Kings of the Fire Box Set

by Lily Cahill

  Arryn met her gaze evenly. His calmness only served to anger her more, and she glared as he spoke.

  “If I am a dragon when it happens, then I’m a lot harder to kill. I can fly away from here, and you can rebuild the protection spell from whatever happened to it. I will get help—my brothers, Felicity. Maybe we can even find Glinda.”

  “Or you can die horribly because that is a terrible plan. You have no way of knowing what will happen after you change.”

  He nodded, but there was no defeat in his eyes. Marta felt her heart clench with fear. Distantly, she sensed his own resolve.

  “You’re right, I don’t know what will happen. I’m not—good at being a dragon. I never have been. It’s possible that I’ll shift and she’ll be there, ready to kill me no matter what my form. But we can’t stay in here forever. Even if we have provisions for a few days, what good does putting it off do? We need help, Marta. As it stands, we’re sitting ducks.”

  Everything inside of Marta’s chest curled into a knot. It was hard to breathe, to speak, to think. She couldn’t tell if she was more scared or more angry. “You can carry me. I can go with you when you make your escape.”

  “You said it yourself…” His voice was soft, and there was a touch of an apology in it. “It’s difficult to maintain the solo spell. Your best bet, the thing that will keep you safe, is if you stay here, rebuild the cracks in your spellwork, and stay safe.”

  “I don’t want to be safe without you.”

  The words sounded petulant to her, but they were honest—brutally honest, more so than she’d meant to be. Now that she’d had Arryn Dragomir, now that she knew the warmth of his touch and the kindness in his heart, she couldn’t walk away.

  In the brief time they’d spent together, she’d betrayed everything she’d lived by for the past few years. With him, she didn’t feel like she was just surviving—she was really living.

  And he wanted to go off on some suicide mission!

  Arryn leaned close, their foreheads together. She could feel the warm wash of his breath on her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down.

  Slowly, Arryn closed the gap between them. His mouth worked against hers, slow and deep. She felt his tongue tangle with her own, and she gave herself over to the moment. Her brain went quiet. The only thing she was aware for was his lips, his teeth nibbling at her bottom lip, his hands cupping her jaw and moving to grasp at her hair.

  It was unhurried and perfect. Marta felt her toes curl and moved an inch closer—only to have Arryn break the kiss and put space between them, his breath coming out in pants.

  “Marta, you know this is our best play.”

  His eyes searched hers. She didn’t know what he found there, but whatever it was, it made him brave enough to keep going.

  “I promised you I’d keep you safe, and I meant it. I’m going to promise you something else, okay?”

  Her heart was in her throat. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to make it, and I’m going to be fine. I’ll find help, and I’ll come back here, and we will beat this woman at her own game. And then,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “We’re going to be happy together, you and me. In Augustus. You can count on me, okay?”

  Drawing in a shuddering breath, Marta nodded. “Okay.”

  He pressed one more kiss to her lips, and then took several steps back. “Give me some space. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t hurt me,” she said, and the words felt so true. She knew in her soul that this man would never intentionally harm her in any way, could sense it in the way he felt about her. He felt for her just as much as she did for him, and just as strong. She trusted him completely.

  There was a smile on Arryn’s face as he tilted his head back, and then the change began.

  Watching it happen was fascinating—one moment, he was the man she’d known, and the next his shape began to warp and change. His muscles bulged and lengthened, and his skin, with its warm color, began to shine with a new luster as green scales sprouted and covered him completely. He grew and grew, so large that she took those extra few steps back so that he could have more space.

  It was not a quick process. Most shifters she knew needed only seconds to go from one form to another—Arryn had required a full minute. But when it was over, he was before her, regal and completely new. His neck was long, and his scales gleamed in the dim light of the living room. He had to hunch to fit in the space, his body barely contained. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  When she looked into his eyes, she was surprised to see just how present the man still was. Arryn dipped his large head toward her, and unable to stop herself, she reached up and touched his snout. His scales were so warm. She felt him exhale, the hair on her arms going flat with it.

  Marta laughed. “Arryn ….”

  There was no reply except for a playful bump against her still outstretched hand.

  She wanted to tell him she loved him. Maybe it was too soon, maybe it was all too much—but it felt right, in a way nothing had ever felt right before. She’d been avoiding having a home for so long that she almost hadn’t recognized that she’d found one. Now she had, however, and she was not going to let it go.

  But when she told him she loved him for the first time—when, she thought to herself, not if, he’s coming back—she wanted him to be able to return the sentiment.

  Instead, she gave him a small smile. “Remember your promises.”

  Her dragon nodded, and she believed him.

  Stooping down to pick up the wand she’d thrown in anger, she pointed it at herself and whispered, “Adiuva me.”

  The spell settled over her, a shade of what protection the house offered, but it would do. It would have to.

  She put her hand to the wall and felt the strings of her own magic there. She kept her eyes opened and focused on Arryn as she spoke the words that let down the tiniest of holes, then tugged it a little larger, a little larger ….

  The feeling of the netting above them changed abruptly, and Marta yelled out, “Now!”

