Date: 2016-07-26 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Romance; dragons; Paranormal Romance; Paranormal; Urban Fantasy; Magic; Shapeshifters; Adult; Fantasy Romance
Description: Valla Moonring is a dragon hybrid assassin who is ordered on a mission into the Wastelands of Aria—a formidable, icy wilderness fraught with all manner of dangers. Outlaws and lethal predators lie in wait to attack intruders. To her great distaste, she’s partnered with a Nightwing Security operative, Conn Rowanflame, a Morgon with the aggravating ability to get under her skin. Conn’s confident charm throws her off balance, a perilous place to be in conditions like these. Especially when cold nights require close contact. Sensual attraction binds them ever closer, igniting a passion of unexpect

Dragon in the Blood

Juliette Cross

Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Map of Aria

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

Ready for More Morgons?

Prologue

Chapter 1

Also by Juliette Cross

About the Author

Copyright © 2016 by Juliette Cross

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN: 978-0-9977184-0-9

For Corinne DeMaagd,
ninja editor and steadfast friend

Acknowledgments

This book has traveled a long and bumpy road toward publication. And there are certain people I must mention who helped along the way. To my kickass beta readers for your masterful critiques—Cora Cade, Rachel Cobb Chamness, Julie Reece, and Kristi Rose. Also to my editor, Corinne DeMaagd, whose guidance was invaluable in polishing this work and whose encouragement with this book and series honestly kept me going. To my constant cheerleaders, Kyra Jacobs and Rhenna Morgan—just keep swimming.

Prologue

Strobe lights pulsed in time to the house music—a loud, hard beat, intoxicating the throng into a sensual rhythm. Long past midnight, alcohol had loosened inhibitions among the young and beautiful of Gladium. Bodies were pressed together in a heated swarm, reveling in the heady atmosphere. Lured by curiosity and excitement, and maybe a little danger, the mixed crowd of Morgons and humans moved by sensation alone.

Dominic leaned back against the bar, glancing to his left at the Morgon woman in a pool of blue light. She’d been staring at him for half an hour. Most of the dragon hybrid females were built slim and lithe to match their delicate wing structure, the opposite of Morgon men who were built for power and speed. But this one was different.

Rounded hips and full breasts accentuated by a tight mini-dress lured Dominic’s gaze again and again. He’d finally decided to shove off the bar and make his move when she left her isolated corner and headed in his direction.

Graceful and fluid, she slid through the crowd, moving under different hues of light so that he couldn’t tell if her wavy hair was brunette or auburn or whether her intricate wings were brown or dark red. She stopped in front of him, only a few inches shorter. Knowing his height was an attractive feature to Morgon women, he stood up, closing the distance.

“You appear to be a…virile man.” Her voice was a sultry temptation all its own.

He laughed, flashing a seductive smile, though none was needed. He was indeed from a long line of virile males—tall, strong, and good with their hands.

“I’ve had no complaints.” He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger, and then let it fall softly across the angle of her V-neck.

Feeling a steady gaze from the corner, he shifted to peer over her shoulder. Arms crossed, expression grave, a black-eyed Morgon man watched them from the shadows.

Dominic gestured with a nod. “Is that an old boyfriend or something?”

“My bodyguard,” she answered without looking.

She splayed one hand on his chest. Definitely more aggressive than the other Morgon women he’d met. A bodyguard designated her high-born from a protective clan, meaning a protective father. Some of the human and Morgon aristocracy still practiced the old ways to try to keep their wayward daughters in line. Difficult to manage in an ever-changing world. He examined the Morgon who remained unmoving and watchful in the corner.

“Don’t worry,” she purred, her hand curling around his bicep. “He won’t interfere.”

“Not a very good bodyguard then.”

“His job is to keep me from harm, not prevent me from exploring my desires.”

Dominic wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. “And what are your desires this evening?”

She nodded toward a hallway leading to the back of the bar. “Come with me.” Tilting her head, she pressed one thigh between both of his. “I’ll show you.”

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” Her mouth curved, promising pleasure. Half-lidded eyes assured satisfaction.

Never one for a back-room romp, Dominic preferred taking women back to his penthouse apartment where they could enjoy one another at leisure. He was about to make that very suggestion, but then she slid her thigh higher, hiking her skirt, pressing firmer against the bulge in his jeans. Hazel eyes flared bright as she ran her tongue along her lower lip, igniting his need to a fever-pitch.

He pushed away from the bar, gripped her hand in his, and led her down the hall. Past the restrooms, there was an office and storage room. He shoved open the first door, kicked it shut, and lifted her against the back of the door.

She spread her wings wide so they lay flat. Averting her face to the side, she let him nip and suck her neck, his hands cupping her bottom. He groaned when he found her bare beneath the dress, as if she knew this would happen, as if she were waiting for this all night. Waiting for him.

Locking her legs at his back and grinding her hips against him, she breathed in a soft hiss. “The sofa.”

Panting, he scanned the room lit by a small lamp on the desk, then carried her to a couch along the wall. Twisting out of his arms, she pushed him into a sitting position, straddled his lap on her knees, and unbuckled his belt in determined, swift movements. A thick aura of lust encircled him, ensnared his senses, wrapping him in desperate desire. He needed her…here, now, this very second. As soon as she freed him, she pressed his shoulders against the sofa-back to keep him still, then sank down as he thrust upward inside her.

He cried out, trying to lean in, needing to kiss and taste. Riding him hard and fast, she held him firm, her dragon eyes glowing gold in the dark. He yanked down the top of her dress and mounded her naked breasts, wondering how in the hell he’d thought for a second of going to his place. He’d never have made it.

And knowing hundreds of people writhed and danced to the muffled music in the club while this wild Morgon woman rode him into blissful oblivion was better than any quiet coupling at his apartment.

She ground harder, faster, squeezing her thighs, making him groan with need.

Trying to hold on, he choked out a strangled sound. As if she knew he was on the razor-edge, she leaned forward and sealed her mouth over his—the sweetest, wettest kiss he’d ever tasted. He released with blinding speed, pulsing long and deep inside her, moaning through waves of pleasure. She deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue over his, all the way to the back of his throat. He met her urgency until he pricked his tongue with a sharp sting.

“Ow.”

He dropped his head against the sofa-back, panting hard as he wondered how her tooth could be so sharp. The Morgon seductress stared down from a narrow, golden gaze, like a goddess from her erotic throne.

The wash of euphoria rolled into something else. His pulse pounded faster, not slower. His tongue and throat thickened. Sweat dampened his temples, a painful burn quickened through his veins, liquid fire seared through every organ.

“I can’t,” he rasped, “breathe.”

He grabbed her waist to toss her aside. Before he could move or speak or think another thought, paralyzing pain sped laser-like to the center of his chest, exploding his heart. With a crack, his head snapped back, his last breath escaping in a faint puff of air. The last thing he saw was her dragon gaze burning bright. And her smile, two sharp fangs glinting by lamplight.

Chapter 1

“No.” I bit back the string of nasty expletives from spilling out my mouth.

Kol’s paternal scowl deepened. Straightening to his seven-foot-plus height, a good foot above me, his blue-black wings expanded as he echoed my response. “No?”

One step forward. The scar lining his face from chin to cheekbone was drawn tight. He always used his body and dominance to intimidate others into submission. Usually, it worked. Not today. I didn’t budge, biting my lip till I tasted the metallic tang of blood.

He blew out a heavy sigh. “Are you speaking to your brother, guardian, or your captain when you defy me, Valla?”

Pulse pounding an angry beat, I tried to rein in my temper. Tried and failed.

“But why, Kol? Why him of all people? You could’ve assigned Kraven or anybody else for that matter.”

His eyes glowed white-hot, edged in silver. His wings ruffled at his back, the skyline of Drakos falling into a lavender twilight behind him. Yeah. I’d pissed him off. His dragon wanted to beat some sense into me. Nothing new.

“You have no right to question me as your captain. Only because I know you better than you know yourself and you won’t work as efficiently without some kind of rational explanation, I’ll give you one.” He lifted an index finger. “Just. This. Once.”

I kept my mouth shut, eyes narrowed, waiting for some ridiculous, irrational non-explanation.

“First, the Guard must pair every team with at least one Nightwing Security guard from Gladium. This is in accordance with our alliance with the Nightwing clan. We need them as they need us.”

Since the discovery of a ruthless Morgon who had abducted, enslaved, and even murdered human women, the powerful Nightwing clan of Gladium united forces with the Morgon Guard, the global police force with jurisdiction in every Morgon province. My brother was right. The fact the leader of this murdering band was building an army for some kind of revolution highlighted the need to partner with like-minded Morgons to find the bastard and bring him to justice. Before he could hurt anyone else. Or start a war.

I opened my mouth to point out for the second time that my dear brother could’ve paired me with any number of men from the Nightwing team. I’d hardly uttered a word before he shushed me with a sharp look. On the horizon, the sun dipped low, coloring his office in pink and gold.

“Second, in case it slipped your mind, we have not yet caught the mole who tipped off Barron Coalglass of our whereabouts the day Moira was taken.” Kol’s jaw clenched till something popped.

Three months ago, Moira Cade—I mean, Moira Moonring, now my sister-in-law, married and mated to the fuming brother standing before me—was abducted from the well-guarded rooftop of Nightwing Tower in Gladium. Someone had tipped off the enemy that the Nightwing men were gone in order for the abductors to implement a successful strike. Even after a thorough interrogation of all officers in both the Guard and Nightwing Security, we still hadn’t discovered the mole.

It was thought perhaps the traitor was killed in one of the skirmishes with the enemy’s scouting parties or when we raided the Blood King’s underground palace where Moira had been taken. With her description and directions, we found the limestone caves in a barren desert. They were all but empty. A few soldiers were found in the tunnels, all of them given the Guard’s swift blade justice on the spot for crimes committed.

The bodies of two human girls were found. One curled up and tethered to a mattress, the other strapped to a bed, her veins opened. Both of them bled dry. Moira had warned us there were girls that had been kept as bleeders and others as sex-slaves—a fact that made me want to slit the throat of this Blood King. His rumored nickname fit him well and had caught on quick since no one knew his true identity. In my opinion, he was no king at all. He was nothing more than a sadistic butcher, a coward scheming in the dark, a devil who would find his fit end. I couldn’t wait for the day when we would kill him and send him to his own permanent hell.

But the Blood King proved elusive, hiding somewhere with not so much as a peep out of him for the past three months. We knew he was regrouping, rebuilding his army, plotting his next move. There were teams of the Guard searching possible lairs he could be using as a stronghold. I wanted to be on one of those teams. Instead, I was being shipped to no-man’s-land where outlaws scurried about in a perpetual winter and robbed misfortunate people who happened to pass through. Great.

I unfolded my wings a fraction, then tightened them against my back. “You could’ve paired me with anyone. Instead, you jeopardize this mission by assigning the one man who aggravates me to no end.”

Kol folded his arms, his glare softening. “No. You will jeopardize this mission if you can’t see past your anger and grudge against him. Conn Rowanflame is one of the few men I know I can trust. His family has been connected with the Nightwing clan for ages. And he has a set of skills you may very well need in the wastelands of Aria.”

The Rowanflame clan were known to be gifted firedancers, able to control flame. In sub-zero Aria, such a gift could certainly come in handy. Conn was the highest ranking of his clan in Nightwing Security.

I heaved out a lungful of air, blowing away my frustration in an exaggerated sigh. “Fine,” I grated out, staring past him as dusk slipped farther into night, the craggy towers of Drakos beginning to blend with the mountains beyond. “But I’d like to point out that I’m an officer of the Assassin’s Order. And this isn’t a kill mission.”

“Valla,” he annunciated softly and clearly. Crap. He was pissed again. “You know as well as I do that a Morgon woman must be on this mission to gain access to the Syren Sisters Coven. I thought that controlled, level-headed woman might be my sister, that this opportunity might afford you more experience and knowledge in the Guard. But obviously I made a mistake. Since you can’t handle it, I’ll find someone else. Perhaps Isadore would be more suited for the challenge.”

He spun on his heels, snapping his great dark wings at his back.

The hell I’d let Isadore take my place. With her swishing her curvy ass all up in Conn’s face, she’d be nothing but a distraction. The operation would fail. No way could I let that happen.

“No.” I leapt out and grabbed his arm. “You’re right… I’m sorry.” I cleared my voice, going for controlled and level-headed. “I’ve got this. Really. You can depend on me.”

His granite expression cracked into a half-smile, midnight blue eyes with a pale inner ring that mirrored my own. Anger tended to bring both our beasts to the surface. But mine melted when I realized that once more my overbearing brother was offering me a chance to learn and grow as an officer in the Guard. Instead, I’d been petty and childish. I swallowed my pride and wiped the frown from my face.

“That’s my girl,” he said, reverting to the softer tone he used with me as my brother, not my captain. “Now report to Tower Two. Gisa is waiting to brief you on geography and survival gear. Conn and Bowen should already be there. Bowen is commanding this mission.”

Bowen Huntergild and I had partnered before. When Moira went missing, we had immediately arranged a search party outside Gladium. The quiet, efficient Morgon and I worked very well together. Emphasis on quiet. Conn was another story altogether.

I stepped around Kol’s desk, out onto the terrace, and walked to the edge. The crisp air of winter swept over me like a caress, lifting the braid at my back.

“Valla.”

Kol stood in the archway. A tall, strong reminder of the powerful descent line of our clan, the Morgon man was the only father I could remember.

“Yes, brother?”

“The information we gain from this mission may be the key we need to track down this Blood King.” A sober expression masked the fury he bore for the Morgon who’d abducted his mate.

“I know. I won’t fail you.”

He nodded with a deeper smile than was normal, a smile I saw more often with Moira in his life.

“Be careful. And report often.”

“Of course.” I smiled back. “Don’t worry, Captain.”

I winked and leapt off the terrace edge in the direction of MG Headquarters where records and weapons were kept. And where every operation began. Dreading the upcoming briefing, I spread my wings wide, soaring above the city into the twilight sky, feeling the cool wind cut across my cheeks. I needed a breather, and this was my favorite time of day, when dusk lingered and softened the edges of the world. And relaxed my nerves.

But I knew it wouldn’t. Not today. Not knowing I’d be spending the next few weeks with that aggravating, conceited, blustering know-it-all—Conn Rowanflame.

“Damn it!”

I cursed my luck and circled around, heading for Tower Two. Time to finally put that man in his place. No matter what set of skills he brought to the table, he would not intimidate or antagonize me, and if he did, I’d simply pretend he had no effect on me whatsoever.

Tucking my wings close, I dove for Mission Command. The wide wrap-around terrace opened the entire top floor to the sky, providing space for the constant flow of officers. Mission Command served not only as the alpha and omega of every operation, but also the check-in point for mid-operation briefings, equipment and weapons exchange, as well as a pit-stop for showers, meals, and overnight sleeping quarters for the officers living outside Drakos.

I whipped my wings wide for a soft landing, then folded them tight to enter the columned archway of the front lobby. Gisa, a petite, white-winged Morgon, tapped on a keypad operating the wall-sized comm screen at her back. The wall comm listed various announcements, including upcoming weapons training, tactical refresher courses, certification classes for specialized forces, operational meetings, and whatever else we could possibly need to know. If Mission Command was the body of the Morgon Guard, Gisa was the heart pumping it.

She glanced up from her typing. Pale gray eyes set in a heart-shaped face defied the ruthlessness with which she ran Mission Command. “Hi, Valla. So good to see you.”

I glanced around. Several Morgons milled here and there. None of them the ones I expected. “Hey, Gisa. I figured Bowen and Conn would already be here.”

“They are. They went to the break room for coffee.” She gestured across the lobby. “I can alert them you’re here.”

“No need. I could use some myself. What room will we meet in?”

“Number three. Five minutes.” She resumed tapping on her comm device at breakneck speed.

I waltzed across the polished stone floor in long strides, boots clicking. Breathing deeply, I prepared for Conn’s smart-ass greeting, whatever it might be.

Before I pushed open the door to the break room, throaty, feminine laughter floated from the other side. I rolled my eyes, knowing that sound all too well.

“But you didn’t actually say that,” crooned Isadore, a black-winged Nightwing with copper hair—distant cousin of the Gladium Nightwings. Mesmerized by Conn, she leaned her hip on the counter next to him.

Conn Rowanflame. Rust-red, high-arched wings denoting a wide wingspan. Tousled chestnut hair in constant disarray, somehow adding to his good looks. Amber-gold eyes with a mischievous, often dangerous, glint. If anyone had doubts whether dragon blood coursed through a Morgon’s veins, all one needed to do is look at Conn Rowanflame. Fire lived within him. If it weren’t for his snarky attitude, I might actually like him.

Ignoring the conversation behind him, Bowen Huntergild read the comm on the wall that streamed news from other provinces. His long brown hair was tied back in a queue like always, hunter-green wings tucked in a resting stance. Bowen was the kind of Morgon you might overlook, but that would be a mistake. He was silent and lethal with a blade. Tonight, he had a quiver of arrows and black-steel crossbow strapped to his back.

“Of course, I did,” continued Conn. “I’m not going to stand by and watch some guy be an asshole to his date, Morgon or human.”

“So chivalry isn’t dead.” She laughed again.

Conn shrugged his broad shoulders, then drank from the mug in hand, gaze catching mine.

“Could you really do that with fire?” Isadore leaned in, an expression of intrigue fixed in place.

Eyes still on me, unreadable, he answered her. “I’d be more than happy to show you my skills sometime.”

“I’m sure you would,” I said, butting into their conversation. “But we actually have work to do.”

The other two shifted their attention to me.

“What’s the mission?” asked Isadore.

“Confidential,” I snapped. “You know that.”

“Good luck.” She grinned and winked at Conn over her shoulder, hips swaying all the way out the door.

Conn held my gaze, his smirk taunting me.

I nodded toward the corridor. “We’re meeting in room three.”

Forgetting about coffee, I slapped my palm on the door and pushed it open, swinging it wide enough to snap back on its hinges.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Conn commented to a silent Bowen behind me.

I wouldn’t be in a mood if Bowen and I were alone on this mission, if Kol hadn’t insisted Conn come with us.

But Kol was right. I needed to be more mature about this. I couldn’t allow Conn to see that he rattled me so easily. Deep breath in, deep breath out—cool and in control.

Seating myself near the head of the comm screen, I laced my fingers on the table. Bowen sat next to me, Conn directly across.

“Hello, Bowen. Good to see you again.”

“For me as well, Valla.” He nodded, then returned to observing the map on the comm screen.

I forced myself to greet the man across from me. “Conn.”

Arching one brow, he cleared his throat. “Well, Valla. Is it not good to see me again, too? I find it wonderful to see you.” His wide mouth slid into a devilish grin.

Just like that, cool and collected flew out the window. “Why must you torment me?”

“Am I?”

“You know you are. You do. All the time.”

“I didn’t realize I had such a profound effect on you, or that I was on your mind—all the time.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m surprised you didn’t ask to be reassigned from this mission.”

“Why should I? I have as much right to discover who this witch is as you do. Besides, I have no problem working with…difficult personalities. Makes things more interesting. You seem to be the one with the problem.” He rolled his shoulder in a shrug that shifted his right wing, bringing my attention once more to the immensity of them. His wide wingspan would equal intense speed—another asset when entering a territory where outlaws were known to roam.

I was well-known for my stubbornness, not my stupidity. Channeling my inner calm, I straightened in my seat and said, “You’re right.”

“I am?” he asked.

Well, he wasn’t expecting that.

“As a representative of the Nightwing clan, you have a place here.” I reached across the table and offered my hand. “Truce.”

A few seconds ticked by before he reached over and took my hand, wrapping mine with a rough, callused one. Warm and wonderful, I was struck dumb for a few seconds.

A feral grin cut across his face. “Truce.”

The door slammed closed. I jerked my hand away.

“All right.” Gisa strode toward the podium and comm controls. “Let’s get down to business.”

Chapter 2

Valla averted her attention to the wall-sized comm screen while Gisa uploaded mission details and dimmed the lights. For several seconds, I couldn’t pull my gaze from the platinum blonde sitting across from me. The woman was an enigma. With the body of a goddess, the instincts of a killer, and the mouth of a drunk Draconian ringside brawler, she did things to me. She was intense, and my dragon wanted to play. I was in so much fucking trouble.

“First things first,” said Gisa. The map on the comm screen spanned from Drakos at the northern borders of Aria to the southern province of Primus—human-only territory. “All intel has been uploaded to your wrist comms.”

“Wrist comms?” asked Valla.

Gisa pointed to a table lining the wall behind her where three piles of equipment were set. Valla stared, probably itching to get up and inspect it all. I was itching to get up and bite her lip. And a few other things.

When Lucius Nightwing requested that I take this mission as a personal favor to the Nightwing clan, I hesitated. It had nothing to do with the danger of venturing into the unknown. I was always up for adventure and a little trouble. It wasn’t the perils lurking in the wastelands of Aria, but the danger in the form of a woman who stirred my beast. My dragon rose and sniffed the air whenever she walked into a room. And damn, if I didn’t love to watch her move. She was a sleek gazelle with tiger teeth. I could pretend it wasn’t a turn-on, but certain body parts told me otherwise. I shifted in my seat. My hesitation to take this mission had lasted all of thirty seconds. The limits of my resolve were weak when it came to Valla Moonring. But I’d never in a thousand years let her know.

Gisa continued. “The trek across Aria to the Syren Coven will take approximately four or five days, depending on weather conditions and obstacles.”

I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. “I presume you will define said obstacles.”

“Of course.” Gisa clicked on her handheld device, and the screen flipped, revealing a creature I’d never seen in the flesh, only in textbooks. “The wulving.”

A fearsome beast covered in coarse silver-black fur and a long, fanged snout stared from the screen with glacial eyes. Its body was no bigger than a large dog, but the impressive wing span was troubling.

“There is no danger should you meet a lone wulving,” continued Gisa. “They won’t attack prey larger than themselves.”

“But if we run into a pack?” asked Valla.

“Go to ground. Immediately.”

“I can kill a pack of dogs in the air,” said Bowen. “This shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I understand the Morgons of your clan are expert hunters. But do not underestimate the wulving. They may look to be no more than rabid dogs, but they thrive in Aria for many reasons. They know the climate and use the sudden updrafts banking off the mountainsides to their advantage. They’ve mastered the art of isolating their prey in order to make an easy kill. And they’re fast.”

“So am I,” I said, not in the least shy about my gift of speed.

“Yes, Conn,” said Gisa with a sharp tilt of her head, “but they’re faster. Heed my warning. If you come across a pack, go to ground.” She clicked her control, and the next screen popped up with a detailed map of Aria. The mountain ranges were dotted with red markers. “You’ll note this map marks where there are safe stopping points.”

Valla leaned forward, hands clasped, elbows on the table. “By safe, you mean it’s free of marauders and outlaws.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. But there is an inn or safe house friendly to the Morgon Guard at each of these locations.”

“By friendly,” I interrupted, “you mean they’re paid well.”

“Very perceptive, Mr. Rowanflame,” replied Gisa, turning back to the screen. “You’ll take shelter at these marked sites. Do not sleep in the open. While this land is remote and wild, the Guard has gone to great lengths to ensure there are a few safe havens for our officers in this territory. All of this information is uploaded into your navigation system on your wrist comms.” Gisa clicked off the screen. “Now, let’s get to your equipment. Come forward.”

I stood, walked behind the table, and followed Valla to the front. Bad mistake. My eyes drifted south in a flash. Crossing my arms, legs apart, I focused on Gisa as she rifled through one pile of equipment.

“Don’t look so grim,” said Valla, flipping her white-blond hair over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist. “You’ve got two Morgon Guard officers here who will keep you safe.” Her mouth tilted into a mocking smile.

“I’m not concerned about my safety.”

“Oh, really? What are you so worried about then?”

Being confined in small quarters with her, that was what concerned me.

“Attention, please,” said Gisa, holding a slate gray suit out in front of her. “Have any of you used a thermal suit before?”

“I have,” said Bowen.

“Good. Then you understand the importance of sealing the suit completely and communicating via the intercom system in the goggles until you’ve dropped to a safe altitude. Your wrist comms will alert you when you’re in the safe zone. You’ll need to assist one another in and out of the suits to ensure the backflaps are sealed correctly around your wings.”

She turned the suit to point out the zippered flaps that were designed to surround the wings.

“What is this?” asked Valla, picking up a floppy piece of material the same texture as the thermals.

“Your head cap,” answered Gisa.

“Is the head cap necessary?”

“Everything is necessary. I realize Morgons think they’re invincible. And Morgon Guard officers believe they’re immortal, but you’ve never ventured into colds like this. Even with our dragon ancestry and strengthened DNA, you are not immune to the deep colds of Aria without proper protection. You will wear all your gear and at all times when exposed to the elements. Do I make myself clear?”

I liked Gisa. She was probably the tiniest Morgon woman I’d ever known, not even close to six feet. But she could make a grown man cry with a sharp look and a sharper tongue. Right about now, she had Valla standing in quiet obedience, waiting for instructions. If only I could learn that skill. And the things I could do when I did.

Valla cut me a look. “What the hell are you grinning at?”

“Not a thing, sweetheart.”

She bristled and stepped closer to Gisa to inspect her new gear. More likely, she sensed my beast rattling his cage. It put her on edge. It put me on high alert.

This was going to be a long, long mission.

Chapter 3

We flew in V-formation with Valla taking the lead center-forward. Five hours into our flight, we’d finally crossed just south of Brilla’s Crag, the sharp mountain peak dividing Aria from the rest of the world on its eastern borders.

Gisa was right. The cold was different here. Brutal. It wasn’t a calm creature freezing the elements with gentle snow or drifting winds, but a vicious beast, lashing out with jagged ice, beating at our bodies even through the thermals and cutting the tough skin of our wings. The elements would only worsen the deeper we went.

Though our wings were as durable as the toughest leather, the winds of Aria were tougher. The northern front shifted, blowing from the northwest, directly at us. Valla was tiring. She’d never admit it. Three times in the last half hour, a gust of wind knocked her off course. Each time, she was slower to regain her position.

I punched in the navigation feature with marked safe houses on my wrist comm to find the nearest to our current location.

“Let’s stop at Barren Falls. It’s two miles ahead.”

Valla checked her wrist comm then said, “Too early. We should push on.”

The next safe house was nearly two hundred miles away. Damn the stubborn woman. She needed to rest.

“The gales are getting rougher,” I said. “We should rest and eat before continuing.”

“Conn, it’s imperative we reach the coven as quickly as possible.”

“It’s also imperative we survive the trip getting there.”

“If this is too difficult, you should’ve said you lacked the endurance for such an extensive flight.”

“Sweetheart, I’m in excellent shape. And I have more than enough endurance. I’d be happy to prove it to you.”

“Enough,” Bowen cut in. “We’ll stop at Barren Falls.”

My blood was pumping hot now. I could’ve gone on for four hundred miles more.

Valla beat her wings furiously, whipping ahead faster. Neither of us said a word as we dropped altitude and veered right toward the mountainside dwelling, Barren Falls.

The protective eyewear tinted the world blue, but the lights dotting the cliffside were clear. True, Morgonkind preferred homes that were set high and made of stone. Even in Drakos, some homes were built into the mountains and the skyscrapers built to staggering heights. The priciest rose above all the rest. But I’d never seen an entire village carved into a mountainside with so few modifications to the natural structure.

This was Aria, where a certain kind of Morgon lived. Wilder ones. Those who preferred living closer to their beasts than their human counterparts. Those who shunned civilization and the laws that governed proper society. This was why Aria was a perfect haven for outlaws. The Morgon Guard didn’t patrol Aria. Couldn’t. It was too vast with scattered populations. Too many caves and holes for criminals to hide. When someone slipped into Aria, the best option was to wait until they ventured back out again, otherwise it would be like looking for a pearl at the bottom of a wide ocean.

“I’ve been here before,” said Bowen through the head mic. “Follow me.”

Bowen had been here before? The Huntergild clan lived south of Aria in Wilding Wood near the human-only province of Primus. He was a mystery, this quiet Morgon. But I trusted him.

Bowen winged ahead as we skated along the mountains. He slowed where an outcropping jutted twenty feet—a perfect landing platform. We followed in suit, the three of us dropping one after the other.

As I folded my wings, the muscles squeezed, strained from many hours in air. I pulled off my headgear, glancing at Valla as she did the same. Her expression was drawn tight, revealing either anxiety or weariness. Perhaps a little of both. To her credit, she said nothing.

Bowen led us to a wooden door with an iron handle. When he pulled it open, warm light flooded the entryway. The door was at least six inches thick, the other side reinforced with steel panels. To keep out any unwanted intruders—be it weather or otherwise.

The room opened to a small tavern. Sconces of torchlight lined the walls. Only two occupants sat at the bar. Both Morgon men, their wings denoted them of the Greyclaw clan. Stone steps led upstairs, presumably the inn quarters for guests.

After stuffing the headgear into the pack strapped to my chest, I moved ahead of our party to the bar where a broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, thick-necked Silverback stood, arms crossed. I tossed onto the bar a gold medallion with the lettering MG and the crest of the Guard embossed on both sides. The currency recognizable to safe houses.

The rough-looking bartender moved closer. The man bore three ugly scars—one stretching from his jaw down the side of his neck, another across his left cheek, and a third across his brow that disappeared into his hairline. His crooked nose had been broken more than once. “Will ye be staying the night?”

“Food and ale if you have it,” said Valla, drawing the attention of the two Greyclaws down the bar. She unstrapped her chest-pack.

I tensed, knowing it was her feminine voice that drew their attention.

The bartender glanced at Bowen and nodded. “Huntergild.”

“Greetings, Orlik.”

Bowen stepped to the bar while Valla and I shared a questioning look.

“The weather is shifting,” offered Bowen.

Orlik grunted. “An ice storm will hit. Ye may want to rethink staying the night.” He plopped three tankards of ale on the bar.

“How soon?” asked Valla.

Orlik sniffed the air. “I’d say within the hour.”

“You are sure?” she persisted.

“Aye.” He turned away and bellowed toward the kitchen. “Benta!”

A petite Sunsting poked her head from what must have been the kitchen. Her yellow eyes, which matched her wings, glowed in the dim light.

“How many?” she asked.

“Three,” replied Orlik.

Bowen tossed three coins on the bar. “We’ll take a room.”

Valla leaned toward Bowen. “Are you sure of this place?”

Bowen nodded. I lifted a tankard, then led them to a table in the far corner. Taking the chair facing the Greyclaws at the bar, I kept my back to the wall.

Tension rolled off Valla. “It doesn’t look very safe.”

“Orlik’s place is a steel trap,” offered Bowen. “It’s the safest place we could be during an ice storm.”

She took a deep gulp of her ale, glancing over the rim at me. “We’ll need more than one room.”

“One room,” said Bowen.

“Agreed.” I tapped a finger on the table. “We shouldn’t separate.”

The two at the bar hunched close and whispered while the Sunsting girl walked from the back balancing three bowls on a tray and weaved around the empty tables. The two Greyclaws shoved off the bar and lumbered for the door. The bigger one glanced in our direction, an undertone of menace in his flat expression. The open door let in a stinging wave of frigid wind before it slammed shut.

After setting three bowls of stew on the table, Benta asked, “Can I get you anything else?”

Her gaze settled on me. Schooling my features into something most women responded to warmly, I said, “This smells fantastic. Are you the cook?” I stirred the meaty concoction, which did not smell delicious.

A flush of pink filled her cheeks. “Yes. There’s plenty if you’ll be wanting more.”

“We’ve traveled a long way. This is a welcome sight.” I took a hearty bite, refraining from wincing at the gamey taste. “Say, can you tell me if those two men come here often?” I nodded at the door where they’d just left and spooned a second bite.

“Who? Vidus and Bryn? They’re regulars here.”

“Benta,” called Orlik, “let’s close up.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

She scurried off toward the kitchen. Orlik ambled to the outer door and slid three massive bolts home.

“Okay, Bowen,” said Valla, “I agree. This place is a steel trap. But how long will we be locked up here?”

As he ambled back toward the bar where the Greyclaw brothers left their two mugs, Orlik called out, “The ice storm may last a day. Maybe two.” He had exceptional hearing, even for a Morgon. “Your room is second on the left upstairs.” He disappeared to the kitchen.

“Two days?” Valla slapped her hand on the table and then tapped onto her wrist comm. “We still have four or five days of flight in good weather to get to the coven.”

“Weather is rarely good in Aria,” said Bowen. “We can only hope it will be fair enough for swift flight after the storm.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin, having devoured the meal with relish.

I was busy doing the same. No matter that it tasted like salted wood, we needed the calories. Valla prodded a piece of meat, then pushed the bowl away.

“You need to eat,” I urged her.

“I have protein bars. It’ll suffice.”

Stubborn didn’t even cover it. I wanted to protest further, but the firm set of her chin said it would do me no good. Still, her lack of care for herself agitated me.

“What did you make of the Greyclaws?” she asked. “They didn’t look like natives, no matter what the waitress said.”

True. They weren’t dressed in the well-worn, homemade layers of most Arians.

“No,” I said. “They had the look of playboys fallen off course.”

“Bad luck encountering them here,” said Bowen.

“Or it wasn’t luck at all,” added Valla.

“Agreed.” I pushed my empty bowl away and leaned back. “Probably scouts sniffing around to see who the Morgon Guard would send.”

“But how would they know of the mission?” asked Valla.

“There is an informant in Nightwing Security. Kol kept our objective within a small circle, but he and Lucius let a few extra know of it.”

“Wait.” Valla scoffed. “Kol and Lucius leaked our operation?”

“To very few,” I added.

“He could’ve let me know he’d endangered our lives unnecessarily.”

“But it is necessary,” I argued. “Valla, we must find out who the mole is. They could gain knowledge that could endanger many lives.”

“Yeah. Like ours.”

“Many more than ours,” I corrected.

What always amazed me about Valla was her quick response to logic. She wasn’t an emotional female who reacted with haughtiness and defiance. Well, not when it came to work. Professionally, she always kept a level head. Now, when I teased her on a personal level, that was something different. And damn if I didn’t love to get under her skin. If I was totally honest, I wanted to get next to her skin.

She stood from the table, tucking her dark wings tight against her back. “Let’s get to our room and behind closed doors for further conversation. No telling who else might be listening in this place.”

“I’ll have a quick word with Orlik,” said Bowen as he walked away.

Seeing something I wanted behind the bar, I said to Valla, “I’ll be right behind you.”

She glanced over her shoulder at me and shrugged before making her way upstairs. I had an idea to pass the time. And a way to discover a bit more about the tight-lipped Valla Moonring.

Chapter 4

This wasn’t how I imagined our first night in Aria. I arched my back, feeling the muscles tighten as I stared at the two mattresses on the floor, trying to figure out which one of us would be the unlucky one curling up in the uncomfortable looking chair by the hearth.

Next to the fireplace, there was a small window, closed with steel shutters. The icy wind howled and lashed against them, but they were sealed tight.

The grate stood cold. I walked over and lifted the lid of the wooden crate to the right of the hearth. Large chunks of coal, an easy fuel source in the mountains, were piled halfway to the top.

While adding several pieces to the iron grate, the door opened behind me. Conn stepped in with a bottle of something tucked under his arm and three tin cups in his other hand. A devilish grin spread across his handsome face.

“What is it you have planned, Rowanflame?” I asked, one hand on my hip.

“Entertainment,” he replied with a wink.

“Well, come put your skills to better use and start this fire. I’m freezing.”

He set his bottle and cups on a rickety table then crossed over to me. “I’m at your service.”

I rolled my eyes and pretended his flirting didn’t affect me. What stirred me to anger was that it did. But when he squatted on his haunches, sucked in a deep lungful of air, and blew out a powerful stream of orange-gold flame that lit the coals with a sturdy fire, my pulse pounded faster. Anger had nothing to do with it. He impressed me, intrigued me, and I was too damn tired to deny the fact even to myself.

He stood facing me, closer than necessary, his hazel gaze drifting over my face. “That should keep you warm.”

For a moment, I said nothing. As a Moonring, my gifts ran in another direction. But Rowanflames were more than fire-breathers. They were given the name firedancers for a reason, the only clan with the ability to control flame on an elemental level. A yearning to see what he was capable of dared me to ask what else he could do with flame.

But the door opened, breaking the silent moment crackling with tension. I stepped away as Bowen slid the bolt home on our chamber door.

Bowen tossed his pack to the ground and began unlacing his boots. “There’s no one staying in the inn but us and an old priest. We should be quite safe here to ride out the storm.”

“Now that the Greyclaws have left,” I added.

“True,” said Bowen. “Orlik said Vidus and Bryn come here about once a week. It seems to be their main stopping point traveling in and out of Aria.”

“Where are they going to and from?” asked Conn.

“That, Orlik didn’t know. But this week they’ve been here every day. They knew the Guard was coming. They’ve obviously been waiting to see who and how many were on the team passing through.”

Conn had kicked off his boots as well and was now unzipping his thermal suit.

“Could you give me a hand with the backflaps?” he asked, turning his back to me.

“Um. Sure.”

He opened his wings so that I could reach the zippers beneath, and I couldn’t help but be drawn to the muscles in his shoulder rolling with the effort. I unzipped them both. “Got it.”

“Thanks,” he said with a grin, then slid off the suit, revealing a well-muscled body. Both Conn and Bowen wore the regulation black long underwear and short-sleeved shirt which fit like a second skin beneath the thermal suit. The same I wore under mine. Sweat had molded the fabric to the toned contours of their bodies. But it was Conn’s that kept drawing my eye.

He arched a brow in my direction. “Don’t be shy. Better get that suit off or you’ll dehydrate once the room heats up,” he said, tossing me a half-smile. “We’re all professionals here.”

“Hmph,” was all I could muster as I moved to stand in front of one mattress. I tossed my pack onto it, claiming it for the night, then I felt him at my back.

“Let me help you out here.” He unzipped both backflaps, his hand grazing the underside of my left wing.

“Thanks,” I snapped and moved away. My wings were sensitive to touch. Not all Morgons had this sensitivity. But even that slight brush of his hand felt like an intimate caress, as if he’d stroked my inner arm or behind my knee. I shook off the shiver he’d induced and stepped farther away, facing the wall, and undressed down to my regulation long underwear.

“Come on, then,” said Conn, sitting at the table and rapping the bottom of a tin cup on the wood. “Let’s pass the time with a little fun.”

“I’m game,” said Bowen, scraping a chair on the stone floor as he took a seat. “What are we playing?”

I took my time after shimmying out of my suit and folding it, retying my hair tight against my scalp into a tail. My undergarments clung to my skin, damp from the exertion of the flight and the thermal suit. I wasn’t shy of my body, but a certain someone made me self-conscious.

“Come on, Valla. You’re playing, too.” Conn may not have realized it, but he often used a commanding voice with me that was edged with dominance, a subtle hint of his dragon riding his vocal cords. I was accustomed to this tone of voice from my brothers. But they were my brothers. Conn had no claim on me and had better keep his dragon in check.

I sauntered over to the table, pretending it was normal to hang around with two colleagues in what was equivalent to our pajamas. “I don’t think it’s wise to get inebriated in a place like this.” Curious, I took a seat at the third chair anyway. “Especially with those two suspicious Greyclaws from the bar.”

“First, I don’t plan on getting drunk,” said Conn, grinning. “I’m good at this game. And second, Bowen’s right. This place is impregnable. I checked the exits before I came up. There is only one other beside the door in which we entered. Both are more than capable of ensuring our safety.”

“So what are we playing?” asked Bowen. He uncorked the bottle and inhaled a whiff. A mischievous smile cracked his usually stoic expression as he poured them each a small amount.”

“What’s that look for?” I asked, feeling on edge.

“Arian moonshine. I hope you compensated Orlik for this bottle.”

“More than compensated,” said Conn. “But I couldn’t pass it up.”

“What’s so great about Arian moonshine?” I asked.

Both of them chuckled. “Just take it slow,” suggested Bowen. “No one knows how they make it. There’s never any hangover and the intoxication isn’t the norm. It’s…”

Gazing into his cup, Bowen swirled the small amount he’d poured.

“It’s what?” I asked.

“Take a sip,” said Conn with a nod of his head, his mouth quirking up on one side. “A small one.”

I did. Tentatively. Rather than burn like whisky or other hard liquor, the woodsy, floral liquid slid down my throat, instantly tingling through my veins, awakening my senses with a slam. Morgon senses were already heightened, but I instantly felt a sharp awareness come to life. My eyesight honed in on the rhythmic pulse throbbing at the base of Conn’s throat, on the smell of the coal smoke sifting through the chimney, on the hiss of the fire burning, on the sweet-and-tangy aftertaste of the moonshine on the tip of my tongue. My pulse tripped a little faster.

“How…what is in that?”

“Dragon magic,” said Bowen, pouring himself another.

“But how do they make it? With opiates?”

“No,” said Conn. “My brother, Corbin, and I actually broke it down to try and figure it out once. There are no hallucinogens or opiates used. The base for fermentation seems to be nothing more than lunaflyr, the night-blooming flower which grows in abundance in the foothills here in Aria.”

“So what’s the game?” asked Bowen, already pouring himself a third cup.

“All right. It’s called Truth or Lie. Here are the rules.” Conn schooled his expression into one more serious. “For each round, I’ll call a topic, so both your truth and your lie must be about this topic. It’s simple. You’ll say both a truth and a lie about yourself. The person to the right will choose which one is the truth. The other will either agree or disagree. If you guess wrong, you drink. If both guess right, the confessor drinks.”

“Easy enough,” I said, though a slight foreboding slid down my spine. When Conn’s naughty smile made its appearance, the temperature in the room shot up thirty degrees.

“Good. I’ll start,” he said. “First topic. Occupations.” He paused as he thought of his truth and lie. “My first job was at a human diner.” He paused again, then said, “I hated working for Nightwing Security my entire first year.”

I was to Conn’s right, so I had to choose first. Conn was good at keeping a straight face. I couldn’t tell by his voice inflection which one was the truth.

“The first one is the lie,” I said.

Bowen leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I say the second one.”

Conn gave me a wink. “Drink up, Valla.”

“Really?”

He laughed. A pleasant sound, I had to admit. “Really.”

I drank down my cup in one shot, wanting to know why he had hated Nightwing.

But Conn refilled my cup quickly, ready to keep the game going. “Okay. Your turn.”

I cleared my throat as the potent moonshine slid through my veins like sweet fire. “I was first in my class of The Assassins’ Order. And I held my first job in the Morgon Guard at age ten.”

Bowen studied me carefully. I couldn’t help but laugh at his intense staring, as if he could seek the truth in my expression.

“The first is the truth,” he finally said.

“Agreed,” said Conn.

I smiled. “Drink up, gentlemen.”

“Damn,” said Bowen. “That was a good lie. I thought for sure you were first in your class.” He knocked back his cup and refilled both his and Conn’s.

I laughed. “I was second in my class.”

“Oh?” asked Conn, “who was first?”

“Isadore Nightwing.” I frowned, realizing I’d brought her into the conversation without meaning to.

“A fine assassin,” said Conn.

“Yes.” I couldn’t help but agree despite my jealousy. “She is.” What I wasn’t sure about was whether I was envious of her status as first in class or whether it was because she garnered the admiration of Conn.

“And what job did you hold for the Morgon Guard at ten?” asked Conn.

“I assisted Kol in weapons training.”

Bowen let out a bark of laughter. “How so?”

“Well, someone has to fetch and clean all those blades. I was strong. Even at ten,” I said with confidence.

“I bet you were,” added Conn.

A flame of heat crawled up my neck. It was a slight compliment, but it was the way his gaze fell heavy on me and the deep rumble of his voice that sent my heart hammering. This is what pissed me off about Conn. He shouldn’t affect me this way. But he did. It threw me off-center. And that was one feeling I absolutely despised. With my youth and my brother as Captain of the Guard, I needed to be on top of my game all the time. One slip-up might cause others to see me as incapable of doing my job. Then wonder if the only reason I got here was from my family connections. And dammit, I refused to let that happen.

I nudged Bowen. “Your turn.”

He sat straighter. “I was once a blacksmith apprentice for the legendary Magnus. I was once a hunter for the Primean prince.”

Conn narrowed his gaze as he considered the two options and finally said, “You were an apprentice of Magnus. The second is the lie.”

I couldn’t imagine how Bowen could possibly hunt for a human prince, so I agreed.

Bowen lifted his cup as a toast to the both of us and swallowed down his drink before pouring another.

“Wow, Bowen,” I said, truly in awe. “You studied under Magnus?”

He was a brilliant craftsman of Drakonian steel weapons, most of which cost a fortune because Magnus, a master smith, had a hand in the forging of each and every weapon. His skill was unsurpassed. My twin swords made by him were my prized possessions.

