Piper nodded.
“And you don’t find this concerning at all?”
“Of course I do,” she said indignantly, not liking the hint of sarcasm in his incredulous tone. “It worries me a lot that she can mess with my head like that, but causing me to space out in the middle of a conversation is hardly life threatening.”
Lyre stopped and faced her. “You definitely aren’t thinking straight about this at all, Piper. What if next time she causes you to space out in the middle of a fight? What if she pulls your mind into one of these ‘dreams’ and won’t let you go?”
Piper folded her arms. “You’re making too big a deal of it. She won’t get me killed because she wants me to live. Same with trapping my mind forever—my body would die, wouldn’t it? If I die, no one can tap the Stone and she’ll be trapped alone. She doesn’t want that.”
“Do you hear yourself? You’re allowing her all this power over you because you think she wouldn’t want to be alone if you died?”
Piper dropped her arms, shaking her head angrily and surging back into motion. “I’m not just ‘allowing’ this. It’s out of necessity. Natania knows a lot of things. For example, did you know that Nyrtaroth created the Sahar specifically to fight the great dragons?”
“What?” Lyre hurried to catch up to her. “Natania told you this?”
“Yes. Nyrtaroth was afraid of the dragons. I guess one of them tried to bond with his grandfather, but his grandfather died.”
“Did Natania know anything else about the dragons?”
“Not that she told me,” she admitted. “But maybe I can get more out of her next time.”
“No.” Lyre grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop on the path, and spun her to face him. “There won’t be a next time.”
“Huh?”
That steely glint was back in his eyes, the same unbreakable determination as when he’d drawn an arrow, intending to put it through his best friend’s heart.
“You’re done with the Sahar,” he said, his voice as hard as his eyes. “You’re so twisted up with this Natania specter that you don’t see how dangerous she is. Give me the Sahar.”
“I’m not—”
“Why are you arguing with me? There are no dragons here for you to fight. Give it to me.”
She leaned away from him, trying to shrug away his hand. “I need to talk to Natania again—”
“No, you don’t. She already told you what she knew about the dragons.”
“She never tells me everything. She might know—”
“She’s stringing you along! Open your eyes. She wants you to keep hold of the Stone so she can maintain access to your mind.”
She hesitated, biting her lip. Natania was always playing games with her, but as long as Piper was careful when she tapped the power in the Stone, there wasn’t much Natania could do aside from make her space out at random points … was there? She wouldn’t lose control again like she had at the Gaian facility; no, she wouldn’t let that happen. Those had been extenuating circumstances, after all.
Lyre squeezed her arm gently. “Trust me, Piper. You can’t see it, but the Sahar is too dangerous for you.”
More protests bubbled up in her throat, but as she looked into his concerned golden eyes, she couldn’t voice them. Lyre had never steered her wrong before. If he thought something was wrong, she should trust him. The panic tightening around her chest at the thought of giving up the Sahar was a warning in itself. It shouldn’t be so hard to hand it over.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “You’re—”
Something slammed into her with concussive force.
She felt herself flung through the air—but her body hadn’t moved, hadn’t reacted at all to the crushing blow. Lyre was still holding her arm, waiting for her to finish her sentence, but she could hardly feel his touch. It was almost like she was floating, not quite attached to her body anymore—like that bizarre strike had shoved her mind instead of her body.
“You’re right,” she repeated.
The words came out of her mouth, but she hadn’t intended to speak, nor had she ever purred like a satisfied cat before.
Her hand rose of its own accord and her finger brushed sensually over Lyre’s lower lip. Shock splashed almost comically across his face, and equal shock rushed through Piper. What the hell was her hand doing? She hadn’t decided to do that!
“You’re so very right.” Her voice uttered the words, overlaid with that purring satisfaction. “Such a clever incubus. So cautious. You have always been too wise to fool, haven’t you?”
No. No no no. Piper recognized the cadence of the speech, even if the voice was wrong. It was her voice—but Natania’s words.
