Claimed by Desire

by Kristin Miller

  Misty sat back and stared at the pile of rocks. Thought back to something Queen Elixa had said: You were different from the start…able to pick up more than hints of energy. You have the ability to harness it.

  Doubtful as hell, Misty closed her eyes and opened herself up to the energy swirling around her. Something seemed to pierce the palm of her hand, quick and hard. Like a rod of electricity that hits the ground and jolts back to the sky, the energy that sparked into Misty’s palm shot back into the alcove, pulling her down to the ground with it.

  Tethered to an energy source more powerful than she’d ever known, Misty thrust her arm deeper and deeper into the pit, until a large stone, hotter and rounder than the others, seemed to snap into her hand. Powerful energy radiated from the stone, rippling through her hand, her shoulder, her chest. It flowed like a waterfall through her body, full and fast.

  Holy shit, Queen Elixa was right. The stone was drawn to her like a magnet. She really could harness their energy. If that was true, what else could she do with it?

  “I think I got it,” Misty said as her fingers curled around its smooth edges. She pretended not to feel when Rafe nudged her rear in delight.

  As she removed the gem from its rock prison, Misty was blown back by an energy wave that seemed to claw its way into her body and root deep in her stomach. She could feel the energy building, expanding and glowing inside her. She felt…strong. Incredibly strong, actually. Like she had the driving force of the Draco race behind her, spurring her on.

  She eyed the gem curiously as it glowed from aqua to evergreen, radiating heat into her hand. That’s when it hit her: the Draco stone contained the power and strength of the entire race. No wonder it needed to be recovered before it fell into the wrong hands.

  And now it was flowing through her—the pure, magical life source of the Dracos.

  She clutched the stone tight and stood at Rafe’s side. She’d been wondering how they were going to make it back to Draco territory in a night without stopping to rest. It took two days to reach the far side of the isle. One day to return wasn’t enough time and they both knew it.

  Unless Misty possessed a raw, unharnessed energy that could fuel Rafe’s ride.

  “Come on, Rafe.” She stroked his neck with newfound confidence. “Let’s fly.”

  He reared up and took to the air.

  *

  Rafe didn’t understand how he could fly for so long. He’d flown through the night, until daybreak and beyond, watched the sun breach the horizon, and still felt no desire to land and rest his wings. And he didn’t know where the strange pulses of energy pinching his underside were coming from. At first he thought they were coming from the Draco stone, but he’d held the stone in his hand before and felt no different.

  Now, though, something had changed. Power rushed through his wings like never before. With every flap and pull, they gained ground and picked up speed. His wings beat faster. His tail whipped harder. And Misty clenched her thighs tighter around his middle.

  It was a glorious ride. One he’d never forget.

  They crossed into Draco territory as the sun balanced high on its ecliptic. Rafe had never been more depressed to see his home. Their time together was almost up. He’d have to send Misty back….

  Miles of uneven rain forest rolled beneath them. Glistening rivers wound through caverns and canyons. Cliffs appeared out of nowhere, jagged and menacing. And just out of sight, beneath the canopy of trees, was the Sindracos’ village. How easy it would be to claim one of their women with his body, just to be able to live a long life. Her name could be carved over Misty’s. It wouldn’t mean anything. Not really. His heart would always be hers…they both knew it.

  At least he could live long enough to love Misty the way she deserved.

  Even as he tossed over the possibility, Rafe knew he could never do it. Claiming another rider may not kill him physically, but it would destroy the one thing he’d held dear all these years: his loyalty to Misty.

  As Castle Arcane crowned over the horizon, she said, “Almost there. A few long strides and you’ll be home…we’ll be home.” She stroked his side lovingly.

  Rafe’s brain somersaulted and his wings slowed, dwindling his pace to a crawl.

  We’ll be home.

  The words scraped against his skull, peeled the skin off his bones. Like rubbing a panther’s fur the wrong way, the words bent back his scales and wrinkled his snout. As much as Rafe dreamed of the day Misty would consider the Isle of Feralon her home, it wasn’t right.

