“Well, now it’s my turn to shield you. I will stand beside you when you tell the pack what you just told me. I have yer back, brother, and always will.” Stepping in close, Tydrin gripped his nape. Dark purple gaze aglow, he held him steady, then gave him a little shake. “Never forget it.”
Not knowing what to say, Cyprus palmed his brother’s shoulder. He squeezed. His brother accepted the unspoken thank you, standing chest-to-chest with him as the bonds of brotherhood snapped back into place. All good. The past out in the open, and his brother on board. Now, to face the rest of his pack.
Drawing a deep breath, he patted Tydrin again, love and affection in the touch, and released his hold. His brother reciprocated and drew back, giving him space to turn and continue down the corridor. True to his word, Tydrin matched him stride for stride, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with him toward the great room where his warriors—and fate—awaited.
Eighteen
Cyprus bit down on a groan as he hit the ground. Pressing his palm to pitted stone, his muscles shook as he tried to push upright. Made by dragon claws, deep gouges on the surface of the LZ scored his skin. Another round of pain streaked through him. Chest heaving, he struggled to regain his feet. Howling winter wind blew into the wide opening between the jagged snarl of towering rock. The cold raked over his bare skin, chilling the blood on his back, urging him to turn belly up and cry mercy.
Blinking red ooze from his eyes, he shook his head to clear his vision. Cry mercy, his arse. Staying down wasn’t a good idea. He needed to get back on his feet. The next strike would come any moment, but—
Goddamn. He hurt all over.
His brothers-in-arms showed no leniency. Little compassion either. Cyprus breathed through the agony. Shite. The males didn’t know the meaning of the word. Each stood strong, adhering not only to tradition, but the spirit of grevaiz. A necessary thing. After coming clean and telling his warriors all, he wanted the punishment. Needed the censure to strip away the past. To assuage his guilt. To carve away the bitterness and allow him to feel clean again. Had the pack gone lightly—and shown mercy—he would never have felt their forgiveness.
So, he endured. Strike after strike. Brutal knuckles and hard hits. Being knocked down again and again…without lifting a finger to protect himself.
Bloodied and bruised, aching all over, he rolled onto his arse. Blood dripped into his eyes but not before he saw a pair of boots stop beside him. A hand appeared in front of his face. Cyprus grasped it like a lifeline and, with a grunt, allowed Wallaig to pull him to his feet.
A gust of wind swirled into the LZ. The mountain groaned.
Cyprus swayed, fighting to maintain his balance. A big hand landed on his shoulder, steadying him. Swiping the blood from his brow, he met his first in command’s damaged eyes. Scarred beyond repair, Wallaig’s white pupils glowed in the gloom. The male stepped in close, pressing the points of his bloody knuckles into Cyprus’s chest, right over his heart.
“Forgiven.” Expression tight with regret, Wallaig touched his cheek to his, smearing Cyprus’s blood on his skin. “You are a worthy male, Cyprus. Strong and honorable. I am proud to call you commander.”
Standing in a semi-circle behind him, the other warriors murmured. Quiet voices all echoing the same sentiment—acceptance, absolution, the pride of calling him one of their own.
Relief rushed through him in a torrent of emotion. Cyprus shook as shock and disbelief collided. Tears pooled in his eyes. One fell, joining the blood on his cheek. Exhaling a shaky breath, he cleared his throat. Unbelievable. He hadn’t dared hope. Had feared his warriors would reject him without hesitation after being told the truth, but…his chest tightened…the males he fought alongside understood instead, accepting his imperfection, forgiving him for his mistake, still comfortable under his command.
With a nod, Wallaig released him and stepped back.
One by one, his brothers-in-arms came forward. Each cupped his nape, thumped his chest and touched cheeks with him, the agony of hurting him a dark blight in their eyes. Their pain as great as the physical anguish now throbbing through his body.
The last in line, Tydrin approached on quiet feet. Tossing tradition aside, he didn’t touch cheeks with him. His brother hugged him instead. “Well done, brother.”
Returning the embrace, Cyprus rapped him on the back. “Thank you, Tydrin…you wee runt.”
Tydrin laughed.
Wallaig snorted. “Enough with the love in. We’ve work to do tonight.”
