Claimed by a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 9) - Paranormal Fairytale Romance

by Alisa Woods

  They crossed the hall and circled the great room, passing the walled-up windows on the way. “Has there been an attack yet today?” she asked as they headed toward the back bedroom. It was already past noon, and every day of the last week had seen another bout of shadow angelings testing the barriers of the keep, both magical and physical.

  “No.” Leksander grimaced, and she knew he didn’t wish to discuss it. But the hour approached for her baby to come. She felt certain the attacks must escalate.

  “Has Markos recalled his angelings from Seattle?” Part of the plan was to reinforce the keep in the final hours. She’d had to force that information from Leksander, but it was a solid plan.

  “Yes.” They reached the guest room, which was small, but they made the circuit in there regardless, using up every square inch of travel in the lair.

  “How many did we lose in yesterday’s attack?” She knew angelings were falling each day in defense of her and her baby. Some were Falling to shadow, mostly due to Wrath but also when sickened by shadow blade strikes. Some simply were killed. Elyon had yet to show his face, coward that he was, leaving his dark angelings to relentlessly siege the keep. No matter how many were cut down, he seemed to have an endless supply. Markos, on the other hand, had far fewer—and dwindling—numbers. This war had cost many lives already.

  Leksander was taking his time in answering, guiding her back out through the guest bedroom door. Only at her insistent look did he answer. “Seven.” Then he hastily added, “But the troops recalled from the city are in the dozens, plus Markos has gotten more help from two other angels of light. They’ve sent more angelings.”

  Erelah nodded. The angels rarely interacted—they kept to their separate Dominions—but angelings would often move from one Dominion to another. It was not as if angels of the light were enemies of anything other than shadow. And angels would “lend” their angeling troops to one another. But for them to ally together in fighting this menace would be much more significant. A sign of war. The Warrior Angels themselves could come out of their retirement, but that fury would only be unleashed if a heavenly war were actually upon them. Such a move would pull more than just Elyon into this… the other angels of darkness might also rise up.

  Erelah could see why Markos would hesitate to ask for such help.

  With any luck, it would prove unnecessary. They had gotten this far. With horrible casualties among angelings—including Tajael—but overall, the losses were still small.

  Small, yet the cost was already too high.

  They had reached the living room once more. She squeezed Leksander’s hand and released him, moving back toward the couch. The fatigue washed through her, inspired by thoughts she should, by all rights, banish. She could properly mourn Tajael once the baby was born.

  The baby kicked even as she settled into the couch. She patted her rounded belly. “Soon, little one. Soon, you will be free.”

  The love in Leksander’s eyes as he sat with her banished some of the darkness in her heart.

  “Does he want out?” he asked with a smile in his eyes.

  “With the amount of kicking? I would say yes.” She rested her hands lightly on her belly.

  Leksander bent down to kiss the backs of them. Then, as if speaking to their son, he said, “We’re all waiting on you, buddy. Any time you’re ready.”

  The baby rustled around in response then hummed a little baby angelsong.

  The darkness lifted from her heart. She was sure it would return, but for the moment, she was filled only with joy. She reached for Leksander, encouraging him to lay his head on her belly to hear the babysong. When he did, a smile spread on his face that brought her even more happiness.

  Then a buzzing sounded that Erelah quickly recognized as Leksander’s phone.

  He sat up and pulled it out of his pocket. “Yeah?” He quickly frowned and flicked his hand toward the screen. It had been mounted where the windows had been covered with steel reinforcements. Leonidas’s frowning face appeared, and Leksander quickly rose up to go speak to him. It took a moment longer for Erelah to struggle up from the couch on her own.

  “We’ve got a situation here,” Leonidas started. He hesitated when Erelah came to Leksander’s side, now visible on screen.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Leksander slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Spit it out, Leonidas. I can’t keep anything from her anymore.”

  Leonidas sighed. “All right. But you’re not going to like it.” He paused as if choosing his words. “Zephan’s outside the keep.”

  Leksander scowled. “But the wards are holding, right?”

