Fire of Stars and Dragons

by Melissa Petreshock

  “Caitriona,” Dante calls out to me as Theo stands straighter, looking away. “Would you do me the honor of joining me on the dance floor, love?” Reaching me in that moment, he places his hand on my arm, gentle and tender, but the spark, the electric tingle at his touch is still there, always there with Dante.

  Turning my back on Theo, I find it impossible not to feel he’s done the same thing to me since this morning. I wonder if he’s watching me walk away with Dante, and if he realizes he walked away first.

  Chapter 13

  *Cait*

  His attention never wavers from me, the intensity of Dante’s vivid blue eyes frighteningly scintillating. Haunting, beautiful strains of a slow waltz play as he holds me in his arms, close, inappropriately so considering we’re at a charity gala for the Gilroy Children’s House Fund with another three thousand guests’ eyes wandering, trying to act as though they aren’t looking, aren’t noticing the undeniable attraction between us.

  But I don’t care. Let them gawk. Let them gossip. I can’t count how many of these social functions I attended with Uncle Thomas since I turned sixteen, and never could ballroom dancing compare to this experience, in Dante’s arms, with his smooth lead, light steps, and perfect rhythm.

  “Last night, on the rooftop,” he begins, the words seeming difficult to say. “The sight of your reaction to Theo’s return felt quite more revelatory than I expected. Perhaps you can imagine how, to me, a need to remain rather lacked. Please forgive taking such abrupt leave of your company, Caitriona, but I…”

  “Don’t worry about it. I understand.” Goddess forbid if the roles had been reversed, I’d probably end up in a very unladylike brawl, but I don’t tell him. I’m just glad there wasn’t a blow up between them. What I can’t imagine is how bad a standoff involving Theo and Dante could be, but the word ‘nuclear’ would probably end up somewhere in the fitting description. “I’m sure you made the best decision for you.”

  His lips form a tight line, brows furrowed together, and I can only guess he’s contemplating something again. Of all the people I’ve known, only my uncle comes close in this trait of spending so much time thinking before speaking. Uncle Thomas never made ‘gut decisions’ about anything, and I don’t believe Dante does either. Every move, every word, has a reason, a logic, a purpose. Nothing is meaningless with him.

  “Yes, the best decision for me at the time, but did I make the best decision for us? Have I done irreparable damage to your feelings for me? It is so difficult to gauge these things when one has no experience with which to compare, Caitriona. Admittedly, women have claimed to be in love with me in the past, but with no sense of connection to them, no depth of emotion for them, it was of little concern to me if they did or did not suffer some measure of heartbreak when my interests fell elsewhere.” Appearing slightly embarrassed, his voice lowers. “Most certainly, those interests were not falling from one woman to another. I grew distracted by studies, too engrossed in my new intellectual pursuit to find romantic entanglements quite as enticing.”

  I nod, looking away for a moment, catching sight of Theo watching us. “And what about me, Dante? How long until I’m not enticing enough? What happens to me when you grow distracted by whatever it may be this time?”

  The eyes of the demigod holding me in his arms change, softening, a silent offer allowing me a glimpse deeper. “Never could you not be enough for me, Caitriona. No other woman ever compelled my interest the way you do. And as many women as I have held pleasant affection for, you are the only woman to lay claim to my heart. Understand that for my entire existence, I’ve harbored no measurable desire to marry, procreate, or carry on about in such a manner. However, I am the only child of the Mother Goddess, and a son at that, a status leading to a frustrating number of brazen lower goddesses and demigoddesses giving reason for my avoidance of any significant amount of time spent in the High Realm.”

  The idea of Dante chased around by a multitude of hot-to-trot deities, anxious to wed him and bed him, makes me giggle quietly, but he doesn’t look too amused by it. I’m sure he’s about to chastise me for my reaction, but the song changes to a tango, and we shift positions.

  If I thought our nearness was inappropriate during the waltz, the only thing preventing absolute indecency in the way he holds me pressed against him now is his sheer sense of dignity and propriety.

