The Dragon Prince's Consort

Two

Fang clapped her hands over her mouth, stifling a scream. She spun, facing the door, and muffled another startled cry when she saw the man standing halfway in the doorway. No, not a man, he was a Drass, but such a small one that Fang hadn't recognized him as one at first - horns not included, he topped out at just barely over six feet. He was dressed extraordinarily well, his dark coat trimmed with fur and beautifully made for his small size, and he wore the kind of jewelry Fang had come to expect from someone of great wealth and high status; he even wore a small gold ring in his nose. He looked her up and down, his eyes a fascinating shade of orange. Fang stared at him through her fingers, her face growing warmer by the second as she realized he'd caught her in his bedchamber trying on his clothes.

"How did you get in here?" he asked, surprisingly calm for one who'd just found an intruder in his home. The only indications that he was disturbed were the flicking of his long, thin tail behind him and the furrowing of his heavy brows over a frankly impressive nose - it was tall and long, with a high, broad bridge. Very Drass indeed.

"Um..." Fang swallowed hard, her throat tight with fear. "Your friends brought me here. They told me it's your birthday, I'm supposed to be a surprise."

His face brightened with comprehension. "Ah, I see!" When he opened his mouth, two short tusks flashed gold caps in his bottom jaw. He cocked his head appreciatively, taking in in how his robe lay half-open over her chest almost to her navel. "Normally I'd be upset to find a stranger in my bedchamber, but I have to admit my robe looks lovely on you." The corner of his mouth ticked up in a wry smile, and it did something to his eyes that made him look canny and playful. Fang's stomach did a little flip. "What's your name?"

"Lienfang," she said, the knots in her belly easing. "But my friends call me Fang. And, um, sorry about the robe."

"It's fine," he waved his hand in the air, then reached up and began to unbutton the clasps running down the front of his long dark coat. "I'm Valen, by the way. Just Valen, please." The way he talked, his words crisp and precise, spoke of formal education and a higher, finer way of living. Fang watched him undo each clasp from his throat to his waist, his red hands with their gold-capped claws moving slowly down the dark fabric of his coat. He crossed the bedchamber and stood in front of her as he reached for the wall hooks; now that he was so close Fang could feel the warmth coming off of his body and smell the smoky, earthy tang of incense on his clothes and the faint burn of alcohol on his breath. His eyes reminded Fang of the live coals over which Kitsara's street vendors cooked skewers of meat and root vegetables, a deep amber-orange unlike any Drass eyes she knew. He studied her, his tall black pupils opening rounder the longer he looked. "I've seen humans before, but not this close." When he blinked, he did so slowly, languidly, like a sleepy cat. "May I touch you?"

"Hmm?" For a breath Fang was dazed. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her, curious but also hungry, eager. "Oh!" She smiled. "Yes, of course." Valen returned her smile with relief and Fang's thighs trembled - there was something about him, something elusively attractive that made her insides feel quivery and hot. Fang bit her lower lip in anticipation of spending the night with a soft-spoken, composed, apparently loaded Drass.

Valen raised his hand and lightly touched the side of her face with the pads of his fingers. "No scales, no horns, no claws..." Fang tipped her face towards his hand and he caught it with an open palm, running his thumb over her cheek. Fang could see the golden claw flash just under her eye, but she didn't worry about it - like Dreen, Drass knew their size and were more careful with humans. He marveled at her skin, "You're so..." He hesitated. "I don't want to be rude, but your skin is so light."

Fang giggled, "I'm just fair-skinned. Is that strange?"

"Not strange, just different." He glanced up at her hair and the steel pin holding it all together. Fang reached up and pulled it out with a flourish, shaking her head and watching his expression when her long, dark hair fell to her thighs. "Firemother's ashes..." He met her eyes again with sudden reverence, "Can I...?"