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

by Alisa Woods

  Arabella hiccupped through a little laugh.

  But Rachel’s expression was serious. “If you want to have that baby all to yourself,” she said fiercely, “you do just that. You risked your life to have this child. You get to decide how much time to spend with him. And don’t worry about the office—besides, I found a paralegal that’s been holding down the fort for us in Seattle. I’ve been working with her on the side.”

  “You have?” Arabella drew back and gave her a suspicious look. Rachel didn’t keep secrets from her, not usually. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

  “You’ve had your hands full,” she said, waving at the tower of sparkly packages and the miniature crib set up in the middle of the room. It was carved from some ancient kind of wood, and Lucian said it had been in his family for generations. Which, given how long dragons lived, meant the crib had to be thousands of years old. He’d given it a new coat of varnish or something because it looked weathered but beautiful. And soon she would be putting their child to sleep in it.

  She really didn’t want to miss a minute of that.

  Arabella nodded slowly and looked back to her best friend. “Thank you, Rach. I feel like I should say that about a thousand times for all the help you’re giving me.”

  Now Rachel’s eyes were glassy with tears. She leaned over Arabella’s belly and put her arms around her neck and gave her a squeeze. “What are sisters for, if not this kind of shit?”

  Arabella laughed and hugged her back. Then she released her. “Okay, I’m only going back to work if that’s what I want to do—not because I have to keep the office going. Because we’ll figure out a way to help all our clients even if I’m on Mama Duty. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Rachel scowled at the pile of presents. “I suppose just tossing these out the window isn’t acceptable?”

  “Probably not.”

  Just as Rachel dove back into the pile, the door to the nursery swung open.

  Cinaed’s smiling face poked in. “Is my lady up to having a visitor?”

  “Another one?” She honestly had thought they were done with that—seemed like every dragon in the House had come through.

  “This one bears a special gift from the angels,” Cinaed said solemnly. “But if my lady is not fit for receiving guests, I will send her on her way, angeling or no.” The resolution on Cinaed’s face was absolute—Arabella was certain he would turn away the king himself if Arabella wasn’t up for it.

  “Angeling?” Rachel asked, turning away from the pile of gifts with a frown on her face.

  “Is it Erelah?” Arabella asked him. He nodded. “Well, let her in. She’s practically an auntie to this baby!”

  Rachel muttered something about angelings for aunties and went back to excavating the pile. “Last time, that girl brought a knife. For a baby.” She sorted through the pile and came up with the angel blade. “I’m no expert on kids, but even I know that a baby doesn’t need a knife.”

  Arabella just smiled. “I’m glad you found it. I’ve been meaning to mount that on the wall or something.”

  “On the wall?” Rachel gave her a look like she was crazy and set it carefully on top of the dresser like she didn’t want to hold it any longer than necessary.

  Before Arabella could answer, the door swung open again, and Erelah breezed in, carrying a glowing white box resting in the palms of both her hands. Cinaed trailed behind.

  “Erelah!” Arabella exclaimed with genuine warmth. “How are you?”

  But Erelah didn’t reply, just bent down on one knee and held the box up to her. “I bring you a blessing straight from the Seraphim Markos,” she said solemnly, with a resonance in her voice that seemed to shake the walls.

  “Um... okay.” Arabella stared at the box, not quite sure what to do—it was glowing white and pulsing a little and seemed entirely too filled with energy for her to touch it.

  Cinaed was looking likewise concerned, hovering nearby like he planned to snatch the box away if Arabella reached for it. “Careful, my lady.”

  “What do I do with it, Erelah?” she asked, cautiously.

  The angeling looked up at her, eyes shining. “Why, all you have to do is accept it. Believe in it—you already have the power of True Love. Your belief is already a tremendous force. All you must do is reach for it.”

  Arabella bit her lip and gave Cinaed a sideways look.

  He was frowning. “My lord wouldn’t have sent it, I suppose, if it weren’t safe.”

