Hectora's eyes widened, staring at Arianna. A snarl lifted her lips.
“Clever girl. You know the story. I killed Ravena. But the coven found out what I had done, and I was banished for killing a sister. I had to wait all these years for him...just like Ross has waited all these years for you. But those who banished me have died, or been banished themselves. I came back.”
A woman waiting for centuries for a man...the man she'd killed for. It was all clear to Arianna.
“Kill me, Ross. She's not going to let me go. She wants you too badly.” Even speaking drained her energy, sent waves of pain shooting through her body. “Kill me, and then you'll die, and she'll be alone.”
There was no hesitation in Ross's hand as he drew the knife across her throat. The blade cut her skin, the pain sharp and metallic, the blood warm as it trickled down her neck.
Hectora screeched, sailing at them with arms raised, closing the distance between them too quickly, even for Ross to finish his work with the knife. He'd be dead, and Arianna would be left to die a slow painful death. Or worse, left in the hands of Hectora, to do with as she wished.
Arianna closed her eyes. Then she felt his breath against her ear.
“I love ye, Arianna, but I'm not willing to kill ye. When I let ye go, drop to the floor.”
She'd barely registered the words when he let go of her hair. There was nothing she could do but fall to the stones, landing in a heap. Ross leaped over her, and she lifted her head just in time to watch as he drove the knife into Hectora's chest.
There was a terrible sizzle, and smoke rose from the witch’s clothes. She screamed, hands beating at Ross, little balls of fire dropping from her fingers, winking out before they hit the stones.
Raising her arms, she grabbed Ross's shirt, fingers clawing at the bloody linen. It fell away in shreds, and then she had her hands around his throat, nails sinking into his skin. Thin trails of blood ran down his shoulders. But he held the knife steady, pushing it to the hilt into her body.
Suddenly the air was filled with smoke and an awful smell, and Ross stumbled forward through the space where Hectora had been. Her clothes fell to the stones in a smoldering heap and he turned, kicking them aside. Then he looked up, straight at Arianna.
The fog cleared from her vision, and she pushed herself carefully up on hands and knees. Ross was there, the knife clattering to the stones, pulling her to her feet, crushing her against his chest. She felt blood on her cheek, but she didn't care. He was alive, and so was she. And Hectora was gone.
There was a growl and rustle behind them. Arianna lifted her head. With a look over its shoulder, Hectora's dragon lumbered to the edge of the roof, spread its wings and dove off. After a moment it rose, its form silhouetted against the moon. And then it was gone.
“Come. We need to get ye into bed.”
“And you...you're bleeding.” She stepped away. But she could already see the bleeding had stopped.
“What did you do? How did you...you stabbed yourself. You cut my neck.” She put a hand to her throat, expecting to feel pain, to feel wet blood. But all she felt was a small line of dried blood, barely a scratch on her skin.
“I was still under the spell when I stabbed myself. Hurt like hell, but I knew I'd heal before I'd die.” He glanced at Arianna. “I wasn't sure about ye though.” He shrugged. “I took a chance. I was right. There was enough magic in ye to keep ye safe. A curse can work both ways, I've learnt.”
Ross reached down, and picked up the dagger, balancing it in his hand. “There's only one way to kill a witch. Hectora was the one who told me, all those years ago. Blessed silver, in any form. It's what she used to kill Ravena. And it's what I used to kill her.”
* * *
He was gentle with her, helping her out of her dirty nightgown, carefully washing the blood off of her neck and face. He offered her a fresh nightgown, but she shook her head.
“I want to sleep with you, skin on skin.”
“I like how ye think, Arianna.” He reached for the buckles on his kilt. “Verra much like how ye think”
She held up her hands. “I meant sleep, not sex. Between us, I think we need a week of sleep. You especially. You still look like hell.”
He gave her a rueful grin. “Aye, well, ye might have a point. I wouldn't want to disappoint ye with a poor performance.”
But she was already slipping between the cool sheets, smiling up at him. “Have a wash, Ross. I'll be here when you get back. And we have the rest of our lives to make love. I think we can make it one night without.”
He reached down, pulling the sheet over her shoulder. “Aye. Just this once. I never want another night to pass without lying with ye, without feeling ye beneath me...” His hand stopped, and then the sheet moved back off her shoulder. Reaching out, she grabbed the end of it, tugging it back over her shoulder.
“Aye, I get the point.” He let go of the sheet, stepping away from the bed.
Her eyes felt gritty, and her lids heavy, and she tried to suppress a yawn, but failed. She let her eyes fall shut. “Just this once, I promise. Extenuating circumstances.”
“Just this once.” His voice sounded far away. With a kiss on the forehead he left her. She yawned again, and was asleep before Ross was out of the room.
Chapter Seventeen
She woke slowly. At least she thought she was awake.
There was pain, parts of her body felt different, like they belonged to someone else. Her mind...well, that was a different story. I feel like my brains have been scrambled.
There was breathing beside her, regular and deep. She smiled. She was awake, and she was with Ross. It was going to be okay.
