by Cara Bristol
“Oh god, oh god. Jesus.” His balls drew up tight.
“I need…I…need…to…to”—she shuddered—“to…bite…”
His fyre swelled.
“Can’t…shouldn’t…” She turned her face away.
Suddenly he needed to be bitten, as if it was a matter of life or death. From his scalp to his toes, he craved the sting of her teeth “Do it. Do it.” He dragged his mouth across hers in a fleeting but hard kiss and then encouraged her with a hard nip to her throat.
She turned her face into his neck. He felt the graze of suddenly razor-sharp teeth, and then, with a moan, she sank her fangs into his flesh.
A surge of heat and light and power blazed through him. Skyrockets ignited in a shower of ecstasy…and insight. He felt O’ne. He saw her for everything she was: a reluctant but powerful priestess, a dragon yearning to fly free, woman with strong needs and desires. He experienced her arrogance and humility, confidence and self-effacement, certainty and confusion, hope and despair. Residual wariness dissipated like wisps of fog in the rising sun. She was a demigod to her kind, but to him she was only one thing—everything.
My mate. My mate. Had he thought it—or had she? Joined in body and soul, he couldn’t tell. Swept away in burning rapture, he had no desire to ponder, only to feel. Consumed by heat and light, he wished only to surrender to it. He’d almost swear they were sharing one orgasm.
With one final shuddering thrust, he emptied himself. His knees gave out then, and they toppled into the water and sank to the bottom. They came up sputtering.
Aftershocks continued to ripple. His unassuming, once-negligible fyre now burned strongly. He felt wildly, wholly alive—stunned, bemused, sensing he’d been altered in some significant way yet not comprehending the transformation.
She swayed on her feet, her gaze wide, appearing as floored as he.
He reached out for her in reassurance when the voice slammed into his brain. You mated him to spite me, didn’t you?
Angry words hammered, but O’ne wasn’t the one speaking. The accusation was directed at her. It took a moment for comprehension to dawn. When it did, his jaw dropped. “Oh my god, am I hearing your dragoness?”
Chapter Eighteen
Was that your way of preventing me from toasting him? the dragoness raged.
He can hear you. O’ne struggled to come to terms with what she had done. No priestess had taken a mate before. She’d vowed fealty and devotion to the Eternal Fyre, forsaking all others. In biting H’ry, their fyres had merged and bonded them forever.
How could she serve the sacred flame and a mate?
He raked a hand over his wet hair. “I hear a voice. It’s not you, is it?”
You mated him to thwart me, the dragoness fumed.
No. You didn’t factor into it at all. She’d mated him because she couldn’t help it, but relief bloomed because as much as their mating complicated her duty, it secured his safety. The dragoness could hate him with every drop of vitriol in her, but she would not, could not kill their mate. She couldn’t singe a single hair on his head.
The dragoness snarled.
H’ry rubbed his temples. “What’s going on?”
O’ne touched his forearm. “You are hearing my dragoness. Let’s get out of the pool, and I’ll try to explain.” As much as she could. She hoped he wouldn’t hate her. Overcome by lust and longing, she’d done the unthinkable.
He hopped onto the pool ledge and then helped her out. Naked, he strode to his clothing while she lingered, appreciating his physique, the contraction of muscles in his buttocks and thighs. Several scars, some long, some round and puckered, marred his skin, but they enhanced his appeal, bestowed him with a warrior’s patina. Dragons were thorns and horns, spikes and scales. A degree of roughness, coarseness in a male was attractive. Her fyre snapped and crackled, and, despite the looming awkward conversation, desire stirred anew.
He’s a good fuck, I’ll credit him that. The dragoness sniffed.
He whipped around.
He can hear you! O’ne fired back.
So he can! She chortled.
“My dragoness was, um, impressed,” she said by way of explanation.
A self-deprecating grin teased his mouth as he handed her his towel. “And you?” Water had darkened his hair, and droplets of liquid slithered down his torso, inviting her to lick them away.
