Estenarven – Page 2 – Becca Lusher

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 43

September 21, 2017September 27, 2017 Becca Lusher

A Courtship of Dragons is a M/M Romance short novel (approximately 60,000 words) told in short scenes, between two young dragons, Estenarven kin Boulderforce Clan Stoneheart and Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight. It’s pure fluff ‘n’ stuff and not intended to be anything other than that.

|| First Part || All Parts || Last Part ||

Sorry. Not a great week.

Still, at least Esten’s happy.

43
Tease

20^th Storm Month

ESTENARVEN SPENT THE next day in a happy haze, uncaring that he was back in meetings and once more serving Elder Blazeborn at dinner. Not only had he spent the last two nights sleeping with Mastekh beside him, but his Puddle had finally relaxed enough to let them explore each other. Just a little, just enough to give them both a taste of what they might one day have. Compared to his previous lovers, some would deem it fairly tame stuff, but Estenarven was giddy with it all. Mastekh was becoming more and more his with each passing day, allowing him closer, trusting him more deeply. Their courtship was progressing beautifully.

With that thought in mind, he smiled as he brushed a hand against his hip pocket, where his sixth gift now resided. The thought and effort that Mastekh had gone to in order to replace Estenarven’s battered old wooden figure with a new one handmade by his Puddle… Estenarven hadn’t known his heart could hurt with happiness. Even now it still felt a little too big for his chest, inflated with all the feelings Mastekh stirred within him.

“Ugh, Sister Storm, do you have to ooze?”

Estenarven jerked away from the wall he’d been leaning against and looked down to find Jesral scowling at him. He glanced at his hands and the floor, but he was a Boulderforce, he didn’t ooze.

He frowned in confusion. “What?”

“You. You’re so happy, it’s practically dripping off you.” She waved her hand in front of her face as though dispersing a bad smell. “Stop it.”

Reglian snorted from his desk behind the pair of them, where he was once again getting out of having to serve at dinner by pretending to take notes on the conversation. “Don’t be jealous, Jesral. It’s unbecoming.”

The Lightstorm sneered at the Thunderwing, who smirked back. Just because the two dragons shared a Clan, didn’t mean they liked each other.

Not in the mood to get between the pair of them and one of their bickering spats, Estenarven shook his head. “I thought you were my friend, Jessie.”

Jesral paused her glaring at Reglian to sniff in his direction. “I am.”

“Then you should be happy that I’m happy.”

“I would, but you’re just so nauseating about it. Smiling all the time.”

“I’m a smiley person,” he protested.

“Not like this,” Jesral argued. “You look like you’ve taken one too many hits on the head with a boulder.”

“He’s a Boulderforce,” Reglian interjected, chuckling. “They’re all like that.”

Both Estenarven and Jesral shot him a withering look. He didn’t seem to care, twirling a quill between his fingers and smiling benignly.

“All I’m saying is, can you be a little less distracted, please?” Jesral said, turning her attention back to Estenarven. “If I have to hit you one more time to prompt you to serve the next course, I’m going to break my hand.”

“Maybe you could try not hitting me?” Estenarven suggested.

She glared at him instead, so he opted for Reglian’s solution and smiled.

“Lovebirds,” she growled in disgust. “I thought you of all dragons would never fall for any of that romantic nonsense. Now look at you. A good flirt, ruined.”

“Aw, I’ll still flirt with you, Jessie,” he promised, batting his eyelashes.

She looked at him like he was something disgusting she’d accidentally stepped in. “Save it for Mastekh,” she retorted, flicking her hair over her shoulder and stalking away to stand with someone else.

Estenarven watched her go, shaking his head and sighing, wondering if he would ever understand what was wrong with her.

“Don’t worry, Esten, she’ll get over it,” Reglian said, putting down his quill and linking his fingers together. “Unfortunately for you.”

“What’s the problem between you two anyway?” Estenarven demanded, resting a hip against Reglian’s desk and reading his notes upside down. They looked more like a handful of games of noughts and crosses to him.

Reglian hurriedly covered up his games and shrugged. “Thunderwings and Lightstorms have never got along. Blame that age old question, which came first the thunder or the lightning? We’re simply not meant to be friends.”

“Sounds foolish to me,” Estenarven said, shrugging himself.

“Which is a bit rich coming from a kin Boulderforce, who all the Overworld knows can’t stand the rest of your Clan.”

“I can’t help it if the other Stoneheart kin are full of rubble brains and eroded integrity.”

“Mm,” Reglian agreed, twirling his quill again as the next course was brought in and Estenarven had to step away and serve his elder. By the time he returned, the Thunderwing actually appeared to be doing some work, so he rested his hip against the desk and tried some more upside down reading.

“You missed a bit,” he said, indicating a few runes that had only been half-completed, changing their meaning completely. “Unless you meant to compare Elder Cloudflight to a bat, in which case carry on.”

Reglian growled softly, making the correction and tucking the page out of sight. “Have you exchanged your sixth gifts yet?” he asked, changing the subject before Estenarven could ask about the interesting notes he’d just glimpsed on Elder Blazeborn’s attempts to turn back the Cloud Curse – and the lack of help he’d received so far from his fellow elders.

The subject of his courtship with Mastekh was something which Estenarven was more than happy to be diverted onto and he felt another soppy smile creep over his face. Thank the Family Jesral wasn’t around to see it.

“We have,” he admitted, fully aware that he sounded besotted but not caring because he was. The look of awe on Mastekh’s face when Estenarven had presented him with the gold-veined quartz would remain one of his favourite memories for the rest of his life. His dear Puddle had literally melted over the gift, unable to believe that anyone would give him something so beautiful. Estenarven felt the same way about everything Mastekh had given him, so he knew they were even.

“And the seventh? Have you fetched it yet?”

