He cleaned himself and stalked back to his men.
“Here is your shield,” Joachim said. The change in his attitude was remarkable, and more than Valerian had ever hoped for. “The Skull is inside.”
“Do you require your spear?” Shivawn asked.
Valerian gripped the shield and cast a glance to Darius, who now stood in the center of a half circle, warriors flanking him. The dragon held a sword. No shield. No spear. He had no need of other weapons really. He would use his teeth, his claws and the fire he spewed.
Valerian in turn would need every weapon at his disposal.
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll take the spear. The dragon medallion, as well.”
Shivawn gathered the items and handed them to him. “May all strength be yours, my king.”
Valerian anchored the necklace around his neck and slapped Shivawn on the shoulder. “I finally have something worth fighting for. I won’t allow a dragon to keep me from her.”
Broderick arched a brow at him. “Her? Do you not fight for the palace, our home?”
“I fight for Shaye. I fight for all of our women, nymph and human, that they might have a home.”
“Half of the men should come down with you,” Joachim said. “We can close the circle with your allies.”
He nodded. “Excellent idea.”
With a troop of nymphs marching behind him, Valerian sliced down the steps lining the edge of the wall and soon stood at the door.
“Open,” he said, lifting the necklace. The door instantly obeyed, a crack forming between the white stones and slowly widening.
He and his men filed out, never relaxing their guard. The dragons remained in place, growling at them. Nymphs snarled in response.
Valerian’s eyes locked on Darius, the only blue-eyed dragon in existence. Darius had a stern face, harsh and savage. Up close, Valerian could see the scar that slashed down Darius’s face—a scar he himself had inflicted.
“Did you beat your shaft like it owed you money, nymph?” a dragon warrior called.
Laughter abounded.
“Three cheers. The nymph king released many handcestors today. The children never to be born because he spilled on his hand.”
More laughter.
This. This was the kind of teasing he’d lived with his entire life. Nymphs were nothing but whores and jokes to most of the other races.
“Careful,” Joachim said, his voice as cold as ice. “I can have every one of you begging for it within seconds.” The pheromone wafted from him and carried to the dragon army.
The laughter died. Several men stepped backward, widening the distance between dragon and nymph.
“This is amusing, really,” Valerian told Darius.
The male arched his brows in a menacing salute. “And why is that?”
“You took a human woman for your mate, same as I, and now you think to scold me. You are the fool. I will fight to the death—your death—to keep my woman safe.”
The dragon regarded Valerian with something akin to understanding. “Long ago, I was ordered never to enter the surface and never to bring humans here.” He spewed a stream of fire at Valerian’s feet. “I fear you will bring the wrath of Poseidon to us all.”
“Me? What of you?” Valerian leaped forward, stabbing his spear at Darius’s middle.
Darius jumped out of the way at the last second, spraying more fire along the way. Valerian rolled from its path of destruction, the flames barely missing him. The scent of charred hair filled his nose.
No matter. He used the momentum of his roll, stabbing at Darius again.
The spear whooshed, hitting only air. Another miss. Darius’s wings expanded in a burst, the thick length of opalescent membrane allowing him to hover.
Valerian popped to his feet and immediately had to dodge left, away from another blast of fire. He spun on his heel, pretending to lunge. In truth, he swung his spear behind him to stab forward from the opposite side. The sharp tip grazed Darius’s thigh even though he still hovered in the air.
The other dragons hissed; their king had been injured.
Darius gave no outward reaction. He simply opened his mouth and unleashed a terrible inferno.
Valerian raised his shield in the nick of time, blocking—but it wasn’t long before the metal began to blister his hand. Can’t stay down here. He leaped up and swung.
Clang. Metal vibrated against metal, swooping up his arm and stinging the wound in his arm. He blocked the pain, moving with the impetus, and twisted, slicing his spear through the air to force Darius to duck.
But Darius didn’t duck; he charged. Valerian had to block and lunge, block and stab.
“I can do this all day,” Darius growled. “Can you? Already you are drenched in sweat.”
Valerian gouged his spear at a downward angle, hoping to slice into Darius’s other thigh. If he could hobble the dragon, forcing him to rely only on his wings, Valerian could gain the advantage. But Darius flew up and dropped quickly, snapping the weapon in two.
Valerian slid the Skull from its scabbard inside his shield. A two-step run, a jump, and he cut downward. This time Darius didn’t move quickly enough and the blade sliced into his arm.
Once again the surrounding dragons hissed, and once again Darius gave no reaction. It was as if he was impervious to pain. Unfortunately, Valerian was not any longer. His wounded arm throbbed, and his legs were growing shaky. If the fight didn’t end soon...
Distantly he heard his men cheering for him.
“For Shaye,” Broderick shouted. “Shaye. Shaye. Shaye.”
Her lovely face flashed before his mind, and he gathered his strength. Rallied. He’d been pushed to the brink before. There had been times he’d gone without food and water, his people without shelter. He could prevail.
Perhaps he should change his battle strategy. Instead of forcing Darius to fly, perhaps he should cut into Darius’s wings, grounding him?