  We’ll be home translated to she’ll die here—a young, tragic death.

  He couldn’t live with himself if he let his selfish love for her erase what could’ve been a long, happy life.

  He banked right, pushing hard for the cliffs beside the castle. He’d have to get this over with quickly. Otherwise he was liable to talk himself out of what he knew he had to do. He landed roughly, where the black land of Feralon collided with the sea. On a rocky landing halfway down to the shore, a large blowhole spouted sea foam high into the air.

  Misty slid off his side and looked around. The sun casted sideways shadows over the petite angles of her face, illuminating both her beauty and her innocence. Damn it, what kind of beast would Rafe be if he took those from her?

  “What are we doing here?” She eyed the blowhole curiously as the tide sucked back to sea. “Queen Elixa won’t want us making a detour with her stone. Just from setting my feet on the ground I can feel how weak the Dracos have become. We need to get in there.”

  As a massive cloud slithered in front of the sun, Rafe shifted and turned away from Misty as soon as he could. The letters branded into his chest burned something fierce. It’d only gotten worse over the past two days, and Rafe had done a damn good job not thinking about it. He knew what the scorching sensation meant. Although his refusal to claim a rider was his choice—his fault—it did nothing to dull the pain of imminent death.

  “Why’d you do that?” Misty asked, opening his duffel and tossing him an extra set of clothes.

  “Do what?” He caught the clothes and dressed in a hurry.

  “Turn away from me after you shifted. It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked a hundred times before.”

  Once he had his shirt on, hiding the scorching mark, he spun around.

  Misty stared at his chest wide-eyed. “What the—what’s that?”

  He looked down. The letters of Misty’s name were burning so fierce, they glowed hellfire red through the cotton of his shirt.

  “Damn it.” He crossed his arms and turned away.

  “What’s going on? Why are they—” She spun in front of him and ran her fingers over the letters, then jerked her hand away. “Shit, Rafe, they’re hot! Is that what happens to all Dracos when they self-proclaim a rider?”

  He exhaled heavily, realizing he couldn’t tell her the truth. No other Draco in history was stupid enough to deny a rider. Most of his brothers and sisters claimed riders like they were going out of style. When a decade or two passed and they lost one, they spent some time in the Sindraco village and fell in love with another. To some, it was seen as the Draco equivalent of arranged marriage. A union suiting a mutual purpose—Dracos became stronger and faster when a rider straddled their back, guiding them through the sky. Riders gained family, protection and a sense of purpose that superseded anything they could find on their own. In fact, old and single Sindracos were seen as spinsters: evil and burdened.

  Not all Dracos claimed a rider out of love. Not all Sindracos accepted a proposal out of it, either. It was simply their way of life. What other choice did the race have? Dracos died without a rider. Sindracos died in shame without being chosen by a Draco.

  But Misty didn’t have Draco blood flowing through her veins. She didn’t have to stay on the Isle of Feralon.

  Rafe shrugged, his shoulders falling with the weight of what was to come.

  “Yes, this is what happens,” he lied. “My mark burns because I branded it m
yself, without using the Draco spear.”

  She pressed against him. “All it would take is a trip to Queen Elixa’s office to fix that. We could be formally claimed, Rafe. We could fly like we did today, every day.”

  He should’ve been happy. Elated. Misty had finally opened up again, trusting him wholeheartedly. Instead it made what he had to do that much harder.

  “No.” He meant to say the word with force, but instead it pushed out as a whisper. “That’s not what I want.”

  She winced. “Are you still hung up on the whole imprisoning me here, thing? Rafe, I told you, that’s not how I see it.”

  “It doesn’t matter how you see it. It’s the reality of our situation.” He knelt and picked up a handful of thick, charred dirt. “I’m bound to this land, Misty. I could never leave Feralon…not permanently. And that was all right with me, up until the moment I met you.” He let the wet grain sift through his fingers. “This dirt reminds me of my promise. Of my duty. Of the chains that should never bind you here. I can’t keep you.” His heart pinched at the words.

