“I will have light refreshments brought during the event. In the meantime, let me pour you a glass of spiced merrow wine. It might help your preparation agitation.”
“Thank you,” I say as he turns to a gold-leafed liquor cabinet.
He pours me a glass of deep red wine in an etched crystal glass. Dragons fly across a red sky on the glass as I gaze at the liquid offering. I take a sip, feeling the smooth liquor slide down my throat and settle in my stomach. The sweet spices soothe my angry belly, and my shoulders relax.
I look out the window, wondering if I can spot Silas or Bashard or even Taylon. I wish I didn’t feel so alone at this pinnacle moment. I don’t blame my mother and father for not being here to give me away. I know how important their work is.
I glance down at the control dashboard below the window. Flicking the holographic screen, I bring up the detection application viewfinder, input an image of my brothers from my communication device, and press enter.
The detection viewfinder searches the crowd and settles on my two ice dragon brothers. They are bigger and broader than me by far, like most male dragons. My six-foot height is dwarfed by their seven.
They wear smiles on their dark pink lips and hold cups of foaming wasp honey mead. Their eyes are trained on the holoscreen. Dancing holographic dragon girls play on repeat for the growing crowd. All curves, swaying to the gyrating music. The music throbs below. My heart races with the growing agitation in my chest and the wine settling into my empty stomach. I use the detection application to find Taylon. He sits calmly in a seat at the top of the stadium. I let out a long sigh, glad to have him here.
“Are you ready to begin?” Ge’ono asks.
“No,” I say with a laugh.
“We must get started, Joon,” Ge’ono says. “The crowd will grow restless.”
“I’m ready,” I say, throwing back the rest of my wine.
“Good,” he says, waving his hand. “Let us begin.”
He runs his fingers over the communication device he holds and the massive window before me disappears. A platform extends from the bridal chamber, reaching out over the crowd.
A window rail forms around the sides, and Ge’ono ushers me out onto the platform. I stand above the cheering crowd, close enough to see their faces. My heart races in anticipation. The males stare and cheer. I can see the lust and longing in their eyes, as well as their curiosity.
The warriors emerge from below, holding weapons above their heads. They are all naked as the day they were hatched. I gasp and gulp down my anxiety. The raw masculine power of the dozens of nude gladiators sets me into an unbearable agitation. During the fights, dragons shift too fast for even our highest quality nanotech clothing. The tournaments are always fought nude, but that doesn’t make it any less agitating.
“Welcome to the tournament birthday girl, Joon. You are truly a queen among our race,” Ge’ono says through an amplification that radiates into the crowd. “As Judge of these games, I have determined that because of your ice white hair and beautiful white dress, we will call you our White Queen for these games. What do you think, Joon?”
“That’s nice,” I say, awkwardly, not knowing how I really feel about it. It’s encouraging to be called a queen, though. My family aren’t royalty by any stretch of the imagination. My mother’s family is in the Draxos military and my father’s were all academics.
“What do you think, gentlemen?” Ge’ono says to the crowd.
They send up an uproarious cheer. My heart slams in my chest. I can barely hear through the sound of it throbbing in my ears.
The warriors below in the ring gaze up at me. Their bodies are aroused by my presence, thrall or not. It is impossible not to look at them standing below, in the buff, aroused and longing for only me. Arousal and embarrassment battle inside me and neither win. I’m weak in the knees and want to run and hide. Or touch myself. I still can’t decide.
I bite my lip, looking at each warrior in turn. There are at least a hundred of them. The multiple colors of their skin glisten with oil. I can’t decide which is the most alluring. I think I’d have to talk to them to know. It hits me that I have no choice over who fate will choose to be my mate.
I’ve known intellectually all along. It is our way and our custom to go to the arena for a mate. But looking at these males, knowing one of them will be randomly chosen for me, I feel repulsed by the idea. I don’t know these gladiators. I have nothing in common with them. How can I spend the rest of my life attached to someone I don’t know or get to choose?
“Is there anything you’d like to say, Joon?” Ge’ono asks me.
“Have a good game,” I manage to say in a confident voice.
“You heard her, gentlemen!” Ge’ono says to the roar of the crowd.
I turn on my heel and rush into the bridal chamber, Ge’ono quickly catching up to me. The platform retracts and the window is replaced as a railing, leaving me open to the air. I am still on the holoscreens, my every expression and movement broadcast for the crowd. I wave, faking a smile. All I want to do is hide.
The fighters in the ring take their positions around the perimeter to wait for their match. Each game is ten minutes long. If there is no thrall, the next match starts. Each pair is supposed to be evenly matched to avoid injuries. The dragons fight fair, but the battles can be brutal.
I gulp, holding my breath.
Images flit through my mind. I’m in the center of a hundred fighters. They all touch me. They all want me. My body clenches between my legs and I gasp, sucking in air and letting out the breath I was holding.
Two fighters take the field. I watch on bated breath as the games officially begin.
Chapter 3
Ge’ono pours me another cup of wine and leaves the pitcher before he departs for his seat with the other judges.
I am alone in the bridal chamber, but with the way my body is reacting to the sight of the males, I’m glad for the privacy. I drink my wine in a gulp, feeling the warmth flood over me, calming my anxiety stricken blood.
