by C C Dowling
And where have I been this whole time? Trying to bury my feelings for a Dharkling inside another woman instead of doing my duty. I should never have put my emotions above an assignment. Even if Dhru’s not just an assignment.
Straightening up, I rip my shirt over my head to expose my flesh. The raging dark of Aiden’s eyes meet mine. They widen before he lowers his head and charges.
Bulls. So predictable.
Using my shirt like a makeshift cape, I twirl out of the way of his attack, letting the fabric cover his head. He slams into the metal door, banging it on its hinges. I use the distraction to go to Dhru.
I can’t keep my hands off her. “Are you okay?” My fingers skim her forehead and cheek as my eyes trail a path down the rest of her. What’s left of her shirt hangs open in the front. With no bra to cover them, the round flesh of her breasts entice me. Draw me in. Make me want to bury my face in them. Hell, I want to bury everything in her.
Desire scorches a path down my body, burning hotter than Faerie fire. But I’m a warrior first. Forever. And right now, we have an enemy to battle. Everything I feel for Dhru, I’ll deal with after.
She pushes my hand away. “I’m fucking great.” Her tone is hard and biting. “Other than a hurt ankle and a bra I’ll have to trash, I think I’m handling this pretty well. No thanks to you. Why don’t you go back inside and finish pounding whatever cunt left you so distracted in the first place? I’ve got this.”
If only she knew that she was the distraction. I open my mouth . . . to say what? The Minotaur bellows, and I’m actually fucking grateful. I’d rather fight than face Dhru and the unmistakable tone of jealousy coloring her voice.
Jealousy means she cares. And damn if my pride, and something else, don’t swell at that thought.
“Stay behind me.” I push Dhru against the wall and step in front of her. Her muscles stiffen at the contact. She’s pissed. It’s not my job to save her feelings. It’s my job to save her ass.
“I don’t need a fucking hero,” she shouts, then gasps as Aiden’s body slams into mine.
Minotaurs are known for their strength, not their agility. Grabbing hold of his horns, I use his body’s momentum to smash him against the dumpster. The metal bangs around in the small alley. Normally, this kind of noise would attract a crowd, but Lyra’s big on privacy. No one outside the property line can see, hear, or smell anything. Lucky for them. Minotaurs have a deep, rich manure scent that would make even a skunk gag.
“You might not want a hero, but you’ve got one.” Grabbing Dhru’s arm, I push her toward the door. “Get inside and find Lyra. Don’t come out until I get you.”
She crosses her arms, tapping her foot in a furious rhythm. “Listen up, you stubborn son of a bitch. I’m not going anywhere. Aiden’s mine,” she says, as if a youngling, never-transformed dragon could take on a full Minotaur.
The Minotaur’s fist connects with my ribs. Cracking sounds and a sharp pain tell me that at least two are broken. Ignoring the pain, I push against him and kick out with my foot, putting enough distance between us to land a solid elbow.
“Dhru,” I say as I connect my knee with the bull’s testicles. He goes down, but he won’t stay there. “I can’t fight you both. For my sake, please, get the fuck inside.”
I want to tell her more. Like how she’s more important than any assignment. How the thought of her getting hurt or killed scares me worse than death, or execution, or exile. But a battle isn’t the time to discuss feelings. The best I can hope for is that, by some miracle, she’ll actually listen to me.
Something in her demeanor changes. She takes a tentative step toward the door. Diverting my attention back to the Minotaur, I silently pray to the Ancient Ones that she keeps going. Calling on the magick of my kind, I summon the axe embedded in my skin. My Called Weapon.
I raise the axe over my head, ready to bring it down on my enemy. From somewhere behind me, Dhru gasps. It’s enough to distract me. Is she okay? Did someone else get to her? Why the fuck isn’t she inside already?
When I turn to face her, her eyes aren’t fixed on me, but my weapon. I can’t help the surge of pride that hardens every muscle, and other things, at her frank admiration. I know I’m a badass. All Called are. But there’s something about Dhru knowing it too that makes me want to impress her, to be the hero in her eyes.
Her gaze flicks to me, then to the ground behind me. Admiration turns to horror as she screams. “Creed!”
