Chapter 39
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
Relief surged through Luka so powerfully that it dropped him to his knees. He pressed his hands—claws extended—into the heated stone of the cave floor and whispered broken-voiced thanks to the Mother before gazing up at Izzy once more.
She was magnificent—shimmering sapphire and silver, formidably strong, and more elegant than he could have ever imagined.
She hummed a rough purr, blinking down at him, took a step forward, and stumbled. Her legs wobbled, and she sat heavily with a grunt.
Gods, he remembered his own first shift. How terrifying and magical and grueling it was. He rose to his feet and went to her, stroking her glorious scales, loving her and petting her as joy bubbled up inside him. She was alive.
But they couldn’t relax yet. They were some distance from the surface, and she had been severely wounded.
The shift would have healed the broken blood vessels but exhausted her even further in the process.
She needed water, food, and rest—and none of those were available in this small grotto, no matter its beauty.
She blinked slowly, her head hanging low, and he nuzzled against her. “Shift back for me, my beloved.”
She sighed, her wings drooping. “I’m tired.”
“I know, and this will be hard, but then you can sleep.”
“And you’ll stay with me?”
The words were low and gutting, the rumble of her beast threaded with the concerns of the woman. She had been brave beyond all endurance, but now she was too tired to hide her vulnerability.
Gods. He had created this seed of fear. All he could do now was show her, again and again, that he would stay with her forever. He met her big, glittering eyes. “I promise, I’ll stay with you. Always.”
She blinked slowly. “Okay.”
The air stilled and then crackled as heat surged around them. Golden light flashed, reflected, and fractured in every gleaming crystal. Izzy arched her back and whimpered as her scales writhed over her skin. Her wings thrust out, quivering, as she moaned.
Luka reached out to her, settling his small human hands on her fiery skin. His claws gleamed against her scales, and his beast rumbled loudly, in harmony with hers.
She cried out, a harsh, pained bellow, and then seemed to crumple in on herself as her wings retracted. Loud cracks echoed through the grotto as her bones shifted, and for the first time, he truly understood what Izzy had witnessed all the times she’d stood by him and Rayan.
Light flared one last time. Luka blinked, and Izzy was back with him.
Her pupils were blown wide, and her face was pale and drawn.
Dried blood stained her skin from her ribs to her hips, with streaks down her leg.
A mottled purple bruise marred her belly where the dagger had pierced her, but the flesh had knitted together.
She dragged in a rough breath and then slowly toppled. He caught her before she could fall and pulled her up into his arms to hold her tight. She was unconscious, utterly spent. Her skin was too hot and covered in a sheen of gleaming perspiration over scattered scales. But she would live.
Thank the Mother and the Twins.
Tears still wet his face, but he didn’t dare let her go to wipe them away. Instead, he let them fall, to mingle with Izzy’s blood and pain, another offering in this magnificent heart of the mountain.
He laid her down on the altar and dressed her carefully. Dried blood on her back told the tale of Dashiell and his blade, and Luka had to hold in the loud growl that threatened to overwhelm him.
We should take her to the pools. Let her get clean.
Luka winced. Izzy might not want to go back there.
His beast huffed. It can be the backdrop to your grovel.
Luka chuckled dryly. “True. We can work on it together.”
Leave me out of it. I never fucked any of this up. His beast rumbled a laugh, taking the sharpness from the words.
Luka replied anyway. “I’m sorry. I should’ve listened.”
You’re listening now.
He lifted Izzy and cradled her, her sweet weight in his arms a precious gift.
He kissed her softly on the forehead, but she didn’t wake.
Her chest rose and fell in sleep. He was so absorbed in her, he almost didn’t notice that—for the first time since that ruined night—his claws had retracted.
Finally, after so many years, he and his beast were one.
He dipped a last bow toward the heart of the mountain before carrying Izzy safely from the grotto back into the vestibule.
He blew out the candles, leaving him and Izzy—and the lifelike images of the gods—illuminated by the unearthly glow of the strange mushrooms. Then, he laid Izzy gently down and quickly shifted.
It was so easy here, where the very air seemed drenched in the power and love of the Mother.
Within seconds, his drake had their skin, and Izzy was back in his claws.
The return journey was slow and laborious.
His body ached with the remnants of fear and exertion, and the darkness somehow seemed more solid.
On the flight down, he’d been operating on terror and instinct, choosing the route that took them toward the heat, whichever that might be. Going up was far more difficult.
He didn’t know which way to take and frequently had to stall midair, trying to scent and feel his way forward. He chose dead ends on more than one occasion and ended up having to double back and try again.
The desperate flight that had taken ten minutes going down, took four times that going back.
But eventually, just as the throbbing ache in his wings was about to drive him to the ground for a rest, he saw a glimmer of light in the distance.
Soon he scented salt and seaweed, and a few minutes later, they were through, back into the sandy cave.
The lamp still burned from its hook in the hoist, throwing a dim, red light and long shadows across the cave. The storm seemed to have quietened, and the tide was low, but it was pitch-dark outside, and he guessed it must be after midnight.
Dashiell was still bound, but not where Luka left him.
Somehow he’d woken and wormed his way across the sand toward the boat.
He’d twisted himself around, probably attempting to scrape the rope behind his back against the bollard the boat was tied to.
Fortunately, he hadn’t got very far, and all he’d achieved was a good soaking.
Luka laid Izzy down on a patch of dry sand near the back wall of the cave. She rolled on to her side with a soft moan, but she didn’t wake as he settled her safely.
Dashiell opened his mouth, as if to rail at Luka, but his beast had their skin and it had no intention of letting Izzy be disturbed.
“Be quiet,” he rumbled in his beast’s low tones.
Dashiell narrowed his eyes, and Luka spat a glob of fire toward him, just close enough to singe without causing any permanent damage.
Dashiell flinched back, his face twisted with fury, but he closed his mouth and kept it closed, even as Luka hooked a claw over his armor and dragged him to the far side of the beach—closer to the cave entrance but further away from Izzy.
It still wasn’t safe to leave. The storm had died down, but Luka didn’t know the rocks or currents, or what other lethal obstacles might surround the cave entrance, and he didn’t want to find out in the dark with Izzy in his arms. The broken hoist with its narrow access shaft that would never hold his drake wasn’t an option either.
All he wanted was to shift back to his human body and hold her in his arms, but he could protect her far better as a drake, so that was how he stayed. His beast could watch Dashiell as they waited out the night.
He stalked across the sand and landed heavily on the boat to look around.
A set of small wooden casks opened with a flick of his claws to reveal bulging waterskins, dried fruit in clay jars, and hard oatcakes wrapped in oiled paper.
Enough food and water for a couple of days, but no more.
Where exactly had Dashiell planned to go?
He glared at him, but Dashiell had closed his eyes and was pretending to sleep.
Luka gently laid the food ready for when Izzy woke and then curled around her, tucking her under his wing. He wanted her protected, warm, and safe, and he needed to feel her breathing. He needed to know she was beside him.
He was never going to lose her again.