War Bride

by Ava Sinclair

  I feel heat rush to my face as I leave the tent and walk out into the cold. I see Jayx in the distance, talking to Turin. Zyvis is with them, too. I am surprised to see him, but eager to be in their company. Thera’s judgement clings to me like a cloak. I decide in that moment that I will return here. I will not hide away in the castle while these people suffer the winter. I can help them, whether I become a lady or not, and I shall.

  Chapter 27

  ZYVIS

  I should have stayed at the castle. With my father soon to arrive, he will expect me to be there to greet him. I did not speak to him after leaving the king’s castle, but there was a reason for that. I knew he’d ask about the mating, and the Deepening. I did not want to tell him I’d failed at both.

  I am not ready for his wrath. I’d rather deal with my brothers’ disappointment than my father’s rage, so I’d headed to the villages to seek out Jayx and Turin. My father will have to wait.

  I did not expect to see Isla here. As she approaches, Turin explains that she wanted to deliver herbs to the healer. We’ve been discussing Thera of Darly, and normally, I would weigh in with some authority, but I feel a defeated man now in every way. Worse still, I am afraid. The ever-present fire in my blood feels weaker. Am I reduced as both man and a dragon, with war on the horizon?

  These are concerns I keep to myself as I focus on Isla, who seems as surprised to see me as I am to see her.

  “Lord Zyvis,” she says. “Where have you been? I’d hoped you’d come to visit me; you’ve been away since we returned.”

  There’s no judgement in her words, nor in her eyes. There is only kindness that makes me somehow feel worse for letting her down, for letting us all down.

  “In these times there is much to attend to.” My answer is vague, and she does not press me.

  “What did you make of the healer?” Jayx changes the subject, much to my relief.

  “I admire her.” Isla glances back towards the tent.

  “You would admire someone who is so angry?” Turin asks.

  Isla fixes my brother with a stern glare. “She has cause for anger and fear, yet puts aside both to do righteous good for her people.”

  A gust of wind swirls snows around us, threatening to extinguish a fire over which three goats roast on a long spit. They were brought here for men working on the buildings, yet I know these animals will barely feed them. To the left is the village storehouse. It is full with food brought from castle supplies, but with the snows coming early, how long will it last? The sound of an infant’s wail floats to us on the wind.

  “We should head for home,” I say begrudgingly. I am sure my father is there by now. His anger will increase each moment I tarry.

  Jayx helps Lyla onto her horse. She smiles down at him. I notice the sword at her side—a real sword. No doubt it is a gift. No doubt it pleased her. I think of how I took her wooden sword the night we were together, how it must have humiliated her. I think this is another reason the Deepening failed. I do not deserve her, and because of my unworthiness, our bloodline will end and my brothers will hate me as my father does.

  We surround Isla as we ride, shielding her from the icy breeze. The fur-lined hood hood of her cape shields her face. From time to time I catch a glimpse of her silhouette, the sharpness of her nose, her fair skin. I think of her body, so soft as it yielded to me, her sweet tightness as she turned the tables and unmanned me on the floor of the bedchamber. She is different than I thought she’d be. She is stronger, this woman who clung to life after the ShadowFell slaughtered her village. What a son she would have given me. I feel a catch in my throat as I imagine him. Would he have her red hair? My height?

  We ride on. The wind subsides, and the snow is falling sporadically now. Ahead is our mountain, but at the base, near the entrance we use when we go on horseback, is a figure. I tense at the familiar silhouette. My father is walking towards us. I can feel his rage, even from here.

  We halt our horses. I dismount from mine as he approaches.

  “Zyvis!” His voice booms my name. “What is this? I come for an announced visit to find my son does not greet me? Is this respect?”

  “We were seeing to the villagers, Father. We—”

  He cuts me off. “We are their rulers. And village needs come second to those of your own kind!” My father’s gaze moves past me. “Your brothers should have reminded you of that.” His eyes narrow as he spots Isla. “What is your lady doing out of the castle and on horseback?” He searches our faces. “Are you mad? If she were to fall and get hurt, she’d be no use for breeding!”

