Hidden Dragon (The Treasure of Paragon Book 7)

by Genevieve Jack

  Gabriel rolled her the coconut. She squealed in delight and rolled it back to him.

  “My God, Gabriel, she can practically say it. She definitely understands what it is. And look at her push it back to you.”

  “Our daughter is extremely bright,” Gabriel said. “Just like her mother.”

  Raven turned serious. There was something she’d been meaning to ask Gabriel, and she’d put it off long enough.

  “According to the prophecy, isn’t Charlie supposed to be a weapon? Months ago, Tobias warned me that the child of a dragon and a witch could flatten cities.”

  Gabriel scowled. “Folklore. Brynhoff demonized the witch queen of Darnuith and her dragon mate. He murdered their unborn child along with the queen. It would make sense that he’d spread rumors that their progeny was a monster, otherwise the other four kingdoms might denounce what he’d done.”

  “But do you think there’s any truth to the prophecy? Obviously we three sisters are playing a role in bringing Eleanor down. We hope to bring an end to Paragon as we know it. That part is true. And if that part of the prophecy is true, then maybe…” She stopped short. If Charlie had any deadly power, she would have done something to protect them from the sea monster that almost tore them apart. She was probably worrying over nothing.

  “Our daughter is not a monster.” Gabriel rolled the ball back to Charlie. “Besides, we won’t know what magical talents she might have or not have until after she shifts for the first time.”

  “Not have? Do you think it’s possible she has no power?”

  “Her wings are different, Raven. And she was born looking more like you than me. It isn’t unheard of for dragons to be born in their soma forms, but much more commonly, they look like whelps, er, baby dragons. They look like this after their first shift. Will she have the ability to make herself invisible?” Gabriel shrugged. “We’ve seen hints that she’ll be able to breathe fire. What magic will come naturally to her? We won’t know until she’s older.”

  Everything was changing. It was like Raven was standing in the middle of a river, time rushing by her. Already Charlie was growing and changing at an alarming rate. Raven could only speculate what she’d become when she grew up. That was much farther down the river. The hard part was enjoying the temperature of the water right where she was. How could she stay in the moment and enjoy every second of her baby’s existence when every day brought her closer to something big, something that could change everything? How did she enjoy where she was when something big and dark was careening toward her at a high rate of speed?

  Charlie giggled and patted the ball.

  “Can you say mama?” Raven cooed at her daughter, kissing the top of her head.

  “Ma. Ma,” Charlie said with some effort, her huge blue eyes blinking up from a face framed in downy white curls.

  “Oh goddess, she said it!” Raven swept her up and kissed her chubby cheek.

  Gabriel grinned proudly. “As I said, our daughter is absolutely brilliant.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Aborella hated Eleanor. The emotion came from a deep well of pain and regret that she sank deeper into every day and night she spent in this infernal cell. Other than her visions, all her magic had been drained from her. The sun hadn’t touched her skin since Eleanor had arrested her. Her normally dark purple complexion had faded to lavender. She was sick. Weak. Underfed. And the empress was to blame.

  “I am losing my patience, Aborella.”

  “Unchain me and I’ll help you find it.” Aborella’s head snapped to the side as Eleanor’s palm shot out and connected with her cheek.

  “My men have sifted through all the ash in the Empyrean Wood. There is no box. There are no documents.”

  “I must have been mistaken. Visions are open to interpretation. Maybe the buried thing was metaphorical.”

  Fury rang through Eleanor like a bell and her claws raged forward. Slashing talons sliced Aborella’s wing asunder. Intense pain stabbed through her back into her heart, stealing her breath. Her eyes spread wide. When she finally succeeded in sipping air into her lungs, all she could do was scream. Aborella was no stranger to pain, but this was intolerable. Her back pulsed and bled, her torso burned. Her stomach tried to empty itself, but there was nothing inside her. With the chains shackling her, there was no way to turn for comfort.

