Obsidian Wings (Soul of a Dragon Book 1)

by Clara Hartley

  It was there, right then, when she decided to give him a chance. Being with him was like exploring foreign lands, and that sent a spike of excitement through her. She’d never loved a man before, but maybe, just maybe, Rayse Everstone could change that.

  Their lips separated almost too soon. She peered up and saw fire in his features—and a faint smile. It was the first time she’d seen him smile, and it made him look more magnificent than she thought he already was. He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his chest.

  He could singe her with the way he gazed down at her. “Do you still hate me?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Do you love me?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think you could?”

  She wrapped her fingers around his. “Yes.”

  Chapter 11

  Rayse inhaled sharply. She didn’t know how gorgeous she looked in the mountain snow, how glorious the contrast of the white flakes, and the chestnut of her hair made her look. Like an angel. She could love him. That was enough. He’d take the chance.

  “Why didn’t Shen bring you to me?” he asked. He wondered why her frock was stained with blood, and why she had been running that dangerous distance alone.

  “Shen?”

  “My warrior. The yellow dragon.”

  “I think he saved me. I’m not sure if I’m thinking about the right dragon.”

  “What happened?”

  “I… I wanted to take a walk outside.” Her long black lashes hooded her eyes as she talked. “Then Ranwynn came up to me to introduce himself. I remember little after that. Then, at night, they had me somewhere dark. I heard three voices; one was Ranwynn’s. They had tied me up. Next morning, they brought me to Dragon Keep and allowed one man to guard me. I managed to get out of the ropes, and had to… hurt him to escape.”

  His lips parted in surprise. He didn’t realize his little fire had it in her to go head to head with a dragon man. Perhaps she wasn’t as timid as she appeared. “And where’s the third?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Fraser ran toward them, in human form, half-clothed. “Shen’s injured, milord.”

  Rayse spun. “What?”

  “He was ambushed by another dragon after he attacked Ashur. They got him cornered. He’s bleeding badly, and one of his leg is broken. The two other dragons took off before we had time to back him up.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Greta took him to the clinic. She says he’ll be good condition in a day or two.”

  “Take me to him.” Fraser passed Rayse a pair of pants, and he slipped them on. Most people in Dragon Keep didn’t care about nudity that much. With dragons shifting all over the place, it was common. But they still had to maintain some semblance of propriety. Plus, his mate was blushing like a tomato. He found it adorable.

  “Bring me along with you,” Constance said to Fraser. “He protected me.”

  Fraser bowed his head. “Yes, femriahl. Uh, milord?”

  Rayse was already walking toward the clinic. He hated knowing his men were injured. He took care of his kind, and his two most trusted dragons, especially. “Yes?”

  “What do we do with Ranwynn?”

  The young dragon’s mother was still crying over her boy. Ranwynn had shrunk back in his human form. Blood pooled beneath him, and the blood loss made him unconscious. He’d survive, as bad as it looked. Dragons could take a beating.

  Rayse grunted. “Bandage him up, then throw him into the dungeons. He’ll serve twenty years.”

  Constance gripped his shoulder. “Surely he’s taken enough punishment. He looks terrible. Let me look over him first.”

  He was about to say no when he met her caramel eyes. They made his hard resolve weaken. “People who challenge me often die, little fire.”

  “Then you should stop being so heartless.”

  Her words plunged a dagger into him, but judging from her innocent gaze, she was unaware. He clenched his teeth. “Fine. He has time to recover. Then he goes into the dungeons. I will not allow my subjects to think they can walk off easily after threatening my mate. But you will not be tending to him. Greta will. At his home. Away from the clinic, where you will be.”

  “Thank you.”

  Hearing the warmth from her almost made his throat dry. He pressed a hand over hers.

  “The dungeons,” Ranwynn’s mother said. “Please, don’t. I won’t get to see him. Under no circumstances are we allowed to visit the dungeons. I promise he will not cross you.”

  Rayse shot her a hard look. “My decision is final. Fraser, if you may.”

