by Cara Bristol
T’mar shifted. Not to full dragon but close enough to expel a burst of flame and engulf Patsy. A horrific shriek ended mid-scream as she was reduced to ash within seconds.
He shifted to demiforma and leaped over the bed. “I’m here, mate! I’m here.” He pulled her into a tight, safe embrace, but she couldn’t stop shaking. In a single day, she’d been attacked by a jealous dragoness and a trained assassin. “Sh-she was going to k-k-kill me.”
“It’s all right. You’re safe now.” He rocked her.
She clung to him, drawing strength from his strength. “H-how did you get here so fast?”
“I left right after we spoke. Something had scared you, and you are more important than a meeting with the king.”
A premonition. From the moment she’d awakened to find Patsy in her room, she hadn’t felt comfortable. And that odor. She hugged T’mar. “The king will be furious you stood him up again,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Never be sorry. You’re my mate. You come first, always.”
“I’ll handle the king.” The priestess appeared in her room—along with Henry.
“What happened? Are you all right?” Henry’s gaze shifted from her to the smoldering pile of ash.
“I am now.” She peered around T’mar’s shoulder to scrutinize Patsy’s ex-partner. She had said he wasn’t involved, but the woman’s entire life had been a lie. “Patsy tried to kill me.”
He recoiled as if she’d slapped him. “Patsy did? No. No. That’s not possible.” He shook his head. “No.”
Helena jutted her chin at the ashes and the knife lying among them. “She worked for Biggs. He ordered her to kill me.”
“She wouldn’t—I don’t believe—” He clenched his fists, and she could practically see pieces snapping into place, inconsistencies coming together. Sorrow like rain scented the air, mingling with the acrid odor of betrayal. Patsy had told the truth on this one; Henry hadn’t been involved.
The priestess made a move, almost as if to touch him, then dropped her hand.
“I had no idea.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t involved. I swear. I don’t work for Biggs.”
“I believe you.” She could smell the truth.
The priestess glided over. Helena wiggled, trying to disengage from T’mar’s embrace, but he resisted. As soon as I take my eyes off you, your life becomes endangered, he said.
Keep your eyes on me, then, but let me talk to the priestess.
Reluctantly, he released her.
“Your fyre is strong, my daughter,” the priestess said. “You will always be human, but you are definitely dragoness. Your flame burns steady and bright. The more you allow it to guide you, the stronger it will grow. That and your mating link saved you. I regret I couldn’t foresee the actions of the one known as Patsy, but she was fully human, and her motivations were blocked to me.”
“Nobody saw it,” Helena said. “I’ve known her for years.”
“Decades,” Henry muttered.
“We will meet again soon,” the priestess said. “For now, I must pay a visit to the king before he sends your mate to the dungeon. I can feel his anger from here.” She glided away, seeming to hesitate as she came abreast of Henry but then continued on until she vanished.
“Holy shit.” Henry stared and took a drag of the inhaler around his neck.
Helena peered up at T’mar. My dragon mate. He’d rushed to her side even before it had become apparent how much she needed him. Can we go to the palace now?
Immediately. Golden eyes smoldered.
She couldn’t fly away and leave Henry alone in the harem or the habitat. Staring at the ashes, he appeared shell-shocked. Helena could empathize. She’d been stunned by Patsy’s true identity, and they’d been friends a relatively short time. He’d worked with her for years. They’d relied on each other. He’d thought he’d known her better than anyone—but hadn’t known her at all.
Henry should be moved to the palace, too. He shouldn’t stay alone.
I don’t like the idea, T’mar said. I don’t detect sexual interest toward you, but he is a man and—
Not a man. He has fyre, the dragon cut in.
Henry? Helena gasped.
Henry? T’mar repeated.
He and the priestess are mates.
She takes no mate. She is a celibate, T’mar said.
Not anymore.
“You think?” Helena murmured.
“I doubt the dragon is right about this,” he said in a low voice. “If he was, he wouldn’t have been so jealous of your man friend.”
“He was jealous of Henry?”
Henry raised his head. “I’m sorry—did you say something to me?”
“You’re moving from the habitat to the palace,” Helena said.
“I would like to return to Earth. You don’t need me anymore.” He twisted his mouth. “You would have been safer without…us.”
“I can arrange passage to Elementa, where perhaps you could get on a colonists’ vessel?” T’mar offered.
“You should stay awhile,” she said. “Please? We can explore Draco together. When will you have another opportunity like this?” What if the dragon is right?
I am always right, the dragon said.
Henry nodded. “There will be fewer memories here anyway.” He paused. “The woman who was here—she is somebody of importance?”
“She’s the priestess of the Eternal Fyre,” T’mar answered.
“Oh.” He winced but then pulled himself up straight. She could guess his thoughts now. On Earth, a priestess would be the equivalent of a nun.
They had rushed in together, she recalled. Could there be something between them? Should we tell him what the dragon believes? she asked.
The dragon has a lot of opinions. Not all of them are true.
You will see…
“If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be,” she murmured.
