by Kira Nyte
Her uncle continued to sift through his displays of artifacts, statues, and stones while her father pondered the scripts in the book.
“Damn it.” Uncle Mark pulled out a chunk of quartz that barely fit in his hand and rested it beside the first rock. “I knew I should’ve stopped back at our old home, Mike. I have the perfect crystal there.”
“Want to start filling me in, Uncle Mark?” Ariah asked. She licked her dry lips when the rumbling outside stopped. Time was running out. “What that book is about and why you’re pulling out rocks?”
“It’s best you don’t know. In case they try to control your thoughts.”
Ariah gave her father a pointed look. He shrugged.
“Isn’t that what they did to you?”
She couldn’t believe the barbs on her tongue tonight.
The latch lock on the pocket doors jostled. Instinctively, Ariah shuffled closer to her father, who pulled her into his chest. Uncle Mark closed the glass cabinet door, snatched up the rocks, shoved them in the pocket of his jacket, and closed the book. He tucked the delicate object under his arm and pulled his jacket over his chest as the pocket doors separated and slammed into the walls. Two large men loomed in the doorway.
Ariah’s brows furrowed at the sight of the dark-haired, silver-speck-eyed handsome men with jagged black tattoos etched along their necks and the sides of their faces. She wasn’t sure what she expected these enemies to look like, but it certain wasn’t this rugged, almost normal, appearance. She’d seen worse in her days. These guys didn’t give her the heebie-jeebies like some of those others.
The queen of the heebie-jeebies appeared between the men, her brown hair coiffed, make-up impeccable, and designer pantsuit crisp. Her red lips separated in a cold smile, her dark eyes calculating.
She didn’t look like a viper. She was the viper.
All Ariah needed was a shovel. She’d do away with the snake real fast.
“Your dragon is right on time. Let us see if he brought what was asked of him, shall we?” Miriam taunted, her words leaving ice forming along Ariah’s vessels. The witch held out a hand. “Come here, Ariah. I’m certain he will ask to see you first.”
Ariah’s nostrils flared. “He can come in here.”
Miriam’s smile melted into a scowl. The woman had that talent down pat.
The two brutes flanking her raised their arms. Ariah shrieked as her body tore away from her father’s arms and pitched through the air. She flailed her arms, kicked her legs, trying to slow herself before she fell into the clutches of Miriam’s minions. Their steely hands snagged her by the biceps and forearms, keeping her suspended a foot above the ground as they pulled her into the foyer. She thrashed, every brightly colored word she could think of spewing from her mouth.
“Big cloaked bullies! Let me go!” Her bare foot caught one Baroqueth in the hip. The guy grunted but didn’t budge. She swung her legs, yanked her arms, and screamed between clenched teeth until an invisible restraint cocooned her, holding her still. “Oh, you cheaters!”
Her fight slowed when the front door opened as though pulled by unseen magic. Her eyes widened and her throat swelled when she spotted Alazar ascending to the stoop, his expression unreadable. His amber eyes pinned her with their piercing gaze. Only his eyes showed her the staunch determination that fueled each step closer to this terribly unfair standoff.
“Alazar,” she said, her voice strained, her heart aching with stark understanding. She shook her head as he crossed the threshold into the house and the door slammed shut behind him. “No.”
Miriam came to stand in front of Ariah, facing Alazar. Ariah could only imagine the look on the witch’s face as she tasted victory a few feet away. Her uncle and her father stood at the opening to the office, the invisible barrier preventing them from leaving the room, but allowing them to behold the devastating exchange about to occur.
“You are far more wise than I took you for, Alazar. You surprise me.”
“I’m full of surprises,” Alazar said. The smile that curled his lips was far from the warm, heart-melting expression Ariah loved. It ignited flames in his eyes, eyes that slipped from Ariah, to Miriam, and back again. He hooked his thumb on the pocket of his jeans and lightly tapped at that pocket. His gaze hardened on Ariah. Her confusion mounted. “That’s my job.”
