As he stared up at the rocky ceiling of the cavern, visible to him even though it was pitch black in here, he released a shaky sigh. “And I you.” But it was too late, she was asleep, the call of dawn had hit her and would hold her in its grasp for the remainder of the day.
But there was time.
Thousands of years of it for him to make his feelings known, and he would. Every damn night he walked this realm, for this female had liberated him from the jail that all single Dragons subsisted in.
And even when she pissed him off, he’d never be able to forget that.
Fourteen
It wasn’t the most unusual outfit she’d ever worn, certainly not considering she’d been around in the early nineteenth century, but it was most definitely peculiar.
She wore what seemed to be a chemise, thanks to the light linen it was made from, but was in fact, a dress.
A simple sheath dress, it had a boat neckline and covered her from chest to knee. It was white, with no adornment. But on top of it, she wore a black velvet waistcoat that trailed to the ground at her feet and had a train at her back, which whirled out like a wedding dress. From the waist down, it had swirls of metal sewn into it that mimicked her mating neckline which wasn’t around her neck, but sewn onto the waistcoat.
The fern-like buds and organically styled length of metallic rope glinted and gleamed in even the darkest shadows of the cavern. Only God knew how it would look when she was in a more illuminated area.
She looked down at herself and had to admit, though the outfit was incredibly simple, it was also incredibly beautiful.
A sharp intake of air told her her mate was in the vicinity.
She caught him watching her and, with a smirk, stated, “I never took you as a peeping Tom, Remy.”
He frowned at her in confusion—a state, she knew, he was becoming quite used to in her presence. “Peeping Tom?”
“A voyeur?” she proffered, and when he still looked clueless, she grumbled, “All these books and you don’t know any of the good words. My point was, you didn’t have to watch me from the shadows. You could have taken a seat and watched me dress.”
He snorted out a laugh. “I did. And I made my presence known...didn’t you hear me clear my throat?”
She blinked. “No. But I was rather taken aback with this waistcoat.”
“You look stunning in it. That’s why I had to clear my throat; your beauty overwhelmed me.”
She half-turned to peer at him. “I can never tell if you’re teasing me or not.”
His lips twitched. “Surely not, dearling.”
“Surely yes,” she groused, with a pout.
“Anyway, you have a lifetime to learn when I’m joking. But I spoke the truth this time—your beauty is enchanting.”
She peeked up at him. “My ‘ceremonial garb,’” she even used the hand quotes, “is rather incredible.”
“Nothing in comparison to the woman wearing it,” he murmured, stepping closer into the part of the cavern where, from this very night, they’d be sleeping together. She’d refused to share this bed with him until they were fully bound. He’d been totally confused by her demand she stay on the chaise longue, but it had seemed like bad luck to start their mated lives together when she was still incapacitated.
Earlier on, she’d awoken with him beneath her, the springs lapping at her flesh as they both stirred, but that wouldn’t be their bed tonight. No, indeed. Now they were bound, and she was standing on her own two feet, even if those two feet were a little wobbly still.
If they had a great distance to cross tonight, he’d definitely have to help her, but at the end of the evening, they’d have suffered through court and the Queen’s wrath at her insolence, and they’d be staggering atop the grand mattress come what may.
She grimaced at the thought of the Queen’s annoyance with the House—an annoyance that was Mia’s fault—then when something else crossed her mind, she leaped onto the distraction with both hands, and tilted her head to the side in silent question. “What is a tear stone anyway?” she asked, touching the gem that tipped each bud of fern on her mating ‘necklace.’
“When a leman is found, a Dragon sheds a tear. When a Dragonling is born, a Dragon sheds a tear. We only shed two in our lifetimes, and each is used for ceremonial purposes.”
“Dragons cry tears of gems?” she asked, bewildered by the notion, but she did vaguely remember seeing him cry before she’d passed out that first night.
“No.” He strode toward her, not stopping until he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close to him. “It’s like a regular tear, but as it falls to the ground, it crystallizes. When it smashes, we collect the pieces.”
“What happens with the pieces when a Dragonling is born?”
He smiled. “It goes towards the ’ling’s ceremonial wear.”
“Oh no, don’t change it now,” she retorted. “Ceremonial garb sounds far more fitting for such lofty items of clothing.”
He pulled a face at her teasing. “Mother have mercy. The Queen is either going to love you or loathe you. Hopefully, she doesn’t set against the entire House, because you have an attitude problem.”
