The Last Dragon, page 21
“No idea.” Marius studied Charlie. It was possible they wouldn’t kill her, looking like them as she did, and just as possible that they would. She also might be immune to their powers. But he refused to test that theory.
“They’re bad,” she said again.
He frowned. “What makes them bad, Charlie?”
She wiggled her fingers in front of her heart again. “On the inside. I can feel it.”
Killian stared at the girl. “She’s Gabriel’s daughter, isn’t she?”
Marius did a double take. “How did you know?”
“The eyes. She has his eyes. Not the same color—Gabriel’s are hazel—but the shape. Who is the mother?”
Marius saw no reason to lie. “A witch named Raven. They’ve conquered Eleanor and now sit upon the throne. They’re just rulers, Father. And Charlie is good. You can see that.”
Killian stroked Charlie’s hair. “I’m your grandpa, little one. Remember that your grandpa loves you.”
He started for the edge.
“What are you doing?” Marius’s eyes widened.
Killian smiled. “My time has come and gone, Marius. When you get back with that”—he eyed the satchel again—“free me. Brynhoff too. And be happy.”
“No. Father, no!” Marius shook his head and held out an arm, but Killian was already stepping out into the light.
With one last look back at them, Killian yelled, “Run!”
Chapter Thirty-One
Marius cried out, but it was no use. Killian ran from the labyrinth, waving his hands and calling to the guardians. Those strange, winged beings turned, their glowing eyes focusing on his father. Marius pulled Charlie into his arms and sprinted for the temple, using his wings to propel him forward, quicker than he’d ever moved in his life. Charlie clung to him, staring over his shoulder.
A flash of light ignited behind him, and Charlie screamed. “Grandpa! Oh, Grandpa!”
Marius did not look back. He leaped over stones and debris, flew as fast as his wings could carry him toward the stairs of the temple. His breath huffed in his lungs. He was going to make it. He was going to make it! His foot landed on the first step.
Pure energy plowed into his back. His body crashed onto the steps, and he threw Charlie toward the door. Everything hurt. On Ouros, only the goddess’s tears were capable of inflicting this type of pain because only celestial magic could burn dragons. The guardians had to be made of the same stuff. Every nerve ending in his back felt like it was on fire. He crawled up another step, then raised his head to look at Charlie. Tossing the satchel toward her, he rasped, “Take this and run, kid. The door will take you home.”
She climbed a few more steps toward the door, then turned around, her eyes filled with tears. “No! Get up!” She ran back down and grabbed his hand. “Get up, Uncle Marius! Get up now!” It was her mother’s voice again.
He hauled himself up another step. Only a few more to go. A sound like static in the air told him why Charlie’s eyes went wide. The guardians of the temple must be charging up again, focusing those deadly eyes on him. He tried to climb faster, but he couldn’t get his feet under him. The crackle started again. “Run, Charlie!”
She didn’t. She dropped into a fighting stance, crossed her arms, and bellowed like a dragon five hundred times her size. He heard the zap of celestial fire. Everything lit up like a sunrise. But when he looked back, all that bright light had stopped inches from his body, held back by some invisible shield Charlie was putting off. He cried out too, not that his howl would help her, but in reaction to the sheer power pulsing around him.
He only took a breath when the guardians ran out of steam.
Marius did not waste his niece’s gift. Powering through the pain, he scrambled to his feet and swept her into his arms. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she passed out. He hugged her to his chest.
“Hang on. Here we go.” He leaped into the center of the temple, into the beam of light that pulsed there. Instantly, he was swept into the beyond.
Suspended in bright light with Charlie in his arms, all his pain vanished. It was, he realized, exactly as Avery had described it. He was in the bright place. The in-between. The place between places. He knew instantly that if he chose, he could stay here. Not here exactly, but the next place. It would feel like this for all eternity. It would be bright and peaceful. He could rest. Everything would be easy.
