by Kira Nyte
“You played knowing you’d lose?”
“It was never about winning. It was a punishment.” He moistened his lips, his fingers tightening around her waist. She drew a finger down the lapel of his leather jacket, waiting for him to divulge his story. “My punishment.”
“Why were you punishing yourself?”
Alazar pressed off the table, easing her a couple of steps back, and slipped away from her. He replaced his pool stick in the rack and started retrieving the balls from the pockets. Ariah helped him, placing hers in the rack Alazar dropped on the table. She watched him from beneath the locks of hair that had fallen over her eyes, recognizing new shadows stirring over his handsome face. His eyes adopted a haunting haze, one that left her chilled.
“Pool. A game of calculation, precision, and measurement. There is a formula for each shot.” Alazar lifted his hand, pinching his thumb and forefinger close. “An exact configuration to sink each ball into a pocket.”
He dropped his hand to the felted table, dragging his fingers along the green. “For humans, clearing a table in one turn is almost impossible. For Firestorm dragons, it’s a piece of cake. This is how we live, Ace. Our survival depends on our ability to analyze angles, moves, obstacles, and what-have-you at high rates of speed and often at the last second.”
He pulled out the last ball from a corner pocket, tossed it in the air, and caught it. Ariah couldn’t take her eyes off him as he came up to her, still tossing the ball, catching it each time without so much as a glance.
“Precision.” He tossed the ball again. This time, when he lifted his hand to catch it, the ball hit the heel of his palm, rolling to the side and falling toward the floor. She grappled to catch it, but his hand came up beneath hers, securing the ball before it hit the floor. Bent over, eyes levels with each other, faces close and foreheads brushing, Alazar whispered, “Just like that, an accident can happen. Did happen. A miscalculation by a fraction because I was too concerned about escaping with my Keeper, protecting him while under fire from the Baroqueth, I went in one direction to escape a power bolt.”
His face tightened. His nostrils flared briefly. Anger and anguish saturated Ariah’s mind and filled the emotional pool in her chest.
“I went in the wrong direction. Hit the side of the cliff I thought I could avoid. Threw my Keeper off my back.” His eyes sparked. Ariah stifled a gasp as she received flashes of a scene that made no sense until he spoke again. “I went after him, covered him from the attack until I could get beneath him. I took three hits from the Baroqueth.”
Ariah jolted, a shockwave of electricity flooding her body through the streamlining vision Alazar shared with her. She grabbed his arms and held on for dear life, unable to see him clearly in front of her. The horrific scene unfolding in her head stole Alazar and Howler’s from her sight.
“That last hit tore my wing. I lost control of my flight for precious moments until I leveled out with my injured wing. My Keeper had plummeted far in the time it took me to regain control. I spiraled down toward him. I reached him, grabbed him, held him close to my belly as I struggled to stop our descent.”
Ariah squeezed her eyes shut, but the images continued to play through her mind. An invisible wind hit her face. Fear pulsed through her veins. Adrenaline conquered her and the only sensation she could decipher was the need to save the Keeper. But when she looked down at him through a strange, orb-like vision, something was wrong. Soul-sickening wrong.
“He was dead,” Alazar whispered.
A knot formed in her throat. She tried to swallow, tried to breathe, but couldn’t get anything past the knot.
“I realized after I got us to safety that when my wing was hit, I knocked him into the side of the mountain. My position, how I cocooned him to protect him, caused his death. Essentially, I killed my Keeper when I was supposed to protect him because I miscalculated.”
As the scene of the dragon holding the man in their rapid descent to the ground faded and Alazar returned to her vision, she managed to suck in a strained breath.
“Who…who was he?”
“Micah Callahan. Your grandfather.”
* * *
Alazar straightened up and rolled out his shoulders. He couldn’t bear the horrific expression on his Ace’s face, opting to place the last ball in the rack in hopes of breaking the intensity of his revelation. He lived with his mistake for decades. Mark stepped into his father’s shoes when he was eighteen. He had not been fully prepared, and their relationship had started rocky.
