The Shield

Kaelen didn't step back. Instead, he reached for a bar of rough soap sitting on a stone ledge. He lathered his hands, the scent of cedar and ash filling the air, and began to wash Elian.

It was an intimate, devastating act. The dragon’s movements were efficient but not rough. He scrubbed the mud from Elian’s shoulders, his large hands encompassing Elian’s entire upper arm. He washed the dirt from Elian’s hair, his fingers massaging the scalp with a pressure that made Elian’s knees weak.

Elian stood pliant in the water, leaning into the touch. He had never been touched with such deliberate intent. Kaelen wasn't asking for permission; he was taking care of what he owned.

"What is your name, little intruder?" Kaelen asked, rinsing the soap from Elian’s neck.

"Elian."

"Elian," Kaelen tasted the name. "Soft. Fitting."

Suddenly, a noise shattered the peace of the grotto.

Barking dogs. The crash of metal armor against trees. Shouts echoing from the ravine outside.

"There! I see tracks leading to the cave!"

Elian went rigid. The blood drained from his face. "My father’s guards," he whispered, panic seizing his chest. He tried to pull away, his instincts screaming at him to hide, to dive underwater, to vanish. "They’ll find me. They’ll take me back."

He scrambled against the rock, water splashing violently. "I have to go. I have to—"

An arm like an iron band wrapped around his waist. Kaelen pulled him back, crushing Elian’s back against his broad, solid chest.

"Be still," Kaelen growled, the sound vibrating directly into Elian’s spine.

"You don't understand," Elian cried, struggling weakly against the immovable limb. "They have crossbows. They have iron."

"And I have you," Kaelen said calmly.

The dragon didn't shout. He didn't even raise his voice. He simply tightened his hold on Elian, burying his nose in Elian’s damp hair, and *pushed*.

It wasn't a physical push. It was a wave of pure, concentrated aura. The air in the cave grew heavy, charged with static. A low, subsonic thrum emanated from Kaelen, a frequency of primal dread that bypassed the ears and went straight to the lizard brain.

Outside, the dogs stopped barking instantly. They began to whine, a high-pitched sound of terror.

"What... what is that?" a guard’s voice trembled from the cave entrance. "The air... it tastes like ash."

Kaelen exhaled, a huff of heat against Elian’s ear. "Leave," the dragon spoke. He didn't shout, but his voice carried, amplified by magic, sounding like the earth itself was speaking.

The sounds of retreat were immediate and chaotic. Armor clattered as men tripped over themselves to flee. The dogs yelped as they bolted. Within seconds, the forest was silent again, save for the dripping water.

Elian slumped in Kaelen’s hold, his heart hammering against his ribs. "They’re gone?"

"They will not return," Kaelen murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of Elian’s neck. "They know better than to touch my hoard."