“If I had to venture a guess, I would say it must’ve been part of your souls,” Liam astutely ventured. “I can’t begin to imagine how you wove it, but that’s exceptional. I’m sorry I missed it.”
“It wasn’t as exciting as you think. They passed out at the end,” Brogan stated dryly.
“I’m just going to sit here trying to wrap my head around this. You can go ahead, Idris,” Liam invited.
Idris’s expression was pained. “Now you’ve made it weird. My first candidate is Liam Porfyra-Dewitt.”
“Sweetheart, maybe you should’ve asked him to step out first so we could vote without him watching,” Mac told him.
“I didn’t want him to feel left out, and he’d think we were in here talking about him,” Idris complained.
Aleksander bit back a smile at the wonderfully kind wizard who would gnaw off a limb before he’d purposefully hurt anyone else. “Let’s just vote. Hands up if you want Liam to be immortal.”
Rafe’s was the first to go up. “I’m not going to deny the guy eternity with him sitting right there.”
“Congratulations Liam, you’re approved. Idris, is there anyone else on the list, or would you like to give him the potion now?” Aleksander asked.
“I have several people. Next is Devall Porfyra-Dewitt.”
The man who ran the household of the Prism Wizards was quickly approved, and Aleksander gave Idris the floor again.
“Bard Ashby D’Vaire.”
“Thank goodness,” Killian muttered, raising his hand. The druid had become a lifeline for Killian and helped him, not only with Council matters but with Dérive as well.
“Kitchi D’Vaireāēhsepan.”
The raccoon shifter was an energetic addition to their home and was happy cutting hair as well as assisting Worth. Aleksander was grateful Kitchi had applied for sanctuary and that they could offer him eternity.
“Jeremiah D’Vairedraconis.”
Once the young dragon was approved, Aleksander ended the meeting so the potion could be administered. Several people ran out to fill the pitcher they used with water, and to grab the lucky recipients.
Brogan made his way over to where Aleksander and Rafe were still sitting and hunkered between their chairs. “We need to talk about Jeremiah.”
“Don’t worry, we’re just giving him a chance to acclimate. He’ll get his title,” Rafe assured him.
“Okay. Good. He’s our dragon trainer, and I don’t want him missing out on what should be his,” Brogan replied, getting to his feet.
It wasn’t long before Renny was mixing the potion with the water and there were five cups lined up. Aleksander explained to the shocked men that they’d just been granted eternal life and wasn’t sure how to respond to the blank stares.
“Usually there’s yelling,” Aleksander said sotto voice to Rafe.
“Are they happy? Are they sad?” Rafe demanded.
Liam got out of his chair and walked to where Renny had lined up the glasses. Without a word, he knocked back his drink and let out a curse.
“This happens every time,” Idris lamented. “For everyone else, it’s going to leave a mild aftertaste. I mean, I guess you guys want to drink it.”
Kitchi clapped. “I was stunned speechless. I didn’t even think that was possible.” The raccoon drank his potion, and Aleksander could relate to his look of distaste. Idris vastly understated how disgusting Immortalis was, and he hadn’t even mentioned the other side effects.
“Nobody look, I might’ve peed myself,” Kitchi complained.
“No, you’re fine. It makes you feel like you need to pee, but you don’t actually do it,” Aleksander assured him.
“Whew, that’s a relief,” Kitchi responded, handing the other three men standing there their cups. “Drink up, then freak out, guys.”
They did as they were told while Kitchi gave Idris a playful smack. “You need to reword your warning. I’m going to need ten breath mints, and if I find one spot of moisture in my underwear, you’re doing my laundry for not alerting me that could be a problem.”
“I am without words to explain my gratitude,” Devall stated. After drinking, his mouth grew pinched.
“I’m definitely dreaming, right?” Jeremiah asked. “How in the fuck am I holding a potion for immortality?”
His voice had risen with each word, and Aleksander smiled. “Now I can relax; that’s a more normal reaction.”
“Oh fuck, this is awful,” Jeremiah growled, setting down his empty cup.
