Blood of Stars and Gods

by Melissa Petreshock

  Something claws and scratches from a tiny corner of my mind, a shadow, a ghost of a memory I can’t recall, causing me to shudder before I meet his gaze. They’re intense, those marbled green eyes, the dragon eyes I’ve grown so used to seeing around me. My breath hitches for just a second then I recover, grasping tighter onto Dante, reminding myself this is a simple side-effect of the dragon/ward bond, nothing more. Theo loves me, but not the way Dante does, not the way I love Dante.

  “Yes, Theo. You’ve proven to be the True Alpha without question. As the North Star, I don’t see reason to kill him, and at least for now, he is one of my dragons.” Falcon seems more like a porcupine than a falcon to me, but I feel the connection. “I don’t take the bonds with my dragons lightly, no matter who they may be.”

  Falcon tries to pull away from Theo’s hold. “Then leave me be to take my guard post for the night and continue to fulfill the duties of that bond,” he growls.

  I nod, and he’s let loose, disappearing at a relatively slow pace for a dragon given he has a minor limp. “You remember your bonds?” Theo’s voice and eyes soften with the words.

  “Caitriona recalls her ward and honor-bonds, Theo.” Dante pauses, his eyes on me again as he runs a hand over my arm embracing his. The worry in his expression forms tiny creases in his brow. “However, she has suffered tremendous trauma and may take some time to feel altogether herself perhaps.”

  “Perhaps … she is my ward. I will not abide by her remaining in such a state.” His gaze takes in every inch of the wreck I am, blood-soaked and torn clothes, a disaster from head to toe. “See she is properly cared for, bathed, and well rested.” Stepping closer, Theo looks down at me, a sad smile fleeting across his lips. “In the morning, I will prepare your breakfast, exactly the way you like.”

  “I thought you were my protector, not my chef.” I laugh, shaking my head at his serious expression.

  “Cait, I am eternally your dragon and everything you need or want of me. Nothing could ever change that.”

  *Theo*

  “Certainly, I do not regret saving her life, Theo. How could I?” Tension continues mounting in Dante’s voice as he leans against the kitchen counter, one arm crossed tightly over his chest, pinching the bridge of his nose, brows creased. “There is nothing within my reach I would not do for Caitriona.”

  The room remains quiet, all but us staying on guard or finding elsewhere to be, knowing this conversation need not concern them. “Then why do you act as if you have committed some heinous crime?”

  He pinches harder, leaning forward as if ill. “It is not what I have done I regret exactly. Ensuring Caitriona lives, I could never regret. Yet what of the repercussions? Do you deny I’ve essentially forged a blood marriage with your intended wife, Theo?”

  “No. I cannot deny what you have done, but she remembers nothing of our intended marriage. Neither can I deny what had to be done, nor can I force her to be what she is no longer. Cait is only to be my wife if she recalls that love, wants that, and returns to me so that we may fulfill true marriage bonds upon her full transition.” Lightly, I run my fingers over my chest, allowing my eyes to fall closed for a moment, recalling Cait’s face. “Since you healed her, my mark has faded. It is barely visible,” I tell him, looking to Dante again.

  Bolting upright, his eyes meet mine. “You are not suggesting … no. Even when she did it, my mother left the mark quite faintly, and how could mother’s claim on me as her son relate to Caitriona?”

  “The similarity of their blood and yours,” I answer, wishing none of this were possible. “Cait has always been best suited for you. I cannot deny that any more than you should. It is an undeniable, biological fact.”

  “Then you intend to walk away from her yet again.” His words are not a statement. They are a daring call of warning. “Have we not traveled this road and left it behind—your heart and conscience surpassing the elements which weighed upon them, preventing you from pursuing her, Theo?”

  Shaking my head, I hold his gaze. “I am not walking away, but I will not command she be mine. I am a dragon above all else, Dante, and will not treat her like property, an object without a heart and mind of its own. There is nobility in letting her go, only shame in dishonoring our code. I love Cait too deeply to ever make her be something she is not, and for now, she is not mine.”

