Touch of a Dragon

by Kim Knox

  “Stay back!” He waved his arm. There was a faint hiss, and the ground around the dais fell away to blackness. “I am still lord here.”

  A hard heartbeat later, Alexander’s skin splintered.

  My hand clamped to my mouth to stop the rise of bile. In the soft glow of the lights, his other ancient face pushed against the Dragon Lord’s skin. I swallowed. “What’s…what’s he doing?”

  “Killing himself.” Blake gripped the rail. “Damn it, Alexander, return to your throne. This is the way it has to be.”

  The Dragon Lord shook his head. “No.” He slumped, his gaze fixed on the golden chair only a few feet away. “Your throne is empty.” He choked a laugh, and his eyes closed. His voice dropped, but his final words echoed. “Make your choice. One of you must occupy the throne, or magic will consume the world. So Blake, it’s you—or her.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I stared as the Dragon Lord’s body crumbled to ash on the steps. A low rumble and the ash caved, a puff of grey drifting down into the pit surrounding the throne. My heart kicked. My instinct screamed that Alexander’s threat was real. With no one sitting on the Dragon Lord’s throne, wild, untamed magic would destroy everything. I didn’t question my surety.

  I grabbed the barrier circling the pit. “Get me to that throne.”

  “No.” Blake blocked me from climbing onto the rail.

  “Idiot! Your guardian is dead.” Another low rumble reverberated through the curved room vibrating through the metal. I lurched, fighting to keep myself upright. “Whatever he protects is free.”

  “I can’t let you—”

  I shoved him to one side. “You might let people die. I don’t.” The gaping hole between the dais and the throne was under two yards. I could jump it. I scrambled onto the rail, and before Blake could react, I jumped.

  “Leona!”

  I crashed against the steps, the ash of the former Dragon Lord coating me and billowing into the air. My feet slid and slipped, and took my knees out from under me. I hit the stone—and winded—I rolled. I scrambled to stop my fall and tried to dig my fingers into the loose mortar. My legs swung off the last step, the momentum dragging my hips, my chest over the endless, gaping darkness. Fingers scrabbled for cracked stone, and the muscles in my arms strained… But—thank fuck—I wasn’t falling.

  Yes, welcome to yet another stupid decision in the life of Leona Munro.

  I snorted. My hands curled into stiff claws, and I heaved my body up. I pressed my forehead to the cold, grit-thick stone and listened to the heavy pounding of my heart ease, trying to get my wits straight. With a deep breath, I crawled onto my knees.

  I didn’t look back.

  “Leona, what the hell did you do that for?”

  “Because you wouldn’t.”

  The room began to shudder. Five more steps and I climbed to my feet and stood before the golden throne. Well, I had always wanted to dabble in magic. Taking a deep breath—and with my heart in my throat—I turned and sat on the golden throne of the Sea-Dragon.

  Stillness enveloped the chamber.

  I willed my hands to the wrought arms and shaped my fingers to the ornate carvings. Cold and smooth, nothing special. I willed those thoughts, because then the panic from my idiot act wouldn’t rise up and choke me. Breathing. In and out. Fine. It was all…fine.

  Blake was just staring at me. His look of loss, of defeat tightened my chest. This was my choice. The only choice I could make. I would not see the world blasted by wild magic, not if I could stop it. And really, it wasn’t so bad—

  My spine arched.

  The pain hit.

  A scorching surge of white-hot fire shot through my bones. In reflex, my hands clung to the stone arms of the throne. I thought I screamed. Agony seared my flesh. The choking stink of it enveloped me. No, not my skin. It was the rank odour of magic. Filling me, staining me, and with it came the insatiable need of magic to be free.

  I clamped my will on it. My teeth gritted and I forced the magic back, squashing it, containing it. I was a first-hand witness to old magic’s destructive power. It would not break free. Not through me.

  The pain twisted, bursting hot against my skull. I gasped. Not pain. Information. In an instant, I knew everything. Everything. And in that foul moment, something within me…died.

