by Kayla Wolf
”Anything?”
For a moment, she almost thought she’d dreamed it. David’s eyes were still closed—he was still lying in her lap like a dead thing, his bloodied face motionless. But as she watched, the hint of a smile started to play around the corners of his lips.
”Because I could think of a few things—”
”David!” She felt so intensely full of simultaneous relief and fury that she almost hurled him bodily into the lake. Thankfully, she suppressed that urge, dragging him into her arms instead and hugging him as hard as she could, feeling him laugh and his arms—blessedly—curl around her body in response. He was alive. He was okay. He—
”You’re a monster,” she growled into his ear. “I thought you were dead.”
”It’d take more than a hundred coyotes to kill me,” he said, then coughed. “That being said, I’m getting blood on you. And—” He pulled back, turning gingerly to look at the other body on the lakeshore. Quinn had forgotten about him. But those yellow eyes were open.
”Caleb,” she said, voice low.
”Quinn. You win. Congratulations.”
”Caleb, what’s this about? What do you want? Why is it so important to you to destroy us?”
”I could ask you the same thing,” he rasped, struggling upright. Something was wrong with his arm, deeply wrong—she could see that the shoulder wasn’t hanging right, could see the pain in his face, transforming it. He was barely conscious. “You’ve been poisoning us for years.”
”What do you mean?”
”Your magic comes from that stone, right? At the bottom of the lake? The one the water comes from? Ours comes from the land. This land, all of it. You put a garden in it. Planted a bunch of trees that don’t belong here. We’re sick, we’re dying, the thing that keeps us going is poisoned, we…”
Quinn stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
”We didn’t know. Not for a while. We knew we were hurting, knew something was wrong, knew it might have to do with this…” He gestured weakly at the lake. “But until I got here, felt how wrong it was for myself, I didn’t know. I thought—thought I could make you my mate, fix it that way, somehow. Didn’t work. To hell with it.” His yellow eyes sagged shut.
”We’re leaving,” Quinn said abruptly. David looked at her, seemed about to speak—she hushed him, leaning forward to catch Caleb’s startled eyes. “Caleb—we’re leaving. This isn’t our home. This has never been our home. We shouldn’t have been here in the first place. We’re going. I promise.”
The coyote stared at her for a long time. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” was all he said, then coughed weakly, dropped back onto the ground. “Guess I’m your prisoner now?”
”No.” That was her father’s voice. Quinn whipped around—he was standing in the trees, and she wondered how much of the conversation he’d overheard. Would he be angry? Or worse—would he refuse to leave this place, even knowing what they now knew about the damage their presence here had done?
”Quinn’s right,” he said simply. “We shouldn’t have been here, and we have no right to continue. Caleb, you’re not a prisoner, you’re free to go. We’ll find somewhere else to live.”
Quinn was reeling. After decades of arguments, was this truly what it had taken? A battle, bloodshed, the near-death of the man she loved? And then David’s voice, unexpectedly strong. “You’ll have the land back that was stolen from you if it kills me to restore it. You have my word, Charles. Quinn,” he added, and his voice was like a prayer.
”It’d better not kill you,” Quinn muttered.
“My family is outside the walls,” Caleb rasped, his yellow eyes full of suspicion. “I—I’ll go to them.” It was half a challenge, half a question. Charles spread his hands.
”You’re no prisoner, Caleb. Go to them. Tell them we’ll be out of here within the week. Do what you will with what we leave behind.”
The coyote hesitated as he dragged himself to his feet. “We’ll use what we can. Restore the rest to how it’s supposed to be.” He hesitated, that familiar anger flaring to life in his eyes. “We won’t thank you.”
”We won’t expect you to,” Charles said simply.
And with that, the coyote was gone, limping quickly into the trees in the direction of the garden wall. Quinn watched him go, hardly believing that any of this was real. Could it really be that simple? After so many years of stagnation, they were finally leaving?
David was on his feet, too. For someone who’d been unconscious minutes ago, he was in good shape. She followed him through the trees to where Amara was gathered with her mates, keeping a safe distance from the confrontation with the coyote—Quinn watched him hug each of them in turn, thanking them for their help.
”We’ve got to get going, I think,” Beckett said abruptly. His keen hazel eyes kept darting towards Quinn.
”We’ll be heading back to Unity,” Amara said. “Come and visit sometime, once you’ve got everything sorted out.” She gave David a meaningful look, and the green-eyed dragon nodded, as though some serious message had been imparted. Quinn wondered if it was about her. She was itching to get David alone, to continue the conversation she’d started when she’d thought he was about to die. They had a lot of things to sort out.
It was almost dawn by the time she got him into her bedroom and closed the door—and suddenly, it was hard to think of what she’d wanted to say. He stood a little awkwardly by her bed, clearly not sure what to say. He’d washed the blood from his body and bandaged his wounds—superficial, in the end, thank God—and he was wearing a set of clothes he’d borrowed from her father.
”So—” he started, looking at her sidelong. “Here I am. Back in the house.”
”I was wrong to kick you out,” she said simply.
