by Lili Zander
After my previous mostly-mediocre sexual encounters, all this great sex is going to my head. Of course, given that I can either choose to be horny because of my five dragon mates or be freaked out by the threat posed by Zyrian, guess which option sounds better?
As soon as the last article of clothing hits the ground, the air around Rhys’ body shimmers, and then he explodes into a massive purple dragon.
My jaw hits the floor. “Wow,” I breathe in awe.
Okay, I know that isn’t very articulate, but have you ever seen a fucking dragon? Wow covers it nicely.
Rhys tilts his head to the side and levels one slitted eye at me. I can feel his concern through our bond. Wait, he thought I’d be freaked out seeing him as a dragon? Silly Rhys.
“You’re beautiful,” I say with complete honesty.
And he is. His scales are brilliantly purple, the moonlight reflecting off of them in a glittery wave. He’s long and sleek, almost serpent-like in his regal lines. And when he spreads his wings… Holy fuck. So sexy.
Rhys’ dragon snorts at my compliment, though I can tell he’s pleased.
“Would you rather me say you’re fearsome and terrifying?” I tease him.
He closes his eye in a wink, and then throws his head back and lets out a thunderous roar. A jet of fire shoots into the sky, and my pulse quickens. When he’s done with his little show, he turns back to me, a thin line of smoke trailing from his nostril.
“Show off,” I accuse him with a grin.
If a dragon could smirk, Rhys does.
At my side, Mateo snorts. “Enjoy your flight, tesoro,” he says. “Rhys, be careful. No barrel rolls.”
Rhys lowers his body to the ground so that I can climb onto his back. I clamber up and get myself situated between his shoulders, the way Mateo and Rhys instructed me to. Mateo checks to make sure I’m securely seated before nodding at Rhys. “She’s good.”
As soon as Mateo gives the all-clear, Rhys leaps off the grass, and with a mighty flap of his wings, propels us into the night sky.
Okay. I’m not afraid of heights like Silas, but I will admit to about five seconds of crap-my-pants fear before elation takes hold. I do not have words to describe how amazing this feels. We’re gliding through the air, and because of Mateo’s magic, I’m toasty-warm. The moon shines on us, silvery and bright, and everything feels utterly magical.
Rhys circles the castle grounds, and then wings his way toward Cologne. In less than ten minutes, the dark of the Königsforst gives way to the bright lights of the city. We’re up high in the sky, but I can’t help wondering if anyone will catch a glimpse of us. I’ve never seen a dragon in Manhattan. If one appears, it’ll probably cause mass panic. Maybe because Bastian’s castle is so close to Cologne, the residents are more used to flying dragons?
I shriek with joy and grip his scales tightly as Rhys dips and dives through the clouds before climbing higher. This is like being on a roller-coaster, and I love it. “If you want to do a barrel roll,” I yell to him, “I won’t tell.”
Unfortunately, he doesn’t take me up on it, though his exhilaration at being in the air is palpable. I lose track of time as we fly. My cheeks hurt from my wide smiles, and my throat is sore from screaming. Flying with Rhys is like the world’s best theme park ride, and I find it impossible to hide my disappointment when the familiar lines of Castle Jaeger come into view.
Rhys gracefully lands on the lawn, and I slide from his back a lot less gracefully. In other words, I land on my butt. I’ve barely gotten my feet under me when I’m lifted in two strong arms.
“How was your first flight, love?” Rhys asks, nuzzling my neck.
“It was okay,” I shrug, attempting to play it cool, though the wide grin on my face belies my words.
“So was that someone else yelling for me to go faster? And what was it… ‘Oh my God, Rhys, this is amazing!’ Was that someone else too?”
“Must’ve been,” I tease, turning in his arms, standing on tiptoe and pressing my lips to his. “Thank you for taking me. It was… amazing. Can we go again?”
Rhys drops a tender kiss on the top of my head. “Anytime you want, love. We’re safe here.”
8
Mateo
Last night, when Casius had voiced his suspicions about what it meant that Aria was part of the Bloodstone, I’d dismissed them as far-fetched.
