Rhyolite
He was sulking.
There was no other way to explain it: the sour mood, unwillingness to do anything, and an intense desire to be alone. The only thing that would change that was having his mate around. Aimee. She wanted nothing to do with him, thinking that he’d somehow conned her into thinking that all he wanted her for was sex.
Did she not see the myriad other things he’d done for her? Or the way his face lit up when she did something as tiny as laugh? How about his attempts to adhere to and fit in with a human society that frankly scared him with its technological advances? Rhys had learned the internet and been in the process of discovering all sorts of other things about the world, just so that he could be a better match for her.
His tail lashed out behind him, thumping angrily into the hardened rock floor of his cave. Somewhere farther back some gold bars slid out of their carefully arranged piles, the shockwave disturbing their positioning.
The worst part was, he couldn’t blame Aimee for how she was feeling. Oh, he had at first. Upon the return to his cave, he’d thrashed about angrily for a solid hour, taking his anger out on anything and everything. More than one pile of gold had been melted into a blob from a burst of his dragonfire.
Once he’d calmed down though, rationality slipping its talons back into his mind, he’d forced himself to take a good, long, hard look at how she might see things. Consider that to her, he was a beast, a creature from legend, and one that had always been at odds with humans. Just believing in him was a stretch and a half, but she had been willing, especially after she’d seen his dragon in a peaceful way.
But she knew he’d had powers and abilities, and things had escalated quickly between them, even if the buildup had accompanied it. They had flirted and gotten touchy, just as he might have expected normally, based on his antiquated experience. Because of that, he hadn’t felt the need to tell her about his powers. Everything was happening so naturally he’d barely even considered it. In hindsight though, it should have been obvious that he informed her.
It hurt that Aimee had instantly reverted to the mindset that he was an evil, manipulative dragon. But her thirty-plus years of life, and several hundred worth of human history, all pointed to the fact that he didn’t exist, and that if he did, that he would do anything to manipulate his way to success. It was hard to shake off that built-in knowledge. It represented a safety bubble that she had run back to, which was only natural. After all, where did he go when he was hurt, mad, or otherwise wanting to run away from everything? His cave.
He knew she would come around and talk to him eventually. The pull between them was too great, the magnetism they shared toward each other too strong for her to ignore. Whether she gave him a second chance or not still remained to be seen, but Rhys was confident he would be able to at least talk to her again. Eventually. In the meantime the rift ate away at him, a thousand tiny needles stabbing into his heart with every beat, digging into his lungs with every breath. It was sheer agony to be so far away from her for so long, instead of by her side, as he knew a mate should be.
In the distance the sound of a helicopter reached his ears. He perked up, peering out into the gathering storm, wondering if it was Aimee. Could she truly be going out in this weather?
It was a dumb question and he berated himself for even asking it. Of course she would, if someone needed help. That was his Aimee, always wanting to help everyone else, and always refusing it for herself. Never wanting to rely on someone outside of her team, to believe that good things could happen to her. No, she was the good things that happened to those in need of it. Like the skiers she was probably headed out to rescue.
Or him. She was good for him. A calming influence, and one that wouldn’t put up with any of his normal antics. It shocked him that he liked that about her, but she made him want to be better, to improve himself, to show that he could be more than just a figure of fear in the mythological texts. Dammit, Rhys was going to prove to Aimee that dragons had a place in the here and now, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
Then he would also show her the limits of his powers. Rhyolite had always been disgusted with how generally useless his dragon power was, compared to say Obsidian, who could project fear, or others with rage, or jealousy or panic. Lust? What a sham, he’d thought. Until the first time he’d gone to a human party and used it. The results had been hilarious. He could use his powers to arouse humans to a degree they’d perhaps never known before. But what he couldn’t do was force them to act on it.
They didn’t work specifically. For instance, he couldn’t have made Aimee find him attractive and sexy if she hadn’t already thought so. All she would be is horny. His power didn’t make people want to sleep with the first person that came along. It simply made them want sex. It was a rather fine distinction, he knew that, and in certain situations it certainly might look that way. But if Aimee had wanted nothing more than a friendship with him, even his strongest efforts would have been unlikely to produce any effect, especially since she’d always been sober.
