by Kym Dillon
He would never see her again. He felt helpless. He felt impotent with rage. He couldn’t protect her beyond the sanctity of these walls, and no amount of threats against Feis would come to fruition if the high priestess captured her. She would, hopefully, be dead before she suffered long.
He turned away and ascended to his quiet heavenly prison. The white walls threaded with crimson mocked him. He wanted the greenery of trees, the feel of warm earth beneath his boots. He would gladly sacrifice everything he had and survive the wilds to find her.
What has she done to him? One night with her, and everything else lost significance. Arken closed his eyes in pain, laboriously climbing the stairs to his chamber. Brilliant flashbacks lit up his eyelids. He saw her with her knees tucked to his hips as she fluidly rose and fell above him. He felt the silk of her hair brushing his thighs when she threw her head back in bliss. He could almost smell the sweetness of her juices as they coated him. He saw her hands on her pale breasts, nipples poking from between her fingers.
“Where is she?” a woman spoke behind him.
Arken shuttered his thoughts and pivoted. There was a blonde at the archway to the hall of treasure. She was slender and young with curious green eyes and a friendly face. He realized several things at once.
One, he had given the dragon too much of Ainley’s elixir. Two, Vyda was fully recovered, which begged the question—How debilitated had she really been? And, three, the dragon in woman-shape was stunning. But she wasn’t Daya.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you misled me about how sick you were,” he muttered dryly, continuing to his room. Vyda trailed him. “What are you doing up?”
“I heard you with her.”
He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “I thought I made myself clear. Whatever might’ve been between us isn’t happening. It doesn’t matter what you heard.”
She toyed with her fingers as she opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. Shrugging, she whispered, “I thought I could make it up to you. She can’t…give you an heir. She can be a plaything, yes. But, you…we…” She straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “You need me. I could be your life-mate.”
Vyda ducked her head shyly and released the belt cinching the pale red gown at her waist. She slipped it off her shoulders, and it rippled over her girl-like body and pooled at her feet. She swept her sunny yellow hair from her face, finding her boldness. She looked him in the eyes.
“I’m in heat, Arken, Son of Imyr.” She strutted toward him with a subtle sway of her hips. Her full breasts were capped by dusky pink nipples, and a smattering of freckles blanketed her chest. She laid a hand over her flat stomach, as if inviting him to consider the possibilities. Arken restlessly tapped a finger on the footboard of his bed as he glared at her.
His body still throbbed, and he needed release. Daya was gone, but she had left the yearning and this thunderous headache. The light beaming through the blue glass windows made him want to shut his eyes against the pain, yet, every time he did, he saw her. And, it pained him to think of her because he couldn’t save her.
Vyda stopped in front of him. One look in his eyes, and she didn’t dare touch him.
“Life-mates are the invention of lonely young dragons of low station,” he explained calmly. A muscle ticked near the corner of his mouth. “Our race bears young maybe once or twice every century. It takes years for a dragon to reach maturity. If we mated for love, we would’ve died out thousands of years ago. So, you see.” He spread his hands, palms up. “There’s no such thing as eternal love pairings.”
And, even if there were, Vyda missed the mark. What Arken had experienced with Daya the night before had been spiritual. He had heard the same stories. Whispers of dragons who understood at first touch that what was between them represented far more than species survival. If Daya were a dragon, Arken had no doubt she would be his.
“Go back to the hall,” he sighed. “I have work to do.”
He gave her privacy to dress and let her leave. Her shadow slunk behind her as the doors closed. He listened to her soft, piteous crying until it faded in the hall of treasures. He was no cad. He hated to hurt her, but Vyda had done something unforgivable. She had jeopardized them all.
He crossed to the room that had been Daya’s. It was the queen’s room, and it had been his mother’s back when the great keep was filled with dragon and mortals, alike. Now, it was empty, still faintly smelling of the woman who had nearly took all of him the night before. His body ached for Daya. It might take centuries to forget her touch.
Suppressing a groan, he stepped into the bathing room to get the book that had instigated the entire interaction. When he had seen the History of the Senrelis Dynasty sink into the tub, he’d thought the legends of his family line were gone for good. Then, Daya had done her little trick.
He grabbed the book and took it to his room. Flipping the pages, not a line was smudged. The colorful illustrations were just as vibrant. The leather binding was supple and smooth. He ran a hand over it. “What did you do, beautiful runaway?” he whispered. He gritted his teeth and shook away the question. It was no time to think of what he had lost. He had already lost so much.
He needed to know if the Heart of the Dragon could somehow prevent the war Ainley had seen.
She laid the dinner tray next to his elbow. He hardly looked up. The smell of roast boar and sweet, succulent carrots wafted to his nose—an interesting change from the pleasant smell of dust, books, ink and paper—but he ignored his hunger. His eyes stung from poring over the cramped writing by candlelight. Grumbling, he pushed the latest text aside.
“What does a king have to do to get more light around here!”
“I’ll get more candles right away, Sire.” Vyda curtsied and turned to the door.
