Dragon's Kiss (The DragonFate Novels Book 2)

by Deborah Cooke

  “I put a bookmark at the page for the Pyr,” she said, pointing.

  Drake opened the book at the beginning, scanning the pages, as he sank into a chair. Sylvia watched his eyes narrow as he recognized that it was an inventory of extinction, and saw his lips thin when he got to the page noting that mermaids had been exterminated. After that, he flipped to the pages about the Pyr, his fingertip running down the list as his manner became more and more disapproving. He paused, his fingertip on the page. “Theo, Rhys and Hadrian are not dead,” he murmured and his fellows, peering over his shoulder, exhibited relief.

  “Or if they are, whoever keeps the book doesn’t know it yet,” Murray noted.

  “Someone has sealed the portals between the realms,” Caleb said when Drake looked up. “And it appears that Maeve is trapped in Fae.”

  “The newspapers have reported her human identity missing,” Murray said.

  “So, it seems that for the moment, we’re safe from her,” Caleb said.

  “But four of our kind are trapped there and perhaps lost,” Drake noted.

  “Three,” Caleb corrected. “I met the fourth here.”

  “He went back for the others,” Drake admitted. “We do not leave our fellows behind.”

  “And Kara, my Valkyrie waitress, is missing, too,” Murray added.

  “She is also there, part of the scheme to tempt the Pyr into Fae, along with her sister Valkyrie, Bree,” Drake supplied.

  “Six,” Caleb said with a shake of his head. “Unless we go after them, they’ll die there. I suggest we form a small team to invade Fae and free them.”

  Drake regarded him, his expression impassive. “But you said the portals were sealed. How will your team get to Fae?”

  “Don’t play games with me.” Caleb held his gaze. “One of your Pyr has a stylus that opens a portal wherever he wants one to be. I saw him use it here!”

  Drake shook his head. “That’s how Kristofer went back.” He tapped the book with a fingertip, indicating a name with a line drawn through it. “And according to this book, Kristofer is dead. I will wager that the stylus is missing or lost in Fae.”

  “It updates itself?” Murray whispered and peered at the book.

  “I didn’t do it,” Sylvia said. She studied the book. “No, there was no line through his name earlier. It must update itself.”

  Those in the room exchanged glances. Caleb swore. He spun and paced the room, pushing a hand through his short hair. “Then what do you suggest?” he demanded of Drake with obvious frustration.

  But Drake was staring at the page, his brow furrowed. “Who is Malduc?” he asked softly. “And Emyas?”

  “I don’t care if you’ve made the acquaintance of every member of your kind or not,” Caleb snapped. “We have a problem to solve.”

  “But that’s just it,” Drake said quietly. “These seven names have only just appeared on the list. They were not here when you gave me the book.”

  “What?” Caleb moved to stand beside Drake on one side and Sylvia went to his other side.

  “No,” she said. “They weren’t there. I read the whole book this week and I don’t remember those names.”

  “How can that be?” Caleb whispered. “Is your birth rate so high as that?”

  Drake shook his head.

  A blue-green spark danced along the edge of the book, illuminating the rim of its pages for the barest moment. Sylvia thought she’d imagined it, but she heard Drake catch his breath and knew he’d seen it, too.

  Above his fingertip was the name Kristofer Anderson, with a horizontal line through it, indicating that Pyr’s demise. Before Sylvia’s eyes, that line sparkled and then dissolved. She blinked, but it was gone.

  Drake leaned forward and ran his fingertip across the name. “He’s alive,” he whispered.

  “Back from the dead,” Balthasar murmured in wonder. “How can that be?”

  “He is with a Valkyrie,” Sebastian noted and they looked at him. “And not just any Valkyrie. Brianna or Sigrdrifa is the one who knows Odin’s rune spell to speak with the dead.”

  “How do you know her name?” Drake asked.

  “We met,” Sylvia said quickly and Sebastian smiled.

  “Briefly,” he acknowledged and Drake eyed him with suspicion.

  “The book keeps its own inventory in real time,” Caleb murmured, touching it with tentative fingertips.