  I blew out a hot breath, and the ache in my bones faded away. Tears wet my skin. Yanking my stiff hand from the arms of the throne, I stretched my shaking fingers and wiped at my face. Tobias was right. Ignorance had been my shield.

  “Leona.” The pit had closed, and Blake stood on the bottom stair, his hands fists at his side. “You shouldn’t—”

  “Get out, Blake.”

  He closed his eyes and took one step closer to the throne. Sweat stained his forehead. “No.”

  “Look at me,” I commanded. His dark eyes fixed on mine. The hollow turn of my stomach forced nausea. I shouldn’t feel betrayed by him, but I did. I did. “Your creation is safe.” More tears burned my eyes. “You are safe.”

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “Liar.” I slapped the stone, and the dull sound echoed around the chamber. “Alexander was right. You created this place, the Sea-Dragon, the Source, shit, my home, all so that you could run away.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “It is that simple.” Again I saw what he was, the shell of a man covering the terrifyingly beautiful beast-shape of something ancient and primeval. “You created a choice for yourself, when there should have been none.”

  Blake took another step toward me. His skin flushed. His strength of will drove him forward; I could taste it. “I was scared,” he said. “To accept meant losing control, losing what I was and becoming”—he shrugged and planted his feet on the next wide stair—“I don’t know what.”

  “So you dammed old magic and forced it to fracture.”

  Another step brought him onto the throne’s dais. “Yes.” He stared down at me. “It created nulls and magicians—”

  “And three thousand years of hatred.” Blake closed his eyes. “That too.”

  He dropped to his knees, his head bowed. So close that I could reach out and touch his face. My hand itched to move, to stroke through his dark hair, but I stilled it.

  We could never touch. Not anymore.

  And that pain hurt more than the old magic devouring the base of my skull, hurt more than his betrayal. He was a part of me I could never have again. I pulled in a long and tired breath. “I told you to get out, Blake.”

  He looked up. A wry smile tugged at his mouth, and I felt the shape of his determination. “No.”

  He leant forward, looming over me…and gripped the throne. Light sparked beneath his hands as shadows of pain flickered across his face.

  “What are you—”

  The wraith snapped fire across my chest, licking flames down to my belly. I gasped. The creature within me recognised his intent.

  But he couldn’t touch me.

  If Blake touched the Dragon Lord, his escape was over. He would assume the throne he’d run from for over three thousand years. I swallowed. He was so close that I could chase my fingertip across his jaw.

  I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  He didn’t want the responsibility. He didn’t want me. Not enough…

  “Blake, you should leave. Touching the throne with me sat on it doesn’t commit you to this life. Touching me would. Don’t pretend that’s what you want.” My fingers curled until my nails dug into my palms, hating the pain of that admission.

  His dark eyes shone. “With you, I have never had to pretend.”

  And Blake covered my mouth with his.

  He tasted of the sea, his tongue flickering and teasing. I slid my hand to the back of his head, pressing his mouth harder to mine. I closed my eyes, the feel, the touch of him wanted and right. I’d only been away from him for a few hours, but with him kissing me again, it felt like an eternity.

  The wraith flared betwee
n us, curling, binding, firing our need. I slid down, desperate to have more of him. The edge of the throne dug into my spine, and I winced.

  Blake pulled back, and his liquid black eyes held me.

  The turn of his thoughts moved through mine, though they were still murky. I didn’t know what he planned. The uncertainty made my laugh wry. “Thrones are not made for sex.”

  A real smile creased his face, and I couldn’t help myself. My finger traced over his lips. What was he doing? Touching me broke the first of the barriers he had erected between himself and old magic. He was opening the way to wild, free magic, negating the choice I’d made.

  “Time to change position, then.”

  “Blake—”

  But before I could stop him, he had taken my place on the Sea-Dragon’s throne.

  For three heartbeats, his face twisted in agony. An echo of it ran through my body, and instinct made me reach for him. I stroked his jaw, the fire of the wraith at my fingertips.

  His pain eased under my touch, and Blake opened his eyes. I held his gaze, and the liquid black of his irises bore rings of golden flame. Around him, the image of Blake as a man flickered. Great wings spread out, arcing over the golden throne, and the lazy sweep of his tail was…mesmerising.