“Get back here,” he groaned. Her pivot caused her to bump a table, and several books collapsed to the floor. He cringed. “You’re not my servant, Vyda. You’re a warrior and a guest. I can get my own damn candles.”
“Sir, I need to feel useful. Now that I’m feeling better—”
“You mean, now that you’re no longer pretending to be on your deathbed?”
She twisted her hands. “I don’t want to give you a reason to send me away. I can’t go back to Feis; she’ll kill me. I can’t return to the Isle of Warriors. The realm is crawling with huntsmen. Even if I survive the journey, there’s no telling what the other dragons will do to me. They think I killed the prince.”
“Yes. I’m not entirely convinced you didn’t.” He narrowed his eyes and looked her over. She was respectfully attired this time. “You don’t have to worry that I’ll send you away. I’d rather you’re here.”
“I can be your bodyguard,” she nodded eagerly.
He scoffed, and her smile slipped. “You lack the qualifications, one of which is to not try to deliver me to my enemy. No, I want you here because it’s the only way to ensure your days of working for Feis are over.”
He left the hand-carved desk and strolled from the library to rest his eyes and find more light. He was disappointed when Vyda came after him. How was it he had lost the woman he would eagerly keep around for several eternities but retained the one he wanted to get rid of?
“I need a drink,” he sighed.
“Oh! Um, point the way, and I’ll get you one, Your Majesty.”
Arken scowled.
He was about one bottle of scotch away from having his version of a meltdown. It had happened centuries ago, when he first realized his isolation was absolute. He had remained in an intoxicated haze for years. Over time, he had gotten used to the loneliness, but a taste of Daya had brought the feeling back with a vengeance. Worse, because she made him long for things he had never before known existed. Before kissing her lips.
He didn’t simply miss having company. He had that. He missed her.
“Go away, Vyda.”
“Right. Should I pick a room, Sire? Since I’m a…guest.”
He nodded curtly. “I don’t care. Just make yourself invisible. I have a raging headache, and you’re insufferably eager to please, which is ironically making it worse. Gods, it’s so clear how you managed to get mixed up with that demented dragon eater. She probably thought she struck gold when she met you.”
He chuckled dryly, but when he glanced at the young dragon, she wasn’t laughing. Or, smiling. He had hurt her feelings again. Arken rolled his eyes and hurried away from her. He didn’t know how to take her at face value, and that was a problem. How could he trust someone who had stumbled into such an underhanded plot? Had he not offered to mate with her—like a complete idiot—she might have seriously helped Feis take him down.
Hurt feelings aside, it was better to keep Vyda close, but at arm’s length. At least, until he figured out what to do with the stone.
He found himself slowing to a halt at a room that had been his brother’s. It was far from the main part of the keep. Jos had liked his privacy because he was always pondering some philosophical question or another. Smiling nostalgically, Arken opened the door. Everything was as it had always been, as if his brother might step out of the bathing room with a book in hand.
Of course! he thought. There would be other books here. Maybe something useful. He had scoured nearly every tome in the library and come up empty-handed. He could quote poetry, recite historical facts, talk science. But, none of it had brought him any closer to unlocking the mysteries of the stone.
Arken whispered a power word, and the sconces illuminated the chamber. He moved to a bookshelf by the bed and perused the titles. A surprising amount of the catalogue was romance. Arken chuckled to himself. As he leaned to study the lower shelves, his pulse began to race. Here was the magic. Quite literally. Jos had neatly organized a row of books dedicated to the arcane arts.
He reached for one and settled in a chair by the window. The sun was setting, and it made him think of Daya. She hadn’t made it back. He bit his lip and turned his attention to the book. His interest was piqued within minutes. “This is the one,” he whispered in shock. After searching all day, he had assumed he was in for another long study session. Instead, the book in his hands flipped pages of its own accord, and his eyes fell upon an illustration of the red diamond.
The first line read, “There be dragons.”
“Your Highness!” Vyda’s shout echoed through the keep, and Arken looked up from the book. She called his name again. “Your Highness, where are you?”
“I’m here, Vyda. What is it?” he asked. He stepped from his brother’s room with the book in hand. She strode through the corridor to meet him. She looked slightly panicked, which raised his hackles. “This better be important. I’m in the middle of a breakthrough.”
“It is. Someone’s here for you. You have to come with me. I thought you were gone, and I didn’t know what I’d tell her, if you were.”
“I never leave,” he muttered.
Vyda led him in the direction of the great hall where his treasure trove collected. Arken was intrigued by the idea of a visitor. No one came for him. His solitude had been complete until Vyda and Daya had come into his life. Unless it was Ainley. He quirked a brow, deciding it was probably the Sylph.
“Well, where is this important guest?” he asked, almost to the archway.
Vyda gestured into the room and rubbed her hands together nervously. “There,” she said.
His heart skipped a beat. “Oedaya.” He drank in the sight of her. She stood with her hands parked on her hips and a serious glower darkening her beautiful features. “You’ve returned,” he said coolly, trying to hide the affect she had on him.
Daya inclined her head in a sharp nod of agreement. “I did, and who is she?” She stared pointedly at Vyda, and Arken’s eyebrows winged skyward as he smiled. She was sexy when she was jealous.
