Nightbloom

by Juliette Cross

“What do you mean?”

  She joined me by the fire, her face fallen. I swallowed the fear pooling in my gut and captured her wary gaze.

  “I caught Clayton having sex with a Morgon girl in a bar storeroom on our last date.”

  A shocked gasp. She covered her mouth. “Are you sure, dear? You’re sure it was him?”

  “Oh, yes. Very sure. And I’m convinced it wasn’t the first time. He told me it was my fault because I wouldn’t give him what he needed.”

  “He said that?” Her voice cracked on a whisper, the color completely draining away from her fair face.

  I gave a stiff nod. Silence.

  “There’s more.”

  “More?”

  “He threatened to do something if I didn’t agree to marry him, which I have refused to do already.”

  She dabbed at the new fallen tears with her handkerchief.

  There was no easy way to say this, but I couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. “He plans to spread rumors in the social circle, our social circle, that I’m sleeping with Morgons around town.”

  She held her kerchief up to her mouth. Her surprise converted to anger in a matter of seconds. “How could he possibly say such a thing? How could he even think people would believe him?”

  “Because he has a video of me kissing a Morgon man in a public bar. He claims it’s enough to spread the lies people like to believe about girls like me.”

  “Girls like you?”

  “Innocent and ‘seemingly pure’ were his words, I believe. And I’m afraid there’s more.”

  She didn’t even ask, but waited, her face ashen and drawn.

  “He plans on telling those who don’t know, and reminding those who’ve forgotten, that you were raped by a Morgon man.” She flinched, turning toward the window. I forced myself to go on. “Because of what happened to you, he will tell everyone that I’m shaming our family by becoming a Morgon whore.”

  She spun, anger flaring her cheeks pink. “You could never shame our family.” She swiped at her face with the back of her hand. “The shame was mine.”

  “No, Mom!” I grabbed her and hugged her tight. “What happened to you was against your will. There’s no shame in what’s beyond your control. You didn’t will it to happen.”

  She cried, sniffling into my shoulder for some time. “I never wanted you to know.”

  I patted her back, being her nurturer for once. “I know. Even before Clayton confirmed my suspicions, I knew it somehow. I knew your fear came from something terrible, but it was never your fault. And not all Morgons are like that, Mom. The ones I know are so different than you used to describe them to me.”

  I patted and rocked her till she quieted.

  “Ella, why were you kissing a Morgon man in a bar?”

  I smiled. My heart smiling with me. “His name is Paxon Nightwing.”

  “Your boss?”

  “More than my boss. But not my lover. Not yet.”

  She pushed out of my arms. “Ella. I might agree that not all Morgons are cruel, but I do not approve of you dating one of them.”

  I tucked my hands in my pockets and swallowed the little girl’s fear of disappointing her mother. “I’m sorry to hear that. Because I won’t bring him home until I know you will welcome him.”

  She didn’t say a word, her mouth ajar from my unusually stern words.

  “You’d date him…without my approval?” The look of sheer puzzlement on her face nearly made me laugh. She couldn’t fathom the possibility of a Morgon being the object of my affection, of my love.

  “He’s gentle and kind and caring. He’s everything I want. He’s more than I ever dreamed.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t allow it, Ella.”

  I stepped forward and pulled her into my arms, hugging her tight. “I love you, Mom.” I pulled back, wishing she didn’t look so frail and tired when I gave her the hard truth. “But I’m not asking your permission.”

  With a tight squeeze, I then turned to leave.

  “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “To find him,” I said as I reached the door “and beg him to take me back if he’ll have me.”

  As I wound down the staircase, she called over the upper balcony. “Be careful, dear.”

  “No way!” I yelled, running down the stairs. “I’ve always been careful. That’s been my problem all along.”

  I found Milla at the front door, my coat in hand. I didn’t ask how she knew I was heading out again. Somehow, the servants knew before we did what was going on. I grabbed Milla and gave her a kiss on the cheek, something I hadn’t done since I was a little girl.

  “Wish me luck, Milla. I’m going to find my Morgon man and propose to him.”

