Flight of Dragons
Page 33
“Oh, my God!” Ice held her hand to her throat. “It felt like dying.”
Her gaze lit on Nathan and tears filled her eyes. “It didn’t work.”
Nathan jerked, his head rocked to one side and then the other and his eyes blinked open and closed.
Morgan abandoned Ice for Nathan. She took a bag from her skirt pocket and scattered herbs around him, chanting in the old language.
Nathan jerked again, his arm shot out to the side and his head bent back so far Dominic feared for his neck.
“Ugh.” He choked and gasped, and pushed up from the bed. The air wheezed through his lungs.
“Nathan!” Ice jumped up and ran to his bed.
“Stay back, child. Give him a moment.” Morgan held Ice back with her arm.
After what seemed an eternity of horrible, wheezing breaths, Nathan collapsed back against the pillow, and said, “I’m thirsty.”
Ice fell on the floor sobbing, and Dominic dashed at his eyes, then filled a glass on the nightstand. Nathan took it from him with shaky hands. The magnificent male, whose presence made Dominic’s heart falter, looked a mere shell of his former self. His eyes were sunken and his cheeks sallow. He took a few sips and fell back against the pillow.
“Now you must sleep. Proper sleep this time, the kind that rests your body.” Morgan laid her hands on Nathan’s chest and said a few soft words. “Tomorrow I will bring a soup with all you’ll need to speed your recovery. Good to have you back with us, Nathan.”
Ice snuggled up to Dom that night as Nathan slept, her warmth a comfort. “I can’t wait to tell him,” she whispered.
He pulled her closer, and kissed the top of her head. Grateful to his toes she’d decided to stay with them.
“When do you want me to take you to fetch your things?” he asked her.
“When Nathan is fully recovered. I won’t leave until he is.”
“Suits me,” he answered.
“He risked it all for me. Everything. I can’t believe it.”
“You still don’t get it, sweetheart. You are everything to him…to us. You’re ours now and we are yours. We need to make it official. We belong, and after what we’ve been through to be together, our bond will be enduring.”
She gave him a squeeze. “How do we do it, the whole mating thing?”
“We have a ceremony. Our version of a marriage ceremony, I suppose. Where we thank the gods for leading our mate to us. Then we have another ceremony, the three of us. You know, in private.” He smacked her lightly on her behind.
“Ah, in private. I get it.” She giggled. “Hey Dom, do you think I’ll ever get to fly in my dragon form again?”
“I don’t know. But if it means going through this sort of thing again, I hope not.”
“I thought for a horrible moment he wouldn’t come back to us.” She sniffed and her tears wet his shoulder.
He dropped a kiss to her head and scented her hair. “Let it go, sweetheart. Let it all go. He’s back home now.”
Ice cried out as Nathan thrust deep. Dom penetrated her from behind, his slow gentle thrusts a counterpoint to Nathan’s more brutal movements. She’d already come twice but another orgasm stirred, building inexorably.
Nathan halted, as deep as possible within her, and grasped her hand in his. Dom reached around and held on too. They stilled and she wanted to ask why when something jolted her body.
Nathan smiled at her and looked up, so she did the same and gave a soft cry. Swirling above them were three cloudy, but distinct, shapes. Three colored dragons. A steely gray one with emerald eyes glowing bright. A blue and green beauty, and a smaller dragon covered in iridescent oranges and golds. Her dragon.
The sight took her breath away, and she let a few tears fall, not caring if tough, battle hardened fighters did such a thing or not. The graceful creature twirled in midair, flicking her long tail. The two other dragons encircled her. They twirled together in a sinuous circle until they were nothing but a mixture of astonishing colors.
The cloud-like dragons broke apart, descending towards their hosts. Her dragon reentered her body and Ice gasped. Nathan and Dom where there. Inside her. She sensed them, their emotions, and their strength, nestled deep within.
“Now you’re truly ours.” Nathan slid in and out, and Dom matched his pace.
