Dragon Reborn_Dragon Point Five

by Eve Langlais

Perhaps the psychiatrist she’d sent to the loony bin by scaring her with her real face might have had a point. Deka might have some deep-seated daddy issues about her own birth.

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “Because it is.”

  “Yet you have no idea what it’s like for me. I went from top of the world to…”

  “To what? Hot stud muffin lucky enough to snare the most incredible woman in the universe?”

  His lips curved into an insanely sweet smile, a smile just for her. “You are incredible. And beautiful. And a shit ton of other things. While I’m a mixed-gene freak with nothing to offer but this castle underground.”

  “The castle is pretty sweet.”

  He growled.

  “But even if you didn’t have a single penny to your name, I’d still want you. You’re pretty damned awesome, muffin. And since I am the center of everything, and have declared it, it’s time you accepted it. Say it. I am Deka’s awesome stud muffin.”

  “Like fuck.”

  “There you go with that pessimism again. I thought we talked about that being forbidden. Hold on.” She sat up in the bed, tits projecting nicely, hair a jumbled mess, and said, “I hereby declare that your negative attitude be banished.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “It is if I declare it.”

  He shook his head but smiled. “You’re something else.”

  “I know. Deal with it.”

  “So, now what?”

  “We get wild again?” She waggled her brows and smiled suggestively.

  “Maybe after some food. I mean, what’s the next step?”

  “Ass-kicking and saving the world.”

  He sighed. “I meant for you and me. Where do we go from here?”

  “I’d say it’s obvious. You just need to say the words.” Because she’d already made her intent very clear. But even she had some pride. The next move was up to him.

  “Deka, I—” Whatever romantic declaration he would have made—and it would have been epic because, hello, the man was so obviously in love with her—was interrupted by a heifer who was instantly demoted from her best friend position. When Deka became queen someday—because she didn’t think small—she’d outlaw cock-blocking.

  Babette, though, with no regard for true friendship, barged in yelling, “Incoming!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Invasion!

  Dammit. From secret hideaway to sudden hot spot. Apparently, his hidden home was no longer safe.

  Samael threw on a pair of pants the moment he rolled out of bed. It took him but a few steps to hit a security console and key up the active cameras. It didn’t take long to find the problem.

  An intruder had discovered his secret entry, the one by the river, accessible only to someone who could fly with a keen eye for detail—and who didn’t mind a bit of bat shit.

  Then, if you got past that, there was the second underwater tunnel, tight to fit through, the chamber of spiders, always guaranteed to make people scream, and then, if they managed to top that, the shiny room. Lots of pretty, shiny things to draw the avarice-eyed. When they slowed, bam, incinerated with napalm.

  A brilliant defense system that wouldn’t stop the person coming.

  I don’t have much time.

  He turned and saw that Deka sat on the bed, naked and gorgeous. Soft and vulnerable.

  “Stay here,” he ordered.

  She arched a brow. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you’re not.” He strode quickly to the door and slammed it shut, then locked it. For her own safety, which was why he didn’t understand the litany of names she called him as she pounded on it.

  Probably relief under the shrieking anger that he was being so thoughtful about her wellbeing.

  Knowing he’d have to face this invader—I can’t hide from this—Samael stood on the smoothed plane of stone that acted as the courtyard to his castle.

  Around him, the crash of water as it tumbled into the crystal-lined pond masked most sound, and yet he felt him coming.

  My nemesis. His biggest regret.

  Through the tunnel bored through stone from centuries of flow, his brother emerged, shooting into the cavern, a golden streak that, for the moment, blinded as the ambient lighting reflected off the shiny scales.

  A big, healthy, and power-oozing dragon, it appeared Remiel had taken well to kinghood.

  Samael, on the other hand, was having issues. And he wasn’t talking about the horns he’d yet to see. He’d not mentioned it to Deka, but he’d noticed changes, too.

