Garden of Dragons (Dark Gardens Series Book 3)

by Meara Platt

  Melody nodded.

  Cadeyrn took her hand in his, then turned to address Saron. “You suffered great torments in the Underworld. My subjects and I have also suffered under the demon yoke for thousands of years. We were slowly turning into those creatures, losing our ability to feel joy as we slipped into their dark realm.” He turned to gaze lovingly upon his wife. “With Melody’s help, we defeated Brihann, but we did not destroy him or the other Dragon Lords. Perhaps we were not meant to. Perhaps we are not meant to.”

  “Yet we feel their alliance is weakening,” Melody said. “This may be the moment we’ve all hoped for, the moment when the demonic realms of the Underworld are subdued.”

  Saron clenched his fists. “How? Through meaningless treaties? The Dragon Lords are firmly bound in hatred. You may know them longer than I have, but you’ve never lived among them as I have.”

  “Perhaps Python, Necros, and Brihann are truly lost,” Cadeyrn agreed. “But Mordain might yet be saved. He asked to come through the portal with Bloodaxe. We refused his request.”

  “Wisely.” Saron knew that Mordain was as dangerous as Bloodaxe, for he was the son of Lucifer, the fallen angel. Mordain was the red dragon, the keeper of Hell’s Gate. “None of them can be trusted. Or controlled.”

  He briefly considered the other Dragon Lords, wondering if Anabelle had believed a word of his story about Necros, the goblin, or Python, the elf. Or Brihann, once a Fae prince and Cadeyrn’s jealous uncle. The amber dragon, the emerald dragon, and the ink-black dragon, respectively.

  He and Bloodaxe were also black dragons, with long, spiked tails, broad wing spans, and thick scales to protect them. Anabelle had claimed she could tell them apart because of his eyes. He wasn’t so certain. He and Bloodaxe looked remarkably alike, even down to their glistening blue underbellies. “I will not sacrifice Anabelle for any reason.”

  Melody shook her head and smiled. “You’d never let anyone or any thing hurt Anabelle. We know that.”

  “Yet, you wish me to put her at risk.”

  “I wish you to trust her. Saron, you have the power to court and mate, to feel the pleasure of a woman’s soft body in your arms. The Fae lost that ability centuries ago and it almost destroyed them. The words etched in the Stone of Draloch speak of Fae salvation, but I don’t think your situation is any different. You must not close your heart to Anabelle’s love. Don’t throw it away to wallow in hate as the Dragon Lords do.”

  “It isn’t that simple.”

  Melody frowned. “It has to be. Or indeed, Anabelle shall die.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Anabelle heard Saron’s coach draw up to the townhouse around midnight, then heard his voice as he dismissed the last of the servants for the evening. She waited for his footsteps on the stairs, thinking he would retire to his quarters, but he marched straight into the library and quietly shut the door. She was debating whether or not to remain in bed, huddled beneath her sheets, when she heard the sound of glass shattering against the library hearth.

  Pinching herself to be certain she was awake and had, in fact, heard the exchanged greetings between Saron and his butler, she donned her robe and slippers and hurried downstairs, pausing but a moment to listen at the door. The sound of Saron’s pacing signaled the meeting with the Prince Regent had gone worse than the night before.

  She peeked in.

  Saron turned, his glance revealing that he obviously ached quite badly. “Anabelle, go back to bed.”

  “I can’t,” she said, knowing she ought to obey his wishes, but she simply couldn’t leave him alone to his anguish. “Why are you smashing your finest crystal against the hearth? The noise is most distracting.”

  He turned away and sighed. “It was only the one, a simple wine glass.”

  She took a cautious step forward, for she could see he was in a dangerous state.

  “Go away, Anabelle.”

  But her heart would have none of it. He needs you, it insisted, urging her into the room and toward the mahogany cabinet filled with expensive crystal. “I’m quite adept at tossing objects, particularly fragile objects,” she found herself saying.

  He laughed gruffly. “I recall.”

