Dragon's Heart (The DragonFate Novels Book 3)

by Deborah Cooke

  He opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by white brilliance.

  It could have been ice. He would have felt familiar with that, but it was feathers. Millions of white feathers surrounded him, their tips gently caressing his face. They were so white that they were luminescent, lit with an inner fire. They shone with a silvery gleam, one that was both bright and cold.

  He had to be dreaming.

  Hadrian reached out to touch the feathers closest to him and was awed by their softness. His fingers slid into them like he’d plunged his hand into a cloud. Then a woman laughed lightly, a sound like delicate bells.

  He was entranced.

  The feathers moved and her face appeared in the midst of them, which only fascinated him more. She was pretty, with blue eyes and fair lashes, but it was her playful smile that made his heart pound. “Dragon of ice and fire,” she said and laughed a little. “I’ve been looking for you.” She leaned toward him, her gaze locked with his, then touched her lips to his cheek. Light flared between them, sending heat through his body, as if her kiss branded his cheek.

  Hadrian was amazed. “The firestorm,” he whispered, awed by his good fortune.

  “Is it?” she asked, her tone surprisingly skeptical.

  “It must be,” he began but her hand appeared out of the feathers. Her skin was almost as pale as the feathers. On her left wrist was a red string and Hadrian recognized it as being similar to the one he’d worn in the realm of Fae.

  He was horrified.

  “Not you, too,” he whispered but she shook her head, her smile fading. Her fingertips stroked his cheek, as if she regretted something she’d done, and Hadrian felt his skin chill where her kiss had heated it. Instead of a hot brand of a kiss, there was ice lodged beneath his skin. She glanced back suddenly as if startled and he heard footsteps.

  “Don’t go,” he managed to say before there was a brilliant shimmer of light. It was too late. The feathers no longer surrounded him, and she was gone.

  As surely as if she’d never been.

  A guy appeared and crouched down before Hadrian, and Hadrian wouldn’t have been more surprised to see the Devil himself. “I won’t go,” Kade said with a friendly shake of his head. He surveyed Hadrian. “You look terrible.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to help with Rhys’ firestorm, of course. All for one and one for all.”

  Hadrian had his doubts. “I thought you had other things to do.”

  Kade shrugged. “I was wrong.” He looked contrite. “I made a mistake and was hoping you guys would give me a chance to make it right.”

  Hadrian wasn’t entirely convinced of the other Pyr’s motives, but he’d never been one to hold a grudge. Everyone made mistakes.

  Even Alasdair.

  That made him wince and try to stand up.

  Kade put a hand under Hadrian’s elbow and helped him to his feet. “You’re a mess,” he said with sympathy and Hadrian had to nod agreement.

  “Isn’t it the truth.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure.” Hadrian didn’t want to make an accusation against Alasdair before he talked to his cousin. There could have been someone else in the elevator—even though he hadn’t seen anyone. Alasdair could be in trouble himself. “I was hit from behind.”

  “Are you heading up to Rhys’ place?” Kade said. At Hadrian’s nod, he got into the elevator, too, and pushed the button. Hadrian’s head was pounding and he hoped Rhys had some aspirin. He still had the keys to the apartment in his pocket, so that was something. He led the way but Kade recoiled six feet from the door, wincing.

  “Awesome dragonsmoke,” he said and shuddered from head to toe. “Maybe I’ll just wait out here.”

  “I can change the permissions,” Hadrian offered wearily. He closed his eyes and did so, belatedly aware that Kade hadn’t protested it was too much trouble. The other Pyr helped him across the threshold and glanced around. Hadn’t he been in Rhys’ place before? To Hadrian’s thinking, there wasn’t much to see. It was tidy and minimalist, everything in its place and everything there for a reason.

  “If Rhys has aspirin, I’ll bet they’re in the bathroom,” Kade said. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

  “There’s a water glass in the bathroom,” Hadrian protested but the other Pyr ignored him. He winced and went in search of aspirin, vaguely aware that Kade was heading for the bedroom. “This kitchen’s the other way,” he said with impatience, then checked the medicine cabinet. He found the bottle easily and poured out a pair of pills. He went back into the main room of the apartment with them in his hand.

