by Meara Platt
What the hell is coming through?
Anabelle burrowed against him and gasped. “Oh, my heavens. Saron, what is that thing?”
As the great, yellow beast slowly surfaced, the scales along its bloated body glistened in the winter sun. Saron quickly surveyed their surroundings and sounded a silent call of alarm to the Fae king. “Necros, the amber dragon. He’s one of the Dragon Lords.”
How had Necros created this demon portal? And why come through it in daylight when the heat of the sun’s rays would burn his wings? It mattered little that the rays shining across the water were only those of a weak April sun.
Anabelle continued to burrow against his chest so that he could feel the pounding of her heart as she clung to him. “He’s one of the dragons from my dreams. But how is it possible?”
“Anabelle, get behind me.” He eased her out of his arms and handed her the knife he always kept tucked in his boot, a weapon that seemed ineffectual against the enormous beast now rising out of the water. “Stay down and don’t move until I come back for you.”
“Wait. What are you going to do? You have no weapon.” She held the knife out to him.
“No, keep tight hold of it and aim for his heart if he comes near you.” He began to shift into his dragon form as he spoke, to shift before her very eyes although he’d meant to reveal his powers to her slowly and with much more care. His gaze fixed on Necros, who was now out of the water and circling the skies above them with a predatory intent.
Was he sent by the demonic High King, Brihann, to snatch Anabelle?
Saron would never allow it.
He continued to keep one eye on Necros and the other on the whirling pool of water, hoping nothing else was coming through. To his surprise, nothing else did.
Damn. He’d wanted Anabelle to know the truth about him, but not like this. There was no help for it now, she was about to see him at his demon worst. As he pulled off his boots and stripped out of his clothes, his body began to writhe and twist, to grow and harden until he was no longer himself but a great beast that existed only in legend.
The biting wind off the water did little to cool the hot dragon scales forming on his skin. He felt the volcanic surge of power build within him and course through his blood in an angry swell. Darker sensations overcame him, rage and a lust to kill. He was now an ancient leviathan, able to move silently across the sky and destroy all that existed below his path.
Bloodlust flowed through his veins as he lifted his enormous black wings and soared across the lake toward Necros. Kill. Kill. The span of his wings as they caught the drafts of air allowed him to effortlessly glide up and down, swoop in and out of the clouds.
He whipped his spiked tail so that it cracked the air with the force of a lightning bolt, for he was the mighty Draloch dragon. Powerful. Dangerous. Angry.
He dipped low and released a fiery breath across the water because he had the ability to release fire from his nostrils and it was the way of dragons to show their strength and take dominance over their foes.
His next release of fire would be aimed directly at Necros, for he meant to dispatch the Dragon Lord as quickly as possible before his minions could flood through the portal, assuming any were meant to follow. Why hadn’t any come through yet? The presence of Necros in daylight made no sense, indeed. No pure demon could survive in sunlight for very long. Necros had to slip back through his portal within the next few moments or risk burning alive under the sun’s glare.
What was his purpose?
Saron slammed into the big yellow beast that was Necros, easily knocking him off balance and enraging him further, for this particular Dragon Lord had lost part of his tail, its tip severed by Melody, the mortal Fae queen. She’d chopped it off with an axe while protecting Cadeyrn.
As Necros momentarily flailed, Saron fixed his gaze on Anabelle to make certain she remained safe. Don’t forget her. Don’t harm her. His momentary distraction was all Necros needed to retaliate, blowing fire at him and almost catching him up in the deadly flames. But Saron flew harmlessly out of the way with a powerful sweep of his wings.
Necros roared in frustration. “Spawn of Draloch! You are no match for our armies. Brihann will spare your life if you join us. He will not ask again.”
“Here’s my answer to Brihann.” Saron flared his dragon nostrils and emitted another blast of fire. Necros shrieked and dove into the swirling waters of the lake to put out the flames that now engulfed his amber wings.
Saron hovered over the water, emitting a final dragon roar that echoed across the empty lake. As the water turned smooth as glass once more, he knew the Dragon Lord had retreated through the demon portal and sealed it.
No matter, it saved him the bother of sealing it himself. He wouldn’t have chased after Necros, not while Anabelle was defenseless on the shore. Damn. He now had to face Anabelle. He’d given her a dagger. Would she now use it against him?
He took two turns around the lake to calm himself down before he flew to her side and turned himself back into the man she knew, for he couldn’t risk harming her if she did happen to point the blade at him. “I rarely shift into a dragon in daylight,” he said, his blood still hot and pounding through his body as he began to shift back into his natural, human form. He took several deep breaths to calm himself further. He’d enjoyed the sport too well, taken too much pleasure in hunting down Necros and watching him plummet into the water with his wings aflame.
Anabelle said nothing, merely stared at him wide-eyed.
He turned his back to her, for he was naked and the girl was obviously too stunned to turn away. He hastily donned his trousers and boots before turning to face her. “Unlike the Dragon Lords,” he said, trying to sound calm so as not to frighten her any more than she already had to be, “I have no issue with sunlight.” In truth, she appeared more stunned than scared, her doe-eyes wide and mouth agape. “But I can never risk being seen by others. I’m known as the Dragon of Draloch, but most of Society believes I gained the name because my eyes resemble that of the dragon on the Draloch ducal crest. Penelope and Melford know the true reason.”