“I did.” Bowen’s smile softened his features, an expression I’d never seen the grave warrior wear. “And I hunted for a Primean king, not a prince.” His brow furrowed at the thought.

I glanced at Conn, knowing we shouldn’t pry into that one. “Your turn.”

He sat back, shifting his wings, the low-back chair creaking with his weight. “The next topic is family.” He tapped his index finger on the tin cup a few times before saying, “I’m a better firedancer than my twin brother. And he is the faster flyer.”

Considering which held more truth, I cleared my throat and swirled my cup. I didn’t know his family. I’d met Corbin once at The Obsidian Games in Drakos a few years ago. He was loud and boisterous and attracted the attention of many women. If I had to compare the twin Rowanflame brothers, I’d say that Conn was the quieter of the two. Suddenly, I found that shocking.

“Well?” he prompted. “Which is the lie?”

“The first,” I said with confidence. “Corbin is the better firedancer.”

“And you, Bowen?” he asked.

“I say you are better with fire. So the second is a lie.”

Conn chuckled. “Bowen is correct.” He raised his cup with a wink. “Drink up, Valla.”

I took a sip, rather than gulp it all down, my senses tingling down to my toes.

“So you are the better flyer as well, I presume?” I asked with a toss of my ponytail over my shoulder.

“Of course, I am. He can pack a better punch, though.” He leaned back and patted his chest with one hand. “I’m a bit of an overachiever.”

I laughed. “Well, don’t be modest or anything.”

“I’m a truth-teller, sweetheart.”

I bristled at the pet name, but Conn was once more trying to antagonize me. And it was working per usual.

“Okay. I’ll go,” offered Bowen, but then he paused. He had already shot back several glasses, ignoring the rules of the game. His expression glazed over as he focused on the center of the table.

“Bowen?” I nudged his elbow.

Without lifting his gaze from the table, he said, “My father was a human prince. And my two sisters are captives of the Blood King.”

My mouth dropped. Either of those two statements seemed far from true. First, Bowen was known as a respected member and descendent of a long line of the Huntergild clan. He wasn’t treated as an inferior as biracial Morgons so often were. But the more confusing part was we knew the Blood King had only kept human women as his captives thus far. How could he have human sisters? The children of mixed-race relationships were always Morgon. Never human. I exchanged a puzzled expression with Conn who appeared as confused as I was.

“Well?” asked Bowen, lifting his bleary-eyed gaze to Conn.

“The second is the truth,” replied Conn with complete confidence.

“Agreed,” I quickly said, wanting to be done with this round for it obviously caused the man pain.

Bowen’s mouth twisted into a sad smile as he lifted his cup and downed his drink before slamming the tin down, his fists balled on the table.

“Bowen?” I asked. “How do you have human sisters?”

Seemingly far away, he stared at the table.

“Bowen?”

“We share the same mother,” he finally said, “but have different fathers.”

He clenched his jaw, his gaze filled with fury. I reached over and wrapped a hand around his flexed forearm. The man was a steel rod.

“Are you all right?”

“Those fucking butchers still have them,” he said, not meeting my gaze. “Serena and Lena. So innocent. At least they were. Moira saw them when she was held in the limestone caves. But they’re gone now, taken to some other hideaway.” The fire popped, snapping Bowen from his glazed reverie. When he lifted his head, his green eyes glowed with the dragon burning inside him. “But I will find them,” he vowed. “And I’ll kill every Morgon man who touched them when I do.”

He stood from the table and wobbled. One wing opened and closed as he caught his balance before he ambled to the closest mattress and plopped down. He grabbed his pack and chucked it at the head for a pillow.

“My father was an elder of the Huntergild clan,” he added, facing the wall. “But my mother was human. A princess of Primus,” he mumbled as he lay down and instantly drifted off.

I faced Conn, whose expression was hardened like the granite mask Bowen so often wore. “I didn’t know,” I said. “I didn’t realize he was half human.”

“Neither did I,” admitted Conn. “I didn’t know he lost his sisters to those bastards.”

“But they’re not lost,” I whispered. “If Moira saw them alive, they may very well still be.”

Conn clenched his jaw, gaze narrowing, the firelight dancing over his chiseled profile. “Even if he gets them back, Valla, they are still lost. They will no longer be the girls he remembered.”

I swallowed hard, knowing the human women these butchers kept were used for one of two things—sex or blood. The entire reason we were making this horrific journey into no-man’s-land was to discover what the Syren Sisters might know and why this Morgon cult, or whatever they were, would be harvesting human blood. The idea of being drained dry, helpless and afraid, tied my stomach into knots. The idea of being kept as a sex slave forced bile up my throat. “We’ll get them back,” I managed to say past the lump in my throat.

“Yes. We will,” said Conn. His confidence raised my spirits as he poured more moonshine for both of us.

“I think we’ve had enough for the night.”

“One more round,” he said, brushing off the dark subject like a heavy blanket. “New topic.” The way his mouth quirked up on one side sent my blood humming.

“What do you mean? We should end the game and go to sleep.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you afraid?”

Damn him. He knew how to get me every time. I’d never admit I was afraid, not even if I was. “But I didn’t finish the last round on family. Shouldn’t we finish that first?”

“No need. I know your family too well anyway.” That was certainly true. “New topic.”

I squirmed under his intense gaze when he paused. “Well?” I asked.

“Sex.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

“You’re afraid.”

“No, I’m not.” Okay, maybe a little. “This is an inappropriate game to play with colleagues.”

“Valla…”

My insides quivered when he spoke my name that way.

“It’s just a game. And we’re more than colleagues.”

What did he mean by that? Because our families knew each other? Because we were on a dangerous mission in the middle of nowhere? My mind raced, trying to analyze his intention. And the moonshine was fuzzing my brain, which didn’t help my deductive reasoning. Or my judgment.

He leaned both forearms on the table, his wings opening slightly at his back, once more drawing my gaze to the immensity of his wingspan. “Don’t tell me you’re actually quitting.”

“I’ve never quit anything in my life.”

“Then it’s your turn. Truth or lie. Let’s go.”

It was a dare. He was expecting me to quit. I’d be damned before I would. I pondered what I could confess that wouldn’t reveal too much then finally settled on something as vague as possible.

“Kissing is boring.” I stared at my hands molding my cup before saying rather flippantly with a shrug of one shoulder, “And sex is overrated.”

Conn let out a loud bark of laughter. “Oh, Valla. No matter which one of those is true tells me you’re doing it all wrong. Or you haven’t been with the right partner.”

“Don’t be an ass, Conn. Play the game.”

He gave a stiff nod, grinning like a fiend and leaning on the table to examine me closer. The short sleeve of his black T-shirt tightened around his bicep. “I’ll say the first is the truth.”

“Nope,” I said, gesturing toward his cup. “Bottoms up.”

But the heavy tension rippling from the man across the table told me he wasn’t playing anymore. And my sad attempt at hiding my inexperience wasn’t working.

“So if the first was a lie, that means you enjoy kissing,” he said in a low rumble.

I shrugged again. “Sure.”

“Sorry you’ve had less than adequate partners in bed, though. That’s a sin, in my opinion.”

“Whatever.” I avoided eye contact, sipping the moonshine which had lost its burn. Not a good sign. “I just don’t see what the big deal is about.”

Conn laughed and shook his head. “Like I said, you’ve had the wrong partners.”

Anxious to change the subject, I tapped my cup with my fingernail.

“Wait a second,” he leaned forward. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, I did.

“You’ve never had sex before, have you?”

“What?” I laughed. Sort of. Then scoffed. Then gulped the last sip of my moonshine to have something to do other than meet the fiery gaze of the Morgon man leaning into my space across the table.

“You haven’t. That’s why you think it’s overrated.”

“It’s really none of your damn business. This has gotten too personal.”

But he wasn’t done yet.

“And who have you been kissing, Valla?”

“Definitely none of your business.”

“I’ll bet you’ve never been kissed either.”

“Pffft. Of course, I have. I’ve kissed lots of men.”

“Oh, really. Like who?”

“Taron Woodblade.”

“That was a mistake. He’s an idiot. He has no clue what to do with a woman. Who else?”

“Um…” I stared toward the domed ceiling, alcohol humming through my veins. I couldn’t focus with the scent of Conn swirling around me, knocking any and all sense I had left out of my head.

“Wait, wait, wait. The only man you’ve ever kissed is Taron Woodblade?”

I shrugged.

“And you liked it?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

I shivered, remembering that one lousy date that ended in a slobbery kiss at the door. “No. He was horrible, actually.” I heaved a sigh. “I’m not really fond of kissing either.”

I think the moonshine was a truth serum. I couldn’t shut my stupid mouth up.

The real truth was I hadn’t had time for men. I’d always been ambitious and driven toward my goals. And I’d accomplished them. One reason I’d become the youngest member of the Assassin’s Order in the Morgon Guard. But after spending so many years focusing on my career and shunning interference, like dating, I didn’t know how to reopen the door I’d closed long ago. Other women my age had tried a few men on for size and narrowed down to the type they liked. I relished my independence and didn’t want a dominant man, like the one sitting across from me agitating me beyond reason.

“You cheated,” said Conn. He reached across the table and took my cup from my hands. “That deserves a penalty.”

“What do you mean I cheated?”

“Because you told the truth about kissing being a bore since Taron ruined that experience for you, and you’ve never had sex, so you can’t judge what you don’t know. Your lie was a truth, and your truth was a lie. You cheated.”

“So I cheated. It’s just a game.”

“I require a penalty.”

I narrowed my gaze. Damn Morgon men. They were serious about their games.

“What kind of penalty?”

“A kiss.”

“Goodnight, Conn.”

I stood and wobbled. He was at my side, steadying me by the elbow.

“I could show you what you’re missing.”

He didn’t smile. He wasn’t joking. And deep down, I knew he could. Temptation swirled in the air. My dragon raised her head and sniffed. I stood there, speechless, trying to form the tiny word no, but it wouldn’t come out of my mouth.

He arched a brow. “You’ve never properly experienced a kiss, Valla. And you know it.”

A feverish heat licked up my insides. Was it the moonshine? I didn’t think so. Unwillingly, I stared at his lips. “Just a kiss?” I asked in a whisper.

“Then you can judge if it’s boring…or not.”

He was already moving closer, his broad shoulders filling up my space. My reason had left with the first shot of drink, so I nodded, my pulse pounding in my throat.

Conn gripped my waist with one hand, his other splayed across the small of my back. “Look at me, Valla.”

Still staring at his chest, trancelike, I lifted my chin. His fire-gold eyes burned hot with his dragon riding him, his pupils straight slits.

He dipped his head and grazed my parted lips with his, twice, before giving me the delicious pressure of his mouth, angling so that we molded perfectly together. Feeling brazen with the alcohol streaming through my blood, I darted my tongue inside first.

A deep growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating against my breasts. His hand came up and gripped the nape of my neck, holding me hard as he swept in with fierce strokes. His hand at my back pressed me closer, revealing the evidence of his arousal against my abdomen. I tried not to make a sound but moaned into his mouth anyway.

Both of his hands slid over my bottom, squeezed, then glided farther down, gripped my thighs, and lifted me. My wings opened on instinct, as they always did when my feet left the ground. I locked my legs around him to hold myself up, but there was no need. Conn wrapped one arm all the way around my waist, his fingers curling around my ribs on the other side, and his other hand clutched my thigh. I was held in a hot vise called Conn Rowanflame. And it was magnificent. Glorious.

Nipping down my neck, he left a trail of heat wherever his lips touched. The sensation of his hard body pressing against my soft one, his mouth on mine, his teasing tongue, drove me mad. My hands were in his hair, clutching and pulling him closer. I rocked my hips, rubbing against his hard length, wondering how the hell any woman could take that inside her body. His growl had never ceased, soft and steady, like a roll of thunder far above the clouds, letting the world know that a storm was coming.

He gripped both my hips to still them and broke the kiss, then pressed his forehead to mine.

“Fuck.” His breathing was ragged and fast. So was mine.

I untangled my fingers from his hair to let them sit lightly on his shoulders. “No. Just a kiss. That was the deal.”

He chuckled. I couldn’t help but smile as he lowered me to the floor, his large hands framing my waist. I folded my wings back.

“Was that better than Taron Woodblade?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “A little.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I pushed gently out of his arms. The reality of our positions, of our roles as fellow officers and partners, reared to the forefront of my drunken, kiss-addled brain. “Goodnight, Conn.”

I ambled to my mattress, plopped down, and lay on my stomach, using my arm as a pillow. Focusing on steadying my erratic breathing, I heard him settle on the creaky chair by the hearth. The sound of Conn blowing new flame into the grate and the subsequent spark and pop of a blazing fire were the last I heard before slipping into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 5

Wearing only a gossamer, silk gown, I spread my wings flat on the satin-covered mattress, then lay myself bare for my black-eyed guardian—my silent lover who worshipped me more every day. His muscles bunched as he stood at the edge of the bed awaiting my command. His dark skin was illumined by candlelight. As I slowly unbuttoned my gown and opened the sheer fabric to reveal my body, pale and wanting, he flexed into a stone-like wall.

I skimmed my palms over my full breasts, rounded stomach, and inner thighs. He groaned—the sound of a dying man, not the feral beast I knew he was. He gave me pleasure in so many ways. His fierce and feral nature spoke to my own savage heart. His undying devotion to do my bidding, no matter what command I gave him. His insatiable desire for my body and infinite patience, awaiting my permission…as he did now.

Naked and rigid from head to toe, he had waited long enough. Spreading my thighs wide, I beckoned him with my body. A small whimper escaped my lips as he raked me with those haunted, black eyes. As always, he would not move unless I said the words.

“Come to me, lover.”

His wings flared, half carrying him onto the bed. He was over me and inside me in seconds. Swallowed by the decadent dark, I arched my back, pressing my breasts to his muscular chest. He groaned again, pumping with desperate need, his thighs slapping mine in quick tempo, pounding me hard. Enveloped in the shadow of his wings and smothered by his powerful body, I whispered words to drive him mad, to tie him to me further, no matter that we hadn’t bonded with soulfire.

“You were my first, Decimus…you will be my last.” He thrust deeper. “The others were only a means to an end.”

I trailed my tongue along his taut throat, straining like every other muscle in his body. My fangs extended, as always in passion, grazing along his sensitive skin, teasing. I would never harm my dark lover. Never. But the edge of danger, of death, sent him over the brink. And me with him. He spilled his seed inside of me, though I knew it would come to nothing.

Both of us spent and panting, we didn’t sense the newcomers approach in the courtyard outside my chamber. The sound of the gong stirred us both. He stood and wrapped his red tunic around his waist in sharp movements and, ever the soldier, strapped his shoulder harness for his short-sword. My soldier.

Sighing, I dressed in my sheer robe, not caring what the Larkosians at my door saw or thought.

My head high, I opened the door with Decimus in my wake. In the marble tiled courtyard stood a V-formation of Larkosian soldiers, Larkos himself at the center silhouetted by the rising moon. My pulse quickened, the sight of him still jarring.

Standing nearly nine feet tall, he reeked of menace and monster. But that had never frightened me. Rather the opposite. I always preferred to walk with my demons—even living, breathing ones like the creature before me. It was the deep-seated evil lurking within that sent my pulse quickening. And the hard dominance he wielded over every creature in his presence.

His face cut into angles and his jaw jutted too far. His clawed hands hung at his side, giant black wings arching far above the rest of the other soldiers’ wingspans. Wearing a black tunic—for the cold didn’t seem to faze him—golden torque around his throat and gold cuffs on his forearms, he looked every part the king. His dominance was unquestionable. He didn’t even mind the title of Blood King given to him by his enemies. Why should he? It instilled terror, cowardice, and obedience—all the qualities he desired in his subjects.

“Good evening, High Priestess,” he greeted me in his faltering, guttural speech.

“Lord Larkos.”

I drew close enough to show him I did not fear him, but stopped at a respectful distance. For I did not. He still needed me. Or so he believed. I would let him have his fantasy because it served my own needs. For now.

“Decimus still serves you well,” he stated, remarking on the scent of sex in the air.

“He does.” Standing at attention at my back, Decimus did not flinch. “Very much so.”

“I am glad that I could provide and reward our priestess.”

It did not escape me that his gaze darted to the red tunic my lover wore, something I had made for him myself, ordering him to discard the black of Larkos’s legions.

Ignoring the pulse of his agitation at my show of rebellion, I added, “It is appreciated. I can serve you better with Decimus at my side.”

Rolling his neck in a beastly way, as if shedding a snake’s skin, he switched subjects. “I require a blood blessing for this warrior band before their journey.”

Examining the Morgon men flanking him, I noted they all belonged to the yellow-winged Sunsting clan except for two Greyclaws in the rear. The king’s spies. I glanced up at Mother Moon. She was round and full, beaming with fertile light. I could not hide my inner smile which spread from the warmth within. It was almost time for my own ceremony.

“The moon is not yet at her zenith, my lord. Nor is she full.”

“I require your immediate service. They must leave at once.”

“The blessing will instill more strength with one more night for Mother Moon to bloom.”

A gust of wind blew over the courtyard, pressing the gauzy fabric to my supple curves, which seemed to round more and more each day. The instant look of lust in every man’s eyes drifted over my body. The air was thick and charged with fierce yearning. And perhaps envy. For no one dared touch me. No one but Decimus, who both feared and loved the dance of death—mating with the Poison Witch as they were so fond of calling me in whispers behind my back.

Larkos tilted his head, much like a predator considering the precise moment when to strike his prey. I wondered how much longer he planned to keep me alive. Until my spells were no longer needed, I suppose. By the time he realized I no longer served him, Decimus and I would be long gone.

Finally, the beast spoke. “Tomorrow night. We can wait no longer.”

“Tomorrow night. I will don my ceremonial robes and meet you at the altar, my lord,” I said with a reverent bow of the head, cringing. “Bring a sacrifice for the blessing.”

He nodded and marched away with his followers directly behind.

I also loved the dance of death. Death was power. A power that was mine. If Lord Larkos only knew. But he did not. And would not. Until it was too late.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I gazed up at Mother Moon in the starry sky and then to Decimus, my faithful lover and servant, who had eased closer to my side at the first sign of Morgon desire. He would die before he let another man touch me without my consent. He would die for me in any instance.

“I will show them all what power really looks like. Then they will tremble at my feet.” I reached a hand out to Decimus. He cradled my hand against his cheek, eyes sliding closed. “Then you will be my lord, my lover,” I said, meaning every word, feeling the distinct pinprick of tears. “And we will rule the wide world. Slaves to no one. Masters of all.”

Chapter 6

Fucking hell. I awoke early with a crick in my neck, a cramp in my back, and a hard-on in my pants. The fire had gone cold hours ago. I dropped two bricks of coal into the grate and blew flames to warm the chilly room. But the ache in my body remained, especially down below. I glanced over at Valla’s sleeping form. One knee bent and her blond hair loose from its tie transformed the hard-edged, smart-mouthed warrior into a sleeping angel.

Needing to get out of the room fast, I slipped back into my thermal gear, strapped on my wrist comm, and headed downstairs. Orlik was already behind the bar. The priest—a white-winged Icewing—sat at a table near the door in quiet meditation with a cup of steaming coffee in his hands, his white robes draped over a gray thermal suit. He must be making his way out today as well.

“Up early?” asked Orlik. “Benta is still working on breakfast.”

“No problem. Can I get the largest glass of mead you’ve got?”

Orlik filled a tankard from the barrel on the back bar, then slid it toward me, a head of foam puffing off the top.

“Perfect.”

Though Arian moonshine never caused hangovers, it always left one thirsty the next morning. As I gulped the thick mead down, I could feel my body warming from the inside out. When I finished, I asked, “Any word on this ice storm? The wind seems to have lessened since last night.”

“So it seems,” agreed Orlik. “I’ve not taken a look.”

“I’d like to take a look myself.”

He nodded once. “You best take the back entrance then.”

I downed the rest of the mead and popped off the stool. Orlik nodded toward the kitchen. I followed.

He led me past the kitchen where Benta cooked meat on a fire grill, no telling what kind of animal she’d gotten it from, then past a stockroom where barrels and bottles lined the wall. I followed him to the end of the corridor and down a short hall to what must have been living quarters. He stopped where the stone hallway ended and slid two massive steel bolts from their latches. As soon as he cracked the door, a bone-deep chill swept from the dark interior.

“This leads to the backside of the mountain. There are four lookouts all the way to the top.”

I nodded in gratitude. He stopped me with a hand on my chest. “Beware of the Greyclaws. They may be waiting to ambush.”

“Maybe. Too bad they’ll never see me.”

I slipped on my black thermal cap as I pushed past him. Tightening the goggles, I followed the gray haze of light and found a small ledge at the end of the corridor. The ice storm was over, but the blistering cold was not. Sucking in a deep lungful of air, I opened my wings and jettisoned straight up into the misty half-light. After flying by the first lookout, then the second, I opened my wings wide, stalling my ascent to the third, and stepped onto the Morgon-made landing, the gravel loose on the ledge.

Flattening my wings to my back, I stood flush against the mountainside, carved in a half-circle to shield any Morgon in this small space from the punishing winds. Fortunately, it created a natural shadowed alcove where the Morgon could see out, but those from afar could not see in.

There was no need to ask Orlik why there were lookout points all the way to the mountain’s peak. History told of wars waged in the wasteland of Aria. Criminal gangs often attempted to conquer the small unprotected dwellings here and rob them of their resources—food, drink, shelter, women. But the wild frontier had fought back. Every town within this ungoverned territory had instilled ways to protect themselves against the onslaught of would-be tyrants. Barren Falls had carved these ledges long ago with secret entries and exits from the main town. This was the backside of the mountain, opposite to their homes and small businesses. But it was the perfect spot to watch for an encroaching army by air.

I tapped on my wrist comm and changed the setting on my lens to heat vision. I scanned the area for life. Nothing from here to the next peak in the near distance. What was more, the ice storm had dissipated enough for us to travel. Since the Greyclaws’ hideaway wouldn’t be with a local of Barren Falls, now was the perfect time to move on before the winds died enough to encourage their return. With reinforcements.

It hadn’t been a surprise to see Larkosian scouts waiting for us at the first safe house along our route. I’d been sure we would run into Morgons in league with the Blood King. But their leader would be well-hidden, sending his drones to do the dirty work. He’d used stealth and cunning to evade the Morgon Guard and Nightwing Security for the past several months. And with the Greyclaws watching our movements, we needed to take an alternate route to the Syren Coven. I wondered if Corbin might have some connections to help us.

Chances were, he wouldn’t even be up yet, but it was worth a try. I tapped in my brother’s number into the comm. After the sixth ring with no answer, I had nearly hung up when the video screen popped on. And there was my disheveled brother, shirtless and definitely not in his own bed. Last I knew, he didn’t own pink satin sheets.

“Damn, Corbin. You look like hell.”

“Hey, brother.” One eye was swollen shut with a fresh cut across his eyebrow. He grinned, cock-eyed.

“Are you still drunk?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Slade found an underground pit fight in the Warwick District.” He slid his gaze sideways and nodded his head to the woman at his side. “It had benefits besides the winnings.”

I heard a soft, feminine sigh on his end, then saw a pale, willowy arm drape across Corbin’s back. While the bare shoulder and breast of a full-figured woman remained in view, the rest of the sleeping woman disappeared from the edge of the screen.

“You’re in Gladium? I thought you were training in Drakos.” I attempted to keep my anger in check, but it was difficult when dealing with my brother. The world was a game to him, full of nothing but toys and endless parties. Rather than pursue an adult career like the rest of the world, he still spent his time in the bars and low-life clubs, brawling in underground fighting pits for money.

Corbin sighed, smile fading. “Yeah. I was in Drakos, but that fucker in charge was a hardass. Couldn’t stand him.”

“Corbin, his job is to be a hardass. To get slackers like you in shape for the Obsidian Games. Come on, man. This could be a serious break for you—if you’d just fucking try.”

“Another lecture? Fuck, Conn. I wouldn’t have answered if I knew that’s where this was going. Did you call to check up on me Dad?”

I bit back the furious words trying to make their way out my throat. I sure as hell didn’t want to be compared to our father. I respected the old man, but his priorities were fucked up. When my mother urged him to move to Gladium to pursue a more peaceful existence for us boys rather than remain in Drakos where the climate of national patriotism was slowly transforming to elitist racism, he had refused. She’d begged for over a year. Finally, she’d made the decision to move on her own, taking us with her.

My father, a respected businessman pursuing politics, would rather give up his family than lose his career. And so he did. The only reason he even allowed my mother to leave was because she promised to continue to support him politically and be his wife when he needed one for elections. Stability, even the façade of stability, was considered a virtue for all Morgons. Actually, for all men. The other reason he allowed her to go, I discovered later, was because he loved her and knew she’d been miserable in Drakos, suffocating under the unbearable weight of Morgon high society. She had been an Icewing before she was heartbound with Father, before her wings mutated colors to match the rust-red of his clan. She was a gentle woman, unable to survive in Drakos. So he let her go.

And he let us go.

Rejection by a beloved someone could mar a person in many ways. It created a seed of doubt within, which grew into a poisonous weed when nurtured with repeated rejection, missed birthdays, missed graduations, missed…everything. When a boy became a man, there were two choices—cut out the weed and move on, or let it run wild and strangle your heart till all that was left was bitterness and anger. I’d been able to move on, but my brother, well, he wasn’t as forgiving.

“No,” I finally answered. “I called because I thought you might be able to help me with something.”

“Where are you anyway? What’s with the headgear?” He rose up on his elbows to study the comm screen more carefully.

“I’m in Aria.”

“Aria?” He laughed. “Dude. What the fuck? You’re going to freeze your dick off.”

Didn’t I know it. And not necessarily from the cold. My thoughts flicked to Valla before I refocused. “Look, I’m on a mission for Nightwing Security, but I can’t give details. Do you know anyone familiar with Aria?”

“Why would I know someone?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you hang out with the dregs of society.”

“Thanks.” He rolled his eyes.

I sighed heavily, wondering how we’d grown so far apart in the last few years. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just a little keyed up.”

“I can see that.” His brow creased. He slipped from the hold of the woman at his side. “Hey. You’re not in serious trouble, are you?”

And there it was. No matter how badly we wanted to punch each other in the face, it always came back to this—our blood kinship. Even if he hated me, he’d have my back any day of the week.

“No,” I said with a smile. “I’m fine. We’ll be fine. I was just hoping for some information.”

“We? Who are your partners for the mission?”

Corbin wasn’t a member of Nightwing Security and therefore wasn’t privy to mission information. And he especially wasn’t entitled to cross-jurisdiction information since my partners were Morgon Guard officers.

Rather than tell my own twin that information was classified, which was basically saying “fuck you,” I changed the subject.

“It isn’t important, man.” I shouldn’t have called him. I was only reminded of how drastically different our lives were and how far apart we’d become. “Look. I’ll be home in another few weeks. How about we catch a match at the Vaengar Stadium together?”

“Sure thing.” The red-nailed hand of his bedmate slid over his shoulder again. She muffled something low that sounded more whimper than words. “Gotta go. Duty calls.” He winked and clicked off the comm.

I blew out a frustrated breath. Frustrated that my brother was a total fuck-up. And frustrated that he was getting lucky, and I was closer to getting a knee in the balls than in the bed of Valla Moonring.

I dove over the edge, my arms and legs straight and wings tucked tight, letting my body freefall for a few thousand feet, the wind biting hard as I cut through a blanket of velvet fog. My heart pumped faster, my blood flowed stronger, relieving the tight strain in my chest and the pain in my groin. I inhaled a deep breath then flared out my wings, swooping me into an updraft where I soared before beating my wings to carry me back to Orlik’s secret entrance. Or exit.

With a quick backward glance that confirmed there were no signs of body heat, I reentered the cavern and walked the few feet of the interior corridor before sealing it shut with the bolt. I raised my goggles to my forehead, removed and tucked my leather gloves into the gear belt at my waistband, and then followed the smell of food. I passed through the kitchen where Benta was no longer slaving over the stove. I found her serving dishes to the priest, as well as Valla and Bowen who were sitting with him.

We crossed paths as I wove through the tables.

“I’ll have your plate right out,” said Benta, scurrying around me.

“Thank you.”

I pulled up a chair and joined them, steam rising off my shoulders and chest from the sudden reentry into a warm zone from sub-freezing temperatures. Thankfully, the thermal suits moderated our body temps and kept our hearts from stopping at severe climate shifts.

“You shouldn’t have gone out alone,” said Valla. “Weren’t you the one who told us we shouldn’t separate?”

Such a smart mouth. What I wouldn’t do to silence it with my own like I did last night.

“I wanted to check on the weather. I used Orlik’s scouting posts. He’s a pretty nice guy,” I aimed at Bowen.

“Nice is an interesting description,” he replied, raising a tankard of thick mead in greeting.

“This is Brother Silvanus,” introduced Valla as she picked at the meat and potato hash on her plate.

The priest wore his dark hair streaked with white in a long tail as was typical fashion of the Morgon Brotherhood. A well-manicured beard covered his wide jaw and chin in silver. His shoulders were not as square as they probably once were, though his thick chest seemed formidable enough. A wise look in his gray-blue eyes suggested he knew truths of the world and lived by them. His skin was wrinkled with age, marking him in his mid-hundreds. Morgons rarely showed age until their third century. All of my instincts told me this was, indeed, a good man.

I reached across the table and shook his outstretched hand. Strong handshake. Another good sign.

“Conn Rowanflame. And where are you headed, Brother?”

“The Carpian Range to the north. My order has a priory there.”

Valla gasped. “You’re a brother of Morga’s Keep?” she asked as she tapped the map icon on her wrist comm, apparently seeking out the location of the famous priory of the North.

“I am.”

Made up of only members of the Icewing clan, they were known for having miraculous healing powers, well beyond the gifts of Icewing healers who could mend severe physical wounds. The brethren of Morga’s Keep were known to heal even the deepest wounds of the soul. Or so legend said.

“And I hope to return to the keep quickly,” he added. “If the weather holds.”

I nodded. “I believe it will. The storm is gone, though heavy fog hinders visibility.”

“That won’t matter much on the route I’m taking.”

“Oh?”

Bowen paused from forking a bite of hash, which smelled far better than the stew from last night. “The Brother here was just suggesting a less conspicuous path through Aria,” said Bowen before diving back into his breakfast.

“I’d love to hear it. I was just thinking we need to take an alternate route to the coven.” Seemed I didn’t need Corbin’s help after all.

“Aye.” Brother Silvanus nodded as he reached into a satchel under his robes and pulled out a folded map, then spread it onto the center of the table.

Peculiar crosshatch markings were etched beneath all the recognizable places around Aria.

“My map of Aria differs than most maps you’ve seen.”

“Yes.” I leaned forward, as did Valla, her night-flower scent slamming into me. Irritated that she could draw my attention without even trying, I scowled down at the map and pointed. “This says Barren Falls, but what are these slashes beneath?”

“It’s an old code the brothers have used for centuries. It’s no great secret. We share our knowledge with any traveler in need.” He arched a black brow. “And anyone on the side of good will toward man and Morgonkind. From what Valla has told me, you are in search of information that may lead to this murderous Blood King we have been hearing about.”

“We are,” I agreed.

“Well, then. Look closer and see how this may help the three of you on your journey.”

Benta stepped up to our table and set a heaping plate in front of me, taking Bowen’s now empty one.

“You can take mine as well,” said Valla, having eaten less than half her meal.

An angry burn lit up my chest and caught me off guard. My dragon didn’t like her lack of care for herself, and it pissed me off my beast would notice. Still, I couldn’t keep my fucking mouth shut. “That’s all you’re going to eat?”

Her bright blue eyes shifted from the map to me. “I ate.” Her brows pinched together. “Besides, I have plenty of protein bars.” She crossed her arms on the table and settled in to examine the map.

I stuffed food in my mouth to keep from making another smart remark. The priest seemed amused.

“As I was saying”—he pointed at the slanted hash-marks—“these markings show us what is below the flight-line.”

The flight-line was the mid-sky level where most Morgons traveled—not too high for thin oxygen levels and frigid weather and not too low to avoid hazards closer to ground-level.

I paused, honing in on the double-X hash-marks. “So what is below Barren Falls?”

“Jagged peaks and windy caverns. Too dangerous for low-lying flight. The double-Xs are a warning not to fly or travel below the flight-line. This map marks safety zones for low-level flight or footpaths to use to avoid danger in the air.”

“Walk?” asked Valla. “Like humans?”

The priest laughed. “Yes. Like humans.”

“Brilliant,” said Bowen.

“Yes,” I agreed. “Who would suspect a Morgon of traveling by foot?”

“No one. Because it’s ridiculous,” said Valla. “It would take you twice as long, maybe three or four times longer, to travel the distance.”

“But you’d arrive safely and unharmed if you moved without detection,” said Brother Silvanus with a patient air. “The wilds of Aria are no trifling matter. A single traveler stands little chance if he is caught by a wulving pack or marauders. A party of three stands better odds.” He crossed thick arms over his chest. “But you’re still vulnerable.”

Valla tilted her head to the right as she often did when considering an idea. Her silken tail of blond hair slipped to the front, distracting my attention. Once again.

“What are the right slanting marks here near Wulving Gorge?” I asked, pointing back to the map.

“The right slants indicate safe travel on the ground—trees for coverage, easy paths for walking, few obstacles.”

“Safe travel beneath Wulving Gorge?” she asked in surprise. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but our debriefing of the area showed this is where the highest concentration of these wild beasts reside.”

“It is,” he agreed. “But they keep to their dens in caves in the mountainside. And they hunt only at night. If you take this route by day, you’ll be safe.”

“So what of the left slanted hash-marks?” I asked. “Like here near the Carpian Range.”

“These indicate there are some places to travel by ground with a few obstacles, such as frozen lakes or perhaps rock build-up from avalanches and such. You may be able to travel mostly by ground but will need to come into the open and fly where obstacles are in the way.”

Valla shook her head. “It just seems more dangerous. This would take longer and would be tedious, leaving us in the open for predators to pick off more easily.”

“I disagree.” Bowen’s chiseled, calm features showed nothing of the broken man he revealed to us last night. “Valla, you’re thinking like a Morgon.”

She blushed as she said, “I am a Morgon.”

“Quite so. And consider that all Morgons feel as you do. Let me ask this—why don’t you want to travel by ground?”

“Because it’ll make us slower.”

“That’s not all. Why? Why is it so objectionable to you?”

Her smooth brow pinched together yet again. She didn’t want to answer.

“I’ll tell you why. Because humans travel on the ground. And you feel it is inferior to your race to adopt their mode of transportation.”

“I’m not a bigot, Bowen,” she said rather calmly, though her eyes flickered white-hot, her dragon shining through.

“I know that. But you’re a proud Morgon of the highest stock. And it’s been drilled into you since birth that we are a stronger species.”

“We are, physically,” she said without remorse or arrogance. “That does not make me feel I am superior to them. I love my sister-in-law, Moira. She is human, yet she is strong. She survived captivity with that bastard, the Blood King. I don’t think myself superior to her or her kind.”

The fire in her drew me like the tide to the moon. Why, in heaven’s name, did I suddenly have the urge to lift her out of that chair and kiss her harder than I did last night? I clenched my fist under the table.

“I understand,” said Bowen, lowering his voice to a soft, hypnotic tone. “But you must set your ego aside to see this clearly. And to see why Brother Silvanus is right. The same reason you defy this mode of travel is the same reason it would be safest. No Morgon would lower themselves to travel by foot. Certainly not the Larkosians or any Greyclaws they may rally to their side.”

She glanced back down at the map and angled the parchment toward her. After a moment of crackling silence, she heaved out a sigh. “The Syren Sisters Coven is surrounded by double-X hash-marks. We will have to fly into their sanctuary.”

Brother Silvanus tapped onto that position of the map. “Their sanctuary sits on a flat mesa surrounded by deep caverns and jagged cliffs.”

Valla clicked on her wrist comm and lifted it above the table to snap a photo. “Well, then. We’d better get started if we’re going to be walking part of the distance. Shall we?”

And there it was, the reason I found Valla so amazing. Her honest nature and willingness to do what was right always overrode her own misgivings or intuitive resistance. She wasn’t like those women who would cling to an opinion just to be right. She’d always swallow her pride and admit her wrong to take the best path.

“I will travel with you till our roads diverge,” said Brother Silvanus.

“We would appreciate your company,” I admitted.

Bowen stood first. “I’ll take care of our morning meals with Orlik.”

Brother Silvanus followed Bowen to the bar.

Valla gave me a sideways glance, brow furrowed, then headed for the door, sliding on her gloves.

“What?” I asked, exiting right on her heels, both of us shouldering out into the cold.

“Nothing.”

I sighed, not in the mood for this. “What’s the problem? I can see those wheels turning so fast in your head they’re smoking.”

She affixed her goggles and swiveled quickly. “I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”

“Really? About what?”

“You’re just so—I don’t know—agreeable this morning.”

“And why is that surprising, may I ask?”

She shrugged.

“Oh, hell no, woman. You can’t say something like that, then go silent.”

“Put your goggles on. The wind shear will damage your corneas.”

“Stop trying to change the subject and explain yourself.”

She smiled. “Now, there’s the Conn I know. Mr. In-Control-and-Command.”

I shook my head, feeling a distinct burning in my chest. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“Just that I know what you’re really like.”

“You know me, do you? And what exactly do you know?”

“I know you’re the kind of guy that charms his way through life and is used to getting what he wants. Especially when it comes to women.”

“You’d be surprised that’s not always the case. Though yes, I’ve been known to enjoy the company of the fairer sex. And from what I understand, they’ve enjoyed my company as well.”

Her lips tightened into a line, a flash of blue-fire despite the shield of her goggles. She poked her finger in my chest. Actually poked me. “Well, get this, Conn Rowanflame. I’m not one of these women you can charm into bed. I’m not the kind of woman you can toy with and toss out once you’re finished playing.”

“I never thought you were.”

“I don’t play those games.”

“I never thought you did.”

The sincerity in my voice must’ve stunned her silent for she simply stared, her breaths puffing out in white clouds. She removed her finger, dropping her hand to her side.

“I know what kind of woman you are, Valla. The kind I want to know better. Not simply in my bed.”

“Ha.” She crossed her arms, flaring out her wings. “But you admit you want to bed me.”

Unable to prevent the rise of one eyebrow, I smiled. “Oh, I definitely want to bed you, sweetheart. I’m only made of flesh and blood after all.”

“And beast,” she added.

“You got that right.”

She flinched when Bowen and the priest exited the pub, taking a step away from me and making a show of reading her comm.

I finally fastened my goggles as they drew closer to us at the landing’s edge. Leaning in so my mouth was close to her ear, I whispered, “But don’t fool yourself.”

“About what?” she asked, still pretending to read the map she’d gotten from the brother.

“Your beast wants to play with mine. And I plan to give her what she wants.”

With that, I stepped off the cliff and whipped my wings wide, feeling a hell of a lot better than I did when I woke up this morning. Valla needed to know what was coming because she was right about one thing. I was used to getting what I wanted. And I’d never desired a woman more in my entire life.

Chapter 7

We’d flown for hours in silence till we parted ways with Brother Silvanus at the fork of Arian Way. With a wave to us, he winged right to the Carpian Range, and we followed the split toward the Syren Sisters Coven. After all the talk of traveling on the ground, we’d opted to travel by air during the early hours. But sure enough, not long into our flight after the fork, I heard Conn’s steady voice in my ear-piece.

“Just checked the map. We’re closing in on Wulving Gorge, and it’s near mid-day. We’ve been lucky avoiding others, but I say we test out the brother’s method and go to ground.”

The sound of his rolling timbre in my ear reminded me of what he’d said outside Orlik’s tavern. A pleasant shiver shot through me at the thought of his promise this morning and the memory of the kiss he had laid on me last night.

“Agreed,” said Bowen, snapping me back from wayward thoughts.

“Let’s do it then,” I said.

Sure, I’d been stubborn at first, but it’s my nature to question all new ideas or tactics until I understand them fully and am assured it is the best option. They were right. Few Morgons would consider traveling through Aria on foot. Unless they were injured. It was certainly the more covert, and thus the smartest, option since we knew the Greyclaws were almost surely in league with the Larkosians. If they were searching for us, they’d be searching from high in the air.

Conn darted ahead and downward, his draft knocking me off-center. Damn, he was fast. I followed first with Bowen behind me.

What had happened to me last night? I’d lost all reason and made out with a fellow officer while on a mission. It was so outside my normal behavior I began to wonder what really was in that damn moonshine. But if I was totally honest, I’d wanted to kiss Conn. Regardless of mind-altering, magic-laced moonshine. I had to finally admit that he’d always gotten under my skin. He was charming and handsome and sexy as sin. He was also cocky and moody and pushy as hell. The only men I allowed to give me orders were my older brothers, and even they didn’t always get their way with their machismo crap. I was used to dealing with alpha males with attitude. That was nothing new. But Conn? There was just something about him that sent my logical, reasoning brain to sleep and woke up my sensual side.

Why did Conn care what I ate and when I ate? Why was it any of his damn business? Actually, I knew the answer to that, too. If I became physically weak, I’d be useless as part of the team. But I was a big girl. I could take care of myself. I knew my limits. And what was with all the scowling over breakfast? We kissed. So what? Did he think I planned to force him into a relationship or something? The kiss was a mistake—a delicious, heart-pounding mistake—that wouldn’t be repeated. No matter what he said about my beast wanting to play with his. I could resist the smoldering, sex-wielding Conn Rowanflame if I wanted to.

Conn slowed his descent as treetops came into view beyond the fading mist, which had thinned to nearly nothing in the past hour. Whipping open my wings, I landed softly on the hard ground among a grove of evergolds. Even in this frozen tundra, the giants famous for their flora of fire-gold leaves grew tall and thick-branched in abundance. I lifted my visor to a brilliant burst of color that contrasted against the brown earth and snow-swept embankments.

Bowen landed quietly behind me. “How about some lunch before we set out on foot?” He removed and tucked away his visor and unpacked his crossbow from its sheath on his back for the first time on this journey.

“Let’s get into the cover of trees,” said Conn, moving along the natural path. “And lunch sounds perfect.”

“Benta’s breakfast wasn’t enough for you?” I asked, meeting his long stride.

“I always have an appetite, sweetheart.”

“While you two continue flirting, I’ll find some small game nearby. Set up the hotpad over near that big evergold.”

Without a sound, Bowen disappeared into the trees.

“Flirting?” I scoffed. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“I was.” Conn grinned.

“Stop it.”

“I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“So you’ve said before.”

“Listen—” I put up both gloved hands to stop his snarky banter for just one second. “I’m glad we’re finally alone.”

“Me, too.” His lopsided grin made my heart flutter.

Exhaling a frustrated sigh, I stopped under a thick oak with ample coverage from above and unhooked my chest pack before dropping it to the ground. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about…about last night.”

“Mmm. Last night.”

He removed his own pack and gloves, then pulled out the small, electronic hotpad. After opening the tripod that kept it off the ground, he turned it on. Gisa ordered us to use the hotpad instead of fire when we were in the open to avoid alerting predators or criminals to our presence.

Conn stood and propped his hands low on his hips. “Would you like a second round?”

“No…no.” I cleared my throat and shook my head, my ponytail sliding on the smooth leather of my jacket. “Actually, that should never have happened. I shouldn’t have let that happen. But I—”

“Couldn’t resist,” he finished, a devilish smile brimming his beautiful face. “It’s okay. It happens a lot.”

“You’re such an ass.” I rolled my eyes. “I could’ve resisted.”

“Could you?”

He broke his rigid stance and sauntered closer, a feral glimmer in his gaze. By instinct, I backed up a step, my wings scraping the rough bark of the evergold behind me. He moved into my personal space.

“What are you doing?” I asked, heart hammering.

He flattened one hand against the tree above my head, his finger grazing the arch of my wing. I shivered.

“Are you sure you could resist?”

I cleared my throat. “Of course,” I said, trying to sound confident, but my voice betrayed me and broke.

“Well…I couldn’t.” He brushed the back of his knuckles along my jaw. I held still, caught.

“Actually, I want to taste you again. Right now.”

Even stone-cold sober, I felt drunk from a single touch, longing to fall back into his arms and let him show me what his hazel-gold eyes promised without a word.

He leaned close, his warm breath grazing my ear. “Let me taste you again, Valla.”

I planted my hands on his chest, wishing there weren’t the layers of thermal suit and leather between my palms and his rock-hard chest.

He nuzzled the shell of my ear with his nose, then his lips. “Let me.”

His darkened voice pleaded and demanded at the same time, spreading warmth between my legs. What had gotten into me? I pushed him out of my way and stormed toward a densely wooded area.

“Where are you going?” he laughed. “Running away?”

“I’ve gotta go to the bathroom,” I yelled over my shoulder.

“Not by yourself, you’re not.” His footsteps crunched across the thin blanket of snow and leaves behind me.

