Fire of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 3) - Paranormal Fairytale Romance

by Alisa Woods

  “And quit staring at her!” Rachel was venting all her fears on Cinaed, Arabella could tell. But she couldn’t worry about that right now. Her best friend scooped up the tattered remains of her dress and shoved it at Cinaed. “Make yourself useful and magic up another dress for her.”

  He reluctantly tore his worried gaze from Arabella and trained an angry look on Rachel. “You will call me if she begins to heat again. Immediately.” The force of his gaze was enough to shock even Rachel out of her anger.

  She nodded but didn’t say anything.

  With a last look for Arabella, he stalked from the bathroom, taking the dress with him.

  A full-body shudder gripped Arabella and seemed to travel straight through to the baby in her belly. He twitched as well, but the fire was completely gone now.

  Arabella grabbed the side of the tub and tried to find her feet—they were so numb, she could barely feel them. “Help me up,” she said to Rachel.

  Her friend’s hands were toasty warm on her chilled skin.

  “Holy fuck,” Rachel hissed as she helped Arabella up. “You scared the shit out of me with that.”

  “Me too.” With Rachel’s help, Arabella managed to climb out of the bath. Just the warm air of the bathroom felt like a relief. “But I’m okay. Promise.”

  Rachel didn’t look convinced.

  “You’ll have to fix my hair again, though. The king and queen are waiting for me.”

  Rachel just pursed her lips and hurried over to the towel rack to get one for her.

  Arabella pulled in a deep breath and let it out slow. She was fine. The baby was fine. If it happened again, she knew to get to an ice bath super fast. Not stand around wondering what the hell was happening.

  But it spooked her something awful, and she could see the shadow of fear in Rachel’s tight expression, too. But there was nothing to do about it now.

  She just had to keep marching forward.

  Three more weeks…

  Arabella was overdue to the throne room, and it was making Lucian’s runes twitch.

  He had reached out with his fae senses not ten minutes ago, but she was fine. Still in the guest room of his lair, probably nervous about making her debut in front of the entire House. There was no cause for alarm, but he couldn’t help his worry.

  “She’s fine, my brother,” Leonidas said, standing next to Lucian and adjusting the cuffs on his jacket. “I’ve sensed her in the hallways. She’ll be here momentarily.”

  Leksander eyed Lucian but said nothing.

  He just gave them both a gruff nod, wearing his impatience like a shield to keep their questions at bay.

  The throne room was resplendent with all the ethereal décor that magic could provide from flickering torch lights to bouquets of flowers in every nook to velvet-draped walls and floors. The long, narrow room was seldom used, and in fact, Lucian couldn’t recall a time it had been put to use in the hundred years since they had relocated to the Seattle mountains.

  Just after Cara’s death.

  The last time the House of Smoke had seen such a ceremony, it was back in France, and Lucian was waiting for Cara to make her appearance in her presentation dress, the one he had specially conjured to her precise specifications. After her death, he could no longer bear to live in his own lair. To walk the same halls that she had. To live inside the same keep where she died. It had driven him away from France and eventually brought the entire House here. This new throne room in Seattle was constructed to be identical to the one they left behind, still steeped in the history of their House, but it was left fallow, literally waiting until someone extraordinary could take Cara’s place.

  He banished that from his mind.

  There would be no thoughts of the dead today.

  Lucian and his brothers stood by the door, awaiting Arabella’s arrival. His mate. The mother of his child. She should be the only focus today. Her coming out to the House was the most solemn of occasions, and the one his mother had been insisting he make as soon as Arabella passed her fortnight of seclusion.

