“Let me go, now,” she whispered as she struggled to pull more power to her.
“I can’t let you into my camp with power, princess,” he muttered as he settled her onto the floor. Her brands sizzled and faded, her eyes closing as her head lulled. “Get dressed.”
“Just kill me,” she said as her eyes opened to glare at him. “Just fucking do it already. What are you waiting for?” she demanded as his eyes narrowed at her.
“Get dressed, or I’ll help you dress,” he ordered before he exited the tent once more.
Ciara sat there for a moment before she rose, wiping angrily at the tears that slowly fell at her own weakness. She made quick work of the pants, and then slipped her arms into the shirt and pulled it down. She tried to pull more magic to her and failed, noting he’d done as he said. Did he know she’d starved herself? Was he aware that she’d trained with her brothers from sun up to sun down until exhaustion took her, starving herself in the process? When she got back home, they had to have a serious talk about who they allowed knowing things.
Ciara exited the tent and looked around, finding the camp empty. Ciara swallowed hard as she finished slipping on her shoes. She dropped the bag which held the furs and ran towards the dense woods without thought or care.
She felt elated, like the Scots when they rushed the enemy, screaming, “Freedom!” She sifted, making it several feet away, uncaring that she was draining everything she had. She sifted until she couldn’t, and then ran as fast as her legs could carry her.
She entered a clearing, uncaring that the wind grew louder or that it seemed to push her back. Her feet stopped as her eyes lifted to the sky. She froze, unable to move or make words leave the tip of her tongue. In the air above her was a creature, one that flapped giant green wings that pushed against the Jetstream, hovering right above her.
Ciara stumbled and then pushed on, fear now forcing her faster than she had thought possible. A fucking dragon! Not possible, it couldn’t be, right? She racked her brain for what she’d overheard of her father’s terror on them, and ice pushed through her veins.
The ground rumbled and shook behind her as she lost her footing. She went down hard, landing on her knees before she turned and crab-crawled away from the flying lizard. It was magnificent and scary as fuck. Her skin rose with the raw power that it exuded. Her hair rose with the electrical current it fed the area around them.
She was going to be eaten by a fucking lizard. Like she didn’t have enough issues with Blane already? If this was what freedom felt like, the moment she got home, if she ever did, she was locking herself in the pavilion and never leaving it. Freedom fucking sucked!
She stalled as the eyes held hers; blue. It stopped inches away from her, pushing her over onto her ass with its nose. In inhaled and then exhaled, sending the noxious scent of sulfur into the air. The scales on its neck were larger than her hand, even more massive than her head. Those eyes that stared down at her were ancient, knowing. It hunted her, like an intelligent beast that enjoyed her fear.
“Eat a mint,” she advised as she stared at its teeth. Rows of razorblade sharp teeth were inches from her face. It growled. “Or not, just a personal preference, but ladies do not dig fire breath.”
She rose to her feet, forcing her backbone to straighten as it continued to shake the ground around her as it moved closer yet, walking in a calculated pattern around her. It forced her to turn with it.
“I don’t taste good,” she promised. “I’m not even a snack, and I have not showered so I really won’t taste good. Plus, Blane like wiped his scent all over me and whew, I smell like man!” she continued babbling as she tried backpedaling away from the colossal ass lizard. It had to be some unknown species of lizard roaming Faery, right? Right. Dragons no longer existed, of that she was sure. The fact that it had wings was just random, the fact that it had rows of sharp teeth, another random thing to add, and hey, who didn’t breathe fire lately? What lizard wouldn’t want to pretend to be a dragon, right?
She turned to run, and it stomped the ground, making her trip over her own feet. She turned on it and glared.
“That’s not nice, lizard! When a girl is trying to run, you let her run, and then you catch her. Don’t you know anything?” she hissed and paused as it screamed in pain. Her eyes narrowed as she watched it jerk and then hit the ground. “Oh Gods,” she mumbled as she stood up, moving towards it. “Don’t die, please? Please don’t die, lizard.”