Turning to face the Minotaur, I swing the axe. Too late.
Dhru
I try to warn Creed, but it’s too late. Aiden launches from his position on the ground and smashes against my perfect, gorgeous soldier. Creed without a shirt had been panty-dropping enough. But when he did that shit with the metal in his skin, I soaked myself. I don’t usually play the claim game, but fuck the rules. Fuck everyone else, for that matter. Creed is mine.
Aiden forces Creed across the alley, one horn lodged in his side. The battle axe falls from Creed’s grip. With both hands now free, he grabs the horns, probably for leverage, and to keep them from doing any more damage.
Something inside me snaps at the sight of Creed’s electric blue blood, at the grimace of pain on his face. I don’t have time to psychoanalyze why I care so much, or any of the other feelings making my skin hotter than molten lava. All I know is that Aiden’s a dead bull.
The beast within perks up. Claws stretch. Teeth bare. Hunger rumbles, ready for a big fat bull steak. Something like pure power surges inside me, but instead of fighting it, or containing it, I let it rage loose.
Scales the color of polished steel and gold snake across my arms and legs. Lightning dances along every nerve ending, blinding pain that makes me forget who I am. But only for a moment. Then, everything’s clear. Protect what is mine, my dragon says. Or maybe it’s the thing beneath the dragon. Hard to tell. By unleashing one, I’d unleashed both.
My vision blurs, then sharpens, revealing colors and details unavailable to the human eye. Razor-sharp claws shred the skin on my fingers. My jaw unhinges. My teeth elongate. My stomach growls. Or maybe that’s me. There’s a new sensation, too. An energy. A power hotter than the heart of a thousand stars. It’s mine to control. Mine to use. Mine to release.
Summoning the heat to the spot deep below my belly, I mold and shape it into a giant ball. Just when I think I’ll explode from trying to contain it, I let go. Brilliant purple flames tinged in shadow erupt from my mouth. My scales catch fire, too, but it’s the opposite of painful. It’s soothing. Healing. My ankle no longer hurts.
Aiming my rage in Aiden’s direction, I release every frustration into the fire, cleansing my soul. The abandonment by my father. The loss of Clara Belle. Of Helen. The things I’ve done to myself, to others. The human life I thought was mine. And Creed. His vow. The rules. The Council threatening our lives. I’ll burn them all if I have to.
Every. Single. One.
I don’t know when the fire stopped, when I’d started screaming. All I know is that I’ve never felt more free of burden than I do in this moment. I contain my dragon back into my human form, the hot Vegas night caressing my exposed skin. I’m completely naked, which doesn’t surprise me, since I basically caught fire. If turning into a partial dragon no longer surprises me, then nakedness sure in fuck doesn’t.
“Dhru?” Creed says, a little singed and stabbed, but otherwise unharmed.
“Told you.” I shrug. “I got this.” As if to contradict my point, I sway on my feet, not because I’m tired or hurt, but because it actually feels weird to be back in my human form. Creed moves toward me, but I hold up my hand. “I got this,” I reiterate. This time, my body agrees.
His voice softens. “Never doubted it for a second.”
I’ll admit, when I saw that battle axe shit Creed made with the metal in his skin, I was in awe. I’ve never even heard of something so cool. Now, I recognize a little of what I felt in the features of his face. It’s his turn to be impressed.
&nb
sp; There’s something satisfying about seeing Aiden’s burned remains at Creed’s feet, knowing that I saved him. Despite what I think I deserve, and what he thinks about why we can’t be together, I see Creed as mine. I just need to make him see it. Fuck convention, or justification, or the past. Sure, I’ve never been good at relationships—never been good at anything, really. But with Creed, I don’t have to be good. I just have to be me.
Without a word, I stalk toward Aiden’s charred form. Because he was such a dick, and a liar, and a disappointment, I’m not satisfied with just burning him. Before Creed can stop me, I reach down and grab his battle axe off the ground.
“Dhru, no!” Something worse than dread colors his tone and drains the blood from his face. “Don’t touch it.” He reaches for me, for the axe, as if I’m going to take it. I’m not a thief. I’ll give it back. What’s his fucking deal?
