Epilogue
Ash shivered as Race shut the portal, her breath turning the air white. Her gaze fixed on the Guardians’ castle, picturesque and ancient, locked in icy weather despite the clear skies and bright sun.
She didn’t think it was possible, but she already missed the char-scented air and warmth of Talonhold House and Duskscale. “Lemuria feels like a dream now.”
“Oh, heart-fire, it will all be there waiting,” Race said dryly, slipping his cell back into his pocket. “Ready to face the natives?”
Ash huffed, tracing the edges of her sling supporting her injured arm. She focused on her mate.
Clad in his perpetual black, the color set off his silver hair and sun-warmed skin. With his waist-length tresses in a sleek braid, he looked regal, impossibly gorgeous, and utterly lethal—just not to her.
“I’m assuming you texted Michael?”
“Yeah. Hell, months have passed here already.” He hooked their backpack on one shoulder. “That damned fractured portal—at least the Resistance is guarding it now. I asked Attor to see if Vargol can heal it.”
Ash nodded. “Let’s hope he can.”
“Months? Oh, no!” she squeaked. “Mum and Dad—”
With her arm trapped in a sling, she fumbled one-handed for her mobile in her coat pocket.
“Let me.” Race reached into the pocket, pulled it free, and switched it on before handing it to her.
“Christ on a crutch! May?” She stared aghast at the screen and the number of missed calls. She hastily called her mother, who answered on the first ring. “Mum—”
“Ash, darling, we were so afraid when we heard nothing from you. Dad called this Michael. Apparently, Race gave him the number. He reassured us everything was fine. Said you were out of range and would call as soon as you could. Something about Race’s work.”
Ash mouthed thank you to her smiling mate and sent Michael her eternal gratitude.
“Oh, good. I’ll call soon, Mum, just got back, and I’m rather tired.”
“It’s all right, love. Take care of yourself and pass your man our regards.”
Exhaling in relief, Ash slipped her cell into her jeans pocket.
“I heard. Come.” He draped his arm over her shoulders as they navigated the pathway around the expansive castle. “I normally would’ve done this meet back at the abbey, but I figured you might like to see the women here again.”
Her smile widened. “Yes. I’d love that. I like this place.”
He snorted. “I don’t know why. My cave has the same comforts.”
“Unlike your mountain cave…” Ash smirked, grasping his hand over her shoulder. “This one comes with hot water, tea, and my new friends.”
He chuckled. The sharp crack of colliding pool balls shattered the quiet as they stopped at the open French doors. Sure enough, the Guardians were gathered around the table.
They were so intent on studying the balls—calculating angles, whatever—no one noticed them.
Oh, they know, Race said through their mind-link. Just being assholes.
Ash bit back a smile, watching as Aethan leaned on his cue, his eyes narrowed on the table. Blaéz chalked his stick with deadly focus, and Tyr stood opposite, eyeing them like he planned to take all their worldly goods.
“Norse, you owe me a buck.” Aethan tapped his cue on the floor. “I made the shot.”
“What shot?” Tyr retorted. “That hit went wide.”
Lore laughed, leaning on his stick.
“Because you picked up the ball, you cheating bastard,” Aethan growled.
“Are they always like this?” she whispered as they stepped inside.
“Worse,” Race drawled loud enough for them to hear, and all attention turned to them.
“Well, well.” Tyr grinned. “Look what Bob dragged in—”
As if summoned by chaos itself, a screech split the air. An enormous, long-haired gray blur bolted past them for dear life, pursued by two tiny, yapping furballs hell-bent on winning this chase.
Ash laughed and pivoted just in time to see the enormous cat vanish into the garden—
“Ash!” A delighted squeal cut across the hall, followed immediately by a sharp gasp. “What happened to your arm?”
She turned as Kira barreled toward her but then stopped short, her hands hovering, mindful of Ash’s injured arm. Echo was right behind her, her mismatched eyes dark with worry. Then Nia appeared, offering Lore a quick smile before wrapping Ash in her familiar, fierce warmth.
Ash blinked back sudden tears as the women crowded around, fussing over her. “I’m fine, honestly. Just a scratch or two. Need a badge for my efforts in the war of dragons.”
“Liar,” Echo said drily, but her fingers squeezed Ash’s good ones tightly.
Race stepped back, watching as the women surrounded his mate. For a male who’d once revered solitude, he wondered how he’d survived millennia alone.
Her bright laughter, the way her eyes came alive despite everything she’d endured in his world, the magnitude of his feelings for her and hers for him…all of it fisted his chest. In a good way.
Aethan snorted as he followed Race’s stare. “We’ve all been there, man—hell, we still are in awe of them.” He nodded at the women. “So, might as well get used to it.”
