by Anna Lowe
“Cal,” she cried, touching his shoulders.
He closed his eyes, reaching out to her with his mind when he couldn’t find the strength to speak.
It’s okay. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.
She didn’t seem to get that, but he didn’t have the energy to explain. Why try to scratch out a few words when he could concentrate on the warmth of her hands and that amazing rose-and-willow scent? Why move when he had such nice visions dancing through his head?
Slowly, his senses started tuning out, and Cynthia’s voice grew faint. He didn’t have the strength to fight death any longer, but that was okay. With every fading breath, Cal resigned himself to lie quietly in her arms and slowly, comfortably, drift away.
Chapter Nineteen
“Cal…”
Cynthia called his name so urgently, Cal fluttered his eyes. Vaguely, he felt her shake his shoulder, but he didn’t respond. Didn’t she get it? Dying was okay, because she was all right. Besides, he was tired. Really, really tired, and drifting away was so much easier than dragging himself back to a world filled with pain.
“Cal…”
Her hand clutched his, and he squeezed the little bit that he could, telling her it was all right. He loved her. And as for death… Well, he might not have lived honorably, but he sure as hell would die honorably. So why couldn’t she just let him go?
“Help me push,” Cynthia said to someone else.
Pain flashed through Cal’s body as the heavy weight rolled over him, and he groaned. Then it was gone, and Cynthia was touching him again.
Nice, his wolf hummed.
But she was talking, too, damn it. Refusing to let him go.
“Cal, stay with me.”
Couldn’t she tell it was too late?
“Come on, man…” someone else urged. Was that Dell?
Cal felt himself going all stubborn. No one told him what to do, especially not that stupid lion.
“Cal, please,” Cynthia begged.
The tears in her voice made him ache, but surely, it was better this way. She could remember all the good times instead of the bad.
Listen to her, a deep, earthy voice said. You don’t need to die to be worthy.
If his ribs weren’t screaming with pain, he might have laughed. Was that destiny, finally rooting for him?
She needs you.
“Please…” Cynthia pleaded.
Something warm and wet dripped on his face, and he panicked, thinking it was blood. Was Cynthia hurt? But that wasn’t blood, just tears. Her tears.
“My love…” she whispered.
His heart swelled to about five times its usual size. God, did it feel good to hear that. Which meant it was probably as good a time to die as ever. He relaxed, letting that warm, bright light pull him in like a laser beam.
Cynthia clutched his shoulder, and a moment later, her voice changed.
“No. No. Don’t you dare.”
Cal tensed, and the laser beam paused. Was she actually ordering him?
“Yes, I am ordering you,” she shouted.
“Um, Cynth,” the lion murmured, trying to calm her down.
But she went right on tugging on Cal’s hand, insisting. “I will never forgive you if you die.”
Cal frowned. That wasn’t fair. Heroes were supposed to be heroes even if they died.
But then Joey chimed in, making it even harder to slip peacefully away.
“You promised,” the little boy said in a teary whisper. “You promised.”
Cal wanted to say he’d made no such promise but, damn. He had, hadn’t he, when Joey had pleaded with him.You promise you won’t go far?
I promise, he’d replied. Now, go!
“Look at me, Cal,” Cynthia ordered, cupping his cheeks.
He wasn’t going to, because he knew that would just make it harder — for him and for her. But then fate, the bastard, chimed in too.
Look at her.
So, he did, even though his eyelids felt like cement and didn’t want to budge. At first, all he saw was dawn, and it was spectacular. Streaks of orange and pink bursting over the mountains, the whole sky giving him one final show. Then he gradually focused on Cynthia’s face, and that was even more spectacular. The dark, deep black of her eyes, brimming with tears, yet burning with fire.
Burning with love, he realized.
A lump formed in his throat. If that was his last time getting to see her… Well, damn. That thought hit him a hell of a lot harder than the notion of a last dawn or a last anything else.
“Don’t leave me. Please,” she whispered.