Estenarven scowled at having his happy memories interrupted again and rubbed his neck. “When would I have had the time?”

“You had yesterday off,” Reglian pointed out. “Surely it didn’t take you all day to exchange your sixth gifts.”

“Not all day, no.” Estenarven sighed, sinking back into memories of what had led up to the gift giving and all the gratitude that had followed. Sibling Stone, if only all free days could be so wonderful…

“So when?” Reglian once more prodded him back to the present.

“I don’t know,” Estenarven growled. “When these meetings end or Elder Blazeborn takes pity on us again, I suppose. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Ah, but it is, remember.” Reglian raised an eyebrow and tapped a golden claw against the pocket where his little betting book resided.

Estenarven narrowed his eyes. “You shouldn’t remind me about that,” he warned. “I’m still angry with you and Goryal.”

“If you’re truly angry with Goryal then you’d best speed things up. You know they’ve bet on your courtship wrapping up on the twenty-fourth of this month. No one else has gone longer, so even if you and Mastekh exchange your seventh gifts after that, they’ll still win the pot.”

Estenarven growled again.

Reglian smiled. “Better get a move on then, hadn’t you.”

Estenarven gave a sharp nod and plotted how he might convince Elder Blazeborn to give them another day off, preferably tomorrow. He was so preoccupied, in fact, that he forgot to ask Reglian who would win if Goryal was thwarted.

Still, as he curled up with Mastekh in his narrow bed that night, smiling at Khennik’s promise not to need either of them on the morrow, he decided he didn’t care. All that really mattered was securing his seventh gift so that he could make Mastekh his forever.

And if they happened to ruin Goryal’s win along the way, that was just a bonus.

~ Next chapter ~

If, like Reglian, you’re impatient to reach the end, you can download the ebook now – it’s free!

Whatever you choose to do, take care, my lovelies.

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 42

September 13, 2017September 27, 2017 Becca Lusher

|| First Part || All Parts || Last Part ||

Finally, a little private time together.

42
Scales

19^th Storm Month

MASTEKH WOKE FROM the most wonderful dream, where he’d slept the whole night in Estenarven’s arms, dozing against that strong, broad chest.

Sibling Water, what he wouldn’t give for that to be true, he thought, stretching and yawning, opening his eyes —

And finding that it was true.

“Whuh?” His arms shot out, lifting him above Estenarven’s rock solid chest.

Rock solid, bare chest.

On which he’d been sleeping and… drooling?

Mastekh closed his eyes against the glistening patch on Estenarven’s superbly muscled chest and prepared to move. It would be a struggle, but by the Family, the poor dragon had been used as a pillow all night. He deserved a little consideration.

Before Mastekh could talk himself into doing what he really didn’t want to, strong hands curled around his elbows, drawing him down again.

Mastekh’s eyes shot open and found a sleepy smile awaiting him.

“Morning, Puddle,” Estenarven rasped, his voice rough with slumber. He pressed firm lips against Mastekh’s, drawing the affection out into a long, easy kiss that ended with Mastekh once more sprawled all over him. When Estenarven finally released him, the Boulderforce’s smile was a smug as the Jewelwing who got the diamond. “What a way to wake up.”

Mastekh could only nod in agreement, his hands busy petting their way across Estenarven’s granite hard muscles, enjoying the vital warmth beneath his cool palms. Such a delicious contrast, like the places where Estenarven’s hands had snuck inside Mastekh’s own loosened robe and were resting against his back.

When one of Mastekh’s wandering hands slid along Estenarven’s side and found an unexpectedly ticklish spot, the Boulderforce made a sound of surprise. When Mastekh returned to that same spot, he breathed in deep, arched his hips ever so slightly and flexed his hands. Those same hands that were big enough to span from Mastekh’s waist all the way down to a sensitive patch of his own.

“Ah,” Estenarven chuckled, his left hand rubbing down from the base of Mastekh’s ribs to the top of his backside, pausing to circle over a particularly smooth patch. “There they are.”

As the Boulderforce ran his thumb over the sinuous spiral of scales, Mastekh shuddered from head to toe. No one had ever touched his scale patches before and he’d had no idea how wonderful it would feel.

“Sensitive?” Estenarven murmured, blowing a teasing stream of warm air against Mastekh’s flushed face.

“V-v-very.”

“Good.” He played with the scale patch until Mastekh was a trembling puddle of desire, his claws digging ever-so-slightly into the muscles of Estenarven’s chest.

Then the infuriating Boulderforce stopped.

“I’ll keep it in mind for later. Please tell me you have another patch somewhere else.” Estenarven sat up, chuckling as Mastekh slid off him like melting ice.

Sprawled on his back in the covers, Mastekh stared as his Boulderforce leant over and stole a kiss.

“Puddle?” he murmured, stroking his nose over Mastekh’s burning face, which was no doubt currently a deep green shade. “Scales?”

Sensations running too high to form words, Mastekh took hold of Estenarven’s hand and placed it where his robe gaped widely open. There on his rather less than spectacular chest, slightly to the left of centre, a ragged-edged area just a little smaller than palm-sized formed a silky patch on his cool skin.

Estenarven’s smile turned tender as his fingertips traced the edges of the scales before he flattened his hand over the top. “May I?” he asked, touching the edge of Mastekh’s robe.

He swallowed hard, but nodded permission. Nudity wasn’t a taboo amongst dragons, who only wore robes to protect their frail human skins rather than because of any sense of modesty, but Estenarven had always made him feel shy. The Boulderforce was so beautiful and striking and strong, while Mastekh was… not. Just a skinny streak of human skin. His dragon form was sleek and swift, especially when he was in the water, but his human shape was underwhelming in all ways. He really didn’t want to disappoint Estenarven, but with his Boulderforce being so generous with his own body, Mastekh didn’t think it fair to keep hiding. Nor did he want to, not really. He wanted to be touched, even if he would never be admired. He wanted to press his skin against Estenarven’s, to feel his heat everywhere. So he held still when Estenarven brushed aside the edge of his robe and tried not to cringe when those dark eyes roamed all over him.

