by Kim Faulks
Pisces
Zodiac Dragon Guardians, Book X
Kim Faulks
Edited by
Angela Kelly
Illustrated by
Jacqueline Sweet
Copyright © 2018 by Kim Faulks
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For my readers
Contents
Introduction
Also by Kim Faulks
1. Bastian
2. Amaris
3. Amaris
4. Amaris
5. Bastian
6. Bastian
7. Amaris
8. Amaris
9. Bastian
10. Bastian
11. Amaris
12. Amaris
13. Bastian
14. Amaris
15. Bastian
16. Amaris
17. Bastian
18. Amaris
19. Bastian
20. Amaris
21. Bastian
22. Amaris
23. Bastian
24. Amaris
25. Bastian
26. Amaris
Epilogue
Pisces
Zodiac Dragon Guardians
Book Ten
by Kim Faulks
Bastian is the sixth of twelve Guardians. Dragon-born in the sign of Pisces, he carries all the traits of his sign—the good and the bad.
He's sensitive and loyal, but still waters run deep.
Cross him once, and you're dead to him, but come for his soul and he'll go to the ends of the earth to hunt you down.
So when he's bitten by a Hellhound he comes as close to death as a Guardian can.
He's sick, desperate, and in need of help, so he turns to a mortal who's touched the darkness Bastian is racing toward…Commander Samson Marks.
Only when he gets to Hell’s Gate, he's far too late.
The Hellhound he's searching for is already dead—and time for Bastian is running out.
Until he meets an unlikely savior.
The leader of the Hellhound Rebellion, Amaris Knox.
She's on a mission to bring down the new Royal line—Blaze Trigg. She'll lie, cheat, she'll sleep with the enemy for a chance to slip a knife between Blaze's ribs, and she doesn’t have time for a Guardian, especially one so close to death.
But there's something about this stranger, something other than the violet flames that dance in his eyes. Something that calls to the darkness in her—to the desperation that wells inside. Heal him and leave him behind, she whispers.
Only it isn’t so easy to rid the smell of his body from her sheets, or his mark from her heart.
Also by Kim Faulks
ALSO BY KIM FAULKS
The Zodiac Dragon Guardians
Taurus - Book 1
Aquarius - Book 2
Cancer - Book 3
A Roaring Fire - Christmas novella
Aries - Book 4
Alpha - Book 5
Virgo - Book 6
Sagittarius - Book 7
Ace - Book 8
Commander - Book 9
The Submissively Ever After Series (Dark Fairytale Retellings)
Beast
Gretel
Vampire Blood Courtesan Romance
Bitten - Book 1
Taken - Book 2
Resurrected - Book 3
The Fire and Ice Series
Reclaimed - Book 1
Seductive Sands - Book 2
Enslaved - Book 3
Emergence - Book 4
Yesterday’s Ashes - Book 5
The Underworld Coven
Part 1
Part 2
DARK FANTASY
End of Dreams
Secrets Room
Hells Angel
1
Bastian
“Are you dead?”
A faint voice punctured the blur. Slick hands slipped against the stitching, and my face smashed into the seat.
“You’re dead, aren’t you? Jesus…Jesus Christ you’re fucking dead. And I’m a dead man. I’m an actual fucking dead…man, even if you live, they’ll kill me. Should never have done this. Should've gone straight to Marcus when I had the chance.”
“Keep…driving.” The savage sound tore free, and I swallowed the burn.
Through the blinding blur of oncoming headlights I saw him…the mortal…Commander, as he wrenched his gaze over his shoulder to find me in the dark.
His eyes widened as he licked his lips. “Hold on…can you do that? Just hold on.”
This was me trying…tears slipped across the bridge of my nose…and this was me failing.
The howl of the engine was deafening. The car swayed, gears were downshifted and then we climbed. I gripped the seatbelt and curled my knees into my chest.
A darkness rushed toward me like an incoming tide.
One that whispered my name from the murky depths. One I was helpless to fight.
A flare of agony cut through my heart. The muscle quivered, giving one more chance. But the once heavy thud was now nothing more than a whimper. I closed my eyes, lips stuck together…please…help me.
But there was no answer from above, no whisper of hope…there was nothing but the gunning engine and the bitter tang of rage unfulfilled.
Memories slipped through my mind, taking the edge of the sting—familiar faces of those I loved…Marcus…Isaiah…Xael. All of them found me now as I opened my eyes…and the faint violet hue that filled the car.
The flames of my dragon were nothing more than embers…pulsing with faint light.
“Faster,” I whimpered and closed my eyes to the terror.