  “My wing,” she sobbed. “You took my wing. How could you?”

  Eleanor pressed the bloody wing against the wall across from her, tore a nail from the wooden windowsill, and spiked it through the wing and into the wall. Aborella’s sobs intensified at the cruelty. She’d be forced to stare at the missing wing as she suffered from its loss.

  “You took my wing,” she cried through gritted teeth. “You evil fucking bitch!”

  Eleanor whirled, her frame looking bonier and more angular than ever. Her black eyes bore into Aborella, and her red lips pulled back from her teeth. “Tell me what the rebellion is up to, Aborella, or I will take the other wing. And once I’ve taken your wings, I’ll take your limbs, one by one. We already know you can survive it. I will take you apart like an insect.”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Eleanor’s talons shot from her knuckles again, and Aborella cringed against the wall, away from her reach.

  “I’ll tell you what I know.” Aborella squeezed her eyes shut. She was truly the lowest form of life now, no better than a worm plucked from the soil, but she simply could not stand any more pain. She was weak. She admitted it. Eleanor had won. She’d broken her spirit.

  “Well? Start talking.”

  Aborella stared down at a smattering of her blood across the stone as she spoke. “There are five orbs, one hidden in each of the kingdoms. The rebels are trying to find and collect each of them.” Aborella leaned her good side against the wall and curled into a ball.

  “Why? What do these orbs do?”

  “They were created centuries ago by Medea, the witch queen of Darnuith. Each one contains a piece of a key. If all are collected, together they form a way to unlock a hidden vault that contains the most powerful grimoire known to have ever existed.”

  Eleanor grew suspiciously silent. Aborella peeked at her to find her statuesque, perfectly still, as if in total and complete shock. What had she said? Something had triggered the empress. She’d even stopped breathing.

  “Is it the golden grimoire?”

  Aborella swallowed. She hated herself for this. “I did see a book bound in gold. My vision did not tell me it had a name.”

  “I have searched many centuries for this book, Aborella.” Eleanor paced to the other side of the room, suddenly jittery and anxious. She rubbed her hands together. “This grimoire could change everything. It is imperative we find it before the rebels do.”

  “No one can find it without the keys,” Aborella explained. “And the rebels already have at least one. The orb that was hidden in Rogos.”

  The hiss that tore through Eleanor’s teeth was nothing short of deadly. “Why did you not tell me this before?”

  “I did.” Aborella looked her in the eye so that she could see the truth in her expression. “Back in my ritual room, I told you I saw rebels near the sacred pools of Niven. You didn’t believe me. My vision of Everfield was also a misinterpretation but was truthful. The rebels were there, searching for the orb.”

  The empress started to tremble, her skin bubbling as if she might shift at any moment. “Where are the rebels now, Aborella? If they have not returned to Aeaea, that means there’s a chance we can intercept them and take the orbs for Paragon.”

  Aborella pressed her fingers into her eyes and prayed to the goddess of the mountain that Dianthe, Sylas, Tobias, and Sabrina—the four from her vision—had not lingered in Nochtbend. She’d held off on sharing this vision for as long as she could. She hoped it was long enough that the four had found what they needed and gotten out of there. If not, her next words would be signing their death warrant. Forgive me, Dianthe.

  “T
hey’re in Nochtbend,” Aborella said. “The orb is on the scepter of Master Demidicus. The four rebels are attempting to convince him to part with it.”

  Eleanor growled, likely with the realization that she’d seen that scepter with Master Demidicus for centuries. She could likely picture the orb in her mind. So close and she’d never recognized it for what it was.

  “You’d better not be lying about this. I will not be pleased if this is another wild-goose chase.”

