Dragon in the Blood (Vale of Stars Book 2)

by Juliette Cross

  Was he right?

  CHAPTER 10

  Draped in the scarlet ceremonial robe, my hood up, I stepped out onto the walkway where Decimus awaited. Humped Mother Moon shone from her zenith behind a diaphanous sheet of gray cloud. Downy snow drifted softly to the thin blanket of white. Perfect for such a ceremony. The blood would show well.

  “Come, Decimus. Time to serve the master.”

  He made no reply, but narrowed his dark eyes. He hated it when I spoke of Larkos in such a way. We both wanted to be free of him. And soon, we would be.

  We walked along the torch-lit path into the nearby woodland, then entered a clearing where torches encircled a ring of Larkos’s warriors who were ready for their blessing. The other soldiers and officers were gathered as well. So was every human woman in the camp, now slaves to the Larkosian army. They stood in a subservient line, cloaked with heads bowed. Larkos himself stood within the ring to the right of the altar. Drawn to the blood, he liked a close-up view of my ceremonies.

  After flipping my hood off my head, I pushed back the flaps of the mantle over my shoulders, revealing the loose-fitting, sleeveless white gown I wore to honor Mother Moon. I wore my hair down, letting it spill over my shoulders and full breasts. The air was biting. Though the wind wasn’t strong, it came from the north, from Aria, my home, which invigorated my body and blood. As if home was speaking to me and assuring me I was on the right path.

  Decimus settled himself at my back, just outside the ring of bare-chested soldiers. He would remain close. As always. Though there was no threat for me here at the altar, he was always wary, ever watchful.

  A bowl, a white cloth of muslin, and the ceremonial dagger had been laid out on the altar. I’d been taught the blood blessing by our high priestess from a young age, though we’d only ever used animal sacrifice. But this blessing wasn’t for a healthy crop or healing bodies. It was for power and dominance and death. So the sacrifice must be greater, more valuable. Only a human or a Morgon life would suffice for such a blessing. And since Larkos hadn’t yet begun to kill his own kind, a slave would do.

  “A sacrifice is required. Bring her forward.”

  Two soldiers pushed into the ring holding a dark-haired human woman between them. She stumbled. Not from their rough handling of her, but from the drug she was given to dull her senses. After the first debacle where the woman screamed and struggled until the moment of death, I insisted every sacrifice thereafter be sedated but conscious.

  They ushered her forward to stand before me. I unclipped her white hood and let the cloak fall to the ground. She was skinny and frail beneath a sheer white gown.

  Men. Of course they would choose her for tonight’s sacrifice. She was without the womanly curves they lusted after. This one was easy enough to let go and toss aside.

  I unpinned her hair, which fell around her delicate shoulders. She shivered, her teeth chattering. I lifted her chin with my hand. Though her eyes were dilated and glazed with the drug, she saw through the haze. She saw me and understood what was to happen.

  “Do not be afraid.” I smiled gently. She made no response, still quivering from the cold, fear, or the sedative. Or all. But it would be over soon enough. Stepping back, I commanded, “Place her on the altar.”

  The two soldiers did so, clasping her wrists and ankles in the chain restraints on either end. Her arms and legs were as pale as the snow surrounding the stone altar. Beneath the illumination of Mother Moon, she was a beautiful sacrifice.

  Lifting my arms skyward and closing my eyes, I chanted the words I’d said so many times before. “With rising moon comes setting sun, the mighty require a given one, to guide them on their battle straight, reward them with your open gate. The blood of the given shall bestow them power, and keep them victorious upon every hour.”

  The only difference is that I said the words before the blood was spilled. Empty words without the blood sacrifice. I counted on Larkos being hypnotized by the blade and the girl’s pale skin, awaiting the river of red. With a quick glance, I ensured his focus was not on me, but on the sacrifice. An addict longing for his fix was easy to divert.

  Removing the dagger from its sheath, I stared down at the girl, and for the first time, a twinge of regret pricked my conscience. The slave girls who were forced to watch, as always, sniffled quietly on the periphery.