  “If your Pyr’s alive, then he either has the stylus or can tell us where it is,” Murray said.

  “You are undoubtedly correct.” Drake pushed to his feet and handed the book back to Sylvia with a slight inclination of his head. “I thank you for letting me look at it,” he said and she liked his courtly manners. He nodded at Caleb. “I agree with your plan, but must find out what has happened. I will be in touch.” He beckoned to Balthasar and Arach, who followed him out of the room, the three cutting a path through the crowd before disappearing into the night.

  “That’s the problem with dragons,” Murray muttered. “They always want to be in charge.”

  Bree was sure she’d be whisked to Valhalla, just as she always was after claiming a warrior’s soul. Instead, she found herself suddenly surrounded by white, like she’d been dropped into the middle of a blizzard. Snow swirled around her on all sides, and when she took a step, the ice beneath her feet cracked. She stood still and listened, wondering where she was. She kept her mouth closed and held her breath, not wanting to risk losing her precious cargo.

  She heard a click in the distance, a repetitive click that couldn’t be natural. She headed in that direction, uncertain what she’d find. She saw the branches of the tree first, looming dark out of the flying snow and arching high overhead. The tree was enormous, bigger than any tree she’d ever seen. She couldn’t even be sure that the top of it was visible. She continued through the snow as the clicking became louder, and stopped when she saw the three sisters.

  The Norns.

  The clicking was the sound of knitting needles, working steadily as Verdandi knit drifts of snow. Verdandi—‘what is’—was the Wyrd sister who governed the present. Beside her, Urd—‘what was’—plied her drop spindle at terrifying speed, her skull’s head grinning at Bree from inside the shadowed hood of her cloak. Behind them was the world tree, Yggdrasil, and before them was the well from which they drew water to nourish the tree. Bree looked for the third sister and jumped when she felt breath on the back of her neck.

  Skuld—‘what may be’—a warrior princess who might put Bree to shame slid the tip of her shears across the back of Bree’s neck. They were cold and sharp, and if Bree had been mortal, they would have drawn a line of blood. She pivoted and Skuld laughed. The goddess brushed past Bree, bracing her booted foot on Verdandi’s stool. She had a long blond braid and blue tattoos covering her arms.

  “You’ll have dragon bones to knit with, Sister,” she said, even as she surveyed Bree. “Unless you don’t want to give him up?”

  Bree shook her head. He’s mine she thought and the Wyrd sister’s smile broadened.

  “Not yet, he’s not. Or maybe not anymore. The details don’t really matter. You’re here and if you want to leave, you’ll surrender something to us.” Her smile broadened. “The soul of a dragon warrior would be a welcome novelty.”

  He’s mine, Bree thought again, having no intention of surrendering Kris to these three. If he’d been a mortal man, they’d have warped their loom with his sinews and tendons. She didn’t want to even think about what they might do with his soul. She’d hold him until she could find him a sanctuary.

  If she ever managed to get out of this realm.

  Skuld began to sharpen her shears on a steel, sending shards of metal all over Verdandi’s pristine white knitting. Neither Verdandi nor Urd seemed to notice, Urd’s spindle still whirling like a dervish.

  “Why would you want him, Sigrdrifa?” Skuld demanded. “They’re all the same. Fight, eat, drink.” She widened her eyes. “Copulate.”

  I love him. It
was true. As soon as Bree had the thought, she knew it was absolutely true. He’s my destined mate.

  The sisters laughed then, all three of them. Urd cackled. Verdandi giggled. Skuld guffawed. She pointed to herself and then to her sisters. “We decide upon destiny, Sigrdrifa. Don’t forget your place.” She snapped at Bree with the shears, her move so aggressive that Bree took an unwilling step back.

  “I’m willing to make a deal, Sigrdrifa,” Skuld purred, her eyes gleaming. “If you want the dragon warrior, what will you surrender instead?”

  Bree knew the answer with perfect clarity. My immortality, she thought with conviction. Make me mortal. I will be a Valkyrie no more.

  The sisters were visibly shocked.

  Bree should have been shocked, but she knew it was absolutely right. She was more than willing to surrender her immortality to be with Kris.

