Dragon's Kiss (The DragonFate Novels Book 2)

by Deborah Cooke

  “Pick one,” she invited with a regal gesture. “And I’ll give you its secret spell.”

  It was an offer Kristofer couldn’t refuse.

  Bree watched Kris survey the stones, his eyes bright with understanding. The light in the kitchen made his hair look more golden, and his tan rich. It touched the breadth of his shoulders and the backs of his strong hands. He was beautiful and powerful, but he wasn’t just some jock. He knew all the old stories and remembered them. He solved riddles. He could be as gentle as he was strong, and she liked how he deliberately prompted her smile.

  It would be easy to get used to having this dragon in her life.

  In fact, she already had.

  He’d brought the bottle of mead and Bree had chosen a chalice from the cupboard. She liked the look of it and its golden color. It looked as if it should be part of a dragon’s hoard.

  “A cloak of invisibility would be useful,” Kris said, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at her.

  “You know that’s not listed in the Prose or Poetic Edda. Some bard made it up.”

  “It would be cool, though.”

  “Sorry. It’s not on the table.” She looked down at the rune stones.

  “Literally. I guess the same goes for understanding the language of the birds.”

  Bree nodded. “I have to think that would be less useful, though.”

  He held a hand over the rune stones, as if seeking one that was warm. “We know there’s the ability to talk to the dead.” His hand hovered over the rune she’d used to do that, evidence of how observant he was. “There’s healing, and the ability to blunt an enemy’s sword.” His hand moved as he named each of Odin’s spells. “The ability to break fetters, and that of grabbing a spear out of the air.”

  “You can probably do those two already,” Bree said, watching where his hand paused. He was identifying the right rune for each spell, and she liked that he was making a deliberate choice. He understood the value of her gift.

  “There’s saving a ship lost in a storm, and soothing hatred among warriors. That might have been more useful when there were Slayers around.” His hand moved. “Seducing a woman.” He flicked a look at Bree.

  “I think you’re good there,” she said and he chuckled.

  He moved his hand. “Maybe not keeping her.” Their gazes held for another one of those endless moments and Bree’s heart stopped. Then Kris frowned slightly. “Overcoming witches. Not a big issue for me on a daily basis. I don’t know many witches. Redirecting harmful runes.” He paused then, his finger moving over the rune Sowulo. Bree caught her breath at his apt choice. He looked up and met her gaze. “The ability to extinguish fire,” he said softly and tapped the rune. “This one, whether I’m right or not.”

  “You are.” Bree picked up the rune he’d chosen. The rune carved into it was a jagged line, like a bolt of lightning. She poured the mead into the chalice, then crushed the stone to powder in her hands, reciting the ancient spell beneath her breath.

  She was choosing Kris to be hers, as surely as if she had kissed him, giving him a gift that would show her favor to any of the old gods who troubled to look. She repeated the spell three times, grinding the stone to powder in her hands, watching it sprinkle into the mead. It sparkled there, like silver dust, before it dissolved.

  Bree held the cup in her hands, just the way she would frame the face of a warrior she had chosen. Kris came around the end of the counter and dropped to his knees before her. His deference made her heart pound and the glow of pride in his eyes made her catch her breath. She repeated the verse, then nodded and he repeated it with her. She held the chalice for him and he drank, closing his eyes as he drained the mead in one long swallow. She’d anticipated that she’d remember the other time, of the moment she’d picked up the river rock, but there was no room in Bree’s thoughts for anything or anyone but Kris.

  When she lifted the empty cup away, he opened his eyes and she saw the fire that had filled his soul, the fire she had given him. They repeated the verse together again, then she shifted shape back to her human form. He caught her close and lifted her in his arms, carrying her back to the bedroom like the conquering champion he was.

  And when he made love to her with quiet fervor, Bree thought her heart would burst with joy and regret. She held him close after they had both found their pleasure and he slept, her thoughts filling with dread. This would be the last time before they either triumphed or failed, and it wasn’t nearly enough.

  It was still raining the next morning when Bree and Kristofer left for Fae. It was early and the streets were quiet. Kristofer let Bree lead the way. She stood for a moment in the street in front of Rafferty’s house and he remained silent, watching her, then she strode in the direction of Highgate village.

  The mead with the rune spell had burned like icy fire, sending a tingle to Kristofer’s gut that fanned out to his fingers and toes. He’d felt as if he was filled with starlight, and his thinking became sharper, more clear along with his vision. Time hadn’t reduced its effect and he was humbled again by Bree’s gift.

  Rafferty had called to say that he and Melissa were meeting the mysterious woman in the morning. Alasdair had arrived at Rafferty’s house around dawn and given Kristofer the stylus. Kristofer already understood why Kade hadn’t wanted to relinquish it. He’d only had it in his pocket for a few moments before he could feel it preying on his mind, feeding a reluctance to ever surrender it.

  Alasdair had gone to bed, with obvious reluctance, after his delivery was made. He’d wanted to come along, but Bree didn’t think two dragons could sneak into Fae without attracting attention.