  “Isla is a woman, not a broodmare, Lord Udra.” Jayx moves his horse forward. “If this is how you see a mate, if this is how you see Mother, no wonder she cried in the night when we were lads.”

  My father’s expression turns thunderous. This is the first time anyone has mentioned the unspoken tension in the house in which we were raised.

  “Such weak lords, letting your woman rule you. You’re just like my brothers—always so solicitous of your mother, always coddling.” He fixes his angry gaze on Isla. “Remember that you are just a weak village girl with a station only elevated by Drakoryans. Get back inside and count yourself fortunate to view your world from a fine castle.”

  “Do not speak to her like that!” I step up to my father. I feel no fear. I feel only anger—not for myself, but for Isla.

  My father’s face turns red. “How dare you…” He raises a gloved hand and I catch it. We are surrounded by heat emanating from both our bodies. Behind us, the horses neigh and dance in fear. They sense what is to happen. In my peripheral vision, I see Turin dismount and rush to pull Isla from her horse as Jayx vaults from his.

  I am still holding my father’s hand above me as the horses gallop towards the stables. I have stopped his strike.

  “Don’t you dare insult Isla,” I say. “She may be a village girl, but she is far from weak. And had I not wasted so many years being afraid of the likes of you, I’d be worthy of her. I am done being afraid, old man. Go back home.”

  I push him back. My father is breathing heavily. “You dare speak like that to me!” He erupts into a tower of blue-gray flame. The dragon that appears above me is the one I feared most as a child. It was the one that sparred too roughly when teaching me to fight, the one that dashed me into rocks and chided me for bellowing in pain. Now it looms over me again, seeking to silence and intimidate me. But I am no longer a child. I am a man and a dragon lord, ready to finally stand up and fight for what is mine.

  I do not cower. Instead, I erupt into flame and when I come into my own dragon form, I feel him crash into me. I dig my claws into the earth, absorbing the bulk of his body with my own. I will not yield. I will not give. My father steps back. He lifts his head and spreads his wings. His mouth opens wide as he inhales the cold air he would use to ignite the venom in his throat glands and make fire.

  I will not allow it. I leap forward, closing my teeth around his neck just below his jowls. The dragon that is my father writhes in my grasp, yet I do not let go. I am in control, both of him and myself. I will not let the anger and loathing he stoked in me guide me any longer. I drag his head down, pressing it to the ground with deliberate strength. My mighty foot pushes into his side as he falls, landing with a sideways thud. My eye darts to his, wild first with rage, then fear, before dulling with resignation. I could kill him. He knows this now. I could kill him, but I show strength through mercy.

  I will let you go, Father. And when I do, you will beg Isla’s forgiveness. If you do not, if you do not treat her and our mother with respect from this day forward, I will come for you. Father or no, I will come for you and make you pay. Do you understand?

  His eye blinks slowly. He does. Under my foot, his aging dragon body trembles.

  I release him and step back. I will not change until he does. The flame he erupts into is dimmer, smaller. It coalesces quickly into man form. He remains on his side as I transform. As I reach down, offering my hand,
my father looks at me. He is breathing heavily. There is blood on his neck, but it is not bad and will heal in the pool. He takes my hand.

  I fix him with one more hard stare, a warning to remember what he must now do. He meets my eyes briefly and then limps over to where my brothers stand with Isla.

  “Forgive me,” he says. “I had no cause to offend you. I…just…” He seems to search for his words. He looks confused, as if suddenly realizing and wondering why he does what he does. “I will not be staying after all. I should not have come.” He turns back to me. “When we next meet again, may I be the father I should have been.”

  He walks into the distance, and when he is nearly out of sight, my father shifts. He beats his wings slowly as he flies home. As I watch the dark of his form against the sky, I feel a soft pressure on my arm.