  He knew about the second heartbeat, the strange tingle inside him, and odder glimpses of another world. A layer to this one with the most bizarre glowing lights.

  Weird shit, but the most worrisome, the zaps of power—it’s magic, say it. He wanted to deny what happened. Magic was supposed to be fun. Singeing his ass when wiping wasn’t his idea of a good time.

  Neither were the random jolts of power that had shattered his morning cup of coffee while in Hell.

  He’d even zinged Deka a few times when they fucked. Although that meant her pussy squeezed him so tightly he just about burst. So that zap, he didn’t mind.

  But it made him wonder, What’s wrong with me? Would Remiel see the sickness within and seek to destroy it before it spread?

  Holding himself aloft on his mighty wings, Remiel trumpeted a greeting. There you are!

  “I see your powers of observation are keen,” was Samael’s sarcastic reply.

  Just as rude as ever. The blaring bugle was a warning to ready himself for battle.

  “Must we?” he said with a sigh. He’d left a warm bed and an even hotter naked body for this?

  With only the slightest of effort, he turned into his dragon self, and made the mistake, as he towered taller than before, of peeking at his reflection in the water. Even distorted, he couldn’t miss the protrusions on his forehead.

  Fuck me, there they are. Curling, black horns. He would have touched them, but dragons, much like a T-rex, couldn’t rub their heads—either of them. It probably explained their anger issues.

  What’s that sticking out of your head? Remiel mind-spoke to him.

  Usually only mates could speak mind to mind, however it was recently discovered to be a trait of a Golden king that he might order his armies when not in human form.

  A fashion statement, Samael thought back to his hovering brother.

  Since when do you have horns?

  Samael shrugged. Some things just didn’t have a reply.

  What have you been up to?

  Did he really want to get into the whole capture and torture by a crazy chick? Dick? Whatever.

  No.

  Plotting to take your throne, while not the most conducive to his health answer, totally gave him the biggest balls of them all.

  Remiel burst with sound, and Samael braced himself for the attack. Surely, Remiel would try to kill him. After everything Samael had done…

  Instead of attacking, Remiel drifted down, tucked his wings, and sat. He also stared.

  Two could play at casual cool. Samael crossed his arms. Again, not far, the short-limb-versus-wide-chest thing.

  When nothing was said for a long moment, he finally cracked and uttered a trilling note. Why are you here?

  He received a trumpet in reply. Does a brother need a reason to visit?

  If he’d had regular eyelids, Samael might have blinked. You hate me.

  Not as much as I used to.

  Okay. That made no sense. I helped keep you prisoner.

  You didn’t have much choice.

  I should have tried to fight Parker. But I didn’t.

  Because you are an idiot.

  At that, Samael blarted and shifted back to man. “I am not an idiot.”

  “How else,” Remiel asked, shifting as well, their resemblance despite their different fathers uncanny, “do you explain getting caught by a witch?”

  He wouldn’t ask how Remiel knew about his
capture by the suzerain. A king should be well informed.

  “It was a sorceress, thank you very much, one so powerful she was banished eons ago.”

  “So I heard. She’s been whining about it on national television. Someone needs to get over it.”

  It kind of mirrored his thoughts. “She’s a nutjob.”

  “She is, and now, thanks to you, is out there roaming the world causing all kinds of trouble.”

  “You’re blaming me for this?” Samael bristled. “I had nothing to fucking do with it. She was a psycho before she escaped her hell prison.”

  “Why didn’t you stop her?”

  “What part of I was her prisoner did you not get?”

  “The part where you were a prisoner. Pathetic, dude.”

  He blinked. For real this time. “Dude? Did we suddenly become teenagers at the fucking beach?”

  “What else would you like me to call you? Brother? I’m not quite ready for that. Asshole seems like a rather counterproductive way to rebuild our relationship.”

  “What relationship? I was an asshole. You should hate me.” He didn’t say it for pity or forgiveness. It was fact. Samael had come to terms with his actions. If given another chance…he’d probably repeat them in the hopes of being king.