“Oh, Puddle,” Estenarven breathed, staring down at his pale, skinny, slightly clammy chest.

Mastekh peered down himself, wondering what it was the Boulderforce could possibly be taking so long to look at. His scale patch did look rather nice, actually, shimmering with iridescent hues beneath the golden light of the globe. Mastekh had never spent much time looking at it, but the blues and greens were quite pretty, shifting and shining as he breathed.

“Beautiful,” the Boulderforce sighed, pressing his lips right on the scale patch.

“Oh!” Mastekh arched at the unexpected jolt of sensation. “I – I -” His chest heaved as he tried to breathe after electricity had zapped through every part of his body.

“Very sensitive,” Estenarven purred, licking the scales and chuckling deeply as Mastekh whimpered with pleasure. “Excellent.”

“Sh-shouldn’t we be g-g-getting up?” Mastekh asked weakly, chest heaving, a fine sheen of moisture breaking out across his entire body as he tried to process all that he was feeling. It didn’t help that Estenarven was stroking teasing fingers across his whole chest now and slowly peeling the edges of his robe apart so that he could explore further – and lower. “Esten!”

Estenarven waited for him to collapse back against the covers before nuzzling the opposite side of Mastekh’s chest from the scale patch he’d just licked. Again.

“Not today,” he murmured. “We don’t have anywhere to be today.” He tested Mastekh’s thin layer of muscle with his teeth, nipped a little harder and licked away the sting. Then he looked up to grin. “Elder Blazeborn has given us all the day off.”

“Oooooh,” Mastekh sighed, while Estenarven returned to his explorations. “That’s… that’s very k-k-kind of him.”

“Isn’t it?” Estenarven chuckled, shifting to make himself more comfortable as he moved a little further down Mastekh’s body. “Now all we have to do is find a way to amuse ourselves. Any ideas?”

Mastekh’s reply was a squeak, followed by a moan, followed by a sigh as he surrendered to his delicious fate.

~ Next Chapter ~

If, like Estenarven, you want more, then you can get the ebook – it’s free!

Whatever you choose to do, take care, my lovelies.

Books, Overworld, Writing

Dragon Sulks

September 11, 2017September 7, 2017 Becca Lusher

Also known as Storm Rising: Chapter 2. In which Estenarven is grumpy after getting in trouble, again.

If you missed them, Chapter 1: Part 1 and Part 2 are also available.

Or you can buy the whole book now if you’d rather read it all at once.

This is also a friendly reminder that the price will rise from 0.99 to 2.99 this Wednesday! So you have only a few days left to get it cheap.

Continue reading “Dragon Sulks” →

Books, Overworld, Writing

Storm Rising is Out! (Snippet #2)

September 7, 2017September 11, 2017 Becca Lusher

Storm Rising 5 Since I’m still celebrating the (much delayed) release of Storm Rising, I thought now might be a good time to share another excerpt – Chapter 1, Part 2.

If you missed the first part, you can find it here. Along with an insight into what Riders do when they’re bored. Well, what Nera and Teka do anyway. It might also contain an over-sized Boulderforce playmate.

Now it’s time to gauge Khennik’s take on proceedings. Oh, what a surprise, Elder Blazeborn is not amused…
(But I am ;)

Continue reading “Storm Rising is Out! (Snippet #2)” →

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 41

September 6, 2017September 13, 2017 Becca Lusher

|| First Part || All Parts || Last Part ||

Even in amongst all the Storm Rising stuff, I haven’t forgotten about you, my dear ol’ Courtship readers. Especially not when Khennik’s about to put his foot down.

41
Enough

“I AM SORRY about this, you know,” Elder Blazeborn said, as he and Estenarven walked back to their suite. “I had no idea this would turn into so many meetings. I’m not even certain what they’re discussing anymore.”

The elder had never been one for trade diplomacy. Not that Estenarven could blame him. He hadn’t been able to work out what all the meetings were about either, until he’d caught a glimpse of Reglian’s betting book and discovered Goryal’s stake in the proceedings.

“It’s not your fault,” Estenarven said, entirely truthfully.

Elder Blazeborn rubbed a hand over his head and blew out a weary sigh. “Perhaps not, but since neither of you will help yourselves, I’m putting my foot down. We’re all taking tomorrow off.”

“But the meetings…” Estenarven protested, a little less forcefully than he probably should.

“Burn them. I have nothing to contribute and won’t be missed. And if I’m not there, nor will you be. Let them fetch their own blasted food and drinks for once. My patience has ended.”

A huge smile of relief broke through Estenarven’s tiredness. The Blazeborn elder had never been well known for his patience, but while he continued to attend it was up to Estenarven – and Mastekh – to support him. But if he wasn’t there…

“Thank you.”

Khennik waved a dismissive hand and pushed open the door to their suite. “Just don’t wake me in the morning. In fact, I don’t want to see either of you all day long. Finish your courtship. I have sleep to catch up on.” So saying, the grumpy elder walked into his private room and shoved the door shut behind him.

Estenarven watched him go with a fond smile. Khennik would never be the friendliest of dragons, but beneath his grumps and growls, there was a good heart. Even if it wasn’t particular gracious at accepting gratitude.

“Thank you,” he murmured again, yawning as he glanced over at the closed door to Mastekh’s room. He’d noticed his Puddle slipping out early from the dinner and sighed with disappointment. So much for coaxing Mastekh into a cuddle or two before bedtime. Ah well, he wouldn’t disturb him now. His poor Rainstorm had been run ragged over recent days, back and forth to the kitchen, up and down the stairs. Estenarven would let him sleep. He could surprise him with the news of their reprieve in the morning.

Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, another yawn overtook his smile and he rubbed his hands over his eyes instead.

“Time for bed,” he muttered, pushing into his room and collapsing onto his blankets.

“Wuh!”

“Ah!”

Not only was his bed not nearly as soft as he remembered, it also contained a frenzy of thrashing limbs. Estenarven jerked back and hit the floor with a bone-rattling thud.

“What the blazes!” Khennik arrived in a swirl of fire and light – and froze in the doorway, taking in the sight before him.

Estenarven lay sprawled on the floor, wincing as he sat up on his tender backside. Meanwhile, the pile of blankets on the bed continued to thrash and moan, until Mastekh’s head popped out, squinting at the bright glow of Elder Blazeborn’s power.

“Mastekh?” Estenarven and Khennik asked together, one slightly more incredulously than the other.

Moaning, Mastekh pressed his arm over his eyes and curled up tighter, wincing as he moved his legs. Estenarven winced in sympathy, remembering how heavily he’d fallen on his bed. Because he’d expected it to be empty. He’d thought he was alone.

“Ah, ahem, well,” Elder Blazeborn cleared his throat awkwardly and Estenarven looked at him properly for the first time since his arrival. Bronze skin glowing with power, Khennik’s robe hung half off his shoulders, the silk still smoking. It seemed like they’d given their elder as much of a shock as they’d given themselves.

“I’ll just leave this here, I think.” Khennik let a small golden globe drop from his fingers. “Good night.”

“N-n-night,” Mastekh whimpered from the bed.

“Good night,” Estenarven called, picking up the globe and gingerly climbing to his feet to shut the door. “And thank you!”

Khennik made a grumbling reply about keeping it down as he returned to his own room. Leaving Estenarven alone with Mastekh. Finally.

“Puddle?” he murmured, placing the glow globe on a high shelf and crawling onto the bed. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you? Speak to me.”

Silk sighed as Mastekh shook his head, his face still hidden by his arm. “Sur-p-prised,” he mumbled.

Estenarven snorted in agreement and carefully eased down until he was lying alongside the other dragon. “You and me both, Puddle.” He pulled his Rainstorm closer.

Mastekh flinched and rolled away, hugging his knees tight against his chest, back to Estenarven. “I’m s-s-sorry,” he gasped, covering his head with his arm again.

“I’m not,” Estenarven grumbled, inching closer. Mastekh inched away. Estenarven followed and, since he was on the wall-side of the exceedingly narrow bed, Mastekh swiftly ran out of space and was caught. Estenarven pressed his chest against Mastekh’s back and buried his face against the nape of his neck. He sighed. “You’re in my bed. Best surprise I’ve had all century.”

Trembling, Mastekh uncurled a fraction and peered over his shoulder. “T-t-truly?”

Estenarven took advantage of the slight softening and wrapped his arms around Mastekh’s waist, hauling him as close as possible. “Truly,” he rumbled in reply, kissing his Puddle’s wet cheek. “As long as you’re not hurt.”

“I’m not h-hurt. Just em-b-barrassed.”

“Mm,” Estenarven hummed, yawning against Mastekh’s shoulder. “Never mind now. Leave it to tomorrow. Sleep.”

Mastekh hummed in agreement, shifting around until he could tuck his head against Estenarven’s chest. “You’re not h-hurt?” he whispered.

Ignoring the throbbing in his tail bone, Estenarven breathed in a lungful of Rainstorm scent and smiled. “No.”

“G-g-good,” Mastekh yawned, and went boneless with relaxation.

Running a hand up his back to stroke the Rainstorm’s soft cloud of hair, Estenarven wondered if he should offer to take Mastekh back to his own room. Except his Puddle seemed exceedingly comfortable where he was and Estenarven was in no mood to move either. He wanted to sleep, needed to sleep, and having Mastekh in his arms made everything ten times better.

So he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, aware that tomorrow was a free day in which he didn’t have to do anything. Neither of them did. They could stay in bed all day if they wished.

Bliss.

Mastekh snuggled deeper into his arms and made a sound of contentment as he wriggled his way beneath Estenarven’s robe and pressed his cheek against bare skin. The Rainstorm was cool to the touch but perfect. Utterly perfect.

Estenarven released the last of the day’s tension and sank into the depths of sleep.

~ Next Part ~

If, like Khennik, you’re fed up of waiting to find out what happens next, get the ebook – it’s free!

Whatever you choose to do, take care, my lovelies.

Books, Overworld, Writing

Storm Rising

September 6, 2017September 7, 2017 Becca Lusher

Storm Rising 5

Trouble stirs in the Dragonlands and Elder Khennik kin Blazeborn seems trapped at the very heart of it. After a disastrous stay with the Stormdrake kin, it’s time for the human delegation to visit the Skystorm Clan, yet their welcome is less friendly than anticipated.

Whispers and accusations fly, but something is definitely not right inside the Clan. And with the Dragon Moot fast approaching, can the Rift Riders and dragons sort things out swiftly enough to save the Khennik from another catastrophe?

The Cloud Curse is changing – but is anyone willing to listen to reason? Or will politics and arrogance combine to bring down all the kins and Clans for good?

Available Now!
Amazon: US || UK || AUS || DE || CAN
Smashwords || B&N || iBooks || Kobo

Read on for the first part of Chapter One.

Continue reading “Storm Rising” →

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial

A Courtship of Dragons

September 3, 2017January 16, 2018 Becca Lusher

This is the portal page where you will find all the links for chapters and free downloads for this book. If you’re new to the Dragonlands series and want to know how it fits in with all the Wingborn stuff, scroll down to the introduction beneath all the links. Enjoy!

Courtship Banner 1 — Dragon Vectors designed by Freepik

Dragonlands #1.5

Friends and lovers have always come easily to Estenarven kin Boulderforce, until Mastekh. For the first time in over three hundred years, Estenarven has found a dragon that matters. Now all he has to do is convince him.

