Indeed.
Apparently, the delicate fae female had experienced more than her share of dragons. Only, she had experienced them in ways he hadn’t quite anticipated when she had told him she knew plenty about the breed he was seeking.
A slow grin spread across her painted purple lips and a wicked light flashed in her aqua eyes. “Of course, he got what was coming to him.”
Wolf wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she had done to the male.
He imagined it was something terrible, and that was enough for him.
She peered closer at him, leaning even farther over the table, so her breasts were in danger of spilling out of her corset as they pressed against the wood. “You’re not a dragon, are you?”
He shook his head.
She pushed up on her toes, sliding closer still, and reached up with her free hand. He tensed as she brought it up to his face, in danger of brushing his cheek with her violet nails, ready to shove her away if she dared to touch him.
He wasn’t sure what she was, but he knew she was trouble.
Several of the males at the bar had been eyeing her since she had entered the tavern, dressed as wickedly as the demoness Asteria had been.
They had been eyeing Wolf with a different sort of look from the moment she had taken the seat opposite him. He was fairly certain that if she didn’t speak with them after spending time with him, he was going to get lynched and possibly murdered upon exiting the tavern.
She casually flicked her hand, and his hood fell backwards, revealing his face to her.
Her eyes widened and brightened, and her smile grew pleased. “Why, aren’t you sex on a stick?”
He reached over his shoulder and pulled his hood up.
“Aw, handsome, don’t cover up.” She tried to push his hood back again.
Wolf snapped his fingers around her wrist, pushed it away from him, and gripped it hard.
It didn’t stop her from gawping at him as if she was suddenly starving.
Which made a whole lot of sense when she next spoke, her voice a lazy, seductive drawl.
“Darling, I could dine on you for days.” She raked her glowing eyes over him, her fine black eyebrows rising as she took him in. “Shame you’re not into me.”
Succubus.
He froze. Wait. She could see that he wasn’t interested in her?
“Sugar, don’t be shocked.” She smiled and hiked her bare shoulders in a small shrug. “It comes with the territory. Kinda like how I can see that passion flaring in you whenever you think about someone. She pretty?”
He nodded before he could stop himself.
The female leaned closer and whispered, “She the reason you here? ’Cause you know… angels shouldn’t play in the Devil’s backyard.”
He shot backwards in his seat, his eyes locked on hers, seeking the truth in them.
“Don’t act surprised. There’s rumours all over Hell about you, darling. Not many folk asking about dragons in these parts. I’d recommend you go home, before it’s too late.”
“I cannot.” He planted his palms against the table and leaned towards her. “I will find the dragon, and I will kill him.”
“Fighting words. I love it.” She picked up her tankard, drained it as she sat back in her seat, and held it aloft as she said, “You’re gonna need some serious balls, though. You do know where the dragons live, right?”
He schooled his features, hiding the truth from her.
She laughed. “Oh dear Lord… you, sugar, are in for a shock. You want to know where the dragons live?”
He leaned closer before he managed to get the better of himself. “Where?”
Her violet lips curved into a slow smile. “Just about exactly where you really don’t want to be.”
His face fell.
She couldn’t mean…?
She drew on the table, using the drops of moisture that had collected on it from the several tankards of brew she had consumed. Jagged lines formed borders, and those joined to form realms, some of which he was familiar with from the maps and charts he had purchased from several stores in the towns he had passed through.
The succubus stopped when she reached a point far to the right of the lands he could recognise.
“There be dragons.” She tapped a violet nail against a wide curving kingdom before sliding it to the adjoining one. “There be the Devil.”
“Shit,” he muttered.
“That’s what you’ll be in if you go there, darling. I really wouldn’t recommend it.”
But he had to go.
The effect of the curse grew stronger whenever he ventured closer to the Devil’s lands, which had led him to realise that the first time he had landed in Hell, it had been close to that realm.
He stared at the fading map on the table.
That close to the Devil’s kingdom, the drain on his powers and his strength would be immense, the debilitating effects of it more severe than he had experienced since his first visit to Hell. There was a chance he wouldn’t be able to cope with it and would be left vulnerable again, unable to defend himself as he battled the pain and the weakness.
“Never seen an angel with that look in their eyes.” The female eased away from him and took the fresh tankard a male offered her.
“What look?” He kept his eyes on the table, battling the urge to go to the dragon lands now. He could fly across any flat ground, covering it swiftly, but he would have to climb any mountain he came across. He could scout the border of the area she had indicated was the dragon realm before he had to return to recover from being exposed to the darkness of Hell and regain his strength.
“Your eyes are as black as a demon’s.”
He stilled right down to his breathing.
Lifted his gaze to lock it with hers.
Cold slithered down his spine beneath his dark shirt.
She was lying.
He pushed to his feet and threw a glance around the room. It settled on the mirror above the fireplace and he turned towards it, slowly approached it, his heart pounding at a sickening pace in his throat as the light from the flames chased over him, highlighting his face.