Zings of pure power shoot up my spine, tickling my limbs, making my fingers and toes numb the instant I touch the axe. The metal, an alloy of not-from-Earth origins, shifts and swirls, emitting a faint, pure white glow. I swear I can hear the thing singing inside my head in an almost familiar language.
Holding it over my head, like I saw Creed do, I swing it down and take Aiden’s head clean off. Fuck yeah. This thing is incredible. Sharp as hell, it cut straight through. With my bare foot, I kick the bull’s burnt carcass. The scent of scorched fur and meat perfume the air. It’s an improvement to how he smelled before.
Turning toward Creed, I hold his axe out to him. Only, he doesn’t take it. He’s looking at me about fifty shades beyond weird. “What?” I snap, hating the way he stares. It’s like he’s judging me. “Do you want this back or not?” I push the axe toward him.
He scrubs his face before he reaches a shaking hand toward the axe. Why the fuck is he scared of his own weapon? “What the hell, Creed? It’s not like I put cooties on the thing.”
I push it into his chest. He gasps as if I’ve hurt him. Shit, I probably did. Aiden cracked him good in the ribs, and stabbed him with a horn. I want to tell him I’m sorry, but I’m still pissed at the way he’s looking at me.
Then I remember. I’m naked. And he’s a duty-bound, honorable, oath-taking stick-in-the-mud. Crossing my arms over my tits, I take a step away from him. I’m not ashamed of my body. Never have been. But it’s obvious he is.
Holding the weapon in his hand, he closes his eyes and chants something in that same language from before, the one the axe sang to me in. The metal melts back into the grooves along Creed’s dark skin, providing contrast once more. When he opens his eyes, he fixes them on me. Their dark depths glow with a silver light, just as the axe did. Is that disgust on his face? Hard to tell with him.
“I’ll, uh, get some clothes on.” It’s hard to speak around the pit of burning acid in my guts. The acid of rejection. I’d question why it hurts so much, but I already know, even if I don’t want to admit it. “Didn’t mean to fucking offend your fragile sensibilities.”
Turning away from him, because fuck if I’ll let him see how much this hurts, I stalk toward the door to the bar. Place should be busy by now. Sure, I’ll have to walk through a room full of patrons in nothing but my birthday suit, but it’s better than staying out here to be judged by Mr. You’re-Just-An-Assignment himself.
I reach for the handle of the door. Creed steps in front of me. “Dhru, wait. I’m sorry.” Ignoring him, I step to the side and try the door again. He takes my face in his rough, blood-stained hands. God, he feels so good. I forget to be pissed off that he’s touching me. “This isn’t what you think.”
“How the hell do you know what I think?” The anger I’m so used to tastes like burnt flesh on my tongue. No, wait. That might be from the fire.
Creed’s hands go from my face to my waist. His fingers dig into my hips. Fuck, I hate myself for the groan that escapes. I don’t want to want him right now. I’m supposed to be pissed.
“This isn’t about you being naked, or about me being offended. I never want you to hide your body from me again.” To make his point, Creed pushes his hard cock against my thigh. The fabric covering him rubs my exposed skin. “It’s just, I thought . . .” His jaw ticks with unspoken words, and something like fear dances in the depths of his dark eyes.
“You thought what?” I push. I need to hear some explanation for the way he’s been acting since I killed Aiden.
Fuck. I killed Aiden. Killed someone. Granted, that someone was a drug-dealing douchebag Minotaur who was going to kill me, and chances are, I wouldn’t go to jail for it, because how the shit would this case be argued? But still, I’m a murderer, and fuck if I don’t feel as bad about that as I should. I’m gonna blame that on my dragon heritage.
“I thought I’d lost you.” His voice breaks. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why.
“What do you mean, lost me? I’m right fucking here.” I wrap my arms around his neck and press myself against him, because I want to, and I can’t stop myself. He responds, and damn if the heat of my desire isn’t hotter than dragon fire.
“I know.” Creed rests his forehead against mine. My gaze falls to his full lips. They’re so close, we’re breathing the same air. “But you shouldn’t be. Nothing about you should be.”