She shook her head and groaned raggedly. “Now I know, too.”
“Little one,” he said, aching for her acceptance. How could she ever accept the creature that he was? He wanted to reach out and take her into his arms, but saw the sudden glint of fear and confusion in her eyes as he was about to take a step toward her. She still held his knife and it was pointed at him. “Although I meant to share this secret with you, my intention was to ease you into it gently. I never intended to put on so vivid a display.”
He remained standing where he was, deciding it was best for her to walk to him whenever she was ready. She reminded him of a startled fawn that would sprint away if he dared approach. “Do you mind if I pick up my shirt and put it on?”
She bent to retrieve it for him since it lay close to her feet. “All these years,” she whispered, walking toward him and handing him the shirt. Then she groaned with an ache that clawed its way up her throat. “Oh, Saron.”
She placed a trembling hand lightly on his arm as he was about to don his shirt, stopping him. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words immediately came out. Finally, she held out his knife. “Here. It’s yours.”
“Keep it, little one. You see what I am and know that I have no need of it.” Any other girl would have kept it tightly clutched in her fist for protection against him, perhaps stabbed it through his demon heart.
“I don’t need it either. I’d never use it, certainly never against you.” With hands still shaking, she continued to hold it out to him. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said with a tremulous rasp to her voice.
“I’m glad.” He took it from her fingers and tucked it into his boot.
She licked her lips, for her mouth must have been dry from the screams she had been holding back. “What happens now?”
He arched an eyebrow and smiled wryly. “We walk back to Harleigh.”
S
he licked her lips again and tipped her head up to meet his steady gaze. To his surprise, he saw no lingering trace of fear in her soft, doe eyes. “And once we’re back at Harleigh? What happens then?”
“You have a choice to make.” He raked a hand through his hair, wanting her to make the right choice for herself and at the same time desperate that she would not. “Either to run as far away from me as you possibly can and make a safe life for yourself with another man.”
“Or?”
He sighed. “Or accept to become my dragon mate. You cannot stay as my ward. If you stay, I will claim you as mine without benefit of marriage.”
Her steady gaze never faltered. Indeed, he liked that about Anabelle, that ability to meet a problem head on. “Dragon mate?”
“Would you understand the term more clearly if I used the word wife?”
“Are you saying that you will accept my offer of marriage if I choose you? That we would be married in a church?”
“Yes, a traditional wedding in every sense, recognized by the Church of England.”
“A small wedding, I would expect,” Anabelle said, her pretty lips curving upward in a slight grin. “You don’t strike me as the sort who would enjoy a drawn out, lavish affair.”
“Necros just tried to set you ablaze and you’re planning a wedding?”
“I’m doing nothing of the sort, just trying to think through all of the possibilities. Didn’t you command me to make a choice? So that’s what I’m doing.” She suddenly blushed. “Now that we’re beyond the matter of the wedding…what are the…er,…duties of a dragon mate?”
“Duties?” He stifled a laugh. “Same as any wife to a husband. My duties to you are the same as any husband to a wife. I will honor and protect you, never harm you while there is an ounce of soul left in me. But dragons mate for life, so if you accept to become my wife, then you would share my bed. Share my life. There will never be another mate for me. Only you.”
“You would be faithful to me in our marriage?” The notion appeared to surprise her.
He nodded. “As you must be faithful to me. I know you will be, Anabelle. This isn’t what I fear. It is the looming war between demon and man that is the danger. As my dragon mate, you will be hunted as a prize to be set before Brihann, the demonic High King who rules the Underworld. Bloodaxe will also hunt you, his goal to kill you as he killed Gideon. The hatred between us runs deep.”
“I see.” She sighed and pressed her lips to his heart.
Her mouth felt so soft.
He drew her into his arms, knowing it was a mistake and not caring. He loved the feel of her against his skin. Indeed, she was his weakness. “You needed to know what I am.”
“And now I do.” She tipped her head up to gaze at him once more. “I’m mad. I must be mad. But these odd dreams I’ve had all of my life finally make sense. Saron, I can never give my heart to another.”
He wrapped her tightly in his arms, wanting to soak her in for as long as this moment would last. “Don’t give your heart to me. Little one, that way lies dangers untold.”
“I know. I’m not afraid to face them.” She reached up and kissed him gently on the mouth. “I’ve never ridden on a dragon before. Will you take me on a ride tonight?”
Chapter Ten
Since Saron had neglected to take back his jacket, it was still wrapped around Anabelle’s shoulders as they walked back to the house. The garment gave her a warmth and comfort that he was reluctant ever to give her. She now understood his protective nature and his motives in pushing her away.
Any other young woman would be packing up her belongings and heading to London to leap into the Marriage Mart. It was the only logical decision a girl could make. Saron wanted her to make it. Indeed, he was begging her to do it with his every pained glance. So why did she find the choice unacceptable?
It felt wrong to the depths of her soul.
True, to choose him meant accepting a danger that existed beyond her comprehension.