  “But I recommend tossing pillows or sturdy books. I’m sure you have a few of those in your library and they won’t break so easily, unlike the lovely glasses I now hold in my hand.”

  He closed the small distance between them and paused at her side. Groaning, he took them from her grasp to place them back in the cabinet. “Very well, no more tossing delicate objects.”

  She glanced at the fireplace, surprised to find his aim remarkably accurate for a man so outwardly enraged and inwardly bereft. The one glass he’d thrown had shattered completely within its confines.

  Even when enraged, he never lost control.

  “How about not tossing any objects at all?” she suggested.

  He sighed, but nodded.

  She placed her hand on his arm and felt the raw tension simmering beneath his solid muscles. He was dangerously wound into a tight, angry coil and could explode in a dragon rage at any moment. However, not at her. Never at her. “Care to talk about what’s troubling you?”

  “No.”

  “You may as well tell me, for I won’t be put off again, and don’t you dare distract me with your kisses. I won’t melt this time. I’m determined to have the truth.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Melt?”

  She sighed. “You know I do whenever I’m around you. I’m little more than a puddle now. My legs won’t hold me up much longer.”

  Despite his ill humor, he laughed. “Then you had better sit down.” He wrapped a large, warm hand around hers and led her to one of the chairs beside the hearth. He remained standing though, crossing his arms over his chest and resting a broad shoulder against the mantel. When he glanced downward, she noticed a crumpled sheaf of paper amid the crystal shards.

  She reached forward and picked it up. “Asbury,” she read. “Knox, Bellingham, and Reston? Who are they?”

  “It isn’t important.”

  “I see. Then you won’t mind my paying a call on each of them tomorrow.”

  “Anabelle, I forbid it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And we all know how obedient I am. What have they done to make you angry?”

  “It’s none of your concern.”

  “Of course, it is. You’ve made it my concern.” She saw that he meant to blurt some nonsense about her being a meddlesome chit, but even in his ill humor, he could not deny the fact that he’d interfered in every conceivable aspect of her life, forcing her from her happy existence in order to accommodate his whims. “And if I mention Lord Bloodaxe to these gentlemen, how will they respond?”

  Their gazes locked, she refusing to back down. Finally, the anger seemed to drain out of him and he dropped his arms to his sides. “Have I ever mentioned that you’re an enormous nuisance?”

  “Constantly. Though I’ve always shown remarkable restraint and never called you the insufferably stubborn dolt I often think you are.”

  “Dolt, am I?”

  “And insufferable and stubborn.” She held her ground and nodded.

  He didn’t seem all that irritated. “I suppose I am.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “You may as well hear the rest of it. I owe you the truth.”

  Anabelle held her breath.

  “Prinny was the one who invited Bloodaxe into my home last night. He had the gall to suggest I place a spell of forgetfulness over you, hoping to spare you the memory of the incident.”

  “What utter rot and foolishness. I’d much rather know the danger. How else am I to protect myself? In truth, I doubt such a spell would ever work on me.”

  Saron arched an eyebrow. “If I cast it, then it would.”

  She met his gaze, her expression matching his for stubbornness. “Your spell would never work on me. I don’t care how many times you attempted to cast it over me. I would never forget anything about you or those that
might affect you. My heart will always recognize you.” She took his hand and squeezed it lightly. “Tell me the rest of your news.”

  “Prinny wishes to open treaty negotiations with the Dragon Lords. The Fae king will mediate the discussions. That’s why Prinny unsealed a demon portal and allowed Bloodaxe to come through.” He turned away to stare into the flames. “He believes Bloodaxe wants to be redeemed.”

  Anabelle sighed. “I agree. He’s had two opportunities to kill me and has chosen not to each time. That’s why I believe he didn’t kill Gideon. I find it more likely that Brihann did it to purposely keep you and Bloodaxe apart. But you will reunite someday. I saw it in my dreams. The two black dragons with the blue underbellies united against the all black dragon.”

  “Your dream is wrong, Anabelle. Do not be guided by it.”