  His mother and father sat on their thrones at the far end of the room opposite the door. King Larik and Queen Alexis, both dragons nearing the end of their lives at a thousand years. The dragons of the House lined either side, standing and waiting for Arabella’s arrival. Everyone was dressed in traditional formalwear, a mixture of ancient dragon culture and the medieval period in which his mother and father had been born as well as Lucian and his brothers. Most in attendance were male dragons, but the few mated ones had brought their females to the ceremony. The queen was beautifully regal in her purple gown, fitted and flowing, elegance and beauty, as always. The king wore the traditional high collar and long black jacket, etched with fine gold thread. Lucian’s presentation attire was more elaborate, suitable for his station as the crown prince for the ceremony. His black hood was pushed back, and the drape of his long tunic was woven with protective wedding runes, the same that he had conjured in Arabella’s gown. His chest was emblazoned with the dragon of their House.

  His sensitive hearing caught the whisper of Arabella’s steps outside the door of the throne room just before Cinaed swung open the door. His best friend was somber as he held the door wide for Lucian’s mate. He only had a moment to wonder about the furrowed look on Cinaed’s face before Lucian’s mind was captured by the sight of Arabella in her presentation dress. Halfway through her pregnancy now, the bump of her belly sweetly round and captivating, she radiated every fertility symbol worshiped through all of time. Flowing layers of white fabric floated around her as she moved. Her sweet breasts perched high, her delicately freckled skin making his mouth ache. A single golden band wrapped around her temple, signaling her new status as a princess. The flowing train of white floated in the breeze behind her. He was so captivated by her appearance that it took a moment for his eyes to find hers. But when they did, those green jewels locked onto him, and she bestowed upon him a tentative smile.

  If only he could capture her in this moment and never let go. If only it didn’t require her to risk her life to bring her to his throne room. If only the specter of Cara’s death didn’t loom over her, the sparkle in Arabella’s eyes just the same as Cara’s when she had come through the door all those years ago. Lucian ground his teeth and forced himself to push those thoughts aside. There was no room for them here today, in this moment.

  Cinaed held the door as Arabella stepped through. Her maid, Rachel, followed. Leonidas left Lucian’s side to offer his arm to Arabella. Tradition held that a dragon sponsor would escort his mate before the king and queen to present her for their official blessing. It was a formality for matings which had already occurred, but Leonidas had insisted that he fulfill the role. Not that Arabella had any objection whatsoever. The two of them marched in a solemn, measured pace down the length of the throne room. Rachel followed a step behind, fussing with the long train that flowed behind Arabella, even though the magic imbued in the dress kept it floating perfectly. Smiles and glittering eyes of appreciation followed Arabella. Her sealing mark undulated along her back, drawing everyone’s murmurs of approval. It was seductive, all that skin, all marked by him, her beauty and strength all perfectly shown off by that alluring showcase. Lucian could feel the twin emotions of pride and jealous lust rippling through the entire assemblage of male dragons.

  Their prince was mated once again—something many of them surely never expected to happen—and to a beauty who was plainly extraordinary. They had much to envy, but even their piercing gazes didn’t arouse any jealousy in Lucian. There were a hundred or so of them, and not one would wish for anything but the safe delivery of his dragonling into the world, securing the treaty along with the House of Smoke’s place in the immortal world for another generation.

  Cinaed joined Lucian and Leksander by the door once he had closed it. They would wait until Arabella’s acceptance before making their own solemn march down the length of the throne room for the final blessing by the king and queen.


  A glance at Cinaed showed his worried look was still present. His gaze was locked on Arabella, who had nearly reached the throne dais. Or perhaps it was Rachel’s lovely rear end that captured his attention as she skittered and shuffled along behind, bending to adjust the dress that didn’t need adjustment. Even as Lucian had been buried in his own concerns, it had not escaped his notice that Cinaed gladly hewed close to Rachel. And Lucian recognized lust in another dragon when he saw it.

  “You should grab hold of love when it comes your way, my friend,” Lucian whispered, dipping his head to Cinaed. Arabella’s introduction up front was continuing apace without them.

  Cinaed gave him an odd look—and a more tentative one than Lucian expected. Was he truly that hesitant to bed the female? Or was there more to it than that?

  Cinaed looked back to the front, this time plainly fixed on Rachel standing off to the side while Arabella held court with the king and queen. “I’m holding out for the rare human woman capable of loving a dragon such as myself.” Then he turned back to Lucian. “Knowing the price she might pay for that love.”