He was lying beside her on his back, one arm thrown over his head. She watched him sleeping, his face relaxed, lips slightly parted. One long strand of dark hair fell across his forehead and she reached to brush it aside, but stopped. A silver hair ran through the inky blackness. She leaned closer, frowning. There was a tiny scar, at the edge of one eyebrow, a thin white line. Funny, she'd never noticed either before. But then again, she'd only known him for such a short time.
As always, he'd kicked off the sheet in his sleep. She smiled. He always said he liked to look at her; now was her chance to look at him in the soft morning light. Moving slowly so she didn't wake him, she pushed up on one elbow.
She didn't think she could ever get tired of looking at him. He was, simply put, perfect. Except...
Except for the dark bruise on his side, where Hectora had hit him with her—whatever it was called—magic bolt. But it hadn't been there last night. He'd been unmarked. There was a thin purple line where he'd plunged the knife into his chest, slightly raised, painful looking.
“It was the magic. And I caught ye looking.”
She looked up at him. “You look all the time. And what do you mean, it's the magic?”
“Come here.” He pushed up against the head of the bed, held out one arm. She curled against him, wincing as pain shot through her.
“Ye hurt. I'll find sommat for you.”
“Later. I just want to stay here for now.”
“Aye.” His arm tightened around her. “Later.”
“I repeat. What do you mean, it was the magic?”
Instead of answering, he held out his hand, palm up. She stared. A pale white scar ran across his palm.
“Last night? When did you...oh...the forge? That's the burn?”
“Aye, it is.”
“But I haven't seen this...” She craned her neck. “Or the one on your eyebrow. And where Hectora...”
He raised his hand, putting a finger to her lips. “Shhh...I'll tell ye why. Ravena's magic. The salve she used, besides healing me, made me perfect. The burn healed without a scar. This...” He touched his eyebrow, breathing out a small laugh.
“I ran into a gate when I was a wee lad, trying to hide from my father. Split my eyebrow, bled massively. Scared me witless. My father staunched the bleeding, but I still got the whipping I was
trying to hide from.”
“She wanted you perfect?”
“Aye...she did.” His shoulder moved and she knew he had shrugged.
“But this proves you're human...or mortal again, right?”
“It does.” His arm tightened around her. “I am no longer flawless, Arianna. I am but a mere mortal man.”
Before she could answer, he rolled her onto her back. She thought he was going to kiss her, but he stopped.
“Ye said ye loved me with scales. Can ye love me now, with scars and silver hair? Can ye love me if I'm less than perfect?”
She reached up, tugging the lock of hair with the silver strands. “Ross, I intend to love you, scars and gray hair, and everything else. I'm going to love you while you grow old. While we grow old together.”
“Aye. While we grow old together.” He did kiss her then, a lingering kiss that pushed aside the pain. He broke away, and she opened her eyes.
“I've waited half of an eternity to hear those words, Arianna. And to say them. I'll love ye, while we grow old together.”
Chapter Eighteen
The sun was shining for once. Ross had been up at dawn and she'd woken briefly, but he'd kissed softly, and she'd fallen back asleep, smiling.
It had been a week since Hectora had disappeared in a ball of smoke on the roof of the castle. Ross had insisted that Arianna stay in bed and rest, but after two days of around the clock sleep, she'd woken up feeling more like herself and less like someone who'd been to hell and back.
Clean clothes were draped across the chair in the corner, and she gathered them and padded down the hall to take a shower. She was still stiff, but a hot shower would take care of that.
Apparently Ross had anticipated what she'd want. There were fresh towels, a bar of lavender soap, and a small glass with wildflowers waiting for her. She smiled; despite being such a masculine guy, he had a romantic streak a mile wide.
The hot water felt better than she could ever have imagined. She let the water run over her shoulders, through her hair, until it started to cool off. Reluctantly she turned off the taps and stepped out. Ross was probably in the forge, and she dressed quickly, anxious to see him.
For the first time in days the door to the forge was open, but there were no sounds of coming from inside.
“Ross?” She stepped through the door. “Ross? Where are you?”
“Here.”
She spun around. Ross was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “Ye need me?”
“Always.” With a smile she walked into his arms. “I'll always need you. But what are you doing? You've been up since dawn.”
“I have a surprise for ye. If ye be interested, that is.”
“How have you had a chance to get me a surprise? We haven't been out of each other's sight since I've been here.”
“Aye, but ye were asleep for the better part of two days. I was not.”
“Where is it?” She looked up into his dark eyes. Little strands of silver wound through at his temples, and she brushed them aside.
“Come with me and I'll show ye.”
With her hand in his he led her to the cemetery. The gate was missing, the opening looking more than just empty, somehow bereft of its soul.
“Ross, what have you done?”
“Wait here.” He went through the opening and disappeared behind the wall. Just through the opening was Bridget's marker, and Arianna noticed a small glass of flowers resting in front of the stone. She smiled; Ross was apparently in the mood to look after both of them today.
Moments later she heard a metallic clank and he reappeared, wrestling with a new wrought-iron gate. It was massive, well over six feet tall.
“Ross...it's beautiful.”