“Like us.” T’mar’s seductive clove musk washed around her. “Are you ready to fly, my mate?”
“More than ready,” she said.
Chapter Thirty
As large as a city, the royal compound sprawled far and wide. The dragon clutched Helena securely and soared to T’mar’s residence, a bejeweled 150-room stone mini palace, bestowed upon him by the king and queen when he reached his majority of 200 years. T’mar hoped the palace found favor; if not, he would build her something else.
He would never let her out of his sight again. He couldn’t stand how close he’d come to losing her—twice in the same day! Thank the sacred fyre he’d followed his own counsel and rushed to the harem when she’d first called out to him. Thank the priestess for her intercession with the king! His father would have imprisoned him in the dungeon for sure. No one stood up the king—not even the firstborn and heir.
Did you ever find B’kah? Helena asked.
I did, he said grimly, his anger arising anew. His trackers had located her. She’d fled in fear for her life when she saw the seriousness of A’riel’s attack. Stripped of her rank and duties, she was taken to the dungeon. She deliberately sent you into the wrong section of the harem. B’kah had considered serving Helena to be beneath her, so she’d planned to scare her. She hadn’t intended for her to be killed, which was the only reason B’kah was still alive.
I’m sorry, mate. I never should have trusted her with your care, T’mar said.
You didn’t know. Just like I trusted Patsy. She paused. And Rhianna trusted me.
Your situation with Rhianna isn’t the same. You had the best intentions. You were trying to save her life. She understands now. He and Rhianna had spoken at length while she was giving blood.
The dragon flew over the wall and landed in a courtyard and released Helena from his grip. By tomorrow, there would be doors programmed into the walls so she would feel free to come and go as she pleased. But he would keep a very close watch on her because two attempts on her life were two too many.
You can always trust me, he told her.
And me, the dragon chimed in.
She beckoned with a finger, and the dragon snaked his long neck downward. She raised on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to its thorny face. “Thank you.”
He purred and then shifted, ceding control to T’mar.
“Don’t I get a kiss?” he said.
“Oh, you get more than a kiss.” She wound her arms around his neck. He pulled her into his embrace and covered her mouth with his, absorbing the scent and taste of her. She filled his head and his senses, stirred his desire and his fyre. Mine. My mate, mine. My dragoness. My human. Their lips fused, tongues met and caressed.
“Maybe we should take this to the bedroom,” she murmured, and the implied suggestion along with her sweet, spicy breath caused already heated desire to spike. A shudder raced through him. “You do have one in this palace, don’t you?” A teasing smile danced on her lips.
“Several dozen.” He grasped her wrist and pressed his lips to her palm. There will be plenty of time. We have a lifetime. Forever. “Are you sure you are up—”
She smothered his comment with a searing kiss. “How’s that for recovered?”
“I want to be sure you are well.”
“I’m better than well! I’m amazing. I’ve never felt healthier in my life.” She turned her head from side to side and waved her forearms in front of his face. “My wounds have healed.”
Only faint lines remained of her injuries, and those, too, would vanish. Judging from the avidness of her kisses, her vigor seemed to have returned. “Well…”
She gripped his uniform in her fists. “You wouldn’t deny your mate when she’s in a needful way, would you?” Her eyes glittered beneath her lashes.
“Well, when you put it like that…” He swung her up into his arms.
Holding her, he sprinted for his bedchamber.
She was laughing when he set her beside his bed. She stopped laughing when he kissed her. Her robe tore a little as he ripped it off her. His own uniform fell away in tatters but began to reknit itself. He kicked it aside and shifted from demiforma closer to man form, the better to feel skin against skin.
They fell on the bed in a loving tangle of arms and legs.
He felt her slightest touch as her mark, claiming him. The tug on his hair sent curls of sensation clear down to his toes. She pressed her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders then down his back to dance along the ridges where his wings unfurled. When she squeezed his buttocks and then slipped her hands between their bodies to wrap around his girth, flames scorched him from the inside out.
He cupped her breasts, thumbing the hard nipples, then captured a tip in his mouth and sucked while exploring with his hands. He skimmed a palm over her tummy, around a hip, and down a thigh and then up. As he smoothed her wetness over the pearl at the top of her sex, her hips rocked. Scooting lower, he placed his lips where his hand had been.
A keening cry escaped her throat, and she thrust against his mouth. With his lips and tongue, he brought her to rapture, ignoring his own coiling tension. But when her shudders of ecstasy ceased, he could hold back no longer. He moved to spread her legs, but she was already wrapping them around his hips. With a single thrust, he made them one.
Her muscles squeezed his cock. Sensation and emotion merged into a burgeoning sensation.
Burying his face against her throat, he pressed his lips to her pulse, feeling her life force racing. He licked and nipped with fangs but didn’t break the skin.
I need you, mate. My fyre needs you. She bit his shoulder.
Then you shall have me. He sank his fangs into her throat. There was no need to search. Their fyres found each other immediately, merged and danced as one. Her ecstatic cries sang in his ears as she convulsed, her pleasure sweeping him into an orgasmic firestorm burning away bygones and leaving only the knowledge of her, the scent of her, the taste of her, the feeling of her.