  If there was one thing Arabella trusted, it was Lucian’s desire keep her and the baby safe. She reached for the box, and when she touched it, a white light flared and washed over her. It was a gentle breeze filled with magic, energizing and enervating her entire body. The baby stirred and jumped, and her hand went reflexively to her belly.

  Cinaed’s alarm jumped five levels. “My lady! Are you all right?”

  The blessing was still filling her with a joyful glow as if the light of the box were pouring liquid happiness into her. “Cinaed, I’m fine. Wonderful, in fact.” She struggled for the right word to describe the feeling, but then it flowed from her lips. “I am blessed.” She smiled down at Erelah, who then jumped to her feet. The angeling seemed like she wanted to embrace Arabella, but was holding back. So Arabella went to her, throwing her arms around the barely-clad woman. She could feel the power surging through Erelah’s body just with that simple contact.

  When she pulled back, Erelah’s eyes were shining even brighter. “You are truly blessed,” she gushed.

  The baby kicked especially hard with the angeling’s nearness. Cinaed’s attention was drawn to her belly, and he seemed transfixed as a little ripple of movement moved from one side to the other.

  Then he looked sharply to Erelah. “My lady grows tired. It is best that you leave.”

  Arabella didn’t want him to shoo her away, but the aftermath of the blessing was leaving her a little tired.

  “Of course.” Erelah’s smile didn’t dim in the slightest. She dipped her head and then quickly turned to leave. Cinaed watched her go but didn’t follow. Then he came closer to Arabella’s side, still transfixed by her belly.

  “The little prince is active?” He seemed intensely curious about it.

  “It’s hard to say what sets him off,” Arabella said with a small smile. “But all kinds of magic seem to get him jazzed up.” She snuck a look at Rachel to see what she made of Cinaed’s fascination. She was just shaking her head.

  “What does it feel like?” he asked, and his eyes popped a little wider as the baby did his rolling motion again, sending a little bump traveling across the span of Arabella’s belly. “May I…” He reached halfway to her belly, then stopped, looking uncertain.

  Arabella grinned and took his hand, pulling it the rest of the way and laying it flat against her t-shirt covered belly. Cinaed dropped to his knees, bringing his face close to his hand and watching wide-eyed.

  “It’s just a baby,” Rachel called from across the room, scowling.

  He threw her a quick frown. “It is a miracle. And a prince. And—” He cut off and whipped his gaze back as the baby moved again, under his hand this time. He seemed speechless for a moment, then he said, “It’s a wonder, my lady.”

  She laughed lightly. “What’s a wonder is how much mint chocolate chip ice cream this baby requires. I think I’m out, Cinaed.”

  He looked panicked and leaped to his feet. “I’ll get more right away!” Then he fled out the door.

  “You really shouldn’t do that to him,” Rachel said with a frown.

  “I think he super cute around the baby.” Arabella stuck her tongue out at her.

  “He’s super hot—there’s a difference.”

  But Arabella could tell her best friend was affected by the sight of this super-gorgeous man kneeling in front of Arabella’s belly and oohing and awwing over her baby. Rachel could hide it all she wanted, but Arabella could see it—she had feelings for Cinaed and not just the lust kind.

&n
bsp; “Well, undeniable super hotness is how it starts…” Arabella arched an eyebrow at her.

  “Don’t get on that again!” Rachel scowled and picked up the angel blade off the dresser. “Alright, what do you want to do with this?”

  “I told you—on the wall. Maybe over the crib.”

  “Okay, fine.” Rachel walked over to the wall and held it up, eyeing where it might be best to mount it.

  “That looks good,” Arabella said. “But you’re not getting out of talking about Cinaed.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” Rachel set the blade back on the dresser next to the crib. “He’s super hot. And possibly super cute when he’s taking care of you and the baby.” She crossed her arms and gave Arabella a determined look. “And it’s obvious he’s the kind of dragon who wants all that stuff—True Love and a dragonling. I’m just not the kind of girl for that sort of thing.”

