FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I am open for COMMISSIONS! If you want your own, personalized story, Click here

Want to help out this writer kitty? Then head over to my Patreon account by clicking here

*If you choose to pledge and support me, not only do you get to read some of my finest stories in advance, but your support contributes to the happiness of everyone by allowing me to commission quality artworks of my characters. It also helps speed up the writing process by allowing me to focus less on commissions and more on personal work. *

*If you want to see more story series and novels from me, pledging something on Patreon is the best way to show it :) Support a cheetah and get exciting(and erotic!) stories, breathtaking commissioned artwork featuring my characters, and an awful lot of fluffy hugs in return. *

This story is an ongoing novel that is updated on Patreon monthly. If you want to read the newest chapter ahead of everyone, please consider supporting me on patreon

That announcement out of the way, I proudly present you my first novel, in all its WIP glory. Do not let yourself fooled by the appearances though; each chapter received a hefty done of edits, but I will still refer to it as a WIP until I get to the very end.

What's this novel about? I honestly can't tell you yet. It's big, it's ambitious, it has dragons, and a good portion of it deals with the relationship between a male human and a female dragon.

This first chapter follows the story of Magnus, a member of an underground organization that seeks to undo the evils the kingdom of Endoria has wrought and put a stop to the abuses of the wizards who govern Endoria. His journey starts in Willowveil, a small village situated at the foot of a mountain ridge, where he tracks a group of wizards who discovered the whereabouts of one of the last few dragons in existence.

Getting to the dragon before the other wizards do is of utmost importance, so Magnus hires a local tracker, an anthro leopard called a Zharyi, to help sniff out the dragon's lair. Things get heated up along the way, and Magnus becomes so fond of his exotic companion that his quest turns into something much, much more.

Chapter 1: Willowveil

Magnus sloughed through the narrow streets of Willowveil. Mud squelched under his lizardskin boots, thick and creamy. It wrapped around his soles, and each trudging step became harder than the last.

The scabbard dangling at his right hip rocked in unison with the pitter patter of the rain. He placed a protective hand on top of the dark leather satchel dangling at his waist. The drizzle slid off the oiled leather, but the thought of water wetting his spell book and quills still irked him, enchanted as they all were.

At least the constant rains kept the townsfolk indoors and the streets empty. Magnus strode past squat dwellings, shifting his gaze from a hovel, to a lodge, to a tall, imposing inn at the end of the street. No blacksmith shops, no tailors, barbers, tome shops lined on the sides, ready to welcome visitors. Willowveil looked as depressing as its weather, cold and empty. Even settlements on the fringes of Endoria's borders, built of mud huts and burrows, had at least one of those, as well as a town hall to coordinate their activities.

Willowveil had none.

Everything was made of wood, and everything swelled and groaned when a gust of wind whipped past his soaked frame. If the residents thought that building Willowveil between two mountains would keep the downpours at bay, they were wrong. Almost as wrong as the wood, the most flimsy of materials, that made up their homes. Weren't they Endorians to begin with? Where was the marble, the glass?

Magnus shrugged and ran a hand through his soggy locks. His straight hair had the tendency to stick to his pronounced brow and cover his gaze. Magnus whipped his hair back with a groan and increased his pace. The drizzle already slithered past his burnt leather jerkin and seeped well into his thick woolen shirt, making it cling to his skin. He shivered from the bothersome sensation, and broke into a stride.

Heavy words and heavy scents wafted through the half opened door of the inn that towered in front of Magnus. He pushed it aside just enough to slink through and squinted at the harsh glare of oil lamps and flickering candles. His fingers wrapped around the pommel of his short sword when laughter broke from the left, a heavy cacophony laden with alcohol and gibberish.

He chanced a glance towards the group huddled over a broad table, frowned when one of the drunkards glanced his way, and continued his stroll over to the counter. The innkeeper, a bald man with rough features and a thin, scraggly beard wiped his sausage sized fingers onto his dirty apron and raised his gaze to meet Magnus.

"What will it be?" he rasped.

"Horn of ale, whatever food you have that is still warm, and a room for the night," Magnus answered in the span of one breath.

He chuckled, a rough grinding sound that made Magnus look the other way, least he coughed from the innkeeper's vile breath."Horns, eh? You one of them savages from Nurda? Certainly got the looks."

"I'm not from Nurda."

"You're not from Nurda," the innkeeper drawled. "Mayhap you're right. Even Nurdans have better manners." He leaned over the counter. "You're one of them Endorian bastards, eh? I can smell their shit on your breath."

He was drunk, Magnus observed. His eyes squinted against the harsh light of the lamps littering the inn, and he kept his meaty hands on the counter to keep from swaying too much.

"All I want is a horn of ale, whatever food you have that is still warm, and a room for the night."

"You must be one of them lordlings. Demanding rather than asking." His dark eyes hovered over Magnus for a brief moment before the innkeeper drew back to bow in front of Magnus. "Tankard of ale and food, my fucking lord. We'll see about the room."

He turned around to fill a tankard from a nearby barrel, grabbed a bowl from behind the counter, and pushed them forward.

Magnus clenched his jaws at the puckered loaf of stale bread, at the cold, watery stew. Films of hardened grease clung to the edges of the earthenware bowl, and only potatoes protruded from the depths of the brown sludge.

Magnus straightened his shoulders and glared at the drunken wretch. "What's there to be seen? Don't you know your own rooms?"

"Aye, yet these weary travelers you see," he flicked his wrist to encompass the whole inn, "will get to know them even better. So yea," he said and lifted his gaze to match Magnus, "we'll see."

"There's only that one group of," Magnus paused to count them. "Seven. I don't see the other people's knapsacks resting against their chairs. Do correct me if I'm wrong."

"It's seven," the innkeeper rasped, "An' all I got is seven rooms. You don't like my inn, you go out there and cuddle with the whores at the whorehouse."

Magnus eyed the cheap ale and its day old food companion. Even they looked better than the innkeeper's crooked grin, smelled better than the foul odor spilling through his missing teeth. He reached into the satchel dangling at his right hip and slammed three copper aquamarines onto the hardwood counter. The harsh clang of metal drew a rasp out of the innkeeper. He scooped up the coins and squinted at the metallic rim first, then at the sliver of gemstone embedded in its center.

"They're real," Magnus said.

The innkeeper scoffed, grunted, tried to pluck the gemstone out with a blunt, dirty nail. It didn't budge, so he went to the key rack and slipped a rusted key into Magnus' outstretched hand.

"Attic room's all I got. Last on the right."

The innkeeper pocketed the coins without sparing Magnus a second glance. Good. His foul breath had already upset his stomach. A second look at that patched beard, and he would have lost his whole appetite.

