Oliver fidgets with his cufflinks, almost as a nervous action. “I am unsure he needs help.”
I sit straight in my chair, crossing my arms on the desk, leaning forward. “What do you mean, Oliver?”
He shifts awkwardly in the chair again, crossing his legs the opposite way, resting his hands on the arms before folding them in his lap once more. “A theory I have … possibly not a good one … still, a theory I fear falls within reason … perhaps lacking the ability to see Dante’s destiny stems from Dante’s unexpected birth. The Goddess did not know she would ever have a child, never intended to do so. Any child of hers would hold immense power, just as he does. Imagine for a moment the prophecy of the North Star foresaw a full god, not Dante, yet his birth affected the path of many, changing everything.”
“Not possible.” Shaking my head, refusing to look at him. I cannot believe this outrageous idea. “The blood of any other god would not have had this effect. Agtos said this was a part of the prophecy we were not privy to. Cait was always meant to have the blood of a god within her.”
“I understand that, Theo. However, the blood of any god would save her life and bring her closer, draw her to him, test the bonds of her relationship with you, particularly after she learned her initial attraction to you was induced by the effect of the magnetism between a True Alpha and the North Star.” He picks at nonexistent lint on his suit. “I do not believe the god in the prophecy should ever have truly loved Caitie. I believe, by design, the challenge faced would test her endurance in multiple necessary facets for her role as the North Star, meanwhile assessing his ability to refuse the temptation she posed under such circumstances. The expected end result proving to all Dracopraesi how real the prophecy is, how possible true love can be for any of us to attain, when we would see you succeed in holding onto her heart without an upper hand. As I said, Dante changes everything. He does love her, quite passionately so.”
“And if this path forged ultimately destines Dante to marry Cait then why send me the message she did? Why lead me to continue pursuing Cait?” Looking up at him, I find him staring at me.
“Perchance my theories are indeed accurate, to encourage you and discourage Dante in an attempt to set Caitie on the path the Goddess wished for her.” Oliver stands, moving to the window, tumultuous dark clouds rolling across the sky, thunder rumbling as he closes his eyes. “We both know the universe is full of unknowns. Absolute omnipotence does not exist. Eternity is finite. Our end will come. It is inescapable. Try as we may, control is an illusion, even for the Mother Goddess.” He turns back to me. “Dante is living proof of that.”
“Oliver, you are speaking of … no. Three thousand years I have called him my friend. Do you not think I would have felt it, known it somehow?” Standing to face my brother, the tension grows suffocating between us.
“Mages believe in the Zega as a living breathing force of the universe, the very source of their magick. Tell me what other explanation you have for Jai’s ability to discern a view of Dante’s destiny unlike the rest of the brotherhood.” His eyes remain focused hard on me. “The Zega’s most beloved creation, humanity, is on a path to self-destruction. We all know it. Dante has spent millennia fascinated by them. The time for action is now. Our North Star’s arrival speaks to that. Regardless of the disagreement between the Oracles and the Mages on the subject, I must come to the logical conclusion.” I inhale sharply, not wanting to hear what I know he will say. “Dante is the incarnation of the Zega, a physical manifestation of the creating forces of our very universe.”
I exhale in a slow stream, hearing my heart pounding in my ears. “He does not know this.”
“No.” My brother steps to the desk, placing his hands on it, leaning forward as if we are strategizing for a battle. “What do you intend to do?”
Matching his stance, I drop my voice low, our faces inches apart, eyes determined. “Men have waged wars for causes far less worthy than love.”
Oliver’s expression questions my sanity without speaking while he chooses his words with caution. “Theo, a physical confrontation with Dante is entirely insane. He has grown far too skilled, wielding his power with swift precision. He could destroy a dragon within seconds, and when you returned, Caitie would give a repeat performance, finding your behavior quite unacceptable.”
Perhaps not so cautious with his words.