  Skuld took a step closer to look into Bree’s eyes. “You would sacrifice so much for him?” she asked, as if she couldn’t believe it.

  Bree nodded, resolute. I want him to live and I want to live with him, in his realm, not this one.

  “You’ll never be able to return,” Verdandi warned her gently. “There is no changing this choice.”

  I know. Bree held Verdandi’s gaze and nodded, hoping her resolve showed.

  The sisters clustered together and conferred, then turned as one to face Bree, their hands stilled.

  Urd dropped a bucket down the well and Bree heard it splash far below. She began to haul on the rope and Verdandi got to her feet to help. Skuld sharpened her shears again, then gestured to the ground before Bree.

  Bree dropped to her knees, her heart pounding. She knelt then bowed before the three sisters, as if she would pray to them. She felt cold air as Skuld flipped up the hem of her hauberk. She shivered as chilly fingers pushed aside her armor, baring the skin at the base of her spine. She closed her eyes as fingertips landed on the small of her back, sending ice through her veins. She heard the other sisters join Skuld, hearing the splash of the water and the murmur of their voices. She felt the chill of their fingertips. Bree closed her ears to their charm, not wanting to know these words, and felt the icy impact of the water on her skin.

  The weight of their fingers abruptly vanished.

  Bree straightened and opened her eyes.

  She was alone. The tree was gone, as was the well and the mound of knitting. The sisters were nowhere to be seen and there was no snow.

  She was on the side of the blackened road again, kneeling beside Kris’s body, her hands on his face. She couldn’t tell how long she’d been gone or whether he was breathing. She bent and touched her lips to his again, relief surging through her that they were still warm. She kissed him, but this time, Bree exhaled, knowing that she was surrendering everything she had been to save his life, and doing so with a single regret.

  Fifteen

  Kristofer awakened to a warm sensation against his lips. The heat emanated from that point and spread through his body. It was a beguiling and seductive heat, a sensory pleasure so much like the false firestorm he’d shared with Bree that he feared he was dreaming.

  Or maybe this was the afterlife. That was his thought when he opened his eyes and found Bree bending over him, uncertainty in her eyes. They weren’t her Valkyrie eyes, filled with the ocean, but they were just as beautiful to him. He smiled and lifted a hand to her cheek, surprised to feel her tears splash on his hand.

  He glanced around, surprised that they were still beside that coastal road where he’d fallen. There was no sign of the dragon prince and the storm had abated.

  “I expected more from Valhalla,” he said and she choked back a laugh.

  “We’re in the mortal realm, just where we were before.”

  He looked at the tears shining on his hand and frowned. She’d told him that Valkyries had neither tears or blood.

  “What did you do?” he whispered and she smiled, then pushed away the last of her tears with her hands.

  “What I had to do,” she said with conviction.

  Kristofer realized that there was a golden light between them, one that sparked when he slid his hand along her cheek. He watched the sparks, then met her gaze again, confused. “Another spell?”

  She shook her head. “The magick about this is purely yours,” she whispered.

  “I don’t understand.”

  She smiled. “I guess you were right about having a firestorm one day.”

  Kristofer sat up then and caught her shoulders in his hands. “But you said it was impossible...”

  “It was.” She dropped her gaze, as if embarrassed by what she had to say. “I surrendered my immortality to save you,” she confessed, her heart in her eyes. “A life for a life, just like Maeve demanded of me but so much better.”

  “Bree!”

  “I’m not a Valkyrie anymore, Kris.” Doubt touched her expression. “Is that a dealbreaker?”

  Kristofer had never heard better news in his life. “No! It’s the best news of all,” he said, and meant every word. She reached a hand toward his injury and just as before, the heat seared the wound. He caught his breath, amazed that she would give him this gift, then smiled at her concern. “Didn’t I tell you that the firestorm is always right?” He stretched to kiss her but Bree stopped him with a fingertip.

  “Please,” she said, her eyes shining. “Let me.”

  Her eyes shone as she slid her hand around his neck, cupping his nape as she smiled at him. She touched his lips with the fingertips of her other hand, sending a flurry of golden sparks dancing between them. Heat surged through Kristofer and she smiled when she leaned closer and the firestorm brightened to vivid yellow.

