The Blood King

by Abigail Owen

  Skylar wrapped her arms around his neck, ignoring his smell as she buried her face in his fur. “That’s far enough. I can make it down there on my own.”

  She couldn’t. She’d die of exposure before she got near it. But at least Maul would live and Ladon would know where she was.

  A shadow darkened the gray and white sky overhead, and instinctively, Skylar ducked. The dragons were risking being seen to come for her? If she ignited now, they’d see. But they’d see anyway; the ledge she and Maul were on was exposed with no place to hide, and dragons had excellent eyesight.

  “I’m sending you home. To Ladon.”

  Maul shook his head, jowls slapping.

  She’d let the red dragons find her and put her back in that dungeon. The rest would be up to Ladon at this point.

  “I’m not arguing about this.” Before she could ignite her fire, the hound took a shuddering breath, then they were gone.

  That horrible black, soundless space wrapped around her, and Skylar had to hold back her panic, tightening her grip on Maul’s fur. Like what had happened with Kasia, the pressure increased and her hold on consciousness started to slip. Like clawing her way out of a nightmare, only she was going into it.

  With a whoosh, sound returned. The cracking of wood surrounded them as the kitchen table they ended up on buckled and split. For the third time, Skylar’s head hit stone. That was going to be one huge goose egg when she bothered to check.

  Shaking off the lethargy of the unconsciousness that had tried to overtake her in the in-between, she pushed unsteadily to her feet. A quick check told her Maul had taken them to an abandoned home of some sort. How he knew it was here, she had no idea.

  The effort to get them there had taken its toll on Maul. Still lying on his side, breathing sounding like a horrible effort, the dog’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he went limp, but at least he was still breathing, the smoke and rotting scent of him coming out in ragged puffs that crystalized in the freezing air. Tears stinging the back of her eyes, Skylar wrapped her arms around his thick neck, laying her head against him. “You did good, you big lug. Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

  She sat back on her haunches. Maul blinked, trying to focus on her. “I saw lights that looked like an airstrip. If it is, I’m taking one of those planes and flying my ass out of here.”

  No way would dragons expect her to use human technology that put her directly in their territory as an escape method.

  “Tell Ladon.”

  He gave a small whimper, not even the sound a newborn hellhound might make, and Skylar had to control her own tears. She needed to stay strong. “I’ll see you soon.”

  With that, she ignited her fire. “Sorry about this.” She slammed her palms into his chest and sent him to her mate.

  Skylar bent her head and took a moment. At least Airk and Maul were both safe. That was, if Ladon didn’t kill Airk before hearing him out.

  The dragons wouldn’t come among the humans in dragon form but might appear here as human and search for her. By now they had no idea which way she’d gone. That shadow had not been a scout, or it would’ve zeroed in on her and Maul sooner.

  Please don’t let him have sensed us.

  She couldn’t hop in a plane immediately, not with the dragons in the air searching. As plans went, that would be too obvious. But if she held off a few hours before she took a plane, or snuck into a cargo hold, or perhaps tried to find enough money to get on a flight, using humans as camouflage, that could work. Which was the greatest risk—waiting or not waiting?

  Regardless, she needed better clothes for this climate. Plus, if she could find a graveyard, she might have a way to camouflage her own scent.

  She stood on shaky legs, bones aching from the cold.

  Move.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Let me see him.” Ladon pushed through the men gathered in a circle around someone sitting on the floor of the training space. A man who appeared out of thin air, apparently beaten unconscious though apparently now awake.

  “Káthor.” One man stepped back. Then another repeating the same word. Only Ladon didn’t acknowledge as he usually tried to.

  Sure enough, a white dragon shifter, evident by his pale eyes, his shocking white hair the hallmark of an ancient lineage, sat on the floor, knees drawn up and arms draped casually over them as he warily stared back at Ladon. His face looked like he’d walked into something hard. Despite already healing, blood continued to drip from his nose, and bruises remained black across the left side, starting to turn green at the edges.

  First instinct was to rip this man’s guts out and hang him by them. Logic stayed Ladon’s hand, and a calm settled over him. He squatted down to the man’s level. “I am Ladon Ormarr, King of the Blue Clan.”

  The man gazed back at him in silence.

  “It is customary to reciprocate an introduction with one of your own,” Ladon said, his voice going quieter.

  “My apologies. I was attempting to determine how to introduce myself. Airk Azdaja. I have been Pytheios’s prisoner these five hundred years or more. Skylar Amon sent me.”

  Everything around Ladon froze, the people gathered around them faded to insignificance, as he zeroed in on the man. “What do you mean Skylar sent you?”

  “I helped her escape from the tower dungeon in Everest where Pytheios was holding the both of us.”

  If that was true… “Then where is she?”

  The words came out a low snarl. Any sane man would flinch. Not Airk Azdaja. He merely stared back, unmoved, though not uncaring, if the way a small nerve at the side of his jaw ticked. “I was knocked unconscious. I must assume she delivered me here to save my life.”

  Dread clutched at Ladon’s insides even as his blood hardened in his veins, frozen with cold fury. “You left her?”