He grabbed his ale and food and turned towards the farthest table to put as much distance between himself and the boisterous group of those seven drunkards. Three of them flaunted gaudy garments, bearing the five colors of the five elements, each more imposing than the other. Streaks of deep orange marred the pristine white of their tunics. The puffed up shoulders bore a wan blue, and an emerald line ran across their arms up to the amethyst cufflinks.

The strident combination made Magnus scoff. He never understood why Endoria and its wizards had a penchant for ludicrous coloring. These three bore the lowest rank of air wizards, as indicated by the white of their tunics.

The man with dark skin, situated at the head of their table, had a crow perched atop a shoulder--no, a familiar. The avian's eyes glistened with the spark of intelligence, and all it did was preen itself, oblivious to the commotion around it. He was obviously a witch, while the three stout men sat at the fringes of the table posed as trackers, or hunters. Perhaps mercenaries. Magnus squinted in the gloom, trying to make out the pattern embossed into the vest of a portly man. It was too dark, and the drunkards sat too far away from him.

Magnus gave up with a sigh and returned to the counter. "I will have need of a tracker come morrow. Got any to spare?"

"A cat. Pard!" the innkeeper half said, half shouted. "How many days?" he inquired of Magnus.

"As many as are needed," Magnus said. He fished out a silver carnelian, the most valuable coin he had.

The innkeeper grinned at that, swiped away his payment and started to fill tankards when a hood poked through a cracked door to the left of the counter.

" You called for Pard, master?" a sharp, feminine voice burst from its depths.

A flicker of light reflected upon the ebony muzzle underneath the rough, tattered cloth, and long, thin whiskers spilled from its sides.

"I did, you deaf cunt." The innkeeper thrust a thumb past his shoulder and towards Magnus. " And don't call me your fucking master. He is now. Look after him for a fortnight, then return here. A day goes with you missing, and I'll find myself some other cat. Town's full of them as it is."

"He pay or--"

The innkeeper shook his head and covered his pudgy face with a broad palm. "Have to feed her each day and all she gives me in return is fucking fleas..." he trailed off on his way to the larder to bring out more food for the group of seven when they shouted an order at him.

Pard flicked her tail and lowered her slender shoulders at that.

"Come join me," Magnus said. "I paid your master, so don't concern yourself with him anymore."

"Remove that bloody thing so the man can see what he bought," the innkeeper said. For such a portly man, he sure climbed those few steps faster than Magnus anticipated.

She did as was asked of her, and took a tentative step forward, under a lamp's garish light. Her rosettes flickered and seemed to shift across her lush, thick coat, and thin ebony spots lined along her wan muzzle in three rows, marking her as a young leopard of no more than thirty summers.

Her ears twitched with apprehension, emphasizing the white patches that brought color to the otherwise dark fur of her ears.

"Whatever he wants, you do. Know how this works, cat. Lead him wherever he wants, fuck him whenever he wants. I won't have my honor questioned because you kept your cunt for yourself."

He pushed her with a thick arm, and Pard lurched forward with feline grace. She landed a few feet away from Magnus, where she squatted in front of him, too low to be a curtsy and far too slow. Laughter burst from the innkeeper, the plates he held rattling from the tremors wracking his frame.

Magnus clenched his jaw and motioned towards his chosen table. "Cover yourself if you'd like. You do not have to answer to him anymore."

She shook her petite head. "Owner said you have to look at Pard. See if she pleases you."

Magnus gauged her, if only because the Zharyi customs were still foreign to him. Spots speckled her, short muzzle, dark and rich, without any trace of grey. A young one then, no more than twenty summers like he first assessed, with bony cheeks, squat brow, and pronounced jaw line. Her ears shifted to present the white dot on the dark background, and her thick, muscular tail wove back and forth, unburdened by the tribal leathers she wore to cover her nethers.

"You do please me, but I will be even more pleased if you sit with me," he said and pointed at his desired table.

He trailed off behind her. Pard's only coverings were the tattered shawl she wore and a flowing, brown loincloth that fell across the tops of her thighs. It forked above her tail to allow it to move freely, and fell evenly across her shapely rump. Her supple shapes stirred Magnus' heart and member with each swaying step she took. He tried to avert his gaze, to look anywhere but at the gap between her thighs, yet a perverted sense of curiosity held his eyes in place, until her tail flicked and revealed wan clumps of fur, too thick to reveal her nether regions.

So the loincloths were just a formality, nothing more. He smiled as his supposition acquired a solid basis, gulped hard to still his racing heart, and strode in front of Pard.

"Here's the table. No, come closer. You do not have to stay in the background like you are used to. Sit with me."

He dropped into a broad oaken chair and nodded at Pard to sit. Her eyes shifted from the stew, to him, and finally onto the chair opposite to him.

"Pard sit?"

"Please do so," Magnus said.

She sat with the fluid grace of her kind. Magnus dragged the ale tankard closer to him and pushed the stew in her direction. She threw him a fleeting glance, and her slim tongue poked out to dash across her whiskers. She pushed it back, and so did Magnus.

"I saw you eying it."

"Because of smell. Is good, but is your food," she said, her accent thick in spite of the musical touch of her voice. Most Zharyi spoke in curt, rocky sentences, yet her tongue had a certain smoothness to it, a practiced eloquence in spite of her obvious mistakes.

"Hope it tastes the same too." He nudged it forward. "Eat. I didn't expect to have a companion, so that's the least I can give you."

Her tail flicked with uncertainty. "But...is your food. Can't eat master's food. Only if it become Pard food."

"It is your food, yes."Magnus nodded to encourage her, and she groped at the spoon with her stubby feline fingers. It slipped between her black, meaty pads and slid into the stew with a faint plop. Her eyes widened and her tail froze at that.

"Apology. Tried, paw too big, is not how Zharyi eat," she said with a panicked pitch.

"Eat however you'd like."

She looked from one side to the other. "Is...not polite. Not in front of master."

Magnus smiled to ease her distress. "It's quite alright. We're both bipedal, intelligent beings, capable of understanding each other. Are we not?"

A sigh ruffled her whiskers. She protracted her claws and dipped her paw into the stew to fish for the spoon. She held it between the narrow crevices of her digits, licked it clean, then tilted her paw downward to scoop up a potato. Her wrist jerked just as her muzzle inched forward, and the potato rolled onto her thighs and dropped to the floor.

A thin growl escaped her.

She unfolded her shawl, placed it atop the backrest of the chair, lowered her muzzle closer to the bowl and dabbed her tongue at the slimy liquid. Her broad, hazel eyes hovered towards Magnus, and he nodded once again.

"As long as you eat, I don't care how you do it."

"Pard is thankful for understanding," she said, then slurped a spoonful of stew.