  “And she is not mine.” His voice breaks on the words, and he turns away. “Do you not see? I fear acting out in ways I shall live to regret. What if I indulge the desire to hold her as mine, and she regains every memory of you? Regardless of what Caitriona remembers, I know the truth, Theo.” Dante looks at me, pain, perhaps as great as mine burning in his eyes. “I know she is everything I most desire, the greatest love I never imagined I could experience, and I have come to terms with the fact I am fortunate to count her as my friend. A friend. I am nothing more, and destiny permitting; I shall never be anything less. You ask me to taste the forbidden fruit, Theo, the life I want but cannot keep. There will not come a time when I lie on my deathbed reminiscing I once held for a moment everything around which I wish my world to revolve. Until the end of time, the pain shall haunt me should I allow myself to believe I can hold onto Caitriona then must watch her return to you.”

  “Then you would suffer no more pain than I, should she not return, Dante,” I admit. “Just look at your mark. If nothing has changed, perhaps my conclusions are misguided. If it has …” Clenching my jaw, I take a steadying breath, fearing the implications, the idea no action could return Cait to my arms. “If it has, we must consider the aspect of destiny that declares not all troubling events on one’s path are trials or challenges to overcome. At times, they simply are what they are. Even you cannot change your destiny, Dante.” I look to my palms, still able to feel her fingernails tracing the lines as we lay in bed, not quite asleep. “And would you so wish to change it if Cait truly is your destiny?”

  Dante laughs quite humorlessly, neither of us finding amusement in the situation we find ourselves. “Perhaps this is some rightfully deserved purgatory of sorts for my past sins, regardless how great I wish to believe that to be another life, a past life. Although, I suppose killing my own grandson, for all intents and purposes, should suffice as reason enough to suffer. Either I live knowing I allowed myself to indulge then reap the regret of hope sowed in what was never mine when she remembers her love for you or bear the guilt of stealing away the life my oldest friend deserves more than I.”

  “I demanded you save her, Dante. We must both suffer whatever consequences come with the solution to preventing her death.” Impatiently, I gesture to his chest. “Let us see if your mother, the Goddess herself gives us a sign.”

  Hesitantly, he unbuttons his shirt, quick to pull it closed the second he sees the darkened outline of the millennia-old silvery triquerta. “No. This cannot be.”

  “Go to her. She waits.” I demand, watching him slowly walk away, confused, disappearing around the corner to the back staircase, lacking any logic to guide him, no book to reference this time. Exhaling with a deep sigh, I fall heavily into a chair at the worn maple breakfast table.

  “Are you alright?”

  Claaron pulls up a chair, unbuttons his sports coat, and takes a seat. No request to join me made. No invitation offered. None needed.

  “No. How could I be?”

  “That I don’t know. If I had all the answers you needed, we wouldn’t be sitting here, now would we?” He offers a half smile I return. “From the moment I arrived, Cait fascinated me. Even without knowing her as the North Star, she has a vivaciousness to her we don’t find often enough … she’s a good match for you, my brother.” Leaning forward, Claaron lowers his voice. “You can’t let this be the end, Theo. You can’t lose her.”

  “My heart no longer wants to beat when not held safely in her hands.” Few others exist with whom I could share freely such feelings, though I wish I had no reason to feel this way. “Cait’s absence from my arms creates a chasm in my ches
t, Claaron, as if I cannot breathe. I need her to remember.”

  “You aren’t the only one. We all need her to remember. We can’t bear to watch you lose our North Star. No one blames Dante or holds it against him, but every dragon needs Cait and wants her to be with you.” Claaron taps his fingers on the table then slides his chair over closer, voice lower. “Perhaps matters of dragons and wards, True Alphas and North Stars may have helped trigger this connection she’s always had with you, and Dante’s blood has its divine ways to erase it … or, at least bury it, but don’t be a stupid dragon now, Theo. Show her why she fell in love with you, my brother, the part of you that is a man just like any other with the woman he loves.”

  I bury my face in my hands, swearing in languages long dead. “Why do you make it sound as if that is such a simple task?”

