Chapter 3
We men dream dreams, we work magic, we do good, we do evil. The dragons do not dream. They are dreams. They do not work magic: it is their substance, their being. They do not do; they are.
―Ursula K. Le Guin, The Farthest Shore
Mikhail walked up the steps to Berkley’s Club, his skin tingling. It had been a long time since he’d scented a virgin woman in her prime. He’d stayed away from humans for so long that he’d almost forgotten how the sweet, floral scent of a naturally beautiful woman could tease his nostrils. The little virgin gemologist was as ripe as a red apple hanging low on the branch, begging to be plucked. His body hardened at the thought of getting her alone, stripping her n***d, and inhaling that intoxicating, pure scent until he was drunk with the aroma.
He gave