Grabbing Tydrin by the scruff of his neck, Wallaig yanked him away from Cyprus. As his brother stumbled backward, his first in command nailed him with a no-nonsense look. “What’s the plan, lad?”
Rolling his shoulders, Cyprus met each warrior’s gaze in turn. Mouthy Levin. Brutal Kruger. Stoic Rannock. Bad tempered Wallaig. And steadfast Tydrin. He flexed his fists, assuming the mantle of command as though it had never been in question.
“Now, we hunt,” he said, sounding more beast than man as his dragon half took over. “Grizgunn wants my female. I pricked his pride when I took Elise from him. He’ll search for any sign of her and—”
“You’ve fed from her?” Kruger asked, emerald green eyes intent on his face.
Cyprus nodded. “And fed her in return.”
“Brilliant.” Picking up a rock, Levin tossed the pebble from hand to hand. “You can mimic and broadcast her bio-energy like a signal. We’ll set a trap, draw the bastards in and—”
Rannock growled. “Gut the arseholes, one at a fucking time.”
“Exactly.” Cyprus grinned, aches and pains forgotten as the thrill of the hunt coursed through him. “Pair up. Levin and Kruger, Wallaig and Rannock…Tydrin, you’re with me. Everyone follow my lead.”
Showing teeth, his warriors snarled in agreement.
Cyprus turned toward the ledge and, arms and legs pumping, ramped into a run. Footfalls hammering stone, he sprinted across the LZ. The toe of his boot meet the uneven edge. Without pause, he leapt into the void and, glorying in the blast of cold air, shifted into dragon form. His body lengthened. His hands and feet transformed into claws. Black and white orange-speckled scales replaced his human skin, spreading like wildfire as he unfolded his wings. An updraft lifted his bulk. Cyprus banked hard, rocketing between two jagged peaks. Brutality settling in his veins, he turned south toward Edinburgh. No time to waste. He had a rogue pack to hunt and Grizgunn to kill.
Nineteen
Flaked out on her back, Elise woke in slow degrees. Her surroundings registered a little at a time. Comfortable mattress beneath her. Soft blankets wrapped around her. The scent of vanilla-infused candles floating in the air. As the smell drew her from the dreamscape, she shuffled on the cotton sheets and opened her eyes. She blinked, up and down: shift one leg, bend the other knee, wiggle her hips, and…
Sore muscles squawked in protest. A dull ache bloomed between her thighs.
Elise hummed in approval.
Oh, yeah. Cyprus and the luxurious feeling of post-orgasm delight. She sighed. He’d given her so many. Had made her come over and over. At first, she’d begged him for more. By the end, she’d been begging him to stop. Death by orgasm. Arching her back, Elise stretched out her arms and huffed. Who knew it was even possible? Not her. Not before yesterday. Women never complained about too much pleasure. And neither was she. Despite her aching muscles, the thought of Cyprus made her blood heat and need unfurl in her belly.
God. Something must be wrong with her.
She wanted him again.
Twisting onto her side, she scanned his side of the bed. Empty. No smoking hot guy lounging against the headboard waiting for her to wake up. Just a dented pillow and a tray covered by a fancy, embossed cover. A white piece of paper lay propped against the silver dome. Squinting, she forced her eyes to focus.
Mate,
Eat. You need your strength.
I’ll be back to see to you later.
Love,
Cyprus
Eli
se grinned. Well, now. That almost sounded like a threat. A delicious, sexy one as she read between the lines, guessing his “seeing to her” would entail additional time in bed…and a lot more orgasms.
“You won’t hear me complain.”
With a short army crawl, she made it to the edge of the bed. Setting his note to one side, she plucked the lid off her breakfast. Or lunch. She pursed her lips. Could be dinner. Not that it mattered. Two croissants, a neat pile of wedged cheese, and…
“Fresh raspberries,” she murmured, popping one into her mouth. A sweet tang exploded over her tongue. “Yum. My favorite.”
The tiny taste made her stomach rumble for more. Wrapping the sheet under her arms, Elise pushed upright and, sitting cross-legged, grabbed a croissant. Hmm, French baked goods, flaky on the outside, soft on the inside, the perfect meal after mind-blowing sex with a gorgeous man. She took another bite and reached for the power drink Cyprus had left her.
