Men And Beasts (Fate - Fire - Shifter - Dragon Book 6)

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  The ladder weighed a good one hundred pounds, but his love wanted it pulled in, so he dragged it up the path toward the cave.

  Someone had shoveled his walk while he was away. Ladon sniffed before using his foot to clear one of the beast’s hind prints from the snow.

  “It’s temporary.” Rysa bounced next to him, and rubbed her upper arms. Her breath curled through the air, but her eyes sparkled and her cheeks had taken on the most lovely blush tone he’d ever seen.

  Her touch righted his world. Her voice calmed his fears. So why did he still feel as if he stole every swipe of her fingers along his chin and every one of her kisses to his lips?

  Dragon stopped well within their distance limit, but Ladon still felt a tug as if the world’s center of gravity had moved and now demanded that he move with it.

  Come, Human. Dragon mimicked the sunrise as it played over the now-decorated Dragon’s Rock and spread like warm honey across the snow. The beast waited for them about halfway up the path, well behind his sister, her humans, Daisy, and the young Mr. Bower, who had landed before them.

  “Hey.” Rysa stroked his arm. “I don’t see future-issues. Dmitri has the mess in Cheyenne under control and will be here tomorrow morning.” She waved up the path toward his beast. “I think you two need rest.”

  He dropped the ropes and pulled her into his arms. “Thank you.”

  She kissed his chin. “For what?”

  “For knowing I’d come home.” Though his interloper had wanted to take his body to “the base,” whatever and wherever that was.

  His comprehension of Nate’s needs and desires diminished each time he thought about what happened. Every time Ladon tried to add understanding, or to find a bit of understanding, he felt as if the act of thinking alone was enough to override the “Nate-ness” of the memories. Ladon’s framework was reasserting itself and there wasn’t a damned thing his interloper could do about it.

  Yet a residue remained. This world—his home, woman, and family—held a shimmer, a newness, as if it were, somehow, special.

  But how could a life that had spanned almost two-and-a-half millennia have moments of specialness? He had, quite literally, seen every possible combination of human behavior over his years.

  Rysa kissed his cheek. “Of course I knew. I’m your Prime.”

  You are my mate, he thought, though part of him didn’t believe it. She was too special. Did he deserve this moment with her?

  Rysa tugged him toward the cave. “Come on. Dragon’s waiting.”

  Chatting echoed from the tunnel through the entrance antechamber. A low, warm light spilled from the tunnel as well, and poured over the high ledge. The entrance to their cave home waited, cut into the rock face a dragon-length above the ground and around a slight bend. They often left carts for supplies on the ledge, but none rested out in the open right now.

  Ladon dropped the ladder around the corner and next to a treaded snow hauler. Three other snowmobiles waited behind the rock wall that hid the entrance from the outside world, and someone had hung a rope ladder down the ledge, which Ladon particularly did not like.

  “I’m pulling that one up.” He pointed at the ladder as Dragon lifted Rysa up to the ledge. Ladon quickly scaled the wall and pulled himself up next to Rysa.

  Leave it. The beast swung his head toward the tunnel just as a burst of exhaustion fired from up ahead, from his sister.

  The patterns on the beast’s hide sped up and he hopped back and forth as he lifted his great hand-claws off the ground so that he could sign. Sister wishes us to come in. He pointed at the tunnel.

  Because we’re getting married, Ladon thought. How many weddings had he survived? His own, his sister’s, the men and women of his Legion? Each marriage might be singular, but it was not special.

  Except this one, to his Rysa.

  Every single muscle cinched up. They needed to set up a perimeter. Test the cave’s ventilation system and check for possible breaches. Get rid of all the glaring signs of human habitation Dmitri’s people so nonchalantly set out around the Dragon’s Rock.

  Because Aiden Blake wasn’t going to get anywhere near Rysa. Or Daisy, Gavin, or Rysa’s parents, when they arrived. Not the way Vivicus snuck into Daisy’s house in Minnesota. No more deaths. No more losses. Andreas was gone and—

  “Ladon…” Rysa cupped his face and made him look at her. “The vigilance just reared its head, didn’t it?”