Then she kissed him — on the lips and in front of everyone, or at least, anyone who was there. Joey, Dell, and a couple others Cal sensed go totally still. Not that he paid much attention to them, what with that kiss sending little zings of energy through his body. Her rose-and-willow scent made his head feel light. He sniffed deeply, then frowned. Her scent was tinged with smoke, ash, and something else…
Dell. Cal’s eyes snapped open the moment he identified that scent, ready to tear the lion shifter apart. Then his eyes caught on the white shirt draped over Cynthia’s shoulders, and he growled. A big men’s button-down covered her body, if only barely.
Just as he was summoning the strength to get to his feet and attack Dell, the truth hit Cal, and he sank back. Dell hadn’t been messing around with Cynthia. He’d just covered her with a shirt after she shifted out of dragon form. Other than that shirt, she was bare all over — unless he counted the strand of pearls she clutched in one hand.
“Whoa,” he murmured, squinting at the bright light.
“Cynth…” Dell whispered in awe when he noticed it too.
The middle pearl was shining brightly, as if someone had turned on a bulb inside it. The warm, ivory light seemed to glow brighter with every breath he took.
Cynthia didn’t seem to notice, though. She kept her eyes on his and her hands tight on his shoulders. “Cal. Stay with me. Please…”
His eyelids drooped again. God, he was tired. Tired of lots of things, but mostly, tired of resisting. If Cynthia wanted him to live, well, maybe he’d give it one last try.
So he focused on the glow of her pearl instead of the light calling him toward death. He sucked in a little more air with each breath, even if it did hurt. And though his eyes drifted shut again, he listened to Cynthia.
“Stay with me…”
His lips curled a teensy, tiny bit. Was it all a dream?
* * *
The next time Cal’s eyes opened, he was in a house, and the dawn colors were streaming through the window. Or maybe that was sunset? He wasn’t sure, and before long, he drifted away again…and again. He drifted in and out of consciousness for what could have been days or hours. Sometimes, there were people in the room, whispering to each other or to him. Sometimes, it was just him and Cynthia, and that was the best. So good he wondered if he was dreaming again.
But, no. It wasn’t a dream. In dreams, pain was sharp and terrifying, whereas the ache in his body was dull, as if an elephant had tap-danced on his chest. His ribs screamed, though the worst was when a couple of the guys had come along and lifted him. His lungs groaned with every breath, and every beat of his heart hurt.
On the other hand, Cynthia was there, and that made up for the rest. She touched him. Kissed him. Whispered to him, giving him something to focus on other than pain.
Like the future. A life together. All the things he’d wished for, plus some things he’d never even considered before. Like the sound of pages turning slowly and the soft voice of a young boy reading aloud.
“Frog pushed Toad out of bed…”
It was Joey, sitting on the edge of the bed Cal found himself in, reading to him about a frog and a toad who were friends.
“Then Frog said to Toad, in the evenings we will sit right here on this front porch and count the stars…”
Cal had no idea what was up with Frog or Toad, but it was kind of nice to listen, knowi
ng someone cared about him.
He drifted in and out of that story — and a bunch of others, and another few sunrises and sunsets. Until one day, he woke up for good. Well, at least for a few hours at a time. Hours he got to spend with Cynthia, who wouldn’t release his hand as she went over everything that had happened — the good and the bad. About Moira and the fight on the Big Island. About rushing back to find him at the edge of death. About Joey, being so brave…
Her voice choked up there, and he held her for a little while. Then she sat up, blew her nose, and started listing his injuries. By the time she was moving on from broken ribs to collapsed lung, he’d shushed her.
“Good thing we shifters heal fast.”
She frowned in disapproval. Yeah, he knew how close it had been. But now that the worst was past, he was ready to look forward, not back.
“Is everyone else okay?” he asked, holding his breath.
If Cynthia’s face fell, he’d know one of her friends had died in the battle. In a pack as close as hers, there was nothing as terrible as that kind of loss.