But he was the dragon of her dreams. How could she abandon him? If war broke out between demons and men, wasn’t she at risk anyway? Every mortal was at risk. If she were to be hunted by Brihann and Bloodaxe, wasn’t she safest under Saron’s protection?
The clean, male scent of him lingered on the elegant wool of his jacket. She willed her body not to respond to his scent, but she had long ago surrendered herself to all that was him. His touch, kiss, and masculine heat.
That she was still innocent was not of her doing, but his.
Her traitorous heart beat faster and her legs grew weak as they approached Harleigh Hall.
“Are you all right, little one?” He eyed her with concern, the blue of his eyes capturing her gaze and drawing her into him.
How could anyone else exist for her? “You’ve given me much to think about.”
He nodded. “Too much, I think.”
“Does Lady Caroline know what you…are?” Why had she asked? Why should she care if Saron saw fit to confide in the beauty who must have captured his heart at one time?
“No. She was never in my heart.”
Had he just read her thoughts? “But I am? Is that what you’re saying?”
He ignored the question.
He hadn’t denied it. That was something.
“I will show you more of my world tonight, after everyone’s retired to bed.” He ran a finger lightly across her cheek, sweeping a loose curl behind her ear. “Unless you’ve seen enough. I expect London holds much appeal for you now.”
“It holds none at all, but I will go with you to London. I’ll go with you wherever you wish to take me because I don’t wish to be apart from you.”
He growled softly, caressing her cheek once again. “Careful, Anabelle. I may hold you to your words.”
“I hope you do. I–”
“Anabelle, do not give me your answer yet. Once given, it can never be taken back.” He escorted her into the house. After making certain she was all right, he left her to go in search of his trusted solicitor.
Anabelle decided to retire to her bedchamber to make the preparations necessary to keep the estate running smoothly while she was in London. She would go with Saron because the Prince Regent needed to see him. There was no other reason, for she was no longer in search of a husband.
But to remain by his side was dangerous, she well understood. Not merely because demons existed. Saron existed, and that was her biggest problem. Wanting her as his dragon mate meant pledging his loyalty to her, meant taking on the duties of husband. But did it also mean that he would love her? What if the darkness overcame him and he turned against her?
Would he forget her?
He’d burn her with his dragon flame if she wasn’t careful.
Yet, returning to Society did not feel right either. She was an earl’s daughter and could make a good match with a man capable of loving her and the children they would raise, but she knew that she could never give herself to anyone but Saron now.
Too busy chiding herself to watch where she was going, she bumped into someone waiting by her door. “Forgive me, Lady Caroline. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“I’m sure the fault is all mine,” Caroline said, twisting the lace handkerchief in her hands, an unexpected sign of discomposure from this proud woman. “Quite forward of me to accost you at your bedroom door, but I was hoping for a moment of your time.”
Though Anabelle wished to be left alone with her thoughts, she gave in and nodded. This afternoon had been harrowing, to say the least. She needed time alone to sort out the wild confrontations, confidences and revelations. But there was a desperation in Lady Caroline’s eyes that could not be overlooked. “Of course. Won’t you come in?”
“Please call me Caroline.” She let out a short, nervous laugh. “I certainly haven’t behaved much like a lady toward you, though you’ve been polite and pretended I have. I don’t know where to start, other than to apologize for my earlier rudeness. My behavior was inexcusable.”
“Not at all. You’d just arrived and had a difficult journey. If anything, I showed a shocking lack of hospitality.”
“No, you were merely responding to my jealousy. Old hurts bring out the worst in me. And seeing you by Saron’s side, and those kittens so adorably playing at your feet. And you, so young and pretty.”
Anabelle managed a wry smile as she closed the door and offered Caroline a chair. “The duke is my guardian and I can assure you, he is not pleased to have won me along with my estate. The sooner he is rid of me, the happier he will be.”
Caroline pursed her lips and frowned. “I always thought he was a man devoid of feeling, or so he always claimed to be. A man who has no heart cannot love, he used to warn me.” She cast Anabelle a wistful glance. “Yet I think he cared for me just a little. It was so long ago, I hardly remember. Then Harry came along and I married him. We have a good marriage. He’s a wonderful man.”
Uncertain whether a comment was required, Anabelle decided to remain quiet.
Caroline let out a ragged sigh before continuing. “Saron and I…well, we were quite the scandal at one time. I loved him and wanted to marry him. But he never paid attention to the gossip or to my hints of marriage. He found it so easy to close himself off.”
Anabelle took her hand and squeezed it gently, feeling a sudden sympathy for her and the painful predicament in which she must have found herself, for loving a man who could not love in return was shattering. “I’m truly sorry that you were hurt.”
“He never lied to me, never pretended or gave me cause for hope, but a woman desperately in love always hopes for the impossible. I’m over him now, thanks to Harry and Olivia. I’m very happy with the family I have.”
“Though there are times you still feel like an outsider.”
Caroline glanced at her in surprise. “Is it that obvious?”
She nodded. “Olivia’s response when you mentioned her spectacles. I thought you’d be angry, but instead you seemed quite hurt. Not at all what I expected.”