The Blood King

by Abigail Owen

  Pytheios narrowed his eyes, allowing his fire to fill the sockets, and still Jakkobah didn’t even flinch. This was going nowhere. With a snarl, Pytheios returned his attention to the man in front of him.

  “Impossible,” Brock snapped.

  “I scented her myself, sir,” the shifter spy declared in no uncertain terms.

  “Then you scented the woman named Kasia,” Blake stated.

  “No, my lord,” the soldier denied, though he lowered his gaze. “The red-haired phoenix smells of chocolate. This woman had black hair, and her scent was of cloves. I am sure.”

  “Where?” Fraener demanded. “Where did you see her?”

  Pytheios did not miss the avaricious light that entered both the other kings’ eyes.

  “At the top of Ben Nevis in discussion with Ladon Ormarr,” the soldier answered.

  Rage threatened to boil up and spill out of Pytheios as buzzing took over his hearing for a brief instant. Damn the eyes of the fates. Ormarr had his hands on two of the sisters?

  The Stoat wasn’t the only one who’d failed him. Pytheios would also have words with Rhiamon when he returned. She had found a phoenix for him once before. It had taken her centuries, but she’d tracked down Serefina Amon. Eventually.

  He didn’t have centuries to wait. Not this time.

  The legacy of dragons, tens of thousands of years, was something he’d sworn to protect and grow at all costs. He alone had shown he could make the hard choices for his people—like ensuring the leaders mated before lower-level dragons got the chance, like pooling the wealth to ensure it could be applied in the most appropriate ways, like eliminating those who dissented.

  He needed a phoenix. Now.

  “I must return to my home and investigate this further,” Pytheios managed softly.

  If he’d tried to speak in a normal voice, it would have come out as a thundering roar. His skin stretched and itched with the leashed fury of the creature inside him.

  He turned to Brock. “This is rumor at worst, truth at best. I will deal with it. You enact the plan.”

  “But my lord, if Ormarr has a—”

  Pytheios held up a hand and Brock cut himself off with a snap of his teeth. “There has only ever been one. Two is not possible, which tells you what?”

  Brock’s high brow furrowed. “Ormarr and Astarot are lying and neither is a phoenix?” He paused, considering. “Makes sense. If they start a rumor like that, more dragons will support them.”

  Pytheios gave a grim smile. “Lies we will not give credence to.” He paused, letting that sink in. “I will handle it.”

  He’d get to that phoenix before she mated and suck her dry of any power she held. Before the kings supposedly loyal to him got to her first. He was tempted to capture a mated phoenix so that when she died, so did her mate, ridding him of a traitor king. But a mated dragon—especially a king—was a dangerous fucking thing.

  A lesser protected target would be easier.

  Eventually, he’d take all four. He could only rely on rumors for so long. The existence of phoenixes would test those limits.

  Brock’s lips pulled into a sneer, but the words that came out of his mouth were what Pytheios needed to hear. “Yes, my king.”

  He waved to Jakkobah and Merikh who accompanied him to the small chamber where Rhiamon waited in secret. Her eyes widened as she encountered the fury in Pytheios’s gaze, but she said nothing. With a nod, Rhiamon’s magic whipped through them, skating over his skin like static electricity as she teleported them to a chamber within the Red Clan’s stronghold, inside the most colossal mountain on the planet. Everest.

  “Get me intelligence,” he ordered both Rhiamon and Jakkobah. “We will take that phoenix, now.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ladon stood in the doorway and stared at the woman out cold on his worn leather couch. Dawn had only just started its slow takeover of the skies, and the strip of lighting, set to mimic daylight, illuminated the mountain’s interior, barely cast a soft glow over her.

  A mate had always been a vague idea that grew into a political idea. That had even been true when he’d thought of mating Kasia. But something about Skylar Amon…

  Ladon frowned at the thought.