The others nodded as well.
Fair enough. Race dropped the backpack on the couch and joined his fellow brethren by the pool table.
“How did it go?” Aethan asked. “We waited for your call. It never came.”
Race rubbed his jaw. “It went as well as one can expect in a world torn apart. You, Empyrean, would have likely killed my people with your whitefire—”
“Your people?” Blaéz leaned his cue against the table and braced his hands on the edge, one eyebrow raised. He and Lore both watched him like they almost knew.
He’d never spoken about his past. He might have mentioned he was the last of the black dragons, but he couldn’t be too sure. Who the hell wanted to talk about a realm stolen by an insane, narcissistic asshole, who’d terrified a world with his sadistic, despotic rule?
You can open up, if you want to, my love, Ash’s warm voice brushed through his mind. They care about you.
He looked up, and she smiled.
Ash was right. He could no longer keep up the three and a half thousand years of distance he’d worn like armor.
He gripped the edge of the pool table. Before he could speak, the door opened, and Nik sauntered inside. “I heard you were back. And in one piece, I’m glad to see. So, Malcarion’s taken care of?”
“Yeah,” Race murmured. “Being a Guardian helped, maybe—hell, it wouldn’t have mattered.
I would have killed the bastard either way.
Ash’s Storm Summoner power didn’t just even the fight, it turned the tide.
” His voice dipped. “But it came with an almost unbearable cost when she went over that mountain.”
“Is that where your Guardian advantage came in?” Tyr asked quietly.
He frowned. “My sword was a huge help… But after the secret chamber collapsed, Malcarion’s black magic stifled my powers. Couldn’t dematerialize.” He exhaled roughly. “Had to rely on my dragon form. Flew blind…”
Because he didn’t have their soul-joined tether after she snapped most of it. Nothing to guide him.
He shook his head. “Let’s just say something pulled me. Like a force I couldn’t control. I just went with it, down into the mountain’s abyss. I saw her falling—”
His whole body tensed, just remembering.
“It was her obsidian dagger,” Aethan murmured, understanding dawning in his gunmetal gray eyes. “She must’ve used it, and it called to you. The same thing happened to me when demons tried to drag Echo through a portal into Hell.”
Race slowly nodded, utterly grateful for the weapon’s mystical alert.
“I did use it,” Ash said quietly, and Race looked up as she crossed to him. “That she-dragon wanted to kill me. I stabbed her, but she pulled it out and tossed the dagger aside.”
He drew her close. “Then I’m damn glad for your weapon.”
“For God’s sake, please, tell us what happened,” Kira begged. “All Ash says is that she’s fine. And her wounds are just badges.”
With a deep breath, Race said, “Let’s just say everything I believed was a lie.”
He kept it brief about Malcarion’s coup, the downfall of Lemuria, the children’s stolen powers, and both Malcarion’s and Vaesarra’s treachery and eventual deaths.
“All because you rejected a woman, your family was slaughtered, and you were thrown into Tartarus?” Kira whispered.
His fellow Guardians remained quiet because some of them had suffered Tartarus’ horror as well.
“Jesus Christ,” Nia murmured, her eyes wide. “He hunted children?”
“It’s all over now,” Ash said softly. “They’re gone. At least those poor people will have a chance at a real life again.”
“Oh, so you’re going to govern the dragons?” Tyr frowned. “Gonna be kinda tough—Guardian work and Lemuria, don’t you think?”
“He did bring down the usurper,” Blaéz said, eyeing Race. “So, they probably see him as their savior now.”
Race snorted. “I’m no one’s savior. I just righted a wrong.”
“Wait, wait—” Kira flashed up her hands, frowning at them. “Is no one seeing the big picture here? Or, are we just not mentioning it?”
Race had no idea what the female was going on about.
“If he’s gonna rule the dragons, wouldn’t that make him like, their overlord or something?” she asked.
“Actually,” Ash said, a smile brightening her beautiful eyes, “he is the rightful heir to Lemuria and the last of the royal dragon line.”
Silence.
Then the room erupted in laughter.
“Of course, he is,” Aethan drawled, shaking his head.
A flow of power swept over the castle, and Michael stalked into the rec room, Bob tucked safely in his arms, while the two spindly little pups yelped around his heels, still trying to get to the cat.
“Found him running away from these tiny terrors,” he said, smoothing the cat’s long pelt, who gave the little leaping dogs the stink eye.
Laughing, Nia hastily picked up a pup, and Kira the other, and blessed silence reigned.
“All’s well?” Michael asked, his eerie, shattered blue irises with the silvered cracks seeming to see right through Race.