Chapter 18 #2
“No.” A deep sigh escaped him. “I’m not the best at communicating emotions, unfortunately…” Then, as if he couldn’t stop himself, he traced a knuckle along her jaw. “If you want the words, then yes, Ash. You alone call to me, on a level that I can’t even fathom.”
She blinked at him.
He watched her for a moment. “Nothing?” he teased, a hint of a smile appearing. “No smart retort? No calling me a—what was it—pumpkin head?”
Her mouth quivered, hope blooming brighter than the stars. “I only said that because you were being utterly impossible when we first met.”
“I know. But don’t you get it?” His gaze softened. “I rile you just to hear what you’ll say next.”
He did?
Race buried his face in the curve of her neck, inhaled deeply, as if breathing her in. “Watching you walk away felt as if you pulled my insides out and took everything with you.”
“Then talk to me.” She slipped her hands up his hard chest. “I can’t read your mind.”
“I’m learning.” He pressed his lips over the faint claim mark he’d left on her skin, and desire unfurled low in her belly.
“Race?”
“Hmm…” His mouth trailed up to her jaw.
“Why is Skaldr so certain Vaesarra still loves you?” She drew back a fraction. “I mean, it’s been a long time? If it wasn’t serious…”
He released her and exhaled deeply, shoving back strands of loosened hair from his face. “I liked her, but there were no promises between us. I knew she wanted more, but I was young and wasn’t about to tie myself down to anyone. After all, we live long lives.”
Ash swallowed hard at her truth. I don’t.
No, this was never going to be a till-death-do-us-part thing.
“Was Skaldr in love with her?” she asked, trying to shut off the ache building deep inside her.
“Hardly. They’re siblings.”
“Ohhhh.” No wonder Skaldr’s fury runs so deep. “So, what happened?”
Race let her go and sat heavily on the bed.
“In the days before the coup, she grew increasingly upset over what she called my ‘blasé’ ways. Claimed I never took anything seriously.” He shook his head, rubbing a thumb along the scar on his knuckle.
“Being the youngest, I guess I didn’t. There can only be one heir who will wear the Ember Crown when my sire steps down, and I already had two older brothers… ”
Ash nodded as he wound through the memories.
“As a highborn, Vaesarra got her way far too often. I had plans to join the wing commander’s squadron. But me being a common soldier didn’t sit well with her. She yelled about me wasting my power, throwing everything away…”
He shook his head. “With tension already rising in the realm, when she started on the same old thing again, I snapped. I told her she could leave if she weren’t happy.”
Ash winced at the bluntness but kept silent.
He got up, moved to the basin, lifted her water mug, and drained the remaining liquid in a single swallow. Then he stared at the metal beaker.
“As Caelvyrn fell…” Each word seemed dragged from somewhere raw and dark, “Skaldr and I fought off the rebels. He ended up badly wounded. I tried to reach him, but couldn’t with the enemy surging. The guards forced us apart…”
He exhaled and scrubbed his tight jaw. “I was sprinting through the palace, searching for my parents, when the cursed, spelled arrow struck me in the back. I collapsed, unable to move a limb…”
His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the mug. “Malcarion appeared, dragging my sire’s lifeless body with him, trailing blood everywhere. ‘A pity your dam died so fast,’ he gloated.
Race’s jaw hardened. “Then he laughed… ‘And you princeling, you belong to me. Your brothers traded you to me for their lives—ah, you didn’t know, did you? Poor, useless prince. They didn’t want a weakling said to be more powerful than them around—’”
“He lied to you!” Ash blurted, remembering Attor’s revelation that they’d been killed during the coup.
“Aye, but I didn’t know that back then.” Pain tightened his face as fresh grief darkened his eyes. “Vengeance was all that kept me going in Tartarus. I hated my brothers…” His throat worked as he set the mug down and sat on the bed again, head bowed.
“Later, as a Guardian, I stopped caring. I decided they deserved the life Malcarion would hand them.”
“How did you know you’d come into power?” Ash asked quietly.
He looked up, his eyes like bloodied bruises. “My dam revealed what the Blood Singer foresaw days earlier, that I would come into formidable sway, with powers to be feared. Something dragons don’t inherently have…”
Race dragged his thumb and forefinger over his eyes as if he could wipe away the memory.
“As Malcarion crowed about his victory, Vaesarra rushed into the gallery, white as death. He grabbed her. She fought him and ran to me. Her eyes…” His voice tightened.
