by H. D. Gordon
Norman’s furry brows knitted, and Ozias knew that this news upset him, even without the aid of mortal facial expressions.
But little Nahni was at his side a moment later. She shifted back into her mortal form, the magical ring on her finger clothing her instantly, the last remnant of her former life of wealth and luxury.
She looked up at Nahari with eyes too old for her years, eyes that had seen too much. “We’ll be fine,” she said, wrapping an arm around Norman and pulling him against her side. The boy, still in his Wolf form, leaned into his big sister.
“Go kill the Hounds,” she added, and in her young voice, though spoken without any inflection, the words were terribly tragic.
“Will you come back?” Norman asked, his sweet familiar tone close to pleading. In all the craziness that had been taking place in the past few days, Ozias had nearly forgotten that the pups had lost their parents, their homes, their safety. Other than those expensive magical rings on their little fingers, Nahari was the only thing they had left.
But it was Ozias who answered, because he could see that though Nahari had overcome her timid nature and fought hard for their freedom more than once, saying goodbye to the pups she’d helped raise was harder than anything they’d done thus far.
He crouched before the children and gave Nahni and Norman his most sincere of smiles, even if his heart was aching inside. “Of course we will,” he said. “As soon as we’re done, we’ll both come back for you.”
Nahni’s eyes narrowed a touch. She had hung close to him for a good portion of the trip, and the two of them had shared quite a few conversations. Ozias couldn’t really understand why she’d seemed to take a shine to him, as most people—let alone pups—cowered away at the sight of him, but the girl’s affections had given him what little happiness there was to be had during these tumultuous times.
“You promise?” Nahni asked, holding his gaze with a fire that he’d glimpsed in Nahari, and was suddenly certain that the girl had learned this trait not from her parents, but from her true guardian, the slave who had risked her life in saving theirs.
“I promise,” Ozias said.
He was not prepared for the emotion that overwhelmed him when Nahni nodded once and then threw herself into his arms. He placed a kiss on the top of her head, so tiny against his massive, muscular form. Then she hugged Nahari, too, who kissed the child’s cheeks, and brushed away the tears of Norman, who had shifted into his mortal form as well to receive his goodbye embraces.
Soon after, Yarik and the Harpies were ready to transport the pups, and Ozias and Nahari stood watching as the Halfbreed opened a portal, and the children crossed through.
Yarik nodded to Ozias and Nahari. “They’ll be safe and cared for,” he said. “You have my word. And should you make it through the battles to come, they will be waiting for you in the free land.”
Nahari thanked him, and Ozias shook his hand when it was offered. Then, the warrior stepped through the swirling wormhole he’d opened with a magic foreign to any Ozias had ever seen, and the portal blipped closed behind him as though it had never been.
“I hope we keep our promise,” Nahari said, though it seemed to be more to herself than to him.
He hoped they did, too.
Not all of the Wolves they’d found themselves with were fit to fight. Of those they’d freed from the wagons, thirty out of the couple hundred would head to Dogshead, but Ozias supposed thirty was better than none.
And though saying goodbye to Nahni and Norman had been harder than made sense considering he’d only known the pups a handful of days, he was selfishly glad that Nahari was with him. It struck him that he did not want to say goodbye to her, that he liked being around her.
That he liked her.
A lot.
Despite there being several other pressing issues that should be weighing on his thoughts—like the fact that they were literally heading into what would surely be a bloody and violent war—he found himself pondering if she felt the same way about him.
Without the pups, they moved much faster, and they were well within the Midlands territory by the end of the following day. Ozias had travelled some of the realm as a Dog who’d been carted around to fight other Dogs, but he’d always been collared and chained, not allowed to move outside of designated areas, and never outside of the sight of the Hounds.
Seeing the world as a free Wolf was different somehow, like the colors were brighter, the sounds more vibrant, and the smells more potent.
When they came to their first valley of lavender wheat, he knew it would not be long before they reached Dogshead, and whatever fate awaited them there. He’d fought there once a few years ago, had nearly lost an eye, as the scar still visible on his face was a testament to.
The closer they got to Dogshead, the heavier the patrols of Hounds became. They’d dodged six separate patrols in the past twelve hours, and they’d gone as long as they could without stopping, so they set up camp in a heavily wooded area near a small river just as the sun set on another day.
Yarik, the Halfbreed warrior they’d met the day prior, had told them about various safe houses along the route to Dogshead; normal Wolves who were opening their homes and places of business to people trying to join the rebellion. This amazed Ozias perhaps more than anything that had happened thus far; he supposed that as a Dog, he’d forgotten that good people existed in the world, that not all Wolves agreed with the systems of oppression that so many of their fellow Wolves lived under.
Now, they were camped out in the basement of an old plantation home, the owner of which was a portly female with sharp eyes and a kind smile. She’d welcomed the party of thirty Wolves with open arms, had given them warm blankets, water, and bread, and warned them to keep absolutely silent should a patrol come along.
If she were to be caught helping them, Ozias knew that the Hounds would kill her the same as they would him, and the plantation house alone revealed her privileged status. It seemed to him a lot to risk in the aid of strangers.