“Actually, your job was to protect your Keeper and your lifemate.” Miriam twisted at the waist, her gaze scouring over Ariah before turning back to Alazar. “Seems you have failed in your duty as dragon.” She flicked her fingers. “Again.”
“Alazar, don’t. Don’t let her get under your skin. Please, I hope you can hear me.”
If he could, he gave no indication of it. Instead, a dark shadow fell over his eyes, a direct effect of Miriam’s crass reminder.
“Alazar, look at me,” Ariah demanded aloud. Alazar’s storm-churning gaze lifted to her. She hated that she couldn’t read his expressions, feel what he was feeling, hear him in her mind. She stared at the man who renewed her hope, showed her magic and tenderness, and promised her a fairytale. She was not going to accept this ending. “Don’t. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare.”
“Shut up,” Miriam snapped.
“You want the dragonstone. I have it.” Alazar took one step closer to Miriam. From the shadows of the house, Ariah sensed movement, a heaviness closing in on them. Her anxiety skyrocketed when she realized the rest of Miriam’s Baroqueth crew was coming to the party. “It’s yours.”
“Alazar, no!”
Miriam spun around, raised her hand, and brought it down at Ariah’s face.
“Touch her, Baroqueth, and you do not get it.”
The dark threat in Alazar’s voice chilled Ariah to the bone. Miriam stiffened, her hand within inches of Ariah’s cheek, her face twisted with resentment. Slowly, she lowered her hand to her side, regained her composure, and faced Alazar.
“I am done playing games, Alazar. I have waited over a decade for that jewel. I played the perfect girlfriend for your Keeper’s brother, thinking he had that stone. I played the perfect wife when I realized Mike was worthless to my cause and Mark was the one I needed. I waited over a decade, beginning to doubt that I had a Keeper at all. I dealt with this wretched child and all the fawning and doting by those two brothers. I am owed my due.” Miriam held out her hand. “Give. Me. The. Dragonstone.”
Ariah’s attention lowered to Alazar’s tapping finger. It had not stopped tapping away, slow and methodical. When she looked up again, Alazar nodded, a motion so slight she wasn’t sure she saw it at all.
“I think that, as my last request, I should be allowed a moment with my lifemate.” Alazar shrugged. “I mean, you’re planning on using the dragonstone to control me long enough to siphon my powers from my heart. Is it so much for a dying man to ask?”
“Show me the stone and we’ll discuss requests.”
Alazar dug his hand into his jacket pocket and twisted until the box containing his dragonstone came free. The key was taped to the bottom of the box. “Right here. Can you taste it?”
Miriam started toward Alazar. Alazar pulled the box back, raised a finger, and ticked it back and forth.
“That wasn’t the deal. I want a minute with Ariah, no magic attached. Oh, and line up Mark and Mike next.” Alazar winked. “You know. A ‘nice knowing ya’ farewell. Maybe a group hug.”
Ariah gaped at Alazar’s ability to joke during these grim moments.
Miriam remained silent, her thoughts almost palpable. At last, she snapped her fingers and pointed toward the office. “Bring them out.”
“No magic,” Alazar demanded.
“You’re requesting more than your lot, dragon.”
“Hey.” He chuckled with a shrug. “Just remind yourself I’ll be dead by morning, you’ll have stolen all of my powers, and that should make you happy enough to give me these last few moments with those I love.”
The binding around Ariah disappeared, as did the hands holding her up. She gasped as
her feet hit the floor and her knees almost buckled under the unexpected drop. She stumbled, caught herself before she fell on her butt, and harrumphed.
“And you say I lack manners,” she groused under her breath.
Miriam cut her a vile glance as she brushed by, ignoring the scalding gaze glued to her back. The witch could simmer until her skin fell off…in a cauldron…over a big fire created by Alazar. Three additional Baroqueths had joined them, releasing her father and uncle from the office prison. There were two enemies missing, although she sensed them nearby.
Every inch of her wanted to run and jump into Alazar’s arms, but she kept her wits about her, slipping her hand into her pocket and wrapping her fingers around the coin. He looked so darn good at the worst possible time.
Ariah stepped up to Alazar, lifting her eyes level with his. “Don’t do this.”
