by Lynn Best
As she was thinking that, Jerrard opened his mouth, filling the cave with an animal roar that made goose bumps race up and down her arms. The horde stopped whatever it was they were doing, eyes fixed on Jerrard. In one voice, they answered. “Not possssible. The curssse.”
“Is broken, you idiots,” Seela said, knowing it was true. She’d watched Jerrard’s body glow and contort, feeling the magic rolling off him in waves. Why it had happened to break now and if their lovemaking had anything to do with it, she didn’t know. What she did know was Jerrard was free.
Wasting no time, Jerrard swung his neck toward the clumps of beasts that were beating a hasty retreat into the caves. Jets of sizzling flame shot out of his throat, burning through the creatures that screamed and sizzled. Seela turned away, unable to stomach the smell as these horrible creatures were set ablaze. It was one thing to stab them and another to hear them squeal in agony. She stayed put, waiting for it to be over.
When a hand seized her wrist, she shrieked and readied for a fight, but her eyes found Langdon. She was so happy to see him she fell into his arms.
He held her, stroking her hair. “It’s all right. It’s going to be all right.”
She nodded into his chest. His shirt was ripped to shreds, the skin beneath cut, but Langdon felt solid, healthy. The beasts hadn’t killed him.
Glancing behind her, she asked, “Where is Stenton?”
“Here,” he called, slashing away at the retreating creatures with Langdon’s sword. He was half naked, having tied Langdon’s jacket around his waist to protect his most vulnerable area. Even in her fear and confusion, she could not deny Stenton’s body was amazing. His muscles glistened in the light as he swung the blade, dispatching several monsters at a time.
“We should get you out of here,” Langdon said.
“But what if Jerrard and Stenton need us?” she asked, turning to check to make sure both were doing fine. Jerrard’s jets of flame were still lighting up the cavern. And Stenton’s smile beamed from his face as he went after the rest with his sword.
“It’s under control,” Langdon said, gently leading her away.
Seela let herself be guided away from the battle, though she kept her eyes on Stenton and Jerrard as long as possible to make sure nothing would happen to them. By now, most of the horde was dead or had retreated into their holes. And Jerrard’s dragon form was holding true. She felt hope for the first time in a while.
Langdon lead her through the tunnels swiftly and without incident. Soon, they were back in the little kitchen, though now, it was in shambles. The table was flipped over, chairs broken and strewn about. Bits of broken pottery and cutlery were tossed about like a tornado had blown through. Langdon didn’t seem to be a bit concerned by that, leading her to the couch and cleaning it off so that she could sit down. Then he set about gathering items to clean her wounds and tend to her.
On the couch waiting for him to return, a wave of emotions fell over her. She’d nearly died. They’d all nearly died. In that dark cave, she’d found a connection with Jerrard and made such sweet love to him, but the rest had turned into the biggest nightmare of her life. It had all been too much. She stared at the painting of the three princes, her thoughts swirling. It was like a dream that she had never woken up from.
Langdon returned, kneeling before her. With a lukewarm bowl of water and some soap, he began to sponge dirt and blood from her face and arms.
“Do you have any pain?” he asked, thoughtful eyes roving over her body.
She shook her head. There were little pains everywhere, but no big ones. More than that, though, she was feeling dizzy and lightheaded. The room kept wavering in and out of focus, and she was having trouble pinning her thoughts down.
“Where are Jerrard and Stenton?” she managed. “Are they back yet?”
“Not yet. Still fighting. But they’ll be finished soon. I am sure they’re both very worried about you.”
“Me?” she asked, surprised. “I’m fine.”
Langdon frowned. “You don’t look fine. Are you sure nothing hurts? Your arms?” He gently moved one, then another, watching her expression. “Your legs?”
Seela shook her head, still feeling like it was a balloon loosely tethered to her shoulders.
“Seela,” he said as he quietly pulled her sleeve back, cleaning the cuts on her right arm and then her left. “I have to ask. What happened in that cave? How did Jerrard break his curse?”