Hope rested in dying cinders…and one man…not a man—a Hellhound. My body shuddered as desperation consumed the rage. How could I force the beast to heal me like this? My muscles had no power…my will was weak.
“Just past the city limits,” the Commander growled. “You with me…Hey! You with me?”
I nodded, lips parted, mouthing the words. Yeah, I’m with you. But there was nothing but a hiss.
Rubber howled as he took the corner and in an instant the past took me back there…to the night I demanded counsel with their leader.
The four-wheel drive hugged the corner and rose. Too much dip in the road. I felt the air as we lifted, and then crashed down.
Agony tore through my side.
The kid…she came to me now, midnight scales, big eyes that seized you in their grip. She had fire in her eyes—one that reminded me of her father.
The shard of pain moved, carving blood and flesh to find something deeper than bone…to find spirit.
The car downshifted, and then slowed.
“You sure you don’t want me to drive you—”
“No.” Fire singed my throat as I shoved. “Not…safe.”
“Holy shit,” the Commander whispered as we crested the last rise.
I lifted my gaze as the faint red hue of this place reached the car, and saw the city in all its violent glory.
The lava pit of Hell spewed white sulphur plumes into the sky, embers sparked like a steel factory shooting bursts into the infernal dark. But it was the blazing rivers of crimson lava that held you. Thick veins carved through the belly of this beast and this bloodline ran all the way from the bowels of Hell.
This place was hate and rage, and dark seedy terror all rolled into one. It was fire and bone—it was cruelty and horror.
Hell’s Gate was the place you came to die.
It wasn’t a place for a human, not one I fucking liked.
Do
n’t let me die here…not here amongst the fire and the heat, and filth.
Need whispered though my soul as my Dragon shuddered.
I needed the icy water. I needed the salt. I needed power…I needed life.
I shook with desperation. I needed heartsblood of the one who bit me.
Without that I wouldn’t survive.
The end was coming now. I could feel it deep down where my Dragon waited.
The infernal midnight wave was gathering power, drawing up into its full height.
The Catalyst let out one pathetic whimper, taking me down to the lonely depths. His sleek body writhed in agony as he swam. The twitch of his tail scattered ripped flesh from his side to stream behind him in the current of my mind.
Muted blues held me, and the pain in my flesh was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
I moved closer, hand held out as he twitched, arched his thick, sleek body and tried to find me in the dark…
Shhh, it’s okay, it’s me…
And for a second I saw my true reflection—and the unmerciful effect of the bite.
Dull scales no longer glinted. The blue of his body now long gone. He was ash and pain now, just a muted life force waiting for the end. The whites of his eyes had swallowed the black. He was blind, terrified…his thick, wide fins shuddered and shook. There were no violet flames in his eyes, no fire left in this Dragon.
There was only agony—only a plea of mercy as we waited for the end.
“Almost there, buddy.”
The words tore me from the sight. I left him there, shaking, shuddering, and rose to the surface as the Commander tapped the brakes.
Headlights lit up the lonely highway. In the distance cars burned on the side of the road, a perfect introduction to this damn place.
I reached for the handle, thick fingers slipped against the steel.
“I can come with you; whatever you need to face…I can be there.”
I swayed with the mortal’s words. He didn’t understand the consequences, not in such a lawless place. He’d die…before we even reached the outskirts.
“No.” Soft words were filled with remorse and regret. “Tell my family…tell my family.”
He nodded. Hard words belied the softness in his eyes. “You can tell them your damn self. You’ll make this. You’ll survive…you have to…Dragons don’t die—not now—not ever.”
The hard thunk of the handle snapped back as the door cracked open. I crumpled against the molding and stumbled out. The heat and the stench hit me like a fist to the face. Foul, rotten, and foreboding.
“Bastian…” the Commander called from the driver’s side window as I swung my hand and shoved the door. But the slam of the door stole his last words as I stared at the red fires of Hell and took a step.
My feet moved on their own, carving through the headlights of the Commander’s ride and leaving them behind. I couldn’t turn my head, couldn’t stand to see what I’d left behind. All I saw was the burning wrecks in the distance and all I heard was one name…the only name that mattered in this moment.
Heron Knox.
His face was burned in my memory, ingrained with the fangs he sank deep. Headlights swept the road at my feet as the car swung around. There was a call…one last goddamn plea—the human didn’t know when to give up.
So eager. So damn eager to bind his fate to mine.
He’d die here…even by some fucking miracle I survived, there was no wolf’s blood alive that would protect him.
Thud…thud…scrape…thud… My boots hit the tarmac.
Not even a dragon could keep him alive.
The fires flickered and rose at the edge of the highway. The night blurred, and I caught the flurry of movement as the Commander gave one last faint call behind me, and then left.