I whirled, heat burning up my neck, now from anger not lust. “Whoa, there, big boy.” I threw up a hand, halting him several feet away. “Look. You’re not my keeper. And just because we shared one kiss doesn’t mean anything. I’m going to relieve myself by myself. Do you understand?”

His wings twitched at his back. Agitated. Whatever.

“And stop scowling at me,” I called back as I spun and trekked off the path into the brush.

How had I let this working relationship turn stormy romantic in less than twenty-four hours? This is why I didn’t date. Men were complicated. And domineering. And needy. I didn’t have time for this kind of bullshit. We had a mission to complete, and I’d be damned if I’d screw it up because my libido had suddenly decided to wake up and zone in on Conn Rowanflame as her primary target. Of all men. No matter that the damn man had charisma and sex appeal for days, he was off limits. I had to get that into my head.

I tromped off behind a cluster of evergolds and bent over to pull down the zipper looping my waist, splitting the suit in half. These thermals were ultra-designed with zippers and pockets and everything you’d possibly need, including zipping out of your bottom half for private issues. Like the need to pee in the middle of the woods.

I curved my thumbs underneath the thermal at my waist and the stretchy pants beneath, ready to squat and bare my ass to the extremities when my dragon senses shot to red-alert. I smelled it before I heard or saw it coming. Dropping to the ground, I pulled the knife from the sheath in my boot as I rolled sideways. A massive paw clawed the air where my head had been a split second before.

Launching onto my feet, I swiped at the blurry beast, scraping its shoulder as it hurled toward me. My wings beat me up to a branch for safety. I wobbled and caught my balance, one hand on the trunk, and then I quickly re-zipped my pants.

I gazed down at the enormous creature, a vitr’mir. I’d read about them. Gisa had included them on her warning page that listed the natural predators of Aria, but I’d never seen one face to face. Damn, did he stink.

The white, shaggy beast bellowed out a deafening roar and stretched the length of its body up the trunk, scraping with razor-sharp claws fifteen feet up the tree, still too far below to reach me. His wide-set eyes made him look sort of harmless, but then his snapping jaw and sharp canines proved otherwise.

Shavings of bark rained down onto him and the snow as he gouged the trunk. Apparently, he was too fat to climb.

“Hey! Don’t do that.”

He bellowed again, pounding both paws simultaneously on the trunk, barely shaking the two limbs beneath me.

“This is an evergold, Mr. Vitr’mir. You’ll never knock it down. Besides, looks like you could skip a meal.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Conn stood in the small clearing, a heavy broadsword drawn, poised for attack.

“Don’t hurt him, Conn.”

“Don’t hurt him?”

The hulking beast swiveled and cautiously began to circle wide around Conn.

“Him? What about me?”

The vitr’mir snuffed and scraped the ground, spraying the air with snow and leaves. A show of aggression.

“He’s only hunting for food.”

Conn mirrored the beast’s movements, moving opposite in a circle.

“Yes. And that food a second ago would’ve been you.”

“I smelled him before he caught me. As you can see, I’m fine.”

“And now I’m the fool who will be his meal if my lovely partner doesn’t permit me to kill him first.”

Lovely partner? First, he acknowledged that I was his equal. Second, he acknowledged that I was lovely. Why did that make my knees go weak?

The vitr’mir swiped his deadly paw in the air and roared again, apparently not at all happy with the second alpha male in the clearing with him.

“Are you telling me that the all-talented, ever-charming, super-clever Conn Rowanflame can’t think of a way to rid us of a one little vitr’mir without killing him?”

The man actually laughed, stood his ground, and sheathed his sword in a cross-chest harness. Opening his wings angered the creature more. The vitr’mir launched into a full run, his shaggy coat rippling with the force of his movement across the clearing. I sucked in a breath, suddenly terrified. Conn stood perfectly still.

“Move, damn you!”

With a wink in my direction, he squatted and shot into the air, twisting into an aerial somersault, his wings landing him lightly on the ground where the vitr’mir had been seconds before growling and snarling up at me.

“You could ask nicely,” he called over his shoulder.

I rolled my eyes, then sucked in a breath. “Look out!” I shouted, pointing at the beast who dove at him again.

Laughing, he flew over the creature, nearly getting nicked by its open jaws before they snapped shut with a clack of teeth. Conn landed several feet away. “Now that was close.”

Sweat beaded along my spine and the back of my neck, my heart pumping hard. “Let’s just fly back to camp.”

Conn shook his head, eyeing the beast. “He’ll only follow, and we’ll make our whereabouts known to anyone nearby. The point to go to ground was to travel covertly.”

“Well, it won’t make a damn bit of difference if we’re chewed to pieces.”

“Never fear, sweetheart. I’m here to protect you.”

He knew just what to say to chap my ass. I was about to snap back with something else when the vitr’mir charged at super speed. This time, Conn planted his legs wide and inhaled a chest full of air.

“Oh, no,” I whispered, realizing he was going to burn him, my heart sinking at killing the creature, even if he was trying to kill us.

Yes, I understood the irony as an assassin for the Order. Killing a target who was a capital criminal? No problem. Killing a big, furry beast, even a stinky one? No way.

Rather than shoot the flame directly at the charging brute, Conn swayed his head back and forth while spewing a powerful line of orange flame. The vitr’mir ground to a halt as the flame spread itself into a flat wall, blocking Conn on the other side.

Conn stopped blowing and focused on the wall of flame. With a wave of his hand, the fire rippled right, encircling the creature and blocking him from returning to my side of the clearing. Conn nodded with his head, and the top of the wall bent inward, curving over the top of the vitr’mir. The terrible creature whined and backed away, slowly being pushed by the bubble of fire Conn controlled.

A firedancer. A truly gifted one.

By the time he’d edged the firewall out of the clearing, the vitr’mir had turned and galloped away into the underbrush as fast as he could, roaring as he went. Conn snapped his fingers and the fire snuffed out in a wink, smoke billowing into the ether.

“You can come down now,” he said, hands on hips, his head cocked casually to the side.

Taking a deep breath, I flew down to the ground to join him. His hazel-fire eyes glowed like the flame he’d created moments before.

“You didn’t hurt him,” I said, surprised by the fact.

“You asked me not to.” His voice rumbled low and soft, very unlike his usual swaggering self.

“How’d you know I had a soft spot for animals?”

“I didn’t. Not until today, that is.”

I cleared my throat, kicking a divot in the snowy ground that the vitr’mir had made. “I didn’t realize you were that good a firedancer.”

He shrugged, rather than pop off with another smart remark at my expense. “You could’ve done something similar, even with simple flame.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

His brow furrowed into a frown. “Why not?”

“I can’t breathe fire,” I admitted, something few people knew. Something I rarely admitted to anyone. It happened sometimes with Morgons. Some were born with the gift to produce fire. Some weren’t.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay.” I shrugged. “I have other talents,” I said, nudging him with my elbow as I walked past him in the direction of camp.

“That you most certainly do,” he said at my back in a tone so low a delicious shiver shot from the top of my spine to my toes.

“What?” I asked, pretending not to hear, hoping he wouldn’t repeat it.

“Nothing. Let me go first.” He passed me up, one wing sweeping over my arm. Not an accident.

I sighed heavily. “Fine, Conn. You can be all manly and lead but keep your big wings out of the way.”

“You know what they say about a man with big wings, don’t you, Valla?”

He paused to hold back a limb crossing the path. I froze within the warm circle of his arm arching above me.

“That’s right.” He grinned like the devil he was. “Big heart.”

“Pfft. Move out of my way, Rowanflame.”

He laughed at me, right back to his old self.

But the truth was, I saw him differently now. Even from that small act of kindness, Conn Rowanflame was more than a swaggering, macho playboy.

Now he was even more dangerous.

Chapter 8

By the time we’d returned to the camp, Bowen had skinned and skewered a snow hare and was roasting it on the hotplate. True to his name, he was a hunter. I found myself strangely comforted when Valla finally ate something other than a protein bar. She needed more calories in these kinds of conditions whether she wanted to admit it or not.

The rest of the morning had passed without incident. No predators ambushed us on the path through the evergolds. No troops of Morgons flew above us. The three of us had walked at a quick pace, mostly in silence. Myself at the head, Valla behind me, and Bowen in the rear.

Where we’d camped for lunch, snow had barely covered the ground. But over the course of the day, a steady fall thickened the woods and paths. We’d donned full headgear as the temperature dropped, using heat vision on our visors to keep watch for danger along the way. Now trudging through ankle-deep snow for several hours, the strain had finally begun to slow our gait.

“Bowen, how far is the Huntergild clan from here?” asked Valla as our path wound alongside a gurgling brook, sheets of ice crossing from one side to the other in patches.

“I’d say two days’ journey.”

“Really?” She stumbled in a tall drift. I refrained from stopping to help. She righted herself quick enough and pushed on, adding, “I had no idea you were raised so close to Aria.”

“We rarely come here. No reason really. Except for Arian moonshine on occasion.”

I laughed and glanced over my shoulder. Valla refused to meet my gaze. “I suppose that’s how you know Orlik?” I added.

“Yeah. Orlik traveled south once, looking for traders who would deliver fresh game in exchange for his homebrew of mead and moonshine. My brothers and I would often make the trip together into Aria for the trade. Other than that, we preferred the more hospitable environment of our home.”

“I’ve heard Wilding Wood is beautiful, though I’ve never been myself,” said Valla.

“It is. There is no place lovelier than my homeland.”

I ducked an overlying branch on the path. “Watch your heads and wings here,” I called back. “I saw on Brother Silvanus’s map a scouting fort at the southern perimeter of Aria.”

“That is ours,” said Bowen. “It’s more of a small cabin and a tower in the foothills than an actual fort.”

“The Huntergild keeps watch over Aria?” asked Valla.

“In a manner of speaking. Bands of criminals in Aria are notorious for pillaging in our region. We make sure they don’t come too close. If they do, we steer them in another direction.”

“Politely, of course,” I added with a smirk over my shoulder.

“As politely as a blade in the back can be.”

We rounded the bend and came to a stop at once. The source of the brook was a trickling waterfall sliding down a tall, sheer cliff-face. Peering to the left and right, there was nothing but more rock and mountain. I tapped my wrist comm for the map. “We’ve reached the end of the evergolds. We’re at the foot of Mount Flyr.”

“Yeah,” said Valla. “Looks like Brother Silvanus has marked this area as a no low-flight or travel zone. We’ll have to fly from here.”

Valla was huffing out white puffs of air faster than Bowen or I. Though strong, her stride was shorter, and she’d pushed herself harder to keep up. I scanned the cliff-face above us. The light waned. Billowing clouds blocked out the sun, but the dark was taking hold.

“I say we find a spot to rest, then head out again when it’s dark. We could all use a few hours of sleep. We’ll be stronger and less visible if we travel by night.”

Waiting for Valla to shoot down my idea, I was pleasantly surprised. “Okay. But where? We need some cover from the air.”

“How about there?” Bowen pointed off to the right.

Midway up the mountainside, there was a crag that jutted beyond the slick side of the rock.

“Let’s check it out,” Bowen suggested, lifting off ahead of us.

When Valla went to take a step, I grabbed her arm, stopping her mid-track. Crossing in front of her, I dusted off a low-lying bush completely covered in snow. Beneath the blanket of white were tiny buds, one of them recently opened into a sturdy white flower. I picked the frozen bloom.

“Lunaflyr,” said Valla, stepping closer and peering down at the flower in my hand. “I’ve never seen one before.”

The petals curved outward in long sweeps. It had a golden heart with a single line of yellow shooting up the center of each petal.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said.

“Yes,” I agreed, capturing her gaze as she peered up from under her lashes. “Quite beautiful.”

Her eyes dilated and her mouth fell open, but she said nothing. When I was sure she understood I was not talking about the lunaflyr, I handed her the flower, then stepped back and beat my wings for a hard lift-off. The wind shifted unpleasantly in this pocket between mountain and open sky. She was right behind me. We soared upward and landed on the ledge where Bowen was already investigating. When I realized the ledge led into a cave, I snapped my wings tight against my back to give her space on the landing.

Bowen stood at the entrance, peering inside. Suspecting wulving or some other predator to have made this his home, I eased around him.

“Let me go first. I’ll blast it with fire to be sure it’s safe.”

I stepped deeper into the dark, removing my visor so my dragon senses could take over. Sniffing the air, I could smell no sign of an animal. Nothing recent, anyway. Musty and cold, the cavern opened slightly to allow all three of us within an open space easily. I blew a lungful of fire into the opening which flamed bright, then snuffed out. No animals lurking in any corners.

Bowen shuffled around in his pack behind me and snapped his blue-light on—an invention created specifically for the Morgon Guard to provide light and heat. The blue-light illumined a space in a hazy dome shape, the gray-blue hue a soft shade that wouldn’t be detected from long distances, nor with heat vision goggles, not like firelight, which was a beacon to any Morgons or wild predators. For those traveling incognito, the blue-light was a necessary tool.

The cave dead-ended and curved, though craggy toward the back—a perfect hideout for a few hours.

“This may be as cozy as Orlik’s Inn,” said Bowen.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” I said, turning to Valla. Again, she avoided my gaze, staring down at her wrist comm.

“We’ve still got a ways to the Syren Sisters Coven,” she said. “We can’t afford to rest too long.”

I removed my pack and pulled out the thermal blanket, which would block the cold from the ground. “We only need a few hours’ sleep, I’d say. Then we can fly through the night and be in a safer zone near the break of day. One more rest-stop, and we’ll be at the coven.”

Valla nodded. And something warm swirled in my gut at her approval.

“I’ll take first watch,” I offered.

“Nah. I will,” said Bowen, opening the base of his blue-light, which split into a standing tripod similar to the hotpad. He set it on the ground along with his pack. “I want to make contact with my brother in Wilding Wood anyway, let him know we’re close by in case we need some of the clan.”

Bowen strolled back to the mouth of the cave, tapping on his wrist comm. I unharnessed my pack and leaned it against the wall. The blue-light radiated heat and began warming the space. Valla had busied herself spreading out her thermal blanket on the opposite side of the blue-light from me. Neither of us said a word as we settled onto our make-shift palettes.

Soft blue colored the walls. I couldn’t help but examine her every curve as she lay on her side, facing me, one arm tucked under her head for a pillow. She draped one dark wing along her body for warmth. I longed to drape my own over her, to feel her tucked close in the cradle of my arms. I’d desired women before, but never like this. The ache grew daily. She stared at the blue-light. I stared at her. Damn, she was beautiful.

When she finally caught my gaze, she didn’t seem surprised to find me watching. I wouldn’t pretend that I didn’t feel something for her anymore. I couldn’t, even if I tried.

“I wish we could have a real fire,” she said quietly, pretending there was no tension filling up the space between us. Steering my wayward thoughts away from dark corners and sensual couplings, I gave her what she wished.

Without a word, I inhaled a quick breath and blew out a small flame, letting it coalesce into a ball. I waved my hand and rolled it around the perimeter of the blue-light to stop directly in front of her.

“You shouldn’t, Conn. Fire is dangerous on this kind of mission.”

Fire was a sure sign of Morgons, which could give away our whereabouts to unseen enemies. But this small ball of flame could do no harm, especially within the cover of the cavern.

“Yes. Fire is very dangerous on this kind of mission,” I repeated, my tone speaking not of the flame in front of her but of the one sparking between the two of us.

Her eyes widened, meeting my gaze for a moment before returning to the ball of flame I kept airborne, turning in a circle before her. With a thought, I changed the hues of the flame, from orange to red to purple, then to the sapphire that matched Valla’s eyes. She watched the flame, her smile widening. My heart soared.

I elongated the ball into an oval, then an hourglass, molding it with my mind. Slowly, the fire took on a familiar shape. Valla’s mouth fell open.

“A vitr’mir,” she said on a gasp.

“Your vitr’mir,” I corrected.

I sent the flame-beast running around the blue-light, transforming its hue as he ran, galloping and tossing his head wildly as he did in the clearing today. Valla laughed. It was the first time I’d ever heard the sound—a sweet, soft melody that burned straight into my core. I hitched in a breath at the shock, longing to hear that sound over and over again.

“You are a truly gifted firedancer,” she said, watching the vitr’mir come to a stop before her in a red hue.

“Thank you. But I would love to experience your gift,” I admitted, letting the vitr’mir dissolve into a flickering gold flame before snuffing out in a plume of smoke.

No longer having the distraction, she steadied her gaze on me, her smile slipping. “My brothers can dreamwalk without even sleeping, did you know that?”

“Makes sense,” I said. “They’re twins.”

“So are you,” she said. “Do you and Corbin have a similar connection like other twins?”

I shook my head, not wishing to discuss my brother or how disconnected we’d become the past few years. His desire to indulge in hedonism when we were far past our days of playing schoolboy shamed me.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. “Why do you look so sad?”

“Do I?”

“Yes. Is it your brother?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You never talk about him anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Do you remember when we first met? At the Obsidian Games two years ago?”

“Of course I do.” How could I ever forget it? It was the first and last time I’d seen her in a dress. A sleek black gown that fit her like a second skin. I wanted to punch every Morgon in the room for looking at her…the same way I had been looking at her. I knew then she’d be trouble for me. She was still in training with the Guard, but she wore her confidence like a fierce warrior, daring anyone to fuck with her. No one did. And I wanted her even more for it.

“You bragged about Corbin’s exploits in the arena, right before his match. Couldn’t shut up about him actually.”

“Yes. He was a good fighter.”

“Was?”

“Is,” I corrected myself.

“Then why aren’t you proud of him anymore?”

“Why would you say I’m not?”

“Don’t be angry. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay,” she said in a soothing voice. She spoke to me on an intimate level, from a place of honesty in a way only Valla could. And something pulled on me from deep within, gnawing at me to reach out and take the breadcrumb she offered.

I lay down on my side, mirroring her position, and sighed, staring at her across the blue-light. “I thought my brother’s pursuit of the Games was a means to a career.”

“But it’s not?”

“No. It’s not.” I crooked my elbow to prop my head in my hand. “It’s just that I thought we’d be officers for Nightwing Security together. But when I joined Nightwing, he said that wasn’t his thing. I respected that and encouraged him when I saw him training to be a champion to fight in the Games. But the champions have strict schedules and training regiments. He fought that one fight, then bailed.”

“What did he do then?”

I scoffed. “He went on a binge with his friend, Slade, back in Gladium. Partying. Womanizing.” I fell silent.

When she spoke, her voice was even gentler than before. “And how long did he do that?”

“He still is. About a month ago, he mentioned he was heading back to training in Drakos for the next Games. I had hoped…well, I’d hoped he was serious this time.” I stared at the blue-light, avoiding her gaze.

“But he didn’t stick with it, did he?”

I shook my head, not bothering to tell her I only found out this morning.

“It’s not your fault what your brother does or doesn’t do, Conn.”

“I know that.”

“I don’t think you do. Listen, I understand the tight bond between brothers, especially twins. My two bull-headed brothers fought for years after our parents’ death. Actually, they stopped talking altogether. But when Kol needed Kieren most, when Moira was taken by that monster, Kieren was there, risking his own life to save her because he understood what she meant to Kol.”

I knew all this, of course. I was there. But I never knew Kol and Kieren had been estranged. Now I understood what Kieren’s sacrifice meant. He’d suffered severe burns across his entire chest and torso in saving Moira. It had nearly killed him.

“Where is Kieren now?” I asked, knowing he’d not returned to his home in Cloven. He couldn’t since the man he’d killed, Barron Coalglass, had a very powerful father in the Cloven Senate.

“To the south is all Kol will tell me. He’s protecting his location.”

“Even from you?”

She gave me her one shoulder shrug. “You have to know Kol. It’s not that he doesn’t trust me. He’s just on a need-to-know basis with everyone. He’s especially protective of Kieren right now. I get it. I’m okay with that. The fewer people who know, the safer he is.”

Kol was a laconic man to begin with. I imagined he was even more tight-lipped about those he cared about.

“But they’re in constant communication,” she added. “I know because I ask him. But they only communicate through dreamwalking. Kol won’t jeopardize his location, especially with a traitor still in the midst of either the Guard or Nightwing Security.”

That troubled me. That we still hadn’t determined who the mole was or who had given intel to our enemy a few months ago. As far as we knew, he could’ve been killed in our battle with the Larkosians. But we didn’t know for sure. And there was the huge coincidence that the Greyclaws knew the Morgon Guard had sent a mission through Aria. That certainly pointed to the fact that our traitor was still alive and kicking. Until we found him.

Kol’s family had been friends with the Rowanflames for ages, which is why he trusted me to be the representative of Nightwing Security, to accompany his only sister. That niggled my conscience just a little. If he knew what I was thinking about his sister, he would probably beat me to the ground. Still, I couldn’t help it. Not anymore. I’d tried to ignore her night-flower scent, the way her walk made my heart thrum faster, the way her mouth gave me wicked thoughts, and the way one look from those clear-blue eyes made me want to be a better man. But it was no use.

She wiggled on her side, drawing my attention to her hips.

I steered the conversation back to where I wanted it in the first place. “Dreamwalking is a cool gift you Moonrings have. Why don’t you come visit me in my dreams? I could show you more of what you’re missing.”

She blushed at my suggestion. “I told you. We need to keep this relationship professional.”

Not if I had anything to say about it.

“No one will know. And technically, we won’t have done anything wrong. Not in the physical world.” I smiled, sensing her desire pique at the thought. My dragon sniffed the air, savoring her dark floral scent, wanting to nuzzle up close, wanting to do more. “Come visit me, Valla,” I beckoned, hearing the dragon in my voice as I closed my eyes, hoping she’d take the bait, hoping she’d give me a chance.

Chapter 9

Did he actually just invite me into his dreams? Apparently so. He’d closed his eyes without another word. Even now, his folded wing slumped forward against his shoulder as he fell asleep. I’d never dreamwalked into anyone’s dreams but my two brothers. It was an intimate act, to nudge into someone’s mind when asleep.

Conn’s chest rose and fell in an even tempo. His face relaxed in repose. I could ogle to my heart’s content, and he’d never know. So I did. The man truly was a lovely specimen of Morgon man. Perfectly proportioned in almost every way, though his wings were overly large, and as he’d pointed out, this coincided with his big…heart.

Damn it! Why was my mind constantly wandering to sex around this man? Perhaps because I’d denied myself so long. Too long.

Closing my eyes, I sent my mind into deep sleep, at the same time reaching out with my sixth sense where I could walk the dreams of another. Picturing Conn clearly in my mind’s eye, I let his image imprint, drifted deeper into my subconscious and into his….

I walked onto a sandy beach, the sun kissing my bare shoulders. Waves of ethereal blue washed ashore, lapping at the bare feet and ankles of the Morgon man who stood facing the rolling sea. He was shirtless in billowing white linen pants.

He turned his head at my approach, auburn hair glistening in the afternoon light. My hair was down, falling to my waist, brushing the bare skin on my back. I glanced down to find myself wearing a blue bikini with a white wrap around my hips. Conn raked my figure from top to bottom, his heart-stopping smile well in place.

“The Sorrel Sea?” I asked, waving a hand to my right.

“Yes.”

The Sorrel Sea was far to the south near the human-only province of Nibea. Though Morgons didn’t live there, Nibea was open to all visitors. Being a northerner, I’d never been. But Conn was born and raised in Gladium, the one province heralded as the most tolerant, where both Morgons and humans lived alongside one another. Surely, he would’ve visited the famed vacation haven of the south.

I glanced down at my attire again. “A bikini?” I asked, arching a brow.

“My dream. I wanted to be with you some place warm.” He faced me fully, both hands in his loose pockets, his chest and abdomen sculpted to perfection. “I’m certainly warm now.”

The things this man said.

He stepped closer, removing one hand from his pocket and tucking a loose lock of my hair behind my ear, letting his fingers trail down. Such a small gesture, but it felt so natural. And at the same time, my pulse, even in sleep, fluttered wildly.

He slipped his hand around my nape. “Valla. We’ve danced around each other for far too long.”

“That’s because we despise one another.”

“No, we don’t.” He brushed his thumb along the pulse point in my neck, pressing his body a few inches closer. “You know that’s not true.”

“You have irritated me from the first day we met.”

“And why is that? What bothers you so much?”

“You’re just so cocky and so damn—you know—arrogant.”

“Cocky and arrogant are the same thing.”

“See! And you’re always trying to one up me.”

“No, I’m not. I’m trying to entice you.”

His bold admission stumped me, my mouth half-open to reply but with nothing to say. “Me? But…why?”

He edged closer. I let him. This was a dream after all, never mind that we’d remember this when we were fully conscious.

“Because you’re so fucking beautiful you bring me to my knees. You’re fierce and intelligent and…untouchable. I want to touch.”

“Untouchable?”

“As Kol Moonring’s baby sister, few men are man enough to dare approach you.”

Stunned for five full seconds, I finally found my wits again. “Are you telling me you think Morgon men are afraid to be my lover?”

“I know they are.”

“And how could you possibly know that?”

“I asked them.”

“Them who? All of the Morgon men I know?”

“Pretty much.” He shrugged. “Whenever we did an operation together, I asked. They answered.”

With a swift sweep of my arm and a pivot, I broke his hold and walked away down the dreamy beach.

“Wait! Valla!” He laughed. The bastard. He gripped my shoulder and spun me back around.

“What right do you have poking your big, fat head into my personal business?”

“I thought that was quite obvious.” He didn’t seem disturbed at all by my ire.

“What? Because you’re a complete and total ass?”

“No. Because I want you. I want your first lover to be me.”

Well, that shut my mouth up. Before I had time to think, he knocked the backs of my knees with one leg, catching me as I fell to the sand. I gripped his shoulders for balance as he lowered himself over me, flaring out those great, rust-red wings.

“Conn.”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“What you won’t allow me to do in the light of day because you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

He nuzzled into my hair and nipped at my neck just below my ear. “Yes, you are.”

Arching my neck and closing my eyes, I reveled in the sensation. “What am I afraid of…if you know so much?”

“All the things Valla Moonring is afraid of.” He kissed a hot trail down my throat then licked the hollow between my collarbones. “You’re afraid of intimacy, so you keep men at a distance.”

The string of my bikini around my neck loosened. Conn wasn’t playing anymore. I kept my eyes closed.

“What else?” I urged.

“You’re afraid to feel too much and become dependent on someone else.”

His lips skimmed lower. My top came off. He brushed the scruff of his chin over one breast. I whimpered, the sensation so foreign and so wonderful. I watched him as he flicked out his tongue over my nipple. I started to pull away, but he gripped my thigh to keep me in place. He teased my nub into a tight peak then shifted and did the same to the other before opening his warm mouth on me and sucking hard.

“Shit,” I muttered, clasping my hands in his hair.

My legs widened on instinct, and he gave me his weight right where I wanted it. My brain hazed as I rocked my hips up, needing friction, right there. Then he was on his knees, pulling my bikini bottom off. I curled my fingers into the sand, wanting something to grip and squeeze as he lowered and laved his tongue in one long stroke between my legs.

I couldn’t watch anymore, my neck arching, eyes shut as he licked and sucked. My body rode on pleasure I had never experienced before. In reality, I still hadn’t, but dreamwalking felt so real, and this felt so wonderful.

I moaned, rolling my hips in rhythm to his tongue. He licked once down my center and stroked inside my core, then repeated. When I rocked faster, he slipped a finger inside me. I came hard and fast. He opened his mouth on me then, the wet warmth prolonging the pulsing sensation. So absolutely amazing. Definitely not the same as pleasuring myself.

He crawled up my body, his wings open wide, and swept his lips over mine, kissing me hard and deep, stroking in with his tongue as he did a moment before down below. When he came up for air, his gaze was full dragon—fire-gold with straight black pupils.

“You’re also afraid to care too much for someone who might let you down.” He nipped at my swollen lips. “But I won’t let you down, Valla. Let me be your lover. Let me pleasure you…in real life, not in dreams. When you are done with our arrangement, I’ll go without protest.”

It was common for Morgons to take lovers before they found their mates. Unlike humans, Morgons did not date to try one another on for size as a lifemate. We took lovers to meet that need until we found our one lover for life, the one to heartbond to for the rest of our days.

But I’d never taken a lover. And I wanted one. I wanted the man lying on top of me in this dream world. But he was an alpha male, very much like my brothers. He would try to rule me. I couldn’t have a man stealing my independence, no matter what my body said, even as it still hummed with pleasure.

“You’re a dominant male, Conn. Very dominant.”

He didn’t smile as most men would at that sort of compliment, but frowned instead. “That frightens you, too, doesn’t it?”

I gave a short nod, unable to say anything else.

Whipping his wings, he lifted off me onto his feet. He stared down, lines marking his face with anger and…pain.

“You won’t accept me as a lover because I’m too dominant? Do you think a weaker man could satisfy you? You’re fooling yourself, Valla.”

I propped onto my elbows, aware that I was displayed nude before him. No matter that this was a dream, he was looking upon me as true as I was in life.

“I’m not sure you could let go when I was ready for you to.”

Because he was right. I was afraid of intimacy and needing a man. When my parents died at a young age, Kol became my father figure. I had to learn what it was to be a Morgon woman without a mother as a role model. So I found my place in my brother’s shadow, learning the life of a warrior. I loved the woman I had become—strong and independent. And I didn’t want to need anyone else. I didn’t want to give my freedom away.

“So the answer is no?” he asked, grave and still, his lovely auburn hair waving in the dreamy breeze.

“It must be.”

He gazed down the beach, jaw clenching, fists tight at his side. Finally, he looked back at me. “Being alone does not make you stronger, Valla. Or more independent. It just means you’re alone.”

With that, he walked away, his wings tucked tightly against his back. As I watched him stroll farther away, his figure blurred then vanished, and I couldn’t help but wonder one thing.

Was he right?

Chapter 10

Draped in the scarlet ceremonial robe, my hood up, I stepped out onto the walkway where Decimus awaited. Humped Mother Moon shone from her zenith behind a diaphanous sheet of gray cloud. Downy snow drifted softly to the thin blanket of white. Perfect for such a ceremony. The blood would show well.

“Come, Decimus. Time to serve the master.”

He made no reply, but narrowed his dark eyes. He hated it when I spoke of Larkos in such a way. We both wanted to be free of him. And soon, we would be.

We walked along the torch-lit path into the nearby woodland, then entered a clearing where torches encircled a ring of Larkos’s warriors who were ready for their blessing. The other soldiers and officers were gathered as well. So was every human woman in the camp, now slaves to the Larkosian army. They stood in a subservient line, cloaked with heads bowed. Larkos himself stood within the ring to the right of the altar. Drawn to the blood, he liked a close-up view of my ceremonies.

After flipping my hood off my head, I pushed back the flaps of the mantle over my shoulders, revealing the loose-fitting, sleeveless white gown I wore to honor Mother Moon. I wore my hair down, letting it spill over my shoulders and full breasts. The air was biting. Though the wind wasn’t strong, it came from the north, from Aria, my home, which invigorated my body and blood. As if home was speaking to me and assuring me I was on the right path.

Decimus settled himself at my back, just outside the ring of bare-chested soldiers. He would remain close. As always. Though there was no threat for me here at the altar, he was always wary, ever watchful.

A bowl, a white cloth of muslin, and the ceremonial dagger had been laid out on the altar. I’d been taught the blood blessing by our high priestess from a young age, though we’d only ever used animal sacrifice. But this blessing wasn’t for a healthy crop or healing bodies. It was for power and dominance and death. So the sacrifice must be greater, more valuable. Only a human or a Morgon life would suffice for such a blessing. And since Larkos hadn’t yet begun to kill his own kind, a slave would do.

“A sacrifice is required. Bring her forward.”

Two soldiers pushed into the ring holding a dark-haired human woman between them. She stumbled. Not from their rough handling of her, but from the drug she was given to dull her senses. After the first debacle where the woman screamed and struggled until the moment of death, I insisted every sacrifice thereafter be sedated but conscious.

They ushered her forward to stand before me. I unclipped her white hood and let the cloak fall to the ground. She was skinny and frail beneath a sheer white gown.

Men. Of course they would choose her for tonight’s sacrifice. She was without the womanly curves they lusted after. This one was easy enough to let go and toss aside.

I unpinned her hair, which fell around her delicate shoulders. She shivered, her teeth chattering. I lifted her chin with my hand. Though her eyes were dilated and glazed with the drug, she saw through the haze. She saw me and understood what was to happen.

“Do not be afraid.” I smiled gently. She made no response, still quivering from the cold, fear, or the sedative. Or all. But it would be over soon enough. Stepping back, I commanded, “Place her on the altar.”

The two soldiers did so, clasping her wrists and ankles in the chain restraints on either end. Her arms and legs were as pale as the snow surrounding the stone altar. Beneath the illumination of Mother Moon, she was a beautiful sacrifice.

Lifting my arms skyward and closing my eyes, I chanted the words I’d said so many times before. “With rising moon comes setting sun, the mighty require a given one, to guide them on their battle straight, reward them with your open gate. The blood of the given shall bestow them power, and keep them victorious upon every hour.”

The only difference is that I said the words before the blood was spilled. Empty words without the blood sacrifice. I counted on Larkos being hypnotized by the blade and the girl’s pale skin, awaiting the river of red. With a quick glance, I ensured his focus was not on me, but on the sacrifice. An addict longing for his fix was easy to divert.

Removing the dagger from its sheath, I stared down at the girl, and for the first time, a twinge of regret pricked my conscience. The slave girls who were forced to watch, as always, sniffled quietly on the periphery.

“Look at me, girl,” I whispered.

Her head wobbled in my direction, her chin still quivering.

“Your death will not be in vain. I promise you.”

Her expression remained unchanged. Still the ashen look of one whose life was to be stolen by her captors. But I spoke the truth. Her death would not serve those who had captured, beaten, and violated her body. Her blood would not bless these men on their journey, but rather damn them. I would make sure of it. Then I would be one step closer to my own escape.

“Bring forth the Blood Keeper,” I demanded in a bold voice.

Usually, they’d send up another trembling woman they’d coerced with violent recompense should she not obey to play the part of blood keeper. Only the female sex could serve Mother Moon. This time, however, a tall woman whose bronze skin shone under the moonlight stepped forward with her chin held high. Unusual. She stopped beside me at the altar and held her hands out, palms up.

I placed the bowl in her hands. “Are you willing to be the blood keeper?”

Expecting a shaken reply as I’d always received, for the blood keeper must be a willing servant for the blessing—or in this case, the curse—to work, I was surprised at her quick response.

“Yes,” she said, green gaze steady and sure. No fear. “I am willing.”

“Mother Moon thanks you,” I replied, placing the white marble bowl in her hands.

The veil of cloud lifted. Mother Moon glowed to full luminescence, a sign she would honor my request. With a swift cut, I opened the girl’s veins at the wrist. The blood keeper caught the crimson flow as I circled to the opposite side and opened her other one to quicken her death. Red flowed onto the white slab and down the side to pool in the new fallen snow.

I placed a hand on her forehead. “Close your eyes…go to sleep. Mother Moon takes you to her bosom tonight. She will keep you safe and warm in her arms.”

I then whispered the words to call on the curse, calling for their fall, calling for their deaths. The vibration of magic rippled through my body before it built into a steady hum in the open space around the altar. As a witch of the Syren Sisters, I’d learned what plants and flowers to eat and at what time of the year to enhance my connection to nature and the gifts of the otherworld, the one beyond nature. Our dragon ancestry hid secrets in our own blood, magic that most Morgons never even knew they had, never wielded even once in their lifetime. Meditation, diet, practice, and Nature herself allowed us to call upon her aid when we were in need. If the connection was made properly, the sacrifice enough, and the intent true, we could command anything with our magic—anything—and it would be done.

The resurrection of Larkos was nothing compared to what I had planned. The world would never shun me or my kind again as they had once done.

The girl’s chattering had ceased. With her eyes closed, her chest rose and fell its last as her blood continued to drain into the snow, crimson upon pure-white, like the flow of the spirit into the afterlife.

“Come, keeper,” I said, now that her bowl was full.

I led her to the first soldier, then dipped my hands into the sacrificial blood and smeared the warm liquid up my arms to the shoulder. I called inwardly to that deep place where my darkest magic lay. My poisonous kiss was nothing next to this. An aura of power radiated from my body. The keeper next to me and the warrior awaiting his blessing both sucked in a breath, for it was a palpable vibration they must’ve felt to their bones. The magic was working, but not in the way these Morgon men would hope.

Taking the white muslin cloth tucked into the belt of my gown, I dipped it into the bowl and soaked it red, not bothering to wring it.

“May Mother Moon accept this sacrifice and heed my plea for this warrior.”

I smeared the ceremonial cloth across his chest and pushed a pulse of blood magic straight to his heart. His mouth fell open and his eyes squeezed shut at the tangible press of my power. I smiled and stepped to the next warrior in line, repeating the words and marking him for death as well. Then the next. And the next.

As I continued down the line, pausing only to re-soak the cloth, I caught the look of strength and defiance in the keeper’s direct gaze. It was as if she knew my secrets. And I wondered if a human woman could sense such things. They were the inferior race, but they had their own gifts of intuition and compassion. Virtues often overlooked as meaningless and powerless. But I knew better.

As I smeared and cursed the last soldier without anyone knowing the wiser—except Decimus—I folded the cloth and draped it across the now empty bowl, for I made sure that every drop had been used to ensure the fate of these soldiers.

Raising my dark-stained arms in a V, I pronounced in a loud voice, “Go now. Mother Moon has heard our behest. She will answer.”

Their fall would pave the path for my rising. There was only one ceremony left. And for that, I needed a special sacrifice. A truly willing one.

The bronze-skinned keeper set the bowl upon the altar with quiet reverence before she lifted the gray hood over her head and folded her hands to meld with the dissipating crowd. She followed one of Larkos’s senior officers into the dark. My heart leapt faster as Decimus made his way to my side.

“She will do, lover,” I whispered. “Yes. I believe she will be the one to serve our final rite.”

Chapter 11

Waking with a jolt, sweat dampening my chest and back, I breathed deep. Valla still slept, curled sweetly on one side. She shifted her hip, evoking the memory of us in her dream on the beach…and then I remembered her rejection.

“Fucking hell.”

I jerked to my feet, well aware of my painfully stiff dick and no way to take care of it. I pulled on my gloves with a jerk.

Why would she reject me? She’d obviously enjoyed our interlude on the beach. I closed my eyes, remembering her back arched, her moans, her rocking hips. Damn, if I didn’t want to drive inside her, hard and deep. But dreamwalking wasn’t like regular dreams. The sensations were more corporeal than actual dreams. We’d remember everything, and I didn’t want to spook her. Besides, when I finally did slide inside of her, I wanted it to be in the waking world. And we would be lovers, no matter what she thought. I glanced down at her sleeping form, immediate warmth spreading from my chest to my cock. She would be mine.

Bowen sat on his thermal blanket with his back propped against the cavern wall at the entrance with a clear view of anything coming from the north, east, or south. I sat beside him. Night had settled and the clouds had cleared. A canopy of glittering stars and the moon brightened the sky.

“You can get some rest now. I’ve had mine,” I grumbled.

Sharp green eyes glanced at me, then back toward the north. “Doesn’t seem to me as if you slept very well.”

I diverted the topic elsewhere. “Do you think these Syren Sisters will have the answers we need about the Larkosians?”

“Hard to say. It’s not common for one to defect, so they’re bound to have some information that will guide us.”

“Have you been to their sanctuary before?”

“Never. Men aren’t allowed, as you know. And they reside in the most remote part of Aria.”

“I wonder if they’ll be forthcoming about one of their own defecting. They may cut us off before we’ve had the chance to ask our questions.”

“I don’t think so. I believe they will divulge information to Valla. She is a resourceful woman.”

I inhaled a huge breath of air and then expelled it, white air billowing.

Bowen chuckled. I’d never heard the man laugh. He rarely cracked a smile—the most brooding, stoic fellow I’d ever known. Even more so than Kol Moonring.

“Something funny?”

“Quite.” He pulled out a flask from his jacket and took a swig. “Here. I think you need this.”

Disgruntled at his insinuation, I took the flask anyway and drank down a swig. Some of the moonshine we’d taken from Orlik’s inn.

“Best beware,” said Bowen, taking another drink before recapping the flask and tucking it inside his jacket.

“Beware of what.”

“You’re hunting her.”

“Hunting her?” I was aware my question came out more growl than words.

He stood and stared down at me. “I’m a hunter. I should know. Your beast is tracking, observing, following signs, edging closer by the day. And he doesn’t seem to be backing down from his prey from where I’m standing. My dragon is urging me to stay clear of you. If you don’t know what that means by now, you’re in more trouble than I thought.”

With that, he ducked into the cave and left me bewildered and stupefied. If I didn’t know what that means by now?

“What—”

With a punch to the gut, realization dawned on me, knocking my head into a tailspin. The burn, the warmth that continuously swirled deep within me in her presence. It wasn’t simply desire coiling tight. The sensation had started slow and low, cranking up with intensity every day. When I awoke a few minutes ago, it was the first time the burning sensation had actually stung, pricking like red-hot needles in the middle of my chest, and then spreading finger-like into my ribs and stomach.

Soulfire.

“Aw, hell.”

You’ve got to be kidding me? Soulfire burned inside me? For Valla?

How could this happen? Why did my dragon choose her? It wasn’t like I could talk him out of it. Once stamped with soulfire, it never lessened, never wavered, never died, only burned harder and longer and more painfully for that one woman. That’s what I’d been told anyway. The dragon recognized his mate first, the man always the second to know. And the woman was the very last. Few Morgon women were entranced with the idea of being stamped without their approval. Valla would fly screaming all the way to Morga’s Keep if she knew.

There were Morgons who were rejected by their mate and suffered with the painful burn all their days. Not me. No fucking way. The only way to satisfy the beast and alleviate this growing torture was to heartbond with Valla.

“Fuck.”

I laughed. That was why I was so damn concerned about her eating and taking care of herself. I had dismissed it as just one operations officer caring for another. But I sure as shit wasn’t worried about Bowen’s eating habits, was I? No. Every move she made, I was watching, worrying about her well-being. I was such an idiot I never picked up on it.

No way could I let her know. She wouldn’t sense it. Only other Morgon men would. Their intuition to recognize another Morgon male’s desire for a mate was innate. Hell, Bowen recognized what it was before I did.

That strong-willed, stubborn, beautiful fucking woman was going to be mine.

If not… I couldn’t even consider what would happen to me if not. No way could I wake up hard as hell for a woman who shunned me every fucking day of my life. Dominant? She had no idea. But I also recognized her independence for what it was—a stunning part of who she was. I wouldn’t take that away. I didn’t want to. But I’d damn well show her the mind-blowing pleasure she could have every day of her life…if she’d just give me a chance. If she’d give us a chance.

I let Valla sleep through her shift. She needed it. I wasn’t going to deny my dragon’s needs. He wanted her rested. If that’s all I could have for now to soothe the beast, then so be it.

We’d agreed to stop for only five or six hours, and it was pushing past midnight now. I rolled up Bowen’s thermal blanket and walked back into the cavern, the blue-light emanating warmth and a dim glow. Squatting down on her palette, I gazed my fill before waking her. I swept a loose lock of hair away from her face, so serene in sleep with her hands tucked under her cheek, her lush lips pursed.

Biting back a groan, I shook her shoulder. “Wake up, Valla.”

As soon as she stirred, I stood and nudged Bowen awake as well. “We should get going if we want to take advantage of night’s cover.”

We packed our gear in silence, but I didn’t miss Valla’s covert glances in my direction. I refused to acknowledge her curiosity. She wanted to know my mood after her rejection. I would show her neither anger nor bitterness. What she wouldn’t expect is complete and total professionalism from me, so that’s what I would give her. For now.

Donning headgear and visors, we lifted out of the gorge, aiming high into the cloud cover. Sleet and snow pelted our suits as we maintained a swift speed. Checking my wrist comm, we veered onto the last leg toward the coven.

A powerful gale whipped through the clouds, the wind pushing against us. Valla wavered left. I jerked in her direction, but she righted herself back to the point of our vee. Breathing deep, I focused on keeping myself calm and in control. Darting off to save her from every wobble in flight would surely set me up as a lovesick suitor. She’d tighten her resolve against me more if she sniffed out my aching need to protect her.

An alert beeped in our visors. All three of us checked our wrist comms. A cluster of airborne individuals was flocking in our direction from the east, showing up as a mass of about a dozen dots.

“Who is it?” asked Valla through the visor. “The Greyclaws and friends?”

“Possibly,” I answered.

“No,” said Bowen. “The flight pattern is slightly erratic.”

A ghostly howl ripped through the wind. Others yipped and answered the call.

“Wulving,” I said, scanning our map for cover.

