Obsidian Wings (Soul of a Dragon Book 1)

by Clara Hartley

  “Meaning?”

  “If the dragon walks like that for much longer, people are going to think his ass has been split.”

  She proceeded to repeat his words, but then sensed Rayse’s coarse finger on her lip. She tried to ignore the way his touch made her feel, though unsuccessfully.

  “I don’t think a femriahl should be saying such words.” His command was stern, but his expression shone with lightheartedness.

  “Laska,” she said.

  “Don’t get used to saying that. I don’t want my men thinking I’ve gone and corrupted you. What will they think if their femriahl spouts curse words more often than a seasoned sailor?”

  “Maybe they’ll loosen their tongues more, and the Everstone dragons will be known as the most sullied-mouthed clan from the west winds to the east,” she teased.

  “There are worse reputations to go by.”

  “Perhaps there’s a clan known for”—she pressed her lips together as she fished out Dragonian from her shallow pool of vocabulary—“invokia rars risken les laska.” If she spoke correctly, that phrase meant “being the masters of splitting dragons’ asses.”

  Rayse’s lifted a brow. “Putting your new command of Dragonian to good use, I see.”

  “What’s the point of language if you can’t have fun with it? Cursing is a great way to cope with bad situations. My mother was shooting bad words all over the place back in Everndale.”

  Darkness settled over Rayse’s expression. “Everndale…”

  “Hm?” Why the sudden change in his tune?

  “Little fire, there is something you should know.” The lightness of their exchange had faded from his voice. What was he going to say to her? Part of her didn’t want to hear, but the curiosity in her eventually won over her hesitance.

  She closed her book, then turned so she faced him. “What is it?”

  “I went back recently. Bastion is dead.”

  The news slammed in her mind. A chill stilled over her, lingering above her skin, not allowing her to move. Bastion… the man who had plagued her childhood. The monster who had made her who she was and had taken Marsella from her. He had departed from the land of the living. How?

  “You killed him?”

  Rayse dipped his head. “After you told me your story, that man didn’t have much time left. I couldn’t let him get away, not after what he had done. There is one less evil in the world.”

  “But…” But what? What was her tormentor’s death supposed to mean? Did that make Rayse the bigger monster, because he had bested the wretched man himself? Or did that mean she had caused murder? After all, she had given Rayse Bastion’s description, understanding she might have been forfeiting the rapist’s life there and then.

  Rayse took her hands in his. “I should have asked you. The rage wasn’t easy to control. We had quarreled the night before, and some silly, bestial part of me thought killing him could appease you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, not knowing how else to react. Inside, she felt a large chapter of her life ending. Bastion’s passing didn’t fuel her with happiness, but solace did envelop her. Her mother had found justice, albeit too late.

  It was time to let go of her fear, her past. She thought she had gotten rid those plague-like thoughts years ago, but they had never left. They constantly shadowed her actions, her emotions.

  “You’re not angry?” he asked.

  Even though she attempted to, it was difficult to compare Rayse’s murder to Bastion’s. Rayse had killed in the name of justice; Bastion had simply been a savage.

  She shook her head. “Why would I be mad? You did it for me. It is perhaps too violent for my liking, but that man deserved his fate. How did he go?” A dark part of her wanted Bastion’s death to be gruesome and painful, but the healer in her could not truly wish such a fate upon someone, even on her worst enemies.

  Rayse hugged her closer. Only then did she realize she was shaking. “In a fight, though a very one-sided one. I pierced his gut with my sword, then sliced his head clean off with my dagger. There were things that happened before that… I don’t think you’ll want to hear the details.”

  “He left my mother twisted and mutilated.”

  Rayse cupped her head and dragged it to his chest. “Then he got what he deserved.”

  In the midst of trying to piece her puzzled mind together, a grumble quaked from her tummy.

  “Hungry?” Rayse asked.