Her hand trembled as she placed it on the huge reptile, slowly petting it as it jerked and screamed. It pierced the air, buzzing in her ears as it sent gooseflesh running across her skin. She yanked her hand back as it lifted its head and howled, forcing her hair to rise in the air. She turned her hand palm-up and looked at the scales that had come off the thing.
She stepped back as it hit the ground hard, as if something was inside of it trying to get out. She continued taking large steps away from it as she watched its flesh change and form, turning human. Blane lifted his head; his piercing eyes held hers as his naked form stepped from the mess of what had been a beautiful creature.
“Holy shit, you’re a fucking flying lizard.”
Chapter Seven
Blane surveyed her carefully, the way her eyes bugged and her mouth opened and closed. She continued to look at the skin he’d shed to him and back. She thought him a lizard? What the hell type of lizard flew? He’d wanted to scare her, to make her afraid for her life, but this female infuriated him. She’d begged him not to die in one breath and then cursed him with the next.
She attacked him, him, the fucking dragon king like he wasn’t worth being afraid of. He’d touched her in ways only those who mate should ever be touched, and she’d made the most exquisite fucking noises as he had ever heard. He’d wanted her vexed, so angry that she’d used up with little power she held in her to expel it.
Did it happen, yes? But he’d forgotten his purpose the moment he’d felt her body clenching around his finger. Her mouth was addicting. The noise she made when she succumbed had made his cock ache to test the depths it could offer. She was his enemy, and he needed to be reminded of it. He had one fucking purpose and one purpose only: Destroy her and her family.
His sister had been torn apart, shredded until there had been nothing left to bury of her. She’d endured Ciara’s father between her legs, being raped and tortured before he’d murdered her right in front of Fury, Blane’s father. This little hellcat was born of that monster’s blood, she was part of him.
Her violet eyes drew men in, and her cherry-colored lips seduced them. He’d heard the tales of her beauty and how she used it to lure men to their deaths. How she’d taken lovers, even her own brothers to her bed. There was no shortage of rumors surrounding this brazen beauty, and yet she had an innocence to her he couldn’t put his finger on.
She’d fucking blushed when he’d watched her earlier. A ploy no doubt, one to confuse her prey. He wouldn’t fall to her games, nor would he be led to his doom by her beauty. He had too much riding on this, too many people counting on him to fuck this up.
Ciara was nothing more than a pawn. One he would use to get her brothers. They shared an incredible, unnatural bond, one that none of the Fae understood. He didn’t know what bonds brothers and sisters shared; his own siblings had been murdered, and none had lived to grow with him. His brothers were now the men he fought shoulder-to-shoulder with against the world, and creatures that inhabited the same foreign lands they’d settled into.
He replayed the horrors of what her family had done to his and then approached her. Her mouth continued to open and close as his naked body drew her gaze. Those expressive violet eyes slowly drank in the sight of his body, settling on his cock as she shook her head as if she wasn’t sure how to process it or him.
She stepped back as he reached her. Her hands came up to stop him as he smirked. Her raven
black hair blew in the wind that entered the peaceful meadow.
“Dragon,” he said softly, and her head tilted to the side as she considered it.
“Not possible,” she whispered breathlessly. “Dragons no longer exist. I know; my murderous father hunted them down to extinction.”
Her words shocked him, and yet there was a sense of sadness in them that tugged at him. Murderous father, not just my father. Her gaze lifted from his cock, which seemed more attuned to stand up than anything else around her, and held his.
“I assure you, Ciara, I am a dragon. Not just any dragon, but their king.”