Magnus watched her eat while listening to the group's rough laughter and raucous banter. A group like theirs only passed through small towns like Willowveil for specific reasons, which they were not drunk enough to disclose just yet.

Only a little longer, Magnus thought as he eyed the shambling innkeeper on his way to their table, cradling seven tankards close to his chest. For now, Magnus settled his chin onto his tight knuckles and gauged Pard.

Like any Zharyi under an owner's employ, she had no adornments wrapped around her twitching ears, or around her slender neck. Not even a proper name... Magnus licked his lips at that and took a deep breath to calm his stirring heart.

"You don't have to eat that fast. Take your time. Nobody is going to take that away from you."

She dropped the spoon and looked up at him with wide, submissive eyes. "Is sorry if I offended you, master."

So formal, too.

"Eating's not an offense, unless you choke and die from eating too bloody fast. Then I'd be offended for losing my only tracker."

A thin smile formed across her muzzle. "Paid too much. Larn never took silver for Pard. Only copper. Saw him, even though he think Pard didn't."

"I paid whatever was necessary for your freedom." Magnus took a sip to wet his parched throat. "It's the only thing I can give in exchange for your guidance."

She narrowed her eyes at that and slipped the spoon between her smooth, onyx fingerpads. "Is no freedom. Just me assisting you, master."

Magnus clasped his hands together. All of the guildless Zharyi he had met had her submissive gaze, slumped shoulders, stiff tails. They did what their owner and masters requested; nothing more, nothing less. As much as Magnus tried to treat them differently, they still refused to think of themselves as something more than slaves.

Pard was no different. She gobbled her stew with quick, apprehensive gulps, as if somebody could take it away from her at any moment. She had claws nestled within those stubby fingers and strength in her slender arms. Why didn't she use them?

The clatter of spoon upon earthenware bowl snapped him back to his senses. He favored her a smile, then signaled the innkeeper over.

"Bring her whatever she wants."

He put on a sardonic smile. "What do you want him to get you, Pard?"

"Nothing, had me fill already," she said in her thick accent.

"Hot stew and another tankard for me," Magnus said

Larn grunted at Pard on his way back, and her whiskers stood on end as she shuddered.

"When somebody offers you something, better accept it," Magnus advised.

"Nobody offers without asking for favor. Is how world works."

'World' was a small town in the middle of nowhere for her. Of course she didn't know any better. And how could she, when Larn probably kept her locked in his inn and visited her only when his cock grew with lust? Such was the fate of the female Zharyi, one of the oldest races on Aesurai, after the humans discovered their magic and abused it to enslave the once proud bipedal felines, and not only.

Magnus didn't voice his thoughts. He took another sip of ale and scrunched his face at its stale, bittersweet taste.

"That's not how I work," he said, wiggling a finger for emphasis. "I give what I can afford to whoever shares a drink with me."

Pard flicked her tail with interest.

"And when nothing you can give?"

"Never happened. There's always something one can give to another. That's what cooperation is, and that's what every kingdom lacks."

She licked her muzzle and slouched in her chair. "Too many words. Pard no good with them. Tell me what or who track, and I track. Is all."

"You wasting your words on her," a grave voice came from the other end of the room. "Them cats have brains the size o' their cocks, small and insignificant."

Magnus tensed up in his chair. His fingers twitched with the urge to wrap around the pommel of his short sword as he turned to face one of the wizards, a youth with short cropped copper hair and the thin stubble of a beard marring his angular chin.

"Should've hired a tracker registered with his guild, not a walking rug," he said. "Tell you what. I can give you one of my boys if you share her for the night. Cunt is cunt, slick and nice, no matter the fucking species."

Laughter filled the inn, harsh and loud. The trackers grabbed their crotch and moaned at Pard, while the wizards sprawled over the table and writhed in fits of laughter. Magnus stepped in front of her and stretched out his arm when her head poked at his side.

"Stay behind me," he whispered. "Utter no words. Let me handle their kind."

She drew back, urging another wave of mirthful moans.

"She's probably more wet down there than me fucking tankard," the same youth said, heaving. "Bet she'll cum in a couple o' strokes, too."

A tracker recovered his breath meanwhile and spread his arms to silence the group. "Oy oy, listen to somebody who actually fucked one such furry feline cunt. Me and me mates grabbed one during spring, when they in heat. I focked her, me mates focked her, then I focked her again, and me mates focked her again. Our cocks ran dry, yet she still focking came when I fingered that overly tight pussy of hers."

The other two wizards rose their cups and cheered. One had gaunt features, a small brow, and a flowing mane to cover his spindly shoulders, while the other had his hair tied in an auburn ponytail to emphasize his brutish features. They both rocked on their feet and blinked hard and slow.

"Oy oy, fuck the cat," he said, much to the disappointment of his peers. They hooted at him, drummed their tankards on the table. "All she's got is fleas, and she's not in heat. She's probably so tight and dry down there, you pull back a stump after the first stroke."

That dampened the spirits of his group. They returned to their tankards to whisper amidst themselves while this one wizard with short cropped copper hair eyed Magnus.

"You a huntsman, huh?" he said. "Happens we're huntsmen as well. What is it you after?"

"A Carnelian Salamander. Heard their pelts are all the rage back in Endoria," Magnus hissed through clenched teeth. His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands balled into fists. If those fools tracked and found his Salamander first...

"Gonna piss on a lot o' wizards if you find one. Them novices need them for Pacting with them. You know, attuning to their respective element and that sort of crap," the one with the ponytail intervened. "Only a handful left. Same for them direwolves. You're better off hunting those. Good pelts, claws the proper length and durability for them apothecaries, fangs that you can--"

"No more direwolves," Pard added. "All hunted. None left."

Their strident fit drowned Pard's last words, yet Small Brow, the wretch with the short cropped copper hair, found his breath faster than the rest. "Only sound I want to hear coming out of that muzzle is your roar, when I burst into your tight little cunt."

"I'll toast to your luck, to find the pack of direwolves you are searching for before the rest of the world does," Magnus shouted, loud enough for their fretful giggles to subside. "Which is, hopefully, far away from my salamander," he added to flare their mirth. Their lips didn't even twitch, half drunk as they were.

They'll get to giggling soon enough, with the right nudge, Magnus thought. Endorian mages such as them, low of rank and tight of coin, lacked the pride to decline an offer for free ale.

"Toast with what, your words? Our tankards are fucking empty. You gonna keep talking or do something 'bout that?" the wizard with the short cropped hair said. He had a hand above the tankard of one of his companions to keep it down.

Magnus smiled at that. "Then I'll see them filled once again. Innkeeper!" Magnus called, "Another round for my friends."