If ritual oils and soaps are what awakened my desires and made me irritable, I’m definitely feeling the effects. I don’t know what is going to soothe this burning inside me.
The dragons in the ring begin the battle with laser swords, testing each other’s strength in bipedal form. The lasers crack against each other as their muscles bulge. When they’ve tested each other, one of them shifts and so does the other. The first one is a sleek, golden air dragon, the other is a large, brown earth dragon. They chase each other around the arena, flying and clawing and biting in an aerial battle.
The match is exciting but produces no thrall before it ends after ten minutes. I nibble on my fingernail, anticipation still raging through the growing warmth of wine in my belly.
A servant wheels in a tray of food, probably ordered by Ge’ono. I’m grateful for it. I know I should eat. The server places the tray on the table beside me. It’s filled with pastries and fruit, sweetmeats and cheeses, with some fresh brown bread. I grab a star fruit and gow cheese pie and shove it in my hungry mouth.
My stomach immediately agrees it’s a good idea to eat, and I shove one of each of the finger foods into my mouth in quick succession. Looking up I realize everyone in the arena just saw me stuff my face on the holoscreen. I smile and hold up another cheese pastry. The crowd cheers as the second match concludes without a thrall.
The third match is between a mountain of a stone dragon with stone-gray skin and marble white scales and a similarly large but leaner fire dragon with flame red skin and ember black scales.
They look up at me with their hands over their hearts before turning to each other. The red skinned male wastes no time in shifting into dragon form. He blows a stream of fire over the stone dragon, who shifts just as the fire hits. He emerges from his protective shell and bashes at the fire dragon as he maneuvers away.
The stone dragon’s heavy tail hits the fire dragon’s flank, sending him into a tail spin. The fire
dragon corrects, whirling on the larger foe. The fire dragon is skilled in flight and movement, and is far more agile than the stone dragon, who is clearly stronger. The stone dragon uses its massive gray wings to lift himself into the air. Once aloft, its powerful wings carry his heavy body easily over the arena.
He dives at the fire dragon, smashing at him with his thick stone tail. The fire dragon twists below him and manages to miss the blow. The red dragon corrects and slathers the stone dragon in a breath of fire.
The gray dragon takes the full force of the fire dragon’s breath. Parts of his flesh singe from the flame. The stone dragon flips himself into a tailspin, twirling with ever increasing speed. He wheels toward the fire dragon, who darts away, just to come down above the twirling stone dragon in a breath of fire.
The stone dragon throws out his tail at the red dragon as the fire hits him. In midair, as the fire and stone connect, both dragons burst into their thrall form. The thrall form is a bigger, more powerful version of themselves. This is the first time they have been able to access it in their lives. After they claim their fated, they can use it at will.
Both dragons come down hard on the arena floor. They shift there, on their backs, the power of the thrall flowing through them. They spring to their feet. The crowd is in chaos, the judges shout to remain calm.
“Two dragons thralling at once is unheard of,” Ge’ono calls out over the noise.
“We do not have the protocols for this,” another judge proclaims in a panicked voice.
“We must confer,” the judges say, going silent.
A moment later, their voices are heard again.
“There is an ancient reference of multiple mates in an old database I researched some time ago,” says one of the judges. “I assumed it a myth at the time.”
“What were the protocols?” the second judge asks.
“It is mostly the same as any other mating. However, multiple mates must claim their bride at once or there will not be a full mating among them.”
“Can there be more than two?” Ge’ono asks.
“Yes.”
“The games must continue then,” Ge’ono declares.
The other judges nod in agreement. The two thralled males in the battle ring look confused and angry. Their eyes leave the judges and lock on me. They don’t seem happy with having a rivalry in each other, let alone additional males.
I don’t know what to think or feel. One mate is bad enough, but two? And now the judges say there might be more. I pour another glass of wine and stuff another sweetmeat in my face. It looks like this tournament is far from over.
Chapter 4
As the next fighters take the ring, I stare down at the two who are now my mates. Their eyes haven’t left me since they thralled. I feel a deep need to know them better. I’m not sure if it’s just my nervousness at the prospect of mating with two males or my own mating instinct coming to the surface, but I long for the battle to be over and to move on to the more civilized part of our lives.
The battles continue in the arena, but I can’t keep my eyes off my new mates. I finally run an identification scan on them and it comes back with brief bios. The stone dragon’s name is Donte Surri, a hundred-year-old duke from an ancient aristocratic line. He has risen to power as a chief minister of the Draxos Senate.
The fire dragon’s name is Uri Ro’ow, a fifty-year-old warrior in the Draxos military defense. He’s a high general, a great achievement for a warrior so young.
Both are excellent matches with high positions and good breeding. My children will be well taken care of. I bite my lip at the thought of having hatchlings with two dragons… of making hatchlings with two dragons. I’m lost in thought about my new mates, Donte and Uri.
The dragon in the ring is sleek and stealthy, shadow black, claws dripping with poison. The viper dragon comes up behind a larger space dragon too quickly for it to be anticipated, his movements so fast he’s almost invisible.