“They’re closing fast,” said Valla. And though she tried to keep her voice steady, I detected a slight tremor. My dragon wanted to turn and fight the whole fucking pack for her. But getting myself killed wouldn’t accomplish a thing.

Scrolling Brother Silvanus’s map, I found a place not on the Morgon map.

“Look. The Ruins of Pallatine. If we dive straight down now, they’ll lose our scent in the gale.”

“Good plan,” agreed Bowen. “They’ll still be looking for us in the cloud cover.”

“Now!” I yelled, leading the three of us on a freefall dive, the wind biting our wings as we tucked them close.

When treetops came into view, we glided flat in the opposite direction of where we were headed seconds before. A semi-frozen lake stretched out beneath us. A web of ice crystals glittered by moonlight.

“Fly close to the lake,” said Bowen. “It will cover our scent.”

Water and ice diluted scent without soil for it to cling to. We soared across the vast sheet of ice—sludgy patches of water glistening in breaks of the ice, the edges encrusted solid. Checking my comm, the ruins of the abandoned human fortress should be directly ahead. We rounded a curve of the lake, and there the black mass of the castle rose out of the gloom. Two battlements had crumbled from an attack decades before.

Swooping down, we landed within its walls onto a stone courtyard. I yanked off my visor and scanned the sky for signs of the wulving. The distant howls didn’t seem to be drawing closer, but they were still too close.

Debris littered the courtyard, including fallen stone and rotted barrels that once held the finest mead. Pallatine had been a trade port between the Morgons and humans until bands of Morgons saw them as the enemy, destroying every man, woman, and child within these walls. The history books told of a descendent of the Pallatine line who had escaped. A nurse had fled with the child bundled on her back when Morgons burned the fortress from above, killing whoever was left after their raping and pillaging. This fallen fortress held nothing but ghosts and sad memories of a once fine kingdom.

Lichen crawled up the walls in a coat of pungent, winter-growing fungus, covering the burnt markings of Morgon fire. “That’ll coat our scent.”

“Let’s hope so. Come on. Let’s get inside,” urged Bowen, leading the way through an arch.

Valla followed, her long stride determined and sure. My beast relaxed despite the near-attack by a pack of flying wolves. I wasn’t the kind of Morgon who constantly battled to keep my dragon at bay, unlike my brother, Corbin, who seemed more beast than man these days. But in Valla’s presence, it felt like a constant struggle, me yanking on a chain to keep my alpha instincts in check.

We followed Bowen down a corridor of stables then out into a smaller courtyard and up a short stairwell of steps. We stepped through a small entryway into an open hall, the vast room cold and dark.

The musty smell of charred stone and green lichen faded to something else. Valla unzipped her pack and had a blue-light beaming in her palm in a matter of seconds. Moving cautiously into the room, there was a significant difference in this space than the exterior.

“It’s so clean,” said Valla.

The floors were swept, and no sign of decay rotted this interior hall. There was the distinct odor of tamped fire, but not the old charred bones of the castle as we smelled outside. Rather, the aroma of torchlight having been extinguished hours before. After searching the perimeter of the room, I reached out and touched my finger to a sconce, then sniffed.

“Someone has been here recently,” I said.

Bowen had found the large fireplace at the head of the hall and squatted with his hand above the logs in the grate. “Very recently.”

“We’d better find another place to hide.”

The sudden whooping of Morgons sent us into high alert. Within three seconds, we’d formed a circle with our backs inward and weapons drawn—myself with my broadsword, Valla with her two sabers, and Bowen with his crossbow. Pouring into the main hall were many Morgons, men and women, streaming around us with jeers and laughter. One of them blew flame to the torches and lit the hall.

The Greyclaw brothers weren’t among them. These weren’t a militant band of Larkosians as I’d feared we’d meet on this journey. They wore the mismatched attire of marauders, mostly leather and fur of the beasts of Aria. Encircling us with home-forged blades drawn and ready were a number of different clansmen—two Woodblades, three Sunstings, three more from the Coalglass clan, a pair of Violetvale twin males, a Huntergild—which I was sure would elate Bowen—three of the blue-winged Skyshadow clan, two Icewing females, one Starfell male and finally a big Silverback with a wingspan to rival my own. Their allegiance was certainly to this man, their leader, who sauntered within the circle, great wings snapping at his back, both hands on his hips as he squared himself in front of Valla. Close, but not too close, for I’d have sliced his pretty face with my Drakonian blade.

“Well, well, well,” his deep-barreled voice echoed in the hall. “Company has come calling.”

A few chuckled at their leader’s obvious sarcasm.

“I don’t remember inviting guests to our lair. Do you, friends?”

A chorus of “no” and “I didn’t invite them” and more laughter followed.

“A Rowanflame, a Moonring, and a Huntergild. Of the highest stock, it appears. High tech gear, expensive thermal suits, and”—he stepped closer to Valla—“very well-honed soldiers with…athletic physiques.”

I nearly leapt from our defensive stance to gut him where he stood. But that would put us in more danger. And there was no need to act irrationally since Valla could take care of herself.

“Take one more step, and I’ll slice off your balls and stuff them down your throat before you can blink.”

Such a lady, my Valla.

The marauders pushed forward. One of them hissed at her threat. Their leader held out a hand and laughed. A genuine laugh. “I bet you would.”

“Try me and find out.”

“Seems the Morgon Guard has sent their finest to Aria. Pray tell, why, I wonder.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I bit out, unable to hold my tongue a second longer.

“Forgive me. We are Bastien’s Bastards. And I am Bastien Silverback, their fearless leader,” he said with a small bow.

At the sound of his name, I heard Valla’s intake of breath behind me. Bowen’s head swiveled to get a better look from my right. Bastien Silverback—number one on the Morgon Guard’s Most Wanted list. The Cloven Senate had crowned him the first enemy of the state after he murdered his entire family in their beds, including his parents, two teenage brothers, and a baby sister, who was only five years old. His father was rumored to be the next consul over Cloven and would rule for a decade. He was a well-respected man and of the greatest importance to the majority in power in the Senate.

The day the family was found—each of them executed by decapitation—a man-hunt ensued like no other. The search was in vain, and it was rumored Bastien Silverback had absconded into Aria. If he should ever return, he would have been put down with blade justice on the spot, an execution-at-will order, sanctioned by the Morgon Guard as well as the Cloven Senate. Even now, it was our duty to do so if we had the chance. But killing the head of this pack of wolves would be suicide. I might sacrifice my own life, but not Valla’s.

“I see that I’m still at the top of the Guard’s hit list.”

He was intelligent with perceptive instincts.

“Well, I hope you won’t attempt to put me down in my own home. Rafe, punch up the fires, will you? Let us get a better look at our guests.”

A Woodblade stepped from the circle and blew flame to start the fire in the man-sized grate, then he went to a second and third fireplace on opposite walls adjacent to the main one. This was certainly the Great Hall of the royal Pallatine family, now a distant memory from this place.

Bastien moved toward a dais, obviously what was once the throne platform, where several worn leather chairs stood facing the hall and a pile of layered vitr’mir furs were draped down the steps. Two pinpoints of gleaming eyes shone from the shadows behind Bastien, coming closer as the Morgon moved toward the dais. From the dark beyond the columns stepped a wulving—coarse gray-black hair, sharp-edged wings, fangs extending from his mouth, and the wickedest face I’d ever seen on a beast.

“Oh, don’t mind Razor,” said Bastien, climbing the dais and seating himself in the white fur-lined throne at the center. “He’s just not fond of strangers. But he won’t bite…unless you give him cause.”

The wulving whose back came up to my waist followed his master’s footsteps and lay at his feet. Bastien patted his head. Still, the animal in no way looked like a domestic pet.

“I thought wulving stayed with their packs,” said Valla.

“They do.” Bastien continued stroking the beast on the head. “We are his pack.”

The feral creature whose sinister gaze never left us sent a chill up my spine. Meeting a pack of these creatures mid-air would’ve been disastrous. We took the only course offered to us for shelter, but now I wondered what kind of hell we’d stepped into instead.

“Well, now,” continued Bastien, “let’s all agree not to kill one another, shall we?”

“And if we do?” I asked.

“Then you may stay here to avoid Devil’s pack of wulving on the hunt tonight.”

“Devil?” asked Valla.

“Yes. Sire of Razor here, and the most vicious beast of them all. You did the right thing finding shelter. We’ve survived in Aria for ages now, but we never attempt to fight Devil’s pack. The weaker ones can be outnumbered and defeated, if you know what you’re doing in fighting a pack of wulving. Which you don’t. But Devil? We steer clear. So congratulations! You survived death by coming here to Pallatine.”

“And what exactly have we landed ourselves into?” I asked. “Somehow I don’t imagine shelter will be free.”

The others laughed. Bastien only smiled. “You’re quite right about that. There’s always a toll.”

“What kind of toll?” asked Valla.

When Bastien’s gaze roamed her body, I nearly came unhinged, ready to rip out his throat—suicide or no. He glanced at me and laughed, then winked. He knew I suffered. And why I suffered. The bastard.

“Well, now. We love games, don’t we, friends?”

Murmurs of agreement filled the room.

“Let’s call it a truce, and you can put away your weapons. Then we’ll have a friendly game for entertainment. If you pay the toll, then I give you my word you may rest here unharmed until you continue on your journey.”

I snorted at the offer, biting my tongue before I said something nasty about the promises of murderers.

“I give you my word,” he reiterated, voice grating deep and threatening, unlike his typically cavalier manner. “And my word is true.”

A chorus of “aye” resounded. The man had the undying devotion of his followers. But what could that mean among fiendish criminals?

“And what if we don’t agree to pay the toll?” Valla asked.

“Then you may join Devil and his twenty-plus pack flying the skies tonight.”

With a wave of his hand, a silent command, the motley crew circling us sheathed their weapons and disbursed. A few lounged on the fur rugs and in the chaise lounges on the dais. The Woodblade called Rafe continued to stoke the fires and pile on logs. The two Icewings left the room altogether. Facing the dais in a line, we lowered our weapons but did not put them away.

“Specify your toll,” said Valla. “And we will consider it.”

“Don’t look so troubled, darling. You may enjoy this.”

I really wanted to kill this asshole.

He chuckled, studying me keenly as he scratched the scruff on his dimpled chin. “Very well. I’d say we need a toll befitting your warrior status. A duel. Your finest warrior”—he nodded at me—“against mine.”

“Fair enough,” I agreed.

“Not a duel to the death,” protested Valla.

“Of course not!” Bastien grinned. “What fun would there be in that? However…” He angled his head as if considering.

“But what?” I asked.

“We’ll need higher stakes…to keep things interesting. If you win, you stay here unharmed as I vowed before, of course. But if my warrior wins…” He glanced at a fierce Skyshadow female still standing at attention at the foot of the dais, her cobalt-colored wings tucked tight against her back. “We’ll let her decide. Madera, what would you like as your prize?”

Madera paced forward, crossing to stand a few feet in front of me. She wore her black hair loose with long braids on either side of her temple. Encased in skin-tight brown leather from top to bottom, there was no question the woman was a fit warrior. Her cat-shaped eyes sized me up keenly. Her grave, assessing expression cracked, her pretty mouth tilting up on one side.

“If I win…I bed the Rowanflame for the night.”

Catcalls and whistles lit up the room. Unsurprised at the stakes, I was surprised at Valla’s reaction.

“No. You can’t wager for sex.” She had tightened her stance back into fighting mode.

“Of course, we can,” said Bastien. “That’s the best of prizes if you ask me.”

A chorus of laughter erupted. Bastien grinned from ear to ear.

Ordinarily, I’d find the wager more than acceptable terms. I might even throw the match and lose to have a night with a wild warrior such as this woman, Madera. Readying for the fight, she pulled a spear with double-ended blades from a wall holding an array of weapons.

“I won’t allow it,” said Valla.

I glanced to find her pale skin mottled pink from her neck to her cheeks. This wager wasn’t exactly barbaric behavior. Not for Morgons. Slightly uncivilized, but look at our surroundings. We’d left civilization behind days ago.

“Then you may leave,” said Bastien as politely and dead serious as a man could be, sweeping a hand toward the door.

“The stakes are acceptable,” I confirmed.

Valla snapped her gaze to me, fury lining every lovely contour of her face.

“This should be interesting.” Bowen spoke for the first time, sidling to the sidelines near the fire.

I shifted in front of Valla to face her, widening my wings to block our conversation as best I could.

“There is no option here,” I whispered low. “We can’t risk death just to save a piece of my dignity.”

“Your dignity?” she scoffed. “Don’t even pretend if you lost, you’d be doing a great sacrifice by screwing that woman.”

“Valla—”

“Don’t you fucking throw the fight to sleep with her.”

The venom in her voice shocked me for a few seconds. Her ripe anger spoke of only one emotion…jealousy. My dragon preened and pranced around in a circle. He also knew opportunity when he saw it. The noble thing to do would’ve been to ease her concerns about me sleeping with another woman. But I wasn’t that noble. And I’d do everything within my power to make Valla mine.

“While I appreciate your concern, this is the only way to keep the three of us safe for the night.” Somehow, I managed to remain serious. “And besides, if I lose, it won’t be that great a hardship.”

Her white-hot gaze could’ve lit me on fire right there. Hard fury trembled through her body. My instincts told me to comfort her, but I refused. Her nonverbal admission that she harbored feelings for me sent my dragon to jerking at his chain, ready to pull her down to the ground and drive home, here and now. But this was not the time or the place to rehash our dream together or her rejection of me as a lover.

“Don’t worry. I’ll beat her. I’ve fought wilder ones than her before.”

“And where might that have been? In your cozy human province of Gladium?”

I ignored the bitterness with which she spoke of my home, Gladium, where humans and Morgons lived alongside one another peacefully, the only province of the realm where this was true.

“The Rowanflame clan in the Feygreir Mountains are a wilder bunch than this, if you can imagine. Now go take a seat.”

She literally bit her lip to keep from saying something else equally or more nasty. I handed her my sword and unzipped my thermal, removing the suit in haste. No need to ruin my suit. I removed my undershirt for good measure and handed it to Valla in exchange for my sword.

“Hold my clothes, will you? I’ll need those back later.” I winked. “Or maybe not.”

Without waiting for her response, I snapped my wings tight against my back and moved to the center of the hall to face my opponent. Her stance square, her shoulders back, she held only the double-edged spear. I sliced my broadsword in an arc to loosen the muscles of my shoulder, which had been rigid since the Bastards had flooded the room.

“Are you ready?” I asked Madera.

Her wicked smile reappeared. “Ready when you are, lover.”

Chapter 12

Plopping myself down on the top step of the dais, I wanted to kill and maim something. Fury raced through my veins like a mad fever. The shock that I should lose my shit at the thought of another woman touching Conn sent my mind reeling. Why was I feeling this way? Sure, our experience in his dream had captivated me. Even more than I let him believe. It was all I could think of since I woke up. That was one way to keep warm in this frozen wasteland.

But I had no idea that I’d react like a jealous, crazed woman at the mention of him in the bed of another. And look at her. This one would keep him up all damn night.

Bastien called from his makeshift throne, “The Obsidian Games rules apply. The first to yield loses the match. You may begin.”

Claps and jeers rose from the audience.

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” I mentioned, keeping a wary eye on his winged hound resting his chin on the man’s foot.

“For true warriors, what’s a little blood or a broken bone here and there?” he asked lightly.

In the Obsidian Games, young Morgon men of each clan fought for their honor, to remain the last man standing in the ring against a champion, typically one of the Morgon Guard or someone trained by the elite of the Guard. There was only one rule, actually. Stay alive. Morgons left the ring with broken bones, wings, and deeper wounds with blades. Some never left the ring at all. It was the rite of passage for every Morgon male if he wanted to hold his head high in his clan.

Bastien moved from his throne to sit next to me on the top step. Conn cast a malicious look in our direction as he circled Madera. Razor moved in between me and Bastien. I flinched when the hound nuzzled my leg for attention. I patted his head. “He’s not a pretty beast.”

“No.” Bastien stroked a heavy hand down the hound’s back. “But he is loyal. I find that much more important than the virtue of beauty.”

Bastien was a complex individual. He appeared to be nothing more than an arrogant brigand, but he said things to contradict that façade. First and foremost, he was a beautiful Morgon man—square jaw, intelligent brow, prominent mouth, and aquiline nose, though his nose curved at the top from more than one break, the only mar to his handsome features. And his physique matched Conn’s. He was a lovely specimen of Morgon nobility, which reminded me that he once was. It also reminded me of the reason he was no longer living amongst the high and mighty of Morgon society.

“I suppose you’re right,” I said. “But I would think injuries would make you more vulnerable living out here.”

“No worries, darling. We have two healers, and they’re very good.”

He nodded off to the left where the two Icewings were setting a table with platters of food. A cry from Conn ripped my attention back to the floor. Madera had somehow gotten a slice across his bicep. A superficial wound, but it made me cringe all the same.

Madera circled him, a sinful smile in place.

“She could’ve cut him deeper,” I said.

Bastien chuckled. “She won’t. Madera prefers a little battle for foreplay. She won’t hurt him too badly if that’s what you’re worried about.”

A sickening knot coiled in my stomach at the thought of her and Conn in bed together, at the thought of him between her legs doing what he did to me when I walked his dreams.

“By the look on your face, I’d say that’s not what you’re truly worried about,” added Bastien in a way that insinuated more.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you two not lovers?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Mmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Madera cried out as Conn managed to squeeze her into a choke-hold from behind, both of their weapons having clanged to the ground.

“Yield!” he demanded.

She gripped his forearm, but there was no way to pull him loose. He was too strong. Instead, she circled her pelvis, rubbing her ass against his crotch like a damn cat in heat. The move managed to shock Conn into pulling away, just enough for her to twist low and duck out of his hold. She spun away with a laugh and lifted her spear where she’d dropped it.

“Now I really want to win,” she told him. “I want to see what you can do with that other weapon you’ve got there.”

Conn laughed, and I wanted to punch him in the face. “Come and get me,” he taunted, leaving his sword on the ground.

The bout continued. Madera attacking and Conn evading each slice of the spear through the air. Agile and lithe, he moved too quickly for a muscular man of his size. I tapped my foot nervously, needing him to win. So desperately. I couldn’t allow it to happen. Feeling the strain of anger and fear tightening every muscle in my body, I was ready and willing to demand we brave the wilds with Devil’s pack when Conn made a stunning move that swept Madera to the ground onto her belly. He was on top of her, sitting on her bottom, pinning her shoulder with one hand and clutching her wing with the other. Though I knew he’d never break her wing, he bent it back a certain way where she couldn’t move without damaging herself.

“Yield!” he demanded.

With her face sideways, she laughed and practically moaned with pleasure at being pinned by him. “Yield,” she agreed quietly.

I leapt to my feet and applauded. I was actually shocked to see the rest of the crowd do the same, including Bastien now standing at my side.

“Quite a warrior, your Rowanflame.”

Conn released Madera and helped her to her feet.

“He’s not mine.”

“But he could be.”

Frowning, I glanced his way. “How would you know?”

He didn’t answer my question. Or at least, he didn’t seem to.

“May I have the pleasure of your name?”

“My name is Valla.”

“Beautiful. Quite appropriate. Let me share something with you, Valla. A hard lesson I’ve learned.”

I was riveted. This man was a walking contradiction. An aristocrat of the highest order, an outlaw, a murderer, a scoundrel to be sure, and quite the charming gentleman on top of all that.

“Yes?” I encouraged him to go on.

“If you want something…or someone”—he paused and glanced at Conn headed our way, scowling as usual—“then you better grab hold and take it while you can. Life doesn’t always give you a second chance.” He peered down at me, his gray-blue eyes sparking with the dragon he held in check. “Believe me. I should know.”

Chapter 13

“Our intruders are now our guests,” said Bastien in a clear, booming voice as I approached from the fighting floor. “Let us eat!”

Another round of cheers rose up as everyone adjourned to the table, long enough to accommodate every one of us. It looked as if it might’ve been the original left behind by the humans who once lived here.

Valla waited with my undershirt and thermal suit in hand. She handed my shirt to me, her gaze roaming over my chest. “You might want to cover up.”

I didn’t argue. She was in distress. And so was I. She denied what was so obviously meant to be. And I had to wait for her to come to the realization on her own. Otherwise, she’d run. The pain was acute torture, burning a hole in my gut.

“What was Bastien telling you?”

I couldn’t help but notice he held her in conversation during the entire fight. Rather than tell me, she shrugged and said, “Let’s go eat. I’m tired of protein bars for once.”

“Thank the heavens.”

Her slight smile eased the burn. Just a little.

“Looks like you worked up an appetite out there.”

“Not as much as I did last night in my dreams.”

She winced but kept walking, a pink blush flushing her fair cheeks and neck. I wanted to make every pale inch of her flush with heat.

“As my guests, please have a seat here.” Bastien’s voice broke through my wayward thoughts.

Bowen sidled next to us, and we took the three chairs to Bastien’s left with our backs to the wall. Bowen sat directly next to Bastien, and I took the third chair, keeping Valla between us. The group might no longer appear hostile, but appearances could be deceiving. And though Valla could handle herself, my innate need to protect her would not relent. Rafe took the chair to the right of Bastien and one of the Sunstings with long blond hair sat next to him. The rest sat a little farther down, giving us space.

The table was laden with a bounty of food—platters of roasted wild hog and an array of winter vegetables, including many greens. Bastien’s Bastards had learned to live quite well in this inhospitable land.

“It appears you have a healthy sized garden here.”

“We do,” said Bastien with pride. “The people of Pallatine left behind a greenhouse in the south courtyard. Of course, it needed extensive repairs after what the savages had done to this place.”

“Savages?” Valla’s eyebrow arched, and my stomach clenched. She was going to say something rude any second now. “Are not you and your band savages as well?”

Rather than anger the Silverback, her flippant remark made him laugh.

“Not at all, darling. We may be outlaws, but we are quite civilized.”

I restrained a growl at the way he spoke to her so intimately. But it appeared that was the way of this man.

“May I have the names of your companions?” he asked her.

“This is Conn, and this is Bowen.”

“Well, then, gentlemen. Though I see it will be difficult for you to relax, please do try. I am a man of my word. No harm will come to you. Isn’t that right, Rafe?”

“Right, it is,” said the bear of a man who was obviously his most devoted warrior.

I spooned a helping of boiled potatoes onto my plate and handed the server to Valla. “I will take your word for it, though I nearly lost an arm a few moments ago.”

“Madera would never have hurt you permanently. She was simply trying to see what you were made of.”

I glanced down the table at Madera where she sat with her two other Skyshadow clansmen. She winked and lifted her goblet to me.

“It seems she was impressed,” said Bastien, drinking his own glass of mead.

Valla bristled next to me. “Pass me a piece of that, will you?” She pointed at the platter of roast hog. More than happy to accommodate, I helped her fill her plate.

One of the Icewings who’d been serving the table set another flagon of mead between Valla and Bastien. She pointed at my arm. “I can help you with that injury if you would like.”

The slice of Madera’s blade still stung my upper bicep, but I was a stubborn bastard. “I’m fine. Thanks for the offer.”

“Thank you, Lyla,” said Bastien.

She didn’t argue, but joined her friends farther down the table.

“You should let her heal you,” whispered Valla close to me.

There was only one part of me that needed healing. And though I was aware I couldn’t make the aching burn in my gut disappear, I’d be damned if I went to bed without some succor. I fixed my gaze on Valla.

Gesturing at her mouth, I said, “You have something right there.” I lifted my finger to her bottom lip. She had nothing at all on her mouth, but I wanted to touch her. Needed to touch her. I brushed my finger slowly over her full bottom lip, letting my intent flare bright in my gaze. “There,” I whispered. “All better.”

She didn’t move for a few seconds. Her pupils dilated, and the distinct scent of desire called to me. With a carefree smile, I turned back to my meal. If teasing her into a pool of need would get me into her bed for even one minute, then I’d play naughty.

Bowen piped up, having already devoured most his meal. That man could eat. “The exterior of the palace appears quite neglected. I take it you have kept it this way as a form of camouflage.”

“Quite so,” agreed Bastien. “We stay well-hidden. For obvious reasons.”

We didn’t need to state those reasons. It was known that most of those who lived in Aria were usually forced to do so. They were escaping something, or someone, back home.

“Now that you know about our secret lair, I imagine it is your duty to report back to Morgon Guard Headquarters.”

“It is,” I agreed. No need to lie to the man.

Valla stiffened at my side. Rafe narrowed his gaze over his mug of ale.

“Do as you wish,” said Bastien casually. “But we’ve known you were here from the moment you crossed Brilla’s Crag. The Guard will never capture us here.”

“So you have scouts near the borders,” said Bowen.

“We have friends everywhere in Aria. And we have more hiding places than this one.”

“I’m curious,” said Valla, leaning back in her chair, her right wing brushing my arm before she snapped it tight. “How is it that a bunch of marauding outlaws have friends in Aria? I should think the residents would steer clear of you.”

Bastien leaned forward with his elbows on the table, his goblet cupped between both hands, a charming smile in place that he must’ve used often in the world of the cut-throat Morgon aristocracy. “Well, now, Valla darling. You’re making assumptions that we steal from the Arians.”

“Isn’t that what marauders do?”

He laughed. “It is true we charge a toll from foreigners who decide to pass through our land.”

“Your land? Aria belongs to you?” she asked.

“Aria belongs to the Arians. We do not follow the laws of the Morgon world outside these borders. We follow our own laws. And we protect our own.”

“Other criminals like yourselves,” Valla snapped.

Bastien’s silver gaze brightened with his dragon rising to the surface. I slipped my hand under the table and clasped her knee. “Take it easy. Let’s not piss off our host who could toss us out with the wulvings.”

The beast called Razor lifted his head from the hearth rug as if he knew what I said, glanced toward us, then settled and blinked his eyes closed again.

“You need not fear, Rowanflame. We keep our word…unlike the rest of the world.” The glassy look of haunted memory passed over his countenance before he smiled at Valla. “But you are wrong about us. While it is true we aren’t the cleanest of characters, we are not all escaping a criminal past either. I’ll give you a few examples. Rafe Woodblade here…” He gestured to the bearded man with the thick neck and arms like tree trunks who had started the fires. “He was an orphan in the Woodblade clan down south and was sold to a slaver who trained him as a drakoros for a circuit of underground games.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Valla. “The drakoros fighters and the slave pits have been gone for decades.”

Rafe took a swig of his ale. “Nay. They’re still alive and well.”

“But slavery is illegal,” said Valla, her innocent observation somehow striking me to the heart.

“It is,” agreed Bastien.

Bowen stilled.

“But it thrives in some places all the same,” said Rafe. “I, uh, took my leave one night about nine years ago after a fight in Drakos. I came here where no one would bother to come after me.”

“But you had a good time in your escape, didn’t you, friend?” asked Bastien, grinning.

“Aye,” Rafe replied with a grunt before tilting back his mug of ale.

Apparently a tale for another time.

“And take Sven.” He gestured to the man next to Rafe. “He and his two sisters there vacated their home just last year rather than follow their father’s orders in joining some radical party. And Madera, who you’ve met, well, she didn’t take kindly to her uncle crawling into her bed when she was a teenager so she cut his throat.”

Madera glanced our way from her place next to the other Skyshadows, her expression sobering before she turned back to her friends. Bastien continued.

“Her uncle was a high member of the Cloven Senate, and since he was her only guardian, she knew there would be no fair trial at the Tribunal. She decided to take her chance in Aria.”

“She’s been living here since she was a teen? Little more than a child?” I asked.

“Aye,” agreed Bastien. “Remarkable, isn’t she?”

I only nodded in agreement. Valla seemed to bristle at the first mention of Madera, but now her gaze softened on the fierce warrior down the table, a frown creasing her brow. When she spoke, it was not with the stinging accusations as before. “And what about you, Bastien? Are you like them?”

Icing over with the look of a man who’d gone through Hell and had crawled out to tell about it, he clenched his jaw and said nothing. I feared Valla had crossed a line, and we would finally see the violent nature this man was purported to possess. But I was surprised yet again.

“I did not kill my family. But I will one day find the man or men who did. And it will be his last.” His tone was dark and gritty, the grave tenor of a man hard set on revenge. “My father had many political adversaries in the senate. It was known he was the most popular candidate for the upcoming election for Consul. It is my belief that one of the many opposing parties ordered the assassination.” Staring into the cup, he swirled his goblet. “It was widely known my father and I had had our differences. I wasn’t even in the same city when the murders took place. I received a comm text message from my little sister…” His expression hardened into adamant. There was a long pause where none of us spoke a word. “She said she heard Mother scream. Lara’s bedroom was close to my parents’. I urged her to fly away immediately. She never replied to my comm message. And when I arrived back home only an hour later…well, you know the rest.”

Valla shook her head vigorously. “Why—why didn’t you tell this to the Morgon Guard?”

He scoffed. “You think the Morgon Guard is impervious to blackmail and bribery? They’d already been bought.”

I flinched, knowing we had a mole in our midst at Nightwing Security in Gladium. One of our own had betrayed us, allowing Moira Nightwing, our captain’s mate, to be abducted by the Larkosians. Thankfully, we managed to get her back, but that was only due to the help of our own double agent, Gaius Woodblade, who’d infiltrated the Larkosian lair. He paid for his loyalty to us with his own life.

“You’re right,” I said to Bastien. Valla snapped her head in my direction. “There are some who could be bought or blackmailed in the Guard.”

Bastien nodded, leaning back in his chair, his silvery wings twitching at his back.

“A man of reason.” He lifted his cup to me, his steely gaze losing its lethal edge from the memory of his murdered family. “Valla, darling. Someone wanted me to take the fall. And I did. An order of blade justice was put out on my head the moment the Guard stepped on the scene and saw me kneeling over my sister’s body. I could stay and die, or leave and live…and so here I am.”

Conversation had died down. The laughter down the table had mellowed. Hearing Bastien’s story firsthand, I knew with every fiber in my being that he spoke the truth. The injustice of it pricked and stung. How many others had chosen a life of exile here in Aria just to avoid the powerful factions ruling the political parties in Drakos and Cloven? My mother had left their society long ago for the more peaceful life in Gladium where Morgons and humans were tolerant of one another, even harmonious. But my father was still there in the midst of it. The archaic ways of Morgon dominance and will ruled in the northern Morgon-only provinces. And it seemed the Senate was rife with corruption. The reality chafed.

“Wren!” shouted Bastien down the table. “How about a song?”

The stoic Morgon man with hair black as pitch and a blue streak running along one side, a telltale birthmark of their clan, stood and moved to the hearth. Razor twitched his brow but didn’t move. I angled my chair for a better view, having only heard a Starfell sing once in my life at a wedding in the Feygreir Mountains near Gladium when I was very young. The Starfell clan were gifted with bewitching song, their lyrics divinely inspired and sometimes even weaving a prophecy or premonition of what was to come.

“What kind of song are we in the mood for tonight?” asked Wren, a man of quiet countenance like Bowen, but with an edge of darkness. He, too, had been touched by evil in his past.

“How about the Sisters of Sorrel Sea?” shouted Rafe.

“No,” said Sven next to him. “You just want to hear about sexy girls falling to ruin.”

“Yes, and what’s wrong with that?”

A hail of laughter echoed in the room.

“Yes, give us a bawdy one!” shouted Madera. “Maybe I’ll get lucky yet.” She winked at me with a tip of her cup.

“Why don’t we let our guests decide?” suggested Bastien.

I glanced at Bowen who gave me a shake of the head. Valla shrugged.

“How about a tale of the Vale of Stars?” I suggested.

“Ah, well done, Rowanflame,” said Bastien. “Let’s have the Vale of Stars, Wren.”

With a bow, he prepared to sing.

Chapter 14

Wren Starfell was a striking, but stone-like, Morgon. He didn’t have the charming smile or suave exterior as Conn sitting next to me or this band’s chief, Bastien. Even Bowen held a kindness in his eyes, though he was a quiet, grave man. Wren looked more statue than flesh…until he began to sing.

He opened his wings, a colorful gradation beginning with pitch black at the top ridge fading to midnight blue then a swathe of indigo and finally lightening to starlight gold, tipped with silver-white. Their clan’s name mirrored the colors of the night sky emblazoned on their backs. But their song…heavens, nothing could compare to such a sound.

He began with a sonorous melody, no words at all, before singing the tale of the mythical vale.

“Dragon wings and dragon fire
ruled the sky from here and far.

Humans reigned on land and sea,
all was right, the world lived free.

But Fortune ensnared the dragon king,
tying his soul to a human queen.

Crowned and heartbound as his mate,
tied by love and a tragic fate,
she loved him long and died at his side,
leaving a son who’d turn the tide.

For the first Morgon who walked this world
felt hatred, dominance, and evil unfurl.

More beast than man within his heart,
ne’er taming the dragon, ripping the world apart.

Murder of father and mother would begin
a wicked war spreading hatred and sin,
till divided the Morgons sheltered apart,
hating land-walkers who gave us human hearts…

And so the world turned, spinning without reason,
awaiting the time for another foul season,
when war and famine and death would reign,
fire and rape and sorrow would stain,
blighting the good with loss and despair,
all would fall prey to his menacing air.”

Tears welled my eyes, but I managed to blink them back. The melody pierced me straight to the heart. I’d heard the story told dozens of times. But not like this. An ethereal glow haloed Wren. One might think it a reflection from the fire silhouetting his frame, but he was a Starfell. The supernatural glow meant only one thing—prophecy. His words were no longer just a song or a tale, but words of truth and premonition, words that would come to fruition in real life one of these days, one way or another.

Somehow I had the sense of mind to click the audio recorder on my wrist comm. I knew whatever he was about to sing would hold meaning, and we’d need these words later.

He hummed a beautiful tune, closing his eyes, though he was not done. His body glowed brighter than ever before, pronouncing the truth of his words.

“But hope resides in a faraway land,
in a place no human has yet to stand,
where Morgons tell tales of its golden prize,
where monsters must fear their mortal demise.

For in the Vale, there is a Shining One,
who will end the war that the son has begun.

The dragon Black will seek the Vale,
but his brother Red may still prevail.

The fate of humanity and Morgonkind,
rests on a maid, all-seeing and blind.

But she will need aid from one and all,
or Evil will rule, and the Good will fall.”

By now, Wren beamed with an unnatural luster. He snapped from his trance, chest heaving, folded his wings demurely, and bowed. We all clapped mightily. I was shaken to the core for witnessing such beauty in this dark place and for hearing a prophecy that wrapped the fate of an evil one, who must be the Blood King, with the mythical vale.

Every one of us sitting at the table knew we’d witnessed a remarkable premonition. I didn’t miss the fact that the Icewing, Lyla, had also recorded Wren from the moment he began to prophesy. She used an older model handheld comm.

No Starfell ever told the same prophecy, which meant that our small group was the only one who knew how the Blood King would fall. The fact that the three of us—two officers in the Morgon Guard and one from Nightwing Security—happened to be present at the hour of foretelling was more than coincidence. It was fate.

A tingling sensation trickled up my spine. I glanced at Bowen, then settled my gaze on Conn. We all knew what this meant. We had to get this information to headquarters. But it could be intercepted if transmitted by comm. Fortunately, I had other means of communicating with the Captain of the Morgon Guard, my brother.

Everyone drifted away from the table, a few helping clear plates and platters through an exit which must have led to the kitchen. Rafe settled on a stool by the fire with a pipe in hand.

“How”—I turned to Conn—“can this be true?”

Conn wore a deep frown, as did Bowen across from me and Bastien to my left. Apparently, all of us were puzzled by Wren’s song and prophecy.

“The Vale doesn’t exist,” I stated. “It’s a fairy tale for children of golden treasure and a precious prize…right?”

“That is what I have always believed,” admitted Bowen.

“It is what we have all believed,” said Conn. “This night has revealed something our enemy may not know.”

“Your enemy?” asked Bastien, gaze assessing.

Conn sighed, glancing at Bowen, who nodded. He looked to me. I did the same, understanding his questioning look.

“We are on a mission to the Syren Sisters Coven. We believe they may have information to help us. Information about the one they call the Blood King. I believe, and I think my comrades would agree, that this war your Starfell mentions, this ‘foul season’ has already begun. We seek information to find and destroy an upstart army calling themselves Larkosians. Led by this so-called king.”

Bastien nodded, his jaw clenched tight. “We’ve heard of him. Though we’ve never seen this Blood King, a large troop—a very large troop—of his soldiers passed through here not too long ago. And small bands pass through Aria from time to time.”

My heart leapt into my throat. “That means his lair is near here, or this is a passageway to one of them.”

We’d been fed intel that he kept more than one encampment. The limestone caves, where Moira had been taken, had been completely abandoned.

Bowen tensed, fury lining his brow. “Where have you seen these soldiers? Which route did they take?”

“The larger band of Larkosians skirted from the south of Brilla’s Crag toward Harrowmir, but my contacts there say very few of them stop when they pass through. I know the blacksmith of Harrowmir. We supply him steel from the south. Several weeks ago, he mentioned that a Sunsting he’d never met before, wearing all black like the foreigners you call Larkosians, brought him a strange request.”

Bastien paused, staring down at his hands as if disturbed.

“Tell us the request,” demanded Bowen.

Bastien cleared his throat. “It was an intricate design for a set of chains.”

“Chains?” Conn shifted closer to me, leaning forward, his forearm brushing mine.

“The smith deduced they could only be used for one purpose…a harness for a Morgon to carry large and heavy freight on a long flight. The design included the leather harness attachment which a Morgon could wear like a vest. The linking chains were to be hooked to something not attached to the plans, but they were designed in a way to distribute weight evenly for a strong Morgon to carry something heavy.”

“Like…to carry a human?” I asked, knowing the kind of freight Larkosians had carried away from other provinces.

“Could be. Or perhaps more than one at a time,” said Bastien, the firelight dancing over the sharp angles of his hard expression. “The order was for one hundred.”

“A hundred!” I couldn’t help exclaiming.

Bowen stood so suddenly his chair fell backward, clacking against the stone floor. Razor lifted his head and growled.

“Easy now,” said Bastien.

For a moment I wasn’t sure if he spoke to the hound or to Bowen who stormed to the hearth. With shoulders bunched and arms folded, he faced the fire, giving us his back.

“I take it,” started Bastien quietly, “that these Larkosians have hit him personally in some way.”

“They have,” I admitted with a tight nod.

Bowen snapped his attention back to us. “With a hundred carrying harnesses, they’re planning a large scale attack on a human colony or city. They must be.”

“Do you know when the order was picked up?” asked Conn.

“When I spoke to the smith, he said it was too much work for him and his two men to finish within the timeframe the Sunsting wanted. So the Sunsting gave him another pouch of gold and said, ‘Hire more men.’” Bastien scoffed. “The smith said it was more gold then he’d need to last a lifetime. With a family to support, it was too much to refuse. He took the offer.”

“But do you know if he delivered the harnesses?” Conn persisted.

“I don’t. But I imagine I could find out.”

“Would you do that for us?” I asked.

“Yes.” No hesitation. “You may think us nothing more than a lawless band of miscreants, but we care for Morgonkind. And humanity as well.”

Lyla appeared in the doorway, her soft voice reaching out to us. “Your rooms are ready. If you would like to rest now.”

Conn stood. I followed suit. Bowen had turned his back to us once again, brooding by the fire.

“After your meeting with the Syren Sisters, come back this way on your return. I’ll have news for you then.” Bastien extended his hand to Conn. “I’ll say farewell in case we miss you in the morning. If I remember correctly, the Guard operates early.”

I frowned, wishing his hair wasn’t quite so long so I could see whether he had the official MG tattoo on the nape of his neck. His demeanor reminded me of a Guard officer. Or a former one.

Conn simply shook his hand and replied, “We’ll be gone before the sun breaks.”

“Lyla”—he turned toward the door, walking with us—“will you prepare a satchel for them to take when they go?”

“Of course.”

Bowen remained at the hearth. The roughened Woodblade, Rafe, joined him.

“Leave him,” said Conn, picking up his thermal suit he’d left on the floor before dinner. I nodded.

“I’ll bid you farewell then,” said Bastien with a shake of my hand and one of his pleasant smiles before heading in the opposite direction.

“Bastien,” I called. He stopped. “Thank you…for your hospitality. I was unkind in my presumptions of you and your people.”

His smile broadened to something utterly bewitching, and I worried for the woman who was caught by this man. “No offense taken, fair Valla. My hospitality is yours, should you ever be in need.” With a sweeping bow, a formal gesture of Morgon aristocracy, he disappeared down the darkened corridor lit by only two flambeaux.

“Come,” said Lyla softly.

Before walking on, I touched Conn’s arm. “That man didn’t murder his family.”

“No,” he agreed. “He did not.” Conn urged me to follow Lyla with a light hand on the small of my back. It didn’t escape me that his wing brushed mine as we moved down the dimly lit hallway.

Lyla made two more turns, then gestured toward an open doorway. “Here you are.”

Conn let me enter first. In the grate, a fire crackled, casting long shadows on the stark room.

“We don’t have plumbing here, I’m afraid. The castle is much as it was centuries ago. But I’ve left you water in the ewer for freshening up. I’ll have food for you to take with you by the door.” She stepped closer to Conn. “May I please see your arm?”

As healers, Icewings felt an innate need to mend those who were wounded. Rather than blow her off and send her away, Conn paused, assessing Lyla. I knew that look of his. He understood she needed to heal him whether he wanted it or not.

“Here. Turn around,” I told him.

He did as I asked without complaint or sigh and set his thermal suit on the large bed with a simple white coverlet. In the room, there was only one bed, certainly large enough for two. There were other blankets stacked in the corner, which could be used to make a palette on the floor. But I didn’t want him to sleep on the ground. I wanted him near me.

I unzipped the backflaps beneath his wings. He pulled his shirt off, revealing the gash made by Madera’s lance. Lyla dipped a cloth in the ewer and joined Conn where he sat on the edge of the bed so she could reach the wound more easily.

Dabbing the smeared blood away, she asked, “Have you ever been treated with coldfire before?”

“No need,” he shook his head. “No one has managed to cause an injury too deep.”

Lyla smiled. Like most Icewings, she was fair with pale eyes and hair, not unlike my own. “Madera knows how to cut deeply. But I hope you will not hold that against her. She has been cut deeply herself.”

“Of course I won’t.”

The sincerity in his tone warmed my heart. Conn was more than an arrogant, swaggering know-it-all.

Lyla set the washcloth aside and held Conn’s arm in both delicate hands. “This will sting a little.”

“I can take it.”

She blushed at his watchful gaze. How could she not? The man was captivating, and it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore he had other fine qualities beyond his good looks.

She sucked in a lungful of air and blew a stream of coldfire, the blue flames licking neatly up his arm where the cut slanted across his bicep. Conn winced and clenched his fists, but continued to watch as the healing flame did its work. White sparks spit up into the air as she stopped the stream of coldfire. She stood and glanced at her handiwork.

Coldfire left behind a unique mark on every wound. Glittering like scales, a scar, iridescent in a shape similar to an arrow, shone in place of Madera’s slash.

“There,” said Lyla, smiling for the first time since we’d met. Her healer’s heart was happy now.

“Thank you,” said Conn.

She blushed again before taking the soiled rag and headed out the door, closing it behind her. I suppose I couldn’t blame her. Conn had that sort of effect on women. His smile could knock the breath right out of you, whether he intended to or not.

I finally acknowledged the fact she’d left us in a room with only one large bed, both sides turned down. Conn had his eyes on me now, sitting on the bed shirtless and studying me with intent. I understood Lyla’s breathlessness all too well.

With a gulp, I gestured to the bed. “I suppose they think we don’t mind sleeping in close quarters…as fellow officers.”

Conn glanced at the bed behind him then steadied back on me. “They think we’re lovers, Valla. Because we are.”

“No, we’re not,” I managed to say with a shake of the head.

“Well, only in my dreams so far. But I hope to amend that.” He patted the bed next to him. “Come here.”

I shook my head.

He chuckled. “What? Do you think I’ll ravish you against your will?”

“No…yes…maybe.”

His expression softened into serious lines. “Then you don’t know me very well. Come lay down and relax. You need to contact Kol and let him know about the blacksmith.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

I walked to the other side and kicked off my boots onto the multi-colored woven rug at the bedside. It looked like one Kol had brought back for me from Primus one summer. I tucked my wings flat and lay on my side facing Conn, readying myself to contact my brother. Dreamwalking was less like sleeping and more like deep meditation. Closing my eyes, I sensed Conn’s weight shift closer on the bed.

“Valla,” he said in that way that made my stomach somersault.

“Yes?” I peeked one eye open.

“You might want to remove your thermal suit. You’ll sweat to death in here with that fire going.”

“Oh.” I laughed. “Right.”

Well aware my tone had reached an unnatural pitch, I hopped out of bed quickly, pretending I wasn’t rattled. But I was more than shaken lying in a nice, warm bed next to Conn Rowanflame. Unzipping the backflaps myself and shimmying out of the suit in haste, I jumped back in the bed under the covers and sank down farther. Closing my eyes, I pretended to relax, but I could feel the man’s eyes on me.

