His hand worked at her thigh, gathering her skirt up around her hips. She helped him and moaned when his fingers connected with her bare thigh. She hooked one leg over his hip. That steel length pressed against her most sensitive flesh, throbbing with need through his kilt. She was almost certain it was only the tails of his shirt beneath the tartan and if she tugged both up, there would be nothing between them.
How long had it been since she’d had a lover? There weren’t many in her past, and none of the boys or men she’d dated years ago in New Orleans had been serious. None had been as worthy or as magnificent as this dragon with his brave and loyal heart. She slowly worked the tartan higher in her hand.
“Mmm, I like that sound you make when you’re excited,” she murmured into his mouth.
He pulled back a fraction of an inch. Was that a blush staining his cheek? “’Tis my mating trill. ’Tis instinct.”
“I like it,” she said, surprised her own words came out throaty and seductive. She lowered her lids, tugged the tartan higher. “Wait… Mating trill? Do you want to mate with me?”
His eyes widened and searched hers. “Aye. I confess ma dragon has wanted ye from the beginning. Will ye be mine, Avery Tanglewood?”
Her mouth found his neck, and she worked her way from collarbone to jawline. She wanted to say yes—whatever it took to have him buried in her as soon as possible—or at least after a moment to shed their clothes now that it was at least ninety degrees in the small barn.
She brought her lips to his ear to whisper the word, but it caught in her throat. Wasn’t there something about dragons and mating? What had her sisters told her about their bonds with their mates? She stiffened in his arms.
“Are we talking about sex here or something more?”
He gently set her down on her own two feet and straightened her skirts before caressing the side of her face. “More, Avery. I want ye to be mine in the way of ma kind. Accept the mating bond, and I will have you as my own for all eternity.”
It struck her then that his Scottish accent had given way to one that sounded more like Nathaniel’s and Gabriel’s when they spoke of their homeland. Paragonian. She was speaking to his inner self, his dragon. Xavier’s blue eyes flickered with inner fire.
She pressed her back against the wall, shock and anxiety worming their way through her torso. Hand at the center of his chest, she gave him a firm push and was surprised when he stumbled back. “Hold up, big boy. I need a second to process this. Are you trying to bond with me? As in offering me a dragon mating bond?”
“Aye.” His Scottish accent was back. He flashed that damned lopsided grin of his that was so sexy it made her knees weak. No man should hold that kind of power in his smile. He reached for her again.
“Wait…” Despite desperately wanting to give in to the pleasure he made sing in her veins, she held up a finger between them. She blinked rapidly up at him. “We’ve only known each other a few days. You live here, inside this… bubble in time and space. I don’t. And you told me last night you have no plans to leave, not even temporarily to fight alongside your siblings.”
“Once we kill Lachlan, this place will be ours again. Ye can stay here, with me. Live in the castle as Lady Campbell.” His expression held nothing but joy and surety that she would jump at the chance.
As much as her instincts prodded her to say yes, she couldn’t do it. She did not want to live in this place where time had stopped. She’d had enough trouble breaking from her own past and her history of putting her own needs aside for the sake of others. Here, she’d only lose herself more. She wanted Xavier, but she could not commit to living in the builgean.
“When I came here, it was under the assumption that I would bring you back to the outside world, Xavier. Gabriel, Nathaniel, and the others are counting on your help. Your evil mother will destroy your homeworld if given the chance.”
“Aye. I said I would come back with ye and deal with Gabriel. Once Lachlan’s dead, I can come and go as I please. I can see it bothers ye that I donna want to fight for Paragon. If it matters to ye so much, I’ll consider it.”
“But you’ll still live here.”
“Aye.”
“I won’t,” she said honestly, although it hurt her to say it. “I’ll be there, in my world, the real world. I have a life there.”
He took a step back. “I thought you said ye wanted to escape from that life. You told me ye had no idea who ye wanted to be or what ye wanted to do next. Here’s yer answer. After we’ve helped in whatever way we can, ye’ll come back here and live with me.”