  Arabella gave her best friend a long look. “You could be, Rach. Look at me.” She gestured to her oversized belly. “I’m about to fulfill an ancient treaty by bearing a dragon shifter baby. That wasn’t exactly in my five-year plan.”

  Rachel arched an eyebrow. “You had a five-year plan?”

  “Always.” She gave her best friend a very serious look. “Rachel, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Lucian is the kind of man I never even knew existed. I fell in love with him because I’d literally never believed anyone could be that good… until I met him. Give it a chance, Rach. I want all that for you.”

  Rachel’s mouth was working, but no words are coming out. Finally, she looked away and pounded her fist lightly on the top of the dresser. “Why do you have to look so damn happy when you say that?”

  Arabella smiled. “I just received an angel blessing for my dragon baby. I think this smile is going to be plastered on my face for a while.”

  Rachel snorted a laugh. “Okay, well, that’s your life. Always been better at it than I have been, Ari. You had to rescue me off the streets, not the other way around—remember?” She met Arabella’s gaze. “I’m not the kind of woman a man like Cinaed stays with.”

  Arabella trundled across the span of the room to take her friend by the shoulders and stare her in the eyes. “Don’t you talk smack about my best friend. She dropped everything to take care of me and my baby. She’s awesome. And I don’t want to hear anyone say anything else—including you.”

  Rachel smiled through the tears. “You have to love me. You’re my sister.”

  “No, I don’t—but I do.” She gently squeezed Rachel’s shoulders. “You are exactly the kind of woman a man like Cinaed falls in love with. Let it happen, Rach. Don’t fight it.”

  Rachel swiped away the tears from her eyes. “Now you sound like that horny voice in my head that wants to jump his bones whenever he walks into the room.”

  Arabella grinned and released her. “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t know how you’ve resisted him this long, to be honest.”

  But Rachel just shook her head. “I’ve got things to do other than chasing after hot dragons.” She pulled away and eyed the pile of packages. “These gifts aren’t going to unwrap themselves.” And with that, her friend stalked back to the pile and dug into it again.

  But Rachel was right—Arabella had to focus on getting the baby here. Once that was accomplished—once Arabella had all of her dreams come true, even the ones she hadn’t known she had—she was going to make sure Rachel’s came true as well.

  Lucian had enough of ceremony to last him the rest of his five hundred years.

  Assuming the magic of his dragonling son’s birth actually occurred.

  Lucian watched as the House of Fyre filed out after depositing their gifts—sacks of gold. Traditional dragon gifts, to be sure, but nothing special. Lucian was just glad Cinaed missed the parade of assholes that was his former House. Lucian hadn’t realized they were coming until they showed up at the perimeter station. It was the House of Smoke’s front door, where every immortal had to stop first and ask for the wards to be dropped so they could gain entrance to the keep. Lucian had been reluctant to permit the House of Fyre entry, but his mother and father convinced him that repairing old wounds was more important. And that historic occasions such as the birth of his son and the renewal the treaty practically demanded it.

  Lucian still didn’t like it.

  As it was, the House of Fyre made their visit perfunctory and short—which worked well, considering the Summer Court Queen was waiting with arrogant impatience at perimeter station. The House of Fyre was leaving just in time.

  “That went rather well,” Leonidas said, adjusting the cuffs on his jacket. “Let us pray to all that’s magic that the Summer Queen is likewise terse in her congratulations.”

  His brother was chafing under his formal attire. The ceremonies were keeping him from whichever female he had seduced lately and left languishing in his lair. Lucian didn’t begrudge him the desire to be elsewhere—he felt it, too. And Leksander had been in an outright dark mood ever since Erelah and her Seraphim faction leader, Markos, had made their appearance. It was getting insufferable to be in the same room with him.

  Leksander spoke into his phone, whispering soft commands to the dragons guarding the royal entrance just off the throne room. They had divided the House of Smoke in two, with separate wards protecting each. That way, only the half with the throne room had wards dropping and rising with every visitor that came to call.

  Mostly, it was just dragons.

