Ryns.
The soldier caste of dragonlings, a particularly vicious species of shapeshifters.
Dragonlings are dangerous.
Ryns are deadly.
Born and raised to be a bloodthirsty soldier, Anita's life has never been her own. She always knew her fa...
A dragonling is free to choose their home colony. But they must understand that once they give up their right to be called part of their homeland, they will lose it forever.
This is Our Law.
~ From the Dragonling Grimoire
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I smacked Ray upside the head with a pillow, but the damn fyn wouldn't wake up. He was snoring louder than even Dmitri. I didn't think it could be possible.
"What am I, a snoring-fyn magnet?" I grumbled to myself before I whacked my new mate with the pillow several more times. When he didn't wake up - just rolled over - I gave up and threw the pillow across the room in exasperation.
Flopping down again, I put a fur over my ears so I could get some sleep. It was pretty close to dawn, but Ray had kept me up all night with his insatiable libido. "Dammit. This is your fault." I muttered towards the sleeping body beside me. "Keep me up all night and then you get to sleep while I'm up dealing with your snoring. Thanks, asshole."
Despite my bitter words, I only felt a mild irritation that was barely a drop against my new-found affection for the fyn. There wasn't the deep, tender love I had for my other mates, but Ray already felt like a close friend. With benefits, of course, but that was another story.
After a while, I was able to drift off to the steady snoring, snuggled close to Ray's side. When I woke up, I was alone on the soft furs. Ray was getting dressed across the room, pulling on a black and gold tunic. I sat up and watched him closely, making note of his body. It was lean and muscular, but it lacked the hardened build that Dmitri had. His copper-colored skin didn't have any scars or bruises.
A royal who sparred for show. Why am I not surprised? Yes, Ryn s mostly fight in their beast forms, but our humanoid forms were usually just as rough and scarred up, from training or fighting. I had a bit of leeway with my body, as I was a young wyk, but since I'd passed by Trial I had noticed the soft fat harden into muscle.
Ray turned then, his sharp golden eyes meeting mine. I was struck how haunted his eyes looked in the half-light of the fire. He smiled at me, the shadows falling away as he stepped closer. "Good morning. Sleep well?"
"After I finally managed to block out your snoring?" I murmured teasingly as I stretched.
"I don't snore." Ray frowned.
"Oh, yes you do!" I snorted, standing up. Ray tossed me a tunic - not mine, but close enough to my size - that matched his before walking to his desk.
"I think I would have known if I snored, Anita." Ray said, pulling on a par of leather gloves threaded with gold around the cuffs.
I rolled my eyes and let it go, pulling on the tunic. "What's up with the outfit, by the way? Are you going somewhere?"
Ray walked over, helping me tie the gold-threaded belt around my waist. "I wanted you to match me when I present you to my colony."