There was a lack of trust. Alazar understood why. Keepers put their lives in their dragon’s talons. Mark’s father had, and ended up a casualty of poor judgment. Mark had harbored his reluctance for years before finally realizing Alazar had done everything he could to rectify his mistake and save his father.
Alazar asked Ariah to trust him. Promised her that her trust would not be misplaced with him. But could she really put her trust in him after this?
“Alazar, can we go?”
She deserved the truth. You delivered. Now reap the consequences.
He glanced down at her and nodded. She would not look him in the eyes.
“Come on.”
He cashed out their tab and followed Ariah out of one crowd in Howler’s into a new crowd on the sidewalk. The storefronts on Main Street were bustling with activity. Costumed tourists snapped pictures in front of rickety buildings deliberately fashioned to look like they would collapse any minute. A small group of teenage girls walked by, skin sparkling with gold glitter and their smiles showing off vampire fangs.
On any other day at any other time, Alazar would have gotten a kick out of them. He couldn’t be bothered to enjoy the scene, the costumes, the unabashed glee on the faces of the children and the awe in the adults. He hadn’t talked about “the accident” in decades, to the point it was all but forgotten by Zareh and most likely the other Firestorms. No one blamed him, except for one person.
Alazar was his own judge and jury, and he knew if he had done one thing different, Micah would have survived. He should have banked right instead of left. Away from the mountainside, not toward. Stupid, simple mistake.
“Where is Delaney’s?” Ariah asked. Alazar paused, forcing a small family to split up to walk around him. Ariah came up short a few steps later and turned to him. “Is it close by?”
“Pretty close.”
Ariah stretched out her arm, her fingers beckoning him closer. Her brows lifted at his hesitation. He brushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen free of his band and accepted her generous offer.
“Show me,” she said, her voice soft, entrancing. He stared at her for a long moment, entirely taken with his lifemate. Only a few minutes ago, he feared he’d lose her to his past. Now, as she held his gaze with nothing but pure affection glowing through those beautiful gold veins amidst the dark brown backdrop, he realized he worried for naught.
In that moment, he knew his heart no longer belonged to him. Ariah Callahan, his strong-willed Ace, stole it from his chest and cradled it in her tender hands.
Hand in hand, Alazar and Ariah meandered down Main Street. A comforting silence settled between them, one that allowed Alazar to replay that fateful event in his mind without self-pity and immense guilt. The warmth of Ariah’s fingers between his, the shift of the air around their bodies assured him she was real, a gift.
“No one is perfect. Not even you, Alazar.”
He pressed his lips together. Ariah squeezed his hand.
“Everyone makes mistakes. If a person came up to me and told me that he or she never made a mistake, never judged a situation wrong, I’d laugh. It’s impossible. Human or not, we are not perfect.”
Ariah curled her arm around Alazar’s and rested her cheek against his biceps. “What made you go closer to the mountain instead of away? In that moment, why did you make that decision?”
“You’re psychoanalyzing.”
“I’ve had some practice with my father. Don’t try to change the subject.”
/>
“If you must know, I believed the mountainside would provide more protection. Had I gone right, I would have exposed us both in the open until I reached the next peak.” It didn’t take a genius to see where Ariah was going. “However, being in the open does not mean we would have been vulnerable.”
“Are you trying to justify your guilt?”
“Keep in mind my age. I’ve had plenty of practice with flight. Plenty of practice escaping our enemies, unfortunately. What happened should never have happened.”
“Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it did. That doesn’t mean it was your fault.”
He wasn’t coming out of this session unscathed. Her understanding alone was breaking him down, peeling away the casing of guilt he’d wallowed inside for far too long.
“You protected him. It was the shot that sent you into that uncontrolled wobble that caused the outcome, not you.” Her hand tightened around his arm. “You said that each shot has a formula. An exact calculation to land the ball in the pocket. But you have to take into consideration the variables, and the effects they can have on your calculation. If you don’t have control over them, how can you possibly make an exact calculation without some degree of doubt?
