Chapter 43
Chapter
Forty-Three
Race stopped in front of his old friend. Years of secrets, scars, and betrayals now stood between them like a vast chasm.
Skaldr’s expression remained as remote as the mountains circling the city. He straightened, his gaze shifting to Ash, skimming the fading bruises on her face, the sling that supported her arm. His mouth tightened.
“I am glad you are well,” he told Ash, then, to Race, “Lemuria will thrive again.”
After a half bow, he pivoted and strode off down the narrow street.
“Skaldr, wait.”
“There is nothing left to say. I was wrong about everything.” He sidestepped broken rubble as if determined to be gone before words caught him.
Race went after him, grabbing his arm.
“What?” He yanked free, his amber eyes blazing. “Do you want to see me completely broken? She made sure of that. Right now, I’m buried so deep in the shit she left behind, you could dig for years and never find me.”
But beyond it all, Race saw the deep-seated wounds, the hollowness of betrayal that ran as deep as his own scars. “None of us knew, not until yesterday.”
Wind gusted through the narrow street, stirring ash and grit.
“What? That nothing’s deadlier than a she-dragon’s pride damaged?” Skaldr shoved back his tangled hair, his laugh raw, humorless. “She played me well, the few times I saw her. We might not have caught it all, but to hear the truth as we flew down the mountain…”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His gaze dropped to the rubble at his feet.
“I hate that even then, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. I thought she was hurting, being at Malcarion’s mercy for so long, and spewing shit in her pain at your mate.
” He looked up, his expression bleak. “But when I saw how she deliberately let Ashaya go…”
“Skaldr?” Ash said softly, taking a step forward. “It’s over. I am well now.”
“Only because Eracier caught you. Had we been one second later, you would have died—the same way she was responsible for his parents’ and his brothers’ deaths.”
Ash exhaled, glanced helplessly at Race. He drew her to him, careful of her arm.
“Next time, don’t give a person who intends to harm you an inch, Your Highness,” Skaldr told her, his tone empty. “I warned you upfront. She-dragons are bitches.”
“And justice was served,” Race said.
Skaldr’s mouth twisted. “Because I brought her up the rampart, then dropped her, knowing she couldn’t fly with a damaged wing? That’s hardly justice. More mercy. Maybe you should have added her to Flaeron’s demise tomorrow.”
He fell silent. Somewhere behind them, voices rose—survivors calling to each other through the haze.
Skaldr shook his head, his eyes resembling amber stones. “Why didn’t you say anything? The people deserve to know the truth, deserve to know why Lemuria fell.”
“I felt you at the edge of the crowds,” Race said. “This conversation had to happen between us first. The rest will be revealed later.”
Skaldr dragged a palm along his unshaven jaw. “I don’t need pity.”
“Hardly,” Race said. “I wasn’t about to let the mob tear you apart before I could speak to you.”
“Good thing my sire and dam aren’t alive to witness this shame.” He picked up a weathered backpack stashed among chunks of fallen walls and hefted it over one shoulder. “I’m leaving.”
“Why?” Race asked. “This is your home.”
“She destroyed any honor we had, buried me in this shithole of lies.” He shook his head. Despite his harsh words, the sheer agony in his eyes gutted Race. “I’m glad you’re back, and you finally have happiness.”
“Where will you go?”
“No idea.”
With a nod, he stalked off only to glance back. “In case you’re wondering, Drax and Aerrax never traded you for their lives. All lies. I found out they fought Malcarion’s rebels when the city fell and died in battle.”
Race’s jaw clenched, fresh rage coursing through him as Skaldr vanished into an alley.
“I’m sorry,” Ash whispered, staring at the empty alley. “I guess you both heard everything Vaesarra said in the gorge. He must be in so much pain.”
“You can’t save him, Ashaya, mine,” Race said quietly. “He has to fight his own ghosts. He’s carried that guilt for a long time.”
Ash sighed. “I know.”
He gently rubbed her back, then his palm stilled.
“There’s something else—something that never sat quite right with me.
Her being at the palace the day Caelvyrn fell…
” He shook his head. “She rushed into the throne room, terrified. It wasn’t because she saw me felled by a spelled arrow in my spine, but because she was the one who betrayed me. Malcarion told her, Well done.”
