“You’re avoiding my questions,” she murmured, her words slurred with need.
“Don’t talk,” he replied, stopping her mouth with his.
But she pushed him away. As Larkan watched, Keltie emerged from the haze of desire to give him a long, questioning look. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I was kissing you. You seemed to like it.”
She made an angry noise in her throat. “Yes, of course. But I know you’re still messing with me.”
Larkan didn’t answer. His desire for her rammed headlong into his need to see her gone—and yet she was right. He was taking something he had no right to enjoy. Anger burned through his gut, filling his chest with volcanic heat. It doesn’t matter. She is just a human. And yet that was a lie.
“I apologize,” he finally said. “I want you to forgive me.”
“What good is that?” she exploded. “I can’t forgive you without some kind of explanation!”
“I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “I can tell you nothing.”
She gave him a long, hard look that hit him like a spear. “Then you get nothing.”
And she turned and walked away, back to the cluster of tents. Larkan felt a piece of himself go with her.
* * *
Keltie sat halfway up the mountainside, alone. She stared down at the remains of the campsite, marveling at how bare it seemed now that the students weren’t there. The soul of it had left, while she had given in and stayed behind with the remains.
She had to hand it to Switzer—he could make things happen quickly when he made up his mind. By noon the next day, he’d got the students and most of the artifacts from the dig packed into the vehicles. A few tents still remained, as did some of the less expensive and bulky equipment, which could stay put until the professor and his favorites returned in a few weeks’ time. They’d left Keltie more than enough supplies, and a few of the students had even volunteered to keep her company. She’d declined. She wanted the time by herself to study the artwork at leisure, and to figure out how she was going to outwit Switzer once she got back to town.
As the last Jeep drove away, one of the third-years leaned out the window and waved. Keltie waved back, already missing the students. Somewhere in the trees a bird piped, the sound crystalline in the clear, cool air.
“Why are you still here?” came Larkan’s voice from behind her. He almost sounded panicked.
“You again!” She whipped around, giving him a hard glare even as her heart leaped to see him. Even if she was angry, she couldn’t forget the feel of his body against hers. “You don’t give up, do you?”
He drew closer, the graceful strength of his movements, conjuring the heat of their last kiss. An amazing, incandescent kiss. Keltie’s mouth went dry as ash. He looked good in the autumn sun. Copper highlights softened the dark sweep of his hair, and his skin was a pale ivory, as if he didn’t get outside all that much.
“Why aren’t you with them?” he demanded.
“Because you were so insistent that I leave.” That wasn’t entirely true, but her inner brat had wanted to see the look on Larkan’s face.
She immediately wished she hadn’t. He turned deathly pale, and for a fleeting moment she wondered if he would explode with rage. Then his face calmed into a grim, stony expression. “That was a foolish choice.”
Anger had made her stubborn up till now, but suddenly she couldn’t think past the doubt welling up in her stomach. “You’re serious!”
His green eyes went wide with exasperation. “Do you think I creep about the woods spreading lies? You’re in danger.”
Keltie stammered. “F-from what? You’re still not making sense.”
He pointed one long finger at her campsite far below. “Your friends left you a vehicle. Get in it and go.”
“I’m only supposed to leave if there’s an emergency.”
He grabbed her wrist—it didn’t hurt, but a flutter of panic still made her jerk away. It was pointless. Larkan’s grip didn’t budge. He pulled her close again so they stood almost touching. “This is an emergency.”
“Is that a threat?” Keltie found her fury again and hugged it close. It was far better than being afraid. “Are you going to march me down to the truck and force me into it?”
He glanced in the direction of the sun. “The time for talk is past. Please go.” He released her wrist and took both her hands in his, lifting them to his lips. “Please.”
Astonishment curdled her anger into a confused mess of emotion. Keltie opened her mouth, but too many questions crowded her. Nothing was making sense, but her instincts were screaming to obey Larkan and go, just go. In spite of all that, her need to understand rooted her to the spot. Their eyes met, and she saw a plea that matched his words. Whatever was going on, Larkan was being sincere.
