Kit shook her head. She couldn’t worry about Zander right now. There would be time later for that confrontation. Right now, she needed to concentrate all her thoughts, prayers, and energy on Gareth, her unconscious high elf pseudo cousin, who without a thought for his own safety had shielded an innocent dragling with his body.
After Gareth had been carried inside the castle and laid upon a pallet before the fireplace in the great hall, there had been at least tasks to keep Kit’s mind and hands busy. After all, a fire had to be built; water had to be boiled, bandages assembled, bodies of dead barbarian and troll warriors to be gathered up and disposed of, and the gore they’d left behind cleansed from every nook and cranny of the hall. Even Asla’s father’s remains had been collected, removed, and dumped into the same hole prepared for his followers. No marker was left to tell future generations where the Baron Fistslammer’s remains rested. Some things were better long forgotten.
Kit and her sisters had helped the castle cook prepare a simple but filling meal of Alarian water buffalo steaks and Prescove Valley rice to feed everyone present. And she herself had been more than glad to pour not only the first round of mead into everyone’s awaiting steins but had made sure she kept the liquid flowing freely throughout the meal.
But what to do now except fret?
It had been twelve long turns of the hourglass since they’d reentered Castle Kuropkat and the process of healing Gareth had begun. Twelve very long turns.
The second of the three moons of Albrath shined brightly through the hall’s high windows, graciously lending its light to the dozen or so candles keeping darkness at bay. But still, Gareth, son of Sarco and Lark Sunwalker, high elf fire wizard and twin brother of Graydon, hadn’t awoken, not once, not even so much as a twitch, a stir, or a blink.
Kit had the sinking feeling what they needed was more than whatever magic her mother could pull from her ever-present bag of herbs. Even with the help of Gareth’s mother, spiritmaster Larksong Sunwalker, and his aunt, enchantress Lizbeth Hammerstrike, all their combined chanting, channeling, and spell casting was doing nothing more than lulling the contingent of barbarian and high-elf soldiers lounging about in the hall into a state of slumber.
Kitrina shook her head. At least, the volume of the warriors’ combined snores served to keep her very much wide awake and alert. She sighed in frustration. Nothing was working. What they really needed, what Gareth desperately needed, was a miracle.
Suddenly, Pierced popped his head up from the tabletop where he’d been resting with Baabette cradled in his arms. “Look at the time.” He pointed toward the hourglass. “Merry Yulemass everyone.”
He lifted his mug high. “May the coming year find all—both warm-blooded and plastic—happy, healthy, and well loved.”
Each man, woman, and child in turn raised their own mug and chanted, “Here, here.” But it was Kitrina’s mother’s voice she heard above all others. She literally sang as she shouted, “Sarco, come quickly. Gareth’s awakening.”
From seemingly out of nowhere, Zander suddenly stood at Kitrina’s side, his warm hand gripping hers. His heat infused Kit with a sense of safety, of solidarity. She was more than grateful for his presence and for his strength. Silently, they watched and waited just like everyone else.
Gareth struggled but, finally with Sarco’s help, managed to at least lean himself up on an elbow and swallow a sip of water. Slowly, he opened his eyes. A look of first confusion and then horror crossed his face. And though his words came out sounding more like disjointed croaks, their meaning still rang clearly throughout the stunned silence of the hall with a volume to rival church bells.
“I can’t see. I can’t see anything.” He shook his head. “What’s wrong with me? Oh, my God Draka, I’m…I’m blind.”
“No,” Lark cried. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep trying, my son? We’ll continue to channel, chant, and cast until you are whole again. There must be another spell, an herb, something we haven’t tried yet?”
Briar shook her head. “His optic nerve was shattered by the dark magic, Lark. There’s nothing, to my knowledge, that can repair that kind of damage.”
Lark sobbed, and Gareth reached out a hand to comfort his mother. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded as he found her cheek and stroked it with the end of a finger. “Just tell me I didn’t forfeit my sight for nothing. Tell me the dragling was saved.”