Bending all her willpower into it, Piper commanded herself to step back. Nothing happened. Her body didn’t obey her at all, like it wasn’t even hers anymore. This was wrong—all wrong. Had Natania pulled her into another vision?
Lyre let her go and stepped back. His eyes flashed over her face, confusion clear in his eyes. Of its own accord, Piper’s hand slid into her pocket, fingers curling around the Sahar. She lifted it toward her face, rolling it between her finger and thumb. Little darts of white power shot off the shining surface.
“I can’t give this to you, Lyre, my love,” Natania cooed through Piper. “Not after you have so kindly returned it.”
His gaze flashed from the Stone to Piper’s face and back again. “Piper, what …”
“You were wrong about one thing. It is not Piper’s mind I wanted access to. My mind is perfectly functional. It was a body that I lacked.”
Lyre’s mouth fell open in speechless horror.
“In another life, I imagine we could have enjoyed each other very much,” Natania said, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper that Piper couldn’t have imitated even if she’d wanted to. “But sadly, I must kill you instead.”
Panic rushed through Piper and she mentally flailed for control, but she may as well have been trying to grasp air. There was nothing to grab, nothing to fight. Natania had cut her mind loose from her body.
Lyre backed up another step, taking a second too long to recover from his shock. Natania closed her fist around the Sahar and power surged through her—through Piper’s—body. Lyre flung his hands up, golden light flashing, and silver power exploded out from the Sahar.
The blast hit Lyre at point-blank range and hurled him down the rocky path. He crashed to a stop a dozen yards down the slope, motionless long enough that Piper almost lost it with terror. He finally moved, pushing himself up on his hands and knees.
“Ah, you blunted a great deal of my power,” Natania crooned, sauntering down the path toward him. “Impressive for an incubus. But I already knew you were talented. Piper can’t see it; she sees a shield like any other, not that delightful, swirling weave that absorbs as much power as it deflects.”
Lyre winced as he rose to his feet. A cut ran over the bridge of his nose and across his left cheekbone, leaking blood down his face. Relief rushed through Piper but faded too quickly, dispersing like smoke in the wind. It was hard to hold on to her thoughts and emotions.
“You must be Natania.” He turned his head and spat out a mouthful of blood. “I can’t say I’m pleased that my suspicions about you were right.”
Natania smiled with Piper’s lips as she stopped a few yards away from him. “Do not think yourself too clever, my love. You suspected nothing the last time we met.”
“The last time?”
“You may have torn the Sahar from me once, but you will not manage it a second time.”
“Wait, you—you mean at the Gaian facility? You were controlling Piper when she fought—”
“Yes,” Natania purred. “Did you really think her that skilled? You and Ashtaroth would have defeated her in mere moments.”
Lyre shook his head mutely, his mouth flattened into a thin line. Blood dripped off his jaw.
“Do you not see? I know her whole mind, every thought, desire, and fear.
I know her better than she knows herself, and I can tell you that she is not as strong as you believe her to be.” Natania let out a fluttery sigh. “Lyre, my love, I do think Piper chose poorly. Ashtaroth is nothing more than a loyal dog: a powerful, obedient guardian. He lacks the cunning wit of my Nyr. But you …” She hummed a note of clear appreciation.
“Piper made the right choice.” A note of bitterness touched his words. “Incubi are lovers, but no woman’s true love.”
Natania’s smile sharpened. “Who broke your heart, dearest Lyre?”
His answering smile was just as cold. “I break hearts, not the other way around.”
“You’ve broken many, haven’t you?” she crooned. “I could have broken yours, I’m sure, had our paths overlapped.”
“You think so? I very much doubt it.”
“Such confidence,” Natania said tartly. “You have no concept of who I am.”
“Who you were,” Lyre corrected, wiping his hand across the trickling blood on his face, smearing it over one cheek. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re still female.”
Natania’s eyes narrowed, then she threw her head back and loosed a chiming peal of laughter. “You think you can defeat me with aphrodesia?”