  The woman cried over her son’s body as Fraser pried her fingers from her son and dragged Ranwynn away. “Please… You can’t be this cruel.”

  Constance sat next to Greta, watching her mentor’s movements. “Greta, don’t you think you’ve wiped that bowl enough?”

  “Nonsense.” Greta waved her hand and went back to counting her strokes. “Fifty. Fifty-one. Fifty-two. Bowls can never be too clean.”

  Rayse had dropped her off at the clinic moments ago and told her he’d send someone she’d be comfortable with to accompany her. As much as he wanted to stay, he’d explained there was a rogue gang of dragons that he had to investigate.

  The entrance of the clinic flapped, and Marzia walked in. Fraser followed behind her.

  Constance beamed. “Marzia! What are you doing here?” Her smile fell. “Are you sick?”

  Marzia rolled her eyes. “No, silly. Rayse told Fraser that we could take the day off to watch over you.”

  “The day… off? You’re already working?”

  “I help take stock of the goods at Dragon Keep. Honestly, your mate works us dragon wives hard. Nine to five every day, and proper reasons for taking a day off. It wasn’t that strict back in Evernbrook. He’s a stern fellow.”

  Constance thought back to Ranwynn’s mother, and how cold Rayse felt when giving the verdict. Her poor son—though he had tried to kidnap Constance—was bleeding a sea of blood on the snow. Even then, Rayse hardly budged in his lack of leniency.

  Fraser said, “My liege has to be stern to maintain such a large clan. He can’t have people walking over him.”

  Marzia swatted Fraser’s comment away. “Yes, yes. But he could have allowed us a longer honeymoon.”

  A naughty grin reached his lips. “That, I can agree.” He kissed Marzia on the cheek. “Excuse me, my love. But I need to check up on Shen.”

  “He’s mostly stabilized,” Constance said. “Just one more day of rest and he’s good to go. You dragons heal fast.”

  Fraser bent his head. “Thank you, femriahl.”

  Marzia took off her coat and set it aside, revealing a short-sleeved cream-colored dress underneath.

  “What’s that on your arm?” Constance asked. An intricate design curved around her friend’s arm. It had a bluish tone to it. It snaked around in an almost tribal pattern and ended with a dragonlike pattern. She’d never seen a tattoo this well done on someone’s body before. In fact, tattoos were uncommon around Falron. Only the upper class got them because they had the money to hire the artisans.

  Marzia peered down. “Oh, this?” She laughed sheepishly.

  Greta flung her shawl aside. “I’ve got one too, pumpkin. Take a look.”

  Constance whipped her head around and saw Greta told the truth. The old dragon woman wore a similar tattoo around her arm, but hers was a tad more intricate.

  Greta went back to wiping her bowl. “It’s a dragon’s mark. It means their bond is completed. Real special, that thing. It means your friend here trusts Fraser one hundred percent. It only forms when a woman truly gives her heart to her dragon.” Greta put her rag down. “I miss that old bastard.”

  What was Constance to say to that? That she was sorry? She was certain the empty apologies would be meaningless to Greta. The old woman had likely heard them a thousand times. Greta went silent for a long while. She exhaled and wiped a tear from the side of her eye. The sight cu
t through Constance.

  Before Constance could think of a response, Greta said, “You should hurry up and get yours from Rayse.”

  Constance shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t? Of course you can. He’s your mate. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect you, so there’s no reason to doubt him. Putting it off will only make him go crazy, and that’s not good for someone with his responsibilities.”

  She rubbed the back of her wrist. “I have… issues.”

  “Well, you better get those sorted before Rayse weakens. Do you know he can’t get a proper night’s rest until you’ve mated? His dragon’s probably constantly yelling in his head to claim you. Ah, I remember that. Wasn’t fun, I must say. Thought I had firecrackers in my ears going off every other minute.”

  “Um, okay.” Maybe Constance could find it in herself to have sex with him willingly. And even that was a stretch. Now she had to fully give herself to him and trust him entirely? With her background? She was starting to open to him, but she couldn’t get over her demons so quickly.