The viper dragon’s claws slash across the space dragon’s neck, slicing through the tender flesh and drawing blood. He thralls, his venom’s potency heightened instantly. The space dragon falls from the air, slamming to the arena floor. The viper dragon lands on the ground, shifting into his bipedal form. His muscles are pumped and sweat trickles down his dark flesh. He looks at the convulsing space dragon with wide eyed horror.
Medics rush into the arena, attending to the space dragon. He’s shifted now, and bubbles of toxic spittle foam from his mouth. I stand, shocked and bewildered. Males have died in the ring before. Could my new mate be a killer? I gaze down at him and our eyes lock. Three males I am fated to now. Three more than I wanted this morning. The medics hurry the space dragon’s limp body out of the fighting ring and the judges float down into the center of the arena on their flying platform.
“Gentlemen!” Ge’ono says above the noise of the crowd. “Everything is under control. Prince Farrisha will recover. We have our best medics attending to him now. We have our third thrall of the night. Flume Beck, you are the fated of our White Queen. Congratulations!”
The judges fly their platform back to the wall above the match and call for the next round to begin. I sit, bewildered, agitated and becoming increasingly intoxicated on spiced merrow wine. All I can think to do is start a background search on Flume Beck.
He’s a special forces operative for the Draxos military. This is the first time he’s been back to the Draxos system in thirty cycles. At seventy-five cycles old, he’s my second oldest mate. Something in his eyes tells me he’s seen things that would melt my blood.
My heart flutters inside me and I clench my fists, pressing my sharp nails into the palms of my hands. Three mates. How am I supposed to bond with three mates? Even as I ask myself the question, I know they all belong to me. It is the deep inner knowing that happens once the thrall has begun. It is the same for both the males and the females. However, I will not have access to my own thrall form until I’ve been claimed.
I’ve never met any of these men but somehow it just feels right. As a scientist, I wish that our race had a more scientific way to explain the emotions that come along with the mating ritual, the connection, the instant bond, the deep lust. The terms we use to describe our reactions just don’t seem enough when I’m faced with feeling it myself. Pheromones and genetics aside, my newly awakened desire for these men borders on what I would call magical.
I cross my legs, my need burning brighter with each additional thrall. I sip wine from a crystal goblet and try to contain my desires. My three fated mates stare up at me, not taking their eyes off me for an instant. I can feel their need. My nipples tighten as the instinct to mate slams into my chest.
I cannot hold back my desire much longer. I wish this tournament would end and I could finally meet them. The judges are keeping us separate until the end of the games to be fair to the rest of the fighters. At this moment, I don’t care about being fair. I want to meet my mates. I want to put my hands on their flesh and feel it slide below my palm. I want to know things about them I’ve never known about anyone.
The games pass in agonizing tedium. I can’t focus on anything but them. When the field of fighters is almost clear, two more males thrall for me. It happens so quickly, over two consecutive matches, and it multiplies my already alarming harem of males. The same deep need to be together radiates between me and the newly thralled males. I can barely breathe as the desire wraps its fingers around me.
One of my new mates is a shimmering blue water dragon with dark hair and light aqua green skin. He is Reese Brio, a poet prince of the underwater kingdom of Umbria. Umbria is full of vast riches and secrets beyond measure. Not all dragons can breathe under water like water dragons. Just as other types cannot survive in space like space dragons. Water dragons dominate the seas of the Draxos systems, creating an almost secondary subculture all their own. Reese is sleek and agile. Just older than Uri at fifty-two cycles old.
The last male to thrall is the youngest of my ma
tes. At only twenty-five, Mika Loz’iah and I are practically the same age. The golden skinned air dragon is serpentine, slender and long in dragon form. As a man, he has the body of a youth who hasn’t come into his prime quite yet. For a race that lives for two hundred cycles, being in your twenties is almost like being an infant. But since the Draxos mature quickly, dragons my age are capable of mating and reproducing.
All five of my men hold me in their gaze. I’m transfixed by them for the rest of the tournament. When the last fighters finally complete their match, the judges call the game over.
Chapter 5
Ge’ono emerges from the sliding door, entering the bridal chamber as I stand in front of the mirror, checking my dress.
“Your mates will arrive as soon as they’ve bathed and changed into something more suitable to meet our White Queen.”
“Thanks,” I croak, not sure what I’m thanking him for.
This entire experience has left me dazed and more irritable than I can ever remember feeling. I want to blame the judges, the beauticians, the whole system, myself even. But there is no one to blame. This is my fate, but with all the emotions running through me, I have no idea how I feel about it. I wish I could get a grip, but it’s a futile desire.
I do get to meet my mates at any moment, something I’ve longed for since Uri and Donte thralled in the third match. It’s been an excruciatingly long wait to finally speak with these men. All I want is to know who I’ll be spending the rest of my life with.
“In the meantime, I want to have a brief discussion with you, Joon,” he says.
“About?” I ask, wanting him to leave me alone and for my mates to arrive.
“It is highly unusual for a female to have multiple mates. It hasn’t happened since the plague. The references that Judge Tyne brought to our attention are from a thousand cycles ago.”
“I see. What should I do about all this?”