Dark silver eyes stared back at him, swirled like oil mixed with mercury.
Fear drove an icy spear through his heart.
He unleashed his wings, ripping startled gasps from the occupants of the tavern as they tore through his shirt and burst from beneath his cloak. His fingers shook as he spread his left wing and took hold of it, scoured every damned white feather for a black one. His pulse accelerated as he found none and he twisted to his right to give that wing the same treatment, desperation flooding him as fear tightened its grip on him.
The breath he had been holding burst from his lips as he saw all his feathers were still white.
But the relief he had hoped to feel didn’t come.
This realm was affecting him in ways he had feared.
The dark need for vengeance grew stronger whenever he was in Hell, becoming a relentless force that drove him onwards, had him spending more and more time in the realm with each visit. Pushing himself harder.
Was it opening him to corruption?
He backed away from his reflection.
His panic spiked to new heights.
He needed to see Emelia.
He teleported without thinking, landing in the bright garden of the mansion.
“What’s wrong?” Emelia’s voice was soft, compelling him to look at her as fiercely as fear of the darkness that was growing inside him had compelled him to come to her in the hope she could loosen the hold it had on him.
She rounded on him, discarding a pair of pink-handled shears at the same time, her eyes probing his as they locked.
Worry shone in them, making him regret coming straight to her from Hell. He should have rested first to regain his strength and shake off some of the fear, but he hadn’t expected her to notice how tired he was, or how afraid, not with her limited mortal senses.
“Where have you
been?” Her tone turned soothing, as if she knew how close to the edge he was and that he needed her to be gentle with him right now, craved her softness and tenderness to wash away the darkness of Hell that tainted his soul. “I’ve not seen you in a few days.”
A blush climbed her cheeks as she said that.
One that had him recalling the last time he had seen her and how she had looked in the bath with those white bubbles clinging to her creamy skin.
He felt his eyes change again and hoped it wasn’t darkness that flooded them now.
Her blush deepened and she fidgeted with the hem of her black tank, smoothing it along the waist of her dark blue jeans. “Where were you?”
When he didn’t answer, she bravely lifted her eyes to meet his and the heat and embarrassment in their jewel-green depths gave way to a darker emotion. Her mood shifted, turning colder as she released the hem of her top and straightened, staring into his eyes as suspicion coloured hers.
“You wouldn’t.”
Wolf looked away from her as her anger hit him like a physical blow.
She looked him over, her gaze trailing fire in its wake as she took in his clothing and then his wings. She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest, and he couldn’t tell whether she was disappointed or finding it hard to believe him, or both.
“You said you wouldn’t,” she bit out, no trace of softness in her voice now. Anger laced it as strongly as it laced her scent. She wheeled away from him, her steps clipped as she began gathering tools and hurling them into a large plastic bucket, looking for all the world as if she would rather be throwing them at him. “Leave it. This… this vengeance isn’t yours to take. It’s mine.”
Wolf wanted to growl at that. “What do you mean?”
She paused with a pair of secateurs in her hand and stared at them, her voice distant and barely there as she whispered, “I’ve been training.”
Hell, no.
Just no.
Anger burned in his veins now. “Why?”
She boldly cast the tool into the bucket with the rest of them and faced him. “Because you’re not the only one who thinks about what happened to me. You’re not the only one who wants to make Zephyr pay.”
“And exactly what do you intend to do?” He strode towards her, determined to get an answer.
She briskly walked away from him, a vain attempt to keep the distance between them steady. His legs were longer, allowing him to easily close the gap by the time she reached the steps of the broad patio that lined the rear of the elegant sandstone mansion.
“Emelia,” he husked, and she finally turned to look at him again, her expression solemn.
“Something,” she murmured and then put strength into her voice. “I’ll do something.”
Like hell she would.
“I may be weaker in Hell, but I am still stronger than you are,” he bit out and then felt like a bastard when he added, “Can you really return to that realm?”
She paled and tossed him a wounded look, one that cut him to his soul as he sensed the fear and pain in her.
An apology for bringing up her past balanced on the tip of his tongue.
Other words came out instead.
“Let me go in your stead. I am happy to be your sword.”
She snapped, “At what cost to yourself?”
“The cost does not matter,” he said and resisted the need to reach out and take her hand, to hold it to stop her from running. The need was there in her eyes, steadily building. “I will pay whatever price needs to be paid.”
“Why?” she croaked, her brow furrowing as she searched his eyes, an edge of confusion mixed with despair in hers.
He couldn’t answer that, not without pushing her too hard.
Her face crumpled a heartbeat before it darkened.
“I don’t want you to go. I don’t want it!” She shook her head, causing tendrils that had fallen from her messy bun to sway and distract him with how she had looked in the bath with her hair pulled up like that, strands of it sticking to her damp skin. She took a hard step towards him, shattering that vision of her. “I won’t sanction such a thing. I won’t be responsible for whatever happens. I can’t.”
