by Lynda Aicher
Still, she had no regrets. She’d given him her virginity willingly and without question. It almost seemed like she’d been waiting just for him. For that moment. To give away what most women today gave away without real thought or care. It’s not that she had thought of her virginity as a prize to be had or even that special of a thing. Truly, until last night, it had made her more of a pariah than anything. But now, she understood why she had waited. Why her aunt had kept her so sheltered.
For whatever reason, it had been meant for Damian.
Yeah, and when did she get so philosophical? Logic would say it just happened. But if she dug down and listened to the energy, as she was slowly allowing herself to do, and believed as she’d told Damian she did, then it was telling her it was important that Damian was the one she’d given it to. There was a reason.
But why? Yet another big question on the ever-growing list.
“Are you ready?” Damian’s deep voice pulled her out of her thoughts. He stood waiting by the door they both assumed was an exit. She sucked in her breath and held down the flash of desire that hit her deep in her core. The ends of his hair were still wet from his recent shower, and the light beard shadow that lined his jaw only added to the dark, sexy look. Throw in the bare chest with the holey jacket and jeans, a barrage of weapons strapped to him and he had the bad boy image nailed.
And he was hers.
The realization warmed her. Gathering the coat around her, she brushed her hair over her shoulder, flattened the violet scarf against the wool and mentally prepared herself.
“So what’s next?”
In answer, he turned to the door and twisted the knob. To her surprise, it clicked open.
“Really? We could have been out of here last night?”
“It looks like it. But where would we have gone? For whatever reason, we were safe here and we got the rest we needed.”
“Ah, so right,” came a voice from the other side of the door.
Damian whipped the door open to reveal the older man from the previous night. Instinctively, Amber placed her hand over the stone and took a step back. Damian, instantly in protector mode, shifted to place himself between her and the man.
The man was dressed much the same as he’d been last night in a white silk, Oriental-style jacket trimmed in embroidered, gold designs and loose matching pants. A welcoming smile curved his lips, but the intensity in his dark eyes remained.
“I hope you found things comfortable last night.” The man gestured toward the room. “Breakfast is waiting if you will follow me.” He turned and started down the hall without waiting for their response.
Damian looked back at her, a question in his eyes. Giving a small shrug, Amber stepped forward and set her hand in his offered one. His face softened just a touch before his hand gripped hers. Together, they exited the room and followed the man.
“Stay close to me,” Damian murmured.
As if she would run away at that point. “Yeah. You don’t have to worry about that.”
The man led them to a small dining room that contained a low table made in another shade of dark wood and was appointed with Oriental-themed statues, pictures and pillows. Small lights were placed strategically around the room, shedding a soft glow on the table of food. The same dark red carpet from the bedroom cushioned the sounds of their shoes and added a hush to the surroundings that boarded on oppressive. Or maybe it was the absence of windows once again that made the room seem so close.
The lack of outside light was completely disorienting. She hadn’t realized how much she relied on the light to gauge the time of day or night. Or even the location. She was assuming it was sometime in the morning, but without a watch or external reference, it was hard to be certain.
“Please, have a seat.” The man knelt and took a seat on one of the pillows at the head of the long table. Delicious scents drifted up from the bowls and plates that covered the table, and Amber’s stomach clenched in anticipation. But she waited for Damian to take the lead. Although the other man seemed friendly, she didn’t trust that impression.
“Why are you helping us?” Damian demanded without taking a seat. “What do you want from us?”
The man tilted his head in a look of contemplation. “As doubting as your brother, I see. A trait that must run in the family.”
“My brother?” Damian tensed, his hand tightening around Amber’s. “What are you talking about? How did you know Khristos?”
The man smiled, then turned his attention to the table. He lifted a small teapot and gracefully poured the liquid into a tiny cup. “So quickly you assume it is Khristos I speak of. That says much.” Small tendrils of steam curled up from the cup as he set the pot down without making a sound. “You do have other brothers, or do you forget them in your obsession over Khristos?”
Amber felt the tight shot of guilt and pain pierce through her as if it was her own. She gasped, the unaccustomed feeling of knowing so intimately what Damian felt was a complete shock. “What are you playing at, Ancient One?” The question shot out of Damian in a tight string of barely contained anger.
The man gestured to the table. “Join me and I will tell you want you need to know.” He reached to a bowl that contained a tantalizing mixture of meat, eggs and rice. “Manners dictate that I should wait for you, but my stomach takes precedence over your indecision.”
The casualness as he went about serving food onto his plate was so diametrically opposite to the strain that bound Damian and her, it was almost laughable. Making a decision, Amber took a step toward the table. She tugged on Damian’s hand, a silent urge for him to follow. The man had answers and they had questions. Maybe they could find what they needed and, if nothing else, they would have a meal.
The man looked up, his eyebrows lifting. “So it is the phoenix who guides the dragon in this phase.” He smiled then nodded once. “An equal with strength and courage to match the mighty dragon. Once again, I am humbled by the wisdom of the energy.”
