Kiss of Light (The Forsaken Chronicles Book 3)

by Eve Langlais

  “If they break the rules or cross me, then they deserve their fate.”

  “I’ve not broken your rules.”

  “No, but you draw attention to me with your presence. There are those who will take offense to the fact I offered you succor.”

  This conversation was going nowhere, so Adara pricked at the woman’s pride. “I thought the dragon demesnes were neutral territory. Or are you saying you’re afraid?”

  That brought the slim shoulders back, and smoke steamed from Nakamura’s nose. “I fear nothing.”

  “Then tell me. Who am I? What am I?”

  “You really wish to know? Because knowing won’t help you. Knowing might make it worse.”

  “Tell me.” There was a strange echo to Adara’s words, almost as if they hung in the air.

  “No magic indeed,” huffed Nakamura. “Do you think you can compel me?”

  “What? I…” Had she done magic? She tried again. “Tell me.”

  Laughter.

  “Oh, child. It is not that easy. It takes practice to command. On your knees and kiss the floor I’ve walked on.”

  Before she could blink, Adara hit the ground, the hard surface bruising. She began to lower herself, only to stop. To strain against the command. “No.” She could feel the demand coiling around her. A web binding her to another’s will.

  She fought it, and Nakamura laughed. “Strong even in your ignorance. Maybe you’ll survive long enough to do something.”

  The woman, her words dismissive, turned away. Anger spiked, hot and fierce.

  “I didn’t say you could go. Tell me who I am.”

  The words projected, a whiplashing wave that hit Nakamura. Her eyes widened in surprise. Her mouth opened. “You are—”

  “Be silent.” A cold wind whipped out of nowhere, a chilled bite to its touch.

  Nakamura reacted as if slapped. Recoiling, her eyes turned into black pits as she hissed at the air above her. “You would dare come here unwelcome?”

  A voice shivered from the very air around them. “The Forsaken are to walk alone.”

  “And who are you to decide?” Adara exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

  “Cast her out or face the wrath of the tribunal.”

  “Your council does not give me orders,” declared Nakamura. “Nor do you have the right to invade my territory. We have agreements.”

  “An agreement you broke by meeting with the Forsaken One.”

  “I’ve told her nothing.”

  “And that was still too much,” the whispery voice replied, the tone cold enough to freeze the molecules of the very air.

  If possible, it got even colder. Frost crept at the edges of the windows, forming crystalline patterns that spread rapidly. Adara’s breath huffed out like smoke, and Logan uttered a low growl.

  Menace surrounded them without a body or a shape.

  Nakamura uttered a screech, filled with rage. “You are not welcome to play your games here.”

  But the voice stopped replying even as the chill deepened. The floor under them rumbled, and a mist rose from it.

  Nakamura’s robe hit the floor, but Adara only caught the briefest glimpse of naked skin before a large shape took its place. A dragon appeared, the scales covering its body a brilliant red edged in gold, the serpentine shape long and undulating. The wings on its back were not a large set as legend claimed, but three pairs, their translucent membranes fluttering.

  The reason for the three-story space became clear as the dragon lifted from the floor, tile hidden by the chilly mist.

  Adara’s teeth chattered as the cold tried to sink into her very bones. She stood and hugged herself. “I think we need to go,” she said to Logan.

  She took a step in the swirling fog, only to stop as Logan pushed himself in front of her, growling. The hackles on his back rose, a rigid line of fur that screamed “danger.”

  Adara looked up at the dragon, who soared in circles around the vast space, uttering a shrill cry. She didn’t seem to pay them any mind.

  “She’s not interested in us. Let’s go.” She gripped his fur and turned toward the exit, only he shook himself free. Logan took a few steps forward, head down, still growling.

  And then she saw it. A thing made of mist and ice, taller than her by several feet.

  Her mind supplied the word for it.

  Golem. A construct of magic. Almost impossible to destroy. Sent by its master from afar to kill. It felt no pain. Had no morals. The perfect assassin.