”I should have told you who my father was. I didn’t realize—”
”I know. Of course you didn’t. I was angry, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t fair to put any of it on you.”
There was a long silence that neither of them seemed willing to break. Finally, David cleared his throat. “Did you mean it?”
”Mean what?”
”What you said. When I was passed out. You said—”
She shut her eyes. “Yes.”
”You said you loved me.”
”Yes.”
”You meant that.”
”How many times are you going to make me say it—”
”About a hundred, to begin with,” David said smugly, and suddenly he was almost on top of her, the heat of his body enveloping her as he pulled her into a bruising hug, and his body felt so good against hers that she almost burst into tears. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him, digging her hands into his shirt as though she could somehow pull him closer to her, breathing in the scent of his body, the unbelievable heat of him. She was shaking, and he rumbled laughter, trying to squeeze her tighter as though that would stop it.
”I love you too,” he said, over and over again, and she felt dizzy with relief, with joy, with the absolute rightness of what was happening, what was finally happening—
“David?”
”Hmm?”
”How badly hurt are you?”
”Um, I have a few scrapes. Head wound’s not serious. Why?”
”Because I want to tear all your clothes off,” she said frankly, “but I don’t want you to bleed all over my bed, so—”
He cut her off with a kiss that sent her reeling, his hands already on her hips, unbuttoning her shirt as he distracted her with his lips. Not to be outdone, she attacked his belt, skipping the shirt in favor of the more accessible—and she grinned into his kiss as she realized he was already half-aroused. It seemed the battle hadn’t taken that much out of him. Suddenly, all the stress, all the fear, all the adrenalin and horror and panic of the battle seemed to melt away… or maybe it was something more complicated than that, maybe they were contributing to her desire, like emotional alchemy. But all of a sudden, she needed
him so desperately it felt like her whole body was on fire. She moaned as his hands roamed across her body, exactly as rough as she needed them to be, caressing and grabbing and sending waves of pleasure up and down her spine. Her shirt was gone, she realized in a rush, and her pants were on the way, too—and at some point, she’d managed to unclothe him, too.
They fell onto the bed in their underwear, wrapped in each other, completely unified in what they wanted and how desperately they wanted it. It felt so different now than it had that first night—now she knew what she was doing, she was familiar enough with the curves and contours of his body that she didn’t feel so much like a traveler in a foreign land and more like a confident return visitor. That didn’t mean, of course, that it wasn’t still as wildly exciting as it had been that first night when she’d closed the distance between them and kissed him with no idea of what was going to happen next.
Somehow, his mouth had moved from her lips to her throat to her collarbones and was now kissing a trail down the center of her body. She’d almost have complained about the loss of his presence closer to her face, where she could see those gorgeous green eyes and kiss those sweet, soft lips—but as his hot breath gusted across her breasts she felt a full-body shiver rip through her and decided that for now, she could forgive his absence. His lips trailed across her body and as if by accident drew one of her nipples into his mouth and she choked back a moan at the rush of sensation that flooded through her, going straight to her head… and straight down her spine to the deepest part of her, which was already aching for his touch, impatient. But he denied it—where were his hands, she wondered irritably, impatient for more touch. They could be doing all kinds of things, but there they were, simply resting on her hipbones. Unacceptable.
She reached down and grabbed his hand, impatient, dragged it to her sex and whimpered a little as he enthusiastically co-operated. His careful fingers parted her and caressed the inner heat of her, already wet and aching for him, and she cast her head back against the pillow as he continued to toy with her breasts with his lips and tongue and—grazing just enough to make her shiver—his teeth. Such a cacophony of sensation—she could hardly make sense of what was happening to her as his hand moved inside her, his lips moving across her body, and before she knew it his head was between her legs, and he was kissing her there, his tongue doing divinely filthy things to her most intimate place—she whimpered, bucking her hips up against him, wild with abandon, completely out of control of her own body… all she knew was that she wanted more of him. All of him, if possible—just to start with.
But frustratingly, he was easing off, moving back away from her even as she got close to her climax. She wriggled with impatience, trying to hook her legs around him to draw him back closer to her—and a little part of her marveled at how completely unhinged she’d become. He had too much power, this green-eyed man, she thought, grinning up at him through a haze of pleasure. He was looking at her the way people looked at sculptures, sometimes, his hands gone soft as they rested reverently on her hips, and she tilted her head to the side, a little taken aback by the sincerity of his expression.
”You okay?”
”You’re exquisite,” he breathed, and it was almost as if he wasn’t even aware he was talking out loud. “I can’t believe you’re a real person.”
She flushed. Quinn had always been a person who prided herself on her confidence, but when he spoke like that, she felt tongue-tied and useless. So she sat up, instead, tried to say with her body the things she couldn’t find words for. She ran her hands down his body, curving over muscle and bone, trying to imbue her touch with some of the love she felt for him. He shuddered gently, his eyes rolling closed, and she could see his body responding to her caresses, his cock hard and waiting for her. She drew him down onto the bed, but this time she pressed him back, urging him to roll onto his back. A grin spread over her face as he obeyed, and she slid herself over him, hovered above his body for a moment before sliding herself down onto his waiting cock.
