by Kiersten Fay
She watched him sleep, his mouth slightly parted, his hand resting on his bare chest, rising and falling with each breath. He was beautiful. How could something so simple as watching him slumber give her so much pleasure?
She rested her head on his chest to listen to the soft thudding melody of his heart. Thud, thud, thud. Such a glorious sound.
Thud, thud, thud. That was…louder…
Thud, thud, THUD!
Actually…that sounded like footsteps…growing closer…
A lot of footsteps.
A sense of foreboding sank into her stomach. “Tristan?”
He stirred and snatched her naked body against him. “Eager for another go?” he asked drowsily.
“Tristan, wake up.” The urgency in her voice made his eyes flash open…right as the door did. June scrambled to cover herself with the sheet while Tristan catapulted out of bed.
“What is the meaning of this?” he bellowed.
Several soldiers rushed forward. Two restrained him by the arms while three levered swords at his throat. Another set entered behind them and started for June. She scrambled backwards off the bed, dragging the sheet with her and putting the mattress between her and the intruders.
Belinda’s voice halted them. “Don’t bother, boys. She is no threat.” She crossed the threshold, brandishing a broadsword. She spared June a dismissive glance before focusing on Tristan.
Tristan snarled, “If you wish to challenge me, Belinda, there is a more honorable way to go about it.”
“You know nothing of honor. You killed your father to take the throne and then you make our kingdom weak by choosing this human as your mate. You disgust me.”
June would feel the pain of those words later, but for now, she tried to remain innocuous as she inched back slowly, one tiny step at a time. One might think she was backing away in fear, and, in part, she was, but she was also closing the distance between her and the intercom that was fixed on the wall.
“Whoever told you I did anything to cause my father’s death is making a fool of you all,” Tristan spat. “I would have given my life to save him. You were not there, Belinda. You did not experience the chaos of that war, but many of your comrades were.”
Tristan eyed them all in turn. “Lyrian, Rangard, Eon, you were all there, fighting by my side. You saw what we were up against. I would have given my life to save my father if I could. I swear that on my life. Stand down now and I will no’ execute you for treason.”
Doubt crossed a few of their faces. Still, June continued her contrived retreat. Just a few more feet.
“Treason! Ha! You cannot betray the betrayer,” Belinda argued. “We have witnesses who can attest to your treasury firsthand.”
“Impossible. Who are these so-called witnesses and what do they have to gain by spreading such lies?”
“They prefer to remain anonymous.”
“Cowards,” Tristan hissed.
“I do this for our kingdom.” Apparently Belinda was done talking. She raised her sword.
June cried out and leapt for the intercom. “Help! We’re under attack!”
Belinda shifted her aim and launched her sword at June. June felt the wind of the blade as it sliced past her cheek and imbedded half into the wall, splitting the intercom down the middle. Sparks spurted from the device.
Then came a whirlwind of commotion.
Tristan roared, the sound so menacing, a chill ran up June’s spine. He was half into his transformation before she realized it, and then suddenly his big dragon body was taking up too much space. Jaws snapping, his wings stabbed into the walls on either side of him. June managed to duck just in time to avoid decapitation. Bits of plaster crumbled around her as dust invaded her lungs. His back punched through the ceiling, bringing down more debris. His hind leg spread out over the bed, cracking the frame and pushing the entire bed across the room toward June. She didn’t have enough time to move out of the way, but luckily it stopped just a few feet from hitting her.
In reaction to Tristan’s change, Belinda shifted, as did the guard to her right, and suddenly there were three snarling dragons in a space that barely held one. The other guards fled into the hall as the three beasts started snapping and striking at each other.
June was trapped in her corner on the opposite side of the room from the door. If she saw an opening, she might dare to sprint for the exit, but she’d be at the mercy of the guards that remained to witness the outcome. For now, she huddled, trying to become as small a target as possible as the attack turned into a frenzy of snatching teeth and slashing claws.