He said it as if it were a foregone conclusion and reached for her again. She sidestepped out of the way.
“No.” As Avery said the word, a branching sensation tingled through her limbs as if that one tiny negative were a seed she’d planted deep within her. She could almost feel it growing, sprouting roots and branches. Spreading. Her spine straightened. She didn’t have to think as the truth came barreling out of her throat. “I will not live here. It’s not the future I want for myself. I want to wear pants and own my own home. I want to work. I’m not sure what I want to do quite yet, but I feel like it’s right on the tip of my tongue and I just have to keep living to figure it out. I want to be in control of my own life, and I can’t do that here, entombed in the past as you are. I just can’t.”
Xavier’s face fell. He turned and paced the length of the barn like a wild animal. The cow, who’d been grazing lazily until then, seemed to suddenly realize there was a predator in the room and shuffled in her stall.
“Is that what ye think?” He snapped out the question. “That I’m entombed in the past?”
“What else would you call it? Hey, I get it—you built this place to keep you and your people safe. You saved hundreds of lives with your magic. But now it’s as much a prison as anything else.”
“A prison? Ye think this is a prison?” he gritted out.
“What else would you call it?” She raised her voice, willing him to understand. “Are the people here free to leave? Do they know enough about the outside world to even decide for themselves to stay or to go?”
He growled, and the cow tugged against the rope holding her.
“Careful, Xavier. You’re scaring her. She’ll kick over the milk.”
“I donna care about the milk,” he said in a low, gritty hiss. “You were goin’ to accept. I felt the connection. You want me. Donna deny it.”
Avery placed her hands on her hips and leveled a stare at the surly dragon. “Yes. I want you. I have never felt as strong a connection with anyone. Honestly, it seems to grow stronger by the day. But I can’t… mate with you. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I’d never ask you to give up your life here, and if you would ask me to give up mine, we shouldn’t be talking about mating at all.”
He dragged his hands through his hair, his face reddening. “Ye would have given yerself to me.”
“Yep.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you hadn’t mentioned the bond, I’d be leaving footprints on the ceiling right now and have a back covered in hay. I won’t deny it was painful to stop.”
He was angry now, seething. “Are ye a tease? A harlot?”
She narrowed her eyes on him. Immediately she sensed he hadn’t meant it, but it hurt anyway. “No. I’m a woman. That’s all. But the fact that you’d say such a thing tells me I’ve made the right decision.”
She turned and ran from the barn toward the cabin, the pounding rain mixing with her tears.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Everfield
Aborella accepted the hooded cape that Dianthe offered her. It was dark purple velvet, a color that reminded her of her natural skin tone. She answered to the name of Zinnia, carefully hiding who she really was under a strong illusion of rose-colored skin and oversized green eyes. Deep inside, in a place within herself she didn’t want to admit existed, she wished the illusion was reality. Zinnia had friends and a purpose. Aborella had neither.
&n
bsp; “Can you carry this, Zin?” Dianthe held out the tray of cookies they’d prepared together for the waning ceremony.
“Of course.”
“Are you sure? They’re heavy.”
“I am well, Dianthe. Aside from a minor limp, I am restored.”
Dianthe shook her head. “I’ve never seen anyone heal as fast as you. You must be blessed by the goddess.”
Or cursed by the devil. Aborella understood that her speedy healing was thanks to the dragon’s tooth that rooted in her belly. There was no other explanation for why she wasn’t dead. Eleanor had fed her that tooth to keep her from dying so Aborella could endure the punishment of being buried alive. There had been no compassion in it, although she suspected there was strategy.
Eleanor needed her. Aborella now realized that the tug she’d felt deep within her torso was not guilt or apprehension as she’d assumed, but the empress calling for her down the bond of that tooth. More than once over the past several days, she’d felt the pull, almost painful inside her bottom ribs, felt that strong desire to return to the palace. She realized now that Eleanor was searching for her.