“Valla.”

That voice again, resonating on some invisible key that had a direct line to my libido. How could his voice make my body react in such a way? This was ridiculous.

“What?” I asked in frustration. For I was truly frustrated. He grinned. Damn it. “What do you want, Conn? I’m trying to relax. I can’t reach Kol if you’re just lying there, staring at me.”

“Let me help you relax.”

“How?” My voice squeaked.

“Roll onto your stomach.”

“What?”

“Trust me, Valla.”

I did so, turning my face toward the fire on my side of the bed. He lowered the covers from my waist and unzipped the backflaps of my undershirt. This was not going to help me relax, but heaven help me, I wanted his hands on my skin. He nudged up my shirt and trailed his fingers in a slow glide across the small of my back, then massaged up my spine, making small half-circles with his thumbs along the calcar bone where my wings connected to my back, carefully kneading the muscle on each side of the thick bone.

“Damn, Conn,” I muffled into the pillow.

“Feels good?”

“Mm-hm.”

I hadn’t realized how achy my back had become with the strenuous flying in rough winds. Back home, I could fly all day and never feel a twinge of pain, but flight in Aria was different. Here, everything was different—harder, faster, more intense. No surprise that my feelings for Conn had shifted from utter annoyance to something harder, faster, and more intense.

He rolled the heel of his palm up my spine to the nape of my neck then gently squeezed his fingers around the knots at the base where my shoulder met my neck. As he massaged his palm back down between my wings, I felt myself drifting into bliss, slowly falling into that ethereal place where I could walk the dreams of others. Before I slipped over, I felt Conn’s body shift closer, offering me the protection and warmth I needed to feel safe in this foreign place. And I wondered what it might be like if I could always feel this way.

Chapter 15

Decimus stood on the terrace as I stepped from the bedchamber. “She awaits, mistress.”

Shrouded in a black mantle, I joined him. “Is she willing?”

“Yes. But she has a request in exchange.”

“Take me to her.”

He flew down from the terrace to the stone path cleared of snow. I followed Decimus beyond the isolated grounds that were for myself alone. We skirted behind a row of cottages that were the officers’ quarters. Icy wind cut across the open snow-dusted prairie beyond, a punishing gale pushing another blizzard down to us from northern Aria. Finally, he ducked between two cottages. I followed.

A door stood slightly ajar on the right, emitting a sliver of golden light. Within the narrow passageway a few steps from the door stood a delicate, bronze-skinned human woman. Draped in a gray cloak, the color for slaves, she met my gaze with steady green eyes. Remarkable. The silver cuff wrapping her throat denoted her the property of a high-ranking officer in the Larkosian army as opposed to the golden throat-chains of most breeders. She would have privileges beyond any slave here. That she was the one Decimus had found for my needs was curious.

“What do they call you?” I asked.

Decimus stood at her back, his wings open to block our presence should anyone pass on the torch-lit street beyond.

The woman sneered. “They call me breeder, slave, and Primean scum. My master calls me trinket, pretty toy, and his favorite whore.” She lifted her chin, fire burning in her voice. “But my name is Serena Barrowdell, and I am the daughter of a Primean princess.”

Beyond remarkable that she, one of the royal human line, should volunteer for my ceremony.

“Has Decimus explained what I am asking of you?”

“He has.” Her chin lifted higher, defiance filling up the air around me. This one held strength and power in her spirit.

“If you are thinking to devise some plot to escape, you are wrong. Decimus will kill you in a blink if I should ask.”

“I will not try to escape.”

“What do you want in return?”

“I want you to save my sister, Lena. I want her to be taken out of here, back to Primus, and delivered safely to our mother.”

The wind gusted harder down the narrow passage, sifting up the snow around our ankles. I tightened the opening of the mantle.

“This is not a simple task,” I stated.

“You are not asking for a simple gift. From what your man here has told me, my life must be freely given. Correct?”

“That is correct.”

“Why can you not simply sacrifice an unwilling slave…as you usually do with the bleeders?”

Smart one, this girl. I would not give her the answer she truly wanted—the reason behind my unconventional rite. But she deserved some sort of reply.

“The blood blessings are to strengthen the king’s army. Rites for power and strength, the blood must be taken. For this rite, the one I need, the blood and a life must be freely given.”

Never flinching, she removed the gray hood of her robe, revealing silken black hair and a noble feminine face. “I have royal blood coursing through my body. I offer it of my own free will, but only if you should take my sister from this pit of hell and deliver her unharmed to our home. You will ask my mother what she painted behind the headboard of our bed when we were children. That is how I will know you have delivered her safely”—she glanced over her shoulder at the stoic Decimus—“and that you have not simply tossed her over a cliff. Only my mother knows the answer.”

I searched the night sky, overcast with blustery clouds, no sight beyond the gray canvas pressing down with the promise of more snow. “Mother Moon will be ready soon. We must perform the ceremony at the exact moment she is full.”

“Then I recommend that you get my sister out of here soon. Your man here seems capable enough.”

“Where will I find your sister? Is she here in the officers’ quarters as well?”

She shook her head once—a stiff, robotic movement. “No. She is still in the breeders’ commune. I want her out of that cesspool. The sooner the better.”

The commune was essentially a brothel for slaves not under the protection of a particular officer. They were taken by any man in need at any time of the day.

“Serena!” came a bellowing voice within the cottage to my right. “In my bed. Now!”

She stepped toward the door, then paused to glance over her shoulder. “I will be ready. Send your man when the deed is done.”

She stepped back into the home to tend to her master’s needs. I pulled my mantle closer around me and was heading back out of the passageway to make our way back through the shadows when I sensed someone following us with light footsteps.

Decimus whipped out his wings and whirled up into the air, somersaulting upside down and over me to tackle the slight figure who approached from behind. A tiny scream was muffled by his broad hand when he clamped the girl’s mouth. Decimus lifted her off the ground with one arm banded around her waist, still holding her quiet with the hand of the other.

“Who are you? Why are you following me?”

The petite girl dangled in my lover’s grip. He eased his hand from her mouth down to her frail throat.

“I—I—I wasn’t following you. Not at first. I was following my sister.”

She was the image of Serena, only smaller. “You are Lena?”

“I am.” Her voice trembled. She hadn’t the fire in her as her sister did. It was no wonder she was still in the communes.

“Set her down, Decimus.”

He did but kept his hands on her shoulders covered by a gray cloak.

“I came to see her earlier since I’ve earned one free hour a day. But Serena was anxious for me to leave. It wasn’t like her. I knew she was up to something. I can always tell.”

“And so you heard her bargain in the alley, I imagine.”

“I did. I have a better bargain for you.”

“And what is that?”

“Take me instead.”

These two girls, sisters, fought for the right to die for one another. My heart twisted at the thought, for I understood the sentiment well. Marrow-deep empathy filled my lungs as the girl tumbled out more words and pleas to sacrifice her life for her beloved sister.

“As you can assuredly see, I am much weaker than Serena physically. She believes that taking me away from this place will save me. But I am beyond saving. Look.” She held up one tiny, trembling hand from within her cloak, the soft skin barely clinging to her bones. “I shake not because of the cold. It is constant. Fear is eating me away from the inside out. It has taken such a hold that there is no surviving it. Even if I were to be taken from this hell.”

I stepped forward and took her tiny hand in mind. She did indeed seem to have a sickness of the heart and soul rippling through her frame. I could even smell it.

“This does not tell me why you are the better bargain.”

“My sister is strong. Take her out of here, and she will return to our family and make them proud despite the shame heaped upon us here in this horrific place. I will die soon. I know it. No matter where I’m at. But my heart is good, High Priestess. Though these men soil my body, my soul is still good. I will give it to you freely, my life, my blood. And I am ready whenever you are. I will go now even.”

“It is not time,” I said quickly. “But very soon.”

“It will serve you best to not have the fort under high alert, which is what will happen if I go missing should you take my sister’s offer. I know you must complete this rite in secrecy, or you would not be asking for a sacrifice in secret now. It will be difficult to do if I disappear from the commune, and the soldiers are put on extra guard duty at every exit and entrance.”

Her chin quivered, but she spoke the truth. I needed to complete the rite under the open sky without interruption or discovery. It would not do for Larkos to learn of my plans, for he would certainly thwart them and probably kill me for good measure.

“I imagine you want me to help your sister escape as well in return?”

“I do. But you can do so at the most opportune time. I will trust that you keep to your end of the bargain.”

“You will trust me?”

“If you seal it with a blood oath…I will.”

Trust, love, and innocence, yes, innocence, despite her body being used repeatedly for the foul pleasure of lustful men, reeked from this young girl. Her spirit, her blood, and her life would serve far better. Well and beyond what I had hoped for. I swallowed hard, willing Mother Moon to burst to fullness on the instant. If only.

“Decimus, give me your dagger,” I ordered, opening my wings to block some of the wind.

He pulled his heavy weapon from the sheath at his hip and handed it over. I upended the blade, pressed my palm at the head and sliced quickly on the flesh below my thumb. Opening my hand, palm up, I showed her. “You do the same.”

She stepped forward and sliced her shaking hand across the blade. Gripping hers in mine, I said, “By the light of Mother Moon and by the blood of my ancestors, I shall save your sister and return her home…after your sacrifice of flesh and blood.”

She cleared her throat, voice trembling, “By the Sisters of Holy Light and the love of my ancestors, I shall sacrifice my flesh and blood in exchange for my sister’s freedom.”

Her words, not mine, called up the steady hum of Morgon magic. The vibration rippled out of my chest and buzzed in the air. Mother Moon blessed our vow. I would and must honor our agreement. What was more, I found myself wanting to. Strange that I should connect to a mere slave…a weak, sickly human. But the love in her eyes when she spoke of her sister called to my heart. There could be no lies in regards to this rite. It must be true and sure for the spell to work.

Letting go of her hand, I stepped back. “Prepare yourself in whatever way you must. The time draws near.”

She tucked her bleeding hand under her cloak. “I’ll be ready.” She slipped back into the shadows of the cottages and stepped quickly through the snow toward the soldiers’ quarters where the commune stood.

Decimus drew close behind me, opening his wings to block the wind at my back. “She is the right choice, mistress.”

“Aye,” I agreed. “I believe she is, lover.”

I turned in his arms and pressed my body close, something I never did outside the privacy of my chambers. His body flinched at my sudden intimacy. I pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, relishing the swift beat of his pulse beneath my tongue. His hands found my waist within the folds of my cloak and squeezed.

“Shall we go home and celebrate our new life together? For it seems it will begin very soon.”

With a growl, he wrapped his arms gently around my waist and lifted us into the air. I didn’t even bother to open my wings, for he had enough strength to carry us both back to my bed where I was sure he would keep me awake through the night.

Chapter 16

There was only one thing I could think about as I lay there on my side of the bed. Valla Moonring had the finest ass I had ever seen.

Still sleeping on her stomach, her shirt open in the back where I’d left the backflaps unzipped, she had bent her leg on the opposite side of me, which pushed up her sumptuous ass to the perfect curve. If only there was nothing covering it. I’d drifted off for a few hours, but I was up now. Fuck, was I up.

The burn in my gut radiated through my chest. A piercing, relentless throb ached for succor. My dragon urged me to touch, taste, take. The poor woman had no idea the filthy thoughts running through my head while she slept peacefully.

I reached over and traced the pads of my fingers along her back, drifting my palm up the calcar bone on her right side and over the top arch of her wing. The skin was chafed and dry. She sighed and then blinked open her eyes.

“Why are you scowling at me again?” she asked, voice groggy.

“You need some balm on your wings, that stuff Gisa put in our packs.”

I jumped off the bed and found the black bottle in my bag. Straddling that fine ass I’d been admiring for nearly an hour, I poured some of the ointment in my palm and rubbed my hands together. She didn’t move, didn’t protest, didn’t make a sound.

Good. She was finally getting used to my touch.

I gripped the top ridge and curled my fingertips gently, sliding the lotion over the tough skin of her dark wing. A soft sigh escaped her parted lips. Her eyes were closed again. I continued the massage in a sweeping motion, stretching my arms to cover the entirety of her wings, specifically at the joints where the icy wind had done the most damage.

“Conn?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“What about?”

“Wren Starfell’s song. The prophecy.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” I admitted. One reason I’d slept little was that I tossed with dreams of a mystical valley and a black dragon.

“When I dreamwalked with Kol, I told him it must all be some sort of metaphor. But he had no answer. Don’t you think it has to be some figurative language about a vale and dragons and a blind maid? They can’t be real. Right?” asked Valla.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Off,” she said, lifting her ass.

When she’d bumped me in a sensitive spot, I hissed in a breath. I rolled to my side and leaned on an elbow, and when as she sat up, I reached behind her back and zipped the backflaps.

She wore a serious look of concentration. “What do you mean maybe, Conn? Were you listening to the man?” She pulled the tie from her hair, which had half-fallen already, then combed her fingers through it in quick frustrated strokes.

“Yes. I was listening.” I was also mesmerized by her fingers, swiftly separating her hair into thirds and plaiting with deft twists of her wrists.

“So tell me, have you ever heard of a real place called the Vale of Stars? It’s just a fairy tale, right?”

“The Vale was always spoken of as legend. Nothing more.”

“That’s what I thought.” She twisted a tie around the end of her braid. “So, if we know Wren sang a prophecy, then he’s speaking in riddles.”

Considering the prophecy again, I shot off the bed and went to the ewer of clean water and bowl left for us. Pouring some water into the basin, I splashed my face and grabbed a hand towel to dry off.

“Rowanflame.”

“Yes?”

“Are you even paying attention to me?”

I laughed. “Why? Are you feeling neglected?”

“Ugh. You know what I mean. Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking because I can actually hear your thoughts spinning in your head.”

If that were the truth, she’d have run from me a long time ago. I tossed the towel next to the basin, picked up my thermal suit and slipped it on. Then I sat on the edge of the bed. “You do realize that most of the Starfell prophecies are meant to be taken literally, word for word?”

“No. What do you mean?” she asked scooting closer as I shoved on one boot.

I refrained from smiling. One thing I adored most about Valla was her guileless charm. She was a lethal warrior and yet had the most childlike candor in moments like this. Such sweet vulnerability. If she’d only trust me, I’d never take it for granted.

“There was an elder in my clan who was the scholarly sort. Nicodemus.” I pulled the laces tight on my boot. “Anyway, I liked him. And he made it his goal to gather the Starfell prophecies and mark which had come true and which hadn’t.”

“But the Starfells do that as well, I’m told,” she said, watching me dress quickly.

“They do. But they never share that information. So Nicodemus researched himself, speaking to elders in different clans, and gathered what information he could, dating back at least two thousand years.”

I finished lacing my second boot and dropped it to the floor.

“And? What did he find?”

“Exactly what I’ve told you. That out of the prophecies that had been fulfilled, he was surprised to find that almost all were literal translations. Not riddles as they so often sound.”

“But that can’t be. I’ve been told of Starfell songs about creatures and beings and people that never existed.”

“Songs, Valla. They weave fantastical songs. But prophecy is different. Their words are nothing more than the truth.”

Her mouth quirked up on one side in the sweetest way. “So the Vale of Stars is real?”

“Yes. It must be. Now get on your thermal suit. We need to be heading out.”

I tossed it to her. She slipped into it while I tightened my pack and scabbard across my chest.

“But, Conn?” She reached back to zip up the backflaps of her thermal suit.

“Hmm?” I turned her by the shoulder and made sure they were zipped tight.

“Wren sang of a black dragon and a red brother. The black dragon must be the Blood King. He has black wings and is more dragon than man. Don’t you think?”

“Yes. Must be.”

She shouldered her gear and cross-harness for her twin swords, then followed me to the door. “Who is the red brother? Does this leader of the Larkosians have a brother, you think?”

I turned at the door, noticing one strap she always forgot to tighten. Easing close, I pulled it taut and tucked it back under the other strap. Her floral scent filled my lungs. Instantly, I thought of the lunaflyr—so white and beautiful with a streak of fire running down the center. That was Valla to me. And she was burning me from the inside out.

“Let’s hope that part of the prophecy is a metaphor and not a blood brother. For the beast is fearsome enough if you recall.”

She gave a nod. I remembered that night when we caught a glimpse of the monster that had held Moira captive and had nearly caught her for good. He was an extraordinary Morgon—too much animal in him. Too much dragon.

“I recall well enough,” she said, putting on a brave face. “But I’ll fight him again if I have to.”

“We will. One of these days, I’m sure. And I’ll be fighting by your side.”

We’d been standing at the door and for some reason I couldn’t make myself open it. I wanted more time with her. Alone.

“Will you?” she asked in that artless way of hers.

I reached up and cupped her cheek, unable to restrain myself. Leaning close, I breathed her in before I swept my lips against hers. She didn’t resist. But I didn’t push either. A brief press of lips, airy and barely there and not enough.

“Yes, sweet Valla. If you’ll let me.”

She gulped hard when I pulled away and opened the door.

Chapter 17

Conn and I walked out into the corridor, and I could hardly catch my breath from that kiss.

It was nothing.

But it felt like everything.

Heavens, the aching, adoring look in his eyes when he vowed to fight by my side…if I let him. What was wrong with me that I didn’t want to cross that line? I’d thought of bedding a dozen Morgon men before, but had never acted on it. Never knowing quite how. But Conn… It was different now. I didn’t want to just sleep with him. I wanted to sleep with only him. And it terrified me.

He followed, and the heat of him at my back was a wonderful but strange comfort. As soon as we rounded the first corner, we spotted Bowen leaning his shoulder against the wall, dressed with his pack, bow and quiver strapped, ready to go.

“I’d wondered where we might find you,” I said lightly.

“I knew you’d be up soon,” he said, not acknowledging the blush heating my face.

Nothing happened, and yet something had changed between us. The friction of before had been replaced by something softer, something more comfortable, yet tender, fragile. Breakable.

“What did your brother Kol say?” asked Bowen.

“He’s concerned by this order for harnesses, of course. He plans to meet with Lucius and Lorian Nightwing, then he’ll make contact again.” I glanced down at my comm. “I told him we should be at the Syren Sisters Coven by midmorning and I’d contact him through dreamwalking at noon, rather than via comm. We don’t know who will intercept our communication, and he’s still concerned about the spy in our own network.”

“That reminds me.” At my side, Conn folded his arms. “When we return from this mission, I’d appreciate your assistance in discovering who the hell this traitor is in Nightwing Security. We can’t continue to allow someone to report our movements and strategy to the Larkosians.”

“Consider it done,” said Bowen. “Lyla packed us some food for the journey. The rest are still asleep.”

“Best not overstay our welcome then,” agreed Conn.

With that, we filed back through the chilly corridor, through the main hall, and then out into the gray morning, misting the air with a blend of frost and fog.

“Let me see now,” said Conn, tightening his gloves as we put on our headgear. “I’d say the forecast will be”—he paused for dramatic show, gauging the air with an upward glance—“cold as fuck and windy as hell.”

Bowen chuckled. A rarity. “Another beautiful day in Aria.”

“Enough, boys. Let’s get moving.”

Without another word, I lifted off like a rocket, straight up into the blistering cold. My thermal suit protected my body well, but the force of the wind was fierce, gusting in short drafts. Flying above the middle flight zone, I sensed the guys flanking my back. The misty morning rose high, only the tips of white-peaked mountain tops rising above the fog. The sun glazed the sky in pink and gold, a sheet of cloud rolling out like an ethereal blanket. Even while we soared toward some unknown destiny, peace settled around my heart, especially with Conn so near.

Why should that matter? Why should he matter? His presence comforted me in a strange way. I couldn’t explain it away anymore.

We pushed on until mid-morning when we stopped for water and a brief breakfast of the mulberry bread and cheese that Lyla had packed for us. For a band of marauders, they were especially kind to strangers. My view of the lost souls living in Aria had changed somewhat, especially after Bastien explained they weren’t all outlaws by choice but fugitives seeking a life of freedom away from the civilized world. Well, most of them.

It did not slip past me that Conn found every opportunity to touch me—a slide of fingers when he passed the flask of water, his hand on my hip when he set his pack next to mine. But I wanted him to touch me. The simple weight of his hand on my arm steadied me in a way I hadn’t expected.

The rising sun broke up the mist. The wind eased, and we made good time, flying fast and hard. By midday, we descended into the valley of the Syren Sisters’ Temple. I slowed at the sight from above. The valley dipped low and then rose to a flattened mesa where a temple of stone stood. There was a transparent dome extending high above the temple walls. There was an outer walkway, but a wrought iron trellis covered every opening. No Morgon could enter this fortress without permission.

I spoke into my mouthpiece. “There is no way in or out for a Morgon.”

“No,” agreed Bowen. “They are well protected from air.”

“Or they are kept in a prison,” I added.

“I don’t believe anyone is kept against his or her will,” added Bowen.

We swooped low toward the mesa. I flapped my wings to slow my landing on the frozen rock. Conn and Bowen landed behind me. The temple was surrounded by small trees that were completely encased in crystalline snow, standing like ghostly sentinels on guard. When we pushed up our headgear, our breaths came out in white puffs, the air below freezing even in this valley.

A white marble walkway began at the cliff’s edge. We followed the path that widened as we approached the temple gates. The steel double doors were embossed with a delicate design of three Morgon women holding hands, looking skyward, the moon a circular orb above them. Iron roses on a thorny vine fringed the doors. There was a silken cord hanging next to the door since they used no electronics or technology to survive out here.

I glanced back at the guys. “Here goes nothing.”

I pulled the cord. Hearing no answering bell, I stood back. A minute passed. Nothing. Wondering if the bell was broken, I pulled again, a bit harder this time. “Maybe it doesn’t work,” I said right before a click sounded on the other side.

A peephole opened. Behind the oval face of a Morgon woman embossed in steel appeared the pale face of a flesh-and-blood Morgon woman with black hair and amber eyes.

“Greetings from Mother Moon’s Temple. How may I assist you?”

“Hello. I am Valla Moonring from the Drakos Province.”

“You are a long way from home, Valla Moonring.”

“I am.” I swept my arm behind me. “These are my partners, Conn Rowanflame and Bowen Huntergild. We have come to speak with your high priestess, if we may.”

“Men are not allowed within Mother’s Temple.” Her voice was serene and calm, yet sure and confident. “You may enter alone if that is your wish.”

“It is.”

She closed the peephole. There was a metallic click, then the door creaked open. Conn was at my side, his hand wrapping my forearm with a firm squeeze. He said nothing, but he didn’t need to.

“I’ll be fine,” I assured him, tugging gently on my arm so he’d let go. Focusing to keep my nerves calm, I refused to let this small act of dominance anger me. But this was the kind of behavior all dominant Morgon men couldn’t hold in check, the kind that irritated the shit out of me because it was an implication I couldn’t defend myself. “This is a peaceful place. And if not, I’m perfectly capable of handling whatever situation arises. I’m trained for this. Remember?”

Hesitant and scowling, he swept the perimeter before letting me go with a stiff nod.

I stepped inside. The sister at the entry closed and bolted the door. She was a Coalglass, her black wings glistening under the sunlight pouring through the iron trellis from above. Draped in a silver frock that shimmered with iridescent thread, she bowed in a formal greeting. “I am Mistress Keery. Welcome to Mother Moon’s Temple.”

“Thank you.” I bowed my head, which seemed the only proper response.

“Come with me if you please.”

She led me through a marble arch carved with roses, then down a stone hallway well-lit by sconces. We passed a chamber where Morgon women worked with dried herbs around a long table. The room was lit by a domed skylight above and warmed by a crackling fire in a stone pit at its center. They continued working without looking up. Keery led me into a circular room, a commons area, where benches surrounded a pool and a fountain.

“Please have a seat and wait here.”

At the center of the fountain stood a sculpture of a voluptuous Morgon woman, her gown draped close to her skin, her arms upraised, her head tilted heavenward, her wings open wide. The water gurgled up somewhere around her shoulder, streaming down her body. Another domed glass let light in from above. But this dome was not nearly large enough to be the one she saw as they descended into this valley. The shuffle of feet drew my attention to the right. Keery walked into the room with another woman, taller and thinner, draped in a pearlescent white gown, her white wings folded neatly at her back, her hands laced at her front. She was an Icewing. Apt that a healer should be the High Priestess of the Syren Sisters.

“Greetings,” she said as she stopped before me. “I am Priestess Thea. How may I serve you?”

I didn’t know what I’d imagined the Syren Sisters to be like. They were spoken of like a cult back home, a gaggle of Morgon women who’d eschewed the civilized world to cast wicked spells and sacrifice at their bloody altar. The people of Drakos could not be more wrong. The woman standing before me was not a vessel of evil, living out a life of dark sorcery. Rather, she exuded the calmest, most serene aura I’d ever known. Her face was relaxed in an expression of peace, and I had a feeling that even in times of danger and fear, she would emit the same tranquility.

“Hello, Priestess. I am Valla Moonring. I am an officer of The Order of the Morgon Guard. We have come to inquire whether one of your sisters has recently left the coven.”

Her gaze, clear blue like a long-buried glacier, never wavered as she reached out her hand to me. “May I?”

Confused at first, I finally realized she wanted to hold my hand. I’d heard of those in the Icewing clan who could sense truth or guile from a simple touch. They were rare, even among the healing clan.

“Of course,” I said, placing my palm to hers.

Her delicate hand, finely structured with long fingers, held me firm, though my rough, stronger hand from wielding swords felt strange gripped by hers.

“Have you truly come to inquire after one of our sisters? Or do you have an ulterior motive?”

Shocked for a moment, I answered, “We mean no harm to anyone here. Only to discover what we can of a sister who has left the coven, which may help us in pursuit of an enemy harming innocent people.”

“Mmm. You speak the truth. And while you have honest eyes, I needed to know for sure. You see, we’ve been expecting you for some time.”

“You have? But how could you know—”

“That Valla Moonring and two officers in the Morgon Guard were coming? We did not. We only knew that someone would come, and we didn’t know if it would be one seeking guidance for truth or someone seeking knowledge for the Dark King.”

“The Dark King?”

Her clear eyes grew colder. “The one who bands his men into an army of rapists and slavers. The one who would smite all light from this world with his tyrannical rule and his blood sorcery. The one who is responsible for taking our beloved Bekka away from us.”

“Aye.” I dropped my hand from hers. “We know him. We call him the Blood King.”

“Before the end, he will have many names.”

I wondered for a second if one of them would be Black Dragon, like Wren’s premonition.

Her words carried such a hard truth that I couldn’t breathe for a moment. Before the end…and how long would it take to reach the end? And who would rule when all was said and done?

“You said that he took a sister from you? Bekka?”

“Seduced, I’d say. Come.” She beckoned to an archway on the far side of the chamber.

Walking side by side, I kept to her strolling gait and listened.

“Mistress Bekkanine had the job of fetching water from the glacier pool once a week. We have a drinking well here in the compound, and we live a solitary, self-sufficient life, but we need a single jar of glacier water for our weekly blessing of the crops.”

I didn’t bother to ask her what crops she spoke of—nothing could grow in this frozen wasteland. Perhaps she referred to the herbs they were drying that must be grown indoors. We strolled along the corridor, lit by skylights every few feet.

“I didn’t notice any changes in Bekka at first. It was her sister who alerted me of some danger we could not see.”

“She has a sister here at the coven?”

Thea glanced my way with a small smile and an expression of quiet sadness wrinkling her smooth forehead. “She does. And I am breaking a vow I made to their dying mother by sharing the truth with you.”

What in the world could she be talking about? An ominous thread of foreboding wove through my chest. “I do not mean to make you break any coven vows, for I know they are sacred to you.”

“Their mother was not a sister of the coven. I would not break a coven vow. This was a promise to a desperate mother, but I can no longer keep her secret. Mother Moon has prepared me for your coming, and I know what I must do…for the good of Morgonkind as well as humanity.” She pushed through two swinging wood doors carved with the same border of blooming roses seen throughout the compound.

Breathless at the sight before me, I stopped at the entrance, panning the indoor arboretum. Stories high, the dome I’d seen from the sky stretched far and wide. Evergolds towered to one side, tall and centuries old. A crop of corn, cabbages, and other vegetables grew in neat rows to our right. Sisters quietly tended the garden, glancing our way once before returning to their work. A stone path guided us toward the center of this woman-made forest. Thea beckoned me, smiling at my awestruck stupor.

“Come. I will introduce you to Bekka’s sister.”

“Priestess…this, this place is—”

“Surprising?”

“Unbelievable. How is this even possible?”

“Not all witch magic is bad,” she said, teasing, for she must know the reputation they had among the supposed civilized of the world.

“No wonder you never leave.”

With her hands folded in front of her as she walked, she looked ahead, chin held high. “It is our oasis. I imagine the world wonders how we could possibly leave civilized cities for this solitary life. But I cannot imagine leaving our little piece of heaven for what the world could offer.”

“I understand.” And I truly did. Though I was never the kind of woman who wanted a tranquil life at home—give me a weapon and target any day of the week—I could certainly understand the appeal this place had for some. I was slightly envious of them, to be so at peace with such a simple life, a simple world.

“Right through here.” She led me under a trellis of fragrant honey-scented flora and into a wildflower garden that was bordered by pretty sculpted bricks, no doubt handmade.

As we approached one wildflower bed, I knew at once who Bekka’s sister was. A sweat broke out on my back, adrenaline shooting through my body. Crouched on her haunches, smelling a large purple flower I didn’t recognize was a Morgon woman with deep crimson wings, edged and ridged in black. They were half open when she stooped to her work, much like a butterfly when taking nectar from a petal.

“Kera!”

She stood at Thea’s call. Unsurprised to see a foreigner standing in their sacred garden, she walked forward to meet us. Draped in the same gray gown as the other sisters, it fit her entirely differently. Most Morgon women, myself included, were built tall and thin, our bone structure more delicate so our lighter wings could carry us well. This was one reason I worked out on a regular basis to build lean muscle mass in order to fight typically male adversaries who usually had a hundred pounds on me. The woman sauntering forward was nothing like that. The fabric of her gown molded to each voluptuous curve, presenting the figure of a woman built for seduction. If that wasn’t enough, she wore her fire-red hair in long waves, loose braids around the temples. Her eyes, the color of dying embers, flamed brighter as she stopped in front of us.

“Valla Moonring, meet Keradine Bloodback.”

Swallowing hard, having never thought to ever meet a member of the extinct Bloodback clan—allegedly extinct, that was—I bowed my head with as much civility as I could manage. “Pleased to meet you, Keradine.”

She bowed with a shy smile. “And I you.”

“Valla is an officer of the Morgon Guard, Kera. She has come inquiring about your sister, Bekka.” The woman flinched, her eyes darting to Thea nervously.

“It is all right. She and her fellow officers have come to do good with whatever information we can offer. They will fight the evil that is slowly infecting our world.”

Thea’s eyes glowed with white electricity, her dragon rising to the surface. This staid woman had fire in her yet.

“I will give you two some time alone and wait for you at the arched trellis, Valla.”

“Thank you,” I said before Thea retreated. I gestured toward a stone bench nearby. “Shall we sit?”

Kera nodded. I sat at an angle, unable to stop from staring at her unique wings, only mentioned to me in fairy tales about the once dominant and noble Bloodback clan of old. When I realized she’d caught me, I glanced away quickly. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that I’ve never seen wings like yours before.”

“Please don’t apologize. It’s only natural. And no one has seen wings like mine, so it is expected when foreigners come.”

“How often do they come?”

“Never.”

She laughed a little. I laughed with her.

“So your mother brought you and your sister here?”

“Yes. When I was only twelve years old. When my father died, my mother knew she would die soon after. They were truly heartbound, you see.” I nodded, knowing the loss of a heartbound mate meant the death of the other soon thereafter. I’d witnessed it with my own parents.

“But why did she bring you and your sister here?” I realized I was asking about things unrelated to our cause, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

Kera stared off across the garden at a line of women working to pull ripened fruit from their vines.

“My mother was a lovely woman. You cannot imagine.”

Actually, I could if she resembled her daughter at all. I found her response odd, but she wasn’t finished.

“Knowing she wouldn’t be around to protect us, she brought me and my baby sister here, who was three at the time. We lived in Cloven. My father was an important man in the political arena. Being a Bloodback, he was respected, but mostly feared.” She turned to face me then. “It is our dragon gift, you see, that they fear.”

“You mean the…the poison?”

She nodded once. “It is the reason our kind had dwindled over time till there was only our family left. Bloodbacks found it harder and harder to find mates. Those Bloodbacks who were able to acquire lovers found fewer and fewer willing to heartbond with soulfire. Rumors had spread of our kind being little more than killers in disguise, needing to be bred out of existence. All of this is what Thea told me when I was old enough to inquire about why we were the only Bloodbacks in the coven. It was quite a shock to realize we were the only Bloodbacks left in the entire world.” Her voice fell with a melancholy tone.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” She tried to smile. “The world is full of fears. And those who are misunderstood are condemned most of all.”

She was right. Even I had been told tales about the terrible Balsheba Bloodback when I was a child. I was one of the many who feared what she was, what she could do with a single bite—inject a fatal poison that would strike me dead within seconds.

“Do you know, Valla, that Bloodbacks can inject an elixir as well as poison?”

“No. I didn’t know that. What kind of elixir?”

“A few different kinds. The one I’ve used is one of euphoria to numb the senses of one in pain. Sort of like a balm for the wounded. I helped one of the sisters once who was stuck with the barb of a poisonous plant.”

How fascinating. She held the gift of both poison and healing within her.

“So you’re a healer, Kera.”

Lacing her fingers together in her lap, she said with a smile, “I suppose I am. I like to think so anyway.”

“And how do you know to release the right elixir and not a poison, or the other way around?”

“I don’t know. How do you know how to fly?”

“I just do.”

“Precisely.”

When she smiled, she was radiant. Even when I caught sight of her slender, pointed fangs, I couldn’t help but think her remarkable. It might be good this kind of beauty was kept behind doors. I don’t think she had any idea the impact she’d have on men. And though wise, she seemed so innocent.

“I’m actually quite good with antidotes for poisons as well. Once we’d realized there were quite a few poisonous and aggressive plants in Aria, I began working with them to create antidotes for each should we ever be in need.”

“So you do go outside the compound?”

“Not regularly, no. But twice a year, a few of us go into the wild to discover new plants we might want to raise within our arboretum.”

“I see. Thea said that your sister was responsible for gathering the glacier water once a week.”

“She was. And I noticed one week that she was different upon returning from the glacier pool.”

“Different how?”

“She withdrew from me, choosing to spend time in the temple and in prayer rather than with me in the lab where I experimented with rare plants and ways to grow them. My sister and I were very close, even if she always seemed more restless than I was with this life.”

“She didn’t want to stay with the coven?”

Kera shook her head. “She had told me more than once that she wanted to see what was out there, what the rest of the world was like. I tried to convince her the rest of the world abhorred us for the power we had, and that it was a dangerous place outside these walls.”

“And did she agree with you?”

“I don’t know. She only ever said that it was wrong that our clan should die simply because the world feared us. I agreed with her. It is unfair. But I’d committed myself to a life within the coven. I want no part in a world that would despise me.”

I wanted to argue against her belief the world would treat her with disdain. But I knew the truth. One look at her crimson wings, and people would shun her. Too many people rely on their fears for judgment. Fears of the unknown and what they don’t understand. Even I have struggled with understanding humans and how different they were from us. “What do you think happened that changed your sister?” I asked.

“She met him.”

“Him? The Blood King?”

“No. Her lover.” Kera swept her hair over one shoulder and folded her hands demurely once more. “Several weeks passed. She pulled farther and farther away from me. I told Priestess Thea, who then spoke with her. But Bekka admitted nothing, only that she hadn’t been feeling well. When I suggested that she forego her trip to the glacier pool one day, she went into a rage, spewing all kinds of wicked words at me for saying such a thing. I knew I’d find my answers there. So I waited ten minutes after she left and followed her through the tunnel from the compound to the cavern. I found her naked in the arms of a dark Morgon. They were fornicating on a fur tossed on the cavern floor.”

She paused, seemingly remembering that day. Riveted, I wanted to ask everything about this man, to find some mark of identification, but I wouldn’t interrupt as Kera related the story.

“She sensed me enter the room. She was on all fours with him behind her. She stared at me as I stood there stupefied. She didn’t seem to mind that I’d caught her.” Kera scoffed. “Actually, I believe she was trying to show me what I was missing. I couldn’t move, struck dumb at the sight. Thankfully, they didn’t take too long, groaning the completion of their coupling. She stood and wrapped her gown back on slowly.

“‘Now you know, sister,’ she said. Her lover immediately unsheathed a long blade, as if I ever meant her any harm. Though I thought at the time, woe to the man or woman who should try to harm my sister. He would put them at an end, that fierce lover of hers. She said to me, ‘I am glad you have come. For this will be our last goodbye.’ At this, the dark man put away his weapon and draped a cloak around her shoulders, fastening it tight around her wings. The material covered her from neck to foot. That was when I saw two more Morgon men in the shadows, near the exit leading out of the mountain.”

“What were these men wearing? I might be able to identify them if you can remember.”

Kera smiled. An odd response, but there was no joy in it. “I can tell you who they were just as she told me that day. They were two of the Sunsting clan, and they were part of the Larkosian Army, run by a man named Barron Coalglass who had offered her the role of High Priestess in their army along with gold in exchange for her service.”

My jaw dropped. I stood up and paced in front of the bench, my wings itching for me to take flight. I always thought better in the air.

“Do you know him? This Barron Coalglass?”

“Know him? We killed him…about two months ago. He was indeed serving who we call the Blood King. But you say Barron was running the army? Could you be mistaken?”

“Only if they were lying to my sister, but for some reason I don’t believe they were. She told me all. That she’d been given this chance for status, power, and wealth, as well as the company of her lover as her personal guard, and she was leaving the coven. She was leaving me and this world of, how did she put it? ‘Isolation and subservience.’ I suppose I never knew exactly how lonely this life was for her. I’d never seen it that way.”

Kera swiped an errant tear that had slipped down her cheek, but she seemed to hold back the others, refusing to let her emotions get the best of her. She was strong, this orphaned Bloodback. I imagined her sister was strong as well.

“How long ago did she leave?”

“Nearly six months ago.”

Hmm. The human girls in the Gladium province started going missing about four months ago. We were aware that Barron was in charge, then suddenly this sinister king appeared and started giving orders.

Was Moira right? Could this king be more than some freakishly huge Morgon set on world domination? “It’s just impossible!” I said, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“What is impossible?”

I stopped my pacing and faced her. “This is going to sound crazy, but my sister-in-law was held captive by this king of the Larkosians.”

“Oh, no!”

“It’s okay. She made it out all right. But she swears that this king, this monster, is none other than Larkos Nightwing. As in the Larkos Nightwing of legend and history. He should’ve died thousands of years ago.”

Kera stood up suddenly, her fiery eyes glazing bright gold. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, no, what?”

Placing her hands to her chest, her breathing quickened.

“It’s my fault.”

“What do you mean it’s your fault? What’s your fault?”

“I—I—I kept some of my mother’s journals. Before we came here, I’d spent months in our family library while Father was ill, just trying to escape the inevitable. I found her journals on the magic of our clan, on blood magic and the Dark Ones.”

“Blood magic and Dark Ones?” I forced my voice to sound calm while my stomach twisted into knots.

“Surely, you know of my ancestor Balsheba Bloodback.”

“Yes. Everyone knows of her. She’s in every Morgon child’s nightmares and mother’s warnings, ‘Be good or Balsheba will get you.’”

Kera frowned. “Really?”

“Sorry. But yes. Please go on.”

“I can understand why, for I knew of the old tales as well. But what only clan members knew was that Balsheba practiced dark sorcery. She was trying to find a way to immortality with blood magic by summoning the Dark Ones through human sacrifice.”

“Who are the Dark Ones?”

Kera twisted the fabric of her gown in her lap with her fair hands. “There is no real definition of who they are. They’re the ones who live in shadow.”

“They are real?”

“I don’t know,” she said angling toward me. She checked to be sure no one could overhear then whispered, “My mother’s journals, some of them were handed down through our family. Old pages from my grandmother and her mother before her. None go as far back as Balsheba, but there is an entry by one of my ancestor’s recounting a ceremony where Balsheba sealed a rite with a willing sacrifice and called upon the Dark One called Hellsgard.”

I’d never heard of the Dark Ones or of this Hellsgard, none of them mentioned in our fables. But each clan held their own history relating to their clan gifts. The Bloodbacks held power unlike any other, a mystical connection to the otherworld, which is why they were so feared.

“This ancestor I speak of was recorded to have lived over one thousand years, longer than any Bloodback in history that we know of.”

“So what? She made a deal with this Dark One for long life?”

“I am not certain. The records are not kept that well. And the journals are instructions of actual rites and ceremonies. But there are mentions in the margins, scribbles and handwritten notes after some rites were performed.”

“So you believe that Balsheba may have found a way to immortality through blood magic and the Dark Ones?”

She nodded with a cautious glance around. “It is possible. But you know how history tells her story. She was executed after trying to poison King Radomis’s human bride, Queen Morga. So she never reached the immortality she sought. But…my mother’s journals tell of one of the poisons in our blood that can cause paralysis. Coupled with blood magic, allegedly, it can cause a deep sleep, even a centuries-old sleep.”

“Larkos Nightwing may have been put into a deep sleep rather than die so many years ago. And in order to awaken him, they’d need…”

“A Bloodback who knew the ritual and had the elixir of revival in her blood. My sister read my mother’s journals, too. I found her studying them relentlessly, well into the night, the weeks before she left.”

“So it’s true.” A shiver of sinister realization rattled down my spine, leaving me raw and sweating. “Larkos Nightwing is alive. And he’s the Blood King.”

Chapter 18

The three of us sat around the blue-light that heated the alcove where we’d decided to camp for a few hours. Still absorbing the shock, Bowen and I hadn’t said a word after listening to Valla’s debriefing of what transpired inside the coven’s compound.

I tore a loaf of bread into thirds and passed them each a piece.

“It was all a lie. The report that the Bloodback sisters died in a tragic accident by the lake.”

“Yes.” Valla tore a bite of bread from her chunk and ate it. “Their mother had hidden them away here shortly before her death.”

Bowen combed his hand through his hair, which had fallen loose. “And so the younger sister is now in league with…with him.”

“With Larkos Nightwing,” said Valla. “You might as well get it through your heads that it’s true. Moira was right all along. The beast that had held her captive wasn’t just a freak of nature of Morgonkind. He was the first of our kind. And we heard it last night from Wren Starfell. The son he spoke of who brings war and death, ‘the first Morgon who walked this world.’ It’s him. Larkos Nightwing. I mean, hell, they call themselves the Larkosians.”

“Yes,” Bowen agreed. “But the Larkosians were a cult centuries ago who were simply followers of Larkos, taking that name to honor their dead hero.”

“Or not so dead,” I said. “I’m more fearful now than I ever was before.”

“What do you mean?” asked Valla.

“According to history, Larkos Nightwing was a maniacal egomaniac set on world domination. Apparently, he still holds that ambition.”

“So the girls who went missing,” said Bowen as he finished off his bread “were used for blood magic to revive Larkos. And the others they’ve captured are simply kept as slaves.”

“It seems so,” said Valla in a quiet voice and set aside her bread.

“You need to eat,” I urged.

“I can’t.”

She would never say that she was sick to her stomach, a weakness she was unprepared to admit. And pushing her would only make her resist more.

“You need to contact your brother.” Bowen stood. “I’ll keep watch.”

“You took first watch the last time,” I said. “I’ll go.”

His shoulders tightened as he swept his gaze from Valla to me. “She can’t eat. I can’t sleep.” He huffed out a white puff of air. “This place is getting to us.”

“It’s not this place,” I said with conviction. “You all know it.”

A pause stretched like a widening gulf between us. I waved my hand over my other palm, producing a gold flame that flickered wildly.

“Firedancers know the state of their hearts and minds simply by creating a flame in their palm without manipulation. Just letting that flame extend from the firedancer.” The red flame sparked and sputtered, licking higher, then grew small again as if trying to escape an unseen enemy. “Since the first butchered body was found in Devlin Wood, my internal flame has been such as this—erratic, unsteady, unsure. This beast, Larkos, is no king. He is a killer of all things good and beautiful in this world—peace among our races and the freedom to live and love as we choose. But I say, ‘no more.’” The flame in my hand danced from side to side, growing taller and transforming to hues of orange and red. “I say we take back what he has stolen—the lives of the innocent, our peace of mind and body, and our freedom to choose who we love and how we live.” I snuffed out the flame with a snap. “Contact your brother, Valla. It’s almost noon. We’re going to see that blacksmith and find these bastards.”