Mastekh kin Rainstorm doesn’t expect much from life; he mostly wants to be left alone. Until Estenarven leaves a gift on his pillow. For the first time someone is paying attention to Mastekh, but can this shy, downtrodden dragon ever learn to trust another – and himself – enough to give in to life, joy… and maybe even love?

Warning! This M/M romantic side-adventure contains a watery dragon with no confidence and a stone-stubborn Boulderforce with confidence enough for two. May also contain an interfering Starshine, a slightly perplexed Blazeborn and kissing. Enjoy!

Free to download now!

|| Smashwords || B&N || iBooks || Kobo ||

Or read along for free right here:

~ Part 1: The Daisy ~ Part 2: Rock Cakes ~ Part 3: The Dinner Bell ~
~ Part 4: Banquet I ~ Part 5: Banquet II ~ Part 6: Banquet III ~ Part 7: Humming ~
~ Part 8: Tea ~ Part 9: Elder Blazeborn ~ Part 10: The Morning After ~
~ Part 11: Making a Meal of Things ~ Part 12: Sigh ~ Part 13: Smooth Awakening ~
~ Part 14: Sleeper Awakes ~ Part 15: The Second Gift ~ Part 16: A Gift of Meaning ~
~ Part 17: Chores ~ Part 18: Pout ~ Part 19: Rainstorm ~ Part 20: Courage ~
~ Part 21: Thoughts ~ Part 22: Shells 1 + 2 ~ Part 23: Gossip, Part 24: Run ~
~ Part 25: The Cavern ~ Part 26: Breathe ~ Part 27: Talk ~ Part 28: Well… ~
~ Part 29: Party ~ Part 30: Two Sides… ~ Part 31: Cooking ~ Part 32: Fifth Gift ~
~ Part 33: Dinner ~ Part 34: Rose ~ Part 35: My Precious ~ Part 36: Wooden Heart ~
~ Part 37: Delay ~ Part 38: Waiting ~ Part 39: ARGH! ~ Part 40: Surrender ~
~ Part 41: Enough ~ Part 42: Scales ~ Part 43: Tease ~ Part 44: Risk ~ Part 45: Fury ~
~ Part 46: Um… ~ Part 47: Water Awakening ~ Part 48: Goryal’s Gift ~
~ Part 49: The Seventh Gift ~ Part 50: Love ~

Introduction

WELCOME TO THE Overworld, or more precisely, the Dragonlands. For those who aren’t familiar with it, the Overworld has been cursed by Gods to be covered in clouds, drowning the lowlands and oceans and leaving mountaintops as isolated islands. The reasons for this have been lost over the centuries, but tension still remains between humans and dragons over who was at fault. (The dragons blame the humans, the humans can’t remember, the Gods aren’t talking.)

Not that any of that is particularly relevant to this book, it’s just a bit of background as to why my travellers are holed up in the mountains during the Storm Season.

If you are familiar with the Overworld, and the DRAGONLANDS series in particular, then this story is set a few weeks after the events of Blazing Dawn. You don’t have to have read that book to enjoy this, although it will have introduced you to all the necessary characters.

Chief amongst them being Estenarven kin Boulderforce Clan Stoneheart and Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight, my two young dragons, whose courtship this book is about.

If you’re familiar with the Overworld because of the WINGBORN series, then this is set about two hundred years before Mhysra and co, back when dragons still interacted with humans and women were still part of the Rift Riders. Although the focus in this book is primarily on my young dragons, a few Rift Riders do make appearances, along with a few other characters from Blazing Dawn.

So whether you’re a frequent visitor to these lands or new to the whole place… Welcome! I hope you enjoy this sweet little romance between a watery, anxious dragon and the stone stubborn Boulderforce who loves him. And hopefully I’ll see you around this world again soon.

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 39

August 23, 2017 Becca Lusher

|| First Part || All Parts || Last Part ||

This chapter is entitled ARGH!, which is pretty much all you need to know…

39
ARGH!

18^th Storm Month

AFTER SIX NIGHTS of dull diplomatic dinners, Estenarven was on the verge of tearing his hair out – if he had any. They’d been at Highstrike for more than half a moon cycle now, with likely just as long left to go before the wretched Storm Season would abate, and Estenarven was starting to feel trapped. Elder Blazeborn had offered several times to let them off for an evening, but Estenarven and Mastekh were both stubborn. If the other aides were going to be present, waiting on their elders, then they would be there too. Not that they both got to serve Elder Blazeborn each night, instead they had been alternating between serving Khennik and waiting on Elder Goryal. Estenarven didn’t much mind which dragon he looked after, but Mastekh always seemed a bit more sullen after a long night of tending to Goryal. Luckily for all concerned, tonight it was Estenarven’s turn to serve the Starshine, so hopefully Mastekh would only be tired at the end of the meal, instead of grumpy on top.

The only good thing that had come out of the non-stop dinners, followed by days in discussion rooms, was that Mastekh no longer kept any distance between them when they had a rare chance to sit together. Few and brief as these precious moments were, Mastekh now pressed up against Estenarven as if they’d been joined at the hip, no longer wasting time creeping closer over the course of the conversation. Estenarven was secretly hopeful that he might manage to coax his Rainstorm into sharing a bed that night. Or at least a significant amount of cuddle time before sleep. Which neither of them seemed to be getting enough of anymore. If only his bed was bigger…

“How goes the courtship?”

Estenarven blinked, startled out of his pleasant thoughts by the low rumble of Reglian’s voice. The junior archivist was supposed to be taking notes on the chatter around them, but he was mostly picking out the choicest morsels from the draco platters before the elders were served. Each evening the Thunderwing settled down near a different dragon aide for company and it seemed that it was Estenarven’s turn again tonight.