It was on the tip of Kit’s tongue to inform Gareth that, yes, he’d saved the baby dragon when a brand new voice filled all of their minds.
“Gareth Sunwalker, I am Malachite, son of Obsidian and Jade. From this day forward, and for as long as we both shall live, our destinies are now intertwined. I am your dragon and you are my paladin. It is my honor to walk by your side, protect your back, carry you where you need to go, and be the sight you sacrificed for me.”
The young dragon walked right down the middle of the great hall until he stood directly before the man who had saved his life. Malachite nudged Gareth’s hand.
One corner of Gareth’s mouth lifted as he gently patted the dragling’s small head. “Thank you, but that isn’t necessary, little one. You’re brand new, Malachite, and must remain here with your parents. They would miss you if you were to go away. And you don’t owe me such loyalty. I did nothing special. Nothing that anyone else on Albrath wouldn’t have done.”
Again the voice floated through every mind present. “My decision isn’t up for debate or discussion. I do not possess the power to give back that which you sacrificed, elfin wizard. But I can go where you lead and be your eyes.
“You have a great gift, Gareth Sunwalker. From your mother’s side you inherited the spiritmaster ability of feeling what others do. Since you have had this gift of empathy all your life, you have no idea how very rare your talent is. And now, without the barrier of normal eyesight and with the help of dragon vision, your empathic skills will hone quickly.”
Gareth gasped. “VoT, you’re right. I can see shapes?” He shook his head. “But not just shapes. I see…what? Auras?” He turned his head back and forth, scanning the room. “There are patterns of light, energy, something outlining everyone in the room. It’s as if each person is cloaked within a cocoon composed of their life essence, and the emotions they’re giving off is expressed back to me as a colored heat signature of sorts?”
Malachite nodded. “You are correct. And as time passes and I mature, the more keen and sharp your second sight will become.”
Leeky Shortz slapped his knee and cackled. “What the pink polka-dotted panties pulled down over the ears of an ogre orator giving a speech on masturbation ta a room full of drunk dwarf dandies do ya make of that? The lad’s done gone and found himself a seeing-eye dragon.”
Tears stung Kitrina’s eyes, and she leaned in closer to Zander’s warmth. He bent his head and nuzzled her neck as he whispered, “It appears things are well in hand here in the hall, my lady. Shall we adjourn to somewhere a little more private? There is much we need to discuss.”
Kit didn’t say a word. She’d been expecting, dreading this moment all evening, and it had finally arrived. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and looked straight into the eyes of the man she not only loved with all of her heart, but also the very same man she had every intention of walking away from. With no more than a slight nod of her head to the right, Kitrina motioned for Zander to lead the way.
It didn’t surprise her a bit when they walked down the long hallway and up to the door of her very own bedchamber. The same bedchamber she’d so happily led Zander to three years before when he’d been her deflowerer, her wonderful lover.
Kitrina sighed. There would be no love making of any kind going on behind that door this night, especially after he finished hearing what she had to say. As a matter of fact, after this conversation was over, touching her, kissing her, holding her, even being on the same planet with her was going to be the last thing on Zander Hammerstrike’s mind. It was for his own good, though, and Kit knew it. Bu
t that didn’t make the contemplation of the pain she’d intentionally cause over the course of the next turn of the hourglass any easier.
The moment the door closed behind them, Zander pushed her up against the wall and took her lips in a kiss that seared her to her very soul. Kit longed to cry out with the wonder of it.
Over and over, his mouth devoured hers, teasing, and tormenting, both giving and taking at the same time, but more than anything else, sharing a part of himself that she knew without a doubt belonged only to her.
And his tongue, oh my God Draka, his tongue was hot and hungry as it stroked, probed, tasted her, telling her in their very private language just how much he wanted her, desired her, had to have her, and right now.