“Even more so,” she admitted, accepted the towel, dried herself, and handed it back to him. She donned her gown while he dried off, surreptitiously staring at him. Dragons were frequently naked, the shift between demiforma and dragon rendering nudity a boring inevitability. Except H’ry was…different.
Too soon, he pulled on his pants. He dabbed his throat and then checked the wet but pristine white towel. “I could have sworn you’d drawn blood.” He chuckled.
She had. Mating bites healed quickly. “About that…I…I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bitten you. The urge was strong, and I was weak, but I shouldn’t have done it.”
“I’m not complaining. I didn’t know I was into biting—I’d never been bitten before—but it intensified everything.”
Go ahead. Tell him. Explain it! the dragoness cackled.
He squinted and rubbed his temples in a circular motion. “This is the part that’s hard to get used to—hearing voices. On Earth, we would consider that mental illness.” He canted his head then. “What are you supposed to tell me?”
“When I bit you, there was an…exchange. A spark of my fyre exists in you, and a flicker of your fyre lives in me.”
“Oh,” he said matter-of-factly, still not understanding.
How could he? All of this was new to him. But, she had known. She’d been lost in sensation, but that did not excuse her actions.
Would he hate her? She’d robbed him of choice. One’s fyre chose one’s mate, so bonding wasn’t volitional, but no dragon would deliver a mating bite without the other’s consent. He’d told her to go ahead, but his consent hadn’t been given in knowledge but in ignorance. She, who understood better than most, the agonies of not having choices, had violated the most basic rule of conduct.
A priestess should be immune to emotions. And if they occurred, suppression was the only recourse. One did not revel in feeling. Did not act on desire. One sublimated it into service to the greater good.
“The merger of our fyres bonded us as mates.” She held up a hand when he would have spoken because if she didn’t forge on, she would lose the nerve. How do I say this? What are the words?
Oh, for sacred fyre! the dragoness snarled. She’s trying to say we’re stuck with you forever.
“She doesn’t like me, does she?” He chuckled.
She couldn’t find a smile to return. “Dragons mate for life, and ordinary Draconians live for thousands of years. But I am the priestess. For as long as I serve the Eternal Fyre, my life will continue.”
Possibly forever, the dragoness said.
H’ry emitted a low whistle. “Incredible. A human life span is about eighty years and caps out at about a hundred.”
He still didn’t understand. “Because we mated, our lifespans synced,” she said. “You will live as long as I do.”
“What?” His jaw dropped, and his incredulous gaze swept her face. “You’re serious?”
She nodded.
He turned away from her and began to pace.
Her heart shattered. She deserved contempt, but the irony was that while he could hate her, he could never reject her. The bond couldn’t be severed; they would always be connected.
She lifted her hands and let them fall. Apologies were worthless.
He ceased pacing and stopped in front of her. “I guess, this means we have more than a week together, then, huh?”
It took a moment before ramifications, the complications sank in. She’d promised him her time until completion of the temple. But they hadn’t been mates then.
Now they were. She was bonded to him.
And to the Eternal
Fyre.
She couldn’t be both. The hopeless had become the hopelessly complicated. There would be a steep price for what she had done.
He stood there, his expression expectant, waiting for the reassurance she couldn’t give.
She buried her face in her hands as she broke into tears, the enormity of the situation too much to bear.
“Hey, hey…” He pulled her into his arms.
She hid against his broad, strong, naked chest and wept.
Stop crying! the dragoness snapped.
Butt out. Mind your own business, H’ry fired back.
The dragoness reeled with such shock, O’ne almost laughed, except it wasn’t funny. Tears burned. Her dragoness still bore the scars from how she’d wept for the daughter left behind. She would gain a few more burns over H’ry because O’ne couldn’t stop sobbing.
His arms felt strong as he murmured senseless yet somehow soothing words. When her tears subsided, he still continued to hold her. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. It’s all right.”