  The apartment was empty.

  “Kade?” he asked and turned to look for the other Pyr. He couldn’t even smell Kade’s presence. The outside door was ajar, too. Why had he left so suddenly? Hadrian closed the door, then went to the window in time to see Kade emerge from the building. There was a lime green Mustang parked at the curb, which gave him a bad feeling. That feeling got worse when he recognized the stylus in Kade’s hand and guessed what he was going to do.

  Hadrian shouted when Kade began to draw a door in the air. Hadrian tried to open the window in time, but fumbled with the latch and dropped the aspirin.

  “No!” he roared when the window was finally open. Kade drew the knob and opened the door. A slice opened in the air, giving a glimpse of the silver and red light of Fae. Kade glanced up, as if he’d heard Hadrian, then drove the Mustang through the gap.

  There was a flash of silver light and Hadrian’s feet erupted with pain. He cried out as agony claimed them again, then fell insensible to the floor.

  Kade had lied to him.

  Both of the treasures entrusted to Rhys were gone, and it was all Hadrian’s fault.

  Nothing was as Rhys had expected. Lila had startled him with the confession that the King Under the Seas wanted to conceive a child with her, and Nyssa’s welcome was less than friendly. At least Lila’s reluctance to have a child was consistent.

  The firestorm was burning with insistence, but that didn’t disguise the scent of sex in the apartment. Unless he missed his guess, Nereus had been working on increasing the selkie population while he and Lila had been coming uptown.

  But Lila thought Nereus wanted her to have his child, too.

  Lila didn’t belong to him, but she was his destined mate—whether she believed it or not—and Rhys instinctively disliked the idea of any other male trying to stake a claim. He really wasn’t fond of the idea of Nereus adding Lila to a collection of lovers, instead of creating a partnership with her alone. To him, it was a lot less than she deserved.

  No wonder she didn’t believe in commitment.

  Rhys was ready to defend her right to choose against anyone who argued otherwise.

  Even the King Under the Seas.

  The King Under the Seas sat on Nyssa’s sofa, holding court over the small apartment. The living room and kitchen were all one space, with a counter between them instead of a kitchen table. The end wall was taken up by a sliding glass door that opened onto a small balcony. The apartment was furnished in silvery blues and greens. There were a few sea shells and a bowl of what might have been sea glass on the kitchen counter.

  Rhys disliked Nereus intensely on sight.

  Nereus eyed Lila with a little smile that seemed proprietary to Rhys. He granted Rhys the barest glance, apparently dismissing him, but studied the radiant glow of the firestorm. Something hardened in his gaze and Rhys took warning from that.

  He guessed that Nereus had followed Lila to New York to collect what he saw as his due and folded his arms across his chest.

  He wasn’t going to bow before this king.

  Nereus looked both ancient and vital. He wore a crown on his brow, a magnificent arrangement of red coral studded with pearls. His silver beard was long and flowed almost to his ankles. His long hair radiated out behind him and was so bright a silver that it was almost white. His eyes were vivid clear blue. His skin w
as fair, almost like ivory, and Rhys wasn’t sure how much he was wearing: the king’s flowing beard hid his torso and his thighs. His bare feet were planted against the carpeted floor. He looked like he’d be a bit taller than Rhys in his own human form, and was well-muscled. He’d be a formidable opponent, but Rhys would willingly take him on. Nereus held a trident, a staff of silver as tall as Lila with three sharp tines that caught the light. A faint pearly glow emanated from the ring on his finger, and Rhys guessed it was a mark of his sovereignty.

  Lila prostrated herself before Nereus, her hair sliding over her shoulders as she almost kissed the floor. Nereus glanced at him and Rhys inclined his head slightly, just to be polite. He wasn’t feeling particularly deferential.

  The acknowledgement wasn’t enough to please Nereus.

