by Eve Langlais
But she’d never had a chance to snack from Deka.
Just me. “All this time, she’s been eating my soul.” It explained his depression. “How do I get it back?”
“There is no getting it back, unless you want to use the same dark magic, and I personally don’t recommend it. But good news. A soul, given time, will regenerate, but slower and slower if continually damaged.”
He bounced a glance between the brothers. “Why are you telling me this? Why now?” He’d been visiting them daily with their meals for two weeks. Playing games for the past few days. Exchanging insults and barbs. This spewing of information appeared out of nowhere.
I didn’t even get to torture them for it.
“Perhaps there is a semblance of honor in us that cringes at the fact that you allowed a mad dragon back into the world. We were banished so that magic would never cause the fall of dragonkind again, and yet, because we chose not to die, because we fought and killed and stole to stay alive, we’ve contributed to the very reason we were banished.”
Eogan began to cackle, a hint of madness in the sound. “Voadicia, the one styling herself as the suzerain, is going to set the Earth on fire. And it’s all your fault.”
Take the blame? Hell, no. Samael shrugged. “How is it my fault? She was popping in and out of her prison before I came along.”
“You should have stopped her,” hissed Eogan. “It is the duty of the Gold to protect the dragon Septs.”
“I’m a half-breed, remember? My brother is there to deal with it.”
“A true Gold leads; he doesn’t sit back.”
“Can’t exactly lead from here.” He gestured to the cell.
“You know how to leave this world. You just choose not to because you’re too busy dipping your wick,” harrumphed Maedoc.
“You also know how to leave, yet instead you chose to serve that psycho bitch,” Samael retorted.
“Leave and go where? Have you seen us?” Eogan remarked, pointing to his corpulent shape. “We are no longer the men or dragons we used to be. We are grotesque monsters. In this new world with humans on edge, and the masses set to revolt, how long do you think we’d last?”
“Isn’t there a cure?”
“Were you not paying attention? How do you think Voadicia regained her true shape?”
“You said she ate the others.”
“She did, and yet they were as grotesque as us. It wasn’t until the portals aligned and she got her first taste of a fresh subject that she discovered the secret, thus beginning her cannibalistic feast.”
It didn’t take a genius to clue in. “Eating fresh dragons brought her back. She’s been picking us off. How the fuck did no one know?”
“People go missing all the time. A few here. A few there. It’s not as if they left a trace once she brought them here.”
“You joined her in dining?”
“I’d like to lie and claim we were too honorable to eat our own kind, but the truth is”—Maedoc shrugged—“she wouldn’t let us.”
“Would you have done it if given a chance?” There was something kind of vampiristic about it.
“What do you think?” Maedoc glared with disdain. “At this point, the only way we can hope to return to our former glory is to imbibe the souls of dragons. Many dragons. Who would condone us sucking the souls of others to save ourselves?” The lips pulled into a blubbery smile.
Samael shrugged. “I can’t deny the will to survive to anyone.” Because dropped into the same situation, he’d have probably done anything to remain alive. And more.
Eogan cackled. “It’s too late for us. They were right to damn us. And we should have taken our punishment and died as expected.”
“But we didn’t,” grumbled Maedoc. “While it’s too late for us, you can still effect change.”
“What if I’d rather not?” Going back out there meant the same shit pile as before.
People who hate me.
People who want to kill me.
People who hate and want to kill me or cut me up for science.
Then there was the brother he probably should apologize to. Not that Samael had done anything wrong, but the big jerk was being a baby about the whole locking him up thing and hitting on his woman thing and he kind of expected it.
Then there was the fact that he’d told everyone he was going to be king, only now, he wasn’t. He was—gack—a nobody right now.
Untrue, you’re the brother to a king. A Golden in his own right.
The world is big enough for two.
If it didn’t burn first.
He frowned, and Maedoc took the chance to bounce his chunk of rib bone around the board and elegantly beat him.
Again.
Asshole.
He got to his feet. “I need to check on something.”
“You won’t find any annals to corroborate our story.”
“I don’t need one.” Because the longer the Jabbas spoke, the more their story rang true. Samael didn’t know if it was a Golden power, or just the fact that he could read their intent, but they weren’t lying.
Which meant a great evil had been released upon the world, and they might not even know it.
The room of mirrors Maedoc mentioned proved easy to activate once Samael knew what he was looking for. It took but a rub of the sand-colored jewel crowning the top of the mirror to ignite the magic.
The sizeable glass illuminated, as did the reflective surfaces nearest it. Their faces filled with a desert of black sand that undulated, swirled in gusts of wind, and, at times, even turned into dark holes that closed without a trace.
Not earth.
He moved over and activated another gem, a crystal-clear one. Frozen tundra, snow of palest mauve piled in drifts, the branches of trees, heavy with icicles that jangled as a breeze shot through them. Round humps gave the impression of buildings, yet not one track marred the snow.
