Return to Shanhasson

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  “Tell me and I will kill it.”

  She snorted and looked down at the guard lying on her. “Sal, do you mind?”

  “Aye, I do.” He licked her stomach and shot another glare up at Mykal. “But for you, na’lanna, I shall do as you ask.”

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  The guard’s eyes lit up and he nipped her belly, slithering lower.

  “Sal,” she said warningly. “Later.”

  He pressed a kiss on her mound and then slipped out of bed without another word.

  Mykal didn’t fail to note that she kept the other guard at her back. “What problem have I caused you, brightheart?”

  “You’re holding something back from me.”

  It took the millennia of his lives to keep his gaze steady on hers. “I seek only to protect you.”

  She stroked her fingers over his face. “I’m Our Blessed Lady’s Last Daughter, and I need no such protection from love.”

  “I’m Shadowed.” He fought to keep his voice flat and devoid of the anguish tearing his soul. “You want no part of Shadow.”

  “I argued much the very same thing once. A barbarian warlord conquered my army and professed a love like no other. I thought he was a fool for loving me, an even greater fool for trusting me. I’d killed dozens of men without thought or hesitation. I’d lie and cheat, plot and bargain with my greatest enemies, all to gain the High Throne.”

  She smiled, taking some of the sting from her words; he knew very well that Stephan, the Duke of Pella, had been one of her greatest enemies she’d gone to for help, only to be stabbed in the back.

  “Even once I began to feel love for my horse king, I was afraid. I tried to protect him. I locked down my heart and guarded my emotions, sure that if he knew the darkness I carried inside me, he would turn away in horror.”

  Sympathy made his heart ache. He knew very well what she must have felt, agonizing whether the one she loved against all hope would despise her and turn away in horror. “What Shadow could you possibly have carried, brightheart? No one shines as brightly as you.”

  “I craved his blood. Still do.” Her eyes fell shut. Through the bond, Mykal swore he felt something brush her chin, but he saw nothing. “I was afraid I would kill him. I was afraid that his love would make him vulnerable to Shadow, that he’d be slowly corrupted until he tried to kill me. I’d never known a man—even a lover—who could resist Shadow’s call to murder me.”

  Mykal dropped his gaze to the old puncture wound on her left breast. The man who’d wormed his way into her heart and bed hadn’t been his, and for that, he was sincerely grateful.

  “My reluctance to let him have my heart, as flawed and stained as I believed myself to be, nearly killed me. I nearly lost everything, the least of which was the High Throne. I almost lost his love, and that, my Keldari dragon, would have been the greatest loss of my life.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “What are you asking of me?”

  “I want you to give me everything.”

  Involuntarily, he tensed. The dragon inside him crouched, tail lashing, teeth bared in a vicious smile of victory. “I cannot. The dragon will eat you alive.”

  She tugged on his hair sharply, jerking his head back. “Am I Our Blessed Lady’s Daughter? Have I not walked as the White Dragon in your dreams?”

  “I know you have, brightheart, but those were only Dreams. So you told me yourself.”

  “That was before I very nearly slit your throat with talons on my hands. If you hold this back from me, you’re leaving a weakness in our bond that Shadow will exploit.” Her bond swelled in his mind, shining moonlight and crystal waters that birthed the White Dragon, luminous with scales and bright wings. “I’m strong enough, Mykal. I can take whatever you give. If I am to save you, you must let my Light fully embrace your Shadow.”

  “I don’t want to swallow you.” The dragon scraped claws through his soul, roaring with hunger. Blowing hard, he shuddered and tried to control it. “The darkness…”

  Pressing closer, she slid her thigh over his hips and nibbled on his lips. “Trust me to shine with love.”

  Desperate, Mykal looked to her First Blood. “If my dragon tries to devour her, kill me.”

  “I’ve pulled her back from death not once but twice,” the Red replied evenly. His hand flashed and the bed dipped behind Mykal. The knife point dug into his back again. Oddly, the second Red at his back with a blade hovering at his kidney sent relief crashing through him. “No Shadow will ever take her from us, not even you.”