“She is Vyda. The dragon. You’ve already met, but I can make formal introductions, if you like.”
Daya waved a hand dismissively and came toward him. “Never mind. She’s irrelevant. We need to talk.”
“I beg your pardon, but I’m an officer in the King’s Army. I live to serve Arken. I hardly think that’s irrelevant.” Vyda crossed her arms defensively, and Daya smirked.
“I don’t do cat fights, honey. If you want to serve him, you can have at him. I’ve got more to deal with right now than sparring with you over anything.”
Arken gently steered Daya away from the dragon before things got more heated. “What do we need to talk about?” he asked as he continued out of the hall with her. He felt suddenly rejuvenated with her present. Daya cast an annoyed glance over her shoulder at the sulking blonde.
“How did a giant red dragon become that? What happened to truth in advertising?” she grumbled.
He laughed. “You’re not here to see if I’ve moved on, though, are you?”
They made it to her bedroom, and all sorts of memories flared to life. She looked at the bed. At him. “You could’ve told me,” she mumbled, “You know, mentioned it or something.”
“What, that I’m a several-ton beast in my other body?” He pinned her with a look, and she threw up her arms.
“You’re right, I wouldn’t have believed you! Still, that’s not something you spring on a girl after you’ve gone past third base.”
“Third base?”
She shook her head, and her thick hair came loose from its braid. “That’s unimportant right now. I need to tell you what I just discovered.”
“Me, first.” He held up the book. “Before you left, I found out Vyda is the competition that Feis sent after you.”
“What?!”
“It gets more interesting. When Vyda discovered an egg had been tampered with, she told the generals the baby was stillborn. They blamed her anyway; so, she left the Isle of Warriors where the rest of my race is exiled. She somehow aligned herself with Feis in the hopes of convincing her to open new channels of safe travel for us.”
“And, of course,” Daya interjected sarcastically, “that went as well as can be expected.”
“Of course. Vyda inadvertently gave away the secret location to the Isle of Warriors. Now, Feis is planning an attack. I have to stop that from happening.”
“What about the stone? Is it safe? I take it, you have it with you.”
He tightened his lips. “It’s safe,” he said cautiously. “I’ve spent the whole day searching for ways the diamond can stop this war from happening. If Feis strikes my dragons, the casualties will be catastrophic. It could wipe us out.”
She pointed at the book. “Everything you need is in there.”
“How do you know?”
“Feis has the same one. She let me borrow it before I made the trip here so I could plan my heist. It’s really quite an extraordinary jewel,” she said, taking the book. She opened to the right page. “See, here? It provides protection to whoever has it.”
“I always thought she wanted it to be able to control the dragons. To call us to her instead of having to hunt us.” He swallowed thickly. Every time he thought of how the dragon eaters had viciously and mercilessly persecuted his race, it sickened him. Their cruelty and depravity was beyond compare. “I also thought she was a fool for trying to destroy us. How would the dragon eaters keep their immortality if they killed us all? If there were no more of us to eat?”
Daya nodded and pointed to a passage in the book and read aloud, “The stone confers transformative powers,” she whispered.
He nodded grimly. “Precisely. You knew it before I did.”
“I didn’t realize… She wants to…” Daya locked eyes with him as her jaw dropped.
“She wants to use the stone to transform men into dragons. The dragon eaters would never go hungry again.”
“This is worse than I thought, Arken. I met someone in the woods. At first I thought it was Neigen, the priest who brought me here to work for Feis. But, it was another, I guess, shifter. Her name was Ainley. She told me if Feis gets that stone,
she won’t stop at destroying your world. She’ll come after mine, too.”
“You met Ainley? What else did she tell you?”
“She said you need me,” she replied.
Arken clasped her face and kissed her the way he had wanted to do the moment he saw her in the great hall until felt her body melt against his. “I do need you,” he exhaled. His lips closed over hers again, and his tongue dove into her mouth with authority and demand. She threw the book on the bed and eagerly wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her from the floor, and she locked her legs around him.
“Wait, wait, wait. Is Vyda the someone else you have a duty to?” Daya asked breathlessly.
He shook his head. “Not anymore.” Destiny had just opened new possibilities for him. If he could transform Daya, then she could be his mate.
First, there would be war. That was something else he realized while reading the book. The Heart of the Dragon couldn’t turn the tide. It was too valuable to Feis for her to ever give up her quest. It was time for Arken, Son of Imyr, to become the Warrior King. The dragons needed him. And, Daya needed him. Entire worlds hung in the balance.
7
He carried her to the bed and lay her down as he hovered over her continuing their frenzied kiss. Daya’s heart beat erratically. She squirmed deliciously and ground against his engorged hard flesh pressed against her pelvis. His mouth descended to her chest. He tore at her clothes.
Then, Vyda knocked on the door, and the spell was broken.
Daya swore and sat up. “She’s into you,” she muttered. He wagged a finger.
“What is it?” he called out.
“Not to alarm you, but I just got a scry from Feis asking me to report in,” Vyda replied.
“I got mine days ago. She told me I could have another month to search.”