Ash’s eyes burned white. “That bitch! I hope she’s in the deepest parts of Hell, experiencing every vile thing she’s done for all the pain she caused!”
Silence pressed down, heavy as the mountain itself.
“It is done.” Race drew her close.
But even as he held her, the frayed edges of their nearly shattered bond clawed at him. He could still taste that emptiness, the hollow terror of a world without her.
All around them, Caelvyrn’s ruins murmured with survivors—rocks clattering, voices calling through smoke, life taking root among devastation.
None of it mattered, if he couldn’t reclaim what had nearly been lost.
“You owe me something, heart-fire.”
She blinked those beautiful, champagne-hued eyes at him. “What?”
“This eve, I’ll bind us back together and fix what was nearly broken.” A vow.
The familiar scents of herbs and woodsmoke wrapped around them as they entered Talonhold. Bregga shuffled out from the kitchen, relief softening the hard lines of his weathered features.
He bowed. “Your Majesties, welcome back. The people are joyous.”
Ash smiled, and Race, still gloriously naked from shifting back into human form, didn’t so much as blink at the old shifter, just nodded.
“I bring ye a tray—”
Race’s crimson gaze cut to him, and his growl rumbled low, dangerous. “Later. We’re not to be disturbed.”
“Aye, sire.” Bregga’s mouth snapped shut with a noise, but his rheumy eyes twinkled as he quickly shuffled toward the kitchen.
“Oh, God,” Ash groaned, burying her flaming face in her good hand.
“What?” Race cocked an eyebrow, pure devilry in his tone.
“Now he knows. You can’t just stalk around like this, with that—”
“Hard-on?” His grin turned wolfish. “I can, and I will. You’re the only one who matters.”
Before she could retort, he pressed his hand to the small of her back, steering her up the stairs. His stride was relentless, his silence a taut wire humming around her like a living thing.
Upstairs, he closed the door behind them. The quiet clicked through her bones.
Then her spine met wood, his body caging hers, his eyes burning as if she were the only one in his world.
“Ra—” His name was cut off as his mouth found hers, fierce and claiming, flooding her with the heat.
He pulled away, then with quick, efficient moves, her boots and jeans were off, her shirt—or rather his—was yanked apart, buttons popping, plinking everywhere.
She was as naked as him.
Then, as if she were the most precious thing ever, he scooped her into his arms, careful of her injuries, and carried her to the bed. He laid her on the covers, his gaze tracing the sling around her arm.
He sighed. “I shouldn’t touch you while you’re hurt.”
She sat up. “Funny, I thought the idea was that I’d touch you.”
His eyes narrowed, heat deepening those gorgeous claret depths. “Much as I want this, Ashaya, you’re not a hundred percent yet—”
She snorted. “What I need works rather well.”
With her good hand, she stroked his shaft—so close to her face—then licked the head, and his jaw flexed.
“What are you doing?” he rumbled, pushing her hair back and watching her.
“Sucking you off. Finally.” She grinned and licked him again, then took the head into her mouth and worked him, taking him as far as she could, before releasing him. Then starting over again, and squeezing the root she couldn’t quite swallow.
He grunted, grasped her hair and shunted into her mouth, harder, faster—
“Fuck!” he growled, stopping, his eyes shutting. He pulled out and sat next to her, rubbing his face.
He always put her first in everything, and Ash’s heart expanded, too big for her chest with how much he meant to her, with how much she wanted him.
She rose, straddling his thighs, careful of her injured arm in the sling, her good hand gripping his hair at the back of his nape. His arms came around her.
God, he was warm.
Smiling, she rubbed her slit along his heated length. “Since you don’t want my mouth, shall I ride you, then, my liege?”
A low rumble came from his chest, half growl, half groan, as if her words alone undid him. “You live to torment me.”
“And you love it,” she shot back, her voice husky with need. Then, softer, she said, “Let me do this, Race. Let me fix what I nearly broke?”
His arm tightened around her waist, and he shifted them, his back braced against the headboard now.
With a groan of deep-seated hunger, his mouth captured hers, and Ash kissed him back with everything within her, her need for this man who was her heart, her very soul, consuming her.
