Davariel kissed the top of Devon's head through the hood that covered him from everyone's view. He held his son, although he was securely strapped onto his chest, while Luciel carried Lucien, who tended to be fussier. The soft grey hood on Davariel's own head covered him well, but he was still nervous. The thought of what would happen if anyone were to gaze upon him made him tremble in fear.
He remembered as a child accompanying the High Priestess, Alya, to the market one sunny day on Seraphia. He was just a tiny chickling, about three sun orbits old. Most Seraphs just smiled at him indulgently and always commented on what a beautiful child he was to the High Priestess who took care of him. That day, unlike others, she took him to the intergalactic market festival so he could see the different types of aliens that visited them regularly.
He recalled how excited he felt as they neared the market festival, his tiny, downy wings fluttering anxiously behind him as he skipped by Alya's side, giggling in joy.
All eyes turned to stare at him in bewilderment. Everything began to grow silent as they passed stalls of wares, exotic foods and animals. An orange-skinned Chidadent male scooped him up, without asking the High Priestess Alya's permission. He hugged Davariel painfully hard, nuzzling his neck as he exclaimed over the child's beauty. Another alien, this one a white haired Mer, gripped Dava's pale-gold, corkscrew baby-curls, and begged the Chidident to allow him to hold the him. A female Grei tried to pry the Davariel from the Chidident, who didn't seem to want to relinquish the baby to anyone. Alya, who had already unsheathed her sword, tried to regain poor Davariel in desperation. The people almost rioted when he began to cry from fear and pain as they tussled over him.
Alya took to the air, carrying the Chidident. Several other reapers helped her tear a sobbing Davariel from the aggressive orange-hued alien, then they watched in horror as the mob that had been inside the grounds of the market festival began heading toward the holy city of Angelos almost as fast as they flew there. Reapers scrambled to shut the city gates as Alya flew directly to the balcony of Davariel's bedroom in the castle.
Luciel's hand caressing his cheek brought him out of his reverie.
Her voice was like a kiss in his mind. Everything will be fine, baby.
He nodded at her, not daring to look up lest his hood fall back.
The cloak covered him fully. It was soft, comfortable and cool. Still, he wondered when he'd be able to shed the layers of clothing he wore, feeling imprisoned in so much fabric. As a chickling, all he had worn was a little black thong-like garment that covered his loins. When he grew into a fledgling reaper, he wore a soctanal, which was nothing more than a black, satiny loincloth, with a gleaming gold band low on his hips holding it in place. Gold sandals, held on his feet with thin string-like ties that wrapped around his legs, completed the scanty attire. Then, as dark prince, he'd worn nothing at all...ever.
He wondered how much attention they were getting right now with their strange little entourage. The two dragons in human form had accompanied them, along with Drakken, the vampire, and one of the reapers, called Eriel. Remuel alone was enough to draw bewildered stares with his mane of blood-red hair and bright green eyes. He was loud and crazy as well, always getting on one of the were-tigri's nerves. Already Davariel and some of the reapers had to intercept a bloody fistfight between the dragon and the white tiger named Seshmel. Remuel had even managed to irk the vampire that had escorted them to Sjoria. He'd caught the Drakken staring murderously at the red-haired were-dragon, and warned him not to consider his obnoxious dragon friend a tasty meal. The vampire had only regarded him with cold, glittering black eyes and said he wouldn't make any promises.
The vampire's hand gripped his elbow and guided him through the lobby of the seaside castle. All he could see was an opulent rug that cushioned his steps as he walked through a passageway that sounded cavernous. In the air was the scent of ocean breeze and aged stone.
"You can look up now. There's no one around." Drakken's deep lulling voice said near his ear.
Davariel looked up into glittering obsidian eyes in a striking countenance framed by a lush fall of jet-black corkscrew curls. Drakken smiled at him in his usual seductive demeanor, until Remuel came up behind them and wrapped both arms around their necks in an enthusiastic manner that had the vampire growling in irritation.
"This place is over the top luxurious. Did you see the bosoms of the receptionists?"
Davariel barely registered the rest of Remuel's words. The dragon's scent wrapped around him, a scent he hadn't noticed before. It made his entire body vibrate, his fangs tingle and his mouth salivate. He also grew erect.
"Remuel, your scent," Davariel gasped grabbing the shocked were-dragon. He buried his nose in Remuel's neck. "You smell of...sex!"
"You pig," Zakreel laughed coming up next to them! "I told you to bathe before we left Earth."
