by Lisa Daniels
The bravado from earlier leaked out of him with every passing minute, until again, he felt that desire to just leave everything behind and flee.
But unfortunately, a lot of people’s hopes hinged upon him. And he simply couldn’t let anyone down. Especially not Luan. That woman seemed to see something in him, far more noble than he’d ever pictured himself being. He wanted to live up to that. He wanted to impress her.
Cheers and screams filled the atmosphere as his father entered the arena from the other side, three people following close behind. A long, royal red and white cloak trailed behind him, though he didn’t wear his crown or hold his golden staff.
They stood facing one another at a distance allocated by a nervous Kingmatch referee, who began clearing his throat.
“What duel will this be?” the man screamed, making himself heard to the crowd after they’d quietened. “Will it be in human form or dragon form? The challenged has the right to decide!”
In answer, his father, facing him with vehement fury, shifted gracefully into a dragon, dark gray with white flakes upon his skin, as if snow had dusted those feathery scales of his. He was bigger, meaner than Kerrick’s dragon—of course he’d choose the dragon over his frailer human form.
“The fight will commence in dragon form!” the portly referee screeched, backing away hastily as another wave of sound hit from the audience.
Kerrick shifted as well, his body stretching, neck elongating, features melting into a much larger, wing-toting dragon. His tail quivered in anticipation as he eyed his father through enhanced retinas, capturing far more hues of color than an ordinary human eye. His nostrils inhaled the musk of stone and wood of the arena, and the brimstone and rage emanating from his father. Cloaked figures stood behind his father, their hair not revealed, only the bottoms of their mouths visible in flesh.
Thousands upon thousands of people crammed the seats, ready to watch, though they put their own lives in danger, because if the fight got violent and messy, then there wasn’t a whole lot protecting them from the wrath of two royal dragons.
“The duel begins!” A loud, scratchy voice cut through Kerrick’s breaths, and he stretched his limbs and raised his tail high, waiting for the old man to initiate. Remember Perran’s training. Protect the neck. Use a stronger opponent’s strength against him. He’d be a wily, cautious fighter. Luan had offered to steal his father’s breath, and Kerrick still growled at the implication. Whatever he thought of his father, he wanted a fair fight. One that gave the old man a chance.
The old man’s pockmarked visage bared teeth in a snarl, his huge wings fanning out in an aggressive display of dominance. Kerrick felt something strange wash over him. Power—something from the enemy, attempting to subdue him. Right before the null witch behind him canceled it. A surprised hiss emanated from the witches behind his father, and his father reared his head in confusion.
Thought you’d weaken me, old man? Kerrick exposed his teeth in a savage snarl. Most of his nerves vanished, and his confidence began to bloom. He could do this.
Circling closer to his father, he espied Luan by the null witch, her arms folded, glaring at the other witches, just daring them to come her way.
With a roar, his father charged, using the force of his wings to add more impact, which Kerrick barely avoided. He clipped his left wing in the effort, but managed to snap at his father’s tail as it flickered past. His father spun and lashed out with his long neck—a reckless move, because if he missed the strike, then Kerrick potentially could grab him in a fatal choke. His father missed the move, but rolled out of Kerrick’s grab attempt, and slashed at Kerrick’s face with his front claws. Closing the distance, Kerrick gouged at his father’s side, raking the wing joint, and they tussled, rolling and scratching the wood in their ungainly wrestling match.
The cheers and cries of fear from the crowd were drowned out until all Kerrick focused on was his own heartbeat, the snarls and growls and scuffling of bodies, the swipe of wings through air, the coppery tang of blood as their clawing broke through the scales. Placing all his strength into a push, Kerrick rolled his father onto his belly and used his back left leg to claw viciously at the tender flesh there, scoring deep red lines. In retaliation, his father writhed wildly and used his superior size to toss Kerrick off, and something snapped in Kerrick’s wing joint as he impacted the ground.
They clashed together again in a frenzy of claws and teeth, one of Kerrick’s wings not working properly. His father thought he smelled victory, but the wounds he’d sustained from Kerrick’s exsanguination slowed his father down. More cuts.