Tristan went for Belinda’s throat while the other dragon bit into Tristan’s shoulder. The sound of crunching bones made June nauseous. Then she nearly lost track of who was who as the creatures slithered around the darkened room and thrashed, aggressively writhing for supremacy in a space that could not accommodate them, smashing anything in their wake. Picture frames snapped, glass shattering to the floor. End tables were pummeled into splinters. More of the walls crumbled with each violent body slam. The ceiling was little more than scraps on the floor getting pounded to dust.
In the mayhem, June caught sight of blood dripping from all three sets of mouths. Across the room, a massive lizard-like tail busted through the balcony doors. Moonlight flooded in, glinting off the sword that was still lodged in the wall above her.
June secured the sheet around her naked body and then grabbed the sword’s hilt, ripping it free. This drew the attention of both the guard at the door and one of the dragons battling Tristan.
The guard drew his sword and dashed toward her, face twisted in hate. She lifted her sword with no real knowledge of how to hold it, how to wield it, and she knew that the guard’s murderous expression would be the last thing she ever saw.
At the last second, a fat, scaly tail whipped out and clotheslined the guard, slamming him back against the doorjamb so hard that June heard a sickening crunch and the guard slumped to the ground. Unfortunately, the move distracted Tristan and one of the attacking dragons managed to sink its razor-sharp fangs into his neck. He let out a mighty roar that tore at June’s heart.
“Stop it!” she screamed, drawing the attention of the other dragon. Its pupils narrowed into thin slits and its lips peeled back to show slavering, bloodstained, sharp-as-knives teeth. If a dragon could sneer, that was it. Something in that look told her this was Belinda.
“Hey, Belinda.” Her voice shook worse than the tip of her blade. “We don’t have to do this.”
Tristan twisted and thrashed, trying to dislodge himself from the dragon-guard’s hold. Belinda slinked closer to June, eyeing her like she was walking, talking lunchmeat.
“I bet we’d be friends if you really got to know me.”
Still Belinda stalked her with ruthless intent. June’s palms grew sweaty and beds of perspiration dripped down her spine. This was it. She was a dead woman.
Like a snake with prey in its sights, Belinda’s head reared back and she opened her monstrous jaw. Gazing into the glossy red throat of a giant predator sent paralyzing terror through her veins. Her hair stood on end as if the fingers of death stroked her neck.
Then Belinda struck.
Closing her eyes, June spat a curse and flung the blade out in front of her. Her back hit the wall, knocking her senseless and blasting the air from her lungs. She slumped to the floor, knees in her chest. As she sucked in much-needed oxygen, all she could smell was something hot and foul wafting around her. She gagged and heaved as she struggled to fill her lungs and regain her senses. Her dizzy brain registered a sharp, throbbing pain in her shoulder.
When the world stopped barrel-rolling and her vision cleared, she blinked at the sight before her. She was wedged against the wall and…Belinda’s massive mouth, which hung wide open and was nearly wrapped around her. Rows of glistening fangs as long as her forearm and as sharp as blades bore down on her, slick and dripping with saliva. All Belinda had to do was chomp down and June would be dinner. But
there was no movement. It was surreal, like a moment captured in time…
Because her sword was buried deep in the roof of Belinda’s throat.
The pain in June’s shoulder intensified, and she realized just how close to death she’d come. One of Belinda’s fangs had stabbed right through her shoulder. Blood bloomed from the wound, dripping down and staining the sheet still loosely wrapped around her.
Belinda exhaled one long, final breath. Then her massive body collapsed under its own weight.
Shaking, stomach roiling, June was forced to sink down and forward, farther into Belinda’s mouth to slide her shoulder free of the fang. The pain of it made her cry out and her brain began to spin. More blood gushed. From the cacophonous sounds, war still waged outside her putrid cocoon.
As she attempted to crawl free of Belinda’s jaws, she slipped on something slick.
Blood. A lot of it. It was pooling under her.