Alazar sighed, drawing his knuckles over her cheek. “Ace, luck is on my side.” His hand dropped, his fingers sliding down her arm until they reached her wrist. “But anything more you have would help.”
Ariah understood the silent implication. She had seen correctly when he nodded a few minutes ago. Slowly, she withdrew her hand from her pocket and pressed her closed fist, coin inside, to his chest. He covered her hand with his, leaned down, and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.
“I love you, Ariah Callahan.”
In a flash, something hard and sharp thrust against her chest and she was flung away from Alazar. She couldn’t get her bearings, her body spinning, bouncing, stumbling until she fell to the floor inside the office.
A flood of sounds echoed in the foyer, voices mixing together in a language she had never heard. She jerked her head up from where she lay on her belly, the hard object digging into her chest.
Alazar’s dragonstone box.
“What have you done!” Miriam screeched.
“Oh, no, no, no.” Ariah scrambled to her hands and knees.
The doors slammed shut. Her heart shattered.
The last thing she saw was Alazar’s eyes engulfed in fire.
* * *
Alazar hated the look of helplessness he caught on Ariah’s face as the doors locked her within the safe confines of Mark’s office. Ancient words scrolled through his mind as he whispered protection spells to enhance the barriers around Ariah. He clenched the gold coin she had slipped him, praying for luck and that the connection to The Hollow in this small piece was enough to draw on the magic from his land.
Miriam screeched, losing her grip on her glamour, her brown hair turning black and the tattoos along the side of her face making a show. She lunged into the office doors, bouncing off the wood like a ragdoll.
The rest of the Baroqueth in the foyer began to converge on Alazar and his male charges, magic pulsing, a living entity in the room.
“Alazar, what’s the plan?” Mark asked, his voice hitched with anticipation and worry. His Keeper stepped up beside him, arm holding the secreted book under the protection of his jacket. Mike stood a step behind, his eyes wide as their enemies prepared to unleash chaos.
Sweet goddess, he hoped this worked.
He released the reins on his dragon. His body thickened and stretched, growing larger, taller. Scales scraped along his skin. He recited the words in his head, recalling their sound, their pronunciation on the dragon’s tongue.
He hissed, the old language weighing heavy with power in his mouth. Fire spewed from his throat, sending the Baroqueth scampering for safety. The incantation rolled fluidly, a natural mixture of speech and sound, a unique magic created for the Firestorm dragons alone.
His half-formed wings spread out from his back. A breeze started, funneling through the adjoining rooms, strengthening with each second, each word he roared. The gold coin in his palm warmed until it glowed from the scorching heat fueled by the magic.
The breeze turned into a small-scale tornado, whipping Mark’s precious relics and expensive décor off tables, shelves, and hangers. The chandelier lost pieces of crystal that plunked to the floor amidst the shattered décor.
A pair of Baroqueth bolted toward the back of the house.
They ran straight into Cade’s half-transformed bulk.
His leader’s eyes burned with fire as he joined in the incantation.
“No!”
Miriam fought the howling wind and stood in the center of the foyer. Squinting against the debris, she raised her hands, bolts of bright blue light flaring between her palms.
Alazar couldn’t break his concentration. The spell was coming to a close. Each second that passed drained him of energy. He couldn’t stop. If he did, he wouldn’t have the strength to perform it again, leaving them all vulnerable.
Mark grabbed at the scales that had formed in splotches over Alazar’s belly, pulled himself against the current, and positioned himself in Miriam’s line of fire.
No. Not again.
The final sentence of the spell crossed through his mind.
Miriam cast her magic in a sizzling ball of electrical blue.
Alazar twisted, whipping his arm across Mark, ripping his Keeper off his feet. Mark slammed into Mike, and the two men smacked into the corner of the wall.
Alazar howled the last of the spell as the searing ball of magic crashed into the unprotected side of his body. Pain tore through him straight up to his head. His vision went black.
He barely felt his body hit the floor beyond the pain from the bolt.
As the world disappeared from his senses, he gave Ariah’s lucky coin a weak squeeze.