Annoyance crowds the other emotions riding me hard, the way I wish Creed would. “Spit it the fuck out.”
He sighs and I breathe him in, a delicious mix of heat and metal. “A Called Weapon, like my battle axe, is imbued with special powers. Only another Called, or a direct Called descendant, can hold the weapon without succumbing to a painfully horrific death.”
Holy shit. “Wait a fucking minute.” I step back, putting my hand between us. Creed’s not about to let me go. He holds my hips and moves with me. I suppress the urge to punch him in his handsome face. I also suppress the urge to kiss him. “You mean to tell me your weapon could’ve killed me, and you didn’t think to fucking mention it?”
Creed stills. His face drops into a blank mask. I’d give my left tit to know what he’s thinking. He laughs, startling the fuck out of me. “What?” I slap his chest. He grunts. Pussy. It wasn’t that hard. “What’s so goddamn funny?”
Pulling me into his arms until there’s zero space between us, Creed lifts me onto him. My legs and arms wrap around him, exploring his familiar landscape, as if my body was made to fit his. One of his massive hands cups my ass, supporting my weight. The other wraps around my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. A flush of pure desire pumps through me, straight to the heavenly spot between my thighs.
“I just told you that you’re not dead because you’re part Fae. Not just any Fae, a Called descendant. And you’re pissed off I didn’t warn you about my weapon?”
Sliding my hand down his pants, I grab hold of his girth and stroke. “You didn’t warn me about either of them.”
His eyes close for a brief moment, and I swear I hear his teeth grind together. Before I can react, his lips find mine. He kisses me. Hard, like the rest of him.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he whispers against my mouth. He swells in my hand, getting even harder. Fire races to my clit. My body begs for relief. I’ve never been one to deny myself anything. I’ll never deny Creed anything again.
Creed
The instant she touches me, it’s all I can do to hold myself together. And hold myself back. If she doesn’t slow down, I’ll be finished before we start. It’s been weeks since any kind of release other than my own hand. I want her more than life itself, and my discipline is at its breaking point.
Her tongue parts my lips, deepening the kiss I started. My head swims. I’m dizzy. Too much blood to other parts makes it hard to think straight.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” she mutters against my mouth, her eyebrow raised. Her mischievous nature lights her dark eyes.
That you’re mine. That I’ll want you, and no one else, forever, I want to say. I don’t. I’d rather show her.
Grabbing beneath her thighs t
o support her weight, I walk us over to the wall and press her into it. “Your father has some explaining to do.” No wonder Dhamyan hid Dhru. Her mother’s a Called Fae, like me. That’s why I’ve been drawn to her. My Fae soul must’ve sensed the one in her.
Dhru isn’t only a Dharkling. She’s half Lightling. An abomination, according to the Council. Something that shouldn’t exist. If her mother is still alive and this ever got out, it would be the end of her parents. It would be instant death for Dhru.
Turning her in doesn’t even cross my mind as an option. Rules be damned.
“He does, but that’s not what I was thinking.” Her fingers release my cock. I can finally breathe again. The strain of holding back from her threatens to send both my hearts into arrhythmia. Her small, nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on my trousers, exposing me. It feels so fucking good to be free of my restraints.
“Now that I’m half Lightling,” she says, heat in her voice, in her eyes. It’s enough to melt me. “I can fuck your giant dick all I want, and there ain’t shit the fucking Council can say about it.”
That isn’t entirely true. Being with her is still forbidden, since she’s half Dharkling, but that isn’t the rule I’m worried about breaking. Although, if I’m honest, I’ve been breaking rules since the moment I laid eyes on her.
Still, I don’t correct her, and I don’t stop her as she angles my cock toward her opening. “Dhru,” I say, because it’s all I can say as she crashes her hips against mine.
She gasps when my fingers bury deeper into her flesh, when I bury deep into her. I don’t even try to stop the growl rumbling my chest. Need and desire set me on fire, my blood boiling with every breath, every stroke. I’ll take exile or anything else the Council throws at us. For her, I’d fight all the worlds. For her, I’d burn them to the ground.