  A sheepish grin met her lips. “We’ve been staring at books all morning. I’ll go get us something to eat.” She pushed away from his warmth, then slid her feet off the bed.

  “Raw meat, please. I’ll sear it myself.”

  Another week had passed since Rayse had told her about Bastion.

  In that time, the door to her feelings had slowly creaked open. Day by day, Rayse had proven to her he was nothing like the men of her childhood. She couldn’t see him as the beast her false perceptions had initially made him.

  She was smiling to herself when walking toward their bedroom. That place was beginning to feel more like home. She had put up more decorations—flowers, and portraits she’d asked Nanili to fetch—that reminded her of her cottage in Evernbrook. Eventually, she would litter the place with her belongings, and Rayse’s room would be her favorite location in Gaia.

  Actually, it already was.

  She stepped inside, a bowl of herbal liquid sloshing in her hand. It was time for Rayse to take his medicine.

  “What are you doing?” Constance asked. Rayse was lingering at the bedside, back turned to her. The white sheets crumpled at a corner, cast away by him.

  He whipped his head around to glance at her. “Getting up. I’ve been lying in the bed, restless, for far too many days.”

  “I didn’t say you could.” She hastily set the bowl on the bedside counter and scampered to his side.

  He chuckled. “If we go by your orders, I’m going to be in this bed for the rest of time.”

  She placed her hands on his elbows and helped him stand. She wouldn’t fight his desire to be on his feet—better she guided his recovery than him attempting to get up on his own and getting himself injured.

  “Steady,” she said, watching his movement like a mother hen.

  He winced, and her heart skipped.

  She tightened her grip on his arms. “Don’t push yourself if it hurts too much.”

  “I’m all right,” he said, though frustration tinged his tone. “Don’t underestimate us dragons.” He was studying her closely, even while struggling to balance himself. Her breath became heavy. Rayse was like a wave with the strongest currents. Even with him spending so much time with her, one look from him could sweep her off her feet.

  She was becoming comfortable with him. The alarms in her head had ceased long ago, and she could talk to him as if he were her best friend. She should have been wary and afraid, but even when she reminded herself of those familiar emotions, they wouldn’t come.

  Perhaps his weakened state made her drop her barriers. Harming her was impossible in his current condition. And in that brief respite, her trust for him had grown.

  A thought cemented in her mind—Rayse was not Bastion or those men from the brothels. He was kind and honest, though brutish and disagreeable.

  In him, she saw happiness.

  But she was devastated. She tried not to let her sorrow show. It tore up her insides knowing how foolish she had been a while back, when she’d taken Rayse’s and her blood. She had mixed their essences to cast a spell that would sever their bond forever.

  She’d thrown away a future of bliss without even realizing it.

  Once I mate with him, I will lose him.

  “Splendid,” she said once Rayse settled on two feet. She smiled encouragingly. “Now try and take a small step forward.”

  “Move aside. I need to do this by myself.”

  She did as told, but was ready to leap to his rescue should he stumble.

  He took a tentative step, then two. The
n he balled his fists and attempted to speed into a light jog. Immediately he faltered.

  She swooped toward him and propped him up. “Don’t push yourself too hard!”

  Sweat beaded at his hairline. A guilty smirk creased his lips. “I was hoping I’d recovered better. Being this weak is foreign to me, little fire. I have been injured far worse than this and I’m normally healed ten times over by now.”

  “There’s still a month before you can start flying and doing other strenuous activities.”

  “Not necessarily.” His smoky eyes flashed, framed by his messy locks. “If we complete the bond, I will be in better shape than I’ve ever been by dawn.”

  He straightened. Then, instead of her steadying him, he was holding her. His skin was still burning to the touch. His hot breath caressed her cheek. Her heart flew from her chest.

  “Little fire… do you think you could complete the bond now?”

  She bit her tongue and turned her eyes from the intensity of his gaze. He could melt her if he looked at her for much longer. She imagined running kisses across his chiseled jaw, and his hands cupping her mounds. “Rayse… I…”

  She stole a glance at him. Lust radiated from him in waves. The room suddenly lacked oxygen, and her lungs were suffocating.