A knock sounded on the door.
She opened her mouth to answer.
The door cracked open before she managed to say ‘come in’. A redhead peeked through the narrow opening. “Are you decent?”
After last night? After all the depraved things Cyprus had done to her? Elise blinked. She wasn’t sure decent was a word that applied to her anymore.
Setting her drink down, she leaned to one side. The shift improved her view of the intruder. Dark red hair surrounded a pretty face. Fair skin with freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. Bright green eyes alight with mischief. “Ivy?”
“Hi.” A small hand joined the face peering between the door and jamb. Fingers waved in greeting. Nails painted with purple sparkles winked at her in the candlelight. “Sorry, but I couldn’t wait another second to meet you. You’ve been sleeping forever.”
“Really?” Dying to meet Tydrin’s mate, she waved Ivy into the room. “What time is it?”
“Almost midnight.”
So late? Wow, she’d been out of it for hours. “God. Sorry. I just—”
Ivy snorted, cutting off her apology. “No worries. I didn’t fare any better after my first night with Tydrin. Orgasm central. He nearly blew the top of my head off.”
“I hear you,” she murmured, feeling better about the fuzzy nature of her mental state. “I’m still a little muddled.”
“Get used to it,” Ivy said, wearing an impish grin. “If Cyprus is anything like Tydrin, you’re not going to be walking right for a while.”
Elise laughed, liking Ivy already. Direct and to the point. Friendly with a wicked sense of humor. A woman she could relate to, a ready-made friend inside a lair full of dragon guys. Happiness bubbled up inside her. Strange, but there it was again—unabridged contentment, the sense she belonged here, that she’d finally found her place in the world.
Ripping off another piece of flaky goodness, she pointed to her plate. “Want a croissant?”
“Tempting, but…nah.” After crossing the room, Ivy hopped onto her side of the bed. Leaning over, she surveyed Elise’s plate and, after a second of indecision, stole a raspberry. “Tydrin left me breakfast before he took off.”
“He’s gone?”
“Cyprus, too.”
The news hit her like a freight train at full speed. All her mental cars derailed, leaving her scrambling for a moment. Why? Elise frowned. The hell if she knew, but as distress streaked though her, she reached out with her mind, searching for Cyprus. For the elusive, yet powerful connection that tied her to him. Nothing. No zing in her veins. No echo of him inside her mind, just a coiled tether with an empty hook on one end and…no Cyprus.
Ivy wasn’t lying. Cyprus wasn’t in the lair.
Sucking in a breath, Elise struggled not to panic. Her reaction made no sense. She hardly knew him. Had spent all of two nights and one day with him, and yet somehow, he’d become vital to her. She felt his absence like an important manuscript missing from a prized collection. As though someone had stolen all the books off her shelves, leaving her without cover or context.
“Where did he go?” she asked, fighting to tamp down her unease.
“No need to panic, girlfriend.” Understanding in her eyes, Ivy reached out. A warm hand settled over hers, steadying her, making her feel less crazy and more connected. “It takes time to adjust to the connection. Energy-fuse creates a powerful link between you and your mate. What you’re feeling right now is completely normal.”
“Normal? I feel as though I’m going to—”
“Explode? Go into meltdown?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Ivy smiled, delight in her eyes. “It means the bond you share with Cyprus is not only strong, but active. It means I get a sister…and some freaking back-up.”
Good? Was Ivy nuts? She didn’t feel good…at all. Elise scowled at her new buddy. “What do you mean by back-up?”
“I’m the only girl here, and the guys are super protective. I feel as though I’m walking around in bubble wrap half the time.” Gesturing with her hands, Ivy wiggled into a more comfortable position. “Like just last week, I wanted to visit Stirling—you know, to see William Wallace’s broadsword?”
“Oh, my God,” Elise murmured, nibbling on a piece of cheese. “I’ve always wanted to see that.”
“I know, right?” Ivy threw her a look of long suffering. “Well, I happened to mention it to Levin in passing. He told Kruger, who told Wallaig. And that rat ran straight to Tydrin, so I got shut down. It wasn’t as though I didn’t plan to tell my mate, but…sheesh. The guys didn’t give me a chance. They’re worse than a room full of nannies.”