Parties and other sorts of large gatherings were always an entertaining prospect. Or had been when he was younger. He’d tired of it rather quickly however, and rarely even used his power anymore. It was just boring. Truthfully, Rhyolite was rather useless as a dragon when it came to that department. He certainly didn’t live up to the stereotypes of old, at least not anymore, not having messed with humans in decades at a minimum before he’d fought Obsidian the first time.
Stretching his wings, he prepared to head out into the storm, using the falling snow and dark clouds to obscure himself from any observers. Perhaps he would track the helicopter that had been heading north, see if it had indeed been Aimee.
“Rhyolite.”
He paused mid-jump, his head snapping around as he saw a tall human with brown-gold eyes and a haircut that faded in from the bottom to a messy sort of wave. The face, with its strong, classic lines wasn’t familiar, but he would recognize the voice anywhere.
“Obsidian,” he hissed, and spat a ball of flame at the bronze dragon.
Earth rose up like water, forming a barrier between the two. Rhyolite attacked again, this time a solid gout of fire that splashed continuously off the rock shield, melting it. As swiftly as he could turn it into slag, however, Obsidian pulled up fresh rock from the ground underneath him.
Angry at this, Rhyolite reached out to the earth underneath Obsidian, and turned the gentle downward slope into a vertical cliff. There was a yelp and suddenly the other dragon shifter disappeared. He smiled in satisfaction, hoping the bronze dragon would get the message. And if he didn’t, Rhyolite still had plenty of anger to take out on him.
“Are you done yet?” the voice called up from below the new cliff.
“Go away.” He wasn’t interested in talking.
“That was rude.”
The voice came from above him a few moments later.
“I said go away,” he snapped, turning to face Obsidian as he emerged from within the mountain, having transported himself within it to a different position. Now he was perched atop the opening to Rhyolite’s cave.
“I came to talk.”
He growled deep in the back of his throat. Smoke began to curl up from his nostrils, evidence of his building fury. “The last time you came to talk, you drove a dagger between me and my mate. Why should I listen to you again?”
“You should have been more honest with your mate.”
“No, Obsidian. This time it is you who fucked up. The least you could have done is confront me privately, ask if I’d told her. Then given me a day to tell her myself, instead of springing it on me last-minute!”
With the last roar of his words he reached into the ground once more. Obsidian may have moved out and around his cave, but now he was standing on top of stone worked by Rhyolite. Once a dragon had worked stone, it was near impervious to workings by other dragons. It was how they imprisoned one another.
Now the top of his cave melted away like butter. Obsidian cursed as he fell like a stone, but what really made Rhyolite smile was the look of utter shock and defeat as a silver-platinum tail came whipping around. There was a dull thwack, and Obsidian’s human form tumbled across the length of his cave before hitting the far wall and falling to the ground in a cloud of rock dust and chippings.
A few minutes later he heard painful coughing. “You know, I’m willing to concede you may have a point.”
“May have a point?” he asked threateningly, turning to look at the bronze dragon.
Obsidian coughed again, this time in politeness. He was trapped, and he knew it. Inside Rhyolite’s cave, he had no protection in the form of earth from his fire. The change from human to dragon was fast, but it wouldn’t be fast enough to stop Rhyolite’s fire from immolating him.
“Face it, Obsidian. You tried to act all high and mighty over me, thinking me the evil enemy, when in truth I am nothing of the sort. Have you already forgotten that when you came here from across the sea, that this was my territory, and you tried to evict me from it? You are the invader, the evil ass. I am nothing of the sort.”
Obsidian rolled his eyes. “I did not come here for you. I came here for my brother. He was in the area, and you were, unfortunately, in the way. He was the much greater evil. If you had left, or submitted, you would have been left alone. But you fought back, which I suppose I should have expected. It was nothing personal.”
“It certainly seemed that way.”