  As they walked, Kristofer felt taut with the possibilities and on edge. He only kept himself from hovering on the cusp of change with difficulty. He also felt that they were calmly walking toward annihilation: as much as he knew it was the right thing to do to enter Fae and save the others, he knew it was only natural to hope that they succeeded and survived. He couldn’t forget that Bree was vulnerable without her wings and her charm, and was determined to defend her with his last, if necessary. He was awed and humbled that she’d given him such a gift.

  What if everything came to an end? He was grateful that he’d known her at all, but it was only natural to want more. He wondered whether this might be their last chance to talk and knew he had to do better than he had once before. If he’d learned one thing in all his years, it had been not to leave words unsaid.

  He just had to choose the right ones.

  Kristofer wasn’t really surprised that Bree turned into Waterlow Park, taking the footpath that headed west. It made sense to him that it would be easier to make a portal to Fae in a park rather than an urban area. Waterlow Park was where he’d landed a little more than twenty-four hours before, although that seemed like a thousand years in the past. It was a quiet refuge on this wet morning. The trees hadn’t lost all of their leaves yet, though many of them were yellow.

  Kristofer cleared his throat, knowing he was out of time to think about his words. “So, if this is the big finish, what’s your biggest regret?”

  She eyed him. “Feeling optimistic this morning?” she asked wryly and he smiled.

  “No, just trying not to make the same mistake twice.” He could see curiosity in her eyes. “You first.”

  “I try not to regret anything. What’s done is done.”

  It was an evasive answer and Kristofer recognized it as a defense mechanism. She was pulling away from him, because she expected their quest to go badly. “Probably letting Siegfried remember you,” he said lightly, giving her an easy out.

  “Maybe,” she admitted.

  “Because if he’d forgotten you, he wouldn’t have said your name in his sleep, infuriated his wife, and been killed early.”

  “There is that,” Bree said, her tone noncommittal. Her sidelong glance was bright. “But there was agreeing to lure you into Fae, too. I regret that.”

  “If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have met. I can
’t regret that.”

  Her smile was reluctant but it lit her eyes all the same. “You are incorrigible.”

  “I try.”

  “Tell me your biggest regret,” she invited.

  Kristofer shook his head. “My brother and I argued before he went to fight in that battle between Pyr and Slayers,” he admitted quietly.

  “What did you fight about?”

  “The fact that he was going at all. I didn’t think he needed to involve himself. He was my younger brother and I was taught to protect him. I thought that was what I was doing.”

  “But he went anyway?”

  Kristofer nodded. “He said you can’t ignore war and you can’t forget your principles, just because it’s risky to stand up for them. He was really idealistic.” He swallowed, wondering if Storme had felt then the way he felt now, that he had to go and fight, even though he suspected it might not end well. His words were husky when he continued. “He didn’t come back.”

  “You miss him.”

  “I do.”

  “More than your dad?”

  “Differently. We were brothers—but we parted badly. I wish I could make that right. I wish I could tell him he was right, but I never had the chance. No. I missed my chance.”

  “So, you volunteered when there was a war you couldn’t ignore,” Bree guessed.

  Kristofer nodded. “I like to think Storme knew and maybe he forgave me.” He shrugged. “From the moment I realized he was gone forever, I’ve been determined not to make the same mistake again.”

  “Go with new ones instead,” Bree suggested.

  “Exactly.”

  “I like that philosophy,” she said, approval in her tone, and slipped her hand into his.

  They continued in silence, the mist seeming to both isolate them and amplify small sounds. Bree led them to a lane on the west side of the park. Swains Lane was a one-way street, heading north, passing the gates for both the east and west Highgate cemeteries. She paused in front of the more elaborate gatehouse for the west cemetery, gripping the bars as she stared into the grounds. The cemetery was filled with fog beyond the gates, even more fog than had been in the park, and the gates were still locked. There weren’t tours until ten.

  It felt like they were alone in the world.

  Or maybe in another world.

  It certainly wasn’t hard to believe that it was the day of Halloween. Kristofer heard a church bell chime and the patter of the rain and shivered.

  “Isn’t this cemetery supposed to be haunted?” he asked.

  “Aren’t they all?” Bree asked. She evidently didn’t expect an answer because she turned back to the view of the cemetery through the gates. “The veil between the worlds is thin,” she whispered. “But it’s thinner in there.”

  They had to find a way in.

  Kristofer took a step back and surveyed their surroundings. The west cemetery was on one side of the lane, and the east cemetery was slightly south, its entrance on the opposite side of the lane. The park they’d crossed was north of the east cemetery. He looked north, up Swains Lane, and saw that the walls of the west cemetery continued beside the lane. They were built of brick and capped with stone, but the trees from the park on the east side cast a lot of shadow even though many of leaves had fallen. There were no homes or businesses in sight—just the walls and the trees, the rain and the shadows on the lane.

  “Let’s jump the wall,” he said.

  “It’s too high.”

  “Please.” Kristofer gave her a look and was rewarded with a small smile.

  They strode up the lane, choosing a spot that seemed to be in the deepest shadow. Kristofer shifted shape quickly, scooped up Bree, and leaped over the wall. He changed back just as quickly, hoping they hadn’t been glimpsed. They were standing in a path midway between the gates and a building inside the walls. The cemetery seemed even more quiet than the lane and filled with more mist.

