Dragon Bound er-1

by Thea Harrison

  He meant they might not kill him right away because they would torture him. She felt her bile rise.

  She studied the Dark Fae King on the bluff. She had never hated anyone so much, especially someone she hadn’t met before.

  He was another of the world’s premiere Powers, one of the oldest of the Elder Races. His knowledge and memory of Earth’s lore and history would be extensive. As Dragos had pointed out, there was no telling what Keith might have blabbed before she stopped him up with the binding spell. And Urien had Elven connections, if not Ferion, then perhaps one of the other Elves who had witnessed her discussion with Ferion and had heard enough to speculate.

  “It won’t work anyway,” she said in a flat voice. “They’re not going to let me go.”

  He glanced down at her, not bothering to argue. “Then we fight.”

  “I won’t be captured,” she told him. She dug into her pocket and withdrew the switchblade. She pressed the lever and the blade snicked open.

  Quicker than sight, he grabbed her wrist. His eyes blazed. “The fuck are you doing?” he snapped. “You won’t be captured? Then we fight. We don’t give up.”

  She glanced at Goblins and Dark Fae. There were so many of them, they were a small army. They were almost in bow-shot range.

  She put a hand over his. “Dragos, this time will you trust me? Will you let me try one more thing and not ask me any questions about it?”

  His hand and face were like stone, his body clenched.

  She fought a sense of rising panic and kept her voice soft. “Please,” she said. “There isn’t much time.”

  His fingers loosened. He let her go. She rose to her knees and faced him. He held still and watched her face as she put the tip of the blade against the white scar at his shoulder. She concentrated on the dark bronze of his bare skin. She bit her lip and tried to make her hand move, but all she did was start to shake. Her grip on the switchblade turned white-knuckled.

  “Damn it,” she gritted. “I can’t cut you.”

  His hand came over hers again. This time he gave a quick jerk and the blade bit into his skin, right over the scar. Hot, brilliant blood began to flow from the cut. She took a choppy breath and nodded to him. He let go of her again.

  The second bit was a lot easier. She drew the blade across her palm. It was a good deep cut. Pain blossomed and her own blood began to drip down her wrist.

  The advancing army had crossed into bow-shot range, close enough she could hear the Goblins laugh and call to one another.

  Talk about a last-ditch effort. Wish I knew if this would work. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.

  “Here goes nothing, big guy,” she muttered. She met his falcon-sharp eyes and slapped her open cut against his.

  For a few seconds it seemed nothing happened. Then something flared and flowed out of her, passed through her palm and entered him. His head fell back. He gasped as he swayed on his knees. His Power roared in response.

  She swayed, dizzy from the transference. Then Dragos shimmered and expanded so fast she fell on her back.

  She struggled to prop herself up on her elbows, staring up openmouthed at the appearance of the enormous dragon who stood over her.

  Oh. My. God. She had imagined what he must look like. She had caught that one glimpse of his shadow flowing over the beach. Nothing could have prepared her for the impact of the real thing. He had to be the size of a private jet.

  He was varying shades of bronze that had an iridescent glint in the sunshine. His wide, heavy-muscled chest was right overhead. Her head bobbled back and forth as she took in the long legs planted on either side of her. The bronze color darkened to black at the ends of his legs. His feet had curved talons that had to be the length of her forearm. His body narrowed to powerful haunches and long tail.

  She stared for a frozen moment at the slit in the sheath of thick bronze hide between his hind legs, covering the region of his genitals. There didn’t appear to be any part of him that was vulnerable.

  Massive shadows unfurled across the ground. He had opened his wings and mantled like an eagle.

  Her body rediscovered how to move. She scrambled backward on hands and feet, scuttling like a crab.

  He arched his long serpentine neck. He tilted down a horned triangular head that was the length of her body so that he could look at her with eyes that were great pools of molten lava. With a sound that sliced the air, he whipped his tail back and forth.

