“What the fuck is black stone?”
“It's poisonous to draconians,” the demon explained in short. “I'll have to teleport him to Atlanta and hope his brother's home, otherwise he'll die. But I can't take both of you that far, and Lillian's probably still around, waiting for her chance.”
“How long does he have?”
“A few minutes at best.”
“Minutes?” she asked urgently.
“It's a wound in a vital area, otherwise he might have a day to live without help.”
Hearing this, her heart sped up. “Fuck! Think, Charlotte!”
She would've told Isaac to take him to his brother regardless of Lillian's presence, but when it was possible he might not find any help, it seemed like a bad idea that would only waste valuable time.
Could Isaac bring Ulric's brother to them? How could the sibling help anyway?
Suddenly, she recalled how Ulric revitalized himself before. Electricity. Her eyes hit his rented truck with the revelation, and she stood quickly, exclaiming, “Rozdra!”
“What?”
She didn't take the time to answer, running to the truck to open the carrier and get the wyvern out. Once Rozdra was in her arms, she returned to Ulric and placed her on his chest.
The wyvern shrieked, sniffing about as Charlotte urged her, “Come on Rozdra, you have to electrocute him!”
“I didn't know he had Liam's wyvern,” Isaac mentioned, casting a considerate look at Charlotte. “Good thinking.”
“Thanks,” she replied, keeping her eyes glued to Ulric and checking his pulse.
She couldn't find anything in his wrist, deciding to use the one at his neck where she found a slow thump beneath her index finger. When Ulric took a breath that sounded choked, her heart pounded with the fear of loosing him.
Quickly, she turned her attention back to the wyvern and begged, “Please, just shock him, Rozdra!”
As if sensing his need, Rozdra spread her wings, flapping them to gain height. Isaac took Charlotte's arm and pulled her away as the wyvern lifted herself, hovering about three feet above Ulric's body when her head reared back.
With a loud screech, she unleashed several forks of bright lightning from her mouth. The electricity flooded down into the dying draconian, waves surging through his body, making his muscles tense until the charge died.
The wyvern then swooped back down and landed on his chest as Charlotte checked his pulse a second time.
It was much more steady now. “Do you think it worked?”
“He could use a few more jolts,” Isaac replied. “That wyvern won't be able to give him the juice he needs at once, and she could kill herself trying. But he'll have a fighting chance now.”
“His breathing's steady at least,” she reported after placing a hand on his chest to feel the even rise and fall there.
Isaac walked around and took Ulric's arm, slinging it over his shoulder to lift the draconian before heading to the truck.
“I'll drive,” he announced on the way.
“Where are we going?”
The demon didn't answer at first, too busy getting Ulric into the backseat with Charlotte's help. Once he was laying across the seat, she climbed inside and dug the keys from his pocket to hand to Isaac.
“I'll take you to the first hotel I find,” he started, shutting the back door before teleporting into the driver's seat to start the truck, where he added, “If Ulric's dead by the time we get there, I'll do as he asked and take you to a Spire, but I won't stick around to show you the ropes.”
Out of sheer curiosity, Charlotte inquired, “Where will you go?”
“To fucking avenge him,” Isaac replied menacingly, proving he cared what happened more than Charlotte thought.
And the tone of his voice made her pray she never got onto his bad side.
The entire way to the first accommodation Isaac could find, Charlotte held Ulric with his head in her lap, realizing he was sweating with a fever. So she got Rozdra to shock him a second time, ducking into the floorboard to avoid being electrocuted along with him.
The first motel they came to was about fifteen minutes down the road. It wasn't the greatest place by far, but it didn't matter. Charlotte hopped out of the truck and went inside the small lobby to procure a room—as casually as possible—then returned to tell Isaac which one it was.
The demon teleported Ulric inside so no one would see him while Charlotte grabbed Rozdra's carrier and hurried in after them.