  An unidentifiable emotion passed over the man’s face. Irritation maybe. “I was not permitted a choice in the matter. No person regrets this situation more than I.”

  Ladon jerked to his feet, reaching for his dragon, prepared to summarily execute this man. Either he was a liar and a spy, or he’d left Skylar in that fucking red dragon stronghold to fend for herself.

  Common sense stopped him. Of course Skylar would have done this. Damn the woman. She never worried about her own safety. Not if it meant saving someone else. If she was standing here, unharmed and with him, he’d admire the hell out of her for it. But, at this moment, with fear threatening to choke him, fury beat at him with the strength of dragon wings.

  How the hell am I supposed to get to her?

  Didn’t matter. He was going. Now.

  Before he could start his shift, Asher called out from behind them. “Ladon.” Followed by several curse words. What snagged Ladon’s full attention was the tone of his voice. He’d never heard his Beta sound agitated like that before.

  “Watch him,” Ladon told Wyot and Duncan, who bracketed Airk, still seated on the ground.

  Satisfied the man couldn’t get away, Ladon strode to where Asher stood. He didn’t need more than a glimpse of the thing lying on the ground at his friend’s feet to break into a run. Skidding up to the hulking form of the hellhound, he looked the animal over.

  “Maul?” He laid a hand on the dog’s massive chest, grateful that his ribs moved up and down. “He’s alive.” He jerked his gaze to Asher. “Get Fallon.”

  Ladon had no idea if the Healer’s blood could do anything for a hellhound, but it was worth a try.

  “He was being tortured by Pytheios and his witch,” Airk called across the room. “Skylar must have sent him.”

  Of course she’d send her damn dog, too.

  Airk’s words sank deeper into his awareness. “My mate is alone with the Rotting King and a witch?”

  Ladon started across the room even as Airk mouthed the word mate, shock freezing his
expression. Had he not known?

  Who the fuck cared? He was going to kill the bastard anyway. Skylar was on her own, across the world with their enemies, and the only man who could have helped her was standing in Ladon’s fucking mountain.

  A small whimper stopped him dead in his tracks. Ladon whipped around to return to Maul, who could barely lift his head. “Where’s Skylar?”

  A series of images flashed through his mind, all a little hazy as if he was seeing them through Maul’s own pain and exhaustion.

  Airk bursting into the room with Skylar on his heels. Skylar killing the witch, before she sent both Airk and Pytheios away, after getting slapped back by the king, who’d appeared weakened.

  Ladon glanced at the white dragon shifter, the need to rip the man’s throat out and watch his blood coat the stone flooring waning and easing into more of a blatant mistrust.

  The next series of images from Maul—Skylar getting out of the mountain and away—knocked the idea of slaughtering Airk away. For now.

  Only because she wasn’t dead or back in a dungeon. Yet.

  Ladon dropped his head forward to hide the depth of his relief from those gathered around.

  “She escaped,” he said. Not entirely, but he knew his mate. She’d find a way to stay hidden and get out.

  An audible murmur echoing his own relief passed through the gathered crowd.

  “Maul got her to a nearby town.”

  “Lukla,” Airk said. “It has to be.”

  Ladon barely heard the man, already mentally sifting through his options. It would be damn tricky extracting her from under Pytheios’s nose. The small town most humans going to Everest flew to from Katmandu was hardly forty kilometers from the base camp on the mountain as the dragon flew.

  What if he couldn’t get to her in time?

  Another flash of an image from the hellhound caught him midthought, and Ladon paused. “What are you telling me, Maul?”

  Skylar couldn’t be planning what he thought she was.

  The dog grunted, a sound most definitely commiserating with Ladon.

  Ladon jerked to standing. “Fuck.”

  He signaled his men. “Find a room to shove our new guest in. I want him guarded until Skylar returns and can tell her side of the story.”

  With that he strode away, muttering to himself about batshit crazy females trying to do everything by themselves. How the fuck was he going to find his mate if she was flying all over the goddamn planet?

  Anger piled on like a bunch of dirty laundry as he made his way to the tech room. “Get in contact with Gorgon,” he told the man currently operating the equipment.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The Black Dragon King was on his way back to Mt. Ararat, his stronghold in Turkey. Flying a direct path from Nepal to Scotland would take Skylar north of Turkey, if she could fly such a straight course. Regardless, Gorgon was already closer to her than any other ally. He could reroute, possibly intercept, run interference.

  Something. Anything.

  “He’s not answering, my lord. They must be in flight.”

  Of course they were still in flight while dark still ruled the land over much of Western Europe, where Gorgon most likely was by now. Black dragons preferred to fly when the land was shrouded in darkness.

  Ladon grabbed a piece of paper, writing out instructions. “Keep trying. Relay this message to him when he answers.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ladon strode toward the platform. Fuck waiting a second longer.

  Asher followed. “You’re not going after her.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  His Beta snagged him by the arm but released him, holding up his hands in defense as Ladon rounded on him with a snarl, fire no doubt ablaze in his eyes. “You are king. You can’t go off, half-cocked, on some wild-goose chase.”

  “She is my mate. If she dies, no more king.”

  Asher got in his face. “And vice versa.”