Bleed out the bigger beast. Avoid him doing the same. That great big body needed to pump the blood far more strenuously than Kerrick’s.
A shrill scream hit his ears as he clamped his teeth down on his father’s neck on a lucky, scrabbling grab, and his attention slid enough to see Luan standing in front of the null witch, wrestling with one of the opposing witches who had sped over, blade in hand. Unfortunately, the null witch’s magic disabled Luan’s power as well.
No! Luan!
His father bucked him off, since he was unable to consolidate his hold, and Kerrick backed away, thundering towards the people attacking Luan. With a primal, enraged scream, his eyes and brain blurring over with a red mist, he slammed his great claws down on one unprepared enemy, crushing them where they stood, and clawed the one off Luan, who lay on the floor, crimson spreading beneath her.
Teeth bit into Kerrick’s flank, and he felt the tearing of scales and flesh, bellowing as he turned, and with an awkward move, locked his own jaws around his father’s neck again. Trouble with bite holds—if the attacker didn’t secure a location and protect their own neck, it left them vulnerable.
Savaging his father, biting deeper and deeper, he kept the pressure until copper burst over his tongue, and his father’s struggles lessened, before fading into nothing.
The cheers became thunderous, and Kerrick drew away, instantly checking out Luan. The null witch kneeled at the fallen air witch’s side, and Kerrick shifted back into his human form with a groan, staggering and falling to one knee.
“Need,” he croaked, beckoning Perran over, “need Alex. Can you get her? Is she around?”
Wordlessly, Perran pointed, and Kerrick saw Meridas and Alex fighting their way through the crowd, spilling onto the arena to dash to Luan.
“She was stabbed,” the null witch said, as Kerrick spat and wiped away the taste of blood in his mouth. “Abdomen. The other witches really didn’t expect me to be here.”
Luan choked a laugh, blood bubbling into her mouth. “Someone who pisses them off even… more… than me…”
“Luan.” Kerrick cradled her head, terrified beyond measure that Alex wouldn’t get here fast enough, wouldn’t heal her in time. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
She brought one hand to his cheek and stared into his eyes with her wide dark ones, and grinned, her teeth furred with blood. “I’m coming back and… haunting… all of you… if she doesn’t heal me…” Luan’s eyes turned to Alex, who thumped down beside her, puffing frantically. Luan’s eyes closed, and she exhaled one frightening breath, like it was her last, as Alex placed her hands on the air witch.
Kerrick growled, unable to control his own fear. If she died… if she died… no. He didn’t want to think about it. Process it.
She wouldn’t die.
He held onto her tight, refusing to let go as Alex pulsed her magic into Luan. The null witch had long since released her own magic and was off to the side, talking with Perran. The red around Luan’s stomach healed. She didn’t move for one heart-stopping moment, before her eyes snapped open, and she spat out more blood, coughing until she was clean. Crying in relief, Kerrick clutched her tight to him, relenting when she winced. Alex instantly moved away to give them privacy, and Kerrick rocked back and forth with Luan, blotting out the dying sounds of the crowd, his attention only for the air witch who nestled in his arms, warm and alive.
>
“Looks like I don’t need to haunt you after all,” she said with a smirk.
“Nope.” He bent to place a soft kiss on her cheek, threading fingers through her hair. Relief sobbed through him, and everything loosened. An inexplicable weight had vanished, and Luan, at first reluctant to cuddle him, eventually accepted her new position without too much protest.
He appreciated that.
Giddy relief floated in him all the way back to Perran’s home. He didn’t want to enter the palace—not until the viper’s nest had been truly flushed out, and his own people installed within its walls. Which meant anyone Perran could place his hands upon with a vested interest in changing the future of the Six Isles. He carried Luan bridal style, and it was a testament to the air witch’s exhaustion, or perhaps her need for close contact, that she didn’t bother to wriggle out of his grasp, but instead let her head loll against his shoulder, trusting in him to carry her back.
