Mated to the Fire Dragon

Chapter 1Albus the Abomination never wanted to come to the human realm. He’d dug his claws in for as long as he could, but when he’d heard his mother discuss how to make his death look like an accident with a group of her friends, he’d grabbed his sodalite and flown off the tower without another word to anyone in his family. Why she would’ve bother to make it look like an accident, he didn’t know. She’d never kept quiet about wanting him dead. He’d gone. Left everything he knew, went through the portal, and started a new life. It might not be the kind of life he dreamed of, but he wanted to live, and crossing over into the human realm upped his chances of survival considerably. Dragons loved fiercely. They worshiped beauty, adored everything sparkly, revered gemstones and precious metals. The darker the skin, the more important the dragon. Albus’ family came from a family of dark blue skin. Perhaps it was why he loved his sodalite stone so much because it reminded him of home? Dark blue with little veins of white, a symbol of how he dirtied the bloodline. In the stone, it was beautiful, in the bloodline, not so much. He shifted his throat and mouth to be able to breathe fire and blew a flame at the iron in front of him, watched it glow a pretty orange, then swung his hammer. He’d been a disgrace to his family from the moment he’d driven his egg tooth through the shell. Maybe it had taken a bit longer. He didn’t think his parents had been able to see the color of his skin through the first crack. He swung the hammer again. The clang of metal hitting metal helped disperse some of the shame, not all, but some. There was no color more despicable than white, and when he’d emerged from the egg, his parents had been horrified. His mother had wanted to drown him right away despite the hard work of laying and tending to an egg, but his father’s mother had stopped her. She’d said to at least give it a summer to see if his skin changed in the sun. It did. It turned an angry red, stung, and flaked a few days later. The new skin emerging was as white as it had been before. Pale white. Egg shell white. Plain as can be. He swung the hammer again. The metal was too cold for it to do any good, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d break it. He always had to be mindful of his strength, but it was one of the things he liked about being a blacksmith. He could warm the metal, make it soft and pliant, but if he used too much force, it would break. He shifted one hand into a dragon’s claw, ignoring how his skin almost luminesced in the dim light, breathed fire, and twisted the metal before dunking it in the bucket of water. “Holy s**t! Why did you do that?” Albus glanced over his shoulder. He hadn’t heard anyone enter the smithy, and it took him a moment to realize no one had. Outside, in the early morning light, stood a male, a human man Albus hadn’t seen before. He didn’t know the humans in Edge—didn’t know the dragons either. They avoided him, and he could understand why. The same rules might not apply in the human realm as back home, but no one wanted to ruin their reputation by being seen with an abomination. “Do you need medical care?” The man didn’t enter the smithy, but he was hovering on the doorstep. Normally, Albus closed the door. He was sure he’d closed the door this morning too. Maybe not. He’d woken from a nightmare and had come straight here. “No.” The short word came out snarly and harsh. The man frowned. “Are you sure? You touched glowing metal.” Hadn’t he seen him breathing the fire? Dragons weren’t harmed by fire as long as they were in dragon form, and he’d changed his hand. Albus turned around, and the man gasped. He’d stopped wincing, at least visibly, at people’s reactions to him. He was the freak on Dragon Row. All the other shops dealt with gemstones and precious metals, Albus dealt with iron. There was no iron in a dragon’s treasure cave. “Holy f**k! You’re a dragon.” Albus didn’t think Reverend Goodwin would appreciate this young man’s language, but then there wasn’t much the reverend liked. Albus could relate. One of the things he liked the least was the reverend himself. He wished someone would eat him. When Albus had first arrived, he’d learned the reverend arranged matings. Albus had been excited by the prospect. He’d always known he wouldn’t have a mate, no one would mate a white dragon even if he survived long enough to reach mature age, but it all changed when he came here. A joy he’d never experienced had bubbled in his chest, but then the reverend had changed his mind—or someone else had changed his mind. He’d come by the smithy—it hadn’t been a smithy then, Albus hadn’t decided what he’d do on this side of the realm yet—and told him there were no available mates. Albus had been disappointed but had accepted it. He hadn’t walked around Edge. He didn’t know how many humans resided there. It was possible they all were paired up already. It wasn’t until a few years later when Nithe the Nefarious had arrived, and the reverend had hurried to present mates to him, Albus realized there were mates. If you were another color than white, there were mates. It was nothing new, but it hurt that he’d allowed himself to hope. “Right.” The man bounced on the heels of his feet. “I didn’t realize…I guess I’ve reached Edge?” Albus shifted entirely back into human form and nodded. In response, the man’s face split into a grin. “Really?” He took a step into the smithy and spun around. “Wow. Is it yours?” Albus nodded again. He never allowed anyone into the smithy. He had his shop; people were welcome to browse his creations there—not many did—but this was where he worked. It was private, his personal space. “Amazing. I believed dragons only did useless things. No offense, but you’re working. A real job, I mean.” Holding