The Dragon's Match

V

There was a narrowness to Lillian's features, her chin more pronounced and rigid to her sister's softer, rounder face. But Lillian held herself with a more rigid comportment, as if her neck and shoulders were constantly straining with the weight of an unfathomable burden and braced stoically against it. Even as intoxicated as he had been, there was a moment before the potion made him lose his accountability and immerse in a haze of strange euphoria, that the sight of her had affected him. Even now, long after the effects of the enchantment those thick-skulled imbeciles had fed him had worn off, his heart still stuttered at the recollection of her- of long-limbed grace, of thick ash brown hair braided into a heavy plait and draped over her shoulder, loose wisps framing her stern countenance softly in an intriguing juxtaposition.

And his first meeting with her had seen him spout asinine declarations of his affections.

He winced visibly.

It was rare indeed that Aëghan allowed himself to be viewed in such an inferior light. Loot my body, indeed.

He couldn't dwell on his apparent humiliation however, and instead he resolved to make amends- properly- to Lady Lillian and endeavour to forget that a mark was branded across his left arm's bicep. He needed her to trust him enough to converse with him willingly and openly, and he doubted he was spoken of fondly among her little sister's companions. Hopefully he had retreated quick enough, smothered the foreign taint of the magic that oozed from his skin with the mark, and other more curious fae hadn't been alerted to its presence yet. It needn't matter- he'd deal with their intrusions if they did.

In the interim, he would conceal the mark and continue as is, ignoring whatever bothersome urgings that compelled him- instinctual or otherwise. He still needed to converse with Lillian- his prerogative remained the same.

Lillian Adams may be the key he needed yet.

Mates?

Not he.

Ignoring the flare of protestation that his arm began to palpitate with, and that his dragon refuted outright, Aëghan made to push from the sill as he thought of all the reasons why it was improbable that Lillian could ever be his.

Firstly, her sister would never allow it. Aëghan conceded readily that he may have royally cocked things up by abducting Millie, even if he had his reasons- which were somewhat valid in his mind. Secondly, he couldn't have any ties to this world and a human mate would provide just that- something he couldn't relinquish when the time arrived. When he figured out how to leave this realm, having a mate would make that progression... complicated. It would be difficult to leave a complication. Or difficult for the complication?

Or he'd feel terribly guilty doing it.

Wouldn't he?

Perish the thought- he wasn't entirely a cad.

The mark was a complication, but it was one that he could ignore- so long as he kept his interactions with Lillian neutral and orientated solely on his goals, then he could tamp down whatever burgeoning desire he was beginning to feel for her.

Desire, that is all that it was... and he was used to controlling his ardour.

Sort of.

Fine, not at all.

Brusquely, he made to close the window once more but froze, his arm suspended mid-air. A scent, pure and intoxicating, arrested his movements. He had but moments with her before, but he would never be able to forget the pleasantness of Lillian's scent- sweet, of springtime and marigolds- but the strains reaching out to him on the tails of a cool breeze were edged with fraught, of terror and unease.