  “I have told you everything, exactly what I’ve seen,” Aborella cried softly. “But I am too weak. If you would free me, I could—”

  Without a word of comfort or a goodbye, Eleanor strode from her cell and locked the door behind her, leaving Aborella to bleed in the dark room with nothing to look at but her own wing.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Although Dianthe was tired to her bones, she had to speak to Sylas. The nightmare he’d had, the fear and pain—yes, she was sure it was pain she’d seen in his eyes—rattled her spirit. There was something he hadn’t shared with her, something that had changed him. Along with that cryptic comment about fates worse than death, all the clues seemed to point to something bigger under the surface. He’d treated her differently since his escape from Eleanor. The question was, why?

  She had to find out what had happened to him. Her marriage was at stake. Their bond was eternal, but their relationship, their intimacy, could be neglected and destroyed. No one ever promised her forever would be easy. If they didn’t find a way back to each other soon, she wondered if they’d find themselves loving each other from a distance. It certainly seemed like things were headed that way.

  “Let’s try to get a few hours of sleep,” Sylas said once the white sisters had returned them to their suite. “We’ll head toward Aeaea late morning.”

  Tobias and Sabrina hastily agreed to that plan and disappeared into their room.

  Dianthe met Sylas’s gaze and held it. “We need to talk.”

  “If you don’t want to sleep next to me, I can make a bed out here.” He nodded his head toward the couch.

  “Who said I didn’t want to sleep next to you?” Dianthe took a tentative step toward him.

  “I want to give you your space. I don’t want to smother you.” The word smother came out with an edge, like it tasted bitter on his tongue.

  She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I shouldn’t have used that word. I’m here. I’m making my own choices. You aren’t smothering me or keeping me from anything physically. I’m sorry I grabbed for that word when I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

  All the light drained from his gray eyes, replaced with frustrated sadness. “Then what did you mean? Because I’ve been trying my damnedest to figure it out for days.”

  She thought hard about what she wanted to say. “Before you left… before you were captured, you were my partner. I always felt you valued what I had to offer, both to our marriage and to the resistance. You always said that you and Colin couldn’t do what you did without me.”

  “I value you. I never said I didn’t value you—”

  She held up a finger. “Something has changed. You had our bags packed and a boat for Aeaea ready, as if you expected the attack from the Obsidian Guard. Did you know Empyrean Wood would burn?”

  “No, I didn’t know.” He made a face like the thought disgusted him. “Do you think I would have kept that to myself when I could have spared so many?”

  “It’s unlike you, but then why was the bag packed?”

  He took a deep breath. “Aborella left. I didn’t trust her. I never trusted her.”

  “You didn’t trust me.”

  He groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m too tired for this tonight.”

  “I’m too tired not to do this tonight. I’m exhausted from this tension between us. I want my mate back.”

  “Then just forgive me for trying to keep you safe. I’m a dragon. It’s expected.”

  “This is more than that. If it weren’t for Colin, you never would have let me come on this mission. You allowed yourself to be eaten rather than trust that I could fly faster than a worm could climb. You tried to stop me from saving Tobias and Sabrina from the water sprites. Why don’t you admit it—?”

  “Admit what?” he snapped.

  “Something happened to you. Something terrified you, and the reason you are obsessed with keeping me safe, the reason you wanted Circe herself to underestimate me and keep me under her protection, is because it horrifies you to think the same thing could happen to me!” Her loud whisper floated around Sylas and then dissolved in ripples like a drop in the ocean. As soon as she said it, she knew she was right. This wasn’t just being protective. This was fear. This was a terror so strong he’d actually sacrifice their relationship to save her from it.

  His throat bobbed on a swallow, and then his lashes fluttered. Suddenly he looked thinner, his skin sallow. “Can we just go to bed?”

  She spread her wings, bathing him in a faint glow. Closing the gap between them, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear in her most sultry voice. “I will never turn down going to bed with you.”

  It was as if she’d waved a red flag in front of a bull. His expression changed, his gaze filling with a deep, hungry need as if he’d been bleeding out and she’d offered him a tourniquet. He grabbed her face roughly, just shy of hurting, and crashed into her. This was no soft request. His lips were demanding, their breaths coming in gasps between long, deep, violent kisses.