No, it wasn’t all right. She’d made the situation worse. And he should be mad. “You’re not angry I stole your right to choose?”
“You gave me what I chose,” he said. “The ramifications floored me at first—and I’m still processing—but the moment I met you, you intrigued me. From the second moment, I loved you. I’ve been bonded to you since we met.”
“I feared you’d hate me.”
“Never.” He kissed her tears one-by-one.
She hadn’t ever foreseen a mate for herself in any vision. Perhaps it was well she hadn’t because she would have tried to run from fate. Whatever sorrow the mating caused, he brought her a joy she hadn’t experienced since cradling her baby in her arms. Maybe that’s what love was—a bittersweet joy, a pleasurable pain.
She couldn’t accept her mate would be torn away from her the way her child had been. She would have to believe they would find a way to be together. The temple hadn’t been erected yet. Surely between now and then, the answer would be given to her. She would receive a vision to guide her. The unexpected had a way of happening.
She clung to him, drawing a comfort she didn’t deserve. His love smelled like a crackling fire, soothing, alive, and hot. She could bask in it for the rest of her life.
Unworthy.
She still had more to tell him, but how did one explain the inexplicable?
So she hid in his embrace, until he spoke. “Is a priestess allowed to take a mate?”
Steeling her courage, she slipped out of his arms. “That is the problem. Short answer—no. As priestess, my fyre merged with the sacred flame—I am mated to it. The bond cannot be severed. We dragons mate for life to one entity. Dual bonding is an impossibility. But…now I am bonded to you.”
“A paradox.” He pursed his lips with speculation. “Is there a sacred book you can refer to?”
“I am the body of sacred knowledge. The wisdom of the Eternal Fyre is in me. What I am supposed to know, I know.”
“The Eternal Fyre burns inside you, doesn’t it? That’s how you transported it from Draco to Elementa. It came with you.”
“Yes, I am the vessel,” she admitted, unable to lie to him, although not even the acolytes knew the secret. “How did you know?”
“I wish I could say I was smart and figured it out on my own, but Helena guessed.”
“Well, she is my daughter,” she replied, surprised to find a modicum of humor in a very grave situation. It wasn’t a certainty that the Eternal Fyre would destroy her after she rebirthed it, but it was a possibility. With the mating bond severed by her death, H’ry would live only the normal human lifespan.
He caressed her cheek with a gentle finger. “Will you stay with me tonight?” He winked. “I don’t promise much sleep though.”
“I would like that.” She grasped his wrist and kissed his palm. They had a lifetime of living to do in a week.
She’d been anxious to get the new temple constructed—now she wished she could delay it, but she couldn’t carry the Eternal Fyre much longer. The intensity of pressure and burning inside indicated rebirth was imminent. If she didn’t release the sacred flame soon, it would erupt on its own. Though powerful, it was also fragile, and without a temple to house and nurture it, it would die.
Barefoot, he collected his boots, shirt, and towel, and they left the pool, walking hand in hand. She veered right at the passage leading to his bedchamber.
His eyebrows shot up. “You know the way? Ah, I keep forgetting you’re the priestess and know stuff.”
“I’ve been visiting you at night,” she confessed.
“I knew it! Well, not that, but I’ve been waking up every night, sensing something. Did you visit me tonight before you came to the pool?”
“Yes.”
A slow grin widened to a full flash of white teeth. “You couldn’t stay away.”
He said it like it was good and not shameful, and the satisfaction on his face sent tendrils of pleasure winding through her. His joy was her joy. “No, I couldn’t.”
“I wish I’d known you were coming to see me at night.”
“I wish I’d told you.” They could have had the past week, too. Her treasure chest was empty, except for the times spent with him, but each moment glittered like a single perfect gem.
He hugged her to his side, forgiving to his detriment. He had no idea what she might have condemned him to. What she’d done to them both.