A water world next, just endless waves.
An orange jungle of trees, bereft of life.
Then the world he both sought and dreaded.
Earth.
The largest mirror showed an abandoned temple, parts of the ceiling caved in, a place long forgotten.
The mirrors scattered around the large one seemed to be dotted throughout the world.
The perspective for most was from on high, as if the image were anchored from the sky.
They showed cities with their towering skyscrapers, roads meandering with cars that crept like little ants.
In many, smoke rose in spirals.
Was this the anarchy Maedoc and his brother spoke of?
It’s none of my business.
He kept repeating that to himself and was so focused on it, he missed her arrival until she said, “Guess we can’t avoid going home anymore.”
“You do realize home is about to turn into a war zone. We’ll probably die.”
“Or, we could save the world.”
“Fuck ’em. Leave them to their fate.” They never cared about his.
“And miss out on the killing?” Cocking her head meant Deka’s pigtails bobbed most enticingly. He knew what he wanted to be for Halloween this year and what she should wear to match him. Maybe he’d recreate the scene where he shoved the girl off the platform then dove after her.
He eyed her.
Deka smiled back and mouthed, “I’ll grow out my hair for longer pigtails by then.”
The damned woman was reading his mind, again, wanting to fulfill his fantasies.
“There might not be a world by October.”
“Ye of little faith. I’m pretty sure you and I can handle Suzie.”
“Suzie’s been gobbling up souls for breakfast, lunch, and dinner to get stronger.”
“Yeah, but here’s the problem, muffin. She messed with us.” Deka smiled. “And I think we’re owed some payback.”
The thought of revenge did sound sweet.
“How do you know all this?” he asked.
“You’re not
the only one who knows how to question prisoners.”
He glared at her. “You knew and didn’t tell me.”
“You’re the one who keeps telling me you’re so great.”
“As I recall, you’re the one who started calling me god in bed.” And against the wall. And on the throne.
“A god shouldn’t need his woman to tell him anything.” She ran a finger down his chest. “Or are you admitting I’m better than you?”
“I know what you’re doing,” he growled as her hands reach around to cup his ass.
“I know that you know that I know what I’m doing.”
“You’re using sex to distract me.”
“No, I’m using sex because I’m horny.”
“Much as it pains me to admit, we need to go back.”
“I know. I know everything,” she said with a laugh, sliding her hands inside the waist of his pants to cup his butt.
“If we do go, then what do we do about Maedoc and Eogan?” Because, while he’d like to trust them, they had, after all, eaten dragons and anything else they could get their hands on to stay alive.
“Who?”
He didn’t want to say it, but… “The Jabba brothers.”
She snickered. “Are they still kicking around? I guess we can let those leeches go. But only after we save the world and I show those heifers my Gold is better than theirs. Shall we open the portal?”
He blinked at her. “You know how to open those, too?”
A smirk pulled her lips. “You aren’t the only one who can decipher ancient instructions, stud. Wait until you hear my repertoire of dirty languages in bed.”
Speaking of bed, soon he’d have a real mattress under him, not that weird stuffed shit that passed for a mattress here. Because they were going home.
To save it.
Which meant work and not a lot of free time.
Before they left the mirror room, he fucked Deka twice.
And when he found his release inside her from behind, he almost bit her. Almost put a mark on her that would have bound her more surely than anything else.
But he held back.
How disappointing.
He couldn’t have said whom the thought came from. He didn’t care.
She’s mine.
All mine.
Yes, yours.
Dun-dun-dun.
Chapter Seventeen
What a bummer. Not only had Samael yet to mark her, but their emergence into the real world proved free of fanfare.
Deka planted her hands on her hips and glared at the empty field. “Where is my welcoming committee?”
“Don’t you mean, where’s mine? The prodigal Golden prince returns. That merits at least an emissary.” Samael did look rather regal in his ancient garb of tight blue velvet britches, ivory shirt edged with tattered lace, and supple black boots.
She, on the other hand, wore a modified princess gown, the skirt shortened and the cleavage hacked. “Those lowdown heifers. They’re jealous, stud. Jealous I tell you.”
His chin took on an arrogant tilt that she wanted to nibble. “Of course, they are, because you get to be with me. You’re welcome.”
“Excuse me? I chose to be with you,” she said, managing an even more imperial cant of her head. “You should thank me for coming to find you. After all, it was my brilliant plan that brought me to that dungeon to save your sweet ass.”
“I could have saved myself,” he grumbled.
“Sure, you could have.” Smirk. “So which way do we go now, muffin?” She turned to look at him over her shoulder and thus missed the box camouflaged in the high grass, which tripped her.
Lightning-fast reflexes meant he caught her before she landed on her face.
“Aha, I just saved you. You’re welcome. Now we’re even.”
She cast him a glare through the hair in her face. “I wouldn’t call this even.”
“You’re right. I’m probably slightly ahead. You can thank me with head later.”
