Mer are already clogging the entrances to retreat from both darkness and dragon, but mainly the latter.
Ladon’s neck arches right before it comes down with a teeth snap right on top of Bruinen. For a moment I’m sure that he’s taken care of the problem and eaten him. Unfortunately, we aren’t that lucky.
He disappears in the same puff of smoke that he’d arrived in, and it trickles right through Ladon’s nostrils, forcing a blackness to take over his eyes.
Staking claims wasn’t the point he was trying to make today. He simply wanted to get into Ladon’s head. Too late to come to this understanding, the dragon rears its head and smashes into the ceiling, raining huge stone bricks onto the floor. Panic hits me square in the chest until I see guards pushing my mates back against the wall out of harm’s way. The only one brave, or stupid, enough to risk being close is Dain. He holds his hands up in front of him while speaking gently.
Behind them both I see guards readying their weapons to take him down.
“NO!” I yell, jumping between two of my guards before they can stop me. Ladon has done so well after the first couple weeks of being here. We can’t kill him for something that isn’t his fault.
My mates yell as they and some of the guards rush toward me only to be stopped with a roar from the giant green dragon in control of the room. Slowly walking toward Dain, I clasp his hand in mine when I’m close enough and hold the other out to Ladon.
“You have to fight it,” I tell him. “Bruinen was wrong. He won’t take over this realm or any of the others because we won’t let him. But we can’t do it without you. Fight it, Ladon. He doesn’t own you any longer.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dain’s eyes flicking back and forth between me and the dragon in surprise. Yeah, me too, fae. Me too.
Ladon shakes his head full of giant teeth like he’s trying to shake off water, and I can tell the moment Bruinen’s influence wears off. His eyes go back to normal before he shifts back down to human size.
“Swear me an oath,” he demands with a voice sounding like he just finished swallowing a cup of nails.
My mate’s go ballistic, but I hold up the same hand to them that was just directed at Ladon. If they want me to be their queen, they’re going to have to learn to trust my decisions at some point. Might as well be today.
Letting go of Dain, I walk over to Ladon with an outstretched hand, trying my best to ignore his nakedness. As soon as I’m near, he reaches out to grasp my forearm.
I do the same as I tell him, “I swear that I will do everything within my power to stop Bruinen both in my realm and yours.”
The oath wraps around us both like a key working a lock, and even though my mates look ready to wring my neck, I know I’m doing the right thing for us all.
Do you guys read these things? I sure hope so. Keep scrolling for your exclusive sneak peek into the Dragon Realm with Owan’s story.
I want to say a huge thanks to my Weird Sister for being my motivator every day.
Another big thank you to the hubs for always allowing me to follow my dreams.
And for Michelle Ann at Inked Imagination. You are an effing Rockstar! Thank you!
Last but not least, XOXO to all of you readers who take the time to read my stories. I hope you love them as much as I do when I share them with you.
Keep up with this series and more in my Facebook Reader’s Group:
Slaven’s Supernatural Society
Also, sign up for my Newsletter and don’t miss new releases plus giveaways:
Lady of Darkness Newsletter
Find me on Instagram, Twitter and More:
Follow Me
My bow brushes against the strings drawing their last breath. As my violin becomes quiet, so do the colors. When I open my eyes, the stage lights are almost blinding after the soft tones that have been my companion while I played. The audience is on their feet as their hands move together in applause that only they can hear. Doing as I’ve practiced, I count to ten before lowering my torso in a quick gratuitous bow.
Colors mix together from the crowd as some of them let out soft cheers and others chat with their partners. Standing up straight again, a vibrant blue weaving through the bodies in the first couple rows catches my attention. I try not to be obvious while searching for the source. Smiling and nodding to a few of the people, my eyes finally lock onto one of my favorites in the mass.
Emilio. His tan skin stands out underneath his silver hair, making him easy to spot. The familiar face settles the nervous energy I’d felt at the first sight of blue moments ago. With his lips moving as he speaks to his dark-haired companion, his eyes never leave me.
My time is up on stage, so I bow once more and take my leave before I even get a good look at his friend. Backstage is organized chaos. Other artists are sparsely spaced around the area. Some practice a few notes quietly while others stoically wait their turn for the stage, and one man looks ready to beat a poor stagehand over the head with his cello. I don’t need to be able to read his lips to know that whatever he’s spewing is angry and hateful. Dark red waves roll off him by the plenty. The young guy with the clipboard flips pages as his lips move. A muddy yellow has me flinching away with shared shame for him.
As much as I’d love to help him, I don’t want to be around the angry man. Since losing my hearing a few years ago and coming into my gift, the reds have always been frightening. Even if they aren’t directed at me.
Walking back to the tiny corner where I’d stowed away my violin case, I find it undisturbed and lose myself in going through the motions of caring for my instrument before locking it up tight.
When I turn to leave, a quick flash of blue is the only warning I have that someone is approaching. Thankfully, I’ve grown accustomed to my disability and don’t let out a squeak of surprise like I did there at the beginning. I’d startled not only myself but countless others as well. Emilio got it more than once or twice, and we now share the joke between us.
