Wyoming Dynasty (American Dragons Book 10)

by Aaron Crash

“Can I get you a refill, sir?” The barista’s AnimusChain took her energy from her Animus core and poured it into his.

  Fueled up, Steven breathed an Inferno into the room, bathing Collidium in flames. The smell of frying fish boiled out in a black smoke. Those walls should protect the Indian Dragonsouls from being injured. That was why he hadn’t use ShadowFlame or ChromaticFury—he didn’t want to risk killing Godha or Rhakshor Khat’s wives.

  Collidium was injured, yes, but that wasn’t going to kill someone who could manipulate reality as well as he could. Steven wanted this lucky elf thing gone, and he didn’t think he could end the fight on Earth.

  Steven spiraled a portal, leapt forward, and shifted into his Homo Draconis form. He sank his claws into Collidium, and then pulled him through the fiery doorway and onto the surface of the moon.

  Tessa remained in the casino, her face smeared with the pink cotton candy, her short hair bright red. “I’m not going to let you face him alone, Steven!”

  “No!” Steven yelled.

  But the barista stepped through as the portal closed.

  Immediately, her face iced over. She gasped before collapsing onto the dust of the lunar surface. She had mere seconds to live.

  Steven was using DarkArmor and SerpentGrace, both required for StellarFlight. In seconds he was covered in a mixture of scales and ice. He stood with the fried body of Collidium on a flat plain of dust pockmarked with craters big and small.

  The blue-green gem of the Earth hung against the dark curtain of space, lit by the fiery sun. It looked much bigger than it did from Earth—bigger, hotter, he could feel the radiation. StellarFlight magic kept him safe from the deadly cosmic rays.

  Tessa wouldn’t survive. She’d die. He sped forward.

  And found a Glaive shoved into the icy scales of his chest. Collidium had stabbed him, in the upper-right part of his abdomen, and that spear hurt... hurt like nothing else. The Glaive wanted him dead; he could feel its intent.

  Foris Foranna, the first king, the lost king, the unlucky number, stood there, the smoke dissipating, his hair burned from his head. He winced in the vacuum. He too was icing over, the moisture of his body freezing. And yet, the villain shoved the Glaive deeper into Steven’s chest, and the pain brightened, a sharp light of death and destruction, making Steven’s head swim.

  Collidium couldn’t talk, as there wasn’t enough air or anything to carry the soundwaves. But the lost king could hit him directly in his thoughts. You fucker, you brought me to your fucking moon? And it’s not even a cool moon, like on another world, or someplace more interesting on the Stair. Not Yavin, not Endor, just your plain old boring moon. Well, buddy, this is where you die. Lucky or skilled, it’s me, choosing to end you. I just wish there was air so I could hear you scream. Alas... The Glaive twisted deeper into the muscle under Steven’s scales.

  Steven didn’t know the mechanics of the magic, but he heard Tessa laughing in his head. There is an atmosphere here, douchebag, only it’s really fucking thin. No, maybe you’re right. Technically, I think it’s called an exosphere. At any rate, leave the Star Wars references to me.

  There was no sound as Collidium staggered forward. Blood bubbled out of his back along with pieces of his golden armor, wrecked by Tessa’s enchanted bullet.

  The gunslinging barista had shot him in the back. The force of her shot sent her streaking across the lunar surface until the lavender light brightened, and she took control of her flight, her StellarFlight. She came arcing back toward him. She was an icy splotch of lavender light with her grin leading the way.

  Thanks to her Bellicosia skills, Tessa had StellarFlight.

  Collidium pushed himself up, and he went to flee, but no, Steven shifted human, for an instant, just long enough to feel the bite of space and to retrieve the Night Lance from his body. Thanks to the teardrop amulet, it had shifted with him. He then stood as a Homo Draconis as he jammed the mystical spear through Collidium’s stomach and out the back side.

  That will keep you from going anywhere, Steven sent.

  Tessa landed behind him, waiting, with both of her Peacekeepers trained on the lost king. The ice around her had hardened into what looked like scales under the glowing lavender light. StellarFlight was protecting her and giving her breath.

  She looked badass.