“You’ll be lucky if I don’t bite you.”
The leer and his husky, “What if I want you to bite me?” almost sent her swooning face first again.
Releasing her slowly—to her utter disappointment because, hello, they could have been fucking in the farm field—he dropped to his haunches to study the weather-tight box.
“What do you think’s inside?” he asked.
“The heifer’s idea of an emergency pack,” she muttered. But where was her family? Last time she’d peeked into the field there was a tripod set up with a camera. Now…nothing but a strip of charred grass east of them, the smell of old smoke tickling her nose, and the more putrid stench of rotting flesh.
A battle had happened here. Who’d won?
She stood rather than open the box and peeked around. There was something eerily quiet about this spot.
The flat field had nowhere to hide. No rocks to mask an ambush. No trees for people to spring from behind. The grass, for the most part, appeared undisturbed and untrampled, and there was nothing to indicate anything belowground.
Yet…she could see the wasteland, a dark scar amidst the lush green. A burnt swath.
Of the camera she’d waved at before, not a sign. Nothing but the box.
“There’s no one around for miles,” he stated.
“How can you tell?”
“Because I can feel it.”
“But say that person was shielding themselves? Like in a lead box? Or a blind?”
“We’re alone.”
“But—”
“How about you don’t question? I know because it’s a weird skill Anastasia had me cultivate.”
“Along with the invisibility thing.”
“Among other things.”
“You’ll have to show me those other things.” And yes, there was innuendo in those words.
She dropped back down to the grass and slapped his hands when he would have undone the hasp on the box.
“Don’t. It could be rigged.” Rarely did a dragon leave treasure out in plain sight without at least something to scare off the unworthy.
She ran her hands over the box lightly, feeling for any vibrations—she still remembered the bee incident in the cookie jar. Damned Aunt Yolanda’s way of catching the cookie thief.
She waited to see if her hands would tingle from electricity—battery-operated traps always had a hint. She leaned closer to smell, although not all drugs could be scented that way.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s a goddamned box.” He tore at the latch and threw open the lid. A smart dragoness—with a pretty face—she threw herself behind him.
“Did you really just use me as a shield?”
“If the width fits…”
“What happened to me being a Golden heir? Shouldn’t you be jumping in front of me?”
“That only applies to women not sleeping with you.”
“Since when do we sleep?”
“Good point.”
Together, they peered into the disappointing box. In a Ziploc bag on top, a note in elegant script.
About time you’re done with your little vacation. The Septs are at war. Mostly with the being calling herself Voadicia. No last name, which is utterly pretentious. Probably a peasant. We have been by the field sporadically to clear out welcoming committees. You’re welcome. I’ll expect you to check in the moment you arrive. There’s a phone at the bottom. Your loving mother, X.
“I just got the warm and fuzzies,” he exclaimed.
She cast him a side-eye.
“Not.” He smirked. “Better call your mommy.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
“Kind of hard not to considering its size.”
Again, good point. Under the bag, she found two more, one with a cell phone, the other with a set of car keys.
“Nice of them to leave us some wheels,” he remarked.
“They could have left me some lipgloss, too.” All that kissing was leaving her chapped.
As they
began to walk toward the road and the shadow parked on the shoulder of it, she couldn’t help but stare at the sky. A cloudless, blue sky.
She distrusted it. It just seemed too easy.
Way too easy.
Samael didn’t peek once. He just walked all la-di-da, not a care in the world.
“Why isn’t Suzie here?” she asked. Surely, the crazy cow had to know Deka would arrive to vanquish her.
“Probably because she’s off enjoying her Armageddon.”
“She should have left something behind, though. It can’t be this easy. I’m kind of insulted.” She peeked over her shoulder to see the grass unmoving, no sign of the portal. Which begged the question, how did it open from this side?
“There’s a special word.”
Having gotten used to him reading her thoughts, she wasn’t too surprised. “What word?”
“That’s for me to know, and you to fuck me into cross-eyed bliss to find out.”
“You’re on.”
Halfway across the field, she could better see the vehicle left behind for them parked on the side of the road. A Range Rover. Nice wheels. Probably bulletproof.
But the real question? Was it flame retardant? Because that nagging suspicion turned into an aha moment as the charred ground burst open, the ashy dirt releasing several full-grown dragons and a few wyvern hybrids.
“Told you it was too easy.”
Ditching his fancy jacket, Samael grinned, his eyes wild with green fire and a red glow. “Still is. See if you can keep up, princess. Or are you going to hide behind me again?” With that, he burst out of his clothes, the fabric shredding from his frame, his body expanding, stretching, and becoming immense, the smooth skin she knew every inch of turning scaly. The golden scales were duller than Remiel’s with hints of another color, one she couldn’t describe.
Of more interest, the budding horns on his forehead. The ones that seemed to grow a little more each time he shifted.
He was an impressive beast. Massive in size. His fangs the longest she’d ever seen. And he was fearless.