God. She’d been filled by her men in every way possible, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. Her pleasure built, intensified by the echoes of pleasure from Dom and Nathan’s spirits. The three of them wound tighter, rising towards an incredible pinnacle.
When Ice finally came, it obliterated the old her. The tough, closed off woman she’d been. Only dimly aware of her two males reaching their release, Claire found herself again.
Once they’d stopped moving and were snuggled close, she spoke.
“I want to be known as Claire again. I don’t need Ice anymore. Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “She’ll always be a part of me, but I’m Claire.”
“Claire. Our Claire,” Nathan said, and took her mouth in a demanding kiss. He’d taken two weeks to recover so they’d had to hold off on the mating ceremony. Two days ago, Nathan had declared he couldn’t wait any longer. They’d kept it simple, wanting the public aspect over and done with so they could get to this, the good stuff.
The next day Claire cleared a large space in the center of the side room of the village hall, and awaited her first pupils. She’d never made it to the championship. Ellie’s attack put paid to any such plans. But she missed training. And while she didn’t need her Ice persona anymore, the fighter would always be a part of her. Dom had been the one to ask her if she missed fighting. When she admitted she did, he must have had a word with Nathan, because the next day he started sparring with her. Nothing major as he still hadn’t fully recovered, but they practiced basic moves together. She understood this was a big deal, not only because it went against clan culture and beliefs, but also because Nathan needed to protect her. She could now feel how much. But Nathan, also wanting to make her happy, decreed they needed to move with the times.
He shocked her by asking if she’d be willing to train the clan’s females and children in self-defense. Only the males learned how to fight and on reflection, Nathan thought this old-fashioned and stupid. If they ever did face an enemy again, it made for sense for the whole clan to be able to defend themselves.
Nerves fluttered in her belly, but they were matched by the fizz of excitement. The door to the room opened and a group of females trooped in, led by Teresa.
At the sight of her friend’s lovely face, Claire’s nerves dissipated.
The class went well, and by the end the females seemed to positively enjoy the basic exercises they were doing.
That night, Claire shared her day with Nathan and Dom, and saw their swift exchange of prideful glances. She loved them so much, it filled her up until she thought she’d burst.
“Come, my fighter.” Nathan moved around the table to her. “We have something for you.”
She followed her two males down the corridor to the bedroom. When she entered, she gave a laugh of delight. On the bed were two cute little kittens. An elegant calico with tabby markings, and a sweet tortoiseshell with orange flashes in its grey fur. The tortoiseshell flopped on its back for tummy scratches.
“Oh wow, they’re so adorable!” She picked them up, nuzzling their soft fur.
“I figured you missed your neighbor’s cat, George,” Nathan said, speaking of the old moggy she often fed.
“I do. Oh, but these are so beautiful. I can’t believe it!” She gently placed them back on the bed and watched them play for a moment.
“That’s not all.” Dom went to the bedside drawer and opened it. “We got you this, too. Figured you’d want to keep in touch with Sian and your parents. This way you can FaceTime and keep up between any visits to the city.”
He handed Claire an iPad.
She blinked back tears and looked at her two males. “Did I ever tell you how much I
love you?” she asked.
“And we love you,” Nathan answered. He looked at Dom. “And I love you too. You’re both mine.”
“Ditto,” Dom said with a grin. “Now how about we leave these kitties to get used to their new home and you show your guys how much you love them. This time using actions not words?”
“Insatiable,” she muttered. But, hey, she wasn’t complaining. She wanted them as much as they wanted her. Finally, she utterly and completely belonged.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Skye Jones is an erotic romance author who loves to write about that moment when lust and love meet head on. She loves to interact on social media and you can follow her on FB at https://www.facebook.com/Skye-Jones-297399473794965/.
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FORGED IN FIRE
By Zara Keane
Heat rating: 3, Enemies to lovers, second chance romance, M/F, Ireland
Celtic Dragons, #1
In a future torn apart by war, single mother Lia Grogan has forty-eight hours to save her daughter from a ruthless warlord. The catch: she needs to enlist the help of her ex-lover and archenemy, Seth MacNeil, leader of the regime she despises.