  Steven turned his attention back to his enemy. Blood leaked down Collidium’s chin. Some stuck there, frozen, while some bubbled away.

  The villain grinned sickly. Ironic, I would’ve killed you all if you hadn’t had the Night Lance. Maybe you should show mercy on me. I would imagine one of us could heal this wound.

  Speaking of wounds, Steven was feeling the effects of his.

  Maybe you shouldn’t have cheated, he sent back. My ace beat your seven.

  Collidium nodded. It was a bad choice. You did well, Steven, and it was mostly skill that beat me. That and the spear.

  Why did you give us the Night Lance? Steven asked.

  Collidium must’ve been getting air from somewhere because he coughed, and more gore bubbled away. Gave it to a flunky, that Umbra girl, and I figured you may or may not figure it out. You did, skillfully. Didn’t count on Quinnie showing up. And there you have it, luck. Another cough as the elf king clutched at the spear in his belly. Maybe I was foolish to give you the Night Lance, but this feels good. I haven’t been beaten in a long time.

  Steven raised his hand, the blinding light of IonClaws shining as bright as the sun in the distance.

  The lost king glanced up at his death. You know, I thought of going for your son because I thought luck, skill, and choice had made you too powerful. Looks like I was right.

  I don’t have a son.

  Collidium grinned, sickly, bloody. You will.

  The dream he’d had on Xanadu came back to him all at once, the dream of him holding his son.

  If that’s the case, you won’t be touching him. Steven used HeartStrike to pull the elf legend’s heart out of his chest.

  The Day Glaive, the Night Lance, the Net of Stars, and the Sack of Seed all faded away, as did the armor on the elf. Only, he wasn’t an elf, but a man, in boots and jeans. The “Lucky” shirt was ruined, a huge hole in the chest and a gash in the belly. The corpse of Frank Sport—or was it George Roy Hooker?—floated down to settle into the lunar dust.

  Tessa stepped over, in the slow, bouncing moonwalk Steven had seen on TV a thousand different times. Only, neither Neil Armstrong nor Buzz Aldrin had a dragonish helmet made of light and ice covering their head. Tessa’s pretty eyes glowed with her love for him. A Magica Cura later, and she’d healed his wound. Then she used Divinatio to talk to him. Hey, this is burial enough for this fuck nugget. How about I race you home?

  He looked up and saw that the North American continent was visible, an uneven brown shape against the blue and green of the seas. Okay.

  But Tessa was already zooming away.

  He cocked his head. It was cheating, but then, he was used to playing games with cheaters. Once he rested, he’d come back and reduce the body on the moon to nothing. RealityFire was as with destruction as it was with creation.

  Steven shifted into his True Form and raced off the surface of the moon.

  He increased his speed, but not too much, because in the end, for him, it simply wasn’t that far to Wyoming, where love and family waited. And peace. Finally, after so much fighting with dragons and demons and gods, he would be able to rest.

  His work had led him to his skills, and his choices had led him to his luck. But how many people worked their asses off and got nowhere? Bad choices? Bad destiny?

  He didn’t know. He did know it was his responsibility to be grateful, every day, for his luck and his life—for as long as both lasted.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  QUINNESTRI UWENEEL was no longer in the southeast suite of the perimeter hotel. She’d moved into the bedroom at the top of the central spire of the Infinity Ranch’s main house. It was silly, but she wanted to feel like she w
as living in a palace and not a hotel. And it was doubly silly because she generally kept the walls turned off so she could see the endless plains of this dry land. Her magic kept the wind at bay.

  She loved hearing the squeals of laughter below from the children at the pool, or the murmurings of the women talking in the eastern outdoor living room. And she had views of the windbreaks, commemorating the various battles that Steven had survived. A new one called the Collidium Game stood further south.

  Mouse said that it reminded her of a Robert Ludlum novel. The Collidium Game.

  Tessa said that Collidium sounded like a sexually transmitted disease... as in “I have a bad case of Collidium, and I need a round of antibiotics.”