Bowen’s eyes glowed green in the shadows of the alcove. Morgon electricity snapped in the air. It was the kind of energy that made humans nervous when they sensed it, for it meant a dragon was present in the room whether you saw him or not.

“I’ll keep watch, brother.” Bowen nodded to me. “You keep that fire burning hot for when we meet them face to face.”

I glanced at Valla. “No need to worry on that score.”

Bowen marched to the entrance and stood with his back to us, putting on his headgear to catch the infrared of an approaching enemy.

Valla wiggled where she sat cross-legged, stirring the gravel under her boot, to maneuver to face me. “Could you”—she gestured toward my hand with her finger—“make a flame again…for me? It helps me concentrate.”

“For you?” I snapped my fingers, flicking to life the golden flame on my palm again. “Anything.”

Valla smiled, but sobered quickly. She stared into the flame, slowly letting her lids close. I watched and waited as she dreamwalked to speak to her brother and inform him of the latest intel. When I was sure she would not wake, I snapped off the flame. The blue-light emitted a soft hue, accentuating her high cheekbones and strong chin. Valla wasn’t what a man would call soft. Her beauty was fierce and biting, much like the woman herself. And I wanted her…more than anything. Defeating this fucker, Larkos, whether he spawned our race or not, was first priority. Yes, I wanted the world to be safe. But above all, I wanted her to be safe. Like a primitive pull, I needed her to be safe. I couldn’t focus on a damn thing knowing Larkos and his army planned to enslave us all. Over my dead fucking body.

I flinched when Valla’s eyes snapped open.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

She smiled, and something burned hotter in my chest. Though by now, I knew what that something was.

“Of course. My brother is on his way. He and a team are already en route.”

“Who’s on the team?”

She rolled her eyes as she stood. “Yes, yes. Your buddies Paxon and Lorian Nightwing are with him.”

I couldn’t help but grin. Feeling lighter already, I grabbed my pack from against the wall. “And Lucius?”

“No. He stayed behind to keep watch over Nightwing Security. And all their women, of course.”

“I imagine Paxon had Ella and their daughter moved into the Nightwing Tower while the guys were away.”

“You’re right about that. No worries. I’m sure they’ll have a blast.”

Sensing sadness in her voice, I paused and grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong?”

Buckling her pack on, she shrugged with one shoulder as she liked to do. “Nothing.”

“Liar. Why does that make you sad?”

“Oh, not sad. Just…I don’t know.”

“Valla Moonring, you’ll have to do better than that, or I won’t let you leave this cave.”

She laughed. “Like you could stop me.” She arched a brow.

“Valla.”

I said her name the way I did when I wanted her in my arms and in my bed. She shivered, then sighed.

“Have you ever seen all of them together? Jessen, Moira, Ella, Sorcha and their mates?”

“Yes.” Smirking, I crossed my arms. “I was actually instrumental in getting Ella together with Paxon.”

“You were?” Her voice shrieked up high.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m quite the romantic.”

She playfully pulled me closer by my chest strap to tuck the frayed end away. “I know you are.”

And there she was, up close and personal, filling my lungs and my heart with her night flower scent. Before I had a clue what I was doing, I’d gripped her waist with one hand and cupped her cheek with the other. Eyes widening, she let out a surprised gasp. But she didn’t push away. That was all the encouragement I needed. Hovering closer, I let my hand slide forward, fingers combing into her hair. Her braid brushed the backs of my knuckles, a soft caress that turned my insides into an inferno. My beast roared with yearning, and I couldn’t help but speak the words so heavy in my breast.

“Valla…you fill me with every hope, every doubt, every wish a man could dream.” I brushed my lips lightly against hers.

She lifted her head toward mine, encouraging me closer.

“When will you give me a chance? When will you give us a chance?”

“I—I—”

She couldn’t form a verbal answer and gave me her mouth instead, answering me with a press of her soft lips and a sweep of her sweet tongue. I’d take it…for now.

“Ahem.” Bowen startled us apart. “I know you two have important business to, um, discuss, but there’s a war that needs fighting. If you hadn’t noticed.”

“Right.” Valla stepped around me and Bowen. She lowered her goggles. “Our orders are to meet Kol at Orlik’s tavern. We’ll stop at Bastien’s fortress first. We’ll need a guide to this blacksmith.” She lifted off without a backward glance.

Bowen grinned. “After you, loverboy.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

The afternoon sky was remarkably clear. The sun, a rare sight in Aria, shone warm and bright over the thin sheet of scattered clouds. We rode high in the flight line to make good time. Valla was at our head, while Bowen and I flanked behind her.

“We should make it to Bastien’s before dark,” I said into the comm.

“As long as nothing—” Valla broke off as the alarm beeped through our headgear.

The wrist comm showed a large party heading directly for us.

“Shit!” Valla surged with an updraft as she read her comm. “We’ve got company.”

“Definitely not wulving,” I said, gritting my teeth.

The two dozen figures in military V-flight formation told us it was certainly not a pack of flying hounds.

“Nope,” said Bowen. “We’re too far from Bastien’s fortress. I suggest we cut south to the Huntergild scout station. If we can make it.”

“Lead the way,” said Valla, slowing her speed to fall between us.

Bowen beat his wings harder to take the point and turned hard south. I stole a glance at Valla. She was steady and strong, eyes forward, wings spread wide.

The alarm continued to beep. The party veered on our southerly course.

“Could it be Kol?” asked Bowen, his hand sliding to unhitch his crossbow strapped between his wings.

“No,” assured Valla, a thread of strain in her voice as she unsheathed one of her Drakonian swords. “He was clear to meet us at Orlik’s in Barren Falls. Kol doesn’t make mistakes or spontaneous judgments.”

“Let’s fly close to ground and try to get off their radar,” I said.

We dropped as one, skimming low above snow-dusted firs, our wing-shear stirring the high branches as we swooped fast and hard. The alarm stopped. My comm showed no sign of the party.

“Not much farther, and we can hide in the scout station,” said Bowen.

“Hide? It’s invisible?” Valla was still snarky. A good sign since we all knew if we met this party of twenty-plus opponents, we’d not stand a chance against them. My blood burned hot.

“Nearly,” replied Bowen in his steady voice. “It’s well-hidden. If we can get there before our followers catch up to us.”

“Let’s just get there fast—” Valla started.

“Look out!” I yelled.

They attacked from above and the side, two barreling into me and knocking us all into the branches of the firs. We crashed to the packed snow below. On my feet with sword drawn, I prepared to fight not two but four Sunsting warriors dressed in black thermal suits and black cloaks with gold braiding along the edges. After the guard had rescued Kol’s mate, Moira, she’d been able to give them intel on her captives, one of which was their black and gold raiment. We were indeed engaged with the Larkosians.

“Finally.” I grinned and ripped off my headgear and goggles. They didn’t speak. They simply attacked.

Two came at me at once, blades swinging. I deflected, felling one with my first arc. Another took his place, attacking from behind as the other kept my attention at the front. I heard the zing of Valla’s swords not far ahead. Drakonian steel made a different sound when in play—a low hum and swift whistle as it cut through air then slid against steel or iron.

“Oh, fuck this.” I somersaulted up and opened my wings, flaring them wide for suspension. Stunned that I should run, the three looked up and realized what I was doing too late. Inhaling a deep lungful of air till the cold stung from the inside out, I blew a strong flame. The three Morgons back-stepped then ran in three different directions. With a flick of my hand, I split the flame into thirds. As they took flight, I shot the flame like three arrows that pierced straight through their backs to their hearts. They tumbled into the snow, smoke rising from their fatal wounds.

Valla screamed. Speeding through the trees in flight, I dodged branches, hitting some, then came into a clearing where Valla was surrounded by at least ten Larkosian warriors. I sensed others flying close behind me as I landed within the circle beside her.

“Why did you scream?” I asked low, searching every part of her body for any sign of injury and finding none.

“That asshole pulled my hair.”

“Which one?”

“That one.” She pointed with her blade to the dead Morgon several yards away, blood and guts spilled into the snow.

If we weren’t outnumbered, I might’ve laughed. They closed in, and I raised my sword, preparing to die to protect this woman at my side. Though she might be the one saving me considering her skill with a sword.

“Ready or not, here they come,” she whispered, planting her boot in the snow inches from mine.

“I’m ready,” I said, squaring my stance. “Are you?”

She glanced up. Blue eyes burning white-hot, her dragon looked straight at me. “Hell yeah.”

I’d never felt more alive in all my life than at this moment before possible death. This woman. She made the world right. And there was no place I’d rather be than at her side, no matter the odds against us.

Before we’d gotten a swing in, a dozen more warriors landed behind the Larkosians. A band of unruly, mismatched, bad-ass individuals I never thought I’d be so happy to see. A Larkosian spun and charged Bastien who swung his battle-ax and embedded it in his attacker’s chest. The Morgon fell to his knees. Bastien put his foot on the man’s shoulder and pulled out his bloody ax with a crunch.

“Started the party without us, did you?” He gave us a wink.

The rest was nothing but swinging swords, flying arrows, and one seriously fatal battle ax. Bowen flew into the mix right after a Larkosian nicked my chin with his blade. Bowen gave him three arrows in the heart for it.

“Thanks, brother,” I said, clasping hands, grateful to see him alive. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.”

“Just a slight delay. Let’s finish it.”

And so we did. I tried not to become distracted by my need to seek out Valla and assure myself of her safety. But the fire in my gut flamed brighter than ever before. There was no need to worry. She wasn’t in the top of her class in the Assassin’s Order for no reason.

After felling my sixth Larkosian, I found her across the way. She spun and glided, wielding her twin swords like extensions of her slender arms. With a twirl of her wrists and a dip to avoid a high swinging opponent, she decapitated the man from behind before he knew where she’d gone. While the battleground filled with fallen soldiers, bloodying the white snow, I stood there, stunned by the beauty of the assassin moving from one enemy to the next like a dancer on the stage, her golden braid flying high. She was breathtaking.

“Beautiful.”

“That she is, brother,” said Bowen, heaving hard and fast from his last skirmish. “But nothing will come of it if you don’t tell her the truth.”

“The truth?”

No more Larkosians stood. Their bodies littered the forest floor. Madera speared one crawling toward the brush and finished him off. No need to keep any alive for questioning. These weren’t the kind of prisoners who talked under pressure or threat of death. They were fanatics to the core, dedicated to their cause to the death as was so obviously evident by their display today.

“Don’t play dumb.”

Bowen nodded at Valla who had knelt and was patting Razor on the head. He must’ve joined the attack since his muzzle was nice and bloody. The damn hound wagged his tail as she stroked him behind the ears. I shook my head.

“Conn.” The stern tenor in Bowen’s voice drew my gaze to him. “Valla isn’t the kind of woman to trifle with.”

“I’m not trifling with her. You know this.”

“If you pretend she means less to you than she truly does, then yes, you are. And you can’t fool yourself, no matter how hard you try.” He pounded a palm to my chest, right where the burn of soulfire hurt the worst. “Tell her.”

He marched off to shake Bastien’s hand, and I was left once more wondering how I’d been sentenced to hell by a woman who looked and smelled like heaven.

Chapter 19

We’d disposed of the bodies in a crevasse as Bastien had suggested. Burning them would only warn other Larkosians of our whereabouts if any others were in the vicinity. Conn had become strangely quiet after the battle. I knew he wasn’t injured because I checked, so I didn’t understand the reason behind his sudden distance. It was a little strange that we’d defeated the Larkosians so easily. Though I knew our skill outmatched theirs, it was as if they fell almost at will. As if they’d been doomed from the start.

“We’ll need your assistance with the blacksmith.” Conn addressed Bastien as his band had gathered with us under an evergold at the edge of a frozen lake. “He won’t cooperate with foreigners. We’ll pay you well for your trouble.”

Bastien’s high-arched wings with a silver sheen glistened with the last of the light as the sun dipped behind the purple-hued mountains in the distance. He stood with his hands on hips, battle ax stained dark crimson hitched on a belt at his waist. Razor sat at his feet.

“As I told you before, I’ll help. No reward or payment necessary…except to leave my exact location out of the Morgon Guard intel system.”

“Done,” I assured him, stepping between Conn and Bowen.

“But every man and woman in my company speaks for themselves.” He turned to face his crew. “Anyone else who wants to kill more of these assholes who are stinking up Aria, feel free to come along. Those who don’t care to take part can head back to Pallatine. No judgment. No questions asked.”

Rafe spoke first, the brawny Woodblade who enjoyed his pipe after our dinner at their palace. “My sword isn’t red enough. I’m with you.”

“Aye,” said Madera. “So am I.”

“And us, too,” said the Violetvale, his brother giving a nod next to him.

The others stepped forward, one by one. Even Lyla who had stayed mostly out of the fight, awaiting those who needed a healer. Fortunately, we’d made quick work of them. She tended quietly to the Skyfell’s forearm that had a gash slicing up the middle. But his was the only injury out of all of us. Strange, as they seemed to be formidable opponents. But once in the fight, they were no match.

I stepped forward. “Then there’s no time to lose. We meet my brother, Captain of the Morgon Guard, and his team in Barren Falls as fast as we can fly.”

Bowen interrupted. “I think it best that I go to the Huntergild scout tower and see if I can acquire some assistance from my clan.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” said Conn, saying exactly what I was thinking.

“It’s not far from here. And trust me,” he said, mouth quirking on one side. “I won’t be returning alone. My clansmen will help. And we’ll need the numbers.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Good thinking, Bowen. And we appreciate any assistance your clansmen can give us.”

“We’ll meet you at Orlik’s tavern.” With a nod, he lifted off and headed south.

Bastien opened his wings and affixed his flight goggles as did the others. “Then follow me. I know a quicker and more discreet route, in case there’s another party out there.”

I brushed the snow off my goggles from when they’d fallen earlier and then glanced back at Conn. His jaw clenched, he sheathed his sword and reset his gear. He didn’t say a word, and though he still seemed distant, he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder, snapping a strap that had come loose on my pack.

“Thanks,” I said with a smile, trying to be friendly.

He nodded, grim and grave, looking more like Bowen than the carefree man I knew so well.

When I shot off the ground, he was close behind to my right flank. I liked him at my back as we headed into the darkening sky toward Barren Falls.

* * *

True to Bastien’s word, we arrived at the mountainside village just as a gray morning dawned. He’d taken us through narrow passageways between foothills and once into a cave that literally took us through the mountain, saving us a half day’s flight. No wonder the Arians were able to escape capture here. They’d learned the land so well, there were countless hiding holes and escape routes. It seemed Bastien knew them all. How fortunate we’d found him as an ally.

We landed just outside Orlik’s tavern. Conn approached first and pushed on the thick door. It was still open. As we stepped in, Orlik stood behind the bar, hands braced on the wood-top with an actual smile splitting his misshapen face. And who should he be smiling at? None other than my brother Kol, the most austere person I’d ever known. How and what the two men had to smile about, I had no idea.

I slipped past Conn as our large crew filed inside. Kol’s smile had slipped from his face as he observed the Morgons filling the pub, settling at tables and removing headgear and weapons, snow and ice dusting to the floor.

“Hello, Captain,” I said, wanting to embrace him with a hug instead.

Kol had become more like a father after our parents died. And though he was also my superior officer, I found myself suddenly needing familial comfort. This journey had taken its toll on my nerves…and my emotions. He seemed to sense my need, as always. He pulled me close for a tight squeeze, releasing me quickly when I squirmed away. We were still in the company of a rough band of warriors.

“Well, Valla. It seems you and your fellow officers have exceeded our expectations on your mission.”

Sensing Conn over my shoulder, I nodded. “We’ve discovered more than we’d bargained for.”

Conn greeted Kol with a handshake, though Kol’s gaze seemed to linger on him a moment longer than was polite.

“There is someone we’d like you to meet,” said Conn, his voice stern, very unlike himself. “This is Bastien Silverback.”

The man himself stood there, looking ever like a wild pirate after a heist at sea rather than the aristocrat he was born to be. He clasped my brother’s hand and shook. “Greetings, Captain. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I hope my sister hasn’t discouraged you from aiding us with her tales.”

“Oh, not from Valla. You are a legend among the clientele I meet here in Aria,” said Bastien with a grin.

“I imagine so.” Kol lifted his tankard of ale and gestured toward a table. “Shall we talk more?”

“Aye.”

Kol tossed a bag of coin on the bar. “Ale and food for everyone, Orlik.”

“Will do. Benta!”

She popped out of the kitchen, eyes widening at the full room.

“Best get going, girl.”

“I’ll help her,” said Lyla as she swept past us toward the kitchen.

Just as we settled at the table, two more Morgon men descended the stairs, and for the first time today, I saw Conn smile. I couldn’t help but feel my heart lift at the sight of him greeting his best friend, Paxon Nightwing and Paxon’s cousin, Lorian. Both bearing the midnight wings of their clan, Pax wore the look of a playboy, though his heart had been given to the human Ella years ago. And Lorian wore a perpetual scowl, though his expression lightened at the sight of Conn. How that man gained the affection of such an unfriendly Morgon, I had no idea. But if anyone could charm the uncharmable, it was Conn Rowanflame. The men laughed together about something private before joining us at the table.

Conn took the seat to my right as the Nightwings settled in. Immediately, I felt a sense of relief, but didn’t know why. Conn had avoided eye contact with me all day, even when he offered me water on our breaks along the way. Now he finally met my gaze, the intensity rocketing through my blood as if he’d shoved me against the wall and kissed me hard. I hoped no one else could sense the electricity heating up our space, but when I faced Kol again, his keen blue eyes seemed to measure us both. Calm as ever, my brother observed Conn longer than necessary. My foot twitched under the table.

“How is Moira?” I asked.

Though I hadn’t spent nearly as much time with my new sister-in-law as I’d wanted, I liked her very much. Kol’s fierce countenance cracked into more amiable lines at the mere mention of her name. The big oaf was still smitten with her. But all he said was… “She is well. Now down to business.”

Orlik passed around more ale as Conn took the lead with introductions.

“Bastien and Rafe”—who’d taken the seat on Bastien’s left—“this is Lorian and Paxon Nightwing.”

Bastien nodded, but spoke to Paxon. “My father spoke well of yours. They knew each other in the Cloven Senate before your parents moved away.”

Thankfully, Paxon wasn’t a fool and didn’t add, “And before your parents were found murdered.”

“Yes,” said Paxon. “Life in Cloven didn’t suit my parents.”

Both Paxon and Lorian’s family had moved to the Morgon and human mixed population of Gladium years ago. Paxon’s father had suffered a broken wing after defending a helpless man in an attack by Morgon thugs. Unfortunately, his wing never mended, and so he’d lost the power of flight—one of the greatest tragedies for one of our kind.

“Nor mine,” said Bastien, challenging the Nightwings with a sharp look. He shifted his bold gaze to Kol. “I know that you have outstanding orders to capture and extradite wanted criminals back to civilization.” He spoke the last word with disgust. “Or execute them,” he added. “But I need assurance, not just for myself but for every man and woman in my company, that if we aid you on this mission, no harm will come to them by any of your officers. And that none will attempt to extradite them for whatever crimes they have been accused of committing. I trust Conn, Valla, and Bowen, but I need your word as Captain.”

“You have it,” replied Kol without hesitation. “My sister has informed me that not all the crimes laid upon your heads are true.”

“Not all,” agreed Bastien, before nodding his chin to the raucous group greeting Benta behind us. “None of my crew are what you’d call innocent, but the only murders committed by any of them have been in self-defense.”

A silence stretched down the table as both sides considered his declaration. It was Conn who broke in first. “Bastien is innocent of killing his family,” he said with conviction. Everyone was thinking of the capital murders, but did not dare broach the topic. Except Conn. “I’d bet my life on it. And I’ll defend him if necessary.” Conn’s threat that he’d defend Bastien carried in his voice and hard expression even as he leveled it on his best friend Paxon.

My pulse raced at his confident defense of Bastien who was top of the Most Wanted list and whose capture would bring fame and glory to any Morgon. The fact that he’d lay his life on the line for the marauder made my heart swell with pride for the man. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and give him a resounding kiss. Hell, who was I kidding? I wanted to do that anyway, no matter that I pretended I didn’t.

“Thanks, brother,” said Bastien, casually clapping his hand on Conn’s shoulder.

The two appeared like old friends. Who would’ve thought this would come to pass after our first meeting in the Pallatine Palace where Conn had to pay our toll? A nasty burn of jealousy roiled in my gut at the memory of Madera practically molesting him in combat. I glanced over at her, completely engrossed in conversation with one of the Violetvales.

“There will be no need for that, Rowanflame. I give you my word that Silverback here, nor any of his party, will be harmed or be captured by one of ours.”

“They came to our aid against a large band of Larkosians earlier today,” I interjected.

Shock registered on Kol’s face before it deepened into his regular scowl. “Is that so?” Then he studied the marauders more closely. “Where is Bowen?” he asked with a little hesitance.

“Oh, he’s fine,” I assured him. “We were very close to the border of Wilding Wood. He wanted to request assistance from his clansmen. He’ll meet us here soon.”

Kol nodded.

“Approximately twenty-five strong attacked us at dusk,” said Conn. “If it weren’t for Bastien and his group, I’m not sure we would be sitting here. Not in one piece, anyway.”

“Speak for yourself,” I said with a smirk.

Paxon chuckled. Lorian rolled his eyes before saying, “Can we stop licking each other’s balls and get down to business?”

I scoffed. “Pretty expression, Lorian.”

“Not as pretty as you, Valla,” interrupted Paxon. “How do you manage to look so fine when these poor bastards look like they haven’t bathed in a week?”

“We haven’t,” said Conn with a scowl before finishing off his ale and slamming his tankard down with a clunk.

“Does Ella know you flirt this much?” I asked Pax across the table. His smoldering smile could weaken the knees of any woman, but it had little effect on me. Actually, all it seemed to do was make me fully aware that Conn looked as if he were going to reach over and punch his best friend in the face.

“Ella knows she is the only woman for me. But how can I ignore it when such beauty sits before me?”

My turn to roll my eyes. I was about to say something snarky, but Conn beat me to it.

“I can promise you that you won’t be returning to Ella at all if you keep this shit up.”

Paxon laughed. Lorian smiled. It was only then I realized he’d been baiting Conn the whole time. His sudden and unquestionable threat to back the fuck off wasn’t missed by my brother either. Kol glanced from Conn to me then back to Conn. Ugh. He knew something was up. I wish I knew what was up. My feelings wound tighter and tighter every day. One second, I wanted him. The next I wanted him to back off with his big manly self.

“Let’s get down to business,” Kol ordered, swiveling to Bastien. “Valla tells me this smith in Harrowmir may not have delivered the harnesses yet.”

“The only way to know for sure is to go there ourselves,” said Bastien. “The people of Aria don’t use comms for communication. That sort of technology is shunned by those who live here.”

“I saw Lyla using an old comm,” I interjected. “Back at Pallatine.”

“We use comms between us, for safety, but most Arians refuse to use modern technology.”

“Harrowmir is a day’s flight from here?” asked Lorian, moving the conversation on. A man of business.

“No,” answered Bastien. “A mere three hours for the average Arian. I could get you there in two.” He gave his tell-tale wink and tipped back his tankard.

“And this smith is sure the harnesses were being made for the Larkosians?” asked Kol.

“There is no doubt. We’ve noticed the bastards passing through Aria for many months now. And my contacts here in Aria who’ve gone out and returned have reported the disappearance and murder of human girls. We also can see the signs of war brewing,” said Bastien.

“Why do you say that?” asked Paxon.

Conn stiffened next to me. I shared a glance with him, thoughts of Wren’s premonition coming true.

“Their numbers are growing. That party that came down on Conn, Valla, and Bowen was not the largest party we’ve seen fly through here. When we first spotted the black-clad foreigners passing through, they were less than ten in a party. Now we rarely see less than twenty traveling together. We want them to go down as much as anyone else. Evil is afoot.”

“Do you know where their base is?” asked Kol.

“No. If they were stationed in our territory, we would know. Trust me. They must be using a secluded area near here, out of sight of patrols from Cloven or Drakos, but still outside our Arian boundaries as well.”

Benta stepped to our table and placed bowls of her not-so-appetizing stew in front of us. She said nothing before zipping back to the kitchen.

“It’s settled then,” said Kol. “Eat and drink up. We head to Harrowmir at once.”

Chapter 20

“Aye. I’ll put a tracker on the bloody bastard,” said the gruff blacksmith, a broad-shouldered Silverback with a humped shoulder.

“You’ll be well rewarded for your help,” said Kol. “If you do this for us, we can find their camp.”

“Kill them all. And that is reward enough.”

Kol gave a stiff nod. “That was our plan. You take care of your part. And we’ll do ours.”

I was at the back of the shop with Paxon and Valla, listening from afar, when she shifted toward the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked, cursing myself for the dominance riding my voice. Fuck, I needed to get a hold of myself.

She arched a brow before responding. Not good.

“I’m going to check on how the others are settling. We may be here a while waiting.”

“Don’t go out alone. There could be a spy among the people here.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

Paxon observed our exchange. Also not good.

She edged closer. “And may I remind you, Rowanflame, that you’re not my keeper.” And yet the fire in her eyes nearly matched the intensity of flames in my gut. She zipped up her jacket and slipped outside in a huff.

Paxon chuckled. “Holy fuck, Conn.”

“Shut up, Pax.” I kept my focus on Kol, Lorian, Bastien and the blacksmith poring over a map for possibilities of where the Larkosians could be hiding their army.

“Hell no. With all the shit you gave me about settling down with Ella? I don’t think so.”

“You’re the family man. Not me. How’s the kid, anyway?”

“My daughter is sheer perfection. She’s her mother in every way. Except for the budding wings. And stop changing the subject.”

“I’m not settling down,” I grumbled.

“Shit, that’s what you think. It’s either that or spontaneously combust with the soulfire burning inside your chest.”

I shook my head. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah.” He laughed again. “Except to Valla apparently. Have you two even had sex yet?”

Unwillingly, a growl rolled deep in my gut. Damn. My best friend mentioned sex and Valla in the same breath, and my beast wanted to tear out his throat.

“Whoa. Dude.” He put up his hands. “You need to relax. Or settle things with her. Or both.”

“This is Valla Moonring we’re talking about.”

“I know exactly who we’re talking about. The woman who’s shunned men her entire adult life because none of them equaled the strength of her brothers, and none of them turned her head toward the bedroom. Until you, of course.”

My jaw dropped. “What are you talking about? She hated me from the start. From the first second I met her, she’s been trying to sink her claws into me.”

“She sure has.”

“What did you say?”

“Damn, brother. For a man who can charm the panties off just about any woman, you’re a serious idiot.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.”

“And why is that?”

“She wants you, dude. And you want her. But the two of you are both too stupid or too stubborn to do anything about it.”

“I tried, all right?”

“And what? She rejected you?”

Clenching my jaw, I could barely get out the quiet word, “Yes.”

“Wildcats tend to scratch first.” Pax huffed. “Conn, she’s got your scent under her skin, for fuck’s sake. Stop being a stubborn ass and do something about it.”

I wrenched open the door and stormed out into the cold. He was right. Her rejection had opened old wounds of my parents’ broken relationship. I had hardened my heart against the hope of what could be between us. If only I had the courage to try again. I’d tip-toed around her since that erotic dream where she’d pushed me away out of fear. Fear that I’d not let her go. She was fucking right about that. I would never let her go. I marched off in the direction I knew she was headed.

Harrowmir was situated on a narrow cliff with two mountains blocking the frigid winds on either side. Because it was semi-close to ground level and protected, it was comparatively warmer than other places in Aria. Meaning you could walk around without headgear and your ears wouldn’t turn black with frostbite after sixty seconds of exposure.

Knowing the size and shape of her shoes, I followed the recent tracks in the snow. When I rounded the corner, I saw her just stepping from the blacksmith’s house which was carved directly into the cliff, like so many others. She must have been speaking to his wife. They were one of many who had offered beds for our men after they discovered our purpose here. There was no inn large enough to house us all. With the Bastien Bastards, Bowen and his clansmen who’d finally arrived, and the team of twenty Kol had brought, we had to spread out through the town and lie in wait.

“Thank you. Goodnight,” I heard her say as the door closed. She marched on.

“Valla.” She flinched at my call but kept walking.

“What is it?” She walked faster, heading to the inn where we had rented out the six rooms they had.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Talk? Or command?”

She pushed open the door of the inn. The innkeeper had gone to bed. I followed her through the tavern to the hallway leading to the bedchambers where I finally caught up to her.

“See. This place isn’t even protected. The door was left unlocked. What if one of these Larkosians is waiting in your room?”

She rounded on me, hands on hips, looking like she was ready to bite. “Then I’d kick his ass before slitting his throat. I’m an officer in the Assassin’s Order. Or have you forgotten?”

“No. I haven’t forgotten. You never let anyone forget who you are and what your rank is.”

Her chin notched higher. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I know all about your qualifications, your skills, and your training. I don’t give a shit about any of it.”

I backed her all the way to the wall, my heart hammering blood through my veins like a fucking volcano. She clasped my shoulders, her wings flattening behind her. Rather than push me away, her fingers curled tighter.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked in a fierce whisper.

“This.”

Taking one of her hands, I cupped it around my dick. Her mouth fell open on a gasp.

“And this.”

I placed her other hand roughly over my pounding heart about to pop out of my chest.

“This is what you do to me, Valla,” I growled, hovering close to her lips. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me to go away, and I’ll leave you alone.”

When I let her hands go, she kept them in place. I gripped her braid and tugged, lifting her chin higher. My mouth was on hers, demanding she open. She did. I kissed her hard and deep, slipping a hand between us and yanking down her zipper. While stroking deeper with my tongue, needing a good taste of her sweet mouth, I slid my hand under her layers, touching the smooth plane of her stomach, then up over her ribcage to her breast covered by a thin athletic bra. Her breasts were small and perfect, her nipple reacting to my touch. I rounded the taught peak with my thumb, then drew apart from her lips. She leaned after me for more, but I tightened my grip on her braid and tilted her head back farther till she opened her eyes and met my gaze.

“Tell me.”

Her lips parted, her eyes half-lidded, she looked like a goddess awaiting pleasure. And I planned to give it to her.

“No,” she said defiantly, squeezing my dick, her other hand clenching tight into my hair.

I groaned, mounding her breast then circling her nipple with my thumb. “No, what. I’m going to have to hear you say it.”

“No.” Her gaze dropped to my lips. “I don’t want you to go.”

“What do you want?”

After I slid my hand out of her shirt, I unzipped her thermal suit lower and slid my hand under her panties and between her legs, finding her nice and wet. She let out a sweet moan.

“Do you want this?” I stroked her till she whimpered.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want this.” She rocked her hips.

Sweeping my lips over hers, I gave her a swift glide of my tongue, then withdrew, still stroking my fingers slowly. “What else do you want, Valla?”

She finally snapped her fiery gaze to mine. “I want you. I want you inside me. But, know this.” She squeezed my dick harder. I grunted and caught my breath. “I’m not a submissive little girl you can order around.”

“I never thought you were,” I said, sliding one finger inside her.

“Ah.” She let out a little cry. “I bet you’re dominant in bed.”

“You got that fuckin’ right.”

“What if I want to be dominant.”

If possible, my dick got even harder. “Baby, you can ride me all night long if that’s what it takes for me to get inside you.” I tugged on her braid again. I licked a line down her throat then bit my way up to her ear. “But between us, I think you really want me on top.”

She moaned when I bit her earlobe and sucked. I pulled my hand from her pants then lifted her by the waist and gripped her tight with one arm, shoving open the door to her room with the other. I had to drive inside her. Now. Before I burst into flames.

A fire burned low in the hearth. I set her by the bed. We made short work of stripping our clothes and gear, both of us fumbling to get them off in a manic frenzy. Buckles, harnesses, thermals, panties, and underwear flying off and landing in a staggered heap.

Bathed by golden firelight, her moon-pale skin was smooth and creamy, her pink nipples taut under my heavy gaze. She opened her wings, looking like the Morgon goddess she was.

“Lay down.”

She arched a brow at my rough command, but her own desire, strong and filling my nostrils, guided her to obey. Not out of submission but out of sheer desire for me.

Expectant, she stretched onto the bed on her back. She waited. Kneeling over her, I lifted her leg and nipped a trail from the inside of her ankle up along the inside of her thigh till I found her sweet spot. She clenched the sheets with both hands and arched her back, driving me to suck harder.

“Mmmm.”

“Conn,” she whispered in the dark. Never had my name sounded so erotic.

She spread her knees wider, her hips rocking gently. I slid two fingers inside her and moaned. So tight. So wet. She cried out, mounding her breasts with her own hands. She was climbing fast. Too fast.

Lifting my mouth away, I continued to stroke slower with my fingers. She watched me, her electric blue gaze lighting up the shadows. Brazen as ever.

“You know what you need, Valla?”

“What?” she asked, panting.

I slid a third finger inside her, readying her for me. She bit her lip on a whimper. Still stroking, I shifted my body alongside her. “You need a man who understands you.” I nipped her shoulder and swept a kiss lower. “Who accepts your strength as a warrior.” I opened my lips over her nipple and sucked. “And who can give you what you need as a woman.”

“And are you that man?” she asked on a moan, her hips making small thrusts. She ached. Maybe even as bad as I did. But I doubted it.

I pulled my hand away.

Whipping open my wings, I lay on top of her. I pressed my weight down and spread her thighs wider with my knees, brushing my mouth over hers. “You know that I am, Valla.”

She tried to rock up her hips, my cock heavy between her legs. I gripped her hip to keep her still and shook my head. “You know that I’m the only man who can really give you what you need.” I slid my lips over hers and hovered there, just feeling her lips against mine, her strong, slender body waiting for me. “You don’t need just any man. You need me. Isn’t that right, Valla?”

She clutched one hand roughly in my hair and yanked my head back to look me in the eye. “Yes. Now would you shut up and fuck me, Rowanflame?”

I smiled and sensed her body coiling tighter beneath me. An aphrodisiac like no other.

“Hard or gentle for your first time?”

“Hard.”

“It may hurt.”

“Shut up and do it, Conn.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

I pushed inside her slowly. Her mouth fell open and her eyes closed tight when I hit her hymen. I opened my mouth on her neck and bit down as I thrust hard, tearing through till my hips were flush against hers.

“Ah!” she cried.

I stilled as her body stretched around me. The first man to ever be inside Valla Moonring. And I would be the fucking last. I pulled out and thrust in again. Hard. She whimpered—a needy, aching sound, though tinged with pain. That’s when I realized she liked a little pain with her pleasure.

“Like this?” I pumped inside her, slow and steady, but making sure to pound her at the end of each thrust. She was getting all of me. Just as she’d asked for. My dragon would have it no other way. Valla would know who I was. Take it all or nothing.

“Yes. God, yes,” she said, claws digging into my back. I was so fucking turned on.

Molding my mouth to hers, I stroked my tongue inside, relishing the feel of her sweet body rocking beneath mine as I drove deeper and harder. A satisfying growl rumbled from deep inside me where my dragon lay as I finally took my mate, marking her in every way I could…except for soulfire.

The burning had intensified, but then eased the moment I drove my cock inside her body. The only real relief came from coupling. Still, soulfire stung while I thrusted toward climax.

Lifting up, I watched, marking every sensual line of her face. Pink flushed her neck and cheeks. She made the sweetest sounds I’d ever heard. She clung to me as she rolled her hips with little thrusts and I pounded hard and fast. “More, Valla,” I murmured. I gripped her nape, pulled her up to me, and slanted my mouth roughly over hers.

She met my fierce kiss, slipping her tongue inside and tasting me with the same intensity. Valla was my match, my equal in every way. Now was the moment I knew what it meant to have a mate, to have a second half.

My beast rose up. I pulled apart from her kiss and held her gaze. “I want you to come. Right now.” Dominance rode my vocal cords, the dragon wanting her surrender. Needing it. I couldn’t hold him back if I tried. Not anymore.

Expecting defiance, I groaned with pleasure when she nodded.

“I want to hear you, sweetheart.”

And as if on command, her mouth fell open with a cry, “I’m coming…oh, fuck…I’m coming.” Her walls pulsed around my cock.

So perfect. She was so fucking perfect.

I stilled, letting her ride out the orgasm. When she opened her eyes, I saw nothing but sky-blue and dragon-slit pupils.

“My turn,” she said, her own dominance pushing back, needing control. “Roll onto your back, Conn.”

I’d deny her nothing. I pulled out of her, which felt like losing a limb, and spread my wings flat on the mattress as I lay on my back. Sweet Valla crawled on all fours on top of me, her braid loose and untidy, and straddled my hips, then planted her palms on my chest. I reached between us to guide my cock home, but she gripped my wrist and thrust it away.

“I’ll do that,” she said, wrapping her delicate fingers around me. “Hands behind your head, Rowanflame.”

If I hadn’t known she’d been a virgin moments before, I’d never have suspected it. Damn, she was aggressive in bed. And I loved every second of it.

Leaning her weight forward, she guided me inside her, slowly sinking down, her mouth parted in ecstasy. Then she rode me, bracing both hands on my chest, sliding in a delicious rhythm, not too fast, not too slow. I kept my hands behind my head as she’d told me to, thrusting up when she rode down. One hand skated over my abs, her eyes following the path, fingernails grazing my lower abdomen right above where our bodies joined.

I’d imagined having sex with her a thousand times, and never in my wayward dreams did I picture this. Her strong, feminine body atop mine, hands touching me with need, eyes full of desire, riding me with wild passion as if she couldn’t get enough of me. There was no dream where I pictured this. And yet it was an image that would remain seared in my mind until the day I died.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I said.

She smiled and said, “So are you,” stealing what was left of my heart. She had all of it now. All of me. And she didn’t know it.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Sitting up, I wrapped my arms around her and took one pretty pink nipple into my mouth.

“Conn,” she said on a breathy sigh, picking up her pace as I licked and nipped with teeth and tongue. “You’re going to make me come again.”

“Faster, Valla,” I commanded.

My voice rolled rough and deep with my full dragon at the reins. I swept to her other nipple and nibbled with my teeth. She liked that. She came with a wild scream, her head snapping back, milking my cock till I could hold back no longer. I spilled inside of her, my wings whipping out, stretching wide with the best fucking orgasm I’d ever had.

Gripping the nape of her neck, I molded my mouth to hers, kissing her deep and slowly, swallowing her little moans as our bodies still pulsed with pleasure. When we’d finally both come down, I pulled apart, panting. So was she. I gripped her hips and gently lifted, not missing the wince as she slid off me. She rolled onto her side.

“Stay there,” I said, walking over to the wash basin where the innkeeper had left a bowl of clean water and cloths. “I wish there was plumbing in Aria. A hot shower would feel good right now.”

I dipped a cloth in the basin and wrung it out, trying to warm it between my hands as I walked back to join her in bed. She watched me in silence, a tilted smile quirking up her lips. I tried not to swagger, knowing I’d put that dopey smile on her face.

“Sorry,” I said as I lay down facing her. “I wish it was warmer.”

Placing the cloth between her legs, she bit her lip and closed her eyes. “It’s okay. I’ve got it,” she said, taking the cloth.

“Hurts?”

She nodded, cleaning where I knew there was blood, for I’d seen some on myself. Guilt pricked at my conscience. Had I been too rough?

“Stop scowling,” she said with a little laugh. “I don’t regret a thing.”

“Sure as hell hope not.”

That would kill me. But now that the intensity of the moment was over and I could see through the blinding I’ve-gotta-fuck-her-now frenzy that was driving me before, I wondered what this meant for her. She’d made it perfectly clear on more than one occasion she didn’t need a man in her life to stifle her independence.

She finished cleaning and set the cloth aside, still silent. Too silent. Soulfire swirled anew, a dim boil to what it would be once it built up again, but still stinging my insides with the reminder that she still wasn’t mine.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

She avoided meeting my gaze and remained quiet.

“Valla?”

“It’s not that I regret this. But I’m not sure this is right, if we should—”

“Wait. Was this a one night stand for you?”

My pulse pounded as I waited for her slow reply. And how did she respond? A one-shoulder shrug.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Valla. After that?”

“I didn’t say that it was or that I wanted anyone else. It’s just that—”

“That what?” Fury laced my words now. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

She stood to pull her panties on. Yep. She was covering up, closing me off, as fast as she possibly could.

I stood next to her, arms crossed, still naked. “I’m waiting for an answer.”

She clasped her bra behind her back and sighed, finally facing me. “It’s just that I never said I wanted one someone else. You seem to want more from me than I’m willing to give.”

“What’s wrong with a relationship?”

“There’s nothing wrong with relationships…for Kol and Moira…or Paxon and Ella.”

“Just not Conn and Valla,” I added with bitterness.

“I’m not built that way,” she said, almost pleading as she slipped her shirt on, reaching behind her back to zip up the backflaps. I sure as fuck wasn’t helping her this time.

“What way would that be? With feelings?”

An angry flush filled her cheeks, her mouth falling open in surprise. Yeah, I could be an asshole when I wanted to be.

“Look, Rowanflame,” she said, her wings snapping tight against her back. “I don’t want a boyfriend. I don’t want a lover. I don’t want some behemoth, alpha fuckwad crowding my space and ruining my life. I like my life just the way it is.”

She crossed her arms, mirroring my stance. I stared a moment longer before snorting in disgust. I pulled on my underwear and pants and gripped my shirt and thermal suit in a tight fist before glaring back at her.

But when I spoke, the dragon had been leashed and my heart had been broken. “I suppose that’s where we differ, Valla. I liked my life just fine, too. Then I met you…here in Aria. Really met you, and I discovered the woman behind the warrior. Then I sort of loved my life with you in it.”

I stormed toward the door, picking up my boots on the way, stopping for one second but not looking back. “Don’t worry. I won’t accost you again. You can lay your fears to rest on that score.” I left and slammed the door behind me. I took two steps toward my own room before I saw the tall, dark shadow of Kol leaning against the doorframe. Waiting for me.

Fuck.

Not now. I knew this would happen eventually, but now there seemed to be no reason to battle it out with the protective older brother. I’d keep my promise to her, even if I died a slow painful death with the acidic burning of soulfire unquenched in my breast.

I stopped right in front of him, knowing I smelled strongly of sex…with his sister. “Come on, Moonring. If you want to punch me, get it over with.”

Arms folded across his thick chest, icy stare unwavering, he shoved off the doorframe to his full height. There were few Morgons as tall as Kol and his twin brother, Kieren. But he didn’t intimidate me. I could hold my own, even with the likes of the Captain of the Morgon Guard. Especially in the mood I was in right now. Honestly, I had no fight in me. It might even feel good to get the shit kicked out of me right now.

“Looks like you’ve already been punched,” he finally said.

I snorted a laugh. “You could say that. No need to give me the shove out the family door. Valla already took care of that.”

I pushed past him, opened the door to my room, chucked my shit on the floor, and blew a flame into the hearth to heat up the dying coals. He remained in the doorway.

“She’s stubborn, my sister.”

“That she is.”

“She doesn’t think like most women.”

“I know.”

“Comes from being raised by only men, I’m afraid.”

Sensing actual regret in his voice, I turned from the hearth. “What is it you’re trying to tell me?” I asked, exasperated and wanting him to leave so I could wallow in self-pity by myself.

He clenched his jaw. News flash. I didn’t give a fuck. The only woman I’d ever cared about, the one my beast yearned to heartbond to, the one I longed to cherish as my own till we took our last breaths together in old age, had just dismissed me like I was nothing. Even worse. An inconvenience.

Kol shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Only that her stance against men may have been a little my fault.”

Stunned, I waited since he seemed to be trying to work up to something.

“I raised her to be strong and independent, to prepare her for a male-dominated world and for a dangerous life in the Morgon Guard.”

“Yes. I know all this. What of it?”

“I also raised her to hold onto that independence. And to never let it go.”

I shook my head in disgust, turning away from him, and braced my hands on the mantel above the fire. “Job well done, big brother. You succeeded.”

A pause stretched, and I was sure he’d gone, but I hadn’t heard the door click closed.

“But you’re her mate,” he protested, as if that made a difference.

I stiffened. Yes. He knew. The humiliation that my own mate had rejected me and I’d have to live out a solitary life with others knowing this fact galled me to the core. I wanted to scream and yell and fly to the stars till the cosmic cold burned me back down.

“Yes,” I grated out. “But that doesn’t matter much now, does it?”

“Have you told her?”

I scoffed and rounded on him. “Are you fucking insane? She doesn’t want me. Not even as a lo—”

“Don’t.” He raised a hand in the air. “I don’t want to hear it even if I know what you just did to my baby sister.”

If he only knew.

“There’s no way in hell I’m telling her, only to receive more scorn and rejection,” I replied, clenching my fists. That old feeling of being “lesser” crawled out of the pit of my stomach. My pride reared up and put a stop to it. “Congratulations, Moonring. You did your job well. Your sister is beautiful and strong and perfectly untouchable. Just like everyone told me she was.”