New pain registered. Her right leg had been sliced open from her knee to her hip. There was a knot on the back of her head from when the force of Belinda’s attack had slammed her into the wall. Her entire body ached, and her vision danced and dimmed and sparkled with the threat of unconsciousness.
Then came a sickly crunch and an agonized roar that trailed off into a gurgle. June’s heart thundered in her chest. Had Tristan been defeated?
She worked harder to squirmed out from under Belinda’s jowls just in time to find Tristan had gained the upper hand with his attacker. The creature’s head hung lifeless, its neck clamped in Tristan’s jaw. His eyes were wild. He snarled and smoke puffed from his snout. Magnificent creature.
June attempted a triumphant smile, but dizziness swept through her and her vision faded to black.
23
Seething with a ferocity that spread like a contagion, Tristan snapped the dragon’s neck and felt the satisfying pop of bones rending apart. His foe fell limp. Yet Tristan was in no way mollified. Unmitigated rage swamped his brain. They had attacked him. They had attacked his woman! He needed their blood. He needed to hurt them. He needed vengeance. He would not be satisfied until he tore them all limb from limb, shred their guts with his claws and burn their bodies to cinders. Burned them until they were dust and ash and soot. Erase them from existence.
He felt the preternatural fire in his gut churn to life and warm his belly. He would start with these two.
Movement caught his reptilian gaze and he snarled, ready to extinguish his next adversary.
Draped across the broken bed, a bloodied figure gazed up at him with beautiful lagoon-colored eyes. Eyes that had looked at him a thousand different ways: with humor, with irritation, with fear, with hope, with pleasure…with love.
My June.
In the next instant, her body slumped, lifeless.
On a terrified roar, Tristan spit out the dead dragon and then transformed from his dragon form. He rushed to loom over her. “June! June!”
Blood was everywhere, thick and sticky. It poured from a wound on her shoulder. Her leg, too, was lacerated…deeply lacerated. Unfathomable terror twisted in his chest and he nearly doubled over. There was even blood on the back of her skull. How long before she bled out? Was she even alive?
He cupped her cheek. Thank the gods! She was breathing, but barely. “Stay with me, June. Stay! With! Me!” He barely recognized his own desperate tone.
Orik rushed in then, sword in hand, flanked by a handful of soldiers. Tristan recalled June had used the intercom to call for help. Orik assessed the carnage with disbelief. “What the fuck happened here?”
Tristan lifted June in his arms. He needed to get her out of here, away from this slaughter, away from all this blood and gore. The best he could come up with was to take her back to the apartment next to his. At least it was a clean and there was functional bed for him to lay her on. As he went, he told Orik. “We were attacked by Belinda and seven others. Six of them are still at large.” After relaying their identities, he ordered. “Find them and execute them. Bring me their heads.” He pointed to four soldiers and ordered them to stand guard in case the traitors return to finished what they’d stated. Then he instructed another to call for a physician.
He didn’t even know if one resided in the city. Dragons healed swiftly on their own, usually without the help of medical aid. Last time June had been hurt, they’d been on Evlon. A Faieara healer had taken care of her. He wasn’t used to the idea of someone not being able to heal on their own, let alone someone he loved. He realized he hadn’t thought about June’s needs as he should have. He should have employed a castle healer as soon as they’d returned. He should have employed several healers.
If she did not survive, he would never forgive himself if his lack of foresight.
As his troop carried out their orders, Tristan gently laid her on the bed. Then he tore the sheet into strips to tie her wounds.
“June? Can you hear me? Open your eyes, love.” He tied one around her upper leg, slowing the blood flow. The other, he wrapped around her shoulder as best he could. He then scrunched the third into a ball and used it to apply pressure to her shoulder wound. Her skin and lips had gone pale. “June, baby? Please. I love you. Don’t leave me.”
Her eyes fluttered.
“June? That’s it. Look at me.”
Her lids cracked open, revealing bleary eyes. “Tris?” She sounded so weak. So tired.