  But what if she was really hurting him?

  She doubted Ranwynn was the last person who wanted to challenge Rayse. And Ashur and the other dragon were still out there…

  “There has to be some other way,” she said.

  Greta shrugged. “If there is, I haven’t heard of it.” The old lady abruptly stood up and trudged to the exit. “Come with me.”

  Constance’s brows arched and she paced after her mentor. Greta didn’t need any form of warm clothing. The woman was a walking furnace. But Constance did, so she took her coat from the wall and slipped it over her shoulders.

  Greta placed her hands on her hips. “You’ve been reading too much herbology.”

  “And that’s good, yes?” Constance said. “I’m supposed to be a healer.”

  “A healer still has to know how to protect herself. Dragons can be brutes and too unpredictable. I’m going to teach you some battle spells, pumpkin.”

  Constance peered down at the antique looking spell book with reverence. Greta had explained this book contained spells for controlling the weather, spells to cast fire, ice, to morph creatures together, to even cook and clean. This large, too-heavy anthology contained spells to stretch for days on end.

  Problem was, the whole blasted thing was in Dragon Tongue. A language Constance had never learned. An equally thick book to translate Dragon Tongue to Falronian sat next to the book of spells. She would wade through this challenge regardless.

  Greta said she’d give Constance some critters to test whatever spells she’d learn. The old woman was melancholic when she explained most of the spells were now unusable, however, because few had the power of the witches of the old these days. The affinity to magic had watered down thousands of years ago. Perhaps the water witches of Ocharia still held some semblance of it, because their lines were so pure. They were a long way from here, however, and an isolated tribe.

  The monstrous spell book was two thousand pages long. Surely Constance would find something.

  She had just deciphered the spell for fire when Rayse threw the door open.

  Constance jerked her head up. The brutish man had a deer slung over his shoulders.

  “Brought a gift,” he said.

  Parts of his vest were covered in blood, and his hair was wet and weaved into clumps. It was a messy sight. She waited for the fear to come, but was surprised to find herself unfazed.

  He tossed a dagger to her. “And this, too.” The sheath of the dagger was beautifully decorated with bronzed, flowery detail, and was attached to a leather strap that could fit snugly around her thigh. “Thought it might come in useful after yesterday. You should have something to protect yourself with.”

  He spun and walked out the door, the deer almost knocking against the doorframe. His voice trailed behind him. “I can skin this thing, but I don’t know how to cook it without burning it to a crisp. I’ll leave that to you.”

  Her brows rose. She assumed he expected her to follow him, so she did, but not before fastening the dagger over her leg, hidden beneath her dress so enemies would be unsuspecting. She appreciated Rayse’s concern and trust to give her a weapon.

  Constance watched curiously as Rayse charred a piece of raw meat with dragon flame. He sniffed, then proceeded to chomp down on the sizable drumstick. Her portion was cut into small pieces, still sizzling in a pan over the fireplace.

  His dinner was almost black on the outside, but its insides glowed red with rawness.

  “Do you actually like it like that?” she asked. She’d never tried to imagine Rayse Everstone eating, and never thought it’d be this uncivilized.

  “Best way to eat anything.”

  “Burned?”

  “Cooked to perfection.”

  She made a mock face of disgust and proceeded to poke at her dinner with a spatula. It was almost ready. She gestured to Rayse’s portion. “Looks horrid to me. There’s not even seasoning.”

  “That’s how you get the true flavor of the meat.”

  “Right.”

  She peered at him. He’d already finished the leg. She blinked. How was that possible?

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Something wrong?”

  Then she noticed she was staring. “Nothing. Just… wondering how you eat so fast.”

  “I’m a dragon. We need our food.”

  “That’s not hard to tell.”

  Constance plucked the deer meat from the pan and plated it. She could feel his eyes on the side of her face. He sat a foot away, but even then, the heat crackled between them—and it had nothing to do with the fireplace.