  Remiel appeared sad. “I would have let you have the title. You know I never wanted the throne.”

  “You seem to be enjoying it now. King.” He couldn’t stop the sneer.

  “Parker and Anastasia didn’t leave me much choice.” Remiel shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s not as bad as expected. It comes with perks, such as bossing people around. A nice change from our youth, eh?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I never really got a chance to be the boss. People were always trying to tell me what to do.”

  “Yet you found ways to do your own thing.” Remiel gestured to the cavern. “This wasn’t Anastasia’s or Parker’s doing.”

  “A castle isn’t a big accomplishment.”

  “Take pride in the things you did, not the things you didn’t,” Remiel uttered with a sageness greater than his years. “Holding on to the past, and the would-have, could-have, should-have moments doesn’t help you move forward into the future.”

  “Pretending it didn’t happen doesn’t make it go away. I did bad things. People won’t forget.”

  “They’ll have to if I order them.” Remiel’s lips ghosted into a smile, and Samael couldn’t help but frown.

  “And what of the fact that I was dating Sue-Ellen for a while? Are you ready to forgive and forget that?”

  At that, Remiel’s eyes flashed gold.

  “The fact that it never went further than a few kisses is the only reason you’re alive.”

  Magnanimous of his brother, especially considering Samael was going to have to have a talk with Deka, complete with a pen and paper so he could make a list of the males who would have to disappear. He feared the list might be rather lengthy.

  His woman had a lusty appetite.

  But from now on, she would eat only him.

  “If you’re not here to kill me, then why are you here?”

  “Hoping you have a cold beer in that hidden fortress of yours.”

  “You and I don’t do that kind of shit.” Normal families did. They were far from normal. “What do you want from me?” Did Remiel want his head? An apology on his knees? Was this simply a buttering-up moment before Remiel went all Golden bad-ass and decapitated him?

  “What do you think I should demand from the only blood family I have? The one who betrayed me? The one who was just as sorely abused? Do you want to die by my hand?”

  “Don’t you dare kill him.”

  No surprise, a locked room couldn’t hold her. Deka came flying out of his castle, wearing a shirt of his and not much else. She looked wickedly sexy, completely unhinged, and about to commit regicide—which probably wouldn’t go over well.

  Samael snared her before she could plunge her nails into Remiel and start something he didn’t want to finish.

  “Stop,” Samael said.

  I won’t let him touch you.

  He’s your king. You should obey.

  As if. You could be king. She hissed in his mind.

  Not at the expense of his brother.

  Funny how it took him this long to realize some things cost too much.

  She kicked and screamed in his grip, a rabid dragoness protecting her man. “Let me at him, muffin. I don’t care who he is. We’ll bury the body somewhere no one will find it. I won’t let him hurt you.”

  The sentiment gave him warm and fuzzy heartburn.

  Remiel arched a brow. “As deranged as ever, I see.”

  “It’s one of her more endearing traits,” Samael said through gritted teeth as he locked his arms around her.

  Deka snarled. “I won’t let you take him from me. King or not. He’s mine.”

  “Calm yourself. You can have him. But first, he has to do something for me. For the world, actually.” Remiel faced him, his expression quite serious. “You wanted to know why I came. I’ll admit, it’s a selfish reason. I need you to help me.”

  He frowned. “Help you? How?”

  “You’re the only one who can do anything against Voadicia.”

  The name caused his brows to rise. “Are you out of your fucking mind? I can’t help. I didn’t beat her. She held me prisoner.”

  “You got out.”

  “Only because princess here found a way.” The shame burned, but not as much as the fact that his brother thought Samael had something to offer. How wrong he was.

  Of a sudden, the world’s smallest violin played a sad, sad song in his head, followed by a distinct snicker as Deka said, Don’t be such a prima donna. Or are you trying to have someone stroke your ego? Man up.

  He wanted to, but… He shook his head.