  “Because it’s a dragon conspiracy. Not that we don’t have great respect and admiration for Dante, but we all want to see our North Star with you. Except Falcon. He simply doesn’t want to see our North Star with anyone other than a dragon.” He leans back in the chair, lacing his fingers together, and gives me an altogether judgmental glare. I narrow my eyes, in no mood for his mouth now. “My first piece of advice is to explain everything that has happened to Cait. Don’t go on with this charade for long, regardless of the trauma she’s suffered, by morning, she should be no less than one hundred percent given Dante’s blood and a night’s rest… and must be told truth.”

  “I plan to.” I run my finger along the grain of the maple table. “That’s why I plan to make her breakfast tomorrow. If you truly wish to help, you can see to we are not disturbed. I daresay it will not be a conversation fit for interruptions.”

  He nods. “If we hear nothing from you after a reasonable period of time, I’ll sacrifice Falcon to check on you first.”

  That earns a genuine smile from me at last, which Claaron returns in kind. He holds out his hand, and I grasp it tightly, saying nothing. We are not friends. There is no word for the bond that transcends brotherhood. We need no words.

  *Cait*

  “What’s taking so long out there?” I call to Dante through the shower door, its glass walls giving a clear view to the still-empty room.

  He enters, walking directly to the sink, rolling up his shirtsleeves, and washing the remaining dried blood from his hands. “I felt it necessary to speak with Theo. There are many concerns to discuss as a result of … of your attack.”

  Rinsing the last of the conditioner from my hair, I shut off the water, opening the door to step out. “Could you hand me that towel,” I ask, the plush rug tickling my toes as I watch Dante’s eyes.

  He doesn’t turn to face me, but he can see my reflection in the mirror, flawless skin flushing an unexpected rosy shade of embarrassment as his eyes devour my body. There’s some sort of war between desire and propriety going on inside his head, told in his sharp inhale, the way he swallows hard, and his uneven release of that breath. Dropping his vivid blue eyes to the sink again, he reaches for the towel folded on the counter next to him, taking another deep breath before moving closer to me. “This one?”

  “Yes.” Sliding my hands onto his shoulders and around his neck, I leave little space between us. “Aren’t you going to wrap it around me?” Dante does, though it seems like he avoids touching me. “What’s wrong?” Running my hands down his chest, I find the first button to be undone and barely have it apart before his hands are on mine.

  “Caitriona.” His voice is low, husky, strained, eyes closed. “This is not right. You …” I continue to move downward, unbuttoning as I go, despite his attempt to prevent me. It’s halfhearted, and I’m not a weak little girl. “You need to rest and recover from quite a traumatic—”

  Crushing my lips to his, I take control, cutting short any argument as I push his shirt back, off his shoulders, and pull him closer to me. For a moment, he gives in, falling into the desire I sense within him, hands on my arms. “What?” My question is steeped in frustration when he steps back, distancing himself from me again.

  “I cannot in good conscience go through with this, Caitriona. Your injuries were severe, your condition dire, near death. This is …” He runs his hands through his hair, turning his back to me. “My blood affects you, Caitriona. You do not want this the way you believe so surely you do. What you do need is time to recover, rest, perhaps something to eat or drink.”

  “I’m not thirsty or hungry. … At least not for food.” I move toward him again, but he side-steps my approach. “Are you serious, Dante?”

  “Let me help you get settled into bed, then I shall shower and join you.” Turning to face me, his expression tells me this is his best offer.

  “Fine. At least, comb my hair for me. … Please.” Gazing up at him innocently, I pout, hearing his breath hitch, eyes falling to my mouth. I walk over to the sink counter, picking up my comb, and hand it to him. “Be gentle with me.”

  Dante takes his time, definitely gentle, his fingers spending almost as much time in my hair as the comb, and I might believe he’s entranced by the simple act of detangling my hair. I don’t miss the change in proximity the longer he works, his body touching mine when he hands the comb back to me. “Is that satisfactory?” His words come out a bit breathless, even the eternally levelheaded demigod unable to disguise the desire burning within.