Then I saw Aria’s blood being absorbed into the gemstone, and I sensed what she did her best to hide from us.
I’ve worn the dragon relic around my neck many, many times. It has never felt hostile. But when Aria’s blood dripped down on it, I’d been shaken by a sense of wrongness. The Bloodstone had felt malevolent, snaking out tendrils around Aria’s pure, clean magic, trying to draw her power into itself.
Derther Roth speculates that Aria is the key to unlock the magic that’s trapped inside the ruby, but though the elderly wolf-shifter is wise, it’s not quite that simple.
The Bloodstone had felt greedy. Hungry. Dangerous. And as to what that means…
I refuse to allow myself to follow that train of thought.
My own magic feels tainted, a lingering effect of what happened in the study. The weight of the curse seems stronger than ever. Is the effect temporary, or has the balance of magic been shifted permanently?
I don’t know.
How are we connected to this? We’ve been chosen as Aria’s mates, but of the five of us, only I have magic. What did Maija Essen see in the future that caused her to manipulate the warps and wefts of fate? What role do we serve?
Everywhere I turn, there are more questions than answers.
It’s late at night, but sleep eludes me. I glance at my phone. It’s one in the morning, and the castle is quiet. I could wake one of the others, but I don’t want to.
What I want to do is forget everything. Forget the weight of the burden I carry as the second-most powerful mage in the world, strong enough to stop everyone but Zyrian. Powerful enough, except when it matters.
A sliver of moonlight shines through my window and illuminates the ring on the table next to my bed. I’d found it last night in the underground chamber. I’d planned on asking Aria if it was the same ring that Maija Essen gave her in her dreams, but I’d forgotten.
Which is strange in itself. It’s not like me to forget something so important.
I pick up the thick golden signet ring and examine the crest. The design is simple. A sword is etched in the center, its hilt carved with a mark that I’ve seen a thousand times. A mark I bear on my right wrist.
The mating mark. A five-pointed star, with a circle running through all five points. Why is it here?
Yet more questions.
With a sigh, I slip the heavy gold band on the ring finger of my right hand. There’s a bar in Cologne near the cathedral that’s open later than strictly permitted by the authorities. Zeus knows I need a drink.
Three hours later, I’m well and truly drunk. There’s a small part of me—a sensible inner voice—that tells me this is impossible. Dragons are not affected by alcohol the same way Norms are, and I shouldn’t be feeling this unsteady, this woozy.
It’s the ring. It’s dampening your magic.
I ignore that voice. So what? I’m allowed to cut loose one night. While there is a blood spell to temporarily remove anxiety and clear the mind, another mage needs to cast it on me, and there’s no dragon I trust enough with what torments me. Beer seems a reasonable substitute.
The barmaid comes by with a tray of Kölsch and sets a glass on my table. “Make that two,” I tell her, looking around the bar. Everyone’s having a good time. All around me, I see people laughing with their friends.
Norms really do live in a blissfully ignorant bubble.
She gives me a saucy grin. “Someone’s having a bad night,” she coos. “Want me to make it better?”
Not even a little. “I’m spoken for.”
“Are you?” She arches her eyebrow, her meaning clear. Why am I in a bar at f
our in the morning, instead of being in bed with my mate?
Not a thought I want to dwell on.
I don’t reply, and she gets the message. She lifts her shoulders in a shrug and heads to the next table, where two men are giving her admiring looks. One of them says something that makes her laugh as she sets glasses of beer down on their table.
I’m restless again. I drain my two glasses of beer and get to my feet. The room spins around me, and I grab onto the table for support. I tuck a fifty-euro note under the glass closest to me and stagger out. Perhaps some fresh air will do me good.
It’s dark. Quiet. The deepest part of the night has not yet given way to dawn. The sun won’t rise for another two hours. The streetlights provide some faint illumination, but I don’t need it to find my way. Dragons can see perfectly well in the dark.