Only, Aborella wasn’t ready to return to Paragon.
She told herself it was because she was collecting information on the rebellion to bring back to the empress. But there was more to it than that. There were feelings Aborella didn’t want to examine too closely—belonging and happiness. Maybe even friendship.
Arms laden with cookies, she pushed thoughts of the Obsidian Palace aside and followed Dianthe out of the small cottage and down the trail toward the festivities happening in the heart of Everfield. Twilight in the fairy kingdom was nothing short of magical. Fireflies soared across purple skies where two orange suns descended behind a turquoise sea. She’d almost forgotten the beauty of this place, had taken it for granted as a child. Now it was like walking through a dream.
Cottages in Everfield were constructed completely of natural materials. The best of them had parts that were still growing. While homes in other kingdoms were concerned with straight lines and square angles, the architects of Everfield wove residences around and out of the natural life of the forest. They were organic additions to the landscape. Living trees held up the walls. Branches were woven together to create a roof.
Everywhere, the buzz of wings met her ears as fairies flew overhead. She’d join them if it weren’t for the cookies in her hands. She watched the others flying toward the gathering place and marveled at the way their gossamer wings caught the silver light of the rising moons.
“Do you miss flying?” Dianthe asked. “I can probably take that tray if you want to spread your wings.”
Aborella blinked rapidly at the unexpected kindness. “No. I’ll help you. It’s been a while since I tried. I’d rather experiment later, when and where there aren’t so many eyes.”
Dianthe nodded then resumed her way toward the gathering. “I’ve received word Sylas is coming back tonight.”
Aborella felt a chill run through her blood. She hadn’t seen Sylas since the night he and Dianthe had rescued her, but Dianthe had never actually confirmed what he’d been doing. He was a potential source of valuable information on the activities of the Defenders of the Goddess.
“I hope he accomplished what he set out to do,” Aborella said. And shares it with me.
“Tonight, after the festivities. I’ll tell him about your interest in joining the rebellion. If all goes well, we’ll have more to talk about tomorrow.”
Aborella nodded. This was what she’d wanted. So why was she relieved when Dianthe turned her soulful eyes from her and continued toward the festivities?
They arrived at the gathering, and she helped Dianthe arrange the cookies on the dessert table, then chose a log close to the fire. Someone offered her a roasted narwit on a stick. Happily, she accepted and bit through the crispy skin to the juicy meat underneath. Across the gathering place, a fairy band played a song with an upbeat rhythm while a storyteller relayed the tale of the witch queen of Darnuith.
As she listened though, she was confused. She’d never heard this version of the story, not even as a child when she lived in Everfield.
“They tell it differently in Paragon,” a deep voice said from beside her.
She raised her face to find Sylas standing over her, his chestnut hair neatly trimmed since the last she’d seen him. He’d also regained some of the bulk he’d lost during his stay in the Obsidian dungeon.
“You must be Sylas,” she said. “I’m Zinnia. Your wife has been caring for me, thank the Goddess. I don’t know what I’d have done without her.”
Sylas’s lips bent into a barely perceptible smile. “I know who you are.” He sat down beside her. He gestured toward the storyteller. “Are you familiar with the Paragonian version?”
She nodded her head. “The story goes that during the fourth century, in the time when Eleanor and Brynhoff first rose to power over Paragon and Dracor and Villania stepped down to serve on what was then the Council of Elders, an evil witch cast a spell over a Paragonian dragon. The witch used the dragon in her thrall to attack the kingdom. She murdered Dracor and Villania and the rest of the Council of Elders in cold blood before Brynhoff and the Obsidian Guard could subdue her. Brynhoff bravely battled the witch and dragon and won, protecting Paragon from their evil clutches and clearing the way for the future of the kingdom. Afterward, a law was passed forbidding relationships between dragons and witches and establishing the Highborn Court to replace the Council of Elders out of a desire to maintain a permanent peace in the five kingdoms.”
