Rylin's Fire by Michelle Howard

took in everything.
    Ry tried to view it from an outside perspective. Everything was bigger when you were Dracol. There were four connecting rooms which might be a lot but he was long used to it. Minimum furniture and plenty of open areas to keep him from feeling confined. “Feel free to look around. I don’t have any secrets.”
    Her mouth twisted at that, but she strolled through the rooms and Ry followed. They passed through his office first, a sitting area, then his bedroom, and finally this space. When Dara reached the last room on the end, he leaned a shoulder against the wall and studied her reaction. Green eyes widened and her mouth fell open. His lips curved up in a smile.
    “This—this is…I don’t have words.” She touched a statue made of gold, with jewels the size of his fists imbedded in the face for eyes.
    The snarling raptor stood over eight feet in height. Small in comparison to a Dracol’s true size, and yet it stretched higher than Dara’s hands could reach. She walked deeper into the room, fingers idly touching tables covered in rare coins, jewels and other priceless artifacts, throughout including a twelve foot sword mounted on the far wall.
    To his surprise, Dara headed straight for the gleaming blade, its tarnished hilt reflecting in the overhead light. “A sword for a dragon?”
    Ry folded his arms over his chest. “In times past, a Dracol would use a sword in shifted form for battle. Any fights with each other now are mostly with claws and teeth. If it’s enemy combat, then depending on their sect, the Dracol would draw on their power base.”
    Dara paused near a cream colored vase with vibrant blue streaks in a swirl pattern, a recent acquisition of Ry’s. He liked the twisted shape. She cast a glance over her shoulder. “Sect? Power base?”
    “There are four major sects who rule the Dracol here on Vovin. I’m King of the Black.”
    “Black Dracols, obviously.” Dara grinned as she picked up a shintu blade. The weapon’s curved hilt fit her grip perfectly.
    “Yes. We can control lightning in both forms and spit fire with enough force to wipe out an entire city. Then there’s the Green, ruled by King Varyk. They spit a poison vapor and can teleport.”
    Her eyes got wider but Ry continued. She needed to know. “King Faris rules the Silver. They’re capable of spitting ice and have the ability to use mind control on their victims if they stare into their eyes too long. The Purple sect is ruled by Kon.”
    Dara set the shintu down and scooped up a hand full of coins. She cocked her head to the side. “What can the Purple do?”
    Ry’s vision zoomed in on her hands as she tossed the coins in the air and caught them. An unexpected sense of possession reared its head seeing her touch them. When one fell to the carpeted floor with a clink, he tensed.
    “Rylin?”
    He shook his head and wrenched his attention from the coins back to the focus of their conversation. “The Purple spit an acid which melts anything it touches and they can breathe under water. They spend a lot of time beneath the oceans of Vovin because of that.”
    “On Earth, the myths say a dragon—not a Dracol mind you, but a dragon keeps a horde. It’s where all the treasure is kept.”
    She turned and faced him, every bit disheveled. His breath caught. Her hair was messy from riding, her dress contained creases and grass stains from their earlier lovemaking, and clumps of mud peppered her bare feet. Despite all of that, Ry thought she was the most sensuous being he’d ever encountered.
    “This is your horde.” Her announcement amused him.
    “These are the treasures of the Black Dracol,” he corrected. Each reigning King added what he considered prize possessions to the room and thus the contents grew. The coins were Ry’s special addition. His Dracol held an unnatural fascination for coins of every kind, from every region and other worlds.
    “In other words, your horde,” she repeated with a cheeky