I make my way to the river, crossing the Rhine on the Hohenzollernbrücke. I’m almost off the bridge when three men appear in front of me. “Gimme your money,” the man in the middle growls. In his hand, he’s holding a knife, the blade six inches long. Painful, but nothing that should cause too much damage. Not to a dragon.
I’m in no mood for a fight. I’m hanging to my temper by a thread, and if it snaps, these men are not going to like the results. “Go away, buddy,” I reply.
“Go away, buddy,” he repeats with a snicker. “That’s an effective threat, isn’t it, mates?”
Some people really do have a death wish. I take a deep breath and let my eyes slit yellow. But it fights me. My magic is sluggish and slow, as thick as a swamp. Even the shift, which is so basic that every dragon can do it from birth, feels like it takes more energy than it ever has.
“Like I said,” I repeat. “Go away, buddy.”
They’ve seen the dragon’s eyes. If they’re magical, they will know what they’re looking at. If they’re Norm, the sight should fill their hearts with fear.
Except that’s not what happens. “Do it,” one of the men shouts, his voice desperate and ragged. “Do it now.”
The man in the middle throws the knife at me. I reach for it, but I’m too slow. Too late. The blade slices into my side, and I fall to my knees as my body is engulfed in agony.
I can’t shift. The knife resists my attempt to tug it free. I can’t access my magic—I grope for it, but it dances away from me, slipping out of my reach. How much beer did I drink, and why is it affecting me this badly?
Cold darkness is everywhere, seeping into my mind and my body, and there’s nothing I can do to counter it.
Use the ring’s magic.
I make one desperate attempt to yank power from the gold band around my finger. There’s a faint whisper there, just enough for me to cast one final, frantic spell to slow the blood seeping from my body.
I have to find the others. Because the longer the knife is inside me, the more harm it causes. And soon, it’ll be too late to do anything about it.
9
Aria
Jetlag is bullshit. Once again, I wake up late. By the time I shower and get dressed, it’s one-forty-five in the afternoon.
Frau Ziegler must think I’m the laziest person in the world. Way to make a good impression, Aria.
I talked to Silas yesterday, and even though I’ve only been in Germany for a couple of days, it was still great to hear from him. “I’m not racking up long distance charges, am I?” I’d asked the dragons at dinner.
They’d burst into laughter. “I own your cell phone provider,” Bastian had admitted. “River Comm has been part of Jaeger Holdings for the last five years. Make all the calls you want, mausezähnchen.”
One of these days, I’m going to get used to how rich they are. I keep telling myself that. So far, it isn’t working. Still, it’s nice to be able to pick up the phone and call people without worrying about outrageous cell phone bills.
I do some math in my head. It’s almost nine in the morning in New York. Bea should be awake. Grinning in pleasure at the idea of talking to my best friend, I dial her number. It rings, and rings, and rings some more. Finally, she picks up.
“The world had better be on fire,” my best friend grumbles into the phone.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
“Why do you hate me?” she whines. “I thought you loved me.”
“Oh stop it, you know I do.”
“Then why in the name of all that is holy are you calling me at… Holy crap it’s eight forty-five!”
I hold the phone away from my ear as her screech of horror fills the room, and I snicker at her reaction. “Yes. I called my best friend thinking she would be on the train heading to work. I figured it would be the perfect time to call so that I didn’t risk interrupting any sexy fun times with Jesse...”
“Good call,” Bea deadpans. “Son of a crack nut, I’m going to be so late. Again.”
“Again?”
Bea laughs and my heart twinges at the sound. It’s only less than three days since the dragons whisked me away to Germany, but it feels like it’s been forever. A wave of homesickness washes over me. I miss Bea and Silas. I miss New York. As much as I love hanging out with my dragons, I also miss home.
“Let’s just say that I’ve had my muffin buttered, jellied, frosted, glazed, and sugar-coated within an inch of its life,” she replies. “Things like work schedules and sleep are just not priorities when the greatness that is Jesse’s man-meat is on the menu.”
“Oh my God, Bea…” I laugh. “I’ve missed your sass.”