  They had kissed yesterday. And she enjoyed it.

  Her body wanted more. Her mind, too—almost. But she was too shy to ask, and too nervous to go any closer to him. Then he scooted over until their shoulders were touching—too close—and pried a piece of her dinner off the pan.

  “It’s hot,” she warned.

  He snorted. “You keep forgetting I’m a beast of fire.” He engulfed the food with a large bite. “Not bad. Still prefer it burned.”

  “You’re a monster,” she said with a laugh.

  He didn’t share her humor. His face fell.

  Panic thundered in her and she immediately corrected herself. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean it in a funny way.” She forced a chuckle. “Um, who likes their food that overcooked?”

  “Do you still see me that way? As something to fear?”

  Her chest tightened. “No. It’s strange, but I’m starting to think that you’re nice.” His ashy scent drifted to her. She could hear his soft breathing.

  He stole a kiss from her cheek.

  Her heart slammed in her chest and she almost dropped her plate. The moment was fleeting, but it jolted her mind empty for a second and she couldn’t think. She chanced a glance at his face.

  He was smiling. “That’s good.”

  She kept quiet to stop herself from stuttering. To distract herself, she put her food in her mouth, but she couldn’t taste anything. Not because the food was bad, but because Rayse overwhelmed her so much it was hard to feel.

  “Rayse?” Thoughts of his tongue on the nape of her neck and his fingers trailing over her skin came to her in a sudden rush. Her hands went clammy.

  “Hm?”

  She inhaled and dared to look up at him, and saw his dark, intoxicating eyes looking down at her. Her mind almost went blank again, but somehow, she managed to pull together her question. “Why do you help the humans?” It had been bothering her since she’d arrived.

  His lips pressed tighter.

  “If it’s the wrong thing to ask, you don’t have to answer,” she said.

  “Because they’re the only ones who’d ever helped me.”

  Her ears perked up. “We are?”

  He nodded. “Nobody knows my story. Not even Fraser or Shen.”

  She put down her plate. He’d made her too tensed to eat. “Then yo
u don’t have to tell me.”

  “No, I want to. If anyone should know, it’s my femriahl.” He knotted his fingers and closed his eyes, as if in deep thought, then continued, “Dragons are harsh creatures. I was the weakest runt of the clan I was born into.”

  Her brows rose. “You? The weakest?”

  Amusement lit his face. “Yes, I, the one they call the Black Menace, wasn’t born strong. I matured later, I suppose. Remember the boy at the clinic?” She nodded. “I met worse treatment. Far worse. And my parents didn’t bother to protect me, even though they could. They were femrah and femriahl. But spoiling the dragonlings wasn’t the way of my clan. They believed I had to face defeat to grow.

  “And then my parents died in a battle and my big, talented, powerful brother took over. He saw me as a threat, even though I didn’t want to be femrah. Even though I never tried to challenge him, or anyone, for that matter. Perhaps he saw my potential. When I was twenty—a baby in dragon years—my brother and my clan cast me out.”

  Without thinking, she pressed her body against him and hugged him. She wanted to take away his pain. To wipe the grimace off his face. She noticed his muscles stiffening at her touch.

  He exhaled and continued, “I survived on my own. It isn’t difficult for dragons to do so. We’re on top of the food hierarchy. But it was lonely… so lonely. The rogue dragons I found wouldn’t accept me. They saw me as a weakling that’d pull them down. Then one day, in human form, I stumbled upon a nomadic tribe and they took me in.”

  “What happened to them?” she asked.

  A dark chuckle shook from his throat. “This was over three hundred years ago. They died.”

  “But then you could have still lived with the humans. You didn’t have to form this clan.”

  “The tribe was murdered by my own kind.”

  “Rayse… that’s terrible.”

  “I couldn’t stop the other dragon. I was useless, powerless… too weak. That dragon killed the children, and he ate the woman whom I shared stories with. He crushed the bones of the man who taught me how to use a sword. And do you know what I did?” He balled his hands into fists and they trembled.