“Fury died,” she continued. “He was killed in the throne room right after his daughter. I know, I heard the screams,” she said in a sad tone. “My brothers told me what happened after it, and the horrible things Alazander had done following it… Oh, my Gods,” she uttered as she stepped further away from him. Her shoulders slumped, and her mouth opened and closed. “No wonder you want me dead,” she said, shocking him into silence. “I’d want me dead too,” she admitted. “Bloody hell, Blane,” she expelled. “I…I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? My people are fucking dead, and you’re sorry? Tell that to the babes who burned so that they didn’t become playthings for your kind. Tell that to my mother, who was raped and murdered before my very eyes. You’re sorry?” he snapped, and she cried out, forcing him to look down at where he held her arms in his grip as his hands bared claws as his body tried to shift in his anger. “Fuck you, Ciara, and fuck your family. You’re all murderous bastards who don’t deserve to live. You sure as shit shouldn’t be ruling over anyone.”
“I didn’t do it,” she whispered as she jerked her arms away from his grip. “I didn’t have any part in it, so blame me if it makes you feel better, but I was a child when it happened.”
“I do; I blame you and your family for what was done to mine,” he snarled. Anger pulsed through him at her pity; she pitied him for what had happened. He didn’t want it or need it; what he needed was for her to obey him, to be silent and not so fucking beautiful. He hated what she was, who she was, and who she was related to. She had been called the seductress of the Horde, widowmaker of the Horde, and the whore of the Horde enough times that he’d thought this would be easy enough to accomplish.
He never once imagined the woman behind the names, or that she’d say fucking sorry. She blushed, for fuck’s sake. She had begged him not to die while calling him a lizard, what the fuck was wrong with her? Or was it a game to her? Was she playing him to get away?
“Walk,” he demanded as he pushed her subdued form towards where he’d stripped from his clothes. Once there, she leaned against the tree and kept her stare to the vast open meadow. She was an unknown, and he needed to remind himself that all rumors held a grain of truth, and the reality was, she was Horde. She’d been born of monsters, ones who killed entire races.
Today they’d reach the village, and he reminded himself that he was returning victoriously. His people depended on him to ensure they had a future. She was a means for that future, a way to rid this world of her kind, of her bloodline. He reminded himself of that as his eyes slowly followed to where hers watched as the flowers bloomed in the welcoming heat of the midmorning sun.
He sensed the others before they entered the woods, following his scent. Dragons; his people were what hers tried to rid the world of. Their world to share. It had been created for all of them and yet they’d done the unthinkable. They’d committed atrocious deeds that left thousands scared or dead in her father’s wake, and even now the world still struggled for a balance he’d endangered.
“You changed,” Fyra purred, her eyes slowly turning deep emerald as her own dragon craved its release.
“I had to drain her before we reached the village,” he said as he caught the slight straightening of Ciara’s spine as she listened.
“Bleed the bitch out, then she won’t fight anymore.”
“I want her weakened, not dead, Fyra,” he growled.
“One is easier to deal with than the other,” she shrugged and turned to look at Ciara.
Ciara turned to face them unafraid; even when she’d been face-to-face with his dragon, she’d done better than most full grown men would have. Fyra had just spoken about her death, and Ciara hadn’t shrunken from it or tried to escape. Instead, she almost looked calm. As if she was accustomed to the threat of death.
“You’re going to die,” Fyra said as Ciara approached.
“I’m not afraid to die,” Ciara admitted. “I just don’t want to feel it or deal with it when it comes. But you want me alive, not dead. You can’t lure anyone to a corpse, now can you? No, didn’t think so. Kill me if you think it will make you feel better, but I promise you, the death of an enemy doesn’t change what has been done. It won’t make you feel better. It sure as hell won’t bring the dead back to you. If it did, you’d already have them here.”
“What the fuck would you know about pain? You live in a pampered world with your every need met,” Fyra snarled.
“Yes, yes, if you consider that while my father tormented and murdered your kind for weeks, I had a lifetime of living with him, I guess you can say I was pampered.”
“Poor you, living in a castle being spoon-fed.”