He leaned toward the shadow of the corridor as if to leave, then said, “Give her time. She’ll realize she’s wrong.” He shook his head. “But if she doesn’t, then you need to prove her wrong.”

“And how would you suggest I do that?” I asked, aggravated and angry.

His brows rose and in a calm voice, he said, “Now, that would be up to you, my friend. You know her better than anyone else.”

Dumbstruck, I tried to process the fact that Kol was telling me this about his precious sister.

“Don’t look so surprised, Rowanflame. You’re her mate. I made a mistake once that nearly cost my mate’s life, which would’ve been the death of me. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone…least of all my own flesh and blood. Just know this, there is no one who can reach her like you can.”

Then he was gone, leaving me bewildered and frustrated. But a small part of my crushed ego and splintered heart wondered if he was right.

Chapter 21

The woman behind the warrior…loved my life with you in it. His last words before he stormed out of my room spun round and round in my head as I squatted on a craggy ledge overlooking the blacksmith shop.

The temperatures had dropped a punishing degree. Even with my thermals on and headgear well in place, my hair tucked tightly into the cap with not one stitch of my skin exposed, I could still feel the cold. And I wondered if it was because I felt cold to the heart. When we met in the innkeeper’s bar to go over the map layout of Harrowmir to choose positions and rotations to watch for the Larkosians, Conn had kept well away from me, never acknowledging my presence and choosing the shift opposite me.

Cold. Yes, I felt it straight to the marrow of my bones. Conn wanted more than to be my lover. That was evident. Or at least he had before I rejected him…after the most mind-blowing sexual experience I’d ever had or could ever imagine having.

I’d convinced myself that my attraction to him was purely physical. I’d kept men at bay too long, and I simply wanted to satisfy my growing sexual appetite. That’s what I’d told myself.

There were plenty of fine Morgon men in our party who should’ve enticed me by now. Bowen had arrived, having received our message we’d left at Orlik’s tavern to meet us here as soon and as covertly as possible. He’d brought with him twenty strong men of the Huntergild clan, one of them his brother, a beautiful man with a wild, watchful look in his eyes. Actually, all of the Huntergilds seemed to have this trait—a characteristic of the hunter clan, I supposed. Any woman would be swooning to spend time in their company, or in their beds. But I never once entertained that thought, or anything near it. Though it appeared Madera was becoming quite friendly with them.

No. My eyes were only ever drawn back to one Morgon—the one with giant rust-red wings, brooding and scowling in the corner. And never looking my way.

“Party approaching from the southeast,” said Bowen into my ear comm as he crouched in position next to me.

I checked the device. Yes. A half dozen dots flying in V-formation from the southeast.

“Everyone stand down,” said Kol, his position on the cliff above me. “Do not break cover. Bowen, assemble the rest of the party at the smith’s house and the inn.”

“At once,” came Bowen’s steady voice over the comm.

I watched my comm as they drew closer to the main landing of Harrowmir within eyesight of my current position. Closer…closer. Then I could hear the wind shear off their wings and their flapping as they descended onto the snow-dusted cliff’s edge leading into the village. Light flakes fell, revealing only dark figures clothed in black. I clicked on the zoom of my night vision. Two were definitely the Greyclaws we’d seen on our first night in Aria. They were accompanied by four more of the Sunsting clan, all wearing the signature black and gold raiment, though one wore silver cuffs on his wrists. Their eyes glowed yellow in the dark. We had to stay well-hidden because of the Sunsting’s gift to see clearly, even in the darkness. The one with the cuffs pointed as if giving instructions to the others. They were too far away to hear, even with our dragon sense of hearing. The Greyclaws were not in charge.

“The one with the silver cuffs must be the officer,” I whispered into the comm.

“Yes,” Kol agreed. “We wait till they are in and out of the smith’s shop before we make a move. Keep to your positions.”

One of the Greyclaw men moved ahead, leading the others toward the smith’s shop, all of them glancing around the village but finding no one to notice their arrival. It was the middle of the night, so no one would be awake. But they were wary as ever. Definitely a military operation.

We waited. I felt the air move around me, then felt the movement of a Morgon landing. I glanced, thinking it would be Bowen, but it was Conn. His headgear and goggles completely obscured his face so I couldn’t tell his mood. But it became apparent when he left several inches between us, a space he wouldn’t have allowed before last night. We both watched the smith’s shop without speaking.

Thirty minutes later, the door opened. By the warm glow of the forge, the burly figure of the smith shook hands with the officer, the others carrying packs strapped to their chest, obviously full of something. The harnesses, of course.

The six of them filed out through the quiet street, leaving deep tracks in the snow, then to the ledge where they lifted off, heading southeast once again. The comm revealed a bright red beacon beeping their route.

“The tracking device is working,” I said.

“Good,” replied Kol. “Everyone keep your comm reading the tracker. We don’t know if there are more waiting to escort them back into their hidden camp. If there are, then we’ll have an air fight. Team one will engage. Team two will continue following the tracker.”

Team one was now Bowen and the Huntergild clan, expert bowmen and swift fighters in the air. The best ground fighters were the Guard officers and Bastien’s Bastards.

“Agreed,” said Bowen, Captain of Team one.

“We lift off in three minutes, countdown now. Once we’re in air, radio silence. Text only,” said Kol.

I stood to await the countdown, sensing the heavy tension still wrapping Conn and I. Watching the seconds tic down, I readied for flight, opening my wings to half-stance. Conn gripped my arm. My heart lurched. I thought he would finally say something to me, for he could easily close off the group comm and speak directly to me alone. But he didn’t. He reached over and tightened the straps of my crisscrossing harness for my swords that I never seemed to secure to his liking. He had been watching over me this entire trip, now that I thought of it. Not like a fellow officer, but like someone who was more. His eyes blazed fire-gold behind the goggles, but he said nothing before he looked out and readied himself for flight as well. He lifted off a split second after me, shooting high into the clouds.

We aligned with Kol, Paxon and Lorian to create a small V-formation, Kol at the point. Everyone else did the same, spreading out as best they could to avoid collision but keeping our party tight. The Guard officers that Kol had brought formed three V-formations to our left, Bastien’s Bastards were on the right, the Huntergilds in the forefront. We might not be a huge army, but we were formidable in force.

Trying to focus on the impending battle, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to this man who’d somehow wriggled his way into my life…and into my heart. How did this happen?

The cloud cover thickened, misting my goggles. I relied more heavily on my hearing for flight guidance. The Huntergilds led us higher out of the thick of it. Up here, the moon beamed bright and full, gilding the sheet of clouds silver. We could no longer see the world below, but it didn’t matter with the tracker leading the way.

Watching my comm, the tracker drifted farther south. I scrolled down on the map to find where they could possibly be headed.

Beyond Brilla’s Crag, there were flight routes frequented by Morgons heading straight to Drakos and Cloven, even to Gladium. Though Morgons in Gladium rarely needed to cross through Aria for any reason.

The tracker moved beyond Brilla’s Crag, made a sharp turn to the east, and then a sudden decline. The tracker disappeared. My pulse raced, waiting for it to pop back up. Then a text from Kol lit up the screen.

They must be below ground. We’ll find the entrance when we get there. Almost to Brilla’s Crag.

The navigation chart placed us within a mile of the famous mountain peak. The Huntergilds led the descent as one. We fell below the clouds. The monstrous silhouette of the rocky giant rose out of the gloom, a looming, jagged mountain where the Larkosians had disappeared at its base.

Bowen’s vee guided us straight down where we’d seen the tracker vanish. Brilla’s Crag wasn’t simply a mountain. Circling the mighty mountain was a multitude of smaller, connected peaks, the rock formations created out of some earthly violence, thrusting spikes around the base of their mother, Brilla’s Crag.

Bowen pointed to the right toward a particularly jagged section swallowed by shadow. He fell straight down, as if on a suicidal dive. But I knew better with Bowen. He sought out his own flesh and blood, to bring them to safety, and to exact revenge on those who took them. I prayed we would find them alive.

I sucked in a breath when Bowen’s formation disappeared into a shadowy region within the crown of peaks along the bottom. I followed on faith that there was some entrance I couldn’t see. And there was. Within the darkness, I felt the distinct push of rushing wind, like when we flew through a crevasse in Aria, the wind channeled straight against us with great force.

The rocky formations ringing the base of Brilla’s Crag had formed to create a roof to a cavern which must open to the wide air somewhere. We dodged the stalagmites and stalactites jutting up from the earth and down from the cavern roof. Slowing our flight, we entered cautiously but remained on course behind Bowen leading our way. By instinct, we followed the rush of cold wind that would lead us out of the cavern.

The hollow seemed to go on for miles until finally a distant grayish light grew larger and larger. The exit. We came out onto a cliff that rolled smoothly into a valley where a woodland stretched thick and far. We landed on the cliff, making room for the others coming up behind. Snow swirled in our wakes as we touched down one by one. I landed near Bowen with Conn right behind me. Bowen took my hand and pointed it to the right. Following my finger, I could see it. The tiny pinpricks of light glittering like stars in the forest. Torchlight.

The tracker suddenly beeped back on. I checked my comm. The tracker was perfectly still and beaming from the center of this unknown forest.

We’d found the Larkosians’ hidden lair.

Chapter 22

Mother Moon was a perfect luminous orb, shining so bright even as cloud cover wisped before her. She would bless me this night. Cloaked in my red ceremonial robe, I stepped onto my balcony, Decimus at my side.

“Tonight, we begin a new era.”

Uncharacteristic of him, he stepped in front of me and cupped my cheek, his black eyes glinting bright by the moon. “You will be my queen to rule them all.”

I placed my hand upon his and guided his palm to my lips where I lay a kiss. “Oh, my lover. And you will be my king.”

He closed his eyes and inhaled my scent.

“It is time,” I said gently, stepping toward the ledge and flying down to the woodland path. He followed.

We wound through the snow-laden trees toward the altar I’d created in secret for this final blessing before we left this cursed place. Anxious and hopeful, I stepped into the tiny grove where the moonlight shined so prettily, beaming on the white stone altar. It would not matter if Larkos or his men found this altar later. It would be too late. We’d be gone.

Taking a cloth from within my robe, I brushed the snow off the altar and set out my dagger. There would be no need for a blood keeper tonight, no need for the bowl. My hands and my body would be the vessel. Decimus remained quiet behind me, certainly detecting my anxiety as my breaths huffed out fast into the cold night air.

The quiet shuffle of steps in the snowdrift drew our attention to the left. She stepped from the cover of trees into the circle of moonlight, robed in white and looking like an angel bestowed upon me for my purpose, to fulfill my destiny. Tears welled in my eyes at the sight. This beautiful sacrifice would bring me a life like no other, a life to change the world.

I greeted her before the altar like an old friend, clasping her hands in genuine affection. “Thank you for coming, Lena.”

The frail girl smiled weakly up at me. “I come of my own free will, but only if you uphold your vow to me. You will save my sister and take her home.”

Meeting her gaze with genuine honesty, I gripped her with the hand I’d cut to make our blood vow. “I promise upon my own life that I will keep our vow. I will save your sister. I will take her home.” And I meant every word.

“Then let us begin,” she said with bravery and strength. “I am ready.”

Taking her hand, I led her to the altar. “We must both disrobe.”

I slipped off my shoes, bare feet in the snow, then unclasped my red robe. Decimus was there to take it from me. Beneath, I’d worn nothing. The girl’s eyes widened at the sight of my naked body, which was expected. I’d kept my secret well, but this far along, it had become more difficult. And there would be no reason to hide my circumstances any longer.

I smiled, caressing my rounded belly. My hair fell in waves over my full breasts. My son moved, awaking for his rite.

“You see, Lena. Your sacrifice will be a very special blessing.”

Her brows pushed together in confusion. “I do not need to know what blessing you plan to do for your child. I only want assurance from both you and your man, once more, that you will keep your end of the bargain.”

“Decimus,” I called.

He stepped forward and knelt before the girl. “You have my word, my child. I will uphold my mistress’s vow to return your sister home.”

“Very well,” she said with a shaky nod.

She removed her slippers and thin gown before climbing upon the altar. Shivering from the cold, she lay on her back.

“Give me the vial, Decimus.”

He passed it over. I uncorked the vial and pressed it to her shaking lips, bracing her head upward with my other hand.

“Drink this. It will warm you.” She drank the elixir made of lunaflyr nectar. When fermented properly, the drink both calmed and stimulated the senses, an unknown power lying within the flower’s core. Lena’s eyes dilated as I set her head back on the marble slab. “And look at Mother Moon. She will welcome you into her arms tonight and bless you for eternity. You are so fortunate.”

My son moved again, twisting in my womb. I’d eaten only raw meat for months to prepare my body and his for this rite. I’d bathed every night in pure glacier water heated and steeped with the petals of the lunaflyr to strengthen my power and will. I’d meditated hours a day to open the channels in my mind, connecting this world to the next, and for my full dragon gifts to come forth so that I might reach the dark gods who held sway over life and death. All for this one night. All for him. My son.

With my palm at the base of my belly, I felt a leg stretch against my skin. I caught Decimus staring in wide-eyed wonder.

“He is strong, lover,” I said, hearing my voice crack with emotion.

Decimus smiled.

The human’s seed had served well. My son would be powerful indeed. I wished it could’ve been Decimus’s son that now grew in my womb, but I couldn’t take the chance of his dominance overtaking mine. My son must be a Bloodback, the first born in over a century.

Unsheathing the dagger, I raised my arms up toward Mother Moon, my heart full of dark desire. Sifting through my memory until I found the resurrection spell, I called for my dragon to come forth and witness this rite.

“Through the world, beyond the veil, I call to the Dark Ones to heed my call. I bring the blood of a willing one, a life for a life for my precious son. I seek your counsel, Lords of the Dark, to witness another otherworldly behest.”

The wind stirred, circling within the grove, disturbing the snow. The air vibrated with violence, quivering through my flesh and bone. I cried out, feeling their presence before I saw them.

Three shadowy, hooded figures shimmered in a blur before solidifying into flesh before the altar. Eyes of obsidian gleamed under Mother Moon’s light, though it was not her assistance I sought tonight. Their dark capes billowed in the wind in a slow, ghost-like wave. They stood larger than Morgons with wider wings. The lord at the center bore two horns on his crown, the intensity of his stare making me tremble. Still, I held his gaze, wanting to weep with gratitude, for he was the greatest one, the one they called Hellsgard in the ancient books. And he had come at my summons, at my bidding.

“Speak your request, Priestess,” said the horned god, his deep voice echoing within the grove. I quivered at his rumbling voice that reached all the dark places in my heart…in my soul. His words rattled my bones.

Taking the girl’s arm, I held up the sharp dagger. “With this life”—I slashed her deep—“I give you flesh and blood.” Lena whimpered, then made no sound at all. Setting the dagger on the altar, I caught the crimson liquid pouring from her vein with my cupped hands and smeared it over my neck and breasts. Her blood flowed fast. I caught more with my hands and covered my mounded belly until my torso and arms were sticky with the warmth of her sacrifice. My son kicked and stretched, sensing the power reverberating into my womb, as if he knew what was to come. The slick blood dried quickly in the cold and darkened my pale skin.

The Dark Ones watched in silence, though their power rippled with renewed strength. I gripped the altar with both hands. Lena’s eyes slipped closed.

“I plea for my child, growing fast and strong.” One bloody palm on my belly, I continued, “To bequeath him with the power of the dragon, to become the first and omnipotent king of old. I beg of you to accept my sacrifice and make him the mightiest one to behold.”

Lord Hellsgard stepped closer to the altar, his dark presence filling my vision. I sensed Decimus shift at my side, but stayed him with a lifting of my hand. This god had no desire to harm me. I knew that with all of my being.

He reached one long arm across the white altar with no effort at all—Lena still slipping away, her blood pooling on the marble slab—and spread a clawed hand over my round belly. I gasped at the sensation of raw power shuddering through my frame and gripped the corner of marble to keep myself upright. His skin was gray, his hand and fingers spanning my stomach as he caressed my rounded belly, his thumb gliding the underside of my breasts, seeming to call to the child within.

“Please, Lord,” I begged him, capturing his obsidian gaze. “Grant my wish.”

“I will, Priestess.” His voice rolled with a seductive echo. “In exchange for one of my own.”

“Anything,” I said, drawn to the lovely, dark pull of his power. “Ask and it shall be yours.”

“I will not ask. I will come to you when the time is right. You will give me what I command.”

“Yes,” I said, tears of joy pooling and slipping down my cheeks, for I could feel his power surging into my womb even now. “Anything. It shall be done.”

He heaved in a breath and then blew out a plume of black smoke in the shape of a serpentine head that slithered down and encircled my son, cradling him. A painful yet euphoric hum of energy seeped through my skin into my womb.

“Ah!” I cried out as a bright sting lashed through me like a whip before leaving me breathless in a haze of pure ecstasy.

He removed his hand from my belly. “It is done.”

Then he lifted one clawed gray finger to my chin, raising my gaze to his, shrouded within his hood, though I could see fiery black stars gazing back.

“I will come to you.”

“Yes, my lord. I will be ready.”

With a whip of his cloak, he marched back through the snow, his silent companions following as they stormed into the shadows and vanished into the ether in a howl of wind. My knees buckled. Decimus was at my side catching me in his arms.

“Why did you agree to an unknown debt?” he asked, rage in his voice.

“I had to. For my son.”

“It was foolish, mistress.”

I cupped his cheek to calm his beast rattling his cage. “Do not worry, lover. All will be well now.”

He pulled my red cloak from the snow and covered me then swept toward the path, my body limp, my wings dragging in the downy dust, but I did not care.

“Is the girl gone?” I glanced over his shoulder where her pale body still bled down the altar and into the white.

“Nearly. She will be soon.”

“Goodbye, Lena,” I whispered. “Go to Mother Moon. Thank you for your sacrifice.”

Warm power pulsed through my body from the center of my womb where my son’s heart beat strong and hard. I let my head fall to my lover’s shoulder. I smiled, resting for the first time now that…

“It is done.”

Chapter 23

Bowen’s brother had been gone on a scouting mission for fifteen minutes while we waited in silence on the hillside overlooking the woodland. Kol had refused to allow Bowen to go for fear his overwhelming need to find his sisters and avenge them might override his common sense. Bowen didn’t object, for I believe he feared the same. When Valla whispered to Kol that we might have the same problem with his brother, Sinjin, Bowen stepped in.

“We share the same father, not the same mother. Trust Sinjin. He will get the information we need very discreetly and without detection.” Bowen had handed him two scraps of cloth and whispered something, then Sinjin was off. No one needed to ask whose scent was on the fabric. The Huntergilds were the best hunters of all of the clans. He would certainly find them if they were in the camp.

Having left the icy wilderness of central Aria, we were able to discard our heavier winter gear—the skullcaps, goggles, and jackets. We’d all tucked our gear out of sight and tended to our weapons. The Huntergilds were all bowmen. Valla sat on a stump, sharpening her Drakonian swords while a black-haired Huntergild dipped his arrows into a vial with a clear substance. The other Huntergilds did the same.

“What is it?” I asked. “Poison?”

“Aye,” said the Huntergild. “Black Hellebore.”

“I know that flower,” said Paxon at my side, smiling too large for one about to embark on a cut-throat battle.

“You’re a flower expert?” I teased. “My, how the mated life has softened you.”

He arched a brow, seemingly unfazed. “There is a field of them near my home outside Gladium. And the mated life has hardened me, brother. If you don’t believe me, ask Ella.”

“Oh, enough,” said Valla, still sharpening one sword with a flat whetstone. “No one cares how hard your dicks are.”

“Hmm, are you sure about that, Valla?” he asked with implication. “Not one of us? Not even y—?”

“Shut the fuck up, Paxon,” I growled.

He laughed just as Bowen stepped into our circle. “Sinjin is back. Come.”

We all followed swiftly to where Kol, Lorian, Bastien, and his Bastards were gathered, a blue-light on within their circle, Sinjin at the center. He used a stick to draw in the snow a rough map of the camp below.

“It is set up in military fashion,” said Sinjin.

“If Barron Coalglass set it up,” interjected Lorian, “then it would be. He served in the Morgon Guard briefly before following his father into politics.”

Sinjin nodded. “Well, it looks very much like a Guard operation.” He drew squares in a hexagonal shape. “These are all soldiers’ camps, possibly divided by rank. But this one”—he pointed to the one at the top—“this is definitely officers’ quarters. They wear the silver cuffs as we saw on the leader in Harrowmir.” Sinjin scowled, glancing at Bowen.

“What is it, brother? Did you find my sisters?”

The energy radiating off Bowen snapped in the air, waking all our beasts for the ready.

“Yes. I did.” He pointed his stick within the square for the officers. “Serena is in here.”

“And Lena?”

“I could not get a clear location of her. Her scent is strongest in a hut here,” he said pointing outside the officers’ quarters, “but she isn’t there.”

An eerie calm swept over the man, Bowen’s focus narrowing in on the dot of Sinjin’s map. He then gazed out toward the flickering torchlight in the woodland as if he could see her clearly through the dark and trees, as well as the men he planned to kill.

“What are your orders?” he asked Kol, his voice low and gruff. He wrapped a hand tightly around the grip of his bow, ready to fight.

We were all ready to fight, ready to annihilate the Larkosians if we could.

“What about their king?” asked Kol. “Did you see one who could be him? He would stand out, bigger than the others, more monster than man.”

They’d all been given his detailed description, an abomination of Morgonkind. He wouldn’t be difficult to spot.

Sinjin shook his head. “No. Not in the officers’ dwellings where I could see inside. Nor in their”—he paused, catching his brother’s attention—“their brothel. He isn’t there as far as I can tell.”

Someone’s growl rolled in the air. It was Madera, a look of death on her face. The fierce warrior that she was, there would be blood spilled tonight.

“Damn,” cursed Kol, scowling down at the map on the ground. He leaned forward with hands on knees as if to discover something new. “If we go now, we take the chance he isn’t here. Their king. And we lose the chance to annihilate their leader.”

“Where would he be,” asked Bastien, “if not with his army?”

“One of our undercover agents informed us, before he was killed, that he has many such encampments. His army is split into several fortresses.”

“Smart,” said Sinjin. “He has a way to evade capture by never staying at one too long. And if one is destroyed, there is another for backup.”

“Yes,” said Kol. “We discovered one not too long ago.” His voice rumbled into a growl. He could never speak of the time Moira was taken by the Blood King without his beast ripping to the surface.

“I will not leave this place without my sisters and without killing every fucking Morgon who touched them,” said Bowen, still as stone, deadly calm, his chest rising and falling in quick succession.

Kol straightened and held his gaze. With a deep nod, he said, “Aye. And that is what we will do. If anyone stumbles across this Blood King, call for me through the comm. I want to be the one to put a sword in his heart.”

Growls rumbled within our circle. Dragon eyes beamed brightly, even Valla’s blue-fire gaze lit up her face.

“Team one will sweep to the officers’ quarters as you seem to be the most silent, and they will be the most cunning,” said Kol, probably sensing that is where Bowen needed to go first.

“I would like to assist Bowen,” I said. “We started this mission together. I’d like to finish it with him.”

Bowen busied himself turning the notch to tighten his bowstring and tested it with a pluck of his finger. Then he cinched the strap of his quiver that crossed his chest, pulling to be sure it was square and flush against his back. He moved with swift, sharp motions, appearing focused and intensely attune to the hunt. He must’ve sensed me observing him, for he glanced my way. A myriad of emotions warred across his face—fury, fear, desperation. But what shocked me into a stupor for a moment was the blazing green gaze of his dragon with thick black serpentine slits staring back at me. I’d never seen the calm, collected Bowen in the full state of his beast. And it was terrifying to behold. There was no question that he would catch and kill his quarry tonight or he’d die trying. And I would help him if I could. The thought of Valla being held captive like his sisters sent a wave of fury through my frame. Like him, I’d kill every last mother fucker in the place.

“Aye,” said Valla at my side. “I’d like to go with Conn and Bowen.”

Kol nodded. “Fine. Then the Bastards and the Guard officers will sweep through the soldiers’ camps, Bastards from the east, Guard from the west.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Bastien with a nod. His expression darkened as he tightened the strap holding his battle ax in place.

Madera had her spear already in her hands. “I’ll take the brothel.”

Woe to the man she found violating a woman tonight in that place. She’d leave none standing.

“Set your comms,” said Kol. “It should take five minutes for everyone to get into place. At exactly five we sweep in as one. The order is kill. We exact blade justice tonight. Kill every Morgon you find.”

“Even the Bloodback witch from the coven?” asked Valla.

“No. Not her.” He tapped his comm, setting his timer. “Keep her alive if you find her. I have a question or two of my own before she’s brought back to the Tribunal in Cloven. Now, go.”

Without hesitation, we all leapt into the air off the hillside and, gliding over the treetops, headed toward the encampment. Valla and I had fallen into a V-formation around Bowen, with him as the head. Relieved that she chose to join us, that she was near me, even though she’d rejected me yet again, put me at ease. At least for this fight. I would deal with the inevitable separation from her after the battle. I planned to use my pent-up frustration and anger at the world on some mother-fucking Larkosians tonight. These Morgons had no humanity left in them, kidnapping women and forcing them into slavery. They could not and would not succeed in their plan to bring back the old order, the ancient world where Morgons ruled as dictators of the world and beat humanity into submission and slavery.

I’d told Valla why my parents’ moved to Gladium, but what I hadn’t told her is that I loved my home. I loved living in a place where, though not perfect, the majority believed in the benefits of a peaceful coexistence between species. Even the Guard seemed to support this belief. Though their first mission was to serve justice to criminals—in this case, abductors, murderers, and rapists of innocent human women—ultimately, they were a peacekeeping organization. That is why I agreed to ally myself with them on this mission, besides the fact that Valla would be my partner.

My partner…only on a professional level. I’d mourn that loss later. No time now.

Bowen descended with the Huntergilds, fanning out around the small roughly-made brick cottages, which Sinjin had designated as the officers’ quarters. We landed in new fallen snow in a quiet hush. Sinjin pointed diagonally to our right and gave Bowen a stiff nod. That was where his sister was kept.

While the others spread in opposite directions, Valla and I followed Bowen through the narrow alleyway beside our target and found a side door that led into the dwelling. He leaned with his ear to the door. I tapped his shoulder, motioned toward the front, and flexed my fingers wide then in a fist and wide again. Thirty seconds. I’d take the front entrance from the street. He nodded.

Striding to the corner, I then peered out, sensing Valla at my back, hearing the zing of her swords slide from their sheaths as I kept count in my head. I already had my broadsword at the ready. No one walked the path at the front, street torches long extinguished. There was not even a lookout. Arrogance. Always the most fatal flaw.

I crept to the front entrance and put my ear to the door with Valla facing the street, weapons ready in defense stance should someone walk up on us.

Five seconds left.

There was no sound at all from the other side. Everyone must be asleep. I tried the latch. Locked. This would be a loud forced entry. With a glance over my shoulder at Valla, I waited for the last second to tick off in my head, hauled back with a hand on the latch, and thrust forward with my shoulder with all my weight. The door cracked at the center. I heaved out again and barreled through, splintering the door down the center. A jagged piece scratched my neck, but not deep.

A quick sweep revealed the cabin was only two rooms, a living space, and the kitchen. Bowen entered the living space from the kitchen. On the far wall stood a wide bed where a Sunsting man, naked but with silver cuffs on his arms, shot onto his feet. He grabbed two long, curved daggers on a shelf out of reach of the three human women laying on palettes on the floor. Chains on the wall linked to cuffs around their necks. Another woman was latched by a chain from her throat cuff to the iron bedpost. She bore a strong resemblance to Bowen now stalking forward in a fury. Valla guarded the door while I backed Bowen, though there was no need.

The women on the floor cowered into a corner, huddled together, their chains rattling. The Sunsting, yellow eyes gleaming in the dark, circled into the open, muscles bunching as he held daggers aloft in both hands. I could’ve shot a fire bolt directly into his heart and ended this quickly, but Bowen wanted this kill. Needed this kill. He’d left his bow and quiver strapped to his back, opting for a twelve-inch blade of his own that he kept in his boot. A blade was more personal, and it appeared Bowen wanted the justice of killing him up close.

The Sunsting lunged, jabbing chest-high. Bowen ducked and swept to the villain’s opposite side, slicing at the tendon behind his knee. The officer yelled, knee faltering, bringing him to the ground. Two seconds later, Bowen had him in a chokehold from behind and cracked one of his wings in half with an awful crunch. One girl squealed. Bowen didn’t hesitate, stabbing him twice in the middle of the ribs on both sides, cracking through to the lungs. Blood sprayed Bowen’s face and chest. He dropped the Morgon to the floor, letting him choke on his own blood. Bowen’s sister had watched the scene in utter stillness, then stood from the bed in a thin gown with the same composure and carriage of her brother.

“Serena.” Bowen stepped over his sister’s dying captor, stretching a bloody hand to her across the bed.

She took his hand but the chains rattled and jerked her back at the throat.

“The key, Serena.” There was a gravely tone to his strained voice, as if it took every ounce of energy to make the words clear. His beast still wanted to maim and mar.

She pointed to the mantel above the fireplace with a shaky finger. Bowen retrieved the key and unlocked the chain at her throat, opened the cuff, and dropped it to the floor. He pulled her roughly into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, muffling something I couldn’t hear.

“I know,” Bowen whispered. “Shhh. I’m here now.”

While Bowen rocked his sister in his arms, crushing her close, Valla grabbed the keys where he had dropped them and freed the other girls. All the while, the Sunsting officer coughed up blood, dying slowly as Bowen had intended.

“Lena,” said Serena, stepping out of her brother’s arms. “We must get Lena.”

“Where is she?” asked Bowen urgently.

Serena winced. “The soldiers’ quarters. I’ll show you.”

She ran to the wall and grabbed her cloak from a hook and slipped her feet into fur-lined boots.

“What about them?” asked Valla.

“They should stay here till it’s over,” I said.

A scream sounded from the neighboring cottage.

“Yes,” said Bowen, looking back at the other women. “Get dressed and wait here till we return for you. Until they’re all dead,” he added with disgust, glancing at the bleeding man on the floor.

One of the three in the corner nodded and whispered. “We’ll be ready. Don’t leave us.” Her voice broke with the tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t leave us.”

Serena stepped forward, pulling her hood over her head. “I’d never do that, Carra. We’ll be back for all of you. Just get dressed and be ready as my brother said.”

“Your…brother?”

Serena did not answer but stepped toward the man who’d held her prisoner and had most certainly done unspeakable things to her. She was a quiet presence, like her brother, cloaked in gray, serene, and yet filled with a blazing flame. Just like her brother.

“Give me your blade, Bowen,” she said, small hand out, palm up.

He did without hesitation. She knelt over the Sunsting, his yellow eyes wide and staring, mouth open as he gasped for air, his lungs slowly filling with blood.

“Not yet dead, are you? I told you one day you would pay for what you’ve done to me…to all of us.” Without hesitation she raised the dagger and plunged it into his heart. Not quite strong enough to pierce through the chest cavity, she raised up and shoved it all the way in with her full weight. He gasped, eyes glazing. “There now,” she said quietly. “I give you a parting gift. A sharp blade in your black heart. A quick death that you do not deserve.” She leaned closer, her dark hair falling forward to his pale face. “But I will live again, you unforgiveable bastard. And you will not.”

“Come,” said Bowen. “We must move quickly. They’ll be arming themselves now.”

We filed from the cottage, following Serena in her gray cloak. Ignoring the battle cries and screams of women coming from the dark cottages, we moved fast through the snow-swept street to the next encampment. I kept close to Valla. Yes, I knew she could handle herself, but my instinct to keep her near me, to keep her safe, was overriding all else. Especially after witnessing the kind of abominable enslavement these human women had suffered.

“There!” shouted Serena, pointing to a large circular dwelling.

The doors were torn from the hinges, and a fire burned within. Madera staked a Morgon with her spear—her boot on his face, his neck seemingly broken. A half-naked woman fell to the snow, coughing and heaving deep breaths.

Serena dashed toward the entrance. Bowen caught her by the arm and pulled her back. “No! I’ll go.”

I sheathed my sword and circled to the back where open windows billowed with black smoke. They were too narrow for me to fit through with my wings, but I could see a woman lying on the other side near the window, the fire encroaching closer.

“Valla!” I shouted. And she was there beside me.

With a deep breath, I blew out a streak of blue flame to encircle the girl, I waved a hand to build it higher, pushing the heat of the fire back. The blue flame of Icewings had the power to heal, but the blue flame of firedancers could be used to defend. A shield of sorts.

“I can’t get through,” I said, pointing to the girl on the floor.

“I’ve got her,” said Valla, squeezing through the window, tucking her wings tight.

Within thirty seconds, she’d dragged the girl to me. Jostling her through the opening, Valla lifted her feet and nodded at a bed. “There’s another one,” she said, coughing.

“Hurry.”

The burn within my core warned me of the danger she was in. But by the time I’d settled the first woman to the ground, she was at the window with the other who was even lighter than the first. The orange flames were licking higher over my blue wall of fire.

“Get out of there, Valla.”

She glanced over her shoulder, then obeyed, slipping back through the window. She lifted the smaller of the human women, who truly was little more than a girl, perhaps sixteen. I clenched my jaw, fury burning through my blood at what these Larkosians were doing here. The white-hot blue of Valla’s gaze when she lifted the girl told me she felt the same.

“I can carry her on my own.”

With a stiff nod, I lifted the other, and we marched to the front where others huddled together near Madera, looking like their savior that she was. The roof crumbled as sparks and flames licked higher into the sky. Serena was pacing near the entrance when Bowen exited the building, carrying yet another woman.

“That’s all of them,” said Bowen, kneeling to place the last girl on the ground, black soot covering her face, her tattered gown hanging from her slight frame.

“What happened?” I asked, setting the woman down, who coughed herself back into consciousness.

Madera stepped forward. “One of the assholes lit the place on fire when he saw us coming. But he didn’t escape.”

Her gaze flicked to the bloody body a little farther off in the snow. The sound of swords clashing still filled the night.

“But where is Lena!” Serena’s fear had leeched into her voice.

Bowen looked helplessly around them. Then Serena fell onto her knees next to the woman he had brought out last and still held in his arms.

“Nella,” she called cradling the pale woman’s face in her hands. The woman was conscious but dazed. “Nella, can you hear me?” Serena looked up at Bowen. “She’s Lena’s bedmate. She’ll know. Nella, please tell me. Where is Lena?”

The woman focused on Serena and shook her head. “She left.”

“Left? What do you mean? When?”

“At light’s out. When I got into bed, she dressed and crept to the window.” She coughed again and spat out black soot.

Serena squeezed her shoulder. “Please. Tell me where she went.”

Nella shrugged. “She didn’t say. But she turned to me when I asked her where she was going and she—she took my hand and told me to be brave and that all would be well, then she slipped out the window. I thought she had a lover, a real one who would protect her, or maybe take her away from this place.”

“Oh, God,” whispered Serena, her gaze turning toward the path that led away from the soldiers’ camp. A cold wind passed, blowing the hood off Serena’s head, her black hair flying loose. “The witch.”

“She’s here?” I asked, stepping forward.

“That way,” pointed Serena. “There’s a lone villa at the end of this path near the woods, secluded from the camp, especially made for her.”

Without waiting, I leapt into the air and flew straight and low. Valla and Bowen gained on me. Bastien’s Bastards were keeping the soldiers busy, overpowering them one by one. A small faction flew off toward the south. Running away. Their king most certainly wasn’t here for they’d never defect in his presence.

We flew out of the encampment deeper into the woods. The fighting became a distant murmur. The new falling snow, coming down in fat flakes, muffled the clanging of swords and cries of battle. I blinked away a chunk that had hit me in the eye as a yellow light appeared out of the darkness ahead. I slowed my descent with a flap of wings. Bowen and Valla followed suit as we came into a small clearing where the villa stood. It was indeed different than the other sparse dwellings. This had been built with columns and marble and striking lines of architecture for someone special indeed. The Blood King had set her apart from the others.

We landed lightly on the perimeter of a portico leading into the villa. Bowen signaled toward the back. I nodded, and we wound our way to the backside where we could hear someone singing a lullaby. A beautiful sound, ethereal and haunting, came from the room where golden light beamed onto a balcony. The villa was built on a slope that ran to another winding path down below.

When we eased over the balcony railing, we could easily make out the scene within. The witch, with scarlet wings edged in black and arching high above her shoulders, sat up in a porcelain tub with a crackling fire in the hearth at her back. Her flaming red hair spilled over her shoulders as a dark-skinned Coalglass massaged her shoulders from behind. One hand glided forward over her full breasts to caress her round stomach. Pregnant.

Valla, Bowen, and I shared a look of disbelief. She sang an old melody, one I’d heard my grandmother sing ages ago in the clan home beneath the Feygreir Mountains.

“Come away, come away, come away, my dear.

The world will ne’er be kind, I fear.

When pain and sorrow hurts you too near,
then come away…come away…back home.”

Entranced by the odd scene, we made our way closer where I could finally see that the water in which she bathed was blood-red. Unsheathing my sword, I caught a glimpse of Bowen notching an arrow on his bow before I shouldered the glass door open. It gave way easily. The witch’s man grabbed his sword leaning against the wall, but Bowen let his arrow fly, pinning the man’s arm to the stone. The witch stood from her bath, hissing at our intrusion, cradling her swollen belly in a protective gesture. Valla swiveled closer to her.

“Not too close,” I warned. “Bloodbacks are known to spit their poison.”

The naked woman stepped from the porcelain tub and inched back to the wall where there was a robe.

“Put on your clothes, woman,” I said. “You’re coming with us.”

“No,” said her man, breaking the arrow and sliding his wounded arm free. “She is going nowhere with you.” He grabbed his sword with the other and put himself between us and the witch.

“Why is your tub filled with blood?” asked Valla, the tangy scent of it filling the room.

She covered herself in a crimson robe and lifted her chin in defiance. “It was freely given. It is not a crime. You have no right to barge in here.”

“Freely given by whom?” asked Bowen, having notched another arrow in his crossbow, aiming it directly at her head.

The witch seemed to realize her answer could determine her own fate.

“We take her alive,” I reminded Bowen.

“You will not take her at all,” said the fuming dark Morgon.

He lunged at Bowen. I deflected his blade. Bowen let loose another arrow, hitting the man’s shoulder, not his heart where he’d aimed. He bellowed in pain as I heaved in a deep breath and shot an arrow of flame directly into his chest. His dark eyes widened in shock and then he fell sideways, slipping into the bloody bath face down.

“No!” screamed the witch, launching herself toward him. “No!”

I stepped forward, preparing to knock her unconscious, for it was the only safe way to take her now, but she rounded on me, orange-red eyes blazing.

“You will be sorry, firedancer,” she said with a hiss. “I’ll show you the meaning of pain.”

She sucked in air just as I did, preparing to blow out a blue flame to block her. But she was quicker, spewing a spray of poison directly into my eyes.

I heard Valla scream. Then all was black.

Chapter 24

“No!” I screamed and launched myself through the air, spinning in a somersault and bludgeoning the witch on the back of the head with the hilt of my sword. She fell to the floor as I dropped both swords and rolled Conn onto his back. I pulled his head into my lap.

“Conn,” I whispered. “Can you hear me?”

The witch’s poison had directly hit his eyes but had spattered over his face, red welts forming fast.

“Oh, Conn.”

Bowen knelt beside me and tapped an urgent message into his comm. “I’ve called for Lyla and given our coordinates. She’ll be here soon.”

The witch moaned, coming to already.

Bowen grabbed her by the shoulders and shook. “Where did that blood come from? Tell me!”

“It was freely given.”

“By whom, you bitch. Tell me now before I kill you despite my orders.”

“The girl,” she said, calm despite the rage boiling in the room from every one of us except for Conn lying in my lap, quiet. Too quiet. Too still. I wanted to scream my fury and stake her through the heart.

“Lena gave it to me.”

“Where. Is. She.” Bowen’s command was a guttural growl.

The witch pointed out the balcony. “Follow the path. You’ll find her,” she said with a smile.

The rustle of wings overhead and pounding on the front door echoed into this back chamber. Reinforcements were here. Bowen let her go, marched out the door, and flew off the balcony. The witch stood on steady feet. She was tough, for I’d smashed her head pretty good. I drew Conn closer to me, cradling his head to my chest.

“Your sister, Kera, would be ashamed of you if she could see you now…Bekkanine.”

The witch turned her wicked gaze on me. “You met my sister, did you?” She scoffed, lifting the hood over her head. “My sister is weak.”

“Why? Because she was content with the laws of nature and sought to do only good? Unlike yourself?”

The front door splintered as Morgons made their way through the villa. They apparently didn’t know we’d already broken through the back.

“No. Because she accepted our fate, to die out and disappear into history. She accepted what the world said of us, that we are the evil ones they have made us out to be.”

“You practice blood magic, Bekka. That is evil.”

“No,” she said, striding for the balcony.

“Hurry! In here!” I yelled, unwilling to let Conn go. Boots pounded closer.

“It is power,” she said with such conviction I felt a chill wrap up my spine. “And you will all know and feel it’s might soon enough.” She smoothed a hand over her rounded belly and stepped out to lift off into the night.

Bastien barreled into the room with Lorian and Paxon behind him.

“That way! Get her!” I pointed. Bastien ran straight through the chamber, bloodied battle ax in hand.

Paxon was at my side, a fear marking his face that probably mirrored mine. “Poison?”

“Yes,” I said, choking on the lump in my throat. “Will it kill him?”

Paxon shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Then Lyla entered with Bastien’s faithful hound at her heels.

“Lay him flat on the floor,” she ordered, calm and composed as always.

Gently, I lay his head down. She unzipped his thermal suit and tore open the neck of his undershirt, inspecting for more welts.

“Back away, Valla. Cold fire stings.”

I did, but didn’t go too far, holding Conn’s hand in both of mind, squeezing and hoping for a similar reaction from him. He remained unmoving.

Lyla blew out a cool ice-blue flame that caressed over Conn’s face. He arched his neck, and his mouth fell open in pain, though he didn’t wake. Lyla continued to blow the healing flame until the small welts vanished and the darker patches around his eyes transformed, swirling into a scaly pattern of iridescent starbursts. But Conn didn’t wake up. Didn’t even move.

Lyla felt for a pulse on his neck, then opened his lids to check his eyes.

“His pulse is slow. He seems to be in some sort of coma.”

“Did the poison reach his blood? Could it reach his heart?”

“I don’t know. This may be beyond my skills. I typically handle knife wounds and burns. Not poison.”

“There has to be something else we can do,” said Paxon.

My heart lurched. “Kera. At the Syren Sisters Coven. She told me she has the gift of healing elixirs as well as poison. She may be able to help.”

A rush of wings and boots hit the balcony pavement and then Bowen walked through the broken entry with the slight form of a girl wrapped in a blanket.

Lyla stood and went to Bowen. She checked for signs of life on the girl in his arms.

“Can you help her?” he asked quietly.

“She is still alive. But barely.” Lyla shook her head. “She is beyond healing now.”

Serena swept in with Sinjin shadowing her. She swept her gaze around the room. “Where is she?” She gasped when she saw Bowen holding her. “No.”

Rushing forward, Serena tilted her sister’s face toward her. “Lena. Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

The girl, much smaller than Serena and ashen pale, fluttered her eyes open. “Sister,” she said with a weak smile. “I hoped to see you again.”

“What did you do, Lena? What did you do?”

“I know you tried to save me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “But I wanted to save you instead.”

“Oh, Lena! Can you help her?” she asked Lyla at her side. “Please.”

Lyla only shook her head.

“Shhhh,” said Lena. “I’m done for this world. I’m happy to go on ahead…give mother my love.”

“No, Lena—”

“And forgive yourself one of these days, Serena. None of this was ever your fault. I’ve always admired you…and loved you. As I still do now…”

Serena clung to her sister as her spirit slipped away from the tiny bundle in Bowen’s arms. The man who had been a stoic tower of strength from the moment I’d met him crumbled to his knees and wept with his dead sister cradled against his chest. Serena held him and did the same.

Paxon motioned to Lorian who’d been on guard on the periphery since he’d entered. Paxon and Lorian lifted Conn together and marched out onto the balcony. Pax tapped a message into his comm.

“What are you doing?” I asked, barely holding myself together, fearing I’d be in a similar scene as Bowen and Serena if we didn’t manage to get Conn to Kera.

“Kol found the stash of harnesses. Lorian and I can use one to carry Conn back to the coven.”

“It’s too far,” I said, teeth chattering, from fear not the cold. “Take him to Morga’s Keep and ask for Brother Silvanus. He’ll take you in. We need fast flyers to go to the coven and bring Kera to Conn. Bastien will know the fastest route to the sisters.”