  It didn’t take much to guess who it was after.

  “Here we go again.” Said with a sigh. It seemed her life of late was just one battle after another.

  At least, unlike a few months ago, she could fight, and skill-wise, a golem ranked below a demon. She might not be able to kill it, but she could hold it off. Whoever sent it couldn’t power the golem manifestation for long. The magic it took would drain them quickly. Knowledge that filled her mind and yet, just that morning, she’d have drawn a blank.

  “Guess we’re fighting,” she told Logan. The sword appeared in her hand, a reassuring weight. She stepped forward, dropping into a battle stance. When the golem lunged, she slid under the closed, ham-sized fist and sliced upward, severing the wrist. The hand fell, dissipating before it hit the floor. She rolled to her feet and grinned.

  Then frowned. A new hand had already replaced the lost one.

  The shock of it slowed her reactions. The golem swung both arms at once, and while she hit the floor on her hands and knees, she felt the whistle of the limbs’ passing.

  A snarl showed the werewolf attacking the creature’s thigh. Logan clamped his jaws tight and pulled. A chunk of ice broke free. It didn’t slow the golem one bit.

  A shrill cry preceded the dragon as she dove, a jet of hot flame searing from her open maw.

  The golem froze in place as the fire steamed it into nothingness. The dragon veered from her dive with a triumphant cry.

  Too early for victory. More shapes appeared in the fog. The dragon screamed in rage. She dove again with a stream of liquid fire. A boulder of ice hit Nakamura in the jaw. The dragon wavered midair. Flapped to regain balance. Another giant ice ball slammed into her.

  She dropped several feet and screeched as an icy hand reached up, higher than should have been possible, and latched on to her foot, firmly gripping the scaled ankle.

  Nakamura was dragged down into the mist, fluting in fury, then ululating in pain.

  Not good.

  “Should we help her?”

  Logan’s glance said quite eloquently, “Are you nuts?”

  “We need to get out of here,” she muttered. But how?

  While some of the constructs handled the dragon, other golems advanced on her and Logan, pinning them against the window.

  She glanced over her shoulder through the glass to the outside. “I don’t think we can jump.” Neither of them had wings, and the twenty-some stories wouldn’t make for a gentle landing.

  The first golem lumbered close enough to swing. Adara parried it and the next while Logan attacked their knees, toppling them long enough to give her a small respite. But they wouldn’t stay down. Wouldn’t die. And she tired. Her arms grew heavy, her breathing ragged.

  The sound of shattering glass didn’t deter the golems, but it drew her attention. A new mist descended, sparkling amidst the frosty motes. It coalesced into—

  “Titus!” She yelled his name, happy to see him, and yet what could he do to help?

  He moved quickly to her side, sinuously bending his body to avoid the golems, who ignored him. They only wanted her.

  “I can’t kill them,” she shouted as he reached her and added his own dagger to the fight.

  “Which is why you must leave.” Titus rammed his knife through the window at her back. Wind whistled through it, warmer than the air inside.

  “Leave how?” she asked, parrying a stroke and slicing icy fingers. “It’s twenty floors to the ground.”

  “More like twenty
-one,” Titus replied before shoving her through the opening in the glass, sending her tumbling down face-first toward the fast-approaching pavement!

  Chapter Two

  With Adara gone, the golems lost focus and stopped moving, the attack suddenly ceasing. Giant, frozen statues that, after less than a minute, melted back into the magical ether. The fog dissipated with them, and warmth returned to the penthouse.

  Titus regarded the place grimly. He’d only just made it in time, the setting sun having delayed his arrival. Yet once he knew where Adara had gone, he’d made haste despite his secret visitor.

  A form on the floor shuddered, the many scales rippling. Their color matte and smeared in dark ochre as the dragon found herself grievously wounded.

  And angry.

  Titus threw himself to the side as flame jetted weakly from her mouth.

  “Peace,” he yelled.

