Saved By Her Dragon
Page 24
Aaron had spent the majority of the evening watching the good doctor, Charlie as she like to be called, while trying to work up his nerve to speak to her. He had repeatedly yelled at himself for being a coward and his dragon had all but roared in his head demanding the man at least get close so he could scent the one meant to be theirs. Finally, when he was afraid the party would end and so would his chances of even talking to her, he had made his way through the party-goers and asked for a dance. His heart had almost left his chest when she readily agreed. The feel of her in his arms was something Aaron would never forget. Then she had truly blown his mind and said yes when he asked if she would like to take a walk away from the noise.
Charlie was smart and witty and had a voice like fine whiskey that rolled all over and through him. He knew he would hear that voice in his dreams as she screamed his name while he gave her more pleasure than she had ever known. He hadn’t planned on kissing her. Hell, he’d been having a hard enough time keeping up his end of the conversation. But there was just something about the way her dark blonde hair and deep blue eyes shone in the moonlight that had made him lower his lips to hers. She must have felt it too because she met him halfway and when they touched, sparks flew. An electrical current ran through his body making him wonder if he glowed with the feelings this one woman brought out in him. And then Devon had called and Aaron had taken Charlie back to the party making some stupid excuse for having to leave. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined she would follow him.
He knew Charlie was hiding out in the cottage Sam still owned and had lived in prior to meeting Lance. The brief kiss they had shared had started the mating call, which allowed him to keep track of her…to make sure she was okay. About twenty times every day he walked towards his Harley, prepared to go to her and explain everything, and every time he lost his nerve. Part of him thought maybe this stupid shit would wear off, but then the part of him that remembered their kiss, remembered what it felt like to have her in his arms kicked in, and he knew sooner or later he was going to have to make things right.
Aaron had never really wanted a mate. He knew every other Guardsman did, but it was just not something he really ever thought about–when he did, it gave him the willies. It was not until he had glimpsed Dr. Charlene Gallagher that he actually considered a life with another person. As it was, just the very thought of her drove him crazy and his dragon had gotten damn near impossible to deal with.
After the first week, he had gone to Sam for advice. She had laughed, explaining that her best friend was hardheaded and had a terrible temper to boot. Her suggestion was to give Charlie time to cool off, time to come to terms with what she had seen, and then Samantha was sure her friend would come to him for answers. He saw the sadness in his brethren’s mate’s eyes as she explained that Dr. Charlene Gallagher had also cut communication with her, only calling to tell her she had taken vacation from the hospital and to ask if she could use the cottage. The tears he saw in the young doctor’s eyes and heard in her voice when she said Charlie had asked not to be disturbed tore at his heart. Never one to be overly emotional, Aaron chalked it up to the mating call, thanked Sam, and left to go lick his proverbial wounds.
Any other time he would have talked to Devon and Royce, they were the brethren with the most level heads and best advice. However, Royce was off with Kyra searching for her mother and Devon had his hands full with a mate that just transformed into the first female dragon in nearly a thousand years, AND was a dragon from a long lost clan. So...there was no way Aaron was bothering either of them.
He had considered talking to his twin but once again, Aidan had his own issues. Aaron’s brother and his mate were pregnant with twins, the first in almost a hundred years, and Aidan had gone into hyper-protective mate and dad mode. Although it was absolutely hilarious to watch, it didn’t help with Aaron’s problems. He was close with all his brethren, but he wasn’t ready to relive the whole story again so that left just one thing…training. Andrew was out there on the loose, planning only the Heavens knew what. It was the perfect opportunity to focus all of Aaron’s anger and frustration on the little brother he had grown to hate.
Since it was still early and the younger Guardsmen were busy with the tasks Rayne and Rian had given them, he shoved his earbuds into his ears, blasted Metallica, and started off on his run. Running had always been something he hated, especially after his years in the service, but the longer he went without Charlie, the more the solitude of tearing across the countryside fit his mood. He emptied his mind of everything but the music blasting in his ears, the sights and scents around him, and the rhythmic pounding of his feet against the ground.
Passing the ten mile mark and still going strong, lost to his thoughts, he damn near ran straight into the huge lake in front of him when the scent of roses punched him right in the gut. Shaking his head, Aaron looked around, only to realize he had run straight to Black Lake, which coincidentally was less than a mile behind the cottage his mate now occupied. Dammit, this Fate will not be denied shit really sucks!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hiding out in the same cave, on the same mountainside where his resurrection had occurred almost two years ago, should have seemed poetic. But he was starving, injured, and without any resources whatsoever, making misery all Andrew knew. The hunting trap he had stepped in on his hurried escape across the wheat field had torn the muscles and tendons in the calf of his right leg, and without proper nutrition, even his returning dragon abilities were struggling to heal the wound. Thankfully, the cave had a small stream running through it, so he could stay hydrated and keep his cut clean. The few small animals that used the creek as their water source had become his only source of food, but the supply was dwindling as the word spread about the predator hiding in their midst.