  He nodded.

  “Anna and Derek are here. I’m here. You can rest.” She smiled and bounced a little. “The solstice is in four days.”

  The vigilance tightened into a tunnel similar to the one leading into his home—they were both full of warm glow and the laughter of beautiful women. And they were both encased within an unmovable mountain.

  Yes, his sister was here, as was his brother-in-law. His Legion’s new Second, Dmitri Pavlovich, would be here soon. Daisy could handle herself in a fight and, it seemed Gavin could, at the very least, keep his wits about him. Plus, Mira Torres was not a Fate one trifled with, while Sandro Torres could kill with a simple touch.

  No, they were fine. He had his village and they had his back. He pulled up the second ladder anyway.

  Someone had placed candles in all of the holders along the tunnel walls and the warm glow mingled with a free, sweet scent of the beeswax. A rainbow of colored ribbons ran the entire length of the tunnel as well, tied from one holder to the next, each with a small sprig of pine, or oak leaves, or holly.

  Rysa ran her fingers over the satin of one of the ribbons. “Someone decorated.”

  Someone had come to their home and decorated their front door for their wedding while he wasn’t himself and they were all dealing with a psychopath.

  Ladon, too, ran his finger over a bough of mistletoe.

  Up ahead, the vault entrance stood wide open, and the brilliant glow of the cave’s mirror system cast a long, bright spear of sunlight into the tunnel. People moved around on the other side—Sister and Sister-Dragon. Mr. Bower. Ladon’s beast.

  Ladon stopped at the vault door. His beast. His family. His wife. His village. But a part of him—a part not yet overridden by his own thoughts—wondered.

  Was he an imposter? Could he marry Rysa if he wasn’t authentically Human? Or maybe he meant human. Why did he feel like a ghost?

  He stepped over the threshold into his world.

  Water sang at the back of the cave, and in the stream moving through the gardens. Birds chirped. The now fully-repaired fenestra draconis, the Dragon’s Window with its swirling, brilliant colors, gleamed high above the central gardens. A breeze moved along his skin and rustled the many fruit trees of his domain.

  Daisy and Gavin stared up at the domes overhead, their eyes wide and their mouths slack. This was their first time in the cave.

  Sister fawned over her husband, and they quietly argued about “rest” and “sleeping” and “damage” near the kitchen area.

  The beasts rubbed against each other, both happy to be alive.

  And out in the center of the cave’s commons, in the garden surrounded by their winter crops and their kale and oranges, under the patterns thrown by the fenestra draconis, stood a grand gazebo decorated with more pine, oak, holly, and mistletoe. An arch opened at each of the cardinal directions, and at each point had been set symbols of air, fire, water, and earth.

  “Oh…” Rysa whispered.

  Sister and Derek must have built their wedding space before Ladon’s vigilance forced them to abandon the cave and drive to Minnesota.

  Yes, pushed Sister-Dragon. We wished to surprise you with this gift.

  Rysa wiped away a tear. “Thank you.” She hugged Sister first, then Derek. “Thank you.”

  The sense of shimmer, of specialness returned, and part of Ladon wondered if this moment was real. If, like Nate, it was only a mirage.

  He did his best to smile, to say thank you, and to settle their guests, but it all seemed unreal. When everyone else went off to rest,
Ladon followed Rysa into their apartment. He’d rest also. He had to.

  He had a lot to figure out before marrying the love of his life.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Hold still.” Rysa ran her fingers through the dark ringlets on top of Ladon’s head. He sat on a stool between her and the huge, door-sized mirror just inside the baths—the back cave with the singing waterfall and the sweet, warm showers and the wonderful, lush Roman villa décor.

  How she loved the mirror, with its thick, ornately-carved frame. She loved the fabrics draped everywhere, and the candles. She loved the entire cave.

  She felt safe here—safe enough that she wasn’t going to think about nasty dark rampaging Fates, or imploding vanishing psychopaths, or horrid messes. She had to trust that at least this one time, the professionals they left in Cheyenne really would clean it up. That, for once in her life, the shit of her world wouldn’t come back to haunt her.