She loved him more than life itself. “If something happens to me, you must go back to Earth,” she urged, recalling the vision of the woman of his future. Although only part dragon, he, too, was permitted only one mate. In claiming him, she’d eliminated all contenders—not that the other woman could have been his mate anyway. She did not have fyre.
She hated the anonymous future woman for even the limited role she would play in his life, but he deserved the joy of children. O’ne couldn’t give him that. She couldn’t even give him herself.
“Nothing will happen to you,” he said with a male’s endearing arrogance and ignorance. “And, I’m not going back to Earth,” he stated. “First, I wouldn’t leave you, and second, it’s not possible anyway. Draco has severed relations with Earth again. No ships can leave. No ships may come in.”
“A temporary situation.”
“Helena said King K’rah is adamant.”
“King K’rah.” She dismissed the monarch with a flick of her wrist. The man was a dragonling, all bluster and smoke. “Earth and Draco are on a path of convergence,” she said. “They cannot remain apart any more than two bonded mates can.”
“And you know this because you’re the priestess?”
Her lips curved smugly. “Because Helena is the child of my child and will not give up. The human who desecrated the temple will be caught, and, when he is, Helena will work her wiles on T’mar who will work on his father. Rhianna will do the same with Prince K’ev. King K’rah does not have a chance against my daughters.”
The wall melted away as they came to his suite. She picked up her skirts and stepped over the string.
“So much for my alert system.” He followed her in, and the wall melded together again. “I wonder how many others have been here.”
“None,” she replied and tapped her nose. “I would smell if someone had been here.”
“That’s reassuring.” He shoved a weapon under the bed pad.
“Would it be all right if I dried my hair?” She glanced at the bathing chamber.
“Use whatever you would like,” he said.
In the other room, she removed her gown, undid the braid, and then stepped under the ionizing drier. In a short minute, her hair had been restored, and she stepped out of the unit, eager to return to her mate. He’d promised there wouldn’t be much sleeping, and he was a man of his word. He kept to his promises much better than she did.
He weakens you. He seduces you with his human scent, his exotic otherness, his rumbling voice, his lithe muscular body, the
dragoness growled.
We are mates. Our fyres yearn to be one, O’ne replied.
You liked him before the merging. You sought him out.
She couldn’t deny it.
He heals the loneliness. He makes you feel alive. Not since we left our daughter have you felt this way. You have never turned to me the way you turn to him. You shut me out. You blame me for the loss.
No! Why do you say that?
Because I failed her. I did not destroy those who’d taken her when I had the chance.
There was no chance. We didn’t know she would be taken from us. It didn’t happen until we boarded the ship.
That is when I should have destroyed them.
No. There was nothing you could have done. We couldn’t have shifted on the spaceship. It would have killed us, she would have been taken anyway, and the perpetrators would have lived on.
Then why have you shut me out? For 10,000 years, you have barely spoken to me. And then he comes along…
How could she have not realized the dragoness had been grieving? That she had hurt her with her silence? Wallowing in sadness, she’d separated herself from everyone, including the dragoness who could have been her deepest ally, her confident, her companion. I am ashamed. I did you a grave injustice. I am so sorry.
It is a sign of weakness to apologize.
Then I am weak because I am sorry for hurting you. I should have turned to you, comforted you.
The dragoness did not respond.
Grief had consumed her, and she had handled it badly. Not until Rhianna and Helena arrived on Draco and she learned her daughter had survived and had raised offspring who’d had offspring had her grief begun to heal.
She should have turned to her dragoness. They could have wept together, supported each other. Most likely she would not have gone to the temple with the intent of becoming priestess so she could wreak her revenge. She might have sought vengeance another way, perhaps allowed her dragoness to battle those who had wronged them. That alone might have given them the satisfaction and closure they’d never experienced.
The sound of H’ry moving around the bedchamber filtered through the walls, and she flung away the veil of regret. Even a powerful priestess couldn’t change the past and had only limited ability to affect the future.