The dragon king slammed into him, knocking him down and hacking at his chest armor. Valerian tasted dirt, felt warm blood ooze down his face, and kicked backward. Darius soared over him—taking Valerian’s shield with him.
Valerian didn’t bother rising this time. He spied Darius from the corner of his eye and simply extended his sword, jabbing the tip at his enemy, stabbing Darius between his arm and a rib.
A collective gasp from the dragons, as if they couldn’t believe what had just happened. A hearty cheer from the nymphs.
Victory is...mine?
With a growl, Darius hit the sword with his own, proving the tip had actually slid through air rather than flesh.
Valerian anchored his feet and leaped up while swinging behind him. Clang. Quickly he pivoted, swinging again. Clang.
“Go now, and I’ll let you keep the women,” Darius said. Clang.
“And how will we shelter them without the palace?” He drew in a deep breath—and noticed the scents of blood and death that now thickened the air.
“Vampires,” the dragons hissed in unison.
Darius stilled. Valerian could have struck him. A blow while the male was distracted would win him the battle. But...too much did he respect the dragon’s strength.
Will win with honor. No one will ever have the right to question my victory.
He could see the vampires were interspersed with the contingent of men he’d sent to the rear of the dragon army.
“You tricked me,” Darius snarled. “This wasn’t to be a fair fight, after all. You planned the vampires ambush all along.”
“I didn’t ask them to come, but I certainly won’t send them away. They are my allies. You and I, we can finish this fight here and now.”
“As if I’ll trust the vampires not to attack while I’m distracted. We will leave now, Valerian, but we ar
en’t finished with you and yours. You have my word.”
Black-clad vampires closed in fast, floating rather than walking, constantly hurling curses at the dragons. The dragons, in turn, mutated into their bestial forms, wings sprouting from their backs, ripping every piece of their clothing. Scales consumed their skin, green and black and menacing. Fangs grew in place of their teeth. Tails sprouted from their lower backs.
The beasts didn’t engage the vampires or nymphs in any way. No, they sprang into the sky, moving higher and higher, before disappearing from sight altogether.
They would be back, just as Darius had promised. The next fight would be brutal. Violent. Nothing like the mild display today.
There would be a bloodbath between races.
* * *
LAYEL, KING OF THE VAMPIRES, came to an abrupt stop in front of Valerian. As the dragons disappeared from view, his men cheered.
“Good to see you again, my friend,” Valerian said when the cheers died down.
“I heard the dragons were marching toward you and decided to help.”
Valerian clapped him on the shoulder. “Last time we crossed paths, you were holding court with the demon queen. Do you ally yourself with her still?”
Layel smiled with slow deliberation. He knew the reason the nymph asked. Valerian despised the demons, as he should. As all of Atlantis should. They were the scourge of the land.
“I never allied myself with her,” he admitted. “I used her, and then I killed her. I haven’t forgiven her people for what they did to mine.”
Rapes. Tortures. Murders.
Layel’s motto: Repay with interest.
“My king.” One of his soldiers—Alyssa—approached. A distant relation, she had pale hair and blue eyes, just like Layel, though her features were much softer.
I am as hard as nails inside and out.
Usually Layel commanded his females to maintain distance with the nymphs. He made an exception for this one. She desired a specific male, but wouldn’t kill other women simply to win him, thereby igniting a war with the only friend Layel had.
“Alyssa,” he acknowledged with a nod. Not exactly a fond greeting—he liked and respected Valerian, who’d helped him through the worst time of his life, and no other—but not exactly cranky, either.
He’d just sent a dragon army running for cover. Today was a good day.
“Permission to break rank, Majesty.” She avoided glancing at the warrior she’d come here to tempt, holding Layel’s amused gaze.
“Granted.” And good luck. Shivawn, the one she “needed more than blood,” paid her zero attention.
That. That was the crux of life. What you wanted, you couldn’t have. Or, if you were able to acquire it, you soon lost it, guaranteed.
* * *
VALERIAN STUDIED HIS FRIEND, the brutal, violent vampire most of Atlantis feared. Layel appeared more aloof than usual, the shadows in his eyes hiding the grief and sorrow he’d carried since the murder of his wife.
“You and yours are welcome inside. Come.” Valerian strode toward the palace. The door sensed the dragon medallion around his neck and opened automatically.
Layel kept pace beside him, the others staying close to their king.
“Did you ever find the Jewel of Dunamis?” Valerian asked as they entered the main hall. “I know you were on a crusade to unearth her. Darius claimed a human now has possession of the girl.”
“He’s correct. She escaped us with the help of the human.”
“She’s on the surface, then?”
“Yes.”
Unfortunate. If the girl were to stay here, no army would dare attack, even a dragon army, and Shaye would be safe. “Is there any way we can get her back?”
“None, I’m afraid. We don’t know the surface world well enough.”
He wished he could trust Shaye to return to her world, find the jewel and come home to him. But...
The fact that Shaye would choose to remain topside began to bother him. If she wanted to leave him, shouldn’t he let her go?
He scrubbed a hand down his face. He would ponder this later. Right now, he was weak and tired.
“Broderick,” he called. “See that guards are stationed around the entire palace, top and bottom, inside and out.”