  Like every room, his personal suite was built into the natural configuration of the caverns, all rock formations and rough, rounded walls and a constant soothing sound of water. Laid out in a free-flowing way, he lived in a space the size of a three thousand square foot house, with all the accompanying rooms. In his living area, dead to the world, inky hair cascading over the leather like a waterfall in the darkness, Skylar had slept hard all night.

  She and Kasia had asked for time, just the two of them.

  Reluctantly he and Brand had granted them that, though they hadn’t gone far, staying in the suite. Hours later, they’d found both sisters asleep on the couch, curled around each other. Brand had pried Kasia out of Skylar’s grasp and carried her away to their rooms. Ladon had tucked a blanket around his own phoenix and settled in the armchair across the way to keep watch over her, strangely reluctant to let her out of his sight.

  The not-so-subtle stomp of feet coming down the hallway leading to his suite reached his ears. Arden. No doubt about it. His sister, like all his warriors, usually tread too softly to be heard, but she was probably being obvious to deliberately warn him.

  Not wanting to disturb Skylar, Ladon stepped out into the hall, closing the thick wooden door behind him.

  At the sight of him, Arden pulled up short from what appeared to be a walk of determination, the purple glitter on her T-shirt catching in the dim light of the hall. “Good. You’re still alive.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  She ignored him. “I heard Kasia’s sister is still here?”

  “She has a name.” He knew where Arden was going with this but didn’t feel like arguing about it.

  Arden eyed him narrowly. “You’re going to try to mate her, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dammit, Ladon. Kasia was one thing, but this one seems to want blood. Dragon blood.” His sister beat one hand against the veins at her wrist.

  “No shit,” Ladon commented. “And here I thought she was all sunshine and light.”

  That only earned him a glare. “This is not funny.”

  “Am I laughing?”

  Arden clenched her teeth, muttering through them. “You can be such an asshole.”

  He softened. Only for his sister, and only a smidge. “I know,” he said softly. “But you love me for it.”

  She stared at him, most likely searching his eyes for any kind of give about his decision. She’d find none. Not this time.

  “You’re going to do this no matter what.”

  “Yes.” The risk to himself was well worth keeping her away from Pytheios, let alone any other benefits that came from mating a phoenix.

  Arden plunked her hands on her hips, her head dropping forward as she stared at the rock flooring worn smooth over the ages. After a long, mute moment—rare for his opinionated sister—she lifted her head and pinned him with a commanding stare that he suspected she’d learned from him.

  “Don’t you dare die on me,” she whispered.

  Damn. Ladon pulled Arden into a hug, though she remained stiff in his arms. “I’d never leave you uncared for,” he murmured into her hair. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “It’s not the same,” she grumbled into his chest.

  “No.”

  His only remaining blood relative, his baby sister had been born over a century after him. Her mother had called Arden her miracle child. He’d watched over her since she was an infant, even more so after their parents were killed. As a female-born dragon, she was sterile. At best, she’d be an aunty to his offspring. At worst, since she was the king’s sister, she could end up mated to help
him politically. Most female-born never mated. However, his becoming king had put her in more danger, because he was facing off against most of the other clans. Plus, she insisted on fighting at his side, becoming one of his personal guard.

  Ladon finally pulled back. “I need to go wake up Skylar.” Giving her that time with Kasia last night had delayed discussions that couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Oh, it’s Skylar now, is it?”

  “You’ll give her a chance.” A command.

  Arden wrinkled her nose. “Only because she’s important, and she’s Kasia’s sister. Can’t be all bad, right?”

  Ladon ruffled her hair, like he used to do when she was little. Only she jerked out from under his touch, her hands flying to fix her perfectly styled ponytail. With a shake of his head, he punched his code on the keypad beside his door to let himself back into his rooms.

  Kasia and Brand would return soon. Last night, the sisters had spent their time together, but plans hadn’t been discussed for next steps. Ladon crossed the room on silent feet and leaned over Skylar’s sleeping form. His entire suite smelled of her cloves and smoke scent, but he wanted it on his sheets, on his body.