His eyes flew open as he choked back a groan and she grinned, spreading her hands out flat against his muscular chest and taking a moment to look down at him, feeling the length of him inside her body. Everything in her was aching to move, to pulse her hips and drive herself to climax… but she resisted. She wanted to make this last. They had all night together—they had all week, all month, all year. They had the rest of their lives, she realized in a rush, and she felt such joy at that that tears rose to her eyes. He reached up to touch her face, wonder and concern in his eyes, and she smiled, ducking her head.
”Are you—”
”I’m happy,” she breathed, feeling more vulnerable than she’d ever felt in her long life and not minding at all that he was there to see it. “I’m so happy—”
”Me too,” he murmured, his breath catching as she shifted her weight. “Me—oh, wow, that’s—”
”Yeah?” she breathed, moving her hips again, feeling a hot rush of arousal at the way his eyes fluttered shut, the way his whole body tensed. His hands were on her hips and tugging at her, but she resisted, setting up a pace that was achingly, grindingly slow. Before too long, he was as lost as she had been, thrusting his hips in a desperate attempt to get more sensation.
She was close, she realized dizzily—even at this tormentingly slow pace, she was getting closer and closer to the edge, and she took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm herself enough to keep control of the situation. David was clearly close, too, and she wondered idly if she could time it just right—if she could keep them in perfect sync until they both came. How long, she wondered as she rocked her hips, lowering her body over his to join their lips in a deep, passionate kiss. How long could she keep them here, suspended on the edge of ecstasy?
Not long, it turned out. Both of them too impatient to wait, it wasn’t long before David seized her hips and rocked her body against him—and that was it, her white-hot climax eclipsing her vision and making her bury her head in the pillow to stop herself from screaming the whole house down. He kissed her throat and shoulder as they both came down from the giddy high of their lovemaking, and they found a comfortable position curled in each other’s arms.
She had a thousand things she wanted to say to him, a million. But as he blinked his sleepy green eyes at her, she just smiled. They’d have time, she knew. They’d have all the time in the world for talking. For now, the best thing they could do was rest.
And when the dawn came, not long after, they were both too deeply and blissfully asleep to notice it.
Chapter 17 – David
David couldn’t believe they were really doing this.
He gazed down at the land below them, fascinated for once by the ground they were covering and not the sky they were flying through. It was overcast and rainy today, which was perfect—it meant they could fly during the day, and not just at night to avoid detection. Below them, the cloud cover was thick and murky... but up here, above the clouds, the sun was bright, and the air was clear. It was beautiful. And all the more beautiful with the company he was keeping.
She was faster than him in the air, he’d realized quite quickly—her wings were narrower, and she could maneuver much more quickly. They’d had a few little not-quite-joking races in the early stages of the journey, zooming between cloud formations, their wings kicking up trails of vapor as they tried to best one another. She was definitely faster—not that he was going to give her the satisfaction of admitting it. But as the journey had continued, they’d eased up on the races. Instead, they’d settled into the comfortable silence of long-distance flying, their wings beating in unison as they travelled.
He could almost feel her happiness, beaming out of her like the sun glowing in the sky. She had been so delighted to be heading home—he’d helped her pack her things the morning after the battle. Well, more like the afternoon, he thought with a grin. They’d slept pretty late… and then, of course, they’d gotten a little distracted when they tried to get out
of bed. By the time they were up, to their surprise, Charles was already half-packed. The old dragon had been in contact with the local coyotes, he explained to them as he served up a huge platter of the last of the eggs—the chickens, too, were to be packed up and brought with them, though David wasn’t sure exactly how Charles intended to make that happen. They were cautious, the coyotes—of course, they were. Charles and Quinn had been invaders on their land for decades. But they’d established some terms, organized a handover of the land. Charles would stay back for a few days, help to dismantle the parts of the farm that the coyotes didn’t want to keep—then he’d come and join them in Colorado, in the valley.
That meant David had a few days to talk to Alexander, explain the situation. And a few days to break the news to his father. That part, he wasn’t looking forward to so much. What he was looking forward to was landing with Quinn, with showing her around the arid, rocky landscape that was soon going to be so transformed by her family’s artefact. She had it with her, tucked safely away with her belongings, and the first thing they were going to do was return it to the little cave David had found his first night on the property. The cave where he was storing his books, he remembered with a laugh. The source of a stream of sacred water was a much better thing to keep there.
David was so lost in thought that he hardly realized how familiar the landscape below him was until he saw the peak of the valley itself. He dipped his wings, indicating to Quinn that they were nearly there, and started a shallow dive—she roared enthusiasm and zoomed ahead of him, flaring her wings as she dove recklessly toward the valley. Laughing to himself, he chased her, trying to stay far enough ahead of her that she’d at least know where they were going. And before too long, they were standing on the rocky crest of the land she’d been exiled from as a child and changed to their human shapes.