  The corners of his lips curled upward. “You can scold me now. You’re not afraid anymore.” He didn’t say it, but she’d been touching him more. Sometimes deliberately, because she wanted to run her hands through his hair, and he let her. At times, she traced her fingers over his skin subconsciously, then drew back when she noticed what she was doing. Being with him felt natural. Like honey and lemons, the both of them complemented each other perfectly.

  They might be able to complete the bond. She wasn’t sure if she trusted him enough yet, but there was a chance…

  There could have been a chance. Whatever probability of that, she had tossed it to the winds when she cast that severance spell.

  “I will not take you unless I have permission,” he said. “But I can smell your desire. Don’t dally for too long. My dragon was subdued by my injuries, but it’s coming back.”

  Her thighs clenched and she nearly collapsed from the tension building in her.

  She forced a choked laugh. “You can barely walk and you want to rut? Perhaps that can wait.” She pushed him aside, despite her soul vehemently thrashing in disagreement. She lost his warmth as she stepped back. The coldness of the room spiked her insides, and she hugged herself. “I’m not ready yet, Rayse,” she lied. She likely was. The mating sometimes rocked her, too, and a voice in her head would tell her to claim him. She wanted him as much as he longed for her.

  But once they mated, they would lose each other.

  The thought jolted regret through her chest, and her eyes teared.

  No crying. Crying is a show of weakness, and the world eats up the weak. But Rayse was unlike the rest of Gaia, and she knew he wouldn’t cast her aside even if she overwhelmed him with how feeble she could be. The tears rushed to her cheeks, gushing like overturned buckets. Her nose twitched as it became stuffy. She rubbed her fingers over her eyes.

  “I’ve made you cry.”

  “No, it’s not your fault.” She forced another laugh. “I’m simply an emotional wreck.” I don’t want to lose you…

  “There is no rush. Take your time. Your heart will open to me eventually.”

  He had already managed to pry his way into her heart, but he didn’t know it. In their short time spent together, Rayse had stolen a part of her away, and she knew he would keep it for long as she was alive.

  Grim reality set over her. “But there is no time. You have less than a month before the mating consumes you. I do not want to be the one to kill you.”

  “There are worse ways to go than death by love,” he joked.

  How could he jest when the future seemed so dark? “You shouldn’t have to go at all.” The tears still rushed from her eyes. He opened her arms, and she stepped toward him, allowing him to blanket her in his sweet warmth. He sat back onto the bed, and she did so with him, cuddled against his solid chest. She breathed in his fiery scent. “Give me a couple days to prepare myself. I will mate with you then.”

  Two more days before she had to give him up.

  His gentle hand brushed her hair. “That is not long to wait for an eternity of bliss.”

  She buried her head into his neck. The crook of his shoulder fit her perfectly. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “You shouldn’t make a habit of apologizing. You’re my femriahl. The Black Menace doesn’t apologize. His wife shouldn’t either.”

  Her weeping calmed, and she managed to suppress her sadness again. “I’m sorry anyway.”

  A smirk brushed Rayse’s lips when his mate dragged a bucket of water into the room. Being injured had its perks.

  “I’m certain you can clean yourself by now,” Constance said.

  He grinned. “Yes, but I like how it feels.”

  She sighed, then dunked the rag into the bucket of soap and water. She dragged her cloth over his bicep, then his pectorals. He could smell the wetness coming from beneath her thighs. She pulled away, and his dragon groaned with anticipation. It wanted more. Always more when it came to Constance.

  His first concern was that she did this for other men often as a healer. She’d sworn she’d never be able to manage being so intimate with other males. Should a man be this incapacitated, Eduard would do their cleaning.

  “You can clean your own… um, thing,” she said, passing him the cloth.

  “But I can’t move my arm. It hurts oh so much.”