She choked on that last word.
He had pushed her too hard.
“Emelia, I am sorry.”
She cast him a pained glance and turned away from him.
Instinct screamed not to let her walk away, fear bellowing that he would lose her if he did.
He reacted in a heartbeat, had his fingers wrapped around her trailing wrist before he could consider the consequences.
Emelia shrieked and twisted towards him, smashed her fist into his jaw with enough force to send him swaying sideways, the suddenness of her blow catching him off guard.
She clawed at his hand and he released her the moment he realised what he had done.
“Emelia,” he started, and she stared at him, visibly shaken. His apology faltered again, the need to protect her pushing it out of his mind as he seized on how badly she had reacted to him touching her. “Do you really believe you can enter Hell and face the dragon when a simple touch from a male terrifies you?”
Disbelief danced across her face, but it rapidly morphed into resolve as she straightened her spine, tipped her chin up, and stared him down.
“I can.”
She believed that.
For some reason, it irritated him more than the fact she had reacted so violently to his touch.
“I cannot allow it.” He held her gaze, refusing to look away when the disbelief returned and mingled with horror, and a whole lot of anger. “You will get yourself killed.”
“You don’t get a choice.” She jabbed her finger in his direction. “It’s my decision to make.”
“Then you do not get to say what I can or cannot do either.” He backed off a step and folded his arms across his chest as he set his jaw.
Her green eyes narrowed on him, the anger in them flaring hotter.
He refused to take his words back. She didn’t know how fiercely the need burned inside him, how it controlled him. He couldn’t deny it. He had tried. He looked at Emelia, at how she was still shaking despite how rigidly she held herself in an attempt to quell her trembling.
It hit him hard in the gut.
He let everything else fall away, all his anger and the need that pounded inside him, and whispered, “I am sorry for touching you. I never intended to frighten you.”
His gaze dropped to her hand as she moved it, and his stomach twisted tighter as she rubbed her wrist with it. The one he had held.
Hope bled from him, his strength flowing out of him with it. What hope was there for him if just his touch was enough to terrify her? She would never accept him as her male, was never going to be his. Her scars ran too deep.
He rubbed his tired eyes, the drain of his time in Hell catching up with him as his emotions evened out.
“I truly am sorry.” With that, he turned away from her and focused on his apartment, on the place he should have gone to instead of coming here when he was raw from being in Hell, on edge and weak to his emotions.
They had gotten the better of him, and he had ruined everything.
“You don’t need to apologise.” Emelia’s softly spoken words filled his heart with light, had him closing the connection between him and his home and looking over his shoulder at her instead of teleporting.
“I do.” He smiled tightly, the light she caused in him stuttering out when he thought about what he had done. If he had rested before coming to her, he wouldn’t have made that mistake. He would have been strong enough to resist that urge to grab her. “I reacted on instinct. I try so hard…”
She frowned.
Was quiet for so long that he felt sure she wasn’t going to speak again and was waiting for him to leave.
Wanting him to go.
But then she murmured, “What do you try so hard to do?”
Wolf didn’t want to say.
&nbs
p; When he didn’t answer, she spoke again.
“Do you try hard not to… touch me?” Her voice grew strained, and he felt her nerves returning, the fear she tried so hard to master.
They both hated feeling weak.
He turned to face her, struggling to find his voice to answer that question. He wanted to deny it, but the look in her eyes told him not to do it, told him that she knew the answer he wanted to hide from her.
She pulled down a deep breath, swallowed hard, and flexed her fingers at her sides before lifting her right arm. It shook as she held it aloft between them, a flicker of fear lighting her eyes.
“You can…” Her throat worked on another hard swallow. “You can touch.”
His heart thumped against his chest, his mind spinning so rapidly, he was sure he had misheard her.
But she kept her hand held out to him, and her eyes beckoned him, lured him to her, and he was powerless to resist her invitation.
He took a slow step towards her, aware that this was a difficult and monumental moment for her. She had allowed him to see her at a time when she normally felt vulnerable, and now she was bravely allowing him to lay his hands on her. He fixed his focus on her, monitoring her emotions and the tangled scents that swirled around her for a sign of fear, and vowed he would stop if she grew frightened.
Wolf carefully lifted his hand and brought it towards hers, stopping just short of contact. His gaze flickered to her. No trace of fear shone in her eyes. They were calm, accepting pools of green as she waited. The only outward sign of her nerves was the way her fingers continued to shake slightly.
He held his breath and gently eased his fingers towards her, his pulse pounding faster and faster as he stared at the gap between their skin, watching as it narrowed. The second his skin brushed hers, electricity arced through his blood, and he tensed as it lit him up, flooding him with heat. His gaze leaped to hers, sure he would see fear in it now.
There was only fascination.
Why?
Because he was touching her and she wasn’t afraid, was enjoying the feel of his skin against hers as much as he was?
He looked down at their hands as he skimmed his fingers along the lengths of hers, towards the back of her hand.
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