“I am not fighting my friend, Oliver. I intend to love Cait as Jai said, show her it is true, and bring her heart back to me. I care not what the prophecy says. In my heart, she remains mine. I will not let her go unless she demands I do so.”
Chapter 15
*Cait*
“Dragons as boyfriends, I mean, real serious boyfriends. Hm.” Runa grins, putting the last of the plates from the dishwasher into the cabinet. “All I’m saying is with this happening now; I can imagine there’s a lot of incredible women throughout history rolling over in their graves out of sheer jealousy. They may not have loved, married, or done the whole ‘relationship’ thing, but I’ve heard the talk. Plenty of them became intimately involved with female wards or various innocents they took under their protection between wards.”
Almost finished polishing the massive maple table claiming most of the space off the extended and renovated country-style kitchen, Jennifer chimes in. “Yeah, well a little innocent, and damned awkward flirtation does not a boyfriend make, Runa, so I think you can drop the matchmaker games.”
I giggle and keep folding kitchen towels, fresh from the dryer, as Runa feigns absolute innocence. “You say that, but I assure you, the choice for your bedroom makes the most sense given where everyone else is. I couldn’t very well put you in the guesthouse with Agtos and Falcon. You don’t even know them.”
“So giving me Cedric’s room seemed totally reasonable.”
I laugh so hard I snort, and they both start giggling. “Sorry, but this is crazy. We’ve got elves lurking around somewhere out there, and basically we’re having a conversation boiling down to hot guys.”
“Our body temperatures are above average, and we are most certainly male; therefore, aren’t all conversations regarding dragons essentially of that persuasion?”
Several feet behind me, across the kitchen in the doorway from the back steps to the second floor, I can’t see him, but I know his voice. Familiar in its deep warmth and unusual accent, its distinct, unforgettable nature lay in my breath catching and heart seeming to skip a beat whenever I hear it unexpectedly.
With a not-so-sly look shared, Runa and Jennifer excuse themselves to take care of something or other far away from the kitchen. Mysteriously, Claaron and Jai are nowhere in sight. I swear they were right … “I thought you were in the shower.” My voice sounds steady, at least in my head.
“Unlike some people, it does not take twenty minutes to wash my hair.” Absolute amusement dances in each teasing word.
“It does not take me twenty—” Spinning on my heel to meet my accuser face-to-face, I’m stopped short the second I see him.
Still wet, Theo’s hair hangs in wild slick waves and curls, blacker than onyx, a few untamed strands marring an otherwise perfect view of a marbled, emerald, predatory gaze devouring me. But it’s not the intensity of his eyes that stops me. He’s relaxed, standing there filling the doorway, arms over his head, hands resting on the frame, what used to be a black t-shirt, faded with time and wear, riding up just right, leaving a delicious sliver of skin exposed above jeans I know are soft to the touch, unlike every inch of his hardened, toned body.
I remember and swallow my heart from my throat, recalling the details.
“ … minutes. It doesn’t take twenty, maybe fifteen at the most. Could take less if I didn’t have dragons all over me and had to hide out in the shower for privacy.”
My teasing grin isn’t met with the same. His expression softens, smile disappearing, lips parting, and I can see his tongue playing along the edge of pearl-white teeth. Maybe softening isn’t right, more like heating, bla
zing, the look in his eyes and welcoming curve of his mouth lighting me up like a raging inferno. Dropping his arms to his sides, Theo moves toward me, my breath matching his pace until he’s standing directly in front of me, towering over me. He stops moving, and I stop breathing, trying not to take in the all-too-familiar delectable scent inches from my face.
“More often than not, I do believe I was all over you in the shower, at your request.” He runs a few fingers through my hair, playing with the ends of it, but his eyes never leave mine. “Or is that forgotten within you, Cait?”
“Far from it.” What I wanted to come off as a sarcastic retort slips out as a whisper, eyes closing involuntarily when his thumb touches my chin, brushing along to my ear.
“Good.”