  “Yeah.” But Leonidas still looked pensive. “We’ve got the main ones around the keep. Then a separate sectional ward that encases the royal lairs, covering all three baby dragon princes. And of course, you’ve got your fucking death wards around your lair in particular. That’s three sets. He’s outside all of them.”

  “Is he trying to magic his way inside?” Erelah asked. Fae were not as powerful as angels; more like angelings in raw magical strength. Even a single set of wards should keep him out.

  “No,” Leonidas said, then bit his lip.

  “Leonidas.” There was a warning in Leksander’s voice.

  His brother just shook his head and looked to Erelah. “He’s got Tajael.”

  “What?” Her eyes went wide. “But I thought—”

  “Nope. He’s beaten all to hell but definitely not dead.” Leonidas grimaced. “So there’s that.”

  Leksander was leaning away from the screen, a horror-filled look on his face. “He wants to trade.” It was a whisper.

  “Trade?” Erelah asked quickly, looking from Leonidas to Leksander. What did he mean? “Trade for what?”

  Leksander growled. “He has to be crazy if he thinks—”

  “He’s not asking to trade Tajael for Erelah. I mean, Zephan’s an asshole, but he’s not an idiot.” Leonidas had his hands up, reassuring. “I don’t know exactly what he wants, but he’s offering up Tajael like some kind of lure. And he wants to talk to you—to Leksander—so maybe then he’ll say what he really wants. But he has to know there’s no way we’re just going to give him Erelah. Or the baby. Or really anything else.”

  Leksander’s eyes narrowed. “He just wants to talk?”

  “Well, he’s jittery as fuck,” Leonidas said. “Which is really a disturbing look on a fae prince. I’m sure he wants something, but he won’t say unless it’s face-to-face with you.” Leonidas shot Erelah a look. “I’m sorry, Erelah, but we can’t just give him whatever. Not if it endangers you or the babies.”

  “No, of course not.” But her heart was aching all anew. Tajael was alive! But what had the fae done to him? And how could he be in fae hands at all? “But Zephan wouldn’t give a care for Larik or Thorn. Their births already set the magic in motion for the treaty to renew. He gains nothing by slaying them. Or you and Lucian. Or your mates. There is only one thing he could be after… and it is my child.”

  “Exactly.” Leonidas looked relieved. “Leksander, whatever it is, it’s a trap.”

  “I know.” But Leksander’s eyes were narrowed, calculating. “We just have to make it a trap for Zephan.”

  Leonidas looked at his brother like he was crazed.

  Erelah likewise leaned away. “This is not the time for revenge.”

  “Not revenge,” Leksander said, and the cool calculation was still on his face. “A solution… to all this.” He turned to face Leonidas. “Think about it. The demon uprising in Seattle. The shadow angelings fighting to prevent the angelings of light from fixing it. This all sources back to Zephan. He’s involved in all of it. If we could take him out…”

  “Take him out?” Leonidas’s expression went from You’re crazy to You’re not even making sense now. “He’s a prince of the Winter Court. What are you going to do, bite him?”

  “No.” The coolness on Leksander’s face didn’t waver. “I’m going to kill him with an angel bla
de.”

  Erelah’s mouth dropped open. “That is too much danger! You can’t just—”

  “Erelah.” He turned to her and held her by the shoulders. “You need to have this baby. But you don’t actually need me. You’re strong. You can do this. As long as you and the baby are out of Zephan’s reach, you’ll be fine. The death wards will protect you, but once they’re broached… I’m dead. And I don’t want to be dead. I want to live to see our son grow up and struggle to find a mate of his own.”

  She couldn’t believe he was saying these words. “There’s no sense in this risk!”

  Even Leonidas looked aghast.

  “Yes, there is.” And she could see the fire lighting up Leksander’s eyes now. “If we can lure Zephan in and destroy him, all of this goes away. All the threats. All the risk. Don’t you see? All along, it’s always been Zephan. He attacked my brothers. He attacked me… infected me with demon and turned me to wyvern. But he can’t kill me, my love. I’m protected by the treaty. But I can kill him. Given a blade infused with angel power. And once I do… this End of Times you so fear will stop. All of it. Because it’s been Zephan’s doing all along.”