“Miss your face too, girly. So, how’s everything in Dragonland?”
Let’s see. A powerful dragon mage who died five hundred years ago visited me our first night here. I found out I’m half-Bloodstone. I’m sucking balls at doing magic. I keep getting lost in this massive castle. About the only lessons that are going well are my fighting classes, thanks to Silas and his love of swords.
Instead of any of the many things that are on my mind, I simply say, “It’s great.”
If Bea hears the conflict in my voice, she doesn’t comment, for which I’m eternally grateful.
“How’s New York?” I ask her.
Bea snorts. “Colder than a witch’s titty in a brass bra. Oh man, that reminds me. You should have seen the look on Brooke’s face when she realized you weren’t coming in for your shift at Trendz yesterday.”
I cringe. Fuckity fuckity fuck. I completely forgot about Trendz. Being here with my dragons is a lot like living in a bubble. The real world feels very far away. “Shit,” I groan. “I totally meant to call her. I can’t believe I forgot.”
Bea laughs. “Oh honey, it was epic. It made it worth putting up with shitty customers all day.”
“I should probably apologize…” I trail off. I really don’t want to talk to my bitchy manager. Although, to be fair, this one’s totally on me.
“I’m fairly sure you don’t have a job to come back to at this point,” Bea replies. “So unless you’re super keen on getting your ass handed to you, I’d continue radio silence. Besides, it would be my pleasure to break the news to Brooke. Lord knows I’ll need another pick me up. It’s going to be bedlam today. Some idiot in the head office decided it would be a good idea to have a rack sale. Half the store is marked forty percent off. Kill me now.”
She sighs wearily. I know how much she hates her job. I need to figure out how to set up that scholarship for her beauty school. Not sometime soon, but right away. The future isn’t a guarantee, and I want to make sure that Bea is taken care of, in case… Just in case.
“Well, I would hate to deny you such joy. By all means, pass my sincere regrets to Brooke.” I almost say it with a straight face, but I can’t do it. The two of us burst into fits of giggles.
“No worries, sweet cheeks,” she says when she’s stopped laughing. “I’ll take care of the she-bitch for you. I’ll consider it an early birthday present.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
“Duh,” she says. “Ugh, sorry to cut this short, chickadee, but if I don�
��t get my ass in gear, I’ll be sleeping under the bridge with the trolls after I get fired, and we both know that won’t end well for those poor trolls.”
Ah, Bea. “Man, I miss you,” I say again.
“Of course you do,” she replies cheerfully. “I’m the best. Text ya later. Bye!”
The line goes dead, and I feel wistful. Life used to be so simple.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, I tell myself firmly. Time to track down Casius and see about setting up that scholarship for my best friend. Of all the dragons, he’s the one most likely to know how to do what I need done.
I find Casius in the library, his hair disheveled like he’s been running his fingers through it. He’s pouring over a manuscript, his laptop next to him.
I knock on the door frame to get his attention, and he looks up at me from over his reading glasses. A smile curves his lips when he sees me. “Is it time for your magic lesson already?”
“No,” I reply, flushing when I remember yesterday’s extremely pleasurable training session. “Could you help me with something?”
“Anything you need,” he replies easily.
“My friend Bea is a whiz at hair and make-up,” I tell him, pulling up a chair next to Casius. “She’s always wanted to go to cosmetology school, but she works a minimum-wage job at the mall.”
“And you want to help her,” Casius guesses.
I nod. “I’d like to set up a scholarship for her,” I tell him. “Something that will cover tuition and living expenses.”
“That should be easy enough,” he replies.
“And I want to use the money from Raedwulf,” I clarify. “Not your money.”
“Our money is your money,” he replies immediately.
I cross my arms over my chest and give him a death glare. Instead of looking intimidated, Casius looks amused. He shakes his head and mumbles something about stubborn mates, but the playful look in his eyes takes away any heat from the comment. Pulling his laptop toward him, he starts typing. “I’m assuming you’ll want the donation to be anonymous.”
