A New Hunt

He was beautiful. His broad shoulders tapered down to narrow hips and long trim legs. He had the shoulders and arms of a swordsman and the bearing of a warrior. His long dark hair was pulled back on top into a tail then left to hang lose down his back. It was his eyes that caught her, though. Dark, brooding. Mysterious. The eyes of a Warg.

Three weeks ago, she’d come across him as she hunted. This winter was particularly hard even though it had just begun and the game was scarce. As an ice dragon, the cold didn’t bother her, but her belly would have been happier if there had been something available to fill it. When she’d caught the scent of warm meat: wolf, man, horse, and raven. What an odd combination of traveling companions, she’d thought to herself. Never mind, though. Surely there would be enough in that group to keep her fed a good long time. She’d stalked the scent of warm blood carefully, not wanting to startle them. She wasn’t the only predator out here and she didn’t want to lose any of them to other, less deserving mouths.

Then she had seen Him. He sensed her presence, she was sure of it, and looked her directly in the eye. Warg!

She felt the instinctive need to attack him. Wargs: skin-changers, magic-users, chosen of the gods. No truly wild beast wanted to be bested by a Warg. Most Wargs were wary of ice dragons but that wouldn’t stop a reckless one from trying to wear her skin. But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t say why, but she couldn’t attack this one. Once the knee-jerk reaction to attack passed, she was startled to find she didn’t really want to attack him. He was too beautiful. It had been a long, long time since she had seen another dragon and something about this Warg whispered to her dragon senses. Wolf, her nose told her, but not just wolf. This Warg was more. And he was so achingly beautiful. So she’d followed him as he trekked ever northward.

During the days, he traveled and she followed behind, her nose seeking out traces of his beguiling scent. At night, she hid in the deep shadows and watched him beside his fire. He knew she was there, so he never quite relaxed. But he seemed as intrigued by her as she was by him. She was the last of her kind but it was said that Wargs—wild at heart and ripe with the magic of beasts—could sometimes become mates with a beast. And this beautiful, beautiful Warg who called to her dragon nature? He stirred her body? Was he to be her sacred mate?