But when he thought about moving on, something tugged, sharp and warm in his breastbone. There was someone he was forgetting. He sensed the child in his arms. Sensed because he was beyond sight. Wake up, kid, he thought to her. What should we do?
She did not respond. The weight of her seemed so slight in his arms.
The tug came again and then a voice. Please, Marius, please! Her voice. She was weeping for him. His hand felt warm. He looked down and could see it, where before his entire body had been washed out as if he were part of the light. He pulled on that hand and felt himself move.
Counterintuitive as it was to move toward darkness, toward cold, he understood she was there, on the other side of something. She needed him. Her name came to him, and he whispered, “Harlow.”
Darkness rushed toward him, and then he collided with pain. He was on his back, something heavy and limp in his arms.
“Oh my goddess! Oh my goddess!” The weight was lifted off him. He was not strong enough to open his eyes.
“Marius? Marius?” Harlow cried. “He’s hurt. Mountain, he’s burned. His wings are… Mountain! What happened? What is this? I need the healer! She’s fine, can’t you see that!” Harlow was angry. The intensity in her voice made him try harder.
He opened his eyes to see Maiara leaning over him, the palace healer. She placed a shell around his neck. “Easy. You have been injured but are healing. I am going to roll you onto your side.”
He winced as hands moved him. Thank the Mountain, she was there, kneeling in front of him, holding his hands. “Harlow,” he rasped again.
“I’m here.” She kissed his temple. “You’re home. You made it.”
“Charlie?”
“She’s fine. Tired, but awake. Uninjured. She has the hearts.” Harlow blinked away tears.
“Good.”
Something cool and thick spread across his back and eased his pain, and he closed his eyes.
“Maiara is putting a salve on your back and your wings. You’re badly… burned.” He understood her confusion. Dragons were typically immune to fire.
“Celestial,” he said. “Like the goddess’s tears.”
Her eyes widened. “It’s over now. You’re home. You’re already healing.”
He did feel better, thank the Mountain. He grunted and sat up, allowing Harlow to help him. He turned to Raven and Gabriel, who were fawning over Charlie like she was made of glass.
“You okay, kid?”
Charlie blinked at him, looking far older than her seasons on Ouros. She nodded.
“Thanks for what you did in there.”
Raven darted a glance between them. Charlie fidgeted, looking nervous.
“But we can talk about that later.” Marius gestured toward the satchel. “Raven, we were right. They’re still in there, and they need our help.”
Raven dug into the satchel and pulled out the two hearts, Killian’s a navy-blue sapphire and Brynhoff’s a dull agate. Each flickered as if a candle burned within it. She glanced toward Nathaniel, who moved to her side. Together, they uttered a series of syllables, raising the power in the room until the hair on his arms stood on end. They thrust it into the jewels.
The sound of a brisk wind sifted through the room. The lights in the gems went out.
Raven held the hearts up, inspecting them. “It is done.”
But Marius could already feel that it was, like a deep ache had finally abated.
“Marius, your tattoos,” Harlow said.
He looked down at himself. The symbols were still there, but they’d changed, no longer red and black but now silver, like old scars.
He closed his eyes and leaned into Harlow’s embrace.
Harlow helped Marius to his feet. “I’m going to help him to bed.”
“Wake me… never. Send food,” Marius said as he hobbled toward the door.
Maiara raised a hand, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “My advice is to avoid strenuous activity for twenty-four hours.”
Marius’s lips pressed into the side of Harlow’s head. She looked at him through her lashes. “Guess I’ll have to do all the work,” she drawled, low and sweet into his ear.
Miracle of miracles, she found out he could walk a lot faster. Relief washed over her when they reached Marius’s chambers. He was healing, but he was weak, and she was worried about his wings. She feared his back and the webbing where they connected to his torso might be permanently scarred. But her deeper worry had to do with what might be happening on the inside. Marius had come a long way from the day they’d officially met. It had been obvious that he’d hated his appearance then. The symbols, the platinum hair. He hadn’t felt like himself. It was why he’d started training again.