CHAPTER ONE
LIA
Year: 2158
Setting: The city formerly known as Dublin
Location: The North Side
From the depths of the Fifty, the bells of the cathedral chime. The sound floats into my apartment building through the rickety windows and follows me up the narrow spiral staircase to the sixth-floor landing. The musty smell of damp that pervades our building is particularly strong tonight. Each step of the rotting stairs groans beneath my feet. I try to ignore the scurrying mice and remind myself that the rent is cheap and cheap is all I can afford.
At last, I reach my apartment. I fiddle with the rusty lock but it won’t cooperate. For fuck’s sake. After hauling grocery bags up five flights of stairs, I’m out of breath and out of patience.
The seventh bell proclaims the hour. Inside the apartment, our ancient telephone rings and rings.
“Ash!” I bang on the splintered wooden door. “Can you answer the phone?”
She must have her earphones in again, blasting the cacophony she calls music. Swearing, I remove the key from the lock, flex my shoulders, and try again. I need to call a locksmith, but locksmiths don’t work for free. And given that our building is due to be demolished in a few months, my willingness to pay for non-essential repairs is limited. Another twist of the key, and the lock gives. I grab my bags and stagger inside.
“Ash?”
No response.
I dump the bags on the worn carpet and make a dash for the phone. Too late. The dial tone echoes in my ear. With a sigh, I replace the old-fashioned receiver and sift through the letters on the hall table. Two bills I can’t afford to pay, one accompanied by a threatening letter. A late notice from the library for a tedious tome entitled A History of the Provinces. And the crowning glory: an election campaign brochure from the ruling political party—correction, our only political party—featuring a glossy photograph of Torin MacNeil’s smug smirk. My nostrils flare. The only place for MacNeil in my apartment is the incinerator.
I toss the letters on the hall table and notice a small package. Presumably our latest ration of vitamins, a suspect substance I always flush down the toilet. I shrug out of my dripping raincoat and hang it on the last free peg of our overloaded coat stand, next to Ash’s.
We had a row over breakfast and it’s been gnawing at me all day. She wants to go to a party on Friday night, but I don’t feel comfortable letting her go. The party is to be held in an even worse part of town than ours and Ash underestimates the danger. The upshot of our argument was that Ash left for school in a flounce, and I stomped to my shift at the garage in a crappy mood. Up until a few months ago, Ash and I hardly ever fought. Now our arguments are a daily occurrence.
“Ash,” I call down the hallway. “Can you set the table? I brought Chinese food.”
Still silence. The takeout is a peace offering, but my daughter is either plugged in, sulking, or both. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the hall mirror and shudder. My short black hair is wet and wild, and my skin is even paler than usual. The bags under my eyes weigh more than I do. After a day spent crawling under cars, every bone in my body aches. I need food, I need wine, and I need sleep.
I haul the bags into our cramped kitchen. Mister Cuddles is under the table, drinking from his water bowl. He greets me with an arched back and a hiss. The name is a misnomer. Mister Cuddles is about as cuddly as a porcupine. We inherited him with the apartment, and I don’t have the heart to kick him out. No one can afford to keep a pet these days, not in our neighborhood. If we abandon him, Mister Cuddles will end up on someone’s dinner plate.
I wrench open the fridge and unpack the groceries. My daughter still hasn’t deigned to put in an appearance. After I put the takeout on the chipped kitchen counter, I grab plates from the cupboard. “Ash,” I yell. “I know you’re upset, but you gotta eat.”
No response. For fuck’s sake. She’s fourteen years old, not four. She needs to stop acting like a spoiled brat. I slam the cutlery drawer and march into the living room.