  He grabbed her dress as if he might tear it from her body. She slithered out of it before he could, not wanting him to ruin the piece of art. Totally naked and glowing brighter with her excitement, she led him into the bedroom and closed the door.

  “Goddess, I need you, Dianthe.” He dug his fingers in her hair, brought the ends to his nose, and breathed her in.

  She’d taken far too long to decipher what was going on with him. She’d torn him down. Built walls. Dug moats. It was time to strip away everything and just be them, together, naked and alone. Only from that could she rebuild.

  “You have me,” she whispered. She reached for the ties on his pants and pulled them down around his ankles. He was rock-hard. His massive erection reached for her. She took him in her hands, eliciting a deep purr from his inner dragon. His mating trill. Music to her ears.

  He kicked his pants aside and removed his jacket and shirt as if the garments were on fire. His breath had quickened, but then so had hers. They’d been together for so long, but something about this moment made her feel like this was their very first time. She felt raw, needy. Her stomach flipped with nerves.

  There was a slight tremble to her hand when she pushed him down onto the bed and crawled up his body. Their eyes locked. “You have me,” she repeated.

  Slowly she lowered her head and slid her lips over his cock, taking him deep into her throat.

  His breath caught, and he grabbed the headboard. “Dianthe. Oh goddess.”

  She swirled her tongue over the blunt head and sucked him deeper again. Her tongue curled around his shaft. As she stared up his body, all she could think was that her husband had definitely been carved by the gods. He was all hard peaks and shadowed valleys, the lean musculature of his arms and shoulders nothing short of intimidating. His size positively dwarfed her. But on his back, with his cock buried in her mouth, he was all hers.

  Finding a rhythm, she licked and sucked until his groans of pleasure made her reach between her own legs to ease the hot ache that had started there. Her nipples puckered with her need for him, and she arched her back and worked him faster. The sight of her pleasuring herself put him over the edge. With a howl, he emptied himself down her throat.

  She rose above him, still stroking herself as he trembled beneath her from the aftershocks of his orgasm. When his eyes focused on her again, they were glowing red, and the heat his body was putting off made her skin flush.

  Hello, dragon.

  Nothing existed in that
moment but her. Sylas watched Dianthe stroke herself, her knees straddling his legs, and felt completely full for the first time in what felt like forever. There had been a giant gaping hole in the general region of his rib cage, an aching that she’d filled with her unwavering attention. When was the last time they’d had this?

  His inner dragon coiled tight inside his body, rippling under his skin. He was ready again, and she was the only one who could soothe his inner fire. He grabbed her by the hips, spreading his wings and lifting them both off the bed. In one slick thrust, he entered her. He wasn’t gentle, but Dianthe didn’t seem to mind. Her mouth came down on his like hot rain. He was drowning in her, wrapped in her dark, lanky limbs. Her embrace, her arms, her legs, her core—it was the only thing holding him together.

  Forgetting himself in her was the only thing that mattered.

  Her wings fluttered as he landed on his feet at the end of the bed, supporting her with a firm grip on her luscious ass. Her light washed across him, across the bed, her sweet-as-honey scent filling his lungs. Where did he end and she begin? He’d forgotten long ago. His knees bent and his hips matched her thrusts as she started to move. In this position, clinging to him, her legs and arms squeezing tighter to gain purchase, their thrusts became an exercise in deep movements, small but effective. Gravity pulled her closer. Passion brought him to the edge.

  He whirled and lowered her onto her back on the bed, rejoining the rhythm. Goddess, she was beautiful beneath him. The most beautiful female who had ever or would ever live. Why did she love him? How had he gotten so lucky as to have her for his mate?

  With a cry of ecstasy, she arched beneath him, her head thrown back, her inner muscles milking him. He gave her everything, their mutual pleasure rising to a crescendo that reached through his soul. He was tissue paper and her light had shone through him, driving out the darkness if only for a moment.