“Sometimes, Alazar, the outcome is not what we hope for. What matters is what you did to get to that point. If you tried everything you could, if you did what you thought was right at that exact moment, how can you honestly believe the outcome was your fault? You made your calculations, but you had another force involved. Even the best could have failed because it’s impossible to anticipate an opponent’s exact intervention. You were missing a crucial piece of the equation, and you could only do the best you could with what you had.”
Alazar led her down Black Cat Boulevard, toward Delaney’s Delectables.
“I trust you, Alazar. I trust you more than I have allowed myself to trust a person in a very long time. I know that you’ll do everything you can to keep me safe, but I’ve been well seasoned by reality and I know that the best intentions may not pan out the way we hope.” Ariah lifted her head from his arm. He hated the separation. “How did I miss this when we were at the Hallowed Bean?”
“You weren’t looking for it?”
Ariah laughed, elbowing his ribs. Her mood helped reel him in from the dark corners of his memories.
“Guess not.”
Alazar pulled the door open as Ariah rounded him and entered. The succulent aroma of sweet chocolate made his jaw ache. Ariah had already maneuvered halfway to the display case where Delaney helped a few customers by the time he spotted her. The woman could slink like a cat.
Delaney smiled at Ariah and raised her gaze, finding Alazar. She gave a small wave before returning to her customers.
Alazar’s large frame didn’t allow him the same ease Ariah had weaving through the volume of customers mulling over the numerous stands displaying pre-wrapped confections. By the time he finally reached Ariah, Delaney was placing double dark chocolate truffles in a box.
“Delaney says those are your favorite,” Ariah said, straightening up from the display case and turning to face him. Alazar couldn’t hold back his smile. “And since I still owe you Delaney-made truffles, I’m delivering.”
“I forgot about that bet.” Alazar pulled his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket and removed two twenties. “Delaney, would you mind adding a pound of the fudge that Zareh orders?”
“Certainly. How are things going?” Delaney held her smile steady, but Alazar caught the flicker of concern in her eyes as she handed the truffles to Ariah. “Hugh filled me in.”
“On guard, as always.”
“I heard from Pandora that Alice Bishop is trying to enlist some extra hands,” Delaney said, referring to the local coven leader who’d helped contain the Baroqueth when Kaylae was targeted. She moved toward a section of the case with the fudge. “It’ll all blow over like the last time.”
It’s a bit more complicated than that.
“One can hope.” Alazar reached for the truffle box. Ariah smacked his hand away and tsked. “What?”
“Not right now.”
“Here you go.” Delaney handed over another box with the fudge and rang up the order. Alazar slipped her the money and gathered his change. “Tell Zareh and Kaylae I send my regards. Enjoy the treats.”
“You know that’s a given,” Alazar promised, dropping his hand to Ariah’s back. “Have a good one.”
Once they hit the sidewalk again, Alazar stopped Ariah and turned her to face him. There was no doubt in his mind that she knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling. Her expression spoke volumes, called to his dragon, and left him putty in her presence.
“You never lost your abilities,” she said. “They’re who you are. You locked them away with that memory because, subconsciously, you wanted a reminder of your perceived failure. I don’t know how I changed that, what I did to unlock it, but it never left you.”
“Woman.” He cupped her face, pulling her closer. “You are…you are…”
“I am?”
Alazar groaned. “You are a thief.”
He closed his mouth over hers before she could respond, sweeping his tongue through her pliant lips, possessing her in a kiss that bordered on inappropriate in public as emotions swelled and burst from the deepest part of his soul.
When he broke away, leaving them panting and flushed, Ariah quirked a brow. “A thief. Uh, thank you?”
“You’ve stolen my heart, Ace. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you with me.”
“You’d still be gambling away your gold and putting on a funny front to ease others while you wallow inside.” She pushed up on her toes and nuzzled her nose against his. “I’ll protect your heart, dragon man.”