The centerpiece of the new gate was a dragon, neck arched, and tail circling the body. Even from here she could see each individual scale, layered over the next, just as they'd been on Ross, when she'd ridden with him. In the upper right-hand corner was a moon, round and full, and along the bottom ran a sinuous curve of iron that could only be the river.
“But...you're not the same, are you?” She ran her hand over the back of the dragon. The ridge was intact, no missing section.
“Aye, as I was before Ravena marked me. As I should have been, if I were a dragon.” He lifted the gate, arms straining. “Help me, here, Arianna. Make sure I have the hinge pins straight.”
She helped him guide the pins into their holders. Once he'd finished setting the hinges, he motioned her through.
“Ye have the honor of testing it out. See if it squeaks.”
“I doubt it will.” She pushed the gate closed. It swung silently, the latch catching with a soft click. She stepped back, standing in front of Bridget's marker, the shadow of the dragon falling at her feet.
“See? Perfect.” She turned to him, expecting his usual cocky smile, waiting for some comment. But he stood looking down at her, his expression almost impossible to read.
“That's not really the surprise I have for ye.” He held out his hand. Resting on his palm was a small silver ring, nestled inside a larger band. For a moment she stared, then raised her eyes to his face. Tears welled, and she did nothing to hold them back.
“Aye. It's what ye think.” He knelt down on one knee, reached out and took her hand. His voice had gone rough, the accent coming through strong.
“Arianna, I canna by law be yer husband. But I give ye my heart and soul and body, for as long as we live. Will ye accept me?”
“Yes...” Her voice quavered and she took a breath. “Yes. I do.”
He took the smaller ring and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. He stood, and brought her hand to his lips, kissing the ring.
“It's silver, to ward off witches, if need be.” The corner of his mouth curled. “I took the liberty of making one for myself, on the chance ye'd say yes.”
He held out the larger ring, and she took it. It was heavy and solid, beautifully simple but flawless. It gleamed as she held it in her hand. She reached for his hand, surprised to feel that he was trembling. Looking up into his face, she cleared her throat, trying to find her voice. Ross reached out, wiping away the tears from her cheek.
“I will be your wife, for as long as we live. Which, by default, makes you my husband.” Her hand shook only a little as she slipped the ring onto his finger.
“Aye, I guess it does.” He tipped her face up to his. “I now pronounce us man and wife. And I may now kiss the bride.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I have a surprise for ye.”
Arianna had been in the kitchen, mixing dough for a piecrust. He'd reached for her hand, pulling her down the hall.
“Another one? Wait. I'm covered in flour.”
“I dinna care.”
She laughed, letting him pull her down the hall, but he'd turned away from their bedroom. Now she realized where he was taking her. It was to the roof. They hadn't been on the roof since the night he'd killed Hectora.
It was just dark, the sky colored in the west with dull grays and silvers, a hint of deep rose just visible behind the trees. Fall had come early, and it was almost cold on the roof. There was no moon, and the rest of the sky was already black.
“What...”
He turned with a suddenness that almost scared her, letting go of her hand.
“Wait here.”
She could barely make out his form as he moved away, stepping behind the parapet wall. Her heart skipped a beat. The last time they'd been on the roof, they'd both come close to dying, her by Ross's hand, him by his own.
There was a familiar rustle, the sound of talons on stone. An eerie feeling of deja vu washed over her, accompanied by a rising sense of excitement. Even in the dark she knew those sounds. Ross had shifted. He'd changed into a dragon. Her mind swirled with a thousand questions, but they'd have to wait.
Moments later he came toward her, slowly, hesitantly, his big body dark against the silver sky, stopping a few feet away. R
aising his head, she caught the glint of his eye in the dark, heard the soft flutter of his breathing.
“You had a secret, didn't you?” She reached out, running her hand along his neck. He made that purring sound and dipped his head. He was as eloquent in his gestures in this form as he was as a man.
“You want to take me for a ride?”
He lowered his body, and she climbed onto his back. The night was cold, and she wasn't dressed for this, but it didn't matter. To be riding the wind again with Ross was something she didn't think she'd ever be doing. This was real magic.
She settled onto him gently, and he straightened, turning for the edge of the roof. For a moment he hesitated, and she looked up into the dark sky. A thousand stars shone down on them, and she chose the brightest, closed her eyes, and made a wish.
Then they were falling over the edge, laughing as the wind tore at her hair. At what seemed the last possible moment, he stretched his wings, catching the air, slowing them. Then with powerful wing beats they rose, circled the castle, and flew away over the dark hills together.
About The Author
Catherine Vale, a Canadian romance author, has been writing fiction for as long as she can remember, but it wasn't until she wrote her very first paranormal romance story that she found herself hooked on the wild side of powerful shifters and dominant alpha men (of the furry kind!).
Catherine writes sci-fi, and paranormal romance for readers who are willing to take a walk on the wild side of love. Her stories always include powerful alpha males, curvy gals, and a happily-ever-after. Girls with curves and guys with growl. What more could you want?
Do you want to know when there's a new release? Special offers, giveaways, free books and more! Find out more at http://www.CatherineVale.com, and subscribe to her newsletter to receive notifications whenever a new book is released!
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Kiss Of Fire (BBW Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance): Dragon Shifter Romance Page 15