Amber paused, taken back by the strange words of the man. The phoenix? She should be used to such talk by now as that was all she’d heard of late. But it was still hard to hear herself referred to with such positive, strong adjectives.
“Please, have a seat.” The man indicated a set of pillows next to him. “I promise I do not bite.” A tint of mischief flashed in his eyes with the light teasing of his words.
Taking a steadying breath, Amber pulled deep and trusted what she felt. This man did not mean them harm. To date, he had not hurt her if she didn’t count the giving of the stone to her as an act of injury. Damian still held back, the mistrust mingling with the residual guilt that had festered within him for so long she doubted he even recognized it as a separate emotion.
“Who are you?” Damian asked, his voice cool, but void of the accusations and confrontations of before. He allowed her to guide him forward and followed her lead as she knelt on a pillow and took a seat at the table. The fact that he let Amber take the seat between the two men attested to how distracted he was.
“I am one who has seen much, experienced more, and has lived far longer than expected,” the man answered with a smile. “As you already sensed, Damianos, I am an Ancient. I have lived through thousands of cycles of life, death, and rebirth. I have witnessed the rise and fall of many great nations, participated in the wars, influenced great minds and silently cried as I watched the circle repeat itself again and again.”
“Do you have a name?” Amber asked.
He reached over and handed her a large bowl of food, his silent offer accepted as she shifted a portion of the egg and meat mixture onto her plate. Only after she had passed the food to Damian did the man answer her.
“My name is not as important as what I have to tell you. You should focus on what is coming and worry less about the inconsequential details.”
Damian set the bowl of food down and returned his attention to the Ancient. “If you do not refer to Khristos, then which brother did you mean?”
Damian stilled beside her. “How do you know Louk?”
“It was he who started this path. He and his mate Airiana. The Two to start it all.”
“His mate?” Surprise and doubt were heavy in the rise of the two words.
The man inclined his head. “Yes, his mate. A beautiful Shifter dragon who has brought great hope to the Energen world.”
Damian’s fist slammed on the table, causing Amber to jump along with the china dishes that clanked back in a chime of protest. “You lie.”
“Do I?” the Ancient calmly challenged. “It is she who brought back the beauty and power of the winged ones to the Energens. The joining of Airiana and Louk has once again procured the line of the winged dragons as our allies against Gog and the Shifters.”
“No one in my family would ever join with a Shifter. They are all vile, evil creatures,” Damian snarled, his face contorted in a mask of loathing and denial.
The Ancient glanced briefly at Amber then took a bite of food, evidently unphased by Damian’s outburst. The ends of his long mustache bobbed up and down in a rhythmic dance as he slowly chewed his food. He swallowed, a leisurely act of time stretched out as a silent refute against the accusations.
Finally, he spoke. “Really? If I listen to the energy, if I observe the telling mark on your hands, I know that’s exactly what you did last night.”
“What?” Amber cried.
“Again you lie.”
Their rebuttals overrode each other as they both scrambled to comprehend what the man just said. Reflexively, Amber covered the mark with her other hand, hiding the image that made the man say such a thing. The dragon responded with a sharp roar of anger while her bird screeched in a blatant cry of upset. Damian shot her a sharp look, and she realized he felt the same from the mark on his hand. Not only were the marks joined, but their emotions were joined within them as well.
What she felt, he felt.
The Ancient watched them, his deep brown eyes narrowing as he processed their reactions. “I only speak the truth, but it is nothing to be ashamed of. Things are not always as they appear—as you should well know, Damian.”
The color dropped from Damian’s face and Amber grasped his hand, projecting her support into him. He looked at her, confusion and questions fighting for dominance in his deep blue eyes before he pulled his hand from her grip.
She let him go even though the silent rebuke stung, sharp and painful as a dragon’s bite. Cold immediately replaced his warmth, sinking to her bones and winding around her racing heart. But she held his gaze and kept her back stiff. She had no idea what the man meant or what Damian was thinking, but she did know that she was good. That she was not the possessor of evil. Never would she believe that.
And, most importantly, she would not cower under their judgments.
Damian ripped his gaze from her and shot an equally accusing glare at the man sitting calmly at the head of the table. “Explain yourself, Ancient. Is this some trick? Yet another ploy to disparage me? To make me an outcast in a world that already despises all that I am?”
“Of course not. You are the Chosen One. You and you alone hold the weight of many on your shoulders. Your choices, the decisions you make right now are more important than what is contained in this room.” The man’s voice rose in volume and tone as he continued. “Think, old one. Feel once again. Trust in what you know. If you do not, then we are all lost.”
“How can I?” Damian challenged right back, leaning toward the man and forcing Amber to tilt away from the table. “All I know is distrust. All I know are lies and false accusations that have left me bloody and bare. How do I trust when it has slapped me in the face every time I have attempted to do so? Tell me that, Ancient. Tell me why I should trust when it has never been given to me?”