The trackers' eyes widened, while the wizards turned to their table to whisper hushed remarks under their breath. The witch didn't even bother turning around. He continued to pet his familiar while fumbling into a pouch with his other hand to bring out some kernels for his crow. Only Small Brow threw Magnus a curt glance, until one of the other wizards wrapped an arm around his slender shoulders and pulled him away.

"To your success!" Magnus said and lifted his tankard once the innkeeper refilled his and those of the drunken wizards. They merely growled in acknowledgment and shifted their chairs so that their backs faced Magnus. They drank heartily, and slammed their tankards against the table hard enough for the thud to echo throughout the inn.

Magnus turned towards Pard and met her narrow eyes. He tempted her with a second bowl of stew, but she shook her head.

"A sip of ale, then?"

"You bought it. Your food."

"Then I can share it as I deem fit."

"Even with them?" She licked her muzzle to conceal her snarl.

"Do you know their likes?" Magnus dipped the thin loaf of bread into the thick, greasy gravy and dug out a chunk of meat with his spoon. She didn't voice her answer, yet her irritation with them was plain on her twitching whiskers. Magnus chewed on the stringy meat while weighing his words. Too wordy, and Pard would lose him. Too simple, and she would mistake him for one of them shallow, pompous wizards.

He swallowed and met her gaze. "They're novice wizards. The color of their tunic always matches their rank. White is wind, the most basic of elements and the lowest of ranks. Novice wizards have one main goal in mind: to prove themselves, to stand out, to do that incredible feat that will earn them the respect of their peers."

"That why they huntin' wolves?"

"It's not direwolves they're after," Magnus replied.

"Because there none left." Her ears perked as a thin smile spread across her short muzzle. "Pard knew. Said so. Nobody listened to her."

"You're quite right, my dear," Magnus said in the heat of the moment. He knew nothing of Willowveil or its direwolf population, yet her earnest smile made his skin prickle and his heart swell in his chest.

"What they hunt then?"

"They'll tell us shortly, once the ale unravels their tongue."

Pard's ears twitched. Her tail swayed from side to side and she rubbed her paws against one another. She kept glancing at their tables, staring at them long enough for them to shout back some rude remarks at her address.

"Give them time, and don't look their way. They have a...peculiar opinion regarding your kind," Magnus said as he gulped another mouthful of stew and washed it down with ale.

Pard nodded, yet her eyes still raced back and forth between the group and Magnus. They still grunted and rasped at each other, too low for Magnus to make out their meaning.

Magnus threw Pard a glance with each bite. Like her namesake, the leopardess bore intricate rosettes upon her thick coat, each bigger, smaller, more developed than the last. Soft curves outlined her short muzzle, dimpled cheeks, and bony chin. Her flat chest resembled a male's, yet her slender limbs gave away her sex, much like her suave yet sharp voice. Blood welled within Magnus' cheeks when she lowered her head to his level. He took a sip of ale to wet his parched throat and shifted his gaze away from her breast and onto her warm, hazel eyes.

"What are they speaking about?" he asked her. Zharyi had keener senses than humans, cat-like reflexes and surprisingly good judgment. That's why every guildless Zharyi became either a tracker, or a hunter to supply their local butcher with fresh catches.

"Mating. How they take a female, the things they do to her." Her eyes fixated onto her hands as she rubbed them together. "Is all wrong. That's not how mating is. Is not how--"

"They're getting there," Magnus interrupted. "Give them a few more gulps and don't listen to their nonsense."

Pard tilted her head. "You humans breathe hard, and cheeks turn red when mating involved. Why?"

"Touchy subject for some of us. We're more reserved than your kind, as you probably noticed."

"They aren't," Pard observed.

"They're drunk," Magnus hissed. "And even if they weren't drunk, they would still be the scum of Endoria. It's humans like them who led our race to ruin."

Pard began rubbing her hands together to muffle her growing apprehension--or excitement. "Are you reserved as well?"

Magnus nodded, and she flashed a toothy smile. "Pard doesn't understand. Zharyi choose mate, but free to breed any male during heat, as humans call it. Mate only helps with young. Humans not the same?"

"No. The few good humans that are still left in this world take a mate for life and mate only with her."

Pard nodded, even though her shifting feet betrayed her. "Think I understand."

Nope, she didn't.

"Bond between you and mate so tight, you don't look at other females."

In theory, and yet, the reality differed in so many ways.

Pard grabbed Magnus' hand when he didn't respond, squeezing his palm with her overly warm and smooth pads. "Please answer. Help Pard understand."

"I--I can't," Magnus stammered as he drew out of her clutch. "I don't understand it myself. I left that world. I'm on my own now. Alone."

"Not alone." Pard's bare feet found Magnus' shins, her toes rubbing him with gentle strokes. "Have Pard now."

Magnus tried to smile, yet it came out wry. "I am glad for that. Truly am."

He took another swig of ale to sink his eyes into the bottom of his tankard, to earn a moment of respite from Pard's warm, inquisitive gaze.

Five hells, Magnus thought. These Zharyi are too earnest, too easily attracted to whoever shows them a measure of kindness. No wonder the humans tricked their kind so easily.

Magnus shifted his legs so that her paws didn't reach him. Pard got the cue and looked away from him, suddenly embarrassed with her actions.

"It's quite alright," Magnus said, even though his temples throbbed and his cheeks turned beet red from the weight of his words. "It's just that your toes are quite flexible and I'm a bit ticklish, heh."

Pard chuckled at that. She stopped her ministrations and grabbed his hand instead, caressing his bony fingers with her overly soft ones.

Magnus bit his lip when the wizard's lewd remark returned to his mind. He spoke of heat, and how it affected the Zharyi. Would that happen to Pard as well? Would her instincts press her into mating any male that expressed interest in her?

Who would care for her then? The innkeeper didn't seem any better than the other Zharyi owners Magnus had encountered. His eyes sparkled at the sight of coins, and he parted easily enough with Pard. So long as his patrons paid, Larn was more than willing to throw Pard into their lap.

A chortle snapped him back to his senses. His gaze darted towards the three wizards, who leaned across the table. Small Brow waved his tankard at one of the trackers, then tossed it straight in his ugly mug.

Laughter erupted, and the wizard with the ponytail rose onto his wobbling legs, lifted his cup above his friend with the short cropped hair, and poured the rest of his drink. The victim punched him straight in the chest, so hard Ponytail stumbled and fell along with his chair.

"Oy!" Small Brow bellowed. "Spill ale, spill blood if you must, but spill no fockin' insults."

"Nevertheless, your face stands as the gravest of insults," Ponytail said as he scrambled onto his feet.

Small Brow closed his eyes. The windows snapped open as a vortex of rain and whipping wind whistled through the inn. Chairs rocked, tables wobbled, then everything fell still for one short moment.