The room was upstairs, and she unlocked it with her key, finding a small accommodation waiting that wasn't very well decorated, though it was neat. Setting the carrier on the kitchen table, she headed to the bed in the back of the room where Ulric was now laying.
“It looks like he's gonna be okay,” Isaac mentioned. “Probably just sick for a while.”
“How can you tell?”
“He's still breathing,” came his plain response.
Charlotte supposed Ulric was lucky in that case, but the news was also relieving. Seeing him in this state, and knowing how dire the situation was had her more panicked than she thought she'd be.
“You'll be safe here,” Isaac mentioned, “so I'm gonna go track Lillian, find out where the bitch is hiding. Tell Ulric that when he wakes up.”
“Okay,” Charlotte agreed, sitting on the bed before adding, “Thank you, Isaac.”
“Huh, gratitude. It always seems weird coming from a mortal,” he remarked in passing before burning away from sight.
Charlotte decided not to guess at why that was, putting all of her attention on the current situation.
Rozdra had retreated to her carrier for a nap, so Charlotte left a window open just in case the wyvern decided to leave at random. Then she grabbed a wet clothe from the bathroom, and returned to the bed, placing it across Ulric's forehead.
He didn't move, though his breathing was steady, and she asked softly, “Ulric? Are you okay?”
No response. He merely continued dozing peacefully.
It was strange seeing him this vulnerable, perhaps because Charlotte had come to expect him to be like a superhero, always shaking off the bad without much worry. But she could see now that though Ulric was immortal, he could most certainly be hurt and killed.
Why did she feel like it was all her fault? He'd only been after a curse box, which wasn't of interest to Lillian. But she'd poisoned and nearly killed him because he was protecting Charlotte.
Now, she was helpless to do anything but try easing his discomfort, cleaning the blood from the corner of his mouth and the stab wound. Thankfully, it wasn't anywhere near as bad as it should've been after Rozdra's shocks, but he was still feverish.
Briefly, she wondered if a fae could've healed him completely, still unsure of what their kind could do. Laying down next to Ulric once done tending his injury, Charlotte supposed it didn't matter now.
She was more concerned with her shifting emotions.
Thinking he'd die made her chest ache, as if she would've lost something much more valuable than a bodyguard—something irreplaceable. She would never forget the way he'd forced himself up after Lillian grabbed her throat either. Ulric was trying to protect her beyond his pain, and it was easy to tell how agonizing the injury was when the stone was forced deeper into his torso.
Suddenly, keeping her feelings separate from the situation seemed impossible. Guilt, admiration, gratitude, and concern were all there, proving she wasn't as detached as she would've liked to be.
“I'm so sorry, Ulric,” Charlotte whispered, reaching up to swipe a hand across her cheek when a single tear rolled down it. “I've been confused, and I don't know where to turn, but I didn't mean to get you hurt this way.”
“No,” she heard Ulric rasp, “no apologies, sweetness.”
Charlotte sat up quickly, asking, “Are you okay?”
He'd slowly opened his eyes, shaking his head while turning to get up, and nearly fell off the bed. She grabbed him before he could pitch forward as he mut
tered, “I'm about to vomit.”
Charlotte reacted by grabbing the first thing she could find—being a trashcan not far from the bed at the entrance of the kitchen—and took it to Ulric before he could make a mess on the carpet. Not that it'd hurt the color, she qualified while looking at the ugly brown flooring.
As he emptied his stomach into it, Charlotte located a glass to get some water from the faucet and brought it over, having never witnessed someone retching so painfully before. But it couldn't be pleasant when he had a hole in his gut.
Ulric washed his mouth out once it was over, and she helped him lay back again, propping him up on the pillows.
“What's … happened?”
“I got Rozdra to shock you, then Isaac brought us here and said to tell you he went to look for Lillian. He sounded pretty pissed, too.”
Ulric scoffed. “He would be. Where's Rozdra?”
“Sleeping. I brought her carrier inside. Is it okay for her to be in the hotel room?”
Ulric groaned, his eyes closed, and Charlotte almost thought he'd fallen asleep before he muttered, “She might damage things.”