  She was shaking her head, but she could see it was no use. He had already decided. And, in a way, it made sense. Zephan had been there at every turn. He was responsible for the demon uprising throwing the world into chaos and pitting light against shadow. Maybe her child would show that angelings of light could mate and still stay in the light. But the angels and angelings still must choose that path… and maybe they wouldn’t if the world wasn’t in such chaos with angelings dying by the handfuls. If Zephan wasn’t recruiting the shadow realm to relentlessly come after her and her child.

  Once the baby was born, maybe this would all end. Or maybe Zephan would have already tipped the immortal world into a war they couldn’t pull back from. But if Zephan was destroyed… the baby could come, and all would return to peace.

  Leksander was waiting for her blessing. And if it were her, with a chance to save the worlds and the man she loved, she would easily do it. She couldn’t say no to him wanting to do the same.

  “All right.” It took all her energy to say those two words.

  Leksander gave her a sharp nod.

  “You’re both fucking crazy,” Leonidas said, but not in a way that disapproved.

  “I’m putting up another set of wards,” Leksander said to his brother, but with a side look at her. “Just around Erelah and the baby, in the guest room, within the lair. That’s four levels of wards, two of which are death wards. No one is getting through that.”

  Leonidas just shook his head.

  Erelah sought Leksander’s hand. “I must keep my blade, but you can get another from Markos. Bring Tajael to your side. Give him the blade and let him strike first. Take no unnecessary chances.”

  “I promise.”

  And she believed him. She knew his love would bring him back.

  He arranged with Leonidas to meet him at the throne room, the least protected part of the keep. And suddenly, it felt certain that the baby would come while Leksander was gone. As if she was sure the fates would conspire to put her into labor the exact moment he stepped out of the lair.

  “The screen,” she said, gesturing to it as she went to retrieve her blade from the desk. “I might need it.”

  “I’ll move it to the bedroom.” He quickly worked to magic it and its connections away from the wall, transporting it to the guest bedroom. He set it up there. The room was as warm as it normally was, but a shiver had taken up residence deep in her bones.

  Why had she agreed to this?

  Once he was done with the screen, she slipped into his arms and grabbed hold of him with one hand, her angel blade gripped in the other. “This is madness. Don’t go. Wait for the baby to come.”

  He hugged her back then slowly extricated himself from her grasp. “I know Zephan. He has something planned with this. Some last trick up his sleeve.” He held her cheeks in his hands. “Trust me, I know this. But he won’t stop until someone stops him. Do you understand what I’m saying? He’s relentless. And now that we’re down to the last hours with this baby, he may become… desperate.”

  “Desperate?” What did he think Zephan might do?

  “Desperate enough that anything is in play. As long as I can control some of this, I’ve got the upper hand. I have a chance at stopping him and whatever he has planned. Just trust me, okay?” He quickly kissed her forehead. “I’m coming back to raise that baby to be a kickass dragon. Can’t have too much angeling influence over him.”

  She smiled through the pain in her heart, but it was still difficult to let him go.

  He kissed her once more then left through the bedroom door. After it clicked shut, she could hear him conjuring wards just outside. Then his shoes scuffed the floor and retreated.

  She was alone—just her, her baby, and her blade.

  The throne room was crowded.

  Leksander counted at least twenty-five angelings, most female, but that hardly mattered—their strength came in their angel powers. As Erelah had shown him often, female angelings kicked ass just as hard the male ones. His brothers, Lucian and Leonidas, stood nervously watching them and their drawn angel blades, but it was Markos whose power dominated the room.

  And he was key in all this. Not least in making sure Leksander didn’t die. His death wards would go with him, leaving Erelah with only two layers of standard wards between her and the world outside. Standard wards were enough to keep out fae like Zephan, but who knew what Elyon and his dark forces had cooked up while regularly assaulting them. Leksander meant to keep his promise to his mate—staying alive while stopping Zephan was critical.