  “Nor am I to be guided by the Stone of Draloch because it is lying to me as well?” She wasn’t angry with Saron, just concerned that he would never see past the torments of his childhood. She rose to stand by his side and then wrapped her arms around him, wanting to rest her head against his chest. He grumbled, but drew her into his embrace. “Bloodaxe also warned me about a traitor in the royal inner circle. Why would he do so unless he meant to protect us? That list of men. One of them is the traitor, isn’t that right?”

  He growled softly, almost a low, predatory purr of a cat. A big cat. A tiger or panther perhaps. “Will you frown like this through our wedding ceremony as well?” She eased back to stare at his expression. “We are getting married tomorrow, aren’t we?”

  She and Saron were forever bound as dragon mates.

  He had to marry her.

  He wanted her, there was no doubt.

  But the closer they were bound, the greater his fear in losing her.

  His silence angered her. “Do you intend to renege on your promise to marry me?” He couldn’t. The deed was done. He had to marry her now that he’d taken her innocence.

  A dragon mate was for life.

  They’d mated.

  She was his for life.

  “I would have done it only to protect you.”

  “If you say that one more time, I will start hurling objects at you. The only way to protect me is to open your heart to me.”

  “I can’t. You don’t understand.”

  She was definitely going to hurl something at him. “Bloodaxe’s eyes were so cold and empty. His very existence is meaningless and empty. So will yours be unless you stop shutting me out.”

  He grudgingly kissed the top of her head. “I’m holding you in my arms. I’m talking to you. How am I shutting you out?”

  “By dismissing the importance of my encounters with Bloodaxe. Tell me more about those gentlemen on your list, but not here. Come to bed with me. We can talk just as comfortably in my chambers.”

  She thought Saron was about to reject her request, but he surprised her by chuckling. “The last thing I wish to do with you in bed is talk.”

  She blushed. “I desire your body, too. We’ll have all night. Surely, you can’t expect to…well, I don’t know what to expect. But I would like to know more about demons and faeries and dragon lore.”

  They walked upstairs together, but he did not follow her into her bedchamber. She turned to him, disappointment clearly etched in her expression. “Unbolt the door between our chambers,” he said quietly. “I’ll join you shortly.”

  “It hasn’t been bolted since the first night.” Her heart beat faster in anticipation. “Promise me.”

  “Anabelle, you’ve had me in dragon lust from the moment you stepped foot in my library. I will come to your chamber, but there will be no talking between us for a good long while. The urge to mate with you is too strong and must be satisfied first.”

  As though to prove his point, he suddenly swept her into his arms and carried her into her chamber. He kicked the door closed behind them and settled her in the center of the bed. “Stay there. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He grinned. “Dismiss your Fae guards. To be precise, have them patrol out of earshot.”

  Her confusion lasted only a moment and she blushed. “Good heavens, you ought to learn to contain your dragon roar when…you know, once you’re satisfied.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I wasn’t referring to me.”

  She gasped. “Don’t tease me. I cannot possibly make more noise than you.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “Care to wager on it? We shall soon put it to the test.”

  “No wagers. I’ve had enough of them to last a lifetime.” She grabbed her sheet and drew it up to her neck. “Dismiss the Fae guards.”

  He did so quickly and returned to her side, wasting no time in releasing her hair from its loose braid and then slipping the nightclothes off her body. “My turn,” she said, her hands trembling as she struggled with the fastenings on his clothes and practically tearing the shirt off his body in her frustration.

  “Smoothly done, my love,” he teased, stopping her hands and finishing the job himself so that he stood before her in resplendent glory.

  She made no protest. Didn’t say a word. He’d just called her my love. Did he realize what he’d said? She gave it no more thought when he settled his big body over hers and took her into his arms. Rippling, muscled arms.

  His mouth was soft upon her skin as he trailed kisses down her body. He slid his hand between her thighs, his touch rousing exquisite sensations. Then his mouth was on that most sensitive spot, his tongue and lips working their dragon magic until her body was on fire and her moans filled the air.

  She thought she would expire from the pleasure. He joined with her in that moment, entering her as her body erupted in shudders and her heart soared with love for him.