  “You could have just flown us there,” Bree said, but Kristofer shook his head.

  “I’m never sure in cities that there’s no one watching, and we don’t have time for beguiling.” He took a deep breath. “I smell people around.” At her glance, he clarified. “Live ones.”

  She looked around then pointed to a building he hadn’t noticed before. It was within the cemetery walls and must have been an office or storage facility. People used it often, but fortunately there weren’t any present yet.

  Bree continued northward, following the path. Kristofer had never been in the cemetery before, and he was amazed by the number of graves, the obvious age of them, and its very powerful atmosphere.

  Lady mercy...

  He thought he’d imagined the whisper, but then it was joined by other voices whispering the same words. The appeal came from all sides and the way that Bree’s posture had stiffened revealed that she’d heard it, too.

  She looked like she was trying to ignore it.

  Lady mercy...

  That was what the corpse had said in the mortuary. Kristofer eyed her and she flicked a hot look his way. “They don’t know what they’re asking,” she said through her teeth and marched on.

  He understood then why she’d suggested that all cemeteries were haunted.

  “You did say the dead tell good stories.”

  She gave him a fierce sidelong glance for that.

  “What’s the story they’re telling now?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “So much for teamwork,” he scoffed, expecting his words would provoke her.

  They did.

  Bree spun to face him so quickly that he nearly collided with her. Her eyes were blazing, filled with silver fire, and she braced her hands on her hips. She was an amazing sight and Kristofer could only stare.

  “Yes, I can hear when the dead talk to me. I prefer to initiate the conversation, though, because they tend to ramble. They’re better with a direct question and, even then, results vary.”

  “So, those are the voices of the dead.”

  “You shouldn’t be able to hear them.”

  “I shouldn’t have seen Eirene, either, according to you.”

  She studied him, her eyes narrowed. “No, but you challenge all expectations, don’t you?” The fight went out of her then, and he understood that she was irritable because she didn’t want to separate either. He smiled and she flung up her hands. “Stop trying to charm me!”

  “I’m not even trying.”

  “That’s the worst part. I can’t give you what you want, just like I can’t give them what they want.”

  “They’re calling you,” he guessed.

  “And they’re out of luck,” she said, turning to march on.

  Kristofer followed her, thinking. “Because they want immortality and you can give it to them.”

  “Not real immortality, I can’t give them that, but maybe something close enough, to their thinking.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Valhalla isn’t forever. It’s until Ragnorak and the final battle. That’s all.”

  “That could be a long time.”

  “You could live a long time. It’s not the same as being immortal.”

  Kristofer shrugged, knowing that she felt strongly about this. “After a couple of centuries or a few millennia, the differences wouldn’t be so striking.”

  She gave him a simmering look. “It’s more than living a long time. Immortality results in a completely different mindset than longevity.”

  “But there are similarities,” Kristofer pointed out. “You still have to plan for a long future and save for more than one rainy day. You still have to switch out identities on a regular basis. You still have to hide your truth from mortals.”

  “But you aren’t really alone,” she countered. “You’re not completely independent of anyone and anything, even of time. I am.”

  “You’re right. That bites.”

  “What do you mean? Being immortal means not being afraid of anything, of ha
ving all the time in the world, in the universe, to do whatever you want. It’s the ultimate freedom!”

  Kristofer wondered who she was trying to convince. “Sounds lonely to me. I’ve got the other Pyr, and you had your sister Valkyries, but what about now? I doubt you and Kara are going to stay close now that you know she can kick your butt. You’ll be completely alone.”

  She looked stricken for a moment. “I like being alone,” she insisted without conviction. “It’s simpler.”

  “I like having the choice,” he said easily. “I can choose to be alone at my own place, or I can hang out with my fellow Pyr.” He smiled down at her, noticing that she was watching him. “I like my neighbors, too.”

  “The mortal ones?” This seemed to surprise her.

  “Yes. I wasn’t expecting that, but they’re good neighbors and some are friends. I bought my place at the end of the Dragon’s Tail Wars, just wanting somewhere that was my own. Vermont reminded me of the things I liked about home.”

  “Like?” She eyed him with curiosity.

  “Nature, for lack of a better word. I like the trees and the hills, to be able to experience the seasons and to share my world with other creatures. There are deer that come to graze in my fields, hawks and foxes and mice. I like that.”

  “What didn’t you like about home?”

  “The cold. The isolation. I was raised in a northern village that was beautiful, but remote. Harsh. And Alesund, where I trained as a mason, was crowded, at least more crowded than I like.”

  “So, you bought a place in the country.”

  “Several hundred acres. I loved it from the first time I saw it, but I was seeing only the privacy.” He grinned in recollection, noticing that she was hanging on his words. “I didn’t expect to get cookied.”

  “Cookied? I don’t understand.”

  “My nearest neighbor brought me cookies when I moved it. Warm chocolate chip cookies. They were awesome. I’d found the kettle already so I made some tea and invited her in. She gave me advice about the area, telling me where I could shop and giving me some ideas of where I could look for work. What neighbors do.”