  “The only thing I haven’t given you,” he whispered against her lips, “is my Kiss of Fire.”

  “You have no Fire.”

  “Exactly,” he sighed softly at the velvet softness of her mouth, the lush oasis where he longed to linger. “My Kiss is more poison than flame.”

  Her Reds said nothing, but he felt their rising tension. His skin prickled with their intensity. Blood trickled down his back from the red-haired Blood’s knife. “Close your eyes, brightheart. Return to the Well of Tears where you first met me as Mykal.”

  Through her bond, he saw the glimmer of moonlight dancing on water, her graceful sinuous scales sliding through his mind.

  “I gave you my heart. I gave you my blood. I gave you my body. Now, brightest heart of the midnight sky, I give you my Kiss.” And pray to She Who Hung the Moon that you survive.

  She didn’t wait for him; she pressed her open mouth to his on a low, rumbling invitation that cracked the bones in his spine and sucked the very air from his lungs. Wings crashed inside him, talons scoring his ribs. The Black Dragon rushed toward that shining water and released a massive bellow of fumes.

  Sands swallow him, he tried to stop it, but her tongue stroked his and she took him inside her body, melding their flesh together, and every chain he’d managed to throw on the beast melted away to nothing. Unfettered, the Black shot through their bond, flowing through their melded mouths. The White curved her neck over her shoulder enticingly, and he pounced so hard that both dragons sank beneath the waters.

  They rolled and tore at each other in their frenzy.

  Mykal screamed in her mind. :Release me!:

  :Never.: With a feral roar through the bond that sent his heart thundering, the White gripped the Black’s throat in her jaws and pinned him flat on his back. The Black ceased his aggression as suddenly as though she’d yanked out his still-beating heart.

  At the same time, Shannari pushed him flat in her bed despite the guard at his back, uncaring that the Red’s knife scored his body. Or perhaps that was exactly as she intended, because she threw her head back, breaking the kiss, and sucked in a loud breath.

  “Lady, you smell so good when you bleed.”

  “Wound me, then, brightheart. Bleed me until I’m as dry as Keldar.”

  She settled on him, shifting her hips and adjusting her legs until she was comfortable and he was in agony. Her glossy hair sparked and floated about her shoulders as though she danced with lightning, thick with Shadows yet still gleaming with her moonlight.

  However, the marks on her forearm from his dragon's bite sent a scimitar of regret slicing through his heart.

  Those long raking teeth marks down her arm and wrist sucked up her light like an endless night. She carried his power, his dragon, his Fire. He traced those scrapes with a shaking finger, and she shuddered. Her head fell back and she began to move on him, a slow, languorous glide that made his eyes roll back in his head. Wells, he couldn’t regret braiding the physical mark of his teeth with the magical power of his Fire, not when she reacted so wondrously to his touch.

  Afraid the talons might appear and wound her, he fisted his hands in the bedding, gritted his teeth, and held on to his control for dear life.

  She dropped forward, rubbing her stomach and breasts against him. Linen tore, but he kept his hands off her slender back. The last thing he wanted was for her Blood to have a valid excuse to interfere in this, the most beautiful, heart-rending
moment of his life. Nibbling on his lips, she whispered, “You’re still holding back on me.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  One of the guards made a low sound of amusement, but she didn’t stop tormenting his mouth. “They laugh because usually I’m the one protesting. Unleash your darkest desires on me, isn’t that what you said? I say the same. I want all of you, Mykal tal'Mamba, even the parts you’re trying so very hard to hide.”

  She stroked his bond, white wings flying through the darkness of his memories one by one. Stealing the very breath from his body with her kiss, she took his memories, too, and he made no effort to stop her. Unflinchingly, she saw him as Stephan. She saw the last meeting with Theo, who’d brought a young attractive Far Illione noble’s son to his caffe estate.

  :Benton’s older son,: she whispered in his mind.