“They held such terror. As if she couldn’t believe what was happening. ”
Ash hugged her arms around herself, the cold crawling under her skin. “Didn’t you have personal guards to protect you all?”
“We did. But Malcarion was known, trusted, and the overlord of another, smaller county. Always so rigid at keeping order, loyal to a fault, my sire would say, but he’d been plotting this treachery all along.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What I’m finally able to do.” His expression hardened to steel. “First, we stop the raiding of the children. That depravity will not stand.”
“And Malcarion?”
His brow lowered. “Did you think I’d stop before scrubbing out all the filth? The bastard’s days are numbered.”
Relief flooded her. “Oh, good. At least Skaldr might forgive you once Vaesarra is freed.”
“Maybe.” His gaze flicked toward the window. “I still need clearance from Michael for time off. He’d likely kick my ass for vanishing without a word if Gaia doesn’t beat him to it. But first,” his gaze held hers, unyielding. “I need you safe. Everything else comes after.”
She brushed aside the comment and sank onto the window seat. Warmth finally seeped through her from the hearth, and exhaustion weighed her down like lead. “Gaia—that’s the goddess who recruited you all into her service, right?”
“Aye.”
“How did that happen?” she asked, reaching for her boots.
“Later,” he murmured, finger-combing his unraveling braid and refastening it into a ponytail. “You need sleep. Let me.” He knelt in front of her, his deft fingers working the laces of her calf-high boots.
Ash stifled a yawn and rested her palms on the seat, her right hand settling on cool metal.
Curious, she lifted the obsidian dagger, tracing the hilt etched with scales and a moonlit gem set in the guard. Heat flared into her palm, and an amber light bloomed beneath her fingers, sweeping along the blade.
“Eeep!” She dropped the weapon on his cloak, clenching her tingling fingers. “Your dagger glows.”
Race looked up, his brow creasing, then at his blade, dark once more.
“Probably the lamp’s reflection.” He tugged off her boots and socks. “C’mon.” He rose and scooped her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“You need rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.” He settled her on the bed.
“And you?”
He rolled his shoulders and sat near her. “I’ll wait for the others.”
“Then lie beside me.” She patted the quilt and shifted to the middle of the enormous bed.
After a beat, he sighed, kicked off his own boots, and stretched out beside her. His arm came around her, settling her against his chest.
She shifted onto her side, propped on her arm, and looked at him, at the hard, beautiful face that hid more pain than he would ever admit.
“What?” he asked quietly, his eyes burning neon red in the lamplight.
Ash shook her head and pressed her lips to his in a tender kiss—
He flipped her onto her back and leaned over her, holding her gaze for a long, charged second. “What?” he asked again.
Ash’s chest tightened, emotions surging, too much to hold in. She touched his face, letting out a small, shaky breath. “I didn’t expect this. You. Us.”
“Neither did I. But you make the damage…quieter.”
Swallowing hard, tears burning behind her eyes, she gently caressed his jaw. “Then I’m glad.”
“By the gods, Ash.” His mouth found hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, his touch demanding and desperate. The brush of his fangs only heightened her need for this dangerous male.
His warm, calloused hand skimmed under her tunic to stroke her stomach before gliding up to squeeze her breast. He teased her nipple with his fingertips, and she arched, a helpless whimper escaping.
She slid her hand between them, down his abs, along the hard ridge of his cock, and curled her fingers around his straining erection—
With a groan, he pulled back, his chest heaving. “You are a dangerous temptation, Ashaya. You make me forget where I am.”
Ash panted, dragging air into her starving lungs, disappointment surging. “And that’s a bad thing?”
He let out a laugh. “It’s perfect, but the others will be back soon.”
Wonderful. She scrunched her face, having forgotten them. She smoothed his long ponytail where it fell across her chest. The truth was, if she wasn’t careful, this man could hurt her worse than Paul ever had.
With a rough inhale, Race sat up, feet on the floor.
At the sag in his usually straight shoulders, Ash forgot her own wariness and slipped her arms around him from behind. She didn’t know how he endured that horror for so long alone.
She rested her chin on his shoulder. An impish part of her couldn’t resist, “A shame to waste all that tension. My mouth can work miracles, you know?”
His gaze shot to hers, a groan breaking loose. “You enjoy tormenting me, don’t you?”
“Only because you’re fun to tease.” She laughed, letting her fingers trail lower, stroking his stomach, and his muscles tensed.
“Ash.” He grasped her hand, his voice like gravel. “I am a dragon on the edge. You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I like getting burned.”