  Quinnestri had nothing funny to say. Once again, she regretted her decision to stay Vandrus Dree’s hand; they should’ve cut the lost king’s throat when they’d had the chance. Steven told her what Foris Foranna had said about seeding Aqualyra. Was it true? She didn’t know. But after Steven killed the lost king, the weapons of the Four Protectors returned to the secret armories on Aqualyra, hidden away from all except for the upper echelons of Lyran royalty. King Selius Asreyel vowed the weapons would be kept safe.

  Quinn had put in a smaller bed, a desk, bookshelves, and a few other necessaries, including a little bathroom in an extra-dimensional space. Thanks to her Flesh magic, she wouldn’t have to go all the way down into the main house to use the bathroom.

  Soon after Collidium’s death, the dark elf had come to Quinn, asking if the Lyran queen could help heal her voice. Heridan did the translation. Nefri had a very real reason why she wanted her voice box restored, and it had melted Quinn’s heart.

  The elf queen, Tessa, and Steven had gotten to work, which included long discussions about the nature of Morta and Animus, NecroMend and FleshForge.

  After many pleasant nights and several long days making love to the Morta creatures, the Lyran queen knew she could work with Steven to heal Nefri. Sabina had confirmed it.

  And again, the Latina Magician refused to have them work on her eyes. Tessa had come up with a workaround. The barista used Enchantrix to create a pair of glasses for Sabina, not to help her see, but to store Animus in them so the Latina Magician always had access to plenty of power. They worked like the IEGs, and with the amount of sex Sabina had, the glasses would forever be fully charged. They were a striking green color, which made sense, since most of the time Sabina had glowing green eyes.

  And now, weeks later, Quinnestri was with Nefri and Steven in her tower room. Quinn let enough air in to cool the room, and she liked the scent of the sagebrush.

  They were ready to try and heal the damaged tissue of the dark elf.

  “I’m ready,” Steven said. “Are you?”

  Quinn smiled at him. “Not really. I fear I might accidently cast a spell so she can never say cruel things to me.”

  Nefri scowled and flipped them both off... again.

  Both Quinnestri and Steven stood over the dark elf, who sat on a chair in the center of the room.

  Nefri was as nervous as she’d been haughty. She kept smirking at Quinn, then tearing up, then giving both her and Steven obscene finger gestures.

  Quinn touched her neck. As did Steven.

  He adjusted her Morta, using NecroMend, while Quinn repaired the tissue with her Soul magic. If anything, once they were done, Nefri would be even more drawn to Heridan. Back when Zothora ruled the darkness, NecroMend cemented the healed to the Utereich. The Prosha had taken the Horror Mother’s place.

  Quinn and Steven stepped back.

  The scars on Nefri’s throat were gone. She sat, eyes closed, so beautiful with her white hair and dark blue skin.

  Her purple eyes opened. “I do not. I do not believe. It did not work.” Nefri blinked. Then she burst into tears. She threw herself into Steven’s arms, and Quinn held them both. The Lyran queen cried as well, because it was like Zoey said: In the Infinity Ranch, no one should ever have to cry alone.

  Nefri drew back. “Now. Steven. I can say my vows to you.”

  That was the big event on the horizon. On the Sunday before the fall equinox, September 20, there was going to be a wedding and a farewell party, both on the same night. Dragonsouls married on Sunday nights, at midnight, unless they were battling legends in Dodge City that is.

  The Shadow Archer kissed Steven, whirled, and kissed Quinn, and then she smacked the elf queen on her gowned ass. “You. I will speak very dirty to you next time we fuck. You bad bitch.” She could talk, but her words came out stilted, not unlike her thoughts.

  Nefri winked and then scooted out of the room, excited to tell the rest of her sisters she had a voice now.

  “That’s all I need.” Steven sighed. “Another talkative wife causing trouble. At least the Morta Clique isn’t a thing anymore.”

  Quinn still had Nefri’s scent in her nose and her taste in her mouth. She didn’t need much to get her excited, and then it took days to find satisfaction, if she ever did. She remembered talking to Tessa, when Quinn wondered if having sex for days on end might be a bad thing. Now, her fears seemed groundless. She was alive, and she might as well enjoy it. And with their healing powers, they didn’t need to worry about STDs, and they didn’t need antibiotics. Also, no one needed to worry about getting pregnant.