Small Brow's eyes shot open, and Ponytail shot across the room and slammed into the hardwood counter. A scream, thin and sporadic, burst out of his throat. His limbs fell limp, and his head followed a moment after.

The trackers averted their gaze from Small Brow while the witch brushed aside the water droplets from his overcoat. His crow familiar squirmed atop his shoulder, cawing.

"That put him out good," the wizard with the short cropped hair said.

Small Brow shrugged. "He don't wake up at sunrise, we go find the dragon without him. Fockin' cunt."

"Thought you said no insults."

"No insults from now on, else you get the same as he did."

His companion nodded with broad swings of his chin, then slumped in his chair. The trackers roared their laughter, and the two remaining wizards smashed their tankards together and spilled more ale than they drank.

A dragon.

A cold shudder crept through Magnus' frame. He pushed his meal away, got onto his feet.

"What a dragon?" Pard inquired.

"What I'll want you to track once we somehow deal with this group. They will follow us, or we'll follow them, depending on how much they know about the location of the dragon. Got their scents?"

"Reek. They reek of ale and piss and sweat--" she trailed off when Magnus chuckled.

"Could have done without the details. Now come," he motioned her to follow him. "We need to get a proper rest. Our wizard friends will only get louder and meaner by the second."

And I do not want to match my magical skills against them, Magnus wanted to say, but thought better of it. The wizards considered him a huntsman, Pard a master. That suited him well enough.

When they approached the counter, Pard turned towards the kitchen.

"Not there," Magnus corrected and pointed at the stairway on his left. "Up there is where we sleep."

"But my sleeping place is--"

"By his side, with his cock inside him if that's what he wants," the innkeeper's gruff voice cut her off. "You're his for a fortnight. He can mate you as often as he pleases for all I care, so long as you return to me."

"Yes, Owner," she said nonchalantly and turned to regard Magnus, unfazed by his words.

Magnus took a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves. "You don't have to call him that," he said under his breath once she appeared at his side. "It's a mutual agreement, to share your skills in exchange for free food and lodging. You're not his slave."

Pard shrugged. "Him Owner, you master, so you Owner for a fortnight, like he said."

Magnus reached for her paw. She scrunched her muzzle, and her claws poked through their sheath as she let out a soft hiss.

"It's alright. I'm not going to mate with you, like he said," Magnus said as he cupped her hand between his palms. "All I want from you is that you call me Magnus. Not Owner, not master, just Magnus, yes?"

"Magnusss," she tested the foreign word. Her fingers curled tighter against his, her pads warm and soft as silk.

"Only a soft hiss at the end," Magnus said as he guided her up the stairs. "Magnus."

"Magnu's."

"Magnus," he repeated.

"Magnuuusuu."

He smiled. "We'll practice for as long as you'd like."

"Magnuss."

"Almost there."

She mewled; a thin sound that made Magnus' skin prickle and his hairs stand on end as a jolt of delight rushed through his frame. He suddenly felt warm in his soggy attire, the cold all but forgotten. He picked up his pace, sparing a glance at her broad, bare, padded feet whenever he climbed another step. The way her legs twisted and bent at the knee made him wary, yet her flexible digits sprawled for purchase when they landed upon the naked wood.

Magnus swallowed hard when bare wood gave way to a dusty rug at the end of the stairway. He led her through the darkening corridor, listening to the pitter patter of her pads. Zharyi wore no boots; only colorful fabrics wrapped around their wrists, ankles, and at the base of their tail. Pard had none of that. Only a tattered cape, a linen shawl wrapped around her neck, and her crude loincloth.

I'll buy her something upon return, Magnus promised to himself as he rotated the rusted key in its socket. A muffled clack came, and the door cracked open to reveal a room so small Magnus had to shuffle once inside.

The bed occupied most of the room, and the slant of the roof allowed little to no access to the other half of it. Magnus approached the only rack in the room and slipped out of his jerkin and shirt. His fingers froze on the laces of his deerskin leggings when the floor creaked under one of Pard's paws.

Five hells, he almost exposed himself to her. "I shouldn't remove these," he whispered to himself.

"They wet. Can't sleep with wet coverings."

Magnus bit back a gasp as the unexpected reply. "Can't sleep naked either, when we share the same bed. It's not proper."

And yet, his cock still hardened within his leggings at the prospect of sharing the bed with a female, one that he found strangely attractive.

Magnus turned around. He took a deep breath, his lips shuddering and his heart thundering in his chest. He had been on the road, alone, for far too long. Even the prospect of mating stirred his member, and he couldn't even bring himself to turn around and explain his predicament to Pard.

She entered the room after him, walked by him, looking over the bed and windows with a certain awe reserved only to those too poor to afford such lodging.

"Is proper," Pard's calm, flowing voice came. "Seen how male humans look down there."

"Well, I am--I'm not like them. So I have said when we sat down at my table. I am different. I care about who I mate, who I sleep with..." he trailed off when a warm, comforting weight settled on his shoulder. He whirled on his feet to face Pard, his cheeks seething with pent-up embarrassment.

"You cold."

Before Magnus could do anything, Pard hugged him, her warm, fluffy body sending warm tingles through his frame.

And that was just the beginning.

Pard's thighs shifted. They encompassed Magnus' legs, then locked around him, holding him in place while their bellies pressed together, while his bulge poked at her tribal loincloth. Magnus squeezed his eyes shut against the lurch of his cock. He throbbed like he never throbbed before, and he grew so hard he had to bite his lower lip to keep from spilling his seed from the warm pressure exerted upon his crotch.

"I'm--I'm fine now, thanks to you," he stammered. "You can let go of me."

A hearty purr flared in her throat as she maintained the hug. Her hands slid across his ribs, seeking the rims of his leggings, hovering over to the laces binding them to Magnus' body. His eyes widened, and he caught her hands just before she managed to undress him. A lump formed in his throat, blocking out his reply to her asinine gesture.

"They wet, Magnus. Can't sleep in wet leather. Let them go."

"I--I can't, for a dozen reasons."

Her gaze found his crotch, namely the bulge that housed his erection. A broad smile of satisfaction spread across her lips, yet Magnus simmered to the point where his muscles tightened with the urge to push her away from him.

"You are hard. You have desire to mate." She drew back, thank the five elements, but her alluring smile persisted. Her tail swished with renewed excitement, and she looked at the bed. "Pard can mate. She loves mate. Nothing feels better than mate with good people like Magnus."

"Please, Pard, I'm not--I just want to rest. That's what the bed is for."

Pard's ears perked. "Want Pard leave?"

"No please, just that...it's improper, the things you are suggesting," he finally said.

"Pard doesn't have to share bed, if Magnus thinks is improper."