  Arryn’s wings unfurled from his back, enormous and powerful. She was so astonished she slipped in her Latin and had to quickly recover. He beat his wings once, twice, and then his feet were off the ground and he was breaking through the ceiling, flying higher and higher. The netting above them collapsed as the protection spell on the house did, and then he was free, in the air.

  She watched him as she poured her magical energy back into the roof, willing it to repair itself. Broken wood and tiles flew through the air, weaving themselves back into patterns, her magic overlaid with all of them. It was going to be okay. They were going to win this.

  The magical walls were being rebuilt, going back up around her. She was almost done—it was so close. Her small protection spell was slipping, but she couldn’t redirect her energy to it, not when everything was nearly put back together.

  She felt something odd tug at her, as if someone was reaching through her magic to touch her very core. Panic gripped her, and she poured her remaining focus into the magical walls building up around her, trying to say the magic words as quickly as possible.

  But it was no use. It was as if ice were moving through her veins. She felt her magic slow to a trickle and then freeze all together, and then the world went black.

  Chapter Eight

  Arryn

  ARRYN COULD FEEL SOMETHING PULLING at his tail, and a heavy weight settle over his wings. It’s just magic, he told himself, pushing that much harder. He willed his body forward, fighting against the magical tendrils trying to hold him back. He had to keep moving, keep beating his wings against the cool air. If he stopped, he’d fall, and the second he was on the ground, he was more vulnerable.

  He thought of Marta’s heart-shaped face, her blue eyes full of determination and belief. He’d never had anyone who looked at him like that before, and he was going to be worthy of her love. The only other option was to die trying, an
d he’d already promised her that that would not happen.

  The moment the magic gave way, he shot forty feet higher into the air, rising far above the forest below him. He could see Augustus in the distance, its bustling streets, and he moved quickly in that direction, letting his wings stretch out so that he could ride the current of the wind.

  She’d let him go, this mysterious witch. He knew next to nothing about her except that her intent was bad—if she’d surrendered her hold on him, she had to have a reason.

  Marta’s name bounced around his mind, urging him to fly as fast as he could. He had to make sure she was okay, that he protected her. That was all that mattered.

  For the first time in his life, Arryn was glad to be a dragon. He was not bound by the path of the road or by traffic; he could move as he needed to. Augustus came into sharper view, and though he could not make out individual people, he was sure they were all staring, wondering what was going on. The last time they’d seen any of the brothers in their shifter forms was when Blayze had rescued Ramona from the Maxwells.

  The Maxwells. They were in prison now, but they hadn’t gotten that book, the one containing the potion that had nearly killed Joy, from just anywhere. It’d been such a rare thing, and it had been handed to them, gift-wrapped, by Natasha.

  He felt his Firestarter click in his chest. No, now was not the time. He tamped down that urge in himself.

  Augustus was below him, now. He glided downward, his eyes scanning the streets so he could get his bearings.

  The Witch’s Brew was only a few blocks away, and with its flat roof—well, it wasn’t ideal, and if he did any damage to the building, Joy would probably kill him, but it was the best option. Anywhere else and he was bound to run into a curious mob of citizens who would want to know more about his dragon form.

  There wasn’t time for that.

  As soon as he was above The Witch’s Brew, he held his wings in opposition to the air, stopping his progress abruptly. He flapped them gently, letting himself down as softly as he could. He could hear the building rumble under his weight. The moment he settled, he closed his eyes and started to shift back.

  Shifting had never come as easily to him as it had to his brothers. They’d all embraced their inner dragons as much as they could while living in hiding, but he’d never wanted that. He’d always blamed that side of him for the problems in his life, the adversity he faced.

  Maybe it was time to let that anger go.

  As his bones creaked and shrank, his skin went from an iridescent green to a more golden, human color. He rolled his neck, working out the kinks for just a moment, and then started to head toward the door. He knew for a fact that Joy’s apartment had rooftop access.

  He was only partway across the roof when the door banged open, and Joy and Vincent came out.

  Joy covered her eyes when she saw him. “Ugh, Arryn! Not only did you knock down a bunch of plaster off my ceiling, but you’re also naked. You are the rudest guest ever.”

  Vincent smirked at him—normally, seeing his usually reserved older brother look so relaxed would have made Arryn happy. Joy brought out a playfulness in Vincent that he’d never seen. But now was not the time, not when Marta’s safety—when all of their safety, really—hung in the balance.

  “I have some spare clothes here,” he offered. “They should fit you okay.”

  “Marta’s in trouble,” Arryn said.

  At that, Vincent’s face turned thunderous. Even Joy peeked out from behind her fingers, looking suddenly pale.

  “The witch who attacked the wedding? She has Marta trapped.”

  Everything moved very quickly. The three of them were suddenly inside Joy’s apartment, and Joy was on the phone, calling Felicity, while Vincent thrust clothes into his arms and directed him toward the bedroom to put them on.

  When he got out, Vincent was on his own phone, talking to Blayze, and Joy was texting furiously, gnawing on her lip as she went.

  She glanced up when she heard him enter the living room. “Thanks a lot for putting on some pants.”

  “I didn’t have a lot of options. I had to get help, and fast.”

