“Cy,” Tydrin murmured, holding his mate, already halfway to the exit. “Time to move.”
Loathe to let Elise go, but knowing he needed to, Cyprus took a deep breath and lifted his chin from the top of her head. His arms loosened around her. She clutched at him, refusing to release him. He didn’t make her. Holding her tight, he picked her up and followed his brother out of the library—and out of the lair. He didn’t look back. He didn’t mourn the place he’d lived in all his life. And as he reached the LZ, shifted into dragon form and, cradling her close, leapt off the edge into the night sky, Cyprus didn’t care that he would never return to it.
The lair was just a place. A shell, empty and cold without her in it. His mate was all that mattered. Elise was now his home, and he was never going to let her go.
Twenty-Two
One month later
Deep underground, standing in the library inside the city lair, Elise set her hands on her hips and looked around. Almost done. Another day or two, and the guys would finish installing the last bit of the molding. Dismantled and brought, piece by piece, from the mountain lair by Cyprus and his warriors, the new library looked very similar to the old—identical layout, same circular staircase rising to the second level and hand-carved bookshelves.
Perfect symmetry. Exceptional craftsmanship.
A lovely place, more work of art than study room.
At first, she’d worried, telling the guys not to bother. Given the recent attacks on the pack, returning to the mountain lair was dangerous. Elise shook her head. As beautiful at the library was, rebuilding it wasn’t worth the risk. Or their lives. Grizgunn remained out there—somewhere—circling like a buzzard, hunting the Scottish pack, attacking when least…
Elise pursed her lips. Well, okay—not when least expected.
The warriors never got taken by surprise. Heck, the crazy bunch wanted to be found. Made no attempt whatsoever to hide when they flew out of Aberdeen each night, relishing the opportunity to fight, wanting to right the wrong done to her and Ivy. Her lips curved. Beyond stubborn. So flipping loyal. The absolute best guys to have around. Proof positive lay in foundation of her new library—and all the books the warriors continued to deliver.
Elise glanced at the stacks littering the floor. And the new furniture Cyprus kept ordering. Bigger glass cases to house and protect important manuscripts. Two enormous worktables, sitting alongside a group of sturdy chairs. New couches and deep-seated armchairs (the last ones hadn’t survived Cyprus’s fire whip). She wrinkled her nose, the memory of burning cushions occupying her mind as she surveyed her favorite addition to the room.
A whole new section.
Feet doing a jig on the recently installed mosaic tiles, Elise stared at her workroom. Tucked beneath the second-floor walkway, the new addition matched the old décor, but had been built from scratch and stretched wall-to-wall, spanning the entire back of the room. Fronted by glass, the space belonged to her. A gift from Cyprus, complete with a worktable, book conservation tools, and a closed ventilation system with temperature control to keep old books in pristine condition. But her favorite? Elise grinned. The rare book collection transported from the mountain lair.
Everything a girl with a book fetish could want or need.
All in a very beautiful place.
Her heart gave a happy hop. God, she loved it here. Loved her mate. Adored her new family of dragon guys. Everything about her new life suited her, filling a hole inside she hadn’t realized stood empty…until meeting Cyprus.
As if thinking about him conjured him, heavy footfalls sounded behind her. “Daydreaming again, are we?”
The timbre of his baritone sent shivers down her spine. Unable to contain her joy, Elise glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “It’s almost finished.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “It is at that, lass.”
Setting down a box of books next to a stack of others, he approached on silent feet. His arms came around her from behind, hugging her close, making her wiggle in delight. Nipping the shell of her ear, he asked, “Happy?”
“Unbelievably.” With a sigh, she leaned against his chest. His body heat warmed her, making her remember how good he always felt in bed. Hmm, silk sheets and Cyprus. Nothing better in the world than that, but…Elise cleared her throat. First things first. Time to get real and be honest. “I know I haven’t told you yet, but…”
As her voice trailed off, he gave her a gentle squeeze. “What?”
Turning in his embrace, she set her hands on his chest and met his gaze. “I love you, Cyprus.”
“Talmina.” He drew in a soft breath. Fierce emotion sparked in his pale eyes. As his gaze started to glow, making her feel beautiful, he pressed his cheek to hers. “I love you too.”
“I know,” she whispered.
He’d been so brave, saying it first almost two weeks ago. Coming around—arriving here, being courageous enough to face this moment—had taken her more time. Not because she didn’t love him. Elise had known right from the start how she felt about Cyprus. She belonged to him. He belonged to her. No need to question or explore further. But it had all happened so fast, she’d needed time to adjust and think and…accept.
“Not because of all this.” Waving her hand, she gestured to the library. “I mean, the book room is a beautiful gift and I’ll cherish it always, but I want you to know I love you because of you. Because of who you are, not what you give me.” Stroking her fingers along his jaw, she raised up on tiptoes and kissed him softly. “I belong here, Cyprus…with you.”