  Running down the steps to my car, I heard her mumble “good luck,” and my heart lifted with that whispered prayer on the wind.

  Chapter 11

  Halfway into the city and on my third call to Conn, he finally picked up. My car filled with roaring noise through audio comm.

  “Well, I found him!” he yelled over the crowd.

  “Where the hell are you, Conn?” A familiar toll of bells echoed in the background. “Are you at the stadium?”

  “Huh? Yeah. He lost his phone.”

  “Lost it?”

  “Not exactly lost. He smashed it into a rock actually.”

  “What?”

  “Just a little Morgon temper. I can ask him to call you on mine, but he doesn’t look like he’s in the mood. As a matter of fact, when I said your name, he growled and went back to the bar for another beer.”

  “Crap. Is he okay? Is he drinking too much?” I’d already spun my car around and headed for the stadium. “Aw, hell. Never mind.”

  “What?” Someone cheered right next to him, drowning out Conn’s voice.

  “Never mind!” Click. “I’m coming,” I told fate or whatever gods might be listening. It was high time I made a stand of my own.

  Only one thing mattered right now. And I couldn’t get there fast enough.

  The stadium parking lot was packed—plenty of humans came out to cheer on the Vaengar games. I wrapped my—well Paxon’s scarf—around my neck, tucked my hands in my pockets and jogged into the stadium, then climbed the ramp at a brisk walk.

  Bong! Another match was setting up. A lull in the crowd, then a wave of noise as the match began. I couldn’t see any of it as I climbed, but I knew the game well enough to imagine the scene. Nothing like blood and violence to make a Morgon crowd go wild.

  Winding my way to the mid-level, I found the entrance to the Box. As soon as I stepped inside, I realized my dilemma. This place was packed more than I’d ever seen it. Mostly Morgons, sprinkled with a few elite human friends, and everyone was bigger than me. How could I possibly find him?

  Pushing my way through the crowd, I squeezed under wings and through tight gaps to the front corner of the Box. Usually, this place had space to meander, but not tonight. I had no idea who the opponents were, shirtless with blood-red leather pants. The players had the crowd in their thrall.

  I stood along the railing next to a Morgon with a megaphone, peering down the front row to find Paxon.

  “Come on, Sabers! Slice ’em!”

  This dude was so freaking loud. I craned my neck, unable to see a damn thing. Someone smashed into the barrier of the arena on our side. A chorus of “Ooohs” erupted. Fans leapt to their feet, leaning over to see the spectacle below. The guy with the megaphone popped out of his chair to scream and laugh maniacally through his toy. Like he needed a freaking amplifier.

  I eyed his empty seat. “Perfect.”

  I jumped onto it and peered across the Box. There Paxon was, standing behind the three rows of seats in a “mingling” space at the end of a long bar. Tonight, however, there was no mingling space. Fans cheered for the Sabers and yelled obscenities at the opposing team, but Paxon brooded over a mug of beer, his business shirt unbuttoned one too man
y, his sleeves rolled up, his hair a mess. God, had I done that to him?

  “Paxon!”

  Another roar of cheers drowned out my voice. Megaphone Guy’s friend beat on some sort of drum with his hand, screaming at the arena.

  I called Paxon’s name again. He couldn’t hear me, lost in his thoughts, sipping on his beer. I could only imagine what he was thinking. Conn stood off to the side with his twin brother Corbin, pointing at the arena. Their reddish wings glowed orange under the torchlight. Thank God Clayton was nowhere to be found. Surely, they’d finally ousted him from their pack.

  “Paxon!”

  Just as I’d yelled his name again, Megaphone Guy shouts the chant, “Slice ’em, Sabers! Slice ’em!”

  “Oh, come on, dude.” I reached around and jerked the megaphone from his hand. Dumbfounded, he stared at me—this puny, human girl who took his toy. I didn’t give a damn. I aimed the megaphone across the Box.

  “Paxon Nightwing!”

  Instantly, he sought me out, hearing my voice. A few others turned toward me as I stood taller than most of them, screaming into a megaphone.

  “Paxon!”

  He found me, his mask of Morgon indifference plastered in place. He made no sign to speak. My heart in my throat, I plunged ahead.