Magnus paused. What did she mean by that? He didn't want her to leave, not after he invited her into his room to--

It became obvious when she removed her cape and shawl. She placed them upon the floor in a neat pile, squatted in front of them, and settled on her side at the foot of the bed.

"Don't do that--no!" Magnus reached her in three wobbling strides, crouched next to her and grabbed one of her hands to help her up. "You don't need to sleep on the floor. That's not what I meant, Pard. The bed is wide enough for two."

"Fur is filled with dust, feet are dirty with grime, and sheets clean."

"It is cloth," Magnus said as he rubbed her finger pads. "Just cloth. It will wash. Besides, I paid for this room and, like with food, I want to share it. Bed included."

Her gaze darted between him and the dusty floor. "But Magnuss turn red because female shares bed."

"I won't turn red anymore," Magnus said. "As long as we do not touch each other, we can share the bed."

"No sleep in each other's embrace for warmth? Cuddle?" she said, her eyes heavy with a yearn that made Magnus' member throb with renewed vigor.

Magnus shook his head. "Just sleep, if that is alright with you."

"But feet are--"

Magnus grabbed one of her paws just to prove his point. Her toes curled inwards, and a soft mewl escaped her when Magnus fondled her toes, one by one. "They're not as dirty as you say." Just overly warm, and soft, and surprisingly pleasant to the touch. Pard twitched her paw in his grip a little, but Magnus did not let go of her just yet.

He always found the shape of a Zharyi's feet interesting. They resembled the shape of a cat's hind paws, with bean shaped toes above a bigger, central pad. In Pard's case, her foot was big and broad, like a dinner plate, and just like a cat's foot, it grew slick with perspiration the more Magnus rubbed it. She began to tug her paw more persistently as her breath grew heavier. Magnus had no choice but to let go of her, his fingers still twitching with the urge to rub that soft, meaty warmth.

Pard clutched her paw between her hands, her eyes sparkling with sudden delight. "That felt good. Pard liked it very much, but Pard's paw dirty."

"It's quite alright. I never had the chance to touch a Zharyi's feet, but always wanted to." He swallowed hard as his cock pulsated within his leggings. "I never thought they'll be so soft."

"Have to be," Pard said as she kept rubbing her paw. Her claws poked out of their sheath, long and overly sharp. "Helps keep Pard's footsteps silent. Very useful when stalking."

"I do not doubt that."

Magnus offered Pard his hand, and he helped her get up. As soon as she stood on her feet, Magnus snaked a hand towards her shawl, grabbed it and placed it on the rack, besides his own vestments.

"Pard doesn't deserve her rags to--"

"She does," Magnus completed for her. "And you better get used to it. That's how I will treat you from now on, like the kind, affectionate being that you are."

He stood with his back to the candle propped atop a sconce to hide his blush. The flickering light washed across her chest, emphasizing her intricate rosettes. Magnus gulped hard in the gloom when he realized he stared at her breasts. Yet there was no sign of them. Not even a nipple poking through her thick, matted fur.

"Zharyi have no breasts," Pard said as she ran a hand over her chest. "Breasts only grow when seed inside me."

"I know that, I was just...I was trying to see if there is a pattern to your coat."

"If it is, let Pard know." She giggled, a pleasant, tantalizing sound that made Magnus' heart leap in his chest. Such a pure, genuine sound, untouched by the taint of humanity. He found himself staring at her, at her slender body, strong paws, shapely thighs, and groin.

Not there, not there, his mind rebelled, yet his neck became as stiff as his member, and he found it hard to take his gaze off her. She approached him, her footsteps making no sound. She extended a hand towards him, and Magnus grabbed it, his breath hard and ragged.

She chuckled. "Nervous, for some reason. Can feel it." She cupped his hand between her paws and kneaded at his palm. "Can feel moisture. You sweat, just like Zharyi paws and hands do." Her nostrils flared as she took in a whiff. "But not the same sweat. Is the sweat of agitation. Why nervous?"

"Just uncomfortable," Magnus said. Her muzzle inched towards him, too close to comfort. "You insist that I should undress, and I want to do that--not for the purpose of mating, but to sleep. Be comfortable," he stuttered.

Her pupils expanded to the size of berries in the dim light, two ebony beads within a faded, golden sea. For some reason, she found his stutter more pleasant that Magnus intended, for her purr flared a pitch higher. "Pard wants you comfortable. Pard likes Magnus very much, and wants him to have anything he wants of her."

Magnus withdrew his hand from her grip and nodded. "Then no cuddling or anything of the sort, as we agreed."

She nodded at that, and headed to the opposite side of the bed. Her fingers latched onto the rim of her loin coverings and pushed them down, faster than Magnus could turn away.

He saw her. Noticed how wet she truly was down there. Magnus squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the thundering beats of his heart, grinding his teeth against the lustful throbs of his cock. Five hells, but was she wet! He only glimpsed her for a fleeting moment, yet her groin still permeated the penetrating darkness laid down before him.

The wan fur of her groin, clumped in patches due to her slimy arousal. Her lips, pressed tight against each other to form a narrow crevice, a dash of pink amidst a sea of light yellow fur. And she was soaked! She oozed so much arousal that it dribbled down her inner thighs, making her fur glue into twisted, unpleasant clumps.

Magnus turned away from her and almost floated to the clothes rack on too light feet. His member stirred within the confines of his leggings, growing harder than it ever did. He took in a deep breath, exhaled, and repeated the exercise until his member shrunk and his heart stopped pounding in his chest.

"You saw Pard, then turned red. You said Magnus won't turn red anymore."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't--it's habit for me. I can't help it."

"Pard can't help it either. She always wet down there during heat. Can't sleep, always restless if she doesn't use her fingers to--"

"Heat?" Magnus said, louder than intended. "You're in heat?"

"First heat." The mattress rustled as Pard clambered into the bed. "Can turn around. Pard covered now."

Magnus didn't turn around. He couldn't, not when she deceived him once.

"Why still as statue, Magnuuss?" came Pard's mellow voice from behind.

"Was thinking about the dragon," he lied.

"The one we track?"

"Yes, that one. The dragon the wizards are after. We will have to track them first if they leave the inn before we do."

The hay bedding rustled as she shifted onto her side to face him. "Do what with wizards?"

"I'll decide when we find them." His gaze darted to Pard, and to the nakedness nestled between her lean thighs. She had her fluffy tail draped around her nether parts, yet Magnus still bit his lip as bent over and worked out of his boots.

"You said you covered yourself."

"With tail," Pard said, her tone nonchalant as ever. "Too dirty to cover herself with blanket. Too restless too, because of heat."

Great. Magnus had to spend the night with a Zharyi in heat, and share the same bed with her as well, butt naked, to allow his leggings to dry off.