  “Dragon,” he said with scorn. He didn’t move his lips but his voice was deep and the words were clear. They echoed directly in Rhys’ thoughts, like old-speak. Rhys realized Lila had communicated with him the same way when they’d met that first time and he’d followed her underwater. He wondered how much more this method of communication had in common with old-speak, whether it could be cast at a specific individual or not, and whether it could be used to charm as old-speak could be used to beguile. He wondered whether Others who weren’t selkies or subjects of Nereus could hear it, and more importantly, whether Nereus knew that Rhys could hear it.

  He kept his expression impassive, just in case. His keen Pyr senses might be underestimated by someone who didn’t know much about his kind. He wished he could shift, because he knew his hearing would be even sharper in his dragon form. There might be nuances he’d only be able to discern that way.

  Nereus lifted a silver brow. “Another dragon. Is there a plague upon the earth that I have not been told about?”

  “Not a dragon, a Pyr, my lord Nereus,” Lila replied. “The Pyr are dragon shifters.”

  Nereus made a dismissive gesture. Rhys guessed he had a temper because the Lila he knew wouldn’t have found it easy to be so demure.

  He hated that she was afraid of the ruler of her kind.

  She remained in the same pose. Maybe she hadn’t been given permission to rise. Whether she’d been given permission to speak or not, she asked a question, which he thought more like her. “Where was the other dragon, my lord?”

  “Perhaps there was only one. Perhaps it was this one that came to rob me,” Nereus mused, his eyes flashing as he didn’t quite answer her. “Perhaps this is the invader, and you have brought him right to me, a traitor to be tried in my court.” He raised his trident, but Lila spoke quickly.

  “Perhaps not the same dragon, my lord Nereus.” It was as if she wanted to keep Nereus from striking Rhys. What could he do with that trident?

  She stood up and disapproval flickered in Nereus’ eyes. Lila straightened and stood a little taller, as forthright as Rhys knew her to be. She must think Nereus calmer.

  “This one has been in my company, my lord Nereus. Can you describe the intruder?”

  Nereus sneered. “He was large and black, powerful and repugnant. He glowed against the depths, crimson with the power of his magick, and his scales shone, like the darkness of the sea beneath a full moon.”

  Embron.

  Kristofer had said that Bree had cast a stone into the sea and that Embron, believing it to be the gem of the hoard, had gone after it. Had he sought it all the way to Nereus’ realm? Where was Nereus’ realm?

  “This dragon is red and silver, my lord Nereus.”

  “He came,” Nereus continued. “He came without ceremony or invitation, without asking permission.” Rhys guessed that was the root of the issue. Nereus’ tone grew more strident in his outrage. “He came and rummaged through the remnants of the hoard. He broke the spire of the second tower when he thrashed his tail, and I, I could not confront him because of the diminished number of my subjects.” Nereus rose from his throne and seemed suddenly larger and more fearsome. “He dared to insult me, to ignore me, to treat my palace as his junkyard.” Nereus inhaled in fury. “He ignored and defied me, just as you have done.” Nereus gave Rhys a searching look and his tone dropped low with accusation. “You know him.”

  Rhys held the king’s gaze, pretending he hadn’t heard the question.

  The king leaned back, his expression assessing. “What is this light?” he demanded of Lila, snatching at her hand.

  Rhys was already shimmering a little, hovering on the cusp of change, and Nereus’ quick move took him closer to the shift. Lila must have guessed, because she pulled her hand from Nereus’ grip. Nyssa was eying Rhys with obvious alarm.

  “It is a light of a dragon’s arousal,” Lila replied, bending the truth lightly. “He finds me alluring.”

  Nereus laughed. “And so he should!” His mood visibly improved. “He is a discerning dragon, then, one who savors the beauty of our kind.” He patted the couch beside himself and Lila hesitated only a moment before she rose and sat beside him. His smile broadened, though Lila’s smile was prim. The king ran a fingertip down Lila’s arm and smiled. “You will surrender to me today, for the good of our kind.” Lila stiffened but, interestingly to Rhys, it was Nyssa who looked more displeased.

  “No, my lord. I told you before that I have no desire to conceive now.”

  “The choice is not yours to make.”

