RAST

My female is sad. Despite the treats she seems to like so much, I can tell her mood has changed. Her eyes make water and her scent has changed to something dull.

I do not like this. I like when she is smiling and happy and her hands move over my skin. She does not reach for me, but instead drifts on her thoughts. I wonder if she has succumbed to the madness, and the thought makes my own fury flare once more. I sink into it instead of fighting, letting it carry me. My frustration is too much, and it is easier to descend into the madness and let it take over.

The scent of prey calls to me, and I shift to dragon form and ride the winds, chasing down fresh meat.

Blood.

Blood is what I need.

Blood and the urge to kill drive me, consuming my thoughts.

I find one horned, hooved creature and snap him into my jaws before his companions can scatter. They moo and gallop away, but they are fat, ungainly creatures and it is easy to snatch up another, and another and eat my fill. I snap at another, lazily, enjoying the killing more than the actual food. It feels good to destroy. To hurt. To kill. I pick my way through the herd, snapping at them as I fly overhead, enjoying their terror. It fuels the fire in my mind, appeasing the destroyer inside me. If I must suffer in this world, they must suffer as well. Is that not how things work? Is that not the way of the predator?

I am a predator. The sweet juice of their lifeblood runs along my tongue, coating my chops, and I lick it away. It tastes almost as good as…as something. I do not recall what. All I know is that their blood is in my mouth, on my blunted claws, spattering my skin, and I revel in it. This is freedom. This is life. This is…

Wait. Why are my claws blunted? Why would I wear such a mark of shame?

I stare down at them, revolted, and see the soft material looped around one stubby claw. It is gore spattered and dirty, but I lift it to my nostrils to pick up the scent, curious.

The smell of my mate hits me like a sudden rainstorm, washing away the smoke in my thoughts. They clear, and I remember her. My Aahm, with her soft hands and her gentle touches. Her sad eyes. Her delicious taste and the noises of pleasure she made when I tasted her cunt.

My fury dies away, and shame returns. I have abandoned her. I look at the bloody field in front of me, my belly full of meat. Nothing but carcasses lie before me, their red blood staining the green grasses of the land. It is wasteful, what I have done. I have destroyed senselessly and left my mate behind, all because my mind was weak. I snarl at myself for being so useless, so foolish. I have not even fed her this day.

What kind of drakoni male am I? To choose a killing spree over simply being in the presence of my female? I hate that I have sunk so deeply back into the madness. My determination to win her should override all, and yet I am weaker than I thought.

I must return to her, quickly, so she does not feel abandoned. And I must somehow make this up to her.

There is one dead animal with only a few bites out of its neck, and I grab it in my claws, intent on bringing her a meal. I return to our nest, flying as quickly as I can. She looks relieved when I return, though she wrinkles her nose at the dead animal I drop in front of her. She does not rush forward to eat, but indicates that I should blow flame on it. An odd request, but I can refuse her nothing. I set it on fire and watch her expectantly, waiting. Will she eat and the taste of blood will make her challenge me?

My mate stares at the burning creature with a look of frustration. She covers her nose and shakes her head, disgusted. Did I do something wrong, then? Tell me what will please you, I entreat her, trying to touch her mind with mine. Challenge me so I can claim you. Let us become one spirit.

But she only gazes at the charred animal with a look of defeat on her face. More water falls from her eyes.

I feel as if…I have failed her. That I have done wrong somehow. I do not understand it, and the anger that flares through me in response makes the fires of my mind blaze. I should sink back into the madness. Let her fend for herself. Abandon her and revel in blood—

I shake the thought from my mind as quickly as I can. No. That is not what I want at all. That is the madness seducing me, trying to get me to leave my mate behind. I will never abandon her again.

The madness will not conquer me.

I shift to my two-legged form and move to kneel beside her, cupping her small face in my hands. I meet her gaze, a question in my eyes. What does she need from me? How can I fix this?

She gives me a watery smile and sniffs hard, words tumbling from her lips in a flurry. I do not understand them, but all I need to know is that she is distressed and I have caused it. That is enough, and it tears at my spirit that I have made her so unhappy. I lean in to try and press my mouth to hers the way she likes, but she flinches backward and gestures at my face.

Anger flares, and she frowns, reaching out to brush at something on my cheek. She pulls away her hand and it is stained red with blood. It takes me a moment to realize that the blood is from my killing spree, and not hers, and I relax. “Aahm,” I say, leaning in to rub my nose against hers.

My sweet mate gives a little laugh and says something else, then gestures behind her. Does she wish to get up? I rise to my feet and offer her my hands, and she takes them, her movements ungainly. I do not care that she is not graceful; her bad limb means I will just have to be fiercer in my protection. It is a task I welcome. Anything to please her.

She gestures at the door in the back of the nest and her cheeks get pink. With surprise, I realize she is pointing at the box with water, where we mated tongues yesterday and she rubbed her hands all over my body.

Is this her mating signal?

If so, I accept.