Searching for Mastekh on the opposite side of the room and several seats further down the table tonight, Estenarven gave a heartfelt sigh. “Slowly.”

“Rumour has it you’d reached the sixth gift, but that was several days ago,” Reglian said. “Shouldn’t you be finished by now?”

“Give us a few evenings to ourselves and we’ll take care of it,” he growled, annoyed at the questions.

Reglian smirked. “A few evenings, eh?” He nudged his elbow into Estenarven’s ribs. “Got lots to take care of, have you?”

“Shut up, Reglian.”

The Thunderwing rumbled his deep chuckle. “Someone’s touchy. Have the elders been keeping you up too late?”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” Licking the end of his quill, Reglian dipped it in his inkpot and scribbled something in a small notebook.

“What are you doing?” Estenarven asked, having never seen that little book before. Usually the archivist was busy with scrolls and large tomes. Notebooks like this were far more human in nature.

“Just keeping track of the facts for the betting pool.”

“Betting pool?” Estenarven blinked, then grabbed for the book. “What betting pool? Let me see that!”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Reglian held the notebook out of reach. “Nothing to concern yourself over, young Boulderforce, don’t you worry.” He shoved it back in his pocket and straightened the inkpot before Estenarven could knock it over. “A little decorum, if you please.”

Half-sprawled over the table, Estenarven growled and spat a quill out of his mouth, suddenly aware of how quiet the room had fallen. Looking up, he found all eyes upon him.

Heat washing through him, he straightened up and adjusted his dishevelled robe with an embarrassed cough. “My apologies, elders, ambassador, captain,” he murmured, since attendants were supposed to stick to the shadows and never draw attention to themselves.

More than a few amused smirks were thrown his way, though there was also a scowl or two, but thankfully everyone soon returned to their meals and conversations. Leaving Estenarven free to scowl and punch Reglian hard on the arm.

“Ow!” The Thunderwing managed to keep his outrage at a sub-vocal level, rubbing at his bicep. “Blasted Boulderforce. I need that arm to write with, barbarian.”

“Give me that book,” Estenarven growled low in reply.

“No.” Reglian sniffed and picked up another quill, his arm apparently fine despite his protests.

“Do I have to punch you in the head next time and knock some sense into you?” Estenarven threatened in a hiss.

“Violence is never the answer, Pebble,” Reglian informed him in a haughty tone.

“It always works for me,” Estenarven promised.

“Fine.” Reglian dug out the notebook and handed it over just as the next course arrived. “Heathen.”

Cursing the timing, Estenarven tucked the book into his pocket and quickly dealt with switching the empty plates for full ones. Then he hurried back to the shadows and flicked through the small pages. Each one was crammed with lists of names and numbers, few of which made any sense to him. Except for the occasional line here and there.

Dates. Predictions. Two names repeated over and over.

“This is a betting book,” Estenarven whispered, flicking to the last page. “About Mastekh’s and my courtship!” Mastekh to turn him down… 10,000 – 1. He slapped the book against the archivist’s chest. “Reglian!”

“Calm down,” the Thunderwing rumbled, rescuing the notebook before they drew the attention of the whole room again. “No one took that bet. Look.”

Estenarven scowled, refusing to acknowledge any relief at the lack of names. Especially as a different heading caught his eye. “What of this?” He grabbed the book and jabbed an accusing finger at The whole thing is a joke… 1,000 – 1. “That’s vicious, even for you.”

“Er, well, yes. Hm, that one wasn’t my idea. I just take the bets and calculate the odds. Look, I gave it a long one, so clearly I have faith in your intentions. Even if others don’t.” Snatching the offending book back, he shoved it into his pocket again. “If people want to throw their coins at me out of spite, I won’t refuse.”

“Don’t ever let Mastekh see this thing,” Estenarven snarled.

Reglian smiled weakly in return. “Not a chance. I promise.”

Eyes narrowed, Estenarven glared around the room, recalling all the names that had been written on the pages and how many of them corresponded with the dragons and humans gathered here right now. “Hang on.” Eyes widening with realisation, he snapped his fingers. “Let me see that again.”

“No.” Reglian covered his pocket with his hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Just forget you ever saw it.”

“Not with you making such a tidy profit out of it,” Estenarven argued. “You’d better be planning on sharing those proceeds, you mangy wyvern. Especially if I just saw what I thought I saw. Elder Goryal’s in there, betting that we won’t get this wrapped up until the twenty-fourth of this month. The twenty-fourth! They’ve been running us all ragged because of a bet? Sibling Stone, I could throttle the lot of you!”

“Now, now, Esten, keep your voice down,” Reglian murmured soothingly. “It’s not just because of the bet. These are serious talks. You’ve been at most of them. Not even Goryal can make up this much stuff.”

Estenarven emitted a loud and extremely sceptical snort. Elder Goryal was a Starshine with enough power to do whatever they blasted well pleased. “The profits, Reglian.”

“Oh, well, you know, after running costs and payouts – and there will be an awful lot of those since most of the Riders only betted on you getting together – there really won’t be much left. Truly.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Estenarven stared the other dragon down.

Reglian deflated beneath that disapproving glare. “I suppose you are owed a small slice. Say, twenty-five?”

“Fifty.”

“Thirty?”

“Seventy.”

“You’re supposed to go down, not up!” Reglian protested, drawing attention himself this time. After a hurried apology, it was his turn to glare at Estenarven. “All right, blast you. Fifty-fifty. You can’t get fairer than that.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Estenarven agreed, after pretending to think about it for a long moment. “But if Mastekh ever finds out, we split it evenly three ways.”

“He won’t find out,” Reglian promised. “And as a sign of good faith, I can help with your seventh gift.”

Estenarven arched an eyebrow. “Who said I was looking for help?”

Reglian raised an eyebrow of his own.