  Now Lila’s tone hardened. “The choice is always mine to make, my lord. It is the way of our kind.”

  “And you will choose as I instruct you to choose.”

  She stood then, moving closer to Rhys, and the firestorm brightened. Nereus narrowed his eyes against its light and looked annoyed.

  Rhys took Lila’s hand again, wanting her to know that he supported her choice, whatever it might be.

  At that, Nereus rose to his feet. “I insist that you bend to my will. It is for the good of our kind, Lila.” His words softened. “It is for the survival of our kind. I entreat you to consider the future...”

  “No,” Lila replied calmly. “The choice of whether to bear a child remains mine to make. If we abandon our principles and traditions, there is no future for us.”

  Nereus’ eyes flashed and his voice rose. Though he argued for the future of the selkies, Rhys knew he was thinking mostly of his own satisfaction. The way he looked at Lila revealed more than his words. “I order you to submit for the good of our kind....”

  “No.” Lila stepped back and Rhys felt her hand trembling within his grip. “I’m returning to North Rona now.”

  “You will not defy me!” Nereus roared. He loomed larger before them both, his brow as dark as thunder. “You will do as I command!” He snatched suddenly at Lila and pounded his trident against the floor in the same moment. Nyssa gasped as the floor shook beneath them.

  Rhys immediately shifted shape to defend his mate. There was just barely enough space in Nyssa’s apartment to accommodate his dragon form, but Nereus was backed against the wall. At another time, Rhys might have been amused to see Nereus’ astonishment. He wanted to breathe fire, but instead he snatched up Lila and held her against his chest in one protective claw, and snarled at Nereus. She gripped him tightly which told him to be ready for more.

  “I will not be denied! You cannot expect me to stand aside while you discard our future!” Nereus bellowed and pounded his trident against the floor again. The building shook, and Rhys felt the earth trembling beneath it. Chunks of plaster fell from the ceiling, the walls were vibrating and he could hear people screaming. Nyssa was trying to open the door and there was a distant sound of sirens. The building was rumbling all the way to its foundations and the light fixtures were swaying.

  Nereus had started an earthquake.

  Ten

  Rhys lowered his head and glared at Nereus, holding the king’s gaze to let him see the fire in his own. “Don’t touch my mate,” he growled and watched Nereus glare.

  The king drew himself taller and opened his mouth to shout. Instead, Rhys roared, breathing a torrent of f
ire that made Nereus stagger backward. He pounded the trident one more time and a crevasse opened in the floor, splitting the building all the way to the street.

  Rhys felt the building fall away behind him as people screamed. He sheltered Lila with his body and made for the window. A chunk of the ceiling fell, the sliding glass door facing the balcony shattered, and Rhys had to ensure Lila’s safety immediately. He bounded toward the broken door and smashed the rest of the glass out with his tail. He lunged onto the balcony and soared into the sky, holding her close all the while.

  “Nyssa,” she said.

  At the single word, Rhys looked down. Balconies were tumbling to the ground, shaken free from the crumbling building. Nyssa was clutching the door to her own balcony, one foot in the air.

  “Lila!” she cried.

  “You have to help her!” Lila said but Rhys was already sweeping back down toward the other selkie. He scooped up Nyssa, feeling how tightly she clung to his talon in her fear, and the two selkies clutched each other. He caught a glimpse inside the apartment and saw that Nereus was gone, which simplified his choices. Rhys flew high again and Nyssa shuddered as she peered over his claw at the damaged street below.

  There was a wide fissure in the road and the pavement was cracked open like an egg. Water shot into the air from broken water mains and something was hissing. People streamed out of the building and lined up on the sidewalk further down the street, clutching cherished belongings, pets and children, as the ground continued to vibrate. The emergency crews were arriving, but his bike was still parked at the curb.

  “Where did he go?” Rhys demanded as he flew higher.

  “Probably down the crack,” Nyssa said, averting her gaze. Rhys saw Lila frown and noticed how she studied Nyssa. “All the way down to the water, then into the Hudson. With any luck, he’ll head back to the Isle of the Blessed from there.”