“I hope one day you’ll trust me with yours.”
Ariah pursed her lips, a short breath of a laugh caressing his moist lips. “One day?”
Alazar chuckled, stealing one last kiss before embracing her, craving the feel of her in his arms, real, here, and his. “Yes, Ace. One day. When you’re ready.”
Before he dropped to his knees in a desperate plea for that day to be today, right now, he brought them across the street to the Hallowed Bean. Those truffles would have to do for the time being, and a hot coffee was the key to washing them down.
Chapter Twenty
“Ariah, my girl. Can you hear me? Ariah!”
The panic, terror-filled thoughts pierced through her lazy dreams, shredding the subconscious calm to smithereens. Ariah jerked upright in bed, weakness flooding her as a faint shiver struck her spine.
“Sweet girl, please, please hear me. Please.”
Ariah’s eyes widened. “Dad?”
She hadn’t a clue whether her father could hear projected thoughts like she could, but the clarity of her reception of this thoughts assured her that her father was close by.
Throwing the blankets aside, tearing off her pajamas and switching them out for a sweatshirt and jeans, she caught the time as she grabbed her lucky coin from the nightstand—she didn’t go anywhere without it—and bolted from Alazar’s room. She recalled her uncle’s insistence of retrieving important Keeper belongings earlier in the day after he confirmed Miriam was at work. He had stopped back at Alazar’s house for a few minutes before leaving again without disclosing a destination to Ariah or Alazar. When night fell and he hadn’t returned, Alazar and Syn decided to search for him. Zareh and Kaylae had invited her to Howler’s for a drink, but she opted for an early night.
She felt safe in the house alone. Apparently some of the witches in Nocturne Falls set wards around the property to keep ancient evil sorcerers from trespassing.
It was ten o’clock and her lifemate hadn’t returned. She checked their mental bond. There was no indication he was in trouble, putting her at ease.
The sound of her father’s pleas, however, had her scrambling down the stairs and into the dark living room. She peered through the curtains onto the quiet, dimly lit Cro
ssbones Drive, searching for the man who somehow eluded police.
“Ariah? Mark gave me this address. He’s in trouble. I tried to warn him, to get him to leave, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Uncle Mark’s in trouble? Where are you?”
Silence.
Ariah scanned the front yard, shoulders stiff, fingers digging into the sofa. The hard pound of her heart drowned out the quiet hum of the fridge in the kitchen, leaving her lightheaded.
At first, she wasn’t sure she heard the scratch toward the back of the house. Her breaths came in short gasps. Adrenaline thrummed through her veins, making her skin hypersensitive to the slightest shift in the air. She crept through the living room, back to the foyer, and listened at the bottom of the stairs.
Another scratch, followed by the sound of metal scraping metal. Keeping to the shadows of the darkened house, she hurried toward the noise until she came to the sliding doors that led to the patio.
A figure moved in the dim moonlight, staying close to the wall as he fiddled with the lock. She glanced around, searching for a weapon, finding nothing. Dragons didn’t need baseball bats or guns. They had a gut-load of fire to spew as needed. She, on the other hand, had nothing.
Giving the coin a hard rub, she tiptoed up to the slider and tapped a finger against the glass.
The figure startled, jumping back. When the hood fell away from his head, Ariah’s knees threatened to buckle.
“Dad!” Ariah fumbled with the lock on the slider. To her utter confusion, her father grabbed the handle and held it closed, shook his head once, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He mouthed the word “no” over and over. Ariah stared at him, making sure the lock was still engaged, trying to figure out what the heck he meant. “You can’t stay out there.”
“My girl, open the door for me. I need to get you away from here. They know where you are. They’ll be hunting you.”
The entire time her father projected his desperate thoughts, his head shook harder and harder, the “no” becoming a fervent, albeit silent, chant. Her father’s eyes sparkled, and not from moonlight.