  “That’s my long, scaly, reptilian tail. And it’s bigger than anyone else’s,” Dragos said in a voice that was deeper, larger, yet still recognizable as his. One huge eyelid dropped in an unmistakable wink.

  She collapsed in hysterical laughter.

  “Stay down,” the dragon told her. He lowered his head as he turned to the bluff, a sleek, sinuous behemoth. He bared his teeth in a vicious challenge. “BRING IT ON, YOU SON OF A BITCH.”

  One by one the Dark Fae riders rose into the air on their dragonfly steeds. They turned and flew away.

  It was impossible to see, but she sensed the predator in him vibrating with the instinct to give chase. He held himself back, though, and she knew why. He wouldn’t leave her unprotected with the Goblin/Fae army so near.

  She pushed up on one elbow to stare in the direction of their pursuers. The Goblins and Fae riders had turned away. They were in full retreat.

  The sound of ripping soil had her looking back at the dragon. He was digging his talons into the ground as he snarled at their retreat.

  “Dragos,” she said. He looked at her. She jerked her head toward the retreating army. “Go.”

  He needed no further encouragement. He crouched and sprang into the air. A roar split the sky like a thunderclap. The Goblins began to scream as the killing began. She was ferociously, vindictively glad.

  It was not so much a battle as it was extermination. After Dragos’s first spectacular dive and roll when he winged low over their heads and spouted fire, she couldn’t watch anymore. She turned onto her stomach, put her arms over her head and waited for it to be over.

  The stink of Goblin was overcome with the smell of oily smoke. It was not long before silence fell over the plain. There was no one left to do a body count. None of their enemies made it off the plain alive.

  She nestled her nose deeper in the tall, sweet-smelling grass. The sun was high in the sky. It was warm on her back and shoulders. A quiet rustling in the grass grew closer. A shadow fell over her. Something very light tickled her forearms that covered the back of her head. It whuffled in her hair.

  She scratched an arm. “Did you kill the Fae horses?”

  The whuffling stopped. Dragos said in a cautious voice, “Was I not supposed to?”

  She shrugged. “It just wasn’t their fault.”

  “If it helps any, I was hungry and ate one.” Another whuffle.

  She couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess that does help some.”

  She rolled over. He had stretched out alongside her, his great body between her and the remains of the Goblin/Fae army. His wings, a dramatic sweep of bronze darkening to black at the tips, were folded back. His hide glinted in the sun. She lifted her head and looked in the direction of a few plumes of smoke. His triangular head came down in front of her, golden eyes keen. “You don’t need to look over there,” he said in a gentle voice.

  She sat up and leaned against his snout. She laid her cheek against him. Close up, she could see a faint pattern like scales in his hide. She stroked the wide curve of one nostril. It seemed somewhat softer than the rest of him. He held very still, breathing light and shallow.

  “What does that feel like?” she asked him.

  “It feels good.” He sighed, a great gust of wind, and he seemed to relax. “Thank you for saving my life again, Pia Alessandra Giovanni.” He made the syllables of her human name sound musical.

  “Back atcha, big guy,” she whispered.

  After a few more moments he withdrew, giving her plenty of time to straighten. She look
ed up, way up at his long triangular head silhouetted against the afternoon sun. “You have,” he said, “two choices.”

  “Choices are good.” She pushed to her feet, all of a sudden feeling tired and achy again. “Choices are better than orders.”

  “You can ride,” he told her. “Or I can carry you.”

  “Ride? Hot damn.” She shaded her eyes and eyed his enormous bulk. “That might be more excitement than I can deal with right now. I’m not seeing any seat belts up there.”

  “You got it.” Giving her plenty of time to adjust, he wrapped the long claws of one foot around her with such precision he didn’t cause so much as a scratch or pinch. When he tilted his foot, she found she had quite a comfortable hollow in which to sit. He lifted her up so that he could look at her. “All right?”