  Quinn shoved herself into Steven’s arms. She kissed him, sucked on his tongue, sucked on his lips, and squeezed his cute butt. She found herself grinding her clit against his leg.

  She took hold of herself and backed away from him. She wanted to finish a conversation they’d been having off and on for days now, since they’d ended the Collidium Game.

  “Steven.” She inhaled, trying to clear her mind. “I want to talk about Foris Foranna.”

  Steven looked confused and disappointed. “I thought you and I would, you know, have the sex.”

  Quinn gave him an annoyed look. “‘Have the sex’ is not an idiom in your American English.” She let out a nervous breath. “Steven, Foris Foranna was elven, but I think he was something more. Which has had me thinking. I want to be more. I want to talk to you about the Dragonskin rituals.”

  Steven turned deadly serious. “Quinn, we don’t know if it will work. You have some Alpherian blood in you, from some ancestor, but it might not be enough. And your magic is different than what the Dragonsouls have. It could cause a problem.” He frowned. “Sabina, Tessa, and I talked with Liam Strider, and we all agree, altering your core could damage your mind. It could destroy it. I think it’s too risky.”

  The elf woman stepped up to Steven and took his hand. “I have left Aqualyra behind. I am my own person now, and while that is freeing, it is also frightening. I need something in my life to give it meaning. I want to become something unique. Aria has her Mora core and her Angel Knife heart. Heridan has dark powers. You have your two cores. I want this, Steven. I want to try.”

  “Too bad you can’t just marry me,” he said.

  Quinnestri could... she was no longer connected to her people. In some ways, she’d always be a queen, and in others? That part of her life was over. Would they remember her as the lost queen? Would she become a myth like Foris Foranna?

  She didn’t know, but the idea of marrying Steven scared her. Trying to become a Dragonskin, perhaps the first Lyra to do so, had her curious and excited. Yes, it was also scary, but it felt right.

  “Will you support me in my new adventure?” she asked Steven.

  He smiled mischievously. “Only if we have sex, right now, on your bed. Sorry, I know it’s extortion, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “I accept your terms.” She felt like laughing. She felt like crying. More than anything, she wanted to dance with joy. For most of her long life, she’d been the queen of her people, and she’d served them well. Every thought had been for them and their benefit.

  This new challenge, this new path, felt perfect for her. She’d lost much of her magic, a good deal of her memories, and most importantly, her identi
ty since leaving Aqualyra.

  Becoming a Dragonskin would restore much of that. And if she failed, lost her mind, or died? Her legacy would still be that she’d aided Steven Drokharis in ending the Zothoric. Nothing and no one could take that away from her.

  She and Steven were naked by the time they got to the bed. And then she rode him, rising up and down, watching his face and enjoying the heat in his eyes. His lust triggered her own. Her bliss gave him some of his own.

  This wonderful thing, this Steven Drokharis, had become her everything. She was so grateful that she’d found a place with him in his home and in his heart. If that was the case, why was she afraid of marrying him?

  STEVEN WAS LEAVING the wedding preparation to his Escort. He’d tried to have an opinion on the food. He’d stupidly mentioned that he wanted two kinds of cake, chocolate and vanilla.

  Tessa had gone nuclear. Zoey had burst into tears, why, he wasn’t quite sure, and that meant she had to find someone to cry with her. That was also Tessa.

  Chazzie and Pru just glared at him.

  Steven might be stupid, but he wasn’t dumb. He’d let his wives figure out everything, including the cake. They could have all the fun they wanted.

  That Sunday night, they’d have the wedding and a special goodbye party.

  He’d be glad once it was over. Having a baby and a wedding was far too much. Sabina, though, was showering more, laughing more, and had given the role of the sarcastic wife back to Mouse.

  To take breaks from the drama, Steven went on long motorcycle rides, racing down I-80, into Nebraska, or tooling up to Guernsey Reservoir, northeast of Wheatland.

  The Monday before the wedding, he drove to Guernsey, where they’d had an epic battle with Jaxon Wenck. He rode to a brick picnic area on the cliffs overlooking the green lake. The locals called it the castle.

  The place was deserted.

  During the summer, from Memorial Day to Labor Day Weekend, the lake was packed with campers and water-skiers. After that, not many people visited the place.