by C C Dowling
Shit. Is that what I’m doing? Siding with the dragons? Dharkstar dragons?
Bitterness coats my tongue at that thought. I’ve spent too much of my life hating them to just flip a switch and suddenly like them. The only exception being the maddening, head-strong, sexy-as-fuck dragon standing behind me. I choose her. That’s what I’m doing. The other dragons can go fuck themselves.
“I can’t explain it, Father,” I say, my heart and thighs pulsing with desire at Dhru’s words. She’s mine. “I can’t let you hurt her.”
My father flinches like I’ve struck him, not that I would ever dare. Not for my own sake, at least. “I don’t understand.” I’ve never heard him utter those words. “She took your brother from you.”
“Mayz’s death isn’t her fault,” I say, unsure of how much longer I can hold back the truth. Not if it’ll save Dhru. “It’s yours.”
The muscles in Samael’s forearms jump, just like the ones in his jaw. I know I’m crossing a line he’ll never forgive me for. Truth is, I’ve already crossed so many I no longer see the point of lines.
Fuck! How did I find myself in a situation where I’d have to choose a Dharkstar over my brother? No. Mayz is dead. He can’t be hurt by this anymore. Keeping his secret no longer protects him. But it might destroy Dhru.
With sudden clarity, like lifting a thousand Hells from my shoulders, I realize that I don’t have to choose between Mayz and Dhru. I can love them both.
“Care to explain, Daughter.” Samael’s voice is deadly calm.
Drawing in a deep breath, I steady myself. “Mayz was Destined. To a Siren.” I pause as the screams of battle fill the heavy air around us.
My father’s expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t move. Either he’s still processing what I said, or he doesn’t believe me.
I forge on. “He lied to everyone about why he left because he was afraid. Mayz knew you’d kill him to protect the secret that would get out if anyone discovered he’d bonded to a Lightling. So he ran.”
I pause, give my father the chance to tell me that I’m wrong. To say he would never have hurt Mayz. He remains silent.
“The destruction he wrought on the Inner Realm was because of his bond. The Council dispatched a Called to bring him in, thinking it a rogue feeding frenzy. When the Called and Dhamyan found out the real reason for the deaths, Mayz Seduced them into mating. Dhru is a product of my brother as much as she is of her father. Mayz would never have left if we didn’t have to hide our dual nature. If he’d believed for a second that you would have loved, protected, and defended him. Your tyranny drove him away. You killed my brother.”
Dhru’s hand tightens on my shoulder, making me feel calmer and more confident than I ever could on my own. What she thinks of me, of my fucked-up family, I have no idea. At least she knows the truth. It’s something I’ve held in since the day my brother died. Deep down, a part of me always blamed our father. I just never realized how much until now.
Samael’s expression remains blank. An unreadable mask. His swirling golden eyes the only proof of the storm raging within. A storm that explodes without warning.
“If you aren’t with me, daughter, then you are against me.”
With deadly precision and determination, Samael, archangel of Death and Seduction, draws his sword and swings it at Dhru’s neck. No warning. No battle cry. No regard for me, or how I feel about her, or for anything I’ve said.
Dhru’s amethyst eyes catch fire. She bares her teeth and opens her mouth. But she’s unarmed, and no match for him. If I could react in time, I’d deflect the blow, or parry and push her out of the way. But Samael’s attack catches me off guard. There’s only one thing I can do.
Committing the ultimate blasphemous act against my father, I grip the handle of my dagger and drop to one knee. Putting all my frustration, fear, and resentment behind the blow, I hit the serpentine blade against the floor. Sound waves undulate outward with crippling vibration.
My angel side cringes, but recovers quickly. This is my weapon, and I’ve trained with it for decades, strengthening my Lightling side against its effects. My father hasn’t. His swing falters. The angels below screech. Even Creed takes a knee, but I can’t worry about this hurting him. I have to protect Dhru.
Shaking her head as if she’s being attacked by a nest of hornets, Dhru flails and whimpers. Blood trickles from her nose and ears. Shit. Did my blade do that? She is part Lightling, but that part’s Fae. Not angel. She shouldn’t react as strongly as they do.