his breath, Albus tried to come up with a way to answer. Was it an insult? He wasn’t trading gemstones, there had already been several shops doing that on Dragon Row when he’d arrived, and no one would trade gemstones with a white dragon if they could do it with a red or a blue. Who would go to Albus the Abomination when they could go to Saxon the Sinful or Mort the Monstrous? “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” The human sent him a blinding smile, and Albus’ heart made an effort to escape his body. No one ever smiled at him. This man would stop too once he talked to people in the city. “What’s your name?” “Zale Hagan, at your service.” The man bowed, then all color drained from his face, and he reached out to steady himself on a wrought iron bookshelf Albus had yet to finish. The iron parts were done, but he needed wooden shelves and he didn’t know where to find a woodworker. He could do them himself if he got hold of wood, but he didn’t know where to go. “Fuck.” Zale breathed in deeply. Gone was the smile and bubbly energy. “Do you need medical care?” Albus believed there was some kind of healer on this side of the veil. He flicked his tongue to taste the air and winced. Zale was sick, sicker than anyone Albus had met before. Zale waved the hand he didn’t use to cling to the shelf—good thing it was sturdy. “Nothing can be done. I’ve been to all the doctors I could find, but they can’t help me. I wanted to see the edge of the world before my demise.” He gave Albus a sorrowful look. “I guess it’s time to embrace my fate.” “And what fate is that?” What a weird human. “My death, I mean. It’s time to accept I don’t have much longer.” An invisible fist curled around Albus’ soul. He was aware humans died young, but the man didn’t look to be more than…it was hard to tell with humans, but thirty-five maybe. “You should wait a bit longer.” Zale barked a laugh, still holding onto the shelf. “I wish I could.” He sobered. “I’m ill. Something is growing in my belly, and it’s eating me from the inside.” Albus shuddered. “A parasite?” Zale’s eyes grew wide, then he shook his head. “No, nothing sentient, though it has a life of its own.” It took effort not to take a step back. Dragons couldn’t be infected by human diseases, but Albus didn’t want to have anything growing inside of him. * * * * Zale watched the dragon, and longing welled up inside of him. He wished he’d have time to get to know a dragon, but he feared he had little more than days left. It was a miracle he’d made it this far. He’d fully expected to die on the way, and he’d been forced to remain in a few cities along the trip, had spent a few nights in hospitals. There was nothing that could be done, so as soon as he could stand on his own, they let him go and he’d continued his travels to the end of the world. He was done. It was over. He’d set his affairs in order, had sold his half of his boat to Dylan since he refused it as a gift. He’d get the money back when Zale died. It was all in his will. He’d sold the rest of his things, and he’d used the money to get here. He still had some left. It would go to his parents once he no longer was around, and he assumed they’d give part of it to Bay, his brother. He’d said goodbye to his friends and family, but he wanted one last adventure. He’d sailed to the horizon until there was nothing but him and the waves. He’d seen the end of the land, but he wanted to see the end of the human realm. Edge. He assumed there were other portals leading to the dragon realm, but he’d never heard of one. So he’d packed a couple of changes of clothes, kissed his mother goodbye, engulfed his father in a wordless hug, and walked away. The last they’d see of him was, if not a healthy man, then at least a mostly healthy-looking one. One who could walk on his own, who wasn’t bed-bound and lost to fevers and pain. He spent days lost in fevers and pain. They came more and more often now. He’d lost his strength, his legs didn’t carry him for any long walks anymore, and he had to rest several times a day. What precious time he had left was overtaken by fatigue. At least he’d spare his family what was to come, what had already come. He had no appetite anymore and had lost a lot of weight. Seeing a dragon had sparked enough joy to fight off the lethargy for a few glorious seconds, but now he was fading fast. He needed to sit. “I’m sorry, but do you have a chair or a stool or something?” The dragon looked around, as if seeing the room for the first time. Zale looked too. There was no hearth or whatever a blacksmith’s fireplace was called. A dragon blacksmith. He wished he could tell Dylan. “I don’t think I have one, but it’s time to open the shop, anyway.” “Right, I’ll…” He allowed his legs to fold, but before he landed on the floor, strong arms wrapped around him. Zale gasped in surprise. Damn, he’d moved fast. “The floor is dirty.” Zale glanced down and realized the dragon was barefoot. “You’re not wearing shoes.” He looked away so fast, Zale feared he’d inadvertently insulted him. Maybe dragons didn’t wear shoes. “What’s your name?” Zale did his best to ignore being carried. A month ago, no one would’ve been able to carry him, both because he’d been too heavy, and he’d been healthy enough to fight off anyone who tried. Now he could accept being carried, or spend part of his day sprawled on the dirty stone floor in a smithy. It took a few seconds before the dragon answered. “Albus the Abomination.” Zale didn’t think he imagined the wince, and he did nothing to hide his own. Who in their right mind named their kid Abomination? He’d heard dragons had weird names, but often they were called something with strength or…They valued strange things. He’d heard of one dragon named Frightful, Finn the Frightful, or something similar. “Do all dragons have alliterations in their names?”