Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Nik straightened from the hallway’s granite wall, his ice-green eyes lingering on Race’s exposed arm where he’d torn off the sleeve. “Everything okay?”
Race tipped his head back against the stone, his gaze tracing the curved ceiling beams, as he tried to calm the fuck down. “Is it ever okay for males like us?”
A soft grunt. “I feel you.”
“The tremors, the static—it was Ash’s power. She’s exhausted…” He exhaled roughly. “It’s been a harrowing time back in Lemuria. I don’t know how to keep her safe.” From someone like me.
“For us Guardians, love is the hardest battleground,” Nik murmured. “Once you’re bound, your peace goes where she goes.”
Wasn’t that the godsdamned truth?
“Need anything?” Nik asked.
“No…” Race scrubbed his face, then lifted his stare to his fellow Guardian. Nik had always been the easier one to talk to. “The obsidian dagger? Is it true we were just keepers of our mate’s weapon?”
“Yeah.” Nik eyed him curiously. “Problems?”
Hell, Race rubbed the ache in his chest, remembering the hurt in her eyes. He’d messed up badly. “She found out the truth about the obsidian and thought I rejected her.”
Nik’s brow furrowed. He scratched his chin. “Don’t you remember anything Gaia said when she took your allegiance?”
Race shrugged. “Just her throwing me into a horde of demoniis. I killed them. Later, when I saw I had the same inked sword and dagger as the rest of you, I figured I was a Guardian, too.”
“I don’t know what happened to you in Tartarus…
” Nik slid his hands into his pockets, his stare steady, though the tic in his jaw betrayed his own ghosts.
“It’s never good. But you were the last to join.
Gaia said something to each of us when we chose our blades.
Your dagger is an embodiment of your one weakness and your ultimate strength.
When it fails to return to you, you have found your salvation. ”
He dug through his mind for things that occurred over millennia ago…and not even a flicker of memory.
And he should’ve remembered something that important.
He only knew the rattling chains and screams in his head quieted whenever Ash was near, that the darkness no longer dragged him under like lead.
Without her, he’d fall back into that abyss of endless screams.
“Race?” Nik’s voice came from afar. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” No.
Nik lingered a beat, then nodded. “Gotta go. Work calls.” He dematerialized.
But his words lodged deep within Race’s skull. He had existed in a vacuum, living only for the job, the only way he knew how to survive his endless nightmare. Kill and destroy.
Until Ash crashed into his life.
The primal side of him already knew the truth, a truth that had just now slammed straight into his heart.
Ash wasn’t just his salvation—she was his reason for existing.
But for her, he was death waiting.
Godsdamn. Race paced the corridor like a caged beast, thrusting his fingers through his hair.
He had to find a way to keep his mate safe from his own damned seed. By all those useless gods, how the fuck did he do that?
Race telepathed Blaez. What the hell did you mean by the cryptic crap you threw at me? ‘In the space between heartbeats, where shadow swallows light, mortality weaves immortality’s chains?’
Taunting laughter echoed in his head. Race wanted to punch him.
Think, man. Or ask your dragon. He’s sharp.
Damn asshole.
His dragon side stirred. Mortal shall wear immortality’s claim.
The words hit like a flare in the dark.
Is it true? Race demanded of Blaéz, hope sparking in his chest.
Look, I get these flashes. Words or images, Blaéz’s murmur sounded faint in his head, distracted. Just know this. Once mated, Ash will take on your lifespan, but she will not be immortal—have to go.
Their mind-link disconnected.
Hell. Race slumped against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. So, he was still fucked.
His venom would rewire her DNA. It could also strike her heart like lightning, stopping it cold. Yet it was the only way her body could accept his cursed molten seed.
He stilled—
Of course! Vargol.
Once back in Lemuria, he would seek the old hermit out. He must know a way a dragon shifter could claim his mate without harming her. For now, he had to cage his damn desire. Lock down the mating fever—
The elevator doors slid open, and Kira stepped out, pushing a serving trolley. Her eyes widened when she saw him, then her expression turned anxious. “Is Ash okay? We felt her power surge through the castle.”
Race straightened from the wall. “Yeah, she’s fine.”
“Oh, good.” She thrust a pile of clothes into his hands. “For Ash. And food for you both.” She patted the cart’s handle.
“Thanks.”
“No worries.” With a wave, the female reentered the elevator, humming a little.
Race mentally opened the door to his quarters and froze.