At this, heat burned up her neck. “Oh, well, we um…”
Langdon grinned. He slapped his hand on his thigh in giddy excitement. “I knew it. I knew you could break the curse.”
“But I didn’t,” she said, holding her head. “I mean, how could I? The Bishop of Danbury picked me out of spite. He made an advance at me before the ceremony, but I turned him down. He drew my name to punish me.”
Langdon watched her face, confusion playing out on his. “Are you sure?” he asked after a pause.
“Am I sure what?”
“Are you sure he picked you to punish you? Maybe your name had already been selected by the king’s oracles. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Or maybe he knew you were special. Maybe he’d known you would be chosen in a few hours for the highest magical duty the land allows, and he wanted a taste of it himself before handing you over to us.”
Seela frowned, not really believing what Langdon was saying. Was it possible? Maybe. But she wasn’t special. She glanced up, her eyes asking that very question.
Langdon reached out gently, touching her chin and running his thumb down her cheek. “Seela of the Deep Forest, have you never felt magic in your veins? Have you never had a great gift? One for healing? Or knowing what might occur before it happens?”
She thought back, but her mind was cloudy. She’d never been as good at healing as her mother. And she definitely didn’t know what was going to happen before it occurred. Half the time, she wasn’t sure what was happening at that very moment.
She knew her expression held lots of questions, but Langdon didn’t seem dissuaded at all. He kept smiling at her, staring at her with that adoration that both warmed her insides and made her uncomfortable. He thought she could break his curse and Stenton’s. That she could save them all.
Closing her eyes made the dizziness increase. Soon, she felt herself swaying forward. She heard Langdon cry out, felt his strong arms around her, and then she felt nothing. Nothing at all.
22
Seela awoke to the sound of birdsong. Laying on her back, her eyes closed, she heard a bird twittering somewhere off to her left. But there were no birds where she had been in the cave. The cave where she’d nearly died. It was all coming back to her.
Stenton. Langdon. Jerrard. They’d fought the horde.
More curious than the birdsong was the wind blowing over her body, tugging strands of her hair back along her face. And she was noticing other senses, too—something soft and prickly under her back, the smells of pine and something floral, and heat on her skin, almost like… sunshine was burning down on her.
Her eyes fluttered open. She stared into a blue sky.
What in the heavens?
Seela sprang up, head whipping around to take in the sensory overload around her. She was in a field of downy green grasses that swayed in the breeze. Ahead, a line of soft pines stood tall. Beyond that was a dark ridge of mountain. The sun was indeed high in the sky, a round bright ball throwing down light and life on everything it touched.
Oh, how good to see the sun again. To feel its warmth. A bird arrowed across her line of vision, then dove into the grass after its dinner. Another called from the pine boughs. How could this be possible? They were trapped in a cave. Was she hallucinating?
“You’re awake.” Jerrard bounded into her line of sight. He looked fresh and happy, wearing a loose cotton shirt that showed off his rack of abs and round pecs beneath. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he appeared larger, more virile. Then she remembered him shifting in that cavern, the g
iant dragon that grew out of him. He had magic pumping through his veins now. She could practically see it pulsing out of his green eyes.
“Where are we?” she asked, peering around again. She stared at Jerrard as he folded his big frame to sit beside her.
“We are outside.” He gestured around happily as if he, too, was trying to take it all in. “I’d forgotten how beautiful it was.” He sucked in a big lungful of floral-scented air.
“Yes, but how? We were in the cave. Then you saved us. Langdon took me to the kitchen.” She ran over the whole scenario again, still not tracing it back to this meadow.
“And then you fainted. When I arrived back with Stenton, Langdon had been caring for you. He was worried. We let you rest for a while, but when you weren’t waking up, nor showing any signs of worsening, they thought it might do you some good to get a bit of fresh air.”
Seela frowned. “How long was I out?”