She also hadn’t shuddered away from his rough appearance, had only smiled warmly and ushered him and the others into the basement.
The sun had set hours before, and Ozias had fallen into a deep sleep until Nahari’s stirring woke him. He blinked into the darkness of the cool, damp basement and saw her unfold herself lithely. She glanced at the Wolves sleeping around her, and then climbed the set of stairs that led to the outside on tiptoes. After peering out for a moment, she stepped out of the basement and shut the door behind her.
Ozias followed.
The lavender scented air that was a defining feature of the Midlands hit him as the light from a nearly full moon cast a blue glow over the world. Ozias caught a glimpse of ebony hair and headed in that direction.
“You should be resting,” Nahari said without turning around, her ears and nose impressively receptive.
“So should you,” Ozias replied, strolling up beside her. He told himself for what must have been the millionth time on this crazy journey not to stare at her, but he was always amazed at the way she was beautiful from every angle. It was like every time he looked at her, he was seeing her for the first time.
They walked for a few paces in silence, the night bugs chirping around them. Instead of staring, he stole glimpses of her, admiring the way her hair was almost sapphire under the moonlight, at the molten gold of her eyes when she spoke passionately, at the way her full lips curved up when she smiled quietly to herself.
She was beautiful, and he was pretty sure she didn’t even know it.
He found himself speaking before he knew what words would come out. “I’m glad you’re with me,” he said.
Nahari looked over at him, her brown skin lovely even in the shadows. Her lips pulled up in one corner. “Are you?” she asked. “Why is that?”
Ozias swallowed, suddenly nervous, which was ridiculous considering the fact that he had surely faced things more intimidating in his life than a beautiful girl.
Or perhaps, he
thought, when she looked at him with those amber eyes, he had not.
“Because I think you’re amazing,” he told her honestly, not seeing the point in lying. In truth, the both of them could die at any moment. “I think you’re brave,” he added, “and kind, and honest… and beautiful. I think you’re the most beautiful Wolf I’ve ever seen.”
When Nahari remained silent, Ozias cringed internally at these professions. He glanced around for a hole he could jump into and disappear. There were none. He chanced a look over at her. She was studying him as if trying to decipher something, but that small smile was still on her lovely lips. He wished she’d say something.
And as a star shot across the black night sky over their heads, this wish was granted.
“I think you’re amazing, too,” Nahari said softly. “And brave and kind and honest… and very handsome.”
Ozias almost died. Just died.
His heart skipped three beats, and his hand reached for hers. When she did not pull away, but instead, stopped and turned to face him, giving his hand a squeeze, he was grateful he hadn’t jumped into a hole after all.
Somehow, he seemed to be falling, nonetheless.
Until now, he had not touched her, though it had been hard at points. But she moved closer now, bringing her warm, soft body close to his, tilting her head back to look up at him, dark hair cascading over her shoulders in a silky curtain.
Her lips parted slightly as her golden eyes held his, as she closed the distance between them, slipping her arms around his waist and tucking her smaller form against his. Heat and excitement rushed through him, and a rumbling sounded low in his throat.
This made her chuckle. The sound was sultry and enticing, and she was not even aware.
When she took his hand and led him off the dirt path down which they’d been walking and into the high stalks of lavender wheat, there was nothing he could do but follow like a puppy.
He thought maybe he’d follow Nahari anywhere.
The lavender engulfed them, the stalks tall enough to tower over his head, despite the fact that Ozias was a large male. Once the lavender had swallowed them up, Nahari stopped and turned once more to face him.
Then, slowly, as if giving him a chance to pull away, as if she were also unsure if he wanted her, she tilted her face up to his in invitation.
Ozias’s hands slipped into that silky curtain of ebony hair and he placed a painfully gentle kiss on those lips that he had been telling himself not to stare at. They were as soft as they looked—softer. And she tasted like honey.
When she pulled back, her lips swollen from his and her heart thundering loudly enough that his sensitive ears could hear it along with his own, he almost growled at the loss of her touch. But the look in those golden eyes stopped him dead.
“I want to take off your clothes,” Nahari told him, “and then I want you to lie down.”
Ozias didn’t trust himself to speak, wasn’t sure what sound would come out of him, so he simply nodded.
Nahari moved closer, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it off over his head, revealing muscles that had been hard earned through fighting, abuse, and labor. He tried to suppress the self-consciousness that rose within him due to the myriad of scars covering his once smooth brown skin. His back was the worst, as was every Dogs’ who survived long enough. But the rest of him was marked with them as well.
He held his breath as her golden eyes roamed over him, and his heart swelled as he noted the fiery passion sparking there. She looked at his pants and raised her dark brows in question.
Ozias slipped his pants off, baring himself fully to her. Though they had both been naked around one another after shifting, this was different. Standing before her like this, there was no way to hide his need for her.
Her gaze travelled the length of him, and he swallowed hard. Then her soft hands were splayed on his chest, pushing him back and down until he was on his back upon the earth.
When she climbed atop him, Ozias almost groaned, but somehow managed not to.
She stripped her shirt off over her head, revealing her beautiful body. Now there was no command in the universe that could keep him from staring.