His hand slipped between them, and he dragged his hard cock along her wet, aching core. She panted as she rose on her knees, then slowly lowered down. His thick shaft stretched and widened her as she sank to the hilt.
She gasped, sensation sweeping through her body again like wildfire.
His eyes blazed. He gripped her hips. “Ride me, my heart.”
Ash dragged her core up his rigid length, and a groan of pure need escaped him as she sank down again. Her breath caught, feeling him even deeper in this position.
He gripped her hips, and she moved on him, need building. A whimper escaped her, her desire gathering momentum, vaguely aware of Race’s glittering gaze fixed on her. He palmed her breast, squeezing. She ground her clit against him, chasing after her orgasm now.
Her lightning broke free, leaping across his skin, stirring her harder.
He growled, his hips shunting upward, harder and faster—grazing her throbbing flesh—
“Oh, God!” Her orgasm exploded, dragging her under in a tidal rush.
His hands tightened on her hips, and he drove hard into her, once, twice. He stiffened, a groan tearing free as he found his own release, the sound incredibly hot and sexy—
A white light shimmered, spreading through them once more, reflecting in his gorgeous crimson eyes.
And that barely-there warmth in her chest grew stronger. Brighter.
Mine! he growled, the word so loud in her head, she couldn’t help but laugh through her tears.
I love you, too, she mind-linked with him, and a smile of sheer joy touched his mouth.
I feel you again, my heart. Fully. As it should be.
Ash collapsed against him, her breathing ragged, her sweat-dampened hair clinging to his skin.
The sling tugged awkwardly at her shoulder, but she didn’t care—not when the mate-bond sang whole and bright inside her, no longer a faded whisper but a blazing tether that thrummed with every beat of his heart.
Race’s arms came around her, holding her against him. His lips brushed her hair, his voice a ragged vow. “If you go, I go with you. That’s the truth of what we are.”
Her eyes burned. She lifted her head and touched his cheek. “Then you’ll just have to settle with me being a tormenting nuisance in the meantime.”
His laughter rumbled through his chest, rough but real. “Indeed.”
He laid her back on the sheets, used the ruined shirt to clean her, then cleaned himself before moving to the side of her good arm and lying next to her. Their bond pulsed, steady, strong, and alive as he drew her to him.
“How long would we stay here?” she asked, tracing circles on his chest.
“Not sure.” He stroked her hips. “There are things I have to oversee, and I must speak with Attor as well.”
“Yeah?” She glanced at him. “About?”
“Nothing dire, heart-fire.” A smile tugged at those tempting lips before it faded. “With the palace badly destroyed… I don’t want that place of depravity rebuilt. I think something new, different—something that shows hope.”
“You’ll tear down the entire palace?”
“Aye. So, either on the mountains again or at the Nocthra Sea. That’s the black body of water you can see from the palace.”
“I’d rebuild it on the same spot,” she said softly. “Just with a new face. Malcarion’s tyranny shouldn’t have the last word there.” She tilted her head, then added dryly, “Assuming money isn’t a problem, of course.”
His eyes gleamed with amusement.
“Just so you know,” she said casually, “I have maybe a thousand quid to my name, not much help financially. But I can cement a mean brick wall. I helped my dad build the rose garden arbor.”
He kissed her on the mouth, silencing her, and when he drew back, his voice was raspy and raw with tenderness. “My beautiful Ash, I don’t have the words to convey just how much I adore you. Now, please continue about the palace.”
God, this man. Her lips curved, and her heart melted.
She braced up on her good arm while he lay there like some fallen deity, silver hair spilled across the faded gray pillows. “What I’m trying to say is that by rebuilding at the same place, it will strip Malcarion’s shadow. Your people will see not ruins, but renewal.”
“Not mine. Our people.”
Oh, boy. It still felt a bit surreal to think of those majestic dragons as hers.
His smile softened, and he drew her down again. “So, the mountain it is, then. Now sleep, it helps you heal faster.”
With an exhausted yawn, Ash let her eyes drift shut… Something glinted on the little table near the wall.
Her dagger.
A soft breath escaped her. She must have summoned it during her healing sleep without even realizing it. Smiling, she melted into his warmth, safe in the arms of her dragon.