Kicking hard, Kord dislodged himself and gained altitude. Below, their opponent roared in fury and shot into the air, followed by the royal dragon freicia, on constant guard during any festival. With trumpeting cries they unfurled their wings and gave chase, trying to surround the retreating rogue dragon.
Fighting to land without further damage to his injury, Kord heard growling and snapping as the aggressor kept the guard at bay. A single glance confirmed the bastard had opened enough of a window to escape. Kord blew out a frustrated snort that sent fire shooting toward the ground.
Descending clumsily, he barely avoided the high gaming fence before he landed in the outer field. Bakka leapt off his back and unbuckled as fast as he could, though it would be several minutes until Kord could shift. If he shifted too soon, his leg could be seriously damaged.
Panting, he lay on his uninjured side. As their father rushed across the field with a contingent of healers trailing behind, Kord snarled, “Bakka, go after that demon spawn. Find out who he is.” He paused and frowned in concentration, then added, “Von comes. He’ll take you.”
“I won’t let you down,” Bakka assured him. Snatching up the shard he’d tossed earlier, he rushed to the edge of the field as Von landed. Snorting aqua flames, the water dragon offered his long, sinewy neck for Bakka to grasp. In a fluid movement, he jumped on and gripped Von’s spine-scales with one hand, fisting his weapon in the other. With a flap of wings, they gave chase.
The coward headed straight for Vining Lake. Bakka leaned over Von’s neck. “Do you recognize him?”
“No.” One pale aqua eye narrowed at Bakka. “For the love of . . . hold tighter unless you want to end up as chum for the slitherfish. You’d make a tasty treat.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Bakka clamped his fingers tighter. Just in case. His grip on the shard had relaxed, and he hastily tightened his fist, poising the weapon high in the air as they began their descent over the shoreline toward the water. “I suspect it was a deliberate sabotage attempt and not a dishonest game player bent on winning.”
Von’s serpentine head nodded in agreement. “If he flies into the lake it’d make our job easier,” he rumbled, gliding along five feet in the air.
“He can’t be that stupid.” Bakka crowded closer to the water dragon’s neck scales.
“Bet me.” Von dropped another three feet, his belly now skimming the waves. “Can’t figure where the idiot thinks he’s going.”
Bakka had been studying the dragon each time they flew close enough to catch his color nuances. Wracking his brain, still he couldn’t come up with anything familiar. It was as if the creature came from nowhere. “We’ve gotta get closer,” he grunted.
Shooting forward in a burst of power, Von folded his wings. His snakelike body was built for water maneuverability and he shot along like a cannon. A strong rider, still it was all Bakka could do to hang on. He gripped his knees harder against Von’s lower neck.
They were closing in. Bakka shook lake-spray from his face and bent low, raising his weapon even higher, the blunted tip aimed true. It wouldn’t kill the bastard. Right about now a serious wound in retaliation for what the rogue did to his brother was better than nothing.
The dragon they were chasing floundered. His wings dipped and flagged wildly. Recognition dawned.
Zanralth, you piece of dung.
Bakka choked on a laugh. The imbecile had flown too low. Graceful in the air, a dragon was useless in the water, and this great, flopping beast was about as useless as they came.
“Von?” Bakka gave a press of his knees.
“We go up. Hold tight,” Von commanded. The sleek water dragon eased upward, circling until they were almost upon the hapless rogue, now flopping even harder. Bakka raised his shard in an arc, aiming for the side scales where an injury would hurt the worst. He struck, catching the more vulnerable underside, penetrating deep enough to draw blood.
Zane screamed and twisted, trying to dislodge the shard. For the fun of it, Bakka wrenched the weapon sideways, creating a nice hole, then ripped it free as Von unfurled his wings and banked sharply left.
“Another,” Bakka shouted gleefully, and Von screeched in agreement. They swung around for a second strike. The wounded dragon had somehow managed enough momentum to flap free of the water. Hovering a few feet from the waves, he alternately squealed and bled, frantically trying to drain and dry his wings so he could gain the air with more power.