“It would be faster if we took him directly.”

I shook my head with a sarcastic whiff. “No. It’s not. Paxon, just trust me. This is the best way. And the brothers have healing powers of their own.”

I knelt again and lifted his head out of the snow. I stared up at Paxon with a giant moon silhouetting him in white, his wings open to shield us from the gusting wind.

“I can’t lose him, Pax,” I said, my voice shaking. No longer able to hold back the well of emotion, tears now streamed down my cheeks. “I can’t. He means…he means so much to me. I just can’t—”

Then I was really bawling and praying my brother didn’t appear while I cried like a baby over a man I’d purported to hate last he knew.

“You won’t,” said Paxon, squatting down and chucking me on the chin. “I can’t let you go and lose your mate before you’re actually mated, now can I?”

My heart tripped several beats. “What did you say?”

“Oh, darling Valla. Didn’t you know the man has been burning with soulfire for you? In agony, I’d say.”

I stared, completely stupefied.

He laughed. “You’re his mate. And he is yours. But the two of you are too damn stubborn to admit your true feelings, so I suppose it’s better coming from me while he’s unconscious and can’t kill me for it. Not at the moment, anyway.”

“Are you—do you mean—are you sure?”

“Quite sure. Poor man. When you do get him back, you’d better do a fine show of proving your feelings for him.”

I gazed down at Conn. The moon glistened on the iridescent scars streaking in a starburst pattern around his eyes. It was both beautiful and unusual. Very much like the man himself.

“Stupid man,” I whispered, sweeping his tousled hair from his forehead. “You should’ve told me.”

But why would he? Since I’d pushed him away.

“Stupid man,” I said again, for thinking I’d ever want anyone but him.

Yes. I’d have to prove to him what he meant to me. If—no when—he came back to me.

Chapter 25

I stood within the open-air cloister of Morga’s Keep high upon the Carpian Range. So high, wispy clouds skirted the grounds of the priory—an ivory temple of slender columns and graceful lines. Dusk had settled, the sun leaving a shimmer of gold on the landscape.

“Valla Moonring contemplates her place in the world,” said the voice behind me.

I turned to find Brother Silvanus smiling as he approached, hands at his back.

“I guess I am,” I said.

“But it is more than that. You worry for your friend.”

“I don’t understand why he won’t wake up.”

Even with the wind blowing in a soft whoosh, this place was steeped in silence. One I felt to my bones.

“He will when he is ready.”

I heaved out a sigh. “I thought he would after Kera had given him the elixir to remove any poison from his blood. And after you and the brothers had…treated him.” For there was no other way to describe their meditative practice to reach Conn who’d retreated deep within himself.

“Let me ask you this, Valla. Does he know that you love him?”

I whipped sideways to face him. “Does he know that I…love him?”

“There is no point in denying it. I know what your heart feels.”

“Then I won’t deny it.”

The grizzled man with wise eyes and an even wiser mind said, “Then go to him. And make sure he knows it.”

Without argument, I walked across the stone cloister where the brothers meditated in prayer each sunrise. I crossed the border of fluted columns and down the enclosed corridor, then entered the small room where Conn had been resting since we’d arrived over a week ago.

“Still no change?” I asked Kera as I closed the door and sat down on the stool next to her at Conn’s bedside.

“No. None.”

When Bastien had gone to the coven with Bowen to explain what had happened to Conn, she did not hesitate, but left the safety of Mother’s Temple with eagerness to do what she could. She’d injected the elixir directly into his bloodstream. But that was days ago. And still, he lay here unresponsive. Kera refused to return to the coven until she knew he was well again.

“There is no sign of the poison taking root in his blood. Though I’m not sure whether his eyesight is clear or not. And yet, still…”

“He won’t wake up,” I said. Disheartened didn’t even come close to the depth of my despair.

The door creaked open. Kera stood and dropped her gaze to the floor as Kol and Bastien entered. The afternoon rays of sunlight shone through the skylight onto Conn’s bed. Though it seemed to do little good. Nothing would bring him out of his deep sleep.

The sky darkened with yet another twilight where he remained quiet and unmoving. I wished so many times for him to sit up and taunt me with his charm and wit. But he didn’t. Day after day, nothing.

Bastien carried a brown satchel of something leafy. I caught sight of a white bloom, the lunaflyr, sticking out of the top.

“We brought some flora and herbs we thought might be useful…in exchange for your aid to our friend,” he said gently to Kera, like coaxing a newborn kitten from her cave.

She lifted a tentative gaze and stepped forward to take the satchel from him. “Thank you.”

Kol stepped around Kera toward me. “May I have a moment alone with my sister?”

“Yes. Why, of course, Mr. Silverback, will you join me outside while they converse?”

“I would like nothing more,” he said, holding the door open for her.

The pitiful, smitten expression on the poor man’s face warned me that he was either in for a long wait or certain heartbreak if he planned on wooing Kera Bloodback.

I snuffed out a laugh that was bubbling up. “Now that’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

My brother sat on the stool, making it creak with his weight, and leaned forward on his elbows. He peered at me eye-level. “What are you doing, baby sister?”

Frowning, I asked, “What do you mean? I’m watching out for Conn. I thought that was fairly obvious.”

“Why are you watching out for him?”

“Because he’s my…colleague. And my friend.”

He shook his head with that distinctly paternal look he wore when he was about to chastise me for something. “No, Valla. That is not why you sit here.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Well, since you know so damn much, why don’t you tell me?”

“Why won’t you just tell me that he’s your lover. And that is why you watch him day and night, never allowing one of us to keep vigil for you or even with you.”

The fire of defiance ran hot straight through my blood, but I had to swallow my pride and admit now what I knew to be true after taking this mission with Conn. And for some reason, what I couldn’t deny with Brother Silvanus, I couldn’t admit to my own brother who was more like a father.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Conn is my responsibility. Just as Bowen was my—”

“Oh, cut the shit, Valla.” He stood up abruptly and walked behind Conn’s bed, examining his still form and quiet expression.

I flinched at his sudden movement but didn’t speak.

“I’m not sure if you’re lying to me or lying to yourself. Or both. The man here in this bed is your mate. And though I never thought to meet a man who would be up to the task of taking you on, or a man who was worthy of my only beloved sister, he is the one who will bring peace to your heart. Of that, I am sure. But only…only if you’re brave enough to go and get him. And bring him back.”

“What do you mean?”

Kol, my always-in-control brother, looked at me as if I were stupid. Perhaps I was, for it was dawning on me slowly what he meant.

“You’re a dreamwalker, Valla. Go to him. Bring him back.”

I swallowed the thick lump forming in my throat. “But…what if he doesn’t want me, I mean, want to come back?”

“That’s a chance you’ll have to take. But we’ve lingered here for over a week. The majority of our troop has flown back to Drakos. The Huntergilds have returned home, along with Bowen and his sister.” He did not mention the body of their sister they carried home to bury. “Kera has confirmed that physically there is nothing keeping him from waking to this world. So there must be another reason. And I’m well aware of the emotional state the man was in when he went under.”

“How would you know?” I asked quietly, feeling a tear slip.

“I confronted him when he left your bedroom in Harrowmir.”

Feeling the heated blush crawl up my neck, I swiped the tear and glanced away.

“He’s pining for you, Valla.”

“He was,” I corrected.

Kol placed a palm on the man’s chest above his heart and seemed to be listening for something. With a shake of his head, he said, “No. Still is. Go to him.” He withdrew toward the door.

Panic gripped me in her sharp talons. “But, what if I pushed him away one too many times?”

Kol stood in the doorway, mouth ticking up on one side. “Like I said. That’s a chance you’ll have to take…if you’re brave enough.” Then he shut the door.

If I’m brave enough. Damn, him! He knew just what to say to make me want to rebel and prove him wrong. I latched the door behind him, needing concentration and privacy for this. Standing next to his bed, I picked up Conn’s large hand in both of mine and squeezed, hoping for a return. I received none.

“Fine then. I’m coming in there after you.”

I crawled up on the small bed and lay my body along his, stretching out my wings on my side. The truth was I’d thought of dreamwalking several times. Feeling so far away from him even as I sat so near, I’d started on two different occasions right here in this room. But I had stopped each time, convincing myself he wouldn’t let me in, that it wouldn’t work on someone in a comatose state.

But of course, that wasn’t the reason. My brother was right, as he always was. I was afraid. Afraid I’d screwed it up for us too much already. Afraid I’d lost my mate before I’d even gotten him.

The irony was that all I ever wanted was to be independent. To be free. But ever since Conn had been unconscious, I wanted nothing more than to chain myself, to bond myself to this man. Yes, I’d been furious that he’d hidden the fact we were mates. But that had diffused into wonder, then desire of my own for that special heartbond. With him.

I’d seen my brother with his mate, Moira, and envied their love. The unbreakable kind that not even death could sever. That’s when Conn’s words hit me the hardest.

Being alone does not make you stronger, Valla. Or more independent. It just means you’re alone.

And he was right. Yet I’d never felt truly alone—the kind of loneliness that empties your heart of everything else but an aching void.

“Fine,” I mumbled, snuggling up to his side. “I wish you could make that pretty flame to put me to sleep.” I wrapped an arm tightly around his waist. “But then I wouldn’t need to dreamwalk, now would I?”

With a deep breath, I focused on the hiss of the dying embers in the grate, letting the world slip away. I thought of flying, of our steady flights through the frosty air of Aria, of Conn at my side, checking on me when he didn’t think I would notice.

“Stupid man,” I mumbled as I slipped deeper into sleep, picturing in my mind the rust-winged, auburn-haired, infuriatingly-charming, and dead-sexy man that I curled up against. I hoped with all my heart for so many things as I stepped into his dreams.

I stood not on a beach this time but in a wooded glen, beautiful with bursts of spring blooms on the bushes and wildflowers waving in a gentle breeze. I followed the path to a clearing. My heart skipped a beat. There, sitting in the grass barefoot with jeans and a white T-shirt, his back against a giant evergold, his wings partially open at rest, was Conn, eyes shut and face angled toward the sun.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding?”

He opened his eyes, unsurprised it seemed.

“I wondered if you’d ever visit.”

“Visit? I’ve come to take you home.”

“I like it here.”

I eased closer, glancing down to find myself in my thermal suit, zipped to the top. Of course, he’d keep me in something that kept me at a distance. Sucking up my pride, I stopped before him. “No bikini this time?”

He eyed me carefully. “My dream.”

“And you prefer me in a thermal suit?”

“It doesn’t matter what I prefer.” He closed his eyes. “This is better for me.”

“Fine. Damn it!” I kneeled and sat on my haunches. “I want you to come back, to wake up.”

“Why?” he asked, capturing my gaze.

“Because you’re my friend.”

He snorted. “I prefer it here.”

“Look, you ass. Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Say what? I didn’t ask you to come here at all.”

I straddled him and cupped his jaw between my hands. That got his attention.

“I’m in love with you! Okay? There, I said it. You can laugh all you want, but there it is. Plain and simple. And I need you to come back to me. Right now, damn it. Conn Rowanflame, you asinine man, I need you. Please.”

Silence. Too silent for several seconds. He lifted his back away from the tree trunk. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“When have you ever known me to lie? Especially about something like this.”

He cupped my cheek, and then his fingers wrapped my nape as he loved to do. “Not you. Your honesty is one of the things I love most about you.”

“Love?” I asked, my voice cracking with the tender emotion blooming in my heart.

“Yes,” he assured me with a sweep of his lips against mine. “Love.”

For a moment, we did nothing but taste each other. Softly. Tenderly. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressed my chest to his and kissed him hard, pouring all of my love into this one kiss.

Yes. Love. That is what it was I felt. The yearning and emptiness faded to nothing from the second I saw him, even in this dream. Yet we were still here.

“Come back to me, Conn. You can wake up now.”

He pulled away slowly, tucking a loose lock of hair behind my ear, his shoulders tense.

“What is it?”

“There’s something wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I believe the witch’s poison blinded me.”

“Blinded you? But how would you know? You seem fine to me now.”

“We’re in the dreamworld, Valla. I can feel something is wrong.”

I lifted off him and stood up. “Wake up, my love. We can face anything together.”

“Valla, don’t go. Not yet.”

I walked away, glancing over my shoulder.

“If you want me, you’ll have to wake up.”

Chapter 26

When I awoke, the stars had just begun to peek through the indigo canvas of night through the skylight above. Conn did not awaken with me. I busied myself, stoking the fire and eating the warm soup that Kera brought to me before she went to bed. Then I changed into the white nightgown Kera had loaned me but I had never worn.

It was a simple gown with a silk drawstring tie at the top, lacing it together down to the waist. Certainly not a delectable piece of lingerie to entice a lover, but its sheer fabric would certainly tempt mine. I unwound my braid, letting my hair fall in long waves to my waist.

I reached into my pack and pulled out the dried lunaflyr, the flower Conn had handed me at the bottom of the mountain that day. The petals had curled and lost their luster, but I’d kept it anyway. I should’ve known my silly notion to keep a flower from him was a sign I couldn’t let him go. And I refused to.

Kera had assured me there was nothing wrong with his physical body. Though he’d lost some weight, they’d managed to get some water and vitamin-rich soup into him, even while in his coma. The fact that he swallowed on instinct was another sign to Kera and the brothers that his body was healing. It was just his mind, she feared. But I knew now it was his heart. And I could mend that.

Removing his shirt and then his pants, I gulped at the size of him. All of him. Then I crawled back into bed and whispered in his ear.

“Come back to me, Conn. I want you inside me…”

I continued to whisper all the things I wanted him to do to me, stroking his chest lightly with my fingernails. And though all of this was to wake him up, I was still shocked when he blinked his eyes open for the first time. I sat up on one arm, my long hair cascading over his bare chest. “Conn?”

I gasped when he looked directly at me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice groggy. “I can only see out of my left eye.”

Licking my lips and barely able to stop staring at his right eye, I hopped off the bed and grabbed my comm, then punched in the command to reverse the camera so he could see himself.

He held the device and stared as I had. His eye was deep crimson with the slit pupil of the dragon, a fixed and permanent reminder of her. A scar from the Bloodback poison.

He laughed, then it turned into a cough. I fetched a glass of water and helped him drink, taking the comm away and tossing it on the table. When he finished gulping the entire glass down, I set it aside and returned to him.

With a shake of the head, he said, “The Bloodback witch marked me good, didn’t she?”

Anger welled inside my chest. That bitch sure had, and my own dragon didn’t like it one bit. She was a bit dominant herself, and her hackles rose at someone hurting her mate.

“Maybe so,” I said, crawling on all fours over him, pulling the covers down then straddling him. “But I plan to mark you as well.”

His eyes widened then roamed over my body before landing on the silken ribbon between my breasts. A hard bulge stiffened against my bum. Yeah, he was awake now. He lifted a hand and pulled the tiny bow. Rather than leave it at that, he pulled the ribbon all the way out of its lacing. It pulled free and the bodice fell wide open.

“Oh, Valla.” He used the voice that wound its way straight to my heart and soul, making me needy and greedy for him.

I lifted my hips and stroked my sex along his hard shaft. I was more than ready. He growled and narrowed his gaze, his dragon eye making him look more beast than man.

“You were right,” I said, slipping my arms out of the gown so that it fell open to my waist. Leaning forward with my hands above his head, I angled my body so that the head of his cock pushed at my entrance. “Big wings definitely equals a big heart. Among other things.”

Then I sank down onto him, feeling the glory of every solid inch. He grabbed my hips and leaned forward, taking my nipple into his mouth and sucking, rolling the taut nub with his tongue. I ground faster, but he took control, even from underneath, holding my hips as he pumped inside me, hard and fast the way he liked it. The way I liked it, I’d discovered.

He moved to my other breast, teasing the nipple with his tongue.

“Oh, Conn, please…more.” I clenched one fist in his hair and made him look at me. “I want soulfire.”

He stilled, which wasn’t the reaction I’d wanted. I tried to undulate my hips but, hands tightening, he kept me immobile.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“No doubt. I want you to be mine”—I traced my tongue across his beautiful bottom lip—“in every way.” Then I imagined what that mouth could do to me for eternity. “Forever.”

I was suddenly on my back with Conn over me—all his power and strength and dominance a delicious tangible beast ready to take me. And I was ready for him. He crooked my left leg and hooked it over his shoulder, opening me wide, my toe touching the underside of his wing. I smiled…until I felt how swollen he was for me. He growled low and deep as he penetrated nice and slow. I arched my neck with a gasp as the enormity of the man—in size and beauty and strength—sucked the breath out of me.

“No, Valla. Look at me.” He’d sheathed himself deep inside me and stilled.

Looking at me with man in one eye and beast in the other, he lowered his mouth, hovering just out of reach. “My sweet Valla.”

Then he molded his mouth to mine and poured the elixir of soulfire into a steaming kiss. I moaned, wanting to break free to catch my breath, but not wanting to stop the sheer ecstasy sliding down my throat and rushing like a river of electric fire through my veins. As he rocked his hips and showed me the power behind the man, he kissed me long and deep. I gripped the arch of his one wing hard and clawed his back with my other hand, knowing I would make a mark. But he only groaned with pleasure, never letting our mouths break, showing me the burning torture he’d endured waiting for me.

Even when I came, he swallowed my scream, letting me ride out my orgasm to completion before he broke for air. Both of us panting, I knew he hadn’t come. He wasn’t done. My body limp while endorphins and soulfire coursed through me at an alarming rate, he pulled out of me and rolled me gently over, lifting my hips till my knees propped me on the bed. My torso was still flat as I panted for air.

“I like this gown,” was all he said as he lifted the bottom of it and splayed one palm across my ass. His other hand slid up my spine before he gripped the arch of my right wing where the bone was thickest. Then he pushed inside me, and all I could do was clench my fists in the sheets and hold on for the ride. If ever I doubted his dominance, there was no question now.

The man who owned me, body and soul, was magnificent and powerful and alpha to the fucking core. And I loved it. I loved the feel of him pounding me into this wafer-thin mattress but also the feel of him when I rode on top and he let me take the reins. I loved it when he got scowly and bossy, even if I pretended I didn’t. I loved it when he smiled that wicked smile and said my name with dirty things on his mind.

I loved all of him.

This is what I was thinking as he gripped my wing and hip hard and ground in deep as he came, pulsing with a guttural groan inside me. I smiled into the pillow.

He shivered as he pulled out of me and fell to the mattress, panting harder than I was a few minutes before.

“I see that your week away didn’t diminish your stamina,” I teased.

He laughed. “If I’d known that’s all it would take.” He paused to exhale a lungful of air. “I would’ve let Madera beat me into a coma and saved myself some grief and pain.”

I hauled back and punched him on the arm.

“Ow. Careful, love. I’m still not back to full strength.”

“Liar. I felt your full strength well enough just now.”

“Mmm. Want to feel it again?”

“Already?!”

He grinned. “No. I need a rest.”

I settled with my head on his chest and breathed in the wonderful smell of him, listening to his heart beat, rather quickly I might add. He combed his fingers through my hair as we both said nothing for a while. Just lay there…feeling.

“That place in your dreams. With the flowers and the evergold. Was it real?”

He caressed a lazy hand over my hip. “Yes. It’s a favorite place of mine in the Feygreir Mountains where our clan comes from.”

“Will you take me there one day?”

“I intend to marry you there.”

“Marry me?” I laughed and shimmied onto his chest, resting my chin on my hands. “Isn’t that a human ceremony?”

“Yes. But it’s a good one. It’s a public statement of a couple’s love. And I plan to tell the whole world that you are mine, and mine alone.”

“Good. And I plan on telling the whole world the same thing about you. Starting with Madera. Or maybe Isadore.”

His wicked smile made my stomach flip-flop, but his tender smile…well, that one made my heart melt and pool right into his hands. Like now.

“They never stood a chance against you, Valla. No one ever did.”

I gripped his shoulders and scooted higher, then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Soulfire lingered, sliding down my throat in a sweet caress. Then a sudden stabbing pain pricked me on the inside. We both gasped as an internal snick locked us together, our hearts beating in rhythm for the first time. Just as it would for eternity.

I settled my lips against his, breathing his essence in and out, both of us unmoving, soundlessly grasping the vastness of what it meant to be heartbound. I would never fear another woman in his presence. And he would never need to fear another man in mine.

Then Conn pulled away, something catching his eye over my shoulder. That broody scowl found its way back to his forehead.

“What? What is it?”

He reached out and touched where he’d gripped my wing earlier. I craned my neck to look over my shoulder.

“No way.” I peered closer. “Already?”

There were four distinct lines where his fingers had gripped me—no longer the blue-black of my wings, but faded to rust-red.

“I’m sorry,” he said with sincere disappointment in his voice. “I’d hoped the change would occur later. After you’d gotten used to the idea. You know, the whole dominance thing.”

I laughed heartily. “Well, I’m not sorry. Now, there will be no question that we belong together.”

The tender smile captured my heart again and caged it with gentle hands.

He kissed me. “Always, love.”

“Yes, my firedancer. Always.”

Epilogue

“Push, Priestess! Now. The top of his head is crowning.”

The human midwife gripped my knees hard and pressed them up as the next contraction ripped through my body, rippling up my back with mind-numbing pain. Thunder rolled with violence, rattling the panes and shaking my home atop the mountain.

I screamed. And pushed.

Lightning splintered the sky, crashing with a resounding crack.

“Yes. That’s it. Keep go—”

She gasped in shock and backed away, just as I felt the relief of pressure, my baby’s body sliding free of mine. The midwife stood at the edge of the bed and stared. I reached down to find the slick mass, squirming but making no sound.

“Give him to me,” I gasped, unable to hold myself up and grasp hold. “Woman, I will kill you where you stand and your entire family if you do not do as you swore and care for my child.”

Swallowing hard, her eyes grew wider. “I didn’t know he would be—”

“Give him…to me.”

A subtle echoing hiss entered my voice. A sound I’d heard only once. On that cold moonlit night in a grove beneath Brilla’s Crag so many months ago. Hellsgard had made this same sound with his voice when he spoke of promises to keep.

The midwife moved forward, licking her lips, hands shaking. She grabbed the warm cloth from the basin, scooped my child into her trembling hands, and placed the bundle on my bosom.

I wept with joy and cradled him close, then wiped the birthing blood from his body. Shining red scales glistened by the candlelight. His eyes, crimson with serpentine slits, gazed up at me. His snout opened with a yawn, small newborn, jagged teeth already present.

The rain finally began to fall, pouring in a torrent across the mountaintop.

“There, there, my son,” I said, tears streaming. “I’ve been waiting for you a long, long time.”

The midwife edged closer in wonder now, instead of the fear I had seen before.

“How? How is this possible?”

Her mind was too small to comprehend the magnitude of what I’d created, of what had come from my own womb, my own flesh and blood.

“Behold, woman. The first dragon born in thousands of years. A Bloodback dragon. He is my son and your future king.”

My son nuzzled my breast. I pulled open my gown and let him suckle for the first time, his tiny claw clinging to my full breast. I smiled at the sensation of my milk letting down, nourishing my sweet son. I gazed my fill as the rain continued to pour.

“You were born in dragon form, my son. I wonder what you will look like in man form.”

As if he heard me, he shifted with a cry, the scales receding, the tiny claws shrinking, the snout transforming into a smaller form, yet no less beautiful. He cried, fat tears welling and falling.

“There, there, my son. You will get used to the pain of shifting until you never feel it at all.”

He wailed again. So I sang to him.

“Come away, come away, come away, my dear,
the world will ne’er be kind, I fear…”

He quieted and peered from big, blood-red eyes, which hadn’t changed when he shifted. A true sign of power and strength. He nuzzled my breast and fed once again as I rocked and sang his lullaby.

“When pain and sorrow hurts you too near,
then come away…come away…back home.”

Ready for More Morgons?

Turn the page for a sneak peek of the first in Juliette’s Nightwing Series, Soulfire.

Prologue

Thousands of years ago, Radomis, the dragon king of the North, took flight on the last full moon of winter. Beating great, black wings, he soared away from his mountainous kingdom, lured by some unknown force to the sultry lands in the west where humans dwelled. Dragons and humans had always lived apart.

On this same night, Princess Morga honored the fertility rite of bathing under the full moon the night before her wedding. As she stepped from the natural steaming pool, rivulets of water glistened over milk-pale skin, ebony hair slicked over her breasts and down her back. The dragon king saw her. Instant desire ensnared his beastly heart. He descended.

Shifting into human form, a man of might and beauty, he murdered her guards and handmaidens. Horrified, Morga could do nothing when the dragon king took her in his arms, hard lust in cold eyes. The moment his tongue licked into her mouth, she felt the burning of soulfire—the dragon elixir meant for his one and only mate. Golden heat melted through blood and bone, filling her with euphoric pleasure, bonding her to him forever.

Radomis took her on the ground among bloody bodies and moon-shadows, intent to sate his hunger. One night would never be enough. Shifting into dragon form, he carried her in his claws back to his kingdom. She would be his queen, trapped in a gilded cage of opulence as the object of his endless desire.

From their union, a child was born—an abomination. A human body with dragon wings and dragon strength. The boy, Larkos, was outcast among dragonkind, including his father. Only Morga showed him any love.

When Larkos reached manhood, he wielded his rage with an avenging sword, tracking and killing all of dragonkind. Even in beast form, his father could not match him, finally falling to the forgotten son’s sword. What Larkos did not know was that soulfire bonded his loving mother to the beast in such a way that when his dragon-heart stopped beating, so did hers.

This is the tale I’d been told when my body began changing from child to woman, a warning for young girls to beware of Morgon men.

“Never stray from your own kind, Jessen,” my mother would say, “or you could end up like Princess Morga, a slave and outcast to be abhorred.”

The problem was, I’d never been a very obedient daughter. Never the one to do exactly as I was told. And fairy tales have no meaning when the stars align and Fortune spins her wheel, weaving her own story for your heart.

Chapter 1

I swung one leather-clad leg over the balcony railing and froze. Straddling the stone balustrade, I gazed upward, willing my heart to still. A crescent moon cut a half-smile in the starry night as if mocking my rebellion. Or perhaps encouraging it.

Don’t look down.

A smudge of cloud blurred over the moon, nudging me into the darkness. Deep breath in, I swung the other leg over and shimmied toward the ivy trellis. My long legs helped me maintain balance on the stone balcony, making it easier to climb down. Of course, I had to have the villa suite on the top floor—an obscene luxury for a college student. Only the best, my father would say. I knew the truth. He tucked me away in an ivory tower, complete with armed guards, imprisoning me to watch my every move. It had nothing to do with protection. Not mine, anyway.

My maroon silk blouse snagged on a tendril of ivy. I slipped it loose and dropped the final few feet to the grass below. I peeked around a manicured shrub toward the front of the complex. One of the guards leaned against the entrance, nearly dozing. Smiling to myself, I crept across the shadowed lawn to the side street.

I jumped into the sleek, black coupe waiting at the curb and turned to Sorcha. “Let’s go.”

She grinned and tore off into the night, away from Cade Heights.

“I don’t get it.” Ella leaned forward from the back seat. “Why can’t you just walk out the front door like everyone else, Jessen? There’s no curfew or anything.”

I flipped down the compact mirror above the passenger seat, checking my hair. I plucked a leaf from the black waves falling past my chest. “Ella, have you actually met my father?” I wiped away a streak of dark liner from below one eye. “Sorcha, where’s your eye shadow?”

“Check the glove compartment.”

I touched-up the tawny shade of color on the outside corners and smeared a glossy cream on the bottom lids, setting off my light brown eyes. Pleased my hair and makeup looked fresh, and not like someone who just crawled down an ivy trellis, I flipped the mirror shut.

“Yes, I’ve met your father. You know I have.” Ella didn’t get the concept of rhetorical questions. Her glazed look, as always, made her pretty features more child-like. “So?”

“So!” Sorcha careened around the next corner, veering deeper into the city. “That man could suffocate a person with a glance.”

I sighed. “Forget about him. Don’t you ladies want to know our destination tonight?”

“Oooo, I do love it when you’re sneaky, Jess. So what’s the big secret? Why am I decked out in my highest-heeled boots and shortest skirt?”

I pulled the glossy flier from my back pocket and handed it over.

“Oh, yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about, baby.” Sorcha turned down a side street, heading for the farthest edge of the Gladium Province.

“What is this?” Ella snatched the paper from Sorcha’s hand. “We can’t go there. It’s a Morgon club, Jessen! We’re not allowed.”

“Oh, Ella. Relax.” I snatched the flier back and pointed at the headline. “Do you see who’s playing tonight? We have to go. For moral support.”

“Yeah, for moral support,” agreed Sorcha with a mischievous grin, tossing her dark red locks over one shoulder. “And to play with a little fire.”

I laughed. Ella didn’t.

“You two are crazy. Out-of-your-minds crazy. I don’t care if Jed’s band is playing. He knows we’re not allowed on that end of town, much less in one of their clubs.”

“Calm down.” I twisted in my seat. Ella looked like a wide-eyed doe frozen in the headlights. “First of all, that’s not true. It’s not illegal to go to a Morgon club.”

Ella needed a refresher course on desegregation laws, and how it was illegal for either race to bar anyone from a public place. Of course, my father might let a Morgon come into his place of business, but he’d never let one step foot in his house. Not unless there was money riding on it. Unlawful or not. Ella’s parents also fell into his line of thinking.

“Look. Other humans go all the time. Jed told me. I mean, why the hell would they hire a human band to play if it were against the law? Times are changing.” I wanted to believe it was true, whether or not my father was stuck in the dark ages of bigotry and discrimination.

Ella heaved a small sigh, voice almost a whisper. “But, my mom, she told me never to go to their side of the city.” I glanced over my shoulder. She twisted a blond curl around her index finger, a sure sign of distress for my timid friend. “It’s dangerous, Jessen. Your dad would kill you.”

“Hence, the very reason I snuck out of my apartment rather than let his henchmen tail me all night long, as usual.”

Sorcha zoomed into the Morgon district, the buildings transformed to suit the dragon-hybrid race—sharper, wider, taller, like mountains made of glass and steel.

“I don’t approve,” protested Ella.

Sorcha squeezed her car into a parking spot on a street where glittering clubs lined the block, then popped open her purse and applied a fresh coat of cherry-red lipstick in the rearview mirror.

I gave Ella my reassuring expression while Sorcha primped. “I know. Don’t worry. Jed wouldn’t invite us if he wasn’t sure it was safe. Now, come on. Let’s have some fun.”

“Wait!” Sorcha passed me the lipstick. “You look good in this.”

I applied and handed it back. “Better?”

“Luscious.” She winked. “Look out Morgon men.”

We walked the block in silence, taking in the towering sight of Acropolis at the end. At least ten stories of Gothic stone with wing-like buttresses and spires stabbing into the darkness above. Grotesque gargoyles glared down. The stone creatures drew my eye with their long limbs, sharp claws, wings spread wide, and gaping mouths, tongues lolling. Was this some kind of subliminal warning to beware of winged beasts?

Sorcha glanced up at one particular fiendish gargoyle, seeming as if it would leap off its pedestal at any moment. “Mmm. I’m feeling like a damsel in distress. How about you, Jess?”

“Um, isn’t this owned by the Nightwing clan?” asked Ella, sandwiched between us.

“Yep,” I replied.

Sorcha added more sway to her walk. “Awesome.”

Though the exterior reeked of an ancient time, an electric blue sign burned above a black door—Tonight: Red Dream. My heart skittered at the sight of the man checking IDs. I’d never seen a Morgon this close. We’d had a guest speaker in my Multicultural Literature class, but the Morgon woman, a poet, stood on the stage a good distance from the audience.

This guy was huge, a wall of bulging muscles. His brawny physique wasn’t what kept the three of us riveted to the spot. Massive wings—leathery, jagged, and magnificent—held us spellbound. The man cleared his throat to get our attention, gesturing inside with a crooked smile. “Welcome, ladies.”

“Such a gentleman,” said Sorcha, batting her bedroom eyes. As we stumbled into the club, she grabbed my shoulder and leaned in. “I think I’m in love.”

“Slow down, Sorcha. There are plenty more inside.”

Sure enough, there were. Sorcha bee-lined for the bar. I followed, scanning the décor. I’d never been inside a Morgon building. Maintaining the Gothic style in black leather seating, low-lit sconces, and wide, gold-trimmed mirrors on every wall, the space didn’t feel stifling or closed-in as expected. Rather the opposite. The bar lined one side of the ground floor, the stage the other. The center of the room was the dance floor that opened all the way up to the tenth floor. The skylight in the ceiling framed a deep, inky night. On both sides of the club, wide stairwells spiraled upward. Wrought iron railings barricaded each floor, maintaining the sense of open space. I was standing at the bottom of a giant birdcage. I smiled to myself. Of course I was.

“Jess! Come here!”

I’d stopped midway to the bar, stunned by the vast and opulent interior. A throng of Morgon men surrounded Sorcha and Ella. Oh, hell, Sorcha. Ella looked like she was about to bolt, a frightened rabbit hemmed in by wolves. I sauntered up, well aware my body drew attention. Though not as voluptuous as Sorcha, I stood much taller. With black wavy hair brushing my hips, I straightened, thankful for my gift of height. In a biology book on Morgons, which I’d smuggled from the library in my teen years, I’d learned the average height of an adult Morgon male was six-foot-seven. The average. Just like the one with platinum blond hair currently raking me with hungry eyes.

“This is my friend, Jessen,” Sorcha introduced. She turned to the two chestnut-haired Morgons on her other side. “This is Conn and Corbin Rowanflame. They’re twins.” Sorcha winked. They nodded in unison with identical expressions of my-mouth-would-make-your-knees-buckle. I didn’t doubt it. I nodded in greeting, examining the deep russet hue of their wings. Sorcha turned to the platinum blond whose ravenous gaze didn’t waver for a second. “This is—”

“Slade Silverback,” he interrupted, taking my hand and sweeping a kiss across the knuckles. His wings shimmered silver-gray under the lights.

“Is it true each clan is named for their wings?” I asked.

He kept my hand in his, pulling me closer. “Yes. It’s true. The coloring is distinct to each clan. The dragon inside us is patriarchal.” He puffed up his chest. “Children always have the wings of the father.”

I tilted my head. “What happens when a Morgon woman marries…um, I mean heartbonds, to a Morgon of another clan?”

He leaned closer, too close. “Her wings change color to match her mate’s.”

“Because of soulfire, right?”

He didn’t answer my question. “Why don’t you let me take you flying? I could make you soar.” Silver wings twitched at his invitation.

Did these cheese-ball lines actually work for him?

He kept inching into my space. Though he assumed I was flirting, I wasn’t. I’d always been curious about Morgons, their more personal information forbidden to us. This was my first flesh-and-blood conversation with one, and he was stripping me naked with glittering green eyes. “I’m sure you think you could, but no thanks.”

“Whoohoo! Come here, Jess.” Saved by Sorcha.

I scooted up to the bar between her and Conn, avoiding the too-close attentions of Slade. The bartender, a young human woman about our age, lined the bar with shots, each glass in front of a pint of beer.

“What’s this?” I asked.

Corbin winked and gestured for us to step away. “Watch, ladies.”

We shuffled back a foot. Corbin sucked in a lungful of air, held it a second, then blew a stream of flame from his mouth along the row of shot glasses. Ella squeaked. Sorcha laughed, throwing her head back. I marveled with a smile as a line of red-orange flame licked and lit the top of each glass. Fire danced around the rims as if Corbin controlled it. He grinned, making me wonder if he did. “Drop the glass in the beer and down the hatch. Quick!”

One by one, we dropped the shots, dousing the flames, and guzzled the liquor-spiked beer. Sorcha beat us all, slamming down her mug. “That was badass. Do it again, Corbin.”

The guy blushed. I didn’t blame him. Attention from Sorcha could make any manany speciescrumble. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, glimpsing two Morgon men at a side door. Dressed all in black, they reminded me of the burly guy checking IDs. Giant, rock-like statues with military awareness in their watchful gazes.

“Hey, Corbin.” I pointed to the stone-like guards, reminding me of the gargoyles squatting on the roof of this place. “What’s up with the extra security in this place? Looks like we’ve got a celebrity coming or something.”

“Huh?” He glanced toward the guards. “Oh. Nah. Typical Nightwing security.”

My fascination with Morgons led me down a specific research path during my adolescence. Much to the consternation of my high school history teacher, I’d read everything I could get my hands on regarding the hybrid race. The Nightwing clan were direct descendants of Prince Larkos and the dragon king, Radomis, himself. Because of their royal ancestry, they continued to be the most powerful clan among their kind.

“What do you mean typical?”

“They protect their family investments. And they take extra precautions when there’s a human band on site, knowing there’ll be more mingling of the species.”

I’d read an article recently about the Nightwing financial holdings in Acropolis and other new nightclubs, attracting more and more patronage from humans. I’d heard my father cursing the fact on a number of occasions.

Nothing irked him more than corporate competition. For his lead rival to be a Morgon clan made his blood boil on a regular basis. I knew, because I witnessed his rants and tirades more than once to my brother, Demetrius, over breakfast. Mornings were such a delight at the Cade household.

“What you really mean,” I said to Corbin, “is they suspect violence is more likely to break out, and are preparing for said violence.”

Corbin’s mouth tilted into a boyish smile, which was odd and adorable coming from someone his height. “You’re a smart young woman. And who said human women were dim-witted?”

“Excuse me? Are you saying Morgon men think we’re stupid?” Heat flooded my face.

He grinned. “No. I just wanted to see you get angry. We like feisty women. The way your eyes get all wild and your cheeks turn pink. It’s hot.”

I punched him in the arm, only making him laugh. “How’s that for feisty?”

The pounding of drums and the screech of a guitar pulled our attention to the stage. There stood Jed in all of his golden-boy glory, smiling at the crowd. In torn-up jeans and a raggedy T-shirt, he still had a line of women—Morgon and human—clinging to the stage at his feet.

“Welcome, everyone,” he said, voice rumbling. “It’s a pleasure to be here. We are Red Dream, and we want to hear you scream!”

He winked and laced the words with so much sexual innuendo, I thought the groupies would faint. The women in the front row erupted in squeals when the first song vibrated to life.

“Come on!” Sorcha grabbed my hand, dragging me into the crowd. Ella held back with Conn. Fear no longer lingered in her eyes. Perhaps it had something to do with the brawny guard, making sure no one bumped or jostled her. Since she was in good hands, I followed Sorcha into the sweaty mix.

Slade sidled up and handed me a blue-bottled longneck—Scale Ale, a microbrew import from Drakos, one of the pricier ones. I took it with a tight smile, not wanting to be rude, not wanting to encourage him either. He watched me take a sip. The dark, rich lager slid down my throat with a kick. “Good stuff,” I said, giving him a genuine smile.

He winked with a lop-sided grin of his own. I sipped the beer and bobbed my head to Jed’s insane lyrics about star-crossed lovers, broken hearts, and death being his love’s true paramour. I swear, the girls panted and swooned at his rock-star antics.

When the first song ended, Sorcha nudged me with her elbow, a frown creasing her lovely face. “Don’t look now, Jess, but Demetrius and his entourage are here.”

“Shit! Where?”

She gestured toward the wall to my right. I glanced over. Demetrius saw me. “Damn it. And Aron is with him.” They stalked straight for us.

“Shit is right.” Sorcha downed the last of her beer. “Party’s over.”

Demetrius yelled over the pounding music. “What the hell are you doing here, Jessen!” He grabbed my arm and twisted me to face him.

“The same thing you are, Demetrius.” I smiled too sweetly. “Here to watch the show.”

I glimpsed his best friend Mikal over one shoulder. A grim line replaced the light-hearted smile Mikal usually wore.

Demetrius ground out his words in anger. “You do not have permission to be in a Morgon club. Ever.”

My brother had the same chocolate-brown eyes and black hair as mine. If he didn’t look like he wanted to bite something all the time, he’d be gorgeous. Lately, we were always fighting. Possibly because he was becoming more and more like our father every day. He gripped my arm tighter.

Protective brother was one thing, but dominant jailer was another. Anger flared in my gut. “How come you have the right to be here, but I don’t?”

“Because you’re a woman. You don’t know what you’re doing, what Morgon men want from you.”

Um, the same thing human men wanted? Hypocrite.

Sorcha stepped up. “You are such an asshole.”

He ignored her, yanking my arm. “You’re leaving. Now!”

“No, I’m not.” I jerked free of his hold.

Slade sidled in beside me. “The lady doesn’t want to leave with you, dude. Let her go.” Corbin and Conn were there two seconds later, hovering behind him.

“She’s my sister, you fucker!”

An electric charge snapped in the air, resonating around the Morgon guys. Having read about their extraordinary dragon senses in a book, and feeling them electrify my skin into gooseflesh, were two totally different experiences. Slade’s wings opened partway, a distinct stance increasing his size to scary proportions. The cold, fixed gaze of Conn and Corbin made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

I raised my hands in a calming gesture, hoping to crush the rising tension before they came to blows. Restrained violence rippled around the Morgon men in a tangible wave. Then Aron’s dumb ass stepped forward and opened his mouth.

“Back off, boys.” He looked ridiculous and out of place in pristine jeans and a cream-colored sweater. What an idiot. Calling Slade and his friends “boys” was exactly the wrong thing to say. Leave it to Aron.

“And who the hell are you?” Slade asked, a head taller than Aron.

“I’m her fiancé.” He gestured toward me.

I rolled my eyes. “No. You’re not, Aron. How many times do we have to go over this?”

He moved closer, his chin jutting out at an arrogant angle, making me want to punch him in his aristocratic face. “Yes, Jessen. We are engaged to be married, and I won’t have my fiancé in a place of ill repute.”

“A place of ill repute? Does this look like a brothel to you? It’s a club, Aron. That’s all. I’m watching one of my closest friends play in his band, or trying to watch. Until you showed up.”

“This is no place for my future wife.” His words grated out through clenched teeth.

“Perfect. Because I’m not your future wife.”

He grabbed me by the arm and all hell broke loose. Slade’s wings flared wide. Demetrius launched himself fist-first through the air. Corbin tossed Sorcha out of the way, slamming a fist into Mikal’s head, which snapped back with the force. I ducked and shoved through the sweaty bodies and swinging punches. Glancing back, I saw Conn slam an elbow, then his head, into some guy I’d never seen before, scooping Ella off the floor and carrying her out of the mayhem. Before I could slip out of the way, someone shoved and pinned me to the wall by my shoulders. A body pressed against mine. Aron. Anger burned darkly in his cold eyes.

“You are mine, Jessen.” He glared down, his tone possessive and furious. “And I won’t have you here for these creatures to leer at.”

“Let—me—go.”

“No. You’re coming with me.”

I struggled to free myself. He gripped harder, then started dragging me to the door. I feared what confrontation awaited me in the parking lot. Or worse, back at his place. He’d tried to corner me alone at my parents’ house more than once, but I was always wary of him. I never liked the look in his eyes, especially when my parents mentioned a possible wedding in the near future. He might have my parents’ blessing for this archaic-as-shit arranged marriage, but he didn’t have mine. And never would.

“Let me go!”

Aron opened his mouth to say something. He froze, eyes glazed, then hit the floor.

Decked in black with midnight wings and eyes of blue-fire, a Morgon man towered before me like an angel of death. A fitted shirt outlined his broad chest and powerful frame, filling my vision. My breath caught in my throat. While chaos whirled, he wrapped vise-like arms around my waist, crushing me against a wall of steel in a rough embrace. I opened my mouth to scream. No sound came out. He bent his knees a fraction before two beats of vast, black wings lifted us with a jolt. I clung to his muscular shoulders for fear of falling, the masculine scent of him wrapping my senses into a tight knot.

I hadn’t noticed from below there were breaks in the railing for Morgon flight. He dropped me into a chair in an empty VIP section. Rising to a mountainous height, electric-blue held me captive. Piercing, his gaze reached deep inside, as if he could see the secret part of me, a part I tucked away from the world, kept hidden behind a mask of indifference and strong will. Someone screamed below. Hard angles contorted into a fierce mask. Snapping his gaze away, he spun, took two long strides and fell from the edge, plummeting out of view.

Also by Juliette Cross

Nightwing Series

Soulfire

Windburn

Nightbloom

Vale of Stars Series

Waking the Dragon

The Vessel Trilogy

Forged in Fire

Sealed in Sin

Bound in Black

Age of Gray

The Deepest Well

About the Author

Juliette lives in lush, moss-laden Louisiana where she lives with her husband, four kids, and black lab, Kona. Multi-published author of paranormal and urban fantasy romance, she loves reading and writing brooding characters, mysterious settings, persevering heroines, and dark, sexy heroes. From the moment she read JANE EYRE as a teenager, she fell in love with the Gothic romance. Even then, she not only longed to read more novels set in Gothic worlds, she wanted to create her own. You can discover more of Juliette and her books on her website.