And since the quandary of the seventh gift was something that had been keeping Estenarven awake during his brief periods of rest, he tilted his head in reluctant acknowledgement that he did indeed need help. A little. Maybe.

“Remember when Mastekh tried to make sand bread for Khennik?”

The memory made Estenarven wince. Mastekh had been so excited, desperate to impress Elder Blazeborn with his cooking. Having somehow managed to get his hands on a special sort of desert honey, he’d tried making the Sunlord speciality bread for the first time. And it probably would have been fine, if Estenarven hadn’t insisted on helping and reshaping the lot before adding salt. Which had ruined the whole batch, rare, expensive honey and all.

In front of Reglian.

“I remember,” he murmured, face hot with embarrassment and a touch of shame. Mastekh had been so upset.

“Well, it’s no hyssem honey, but I know of an ingredient that some count almost as good. And rare. They say Sunlords will do almost anything for a taste of it.”

“All right.” Folding his arms across his chest, Estenarven tilted his head a little further. “I’m listening.”

More next week.

If, like Reglian, you’re betting on what happens next, get the ebook – it’s free!

Whatever you choose to do, take care, my lovelies.

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Updates, Writing

Courtship is Out!

August 15, 2017 Becca Lusher

Okay, so strictly speaking it’s been out for over a week, but regardless of all that, or if you hadn’t noticed yet…

Courtship 7 Dragonlands #1.5

Friends and lovers have always come easily to Estenarven kin Boulderforce, until Mastekh. For the first time in over three hundred years, Estenarven has found a dragon that matters. Now all he has to do is convince him.

Mastekh kin Rainstorm doesn’t expect much from life; he mostly wants to be left alone. Until Estenarven leaves a gift on his pillow. For the first time someone is paying attention to Mastekh, but can this shy, downtrodden dragon ever learn to trust another – and himself – enough to give in to life, joy… and maybe even love?

Warning! This M/M romantic side-adventure contains a watery dragon with no confidence and a stone-stubborn Boulderforce with confidence enough for two. May also contain an interfering Starshine, a slightly perplexed Blazeborn and kissing. Enjoy!

Free to download now!

|| Smashwords || B&N || iBooks || Kobo ||

Currently I have no plans to release it on Amazon, since I cannot make the book free there. If people really want a kindle/mobi version, Smashwords has it or you can leave me a comment or send me an email and I’ll send you a nicer mobi version.

iBooks/iTunes link to come when it actually bothers to appear. This was one of the reasons I left this a while before posting, but even still, Apple is lagging behind. I guess because it’s free. Ah well.

Anyway, you can still read the weekly updates if you prefer and I’ll be making a proper landing page so it will continue to be available free right here – and soon on Wattpad too. However, if you’re fed up of waiting for the ending or prefer to read in places other than online, now you can!

Plus, look, a real cover with a little Esten and Mastekh! Both of which were designed by and can be found on the brilliant Freepik.

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

A Courtship of Dragons: Part 37

August 9, 2017 Becca Lusher

|| First Part || All Parts || Last Part ||

At last, everything is going so well…

37
Delay

DESPITE CARRYING A substantial rock, large enough to fill both hands, Estenarven felt light and merry as he entered Elder Blazeborn’s suite later that afternoon, while yet another storm raged around the tower.

“Ah, there you are.” Khennik looked up from the desk in the main room just as lightning flashed through the narrow windows, glinting off the gold veins in the quartz Estenarven was holding. The elder eyed the object admiringly. “Sixth gift?”

Not liking the way the Blazeborn was staring at the quartz, well aware of the reputation Sunlord dragons had when it came to shiny precious things – along with delicious foods, sumptuous furnishings, grand artwork, swathes of territory and, well, everything, since Sunlords were the most acquisitive of Clans – Estenarven tucked the rock against his chest and wrapped his arms around it, hiding most of it from sight.

“Something precious,” he explained, entirely unnecessarily.

The corner of Elder Blazeborn’s mouth curled ever so slightly upwards. “Fret not, Estenarven. I won’t steal your gift. There are some Sunlords who cannot control their possessive urges. Luckily for you, I am not one of them.”

Even so, Estenarven had prepared for a moment such as this and reached into his pocket. While he’d been searching for the perfect piece of quartz, one with a vein of gold that looked like a river, he’d happened upon a several smaller chunks that might not have been what he’d sought for Mastekh but had still caught his eye. One of which was almost entirely gold with only a few glints of quartz.

He placed it carefully on the table before Khennik. “Thank you, elder.”

The Blazeborn eyed the palm-sized stone warily. “For what?”

His obvious suspicion made Estenarven smile, since he’d intended the rock as a bribe to convince the elder to let him give the bigger piece to Mastekh uncontested. Apparently he needn’t have bothered, which made him perversely all the more eager to give Khennik something.

“For allowing my courtship of Mastekh to continue. For not interfering. For being reasonable. For not trying to take this,” he nodded at the stone now tucked into the crook of his arm, “from me. For keeping Mastekh safe at Teirenlai. For not refusing Goryal when he insisted I should be assigned to you as punishment. For not getting angry when Mastekh drops things, for not getting annoyed when we bicker, for not complaining when one – or both – of us wander off for most of the day.”

Khennik blinked in astonishment at the words that kept on coming, but now that Estenarven had started, he realised he had so much thank this dragon for. More than he’d ever realised.

“Thank you for saving Mastekh’s life at Boltspike, for keeping us with you. For being you.” Taking a deep breath and stopping before he got too carried away, Estenarven picked up the gold rock and leant across the table to place it directly in front of his elder. “Thank you.”

Khennik stared at the rock as if it was about to explode and blinked. Then cautiously, carefully, he picked it up. A flicker of lightning lit up the windows, making the flecks of quartz embedded in the gold glow. Elder Blazeborn turned the rock around in his hand, stroking his fingers over the uneven, ragged edges before his fist closed possessively about it.