It would crush him if his injuries kept him from the pits. He’d just made the championship league. Would these injuries send him back to square one?
“What’s bothering you, mate?” He ran his nose along the side of her neck, behind her ear, and planted a kiss in her hair.
She swallowed. “You were gone more than a day.” She placed her hands on either side of his face and pressed her forehead to his. “I’m exhausted. Is it okay…? Can we sleep together? I mean actually sleep.”
All she saw in his features was relief. She knew he wanted her, just as she wanted him. But he needed rest. He might not want to admit it, but he needed time to heal as well.
“Brilliant plan,” he whispered.
She guided him to the bed and helped him into it. Carefully, she lay beside him, curled on her side, staring at the balcony where twilight again descended on Paragon. She scooched backward until she fit against his chest.
His breath felt soft on the shell of her ear as he whispered, “I came back for you.”
“I know. I felt it.” Warmth and pure happiness filled her at his words. “I love you, Marius.”
His breathing had already evened out. He was fast asleep.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Paragon’s dual suns blazed in a bright azure sky when Harlow woke. She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Marius. He needed his sleep, and she was badly in need of a bath. She tiptoed into the bathroom and filled the tub, pouring in a selection of bubbles from the tray on the counter. The scents were decidedly feminine, and Harlow thought the soap must be common to all the bathrooms in the palace. It was more luxury than she’d experienced in over a year.
Stripping out of her dress, she sank into the tub and leaned her head back against the rim. The heat suffused her skin. She was surprised when tears poured from the corners of her eyes. But then, she hadn’t allowed herself to cry yesterday. She’d stayed strong for him. Now she could finally let herself go.
The truth was that this mating had changed her irrevocably. Days ago, if something had happened to Marius, she might have gone on. But after yesterday, she knew that if he hadn’t come back, she would have stopped existing regardless of whether her body was still here or not. She would have never been the same. Maybe she would have died of grief.
And wasn’t that funny? After centuries of walls, of fortifying her heart and maintaining her independence, she could no longer survive without a man. She closed her eyes. Stupid, crazy, unexpected love. Everything was different now.
She sank down under the bubbles, scrubbed her face and hair, and then sat back up, smoothing the excess soap from her eyes.
“Mind if I join you?” Marius stared down at her. He was naked and hard. Unashamedly male. Her gaze scraped over him. All she could think was that giving up a portion of her independence was a small price to pay for this. This man was a god. This man was the sun.
She gave him a languid, lopsided smile. “Plenty of room.” She pulled her knees to her chest, and he splashed into the space in front of her, facing her.
“You’re so accommodating.”
She used the sides of the tub to rise and straddle his hips, bringing her lips close to his. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
His lids grew heavy, and he moved in to kiss her. “Hey, you didn’t grunt when you got into the tub. And your wings are withdrawn!”
He shook his head and raised a brow. “It seems Maiara’s salve worked.”
“Let me see.”
He turned in the water. Between the two crescent-shaped markings that indicated where his wings attached to his body, a white, star-shaped scar painted his back. She ran her fingers along it, marveling that all the symbols that were once there were gone. The ones on the rest of his body were still there, although they were lighter now, silvery. Almost as if all their magic had gone, leaving only a lingering impression in its place. She was totally okay with that.
“Show me your wings,” she whispered.
He unraveled them, their diamond white whole again, although bearing the same starburst pattern as his back. “How’s it look?”
“Perfect. There’s a scar… a starburst… but no permanent damage as far as I can tell. It actually looks…”
“What?”
“Tough.” She laughed. “You look… unyielding.” She ran her fingers along the space between his wings, and he shivered at her touch.
Abruptly, he turned in the water and grabbed her hips, pulling her to straddle him again. She gasped as his hard length pressed between her thighs. “Let’s put that theory to the test.”
