Immortally Ever After

by Angie Fox

  “I need to start working on my fantasies,” he said, out of breath.

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked, practically purring as I ran a finger down his chest.

  He looked at me sideways. “Thanks to you, I’m adding tar pit seduction to the list.”

  I kissed him softly once, twice. He must have tasted himself on me, but he didn’t care. He teased me with his tongue, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck, his fingers digging through my hair.

  I pulled back, my lips a breath away from his. “I wanted to make love to you slowly. It just didn’t work out.”

  He kissed me once more, the smile lingering on his lips. “Well, maybe this time it can.”

  chapter eighteen

  We considered locking Rodger and Marius out of my tent, but instead we somehow managed to make it back to Galen’s. There, I did my level best to show him exactly how I was going to savor every minute of time we had together from this moment on.

  We stumbled against the wall of his hutch. He nipped at my neck, caressed my breasts. “My turn.”

  “If you insist.” I gasped as he stripped me.

  Okay, so the man didn’t waste time.

  I wound my hand around a canvas shade, trying to get some support. “I have to warn you that as your doctor, I don’t recommend too much strenuous physical activity until you’re completely healed.”

  “I’ve never been the best patient,” he said, his large body bare, his hands stroking, touching, turning me into a puddle of aching want. I heard the shade rip.

  He kissed me long and hard. I held him tight, savoring the feel of him naked against me as he teased me with his tongue. I ran my nails down his sides and felt him tense. Ground against him as his cock swelled against my stomach.

  We battled, hot skin sliding against hot skin. We tasted. We tried to make it last. I knew I needed to imprint every moment with him in my mind. If this really was the end of it all, I wanted to savor this. Him.

  His muscles clenched and his hips thrust against mine.

  He kissed my neck as I breathed hard against his cheek. “I need you,” I whispered. “Now.”

  We moved to the bed, where we began an immediate battle for who was on top. He won, and sank hard into me.

  It was incredible.

  I arched my back as I took him to the hilt. It felt so good, having him. Loving him. He slid his hand between our bodies and his thumb found my clit.

  I gasped into his mouth as the sensations crashed over me.

  “I love you.” He groaned against me, his speed increasing. His thumb circling. He knew just how to touch me, to love me. He drove into me until my excitement spiraled out of control and peaked in waves of pleasure.

  He convulsed and spilled inside me, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

  It was amazing that this was mine. He was mine. We held each other for a long moment, savoring the contact and the warmth.

  I kissed his sweat-dampened skin. “I love you.”

  He drew away, tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “Stay here with me tonight.”

  I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be. He drew the covers over us as we crammed onto his tiny cot. It squeaked as we pressed together, tight and loving and perfect.

  * * *

  We woke, still snuggled together. “I’m glad we have another day,” I said, kissing him on the chest. I’d never take that for granted again.

  His fingers stroked my shoulder, tucked a wisp of hair behind my ear. “It may not be the end,” he said, clearly not convinced. It was bad when Galen of all people found it hard to see the light.

  I glanced at his bedside clock. “I’m due on shift soon.”

  He helped me find my uniform. Watched me get dressed—and yes, I teased him a little. Might as well make him look forward to my return.

  He kissed me good-bye. It felt so surreal, and so right at the same time.

  To think, he was living only two doors down from my place. We’d certainly have to make good use of that.

  I headed home to grab my shower kit and a fresh uniform. I should have told Galen I’d stop by his place after my shift. I nudged my door open. If I had time, I’d let him know on the way over to the hospital.

  What I didn’t expect to see was Leta perched on the iron stove inside my tent. “Petra,” she said, as I jumped in shock.

  “Of all the—” I scanned the room. She was alone. “What are you doing here?”

  She should be with Marc, hiding from the investigators, getting better, or doing whatever dragons did. And she should have realized that the cast-iron contraption wasn’t furniture.

  She slid off the stove and stood in front of me. Her scrubs were rumpled and her hair tangled around her shoulders. She let out a rumble in the back of her throat. I glanced behind me and I wondered just how much of the dragon she’d succeeded in burying today.

  She took one step toward me, then another. “I looked for you all day yesterday.”

  And she’d better not shift in my tent. “I had Medusa’s baby shower.”

  She snarled, a lock of hair falling over one eye. “The child of the damned shall damn us all.” Her speech was stilted, as if she were still getting used to speaking instead of growling.

  “Thanks for reminding me.” If this was her idea of small talk, she had a lot of work to do. “Listen, I’m on shift in a few,” I said, edging toward my cot and reaching underneath for my shower gear.

  She stood over me, completely crowding my personal space. “It is about Marc.”

  I straightened, and took a step to the side so she wasn’t completely in my face. “Is he okay?” She better not have taken a bite out of him.

  Her chin trembled. “I don’t know. He confuses me.” She stared at me, not even blinking. “I like Marc.”

  Okay, this wasn’t weird. “Liking Marc is fine,” I said, opening the door for her, hoping she’d take the hint that we had to keep moving.

  She didn’t. “What do I do?”

