Unleash the Storm (Steel & Stone Book 5)

by Annette Marie

  Piper frowned. So Ash had lied to her? Or had he just gone with a number he thought was about right to keep things simple? That conversation had happened when they’d only known each other for a handful of days.

  “As Mahala said, it doesn’t matter since all the castes age differently.” Coby raised her eyebrows. “How do you know we even age at the same rate as humans?”

  That got her attention. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, compared to some other daemon castes, we age quickly until puberty then it slows down. I don’t know how we compare to humans. Some castes age more quickly than us, some more slowly.” She tilted her head toward the spiral of steam where the guys were soaking out of sight. “Take your incubus friend, for example.”

  Piper tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “What about him?”

  “Didn’t you know that incubi straight up stop aging when they hit adulthood?”

  “What? Seriously?”

  “Yep. Lyre could be twenty or thirty seasons—or he could be a hundred. No way to know.”

  “A hundred?” she gasped. “Wait, how long is a season?”

  Coby pursed her lips. “In Earth terms? I really don’t know. A hundred is probably a bit of a stretch though.”

  “I don’t think incubi are a long-lived caste,” Mahala murmured. “Besides, daemons that old have a feeling about them … like Samael does.”

  A little shiver ran up Piper’s spine. “Samael?”

  “Yes. He’s much older than any of us. Three or four times my age, at least.”

  “He is?” she whispered faintly. No wonder the Hades warlord was so terrifying.

  “And I believe he is quite young still for his family line. His grandfather was the Hades Warlord who wiped out the Taroth family and first enslaved draconians. Our family’s destruction is recent history to Samael, not ancient.”

  “I … That’s just …”

  “So, you see,” Mahala said serenely, “age as a number is meaningless to us. We place value on the strengths of the daemon: experience, knowledge, skill, power.”

  Piper gave a slow nod. “If reapers live for so long, how long do draconians live?”

  Coby’s face fell and she didn’t answer.

  “Not all reapers live as long as the Hades family line,” Mahala clarified. “There is a lot of variation among bloodlines. As for draconians … we honestly don’t know. Samael doesn’t allow us to reach the end of our natural lifespans.”

  “Oh …” Piper looked down as she stretched her leg out and poked her toes out of the water, the air chilling her wet skin.

  She’d always sort of wondered how Ash had built such an impressive, infamous reputation in only a few years, but maybe he wasn’t just a couple years older than her like she’d always assumed. What if draconians lived hundreds of years like reapers? Would Ash live for two or three centuries? If they stayed together, would she age while he stayed young looking for her entire lifetime? She closed her eyes. It didn’t matter. One night, one month, one year. She’d already decided she would take whatever time with him she could get. If it didn’t bother him, and she was sure he must have already considered the issue, then she wouldn’t let it bother her either … at least not yet.

  “I’m kind of envious of incubi,” Coby murmured, tilting her head back as though basking in the steam. “To stop aging when you’re young and beautiful? A pretty sweet deal, if you ask me.”

  “We hardly plunge toward wrinkled old age,” Mahala replied dryly. “I wouldn’t want to look as young as him forever. No one takes you seriously when you look too young.”

  “He just needs a few scars,” Coby said flippantly. “Scars make a man look more respectable. Just look at Raum and Ash.”

  Piper pulled a face. “Scars only tell you how good a guy is at getting into fights. I hope Ash doesn’t feel like he has to catch up to Raum or something. I like his face the way it is.”

  Coby snorted a laugh. “I don’t think they’re competing directly. Besides, Ash is doing just fine collecting scars. I saw his newest one. If that doesn’t earn a man some respect, I don’t know what will.”

  Despite the scalding water, Piper’s blood chilled. “What newest one?”

  “From his last battle, right before you all joined us here.” Coby waved a finger at her. “Weren’t you there? You were pretty beat up yourself. Maybe you missed it.”

  “Ash was wounded in the abdomen,” Mahala said, “though I don’t recall if anyone mentioned how he received the injury.”