  “I’m feeling a little Fay Wray here, but otherwise it’s great,” she told him. “You know, if you weren’t a multibillionaire, you could make a good living as an elevator.”

  He snorted a laugh. Then the world fell away as he leaped into the air. Anything else she might have said was lost in the beat of his huge wings, in her earsplitting shriek.

  I take it all back, she shouted at him telepathically. She had no breath left from shrieking to try to speak out loud. Forget about producing Valium, or elevator and hairdresser careers. You could be the world’s only living roller coaster. Hey, I bet Six Flags would pay you a fortune.

  I see the lunatic inhabiting your body is alive and well, he replied.

  He banked and shifted direction as he sensed a passageway back to the human realm. She managed to suck in more breath to shriek again. I’m being serious now—I don’t think I can deal with this!

  Tough, he told her. I’m not taking the chance of anything else going wrong. This is a nonstop flight to New York. Thank you for flying Cuelebre Airlines.

  “You’re not funny!” she screamed out loud. Dragon laughter filled her head.

  She huddled in his unbreakable grip, hands over her eyes. She discovered it wasn’t a smooth, seamless flight but one that had a rhythm from the beat of his wings. She also thought she would be freezing. She was in for another surprise as he kept a velvet blanket of Power wrapped around her. It protected her from the cold altitude and the wind.

  She could sense the upswell of magic that marked a passageway back to the human dimension as they approached. She peeked through her fingers. Following a directional sense she didn’t share, he stretched his wings and they glided until they skimmed along just a hundred feet above a small canyon.

  Are you able to open your eyes yet? he asked.

  She told him, I’m looking.

  A lot of passageways to Other lands are like this one. They’re couched in some kind of break in the physical landscape, he told her. If we flew just ten or fifteen feet higher, we wouldn’t be in the passageway.

  Then we would stay in the Other land? she asked, as she became interested in spite of herself.

  Correct. From the air, it’s like following a specific airstream. The passageway the Goblin brought us through was somewhat unusual, he explained. There was a break in the land but it was an old one worn down by time. It was barely visible even to my eyes.

  Somewhere along the way the sun changed and became paler. The canyon shrank until it was a mere ravine tangled with underbrush. The quality of air changed as well. They had crossed over.

  Can you tell where we are? she asked. She had forgotten her fear in the fascination of watching the land scroll by underneath.

  North of where we were before. I’m more familiar with the landscape along the coast. I’ll know more when we hit the Atlantic. He gave the equivalent of a mental shrug. I’m more interested in finding out when we are and how much time has passed while we were in the Other land.

  She had forgotten about that. She watched the landscape change as Dragos winged east. After about a half an hour or so, the blue line of the ocean appeared ahead of them. He wheeled to fly north alongside the land’s edge, climbing in altitude until the air felt thin to her. The cities and towns they flew over looked like a child’s toys.

  There, he said. She looked up to see him nod to their left. That’s Virginia Beach. We’ve got a good couple hours’ flight ahead of us.

  Oh, right. She drooped at the thought. And here I am without my magazines or paperback novel, and no money for an in-flight movie.

  They fell silent. After a while, watching the coastline pass by between her dangling feet became so commonplace it was boring. She inspected the cut on her palm, which had sealed sometime during Dragos’s healing.

  The scab already looked a week old. She picked at it without much interest, then turned her attention to the long, curved, black talons that surrounded her. She rubbed one, then tapped at it with a fingernail. It gleamed like obsidian and was no doubt harder than diamonds.

  After that there was nothing left to do but kick her feet and obsess over the debacle that her life had become.

  After everything, now she was headed back to New York in the grasp of the very creature she had been running away from. With whom, by the way, she had also had fantastic, mind-blowing sex.

  That was a head bender all on its own, without considering all the many other disasters that had occurred. She peered up at Dragos and looked away again fast.