The bronze dragon laughed. “I can imagine it would. But no, I had learned my brother was responsible for a genocide down to the south, and I came to stop him from continuing that. I admit, I have killed humans in the past as well, but only those who bothered me. I have never sought them out.”
Rhyolite frowned. “What color scales does your brother have?” he asked cautiously.
“Purple. Why?”
Rhyolite howled with anger, his neck flipping around as he unleashed blast after blast of fire out into the stormy gray skies, announcing his rage and pain to the world.
“Rhyolite?”
He turned to see Obsidian in his dragon form, crouched warily.
“Are you okay?”
For a moment he contemplated going after Obsidian, right then and there. But no, he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. The bronze dragon had said it himself, he’d come to stop his brother.
“Did you?” he hissed.
“Did I what?”
“Stop him. Your brother.”
Obsidian nodded. “Yes. I imprisoned him shortly after you, locking him away until just recently when humans freed him. After a fight I was able to trap him below one of the mountains again, hoping that perhaps he will see the light.”
“I doubt it. Your brother is pure evil.”
“You act like you know him.”
“He destroyed my people,” Rhyolite explained, slumping as he remembered. Remembered the screams and the burning, and the casual way the purple dragon had batted him from the sky, more like an annoying gnat to the rampaging behemoth than another dragon. “I was too young. Too weak and pathetic to do anything about it. They died because of me, you know. Because I couldn’t stop him.”
Obsidian nodded in understanding, though he said nothing else.
“I wish you had killed him.”
“If he weren’t my brother, I would have. And no, before you ask, I’m not going to tell you where he is. He’s an ass, and mostly evil. But he’s my brother and I need to try and get him to see the good in himself.”
Rhyolite shook, trembling with barely contained fury. “If he tries to kill again, what will you do?”
“Stop him. If I cannot imprison him, then I will kill him.” Obsidian stood up, staring Rhyolite down. “But make no mistake, I will be the one doing it, not you, or any other dragon.”
The titanic beasts eyed one another for a very long moment, before both relaxed.
“You will help me fix things with my mate,” he announced.
“There isn’t much I can do,” Obsidian replied. “But I will try. In exchange, you will help me with something.”
That got his attention.
“I’m listening.”
“I’ve come to believe we have company.”
Rhyolite blinked, his triple eyelids slow to recede, a dragon action indicating further curiosity and explanation.
“Of the winged kind,” Obsidian clarified. “These avalanches. I don’t believe they are natural.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I found a white scale in the snow at the site of the most recent one.”
Rhyolite returned to his human form. “Oh. That would do it. White, you say?”
“Yes. An Ice Dragon has come to Drake’s Crossing it would seem.”
“Why here?” he grumped.
Ice Dragons were trouble. Testy, full of hatred and generally all-around bad, he’d had only a few encounters with them. None of which had been pleasant. They were all generally quite old, and therefore quite powerful. He didn’t relish the idea of going up against one, even with Obsidian at his side. Even together it would be tough. Perhaps too tough.
“My guess is that with my own awakening, others have felt it. Now with you and my brother awake and here, they will be drawn to this place.”
“So, just our luck. We can expect more of this then?”
Obsidian shifted as well, smiling broadly, revealing his perfectly white teeth. “I think Drake’s Crossing is going to see a population boom in the near future.”
Something stirred in his mind as things clicked together and Rhyolite spun to face the opening.
“What is it?” Obsidian asked, coming up next to him.
In the ground, their finely tuned senses detected the rumble of an avalanche. One that didn’t stop.
“Aimee. She is out there. I heard the helicopter.”
“Then she is in danger—”
Whatever else Obsidian was going to say was lost as Rhyolite moved, a blur to anyone who looked as he shot across the floor of his cave, heading for the newly formed cliff he’d dropped Obsidian off of.
Reaching it, he flung himself as high and far out as possible, arms spread wide as he called to the power within himself.
He dipped out of sight of the bronze dragon for a moment, before his silvery-platinum dragon appeared, pulling out of the dive and winging across the sky at breakneck speed as he tried to locate where his mate had gone in the stormy weather.
Hang on, Aimee. I’m coming for you, my love.