While he unfastened his dark leather satchel and his sword from his waist, his second erection flared to life. He undid the iron clasp and laces of his leggings, jumped out of them, leaned them onto the rack and hurled himself into the bed, then draped the woolen blanket across his nakedness.

If Pard saw him, she showed no sign of that. She decided to grab her own blanket and pull it up to her neck so that only her head stood out among the pale linen and the light grey wool. She turned to face him, a mischievous smile plastered upon her muzzle.

"You are hard. Pard wants to mate, if Magnus does as well."

Magnus' breath stuck in his throat. He wanted nothing more than to turn away from her and forget this ever happened, if his neck wasn't so bloody stiff. Her eyes glimmered with want, and she kept licking her muzzle with that long, wet, flexible tongue of hers.

Magnus' cock pulsated, so hard he couldn't help but moan at how helplessly hard he was. Precum slipped from his tip, making Magnus wince and Pard's nostrils flare as she took notice of his arousal.

"Pard's breasts don't grow if spill seed inside her. Only male Zharyi seed can do that, so Magnus can mate and cum inside Pard."

Every time she said that, Magnus wanted to strangle her. That took strength, however--strength that Magnus didn't have. Lust took over his senses, clouding his mind, turning it slow and foggy, wiping every rational thought but for the urgency of a mating. He wanted to mate her, to spill his great load inside a female. It had been too long, and Magnus was so hard, and Pard so eager...

Magnus wet his lips with a terse stroke. "I thought we are supposed to rest, to sleep, to wake up strong and invigorated."

"Magnus said not to cuddle, but he wants to mate. He hard already, ready to mate," she corrected with a soft hiss. "Males like to mate. Magnus traveled too long. When was last time he mated?" A purr ignited in her throat, loud and overwhelming. Magnus' shaft pulsated against the mattress, and he stifled a groan at the rough touch of sheets against his sensitive tip.

"I am--I'm different. I can't mate you when I don't even know you," he blurted out, louder than intended.

Pard's purr retained its strength, and her playful eyes still scanned him with the same eagerness.

"Beautiful body. Strong. Can Pard touch?" she asked as her paw slithered under her blanket. Magnus shook his head and drew away from her touch. "Is well formed. Thin, yet tight with muscle."

"I train often."

"With sword?"

"Among other things."

"What about strange shaped pouch?"

"The satchel? Just my personal effects." He blinked and swallowed to wet his parched throat. Zharyi like her would not dare touch his belongings, so he had no reason to lie, or tell her the truth. So he settled for the safe middle ground. "Quill, ink, a book, and some other accessories."

"So not huntsman like drunk wizard said, but warrior scholar?"

Magnus favored her a smile. "We are what the circumstances force us to become."

She narrowed her eyes at that, blinked twice, and spoke no more.

Magnus turned onto the side opposite of her and rested his head against his arm.

A dragon. That group of drunkards actually tracked a dragon. Magnus' eyes shifted to his iron short sword. He had to use it. Tomorrow, the day after, or whenever they tracked down those cocky wizards. He had to spill blood, and if a dragon's heartstone helped the Order of the Five Storms to take over a city, then the rest would follow.

Magnus trusted his people despite their fickle nature. Most called them rogues, thieves, footpads, assassins. Change started this way and, like its namesake, The Order of the Five Storms had to destroy the flawed foundation of Endoria in order to nourish the growth of the kingdom it ought to be. A kingdom with no slaves, where wizards did not chase the Magicless families into overcrowded slums. Their ideals resonated with Magnus, and Pard's situation only served to emphasize it.

He turned his head to stare at her lithe body. Her whiskers rose and fell in unison with her breath, and her ears twitched ever so slightly. Finally, a moment of peace. Magnus took in a deep breath, his muscles tensing, his frame shivering from the ridiculousness of Pard's request. It was her heat speaking, and Magnus didn't want to take advantage of her, hard as he was.

He closed his eyes and shifted on his back for his erection to subside. It almost did, if Pard's foot didn't slide over his. Magnus frowned, tried to jerk out of her grip, but her toes curled around his, warm and smooth and damp with excitement.

"Magnus feet cold. Can cuddle for warmth," Pard said. Her tail flicked across his thighs, erect cock and chest, drawing muffled laughter from Magnus when it tickled him. She released a soft mewl in unison with him, making her desire for him known.

Five hells, Magnus thought. He pursed his dry lips, tried to swallow the lump that formed in his throat, but all the moisture from his mouth vanished. The frantic beats of his heart prevented him from thinking, from refusing her request. That's why his body acted on its own accord, trudging across the small distance between them, his hands held forward to greet her slender shoulders.

Pard's growl grew a pitch higher. Her ears twitched, and her whiskers shuddered as her tail wrapped around one of his thighs, pulling him closer to her with light tugs.

"Magnus said cuddle," Pard half hissed, half growled. Her feet fell down upon his, blanketing him with her warm, silken pads while her frame shifted, too fast for comfort.

Magnus' eyes widened when her back met his chest, and a moan rumbled in his throat as his groin met the soft fur of her rear. The slick one, which helped his rock hard cock slide straight into her soaked depths. Her tight slit blocked his blood engorged tip at first, but Pard rocked her hips enough to push him inside her.

Sudden warmth invaded Magnus' senses. His breath hitched, taken away by the sudden bliss that flooded his being. His features scrunched as he pushed his member further inside Pard, a feral groan twining with Pard's harsh growl to mark their coupling.

He was inside her. He pierced her! Magnus squirmed for a fleeting moment, but that only served to augment his pleasure. Every muscle in his body grew taut, and his jaws clenched so hard his teeth hurt. Try as he might to contain his budding orgasm, Magnus attempts to hold back proved futile. Pard's insides were too warm, too slick with arousal, and her muscles clamped down upon him hard enough to take him over the edge.

Instead of fighting his instincts, Magnus embraced them. He pressed his chest tight against Pard's back, wrapped an arm across her chest to hold her still, and pounded away at her overly tight pussy with slow, rocky thrusts. The smoothness of her depths matched that of the finest of silks, and she squeezed at his shaft so hard and fast Magnus found it hard to even mate her properly.

After one final thrust, Magnus lodged himself inside her up to his balls, whining over her melodious purr as he tried to hold on for just a moment longer. Through his half opened eyes, he noticed Pard's snarl. His ruddy ears picked up her soft hisses, followed by curt moans that she tried her best to muffle.

"Too--too big. Pard's going to...going to..."

Magnus felt it before she even said it. Her insides rippled with terse, mighty shudders that obliterated Magnus' futile resistance. He squeezed her tighter to his chest, and buried his face deep into the fluff of her neck as he unleashed his essence into her slick tunnel.