When he looked up at Estenarven, his golden eyes glowed with power. “Thank you,” the elder said, and Estenarven sighed with relief that his gift had been accepted. That his thanks hadn’t been rejected. A sense of achievement and approval washed over him and he grinned, hugging Mastekh’s gift against his chest.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” he couldn’t help asking.

Busy admiring his gold stone again, Elder Blazeborn looked up and tipped his head. “I see no reason why he wouldn’t. It looks like a river captured within the stone. You give very thoughtful gifts, Estenarven.”

Unused to praise from his gruff elder, Estenarven had the unfamiliar sensation of flushing with pleasure. Thank the Family his skin was dark and wouldn’t betray him like Mastekh’s paler complexion.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I was hoping to give it to him tonight, if you have no need of us.”

“Ah.” Khennik finally put down his rock and laid his hands flat against the table. “Tonight. Has Mastekh given you your sixth gift yet?”

Any happy, light feelings began to fade at the question. “No,” Estenarven said slowly. “Not yet.”

Khennik’s frown turned into a grimace. “Then I regret to inform you that you cannot give this to him tonight. I sadly do have need of you both.”

Disappointment threatened to pull Estenarven’s shoulders down, but his elder had asked so little of them lately – rarely asked much of them even when he had every right to – that he forced himself not to show it. “Whatever you need, elder. We are both here to serve.”

At that moment the door handle rattled and Mastekh entered the suite as if summoned by their elder’s request. Estenarven’s eyes widened as he looked down at the gift he was still holding. Elder Blazeborn stood up swiftly and walked around the desk, taking Mastekh’s attention with him and away from Estenarven.

“Ah, Mastekh, I was just explaining to Estenarven that I shall be dining with Elder Gwyllen tonight and require both of you to attend. It would appear that our host has finally decided to take advantage of our presence and do business with the humans. As a delegate to the embassy, I am told my place is to sit there and ensure all are dealt with fairly.”

“Oh.” Mastekh murmured, sounding as if he too was struggling to hide his disappointment.

Having looked around the room and found nothing big enough to hide the quartz in or behind, Estenarven grimaced and stuffed the rock inside his robe. Though he tucked it between his arm and his body, there was no way he could disguise the fact he was holding something.

“Yes,” Elder Blazeborn continued, keeping Mastekh’s attention away from Estenarven as he began shuffling towards his bedroom door. “Tiresome, I know. The other elders will have their aides attending on them, but if you and Estenarven have other plans, I will likely be able to cope alone. Perhaps Reglian will assist me.”

Estenarven and Mastekh both bristled. As disappointing as it was not to be able to share his sixth gift just yet, there was no way on this Overworld that either he or Mastekh would allow their elder to dine with the other dragons and their aides alone, leaving him as the only one not being properly cared for. Nor would they permit another dragon to take their place.

The care of Elder Blazeborn was their task – no one else’s.

“We’ll be there,” Estenarven announced, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be sneaking away before Mastekh noticed the ill-concealed gift inside his robe.

Thankfully he was in a shadowy portion of the room, so even though Mastekh glanced at him, nodding firmly in agreement, he didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

The corner of Elder Blazeborn’s mouth curled up ever-so-slightly. “So be it. The bell will sound soon – I trust neither of you need too long to prepare.” He cast Estenarven a brief but knowing glance, which Mastekh again failed to notice.

“Not too l-long at all, eld-d-der,” the Rainstorm bubbled, pressing a hand against his robe pocket and rushing into his room.

“Glad to hear it,” Khennik murmured, raising an eyebrow at where Estenarven still stood in the shadows. “I trust that all my hard work providing you with a distraction won’t go to waste now while you stand around daydreaming until Mastekh returns and catches you once again in the open with a badly hidden gift.”

“Ah. Yes, right.” Having been distracted by the sway of Mastekh’s robe as he hurried away, Estenarven cleared his throat and started moving again. “I’ll be back in a tail swish.”

Over the sound of Khennik’s amused snort, Estenarven raced into his room and bundled Mastekh’s gift beneath his pillow. Sighing with relief at finally having the precious thing out of sight, he emptied his pockets of his smaller treasures and turned to his wash his face in the basin. Straightening his robe, he peered into his mirror and smoothed a hand over his bald head.

A little more harried than usual, but otherwise he looked well enough.

“One more night won’t make any difference,” he told his reflection. After all, there was no set time limit between each gift. There could be days, moons, even years between one courting gift and the next if the dragons involved so required. The only time limit applied when it came to reciprocating one gift to another in order to complete the set. Which was why Elder Blazeborn had asked if Estenarven had received his sixth gift yet. If he had, he would only have a day to respond, else the courtship would be ended. However, since neither of them had yet given their sixth gift, there was no real harm in deferring their courtship for another day.

Much though he might wish otherwise.

“Pull yourself together,” he ordered, poking a finger at his reflected nose. “You’re a Boulderforce. You won’t crumble in the meantime.”

Even so, he would miss the long, leisurely evening chats that always started with them sitting side-by-side – Mastekh usually keeping a decorous hand’s span of space between them – and ended with a Rainstorm draped across his chest, sleepily listening to whatever nonsense Estenarven could come up with to keep them together a little while longer. He had hoped that tonight, after their sixth gifts had been exchanged, he might be able to coax Mastekh into staying with him all night. Sleeping, only sleeping, but sadly it seemed as though the elders had other plans.

A heavy bell tolled somewhere overhead and Estenarven relinquished his hopes with a sigh. He had work to do. He wasn’t here for his health, but because Elder Blazeborn needed him.

With that in mind, he rejoined the others and they set off through the halls of Highstrike for another tedious evening of trade talks and diplomatic dancing.

More next Wednesday!

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