  “Look at me, girl,” I whispered.

  Her head wobbled in my direction, her chin still quivering.

  “Your death will not be in vain. I promise you.”

  Her expression remained unchanged. Still the ashen look of one whose life was to be stolen by her captors. But I spoke the truth. Her death would not serve those who had captured, beaten, and violated her body. Her blood would not bless these men on their journey, but rather damn them. I would make sure of it. Then I would be one step closer to my own escape.

  “Bring forth the Blood Keeper,” I demanded in a bold voice.

  Usually, they’d send up another trembling woman they’d coerced with violent recompense should she not obey to play the part of blood keeper. Only the female sex could serve Mother Moon. This time, however, a tall woman whose bronze skin shone under the moonlight stepped forward with her chin held high. Unusual. She stopped beside me at the altar and held her hands out, palms up.

  I placed the bowl in her hands. “Are you willing to be the blood keeper?”

  Expecting a shaken reply as I’d always received, for the blood keeper must be a willing servant for the blessing—or in this case, the curse—to work, I was surprised at her quick response.

  “Yes,” she said, green gaze steady and sure. No fear. “I am willing.”

  “Mother Moon thanks you,” I replied, placing the white marble bowl in her hands.

  The veil of cloud lifted. Mother Moon glowed to full luminescence, a sign she would honor my request. With a swift cut, I opened the girl’s veins at the wrist. The blood keeper caught the crimson flow as I circled to the opposite side and opened her other one to quicken her death. Red flowed onto the white slab and down the side to pool in the new fallen snow.

  I placed a hand on her forehead. “Close your eyes…go to sleep. Mother Moon takes you to her bosom tonight. She will keep you safe and warm in her arms.”

  I then whispered the words to call on the curse, calling for their fall, calling for their deaths. The vibration of magic rippled through my body before it built into a steady hum in the open space around the altar. As a witch of the Syren Sisters, I’d learned what plants and flowers to eat and at what time of the year to enhance my connection to nature and the gifts of the otherworld, the one beyond nature. Our dragon ancestry hid secrets in our own blood, magic that most Morgons never even knew they had, never wielded even once in their lifetime. Meditation, diet, practice, and Nature herself allowed us to call upon her aid when we were in need. If the connection was made properly, the sacrifice enough, and the intent true, we could command anything with our magic—anything—and it would be done.

  The resurrection of Larkos was nothing compared to what I had planned. The world would never shun me or my kind again as they had once done.

  The girl’s chattering had ceased. With her eyes closed, her chest rose and fell its last as her blood continued to drain into the snow, crimson upon pure-white, like the flow of the spirit into the afterlife.

  “Come, keeper,” I said, now that her bowl was full.

  I led her to the first soldier, then dipped my hands into the sacrificial blood and smeared the warm liquid up my arms to the shoulder. I called inwardly to that deep place where my darkest magic lay. My poisonous kiss was nothing next to this. An aura of power radiated from my body. The keeper next to me and the warrior awaiting his blessing both sucked in a breath, for it was a palpable vibration they must’ve felt to their bones. The magic was working, but not in the way these Morgon men would hope.

  Taking the white muslin cloth tucked into the belt of my gown, I dipped it into the bowl and soaked it red, not bothering to
wring it.

  “May Mother Moon accept this sacrifice and heed my plea for this warrior.”

  I smeared the ceremonial cloth across his chest and pushed a pulse of blood magic straight to his heart. His mouth fell open and his eyes squeezed shut at the tangible press of my power. I smiled and stepped to the next warrior in line, repeating the words and marking him for death as well. Then the next. And the next.

  As I continued down the line, pausing only to re-soak the cloth, I caught the look of strength and defiance in the keeper’s direct gaze. It was as if she knew my secrets. And I wondered if a human woman could sense such things. They were the inferior race, but they had their own gifts of intuition and compassion. Virtues often overlooked as meaningless and powerless. But I knew better.

  As I smeared and cursed the last soldier without anyone knowing the wiser—except Decimus—I folded the cloth and draped it across the now empty bowl, for I made sure that every drop had been used to ensure the fate of these soldiers.