  The memories of what they had done together were so intense she lost her breath every time she thought of them. Yet they seemed surreal at the same time, almost like they had happened to someone else. And she couldn’t quite connect the man who had been her lover with this splendid exotic creature who carried her with such care as he flew.

  She propped her elbows on a talon and buried her face in her hands. Images from the last few days flashed across her inner eye. The confrontation with the Elves. Dragos getting shot. The car crash. The Goblin stronghold, the beating. The beautiful dream of her mother. The standoff on the plain.

  She didn’t know what to make of all of it. She wanted that dark room to hide in until she figured everything out. Like in maybe ten years or so.

  And it was really not good that she had come to the Fae King’s attention for sure this time. Front and center. He couldn’t know everything that had happened between her and Dragos. But they had escaped together. Now the Fae King had to have some questions about whether she had anything significant to do with Dragos’s transformation, questions he would want to have answered along with all the questions he might have had from before.

  Way to stay under the radar and avoid scrutiny, dingbat. If he might have known something and been interested in her before, he sure as hell did now. She had no doubt she’d just shot right up to the Fae King’s Ten Most Wanted list. For all she knew they would be posting pictures of her in post offices and police stations and faxing them to the FBI.

  She could always have plastic surgery and run away to live off the grid in a remote Mexican village. If she could collect the stuff from her three remaining caches and get out of town again. That wouldn’t stop magical detection, though. Dragos had already warned her he would find her if she tried to run.

  What did that make her? She didn’t know. Was she his prisoner when they got back to New York? Was he serious about considering her his property now or had that been a joke? He had a strange sense of humor sometimes, so it was hard to tell.

  Just tell me what I want to know and I’ll let you go. Ha. She rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe she fell for that one.

  She did believe he had forgiven her for the theft. She supposed that was a miracle all on its own, since not that long ago she had been convinced he was going to tear her to pieces. And she had promised him she wouldn’t try to escape. She had meant it at the time.

  She wondered if she was going to keep that promise. Life had turned so unpredictable she wasn’t willing to bet on anyone or anything at this point, least of all herself.

  All she knew for sure was that she still faced a dangerous and uncertain future.

  And that she was .
. . lonely again. Worse than ever before.

  ELEVEN

  She fell into a cramped, fitful doze, propping her head on one arm as she leaned against a curved claw. Come to think of it, it was quite a bit like trying to nap in an airplane seat. The change in their altitude woke her up. She straightened with a wince and looked around. New York lay spread out all around her. The panoramic splash of lights in the deepening dusk stabbed at her eyes. She winced and rubbed her face in an attempt to wake up.

  Dragos banked and wheeled in a great circle. They were headed for one of the tallest skyscrapers. She groaned as her stomach lurched. Then they dropped onto the launchpad on the roof of Cuelebre Tower.

  She looked around, dazed, and tried to stand without staggering when Dragos set her on her feet. The roof was a huge expanse of space, more than adequate for handling someone of Dragos’s size with room for the takeoffs and landings of other creatures at the same time.

  A group of people stood waiting by a set of double doors. In front of them a tawny-haired man stood with feet planted apart and arms crossed. A feral-looking beautiful woman stood beside him, hands on her hips. A Native American–looking man stood a little apart from the others in a black sleeveless leather vest and black jeans, with black hair cut short with shaved whirls of pattern throughout it and tattooed, muscular arms.

  Every last one of them bristled with weapons. They all stood six feet tall or over. None of them looked like someone she would be comfortable running into in a back alley.

  The air behind her shimmered with Power. She looked over her shoulder as Dragos changed, every ounce of the dragon’s force and energy compacted into the tall, muscular shape of the man. By some trick of the magic in the change, he still wore his battered grimy jeans and boots and nothing else. She looked from his bare chest up into that blade-cut face and raptor’s eyes and lost her breath all over again.

  He took her by the arm and strode with her to the group waiting by the doors. Her face heated as curious, unfriendly eyes assessed her.