  “But wounds healed with magic barely leave scars at all,” Piper whispered.

  “Only when the healing is performed slowly and carefully,” Mahala told her, her voice gentling. “Wounds healed on the battlefield must be closed quickly. Scarring is inevitable.”

  “Otherwise Raum’s face would look a lot prettier,” Coby added with a chuckle.

  Piper couldn’t quite manage to take a deep breath. She had wounded Ash while she was crazy with the Sahar’s power. He had a scar from an injury she had given him?

  Without thinking, she pushed roughly to her feet and grabbed the edge of the pool.

  “Piper?” Coby exclaimed. “What’s wrong?”

  She heaved herself out, water cascading off her body. Cold air hit her wet skin but she hardly noticed. Heedless of the rough, slippery rock under her feet, she clambered over boulders and past the small waterfall toward the plume of steam Coby had pointed out earlier. As she rushed to the spot, five silhouettes took form among the steam in the second pool.

  “Ash!”

  The indistinct shadows of the males twisted toward her in surprise. She dashed into the steam, realized at the last second that the edge of the pool was right in front of her, and managed to jump in instead of fall. She landed with a splash and spun, scarcely registering the others, until her eyes found Ash.

  He sat in the pool, the water up to his collarbones. The shock on his face looked almost silly next to the menacing horns on either side of his head. “Piper, what—”

  “Stand up,” she ordered.

  “What—”

  “Get up!”

  With a bewildered sideways glance at Lyre, he stood. Water rushed down his chest in glistening rivulets and at any other time she would have been entranced by the sight of him—toned muscles sheathed in warm skin that looked utterly silky in the muted sunlight. But instead, her eyes were drawn irresistibly to the ugly, jagged line of white that slashed across his abs just below his ribcage, rending the smooth flow of skin. She stared at the scar, frozen with horror. She had done that. She had done that to him.

  He saw the direction of her gaze and his brow furrowed worriedly. “Piper—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said hoarsely.

  “It’s not a—”

  “Don’t tell me it’s not a big deal!” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I did that to you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Piper—” Lyre began, rising as well and reaching toward her as though to calm her down.

  She stepped away from his hand. “And you! You hid this from me too!”

  “Piper,” Ash said, “I’m fine. It’s just a scar—”

  “That I gave you.” She looked between them, disbelief competing with her horror. Didn’t they get it? Didn’t they understand why she was upset? She had permanently damaged his body. She’d disfigured him with her attack, her magic. Somehow, the reality of what she’d done, what she’d tried to do, hadn’t sunk in until now—until she’d seen the proof of the injury she’d given him.

  Her eyes were pulled back to the scar, a white line almost as thick as her finger that spanned nearly the width of his stomach, interrupting that expanse of perfect abs she’d so frequently admired whenever he was shirtless. She had done that and she didn’t even remember.

  Ash looked past her then back to her face. “Piper, can we talk about this later?”

  She looked over her shoulder. Raum was reclining in the water, one arm propped on the edge o
f the spring pool, his face inscrutable—but Kiev and Sivan were staring at her, mouths hanging open. For a moment, she thought they were shocked that she was responsible for Ash’s injury. Then she realized they probably hadn’t taken in a word she’d said, seeing as she was giving the two teenaged boys a fantastic up-close view of her near nakedness.

  Her cheeks flushed. She jerked away from Ash and Lyre and hauled herself out of the pool. Without a word, she strode away, but not in the direction of the other women. She walked into the spiraling steam, letting the others disappear in the mist. Her embarrassment from strutting around mostly naked in front of all the guys quickly faded as she pictured Ash’s new scar.

  What was the matter with her that she would still be longing for the Sahar after what she’d done? She had almost killed Ash and had left lasting damage to his body. She would never touch the Sahar again. She couldn’t risk a repeat episode, couldn’t risk that she would hurt him like that again—or succeed in killing him.