“I don’t know what spoon-fed feels like,” she laughed musically. “I can tell you what being hidden from the world feels like. What watching your mother being raped by your father is like, or successfully going through Fae transition without a male is exactly like. He wanted a pure daughter, untouched by man until she could be used for gain, and he only had one. Those are things I know, but spoon feedings? Not sure that would work since dick is my food of choice.”
“No Fae has ever not fed during transition,” Blane pointed out as his eyes zeroed in on the pain behind Ciara’s bravado.
“I’m Fae, I cannot lie. So listen to me closely. I went through transition without being touched, so if you think you can hurt me or scare me, think again. You’re nothing like my father was, and I wasn’t afraid of him. This, too, I shall survive. So if you want to bleed me out, do it and stop fucking talking about it. You’re boring me. I’ve taken beatings from my father, watched him murder my friends simply for being my friends or close to me. I’ve lived through a monster, the same one that terrorized you. You, you don’t fucking scare me. Either dish it out or shut up, cupcake, but do one or the other soon.”
Chapter Eight
Ciara straightened her shoulders and stared Fyra down, not backing down from what she’d said. She was tired of the dirty names, of the threats. Life was too short to spend it paying for crimes she hadn’t committed. Of course, she was immortal, and it wasn’t really that short for her kind, but screw them. This wasn’t her fight; it wasn’t her place to be abused for crimes a father she hadn’t even liked had committed.
Fyra struck without warning, but Ciara had predicted that it was coming. She sidestepped, letting the blonde fall flat on her ass in the meadow’s tall, swaying grass. She stared down at her, unafraid of what she knew she could do. Chances were, they were all dragons, and they all hated her.
“I’m going to kill you!” she hissed vehemently.
“Get on with it then,” Ciara taunted aloofly, knowing she was outnumbered. She didn’t care. They could lay the blame where they wanted, but that didn’t mean she was going to take it.
She lunged, and Blane stepped in front of Ciara at the last moment, blocking Fyra from attacking her. He peered over his shoulder, glaring at Ciara before he spoke to Fyra in a firm, commanding tone.
“That’s enough, ladies,” he thundered as he pushed Fyra away from him and threatened her with his glare. “I told you that we need her alive, so stop your shit.”
“She thinks she’s above us! That she can’t be killed,” she hissed. “I’m about to show her how weak she is
.”
“On the contrary, I am aware that I can die easily. I just don’t care if it happens. You are planning to use me against my family, one you think has wronged you, and maybe we did. But consider this, he may have sired us but he sure as hell didn’t love us. We were his pawns, the same as I am to you right now. You want me to cower and beg? I didn’t for him, and I sure as hell won’t do it for you just because you demand it. I lived through that monster, sugar tits; you’re a fucking cakewalk.”
“Sugar tits?” Blane asked, his lips struggling to hide the laughter back.
“You assholes do speak English, right? Because you don’t seem to grasp what I am saying to you,” she seethed. “You do not scare me, there’s nothing you can do or threaten me with that hasn’t been done to me already. You want to think I’m a whore? Fine, believe what you want to about me. You want to blame me for something I had no part in? Your choice, but either put up or shut up because you’re giving me a headache with your threats.” She smiled as she held out her hands. “Tie me up, big boy. I know you like it.”
“She’s insane,” Fyra whispered as if Ciara was too daft to hear or understand.
“Not anymore,” she smirked. “Maybe at one time or another, though. It was touch and go for a bit through transition. Rissy kept me grounded, though.”
“Your lover?” Blane asked as his eyes narrowed at her.
“My demon brother,” she said fondly. “He likes hearts, says they taste like fucking candy.”
Fyra shivered as she watched Ciara. Blane shook his head.
“Infant hearts, no doubt,” he muttered.
“The hearts of our enemies,” she retorted. “We don’t do children, that’s your thing, isn’t it? I mean, you did just try to steal the future of Faery from their cribs. Us? We don’t go after children,” she pointed out frostily.
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