That wasn't surprising. Rozdra didn't seem like the type of animal you wanted to keep indoors.
Ulric then rasped, “Feel like I'm dying.”
“Don't you dare,” Charlotte countered. “If you die and leave me stranded four states away from home, I'm gonna kick your corpse's ass.”
Her lame joke didn't fall on deaf ears when the smallest of smiles graced Ulric's lips for a brief moment, and his hand found hers. She looked down at it, twining her fingers through his while noticing their size differences when Ulric softly requested, “Stay?”
It was hard hearing the weakness in his voice, and Charlotte had to fight back guilty tears, promising, “I'm not going anywhere, Ulric. Not without you. So just rest.”
He seemed to relax as she swept his long hair from his shoulders, proposing with a smile, “I should put you in a tub of water and throw in a toaster.”
But Ulric didn't respond, his breathing even, suggesting he'd fallen asleep. So she remained quiet, figuring her idea likely held some merit despite the humor in it. Sadly, it'd probably start a fire.
Charlotte spent the early morning hours watching over Ulric the old fashioned way, and thankfully, his fever eventually showed signs of improvement, allowing her to relax enough that she fell asleep next to him without meaning to.
The last thought she had before dozing off was to wonder if she'd be wrong to regret that nothing meaningful could ever come between them.
Chapter 17
If it weren't for Charlotte, last night would've been Ulric's last.
He woke in the afternoon to find her curled up against his side, resting peacefully, and it felt so right he almost went back to sleep. But he forced himself to get up without waking her, then showered and came back to call Dalris with an update.
Dalris wasn't at all happy to learn that Lillian had actually used black stone against his youngest brother, and more importantly, he relayed that Garrick wasn't home. So if Isaac had teleported Ulric to Atlanta, he would've lost too much energy to take him anywhere else.
So Charlotte's quick thinking saved him.
While on the phone, he sat back against the headboard of the bed, and she rolled over in her sleep with her hand landing against the same place he'd been stabbed, which was now completely healed. Her cheek came to rest against his bare chest, and without thinking about it, Ulric latched an arm around her, waiting for her to rouse so he could thank her properly.
He'd hated how scared she'd sounded before he'd passed out, but knowing she cared, even if only a little, was refreshing after worrying he'd made a mistake in telling her the truth.
When it came to her transition, Dalris had no news. He'd found a few tomes, but none of them mentioned anything about mortal fae from what he'd seen so far, though he was going to keep looking.
Ulric thanked him for the effort, and Charlotte began to stir as he hung up. Putting the phone down, he turned his attention to her, asking softly, “Sleep well?”
She suddenly sat up, her cheeks tinted pink, telling Ulric she was embarrassed about where she found herself laying. He smiled over it as she looked away, replying, “Yeah. Do you feel better?”
“Much,” he answered, reaching to tilt her face back toward him so he could pin her gaze, adding, “thanks to you.”
Charlotte quickly denied his praise. “Thanks to me, you got hurt to begin with. All you want is the curse box. I'm the one with vampires on my ass.”
“No,” Ulric countered, “Garrick wasn't home last night, so if you hadn't used Rozdra, I'd be dead.”
“Oh.” She looked legitimately surprised, and her cheeks lit up more brightly. “I'm glad, then. I was feeling really guilty about it.”
Hearing her concern made the urge to kiss her become overwhelming, and he was just about to lean forward and capitalize on the moment when she asked, “What's black stone anyway?”
Ulric sighed, trying to focus and fight his urges. “That's a long story, something my father told me when I was a boy.”
“I don't mind hearing it.”
Charlotte scooted over to the pillows next to him, curious interest in her green eyes as she gazed up at him expectantly, and Ulric stifled a groan. She was simply too alluring for his own good, but he didn't deny her, beginning the tale.
“The Great Dragons had a friendly rivalry with one another long ago, wanting to establish who was the strongest of them, the fastest, and so on. But after a time, it displeased the pantheon.”