His lips turn up into a bright smile, and he signs as he says, “You were perfect.”
With my case in one hand, I give him the simple sign for thank you and return his grin.
“Are you hungry?” he asks before reaching for my case.
I’d tried fighting him at first when he’d offer to carry all my stuff around, but there’s no use with him. Once I hand it over, I nod and sign, “Very, but our plane leaves in two hours. No time.”
I trust him to lead us, so I glance up to watch his lips. “There’s a small place on the way. We’ll still make it.”
My gut tells me that there’s more than just food on his mind. I can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with his red-headed friend that was sitting in the audience with him. Now that he’s got my undivided attention, I notice there does seem to be a different way that Emilio is carrying himself. I can’t put into words what it is, but something is off.
His long silver hair is pulled back at the nape of his neck with a strap of dark blue leather. I’d once asked him why he had the hair color of an old man when he’s only a few years older than myself, and he’d laughed and told me a story about when he was younger and had tempted fates by throwing stones at an old lady’s house. Said she was an ancient witch and had cursed him. By the time he discovered a way to remove the hex, his hair had gone completely silver. Of course, even in all of his seriousness, I saw straight through the fable. Only in the chair of a truly expensive salon would someone be able to get hair like his. A silver that shimmers a baby blue when the light hits it just right. The same color of his eyes.
An azure cloak is draped across his shoulders and fastened with a dragon claw pin at the bottom of his neck. Not even the formalwear of a tux can dissuade him from wearing it. On anyone else, the look might possibly be considered outlandish, but Emilio owns it.
We walk arm in arm toward the back entrance, stopping quickly to grab my jacket from the rack by the door. Emilio helps me into it with his one free hand all while
hitting me full force with that dazzling smile. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t at least think once about what it would be like were we together as a couple. As far as I know, for as long as I’ve known him, he’s never had a girlfriend. Boyfriend either, for that matter. A couple times when we’d been celebrating a little too hard with champagne, I’d almost asked him why we aren’t dating. We see each other every single day and have for years. The first day we met was at the hospital following my accident. He’d been there as a therapist, helping the recovering patients with music, and that was the first day I remember seeing the colors. Though that’s not saying much considering I don’t recall anything before that first waking moment anyways. Following that first day, we’d become inseparable. My first friend that I can remember. My only friend to this day. So, when those thoughts surface, I squash them back down into the depths of my soul.
Now that we’re face to face, I can’t help but flick my eyes up to his. An arm links around my back to pull us closer. Desire burns within those blue orbs, and my heart stutters in my chest when it looks as though he’ll finally be the first to break the barrier. I watch as he lowers his head, and my eyes drift closed. Soft warm lips press against my forehead before he’s letting go and pulling away.
I plaster a genuine smile on my face but can’t control the disappointed sigh. It’s so soft that he shouldn’t be able to hear it, yet somehow, I get the feeling he has because his expression softens, seeming to hold a sad promise.
Taking my hand in his again, he kisses the back before hooking it in his elbow.
As we step outside, a barrage of colors accosts me. There’s a color for every sound, and, in a city this size, it’s magnificent. Since getting used to them, it’s easier to enjoy the beauty they offer. For once, I wish Emilio could see them too.
A radiant red floats around us, seemingly wrapping itself around my body in a familiar hug. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but something inside me responds to it like a cat purring to a petting.
Emilio pulls us to a stop as a short blue wave rolls off him. He never talks to me without getting my attention first, always the considerate gentleman. Which only leaves the other option, there’s someone out here with us.
The back entrance to the music hall is positioned directly between two brick walls that lead into the small rear parking lot, blocking majority of the sunlight left. One of my worries in coming to the city is always getting mugged or worse. I’d be an easy target, especially since one of my senses is dead. Given the opportunity, Emilio might even use that as an excuse for why he accompanies me on every trip, though, I’d wager it’s not the real reason.
When I risk a glance up to his face, my nerves instantly relax at his playful demeanor. Then I track his eyes and find the source of red ripples in the air.
A brown-eyed stranger steps from the shadow. The brown-eyed stranger from the crowd in the hall. His chocolate-colored hair is styled into a semi-spike to the right. The edges are a lot shorter and lead down into sideburns with a trimmed beard and mustache. There’s a slightly rounded shape to his face, extremely unlike Emilio’s oval, aristocratic appearance. One of his dark eyebrows arches slightly as if it’s so used to the movement that it’s now stuck that way even with the charming expression he wears that pulls his thin lips into a smile.
There’s a tap on my hand, and Emilio waits until my attention is on him before introducing me. “Owan, this is a long-time friend of mine, Imber.”
I release his arm, so he can sign the letters to me. Names are harder when they can be pronounced so many different ways. I nod once in understanding, and still facing me, his eyes travel back to his friend. “May I present her righteousness, Owan the beautiful.”