“My men can help,” Layel offered.
“I accept your generous offer. Thank you.” He would never decline protection for Shaye. “Dorian, show the vampires to their posts.”
Layel’s brows winged toward his hairline. “There’s something different about you, my friend.”
“There is.” He wanted to beat at his chest—a chest even now puffing with pride. “I found my mate.”
The shadows in Layel’s eyes darkened. “Then you are both blessed and cursed,” he said softly.
“Yes,” Valerian agreed with a sigh. “I am.”
Taking pity on him, Layel waved him off. “Go. Go and be with her. There’s no need to keep me company. I’ll treat the palace and everyone in it as if I’m lord and master.”
With any other male, Valerian would have taken the words as a threat and attacked. With Layel, he snorted.
“Your kindness overwhelms me.” He slapped the vampire on the back and rushed off.
I hope you’re ready for me, sweet Shaye.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SHAYE KEPT HER BACK pressed against the wall farthest from the door—as far away as she could get from the prisoners. She didn’t want to accidentally release them. They’d begged and pleaded relentlessly, and she’d tried to distract herself with new anti-cards. Well, not really anti. All her ideas were for a new, not-so-anti collection. Things like, I think I’d enjoy spending more time with you. And, Being with you isn’t so bad.
“Let us out!” one of the prisoners called. Again.
Beasts, Valerian had once labeled them. Killers.
The handsome men—or rather, boys—didn’t look like killers. They looked cold, their lips tinted blue.
Brenna paced in front of her. “They’re little more than children. Can we truly leave them inside a freezing cell?”
“Can we let them out and risk the lives of the nymphs?” she countered.
“Please,” the youngest beseeched. “My name is Kendrick. Let us go. We have no plans to hurt you. We would never hurt a woman.”
Yes, but what of the men?
“Perhaps we can help each other. I will help free you from the nymphs’ spell,” he rushed on, his voice suddenly dripping with hate, “and you can let me go. Just touch the bars. That’s all you have to do.”
She and Brenna shared a look. Kendrick’s hatred settled the matter. The boys stayed in the cell.
“You’re speaking English. How did you learn? And why were you imprisoned?” Brenna asked.
His eyes narrowed. “Our king married a human. And we’re here because we’re dragons. Why else? Because this is our palace and the nymphs stole it.”
Just as she’d suspected. “They fought for it and won it. There’s a difference.” The moment the words left her, she flinched. Was there a difference?
Valerian would say he’d fought for her and won her, and she would say he’d stolen her from her home.
That man is turning me inside out!
“Sorry, boys. I feel for you, I do, but I can’t help you. Not at this time. However, I’ll speak with Valerian about releasing you into the wild. Alive. And uninjured.” Better to cover all the bases so there were no misunderstandings.
Brenna nodded in agreement.
“Don’t you see?” The bars rattled; a feat Shaye hadn’t been able to accomplish. The strength the dragons must possess... “You’re under Valerian’s spell. Fight it or you’ll remain his slave for all eternity.”
Under Valeria
n’s spell...how true those words were. She hadn’t been herself since she’d first laid eyes on the sexy man.
Had his nymphness enchanted her, though, or was Valerian the man responsible? She suspected the latter, because none of the other nymphs appealed to her in any way.
“Even still.” She squared her shoulders, determined. “I’m leaving you in there. Setting you free would endanger too many—”
“Where is she?” The shout sounded from beyond the cavern, the words filled with terror and fury.
Valerian!
Her heart sped into a too-fast rhythm, beating against her ribs like a broken drumstick. Heat infused her cells. “Gotta go,” she told the boys. “I won’t forget you, I promise. Come on, Brenna.”
“Shaye!” Valerian bellowed, unashamedly frantic. “Shaye!”
“Don’t leave us here,” Kendrick pleaded. “Fight against his allure. It’s the only way—”
She raced from the enclosure, Brenna right behind her. They rounded the corner and bypassed the back side of the portal.
“I’ll return as soon as possible,” Valerian said to someone.
He was about to step into the portal, she realized. About to search for her on the surface. Warmth spread through her.
“I’m here, Valerian.” She moved into his line of vision. “I’m here.”
Their gazes locked, and shadows of relief couched his features...followed quickly by a blaze of fury.
He braced his arms over his chest. A battle stance. It was then that she saw what rested in his hand, and she almost cried. An orange. He held an orange.
A barbed lump filled her throat. She had mentioned that she wanted one, and even in the midst of war, he’d found one.
Her knees shook. Her nerve endings sizzled as she accepted the gift from him. “Thank you,” she said softly.
His hair was sweat soaked and hanging in sand-coated tangles at his temples. Streaks of blood covered his face and arms, and his turquoise eyes shot sparks at her. Of the fury, yes, but also of lust.
Lust that kindled the need inside her.
A deep gash bisected his chest, and she gasped, horrified. “You’re hurt!”
“I’m fine. Tell me how you escaped the cell.” The quiet statement crackled with menace and was far more ominous than if he’d shouted. When Brenna stepped beside her, he added, “I’d also like to hear your reasoning for endangering your friend.”
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