  “As entertaining a notion you may find it, I maintain the standard of principles held by my mother, the same adhered to by the Dracopraesi and the Fae. To us, a pillar of morality is remaining faithful to one’s spouse until death, the most literal sense of ‘til death do you part’ in the vows of marriage. A lover should be treated with respect and adoration due any woman, every female created in the likeness of the Goddess, giver of life. But a wife…” Dante’s piercing eyes don’t leave mine as we glide across the dance floor, voice kept low, not missing a word, not missing a beat.

  “A wife, Caitriona, I could not take for any reason less than love. That weighed on me when I offered to do so at court, but Theo’s call left me considering I had yet to see my part, what was to come. Even I could not fathom how this would come together, how deeply I would come to love you.” He spins me, my back to his chest as we execute the steps in perfect sync. His lips are at my ear, breath tingling along my neck, its sweetness so strong I can’t miss it as he whispers, “How desperately I would want everything with you.”

  Dante’s hand glides sensually down my arm, along my side, coming to rest firmly on my hip, his lead strong and well practiced. “Hm. So, you want everything, Corrin wants me to save his life, and Theo wants…” I fall short trying to name what my dragon wants, not sure if he still wants anything with me. “How can I possibly know what the right thing to do is? If I have some huge destiny looming over me, is this a test or something? Do I fail and ruin it if I choose the wrong husband?” It takes everything in me to control my voice, to not yell in the middle of the gala, to continue dancing and talking in hushed tones as if I’m not eaten alive by stress. With a quick turn, we’re nose-to-nose, his lips and the sweetness inherent to him so inviting, I have to fight giving in, and to continue speaking. “What does your mother want from me, Dante?”

  In a swift motion, he dips me back, hand on my thigh, fingers brushing the upper edge of the slit in my dress. Bringing me upright in a steady, gradual motion, he studies my face, too thoughtful in choosing his words before explaining when I just want an answer, everything spoken with consideration. The intensity of his gaze combined with the sensuality of the dance makes it increasingly difficult to remember why I’m agitated in the first place.

  “It is not a dragon’s place to tell a ward of their destiny or influence the choices on their path. They bear the responsibility of ensuring you survive to fulfill it. I am not, however, in such a position and do not wish to see you suffer discord over the decision you face.” Dante pauses, executing a complicated series of steps and turns, then returning our positions to chest-to-chest. Running his thumb over my hand, his eyes meet mine, the love in them is unmistakable. “You cannot choose wrongly, Caitriona. Despite wanting to tell you that I am the only correct choice, that you must marry me, to do so would be quite devious. According to my mother’s logic, any of the three paths before you lead to the desired outcome: great change, each with their own specific effects on the world, none of which she finds dissatisfying.”

  “That’s a relief and yet not helpful.” In a way, I want to strangle him. It would release a bit of my tension, and I’m safely assured he won’t die.

  In our proximity, his lips ghost over mine. “What would you have me say, Caitriona?” His whisper is little more than an enticing sweet breath. “I offer you everything, but not in the way of Corrin’s ignorant offer. Material possessions hold little value to me. I offer you my undying love, a swear of my fidelity, the desire to see your body grow ripe as you bear our children, and a wish for us to spend eternity together, Caitriona.”

  I slide my hand up h
is chest to his shoulder. As a demigod, son of the Mother Goddess, he’s beautiful, a work of art in his perfection, not the rough masculinity of my dragon, but undeniably attractive, powerful in his own right. I’d be lying to say I don’t desire him. “You make it sound like such a simple decision.”

  When he turns me this time, my back is against his chest once more, his lips at my ear, but his hand finds its way, unhurried, to my neck, fingers lightly playing along the lines of my throat and upward to my chin as his thumb does a sensual dance from my ear across my jaw. “Do you love me, Caitriona?” His thumb joins his fingers in a provocative glide down my throat to my chest in time with our steps, my breaths coming shallower as I’m sure he’s going to cross the boundaries of appropriate public decorum.