“Annoying.”
“You have no idea. Not yet anyway, but you will.” Ivy grinned, the mischievous glint in her eyes a little disconcerting. “At least now, they’ll have to split their attention between you and me. It’ll totally distract them, which means I get more wiggle room.”
“Oh, sure. Throw me under the bus, why don’t you?”
“That’s the plan.”
Elise huffed in amusement. “Some friend you’re turning out to be.”
“Oh, you’re awesome,” Ivy said, laughing. “We’re going to have so much fun together.”
And get into a whole lot of trouble. Elise could see it now, Cyprus going all hard-faced when she refused to toe the line. “The guys are in for it now.”
“Okay, good. We’re on the same page.” Looking delighted, Ivy rubbed her hands together. “Time to plan our first incursion, but first—get dressed. You look like you need coffee. Lord knows I do.”
The suggestion made Elise groan. Coffee, her drug of choice.
Taking the sheet with her, Elise slipped off the bed. The second her feet hit the floor, she made for the bathroom. Her clothes were in there…somewhere. She remembered seeing her sweats on the floor while showering with Cyprus. Right before he drove her into a pleasure coma with his soapy fingers and tucked her into bed.
Hinges creaked as she pushed the door wide. Standing on the threshold, she scanned the space, looking for her clothes. Her brow furrowed. Not curled up in the corner beside the shower stall. Not under the cantilevered stone ledge full of fat candles throwing light into the room. Not jammed beneath the antique tub either. Elise turned full circle. Her gaze caught on the wooden vanity with multiple drawers and double sinks. Her heart clenched in appreciation. Folded neat as a pin on the granite countertop rested a pair of jeans, a dark tank-top, and a warm, zip-up hoodie. Cute lace-up running shoes sat beside the pile.
All in her size.
God bless Cyprus. He thought of everything.
Dressing in record time, she left the ensuite and—
“Ready?” Stealing another raspberry, Ivy raised a brow.
“Yup.” Finger combing her hair, Elise skirted the foot of the bed. “Lead the way.”
Five minutes, and some fast walking later, she walked under a familiar archway and followed Ivy into the great room. Halfway across, footfalls muffled by area rugs, she paused to look around. Same se
t up: couches, beanbag chairs, a kitchen kitted out with the best of everything. Her attention bounced from the old fashioned six burner stove to the enormous stainless steel refrigerator. Powered by magic, the appliance hummed, sending a quiet buzz into the air as light globes swayed overhead.
Lots of light. A comfortable space, but...quiet and empty.
No one around but her and Ivy.
Unease ghosted down her spine. Prickles shimmered over her nape, raising fine hairs, increasing her awareness. As her skin turned clammy, Elise looked around, instinct screaming for her to find safer ground, to run hard and hide fast. No rhyme. Zero reason. Hugely paranoid, but the insistent thrum wouldn’t die down or let go. It clutched at her instead, making her feel like prey, as though she was being hunted.
Standing beside the island, two mugs on the countertop and a carafe of coffee in her hand, Ivy glanced her way. She frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Breathing too fast, Elise shook her head. “I don’t know. Something’s off and—”
Boom!
An explosion rocked the room. The walls trembled. The floor shook. Stone dust fell, coating her with filth as Ivy cursed and the carafe went flying.
Another tremor rumbled through the lair.
Elise stumbled sideways, knocking into an end table. Pain spiraled over her hip. The quaking increased, rolling into aftershocks as a familiar buzz burned between her temples. Oh God. She recognized the awful sinking sensation. Had felt it before in St. Giles Cathedral when…
“Ivy!” Her focus whipped back to her friend. On her ass, Ivy struggled to stand up. Fear giving her speed, Elise sprinted across the room, around the kitchen island, and hauled Ivy to her feet. “We need to get out of here. Right now.”
“What’s going on?”
“Griz—”
A roar blasted into the room. The sound of claws scraping over stone echoed up the tunnel.
Panic hit. Her heart slammed against the inside of her chest. “We need to hide. Where can we hide?”
Fury of Shadows: Dragonfury Series: SCOTLAND #2 Page 11