“I will,” he said. “I need her to find the last Seal. The one that will solidify my power.”
Rebel looked over at the brass star—the thing he called the sigil.
Blaze was still doing her best, but her light was faltering. Tempest was sinking towards the floor. They didn’t have much time.
She could see the empty place in the sigil where the Dolphin Seal was supposed to go. She just had to get it there.
Or maybe she didn’t, she realized. Blaze hadn’t put the Seal in the wall. It had gone there itself, after she’d thrown herself in the path of a deadly spell backlash to save Zane.
After she’d sacrificed herself.
Rebel stood up on Thorne’s shoulders and slowly reached into her pocket for the Seal. She pulled it out, resting it in the palm of her hand.
She reached out with her mind, feeling for the magical frequency of the spell net. There. She had it.
Rebel said to Corwyn, “Promise me you’ll save Tempest.”
He nodded.
Then she said to Thorne, You always do your duty. I’m counting on you to do it now. She leaned forward, preparing herself. Whatever happens, don’t catch me.
Rebel, no. Please!
We both knew it had to happen this way, she said to him.
No! She could hear the agony in his cry.
All my heart, all my soul, all my love, freely given. Forever.
Thorne roared, a huge cry of pain.
And Rebel jumped.
Chapter 50
She plunged through the spell net, taking Corwyn by surprise. Down, down, down she fell, the stone-hard frozen lake of Vyrkos’ tomb rushing up to meet her.
Blaze was using all her magic to hold the tomb together. Zane was on the floor, bleeding. There was no one to cast a spell to break her fall.
It was what she had counted on.
She landed the way she’d been taught to land when falling from a height. Feet first, tuck the head and roll forward to diffuse the force and protect the vital organs.
It didn’t help. The impact broke the bones in her legs, and she felt the hips go too. She still managed to roll, but the pain when her pelvis hit the stone almost made her pass out.
She felt like fiery knives were stabbing through all her bones.
She’d landed next to Tempest, who was unconscious. Underneath her, she heard the cracks in the tomb expanding. Looking up, she could see Corwyn descending towards her, and feel Thorne’s anguish.
She could still move her arms. She grasped Tempest’s hand, and then, with her last remaining bit of strength, she slammed the Seal down on the tomb.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, white light shot out from the Seal, illuminating the cavern with a light as bright as the sun. It lanced through her, hurting her eyes and her torn flesh and her splintered bones.
Rebel screamed in agony.
Suddenly, life and vitality poured through her. Bones set and healed, bleeding stopped, torn skin and muscle knit together, smooth and whole.
Beneath her, the cracks in the tomb knit together as well. Rebel felt the light spread from her to Tempest, and then to Blaze and Zane.
Then, abruptly, a black tentacle slipped around Tempest, and she was lifted off the ground. Corwyn! Rebel reached for her sister, but she was too slow.
The white light shot toward Corwyn, and he screamed as it burned him. The tentacle dropped Tempest and snaked up to the edge of the portal, high in the side of the cavern. As Rebel caught Tempest, the tentacle pulled Corwyn and his baraka up through the portal and out of sight.
The portal closed behind him.
The white light swirled over to the sigil and coalesced into the form of a woman. She gazed at Rebel and inclined her head gravely, and then the light funneled into the rounded space on the lower left point of the star.
The second Seal was in place.
There was a stunned silence, and then everyone moved at once. The net spell had vanished, and so had the enemy sorcerers. The remaining hellhounds were dead.
Tyr dove down from the ceiling and Changed, landing in front of Tempest. He enfolded her in a huge hug. “I can’t believe you took on Vyrkos. You’re Wonder Woman.” She hugged him back.
Blaze and Zane were sitting on the floor by the sigil, holding each other, not saying anything.
Thorne landed in front of Rebel and wrapped her up in his arms. “You crazy thief,” he said. “Jumping to your goddamn death.” His hold was so tight she almost couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t mind. She was hugging him just as hard.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” he added. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
Rebel managed to loosen his hold and get her breath back. “I’d like to say I was thinking about saving the world. But mostly I was hoping Maia would take pity on me, like she did with Blaze, and not let me die.”
“Wait,” he said. “Are you telling me you trusted in the kindness of a stranger?”
She laughed. “Maybe. That, or I was planning on going out a hero, and your hoard would sing my praises for centuries to come.”