  Anna told her to rest and to finish healing her brother and his beast. Daisy told her that she’d talk to her dad. And the awestruck Gavin had walked off into the gardens to dig his toes into the permanent springtime of the cave.

  Her seers whispered that he wouldn’t get lost. And that Anna and Daisy would have a plan worked up for how to deal with the remaining threats by the time they left for the reception in Branson.

  So Rysa did what Anna asked her to do—she took Ladon and Dragon into their apartment. Dragon now lounged on the bed, his big head on his forelimbs and his patterns slow. He snorted every so often, which was generally followed by a corresponding chuckle from Ladon, so at least they were talking to each other.

  Rysa rubbed at the mop of loose curls that used to be Ladon’s sexy barbarian mohawk. “I cannot believe how fast your hair grows.”

  He shrugged. On the bed, Dragon blew out a low flame.

  “Do you want me to trim up the sides again?” She ran her fingers over the half-inch growth over each of his ears. “Or just the top?”

  He shrugged again.

  Rysa dropped her hands off his head. “I thought trimming your hair and getting you back into your own clothes, not the random stuff Billy found you, would help you feel better.”

  He pulled her down onto his lap, but he didn’t smile. He did, though, slowly massage her upper arm at the same time he nuzzled her neck. “We need only you.”

  She was beginning to think that the Nate-ghost who’d been hanging out in his head left behind an extra touch of romantic smoothness.

  “I think you and Dragon need to nap.” She waved toward the beast. “You have time, you know. Even if you slept a whole day, you’d still be awake before the solstice.”

  Ladon buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. “He doesn’t want to sleep any more than I do.”

  Dragon shook his head no.

  Ladon wasn’t holding her the way he did when he wanted sex, either. This was more… she wasn’t quite sure. Reverent? But that didn’t quite fit. He seemed to understand fully that he was about to get married. Disbelieving? But not in an “I can’t believe I’m alive” or an “I can’t believe this is real” kind of way. More like he couldn’t believe he had permission to touch.

  Which he did. He had her full permission to wake her up in the middle of the night for a snuggle, or “bother” her while she studied. He could touch and stroke and hold all he wanted.

  Ladon liked to touch and his touching was one way he helped to ground her in reality.

  So this acting like a teenager fumbling his first kiss freaked her out just as much as Aiden Blake’s weird imploding and vanishing, or everyone’s grief about Andreas, or Billy, or the swords, or…

  Rysa breathed in, counted, and breathed out. She curled into Ladon’s arms. She pressed her cheek against his chest and inhaled his wonderful scent of sunshine and civilization, and she refused to become frazzled.

  Because now, frazzled meant angry and angry led to a full Fate smiting.

  This change in his personality—in her personality, too—no matter how small, felt as dangerous as the supervillains in their lives because this change moved her anchor.

  Ladon had returned to her. Fully returned—she knew because she’d been between the man and the beast when they reconnected. She’d felt their energy reconstitute. Hell, she’d helped it reconstitute. So she knew.

  But she didn’t know about the after-images left by ghosts, the reflections and the remembered hallucinations.

  You don’t need this shit, her dark Fate whispered. Nope, she didn’t need more disorders to cope with.

  Her dark Fate smirked and went back to cleaning her fingernails with her nifty blade of new.

  Rysa pulled off Ladon’s lap. She patted his shoulders and looked down at his handsome if scruffy face. “Nap.” She nodded toward the bed. “I’m the bride. I need to try on my dress or arrange flowers or something like that.”

  Ladon grinned, then rubbed his face between her breasts. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her fingers wove through his hair again. He really did have the nicest, softest hair. And the nicest skin. And eyes.

  He pulled away. “The co-groom wishes me to scrub his ridges.”

  Dragon nodded yes.

  “Can’t that wait until after Ladon rests?” Was climbing his dragon’s side a good idea right now? But then again, maybe they needed time interacting as much as they needed time to reconnect.

  Ladon stood and quickly kissed her lips. “We’ll be back soon. Go nap.”

  His odd, teenager-ish body language returned, but only for a split second, then vanished again into his normal, take-no-shit stance.

  She nodded as she watched Dragon amble over. “Don’t take long.”