Von grunted, angling his snout toward the water. “Now he’s fish bait.”
Leaning over, Bakka glanced where Von indicated and howled with mirth to see a horde of hungry slitherfish arching out of the water, snapping at the drops of blood shedding off the injured Diablian Prince’s side scales.
“Serves the bastard right,” Bakka crowed. “Wish I could kill him.”
“We can’t,” Von cautioned. “At least now we know our enemy and can arrest him.”
“Yep.” Bakka peered over the side of Von’s neck for a final image he’d not soon forget . . .
A beyond-enraged dragon, finally catching enough breeze to limp away on unstable wings, with a feeding frenzy of snapping, leaping slitherfish below, all set against the clear silver waters and dangerous depths of Vining Lake.
Bakka leaned against Von’s sleek midsection and cheered, “Yes! Cower before Draconian power.”
Von snorted loudly as they banked for home.
Chapter 8
In the dim, cool air of her chamber, Lily tossed off the top fur covering her, flipped to her back, and lay staring at the rocky jut of the ceiling high above her head.
She’d awoken gasping, with the remnants of a dream teasing the edges of her mind. Trying to remember brought on a weird kind of panic. Sitting up, she scraped the hair out of her face.
There’d been a long, high hill and a cliff. A threatening presence, like walking death, drove her over rocks and rough scrub. And still she fell.
The rest—waking on the back of a dragon, brought to a world that by rights should only exist within the pages of a fantasy novel—now felt more real than anything else in her life.
A life she might never be able to regain. Why would you want to? The persistent inner voice had been popping up more and more.
“It’s not as if I ever can,” she whispered to the empty room.
Not if that meant never seeing Kord again.
Lily scooted to the edge of her expansive bed and swung her feet to the floor. Despite the excitement of the day, the games—and Kord’s injury—still worried her hours later, though she knew he’d already healed. Overhearing his parents speaking of it in hushed whispers only made it worse.
The name they’d shared between them had been all-too-familiar and set her heart to pounding when she understood who Zanralth of Diablian was. And how close he’d been to her.
Zanralth. Zane Rath. A dragon stalker, for heaven’s sake.
In human form he’d threatened her life in the park outside of Coldstone, forcing her over a cliff. As a dragon, he’d cheated, hurting Kord. If Bakka hadn’t been so experienced, he could have been seriously wounded as well, or worse.
God, how petrifying.
Her pulse still racing, she stood and snatched up the thick robe Rosamunde had given her several days ago, shrugging into the garment and belting it tightly. The soft, cream-colored material fell to the floor, encasing her in warmth. Barefoot, she crossed to the door and opened it carefully, wincing when the heavy wood creaked.
In the passageway between her chamber and the main cave, flaming sconces, hung at intervals along the roughly sculpted walls, provided light. Lily glanced into the spacious room, and beyond to the exotic glimmer of multihued stars infusing the entrance with color.
Needing a respite from the dream as well as the reality that even now had her in a co
ld sweat, she moved toward the seating area around the fire-pit to admire the kaleidoscope canopy outside.
“You cannot sleep either, my girl?” a deep voice inquired from behind her.
Lily turned and came face to face with Kord’s father, warming himself near the pit. Radiating kindness, King Droc’s smile lit up the immense space. His presence calmed her jitters. She approached him and sank onto a nest of furs.
“I suppose I’m still thinking about today.” She rubbed at her eyes, finding them gritty and dry. “I can’t believe someone would try to hurt Kord and Bakka that way.” She stared at the king as another thought struck. “He wouldn’t try anything here, right?”
“Nothing can hurt any of us in the caverns. They are protected by strong magick that precious few can penetrate. Even within the royal extended family, limited access is granted, especially in these more trying times.” Droc seated himself across from her. “What else troubles you?” The king’s glowing eyes, identical to his son’s, held her gaze. “My mate says you’ve begun to remember things.”