I could barely hear him now…barely hear the roar of the engine—barely feel the last strand of my world slip away. My steps slowed, toes of my boots scraped. The world was one sweeping blur.
Heron…Heron Knox.
Sweat carved a river through my brow to sting my eyes. The band around my chest cinched tighter, one more notch closer to the end. I ground my jaw and forced the movement, digging deeper than ever before.
Dark shapes closed in as I cowered from the flames of the wreck.
“Hey, stop right there!” A male growled from the darkness.
And in the blur I saw them…the amber glow captured their faces as they turned. Rebels…hard faces, vicious snarls. Hell’s fire flickered faintly in their eyes…as they stood over two men who knelt on the ground.
“Her…on.” The name was a bitter hiss. My tongue was thick and arid across my lips. I tried to find moisture in my mouth, tried to find the strength to summon the Hellhound who bit me. “Heron Knox…”
She moved from the darkness to stand in the light, her hands glistening, smothered with fresh blood as the male kneeling in front of her slumped to the ground.
The sigil burned neon white on the knife in her grasp, carving through the bloody-orange hue of this place. I stared at the blade and the markings, and then lifted my focus to her eyes.
And in them the fires of Hell raged.
This was no half-blood, no watered down genes from the beasts of Hell. Pure blood flowed through her veins. I took a step, my boot scraped hard, pitching me forward as her men closed in.
Hands gripped me. A fist punched my chest and didn’t move, stopping me cold. “That’s far enough.”
I tried to find her gaze…tried to force my voice a little louder but the end was coming too fast—darkness and pain rose up before me like a tsunami as his name tore free. “Heron Knox.”
“Why.” Her snarl was no question, but a command.
Numb fingers trembled and skimmed my side. The flare of agony plunged deep as I gripped the corner of my shirt and pulled.
Fabric stuck, then tore away, leaving me raw and bloody.
The bite…the bite.
“H…Heron Knox.”
She dropped her gaze to the festered wound at my side. In that moment fear burned bright, until she lifted her head, raised a hand and pointed to the crumpled body in front of her. “You’re too late, Guardian. He’s dead.”
Blood slipped from the open wound in the middle of his chest…a rivulet of fire spilled, singing flesh as it pooled onto the road. Embers flared to life as they floated from the gash. Through the haze and the gloom I saw him…saw that familiar face as Heron Knox gave one last shudder and was still.
No…no. The fist at my chest held me upright, but the darkness came from within.
It was a beast of its own, but this was no fire…this was no heat.
This was the cold embrace of a mammoth wave crashing down on me as my knees buckled and I hit the ground.
2
Amaris
The Guardian’s head bounced as he hit the road. I winced, stared at the faint rise and fall of his chest, and wiped the blade against my jeans.
“Are we done here?”
I stilled for a moment and then tore my gaze from the Dragon to the piece of shit at my feet. I wanted to linger on his face, his eyes mostly. The darkness held no orange flames. The fire now long gone. There was nothing left…nothing but flesh and bone. His long silver hair fanned out, catching the pooling crimson that seeped from the wound in his chest. I searched for the familiar—for the man I once knew—and found nothing but the bitter acid that welled in the back of my throat.
I came for blood…I came for soul…both were claimed in full.
The carrions could have the rest.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “We’re done.”
“And him?”
A nerve twitched as I turned to the breathing mass. The Guardian’s white shirt was still raised, exposing the deep gash in his side. There was no question why he was after Heron…not with a wound like that.
I turned from the sight and took a step. He’d die here in the middle of the road…an arm span from his destination. But there was no heart
sblood left in Heron, no way he could heal what he’d done.
Best the Guardian find some kind of goddamn peace out here in the middle of nowhere—I turned to the city and felt the dark flames of justice burn inside—God knows he’d find none in there.
Guardian…the name resounded, slowing my steps…making me still. I knew the legends, knew the names…but the rest was unknown. “Wait…bring him with us.”
Boots scuffed, shadows moved. There was no hesitation, no sigh of frustration—there was only action to my command.
A hard grunt tore through the air, followed by another and another. The Guardian’s white shirt flapped as they carried him, one on each leg and two across his shoulders.
“Sonofabitch is heavy,” Parry muttered.
I stared at my second as he winced and pushed off with his good leg. The silver in his hair shone brighter as one of the men started the four-wheel drive and blinding headlights stole the show.
Creases carved his leathered skin; scars marred his strong hands. He was a fighter, a born rebel—unlike me. I wasn’t born this way, wasn’t an outspoken kid, wasn’t disloyal by nature—but life had a cruel way of testing you, of twisting and pinching those nerves buried deep.