The Rogue King (Inferno Rising)

by Abigail Owen

  A carbon copy of Pytheios in his younger years—tall and broad with black hair and the reddish-brown eyes that signaled his red dragon heritage—Merikh had thankfully inherited the dragon shifter genes rather than his mother’s magical gifts.

  He’d also inherited his mother’s propensity to fuck anything that so much as breathed in his direction, every woman an easy target thanks to his pretty-boy good looks and calculated charm. A weakness Pytheios had zero patience for.

  Rhiamon patted her son’s hand, and Pytheios noticed for the first time how paper-thin her skin had become. He was running out of time. If the witch died, he would soon follow…that or he’d have to mate to extend his life. Mating a phoenix was something he refused to do, and relying on a weak human turned his stomach.

  “Do you know why your mother keeps herself alive?” he asked Merikh.

  The younger man’s gaze shifted from his mother back to Pytheios. “Because she believes in your vision,” he finally answered.

  Displeasure sifted through Pytheios like hot sand through an hourglass. This boy, because Merikh could hardly be termed a man given his shortsighted tendencies and lack of analytical judgment, was his son. What a waste.

  “My lowest servant believes in my vision,” Pytheios scoffed.

  Merikh flinched, hatred slipping over his features before he managed to check his reaction.

  Good. Hatred was something Pytheios could work with.

  Perhaps the time had come to implement a secondary plan. Taking a phoenix’s power had just become a thousand times easier than the last five centuries, given he had four to choose from. However, making Merikh a carbon copy of himself could be a handy tool in the future—another weapon he could use in this fight to rule dragons like they needed to be ruled. Like he’d done with the boy’s mother, Pytheios would twist his son to suit his purposes. He’d make him stronger, smarter. He should’ve started to do so long before.

  He smiled. “Your mother keeps me alive because no one could rule dragons like I can. As the oldest of the living dragons, my experiences both in war and in peace are invaluable. No other king has the guts to make the tough decisions I do.”

  “You are the King of Kings, Father.”

  Pytheios continued as if Merikh hadn’t interrupted. “And the dragons of your generation are pathetically inept for the position.” Deliberately, he injected his voice with cold cynicism.

  Merikh glared across the table but said nothing.

  After a long, uncomfortable stretch of silence, Rhiamon twitched her shoulders to face Pytheios and redirected the conversation. “If you’d allow me to kill those women—”

  He held up a hand, and she clamped her lips down on any further words. They’d had this conversation before.

  “Until we determine which of Serefina’s offspring is the phoenix, all remain alive.” Until they took her power. That process would kill her, anyway.

  Pytheios ignored Rhiamon’s moue of displeasure. His new plan to mold Merikh in his image would soothe those ruffled feathers. She’d assume he was grooming her son for the crown, that assumption another string he could pull to keep her in line.

  “I thought the plan was to kill every phoenix?”

  Pytheios flicked an annoyed glance in his brother’s direction. His mother’s late-in-life oops leaned against the smooth stone wall. His dark brown hair flopped over one eye, giving him a childlike appearance. He didn’t raise his gaze, staying focused on the Rubik’s Cube he solved then disordered in rapid succession.

  “It was, when the phoenix in question was Serefina,” Pytheios agreed.

  Only Rhiamon knew about the need to take her powers first. He didn’t bother to keep the impatience from his tone.

  “What changed?” Nathair persisted as the click-click-click of his toy clattered on. He didn’t look up, nor would he.

  But Pytheios didn’t keep him around for his eye contact or lack thereof. He had other uses for his only sibling, so he stated his reasoning succinctly. “Five hundred years without a phoenix, and the clans are mine, with the exception of the Blue. Even then, my right to rule as High King could be questioned.”

  The Rubik’s Cube slowed down. “So, you’re going to use one of those phoenixes?” Nathair asked slowly.

  “I’m going to mate one, then add her to my collection of useless relics in Rhiamon’s tower.” A necessary lie to keep his Curia Regis in the dark as to his true plans. “If the phoenix’s presence pays off, and the clans find peace, then she can stay up there until my reign is unquestionable. I’ll kill her when the time is right. If we don’t see a noticeable difference, she’ll go the same way as her sisters, sooner rather than later.”

  Nathair’s hands stopped altogether as he absorbed that plan, running the idea through the impressive matrix that was his brain.

  Pytheios waited. So did the others.

  “Won’t that kill you? Once the mating bond is in place, if one mate dies, so does the other.”

  Pytheios shared a smirk with Rhiamon.

  “No.” The witch’s finger stopped tapping the table. “I’ve found a way to protect him from the effect.”

  Again, his brother considered that in silence.

  “Too many variables,” Nathair finally declared.

  Pytheios allowed himself a small smile. That comment basically meant his plan was sound enough to fool the others. Otherwise, Nathair would voice any big obstacles. “Let me handle whatever variables get in my way.”

  Nathair shrugged and went back to his toy.

  “Bring Jaakobah back in,” Pytheios instructed Merikh.

  Once both men were seated again, Pytheios turned to Jaakobah. “We don’t know where she went?”

  “No, my king.”

  “Can we follow the wolves? Or learn what they know? How they found her?”