She nodded quickly, thank goodness. “Anjali and Nina kept the kids safe, and the others made sure none of the attackers got close. Silas and Kai killed the dragons they were fighting, and you and Joey…”
Her voice cracked, and Cal’s gut sank. Yes, he and Joey had killed the three dragons waiting to launch a surprise attack. But a kid that young shouldn’t have been part of such violence, even if it did make him a hero in his own right.
“How is he?” Cal asked quietly.
Cynthia’s hand tightened in his, but her eyes shone. “He’s more focused on the how than the what, thank goodness. You really impressed him with that bastill…ballis…”
“Ballista,” a deep voice said from the doorway.
Cal glanced past Cynthia and spotted Silas leaning against the doorway.
Cal did a double take. Silas was one of those blue-blooded, impeccably brought-up dragon shifters — a lot like Cynthia. Their kind didn’t lean casually. Hell, they rarely even smiled. Mostly, they stormed around, stressed, and snorted fire. But there Silas stood, looking happier and more relaxed than ever a dragon had been.
“You’ve got Joey tearing through my library for books on Roman warfare, you know.”
Cal studied him, waiting for more. But that appeared to be it. And, wow. If that was the worst the dragon planned to accuse him of, he’d take it.
Cynthia, on the other hand, sat upright and yelped. “Roman warfare?”
Cal winced, steeling himself for her to flip out about exposing Joey to that kind of thing. But a second later, she sighed. “Maybe I can get him sidetracked on to something like aqueducts.”
“Roman warfare. I never would have thought of that.” Silas raised his eyebrows at Cal. “Something you learned about… How, exactly?”
Cal shrugged. “You’re not the only dragon with a sizable library.”
Cynthia’s jaw dropped. “Barnaby? But… But…”
Cal gulped. Someday, he’d tell her the story of how he and Barnaby had worked things out. But right now…
“The ballista was Barnaby’s idea. He loaned me some books once I realized killing dragons with my bare teeth wasn’t going to cut it.”
Too late, Cal realized he was rubbing the burn scars on his arm. He stopped abruptly, but Cynthia — and Silas — had noticed. Both studied him with a whole new glint in their eyes. A glint that hinted at respect, maybe even awe. Cal shrugged it off, but inside, he glowed. Yes, he really had taken on his first dragon in wolf form and lived to tell the tale. But no, he really didn’t want to talk about it.
Luckily, Joey ran in just then, waving a book. “I found it! I found it!”
He hurried over, plopped on the bed beside Cal, and started leafing through the pages. “Somewhere here…”
Cal froze and glanced around out of the corner of his eye. Joey seemed totally fine with Cal being in his mother’s bed, and Silas didn’t bat an eye either. Even Cynthia didn’t seem to mind her son cozying up to him.
His lungs still hurt, but Cal took a deep breath anyway, wondering what Barnaby would have to say about that. But when he pictured the older dragon, the man was standing in his study, holding a glass of brandy, not the least bit angry.
Cynthia loves you. She will always love you, Barnaby’s voice whispered in his mind. And as for Joey… He heaved a deep, sad sigh, and Cal sensed bottomless sorrow. I can no longer be there for him. But you can. You must be.
Joey was talking and pointing, but Cal’s gaze wandered to the patch of sky outside the balcony door.
Barnaby, he wished he could go back and say. You are twice the man I gave you credit for.
The Barnaby in his mind — a ghost? A memory? — smiled and sipped his brandy, then held it up in a toast. Well, you know how dragons are. Being noble is everything.
Cal shook his head. Not all dragons. Just a few.
Then he bowed his head, considering Barnaby for another minute or two. Someday, he’d have to find himself some brandy and drink to the man. But right now…
He dragged his attention back to the there and then. To Cynthia, cuddled up beside him like she would never let him go. To Joey, who seemed fine with the idea of having another surrogate father in his life. To Silas, regarding him with cool, calm acceptance.
He closed his eyes. Injuries, he knew how to handle. But massive strokes of luck, not so much.
Luck has nothing to do with it, Cynthia whispered in his mind. She looped an arm over his shoulders and sat straighter, prouder. Proud of him.