Jerrard’s face was serious. “A few days.”
“A few days?” She gripped her head. How had she lost a few days?
“I was with you the whole time,” he said tenderly, taking her hand in his. “We all were.”
It was comforting, as were his fingers in hers. They were warm and reassuring. “I must’ve been very exhausted.”
“Langdon thought you were suffering from exhaustion, yes. We were out of herbal remedies or I would have tried some, though I doubt I would’ve had your skill in healing.”
She didn’t answer, still working this all over the way one might chew a morsel of tough food. “And where are Stenton and Langdon now?” She half expected them to pop out from behind a pine tree.
Jerrard frowned. “They can’t leave the cavern.”
She flashed him a look of confusion.
He inspected their clasped hands carefully. “When you and I… made love, I suspect it broke my curse. I’m no longer bound to the caverns. The magical membrane that kept me in for a century no longer does. And I can shift now. Whenever I want.”
She thought about asking him to demonstrate since he was a miraculous sight as a dragon, but she still had more questions. “I broke the curse?”
He smiled and pulled her hand to his lips, kissing it. “You did.”
She shook her head, but did not protest, though she did not entirely believe that could be possible.
“So now I must do so for Langdon and Stenton.” She started to stand, but Jerrard didn’t follow. “What is it?”
His frown was etched on his face. “We knew you’d say that, so we came to an agreement. The other two will spend time with you, get to know you, but you are not expected to mate with them on any obligation. In fact, that is the opposite of what we want. We want to woo you—have you fall madly in love with us. Only then would we consent to mate.”
Seela narrowed her eyes. “You and I have already… mated.”
Jerrard smiled at the mention of their tryst. Just thinking of it made her tingle.
“I know,” he said. “But we wondered if you may have felt pressure to save our lives. Now that the pressure is off, there is no hurry. We can take our time.” His eyes half-lidded on this last line like he was imaging their bodies slowly pressing together.
“You keep saying we,” she said, studying his face.
“My brothers and I have come to an agreement. We will put aside jealousy. We can learn to share.”
Share? The possibilities stretched out before her like rolling images of fun. More encounters like the time she’d had with Jerrard? Seela shivered at the memory of pleasure. “What about the horde?”
“Stenton says they are nearly decimated. And I can shift now, so there is no worry. Having a full-grown dragon at your command has its perks.” Taking her hand, he kissed it tenderly. A wanton heat was building between her legs. Seela wondered how Jerrard might feel about a romp in the hay so to speak.
But he stood, offering her a hand that she took. “My brothers will want to know that you’ve awakened and are feeling all right. And we’ll feed you. Now that I’m free, our meal options are vastly enhanced.”
“So you’ll stay? In the caverns, I mean?”
He nodded like there wasn’t even a thought. “My brothers are there. Until we can all leave, none of us will. But you may. Just say the word and you are released. I can take you anywhere you like.”
He stopped, his eyes searching hers. The expression on his face let her know he didn’t want her to leave. And the other two needed her if they were to turn. Unless her ability was a once-in-a-lifetime situation. Would Stenton and Langdon be doomed to stay in the dark? And Jerrard would be trapped here, too, loyal to the brothers, and stuck even though he could be free. She could not let that happen. Already, she cared so much for these three kindhearted and sexy men.
And the idea of sharing… That sounded downright naughty. And Seela was getting used to the idea of being naughty.
“Of course I’ll stay,” she said with a grin. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, catching Jerrard off guard. He laughed, taking her in his strong arms. As he held her, the world felt warm and bright and full of possibility. And when he returned her stolen kiss with a much more passionate one of his own, Seela knew she’d found what she’d always wanted.
“Seela?” a voice called.
She whirled in time to see a figure running toward them through the meadow. A man in a cloak tore at them through the flowers, aiming right for Jerrard. He only had a moment to consider this new stranger before the man reared back and punched him in the face.