Desire subsided but not the need for her. He shifted onto his back, bringing her atop him, the better to hold her. He pulled up the coverlet they’d tossed aside so she wouldn’t get chilled. Her body temperature ran much cooler than his.
He rubbed lazy circles on her skin, drawing his hands down her back, her arms, her buttocks. He doubted he would ever get enough of touching her. Of loving her. My mate. My dragoness. He knew she loved him, which made him all the more humbled by her sacrifice—she’d given up her home and the people close to her. He’d given up nothing—only gained.
She lifted her head. “What are you thinking that makes you sad all of a sudden?”
How well she was learning to read him.
“You left your home for me.”
“You are my home,” she said.
“And you are mine.”
“Besides, we’ll both be moving to a new planet soon, right?”
“Yes. Construction of the first city on Elementa is supposed to start after the Festival of the Fyre.” He didn’t have to be a seer to predict clashes with the colonists, which would not end well for the latter.
“I still hold out hope our planets can reach an accord and find true peace, not just a tenuous truce. We need to reopen the dialogue and end the hostility. I intend to be a part of that.”
“We will do it together,” he said.
She kissed him. “Together. I like that.”
“Forever and always,” he said.
“I’ll tell you something else we can do together.” A scent of honey drifted to his nose.
“Forever and always.” He kissed her.
Fyres danced.
Epilogue
In the palace communications center with more advanced technology than she’d ever seen, Helena waited for the link-up. Steady and true, T’mar stood next to her, his presence providing support and encouragement. She had no idea what the situation would be in Bunker One.
You’re worried because of this Biggs person, he said inside her head. At times like this, she could appreciate the benefit of telepathy.
I hope my father is all right. She smoothed damp palms over her skirt. Anything could have happened since she’d left. What if Biggs had done something when his enforcer didn’t check in? Communication equipment, weapons, and poisons had been found among Patsy’s belongings. Knowing the chief special advisor as she did, she didn’t doubt he’d expected confirmation of the hit.
T’mar squeezed her shoulder in support.
The screen wavered and flashed, and then her father, gray and haggard, appeared at his place in the war room. “My god, Helena.” He tipped his head back and briefly closed his eyes. “I’ve been worried sick. Why did you run away? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Dad. I love you. I need you to trust me and do what I ask. Please.”
“What is it?”
“Call for a protection detail right now.”
“Why? Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said, but his gaze shifted to the side, confirming Biggs sat out of camera range, and then he pressed a button on his console. “But if it will make you feel better.”
Within seconds, two Secret Service men arrived.
“Sir?” one of them said.
“My daughter has something to say. She requested your presence.”
T’mar squeezed her shoulder again. Helena took a deep breath. What if the protection detail wasn’t enough?
“I fled because Biggs planned to have me killed because I’m the one who warned Rhianna about the bomb and the plan to kill King K’rah.”
Her father swore.
“That is untrue!” Biggs’ voice came through, but she still couldn’t see him.
“Patsy Winslow worked for him. He sent her to kill me. T’mar”—she grasped her mate’s hand—“saved me. Patsy is dead.”
Biggs stepped into view. “Mr. President, I categorically deny all accusations. Your daughter speaks under duress. She is being forced to say these thing
s. This proves we can’t trust or negotiate with the Draconians!”
Her father motioned to an officer. “Take Mr. Biggs into custody.”
“You can’t be serious! This is what the dragons want. What it wants. The one standing next to her.”
It? Her dislike of Biggs increased tenfold.
“There will be an investigation, and the matter will be sorted out,” her father said. “I’m sure you understand—” His expression hardened. “I must treat what she says seriously.”
The men cuffed Biggs before escorting him from the room.
Her father swallowed, bowed his head, and when he looked up, his expression was stricken. “I-I—this is all my fault. I’ll never forgive myself for endangering you—” He focused on T’mar, and Helena could see her father’s hesitation to speak in front of him.
“T’mar is my mate. Whatever you can say to me, you can say to him.”
“Mate?”
“Husband,” she amended, although the mating bond went much deeper than a marriage.
“It is an honor to meet my mate’s father.” T’mar gave a little bow.
“It’s a…pleasure to meet you,” her father replied with a polite response.
He does not trust me, T’mar said.
No, he doesn’t. I’m sorry.
It is understandable. At least he is not throwing fireballs the way my father would. You two have much to discuss. I’ll leave you so he’ll feel more comfortable speaking with you. One call, and I’ll be right here.
It had helped to have his support, but her father would not be as open with T’mar here. Thank you, she said.
As soon as he left, her father said, “Are you really all right?”
“Really. I am.” She saw no need to tell him she’d been attacked or that she was part dragon, but she wondered who had passed her the fyre, her mother or her father? If she had to guess, she’d say her mother. She had a hunch if her father had had fyre, he wouldn’t have ceded control. “I love T’mar with all my heart, and he loves me. I am so happy we found each other.”
“It’s all true—what you said about Biggs—isn’t it?”