Lyre’s eyes darkened to black. “I already have.”
Natania took a quick step back, her hand clenching around the Sahar as power leaped into her. Lyre’s hand snapped down the front of his shirt where he kept his chain of spelled gems. He yanked it out, blood-coated fingers already clenched around a gem. Gold light flashed.
The world went black. The mountains, the cliff, the path all vanished. Natania staggered backward, clutching the Sahar as power built within her, straining to be unleashed—but it had no target. The darkness, lit with swirls of tiny white stars, curled and coiled in a sparkling, eddying mist. The shapeless ebony swirled, all that was solid gone, even the ground beneath her feet.
Strange shapes rose and fell in the darkness. Natania whirled around, searching for a solid shape to attack, the Sahar tight in her grip.
“This is no incubus power!” she shrieked. The strange darkness absorbed her words, muffling it. “This kind of illusion isn’t possible! I know the rules of magic!”
She spun again—and Lyre was there, right in front of her, almost touching her.
His glamour was gone. His eyes were ebony magnets, utterly alluring. The glittering stars swirled in his eyes. In the black nothingness, he almost glowed, a heavenly halo of undeniable beauty. The pull of his aura was irresistible, attraction as powerful as gravity.
Natania stared into those eyes, still holding the Sahar in the air, the power accumulated in her raging beneath her skin.
“Your magic may have rules,” he said, the sounds layered together like the most melodic instrument ever heard, too beautiful for mortal ears, “but I can weave anything I can imagine.”
His voice spun around her like soft, warm chains. His eyes held her prisoner. Tingling heat flowed off him, drifting over her skin like the feathery touch of gentle fingers. Then his actual hand brushed softly over her cheek as his eyes pulled her in deeper.
His head tipped down and his mouth closed over hers.
His magic poured into her through his lips and fingers as heat and pleasure surged through her, impossible and overwhelming. The Sahar’s power slid away, dissipating as burning heat and need consumed her mind. Her will vanished as his control spread through every fiber of her being, his essence filling her, her world and awareness narrowing to the feel of his mouth on hers, his fingers on her cheek, his heat rushing into her, obliterating all else.
“Sleep,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers.
Her eyes closed, his will to be obeyed. She slid quietly into slumber, conquered by the pleasure of his touch and the excruciating longing for more.
Lost somewhere in the emptiness of her own mind, Piper slipped away too, vanishing into the nothingness.
Chapter Fifteen
Piper sleepily rolled over, nuzzling her face into her pillow. So comfy. She hadn’t been this comfortable in … weeks? Months? It seemed like forever. The pillow under her cheek was silky soft and warm blankets were a comforting weight on top of her. She inhaled deeply as she gradually shook off her drowsiness. The air smelled of incense and stone. Familiar, but not the smell of her bedroom.
She cracked her eyes open. A few feet away, faint blue light lit a stone wall. Detailed waves had been carved into it, the smooth lines flowing along the natural curves of the stone.
This wasn’t her bedroom. Her thoughts scattered, confusion bubbling inside her, before it all came together in her head. Right. Her home was a pile of rubble, destroyed weeks ago. Her father and uncle were hiding in Brinford, her mother was dead, and Ash was lost to the great dragon, who knew where.
She pressed her face back into the pillow, sucking in a shuddering breath. This room was familiar, at least. She’d spent five days in the ryujin city the last time she’d been in the Overworld, sleeping in this room each night. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know that the carving of waves ran around the entire circular room, that fist-sized crystals were embedded in the ceiling and had been spelled to glow softly, and that heavy fabric curtains would be drawn across the doorway a few feet beyond her toes.
Pain vibrated through her, a cutting grief she couldn’t contain. Waking up thinking she was at home … only to remember that her home was long gone. Only to remember her mother’s death, their relationship ended when it had only just begun to heal. Weeks in the Underworld, feeling out of place and lost, and then Ash …
She bit down on a mouthful of the pillow to stifle the howl of anguish rising in her throat. Ash, gone. His empty, glowing blue stare. His lifeless face, devoid of emotion—devoid of soul. The dragon had stolen it from him, and then the beast had taken him away from her, where she couldn’t save him. It was her fault. She never should have led him to that damn abandoned city.