  The steam hovered all around her, warm despite the occasional touch of a cold breeze. She wound between boulders and small, bubbling springs as she meandered up the slope. Pressing two fingers to the spot on her arm where she’d carried the Sahar, she swallowed hard. Seeing Ash’s injury could convince her that the Sahar was too deadly for her to wield, but Lyre’s report of all the people she’d killed in her grief-fueled rage hadn’t been enough?

  She trudged upward, wanting to leave all reminders of the others behind in the clouds of steam. Sorrow rose inside her yet again, a suffocating weight in her chest that squeezed her lungs. Maybe her mother would have had advice to offer her. If nothing else, her mother would have held her and comforted her. Her relationship with Mona had been tangled and painful, torn and damaged by lies and betrayals—not all of them Mona’s fault—but at its heart, there had always been love.

  Roughly scrubbing the tears off her face, Piper paused on the steps. She blinked and looked down.

  Steps?

  Crouching, she touched the steam-dampened rock, clearly shaped like crude stairs. A path of steps curved downhill—crumbling and littered with debris but unmistakably a man-made path. Ash and Raum had been searching for any signs of habitation here, recent or ancient. Did they know about this?

  Excitement warred with unease and she briefly considered calling for Ash, but no. First she should make sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. Glancing once more in the direction of the others, she started up the steps, moving slowly. The stairs rose gradually up the slope, the hot springs increasing in frequency until the path led her through a maze of bubbling holes. Steam surrounded her, whiting out the mountainside, and all she could hear was bubbling water.

  The path rounded a bend and a dark shape took form in the mist. She found herself standing in the entrance of a stone gazebo. Eyes wide, she stepped into the center of the round space, carved benches on either side decorated with faded geometric designs. An arched opening on the other side beckoned.

  She stopped beneath the arch, its posts slotted for a torch or light to be attached. Just outside the gazebo, a small, perfectly round pool steamed in the still air. Beyond it, a valley stretched, mountains bathed in soft light rearing toward the cloudy sky. The view was breathtaking.

  With one finger, she traced the weathered geometric design carved into the post beside her. She recognized the designs; she’d seen them in Natania’s memories of the draconians’ ancient home. They must have built the gazebo and hot spring hundreds of years ago.

  After three weeks in the mountains, she’d finally discovered signs of Ash’s ancestors. She’d thought she would have been more excited, but instead, lonely sorrow pierced her, sad regret that the people who had created this beautiful, peaceful retreat had been destroyed because of greed, ambition, and power.

  Chapter Four

  With a soft chirp and the flutter of wings, Zwi landed on the gazebo railing beside Piper. She chittered in reprimand.

  “Hi Zwi,” Piper murmured, dropping her hand from the carved design.

  If Zwi had come to find her, then Ash probably wasn’t far behind. What would he think of this place? The breeze whispered through the gazebo, chilly on her bare skin. Since he was already on the way, she might as well wait. Stepping out of the gazebo and onto the steps, she dipped a toe in and discovered perfectly hot water. With a little shrug, she descended into the pool. The steps continued underwater to the bottom, polished smooth by the long-ago craftsmen.

  With quiet wonder, she waded to the far side and discovered a submerged seat carved into the rock. Sitting, she folded her arms on the ledge and rested her chin on them, staring at the fantastical vista before her. She was probably the first haemon to ever see this place, and likely the last.

  As her eyes travelled over the majestic lines of the mountain peaks, her attention caught on a distant summit, little more than a shadow against the cloudy sky. Its shape was strange, somehow unnatural. A twinge of familiarity whispered through her.

  Still perched on the railing, Zwi grumbled in annoyance, then took off, disappearing into the steam as she headed back down the slope. Piper blinked after her. A moment later, soft sounds of movement reached her and she looked back toward the adjacent gazebo.

  Ash appeared from the mist, her blanket draped over his shoulder and his eyes roving over the gazebo. He’d donned his pants, and she belatedly realized she had no idea what he’d been wearing—or not wearing—when she’d confronted him in the spring. He had to have been wearing something though. She was sure she would have noticed otherwise.