  My heart in my throat, I ran a fingertip along the ivory curve of the horn jutting from his left temple. In some of the older spells, the ones that needed ingredients to direct the flow of magic, a dragon horn was a rare and precious thing. It held great power.

  Blake closed his eyes and sucked in a quick breath. “Not power.”

  I bit back a smile and slid my palm over the smooth ivory and stroked my hand down and up. My thumb teased the sharp point, and Blake’s breath hitched. “Ah, then it’s an erogenous zone.”

  “Leona...” His low growl excited the wraith within me, and I straddled him, my calves and knees jammed against the hard stone of the throne. He caught my wrist and eased my hand away. “Don’t.”

  I smirked at him. “I can’t play with your horns?”

  Blake’s mouth twitched, and his other hand slipped over my waist to my hip. “You really just said that, didn’t you?”

  “You have horns. Of course I’m going to make horn jokes.”

  He pulled my wrist down and threaded his fingers through mine. He watched the play of his fingertips against the back of my hand, wraith-heated points of fire meeting each light press. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, Leona.” He glanced up, and I couldn’t read his eyes. “I never meant for you to be a candidate.”

  My heart tightened and didn’t ease as a bleak smile cut his mouth.

  “I watched bloodlines, encouraged meetings to continue the lack of affinity with new magic. But you...”

  He looked at me, looked beyond me, and I felt his thoughts, his memories moving, seeing me stride across the swing bridge, heading for work, telling tall tales to half-interested school children in the recreation of a steam-age ship, in the smoky dive packed with nulls and the sparkle of a magician. His feelings flowed with them, a want, a need, and something more. Something even he hadn’t wanted to recognise.

  “I watched your life. And I…I wanted you.”

  He focused on me again, the shining, liquid black of his eyes heavy with an emotion I couldn’t name. An emotion I didn’t want to name.

  “Alexander was right. You should have died this morning, but I gave you a part of myself to keep you alive. I couldn’t let you go.”

  The why burned in his thoughts. It was more than lust. For him, it always had been. I hugged him close, my face buried in his neck. He stroked my hair and pressed a kiss there.

  “I wasn’t meant to love anyone.”

  I closed my eyes, my heart caught in painful thuds. “Who decided that?”

  “It was easier. Less complicated.” His hand stroked down my spine in a slow, even rhythm, the wraith a languid heat under his touch. “But now, I couldn’t live any other way.”

  I pulled myself straight. His ascendancy wasn’t yet complete. Magic was still fractured, and he had to heal that division. We had to. I was a part of him, after all.

  “What will happen, Blake?”

  “I don’t know.” He focused on my mouth, and a tendril of wraith-fire licked around my breast. I sucked in a quick breath and Blake’s fingers tightened against my hip. “But I couldn’t leave you as the Dragon Lord.” He pushed back my hair from my face. “I’ve accepted what I must do. Not touching you again? That would be worse.”

  “Oh, smooth…”

  His grin was wicked. “Wasn’t it?” His finger followed the line of my throat and flicked open the first button of my shirt. “Our wraith is waiting.”

  He opened another button, brushing my clavicle, edging over the curve of my breast. The wraith followed his touch with liquid fire….and Blake pushed through a third button.

  He pressed light kisses to my skin. “What to do next...”

  I closed my eyes, letting the wraith and his mouth pulse pleasure down, down...to where Blake’s fingers were waiting. His magical ability to strip away my clothes had not deserted him, and I found myself quite suddenly naked. I bit back a laugh.

  “That was not so smooth.”

  His brow lifted. “Complaining?” He urged me closer over his hair-roughened legs, his cock pressing up against my mons. Chilled air brushed my skin, but I didn’t shiver. Blake radiated heat. His clever, stroking touch found sensitive flesh, slipping between my folds to tease my clit.

  “No, not complaining.”

  I groaned, my arms sliding across his shoulders and pressing him into my chest. His cool, addictive scent threaded through my senses.