“I wish you trusted me,” she said softly.
Regret suffused his face. “Perhaps that would have been easier, but it is not our way.”
And then Larkan looked up, responding to something she neither saw nor heard. His profile was stark against the blue of the sky. “Rand. It’s too late,” he said, and there was a hint of fear in his voice.
“What?” It was the only word she got out before he tightened his grip on her hand and began to run in long, loping strides for the path. Too surprised to protest, Keltie lurched after him, stumbling a few steps before she found her stride and risked a glance behind them.
At first she only saw the sweep of pine, rocks and the campsite below, but then she saw something streaming across the clear sky. The object was far, far away, but even at a distance she could tell it was huge. It swooped like a kite, its long tail curling behind in a sinuous motion. She stumbled, too mesmerized to watch where she was putting her feet.
“Come on!” Larkan ordered.
“Look!” She pointed. “That’s not an eagle.”
“You are correct.” Larkan hauled her forward.
Keltie tripped on a root, going down on one knee. Larkan stopped to help her, but she was up again at once. It was then that she caught a second look at the flying beast, and her blood turned to ice. It had moved much closer, and now it was sailing right over the campsite. That meant it had flown at breathtaking speed. “It’s a...reptile?”
She wanted to say dinosaur, but shoved that idea away as proof she’d been working too long digging up old relics. And yet, what else was it? The barrel-shaped body was the size of her truck, and yet the creature’s overall form was graceful. The neck and tail were long and snakelike, the tail ending in a cluster of wicked spikes. Huge batlike wings beat the air with a leathery whoosh. She watched as it banked, the sun catching its hide. The creature was an iridescent, coppery brown with a belly that faded from orange to cream. It was beautiful, really—until it opened its toothy jaws and belched flame all over the campsite. Her pickup exploded in a boom of gasoline and fire, metal and plastic showering through the air.
This time it was Keltie who turned and bolted. Larkan pounded behind her, his long legs soon outpacing her speed. “This way!” he yelled, leading the way up the path that led to the caves. There were no stands of tall trees nearby, just low brush and boulders. The only shelter was inside the mountain itself.
“Wait!” Keltie shouted back. She’d seen that same outline of wings before. “We saw one of those things in the cave!”
“That was a baby.”
Oh, crap. Her stomach in one giant knot, Keltie followed, forcing herself to keep up with Larkan as the path grew steeper. She could hear the thing flapping behind them, coming closer with each resonant slap of the air. Birds and small creatures burst from the brush around them, fleeing for safety. The creature hurtled out of the sky with a roar that sent pebbles skittering down the mountainside. Larkan pulled Keltie to the ground, and none too soon. Wings thundered overhead, and she felt the brush of one wicked claw along her backbone as the monster passed. She shuddered, squirming deeper into the dirt as a scent like ash and incense washed over her. There was another loud flap
and a gust of wind that blew her hair into a wild cloud, and then it was gone.
Keltie sprang to her feet, blood pounding in her ears. “Why didn’t it kill us?”
“Rand’s playing.” Larkan’s green eyes held a terrifying fury. “It’s you he’s been ordered to destroy, and he knows better than to attack me.”
“You know this lizard?” Keltie cried, her voice coming out in a squeak. The creature was a bronze streak in the sky once more, but it was turning back in their direction. Her knees began to shake.
“Dragon.” Larkan grabbed her hand again. “Come on.”
“Dragon?” Her mind sputtered wildly, but there was no time for questions. By the time they reached their destination, Keltie’s sides burned from running. She flopped to the floor of the cave, gasping in gulps of air.
Larkan crouched next to her, putting one strong arm around her shoulders. “Keltie, there is no time to rest. You must hide until I can get you to safety.”