Out of time to question it further, I take her hand in mine and jump off the balcony, away from Samael. Only, the hand I grab is no longer human.
A deafening, bellowing roar rends the air, drowning out the screams and chaos of battle. The dragons below answer with a clamor of their own. Beast calling to beast.
Letting go of my dragon, I hit the floor before she does and roll out of the way. Transforming mid-jump, Dhru lands with a thud that shakes the ground, breaks the concrete, and sends web-like cracks up the walls. Her full dragon form is nothing short of magnificent. Nothing short of devastating.
Gunmetal-gray scales flecked with gold, rimmed in purple shadow to prove her Dharkstar heritage, glint in the overhead lights. Scrolling tattoos detailing her extraordinary Fae lineage cover her dragon form from nose to tail. Massive wings unfurl from her back and brush against the ceiling tiles. Brilliant amethyst eyes catch fire beneath curved horns that twist around her head like a crown. Her bulk easily fills over half the available floor space. For a dragon as young as her, it’s an impressive size. Her tail, spiked with silver and gold tips, wraps behind the bar, the sharp, pointed end resting by her feet.
I suck in a breath as pure, unbridled craving ravishes me to my core. I’ve never seen something so glorious. Magnificent. Awe-inspiring. Even with my father being an archangel, my mother one of the Queens of Hell.
“Dhru.” I call to her, not only to warn her of the encroaching Powers, but because I’ve never felt so helpless.
She just transformed. On Earth. Thank Hell the shift didn’t kill her, but she isn’t in the clear yet. She has to change back before permanent damage is done. Not even mature dragons can stay shifted here for long. Inner Realm worlds can’t sustain the energy of an Outer Realmer in true form. If she doesn’t revert to her human body soon, she’ll be ripped apart as the hungry void of Earth seeks to devour her magick.
Oblivious to the terror pumping through my veins, Dhru whips her head toward the Powers charging her. A sword connects with her left haunch. She roars, then draws in a breath, stealing every molecule of air from the room.
Purple fire ignites her scales, engulfing her in flames when she exhales. Liquid mercury sprays from her throat, dousing her angel enemies in something hotter and more consuming than fire. All I can do is stare, mouth open, eyes wide, as the angels coated by her attack melt into a puddle of screams, blood, and bone.
I’ve never seen a dragon, any dragon, do something like that. From the look on every face in the room—angel, dragon, and Fae alike—they haven’t, either.
Movement catches my eye. Tightening the grip on my dagger, I ready an attack. Dark skin and silver eyes make their way toward Dhru as the raging inferno of her scales simmers into nothing more than heat and smoke. Worry and fear twist Creed’s face into a mask of anguish. It’s a look I understand. He’s worried he might lose her if she can’t contain her dragon. I’m worried, too.
Stretching out a hand, he approaches her. Cautious. If the Dhru we know is in control, he has nothing to worry about. If her dragon has taken over, none of us are safe. Jealousy flares in my gut when Dhru’s dragon calms for Creed. But that’s selfish, bullshit thinking. I want him to help her. If he can. No matter what it costs my pride. She’s the focus. She’s what matters.
Creed rubs her front leg at the shoulder. I swear, Dhru almost purrs. I release a shaky breath. If she can calm down, she can shift back. Probably. Hopefully.
Faith isn’t something I’ve ever h
ad much use for. Named deal with certainty. We rely only on ourselves and each other. I see now its value in uncertain times. Never before have I been so damn tempted to steeple my hands and pray.
Closing his eyes, Creed leans into her. She lowers her head and nuzzles her snout against his neck. They don’t notice the Power moving in for the kill behind them. I do.
I don’t even think about the implication of a Named saving the life of a Called. It isn’t so much that I give a shit about him. It’s that I’ve fallen for Dhru. If Creed dies, she dies, and I know, somewhere deep inside, that I’d die, too.
Releasing a battle cry that contains all the frustration, anger, hurt, and betrayal of the past twenty-four hours, I scrape the floor with my serpentine blade and make it sing. Using the well-trained and toned muscles in my legs, I push off the ground, twist in the air, and bring the sharp, pointy end of my Infidium dagger down on the Power. Meeting minimal resistance, I drag the metal all the way down the spine of my foe, splitting him. Two pieces hit the ground where one intact angel once stood.