  He doesn’t move away when I turn around, laying my hands on his still bare chest, fingers tracing the charcoal gray triquerta to match my own silver mark. “Perfect.” A little tilt of my head and Dante’s lips meet mine, a hand at my waist, pulling me closer, other hand at my neck, fingers in my hair. His kiss is soft, tender, loving, exploring as if for the first time, unhurried, lingering. His breath hangs sweet in the air, nothing tasting more decadently sweet than the taste of his kiss.

  Releasing my lips, he rests his forehead on mine, eyes closed, holding me just as near. “Please, Caitriona, prepare for the night. Settle into bed. After I shower, should you still be so insistent this is what you want, we will discuss it then.” I start to argue, but he presses his lips to mine again softly, briefly. “Give me time. Your near-death affected me as well. Just as I do not understand how you feel right now, you cannot imagine my own feelings given everything.”

  Curled under the covers, I watch and wait, sure he’s taking the longest shower in the history of showers to be sure I’ll fall asleep before he comes out. Finally, the door opens, light off, but enough moonlight shines in through the window with my improved eyesight to see the blue plaid, flannel sleep pants he wears. The light dances over Dante’s smooth skin and slender build, playing off the toned muscles, creating shadows of mystery on his body. He doesn’t have the height or brawn of the dragons surrounding me, but he’s unimaginably beautiful, as I believe only the Goddess’s son could be.

  “Why, you’re still awake,” he remarks, climbing into the bed, and I slide over closer. He extends an arm to wrap around me, gasping softly when I curl up against him. “Caitriona, could you not find something to wear?”

  “I felt like sleeping naked. You don’t usually mind.” Dante falls silent, and I drape one leg across his waist.

  His hand lightly touches my knee, languidly finding its way up to my hip, then he turns onto his side, facing me. “What do you last remember of us … before the attack tonight?”

  Meeting his eyes, they’re a vivid blue, glowing in their intensity. “Talking about having children. … We were discussing how long to wait, considering we have all of eternity.”

  I don’t miss sight of the tear in the corner of his eye before he kisses me, just a hint more need and urgency than before, but still so full of love it feels heartbreakingly given. “Is something wrong,” I ask when he leans back to look at me again.

  “Not with you. You are perfect, love. I am what is wrong,” he replies, holding me tighter, not seeming to fear proximity now. “I dared to imagine, dared to dream, and here you are in my arms, just as I desired.” Dante’s lips ghost over mine. “
I do love you, Caitriona, more than humanity could fathom possible.”

  Chapter 9

  *Cait*

  Sitting on the counter, I watch him scrambling the eggs, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes. “Do you think I don’t notice you keep looking at me, Theo?”

  “I think no such thing. You assume I’m trying to slip past your notice. Perhaps I want you to know I’m looking at you, Cait.” A smile plays at his lips, and as his raven-black hair falls to block my view of his face, I realize how much I wish I could see it again.

  “Then tell me why.” I slide over another foot toward the corner of the counter, regaining the view of my dragon’s eyes, the wide smile he wears now, brilliant white teeth showing. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

  “Why did you move to see me?” Caught out, I don’t answer, not wanting to admit aloud the reason. “Do you recall where the necklace came from that you wear now?” he asks, thankfully changing the subject.

  I glance down at the dragon claw and green crystal, recognizing the color matches his eyes. “Is this yours? I … I think you gave it to me once. Did you want it back?” I start taking it off; sure that’s what he’s getting at with the strange looks and questions.

  He moves fast, and in a heartbeat, he’s in my face with his hands on mine, holding them still. There’s little room left for me between Theo and the cabinets behind us. He smells familiar, warm, inviting, enticing, and I take a deep breath, holding it for a long moment, wanting to remember why I like that scent so much. “Yes. It is mine … was mine. I gave it to you to keep.”

  “And kissed me.”

  Theo’s eyes widen and lips part as surprise flashes in his expression, but he doesn’t move away, holding my hands still, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

  I don’t tell him everything. I don’t say how Dante told me I was perfect, told me how he loved me then suddenly had to leave, had to go see his mother in the High Realm. I don’t tell my dragon that as I drifted off to sleep, it was to hazy thoughts of his hands, his mouth, his body on mine.