  But the fae were unpredictable, and if anything, the Summer Court had more reason to hate Lucian and the House of Smoke than the Winter Court. The magic of his blood bound them to an ancient treaty that reminded them of the betrayal of the past. And those past times weren’t so distant for the fae, given they lived far longer than Lucian’s five hundred or a thousand years, depending on whether his dragonling survived. The current Queen of the Summer Court was a direct descendent of the original queen whose life and love forged the magical bond that undergird the treaty—and whose blood ran through Lucian’s veins. The original queen was ten generations back for Lucian, but only one for Nyssa, the pure-blooded fae daughter who was born before the queen’s liaison with the dragon she fell in love with. Nyssa was one of the original aggrieved offspring; Lucian and his brothers and his mother and father were the bastard children who had snarled up fae politics for the last twelve thousand years.

  And in all those twelve thousand years, no summer fae had visited the House of Smoke. Not for the birth of a new generation or any other purpose. Speculation was rampant as to the cause, but Lucian suspected it was merely the fact that the Winter Court had been making a habit of interfering with the House of Smoke’s lineage. The rivalry between Winter and Summer was strong—and it had to tweak Nyssa that Zephan had such an influence over affairs that affected her court as well.

  Leksander finished speaking into his phone and gave Lucian a nod.

  Lucian straightened and faced down the length of the throne room.

  Just as with the Seraphim, the door opened before the queen made her entrance. He had heard tell of her beauty—all the fae were spectacularly beautiful—but he was unprepared for the ethereal quality of it. Her hair was white—not the snow white of someone advancing in age, but the unearthly silver-white of a woman who has chosen the color precisely. The curls were piled on top of her head and fell down the back of her silver-and-white ruffled dress, which swept the floor behind her, floating in some kind of magical wind as she glided down the cleared aisle. Dragons on either side leaned back, and even Lucian could feel the power emanating from her. Zephan, a prince of the Winter Court, had powers he chose to flick Lucian’s way when they fought, but this was altogether something different. Strings of silver decorated the open neck of her dress, sparkling and flittering lightly as the queen took her time strolling to the front. As she drew closer, Lucian could see her nearly-clear eyes were rimmed with violet.

  “Cousin,” she greeted him. For
all her cool, unearthly beauty and color, her voice was warm, more so than the winter fae and their affinity for coldness and dark.

  Lucian restrained a reflexive smile. He didn’t make the mistake of assuming he could use the same familiarity. “Your highness.” He dipped his head in greeting.

  “I hear you have a child in waiting,” she said.

  “We appreciate your visit,” Lucian said carefully. His runes were dancing along his skin and managed to climb his neck, enlivened by the nearness of their queen. He was dragon, and his allegiance was forever with the House of Smoke, but the magic in his veins knew no boundaries, and it recognized the fae of its origin.

  The queen raised a dark, pencil-thin eyebrow at the movement of his runes showing above his formal attire. “I wish to see for myself this woman who would bear the next generation of the House of Smoke.”

  Lucian’s heart seized, but he kept his expression cool. He flicked a look to Leonidas—his brother’s face had gone blank, no doubt steeling against the rage that the fae queen would even suggest such a thing.

  “I’m afraid my mate is indisposed at the moment,” Lucian said, slowly and measuring out each word. He could feel the tension mounting throughout the throne room. “She is but days away from delivery.”

  Nyssa gave him a barely perceptible nod and let her gaze travel for the first time around the room, taking in his brothers, his mother and father seated on their thrones behind him, and the dragons standing now at hyper-alert attention behind her. Lucian had no doubt that she could, with a flick of her wrist, bat them away. But even if she wished to make her own unescorted trip to the other side of the keep to where Arabella was safely tucked in his lair, Nyssa would not be able to get past the wards they had erected.

  At least, he hoped.

  “I sense that she is well-loved and well-protected,” Nyssa said coolly. “As it should be for someone who has to fulfill a treaty with True Love.”

  Lucian frowned, unsure whether that was meant in sarcasm or not. The summer fae were as inscrutable as the winter fae. But her meaning was unimportant as long as she didn’t make a move against them.