She pulled back at that and pouted. “I have a very modern attitude, thank you very much. It’s not my fault if you’re used to stuffy old lemans who were born back in the Dark Ages! I’m a modern kind of leman,” she mocked. “Born in the twinkle of the Renaissance’s eye.”
“Whatever you are, you’ll certainly have the court astir with all your new words.”
“What have I said now that’s confusing?”
“The Renaissance?”
She gritted her teeth. “Remind me to get you an encyclopedia.”
“I can’t wait,” he murmured, his turn to tease. When she realized that, she whacked him on the shoulder.
He just grinned.
“What do I call the Queen?” she asked.
“Her Majesty. If she likes you, she might ask you to call her by her name. If she does, say Queen Anista. Not just Anista. She can be low on formality, but she isn’t that informal.”
Nodding her understanding, she studied him. Loving his hold on her, how close they were with his arms wrapped around her belly, then, she noticed he was wearing something very similar to her, and she gawked. “Let me see what you’re wearing!”
He cocked a brow. “Why?”
“Because this is your version of mine, and I want to know what you look like before we leave.”
He grunted and pulled away, strode around her and stood there, still as any mannequin in a clothes store.
His hair was around his shoulders, curling about his ears in a way that made her long to play with the tips of each dark lock. He wore a similar waistcoat, but it ran down to his calves and didn’t end in a train as did hers. From the waist, it was decorated with a matching stylized swirl but in gold rather than the silver of hers.
From shoulder to waist, he had a similar neckline, and the fern buds matched hers.
“That’s why you liked his design,” she murmured with a smile.
“Aye. No one sees these outfits save for the people at court. He’d have had no way of knowing how mine had been made—the Goblin who crafted mine died a long time ago. Way before Greytook was even born.
“He saw from the tear how mine matched. That takes a special kind of goldsmith.”
“They’re both beautiful.”
He nodded. “I’m glad they please you.”
She looked at his simple white vest and trousers and looked down at hers. “We’ve both bust the ‘No white after Labor Day’ rule,” she said on a sigh.
“I’m certain sometimes you speak another language just to confuse me.”
“Yes, I do. It’s called post-Millennial English. Get used to it.”
His lips twitched. “Come, it’s time to go.”
She nodded and, only to herself, admitted to being a tad nervous.
Together, they walked out of the bed chamber, whic
h was given a modicum of privacy from the rest of the cavern by a naturally formed stone wall. They passed down the tunnel and climbed the few steps to the clearing.
If she hadn’t have been tottering on her feet, it would have taken far less time, but he was surprisingly patient.
When they made it to the clearing where he usually shifted, she saw a cluster of brown leather straps and could only assume it was the saddle he kept mentioning. Still, she eyed it then him.
“How am I supposed to get that on you when you’re a Dragon? You’re huge.” She frowned. “In fact, how am I supposed to climb on top of you.”
Laughter fell from his lips. “I will let you climb me, of course.”
Of course. Because climbing a Dragon was something she did every night of the week.
“And I put the saddle on now, then when you climb, you can arrange the straps on me.”
“Well, this doesn’t have any potential to go wrong, does it?” she mocked.
“It’s enchanted,” he attempted to reassure her with a grin. “Once it’s on, and once it’s secure, I’ll know. Then, after this first ride, when I shift, it will always shift with me.”
She huffed out a surprised breath. “That’s pretty nifty. Those Elven folk seem to know their shit.”
He winced. “Try not to swear in front of Anista. She doesn’t like it from ladies.”
Rolling her eyes, she grumbled, “I am used to the pretentiousness of court, Remy. Don’t worry, I know how to behave.”
“I never doubted it,” he said gallantly as he strapped the saddle onto his back like a rucksack. Then, before she could do no more than grumble, he shifted.
As always, he stunned her with his beauty. But now, there was a prideful cast to her gaze as she looked him over.
This Dragon was hers. Nothing and no one could tear them asunder.
She liked that. It pleased her.
The saddle was indeed on his back, and she watched as he clambered down onto his belly. The position was one she knew he’d only ever recreate for her benefit. It was far too demeaning for him to prostrate himself before anyone else.
Touched that he did so on her behalf, she trod carefully on his wing. He raised the giant muscle and lifted her, as though she weighed nothing, until she reached his back.
“You must tighten the straps from here, dearling. Otherwise, once you’re seated, it will be too difficult to reach.”
She shrieked and almost fell off his wing at the sound of the voice speaking loud and clear in her head.
“Jesus! Remy, warn a girl if you’re going to start speaking inside her mind!”