His heart continued to thump frantically in his chest, violent and beautiful at the same time.
Maybe it was just the shock of nearly losing her, of watching her exhale her last breath. Maybe it was just adrenaline and relief forming a dangerous cocktail inside him, but he knew in that moment, staring at the stubborn, dazed woman in his arms, that he didn’t want to let her go.
Ever.
Chapter Nine – Luan
Emotions. Luan didn’t handle them well. Unless she was abusing fear and hatred to her own ends when interrogating prisoners. Those were easy to elicit, because people functioned on basic, instinctual levels that all the trappings of society couldn’t shake off. Didn’t matter how fancy their clothing or how civilized they thought themselves.
Everyone had a breaking point. Everyone had a price. Her job was to find out the limit, test it, and break that individual as per her profession. Art, in a way. It made her a monster, but even monsters had their uses.
With Kerrick, Luan found her own breaking point. It terrified her beyond anything ever experienced. Worse than going alone in the palace, or dealing with dangerous assassins, wondering if one of them might get the drop on her at last, or if someone intended to avenge someone she’d jailed or killed. Those emotions? Easy. She knew exactly what to expect and exactly how to deal with it.
Relationship-based emotions? Another case entirely. On top of the incredibly annoying physical reactions that she’d really rather she didn’t have, there was also something extra and unexplainable. Something that made her stare at Kerrick for too long and catch him smiling. Something that drew her closer, seeking connection, contact, drowning in tactile sensation and all the other senses revolving around him.
Right now, Luan dreaded returning to Perran’s house. It would be Kerrick’s last night here before he moved into the palace and started changing the laws inside out, flushing the Conclave members away from their beloved isles. They were already rats fleeing a sinking ship, escaping the quick purging of the task forces of their department. Also, around eight of the constabulary ended up being fired due to unearthed evidence of corruption.
Everything had worked out for the best, ever since Luan rescued the prince from that warehouse. They had a real chance of fixing their kingdom, and Kerrick’s coronation was scheduled for a week from today.
So, why did she feel dread, standing outside Perran’s house?
He’s going to be king. This is where we part. One more night in this place as they arrange for the palace and new servants to be installed, then he’ll vanish into publicity forever. I’ll be back to my usual police duties. And he… he’ll find some suitable noble lady to be by his side, and one day become his wife.
Listing the facts didn’t cheer her up in the slightest. That hollow sensation in her stomach remained.
One night left. Darkness lay at her back, and the clouds obscured the skies above.
One night left, and she intended to make the most of it.
Kerrick had promised to teach her. Now that the mission was over, he probably planned to renege on this idea, cloaking himself in responsibility instead. Keeping her breathing as calm as possible, though she struggled to control the rising anticipation and excitement wriggling inside, she located Kerrick in his chambers, propped up against the slats of the bed, reading by orblight. Most injuries had been cleared up, though his left shoulder blade ached, equivalent to the wing break he experienced in the duel against his father. Luan remembered how vulnerable she’d felt, stripped of her magic, forced to watch as the bigger and older dragon set upon Kerrick, thirsting for the kill. And then those witches, denied by the null witch, attempting to fight past her…
“Luan.” Kerrick placed his book down immediately upon seeing her. He gave her a tired but happy smile. “Good to see you.”
“Likewise.” She remained frozen by the door for a moment, seeing an invisible threshold around his bed, mind already racing through the possible things they’d experience. Then, with a deep inhale, she closed and locked the door behind. “Since this is our last night together…” She left it hanging, and his eyes widened, going dark and curious. He slid himself out of bed to meet her halfway, hands teasing into her short, dark hair, eyes boring into hers.
Shivering, Luan reached up to place her lips upon his, even as her heart throbbed, and something painful twanged in her guts.
She didn’t want her first time to be her only time with him. She’d hoped for more, many more. Expected more moments, more time.
But time had an unfortunate habit of running out.