  He gave her the vision of the twisted black spire raping the sky, boiling acid at its base eating away at Keldar day by day. :I took his life and killed him while wandering in the deserts, trying to reach the inner Venom Lake.:

  :I’ve never heard of it; how did you know it was there?:

  :Dreams.: He let her see the Black Dragon devour him, those hateful red eyes flashing in his soul. :This is the beast you’ve taken into yourself.:

  :He likes me as the White well enough.: She swirled her hips, clenching her inner muscles harder until he gasped out loud. :As do you. Now show me the rest, but I want to be beneath you.:

  He rolled her back into the center of her bed, grateful to get the knife out of his back. In their bond, the Black had the White’s shoulder gripped in his jaws, her wings stretched out on the glistening sands, her sleek belly vulnerable and inviting. The Well of Tears was gone, but the full moon shone larger than ever, brighter than the day but softer, gentler, without the punishing heat of Agni.

  Could She forgive him, too? Or would She require his life in final payment for his devalki? He didn’t want to die now, not when heaven lay beneath him, her scent of roses melting with his sandalwood, her cries driving him to thrust deeper.

  However, the last, most horrible vision played in his mind and he couldn't prevent her from seeing every wretched detail.

  She saw the ring roll from his finger and leap to lock about her neck. She saw her belly growing, the Shadow he’d planted sucking the life and joy from her soul, even as he grew young and strong once more. He stood before her as her hated enemy and touched her stomach. Violence rumbled through the dragon, a thirst for blood and flesh that no amount of sweet White blood could satisfy, not if he lost her forever. He roared to the heavens, blanketing the night sky with his poison, but he could not stop the life growing within her.

  She touched a single fingertip to his forehead and the vision shattered. Wincing, he felt like his mind had been sliced by shards of glass. His heart was sore, tattered and weak in his chest. His vision swam, his head sagging forward. She cupped his face firmly. “Mykal.”

  Her sharp voice cut through the haze. He focused on her, dread heavy in the pit of his stomach. Now she would order her Reds to kill him. She would banish him from her bed, her life, her heart for all time.

  Confused, he waited for the stroke of steel at his throat. The red-haired guard would go for his liver, the other for his heart.

  “Your Dream drove you to rid yourself of the ring.”

  He nodded, and he wasn’t ashamed when tears dripped down his cheeks. “I would rather die and suffer eternal damnation for my crimes then let that foulness chain you.”

  “Love changes everything.” She smiled, stroked her thumb across his bottom lip, and licked those tears from his cheeks. “And that's why I’ll carry your son.”

  His breath hissed out, his mind blanked, his body froze. “No. You can’t possibly…Your Blood said…They won’t allow it.”

  She arched a brow at him, her mouth quirking. “My Blood protect me, true, but I am Our Blessed Lady’s Daughter. When She sends a Dream powerful enough to make a man wholly dedicated to Shadow for centuries suddenly fling that dark power away from him and change the path of his life, I can do nothing else. She gave you that Dream, Mykal. Months ago, she gave me a similar Dream of a son. Your son.”

  “You can’t possibly bear a child of my blood. Shadow wants to corrupt Her bloodline. He wants a son to warp and maim the rest of Her daughters. Don’t you see? I’m Shadowed, I’m tainted, I’m poison.”

  In a voice soft as the White's downiest wings, she whispered, “Our Blessed Lady already gave me a daughter of Red and White and one of White and Black. Now, She wants a son to carry both darkness and light. I know it, Mykal, as I know that the sun will rise tomorrow and the Silver Lake shines in my heart. I don’t claim to understand Our Blessed Lady’s will fully, but She has a purpose.”

  He shuddered, his heart shredded, bleeding, ripping from his chest with regret. “My sole purpose as Mykal was to give you this son of Shadow.”

  “My Light is strong enough to bear him.”

  “The horse drink…”

  She gripped his throat in her jaws, biting firmly, and his toes curled, his back arched, and he exploded. Gasping he fell into her arms. She wrapped him tightly, held him while he struggled to catch his breath. Sorrow and joy, both, tore through him.