Sylas shook his head. “Sad, isn’t it? How far that story is from fact. They used to tell it here that way not so long ago, until they learned the truth.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “What is the truth? I was trying to listen to the story, but now I’ve missed it.”
“Brynhoff was not the eldest of his siblings.”
Confusion wrinkled her brow. “Brynhoff had no siblings other than Eleanor.”
Sylas laughed. “What makes you think so? He actually had two brothers, one older and one younger. His elder brother was supposed to inherit the throne, but he couldn’t stomach spending time with Eleanor, whom he found cruel. Ruling by her side was a future he found distasteful. So he left Ouros centuries before his father’s time to step down.”
“Paragon,” she said. Ouros was no longer an acceptable name for their world.
“At the time that happened, our world was called Ouros.” Sylas rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It was only after the war that it was renamed after the kingdom of Paragon.”
She nodded. She knew that much, but so what? Lands were often renamed once they were conquered.
“Brynhoff’s elder brother, Tavyss, was gone for centuries. No one knows where he went, but while he was away, he met the woman who would rise to be queen of Darnuith.”
Aborella suddenly felt queasy. How could that be true? She had never heard of this Tavyss. “What are you saying, Sylas?”
“In the fourth century, Tavyss returned to Paragon and challenged Brynhoff for the throne. As the eldest, he had every right to, and the Council of Elders supported him in his challenge. He’d already chosen a consort, the witch queen of Darnuith, and rumor was she was pregnant.”
“No.” Aborella shook her head. “That can’t be true.”
“Eleanor was terrified of Tavyss usurping Brynhoff. She’d been controlling Brynhoff from the start, using their unnaturally close and incestuous relationship to bend him to her will. She knew that if Tavyss became king, she’d be sidelined politically and lose all her power, especially considering the eldest heir to the throne would be the witch’s child. But the Council of Elders would not hear her pleas to dismiss Tavyss’s claim. They believed Tavyss and his bride were perfect for the kingdom and that the union would be pleasing to the Mountain because, as legend has it, Circe, the first witch, and Aitna, the Goddess of the Mountain, are both children of Titans and are close cousins.
> “Backed into a corner, Eleanor and Brynhoff murdered the Council of Elders in cold blood before any of this could be made public. They framed Tavyss and his mate for the murders and then started the false rumor that Tavyss was held in the witch queen’s thrall. Once they’d convinced the Obsidian Guard and everyone in the kingdom that Tavyss and the witch queen were murderers, they attacked. The Paragonians had just lost their entire Council of Elders. Dozens of ancient and wise dragons had been slaughtered. The citizens of Paragon took up arms and joined the Obsidian Guard in a surprise attack on Darnuith. By all known accounts, they killed Tavyss and his bride.”
The stick with what was left of the narwit fell from Aborella’s hands as a vision hit her squarely in her third eye. She was a seer, able to have visions of the future but sometimes also flashes of the past. This time it was the past. She saw Tavyss and his mate unconscious, covered in blood, saw Brynhoff and Eleanor seething above them. It was true. It was all true.
“Brynhoff and Eleanor killed their parents and ancestors to keep the throne then, and now Eleanor is trying to kill her children to do the same,” Aborella whispered. It was suddenly all so clear.
“Yes,” Sylas said in disgust.
She blinked and looked around at the children laughing, dancing around the fire. The people were thin, most dressed in rags. She’d been so caught up in the beauty of Everfield, she hadn’t noticed the poverty. The Highborn Court and Eleanor’s unquenchable thirst for power and riches were draining the other kingdoms dry. And now the empress had even eliminated Brynhoff. She’d never stop, Aborella realized. Her cruelty would be as unending as her immortal life.
“I know who you are,” Sylas said again.
She frowned and stiffened, her heart beginning to pound uncomfortably in her chest. “I am Zinnia.”
“I saw you lying in that grave, Aborella.”
Highland Dragon Page 16