“Go ahead, Ashby,” Killian coaxed.
Instead of drinking, the druid burst into tears. “All I ever wanted was people to like me,” Ashby whispered. “Everything since I came here is too much. A job I love. A title. Family. Now I get it forever.”
It was Rafe who got up and helped him digest it in a couple of gulps since he was crying too hard to do it all at once, then pulled him into a big hug. “I get it, Ashby. This place is overwhelming in the best ways possible.”
“At least now I know I’m awake. Did you guys add vomit as an ingredient?” Jeremiah demanded.
“Damn, I wish we would’ve thought of that,” Dra’Kaedan teased.
“You love cake. Why not something sweet?”
“Hello, I didn’t know it was going to taste gross, and I’ve never had any. I only learned it was disgusting when we gave it out the first time.”
“Here’s a thought. You still have magic, right? Why not try a spell to make it yummy?”
For a split second, Dra’Kaedan’s normally mischievous countenance was as blank as Jeremiah’s had been when he learned of Immortalis. The warlock bounced back quickly and shook his head. “Yeah, thought it over. Can’t do that. We’d risk altering it.”
“How about handing out a mint afterward?” Kitchi asked, putting yet another one in his mouth from the tin in his hand. Between the ones he was shoving in and handing out, the container would be empty before the room was cleared out.
“We could create some super intense hard candies for that,” Grigori suggested. “Something with the magical ability to essentially scour your mouth.”
“That might be tricky; we don’t want to prevent absorption of the potion,” Vadimas responded.
“But not impossible and you know it might be helpful in other situations,” Delaney interjected.
“Yeah, like when you wake up and your mate wants to kiss you, but you just know your mouth tastes like fucking sewage,” Rafe commented.
“You do realize, Your Highness, that in your scenario, a regular mint would be just as handy,” Vadimas pointed out.
Rafe elbowed Aleksander. “Get some mints.”
“I’ll fill your entire bedside drawer with them if you stop folding the laundry.”
“Wait just a second,” Brogan boomed out and all discussion in the room ceased. “Did I just hear Aleksander request that his mate not help with the laundry? What’s wrong with you? Who doesn’t want help with that? Doing laundry is horrible.”
“It’s not that bad,” Dra’Kaedan argued.
“I’m the one that usually winds up doing it, so how would you know?” Brogan demanded.
“That’s because you don’t trust cleansing spells like some kind of medieval dragon.”
“I was born in 1268, what the fuck do you expect?”
“Adapt!”
Renny laid his head on the table. “There they go,” he muttered to the wooden surface. “Fate, please bring me someone who doesn’t want to argue constantly.”
Dra’Kaedan pushed Renny’s shoulder. “I want your mate here already.”
“Obviously, me too,” Brogan responded with a huff. “Aleksander. The laundry. I must know what’s wrong with you.”
“According to His Highness, I lack the ability to fold it properly,” Rafe remarked.
“You get stranger every day, Bigfoot,” Dra’Kaedan drawled.
Chapter 74
“Ah yes, there you are again,” Death commented when the dragon flew toward her.
For months she’d come to meet him daily, and he was an obstinate beast. She could not blame him; he’d been confined inside Rafe for centuries and though he’d fought valiantly, the now High King was too strong to be thwarted. Another man would’ve lacked the ability to hold such a powerful dragon inside, but Fate and Life had created a man who was Aleksander’s equal. They were a formidable couple, and they’d bargained well with many of their sisters to give them gifts beyond what was expected of a dragon king.
It wasn’t an uncommon practice, as they often amused themselves by finding creative new traits to pile together. There were times when they failed, and their subject had defied them by embracing evil, but not Rafe and Aleksander. They’d excelled and their love shone like a beacon through the portals that allowed Death and her family to view them. But none of them would be satisfied with their success until they could convince Rafe’s dragon to return to him.
“You were made strong, but there’s no reason to continue to be such a pain in my ass,” Death told him. Staring at her with unwavering eyes of the darkest black, Rafe’s appearance had altered and so had his dragon, making him unique, which Death found she quite liked. Why should Aleksander’s beast be the only one in D’Vaire colors? “Stop making me come here every day. He’s pining for you, and I keep getting called to the living side to deal with my sisters’ questions.”