“What's the pantheon?”
“The gods and goddesses,” Ulric explained. “They'd created the dragons to protect various parts of the world, not combat each other. So one of the gods cursed the valley where they'd shed blood. As a result, the land and trees withered and died, turning black. The dragons grew deathly ill, and stayed that way until they vowed to never fight again.”
After letting that sink in, Ulric continued, “The curse was lifted with their promise, but the stones remained black as a reminder. They're found in the Black Dales, named for that story, and it's forbidden to take the stones from there. So I wanted to ask if Isaac kept the shank, or do you even know?”
“I saw him put it in his pocket.”
“Good,” Ulric replied, knowing Isaac would pass it on to Dalris, who'd take the stone to the other elders of Dragon's Brood—the Order overlooking draconic affairs in the mortal realm. They'd likely attack the Rymid in retaliation, specifically if Charlotte turned out to be Ulric's mate.
So Lillian's actions were telling. She'd mentioned Charlotte being in high demand, and it had to be true if she was risking such a steep price to abduct her.
But for what exactly? Once his current job was concluded, Ulric intended to find out.
“I'm taking it Lillian's use of that stone could cause her trouble,” Charlotte suggested.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Once word gets out, she'll have to be careful of any draconian she encounters who knows her identity.”
“I hope she's popular then,” Charlotte qualified, offering Ulric a warm smile. “But I'm just glad you're okay.”
She sounded sincere, and Ulric watched her, quietly admiring the strawberry blonde locks that fell past her shoulders to her back, and then those sensual lips, remembering how they'd felt against his.
Tilting her face up with a finger under her chin, he stared at her mouth, murmuring, “If I don't kiss you again, I won't be,” and took his chance, capturing her lips with a groan.
Charlotte tensed for only a moment before she grabbed him, pushing her fingers into his damp hair. Again, she sounded stunned when she whimpered, her arms wrapping around him tightly, their tongues meeting, stroking into each other while her hands trailed over his back.
She tasted like honey, and he savored it, then turned his face against her throat to press gentle kisses against the healing marks left from the bite she'd received when they'd first
met.
Charlotte remained speechless, and for a brief moment, Ulric thought she might demand he stop, wondering if that wouldn't actually be the best idea. But then she turned her head and whispered his name before kissing him desperately, snaking her tongue along his lips and into his mouth.
Whatever the best idea was faded away with that reaction.
All he could think about was how badly he needed her close, and Ulric found himself pushing forward until Charlotte was on her back beneath him. Her legs parted around his hips as he caught her sudden gasp in his mouth. But then she clutched him more tightly, and he couldn't think, could only feel, slipping his hand up her side, stopping at her breast.
She arched to it in a movement that clearly said keep going.
Desire scorched his blood, and Ulric cupped her soft breast through her clothes, kneading it. When Charlotte moaned for him, her back bowing, his shaft hardened to an uncomfortable degree.
Growling possessively, Wrath nearly consumed him as her fingers trailed down his back and gripped his ass, making him shift against her. The simple movement had shocks of pleasure rolling through his body, and Charlotte jerked as if he'd hit a sensitive spot between her thighs.
Ulric couldn't stop himself, repeating the movement, his hips thrusting back and forth, grinding into her. She broke their kiss with an erotic gasp, clutching her legs around him tightly, and her responses were so vivid Ulric thought he could come from watching them alone.
In fact, there was only one way this could've felt anymore perfect, and vow or not, he wouldn't be content until he'd experienced it.
Charlotte had no idea desire like this existed.
Ulric's kiss was maddening, making everything else seem unimportant, and she couldn't think of a single reason they should stop, even when she found herself beneath his muscular body.
All she could think was that it felt undeniably right.
The gruff, sexy sounds he made drove her crazy, and Charlotte couldn't ignore the fact that she was experiencing a level of sensitivity she'd never known before, exploring his body mindlessly until she'd gripped his ass.
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