I reopen my eyes to see he’s watching me intently. “Good?”
Theo swallows hard, running his tongue over those full lips; a sharp inhale hinting perhaps he hoped I wouldn’t ask too many questions. “You heard me.”
Silence nestles between us, comfortable and warm. Unshaven, a bit of hair sticks to his stubbled cheek, beckoning my fingers to brush it free, but his hand captures mine, grazing his teeth sensually over my wrist before kissing then releasing it.
“What was that for?” I ask, as if I don’t have a damn good idea.
“Your mind has not let go of me, of us, and I cannot bring myself to care enough what that book, or Agtos, or even the Goddess may say, Cait. I cannot let go of you either. The path between your head and heart has lost its way. Do you not feel that? Do you not believe that?” My dragon pauses, green eyes fixed on me, but I can’t answer. Or won’t. “You are a strong woman. Confused as your heart might be in this moment, tell me you know what you want.”
I nod. “Make me a bowl of ice cream.”
“Ice cream?” There’s a distinct streak of frustration in his tone.
“You heard me,” I say, throwing his words back in his face. “Ice cream.” But as much as we’ve teased and taunted each other in the past, looking up at him, standing this close, I lay my hand on his chest instead, feeling the strong rhythmic beat under my palm. “And we’ll talk.” Part of me wants to stop there, but I don’t. I can’t after everything. “I’ve missed you.”
Reliable dragon hearing, no matter how tiny my voice comes out, Theo always hears. Fingers tucking hair behind my ear, he leans down, breath hot against my skin. “I’ve missed you as well, Cait.”
With his lips pressed to my forehead, I can’t deny my heart’s been a deceitful traitor, and my mind knows it. Somehow, it has all along.
***
Normal is me sitting on the counter while Theo scoops peanut butter fudge ice cream into a bowl, more than someone my size should reasonably be able to eat. He doesn’t make stupid human male comments like nightmare boyfriends of years past, insinuating how I’ll get fat, or outright saying it.
Normal is Theo doing fancy flips and tricks with the spoon between each scoop, being silly and showing off while I laugh. I don’t expect him to stay serious round the clock, despite the responsibilities on his shoulders, and don’t want him to either.
Swiping his finger through the remnants of ice cream on the spoon before tossing it in the sink, it’s at my lips, my tongue on his heated skin, and both of us freeze more solid than my dessert, realizing how far we’ve taken our normal into this unknown territory. Slowly, he slips his finger away, eyes not leaving mine, and I don’t know which of us breathes first, but we were both holding it, locked in the moment.
“Your sense of humor,” I blurt out.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “What about it?”
Just like that, all awkwardness dissipates, the ease between us returning. And I’m about to test its limits. “It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.” He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t react, and I’m thankful for the chance to explain. “I asked you why I loved you, but hearing you laughing just before, I remembered it, us being like that.”
Theo steps closer, leaning into me, foreheads touching, his hair tickling my face. “We were. At first, it was so complicated.” He laughs softly, hot breath flooding my senses, the inviting scent of a warm fireplace accented by earthy evergreens and a hint of spiciness reminding me of mulled cider and autumn specialty coffees.
The scent of Theo Pendragon.
“You know I hate complicated.”
“I know, but it was. And I take the blame. My Cait.” His lips brush over mine, hands running along my legs to my hips, pulling me closer. “I wanted so desperately to love you, did not know how, did not know if I should, did not know if I could. Did you deserve more? I thought I had the answers, but only you knew. My entire existence, I’ve relied on my own instincts, knowledge, and abilities to ensure the safety of my wards, survived without crossing death’s shadow, yet you … you are beyond all I’ve experienced. In you, I expected to find my new ward. Instead, I found my soul’s light, my equal, my heart.”