  I shifted closer, aching to have him again. Wraith-sparked fire spat behind my eyes as his wings swept around us, protecting me from the cold air. The brush of his satin wings against my bare spine pulled a soft moan from me. My forehead fell against his chin, and his rapid breaths matched the quick thud of my heart.

  I had to have him now. The magic demanded it. But it wasn’t just the magic. I closed my fingers around the smooth strength of his cock, my voice low as I moved over him. “You have a choice, Blake.”

  “No.” He groaned, and strong hands lifted me, easing me over his body. “I don’t.”

  Holding his gaze, seeing the fierce surge of magic, his need, and his love, I slid down onto him. “What are you, Blake?”

  “I’m yours.”

  His words burned through me, bringing tears and a deep, aching joy. He was mine. I was his. And the fire of the wraith spiralled white and hot between us, twisting, sharing, binding our souls together.

  His past, my past swirled between us. The flash of magic seared over our flesh in a violent wave, and I couldn’t fight it. It burned faster. And faster. It brought with it the promise of unity, of healing, and of us being together. Always.

  I fought to breathe, the glory of what we could become shining through my mind. So close, I was so close my blood thrummed. There was no finesse. I wanted only for us to fuck and find our release, for it to be wild and free. Just like the magic churning around us.

  With a grin, I found Blake’s mouth as I rode him, swallowing his groans. His hands gripped my hips, urging me faster. His tail—by all that was unholy—his tail slipped over my backside, teasing my puckered hole and dancing sparks through my body.

  Orgasm flickered at the edge of my senses. I was so close, close enough to taste the wild power of my release, just there on the edge of my flesh.

  “Leona...”

  The soft vibration of his voice in my mind arched my spine, and it brought with it a final rush of fire searing through me. I broke from his mouth and cried out, my voice echoing across the chamber as I lost myself in the violent surge of joy and freeing magic.

  And magic twisted, the wraith and the power bound to the throne, spiralling fresh sensation until I wanted to scream. Blake. It was Blake. He needed to let go. “Come for me. Please.”

  With a shuddering groan, he
buried his face in my neck and let the joy and the magic take him. I stroked the arch of his wing—the smooth, taut skin and the hardness of the bone beneath a new experience. His wings drew back, and I missed the warmth of them. I pressed a kiss to his jaw, and Blake’s arms tightened around me for a brief moment before he relaxed back against the throne

  A slow, soft silence surrounded us now, the earth quiet and at peace in a way I had never felt before.

  Blake let out a slow breath. “Can you feel it? It’s healed.”

  I stared at him. “What?”

  He laughed. I blinked. He had never laughed before. “Did I distract you from the reason why we were having sex? Want to play with my wings again?”

  I grinned at him. “Maybe…?” The lightness filled me, and then I knew what he was talking about. “Magic’s healed.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that means...?”

  He lifted his palm and narrowed his gaze there. A silver stream of fire danced across his fingers, twisting and flickering until it faded, leaving behind the faint hint of the ocean. Blake’s smile was to himself. “Oh, that’s different.”

  “You had magic before.”

  He shook his head. “No. I didn’t. I had limited control of my dragon form, had to pull at my soul to perform magic. That was where my magic came from. This is something completely different. Not directed, but living within me.” He lifted my palm. “Now you try.”

  I stared at my hand and thought about seeing a sprig of flame. Silver edged my vision, and with a faint pop, a sliver of pale fire tickled my palm. What the…? I started, yelped, curled my fingers and extinguished the brief flame. Blake laughed.

  “The Council and the guild masters are not going to be happy.” He held his palm over mine and laced his own magic through me. The sensation thrummed in my blood. Unconsciously, I tightened my thighs, and the hardness of his cock fired fresh desire through my flesh. “And I think we should find somewhere more comfortable.”

  "That would be...better.”

  I slid down from his lap and stared around the chamber. The floor had solidified to a smooth, hard-packed earth, and the damp walls still glowed with organic lights…but the throne had faded, the gold dulling to grey sand. “Magic’s free, free for anyone to use and control.”