who conspired against him,” Adam’s words were low, solemn. “Challenged them to a dominance battle. It was seven on one. None of them survived – she tore them all apart. But that was long before my time.”
A strange energy went reeling through Layla at the horrific, incredible tale. She had that same sensation she’d had back in Seattle, as if she was watching herself from the outside. Seeing herself here, living history as she learned about her clan. A heated citrus scent wafted off her and she smelled an answering cinnamon-jasmine scorch on the wind. Looking over, she saw Adrian upon his big black horse on a separate rise, watching her, his gaze burning with gold-aqua fire. Their surroundings disappeared and for a moment all Layla could see was him – as if those eyes called to her soul just like their first night in Seattle. The party trailed after Rachida, but Adrian lingered – devouring her with his steady, molten gaze.
“We should keep up.” Beside Layla, Dusk urged his horse on, gesturing for Adam and Layla as he went. Up the rise, Adrian walked his horse on also, moving though the brush. Adam kept his white mare beside Layla’s, apparently not concerned about joining the hunt.
“Dusk said that Adrian has fought dominance battles.” Layla glanced over to Adam.
“He has.” Adam responded with a sober nod. “Adrian didn’t become the clan’s leader by being soft, Layla. Just because he’s a Royal doesn’t guarantee him a place at the top of the slashing-order. Adrian fought seven dominance battles to be where he is. The most recent one almost killed him – his challenger, one of the Sahara nomads, was a fucking brute.But Adrian managed to win, god only knows how.”
“Has Adrian hurt people?” Layla asked, wondering.
“Dominance battles over the Clan First position generally end in death, Layla.” Adam’s voice was gentle, his gaze honest. “Some Dragons concede when they’re losing, but most don’t. It’s one of the reasons Dragon-battles are fucking impressive. Once a man or woman goes full-Dragon for a fight, someone’s going to die. The beast doesn’t understand mercy, or surrender. It wants to fuck and it wants to kill. And that’s about it.”
Layla felt sick. Something inside her clenched, and she could smell Adrian’s jasmine scent on the air as a roll of thunder boomed over the forest. Adam glanced at her, and then a soothing orchard scent rolled over her and Layla could breathe again.
“I’m sorry – did I upset you?”