  Tatsuo Nakamura took her human shape, nude and subtly curved, yet it was her flashing eyes that drew Titus’s attention. “Peace? There shall be no peace. Your protégé brought chaos into my home.”

  “Do not blame me for that,” Titus barked. “You were the one who invited her.”

  “I did not expect her to be so closely watched.” The growled words came with a curl of smoke from the dragon’s nostrils. “The Forsaken are supposed to be forgotten.”

  “Adara is special.”

  “The Forsaken One needs to die. She is dangerous.” Hissed words that brought a shake to Titus’s head.

  “No. We need to find out why there is such an interest in Adara. Why such an effort to hide her and now kill her?” It made no sense. Unless there was more than one party involved.

  Which again brought them back to the question of why. Why was Adara so important?

  “You fucking bastard.” The only warning Titus got before Logan slammed into him.

  They hit the floor, the naked werewolf atop him, fists pummeling.

  Rather than drop to his level of uncivilized behavior, Titus chose to mist and reform a few paces away. “Would you calm yourself. There is no need to prove you’re a rabid canine.”

  “You shoved Adara out of a window!”

  “Did you see any other choice? You were about to be overrun.”

  “She can’t fly,” Logan bellowed.

  “No. But I brought someone with me who can.”

  “Who?” Logan’s face twisted as he provided the reply. “Desmond.”

  “If you are done, perhaps we could discuss reparations.” Nakamura had found a robe and belted it on.

  Titus snarled. “Yes, reparations for putting Adara in danger. For drawing a foreign power into my city. For thinking you are above our laws.”

  The dragon lady didn’t recoil at his rebukes, but she did hold herself taller. “I don’t answer to the likes of you.”

  “Actually, you do. I am the one who oversees the laws in this city.”

  “And what will you do if I choose to ignore them?” The smirk on her face brought a chill smile to Titus’s lips.

  “Do? I know the location of your cavern and hoard. Did you know it has three weak points? A single detonator in one of those spots would wipe it out.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she breathed.

  “I will if you ever again endanger this city with your foolishness.”

  “She is the one who came to me.” The dragon attempted to shift blame.

  “And you should have refused. You will refuse if she asks again.”

  “You blame me for what just happened, and yet you flirt with danger by helping her.”

  He did, and yet Titus didn’t care. He left the hotel more perturbed than ever, for a few reasons.

  Reasons that all came back to Adara.

  Once more, she’d left without a word. If Titus had not had her watched, he might never have known she was in danger. As it was, he had to risk leaving the house during daylight to follow. Even placed a call, his message terse. “If your boss is in town, then let him know Adara is planning to meet with a dragon.”

  He hung up before the reply. The message was delivered. Desmond stood outside the hotel, waiting for him when he arrived. Titus remained in the car while the last of the sun’s rays settled.

  Desmond proved impatient and shoved his head in the car. “What possessed you to let her visit with a dragon?”

  “Exactly how should I stop her?” Titus inquired, keeping his face to the shadows. “Should I have tied her down unwillingly? Because that is kinky, even by my standards.”

  “You should have talked her out of it. Dragons are fickle and dangerous creatures.”

  “So is Adara.”

  “She is.” Desmond sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “But there is so much she doesn’t remember.”

  “She recalls how to fight.”

  “It’s not just the physical she must battle.” Desmond stiffened.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Danger.”

  Which was how Titus had ended up on the penthouse level in time to throw Adara out a window.

  He was glad to see nothing had splatted the sidewalk when he exited.

  Chapter Three

  The pavement wouldn’t be kind when she hit it. There was no time to scream as Adara plummeted. No time for anything but a wistful sigh. So, this is how I finally die.

  Only she didn’t hit the ground.

  Something swooped towards her, jolting her descent. It took her a moment to realize that she was being held in someone’s arms.

  His arms.

  As she stared into Desmond’s face, her heart twisted, and for a moment, the link between them lit, a weak pulse that he latched on to. The warmth of him, scorching hot to her cold, reminded her of how it used to feel.