  “Yes.” I whisper, closing my eyes, too focused on the sensation of every beat of the tango, every step of it… and every electric tingle of his touch radiating through my body.

  His hand stops, palm flat, resting just above my breasts. “More so than Theo?”

  Not daring dishonesty with everything at stake in this situation, I swallow hard and take a deep breath. “Differently.”

  “Fair answer.” Spinning me to face him again, his question is blunt, to the point. “And Corrin, you pity him so greatly you would marry him without love?”

  “I… I don’t know. I’m not sure if I can live knowing I killed him.”

  “You aren’t wielding a weapon, Caitriona, and in all likelihood, if you do not allow nature to take its course, I will actively seek to do so,” he states matter-of-factly. “Cedric, Evan, even Oliver have failed to teach him in a manner remaining with the boy. I spent the better part of three centuries mentoring him to find once I left, everything I accomplished unraveled.”

  The song ends, and he leads me off the dance floor, finding the quietest spot possible near a set of doors. His expression becomes icy, angered, unnerving me until I realize he’s looking over my shoulder. I glance behind me, seeing the king approaching us, smiling when he knows I spot him. Halfheartedly smiling back, I quickly turn around again.

  “Rá liom nach ba chóir duit fearg liom a thuilleadh anois, buachaill. Siúl amach roimh mé bhaint do cheann.” Dante’s tone has a vicious cutting edge, his features stony, nothing like when talking with me. He nods, eyes dropping back to mine. “My apologies.”

  “What did you say?”

  Taking my hand, he runs his fingers along the back before kissing it, smiling. “I love your curiosity, Caitriona. Corrin favors the Irish language, so I simply used it to warn him of the lack of wisdom in coming near me at the moment if he enjoys his head attached to his body.” Smile turning tight and frustrated, he continues our conversation. “Despite every effort, he fails to maintain any measurable standard of principles to which he holds himself accountable. I have done everything possible within my power, as great as that may be, and cannot reform the boy. He has the blood of the gods within him yet cannot reasonably control himself to rule one Earthen Realm kingdom. As immensely as I value life, Caitriona, I have lost faith there is any value left in his, so I must ask you the most obvious of questions. What is it you see worth saving?”

  *Theo*

  She stands out in the crowd, in the room, on the dance floor, anywhere she goes, ocean blue in a sea of black-dressed women who are too afraid to be bold, not courageous like my Cait. The ruching of the satin fabric adds a simple yet eye-catching effect, fitting to perfection over her ample cleavage, hugging her form, narrowing at her waist, allowing for the luscious curve of her hips. Every move Cait makes, the skirt of her dress swishes, her slender leg peeking out from the high slit, nearly exposing the thigh my hand held in the shower, and in my own mind, I seared a handprint there for eternity, marking her. If it weren’t for that damned slit, the skirt would otherwise be an elegant ball gown, flowing as she waltzes, a multitude of pinches in the doubled satin giving a fuller appearance.

  Cait is a devastating beauty, simple teardrop blue topaz earrings and necklace all the accessories she wears, needing nothing to prove herself. She is strong, confident, and elegant as she moves, head held high, hair swept up in a complicated braid, pinned with a delicate silver filigree rose, baring her slender neck, wisps of spring-coiled curls framing her face. No one would dare question her as rightfully fair-born.

  “Oh, a tango, Theo. Should I remind you what a complete idiot you are, refusing to dance with her now?” Claaron continues pestering me, tone dry and all-too annoying. “Or perhaps I should wait until after you’ve suffered through watching her dance so sensually with Dante. Considering your activities this morning, what she’s wearing, and the way you can’t take your eyes off her, I’d imagine you find it quite arousing even to watch her do a boring waltz, a tango is… well, Theo, to be perfectly honest, it’s erotic, like fully clothed dance floor porn, completely acceptable in high society. I love it.”

  “Why don’t you go guard her from the other side of the room?” I growl.

  He laughs, taking a step away from me, ensuring he’s out of arm’s reach. “Cait’s closer here. There isn’t as good a vantage point from the other side.”

  “Liar.”