My lips tilt up at his words as I give him a soft tap on the hand in chide, yet Imber seems unfazed by the exchange. As I turn back to him, his lips move slower than necessary. “Pleasure, your grace. I would sign for you, but I’m afraid that I never learned how.”
Through the kindness and lovely red that flows from him, I also sense a disappointment in himself. It’s a miniscule color shift but allows me to feel his words even if I can’t hear them. That reason alone is why I forgive him for teasing me along with Emilio, addressing me as some foreign royalty.
“It’s okay,” I sign for Emilio to interpret before using my voice. “Nice to meet you.”
His surprise and Emilio’s grin are well worth the effort it takes to create those simple words. Another soft tap on my hand turns my eyes to the latter’s lips. “Would it be alright for Imber to join us for dinner?”
I incline my head without hesitation. Even if there wasn’t this deep-rooted magnetism toward Imber, I would never deny Emilio any small pleasure in life. Their matching grins hit me in the hardest déjà vu I’ve ever had. Our surroundings were different, though. Less city and more forest.
There’s a small catch in my breath, and both their heads swivel in my direction. Imber takes a step toward us as Emilio wraps an arm around my shoulders. He hands my case over to Imber before using an index finger to lift my chin. “You alright, dragonfly?”
I snort softly and sign, “Fine. Just had a moment. Could’ve swore I’d seen the two of you like that before.”
Red floats around us, but I don’t look away from Emilio to read what Imber is saying. Emilio’s reply is more than enough answer. “Black cats and superstitions, old friend.”
Whatever Imber says has Emilio chuckling before politely sharing, “He has just reminded me that I, of all people, should be more mindful of such things considering I was the one cursed by an old hag.”
I have what feels like a hundred questions for them, but if we stand out here all evening, we won’t have time for dinner before our flight. As if reading my mind, Emilio ushers us forward between the brick walls toward the parking lot. He and Imber barely speak a few sentences before we make it to the car, and from the colors that are running together, I can tell it’s nothing more than polite and friendly conversation.
Emilio opens my door as Imber helps himself into the backseat. After I’m inside, I track his movement around the car, stopping quickly by the trunk to carefully set my instrument inside. His companion doesn’t speak, knowing it would be useless; however, that doesn’t stop me wishing he would. One meeting and already the red tendrils of his voice beckon to me like a beautiful siren. Flicking my eyes over to the rear-view mirror, I find his already there waiting for me. A smile tilts the corners of his lips up and brightens the smooth brown of his irises. Cheeks now flushed, I lean to the opposite side and turn to watch as Emilio climbs behind the wheel.
As soon as the car starts, we're bombarded with a flurry of color. Well, I am. They are able to hear the notes of the string quartet now flowing through the speakers.
Emilio reaches out to knock the level down a few notches, turning the colors a soft pastel palette. I am okay with either. The music is for my pre-performance warm up, so not all too necessary at the moment.
Another wave of red from the back followed by Emilio's blue says they're conversing again, and for the first time in a long time, I curse my disability. It should be easy enough to eavesdrop on their words if I could hear. Since I can't, my head shifting to read Emilio's lips would be obvious. Instead, I choose to face out my window and take in the sights of the city.
Tall buildings look close enough to brush each other were the wind to blow against them. People mill about on the tight streets, some huddled under thick coats while others are in such a rush that their lapels fly open around them. Most of those are the ones with phones glued to their ears not even realizing how lucky they are and taking such a small feat for granted.
Even after all these years, I still can't remember anything from before the accident that stole that luxury from me. There are times when I look at things or feel something brush against my skin that pushes and begs me to remember it, but nothing has been a solid trigger. Those pulses are stronger around Emilio a lot of times. Like back t
here with his friend. That déjà vu bell went off in my head at seeing them standing there together, but it instantly gave me a headache at the thought.
Emilio's face is the first one I can remember seeing when I woke up at the hospital. He'd been passing my room with a guitar strapped over his shoulder, headed for music therapy with the kids on the next floor. A quick locked gaze through the hospital window was all it took. After an hour or so doing what he was there to do, there he stood at the foot of my bed with his lips moving and no sound coming out. The left side of my body was severely bandaged, so I assumed the meds I was given for pain were playing tricks on me.
An expression of disappointment and despair flashed over his features when we both realized at the same time that I couldn't hear him.
White Trash Trilogy
Reviving Kendall
Refusing Kendall
Reclaiming Kendall
Logan: A White Trash Trilogy Novella
Lady of Darkness Series
Of Death And Darkness
In Dreams Of Despair
Divinely Damned Series
The Arbiter
AntiLove Bookclub Series
New Year Surprises: An ALBS Novella
Standalones
Identity: A Villainously Romantic Retelling
Zombie Queen
Brandy Slaven lives in Tennessee with her husband and two wild children. If you can't find her creating worlds with her words, you will find her with her nose in a book at the beach or hiking at a state park.
Find her online at
www.authorbrandyslaven.com
Sunken Empire Page 24