The gamble of a lifetime.
A gamble he won, at a very steep price.
* * *
Ariah stumbled to her feet and lunged at the door. She tried the lock, yanked at the handles, but couldn’t get the door to move.
A bellowing roar started outside the office. A rough, vicious wind howled, rattling the doors. She cringed as she heard items crash and shatter.
“Alazar! Dad! Uncle Mark! Open up!” Ariah banged on the door until the side of her hand hurt. Her heart was about to tear from her chest. She stepped back and lunged at the door again, putting her whole body behind the slam. It did nothing but earn her a dull throb along her shoulder. “Please!”
A double thud against the wall startled her away from the doors. A picture by her uncle’s cabinets crashed to the floor.
The noise beyond the door began to subside. The voices silenced. Ariah stilled, prepared to body-slam the doors again. She waited for a long moment, holding her breath, listening for movement.
Nothing.
She shuffled up to the door and pressed her ear to the wood.
Nothing.
Dread hooked her mind and her heart, dragging her down into the thick pit of fear. She bit her tongue in fear of hearing nothing, or hearing Miriam’s voice instead of Alazar’s. A faint ripple of tremors struck her from head to toe.
“Alazar, tell me you’re okay.” Ariah tightened her lips before sucking them between her teeth. “Alazar, don’t mess with me.” The first sting of tears touched her eyes. She blinked them away, but they returned a moment later, as did a painful knot in her throat. “Alazar, please. You have to be okay.”
The lock jostled. Ariah jumped back, clutching the box to her chest. The doors slid open and she found herself staring up into Cade’s hard-lined face. His size could not hide the rags of clothing sprawled over the foyer’s pristine floor, now littered with shattered ceramic, glass, and porcelain. Slowly, she moved closer to the doors, hyperaware of Cade’s intense focus on her with each step. She couldn’t find her voice, her thoughts zapped from her mind. Her eyes skimmed the fallen forms of cloaked Baroqueth until she saw two familiar figures braced against the wall, looking like they had just finished a dozen rounds in the ring. The ancient book lay open on the floor, rocks scattered around it.
Her father and her uncle were alive.
Cade shifted his weight, angling his body toward the foyer.
Ariah’s gaze landed on a figure sp
rawled there, unmoving. Zareh and Syn hunched over the figure, their expressions stoic. Panic tore through her. She lunged forward, but Cade’s arm whipped out, catching her about the waist and lifting her into the air.
“Alazar!”
She kicked and punched, growled and cried as Cade held her, his arms tightening as her fight intensified until, at last, she caved in to the sobs that wrenched through her chest.
“No!”
* * *
The gamble of a lifetime.
Alazar squeezed his eyes shut, the sharp, exploding pain that had knocked him unconscious having dulled to an annoying throb along the side of his body. He remained still, unmoving, assessing the damage until he was certain he’d live.
Well, at least the price wasn’t as steep as he originally thought.
Until he heard Ariah’s heart-shattering sobs.
He groaned, slowly shifting onto his uninjured side, and peeled his eyelids back in time to catch Ariah dropping to her knees beside him. She grabbed his head in her trembling hands, brushing the strands of hair that had come loose from his hair band away from his cheeks. A drop of moisture splattered over his nose.
“Are you…are you okay?” Ariah asked, her voice shaking as bad as her hands. He reached up and wrapped his hand around her wrist. After another slow moment, he pressed himself off the floor until he was seated upright, an arm draped over one bent knee. Ariah’s hands skimmed over him from head to waist, hesitating at the source of his pain along his right side. “What is this? Do you need to see a doctor?”
“No, Ace. Doctors don’t like dragons in their offices.” He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm. “I’ll heal. It’ll take a couple of hours, but I’ll be fine.”
“Will he? Be okay?” Ariah asked. Only then did Alazar notice Zareh and Syn. Syn pressed up to his feet.
Zareh nodded once. “His body is dispersing the magic that slipped past his scales. It’ll take a few hours, but he’ll be the same old Alazar in no time.”
Alazar surveyed the damage in the room as Cade came over to him. “I made a mess.”