Chapter 13
Minutes stretched on painfully slow as Gabal watched his Match look over the fallen woman. His Second and his Shadow stood at his side and waited with him, each of them growing more concerned as time went by. None of them knew what she was doing or how long it would take but if they based their assessment off of the last two patients she had seen, they could assume something was wrong. Nervous murmering could be heard from outside, the crowd that Gabal had dispersed was slowly building again as word spread further throughout the pack. Samuel shifted on his feet as Gabal began to pace. Bringing himself close and spinning away again before he could give into the temptation to seize his Match and lock her away. The Alpha's most loyal men watched on in awe as they witnessed the amount of restraint their leader possessed. Had they been in his shoes, they would not be waiting as patiently as he was.
Ansel was the only one that maintained his stoic composure. He stood with his back to the door, hands locked loosely behind his back, feet comfortably spread and planted. He would never show it, but he was incredibly frustrated with his Luna. Watching his best friend slowly spiral into madness over the last few years had been hard, but it seemed like he was being driven even faster to that point since Gabal had met his Match. Be that as it may, Ansel was slowly gaining a grudging respect for the Luna. He watched over her as she worked herself to the bone the last few days, exploring every avenue and helping in any way she was able. She was constantly worried and Ansel could tell that she was taking her inability to make progress personally. So, he focused his attention on the two vulnerable women before him with an intensity that he reserved for only the most serious situations. If anything happened, he would be there for her, not only for his friend, but maybe a little for her sake as well.
That was how he caught it before anyone else. Gabal and Samuel both had nightmarish scenarios running through their minds and were effectively distracted. Visions of a Luna that would never wake and a rampaging Alpha Hellbent on mindless destruction were harrowing imagery. It wasn't until Ansel had reached Aoifa and pulled her away from the girl that they realized something actually was wrong.
Ansel laid his Lady on the ground and moved to observe a stirring Corrine. Gabal took his rightful spot beside his Match and did his best to rouse her, becoming more desperate by the second. He stroked her cheek, calling her name, shaking her gently. He did his best to conceal his growls and control the shift of his claws. Air had difficulty entering his lungs as he stared at his unresponsive mate. She simply laid limp, head turning freely as he became more violent in his efforts. He was crying her name out now, mind nearly gone, starting that dangerous spiral down into the chasm of madness over which he so often hung. He had almost forgotten what it felt like, these past few days with her. She wiped away the deep, dark, insanity and brought new life to him. Filling him with warmth and teasing his control in new, less lethal ways. He had come to love her already, in all her quirky, driven, loyal, sweet, selfless glory. He couldn't lose her now. He wouldn't lose her now.
With his two closest allies and friends clawing uselessly at his arms and back, Gabal felt his maw shift. Samuel and Ansel knew what was coming. That could feel it the moment Gabal made his decision. They cried out, trying to reason with a beast too far gone. "Give it time," they called. "The curse only works on shifters. If you do this, you will regret it. You are too far gone to control yourself. Please, listen." But, alas, their words fell on deaf ears. Panic sealing out any sound but the furious run of blood past his ears. He lifted his Match with ease, bringing her throat to his mouth, clenching the back of her neck with a clawed hand, and cradling her back with another. He opened his jaws wide over the column of her neck and struck.
The whole room heard the crack and every heart stuttered. The Second and the Shadow dropped to their knees beside their Alpha and listened as their Luna's heart beat one, then twice, and stilled. Gabal let out a choked cry of despair around the bleeding skin and broken bone that was supposed to hold his sacred claim. The store was still for another moment before Gabal freed his mouth and began to wail. Samuel and Ansel clutched at his shoulders, pressing their foreheads and cheeks against his, crying silent tears of their own. Gabal shook violently with each sobbing breath, his body heaving mightily with each wet, raspy exhale. Every ounce of rage had been extinguished and the only thing that remained was utter, soul snuffing anguish.
Aoifa waited with baited breath as the woman left in a flurry of shadow and mire, leaving Aoifa alone in the dark with questions and her biggest tormentor. To say she was terrified was an understatement. Only her connection to Gabal kept her grounded, reminding her that it was only her mind, not her body trapped once again, deep in the belly of the mountain, from all living things. The dragon himself, Ouro, lay still, almost exactly where Aoifa had last seen him. Only now, he was once again a giant gold lizard. The rumors about dragons being hoarders held a grain of truth, though dragons would often prefer less traditional treasure. Ouro, however, lived up to his name and his color with his avarice for gold. Not just the precious metal itself, but gold that naturally occurred in all things. Gold just like her hair. That she was a unique witch, baring powers that none other possessed just increased her value in his eyes. So he decided to acquire her.