One overstuffed sofa, two ancient armchairs, no Ash. A prickle of unease settles between my shoulder blades. I rush into my daughter’s bedroom without knocking, almost braining myself on a stray hockey stick. Dirty laundry, discarded books, no Ash. The unease morphs into full-blown panic. My heart is racing while I check the bathroom, then my bedroom. Damn. I’ve run out of rooms to search.
In the hallway, I make a beeline for the notepad we keep by the phone for messages. I didn’t notice any when I came in, but maybe…No, nothing. My daughter’s coat is hanging on the stand, still damp from rain. I inhale the scent of wet wool and try to stay calm. Why would Ash go out on a night like this? It makes no sense.
With fumbling fingers, I dial her best friend’s number. Orla’s family is one of the few we know with an official phone. Ours is black market and hacks into the network illegally. My daughter’s friend answers on the fourth ring.
“This is Lia Grogan, Ash’s mum.”
“Hi, Lia.” Orla sounds surprised. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen Ash? Is she with you?”
“Uh, no. We walked home together after school. Last time I saw her, she was letting herself into your building. I stayed until she’d gone inside, just like you asked me to.”
I swear beneath my breath. “Did she mention plans to go out?”
“Ash never goes out at night. You don’t let her.”
I ignore the accusation in Orla’s tone. She’s just a kid. She has no idea how much I’ve sacrificed to keep my daughter safe. No fucking way am I letting her put herself in danger. “If you hear from her, please let me know.”
I disconnect and go back into the living room. With trembling hands, I push the curtains aside and stare out at the pouring rain. Surely Ash isn’t foolish enough to stay out in this deluge just to piss me off? It isn’t safe. And not just because of the weather.
Through the rain and fog, the high redbrick walls of the Fifty aren’t visible, but I know they’re there, looming on the other side of the river. The walls are a stark reminder that although the Fifty Districts of the Fianna and the North Side are no longer at war, our peace is tenuous at best. I curl my lip. Has our situation improved since the Fianna declared victory over us? Like fuck.
The phone begins to ring again. My heart leaps in my chest and I sprint into the hall and seize the receiver. “Ash?”
“Hello, Lia,” says a male voice. “Long time, no hear. This is Adrian Langley.”
Adrian Langley? What a mindf
uck. We haven’t spoken in years. Last I heard, he was leading a small but mighty rebel group in the north counties and had a hefty price on his head. Not the kind of dude I want to be overheard talking to on an illegal and unsecure line, even if we’d been close as teenagers. “This isn’t a good time to chat.”
“I have Ashling.”
An invisible hand squeezes my vocal chords and I feel as if I’m going to choke. This is the sum of all my fears. “Where is she?”
“Safe—” he pauses for dramatic effect, “—for now.”
Blood drains from my limbs, leaving an icy tingling sensation in my fingers and toes. “I want to talk to her. Put her on the phone.”
His laugh is a bitter-tinged rumble. “She’s still zonked from the sedative I gave her.”
“You drugged her? What the fuck, Adrian? Why did you kidnap my daughter?”
“To use her as a bargaining chip. You bring me Seth MacNeil, and I’ll set Ashling free.”
The implications of the diabolical plan crystallize in my shock-frozen brain. “Seth doesn’t know she’s his daughter. You of all people should realize that.”
“We faked her DNA record, Lia. That’s easy to disprove.”
I rake trembling fingers through my damp hair. “What’s happened to you, Adrian? We used to be friends. Why would you do this to me?”
“It’s not personal. I need to talk to Seth MacNeil and this is an effective way to get him to listen.”
“Jeez, if you need to duke it out with your former bestie, phone him. Don’t freaking kidnap my child.” I’m struggling not to cry, not to totally fucking lose it. Adrian must be insane, but if so, he’s a madman with my daughter at his mercy. “Seth doesn’t even know she’s his child. What makes you think he’ll take the bait?”
“Blood ties mean a lot to Seth, and they mean even more to his uncle. The MacNeils won’t risk one of their own coming to any harm. Now let’s get to the point. My safe telephone connection is due to expire in a couple of minutes. Did you find the package in your mailbox?”