His only solace was the ancient text he had taken with him when he had escaped from the ruins of the mansion. With little else to do, he divided his time between translating the old dragon language and plotting his revenge against everyone that had been a part of all he had suffered, including John’s death. John was the only person in nearly eight years Andrew had dared let close, and the fucking dragons had taken that from him too. Sadness filled him as he pulled page after page of his assistant’s notes from the book. His spirits lifted slightly when he found one page in particular that detailed all they knew about the prophecy. It was only bits and pieces, but he would do whatever had to be done to find the whole prophecy and use it to destroy anyone that got in his way.
A powerful white witch sworn to the Earth, of long regal lineage made whole by human love, must mate a dragon of royal descent marked by devastating loss and the heart of not one clan, but two.
The vibria born of human parents and the last female born of two dragons lost in plain sight.
Born to an extinct race, thought to be one but actually two. Both with destinies blessed by Fate, neither knowing the other exists…
A calling to heal, a hidden nature, a history long forgotten…all protected in the heart of a woman destined to complete a warrior and his beast. The revelation of all she is brought forth from the joining with her mate.
Another page, one much older and most certainly written in blood, fell from between the last page and the back cover as he shifted his position. The moment he saw it, he remembered John showing it to him before and wanted to scream for not following up on it from the beginning. Thankfully, his assistant had possessed the wherewithal to remove the page from the ancient grimoire and hide it away for safe keeping. This one, very old piece of parchment held the spell to deliver the forever death to any shifter ever known.
Smiling his first real smile in days, Andrew lay back on the stone floor and closed his eyes. Those fuckers are not going to know what hit them.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In the last week her captors had resorted to torture in an effort to get her to reveal the location of the grimoire that contained the most powerful and most deadly spell known to magical practit
ioners worldwide. This new development, although painful, gave Calysta a little more insight into her captors…they were working for someone magical. Only the most experienced witches or the oldest families with long lineages knew of the existence of the spell. To all others it was only a myth, passed from person to person as a warning to the evil of meddling with things one didn’t understand.
On the surface it looked like a simple summoning spell, but the ritual was written so that as each step was completed another would appear, erasing the previous; each step becoming more complex, more dark, and more deadly. It was written so that a single, experienced witch with incredible power may work the spell without deadly repercussions that would span her entire line. And only on Samhain, when the veil between worlds was the thinnest. Legend stated it was created by a dark Priestess trying to find the soul of her long dead lover in order to place said soul in a waiting body, thus allowing them to once again wreak havoc on an unsuspecting world. Simply known as Thanatos, the name of the witch’s lover and also meaning death, the spell drops the veil between Earth and Hell, allowing only the witch working the spell to bring over anything her heart desired, and only that witch can restore the curtain between worlds.
The spell was only ever recorded in one grimoire and had always been entrusted to the most powerful priestess to keep hidden. Since taking her place as the leader of her coven, Calysta had protected the book and its contents with every resource she possessed. It was hidden in plain sight, spelled to look like an ordinary instruction manual in the library of her coven, warded more heavily than any single artifact in their vault. Only she and Della knew of its location, and both were willing to die to keep it safe and out of the hands of evil.
The most recent indignities she had suffered had come at the hands of her female captor, with the male standing watch. They always came in together and, until yesterday, only he had spoken. His voice was low and gravely with a bit of an accent that she knew she had heard before but simply could not place. The female was younger and Calysta could tell from the reluctance pouring off of her, far less certain about what they were doing. The Grand Priestess had caught the last bit of an argument between the two as they entered her cell the day before. The man had growled her name, Mara, right before a loud slap had echoed throughout the chamber, followed by a very female whimper. Calysta gave her credit for not crying out and thought if only Mara were to visit her alone, she might have an opportunity to convince the younger woman to help her. But it was obvious they still feared her power, even though she was kept chained in iron to a cement slab in an iron-lined room, malnourished and close to dehydration.
Face down on the slab, arms shackled over her head, iron chains thrown across her abused back, Calysta rolled her shoulders, trying to find a position that would let blood flow return to her fingers. She hissed as pain from the burn marks she had received yesterday shot through her body. The bitch had shoved acid soaked iron daggers into her back and then rinsed her wounds in a mixture of salt and deadly nightshade to keep them from healing and increase her suffering.
It was apparent to Calysta that the Goddess, the Universe, Fate…whoever…was not going to let her die. The almighty powers had a plan for her and she was going to have to carry it out, whether she wanted to or not. Pulling on the strength of her ancestors and the power that would always be a part of who she was, Calysta began to chant…”Heal me now and make me whole. Take my pain, refill my soul. Let the scars remain, no one can know. Bring peace and comfort; let your light brightly show.”
She prayed with all she was. It was her last chance. Finishing her tenth or maybe it was her eleventh time through the chant, the sound of iron scraping concrete reached her ears. But it was the unmistakable scent of sulfur that had her pulling against her restraints. “What hath hell wrought?” was her last thought as pain pushed her into the oblivion of unconsciousness.