“But it has, you fool. You have it right now if you do not throw it away.”
“From a Shifter?” Damian spat out the word like it was a vile piece of poisonous food. “You just said that’s what she was. Why would I want her trust when it is the Shifters who have taken everything from me?”
Amber winced, the angry, cruel words cutting her more sharply than one of his blades. She snapped her head around to stare at Damian in open disdain. How quickly he changed his tune on the words of one old man.
“You hypocrite,” she fired at Damian, her anger burning over the pain, forcing her to fight back. “Last night you denied all accusations that I was a Shifter. You desired me and possessed my body without regrets. I slept with you in a bond of trust. But today, you willingly judge me with no more than his words.” She stabbed a finger toward the Ancient. “Judge not lest ye be judged, Damian.”
Amber fumed, her anger disguising the shock that reverberated through her at her own words. She had no idea where the Biblical verse came from, how it spouted from her mouth without thought when she was not a religious person by nature.
“Oh, I’ve been more than judged, Amber,” Damian said with an icy calm that belied the fire of his energy. The energy that hissed within herself. “I’ve been tried, persecuted and punished for things I’ve never done. I’ve been tricked and fooled. I’ve lived a thousand years of pain that I was an idiot to ignore for you—someone who lied to me.”
“Why do you think she lied?” the Ancient interceded, his sharp voice breaking through the hostility.
Damian’s attention cut to the man. “If she is a Shifter, how could she not know?”
“It was you who wore the mark of a Shifter, not she,” the man countered. “Yet you deny being one. Is it not possible that there are parts of her even she does not know about? That there is more at play than what is simply perceived?”
Strained silence followed his question. The food was forgotten as the three table occupants faced off in a battle of mute strength. Each of them struggled for what they believed in the face of strong opposition. The energy shifted around them in slow coils of tightening hostility. Mistrust disguised as anger pressed against Amber in a sickening hold that threatened to choke the air from her lungs.
After a long moment, Damian surged to his feet to pace the perimeter of the room. His hands were clenched on his hips in a pose that Amber now recognized as one filled with indecision and frustration.
Her bird sympathized with him and urged her to follow. However, she was just as angry and confused as he was. His actions hurt far worse than if he’d struck her across the face.
Amber closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose, seeking a clarity that had eluded her since that night in January when that man who sat so calmly at the end of the table gave her the stone. The object that started it all and led her to where she was at that moment. Opening her eyes, she returned to the beginning.
“Why did you give me the stone?”
In contrast to the atmosphere of the room, the man smiled. “Because you are the Marked One—the one in the world who can decide which way the battle will turn. The stone belongs to you. I was only holding it until it was needed. Now is that time.”
She licked her lips. “Do I dare ask why?”
His face became serious, all pretense of joviality dropping with the curve of his lips and the stiffening of his spine. “Because the dragon is awake.”
“I don’t understand.”
“With the coming together of The Two, he stirred within his cage, his thousand years of slumber completed. A multitude of elements have collided at this exact moment in time to make it happen. But those are irrelevant to what is next. The Year of the Dragon is far more important than any suspect—by its end, the dragon will be free. There is little we can do to stop that end, but there is much we can do to stop his rise.”
The man’s words only confused Amber more. “What dragon?”
The Ancient shifted his gaz
e to Damian, who still paced behind her. “Damian. Tell her what dragon I speak of.”
Damian cursed under his breath before she felt his irritated movements grow still. She kept her back to him, unwilling to show him anything else.
“The dragon he refers to is the Shifter leader, Gog,” Damian stiffly answered.
“Ah, so you do understand the importance of where we are,” the Ancient said to him.
“If what you say is true, then of course I do.”
“And why would I lie?” the man questioned. “If you let yourself feel, if you believed as I said, then you would know what I say is true, without me having to tell you. In fact, I think you do—only you refuse to accept it.”
A low growl echoed through the room. A frustration that Amber could empathize with. “But how? The dragon has been trapped in his metal cage deep within the earth’s crust for as long as I’ve been ostracized.”
The Ancient tilted his head. “Did you hear what you just said? Think, old one.”
She knew the instant understanding dawned within Damian. The energy exploded within her in a combustible mixture of disbelief, denial and rage. The emotions so potent her spine arched and her head snapped back as if she’d received a sharp kick between her shoulder blades. Even if she didn’t get the importance of what was happening, it was clear that Damian did.
“No.” The denial fired from Damian with a hot blast of sizzling energy. The angry waves rolled through the room in a fit of frustration. “It’s not possible.”
“Why not?” the man challenged. “Because you don’t want it to be? Denial will not change the facts.”
Another harsh curse, a sharp thump of a fist hitting the wall echoed around the small space. “All this time and no one bothered to tell me. A thousand years of opportunity and not once did anyone see fit to let me in on what was happening?” Bitterness tinged every word, every accusation that Damian hurled at the man.