  “You’re so tight and beautiful,” he whispered, thrusting deep inside of her again and again, his eyes closed and his lips kissing the rampant pulse at the base of her collarbone. He cupped her breast and gently kneaded it, gently slid his thumb across its hardening tip. Their bodies arched toward each other, both of them hot and damp with desire.

  His body suddenly grew tense and then he erupted, grunting and shuddering as his seed flowed into her. His dragon roar filled the air. After a long, exquisite moment, he collapsed atop her and laughingly groaned.

  She loved the weight of him, loved the warmth of his breath on her skin and the light touch of his lips upon her breast. All too soon, he rolled off her, but he quickly drew her up against his side so that she was curled up and could absorb the warmth of his skin. “Little one, I lose myself when I’m in you. Did I hurt you?”

  “No, my love. You never could.” She kissed his chest and felt the rampant beat of his heart against her lips. “But there is one thing…”

  He frowned and cast her a worried glance. “What is it, Anabelle?”

  She grinned at him. “You were far noisier than me.”

  He laughed. “I went easy on you this time, but no longer. I’ll coax a roar out of you, yet.” He rolled her onto her back and proceeded to show no mercy.

  *

  The scent of sex surrounded Saron as he held Anabelle in his arms. It was well past midnight and they’d coupled twice in quick succession. He already craved her again, but he didn’t wish to exhaust her. They were to marry in a few hours and would soon have the right to share a marital bed without shame. Not that there was ever any shame in their coupling.

  He took a deep breath, needing to inhale her scent so that the memory of it never left him. He was pleased with his choice in a dragon mate. His only concern was in the lingering uncertainty about Anabelle. Had she come to him willingly or had the Stone of Draloch pushed her to him? In truth, the stone may have drawn her to him at first, but her heart had willingly accepted him. Also, Anabelle was too strong-willed to be so easily pushed around. He kissed the top of her head as she lay in his arms and asked questions about everything that came to mind.

  He willingly answered, ma
rveling at how easy it was to discuss anything with her, even the worst moments of his existence. “Demons are creatures of the ancient world,” he said, gazing at Anabelle’s soft, doe eyes. “They’re now ruled by powerful lords who have reigned over their depraved subjects for thousands of years. But even these demons were once thinking, sentient beings.”

  Anabelle nodded. “But no longer.”

  He ran his fingers through the red silk waves of her hair. “They now exist for the sole purpose of carrying out evil. Bloodaxe is one of their Dragon Lords, one of five dangerous and powerful shapeshifters who preside over the shadow realm known as the Underworld.”

  “Shapeshifters who can turn themselves into dragons, just like you. I feel swept heavenward in the majestic grip of dragon wings whenever you kiss me. You once spoke of the legend of St. George who slew the dragon. Were you that dragon? Of course, he didn’t kill you, only thought he did.”

  He frowned lightly, knowing she was recalling the image of him as a great taloned beast with the power to breathe fire and soar into the sky.

  “That dragon was Mordain, most ancient of the Dragon Lords. St. George did not defeat him. Mordain merely returned to his lair, having grown bored. That encounter was a harmless game, but there will be a savage war when the Dragon Lords plot their next attack on mankind. They blame everyone but themselves for their demise and have sworn to destroy us all.”

  Her soft hand curled against his chest. “Can they do it?”

  “Not as they are now. But it is only a matter of time before they can. Prinny and King Cadeyrn seem to think these beasts are safely contained for now. They’ve grown too confident in allowing Bloodaxe to come into our world through one of the demon portals.”

  “Did you tell them that he came to me?”

  “I did.” He nodded. “It won’t change a thing, for they don’t think he’ll harm you.”

  She pursed her lips in thought. “Strange, but I don’t think so either.”

  “No, don’t ever let down your guard.” He tried to quell his heightened rage, never aimed at Anabelle, but at a loathing for what he was, for the Draloch family name he carried with all its taint. “It would take nothing for him to plant a soul trapper in you and watch in amusement as that creature ate you alive.”