In the privacy of the room, she wept into the pillow, her shoulders shaking and her chest heaving. She cried until she had no more tears, then pushed herself into a cross-legged sitting position. Sniffing back the last few tears, she pressed a hand to her aching stomach. She was so hungry. Her stomach was cramping like she hadn’t eaten in days. How long had she been asleep? She tried to remember arriving in the city, but it was a total blank. She remembered walking down the trail along the canyon, talking to Lyre. Then … nothing. But she must have led Lyre to the city, right? He couldn’t have gotten in without her.
Pushing off the blankets, she rose to her feet, surprised by the weakness in her legs. Oh man, she was hungry. Absolutely famished. And thirsty too. She must have slept an entire day while recovering from her exhaustion. Was Lyre still sleeping too? He hadn’t been as tired as her.
Wobbling to the curtain, she pushed it aside and stepped out into a wide hall lined with doorways—other guest rooms. She hobbled down the hall, brushing her hands over her clothes. Her dark draconian garments had been replaced with a new silvery halter top, armguards, and fitted pants of the same material. Crisscrossing leather ties ran up the side of each leg, and the ends, decorated with stone beads, swung at her hips, clicking softly. The stone floor was cold under her bare feet but she hadn’t seen her boots in her room.
She stepped out of the corridor and into the main cavern. A slow-moving branch of the river flowed through the center of the expanse of flat stone. High above, stalagmites hung from the uneven ceiling, veined with clear and colored stone. Sunlight from the unseen sky refracted through the veins, spilling rainbows of light across the space. Doorways, pathways, bridges, and corridors wove and curved all along the cavern walls, leading to other parts of the underground city.
Across the flat plateau, a cluster of ryujin was gathered. They knelt on the stone, unconcerned by the hard rock under their scaled knees. Their waist-length hair in various shades of green swayed as their heads moved. Scattered nearby, a half dozen water dragons lounged by the water’s edge,
their silvery scales shimmering like mother of pearl. In the center of the little circle of ryujin, a pale blond head stood out in stark contrast.
As Piper started across the plateau, Lyre lifted his hands, something unseen cupped in them. Golden light sparked in his palms, then burst outward like a tiny explosion of fireworks. Sparkles of amber light swirled up above their heads in random patterns, then coalesced into golden sparrows made up of a thousand tiny lights. The sparrows swooped and darted among the ryujin as delighted laughter erupted from his audience—very feminine laughter. Of course.
Lyre glanced up at her, grinning as she stopped just beyond the circle. His fluttering golden sparrows faded away.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he said cheerfully.
The ryujin rose gracefully to their feet in eerie unison. Each young lady offered Piper a gentle hug and soft greeting before slipping away. With each embrace, Piper could feel the warmth and welcome emanating from them. She knew almost nothing about the ryujins’ telepathy, but it amazed her how she could sense their emotions like that.
She watched them leave, their steps flowing like water. Sunlight shimmered over their blue and green scales and pale skin, and their dairokkan drifted behind them, along with long tails that ended in horizontal fins.
Lyre rose to his feet and brushed off his pants. He was wearing the male version of her outfit—and he looked good. Her eyes drifted down him, taking in the fitted sleeveless shirt, elbow-high armguards, and similar pants. He, she saw, had kept his footwear, a sturdy pair of leather boots.
She pulled her eyes back to his face and noticed a pink line of healing skin that ran from the bridge of his nose across one cheekbone. She frowned. “What happened to your face?”
He tapped his cheek just below the cut. “Just a scratch, but Atsumi is healing it in stages to be safe. She said it would be a shame to scar a face as pretty as mine.”
Piper snorted in amusement but couldn’t shift her frown. “What happened though? I don’t remember …”
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