This is what she would miss the most. This closeness. This feel of his body pressed snug against her own. This sensation of his rock-hard cock seeking to claim her, pleasure her. Her pussy tightened and her breasts became heavy with need. Her nipples hardened as shockwaves of excitement flowed through them landing with an unquenchable thirst deep in the pit of her belly. She tingled, she ached, she wanted. Fire coursed through her veins, igniting a burn only Zander had the means to extinguish. A fire he could stoke with just a look, a touch. And more importantly, a fire that she’d somehow have to get under control.
It took every ounce of Kitrina’s will to push Zander away. Then, it took two deep breaths and even more of that will to force a chill she certainly wasn’t feeling into her voice.
“I thought you wanted to come here to talk.” She folded her arms across her chest, and starred him straight in the eye.
Zander backed up a step and ran his fingers through his already mussed hair. “Of course, we need to talk. I just thought—”
Kit held up a hand. “How about if I make this easy for both of us. Yeah, I probably should’ve told you that Cat and I are one and the same, but truthfully,” she chuckled, “it was my secret to keep as I wished and really none of your business.”
“None of my business?” Zander roared.
Kitrina struggled not to flinch. She’d planned on making him angry, counted on it even. So she smiled. “Oh, please, lower your voice, Zander. Do you want the entire castle to hear you? I mean really, you’ve got to admit, you’re being a tad dramatic, even for you. Wouldn’t you agree? And was having a strange pussy underfoot all that bad?” She winked. “I did try ever so hard to behave.”
A tick developed in Zander’s left cheek, and the veins running along the sides of his bright red neck bulged. Kitrina swallowed hard.
“I’m being dramatic?” He shook his head. “You honestly think I’m upset about Cat? You think I brought you all the way in here to talk about something so…so unimportant as you not telling me you’re a shape-shifter? Which, by the way, I’m very proud of you for. My God Draka, Kitrina, everything about you is impressive as VoT. You must know that.”
Zander reached out and stroked her cheek, and Kit felt the heat, the gentleness of it all the way to her toes. “I couldn’t care less about you keeping secrets, love. I’m sure you had your reasons. But what I do care about is where do we go from here?” He pulled his half of the Dragon Heart Opal from his pocket and held it out for her to see. “This is what we need to discuss.”
It took everything in her power to pull away and turn her back on him. She couldn’t say what needed to be said and still look him in the eye.
She forced a laugh. “It’s just a stupid rock, Zander. It means less than nothing to me. You asked where we go from here. You’ll return to Alaria or the Academy, of course, and I’ll…I’ll not. We both have responsibilities we can’t simply walk away from, and they don’t, in any way, shape, or form, coincide.”
Kitrina shuddered but she couldn’t help it. “There’s nothing holding you here any longer, Zander. The threat is over. All three commanders are dead, the Dragon Heart Opal may very well be broken, but it’s no longer in danger and my family is safe. So see, we can all just go back to the way things were before and live our very own versions of happily ever after.”
She took a deep breath and turned to faced him once again. Slowly, Kit held out her hand, willing it not to tremble and give away the pain crushing her heart. “Thank you ever so much for all of your help. But really, Zander, I’m simply not interested in any kind of permanent future with you, and forgive me if I ever gave you the impression I was. Your services are no longer needed. You are dismissed.”
Without a word, Alex Zander Collin Hammerstrike, heir to the throne of Alaria, turned and walked toward the door. But if the last glimpse Kitrina had of his face was any indication, she knew she’d accomplished her goal. She’d hurt beyond repair the only man she’d ever love, and she’d done it completely on purpose.
Now, Zander would be free without any false sense of duty or guilt to follow his true destiny, to become the next king of the barbarians after his father. Just as he’d been ordained before he’d ever held the Dragon Heart Opal or her heart in his hands. And now he’d even be able to do it with a clear conscience.
Then he surprised her. Instead of turning the door’s knob and walking out of her life as he was supposed to do, Zander flipped the lock. Shutting them in together. Preventing the chance for any outside interference or help.
The sound of the tumblers falling into place echoed throughout the silence.