  “Paxon Nightwing! I’m in love with you!”

  Okay. Now, the entire front half of the Box twisted their attention away from the arena to gawk at my display. I broke out in a sweat, feeling so much focus riveted on me. Paxon didn’t move, apparently in shock as well.

  “Can you hear me?”

  Paxon nodded. So did half the crowd, wide-eyed and staring. Had they never seen a public declaration of love before? I glanced down at a brawny, brown-winged Morgon behind me who was transfixed as if in a trance.

  “Excuse me? Could you lift me onto that bar right there?”

  The bar ran the length of the Box, all the way to Paxon, who stood there stupefied on the other end. The brawny Morgon nodded. Handing the megaphone back to its dumbfounded owner, I leaned so the brawny guy could lift me by the waist and steady me onto the bar.

  “Excuse me…pardon me.”

  I stepped lightly over the drinks littering the bar, teetering at one point and righted by a human guy before I could lose my balance. “Thanks.”

  Making my way down the bar, I knocked a drink over. “Sorry.”

  Paxon hadn’t moved a muscle. Dark eyes fixed and steady. I stood several feet above him now and kind of liked the view. Actually, I liked this platform. I couldn’t hide from anyone up here, even if I wanted to. Everyone could see me. Everyone watched me. And everyone was waiting to see what I’d do next.

  Deep breath in, deep breath out.

  I stopped at the end of the bar, legs trembling. “Paxon, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you everything, and I will, whenever these people aren’t watching us.” I paused. Those people were still riveted to every word, now completely ignoring the game. Paxon waited.

  “I realize now that…I’m in love with you. Like…crazy-stupid in love with you. And I don’t care who knows it. I don’t care if the whole world knows, though it’s really none of their business.” Wide eyes, gaping mouths. “So I’m, well, wondering if you’ll still have me, if you’ll consider having me.”

  He stared, transfixed for a moment before leaning forward, hands braced on the bar on either side of my feet. “Say that again.”

  “Again?”

  Serious brooding face not cracking an inch, Paxon nodded slowly.

  I blew out a frustrated breath and knelt on the bar right in front of him. “Damn it, Paxon.” I cupped my palms over his strong jaw, clenched tight. “I’m so sorry. I’m in love with you, and I won’t ever deny you again. If you’ll have me.”

  His arms came up and plucked me off the bar, crushing me to him. I buried my face in his neck, pressing my lips to his warm skin. Cheers and roars erupted in the Box. I thought it was for the game until Conn piped up.

  “Nice job, Nightwing. Let’s see you two kiss and make-up.”

  A few whistles and catcalls. Paxon swept me off my feet with one arm behind my knee, the other cradling my back.

  “Not on your life.” He glared ahead of us. “Move. Now.”

  Suddenly, a pathway opened, people parting for us to pass. I snuggled closer till we were out of the Box. He took me into a shadowy alcove and set me on my feet. “Ella. Are you sure?”

  “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything in my life.”

  He pressed me against the wall. When his lips melded to mine, a tongue of flame flicked into my mouth. Liquid fire poured down my throat, pulsing into my veins, igniting a conflagration of erotic sensation throughout my entire body. I kissed him back, a feverish desire pulling me into him.

  His hands cupped my bottom, lifting me higher, bracing me with his body, his own desire evident and firm between my legs. Locking my ankles at his back, I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, pressing my chest to his, needing to be closer, my flesh burning for him.

  I felt as if a rope pulled me closer and closer toward a blaze in the shape of Paxon Nightwing, a fire in which I longed to be consumed. I wished I didn’t have this damn coat on or these damn clothes.

  I broke the kiss, nipping along his granite jaw. “I want you, Paxon.” Kisses close to his ear. “Now.” My mind reeled from frantic sensation. “Right here.”

  His body went rock hard, everywhere. His hands clenched my thighs. “No. Not here.”

  A group of guys passed in my peripheral vision. Paxon lowered me to the ground, pressing a scintillating, wet kiss to my lips, teasing me with the remnants of soulfire. He cupped my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb, calming my frenzied yearning.