She shuddered with waves of terror, as if she had a fever that was attacking every cell. Fear left her cold and weak, but it was the only certain thing in a world gone mad. Fear, and the knowledge that Larkan had tried to warn her from the start. That didn’t explain his secrecy, but it did earn him a measure of trust. In some incomprehensible way, he was on her side.
She willed her breathing to quiet. “Where can I hide?”
He closed his eyes a moment, as if summoning courage. “There is one place no one will ever look.”
Chapter Five
Panic gnawed through Larkan, creeping up his spine like a viper’s poison. He shifted against the wall where he stood with arms folded, fighting the urge to pace or to check the sharpness of his weapons. He couldn’t let any of his uncertainty show.
The lawgivers would be hard-pressed to find an edict he hadn’t just broken. Humans were to be kept away, not smuggled into the heart of the den. There was duty, and then there were rules. Larkan wasn’t sure those were the same anymore. And that wasn’t the only thing he felt unsure of. Dragons didn’t experience a lot of change, and he was finding it unnerving.
An odd weightlessness made it hard to breathe. Disobedience was strange to him, and yet it gave the same exhilaration as flight. He could grow to like the sensation of taking the world into his own hands and making it over the way he pleased.
Until Nadiana found him out. Then he would have to fight for this bold new future.
Larkan stole a glance at Keltie, a wave of possessiveness rushing over him. And yet that feeling was tinged with uncertainty. She was huddled in the corner of his nest, furs piled around her. Her shaking had subsided, at least. It was warm enough in the room—the entire den was a warren of natural caves adapted into living quarters—but she had been terrified. Larkan had been unsure what to do, as the males and females of his tribe usually kept apart. He’d hoped the softness of the furs would give her comfort. That had gone well, but when he had offered her food and drink, she had ignored him. Instead, she sat with her eyes closed, knees drawn up under her chin. What was he supposed to do next?
“Stop staring at me,” she said, her voice firmer than he would have expected. “I can feel it.”
“As you desire,” he said, slightly embarrassed. He covered his discomfort by crossing the room to light another oil lamp. The additional flame did little to chase the shadows from the space. Like all dragon nests, this one was large, the walls and high ceiling following the natural contours of the cave. There were a few pieces of furniture pushed against the wall—a low table, a few chests, a stand where he hung his most prized weapons. The rest was covered in furs and tapestries with intricate designs. His people were warriors and metalsmiths, skilled with making the tools of war, but they were also gifted weavers. He wondered for the first time how the den appeared to a stranger. Did Keltie find it pleasing?
“How do you know we’re safe here?” she asked. “Won’t someone walk in and find me?”
“No one would dare enter my territory uninvited,” Larkan answered at once. It was an easy question, after all.
“You’re the man, huh?”
The remark sounded like a jest, but he wasn’t sure he understood it. The human’s language wasn’t always easy to grasp. “I am first among the Flameborn.”
Keltie opened her eyes, giving him the dark beauty of her gaze. “Now will you give me some answers?” She still looked white with shock, and it wrenched his soul.
Larkan sighed, but drew closer. “Ask, and if I can answer, I will.”
Keltie nodded, licking her lips. “Well, let’s start with the most obvious question. I thought dragons were legendary, and now I’ve been smuggled into the cave of a secret society of—what are you? Dragonherders?”
“We do not require herders,” Larkan replied, doing his best not to sound annoyed. Humans really did have the strangest notions. He’d been as far as the nearest large settlement and crept into the place where they showed their moving pictures. Almost always in these pictures the dragon sat on a pile of gold, which seemed like an inefficient way to protect it, and ate dwarves, which sounded hairy and revolting.
“You?” Keltie said, her voice suddenly toneless. “You’re a dragon?”
“We are all dragons,” he said patiently.
She shot a look at the door of his nest, her eyes widening at his words. He’d brought her in when he knew the fewest guards would be on watch. The two had escaped the guards’ notice then, but now the corridors were busy, a muffled stream of voices passing Larkan’s thick wooden door.
“All dragons,” she murmured.