  Jaakobah dipped his head. “I believe both are possible.”

  “Do it.” For a brief moment, Pytheios considered going after her himself. The Alps were close to France. But the location put him too close to the Blue Clan. Better to risk Uther and the Gold Clan rather than his own neck. He would give the man another chance to get it right and bring him a phoenix.

  “Get Uther on it,” he ordered.

  Pytheios stood, and the others took his cue and filed out of the room. All except the witch. Rhiamon waited until the door closed behind the others. Then she stepped closer, her cinnamon scent swirling enticingly around him.

  “Did you have to be so hard on Merikh?” she asked.

  Irritation joined his rapidly rising desire. “He’s too soft.”

  “He’s a boy.”

  “He needs to learn to be a king.”

  Satisfaction lit her eyes as the implication sank in. Good. One more way to control her magic.

  “You need to work off some of that anger.” She gave him that siren’s smile that had even his decrepit old body sitting up and taking notice. “I have a surprise for you in my chambers.”

  She didn’t touch him, knowing his skin wouldn’t handle the contact. But if that hint was what he expected…

  In silence, he followed her to her rooms. Rhiamon opened the door, and he stepped inside only to halt at the sight of an animal strapped to the stone wall with thick chains of dragonsteel, and, probably, Rhiamon’s own spells.

  “A hellhound,” he murmured, satisfaction lacing the words.

  “A fine gift, my lord,” she said, moving forward. “He’s young and strong. His fire will feed your flesh.”

  In lieu of a phoenix, they’d been siphoning the powers of other fire creatures for years to keep his condition at bay and keep the witch alive as well. Soon they’d have to start draining dragon shifters of their fire. If he mated a human, Pytheios could have arrested the aging process that affected all dragon shifters eventually.

  He stood, silent and watchful in the c
enter of the room while Rhiamon chanted her spell. As her chanting grew louder, the hellhound started to whimper, but his witch silenced it, like a mute switch, with a flick of her hand. Seconds more, and the creature opened its mouth in an eerily silent howl of agony, its body shook, and fire poured from it into Rhiamon.

  She turned to Pytheios and cradled his face in one hand, her other hand on his arm, and where she touched the skin turned noticeably younger, healthier. She kissed him, and the fire she’d consumed from the hound flowed into him.

  As she continued to drain the creature behind them and feed that energy into Pytheios, he reached for the bottom of her skirt and worked it up. He trailed a hand over the exposed skin of her thigh and up to her ass, still firm despite her age.

  Finally, she finished the process. A glance revealed the charred, dried husk of the massive dog’s body still hanging from the chains. Excellent. A hellhound’s fire would buy him more time.

  “Turn around,” he commanded her.

  Rhiamon chuckled low in her throat, even as she obeyed, turning in his arms and bending over to place her hands on the bed nearby. He flipped her skirt up over her back.

  But before he could sink into her heat, she turned to pin him with a demanding glance over her shoulder. “My son will be king?”

  Pytheios lowered his pants. “Our son will be king. One day.” The lie slipped easily from his lips. Keeping the witch happy was just one more step closer to immortality.

  She’d learn the truth too late. After she did to a phoenix what she’d just done to that hellhound.

  V

  “Run.”

  The word punched from him. Even through his tension, a spurt of pride filled Brand at how she didn’t hesitate. Just took off down the stairs and over the path to the beach.

  As she ran, Brand worked into his shift. He couldn’t take on vampires in his human form—they were stronger, faster…and headed his and Kasia’s way. He needed the dragon. Luckily, the closest vamp to him was far enough away to give him time.

  Curse that fucking doctor in the States. She’d screwed Kasia with her big, fat mouth. He’d go back and snap her neck when this was over.

  As his form realigned, even as his perspective blurred and changed, he kept his gaze trained on Kasia’s form as she got smaller and smaller.

  Damn, she was fast.

  At first, nothing followed her, but they were out there. The coppery scent of blood in the air had been a dead giveaway. It followed those creatures wherever they went.

  Sure enough, a dark figure wearing a duster, of all things, and running faster than human speeds, sprinted out of the dunes. Where was the other one, though? There were definitely two.

  Adrenaline pumping as the vampire closed in on his phoenix, Brand urged his shift to move faster. The second his wings formed, Brand took to the skies.

  Except another figure jumped from the roof and managed to catch him by the leg, dragging him back down. Brand’s heavy bulk hit the ground, spraying up sand. He turned and snapped at the vamp, but missed, because the fuckers were fast.

  Kasia’s scream pierced the air. The other vampire must’ve reached her.

  Brand’s control was tenuous at the best of times. He lost it.

  With a roar, he stoked the fire and aimed it at the creature keeping him occupied. While they weren’t affected by sun—unless you counted how shitty their pale skin looked in the daylight—fire was one of the few things that could kill them.

  Every blast of flame missed. The cottage, all weathered wood, caught a direct hit, though, and went up in a fireball.

  Fuck. That’d bring humans down on his ass in a hurry.

  He wasn’t going to catch the vamp this way. Instead, he took off again, but this time turning his body in a circle while blowing a torrent of fire, so his opponent couldn’t yank him back down. As soon as he gained enough altitude that he couldn’t be reached, he took off after the vampire that had Kasia pinned to the ground.

  The asshole had its fangs in her wrist, not budging as she thrashed and beat against it.

  No. Brand blasted a roar of challenge, but it didn’t let up. A flash of movement directly below him caught his attention. As he expected, the second vampire was racing down the beach to help his compatriot.

  A piercing wail rent the air. The vampire that had Kasia went up in flames, his long coat catching. Good girl. The thing flew back from her, writhing on the ground in agony as it perished.

  The second vampire also let out a scream, increasing his speed to get to his partner. Brand took advantage of his distraction and dove.

  The vamp looked up just as Brand’s shadow alerted him, but it was too late. Brand caught him up in his talons and pushed back into the air. Using the razor-sharp tips designed to pierce through diamond-hard dragon scales, he ripped the fucker in two. That copper scent filled his nostrils, but he dropped the halves, flinging fire after them. No need to leave evidence for the humans to find.

  Immediate danger handled, Brand deliberately landed a half mile away from where Kasia stood on the beach. He needed to get control first. As soon as he hit sand, he tried to shift, but the dragon side didn’t want to let go. Not yet.

  The stench of death and the need to protect the woman still on the beach were too much. Brand had to force himself into human. He needed to be able to check on Kasia, and as a dragon that wouldn’t work.

  Finally, he managed to calm enough to regain control, then he sprinted over the dunes to find Kasia waiting, watching in the direction he came from, cradling her wrist.

  Only instead of gratitude, as he ran up to her, she shoved him in the chest with shaking hands. “You used me as bait, asshole.”

  She hissed, face twisting with pain as she yanked back her wrist to cradle it.

  Brand held up both hands. “I needed time to shift to deal with them. I knew they’d go after you.”

  She continued to glower at him.

  “Good job lighting one on fire.” He reached out to take her hand, needing to check the wound.

  Only she jerked away. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry.” Where the hell had that come from? Brand had a policy. No apologizing. Ever.

  Kasia huffed. “I guess I get why you did it.” She shoved him with her one good hand. “But you scared the shit out of me, Brand.”

  He lifted a single eyebrow. “I’ll try not to do it again.”

  She rolled her eyes at the dry tone of his voice. When he reached for her hand this time, she let him tug it closer. Two small puncture wounds directly over her veins had already clotted up. “Doesn’t look too bad. Do you feel woozy? Weak?”

  He checked her color, which wasn’t too pale.

  “No.” She tugged her hand away. “I lit on fire before he got too much.”

  “Good.” He hesitated, wrestling with the urge to say more, to offer comfort. Again, a foreign notion. “We’d better get going.”

  “Ya think?”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “The sooner we get to the Blue Clan, the better.”

  That was for damn sure. Wolves. Vampires. And Brand was still worried about dragons. What next? The fucking boogeyman?

  …

  She expected him to immediately shift, but he didn’t.

  “When I’m in dragon form, I don’t…” A warning lingered in Brand’s words, but he trailed off.

  “Don’t what?”

  He rolled his shoulders. “I don’t always have control.”

  She gave him a sideways glance, trying to figure that one out.

  Brand sighed. “Sort of like a dog that seems nice but then snaps.”

  Oh. That explained her impression the night he caught her. “Are you dangerous?”

  “I can be, if I’m angry enough.”

  Awesome. Dragons already made her nervous. “If you go all Cujo on me, what’s
the plan?”

  “I don’t think I will.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t think is not good enough.”

  Suddenly he pulled out that infuriating half smile of his. Somewhere between teasing, egotistical, and charming. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re a fast runner, then.”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  He winked. The damn man actually winked at her. “Keep back.”

  “Wait—”

  They still didn’t have a plan, but too late, he’d already started the shift.

  She’d seen him in both forms, but this was the first time she’d witnessed the transition to dragon. The strangeness alone, of seeing the man she knew…the man she’d trusted with her life…silently disappear, folding in on himself and expanding as something completely different, should have her mind reeling. Instead, mostly she was impressed and a tiny bit awed. Her mother had told her of it, of course, but her descriptions left a lot to the imagination, and Kasia’s imagination had been sorely lacking in this area.

  Kasia stiffened as, once done with the transformation, he lowered his head, his huge golden eye on level with her.

  “Are you going to eat me?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  That was something at least. A small amount of her trepidation eased. On a whim stoked by simple curiosity, Kasia reached out, flattening her palm against scales that were surprisingly supple, more like a snake’s underbelly, but hard at the same time, and reflective, like liquid gold lay trapped inside each scale.

  She could feel him.

  Feel Brand’s…presence, or maybe his soul. He was in there, though she understood that the animal version of him was more in charge in this form, raw elemental nature. He slowly blinked then cocked his head and sniffed at her, his warm, smoky breath puffing against her skin. A peculiar sense of…safety…slid through her. A treacherous idea to entertain.

  I shouldn’t trust this.

  Despite that logical thought, tense muscles she hadn’t even realized she was clenching released, loosening up, and she grinned. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re hot as a giant lizard? And I don’t mean because of the fire.”