  “Soon, please,” I whispered against his lips, one hand threading into his hair.

  “See there, friends. That’s what you call a Morgon whore. I’m sure when Nightwing is done with her, you can all have a go.”

  Two men laughed. Paxon’s body flexed into steel. Gold shimmered across his eyes. I didn’t have to look to know the owner of the voice.

  “Paxon,” I warned, wanting him to keep calm. Too late.

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the shadows, but kept his body between me and Clayton.

  “What the fuck did you just say, Kerrington?”

  Clayton didn’t appear remotely scared. Arrogant ass. He was stupider than I thought.

  “Look, Nightwing, I don’t blame you for getting a piece. It didn’t do much for me, but I see the appeal. She looks and seems so sweet, doesn’t she?”

  I literally thought Paxon would break his own jaw from clenching it so tight. I tugged on his hand, trying to keep him from killing Clayton on the spot.

  “Clayton, you’re such a liar.” I straightened with my chin in the air. “I wouldn’t give you a piece of me if you were the last man on this planet!”

  The two Morgons, some dupes Clayton had leeched onto, eyed me up and down. Paxon shoved me behind his wings, now spread in a protective posture. Or maybe it was a threatening display. I wasn’t sure.

  “Back. Off.” The dragon was in Paxon’s voice, all fire and fury. Apparently, Clayton didn’t know who or what he was dealing with.

  “Come on, now, Ella. Don’t tell me you’re still playing the innocent, are you? It was nice and tight but—”

  A whoosh of wind. Paxon had his hand wrapped around Clayton’s throat, his body slammed against a wall. His cronies stepped clear away.

  “Don’t, Paxon.” I pleaded at his side. “He’s not worth the trouble. Nothing he says is true.”

  Clayton squeaked out in a raspy breath. “Doesn’t matter. They’ll believe it.” He glared at me. “Wrong choice.”

  “What’s he talking about?”

  I explained Clayton’s plan in one brief sentence.

  “It wouldn’t bother me, but it’s my mother, my parents I’m concerned about. I didn’t tell you Paxon because
I knew this is what you’d do.” I curled my hands around one flexed arm. “I don’t want you to pay a price for me.”

  After a long tense minute, Paxon released him, never taking his eyes off his quarry. Clayton’s buddies remained a good distance away.

  “You like gambling, Kerrington. I have a wager for you.”

  Clayton smoothed out his ruffled shirt. “What?”

  “Let’s settle this in the Pit.”

  Clayton froze, eyes sizing up his opponent.

  “What’s wrong? You’re not scared, are you?”

  He sneered in reply, puffing his chest out. “It wouldn’t be fair. You have wings.”

  “I won’t use them.”

  “No Morgon-made weapons.”

  “Done.”

  I’d never held a Morgon sword, but I’d seen them wielded long enough to know they were seriously heavy.

  “You’re a lot…taller.”

  Hmph. I’d say so.

  “I’ll fight with only one hand if it makes you feel more equal to the task.”

  “How about one of my friends fights in my stead?” He gestured toward the Morgon guys whose eyes widened.

  “No. I want you in that Pit, Clayton. Just you.”

  He shrugged and tossed his dirty blond hair to one side. “Fine. No wings and no Morgon weapons. No problem. What’s the wager?”

  “If I win, you remain silent as death about Ella and her mother. No rumors. Nothing. Silent as death.”

  Definitely something more implied in that.

  “And if I win?”

  “What do you want?”

  Clayton’s eyes shifted to me.

  “If I win, I get Ella. For my wife.”

  “I’m not going to wager my mate.”

  Clayton frowned in confusion. Soulfire bound Paxon and me, but someone like Clayton could never comprehend that kind of bond. Paxon and I were already as good as married. Actually, in the Morgon culture, we were.

  Clayton sneered. “Then all bets are off, and I’m gonna pay a visit to my friend at The Gladium Post.”

  “You don’t even care about me, Clayton. Why would you want me?”

  “I’ve told you, baby. You fit into my plan. Besides, this isn’t about caring or any of that shit. This is about power.”