  Fuck. Twenty-four hours with this woman, and he was already on the edge of obsessed. Ladon chose to see that as a good sign for their mating. He couldn’t worry about any other implications right now.

  “Skylar.”

  Not even a twitch.

  “Skylar, wake up.”

  He reached out to shake her arm. The second he connected, Skylar moved. Before he knew it, she swept his feet out from under him, landing him on his back, and she was straddling him with a knife at his throat.

  Not about to let himself be gutted by a woman obviously acting on instinct, Ladon rolled them, pinning her to the ground and knocking the knife from her hand. Only, by the time he got there, she’d stopped struggling.

  She stared at him, breasts heaving, eyes locked to his. Damn, she was incredible—all fire and ice with a fight that wouldn’t quit. Respect coated the strong desire lancing through him.

  Mine, the dragon half of him whispered.

  That growing urge to claim, to plunder, had him leaning toward her, needing to taste her. Except a sudden flash of light, a second of silence, then he was outside in the hallway about to kiss the fucking floor.

  Shit.

  She’d done it again. Teleported his ass outside the room. With a growl of frustration, Ladon was off the floor and back through the door to find her standing and waiting.

  She held up both hands in surrender, but her words conveyed anything but. “Your fault, not mine.”

  Ladon studied her and tried his damnedest not to drag her back to his bedroom and establish once and for all who was boss here. Except he’d vowed to win her trust. “You can’t keep—”

  “I know. I know. I was half asleep and going on instinct.”

  He lifted one skeptical eyebrow, and her gaze tracked what the movement did to the scar that ran down that side of his face. Did she find him grotesque? “Are you going to do that when we mate?” he demanded.

  Skylar crossed her arms, lush lips drawing up into a smile that had his groin tightening. “It would sure make for an interesting story.”

  Ladon grunted by way of response, choosing not to join her in seeing the funny side. Her comment about being not fully awake, combined with how hard she’d been sleeping had him examining her more closely. Purple shadows under her eyes and a pallor to her skin had him wondering. “How long has it been since you slept?”

  “Slept? Last night. Slept well?” She shrugged. “I had to get here. That required traveling off the radar—a lot of walking and sleeping where I could find a place, a few stolen planes to get across land, and an ocean voyage stowed away on a container ship. Once I got in here, I didn’t want to be found.”

  Stolen planes and stowing away followed by hiding from dragons here. In other words, all that time, she’d allowed herself to drift, but only half asleep, ready to act. An image that sat like a lead weight in his gut.

  “You growl a lot. You know that, right?”

  He hadn’t realized that he had until she called him on it. “How far did you have to travel?”

  “Far.”

  Stubborn woman. Ladon stepped past her and dropped to the couch. Maybe she’d loosen up if they weren’t squaring off against each other. “Let me phrase it a different way. Where did you come from? I assume your mother also sent you to safety.”

  Skylar eyed him warily, like she was debating what she could trust him with. “She did.”

  “With anyone in particular?”

  “A bunch of rogue dragon shifters.”

  Ladon straightened in his seat. “Why the hell would your mother send you there?”

  Even through her visible exhaustion, her mouth still pulled up at the corners. “Dragons who are anti-clans and anti-kings? Who could be more perfect?”

  Then she finally followed suit and sat at the other end of the couch, angling her body to face him.

  Ladon considered her description. In the colonies that could mean only one group. “You’re talking about Rune Abaddon’s people?”

  “You’ve heard of them?” She tucked her feet under her like a fastidious little cat. Getting more comfortable? Or deceptively so? He still couldn’t tell with her.

  “Of course I’ve heard of them, though I didn’t know they were in the Andes.”

  She blinked, then winced. “Don’t… Don’t use that against them. Please?” Except she knew she didn’t need to ask.