  Raising my dark-stained arms in a V, I pronounced in a loud voice, “Go now. Mother Moon has heard our behest. She will answer.”

  Their fall would pave the path for my rising. There was only one ceremony left. And for that, I needed a special sacrifice. A truly willing one.

  The bronze-skinned keeper set the bowl upon the altar with quiet reverence before she lifted the gray hood over her head and folded her hands to meld with the dissipating crowd. She followed one of Larkos’s senior officers into the dark. My heart leapt faster as Decimus made his way to my side.

  “She will do, lover,” I whispered. “Yes. I believe she will be the one to serve our final rite.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Waking with a jolt, sweat dampening my chest and back, I breathed deep. Valla still slept, curled sweetly on one side. She shifted her hip, evoking the memory of us in her dream on the beach…and then I remembered her rejection.

  “Fucking hell.”

  I jerked to my feet, well aware of my painfully stiff dick and no way to take care of it. I pulled on my gloves with a jerk.

  Why would she reject me? She’d obviously enjoyed our interlude on the beach. I closed my eyes, remembering her back arched, her moans, her rocking hips. Damn, if I didn’t want to drive inside her, hard and deep. But dreamwalking wasn’t like regular dreams. The sensations were more corporeal than actual dreams. We’d remember everything, and I didn’t want to spook her. Besides, when I finally did slide inside of her, I wanted it to be in the waking world. And we would be lovers, no matter what she thought. I glanced down at her sleeping form, immediate warmth spreading from my chest to my cock. She would be mine.

  Bowen sat on his thermal blanket with his back propped against the cavern wall at the entrance with a clear view of anything coming from the north, east, or south. I sat beside him. Night had settled and the clouds had cleared. A canopy of glittering stars and the moon brightened the sky.

  “You can get some rest now. I’ve had mine,” I grumbled.

  Sharp green eyes glanced at me, then back toward the north. “Doesn’t seem to me as if you slept very well.”

  I diverted the topic elsewhere. “Do you think these Syren Sisters will have the answers we need about the Larkosians?”

  “Hard to say. It’s not common for one to defect, so they’re bound to have some information that will guide us.”

  “Have you been to their sanctuary before?”

  “Never. Men aren’t allowed, as you know. And they reside in the most remote part of Aria.”

  “I wonder if they’ll be forthcoming about one of their own defecting. They may cut us off before we’ve had the chance to ask our questions.”

  “I don’t think so. I believe they will divulge information to Valla. She is a resourceful woman.”

  I inhaled a huge breath of air and then expelled it, white air billowing.

  Bowen chuckled. I’d never heard the man laugh. He rarely cracked a smile—the most brooding, stoic fellow I’d ever known. Even more so than Kol Moonring.

  “Something funny?”

  “Quite.” He pulled out a flask from his jacket and took a swig. “Here. I think you need this.”

  Disgruntled at his insinuation, I took the flask anyway and drank down a swig. Some of the moonshine we’d taken from Orlik’s inn.

  “Best beware,” said Bowen, taking another drink before recapping the flask and tucking it inside his jacket.

  “Beware of what.”

  “You’re hunting her.”

  “Hunting her?” I was aware my question came out more growl than words.

  He stood and stared down at me. “I’m a hunter. I should know. Your beast is tracking, observing, following signs, edging closer by the day. And he doesn’t seem to be backing down from his prey from where I’m standing. My dragon is urging me to stay clear of you. If you don’t know what that means by now, you’re in more trouble than I thought.”

  With that, he ducked into the cave and left me bewildered and stupefied. If I didn’t know what that means by now?

  “What—”

  With a punch to the gut, realization dawned on me, knocking my head into a tailspin. The burn, the warmth that continuously swirled deep within me in her presence. It wasn’t simply desire coiling tight. The sensation had started slow and low, cranking up with intensity every day. When I awoke a few minutes ago, it was the first time the burning sensation had actually stung, pricking like red-hot needles in the middle of my chest, and then spreading finger-like into my ribs and stomach.