  She cut it off and snapped, “What are you doing?”

  “Saving your life.”

  “Too late.” She couldn’t forget how he’d failed her.

  “So you keep reminding me.” The shadow wings at his back flapped, and she couldn’t help but recall the last time he’d flown with her in his arms.

  She clung tightly to his neck and laughed as he swooped, arrowing towards the ground, then suddenly lifting. “Desmond!”

  “Yes?” His eyes twinkled, the serious lord banished for the playful lover.

  “You’re bad.”

  “So I hear.” He never denied the rumors. Never claimed to be anything he wasn’t. But she didn’t care. When he kissed her, she kissed him back. Even as they spiraled to the ground, she didn’t fear. He’d keep her safe.

  How wrong that assumption turned out to be.

  “If you don’t like what I have to say, then leave,” Adara said pertly.

  “I’ve tried.” He met her gaze, his expression serious. “I’ve gone home, to my duties, my life, and yet I keep coming back.”

  “Why?” She’d told him it was over. What she once felt for him had died in that dungeon when she was tortured. Died, and nothing would ever resurrect it.

  “Because I’m not ready to give up. Someone did this to us.”

  His words spoke of a pricked pride. Not, I love you madly and need you. “Not us. They did it to me.” She was the one who’d suffered.

  “By hurting you, they struck at me.”

  “So, this is about your honor?” she sneered.

  “No, this is about someone coming between us. Making you hate me.”

  The soft words almost put a crack in the wall she’d built to resist him. “You’re a big man. You’ll get over it. I’m sure there are plenty of females in Ha’el who would happily provide comfort to a Dark Lord.”

  “I’m sure there are. Doesn’t mean I want them. There was only one woman who ever managed to capture my attention.”

  Again, softly spoken praise that curled around her, tapping at her icy shield.

  “Even if I hadn’t been captured, it never would have worked. We come from two different worlds.”

  “We do. Speaking of which, the relations between our people ha
ve been damaged.”

  “You seduced the king’s ward. He is probably demanding justice.” Her adoptive father wouldn’t let it stand.

  “Actually, your king hasn’t contacted us at all. No one has said one word about you. It’s as if you never existed. The punishment for the Forsaken.”

  Hearing him say it forced her to suck in a breath. “It’s not fair.”

  “You’re right. It’s not. Which is why I want to help you fix it.”

  The reply threw her off balance. Realizing they’d gotten off topic, she said, “Why are the relations between our worlds bad?”

  “Someone has been sending demons through our border to cause mischief on the Babylonian side.”

  “It must have been Mammon. Tell the king he’s dead.”

  “I did. He doesn’t care. He wants something else.”

  “So, pay him. You’re rich enough.”

  “It’s not money he wants. It’s blood.”

  “Whose blood?” Adara asked with a frown.

  “Mine.” Desmond alighted on a rooftop and set her on her feet.

  “Why yours?”

  His lips twisted. “You said it yourself. Because he knows I laid with his ward.”

  “I thought you said he didn’t care.”

  “No, I said no one talked about it. But I highly doubt he doesn’t care. I am an Ifrit, and I know he hates my kind. He’s probably convinced himself I raped you and then handed you to my brother to torture.”

  She might hate—love—Desmond, but even she knew the truth. “That wasn’t what happened.”

  “There is no one to gainsay it.”

  Actually, there was, much as it pained her to admit. “I could.”

  “Yet, you won’t.”

  “You think I hate you so much I’d let you pay for a crime you didn’t commit?”

  “I know you don’t hate me.” Such a pompous reply.

  “You’re right, I don’t. I don’t care at all.” Lie.

  “It wouldn’t matter if you did. I thought Mammon was the one behind the attacks, and yet there was another, only two days ago.”

  “Is it your own people?”

  “I wouldn’t call demons people exactly.” He grimaced. “And no, unless there is a hidden faction living under my nose then they’re not mine. But they are exiting the rift between my lands and Babylonia. Attacking in my name. Which is making my people angry.”