Thorne took her in his arms again, more gently this time. “I’m going to tell my hoard you are the most amazing, beautiful, brave, badass woman in the world.” He paused. “Will you be my forever mate?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Always. And for the record, you are also amazing, beautiful, brave and badass. And I love you more than I can tell you.”
It felt good to say it. No deflecting, no holding back. Just the truth.
Thorne kissed her, and she slid her hand down his ass. “And also,” she said, “you have a very sexy tail.”
It turned out they didn’t have as much cleanup to do as they would have expected. Some of the dead hellhounds had been real, not illusion, and Zane’s dragon happily burned the bodies to ash.
There was still no sign of Corwyn’s sorcerers. There was no way to tell if they’d escaped the same way they’d gotten in, or if they’d been annihilated by Maia’s power.
“They got in by putting power-draining devices in the spell interstices between this world and the interdimensional spaces,” Tyr explained. “But—”
“English, Tyr,” Rebel said.
Tyr gave a martyred sigh. “No one appreciates my expertise. Okay. The tomb isn’t exactly under Mount Hood. The entrance is there, but the tomb is in kind of a bubble between our world and another dimension. The sorcerers put power-draining devices in the cracks between the dimensions, and sucked out enough juice to weaken the entrance and get themselves in.”
“Oh,” Rebel said. “Can we maybe fix that flaw?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Thorne said. “We’ll have to patch it for now, and figure out exactly how later.”
Rebel and Tempest stayed and watched the dragons and Blaze do the patch. None of them wanted to be alone right now—they’d come too close to losing each other.
Rebel watched Thorne concentrating on the spells they were doing. She loved her mate’s serious face.
Her mate. She let the words sink in. Instead of the familiar fear of being trapped, she felt an unfamiliar sense of… happiness. That place in her chest that always expanded when she and Thorne made love felt warm and contented, as if the sun had come out in there and wasn’t going away.
And neither was she. The bond was about loving someone so much you never wanted to leave.
Thorne looked up and caught her eye at that moment, and he smiled that breathtaking smile. She winked and blew him a kiss, with a promise of much, much more to come.
Chapter 51
A week later, Thorne and Rebel were in their bedroom, playing poker. The stakes were high. Rebel was in her jeans, bra and socks. Her high-heeled boots and her shirt were in the center of the table.
Thorne had already lost his shirt, hoping to distract her. It wasn’t working.
“This one’s for the pants, buddy,” she said. “Call.”
Thorne laid down his hand.
/> “Seriously?” She shook her head. “You went all in on two threes? You’re not even trying.”
“I don’t understand this game,” Thorne told her, reaching for his fly. “It seems to me that the more I lose, the more I feel like I’m winning. Can you explain that?”
“It’s because you’re a perv, and enjoy taking off your clothes. I can’t help it if you’re a shameful exhibitionist.”
“Really.”
Thorne stood up and slowly lowered the zipper on his jeans. He had a boner the size of Florida that had been there since Rebel took off her shirt and showed him her lacy red bra, just happening to mention that her panties matched.
Now he slowly pushed his jeans down, exposing his tight boxer briefs. Even tighter now, considering the Florida-sized boner. He loved the way she leaned back in her chair and watched him, her eyes smoky with desire. It made him even harder.
Especially when she was wearing that bra. He could get a glimpse of her nipples through the lace, and was counting the minutes until he could take it off her and suck on them.
He kicked off the jeans and reached down the front of his briefs, deliberately adjusting himself. Rebel took a long, slow sip of beer and licked her lips.
“Is that a fire hydrant in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” she asked wickedly.
“Both.” He smirked at her. “Your deal. I don’t have much left to bet with.”
“Really? Because I’m looking at something pretty substantial, if you know what I mean.”
He adjusted himself again, giving her a peek at what was inside the briefs, and sat down again.
Thorne lost the next hand as quickly as possible. Rebel looked at him under lowered lashes. “That’s it, Dragon. Those briefs are mine.”
Thorne raised his butt slightly off the chair and slid them off, letting them dangle off his index finger. “Come over here and get them.”
She crawled across the table and straddled his lap, rolling her hips against his erection as she kissed him slow and deep. Whoa. Desire hit him in the belly, and he had to resist the urge to disappear her clothes right then and plunge into her until they both exploded.
“I win,” he said breathlessly.
“I beg to differ,” she said, biting the side of his neck. His dick jumped. “I think I won.”
“I love it when you beg.”
“I love you.”
That still gave him a heart explosion every time she said it. She loved him. He could hardly wrap his head around it, even though he could feel it all around him all the time, like a warm blanket.