  Her cheeks glowed red. “Please…”

  He laughed, then took the rag from her and performed as told. When he was done, he passed it back to her and she washed it in the bucket. She would have to get near his cock eventually. He stiffened, imagining her swollen lips over his rod, sucking… licking…

  “Turn around,” she said.

  He flipped himself to his stomach. His muscles clenched when she rubbed the fabric over her back, scrubbing him gently. Her fingers tickled his skin occasionally. His teeth clamped down to suppress the moan forcing itself through his throat. This woman was completely unaware of what she could do to him.

  He was weak, but now healed enough to bend her against her will. He never would, even though his beast growled and snapped at him, caged like an animal in his mental fortress. Fighting it back down was going to kill him, quite literally.

  Her week with Rayse lit a new spark in Constance. She didn’t know that she could discuss so many things with just one man, and he was patient with her, always giving, hardly ever demanding.

  Her notions of him had been shattered irrevocably like a piece of glass. She’d seen through his brutish facade.

  Being with him was… fun, warm, perfect. And she had only known the human side of him. The dragon in him lurked beneath his skin, and despite her fear of it, she longed to watch and communicate with his other self soon. It fueled the curiosity in her.

  She sat on the couch, watching Rayse pick his way through the living room to answer the knocking on the door. He could walk somewhat normally, but jogging, running, or any other strenuous activities would only serve to aggravate his injuries. He still had to recuperate at home.

  Her gaze meandered across the ridges of his back muscles.

  He hadn’t demanded sex, even though she saw the need within him like a bubbling cauldron. Being with him for so long under one roof made her need him as well. Images of his exploring her most private of parts assailed her.

  “Milord,” Shen said, once Rayse pried the front door open.

  The stern, stone-faced Rayse emerged from her mate’s personality. He straightened his shoulders. Not a hint of a smile graced his lips.

  She had seen his kindness over this week, and a secret part of her rejoiced in knowing that the tender side of him would be reserved for her, and her only.

  “Shen,” Rayse said. He craned his head o
utside.

  The subordinate entered. “I made sure the streets were empty, save for Fraser flying overhead.”

  Rayse shut the door. “What news do you bring?”

  They sat, and, curious, Constance stood and ambled toward them. She wanted more information on Dragon Keep too.

  Shen shook his head. “Bad news. The dragons are getting antsy without their leader. There’s talk about you leaving the clan with your mate and giving up your responsibilities. Some are calling for a tournament to choose the next femrah; others are discussing splitting up and creating new clans of their own. Without you binding everyone together, this clan is falling apart.”

  “But it’s only been a week.”

  “The Dragon Mother has awakened and is calling. That’s sparking the flames of revolt more, I think.”

  “Goddammit.”

  “Have you not completed the bond, milord?” Shen shot a glance toward Constance.

  Guilt spread in her chest. She swallowed.

  “No,” Rayse said. “Perhaps I can shift and fly around the perimeter of Dragon Keep. So they can spot me. That may calm their worries.”

  She crossed her arms. “Definitely not. That’s too dangerous.”

  “I can’t cower in my home forever.”

  “Rayse, can you even shift in this condition? I don’t know how strenuous shifting is, but it’s likely harder than walking. You can’t even walk fast without a slight limp, and you’re expecting to fly as a massive beast? And what if someone tries to challenge you?”

  He scowled. “I can’t let this clan fall apart.”

  “I won’t let you get hurt.” Her protective instincts for Rayse flared. Her jaw tensed and she let her tension escape through a sigh. “You said the dragons think Rayse has fled, did you?” she asked Shen.

  “Yes. Your absence is one of the main factors in them assuming so, femriahl.”

  She nodded. “Then if they see me tomorrow, clear as day, that would alleviate some of their concerns?”

  “Yes, it would,” Shen agreed.

  “I’ll resume work tomorrow, then. That might help.”

  A low growl rumbled from her mate’s throat. “But I—”