  Soulfire.

  “Aw, hell.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me? Soulfire burned inside me? For Valla?

  How could this happen? Why did my dragon choose her? It wasn’t like I could talk him out of it. Once stamped with soulfire, it never lessened, never wavered, never died, only burned harder and longer and more painfully for that one woman. That’s what I’d been told anyway. The dragon recognized his mate first, the man always the second to know. And the woman was the very last. Few Morgon women were entranced with the idea of being stamped without their approval. Valla would fly screaming all the way to Morga’s Keep if she knew.

  There were Morgons who were rejected by their mate and suffered with the painful burn all their days. Not me. No fucking way. The only way to satisfy the beast and alleviate this growing torture was to heartbond with Valla.

  “Fuck.”

  I laughed. That was why I was so damn concerned about her eating and taking care of herself. I had dismissed it as just one operations officer caring for another. But I sure as shit wasn’t worried about Bowen’s eating habits, was I? No. Every move she made, I was watching, worrying about her well-being. I was such an idiot I never picked up on it.

  No way could I let her know. She wouldn’t sense it. Only other Morgon men would. Their intuition to recognize another Morgon male’s desire for a mate was innate. Hell, Bowen recognized what it was before I did.

  That strong-willed, stubborn, beautiful fucking woman was going to be mine.

  If not… I couldn’t even consider what would happen to me if not. No way could I wake up hard as hell for a woman who shunned me every fucking day of my life. Dominant? She had no idea. But I also recognized her independence for what it was—a stunning part of who she was. I wouldn’t take that away. I didn’t want to. But I’d damn well show her the mind-blowing pleasure she could have every day of her life…if she’d just give me a chance. If she’d give us a chance.

  I let Valla sleep through her shift. She needed it. I wasn’t going to deny my dragon’s needs. He wanted her rested. If that’s all I could have for now to soothe the beast, then so be it.

  We’d agreed to stop for only five or six hours, and it was pushing past midnight now. I rolled up Bowen’s thermal blanket and walked back into the cavern, the blue-light emanating warmth and a dim glow. Squatting down on her palette, I gazed my fill before waking her. I swept a loose lock of hair away from her face, so serene in sleep with her hands tuck
ed under her cheek, her lush lips pursed.

  Biting back a groan, I shook her shoulder. “Wake up, Valla.”

  As soon as she stirred, I stood and nudged Bowen awake as well. “We should get going if we want to take advantage of night’s cover.”

  We packed our gear in silence, but I didn’t miss Valla’s covert glances in my direction. I refused to acknowledge her curiosity. She wanted to know my mood after her rejection. I would show her neither anger nor bitterness. What she wouldn’t expect is complete and total professionalism from me, so that’s what I would give her. For now.

  Donning headgear and visors, we lifted out of the gorge, aiming high into the cloud cover. Sleet and snow pelted our suits as we maintained a swift speed. Checking my wrist comm, we veered onto the last leg toward the coven.

  A powerful gale whipped through the clouds, the wind pushing against us. Valla wavered left. I jerked in her direction, but she righted herself back to the point of our vee. Breathing deep, I focused on keeping myself calm and in control. Darting off to save her from every wobble in flight would surely set me up as a lovesick suitor. She’d tighten her resolve against me more if she sniffed out my aching need to protect her.

  An alert beeped in our visors. All three of us checked our wrist comms. A cluster of airborne individuals was flocking in our direction from the east, showing up as a mass of about a dozen dots.

  “Who is it?” asked Valla through the visor. “The Greyclaws and friends?”

  “Possibly,” I answered.

  “No,” said Bowen. “The flight pattern is slightly erratic.”

  A ghostly howl ripped through the wind. Others yipped and answered the call.

  “Wulving,” I said, scanning our map for cover.

  “They’re closing fast,” said Valla. And though she tried to keep her voice steady, I detected a slight tremor. My dragon wanted to turn and fight the whole fucking pack for her. But getting myself killed wouldn’t accomplish a thing.