  Slap. Deka had slipped from his grip and stood in front of him. “What did I say about the woe is me stuff?”

  Had she seriously slapped him?

  He glared at her. “Hitting isn’t nice.”

  “I tried using my words, and then you pissed me off. And are you seriously complaining about a girl slapping you?”

  “You are more than a girl, and you hit hard.”

  “But it worked. You’re not acting like some puny pussy, lying down and being all dramatic like. Oh, no, I can’t do this. I’m not good enough, blah blah blah. You want to claim you’re a loser? Do that after you at least try.”

  He glared at her. “And if I’m right and I fail?”

  “Then we will give you a hero’s burial.”

  “As pep talks go, that one rather sucked.”

  “Do you need another slap?”

  “You do realize my brother is asking me to do the impossible,” Samael noted.

  “How do you know it’s impossible? Have you truly thought about it? Besides, I thought you wanted to fight.”

  “I do. On my terms.” He glared at his brother. He dropped his voice and leaned toward Deka. I don’t want him banking everything on me. What if I fail?

  You won’t, was her soft reply.

  Aloud, Remiel said, “Believe in yourself. You have to believe because, without you, I fear we are doomed. You and you alone have magic to counter hers.”

  At that, Samael laughed. “Magic? What the hell did you sniff? I don’t have magic.”

  It might explain what’s happening to you.

  Remiel fixed him with a stare. “Stop denying it. You know what I’m saying is true. I wasn’t sure until I saw you.”

  “And what do you see?” Samael turned in a circle. “No beard. No long robes. Not even a proper staff. Exactly what makes you think I’m a wizard?”

  “Because, according to the hidden history books I’ve read, only dragons who can wield magic grow horns.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Poor Sammy. He almost fainted. Mostly because he started laughing so hard that he ran out of breath.

  But the mirth was just a front. As
soon as Remiel left, he’d marched off to the bedroom, dragging her with him, muttering, “I’m not a fucking wizard.”

  Someone was in denial.

  Someone was also wearing too much clothing.

  Take it off. You know you want to. No matter how subtly, and not so subtly, she suggested he strip, he remained partially clothed.

  At least she’d gotten frustrated sex—which was the fast and furious kind for the curious—before he started pacing, his sexy body covered in a terry cloth bathrobe that did more to enhance his yumminess than hide it. Less yummy was the doubt he kept displaying. It kept overriding his excitement at Remiel’s revelation.

  “A wizard?” he muttered for the umpteenth time.

  “I think it’s rather cool.” Other heifers had plain old dragons or wyverns for boyfriends. She had a freaking sorcerer. Baboom!

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Why?” Because, personally, all she could see were the infinite possibilities.

  “Because now Remiel is expecting shit from me. Everyone is. They’re out of their minds.”

  “I don’t see why you’re freaking. You have magic.”

  “I have it, but I don’t know how to use it.” He whirled to stare at her, his eyes wide, the arrogance stifled under panic. “How am I supposed to learn magic? There are no books. No teachers. No one to show me what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”

  “How hard can it be?” Of course, when she said it, she might have been staring below his waist.

  He glared. He did it quite well. Royally even, his aquiline features perfectly made for regal glaring. “Can you keep your attention off my cock for five minutes?”

  “No.”

  “Stop making me horny. This is serious,” he yelled.

  “So is my need for your cock.”

  “You can have my cock after you help me figure out how I can wield magic against a centuries-old witch and win.”

  “Practice lobbing some powerballs at dummies and then, in the final battle, knock her out. Problem solved. Now, bring me my prize.”

  He didn’t budge. “I might not know much about magic, but I am pretty sure it requires more than five minutes of practice.”

  “Says the guy who hasn’t even tried.” She sighed. Obviously, there would be no sex until she helped him. “Have you searched YouTube to see if anyone posted any videos?” Given his silence, she would guess no. “If we can’t find any, then we could always see what’s on Netflix.”