Monqilcolnen and I were separated, and behind him stood a clan of drakcol dressed like him. With a glance over my shoulder, I saw I had the same. An older woman, easily in her seventh decade, stepped forward and slightly in front of me. She had lovely pale green scales that were jagged with age, clouded pink eyes, and thin yellow hair that was in a loose braid down her back. Her wings drooped behind her back, ready to whip out in attack or defense as the situation called for, or maybe old age had rendered her unable to curl the wings up. I wasn’t sure. As she took a step ahead of me, I noticed the gnarled staff in her gaunt hands.
Opposite of us, stepped another man who was older than I or Monqilcolnen, but he wasn’t close in age to the old woman beside me. He was probably in his fifth decade. He had darkred, near black scales, black hair, and silver eyes. His haggard expression was what struck me most. He appeared to be a man who was on his last legs.
“We know why we’re here,” he snapped.
The woman beside me bared her teeth, and all those opposite of me growled at the insult. My pulse quickened, and my fingers drifted to the sword strapped to my hip, even though there was nothing to fear. If this broke out in a fight, nothing could actually harm me, because of the safety measures that were in place. However, it felt real. I could see the anger on their tired faces. I could hear the snarls of fury. My own instincts stirred. Thankfully, the experience couldn’t make smell, taste, or feel. Even now, as I moved my sandaled feet, I could feel I was wearing my boots and the firm floor beneath me, not the purple grass that spread across the plain.
“Yes, and none of us are happy about it,” the woman beside me snapped. “My grandson is worth more than… him.”
I blinked. So she was my grandmother—important information—but more shocking, she was dismissive of Monqilcolnen. He looked beyond lovely in his garments, his silver hair flying free and flaring in the wind. I wanted to throw myself at him, but that wasn’t truly acceptable right now. I had to stay in character. Besides, even if I wanted to move, to the upper right of me was a red glowing line, indicating I wouldn’t be able to. Experiences like this one were turn based. I wouldn’t be able to react or speak until the light turned blue.
“My son is a fine specimen,” the man snarled. “He is worth far more than that slip of scales.”
“Father,” Monqilcolnen said. “Calm yourself.” His eyes met mine, and I shivered. Why in all the stars had we chosen a romance? It was going to be impossible to stay in character, though the experience would make me, to some extent.
“Yes,” my grandmother taunted, “calm yourself. You’re lucky we’re even considering this.”
The opposite clan leader growled.
But mine continued, “We are strong and plentiful; you are not. You are but a gust of wind away from demise.”
Four selections popped in front of me I was allowed to choose from, and I read over them carefully, because each choice would change how the story progressed. One was snarky and taunting, like my leader had given. One was an utter refusal to mate Monqilcolnen. One was much like Monqilcolnen’s response, to tell my leader to calm down. The last was silence, which was always an option.
I tried to think of what my character would respond—a man forced to mate someone he didn’t know for the sake of his clan’s well being. I made my selection, and a gentle force directed me to lay my hand on my clan leader’s, which held her staff, and read the script that appeared before me.
“Be still. You offered this arrangement, and I will hardly turn it down now,” I said, looking at Monqilcolnen. “No matter how disagreeable I find this offering.” Internally, I winced. You never knew the exact script until you chose a general direction, and clearly, this wasn’t the best response. Also, some romances were harder to end well than others. For some reason, we seemed to love a sad ending. I didn’t, but most of our stories ended horribly as the norm.
Monqilcolnen cocked an eyebrow, and I had no idea if that was him, somehow sneaking through the filter that kept us from ruining the story, or his character. I doubted my responding smile to the movement made it through.
This story was going to be a challenge to make happy, but I was determined to succeed. My eyes ran over Monqilcolnen, and I smiled again. Yes, I very, very much wanted this to end well.
Chapter 29
Doubts and pleasant distractions.
We left the experience shop, smiling and tails entwining. This story wasn’t particularly long—perhaps fifteen sessions—but we could always play another afterward if we enjoyed it. And I already wanted to. I’d loved playing opposite of Wyn.
This session hadn’t gotten too far, merely the clan hashing out an agreement as well as Wyn and I walking near each other, courting before the mating while our families followed and snapped at each other. Perhaps within the next session we would get further into the story.
“That was fun,” I said truthfully.
He had a peaceful smile on his face, and it soothed my soul to see him looking so calm. Just being with him made me feelcontent in a way I’d never experienced before. I didn’t have to be the purest spiritual soul, the skilled commander, the royal cousin, or any of the other labels that had been attached to me. I could simply be Monqilcolnen for the first time in my life, and that was beyond nice—it was more than nice. It was miraculous and addictive.
Wyn gently tugged on my tail, and I stopped to look at him. He was always so soft with me, which was amusing considering how rough he enjoyed me being with him. I held his cheek, dragging my thumb over his scales before lowering my head to close some of the distance between us, supremely glad he’d altered our permissions already.
“Yes?” I asked.
His eyes looked anywhere besides me.
I had no idea why he was embarrassed, but he had no need to be. “Wyn,” I said, running the tuft of my tail down the length of his, “tell me.”
“I would like to come back to your quarters tonight.”
“That’s more than fine.” Why would he think I’d refuse him? I never would.
“Truly?” he asked, finally looking at me.
“Indeed.” I bent closer to him and lowered my voice so no one could overhear. “I want to be inside of you so badly. I’m aching for you, Wyn.”