Snaking my arms around his neck, I urge him closer, barely satiated by the taste of his tongue, the urgency of his mouth on mine. Gliding his hand along my arm, Theo pulls my hand into his, intertwining our fingers together, and pulls back to look at me, green eyes bold and determined. “You were right. I was stubborn, crazy, almost impossible to convince that you loved me, that I deserved such a love. Not this time, Cait. What you remembered, we were that. We laughed. We loved. We had everything we could want between us and with those around us, our family.” His voice drops low, husky. “And I want everything back. Your love. Our life, Cait.”
My heart aches, hearing those words I needed from him since this began. “So do I, Theo.”
*Corrin*
Approaching Evan’s meditation garden with its low rock walls, doubt gnaws at the pit of my stomach. Had my grandfather wished anyone near him, seeking the solitary locale here would not be the choice made. Yet here I find him, kneeling in the damp grass, poised as if deep in prayer against the unevenly stacked stones barricading him on three sides.
Another careful assessment of the grounds, I further my way into the garden, entering the sanctuary of my brother, and in this moment, Dante. I know not what to say. Father would. Father always finds words befitting his every encounter.
“You are your father’s son, Corrin,” he says, the suddenness rather jolting. I stop, left unable to respond. “Cedric acknowledges the part of himself you feared revealing to the world for so long, yet he saw it when I could not. I’ve done to you what my own mother does to me. I held you to expectations seemingly impossible, gave you little if any guidance to achieve what I desired of you then kept you at arm’s length, providing too few opportunities for any possibility of a significant familial relationship.”
“But your mother—”
“Is the Mother Goddess? Yes. I’m well aware of this.” He sits upright, resting on his feet, head falling back, looking to the ominous sky. “The universe feels my turmoil, Corrin. It affects the very world in which we live. What man has such an effect upon his surroundings? Do you think I suffer not the weight of my birth, of my blood?”
Dante, my grandfather, a god, a man, someone in such pain, laughs at the roiling clouds. It is a hollow and humorless sound, arms dropping to his sides, fingers clenched in the grass as though anchoring himself to this world, to reality, to sanity.
“You did not fail me, Grandfather. I have never felt bereft of family. Wherever we traveled, Father created a home for us, kept us together.” Daring to follow the lead of my father’s example, I join him, kneeling close, touching his shoulder. “He assured us you were never far, would protect us, if necessary. Father believes in you, trusts you, and fostered the same belief within each of us. Do not accept my failings as representative of the family as a whole. My anger, my stubborn refusal to abide by your rules, these are products of things beyond your control, aspects of my personality for which you can bear no responsibility.”
“Yet I bear absolute responsibility for my own actions, deci
sions, the path I’ve chosen to walk, and how forgivable are those?”
Folding his arms around his body, he hangs his head, shamed, blamed, pained by his own conscience. “This is not a matter of the past, is it?” Meaning to reassure Dante, I reach out, touching his shoulder, feeling the rain-soaked fabric of his shirt. “Did you come inside at all last night?”
“No. I cannot face Theo.”
“Grandfather, you did only what he asked of you.”
He turns, face tear-streaked, eyes a blue as deep as his sorrow. “She loves me, Corrin.”
Stunned, I sit silently, formulating a reasonable response, something Father would say. “It is to be expected given your blood still remains within Cait. Surely, you cannot take blame for the confusion she feels as it works through her system. You’ve already concluded that is the inevitable outcome considering all we’ve seen as of yet.”
“The blood of the North Star is far more powerful than predicted at this juncture in time. Caitriona’s mind has overcome false memories implanted within, recovered the vast majority of its reality.” He rocks forward, capturing his face in his hands, pulling at his hair in frustration, driving his fists into the earth, thunder booming and echoing through the small treed valley at the back of the estate. “She knows she once loved Theo; however, she also knows she loved me, though it was not enough to sway her in my favor. Yet where she cannot feel that love for him and admits to it, Caitriona does feel everything she held for me and says not one word.”
“As you said, it was not enough to sway her in your favor. Perhaps she does not wish to give hope where none exists,” I offer.
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