Aoifa does not remember much about her initial capture, just waking in her cell, reaching out for the will of living things that had been her companion for many hundreds of years and coming up empty. Panic stole her sanity for a long while and when she came back into herself, he was there before her. She reached out to him blindly and felt the trendles of her will slip right off of his gleaming scales. She understood then that he was a real dragon, not a proud mortal playing pretend with a bit of sorcery. Dragon scales had a natural immunity to magic that other creatures did not possess, preventing Aoifa from manipulating or even feeling his will.
"Hello, Treasure," the dragon purred out in a deep, throaty snarl through his long snout. "Welcome to your new home. I am your Master, Ouro and you are my new witch, Treasure. You will do as I bid, as you belong to me now, small Golden Hair." He curled back his scaly lips into an imitation of a grizzly smile. Her silence did not hold for long.
"You will regret taking me, armored beast. I belong only to the force of life itself. Nothing you can do will change that." Her defiance was met with a smile as the dragon simply walked away. Aoifa didn't understand it then, but that was the beginning of her punishment. Long, lonely years were spent like that as she slowly died over and over again from starvation. He would come once a year, demanding her servitude and when she denied him, he would leave again. It was his one hundred and second visit that she finally gave in. He needed her to seal the deal with something important of hers, willingly given. Binding her with blood, pain, and sacrifice.
As he told her this, she knew what he wanted from her. The wandering eye and growing lust was evidence enough. He needed her Maidenhood. She couldn't say she was surprised. She had seen the way he looked at her, or certain parts of her to be specific. She had dismissed it at first, because of his size and species, but over the years it became indisputable. He should know that he would kill her in an attempt, unless that was his goal. Or… Unless a certain myth she had heard long ago happened to hold some truth. A myth that spoke of dragons having another form, one that allowed them to walk amongst men undetected. It was a long shot, and she could be misinterpreting the myth itself. For all she knew they could turn into mist or shadow. But it was the best chance she had at getting out of the unscathed. If she could get him to shed his scales then she won.
"If I do that with you then I will die, Ouro. Your dragon's body is not meant to lay with me. The beautiful scales that shield you from magic would prevent me from rising again, it would be my true death." She stared up at him, her show of fear and despair not hard to embellish, watching from below her lashes as the dragon contemplated what she had said, gazing upon her tear filled eyes with excitement and longing.
"Fear not, Treasure. For you, I will wear my flesh," with one long, golden claw he reached to touch the bared door of her cell. It swung smoothly and soundlessly open as though it had not kept her captive for over a century. The dragon head came first and then it began to shrink. Aoifa watched in awe as the body of the dragon morphed into something otherworldly. To say he was beautiful was an understatement. Godly may be a more apt description. Glowing gold hair that outshined her own, flawless, smooth, skin in a color unlike any she had ever seen. She was careful to keep her eyes on his face and chest, going any lower would likely induce vomiting. He stood well above other men and had the bulk to make it seem proportional. But, for all his allure, he still had the same cruel, cold eyes.
As she took in the sight before her, he moved forward, closing the gap between them alarmingly fast. He moved like a viper, quick, soundless steps, looking for a position to strike. Aoifa stumbled back in shock, forgetting her objective, her mind focused only on getting away. He took advantage of her blunder and pinned her to the wall by her neck in a quick move that her eyes couldn't track. The blow knocked the wind out of her and her head reeled.
"Poor Treasure," he cooed, the cinnamon of his breath washed over her face. "Such a lovely toy you make. So pretty and soon so obedient. I promise I'll make you like it. Eventually. After I make you suffer for the one hundred long years of waiting." The next thing she knew, the dragon in human skin had her leg hooked round his waist and he'd begun to align himself, readying for the final push. She could feel him, the heat and the sick excitement he had in his eyes. A moment of blinding panic struck her and with everything she had, mind, body, and soul, she pushed him away.
Aoifa dropped to the floor as he flew backwards. She felt more than heard the sudden wet pop of her neck, Ouro being just quick enough to clench his fist before he released her. It was his rasp that stole back her attention. As she glanced up, she saw her captor, still in human form but with a lovely addition this time. He was impaled by one of his favorite treasures, a long polearm he claimed was won in battle from a long dead viking king. It stuck out just below his heart, the wound pumping blood with each rapid beat of his heart around the handle, the entire blade and hook portion visible. As the life drained slowly from his body, she took hold of what remained. Then, she drew it all into her. The last thing she heard was the final exhale of a once mightily beast before her life faded and she joined him in death.