  “You think I hadn’t thought of that?” Ladon snapped. “But…I can feel her.”

  His Beta frowned and took a step back. “Already?”

  Ladon said nothing.

  Asher, jaw tight, shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

  “No shit.” He was still going. “Stay here until you hear from me.”

  “But—”

  “That’s an order.” Maybe his last as king.

  Leaping off the edge of the training platform and shifting as he fell, Ladon burst into his dragon form, faster than he’d ever made the transition. So fast, for the first time he felt as though he ripped his own skin off to let the beast out. The flash of pain lancing through him disappeared quickly enough that he dismissed it.

  In a deliberate show for any spies watching, Ladon popped up over the top of the mountains then quickly gained more altitude. Flying during daylight hours meant staying where humans couldn’t accidentally see at high altitudes. Luckily, that meant faster flying, a more direct line over the curvature of the earth.

  I’m coming, Sky. He sent the thought to the woman who’d become everything to him.

  No answer. Not that he’d expected one. That didn’t mean he’d stop trying. Hell, he’d never give up on her.

  He’d give all of it up, give the throne over to the men he trusted, walk away from everything…for her.

  Skylar had morphed from being his means to an end to becoming the bright center of his life. If she died, he died, too, now that they were bonded. But even if his mark didn’t grace the back of her neck, he’d follow her to the grave.

  Ladon allowed his body to take over, flight the most natural thing a dragon could do. Some dragons were known to sleep in the process, even claiming they didn’t have to stop to rest. Keeping half his mind attuned to senses taking in his surroundings, in case of impending attack, the other half he devoted to sending a constant signal to his mate.

  Words poured through him and out of him to her, and he hoped to the gods that she heard. Even if she didn’t answer.

  Hours in, and already having stopped to rest for short periods, exhaustion threatened to pull him out of the sky. But he kept pushing.

  A flash of white ahead and adrenaline spiked his blood, bringing him sharply back to full alert. Ladon tipped up, beating his wings to hover, focused on that spot.

  “My king…”

  The voice was familiar. Ladon looked around for more movement among the clouds. “Who are you?”

  “Servants of our queen.” Two white dragons dropped out of the clouds a good ten miles away.

  “How the fuck did you find me?”

  “Your people are trailing you, but we can fly for longer than blue dragons, so we caught up to you first.” Right. Blue dragons may have the speed, but white were built for long-distance flying and could go longer.

  “My people—” Dammit. “Hold on.” He sent the thought to the white dragons. Then he aimed a thought to one man only. “Asher.”

  “My king.”

  This far from Ben Nevis, no way should Asher have heard him. “You disobeyed a direct order.”

  “Actually, sir, you left me in charge. I gave myself a different order.”

  “If you left the mountain vulnerable—”

  “You left us vulnerable taking this chance. Of course I didn’t fucking leave the mountain—”

  “Maybe this one…”

  Ladon bobbled in the air, practically fell out of the sky at the sound of Skylar’s voice.

  “Skylar!” He shot the thought out, practically yelled at her.

  Except Asher was still sending thoughts his way. Loud ones. “Shut the fuck up for a minute, Asher. I heard her.”

  Silence descended in his head and he waited.

  “Skylar.”

  “Ladon?”

  He dropped a good hundred feet in relief
before he remembered to keep his wings moving.

  “Where are you?” Why did she sound like she was whispering?

  “Can’t talk now. I’m stealing a plane. Headed to Rus…”

  His head went quiet, like she’d disconnected a phone call, and Ladon couldn’t hold back the rage of his dragon a second longer. On a roar of pain, and panic, and fury, he spewed blue flames into the air.

  …

  Skylar dragged the unconscious human she’d just knocked out over to another plane nearby, one tethered to the ground in what was obviously its permanent home. The guy was too heavy to try to stuff him into the plane out of sight, but she sort of positioned him around the wheels and prayed to the gods no one else at the airport would notice.

  Then she grabbed the head of the wangliang—a malevolent spirit, this one manifested physically as a fenyang, or grave sheep. She’d slaughtered it in Lukla and brought it with her as camouflage. Not even dragons would scent her over the corpse of a creature that reeked of dung and decay. Granted, it meant she had to live with the nausea the smell caused, but it’d be worth it.

  Skylar climbed into the man’s plane, already fueled and primed, with a flight plan that wasn’t the greatest for her, but she’d make it work initially, and, with full permission from the tower, took off into the sky. Once she was satisfied she’d gotten away without garnering attention—yet—she settled in.

  She swiped at her eyes, fighting the exhaustion that wanted to drag her body into needed oblivion. She could sleep when she got to Ladon.

  Of course they’d finally heard each other when she’d been in the middle of this.

  “Ladon?” she tried now. And then several more times. But only silence greeted her.

  She let out a huff of frustration. What good was this connection thing if it didn’t work most of the time, dammit?

  It had already been a long-ass day. Thanks to various human limitations—like language, guarded airspace, and the fact that she was a woman doing illegal things in aircrafts in western Asia—layered with needing to stay away from where the red dragons might look for her, she was sort of screwed no matter what direction she’d gone.