  As his gaze locked on her, her breath caught. He looked through her, into her, down to her soul with one glance. Her heart beat faster.

  The view beyond her drew his attention away. The shadows inside the gazebo embraced him, absorbing his wings and tail so they almost seemed like shadows too. Her eyes darted to his new scar and she bit her lip. He dropped the blanket over the railing and stepped into the pool, heedless of his pants.

  “Ash,” she began, trying not to look at the scar as horror reignited inside her. “I know you don’t think—”

  Without a word, he crossed the pool to her. Then his fingers were under her chin, tilting her head up, and his mouth was on hers.

  Heat rushed through her and she thought she might melt from the inside out. Her arms snapped around his neck as she crushed her mouth to his. Her intended words were instantly forgotten. Since she’d woken up in the Underworld, they hadn’t had a truly private moment together—until now.

  One hand still holding her chin, trapping her mouth against his so tightly she could barely breathe, he slid his other hand around her waist and scooped her into his chest. She gasped against his lips. He pulled her up, then turned and sat on the bench. She straddled his legs, their kiss unbroken, and pressed her hands to his chest, sliding them over the dips and curves of his muscles and the smooth scales that edged his stomach. Memories of the last time she’d touched him like that came rushing back, her stomach doing summersaults of desire.

  Then she slid her hands lower and found the unfamiliar ridge of the new scar.

  She froze. His eyes—black as the night, hungry and hot—lifted to her face. She hesitated, aching with need for him, but aching even more from what she’d done to him. Her hands were still pressed against the scar, a reminder she couldn’t ignore.

  His fingers brushed gently across her cheek. “I would have endured far worse to save you.”

  “Not to save me,” she corrected in a near whisper. “To stop me.”

  He shook his head. “No. You were in the grip of something evil. All I wanted to do was save you from it.” A shadow passed through his eyes, a ghostly remnant of fear. “I wasn’t sure if you were still in there, or if you’d been lost entirely to the Sahar.”

  “But you still had to stop me,” she mumbled, “or I might have gone on to kill everyone in the city.”

  That shadow slid through his eyes again and he looked away from her. “If the only wa
y to stop you had been to take your life with my own hands … I would have let you kill them all.”

  She gasped. “But Ash, what’s my life compared to an entire city of innocent people?”

  He shrugged, gazing across the pool to avoid her eyes.

  He would have stood back and watched her slaughter thousands? But … maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. His honor was important to him, but his absolute, unbending loyalty trumped all else, a loyalty that belonged only to a small, select number of people: as far as she knew, just her, Seiya, and Lyre. That loyalty was the reason he’d been willing to leave the other draconians behind to save Seiya, even though saving them all was the more honorable goal. Loyalty over honor.

  It amazed her that she, somehow, had earned his steadfast loyalty.

  Pulling her hand from the water, she touched his jaw, turning his eyes back to hers. Slowly, she traced the scales across the top of one cheekbone and down to the design in the hollow of his cheek. Leaning down, she brushed her lips over his. His arms slid around her. Closing her eyes, she kissed him again, tasting him, losing herself in him.

  When they were together, forgetting everything else was so easy—where they were, the dangers, their responsibilities. She wished they lived in a world where they could run away together and leave it all behind, but as much as it was a pleasant fantasy, neither of them would be willing to do that. Ash had left the draconians behind once already and he was determined to make up for what he saw as a past sin—or maybe what Raum considered to be Ash’s past sin. And she wasn’t ready to abandon her father and uncle, the only family she had left, along with the Consulates and Earth to whatever the Hades and Ra families were planning next.

  But for now, all she cared about was Ash’s arms around her and his mouth on hers.

  A shriek erupted somewhere above them. Piper jumped, half pulling free from Ash as he twisted to look behind them. Another shriek: the call of the hunting birds she’d heard earlier—only much closer. She craned her neck but couldn’t see anything through the steam.