  “Thank you,” Isla says.

  I look down at her. “For what? For finally doing what I have been too weak to do my whole life? For defending you only after it was too late?”

  “Too late?” She smiles up at me. “It is never too late to give someone a gift. And yours is as useful as any sword or blade.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “My Lord Zyvis,” she says. “Today you gave me a lesson—that even the dragon one fears the most can be defeated. Your gift to me is inspiration.” I feel her warm hand squeeze mine. “Will you give me one more gift?”

  “Anything,” I say. There are snowflakes clinging to the lashes of green eyes that warm my soul.

  “Come to my room tonight,” she says.

  Chapter 28

  ISLA

  For all his faults, Lord Zyvis is the most beautiful Lord of Za’vol.

  Of course, I would not tell him this. Nor would I tell his brothers. Without the shell of anger, there is a softness about his face that has me truly noticing it for the first time. I lift my hands to touch the soft waves of hair that fall to his shoulders. His lips are sensual under the mustache that meets his short-cropped beard. His eyes are filled with longing, with want. For me.

  “I am sorry for the way I treated you.”

  “Don’t,” I say, putting my fingers to his mouth. “We start new tonight.” I run my hand down the mound of his chest. “Would you disarm me?”

  I have left my sword on. I want him to take it off. Tonight, I want him to take the lead. His large hands fall to the strap at my waist. He undoes the buckle and removes the scabbard, wrapping the strap around the handle. He does not place the sword out of my reach. Instead, he carefully lays it on a table by the fire.

  When he comes back to me, his hands reach behind me. My gown laces in the back. His eyes are fixed on mine as he unlaces my garment enough to push it from my shoulders. I hold my breath as it falls to a puddle of fabric at my feet. Zyvis has seen me naked, yet I feel as if he now sees me for the first time, too. He cups my breast; my nipple hardens when he grazes it with the pad of his thumb.

  His hands are warm as they slide down, molding to the curve of my waist. Zyvis lowers his head. His lips find mine. His kiss is gentle and then commanding as his tongue swoops through my mouth. He lifts me into his muscular arms and moves to the bed. As he lowers me onto the coverlet, I reach for the belt of his leather skirt and unfasten it from the sash that holds it up. It falls to the floor and he is as naked as I am. His huge cock strains towards me. I think of the feel of it in my mouth, the salty taste of him, of his response.

  He lowers himself to the bed. His hands are everywhere, the warmth of them blazing a path across my skin. I moan under the heat of his touch. I greet the lust in his eyes without fear. He defeated a dragon for me. He is my champion. I spread my legs in welcome.

  Zyvis’ eyes flash with gold as he slides his length into me. He begins to move, the surface of his cock undulating as he thrusts. I wrap my legs around him as he sets the rhythm, his fingers twining softly in my hair. Our bodies are fused, his hot, hard one pressed to my pale softness.

  “Isla, my flame. You are so sweet. So tight.”

  I smile. His voice is strained. I am beyond aroused, reveling in the feel of his huge body dwarfing mine. Tonight, he leads the dance. Tonight I will wait for him to bring my pleasure.

  When it happens, it is unlike anything I can imagine. He is deep inside me when his cock pulses. It is not a movement, but a wave of energy that seems to come from the center of his hardness, moving out through his shaft into my core, pulsing through the sweet, inner spot and triggering a rush of pleasure so sudden and intense that I scream. I pull him to me with my legs, my body bucking against his. I want to ask him what he did, how he did it, yet I cannot form words. I allow myself to let go, clinging to his strong shoulders as I ride the waves he has created within me.

  He is not finished. Not by far. Zyvis drives me to the summit of pleasure twice more, and only when I am hoarse from crying out my bliss do I feel him crown my womb with his hot seed. I pull him to me, looking into his eyes. I want him to see my acceptance, and the love I now feel for him.