Lily gestured helplessly. “Other than the ability to understand your language, I’m not sure. Which was a big surprise to me, I promise you.” At the king’s rich chuckle, she managed a faint smile. “Sometimes, I have a vague sense of what happened last month. Or last year. Tonight I dreamed of running to escape evil. I recognized where I was, too.”
“Tell me.” It wasn’t a request so much as a command. “Speaking of it might somehow help loosen something else.”
“I live on the outskirts of a mountain village near Ogden, Utah. Coldstone. Lots of forest surrounding the town. Do you know much of the-the human realm?” When he nodded encouragingly, she clasped her arms around herself to remain steady. “I was outside a park. Someone tried to kill me, or kidnap me.”
Nervously, she picked at the fur. “I’m not sure. He chased me. I ran up a hill, teetered on the edge of a cliff.”
The king’s wide-palmed hand settled over her shoulder. “You are safe, I promise you.”
“Okay.” She took a steadying breath. “He stalked me for a month. Then that night, he ran me off the road—”
“He will not harm you.”
Something about the inflection in the king’s powerful voice jumped out at her, and she raised her head. “You know him. Don’t you?”
Droc hesitated, then nodded solemnly as he gestured for her to continue.
Lily rubbed the back of her neck. “He came into the shop where I worked, introduced himself to me as Zane Rath. It’s really this Zanralth, isn’t it? From—” She struggled and failed to maintain some semblance of calm. “From Diablian.” Lily regarded the king with dawning horror. “Why—how—would a dragon come into my world after me?”
Kord’s deep voice stroked up her back like velvet. “He would come for you if you were an Anglican female old enough to mate, and he a Battle Kingdom prince in need of one.”
Lily swung to face him as he edged closer. Her eyes widened at the edible vision he made, with his arms crossed over a bare, muscled chest. Something inside her purred at the sight of him.
The king coughed back a chuckle. “I think I hear your mother calling me.”
Droc offered a short bow to Kord, then lifted her hand to his forehead. “My girl.” He released her and winked, before turning toward the passageway.
Leaving Lily alone with a half-naked, sexier-than-sin dragon who eyed her as if she might be dessert. And who’d shocked the hell out of her with what he’d said.
She gulped when he settled next to her on the furs, far too close for her peace of mind. In his simple linen drape, the equivalent of a loose, short kilt, Kord was damned lethal. Too much of his body was on display, though the scant material at least covered the vital areas. Still . . .
When he tugged lightly on her wrist, she found herself in his arms. “You scared me today,” Lily mumbled against his shoulder. “I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.”
She glanced down at the leg he’d injured during the competition. A faint line of pink remained on the otherwise healthy-looking, smooth and tanned flesh of his lower thigh. Thank goodness their race healed so fast. “And then, for that beast to run off that way . . .”
The dragon prince tucked her close. “I am sorry you had to witness such a cowardly act. It’s not our way. Not in the games. A shameful thing.”
They sat silently, with the fire-pit’s crackling flames the only sound in the starlit room. She ought to bring up the conversation she’d overheard. Thinking about it—what she’d told the king, what Kord surmised from her ordeal—scared her too much. She didn’t want to talk about it.
She had to talk about it.
Finally, she took the plunge. “Please explain what you meant about that . . . about Zanralth. Then tell me how I could possibly be from a dragon kingdom.”
For a full minute Kord remained silent, gazing into the fire-pit as if seeking answers within the flames. Lily waited, trying to be patient. When he abruptly lifted her from the seat next to him and settled her on his lap, she figured maybe what he had to say wasn’t anything she wanted to hear.
“My mother explained about majority, yes?”
She nodded.
“Well, I reached mine about fourteen months ago. I traveled to Anglican to claim a mate, the female who also matured close to me. Except she wasn’t there. I met her parents, grieving and in mourning. Lilliaa—that was her name—had died, they said. An accident. She’d drowned in Vining Lake. They erected a monument in her honor.”