“I’m here, love. I’m here. You’re going to be okay. Stay awake for me, alright?”
She lifted her hand to cup his cheek. “I l-love you.”
He felt wetness tumbling down his cheek. “Don’t. Don’t you dare say that now. Don’t you dare say it like you’re saying goodbye!”
Her eyes closed once more. “I’m s-sorry.”
He roared, “No! You canna leave me. You will no’! I forbid it!”
Her body went limp and he bellowed in agony. He would lose her because of his own stupidity. Because he had failed to see what was coming. He had failed to see the danger. Yet again he had failed to save someone he loved. Even if they found a physician, they wouldn’t get here in time. It would be too late. Generally only witches required the use of healers and doctors. Even then, much of the time they relied on magic…
Magic!
“Guard!” he hollered. All four guards rushed into the room, alert and ready to defend against danger. “There’s a witch in the dungeon. Bring her here. Now!”
Minutes later, two guards escorted the young witch into the room and set her on her knees before Tristan. Her long hair lacked pigment, making it nearly white, though her smooth skin made her look young. However, her eyes, shockingly gray, like clouds before a storm, held a hint of age. There was something otherworldly about the girl, like all witches. Something that set his instincts on edge. Even the guards seemed uneasy to be near her.
Her eyes nervously flicked around the room until they came to land on him and June. She gasped, taking in the sight. “I don’t know if I can help her,” she said, instantly understanding. “It will take strong magic. I don’t have my supplies. All I owned was confiscated.”
“Your belongings will be returned to you.” Tristan nodded to one of the guards, who left to carry out the order.
“Still, I have not the ingredients for a powerful healing spell.”
“Your people kill dragons for power, yes? Use bits of us in your spells and brews?”
She swallowed, her impossibly pale skin taking on a green edge. “Some do. I have not, my lord—”
“There are two dead dragons in the other room. Can you use them to heal her?”
Her jaw dropped. “I-I could try. I will need to—”
“I don’t need an explanation. Take what you need from them before they return to their two-legged forms.” It would happen any moment now, if it hadn’t already.
She nodded and then turned to leave, escorted by two loyal guards.
“And, witch.” She glanced back at him. “If you doona save my mate, I will kill you.”
>
Fuzzy voices filtered through June’s ears. She thought she heard Tristan, murmuring for her to stay awake. She was trying, but it was as if her energy had been zapped. Nothing felt right. Her body was heavy and cold. She couldn’t open her lids but for the smallest gap, and when she did, everything was a blur.
“Can you open your eyes, love? Can you look at me?”
Stabbing pain radiated over her body on the heels of a fever. One minute she was hot, the next freezing. It was like fire and ice seeped through pores. With much effort, she pried her eyelids open. It was like lifting barbells with her lashes.
Tristan loomed over her. He looked crazed with worry. Blood was smeared on his face in the shape of a hand. From me?
When she tasted a metallic tinge in the back of her throat, she realized she was dying. Devastation coated her mind. How silly it seemed now to have worried over her short time with Tristan—when the countdown could have been measured with an egg timer. If she had known, she would have told him how she felt. She would have let herself love him with all her heart.
Tristan wiped away a tear from her cheek. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. Do you hear me?” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “I have a witch here who is going to help you. She’ll heal you.”
He was going to let a witch perform magic on her? Her head lolled. Her eyes closed once more.
“Stay with me,” Tristan pleaded. He cupped her cheek. “You’re going to marry me and be my wife and I’m going to make you so happy. Or we don’t have to get married. Just stay with me.” She managed to pry her eyes open for him, but he was fading now, his beautiful face growing fuzzy.
“I Love you,” she muttered before the world went dim. The pressure bearing down on her let up. Everything grew feather-light. Pain dissipated. She no longer felt exhaustion. She no longer felt anything…but for a terrible longing.
Loud noises slammed into her, a desperate bellow that tugged at her soul, a beast suffering such dreadful anguish it broke her heart.