  “There certainly isn’t a vantage point that includes harassing you for being an utter imbecile.”

  I take a deep, heaving sigh. “Keep this up, and I’m going to demote you to her housekeeping dragon, Claaron.”

  Dante continues to carry on a conversation with Cait as they dance; however, it fails to hinder him from performing with any less skill as her dance partner, and she proves to be a painfully adept dancer, much to my dismay.

  “Would I get to do her laundry? Play with all her sexy little underthings?” He punctuates his question with a ridiculous growling purr, and I think I may harm him. “I’m not sure that would be an insufferable demotion. In fact, it might be rather delightful.”

  Closing my eyes for a moment and inhaling a tremendous breath, I reopen them, prepared to give my friend the what-for, coming up short when I find he’s disappeared. Looking around, I see he has indeed found a worthwhile vantage point across the room, grinning innocently with a small wave, which I ignore, returning my attention to Cait.

  Watching Dante touch her where I have touched her, touch her where I desire to touch her again, I wish to leave the room… or gouge my eyes out… or storm onto the dance floor and toss him aside. I wish to take Cait into my arms, letting everyone see how naturally we move together, how we know each other’s bodies, how being near to one another feels right in every way.

  But can I call myself a true worshipper of the Goddess, hold dear her principles, claim any reverence for her if I dare pursue my desire of Cait? I know the hypocrisy in expressing such beliefs and yet asking Cait to sacrifice her right to bear children for an eternity. The Goddess tests my faith, tests my honor, tests my nobility, wishes me to prove my worthiness of such a place as at Cait’s side, and I will not fail.

  Their dance is not over soon enough for my taste, but eventually, they step away, not far from me, and the impudent king approaches. I move to intercept him, finding no need when Dante speaks to him first.

  “I say you should not anger me further now, boy. Walk away before I remove your head.”

  Not surprising me, Cait cannot prevent herself from questioning what he says, and their conversation continues on regarding Corrin.

  “I just need to step out for a moment. Give me a few minutes,” I hear her say to Dante, and I am at the doors before she can leave.

  “Allow me, milady.” Opening the door for her, she scowls at me. I know how much she hates to be called such things, and I enjoy teasing her. “Where are we going?” I begin stepping out with her, and she quickly turns on me.

  “We are not going anywhere, smoke breath. You’re hauling your dragon ass back in there and leaving me alone for five minutes unless you’d like to see how fast I can cause a scene bigger than World War III,” she snaps, jabbing a freshly manicured fingernail in my chest.

&nbs
p; I give this momentary consideration, and come to the conclusion that early twenty-first century Middle Eastern foreign affairs were far less complicated than Cait.

  “Five minutes.”

  *Cait*

  Once the heavy door falls closed behind me, the noise of the ballroom trapped inside, I let out a frustrated scream, not caring if anyone else is in the hallway, though it looks deserted at first glance. The second the sound leaves my mouth, a tall dark figure appears around the corner, causing me to jump, startled by his unexpected presence.

  “My sincerest apologies, milady. I did not intend to frighten you; however, considering the sound I heard from you, I felt I had good reason to believe you were in need of assistance.”

  “I’m fine.” But my answer doesn’t satisfy him enough to walk away. Instead, he stands there appraising me. Despite their similar appearance in age, he’s so opposite of Theo with his stuffy suits and dictated protocols, but some things about him remind me of Uncle Thomas: his voice, certain mannerisms, definitely the expensive suits my uncle wore in life as a CEO. “Your accent. It’s just like my uncle’s.”

  Sir Oliver nods. “Yes, I recall Sir Greyson was an Irish expatriate after his turning, became a citizen of the British Empire serving King George IV and Queen Victoria, and was knighted for his service under both crowns. Quite impressive, especially given his age. Young vampires are notoriously unstable.”

  “Who knighted you?” I don’t really want to talk about vampires. I never thought of Uncle Thomas as one. He was more than a vampire to me.

  “King Arthur. Why do you change the subject?”

  “I didn’t. That’s what we were talking about.”