“Aye, you do, lass,” he murmured. “And I’ll never let you go.”
She smiled against his mouth. “Perfect.”
And it was—perfect. Forever began and ended in his arms. She held happiness by the tip its tail, and had a future with a man who loved her more than she did books. Close the gilded cover. Happily ever after guaranteed.
THE END
Excerpt: Fury of a Highland Dragon
(Dragonfury Series: SCOTLAND #1)
One
Fury of a Highland Dragon
The Cairngorms—Scotland, the Highlands
Standing on top of his favorite cliff, Tydrin leaned forward to peer over the edge. Moonlight illuminated the weathered face, caressing sheered stone, slipping deep into narrow crevices, reaching toward the heart of the mountain. He squinted against the glare, protecting his light-sensitive eyes, and stared at what most considered certain death. A straight drop. A cascade of ice and snow. Nothing but the snarl of jagged rock for a thousand feet.
Nice.
Neat.
Tidy tied up in a chaotic twist.
A fitting end for someone, but not him. Jumping wouldn’t bring relief, much less undo what he’d done. Or erase the past.
Self-reproach tied a knot in the center of his chest. Barbed and brutal, the individual threads pulled, making him ache from the inside out. Not surprising. It was that time of year. Again. Like always. Inevitable as the changing tide, the seasons turned, blowing Nordic winds into arctic bluster and strands of hair into his face. Tydrin shook his head, denial rising as he raked the dark mass out of his eyes. January 7th. Bloody hell, he hated the date. Despised its annual occurrence. Despaired as one month spun into the next, dragging him closer to winter and the reckoning.
Penance. Forced restitution. A guilty conscience that never abated…
Or let him rest.
His gaze on the thick curl of gathering storm clouds, Tydrin shoved his hands into the front pockets of his favorite jeans. The yawn of a large cave behind him, he settled in his usual spot, bare feet cradled by well-worn grooves, shoulder propped against the rock wall. Ice pressed against his arm. The chill woke his dragon half, sharpening his senses as he stared out into the void. Into nothingness. Into the snowy swirl of midnight and the beauty of the mountain lair he shared with the other members of his pack.
Dragonkind hidden in the wilds of the Scottish Highlands. Smack dab in the midst of human soc
iety. Amid a mountain range so inhospitable most never ventured anywhere near it. Tydrin’s mouth curved. Cairngorm, a beautiful beast wrapped in ragged terrain and subzero temperatures.
An excellent home. Perfect cover for his kind.
Blackened by time, scarred by harsh weather and covered in snow, individual peaks rose and fell, dropping into valleys, angling into sheer stone faces, shooting skyward to touch the hand of God. He huffed. God. Right. It was so much bullshite. Faith. Hope. The need to believe in a supernatural force that watch him from above, holding the world—and all in it—in the palm of His hand. Disgust drilled deep, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. So ridiculous. Beyond stupid. The dogma smacked of foolishness—of archaic beliefs set inside ancient parameters that no longer held sway.
A shame in many ways.
He could use a little faith right now. A touch of what humans held in such high regard.
But even as he searched, hope rising hard, none came. No great burst of inspiration. Not a whisper of forgiveness either. Sorrow compressed the cradle around his heart. Tydrin ground his molars together. The harsh sound echoed inside his head, killing the quiet, heightening his grievance, laying the blame at his feet. Lucifer lash him and get it over with. Would it never end? Would he ever be able to let it go? He wanted to. Longed to learn how and leave history where it lay, buried in the past, but—
“You still here?” The deep voice drifted from the rear of the cave.
Tydrin tensed. Well, shite. Talk about bad luck. And even less solitude. With a sigh, he glanced over his shoulder. A pale purple gaze met his. Tydrin swallowed a growl and eyed the bastard with enough balls to come at him from behind. “Aye.”
“Thought to find you gone by now.”
The statement tightened his chest. He should be gone. Ought to be in dragon form and airborne, making his annual trip to the human cemetery. That he still stood cliff-side told the tale better than any explanation ever would. But then, dread—and the promise of penance—had a way of stalling a male’s forward progress. “You thought wrong.”
Cyprus, commander of the Scottish pack, raised a brow. “Wool gathering, are ye?”
He shrugged, refusing to add fuel to the fire. His older brother didn’t need to hear about the guilt plaguing him anymore than he wanted to talk about it. So instead of answering, he changed course, deviating into the only subject guaranteed to turn his brother’s attention. “Any word from Vyroth?”
Eyes shimmering in the gloom, Cyprus left the shadows and walked into the open. Moonlight fell across his face, illuminating aristocratic features. Deceiving in many ways. Sure, his brother looked like royalty—played the part from time to time as well—but anyone who knew the male understood the truth. Cyprus might be controlled, but he was also the loveliest sort of lethal. Was a stone cold killer when warranted, just like the rest of his pack.