My father and I may have our differences, and our relationship might well be beyond repair, but right now, I’m grateful for all the years spent learning the most efficient, practical ways to slaughter angels. It’s good to know my time wasn’t wasted.
The scent of Lightling blood invigorates me. I lick the blade, then my hands, clean. My stomach rumbles a contented response. When I glance at my dragon, I meet the eyes of her Called instead. Weapon ready. Eyes fierce. What he thinks of what he just witnessed, I can only imagine. Throwing my hands up in a non-combative gesture, I wait for his next move.
His knuckles pale from the grip he has on his weapon. As far as Called Weapons go, the double-bladed, nasty-as-hell spiked axe is one of the most impressive ones I’ve seen. I almost laugh as I imagine Dhru making a joke about the impressive size of her Called’s weapon. Instead, I clutch my chest and wait for the spike of fear and pain to pass. If we can’t save her, she’ll never make a lewd comment or bitchy remark again. What a dull world this would be without her foul mouth in it.
Creed’s eyes narrow. I swear he growls an instant before Dhru’s dragon does. He could hack me to pieces with his axe, and there isn’t a damned thing I’d do about it. A terrifying sort of peace blankets me. No matter what happens, I won’t fight back. Can’t without hurting Dhru. I’d die before I’d hurt her.
And dying just might be what I have to do.
Holding Creed’s gaze, I wait for the Called to make his decision. Friend or foe. Thankfully, he chooses friend. With a nod, he thanks me. One warrior to another.
“Help her,” I say so only he can hear, in a tone that tries to mask the utter desperation surging through me. “Whatever it takes. I’ve got your back.”
If he has any skepticism about trusting me, he doesn’t show it. Instead, Creed closes his eyes and hums a tune I can’t quite make out with determined focus.
I glance up at the balcony, looking for my father. He’s bound to be pissed I used my weapon against him. Not that I can do anything if he chooses to attack, but still. I don’t want to be blindsided. Relief and apprehension sweep through me when I don’t see him on the balcony, or anywhere on this level. He isn’t gone, I can still sense him, but for now, he’s hiding. Staying out of the way to see what Dhru’s capable of? To watch my next move? Don’t know. Don’t care. Doesn’t matter if we can’t get Dhru back into her human form.
Grabbing the severed Power’s sword off the ground, I leap through the air and take off the head of an angel focused on the meaty underside of my dragon. Blood sprays my cheeks. My heart pounds in my chest. A cry of victory leaves my lips. There’s comfort in the carnage of battle. It’s far easier than dealing with the emotions that surface around Dhru, with the fear of losing something I just found.
A thrashing roar brings my awareness crashing back to the moment. “Harlo!” Panic spikes Creed’s voice. Part of me doesn’t want to turn toward him. Doesn’t want to watch the demise of Dhru.
Steadying myself for the worst, I head his way, ducking at the last second beneath the massive dragon tail smashing every bottle of liquor behind the bar. My heart sinks at the sight. Not because of the loss of booze or the destruction of the nightclub, but because, if Dhru’s smashing six shelves’ worth of alcohol, she’s definitely not in control of herself.
When I reach Creed, his features are twisted in agony. One of his arms is wrapped around Dhru’s leg. The other reaches for me. I take it. No question. No hesitation.
“I can’t reach her.” Creed’s tone is harsh. Broken. “I can’t calm her dragon. Maybe you can.”
I expect those words to be judgmental. Hateful. Resentful. But Creed is none of those things. He cares about saving Dhru in any way possible, even if it means sharing her with me. I understand. I’d do the same.
“I’ll try,” I say around the lump in my throat that threatens to choke me. She’s been too long in this form. Even if she survives the shift back, she might lose her mind in the process. Unstable dragons are put down because they’re dangerous. A dragon like Dhru even more so.
No. I refuse to accept that. Refuse to give up on Dhru. She hasn’t followed a single damn rule yet. She’s not about to start now.