Pard's toes flexed. Her own orgasm hit her, drawing an untamed yowl from the needy leopardess. Spasms wracked her depths, urging her insides to clench and milk Magnus' throbbing shaft while spurts of hot female cum splashed against Magnus' groin.

He barely noticed the strength of her spurts, the warmth of her cum, the sweet fragrance that enveloped the room. His own hearty gushes stole away his senses, urging him to squeeze his eyes shut and bask into the euphoria that washed over him. His cum rushed out of his pulsating cock in short, powerful jets, splattering against Pard's insides hard enough to make her back arch and her lips to shudder from the intensity of her climax.

Magnus held her tight, his arm shivering from the force exerted upon her chest. He had to hold her still, to keep her from moving before his spurts lessened in intensity. The erratic, milking motion of her tight depths made that difficult. Although Magnus' climax dulled down, the rippling motion of a female during the peak of her orgasm drew several more spurts out of him before the human finally regained his breath.

"Ngha--haah--haah," Magnus wheezed while he tapered off inside Pard. He cracked an eye open to look at her muzzle, still wrinkled in delight, to gaze at her flared nostrils as she took in deep breaths to cope with the might of her own climax. Blue and green dots speckled his vision from the intensity of his orgasm, and his head still swam with euphoria.

He mated her. He took advantage of her heat. He came inside her.

The realization should have infuriated Magnus, if he wasn't so numb from their recently coupling. Besides, she tricked him into this. She shared the blame as well.

Magnus released a heavy sigh, and wriggled his hips to dislodge from Pard's frame when her toes curled around him.

"No. Cuddle. Pard never cuddled after mating."

"I'm--I'm still..."

"Remain inside her," she said as her muscular tail curled over his bum to hold him still. "Feels so good, to be filled."

Magnus didn't trust himself to speak. Beads of sweat formed upon his furrowed brow, and he seethed within the confines of his blanket. He groped the damn thing, but paused as his fingers gripped it in a tight clutch. Pushing the blanket aside meant revealing their bodies, pressed tight against another like two lovers filled with unbridled lust.

Whatever happened between them, Magnus preferred it to leave it under the sheets. Goose bumps formed along his frame from her intense heat, and soft moans escaped Magnus whenever Pard's pussy clenched around his shrinking shaft. She still trembled with need, even though their combined juices already began to leak out of her and stain the sheets with the proof of their coupling.

Pard didn't turn around. She rested her hand upon his, caressing his knuckles with the padded underside of her fingers. "Magnus ashamed for mating with Pard?" she asked, her voice frail.

"No, never." He kissed her neck, and slid his hand over her chest to caress her chin. "I thought we agreed not to mate."

"But you were so hard," Pard said over her rich purr. "Pard said she wants Magnus to feel good. She meant it, and to males, mating feels best."

Magnus chuckled. "I wouldn't know. It was my first time." The words escaped Magnus' lips before he could contain them. He yelped in distress, but Pard's muzzle shifted, and her tongue slid across his hand in soft, gentle, wet strokes.

"For Pard too. Before, she only had her fingers. Now, she has Magnus."

Magnus weighed her words while she licked away at his hand, a joyous purr rumbling in her throat. What did she mean by that? That she expected him to mate with her again? That she started to think of him as a mate, and not as a master? Zharyi under an Owner's employ such as her had the tendency to bind themselves to the first person who showed them a measure of kindness, regardless of consequences. She couldn't--she shouldn't--

He winced as his cock slipped out of her with a wet plop. Pard tensed up, and turned her head around so fast her nose met Magnus' lips. His eyes widened in surprise, and he only drew away from her after her tongue dabbed at his lips for several times.

The sudden kisses stunned Magnus. His own tongue slid across his lips, over and over again, regardless of Pard's weight that shifted on top of him. Her head rested on top of his chest, presenting him with the beautiful patterns of her scalp while her lush fur covered his torso entirely. Her feet clutched his in the warm confines of her pads, and she nuzzled his chest a few times before her ears stilled and her head fell limp.

Was she asleep? Magnus tried to test the validity of his thought while trying to move out of her embrace, but each jerk of his arm, each push at her lithe body made his stomach clench with regret. Her comforting weight, rested against him, sent warm shudders through his frame, and her pleasant purr brought a satisfied grin to his face.

He mated her, and even if he spent his passion quicker than he intended, Pard voiced no concern over it. She took everything at face value and expected nothing in return, unlike the conceited humans, and that made her grow into Magnus' eyes more than a being ever did.

"You have me, for as long as you'd like. And if you decide to take a mate from your kind, you will both have your freedom," Magnus said as he placed a hand upon her brow. "That I promise." His fingers drowned into her silken fur, and Magnus bit his lip to prevent a gasp when her purr flared in her throat. The soft vibrations spread through his fingers, urging him to caress her.

Magnus withdrew his hand, for fear of waking her up. It smelled of dust and grime and leopard, rough yet strangely alluring. He continued to stare at her, until his eyes turned sore and his eyelids grew heavy.

***END OF CHAPTER 1****

Whoa, that teasing leopard! She's certainly one of those quick bloomers, who become addicted to kindness, and naturally, to the person who shows them that there are, after all, good humans in this world. Writing Pard, with her quirky way of speaking and her nonchalant attitude about mating, has been a joy. I love how she turned out, her exotic personality that is vastly different compared to Magnus yet complements him in the most wonderful of ways.

There is a hefty those of world-building going on in these first few chapters. If there is something you are not quite clear on, give it a bit of time and the answers will come. The next chapters will detail magic a bit more, as well as the importance of tracking a dragon and getting to it first. Although Magnus' quest may seem a callous one at first, the story will surprise you later on. I guarantee it!

Anyways, this has been chapter one. The next one deals with the budding relationship between Pard and Magnus while the two seek out the elusive dragon those drunk wizards mentioned.

What do you think of the story thus far? It's far more complex than it meets the eye, and it only gets better from this moment onwards. Feel free to tell me your opinions about the Zharyi, discuss the quickly developing relationship between Pard and Magnus, or ask me anything related to this work. I'll try my best to deliver proper answers without spoiling what happens next.

Last but not least, I kindly ask you to take into account my following requests. It's just the press of a button, literally :P

Fav if you read it

Vote if you liked it

Comment if you're feeling awesome

Ah, and one more thing. As I mentioned in the beginning, this novel is currently written for Patreon. If you like my works, please consider Supporting me on Patreon _ for novel chapters, two to three 5.000 words or longer short stories with various themes and characters, and more exclusive content! Every bit helps, depending on your possibilities, and I'm extremely grateful to each and every one of you for being the driving force that pushes me to write these great stories for your enjoyment _

_ More so, If you want your own, personalized story, _ Click here to commission me and start your own adventure