“I’ll guide you,” he whispered against her lips, energy crackling through them, sending a warm, delicious heat across her body, her skin. Getting lost in the kisses, Luan dragged herself closer to him, yearning for more, frightened by the depths of that sudden desire, how it licked across her limbs and stuttered her breathing until it became pants. Her eyes were closed to sink into the feeling further, to be caressed, cared for in a way no one else had ever done.
The back of her knees bumped the bed, and he lowered her down onto it, rearranging the covers, batting away his book so that it thumped against the floor.
“Any time you want me to stop, just say,” he murmured against the skin of her neck, as his hands worked at her clothes, plying them away from her body until the cold air hissed against her heated skin.
Arousal pooled between her thighs, and every tiny movement of his body against her sent further jolts of pleasure, building up into a steady flame of passion, sweeping away some of her fears, but not all of them.
What if I’m not good enough? What if this first time is horrible?
What if it’s amazing, but I won’t be able to touch him again?
Her doubts lessened when he pressed his lips against hers again, tongue sweeping her bottom lip, both of them panting into each other’s mouths. His breath was minty and fresh, as if he’d been sitting there chewing mint bark the whole time, and his weight pressed comfortably into her.
“Don’t stop,” she hissed against his mouth, excited when his hands teased off her underwear, completely divesting her of all her clothes.
His eyes raked over her naked body, over all the tattoos. “One moment. I need to do this.” One hand and finger traced over every single mark, and he took his time. Tracing the wind and fire patterns on each arm, her shoulders, collarbone, and legs. His eyes were wide and worshipful, and he kept inhaling sharply, as if constantly being surprised by what he saw and felt. He then gently asked her to roll onto her front, so he could trace the wind like swirls on her back, finger following the ink.
“It’s like looking at a piece of art,” he breathed reverently. She flushed at that. She loved her tattoos, but people didn’t think a woman should have them. Yet with Kerrick…
She turned onto her back again and drew him into another kiss. “Please,” she whispered. “When you kiss me again, please don’t stop.”
Even if this is the only time we have together…
He paused in his caressing, and she opened her eyes to see his p
upils blown, but expression confused. “What makes you think this will be the only time we have together?”
Crimson spread across Luan’s cheeks. Oh no. She’d said that out loud? Not good. “I…” Now it was her turn to be confused. “Isn’t it?”
“No?” His eyebrows knitted together, and he hovered above her naked body, still wearing his nightshirt and boxers, hair mussed up from her fingers teasing through it. “I have no intention of this being our only time if I can help it. Though let’s wait until after the act and see if you’re not squirming in terror because of my awful lovemaking skills.”
Luan snorted in spite of her embarrassment and confusion, hitting him on the shoulder. “Because you’re going into the palace. You’re going to become king and be the most important individual in the Six Isles and the Undercity. I’m a cop. I’ll be working. And I don’t plan to stop working. You’ll have… obligations. Commitments. No time for someone like me.”
He placed one hand under her chin, stroking the softness there, and she sighed into the touch, feeling as if she were hovering on the edge of something. “I’ll always make time for you,” he said, his voice gravelly, seductive. Shivers raked up and down her spine, and she squeezed her eyes shut in a quick bid to stop the sudden well of tears threatening to leak out.
“You think this can work out? Because… I…” I’m a monster. She clung onto those words, unable to breathe them out loud. Not wanting to hear him confirm it, and not entirely sure she might break down if he denied it.
He continued stroking her chin, and when she opened her eyes, a strange expression lingered upon his features. “Well, seeing as you’re an amazing, strong, and beautiful person, I think I can climb a few mountains to make it work out. If you want me to.”
Leaning close, he whispered into her ear, “And after almost losing you once, I don’t intend to lose you again.”
The words iced through her, bringing out a gasp from her lips, and all doubt, all trepidation vanished. Fire burned through her veins as she sought the prince’s lips, digging hard and deep into his mouth, clawing at his inconvenient and annoying shirt. The words galvanized her, allowing her to drown in the affection she’d been trying to avoid beforehand. She budged his shirt off with desperate need, palms running over his bare skin, craving that contact, that intimacy.