Ash sat on the bed, wrapped in a towel, drying her hair with another. He’d seen her naked, but seeing her now, with her arms and shoulders bare, made him long to strip the towel away and lick her from head to toe, then settle in at his favorite part—
Hell.
She lowered the towel from her head. Her champagne-hued eyes warmed when she saw him. “What did Nik want?”
He set the clothes on the bed. “Just checking everything’s okay.”
“Oh…” She pushed back her damp hair, the ebony waves framing her beautiful face, but unease clouded her expression. “I have to learn control, Race. What if I accidentally shatter this place or seriously hurt someone?”
He glanced around the once again tidied room, which she’d likely put right. “I’ll teach you how. I promise. For now, just stay calm until we get to a safer place.”
She rubbed her throat, and the towel slipped a little, revealing the curve of her breasts. With his control hanging by a thread, he got his ass moving away from her, parked the food cart near the crackling hearth, then froze.
Even with his back turned, her presence closed in, wrapping around him, and he longed to turn and drag her to him, to take her mouth—
Godsdamn. The mating fever strained under his skin, too hot, too consuming, and he gritted his teeth. He pivoted. She stood a step away from him. “I need a shower. I reek of blood and sulfur.”
He sidestepped her, ripped open his torn, blood-spattered shirt, the buttons scattering everywhere, then strode for the bathroom.
His dragon snorted. Chicken.
Asshole.
Ash frowned at Race’s tense, departing figure. What was wrong now?
She gripped the towel to her chest. After everything that just happened, she thought there was understanding between them, but he was shutting her out again.
Oh, the maddening dragon! She was having none of that.
Ash stomped after him through the spacious dressing room, the sound of splattering water growing louder. She entered the enormous, marble and chrome bathroom—beautiful yet unyielding, just like the man inside.
Water cascaded over Race in the shower, hitting the glass enclosure where he stood, his hands braced against the wall, every muscle drawn taut. His cock jutted out, thick, long, and impossible to ignore.
The sight stole her breath.
Dear lord. He was sheer perfection.
And it pained her that she couldn’t even give him release.
Sod this! Her body might not be able to handle his dragonfire cum for now, but surely she could use her hand?
She dropped her towel, opened the door, and yelped as the frigid water hit her skin. “Bloody hell, Race. Are you trying to freeze to death?”
He glanced over his shoulder, rivulets pouring down the hard planes of his face and back. He laughed, the sound strained. “Ash, get out.”
“No.” She reached past him for the temperature knob, sliding it to a reasonable warmth.
“I’m trying to get myself under control before I do something we’d both regret.”
“Like what?” She kissed his back, and he shuddered. “Taking what’s already yours?”
“Ash…” he groaned, the sound part warning, part plea. He hung his head, water streaming down his jaw. Beneath his lightly tanned skin, faint black scales shimmered, flickering and fading, his dragon close to the surface. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she whispered, sliding her hands up his chest, his heart thundering beneath her palms. “I know what you said about the venom, but you’re avoiding me—”
He grasped her wrists and dragged her to his front, caging her against the tiled wall. His pupils slit, his claret irises bleeding crimson. She stared up at him, all the longing in her heart laid bare. “Race, whatever is happening, it’s beyond lust, beyond us…”
They were like the stars caught in each other’s gravity. If they didn’t align soon, the collision course would be devastating.
“Don’t you get it?” he rasped, voice raw. “I could kill you. Even my venom is fucking dangerous. Too much of it could stop your heart.”
She pushed back his drenched hair, making him meet her gaze.
His cheekbones sharpened, the hint of dragon ridges flaring and receding.
“Or it could save me,” she whispered. “You keep talking about risk, but what about choice? I choose you, Race. All of you—dragon, venom, all the broken parts—everything.”
Torment was etched in every line of his face. He wanted her, but he was breaking himself in half trying to protect her.
“Heart-fire, I just found you. You are mortal—”
“That I am. And I’ll die, anyway.” She slipped her hands to his neck, her stare unwavering, aware that he kept his lower body away from hers. “The only choice is whether I live—really live—a lifetime in a few minutes with you, or live a lifetime in despair, being safe, with a broken heart.”
“Ash,” he groaned. “I’m returning to Lemuria, I’ll speak with Vargol—the hermit who sent Attor after me. Maybe he’ll know how we—”
She gently touched his clenched jaw, held his tortured stare. “I trust you.”
For a moment, the silence stretched, except for his ragged breathing and the pounding of her heart.