  He rubbed her side. Yes, Rysa, he signed.

  Ladon kissed her again before walking away, toward the baths.

  “Make sure he’s okay,” she whispered to Dragon. “If you need me, call. I’ll be right here.”

  Dragon nuzzled her again, and followed his human into the back caves.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Amir Sut admitted to your Mr. Bower that his triad is Praetorian Guard?” In all her time at The Land of Milk and Honey, not once had Daisy heard her father sound so incredulous.

  A glass clinked on the other end of their connection. He must be in the bar at the hotel. But then again, her father had a certain persona he enjoyed maintaining, one which often made rivals both terrified and over-confident. Americans tended to react that way to a hard-drinking, wealthy Russian man. Never mind that her father’s healing ability kept the effects of alcohol at bay.

  Her father was a master manipulator on many, many levels.

  “They are Praetorian Guard and no one saw fit to tell me?” He huffed and the glass clinked again.

  Heads were going to roll for sure, as long as the rolled heads weren’t those of the unnamed triad. “I suspect you would not have allowed them near us if you had known.” He probably would have had them killed.

  He huffed again. “They are lucky I did not know.”

  They were all lucky. Daisy pulled her hood tighter around her face. She’d come out to the big, flat rock down the side of the mountain in order to get a signal. She’d meant to climb up, but someone had pulled down the ladder. She now leaned against the granite, doing her best to stay out of the wind, and stared out at the afternoon sun as it spread out over the mountains.

  “I think you need to ask Amir exactly what ‘Praetorian Guard’ means in a modern sense.” Though she had an idea. Above all else, they protected the Emperor. But did that mean Trajan, or did that mean her father?

  “I am beginning to believe Mr. Bower may have an important future in store for him,” her father said.

  Future-important. The angel Fate—Daniel, she’d called herself—told Daisy exactly that when he—she—sent Daisy into the parking lot off the St. Paul campus to rescue Gavin from that Burner named Billy. The Burner who, it seemed, helped Ladon find his way to Cheyenne and who ate Fina Blake.

  T
he Burner whose stink originally activated Gavin’s allergy was the one who saved them all from the past-seer of The Children of the Burning World. If there was ever a Burner who deserved a hug, it was one Billy Bare, rock star.

  She suspected Billy was also “future-important” if for no other reason than this entire affair felt as if the real Fates were setting up some sort of cosmic chessboard and they were pawns in play.

  “Fates,” her father grumbled.

  “Cordelia took a bullet and still went into the blizzard to find Ladon.” Daisy shifted a little against the vertical wall of the Dragon’s Rock to shield her face from the wind. In some ways, Wyoming’s winters weren’t all that different from Minnesota’s.

  “Yes, yes. And Amir decided that in order to protect Mr. Bower, he needed to tell him the truth.” Her father’s glass clinked again. “Or they are playing games.”

  Which they might be. They might be following Ulpi orders sent directly from Trajan himself. Or, they could be doing their job. No one wanted to believe that they might just have been protecting a future-important pre-emperor.

  She looked over her shoulder, back up at the entrance to the cave.

  Gavin laughed off the whole thing. In the helicopter while AnnaBelinda grilled him for details, he’d said “they saved me because we need Daisy happy.”

  She had to follow her gut on this. “Don’t fire them, Dad.”

  He laughed. “Firing them would do no good. I believe the best course of action is to bring them closer. Friends and enemies and all that, daughter.”

  Daisy chuckled. “Give them a vacation. Send them to The Land.” Not that they’d go somewhere with so many enthrallers on staff.

  “They have left.” Her father snorted. “Said that Mr. Bower is safe and that they wished time to recuperate.” His glass clinked. “I sent them home.”

  Home as in Portland, not home as in Branson. Or for the triad in question, probably some magical villa in a warm and sandy land.

  Daisy sniffed. The cold air made her nose run.

  “I will ask Mira Torres for information.” Sounds of her father standing followed. “She will arrive shortly, along with my most valuable healer and a significant cache of Praesagio Industries Special Medical equipment. The good Dr. Torres wishes to set up a Dracae triage in their home.”