She loved that suggestion. Her mouth crashed into his. All the fear, all the love, all the need she’d felt in the past twenty-four hours, all poured into him where their mouths melded. Her mating trill thrummed in her chest. Her hand plunged into the water, wrapped around his cock, and stroked to the base. He moaned.
Electric sparks tingled through her veins, igniting her body with need. From the tips of her breasts to the tips of her wings, she wanted him. Needed him in her. She raised her hips to slide him in, but he wasn’t having it. He lifted her and set her bottom on the edge of the tub. She had to grip the sides with both hands to keep from slipping over.
“Not going to rush this,” he murmured against the space between her breasts. His tongue flicked over her right nipple, hard and taut from cool air on wet skin. Desire shot down her torso to her core. She tipped her head back as he laved and sucked at her breast, then bit, just to the point of pain. Goddess, she might come, and he hadn’t even touched her below the waist yet.
His rough hands shoved against her thighs, spreading her wide. She didn’t resist even though the cold teased her sensitive flesh. His head dipped, and a warm, wet tongue lapped along her folds. She moaned, but she could barely hear it over the deafening thrum of his trill and hers. The music they were creating echoed off the obsidian walls.
He licked at her slowly, focusing his attention on just the right spot. She was so close to orgasm her teeth hurt, and her inner dragon could barely be contained. Talons extended from her knuckles and scraped the sides of the tub. Her wings extended behind her, trembling. Scales danced along her skin and then disappeared under it.
“Marius…” Mountain, the way he looked at her—she wasn’t sure who was enjoying this more.
His tongue dipped inside, and she called out at the intensity. Rhythmically, he sucked and thrust, his trill a heavy vibration against her clit. The orgasm took her hard and fast. She unraveled, giving herself over to the most intense pleasure she’d ever experienced. Wave after wave rolled through her until her arms shook and gave out. He caught her, held her through the aftershocks.
She hadn’t even come down all the way before he was in her. He thrust his thick shaft inside, wrapped her legs around his hips. The feeling was so intense she wasn’t sure if she’d had another orgasm or if it was the same one growing stronger again. She ran her hands down the corded muscles of his shoulders, dug her fingers into his pale hair.
His thrusts became wild and feral. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rode his hips, using the opportunity to play with his beautiful white wings. Her breasts rubbed against his chest with every tantalizing thrust. It was all her body could take. She tossed her head back again and cried out at the rush of pleasure.
Her inner muscles pulsed against him. His own release poured hot and wet into her. The feeling cast her over the edge again. Would she ever come down from this? Orgasm melted into orgasm until her thighs trembled and she started to slide back into the tub.
Their trills softened.
Time unraveled as he held her against him, until finally he whispered, “The water’s getting cold.” He helped her from the tub, wrapped a towel around her, and delivered a soft kiss to her nose. She felt full, claimed. Every inch of her… loved.
“Did you ever think it could be this way?” she asked without thinking. It was such an intimate question, a window into her soul. Considering where he’d been psychologically a year ago, maybe it was insensitive to ask. “I’d hoped for it one day, but I never expected it to actually happen.”
He moved around her, picked up a brush from the counter, and started running it through her hair, teasing out the tangles. “I knew what mating was. I’d seen it in other couples. But my mother didn’t have it. She was married to Killian. He was her royal consort. But they were never mated. In fact, it was common knowledge that she chose him for his family’s long history of fruitful men. She needed children because Brynhoff had no interest in taking a mate. He had no interest in anything but himself. And one of them needed to reproduce to hold on to the throne. There was no love involved. Ever.”
“That sounds like a difficult home life.”
“Honestly, it was easy for me. Because I was the eldest, they were the hardest on me when it came to royal expectations but also coddled me. I had to train harder than any other boy my age, but when it came to public matches, I always won. I always won because there were consequences for those who beat me. The only person to ever do it publicly was Xavier, and Killian punished him severely enough he never tried it again.”