Love. Something he never thought he could have.
“I love you too. As long as a dragon lives, and beyond.” He loved saying those words to her. He couldn’t remember why they had ever been hard to say.
He stood up, cradling her in his arms, and walked them over to the bed. He laid her down, and then disappeared all her clothes except her bra and panties.
“What, you don’t like me naked?” she said.
“I like delayed gratification. I’m very self-disciplined.”
Rebel lay back while Thorne tormented her with pleasure. He kissed every inch of her skin except her most sensitive places.
Then he teased her nipples, her clit, all without taking off her lacy underwear. When he finally did, the first touch of his tongue on her clit sent her over the edge, flying like a dragon. He grinned, then drew her slowly, exquisitely to another soaring climax, as the gold in the room hummed in harmony.
She lost all conscious thought, letting herself go, knowing she was safe with Thorne. Always.
He held her close to him as she recovered, soothing her with soft kisses and touches, murmuring in her ear about what a treasure she was—more valuable than caves of gold, more precious than jewels.
Then he rolled over and pulled her on top of him. She straddled his body, letting him fill her with his hard shaft, with himself, with his love. The song of the gold sang in her veins, and every thrust felt as though it were piercing her soul, letting in more light, more sound, more love.
His chest muscles rippled under her hands as she rode him, his hands warm on her hips, his blue eyes drinking her in as if he could never get enough.
She dropped her head back, letting the song take her once more, and he moved his hand to stroke her clit, sending her to the edge.
He cried out then, thrusting into her harder and harder, breaking down all her walls in the way only he could. He gave one last thrust and reached for her, pulling her to him as he came along with her, sharing her love and hope and joy.
For as long as a dragon lived, and beyond.
Epilogue
Across town in Jean-Claude D’Amboise’s penthouse, Corwyn sat in a darkened room. His body was disintegrating, rotting away. It was time to do something about it.
He’d been preparing the proper spells, regaining his strength and power after that disaster in the tomb. Now he was nearly ready for his restoration.
The door opened, and Jean-Claude came in. “Lord Corwyn,” he said. “I’m sorry to see you’re not looking well. Is there anything I can do?”
He could see the pity and avarice in the other sorcerer’s eyes. Each day his tone grew less respectful, his manner less servile. If it weren’t for the wealth of knowledge that Corwyn had in his mind, Jean-Claude would have tried to kill him before now.
Corwyn beckoned Jean-Claude closer, his voice weak. The sorcerer bent over to hear him.
Corwyn grabbed Jean-Claude on both sides of the head, sticking his skeletal fingers between Jean-Claude’s jaws to keep his mouth open. Corwyn’s essence funneled into the other man’s mouth like black smoke, until his rotting body collapsed behind him.
Corwyn stood in Jean-Claude’s body, looking down at the vile, rotted remnants of Silas Turner. Then he turned and rang for the butler.
“Yes, sir?”
He waved his hand at the mess on the floor. “Clean this up, Blaylock. I’m going out.”
“Very good, sir. At once,” the butler replied, and bowed to him as he walked past.
Thank you for reading Dragon’s Rebel! I hope you love my Wild Dragons like I do. Want to read Tyr and Tempest’s story?
Book 3 of the Wild Dragons series, Dragon’s Storm, is coming this fall!
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Want more hot wild shifters? Try my other books:
Silverlake Shifters:
Fugitive Mate
White Wolf Mate
Tiger Mate
Silverlake Enforcers:
The Enforcers: KANE
The Enforcers: ISRAEL
The Enforcers: NOAH
Bad Blood Shifters:
Bad Blood Bear
Bad Blood Wolf
Bad Blood Leopard
Bad Blood Panther
Bad Blood Alpha
Wild Dragons Series:
Dragon’s Rogue
Dragon’s Rebel
Dragon’s Storm (upcoming)
About the Author
Anastasia Wilde lives in the deep forests of the Pacific Northwest, where sexy shifters may or may not be found hiding among the tall, ancient trees. She writes hot paranormal romances about wild, passionate shifter men and the strong women who are destined to win their hearts. Broken, complicated, devoted, protective—love heals their wounds and smooths their rough edges (but not too much!). When not writing, Anastasia is traveling, nomming on any food involving bacon or melty cheese (ideally both), adding to her magical crystal collection, or relaxing with a glass of wine, watching the sun set behind the mountains.
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Dragon's Rebel (Wild Dragons Book 2) Page 23