Tapping into the base of my demonic power, I unfurl the place within me that’s overloaded with energy thanks to Dhru’s orgasms. Waves of lust, want, and need pulse through me in sheets of unbridled, raging power. Placing one hand on Dhru, the other on Creed, I open my heart and soul to them both.
Heat, fire, and destruction race through the bond I’ve created, ravishing me until I’m consumed by it. Until there is no separation between dragon and Succubus. Dharkstar and Named. Enemy and Destined.
My body lands against something hard. Darkness engulfs me. Numbness tingles along every nerve. It feels as if I’ve died, been ripped apart, reassembled with new and different pieces, and given life again. Only, the life I have doesn’t belong to just me. It’s Dhru’s, too.
Something soft brushes against my cheek. Pressure engulfs my hand. “Harlo.” My name reaches my ears on a whisper.
Lips caress mine, sending a spark of pure energy straight to my heart. I imagine this is what jump-starting a car feels like after its battery dies. My body spasms as I gulp in air, my lungs fighting hard to expand. When they do, the most delicious taste in any world coats my tongue—tangy musk and spiced heat. Dhru’s scent.
“Dhru?” I want to say. No. I want to rejoice, but my voice isn’t working yet. Neither is my eyesight. Everything’s fuzzy, as if I’m trying to see the past the surface from underwater. “Are you okay?” I manage to croak out.
“Never fucking better,” she answers. “Thank you. You saved my ass just now.”
“I’ll always save your ass,” I say, because it’s true. As long as I draw breath, I’ll protect what’s mine.
I finally understand why Mayz ran from our father. Why he left me and our mother. He had to protect his Destined at all costs. And it did cost him. He paid the ultimate price. Just like I’m willing to.
Dhru’s lips find mine again, less gentle this time. Moaning, I push to my elbows and open my mouth. Her tongue meets mine. My fingers tangle in her short, silky hair. The blurred figures surrounding us sway on their feet. Pure Seduction oozes from my skin with enough power to dominate everyone in this club. On this block. The entire Vegas Strip.
No wonder Mayz left dead things in his wake.
Mercifully for the humans on this planet, Dhru pulls her mouth from mine. I blink to bring her into focus. Her dark eyes are the first thing I see. Her fierce gaze swims with the same heat that’s between my legs. What little I’ve had of her is not enough. There might never be such a thing as enough.
I blink again, and the rest of her comes into focus. Someone growls—a harsh, raw sound. Dhru’s naked. Completely naked. I can’t see anything but her. Think about anything but her.
I’m taking her. Here. Now. Fuck the battle, and the danger, and my fat
her, and anyone stupid enough to stand in my way. She’s mine, and I’m going to claim her.
The growl sounds again. This time, I realize it’s me.
“This isn’t the place.” A large hand lands hard on my shoulder. I consider breaking it before my brain has the chance to process who it is.
Creed’s knowing gaze pins me in place. I see a lot of things in those fathomless eyes. What I don’t see is jealousy, or disgust, or any other kind of possessive, dominating bullshit. He’ll never know how much his understanding means to me.
Shit. I think the impossible just happened. Not only do I not hate him, I think I could actually like this guy.
Taking Creed’s extended hand, I let him help me to my feet. He gasps when my skin touches his, but he holds strong and doesn’t let go. I can’t imagine the kind of Seduction I’m kicking out right now. But if anyone can resist the full effects, it’s someone who’s already Destined.
Glancing around the club to get my bearings and prepare for any remaining foes, I’m relieved to see that all of the Powers have been taken down. That relief is short-lived, however. At least half a dozen glassy-eyed, post-battle, lust-charged dragons surround me. I step away from them, into Creed’s personal space, before I realize what I’m doing.
“Back off,” Creed warns. The dragons grumble their displeasure, but listen to him.
What the hell kind of world did I wake up in, where dragons obey Fae, and Named seek the solace and protection of a Called?
“Thanks,” I mumble, unable to look Creed in the eyes, and definitely unable to rest my gaze on a naked Dhru. “You’re right. This isn’t the place.” I take a shaky breath as I throw a death glare toward the dragons. “But it will be unless someone puts some damn clothes on our woman.” Even then, I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist.