“Yes and no.” He thought about it. “It was easier to be unobserved, or even feared. Simpler than mingling with human society and keeping your powers secret.”
“Simpler,” she agreed.
“But I like a lot of things about the world now.” He chuckled. “Maybe you don’t, being a Luddite and all.”
He was rewarded by a fleeting smile. “Guilty as charged.” She looked around. “It’s nice and quiet here.”
“The power of a lair.” He shrugged. “Mine is even quieter. No traffic.”
Their gazes held again, hot and potent with possibility. He felt the curiosity and the yearning in her, and strove to work with it.
“Tell me what it was like in the old days,” he urged.
“It was everything,” she breathed, that dreamy expression claiming her features again. “It was power and grace and destiny and lives hanging in the balance.” She shook her head. “We were legendary. We were terrifying. We rode out in times of war, following the summons of the war horns. We’d hear the call to arms and answer the cry, shouting for the victors, shaking our daggers and shields. It was thrilling.”
“I’ll bet.”
“We had horses,” she continued, a slight smile curving her lips. “Horses as dark as night and as swift as the wind, horses that could gallop through the sky.”
“Like Eirene’s,” he said and she nodded.
“The old man called them the ‘spawn of Sleipnir’ and they were magnificent.”
“Sleipnir. The eight-legged horse of Odin.”
Bree nodded. “Incredible creature.”
“I didn’t realize it—he?—had existed.”
“He,” she said then teased him, her eyes sparkling. “Come on. You must be used to being considered a fable, too.”
Kristofer laughed again. “Good point. I would have liked to have seen Sleipnir. My father said he was the only horse that would carry Odin to Hel.”
Bree nodded and the silence between them stretched long. Kristofer was content to wait. “Did you ever see us ride out?” she asked on impulse, stealing a glance. There was wistfulness in her tone and he wished he could have given her the answer she obviously wanted.
“No, but I wish I had,” he said and it was true. “You’re quite a sight on your own. I think seeing twenty-seven of you all together might blow my mind.”
Bree stared at him for a long moment, then swallowed. She frowned then. “I think that was a pretty common reaction. When we rode over a battlefield, the fighting stopped as the men looked up in awe and stared. We rode over them and we laughed with the power we held. We were invincible. Choosers of the slain. And once they realized who we were and why we were there, we chose.”
Kristofer heard her satisfaction. She liked to be in charge, or to be making her own decisions. He could understand that.
“You chose exactly who would go to Valhalla.”
Bree nodded. “We filled the quota set by the old man and we delivered the prizes he desired. He always had a number of warriors he ordered for Valhalla. He always wanted to be ready for the final battle.” She shook her head. “But the truth was that we often picked the warriors we wanted most ourselves.” She smiled a little with the admission then stole a glance at him as if she thought he might disapprove.
Kristofer had to believe that there were wild parties at Valhalla. Their respective pasts, though, were less important than their future. “And now?”
The light disappeared from her eyes. “And now, the war horns never sound. The old man sleeps and dreams of better times. The last time I was there, Valhalla already had the air of a party that’s gone on too long.”
“Running out of mead,” he suggested lightly but she didn’t smile.
“No, that’ll never happen. But it must be worse now.”
“It’s been a long time.”
Bree stared down at her cup. “Even if I had gone back, I might not have known if Kara had claimed Siegfried. It’s a big hall with a lot of warriors.”
“And they’re all partying. It must be noisy.”
“Her area was at the other end of the hall from mine. Eirene was beside me.”
Kristofer straightened despite himself at the mention of his father’s Valkyrie.
She looked up at him, a smile curving her lips, proof that she’d noticed his reaction. “The old man told me about your father, how he’s a favorite.”
“I can believe it.”
“You said your brother was there when Eirene came but didn’t see her.”
Kristofer nodded. “He was. He died a couple of hundred years ago.”
“What about your mom?”
“I never saw her again.” Kristofer shrugged. “I went back but she’d died by then.”
Bree was watching him. “I’m going to guess that your father didn’t share Rafferty’s view of the firestorm.”
Kristofer shook his head, still feeling guilty about his mom’s passing. “He believed in Valkyries and he believed in war. He believed in satisfying the firestorm to beget sons, but he didn’t believe in love, much less romance.” He took a shaking breath, needing to explain. “I’ve always been determined to do better.”
Bree averted her gaze and he watched her swallow. “So, you’re alone, too.”
He shook his head. “Not really. I have the Pyr.” Kristofer changed the subject. “But some things haven’t changed,” he noted. “You still hang out with the dead.”
Bree was visibly surprised. “I suppose there are similarities,” she ceded. “And every year, Kara and I go to see the old man. He’s in a care facility near Stockholm. I’m not sure he knows who we are, but the nurses think we’re his daughters.” She shrugged. “We are, really.” She seemed to have a sudden thought and impaled him with a glance. “What do you do, now that dragons don’t slumber in mountains, guarding their hoards of jewels?”
“I’m a stone mason.”
“You’re an artisan.” Her admiration of that was clear and made Kristofer’s heart leap.
“I like to think so.”
“I’d like to see some of your work.”
If he’d had his phone, he could have shown her some pictures, but he’d dropped it in the vampires’ lair. She’d have to come to his land to see his work. “That’s up to you, isn’t it?”
Bree looked into her coffee again. “You sound like a romantic again,” she said but there was no heat in the accusation this time.
“It’s not a crime.”
“It’s not common among those I know.”
“Then maybe you need new friends. Most of mine are romantics.” He lifted a brow and she lifted her gaze to his, her own filled with questions. He wanted to reassure her, to propose a plan that would give them a shared future, but he didn’t know what it was.
“What happened to those horses?” he asked, giving both of them a distraction.
The horses. Oh, the horses.
“Gone, all gone.” Bree answered before she thought about it. She felt her throat work. She had adored those creatures. “There was one I loved beyond belief, one I would have given anything to defend,” she admitted without meaning to do so. It was surprisingly easy to confide in Kris. Maybe it was because he listened so intently. She’d told him more details about herself, her history and her beliefs than she’d ever shared with anyone before. She should have been terrified—but instead she was telling him more. “But I never had the chance.”
“Why not?”
“They were stolen, eons ago, all taken in one night. They vanished from both realms in the blink of an eye, as if they had never been.” Bree shook her head. “I think about that stallion sometimes. I think about him more than my sisters, to be honest. He was so wild and powerful, yet would come when I whispered and bend his head to the halter. He never faltered, and he never left me behind.”
“And you feel like you’ve left him behind,” he guessed. “Like me and my two comrades in that battle, when my hands were burned. I get it.”
She
was startled by the comparison. “It’s not the same. That horse was immortal, a creation of the gods...”
“I think we’re all creations of the gods,” Kris said with a conviction that silenced her. “I loved those two guys like they were my brothers. We propped each other up and carried each other through. They were so close to making it. So close.” He shook his head with frustration. “I could taste it. I felt cheated when we were attacked, cheated in more ways than one. If I could have given my life for theirs, I would have done it.”
Bree saw his fists clench and she remembered his resolve in the field hospital. He had been unafraid to weep when those comrades died, in a time and place when men hadn’t often shed tears—or allowed themselves to be seen when they did. She’d thought he was special then, but had only had the barest glimpse.
“They were stolen away, just like your horses, but by our own guys.” His tone was fierce, his dragon nature so obvious that she caught her breath. “I don’t care if they were mortals. They were my friends.”
Bree was humbled by his compassion and heated by his passion
“You’re right,” she said because it was true. “Mortality is not a measure of merit. Maeve is immortal, after all.”
“Exactly.” His eyes flashed blue fire. “I feel the same way about Rhys, Hadrian and Theo. In fact, it’s a thousand times worse. I’m not leaving them behind in Fae, no matter what the price.”
“But the portals are closed.”
“Then we’ll open a new one.” His mouth set in a line of resolve. “I’m going to call Kade and tell him to get over here, and bring that stylus.”
“What about Kara?”
“What about her?” Kris replied. “She tried to kill me even after the spell was broken.”
“That’s just because you’re a dragon.”
Kris made a sound of frustration and flung out a hand. “Remember that she’s the whole reason you were in Fae in the first place. She lured you there.”
“There must have been a reason.”
He lifted a brow. “She wanted you out of the way.”
“No, I think you were right: Maeve found a resentment Kara already possessed and worked with it.” She tapped a finger on the mattress. “I think we have to ask her. I think I owe her the chance to tell her story.”
“Even if it sees you dead. And you call me stubborn.” Kris inhaled and pushed to his feet. “I don’t understand this thing you two have about dragons. What have the Pyr ever done to you or Kara?” He paced the room, taut with purpose, and Bree felt a surge of desire that didn’t need any help from a firestorm, real or magickal.
“I’ll tell you,” she offered on impulse. “But I want a kiss first, and you have to give it to me.”
Kris stilled and he fixed her with an intent look, his voice dropping low. “Are you planning to kiss me back?”
They both knew what that would mean. Bree shrugged, her pulse quickening as she dared him. “No. But you are pretty persuasive.” He lifted a brow. “I guess you’ll have to take that chance.”
She should never have doubted that he would. Eons ago, she had vowed that she would only be able to love a warrior who was fearless, never having expected to meet one. Now he was crossing the room to her, gloriously confident, and Bree was filled with anticipation.
“I guess I will,” Kris murmured, those eyes shining sapphire with intent.
Ten
Bree had asked for a kiss, and she was going to get one to remember. Kristofer wasn’t going to admit his love for a woman who said she was still in love with another guy, but he had no issues in giving Bree a taste of what she was missing. He was more than ready to convince her that there was something powerful between them, and show her that once wasn’t going to be nearly enough.
He was feeling particularly persuasive, but moved slowly, making it last.
Kristofer eased down to sit on the side of the bed. He could see the faint shadows of Bree’s nipples through the cotton and some very interesting shadows. He turned slightly, sliding his fingers into her hair and cupping her head in his hand. Her hair was silky soft and twined around his fingers, as if it wanted to hold him captive. His other hand landed on the indent of her waist. As much as he wanted to gather her closer, he didn’t want to touch the injuries on her back. She sighed and arched her back slightly, smiling as she caught her breath in anticipation. He could see that her nipples had tightened beneath the sheet and he could smell her arousal.
Her eyes shone their myriad shades of silver and green and she held his gaze for a minute, then looked down, her lashes hiding her thoughts from his view. Kristofer bent and brushed his lips across hers slowly, tasting the way she inhaled, savoring the softness of her lips. He slid his mouth over hers again, even more slowly, and felt her shiver with a need that echoed his own. She parted her lips, trembling with the temptation of doing more. He tasted her incoherent exclamation, then angled his mouth over hers and kissed her gently. His heart thundered when she gripped his shoulders in silent demand. He lifted her closer and kissed her more deeply, pleased when her fingers dug into him, a request for more that he was only too happy to fulfill.
She didn’t move her lips against him, just let him kiss her. He wondered how hard it was for her to be passive in anything, then felt the tremor deep inside her. Her heart was pounding hard and his own heart matched its pace. He made the kiss go on and on, even as it left him breathless and filled him with raw need. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he ran his lips over her jaw, her ear, her throat, liking how her grip tightened on his shoulders. When he returned his attention to her mouth, Bree moaned and Kris couldn’t keep it leisurely any longer. He knew that once wasn’t going to satisfy him, but he had to convince her. The only way was to give her all he had to give.
His kiss became demanding, and Bree surrendered to his touch with a sigh of capitulation. She closed her eyes and just enjoyed. Kristofer feasted upon her mouth and she pulled him down over her, demanding more even as she just accepted instead of reciprocating. She was strong and firm beneath him, a warrior who knew what she wanted—that she wanted him made his pulse race.
Remembering her earlier comment, Kristofer rolled to his back, taking Bree with him. She laughed aloud when she was straddling him. Kristofer smiled up at her as she flicked back her hair and flung the sheet away. She bared herself to him and he looked, knowing that she wanted him to. She was proud and triumphant, a veritable goddess, confident in her allure and her passion, and he was humbled again to be with her. Kristofer didn’t hide his admiration at all and Bree laughed again, her eyes flashing with pleasure.
Her skin was so fair and smooth, almost alabaster in hue. He ran a fingertip down her arm where the mark of her charm had been, the one that looked like a tattoo. “You should get a tattoo to remember it,” he whispered.
“I’ll never forget it.”
“But still, there’s nothing wrong with commemorating something.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly to study him, her lips curved in a playful smile. “Would I be commemorating the charm or being in Fae with you?”
“I know which answer I’d prefer.” He reached to cup one breast, easing his thumb across the nipple until it tightened even more. She inhaled sharply, her eyes sparkling as she surveyed him. “I already have a tattoo,” she whispered, stretching her arms over her head.
He reached to cup both breasts, tormenting both nipples. “I saw it. Huginn and Muninn.”
“Memory and foresight,” she agreed, then tossed her head back. “A great combination,” she whispered.
“Did you know them?”
She nodded and her expression became distant. “The old man could talk to them and understand them. I never could.” She impaled him with another of those bright glances. “Is it true that dragons understand the language of birds?”
“Not this one.”
She smiled and bent over him, regal and beautiful. Her breasts filled his hands as she touched her lips to his cheek. She
paused there, her mouth just a finger’s span from his and met his gaze. There was a question in her eyes and Kristofer knew the answer. He didn’t care if Valhalla was old news: he wanted to be with Bree however it could be done.
“Is this the part when you claim me forever?” he asked lightly.
She shook her head and pulled back. “I don’t want you to die,” she confessed in a husky whisper. “Even if we’re not together, I want to know that you’re in the world, flying and breathing fire, being noble and fighting the good fight.” Her brows rose and he knew she would tease him. “Solving riddles. Rescuing damsels in distress. Defending the treasures of the earth.”
“You could be with me.”
She braced her hands on either side of him, holding herself over him. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder as she studied him. Her smile was unexpected. “I don’t think you’re one of the condemned, but I don’t want to risk it.”
She was hiding something from him again. Kristofer hadn’t expected otherwise.
“It could be argued that all mortals are condemned.”
“My sisters and I choose from those whose death is imminent,” she said. She bent and kissed his ear, his throat, his jaw, running a burning line of kisses across his skin. Her hair swept over his face and her kisses made him want more. “Are you afraid of me?” she whispered and he shook his head.
“We’d be bound together if you claimed me. How could I be afraid of that?”
She pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. “Are you really fearless?” she whispered. “Or just trying to impress me?”
Kristofer shook his head, not breaking her gaze. “Honesty is the only way.”
“Do you have any idea how seductive that is?” she continued, her voice husky. She kissed right near the corner of his mouth and he could feel her breath on his lips. It was warm and enticing, but when he turned his head slightly, she moved away. “Death is terrifying,” she murmured, meeting his gaze. She was so very very close, her hair falling around them like a curtain, her eyes glittering. “I’m terrifying.”
Dragon's Kiss (The DragonFate Novels Book 2) Page 21