  Lucian’s heart squeezed. Cinaed had been at his side through everything with Cara, from the first blush of love through to the tragic and bloody end. And that dark time when Lucian had banished himself to the dim forests of Europe, seeking a redemption that would not come. It was only through the forbearance and steady love of his friend that Lucian had found his way out of the wildness once again.

  “Any woman who wins your heart,” Lucian said, “is a treasure indeed. And you’re still a young dragon. What have you, a hundred years under your scales? Mating now would cut your life short, and I want to see you live a long and full life, my friend.”

  Cinaed grimaced. “I care not for that. I care for finding the right woman. The one who wins my heart would have it forever, or as many years as the fates grant me.” Cinaed’s gaze drew forward again, but this time, it landed on Leonidas. “The House of Smoke has blessed me. I’ve learned the lessons of your brother well. He was unwilling to mate as a young dragon, and he paid the price for it. With all due respect, my prince, I am not that foolish.”

  Lucian smiled. “You are the wisest dragon I know, Cinaed. Woe to the woman who crosses you.”

  Cinaed just shook his head and stared at the floor. “Woe to me with my foolish tendency to fall in love all too quickly.”

  “Love, you say?” Lucian examined Rachel once again, standing at attention by Arabella’s side. Even from this distance, Lucian could see the tears trickling from the corners of her eyes, clearly with love for her friend.

  “It makes no sense,” Cinaed said with a grimace. “She’s quarrelsome and angry and far too quick to tell me where I’m wrong.”

  Lucian barely stifled his laugh. “Sounds perfect for you.”

  Cinaed drew back. “Surely my lord jests.”

  “Not at all.” Lucian smirked. “It’s the ones you cannot possibly stay away from, the ones who irritate you the most… those are the ones who find their way deep into your heart and never let go.”

  Cinaed briefly squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “That’s what I fear.”

  Leonidas rested a hand on Cinaed’s shoulder. “Don’t fear love, my friend. Learn that lesson from me.”

  Cinaed bit his lip and seemed to be conceding the point, but then he said, “I fear giving my heart to the wrong woman. I’m willing to wait for the right one. I’ve no need to jump at the first one that makes my blood boil and my irritation swell and who inspires me to more than simply drag her off to my bed.”

  Lucian smiled. “Anyone who loves my Arabella cannot be all bad.”

  With that, Cinaed’s face opened in recognition. “My lord may be on to something there.”

  “Indeed.” He clapped his hand again on Cinaed’s shoulder, but the time had come for him to approach the throne. Silence reigned throughout the room, heavy with expectation.

  Lucian led the way with Cinaed and Leksander trailing behind him. Arabella had stepped to the side with a radiant expression awaiting him. He fought to shove away the sensation of déjà vu, that he had been in this moment before with Cara. Instead, he focused on Arabella’s beaming face, letting her draw him in as she always did. Only when he reached the front did he turn his gaze to his mother, who was likewise beaming, and his father’s wide smile.

  “Your majesties,” he said with a low bow. “What is your decision?” It was a formality, but formalities and ritual had power. Their approval would cement Arabella’s place in the House of Smoke and in the eyes of every dragon present.

  “Your mate’s love is True,” his mother said, speaking first, as was custom. “I accept her into our House.”

  Then his father spoke next, his deep booming voice only slightly touched with gravel and age. “Her strength and good heart are a blessing upon this House.” His father’s words had a double-edged meaning for Lucian now. The same words had been spoken when Cara was accepted, but they proved not to be true. She was not strong enough to survive him and his seed. Her heart was good… but not good enough. Not with the doubts that must have lingered there. “I accept her into the House of Smoke,” his father continued. Then he raised his voice. “May your dragonling live long, and may the House of Smoke prosper under the blessing of a new prince.”

  That was the signal, along with the king’s raised hands.

  The House was holding their breath, waiting.