  I paused with my hand on the doorjamb. “You’re asking me for love advice?” On my ex? “There has to be another dragon you can talk to. What about Stephens the mechanic?” He was a dragon. “Or that tall EMT. What’s his name?”

  She looked slightly panicked at that. “They are men. This is girl talk.”

  Lord. “Well, find a girl dragon.”

  “Where?” She frowned. “There is my grandmother. But I do not think I am strong enough to reach her with my mind.”

  “Have you tried?” This could be a good training exercise.

  Tears welled in her eyes.

  Oh, hell. I sat down on the edge of my cot, motioning for her to take a seat on Marius’s footlocker.

  I touched her arm. It was rock-solid muscle. “It’s okay to feel something for him.” I made sure to catch her eye. “He’s a good man. Dragon,” I corrected quickly.

  Her voice caught in her throat. “I had a vision Marc was very angry with me.”

  “He can be impatient,” I told her. “Tell him to put a sock in it.”

  She grunted, but I saw how the corners of her lips turned up.

  “Try to talk to your grandmother.” She needed the support. And it would give her confidence to do something to help herself. She had to be a powerful creature, or else both sides wouldn’t want her so bad.

  In fact, I wondered if she might be able to see anything about the child of the damned. “Tell me, Leta. How long have you had these visions?”

  “All my life,” she said, back straight, holding herself proud. “I am a bronze dragon. We all have the gift of sight, but it is especially strong in me. My grandmother believes it is because I am a true telepath.”

  Yes. It was why Galen had been sent to steal her.

  I watched her, trying to think about what we could do with this. “Telepathy just means you get messages without words.” Just. I would have laughed at my words if I wasn’t so interested in hearing what she had to say.

  She twined her fing
ers together. “All bronze dragons can predict small things about their own futures. But I see well beyond myself. I also receive messages from other realms. My gifts work in tandem.”

  “Can you see what will happen with this latest prophecy?” If we had some warning, maybe we could figure a way out of this.

  “No.” She sighed. “I am damaged too badly. I no longer get to choose what I see.”

  I was disappointed, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her at the same time. “Did the old army ever use you?”

  From the way she stiffened, I could tell it was a painful question.

  “They asked me what I saw,” she said. “I would lie and tell them I saw myself missing my marks as a suicide bomber.”

  “I’d lie too.” It sickened me to think she’d even have to do that.

  She looked at me, sad. “Most bronze dragons are incapable of lying.”

  She really was different. “I’m glad you can,” I told her.

  Leta shrugged. “After a time, they declared me unfit to kill and instead attempted to breed me against my will.”

  I was so glad Galen got her out of there. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want your pity.” Her eyes shone with defiance, and something else. “I survived. When Commander Delphi came to me, I knew he was my way out. He offered to take more, but the others were too afraid.”

  That sounded like Galen.

  “You saw your survival?” I asked.

  She looked uncomfortable. “I saw a successful escape for most. If they had attempted,” she added. “I saw them scattering. But I could not tell them. None of them knew my power to see beyond myself. There was no time to find them all and they would have been shocked if I spoke to them without words. If I revealed my true gifts, and even one had stayed behind … or if my secret had gotten out…” She shook her head. “I sacrificed their freedom,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “so that I could stay hidden.”

  “You did the best you could,” I told her. The war was bigger than one dragon escape. But even I was ashamed to think it. I’d seen what happened to dragon bombers. How many of them could have survived? How many fewer emergency burn victims would we have had without them?

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “My telepathy is a hidden power, one that could have damned me if the old gods had learned of it.” She glanced up. “Your army will put me to death as well.”

  She was right. “I know all about hidden powers,” I said.

  A moment of understanding passed between us.

  Merde. Two misfits walk into a tent …

  The question was, what were we going to do about it?

  I drew my fingers through my hair, trying to make sense of it all. “So you see the future—”

  “I dream it,” she corrected.

  Okay. “You dream the future and let me guess—you’re stunningly accurate.”

  She winced, as if what I’d said pained her. “No. I am ill. I know that. I understand it affects the visions. But I saw my escape. And I saw you before I knew you. I saw you leading an army.”

  I sat back. Impressed, but well, not really. “I’m not a soldier.” There was no way in hell I’d have any desire to lead an army into war. Maybe Leta’s visions were a little messed up. “I’d rather leave that kind of insanity to the generals.”

  Her gaze bored into me. “That’s what Marc said. He said you’d sooner cut out your tongue than order a charge. But the visions have only gotten stronger. I don’t think it is a mistake. And now there is a baby. She will help you lead the army.”

  I about choked at the absurdity of it. “I am not taking a baby into a war zone.” In fact, I advised new mothers not to even take babies into a mall for the first four to six weeks. We were talking about the battlefields of limbo here.

  “You will take the child with you,” she continued.

  “No. See. I’m not even all that great at holding babies.” I delivered a few in residency, and handed them right over to the nurses to weigh and measure. I wasn’t about to carry one around or take one into the desert or—

  Leta pointed a finger at me. “She will lead you. And you will lead them!”

  “Did you know it takes babies at least six months to speak and then it’s usually small words, like “ma-ma” or ‘dog.’” Nothing to inspire an army.