  “Felicity and Damien are teleporting here in the next ten minutes. Vincent’s talking to Blayze…” She looked up at her boyfriend, who gave her a nod. “Who I believe has also agreed to get over here as soon as possible. So.”

  All of them together in a single place? That didn’t seem safe. “How protected is this place?”

  Joy snorted. “Are you kidding me? Felicity has made The Witch’s Brew into a freaking fortress. I don’t know if even Glinda could break in, now. There are so many layers of spells, it’s absolutely insane.”

  “Doesn’t seem so insane,” Arryn muttered. Considering the circumstances, it seemed pretty damn logical. In fact, he was going to see if he could get Felicity to cast a personalized version on Marta, so that she was always safe, no matter whether he could see her or not.

  Although she probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

  At this point, it was hard to care. So long as she was safe and alive, she could be as annoyed as she wanted.

  Arryn paced back and forth in the living room as Joy sat on the couch, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around him. He could feel her staring, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

  “Why was Marta with you?” she asked, suspicion thick in her voice.

  “She came to get the book I borrowed from her.”

  Joy frowned. “How did she know where you live?”

  “I figured you told her.”

  At that, Joy shrugged. “Maybe I did, I don’t remember. So she came to your place, and while she was there, she got hit by some magical whammy?”

  The tension that had been steadily building inside of Arryn blossomed behind his eyes, and rubbed at them. This was no time to get a migraine. He couldn’t save Marta if he wasn’t at his best. He willed away the pain and kept walking back and forth.

  “That’s not exactly what happened.”

  Joy raised her eyebrows, tapping her hand against her leg. “Then what happened?”

  “Is this important?”

  “My friend is trapped and you just left her behind, so excuse me if I’m a little worried and want all the details.”

  Her words hit him like a punch in the gut. Arryn stopped pacing and let his eyes fall closed, his face twisted up in a grimace. God, that was what it looked like, wasn’t it? Like he had abandoned her alone against a witch more powerful than herself.

  But there’d been no other plan, nothing else that made sense. They either stayed there and hoped Marta’s magical fortress and his own supplies outlasted the witch’s patience, or they took action while they still had the strength and ability to do so. She couldn’t cast a teleport, she couldn’t protect them both if the walls crumbled—but she could take care of herself.

  He didn’t want to hold her back, or force her to make any decisions about saving him or herself. The world needed Marta Petrenko.

  Everything he’d done, he’d done to save her.

  “Look, I understand why you’re so worried, but it makes more sense to wait until everyone is here so I only have to go through this once.” He paused, trying to find the right words. The passion in his chest, the roaring of his dragon, made it hard for him to speak. “But I need you to hear what I say right now: I would never hurt Marta. I will not rest until she is safe.”

  Understanding lit up inside of Joy’s eyes. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “No freaking way.”

  Arryn grimaced. “She and I haven’t talked about it yet. Formally, I mean. But I think—“

  Joy got up from her place on the couch and closed the distance between them. She reached out and punched Arryn on the arm. She was smiling, but her expression was still too tight to be completely happy.

  “We’re going to celebrate the heck out of this when she’s back here, safe and sound. Okay?”

  That actually sounded … nice. He felt tired, all the way into his bones, sc
ared of everything that might happen. That future, the one she mentioned, where it was him and Marta—that was his guiding light, the thing he needed to get him through this.

  Ten minutes later, Blayze and Ramona were sitting on the couch, hands clutched together. Joy was perched on an armrest, Vincent standing just behind her. Damien and Felicity stood at the head of the room, both of their faces drawn with worry.

  Seeing all of his brothers with their fated matches made him long for Marta. They would get through this safely. She would be fine.

  He was preoccupied with his own thoughts, that he almost didn’t hear Damien when he began to speak.

  “We only have one real option. Full attack. The four of us and Felicity against this witch.”

  From the couch, Ramona rolled her eyes. “Right. And what are Joy and I, chopped liver?”

  “You know that’s not what he meant,” Blayze cut in. He sounded more serious than Arryn had ever heard him before. “Felicity is one of the most powerful witches alive—only Glinda and maybe this witch we’re facing rival her. We’re dragons.”

  “You’re not indestructible,” she said, glaring.

  “But we’re very hard to kill.”

  Joy reached over the couch to flick at Blayze’s shoulder. “What’s she saying is that we shouldn’t have to just sit at home and wait while the menfolk—and, well, Felicity, I guess—handle things. There has to be something we can do.”

  “Well, unless Felicity knows a spell for conjuring a bazooka, I don’t think either of you are fit for this battle.” Blayze replied, earning himself a kick in the shin from Ramona. He rubbed at the spot. “You think I want to say things like this? It’s the truth! How can I fight some crazy powerful witch if I’m watching you the entire battle?”

  Felicity gnawed at her lip. “I hate to say it, but these guys aren’t wrong. If we had time to plan, then we could definitely find ways for you two to help, but as it is, we’ve got an hour. I’m not risking any more of Marta’s time so we can debate about who is the most useful of us all.”

  That seemed to quell Ramona’s complaints. “Well,” she said, grumbling. “For Marta, I guess I can stay behind.”