Lily curled her arms around his neck. “Kord, I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s all right,” he murmured, drawing back to meet her gaze. “It’s been a year since I walked the grounds of Castle Anglican and I didn’t mourn the loss of my mate. Instead I have spent this time in a kind of anticipation, certain something was coming. I did not grieve.”
“Because she wasn’t your mate?”
“No, little one. Because she wasn’t dead.” He nuzzled her ear, sending shivers straight up her spine. “Because,” he rasped, nipping at her lobe, “I think I’m holding Lilliaa of Anglican, right here.” He paused, then added in a low whisper, “Lilliaa. Lily.”
She jerked from his embrace. When he dragged her back, she pushed against him, breaking his hold and jumping to her feet. “I don’t believe . . . God, I thought you were teasing me, before.”
You know it’s true, her inner voice chided.
Lily shook her head in denial. How could she be a dragon?
Kord’s lips curved into a panty-melting smile. Leaning back on his hands, his voice dropped to an intimate whisper. “Nathair-sgiathac bràmair du cridhe teò.”
“Stop saying that.” She flung her arms wide. “I’m nobody’s dragon lover, and I never said you had my heart.”
She covered her mouth as terror overwhelmed her, unlike anything she’d ever known, even when running from a monster bent on pursuing her.
“I can’t be.” Her voice lowered to a thin thread of sound as she met the endless patience—and yes, love—in Kord’s eyes. “I—I don’t understand any of this.”
“I don’t either,” Kord admitted, gesturing for her to come closer. Such tenderness shone in his eyes, she couldn’t withstand the distance she’d put between them.
Slowly she stepped to his side and allowed him to pull her down next to him again. “Your mother told you I understood your language today, didn’t she?”
“She might have mentioned it.”
Staring into his golden gaze, Lily knew he would never lie to her. “You think I’m from Anglican—no, you think I’m the mate you were told—”
“Had perished in the cold, dangerous waters of Vining Lake.” Kord’s face tightened, his words like chips of ice. “There are poisonous snakes and fish with teeth as long and sharp as
sabers. The vines the lake is named for wrap around you like ropes of evil and drag you to the silt bed, far below.”
A hard quiver passed over his entire body. “When I was a youth, barely out of the cradle, an older cousin fell into the waters near the border that separates our kingdom from Anglican. Friends saw him fall and go under as the vines caught him. His body was never found.” He rubbed a thumb and forefinger across his eyes as if they ached. When he cupped her jaw with the same two fingers, they felt damp against her skin.
“So you see, it’s not such a stretch for the realm to believe a female could have drowned in the lake, her body never recovered.”
“Except, if what you think is true, she, um, I didn’t. So what did happen?”
“That is what we’ll work on discovering, tomorrow.” He drew her back into his lap and laid his forehead against hers, eyes closed.
Lily kept hers open, needing to see him. He could have died today. Goosebumps broke out over her arms.
Muttering an unintelligible oath, Kord grasped her tighter, positioning her until she straddled him. “Listen to me, Lily.” He tipped her face up. “I promise you we’ll find answers. In the meantime, Zanralth of Diablian will not get close enough to touch you. I vow, as does my family. You belong to us, and we’ll protect you.”
He feathered his lips across her cheek, lingering at the corner of her mouth. The tender yet maddeningly sensual caress made her heart pound triple-time. Against her ear, he growled, “You are my mate. I claim you in word, here and now. Soon, I’ll claim you in deed. And by the time our blood melds, no one and nothing can ever come between us.”
At the mention of blood, Lily shifted restlessly across his thighs and her nails dug into the smooth, bare muscles of his shoulders. “Kord, please . . .” She wasn’t sure what she begged for.
Not true. You know exactly what you want.
Realm of the Dragon (The Soul Mate Tree Book 1) Page 7