There was a crack of bone. The man crumpled, bringing his hand into his chest as a groan escaped his lips. His hood fell back as he stumbled away, eyes searching between them.
“Mickey?” Seela gasped.
Mickey stared at her, pain and confusion on his face. He appeared thin and travel weary, his cloak dirty and mud-stained, his face gaunt.
“What in the world are you doing here?” Seela asked.
“Rescuing you,” Mickey said, holding a hand that appeared to be broken. His eyes continued to dart between Seela and Jerrard, who seemed shocked by this new turn of events.
Focusing on Jerrard and then Mickey, Seela shrugged before saying, “Oh, hell. Come inside then. There’s a lot to explain.”
Epilogue
The Bishop of Danbury waited outside the cavern’s magical entrance, shivering with cold and damp. It hadn’t stopped raining for the last few days, and of course, it had to be the time he’d been scheduled to meet with his king’s cave-dwelling mutants.
How he, as a man of prestige, had been chosen to be the emissary to these disgusting hybrid monsters, he had no idea. He was a man of the cloth, a tax… ahem… tithe collector from time to time, an enforcer if pressed, but he was not a fucking messenger boy. And certainly not to creatures of the most foul.
Still, if his king bid him speak, he would speak. If he bid him wait in the forest in the rain for Lords knew how long, he would wait. Two days and counting and still no sign of the little buggers. But if he returned without an update on the demise of the dragon princes, there would be hell to pay.
They had been sure their power was nearly gone. With the sacrifice being one of such poor quality as that harlot of a girl who’d practically thrown herself on him, the bishop had thought things would’ve been wrapped up by now.
But if so, where was the damned representative for those little buggers?
Water dripping from the hood of his cloak into his eyes, he dreamed of meat pies and mead and the women who were waiting for him in his bed back at the castle keep. The trees dripped around him, and the forest was quiet. Just as he was about to drift off, he heard the skittering of little feet over rocks. Eyes popping wide, he spied the pitiful limping thing climbing down the rock and trundling toward him.
“What happened?” he said before he was even standing. The thing was lurching along badly. One leg was missing completely, another protruding at an odd
angle. The long black hairs had been singed away as if there had been a fire. One red eye was swollen shut. It reeked of charred hair and burned flesh.
Fire. Charring. The princes had been able to shift.
“They aren’t dead.” He gripped his staff hard enough to put fingernail grooves into the wood. The king would be most displeased. And the bishop did not want to go to the king with something that displeased him. Bad things happened to people who did.
The creature gave a sharp exhalation of air out of its half-badger, half-spider-looking mouth. Then it spoke in that voice full of iron fillings. “We were attacked. The curssse isss broken.”
“Broken?” he shouted. “How?”
“The girl you sssent.” Its eyes roved around the clearing. As it talked, it was as if it were expecting an ambush. The bishop wanted to beat it to death with his staff, but held back, too disgusted.
“It isn’t my fault. She has no magic in her blood. None in her family. You must be mistaken.”
“Not missstaken. The girl. Ssshe’sss done it.” The creature’s red eyes locked with his. “Tell your king your fault.”
Danbury struck then, bashing the thing with his staff before the creature could even react. One crack to the skull and it tottered, staring up at him with one wide red eye. The back legs tried to scrabble away, but the two injured ones made it clumsy and slow. Danbury fell on him, bashing with his staff until the thing twitched and made hoarse wheezing sounds.
“I will tell my king no such thing,” he said, more to himself than to the dying beasty. It would’ve been Danbury being smashed if he had. That was not the way he intended to go out. He had a very comfortable life in the castle, and he didn’t plan to lose it over some stupid peasant girl and overgrown spiders.
After the horde creature kicked its last, Danbury stood for a long time, rain running into his face as he worked over a plan. He would finish the girl himself. Before he’d been a bishop, he’d been a spy and a hired knife, the curved blade of which still hung at his belt. He palmed the handle now, thinking how a little stealth and treachery was usually all that was needed to turn the tide his way.