  When his body stills, I take his hands and press them to my head. “Now.” I say. “Please.”

  I do not have to explain. Zyvis knows what I want. He is ready to finish what we started in the oracle’s chamber in the king’s castle. He shows me everything. He shows me his broken childhood, the pain of living in the shadow of a father he could not please, the hundreds of subtle ways Lord Udra pitted him against his brothers, thwarting their chance for the closeness other Drakoryan brothers enjoyed. He showed me his rare happy moments, places he discovered when he flew alone to escape the ever-present feelings of inadequacy. He shows me high mountain falls, herds of snow white deer in fields of red-flowered meadows, the mighty eagles he’d race for fun. He allows me to feel his humiliation at losing the battle for first rights to my body. He lays bare the shame of losing control and nearly killing his own brother, the desolation at having let down his family and his father. Then he shows me the confrontation with his father through his eyes, how his love for me swelled enough to break the chains Lord Udra bound him with. I feel that love now. How deep it runs, now that it is free. Tears course down my face.

  I am back inside my own mind but hear his voice in my head. “I love you, Lady Isla of Za’vol.”

  “And I love you.”

  We hold each other in the dark. “All is well,” I whisper to all my mates in my mind. I can feel their happiness. “We are one. We are a family. Our bond is complete.”

  I think on the words of the oracle Ezador: Two dragons threaten your future, he’d said. One you will help defeat, the other you will defeat alone.

  I understand now. The first dragon was Lord Udra. It was my love that helped Zyvis defeat the man who would have kept us apart. I am sure the other dragon is the one that took my sister. I am sure I will one day kill it. I will not believe anyone who tells me differently.

  War is coming, and I will fight for the good of my empire, the lost maidens of Branlock, and the other villagers. I will do this as a War Bride, with my beloved Drakoryan mates at my side.

  I am ready. But for this moment, I will curl up in the safety of Zyvis’ protective arms, and sleep.

  Excerpt from Rebel Bride

  Thank you for purchasing and reading War Bride. The next book in the series, Rebel Bride, will be released on May 20th.

  Please enjoy this excerpt, and if you’d like to pre-order Rebel Bride, you can do so HERE.

  Chapter One

  THERA

  I’ll always remember my husband’s last words to me.

  “Promise me you’ll sleep tonight. Promise me you’ll worry not. Promise me these things and I’ll promise you that come dawn you’ll wake with me by your side.” He’d put his hand to the side of my face then, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Unless I wake you before.”

  Bran had always said I had one fault. I fretted too much, usually over things I could not control. The winter he died, I’d been fretting more than usual. As the youngest healer my village ever had, I was already s
truggling to establish myself. A harsher than ever winter combined with less food was making my it even harder.

  And all because of the dragons, who’d punished us all for the actions of one man who’d traded a portion of the grapes he grew to another village for cattle, leaving fewer baskets of the fruit than the dragons expected.

  No one never asked why the dragons took our crops. It was just how it was. They controlled how much food we grew, burning all but the fertile acres we were allowed. In the past, we’d pleased our rulers, so much so that they allowed to grow more. But for this one act —for one decision to fill only five of the ten baskets left by the dragons— they brought double the number come harvest time, and burned one of our mills in warning of what would happen if we did not fill them all.

  I don’t just feel for my people. I feel what they feel. Every reedy wail of a hungry child is like a stab in my soul, and because hunger so often walks hand in hand with illness, there were many wailing children that winter.

  I still think concern for me sent Bran out into the cold that snowy day. Had I known what else hunted in the woods, I’d have fallen on my knees and begged him not to go. But he told me all would be well, and that my father would go with him to help carry back the stag or boar he’d kill for meat.

  Night came. Then morning. I did not wake from my fitful sleep to the warmth of my husband. Dawn’s gray light found me alone and by breakfast the other village men went to search. My mother was already wailing as they left. She’d found a red bird dead in the snow outside her door. An omen—she was sure of it.