Lifting a hand, she allowed her magic to flow freely, causing her skin to thin and exposing her bones. “Come here, dragon. Allow me to help you to the portal, so Life can rebirth your soul. It will reconnect you to Rafe. There is no other way back to him.”
The dragon took a few steps and though she wanted to run toward him, Death stood her ground and waited for him. Her lashes slipped closed as the light presence of his spirit rested against her palm.
“Such a magnificent beast,” Death whispered. “Your mate awaits you. Already Aleksander loves you.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, Death created a medallion and pulled his willing soul into it. Once her task was complete, she slipped it into a large pocket in her flowing skirts and, a heartbeat later, wished herself to the portal. Although there was too much light and the brightness irritated her, Death strode down the hall of her family’s palatial home, searching for any of the idiots who shared her gifts.
The breath was knocked from her when she tumbled to the ground seconds later, after a large object smashed into her.
“Oh dear,” Grace said. “I didn’t even see you.”
Death glared as she pushed herself off the floor. “How you came to have that name when you completely lack refinement will always be a mystery to me.”
“Yes, well, I must be off.”
“Grace, where is Life?” Death called after her.
“In the garden with Fate and Eternity.”
“Eternity?” Death screeched. “After what she did, how could anyone allow her in the house?” It didn’t matter that thousands of years had passed; Death had no use for Eternity and doubted she ever would.
“No idea,” Grace yelled, running as fast as her ethereal legs would carry her.
Mouth set in a mutinous line, Death stalked to the garden. Just as Grace had said, Life along with Fate stood there listening patiently to a goddess with hair so blonde, it was nearly white. Shoving aside the curtain in the archway that separated the house from the land, Death did not stop walking until she was two steps from Eternity. The goddess gulped and her swirling gaze hit the grass.
“What are you doing here?” Death demanded.
“Well, it seems that Roriethiel and Drekkoril might be waking up,” Eternity said, though the words trailed off into almost a whisper.
“I’m sorry, did you say Roriethiel and Drekkoril? Because I seem to recall that you fought to make sure they would never awaken.”
“You’re the one who didn’t want everyone wiped out,” Fate pointed out.
“Dark Fae need the Fae. There must be balance,” Death sneered. “Where are Daravius, Xakiok, and Zarasha?”
“It’s going to take a while to lift the spell on Roriethiel and Drekkoril, but it is, of course, going to awaken your favored Dark Fae, too. But don’t worry, I’ve got a mate lined up for Daravius, and he’s wonderful. I’m still searching for the perfect matches for the others, but I did find one for Roriethiel as well.”
“A what?” Death screamed.
“Roriethiel deserves a partner just like everyone else,” Fate answered with a smug grin.
“I will not stand around and argue over ancient history,” Death snarled. “Tell me it’s a soul that’s already crossed the veil so he might not expect to meet his other half.”
“How fair would that be?” Fate asked. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I have Rafe’s dragon,” Death pulled the medallion out from her pocket. “You can rebirth him and place him carefully inside Rafe’s soul.”
Life smiled as she took the black oval and the light made it glimmer. “Wonderful.”
“Use care; he’s been through enough. I do not want him to suffer,” Death insisted.
“He will only lose consciousness for a few precious seconds. Nothing more. Nothing less. That is so it does not pain him,” Life promised.
“Now I feel bad,” Fate muttered.
“I should go,” Eternity said, but Fate snatched part of her silvery-white gown, preventing her escape.
“No, I only agreed to find Roriethiel a mate because I was angry at Death for taking so long to bring Rafe’s dragon. You will not run off. This time you must do better to protect the Fae and prevent another catastrophe.”
“You’re one to talk—bringing Roriethiel and Drekkoril back into the land of the living is a nightmare,” Death argued.
“Not if they learn lessons from the past,” Life suggested.