  The oversized angel waited for him to approach, standing near the throne dais at the far end. Leksander dodged the flexed wings and tightly gripped blades and strode up to the front.

  As he drew near, Markos produced an angel blade from somewhere in the skimpy toga the angels always wore. “You will need this.” He handed it over, and the power of it thrummed in Leksander’s hand. “I’ve given it my strongest blessing. A warrior’s power is contained in that blade.”

  Leksander wasn’t sure what that meant, but he would take whatever advantage he could. “Thank you.” He conjured a sheath strapped to his leg and holstered it there. He knew how to wield a blade, but this one was more dangerous than talons… or any other weapon he’d used. He turned to his brothers. “What’s the status with Zephan?”

  “He’s hanging out at the weigh station with Tajael,” Leonidas said.

  “And he still wants inside the keep?” Leksander asked. “Face-to-face with me, before he says what this is all about?”

  Lucian nodded. “The fae can’t lie, but this fucker hasn’t told the truth a day in his life. What’s your plan with this?”

  “We get him in here,” Leksander said, “then I kill him.”

  Leonidas cocked an eyebrow. “Gee, I wish I’d thought of that before.”

  “I’m not saying it will be easy,” Leksander snarled. He turned to Markos. “I could use some help on this.”

  “I cannot kill a fae without cause.” Markos’s face was impassive.

  “Cannot or will not?” Leksander grumbled. “And besides, we have plenty of cause. For starters, he infected me with demon—”

  “That is insufficient,” Markos coolly interrupted him. “The fae are the avowed enemies of the light. They traffic in demons. They have no reverence for life—human or angel. But if I were to strike him down without direct cause—either in defense of a human life or self-defense—then I would succumb to Wrath almost immediately. I am useless to you in shadow, prince of the House of Smoke. Not to mention that I am unwilling to commit such a Vice.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Leonidas said. “What about all the angelings we’ve lost? Doesn’t that count?”

  “Zephan is not responsible for that,” Markos said. “That we know of.”

  “The hell he isn’
t!” Leksander said. “How can you—”

  Markos held up his hand, but it was the not-so-subtle pulse of power from him that cut Leksander off. “If I have direct knowledge that Zephan has declared war on my angelings, or should he strike one down before me, then I will be free to act as Warrior Angel in defense of humanity or angelkind. But not before.”

  Leksander scrubbed his face, trying to wipe away the frustration. “Do we have to let Zephan kill someone before you’re willing to act?”

  “Before I’m able to act,” Markos said. “Without turning shadow. As I said—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Leonidas said, disgust written on his face. “You’re useless to us then. Seems like you’re pretty useless to us now.”

  Markos didn’t answer, just gave his brother a cool look, but Leksander’s mind was spinning. Arguing against Virtues was no way to get anywhere with an angel. That much he knew.

  And he definitely needed Markos’s protection. “Maybe you can help,” he said. All attention turned to him. He pulled his angel blade and pointed it at Markos. The angel looked mildly amused. “You can’t kill Zephan… but you can bless the blade I’ll use to kill him.”

  “You will need it for self-defense, especially against a foe as strong as the fae.” But his expression soured into annoyance.

  “Right. Defense.” Leksander had watched Erelah struggle with her light and shadow natures, and he suspected he understood the distinction better than Markos, an angel of the light who had never been shadow—never had to truly struggle. Erelah decided to return from the shadow. He watched love banish the darkness—and not just any love, but the love of oneself. Something these angels and their kind had serious issues with. But believing they were righteous—having faith they were serving a pure and just cause—that was what kept them in the light. So, no matter what, Leksander had to make sure Markos still believed he was acting according to the Virtues or his principles or whatever. Because it would, in fact, be a fucking disaster if he turned shadow in the middle of things.

  “Okay.” Leksander sheathed the blade. “So you can give me a blade, but you personally can’t kill Zephan unless he directly threatens to kill me or my brothers or one of the angelings. Then, and only then, you can strike him down. Right?”