  “I have bigger worries right now. But let me get this straight. Dragon kings you can’t stand, but you want to protect feral dragons who’ve been attacking our Enforcer teams and stealing mates?” That made no fucking sense.

  Apparently, she caught that mental tag in his tone, because Skylar scowled. “Yes. Anyone fighting the current regime is worth a second chance.” She gave him a significant look that he had no trouble interpreting. Skylar included him in that bunch. Barely.

  Then she glanced away, as though considering her next words. If he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he would’ve missed the deep breath she snuck. “Also, one of them was family.”

  Family. Pytheios and his kings had taken out the old ruling families. One had survived? Which side? The Amons? Or the Hanyus? The questions piled up in his mind, but, despite her cozy position on the couch, he could see the wariness in the lines of Skylar’s body.

  Time chased him like a hound on the scent, but he put aside his questions. He needed her trust more than he needed answers. “I’m glad you had someone there you trusted.”

  After a long pause, during which she studied him just as closely as he did her, Skylar nodded. “Me too.”

  “What about your other sisters?” he asked. “Where do you think your mother sent them?”

  She pursed her lips in thought. “Hard to say. Maul was logical. But where I went was a huge shock. Who knows what other allies Mom relied on.”

  “Powerful allies are important.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Like a phoenix?”

  “I was thinking about Brand, actually.” Not that his assurance made the suspicion in her eyes go away. “Do your other sisters look more like you or Kasia?”

  That question didn’t help.

  “Neither,” she said slowly.

  “Quadruplets who don’t look alike? How is that possible?”

  That at least made the shadows pull back in her eyes. “Who knows? Angelika has white blond hair, though she’s shorter. Meira is tall like me, but more willowy, and is a strawberry blonde with curls.”

  “Same eyes, all of you?”

  “Same eyes. Our father’s eyes. Though Meira’s go darker blue when she gets upset.”

  “Where’d all the different coloring come from?”

  Skyl
ar glanced at the dark braid across her shoulder. “Mother was the daughter of a phoenix and the red dragon king. Grandfather had dark red hair, like happens with some of that clan. I got my grandmother’s dark hair. So did Mom. Father was a white dragon king. As far as we can tell, that combo of parents and grandparents resulted in an…eclectic mix.”

  She chuckled, the raspy sound skating right over his skin and waking up parts of his anatomy he’d rather keep out of the mix for now.

  “Mom claimed it helped her keep us straight as babies,” she said, unaware of his sudden tension.

  “Are Meira and Angelika as…feisty as you and Kasia?”

  Skylar smiled. Actually smiled, and Ladon got a shot of the same exhilaration as when he won a skirmish.

  “Awwww. You think I’m feisty, booboo?” She batted her eyes. When he didn’t smile, she stopped and shrugged. “Meira is quiet, super smart, but more of an observer with emotions that run deep and quiet. Angelika is the kind one, the outgoing one. Like sunshine in a bottle. The one everyone loves.”

  “And you’re…?”

  “The crazy one,” she popped off.

  He didn’t like that. Not the crazy, but the way she said it. Like she didn’t like it about herself.

  Ladon shook his head. “Bold, decisive, maybe a little on the rash side, but I don’t believe crazy.”

  Skylar stilled across from him, searching his eyes as if deciding whether or not he meant that. “Don’t give me too much credit. My mother died because of me.”

  As if that wasn’t meant to slip out, she snapped her mouth shut with an audible clack of her teeth. No doubt she regretted that comment.

  But Ladon wasn’t going to let it slide. He moved closer to her on the couch, intent on her face. “You can’t say something like that and not keep going.”

  She opened her mouth, probably to put him off, but paused, then frowned, closing it again. Then she licked her bottom lip and seemed to come to a decision. “We were living in Kansas at the time, working at a diner down the road. It was supposed to be my shift, but I wanted to get more flight hours in. I’m a pilot. Mother took the shift for me.”