As her hand slipped between them, he gently caught her wrist.
“Are you sure?” he asked, and his voice came out a rumbling whisper, strained and breathless.
Nahari smiled, the first full smile he’d seen from her. All sense left him completely as the world filled with the beautiful girl atop him.
She leaned down, pressing her warm breasts against his skin, stirring that fire low within him, making his manhood throb in anticipation, and spoke softly in his ear.
“Yes, Ozias,” Nahari said. “I’m sure.”
That was all he needed to hear.
20
Adriel
I missed Rukiya.
I wanted to touch her, to feel her next to me, to listen to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat as we lie in bed together, her head upon my chest.
Instead, I was with Bakari and Yarin, getting ready to tempt the fates in the form of Firedrakes. We were out of our damn minds.
But the freed slaves and rebellion fighters were not enough to take on the Pack Masters’ forces along with those of the Erl Queen, and the Gods only knew what else those bastards had in store.
So as crazy as trying to enlist a few Firedrakes was, it was also something that could change the tide of the war.
Yarin clapped a hand on my shoulder, brown eyes studying me. “You afraid, brother?” he asked.
“He’d be a damn fool if he wasn’t,” Bakari replied. The Angel glanced over at me. “You’re not bringing any weapons?”
I shrugged. “We’re not going to kill them. We’re trying to convince them to join us, and in my experience, bringing a weapon to a negotiation is never a good start.”
Bakari snorted and tucked a dagger under his shirt. “Suit yourself.”
We moved quickly toward the eastern end of Mina, near one of the many gardens, and also Rook’s favorite place to come when she wanted to be alone. I sent a thought of love to her before turning to my comrades.
“You ready?” I asked.
Yarin and Bakari gave short nods. Taking a deep breath, I summoned my magic. I felt its familiar presence rise within me, flowing through my veins and filling my bones. I was still exhausted from having almost died of poison, but I gritted my teeth and managed to summon a portal.
The swirling wormhole was ringed in scarlet, the personal signature of my Mixbreed magic, and on the other side, the Unclaimed Realm awaited.
I waved a hand at the two males looking suddenly comically apprehensive before me, and gave a grin that was meant to ease the mood. “After you,” I said.
Bakari held up his hands, closed fist poised over his open palm. “Boulder, parchment, sheers?” he said to Yarin.
Yarin indulged him. And lost. He muttered a curse at the Angel before nodding to me and stepping through.
Bakari was next. He looked about as excited as I felt.
Once he’d stepped through, I drew a final breath and followed after, hoping that a death by fire was not awaiting me on the other side.
My weakened state was evident as I landed with a stumble. In fact, had Yarin’s reflexes been slower, I might have actually hit the ground. But he caught me under the forearm and hauled me up, giving me a concerned look as he did so. I offered a small nod to ensure him that I was fine.
As I looked around me, any feelings of nausea passed. I had never been to the Unclaimed Realm, but I’d heard the stories along with everyone else. After the first great war between the races, the realms had been divided up into territories. The Wolves got their piece, the vampires theirs, the Fae their forest, and so on. But this particular realm had never been claimed by any of the races. It was considered too hostile, too dangerous and inhospitable, and no one had wanted it.
Except for the thousands of Firedrakes that thrived in the stifling hot temperatures and preyed on an
y animal they could catch.
Adriel had no interest in being part of the next feast.
They were in a forest of lush green, the smell of smoke heavy in the air. Through the thick green canopies, a massive mountain rose in the distance, its dark and jagged peaks scraping at the heavens. Above, the sky was a burnt orange with the setting of the sun.
Yarin spoke softly, as though he were afraid the Drakes were listening. “They hunt at night,” he said.
Bakari’s jaw clenched. “Of course they do,” he mumbled.
I was grateful we were not going to head into that dark mountain, as I knew Rook and Asha had done in order to steal the Savior’s Stone for the Seers in exchange for the knowledge of how to free the Dogs of their magical collars. Rook still tossed and turned at night, breaking into cold sweats and screaming at demons I couldn’t see, memories of whatever horrors she had faced on that journey.
People thought I was brave, but Rukiya dearest was fearless, and for her, I would attempt to tame a few Drakes and convince them to come to our aid.
We were going for the females, and as the three of us moved like ghosts toward the base of that dark mountain, I went over the information I knew about Firedrakes mostly from books in Mina’s library.
The females were three times the size of the males, and five times more aggressive. They hunted in packs, like lionesses, and sometimes killed their male counterparts after mating. A single female Drake could birth a hundred Drakes in a lifetime, and if left to their own devices, could live hundreds of years.
In short, the creatures we were after were not young and foolish, but old and wise, strong and wild. And the fire they spit from their scaled throats was hot enough to melt silver.
The mountain held a concentration of the beasts, as Rook and Ash could attest to, but the valley at the base of the mountain was where the females lounged and relaxed. It was to this valley that we were heading.
Our group came to a halt at the edge of the forest, with Bakari in the lead. When the Angel came to an abrupt stop, and the air whooshed out of him in a hushed gasp, my heartbeat picked up in pace.