  He could have been on a beach, or flying close to the sun, as the heat washed over him, feeding his desire and multiplying his awareness of the marvel that was Bree. Her hair blew around them, and she touched her lips to his. She brushed her mouth over his once, twice, then a third time. She sighed, then slanted her mouth over his, claiming him with a kiss that was only the first of many many more he knew they would share. She opened her mouth, inviting him to participate, and Kristofer kissed her back, his heart soaring with joy.

  He’d found his destined mate and she was the richest jewel of his hoard. He was going to spend every day and night of his life making sure Bree didn’t regret her choice.

  Rafferty didn’t like to interfere when he saw the golden light emanating from the pair on the side of the road. He had to check on Kristofer, though. Kristofer and Bree were kissing, to his satisfaction, the sparks of the firestorm dancing joyously around them. The sight did his heart good.

  He landed, knowing it was impossible to sneak up on them in his dragon form, and shifted shape. They parted with some reluctance and Bree greeted him with a broad smile.

  “Rafferty!” she got to her feet, and Kristofer didn’t, although he also smiled a greeting.

  Rafferty handed her the vial of Sloane’s unguent, then winced as he looked at Kristofer’s wound. “Should I summon Sloane?”

  “Bree can help me,” Kristofer said, his eyes alight as he looked at his mate.

  “There is a story here, that I would have you share one day,” Rafferty said.

  “We have something to do first,” Kristofer said and Bree blushed.

  “I’m not a Valkyrie anymore. That was the price to save Kris.”

  “And the firestorm is your reward,” Rafferty concluded with satisfaction. “The dragon prince?”

  “He dove into the sea, looking for a piece of amber I had. He called it the gem of the hoard and said whoever held it would control the magick.”

  Rafferty frowned and turned to look at the sea. “How unfortunate that it is lost. I wonder if he found it.”

  Bree laughed and offered him a stone. It glinted in its depths with the golden hue of amber. “I threw a rock from the road, not the gem,” she said. “A little sleight of hand, fast enough even to fool a dragon.” She handed him a smooth chunk of amber. It was a litt
le smaller than a tennis ball, polished to a gleam, and filled with shards of what looked like gold. “I’ve learned a few tricks in my time.”

  Rafferty smiled as he turned it in the light. “How beautiful.”

  “I saw it in Blazion’s hoard and took it as a souvenir, just because it was pretty.” She shrugged. “Will you keep it for us?”

  Rafferty eyed Kristofer, understanding her unspoken concern. “Only until you come to London and retrieve it. It is rightly yours, but I would offer Kristofer the chance to heal without fearing the return of the dragon prince.” He eyed the bright sparks of the firestorm and knew this pair needed no additional distractions. He’d keep Bree’s sword for her, too.

  “Thank you!” Kristofer said, struggling to his feet to shake Rafferty’s hand.

  “You will have to stay a few days to hear all the news,” Rafferty said. “It has been an eventful night.”

  “It has,” Bree said, and Rafferty saw that the pair were lost in each other’s eyes again.

  Rafferty smiled, fondly remembering the power of the firestorm, then took flight, winging home to his own mate. He doubted that Bree and Kristofer even noticed his departure.

  In his opinion, that was exactly how it should be.

  In a townhouse in Dublin, a brilliant slit of silver shone in the wall of a bedroom of a chic townhouse. Maeve, looking much older than she had previously, stumbled through the gap, and fell to the carpet. The space between the realms closed quickly, so quickly that Bryant was snared behind her in Fae. Maeve reached back but the silver faded and the wall was solid again.

  The portal had closed and they were separated. Behind that wall was her trophy room, and beyond it was Fae. Two of her courts had been destroyed and Fae was in tatters, no longer the beautiful retreat it had been. Maeve snarled with frustration. She’d used the last of her magick to let the Pyr and the Valkyrie cross into Fae, hoping they would bring the magick or at least enable her to escape.

  She’d only just made it, but now she was separated from her loyal followers like Bryant.