  I felt like I was talking to the iron camp stove.

  She snarled at me. She honest-to-God showed her teeth. “You do not believe me.”

  Cripes. So much for our moment of understanding. “I think”—I crossed my arms over my chest—“you think you saw it.”

  She stood and began pacing. “My grandmother would believe me. She would understand.”

  “Then talk to her.” It was obvious she needed more than I could give.

  “Maybe.” She stared out at the sun beating down over the tar swamp. “She is all-wise,” Leta said, turning to me. “She knows about me. I worked with her before I was taken. I didn’t dare contact her before I was rescued. I wasn’t strong enough to control my powers. Marc says I’m not strong enough now.”

  “Yes, well, Marc not believing isn’t exactly news.”

  Leta stared me down. “These visions won’t stop. They are important. I am here for a reason, and not just because your Galen saved me. I am here because I’m somehow connected to you.”

  I wanted to protest, but sadly, it was starting to make sense. Leta was my bronze weapon.

  Okay. I began pacing myself. “If you contact your grandmother, do you think she could tell us how to deal with the child of the damned?” There had to be more than what she saw.

  Leta nodded. “She is the only one I trust.”

  “This is coming to a head soon,” I said. I didn’t want to scare her, but she had to know what we were up against.

  If we could figure out what to do about the child of the damned, we might have a chance. There was only one more after this. One more thing we needed to do to stop this war for good.

  Then Leta would be free. Galen could be with me. We could go home.

  “Do it. Contact your grandmother,” I said. She stopped at that. “You’re here for a reason. You’re a telepath, and you’ve been hiding your gift.”

  “There is another problem,” she said slowly.

  I fought to keep my face impassive. Why couldn’t we just deal with one issue at a time?

  “It’s been years since I used telepathy,” Leta said.

  I planted my hands on my hips, thinking. “It’s got to be way easier than visions, right?”

  “It is a natural skill for me,” she said, wringing her fingers. In the short time I’d known her, I’d never seen her so unsure. “I’ve been so scared to use it. I don’t know if I can talk to her anymore, or if she can still hear me. Maybe I really am alone.”

  I took her hands and stilled them. “She’s listening. I don’t think we ever stop listening for the people we care about, even when they forget to speak to us for a long time.”

  She blinked hard several times. “I don’t know what I would say.”

  “Ask for her help. Tell her you’ve met the healer who sees the dead. Tell her you are the bronze weapon. That the child of the damned will be born soon. Ask her how we can defeat the gods. Today.”

  We stood together as my words settled between us.

  We were really going to do this—we were at war with the gods. A shiver ran through me.

  Leta gripped my hands tighter and closed her eyes, holding them tight as concentration furrowed her forehead and brought beads of sweat to her hairline. She squeezed my fingers harder and I felt the air around us shimmer with energy.

  I closed my own eyes, willing her to succeed. Opening myself up to the possibility of this dragon speaking to her kind, clearly, confidently. I pictured her open to the universe and the creatures it contained. I saw her as a pure and perfect communicator. I had no power to give to her, no magic to send her way, but at that moment, I lent her every bit of my will and desi
re.

  Our palms grew slick. I heard her labored breathing and tried to infuse her with calm, with clarity. I willed her to speak.

  She jolted and her eyes flew open. “They heard me!”

  “How do you know?” I asked, steadying her as she stumbled backward.

  Her eyes were wide. “They talked back.”

  “Wait.” Dread slicked through me. “Who are ‘they’?”

  Leta’s nostrils flared. “I made a mistake.”

  My heart threatened to pound out of my chest.

  She wet her lips. “I thought I was talking to her. I gave her the message: ‘You are the healer who sees the dead. I am the bronze weapon.’” She looked lost.

  “And,” I prodded, resisting the urge to grab her by the arms and shake her.

  She drew a hand over her mouth. “And I accidentally sent the message to everybody.”

  For a second, I couldn’t breathe. “What do you mean, everybody?”

  “Just the dragons,” she said quickly.

  I jerked to my feet. My secret was out. I’d kept my ability hidden for almost a decade and now my secret was out. “How many dragons?” I demanded.

  She tore her fingers through her hair. “Seven hundred and eighty-three. They know I’m the bronze dragon. The gods are going to come after me.”

  “Me too!” Terror ripped through me. I couldn’t even think. “Are you sure you did a ‘send all’?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice breaking into a snarl. “I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough and it just happened.”

  I had to get out of here. Only there was nowhere to run. Once the gods found out, I’d be doomed.

  “Tell them it’s a secret,” I told her, although I knew the chances of seven hundred and eighty-three dragons keeping a secret was about nil.

  “Take my hands,” she ordered, grabbing them before I had a chance to offer.

  She clung to me and we both closed our eyes tight. I shoved every bit of desperate hope at her as I felt the air around us sizzle, and I hoped and prayed and willed her to somehow make this right.

  Her eyes flew open. “Okay,” she said.

  “Do you think they heard?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, shoulders jerking as she broke away from me. “They were all yelling back.” She clutched her forehead.