“We change to dragon form to hunt,” he said, anticipating her next question. “Not always to fight. The tunnels beneath the mountain do not always accommodate a dragon’s size.”
Keltie frowned. He could see her thoughts racing as clearly as if they were birds flitting across a bright sky. He had hoped to keep her there without revealing any more than he had to, but vague warnings seemed to only land them both in danger. Better she know what waited beyond the door.
Besides, he suddenly didn’t want to hide any part of himself. He wanted Keltie to know him—just as he wanted to know every inch of her.
“Why aren’t you out there?” she waved a hand toward the ceiling. “Why hide under this mountain? Are there more places like this, or are you the only dragons around?”
“You have a lot of questions.”
“I’m only...” she started, but then broke off. “I was going to say I’m only human, but all at once that’s taken on a different meaning.”
Larkan sat on the floor beside Keltie, then reclined on the cushion of soft furs so that he looked up into her face. She remained sitting with her knees drawn up to her chin, but she didn’t draw away. He took a chance, grasping her hand in his. Her slender fingers returned his grip. She might be shaken, but she was no breakable, delicate creature. Her strength spoke to his, drawing him in.
“Long ago there were many of us,” he said. “Like the village you were uncovering from the mountainside, we have passed beyond the living memory of humans.”
She closed her fingers around his, and he could feel the fine tremor of nerves inside her. She was putting on a brave face. “You’re not forgotten. There are plenty of stories about dragons.”
Larkan couldn’t help laughing. “They’re usually wrong.”
“How?”
“Why do you need to know?” He could think of better things to do than talk, and being close to her was rousing his beastly instincts.
She gave a tiny smile. “I’m a scholar. All knowledge is valuable. How do we know who we are unless we know the world around us?”
“But we know nothing of the world. Once we lived side by side with your people and even wed and bore children with your kind, but that is forbidden to us now.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
She digested that for a long moment. “What about books?”
“No. We have never had the written word. Ours i
s a history told in songs of the Old Ones, tales of heroes and kings and the history of dragonkind.”
“Are there stories about other races besides the dragons?” Keltie asked. “Such as fairies or werewolves? Who else is out there?”
Larkan shook his head, transfixed by the shape of her lips as she spoke. “Once there were songs of dwarves and trolls, of the dark elves and the emperor of the bears—or so my denmaster told me. I have never heard them. There was one about a human queen who would lead us home to the Summerland, but no one sings that anymore. We only sing of dragons now, because we know nothing else. These days no one leaves this mountain.”
“But you do.”
“It is up to me to learn the plans of any humans who come near. That is why I know your tongue. My position, and that of a few others, requires it.”
Keltie was listening intently, her lovely eyes wide. It made Larkan feel as if the world dangled on his words. “Is that why you were hanging around? You needed to figure out what the team was doing?”
“At first,” Larkan replied. “And then I had to convince you to leave.”
“Which is why you kept kissing me,” she said flatly. “That’s a funny way of scaring people away.”
“I was conflicted.” He shrugged. “You are a most compelling female.”
Her soft mouth quirked, almost managing a smile. He was still holding her hand and could sense that the fine quiver of fear within her had stopped. He reached up with his free hand, cupping her face. The gesture could speak better than words.
His breathing grew slow and deep, his earlier anxiety forgotten. Touching her made everything right. Somehow she had become his lodestar, drawing him as metal draws a magnet. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, or pure, or wise. She was Keltie, as unique and rare as any fabulous gem. And as a dragon, he would hazard all to possess such a treasure.
The realization speared him to the core. He was not just breaking the rules to preserve her life. He was reinventing his future with her in it. He had always dreamed of a world that went beyond the confines of the den, but now those dreams had gone from fantasy to necessity. By requiring him to step beyond his role, to give her aid, Keltie had changed him. Even after she’d escaped to safety, he could never go back to what he’d been before they’d met. The mountain had grown too small, and the future there was unspeakable.
Lord Dragon's Conquest Page 4