  Nibbling his ear, she laughed huskily. “If Our Blessed Lady wants a son, then no amount of drakkar will prevent it.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY TWO

  EVEN WALKING DOWN THE HALLWAY WAS COMPLICATED NOW THAT SHE’D TAKEN ANOTHER MAN TO HER BED. As always, Dharman had her back. Sal typically walked in front of her, swaying his hair invitingly with mischievous little grins over his shoulder to flash that dimple at her. With Mykal at her side, though, Sal refused to walk ahead. He pressed close to her right side, even though he knew she liked to keep her hands free in case an assassin struck.

  Dharman spoke in her mind. :He doesn’t want to lose his place.:

  His bond wasn’t uneasy, exactly, or even shaken—he was as solid and deeply embedded in her heart and soul as ever. Yet change was never easy, especially when she risked so much. :My Blood will never lose their place.:

  He didn’t reply, but he couldn’t hide his disquiet, his soul-deep worry for her welfare. :Are you sure?:

  Not about displacing her Blood. No, he was worried about this possible pregnancy. Even three years couldn't dim the memory of the bone-crushing pain and endless, agonizing hours of labor before her precious daughters' birth. Without Kae'Shaman, she would have died, and he'd retreated to the Tenth Camp.

  Yet Dalden Bay's Dream could not be denied. There, in the holiest place in the Green lands, Our Blessed Lady's wishes had been clear.

  :I felt the Call so strongly his Dream might as well have been mine.:

  :You must do as you feel Called. I will never interfere in your purpose. But I cannot lie, na'lanna. I fear for you. Greatly:

  :Do you have a premonition?:

  :Nothing concrete.: He sighed, his bond shimmering, twisting her closer to him in an invisible embrace. :I feel trouble. A storm brews on the horizon, although I cannot see the source. Beware, na’lanna, and keep us close. Even Mykal.:

  Sal smiled at her Keldari so hard his face must hurt and his fingers stroked the rahke on his hip. Irritated, she shoved into him, using her whole body to push his back against the stone wall. Before he could react, she unsheathed his rahke and pressed the tip to his throat.

  “Na’lanna Qwen…”

  “Enough, Sal. Do you need me to remind you how much I love you? How much I need you in particular?” She twisted her wrist, deliberately breaking his skin with the rahke. “What do you give me that no one else does?”

  “I need you to hurt me.” His eyes darkened, his breathing quickened, and he nodded rapidly. “Please remind me, na’lanna.”

  She sheathed the rahke back on his hip and settled her hands on his waist. “What do you need me to do, Sal?”

  Tossing his head in that flirtatious way that sent his heavy blood auburn h
air tumbling about her, he replied, “I need you to bite me.”

  “How hard?”

  “As hard as you wish.”

  Slowly, she leaned closer, rising up on her tiptoes to hover over the small wound she’d made on his throat. She let him have a languorous swipe of her tongue and he cried out, wrapping his arms around her to draw her flush against him. “What does your blood do to me?”

  “I make you hungry for cookies.”

  She laughed, grazing him with her teeth. “My gingerbread Blood.”

  “Please, Shannari.” The use of her name brought her head up so she could search his gaze. “Don’t tease me. Don’t make me wait.”

  “As you wish.” She fisted her hand in his hair and steadily pulled his head back, stretching his neck in an arc. He groaned deep in his throat and arched his back, pressing his hips against her. Instead of biting him in the neck at the wound, she dropped to her knees, sliding and pulling her hand through his hair to keep his head forced back, and sank her teeth into the tight skin of his lower abdomen, more groin than stomach.

  She made a ring about the old puncture wound she’d given him. It seemed like a hundred years ago when he’d drilled with her, taunting and laughing while grabbing her throat from behind. Gregar had refused to relent in her drills until she'd struck without thought. Sal had borne the brunt of that attack.

  Even then, staring at the boy with adorable dimples, she’d been entranced by the blood gushing down his body. It tasted all the sweeter now that she knew the honorable man into which he’d grown.

  Groaning, he released all the pent up jealousy and hurt that had been straining in him since she’d taken the Keldari into her bath and then her bed. He wrapped his arms around her head and held her to him, folding his body around hers. “Thank you, na’lanna.”

  “I’ll always need you, Sal. I’ll never let you go.”

  He drew her up and brushed his mouth against hers. “Good, because I’m never leaving.”