  “But I want to stay. I want to live in Feralon as your rider. I tried to fight it, but I can’t anymore.” She knelt in front of him, her eyes as misty as the foam spraying into the air on its second swell. “I can’t say it any clearer.”

  “You don’t have any idea what you want.”

  She sucked in a breath that hissed through her lips. “How dare you treat me like a child, thinking you know what’s best for me. Is that why you wanted to bring me over here, away from the castle? So you could try to convince yourself to let me go?”

  “No.” He swallowed the urge to grab her and kiss her until the words died on his lips. “I brought you here to order you to leave.”

  “Order me?”

  “This blowhole is the portal that will take you back to San Francisco. You’ll jump in and be swept back to your old life.” His skin clammed, turning cold. “On behalf of Queen Elixa’s royal guard, I command you to leave the Isle of Feralon.”

  She slapped him clean across the face.

  Cheek stinging, Rafe looked away. “If you return to Feralon, we will have no choice but to have you arrested and punish you according to Draco law.”

  “Damn it, Rafe.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Please don’t do this to me again.”

  She knew the routine. He’d read her the same act ten years ago.

  “Punishment for breaching the portals without permission is death. As Queen Elixa’s guard, I thank you for fulfilling your duty.” Heart thumping in his ears, Rafe held out his hand. “And for returning the Draco stone.”

  She dropped the glowing green stone into his hand and rubbed her fingers together as if she could still feel the buzz of its power. “What kind of thanks do I get from you?”

  Rafe bit his lip so hard he pierced flesh.

  “It amazes me how you can carve my name into your chest like it means something to you then cast me aside like I’m worth less than the dirt running through your fingers.”

  He should’ve said I love you. He should’ve wrapped his arms around her until his body screamed Stay! Told her with his last breath that she was the only girl he ever loved. The words were right there, hanging from his lips, tipping off his tongue, burning for release.

  He choked them down.

  “Goodbye, Misty.” He turned.

  She grabbed his hand, shooting electric currents up his arm. “I don’t know what’s come over you in the last few minutes, Rafe, but I know you love me. I know if I turn away now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. If that’s the decision you want to make, fine, but you better mean it, body and soul. Because if I jump into that portal, I’m never coming back.”

  He sighed and removed his hand from her tiny grasp. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  Rafe clenched his back teeth until they all but shattered and walked away, leaving Misty standing on the precipice of her future—the one without him in it.

  Chapter Seven

  What the hell was Rafe’s problem? Misty just couldn’t wrap her mind around what the hell was going on.

  She downright hated the fact that she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Rafe as he walked away. She was foolish to think he’d turn around. Stupid to think he’d look back. He didn’t do either and it killed her.

  Again.

  For the second time in ten years, Misty had played the part of the Fool.

  Frustrated as hell, she picked up a handful of dirt and rock and chucked it into the sea.

  “Damn this land!” she screamed into the wind. “Damn this isle and damn you, Rafe! I should’ve never come back.”

  As she spoke the last words, she took them back. If she hadn’t returned to Feralon, she never would’ve been invited to a Draco claiming ceremony. Never would’ve traveled through the eastern ridge, straight through the heart of werewolf territory. Never would’ve seen the spectacular lights thrown off by the fins of merfolk as they swam beneath the midnight sky. But most of all, Misty would’ve missed the chance to touch Rafe one more time.

  Damn it, she couldn’t even regret the experience.

  Sighing deep, Misty faced the sea and peered into the blowhole. It was about a twenty-foot drop from the ledge where she teetered, and she was no more comfortable with jumping into the hole than she was the first time, two days before.

  Part of her ached to talk Rafe out of his decision. He loved her. She knew it with every beat of her heart. And she loved him, too. More than she could’ve imagined. They could work out whatever issues he was having—even if those issues were based on his warped thoughts about what he thought she deserved.