Death rolled her eyes. Life had enough optimism for ten foolish souls. “Who is Roriethiel’s mate?”
“I paired him carefully and chose a wonderful realm to send him to,” Fate stalled but Death took a step into her personal space. “But it’s none of your business.”
“How is it not my business?” Death shrieked. “Roriethiel’s gifts are still intact, and he’s never been shy about using them. What will it mean for the realm you’ve placed him on?”
“It’s our favorite; there are plenty of shifters and sorcerers ready to handle anything,” Fate assured her and pushed Death away.
With a shake of her head, Death turned to Life. “Better hurry with that dragon. Rafe’s going to need it.”
“Speaking of Rafe, I found out who nudged his soul toward Aleksander’s too early,” Life revealed.
Death’s grin was pure malice. “Good. Who will we be punishing?”
“Folly.”
Curses in several languages exploded, and Death added a string of her own. “One day, we will catch up to her, and I’ve a mile-long list of her crimes.”
Eternity’s mouth twisted. “For millennia we’ve hunted her.”
“For every person, there is a day of reckoning,” Death promised, then set aside their fruitless search for Folly and pinned Eternity with her sharp gaze. “You better hope you do not find yourself in the same boat as our dear sister when the spell is lifted from Roriethiel and Drekkoril. And you, Fate, better hope that Daravius’s mate takes care to love him, or there will be Death to pay.”
∞∞∞
Rafe sat on the ground with his legs crossed and tried not to notice the adorable way Aleksander was playing tag with the wolves. Jeremiah was patiently walking him and Carter through a series of breathing exercises that they could use to calm themselves. The young dragon taught a variety of techniques a shifter might rely upon when their big day arrived, and they had to welcome their beast. It was hard for Rafe to stay focused; he’d been through the connection of man and animal once before and had no fear that he would fail. His question was more centered on whether he was wasting his time.
There was no peaceful being inside him waiting for his cha
nce to spread his wings like there’d been when he was a drakeling. As his mind wandered, he considered whether that was what he should call himself. It didn’t feel right to refer to himself as a dragon, but he wasn’t human either. This heady topic was weighing heavily on his mind when his vision wavered, and he swayed. Panic closed his throat as he fell backward, and the world went black.
When he lifted his lashes, Rafe pushed off the hands tugging on him and heard people shouting his name, but he wanted only one. A force he barely recognized inside him demanded his mate, and Rafe’s eyes popped open as his fangs punched through.
“Oh, my fuck,” Jeremiah yelled. “You did it!”
Though he remained in his human guise, Rafe’s mind was conquered by his dragon, and he would not be denied. Getting to his feet, Rafe said no words as he lifted his gaze to the worried man in front of him.
“Are you okay, babe?” Aleksander asked. “How’d you do it? Your dragon’s back, but your irises are different. Wait until you see.”
Not giving a shit what he looked like, Rafe snatched Aleksander’s arm and gave him no choice but to follow as he tugged him toward the house. “Let’s go,” he managed in a voice lower and more guttural than his usual tone.
“You’re acting strange, why aren’t you excited?” Aleksander demanded. His mate tried to free himself but Rafe only tightened his grip and walked faster. “What the fuck, Rafe? Where are we going?”
Rafe got them into the house and didn’t respond to anyone’s greeting as he dragged Aleksander to their bedroom. When they were inside, he slammed the door and let go of Aleksander.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Aleksander ordered, his dark eyes full of concern.
Reaching up, Rafe grabbed two fistfuls of Aleksander’s shirt and yanked him close. Although he wanted to smash their mouths together, he had to be mindful of his already dropped fangs, so he simply kissed him with the yearning in his dragon’s heart. “I need you,” he growled against Aleksander’s lips.
“You’ve got me,” Aleksander responded. His large hands cupped Rafe’s ass and he obligingly jumped up enough to wrap his legs around Aleksander’s waist. Their tongues sought each other as Aleksander managed to get them to the bed. As one they dropped to the mattress, and Rafe buried his hands in Aleksander’s silky hair.
Heart of the High King (D'Vaire, Book 19) Page 54