A hard glint in his eyes, Cyprus stopped alongside him. “No word yet. The little prick. ’Tis a fine time for him tae disappear.”
Tydrin’s lips twitched, finding humor in the name calling. Particularly since little in no way described Vyroth. “Tempted tae call him out when he gets home?”
Cyprus snorted. “I could use the fight, and my twin never disappoints.”
True enough. Irrefutable, in fact, ’cause well…if Cyprus epitomized vicious, Vyroth tripled the effect, then multiplied it by ten. Aye, the two might be identical in appearance, but sharing a womb before birth didn’t make them the same. The twins differed in personality: one night, the other day. Steadfast and even, Cyprus excelled at leadership, providing the stability and guidance each member of the pack required. But Vyroth? Tydrin stifled a snort. Shite, the male was the picture of unpredictable. Toss in unreliable. Mix it up with a bad attitude and…uh-huh. No way around it. Vyroth did as he pleased, always had—to hell with the rest of the world.
Which explained his absence over the last few weeks, didn’t it?
Unconcerned by protocol, Vyroth always left without a word. No head’s up. No see-yah-later. Nothing but silence and an empty bedroom. He and Cyprus had come to expect it. Both of them understood the male’s restlessness, his need to get away, explore the world, be one with his dragon half. His most recent trip, however, concerned Tydrin. It wasn’t like his brother to stay away so long. A couple of days—a week at most? Certainly. But over a month without any word at all? He frowned. Nay. Such overt disregard wasn’t Vyroth’s usual MO.
“Any leads?”
“Vyroth is still tae far away for me tae track, but…” His brother rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks. “I can feel him. He’s still alive.”
“Good.” Tydrin exhaled in relief. His brother’s claim made sense. Closer than most siblings, the twins possessed a special bond. The cosmic link coupled with identical DNA allowed Cyprus to connect to their brother’s life force over great distances. A handy skill. The best, really, with Vyroth MIA more often than not. “Let me know when he makes contact.”
A furrow between his brows, Cyprus nodded.
“Later then.” Onward and upward. He couldn’t put it off any longer. “Donnae expect me before dawn.”
Pushing away from the wall, Tydrin stepped closer to the cliff edge. Cold stone brushed the soles of his feet. He ignored the chill. As a fire dragon, his temperature ran south of hot. Which meant he went shirtless most of the time. Tonight was no exception. Bare skin steaming, he flexed tense muscles, preparing to leave his perch. Time to shift into dragon form and get airborne. Avoiding what must be done wouldn’t make it go away. He knew from experience. Had tried time and again to forego the annual trip.
To no avail.
Self-recrimination refused to let him ignore it. Call it impulse. Call it compulsion. Call it duty touched by honor. The exact cause didn’t matter. He needed to pay homage. The small show of respect served as an excellent reminder: of his loss of control, of his crime, and the consequences of a violent temper.
Fury of a Highland Dragon, one click to buy.
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Also by Coreene Callahan
DRAGONFURY SERIES
Fury of Fire
Fury of Ice
Fury of Seduction
Fury of Desire
Fury of Fate (a short story)
Fury of Obsession
Fury of Surrender
DRAGONFURY SERIES: SCOTLAND
Fury of a Highland Dragon
CIRCLE OF SEVEN SERIES
Knight Awakened
Knight Avenged
WARRIORS OF THE REALM SERIES
Warrior’s Revenge
Fun Facts about Coreene
Favorite food – Breakfast for dinner…I love a good omelet!
Favorite dessert – anything chocolate
Favorite vacation spot – Camping beside a lake
Favorite movie – The Bourne Identity
Favorite snack – crackers and cheese
Favorite time to write – Early morning…think 5 AM!
Guilty pleasure – Quiet time near a lake. Hiking is one of my favorite things to do.
Dream job – I’m doing it…writing stories that capture the imagination of my readers.
Something no one knows about you – I’ve been a tom-boy all my life, but also have an impressive collection of high heel shoes!
Favorite book of all time – Defy Not the Heart by Johanna Lindsey. I’ve read it so many times the spine is broken and pages are falling out.
Least favorite chore – cooking
About the Author
Coreene Callahan is the bestselling author of the Dragonfury Novels and Circle of Seven Series, in which she combines her love of romance and adventure with her passion for history. After graduating with honors in psychology and taking a detour to work in interior design, Coreene finally returned to her first love: writing. Her debut novel, Fury of Fire was a finalist in the New Jersey Romance Writers Golden Leaf Contest in two categories: Best First Book and Best Paranormal. She lives in Canada with her family, a spirited Anatolian Shepard, and her wild imaginary world.
To learn more:
www.CoreeneCallahan.com
[email protected]
Fury of Shadows: Dragonfury Series: SCOTLAND #2 Page 13