  She spun toward the castle, scheming her plan of attack. Barge through the front door or sneak up the back steps? Scream and curse or shut him up with a heart-stopping kiss? She dragged her feet to a stop.

  Why was she always the one convincing Rafe to be with her? Didn’t she deserve someone who would give anything to be a part of her life? Someone who would beg and plead to spend another moment—always one more moment—with her?

  Misty made up her mind, then and there. No matter how she’d tried to fight it, she loved Rafe. Loved him more than she’d ever loved another. But she deserved more than he’d offered to give her.

  She needed someone who would die for her.

  Turning back to the blowhole, Misty leaned far over the edge and watched the tide fill the fat space between the rock.

  If Rafe wanted her, he’d have to come get her.

  Misty timed her jump with the heaving swell—one…two…

  *

  Standing in front of the bay window of her study, Queen Elixa tossed the Draco stone in her long, manicured fingers like it was a worthless paperweight. “I have to admit, Rafe, for a while there I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”

  “Love will make you do crazy things, I guess.” He slumped into the seat in front of her desk, feeling beyond drained from the journey. “I had to let her go.”

  Queen Elixa cocked her head to the side and studied him, an odd smile painted on her face. “I wasn’t talking about letting Misty go back to the city. I simply didn’t think you’d make it back to Castle Arcane in time for the meeting. It was quite brilliant, really—forcing Misty to handle the stone. Because she doesn’t have Draco blood flowing through her system, her veins served as a perfect conduit through which our energy could flow. But how did you know it would work?”

  “Guess I’m smarter than I look.”

  “I suppose you are.” She laughed, a petite little string of huffs that rang through his ears. “Werewolf and merfolk representatives are awaiting my arrival downstairs. Thanks to you and your empath, we’ll be able to negotiate boundary lines without being seen as defenseless.”

  Skin shrinking sensations, like hot pokers searing through Rafe’s chest, pinched his heart in a vise. Death was closing in… “Any idea who took the stone or how it got into merfolk territory?”

  “We believe a rogue group
of werewolves got their paws on it and tried to pin the act on an innocent school of merfolk. Gage is questioning the alleged pack leader as we speak.”

  Rafe took a hefty breath. Stabbing pain pierced his side, cutting his breath short. “You put my brother in charge? May not be the wisest decision, knowing his volatile past with the mangy beasts.”

  “I would’ve rather had another brother on the case, but unfortunately, he’s decided to take his own life.” She paused, sizing him up with pleading blue eyes. “You know, there are hundreds of women out there, Sindraco or not, who would chomp at the bit to ride a dragon like you.”

  “I don’t want hundreds,” he said. “I only want one.”

  As if she felt Death’s chill swamp the room, Queen Elixa approached Rafe’s side and stroked his shoulder. “For the record, when it came down to it, I didn’t think you’d let Misty leave, either. It wasn’t too late for the two of you. Our Draco spear is hanging right there.”

  He followed her gaze to a glass cabinet on the side wall, where a bony wooden spear hung from two heavy hooks inside. Queen Elixa unhinged the door and placed the Draco stone on a wooden pedestal…right beside the sacred Draco spear.

  “Asking her to stay would’ve meant asking her to give up the rest of her life to be with me.” Rafe averted his eyes as Queen Elixa shut the cabinet door. “I love her too much to put that decision on her shoulders.”

  “I don’t think you would’ve had to ask her.”

  Queen Elixa strode to the doorway and stopped as if she wanted to say something more. Rafe was suddenly so fatigued he could barely push his head around to stare over his shoulder. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said someone slipped him a sleeping pill. His eyelids grew heavy. His shoulders relaxed. His breathing slowed.

  “You know, Rafe,” he heard Queen Elixa say. “It’s a nice gesture…that you’d rather die so the woman you love can grow old, far from Feralon’s enchanted restrictions on her lifespan. But I can’t help but feel like it’s not your decision to make. It’s not only her life, and her future, at stake, but her happiness as well. What good is life lived, if you’re miserable all of your days?”