Chapter Eighteen
Kitrina gulped as Zander turned toward her, his expression hard as stone and just as unreadable. His lips were compressed, his blue-gray eyes shooting fire as his nostrils flared.
“I’m dismissed?” he hissed, then closed his eyes for a moment and took in several deep breaths. When he finally did speak again, his voice was so controlled, so calculated, so cold, Kit shivered. He chuckled. “Oh, I think not, Kit-ten. We aren’t anywhere near to being done with this particular discussion. But then, simply trying to talk to you like two reasonable adults would hasn’t work out too well either. At least not with that stubborn little smart-ass, know-it-all attitude of yours. Now, has it? He walked toward her. “Though I love your spunk, I do believe it’s time for a different approach.”
She opened her mouth, but Zander simply smiled. “Oh, no, you don’t, little Miss Kitrina Dragonheart, Miss Rogue-Extraordinaire, Miss I-Don’t-Need-Any-Thing-or-Any-Body. You’ve had your say. It’s my turn now.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
And with that, Kit shifted.
****
“You little pain-in-my-ass ball of fur. Get back out here and fight fair!”
Though he couldn’t see her, Zander had no doubt Cat had scooted beneath the bed as far as she could go and wedged herself into a corner. He wasn’t sure which he wanted to do first when he finally managed to get his hands on her again. Break her scrawny little cat neck or pet her soft cat belly until she was helpless to do anything but purr for him again.
Then she’d shift and he’d really make her pay for the countless times she’d driven him crazy during the past semester. He’d kiss her silly and love her into submission. And he wouldn’t let up for even the time it took a single grain of sand to trickle through the hourglass until he’d gotten his way for once.
Oh, yes, before this night was over, he’d have the stubborn-as-VoT, glorious female he’d fallen so deeply and hopelessly in love with finally agreeing to be his wife.
But first, he had to catch her.
Zander lay flat on his back on the floor and stretched his arm as far under the bed as he could, swiping up toward where he guessed she would be. The very tip of one finger came in contact with warm soft fur. A paw probably.
He stretched a hair more, wrapped his fingers around it, and tugged.
She bit him.
“Oww,” Zander yelped as he jerked his hand away.
He stood, dusted himself off, and contemplated the situation. “You might as well come out from under there and face me, Kit. I’m not going anywhere until we settle this.”
She peeked out from
under the bed, and he grabbed her up. “Don’t you dare bite me again.”
She hissed at him.
“Stop it and shift, so we can talk.”
She shook her head.
“Have it your way.” He chuckled. “I’ve got all night, and I’m not going anywhere until we do.”
Zander sat on the edge of the bed with Cat in his arms and petted her back with gentle yet firm strokes from the top of her head to the very tip of her long black-as-the-night tail.
She purred, and he smiled. “Like that, huh? Thought you might.”
She rubbed her head against his arm, and he leaned over and kissed her on the top of it. “Come on, Kit, you’ve never been a coward before. Don’t be one now. Shift and talk to me.”
Suddenly she transformed, and Zander found himself with his arms full of very warm, very naked woman. But it was a warm, naked woman with big tears in her eyes. “Put me down and go away, Zander. We can’t do this anymore. Please.”
“Why?” He nuzzled Kitrina’s neck, and she sighed.
“You were born to be a king, not just a mate to some silly human whose greatest claim to fame is her ability to throw a knife in a fairly straight line and turn herself into a stupid house cat.”
He kissed her neck, both ears, her forehead, her nose, her chin, and finally her lips, long and deep. “I happen to like those things about you very much, silly human.”
She shuddered in his arms.
“You, my love, are so much more than the culmination of your talents. You’re my heart, my soul, my destiny.” He kissed her again. “My everything. I’m nothing without you, Kit.”
He ran a single finger over her left nipple, tweaked it, then leaned down, took it into his mouth, and sucked. It hardened and sweetened.
Kitrina shook her head back and forth. “No, no, no. I can’t do this. You can’t—we mustn’t.”
Tamed by the Fire Page 25