  Arabella didn’t know it, but the ceremony was sealed with a kiss. Lucian held his hand out to her, and when she took it, he pulled her close. With one hand on her belly and his son and the other in her hair, he brought her in for a kiss that was delicious and divine and sparked everywhere through him.

  And it was a damn good thing they were heading back to his lair immediately afterward.

  A roar of approval went up throughout the throne room, and Lucian let his kiss linger and linger, only releasing her when he sensed a flush of embarrassment running through her cheeks.

  He grinned as he pulled away. “Welcome to the House of Smoke, Princess Arabella.”

  The blush that was tinging her cheeks red and making her eyes flutter was almost as captivating as her kiss.

  “Lucian,” she said, her voice a little breathy. “Take me home.”

  He frowned, a spike of fear lancing through his heart and bursting the glory of the moment. “Are you all right?”

  She took his hand again and squeezed it. “Yes. Just…” Her gaze roamed the still-cheering House of dragons. They were putting their enthusiasm into applause and backslapping and rounds of chanting Arabella’s name. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

  His fear subsided. He turned quickly to his parents. “By your leave, your majesties, my mate cannot wait to retire to my lair.”

  His father grinned, and even his mother had a knowing smile.

  When Lucian turned back to Arabella, she looked stricken. “Oh my God, Lucian,” she whispered hoarsely. He smirked and swept her into his arms and carried her out through the cheering crowd, toward the back of the throne room and, eventually, his lair.

  With all the ceremonies behind them, he had every intention of making love to Arabella for the remaining three weeks of her pregnancy pretty much continuously.

  Woe to any dragon who interrupted them.

  “Okay, these little, tiny, baby clothes are just fucking cute.” Rachel’s running commentary made Arabella laugh out loud.

  “This why I need you here, helping me sort this stuff out. Lucian can’t even look at the clothes.”

  Rachel scrunched up her face. “Oh. Yeah. Because of the baby before.”

  Arabella nodded. It squeezed her heart every time she thought about it—she could hardly even imagine what it was doing to Lucian. She held up a tiny jumper suit that was red with little hooks and buttons to hold the shoulder straps down. “How cute is this?”

  Rachel scrutinized the tiny clothing. “Maximum cuteness. Illegally cute.”

  “Perfect.” A
rabella set it in the pile of keepers. She sighed before going on to the next one. “The only solution is for me to just have the baby, Rach. To live. That’s the only thing that will prove all of Lucian’s fears wrong.”

  “Well, you’ll get no argument from me on that.” She held up another tiny suit set, this one a miniature replica of Lucian’s formal attire, complete with a tiny emblazoned gold-thread dragon. “Although no baby is going to be happy wearing this getup.”

  Arabella giggled, and the baby kicked with the motion. Her hand reflexively went to her belly and soothed that spot by rubbing it. “As if you know anything about babies.”

  Rachel scowled. “Hey, I’ve been reading up. I’m going to be a fucking expert on this by the time the baby gets here. Not that you’re giving me much time, mind you.”

  It was true. She was already almost four weeks into the six-week pregnancy… and she was starting to get big. That hadn’t slowed down her lovemaking with Lucian, but they had to get a little more creative. He was out in the great room now with Cinaed and Leonidas, awaiting the fashion show, once Arabella and Rachel had made their selections from the vast quantity of clothing Cinaed had conjured for them. Arabella had barely managed to banish Lucian from the room—he still was clinging to her side every moment. Most of the time, that was delicious and sexy, but occasionally she needed some room to breathe. And time to go through baby clothes he couldn’t stand to look at. And a visit with her best friend in her apartment—technically still the guest apartment, but Rachel had started decorating it with Cinaed’s help.

  This was just the kind of break she needed.

  “So, how are things going with Cinaed?” Arabella asked with feigned casualness.

  “Oh, don’t even get started with me on that.” Rachel scowled and rifled through a pile of clothes they had yet to even touch. “I specifically asked him to conjure some non-primary-color suits, and there’s nothing here that’s even close to pastel yellow.”