Cal puffed out his cheeks a little, letting himself feel a little pride too.
“Oh, look,” Joey sang out, pointing to a picture. “A ballista on wheels. Cool!”
“Calliballista,” Silas murmured.
Cal rolled his eyes. Did every blue blood learn that in dragon school?
“Can you help me build one?” Joey begged.
Cal stuck up his hands, then winced at the motion. “Maybe someday.”
Cynthia, to her credit, didn’t protest. She just helped him settle back against the pillows and fussed with the sheet. “I think Cal needs some rest now, Joey.”
Cal wanted to protest that he needed no such thing, but… Well, maybe he did.
Silas held out a hand to Joey. “Connor told me to tell you he was ready for more flying lessons now.”
Joey’s eyes went wide, and he raced outside after a quick hug from Cynthia. “Bye, Mommy! I have to go.”
Cal’s eyebrows shot up. Flying lessons? he mouthed.
Cynthia sighed. “Only with a kite, thank God. But someday…”
The stairs creaked as both Silas and Joey departed, leaving them alone.
“Someday?” Cal tried — and failed — to strike a casual tone. “You think you might keep me around that long?”
Cynthia threw her arms around him. “Not letting you go ever again, wolf.” She sniffled, and her hug was tight enough to hurt, but he didn’t mind. Then she pulled back abruptly and looked at him, suddenly worried. “That is, if it’s all right with you.”
He grinned. “Not letting you go ever again, m’lady.”
Her smile was like sunshine pouring out between two clouds, and a little tease snuck back into her voice. “No? You think you can handle a high-strung she-dragon as a mate?”
He laughed. “I know I can.”
Her expression grew more serious. “And Joey? And a whole pack of infuriating shifters?”
“Infuriating? You know you love them.”
Cynthia bit her lip, and she nodded. “I do. Not the way I love you,” she rushed to add. “But, yes. I do. They’re like family to me. I feel closer to them than the family I was born into.”
He refrained from pointing out how that shouldn’t be hard, considering Moira was her cousin. But, yeah. He got it.
Cynthia dropped into another hug. A nice, close one, with her face nestled by his ear and her arms resting lightly on his shoulders. Her body warm and so
ft in all the right places.
His inner wolf started humming, giving him all kinds of bad ideas.
With every deep breath, her breasts pressed against his chest, and slowly, Cal became aware of all kinds of other body parts. He slid his arms around her waist and turned his head slightly, bringing his lips to her neck.
“Mmm.” She sighed, giving him more space.
A little tug was all it took to make her shift closer. Cal let his hands creep higher, teasing the lower edge of her breasts. Her breaths grew heavier, as did his, but this time, it didn’t come with pain. Only a shot of warmth and desire.
He was just pulling her into straddling him when she blinked and pulled back. “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. You need to rest.”
He tugged her back and growled in her ear. “Need my mate.”
“But…but…” Her protests turned into quiet moans when he slid one hand down her backside and the other over her breast.
“But…?” he challenged.
She started rocking over his groin. “I already forgot what. Oh…” She tilted her head back and parted her lips, surrendering to his touch.
He kissed her collarbone, working open the buttons of her blouse. “Too many clothes.”
She helped him with the blouse and her shorts, then pulled aside the sheet with a wicked grin. “And you, I see, are conveniently naked.”
He grinned. “I think this was all part of your diabolical plan. I’m innocent, I swear.”
She laughed outright. “There’s not an innocent bone in your body, wolf. Now, if it weren’t for these injuries…”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way. See?” He pulled her back into a straddle. The moment her soft core pressed against his cock, he jerked. That activated all kinds of aches and pains he’d forgotten about, but what did that matter when he could bond with his mate?
“You sure you don’t want to wait?” she whispered, easing away.
He shook his head. He’d waited for twelve long years. Enough was enough.
“No more waiting, my mate.”
Her eyes shone, and he caught the series of images that flashed through her mind. In them, she was panting and rocking over him. Nipping his neck as he pumped upward into her from his seated position. Biting deep and then—