A chuckle sounded, one that made her wallop his side. It probably hurt her more than it hurt him, considering his hide felt thicker than dense leather. As she cradled her fingers, she grumbled, “Why didn’t you tell me that before you shifted?”
“You wouldn’t have believed me, and we’d have wasted ten minutes arguing about it. Far easier just to show you. Plus, it’s a new gift. It only appears once the mating mark is in place so I couldn’t tell you before: there was nothing to tell.”
She narrowed her eyes at him when his huge head turned to look at her. The shape of his skull meant that she could only see one huge tawny eye, and though he was fierce and ferocious with huge fangs that looked like they could tear through rock, she had fangs of her own. Fangs she exposed with a toothy grin as she flipped him the bird.
He grunted, but the rasp, so Dragon-like, was enough to have her heart pounding. “Now that’s just mean,” he told her.
“I’m feeling particularly mean,” she retorted then bent over and did as he’d said with the ties on the saddle. “Should I go around the other side and do the same?”
The giant head nodded.
The huge wing lowered like some kind of organic elevator, and she clambered around his body, using him as a support while she tried to get accustomed to being back on two feet once more.
With the straps secured on that side, she lifted a leg and climbed astride the saddle.
“I can feel the magic weaving into place. Just put your hands on the straps, and magic can weave through your fingers and the leather—it means you can never fall off. The spell protects your eyes and skin from the wind too.” There was a definite cough—Dragon-style. “It will also ease the fear you have of heights.”
Her eyes rounded and she paused in her task of tightening the straps to her fingers—they were adjustable as well. “What are you talking about?”
He snorted, and fire spouted from his nostrils. “Bluff all you wish, leman, but I felt your terror like it was my own.”
Gnawing on her bottom lip, she decided not to argue with him. It would be churlish considering the gift he’d granted her. Instead, she whispered, “Thank you.” He didn’t reply, and she was grateful for that. If anything, he turned his face from her, allowing her a handful of seconds to regain her composure. His generosity hit her hard, mostly because she wasn’t used to anyone thinking of her and acting on her benefit. But this was her life now.
Remy would always consider her wants and needs above his own.
When tears burned her eyes, she forced them away. His kindness wasn’t something to weep over. It was something to celebrate.
Sucking down a sharp breath, she returned to her earlier task. The need to get this farce at court over and done with so she could show him just how grateful she was for his kind actions hit her like a wallop to the ovaries, and she sped up, sighing with relief when the straps were adjusted. Her fingers prickled a little, almost like fizzy water was sparkling and spitting against her skin as the leather clung to her as much as she clung to it.
When it stopped, she knew the magic was settled and found no surprise in her when Remy murmured, “Get ready.”
When he set off, from this position, she could do no less than gape as she experienced the beauty of the world from this height with zero fear.
She knew her mouth was open, and she knew it was a very unpleasant look, but she couldn’t help it.
From between his grand claws, the view had been stunning in its beauty but it had been stained by her fright, but from here? It was insane.
The mountain range ran as far as the eye could see, and this position enabled her to see quite a lot.
In the far distance, she saw that bizarrely colored sea once more, just a tinge of color, and it still stunned her.
He flew faster this time, faster than ever before.
“Because you’re secured on my back,” he told her briefly, invading her mind in a way she felt certain she’d never get used to. “You will,” he replied, freaking her the hell out because that meant he could probably hear everything she was thinking. He snorted. “I can. But only in this form.”
Shit.
He winced.
“Remember, no swearing at court.”
“I already told you, I know how to behave,” she sniped. “I’ll bet the Emperor is far prissier than your Queen is.”
“Just don’t tell her that.”
She grinned at the notion then returned to her gawking. Jesus, it was beautiful.
Spotting towns atop mountain crests, she peered at them but didn’t have chance to study them as they flew by too quickly.
“In a rush, are we?”
His great head nodded. “She wants to see you.”
“Great,” she grumbled. “And I can’t wait to see her either.”
He laughed—in her freakin’ head—and though it made her shudder a little, it also pleased her. She liked that he found her funny. Even if he didn’t understand a lot of the modern phrases she used, he still found her amusing.
That boded well, she thought.
“It does,” he boomed into her head, and before she could flick one of the spines running down the crest of his upper neck for making her jump, she saw what could only be a palace.
It was huge. Which was fitting considering the size of a Dragon. It made Buckingham Palace look small, and it sat along the ridge of
a mountain range all of its own.
Probably the size of Manhattan island, she knew she’d never seen as many windows in all her goddamn life.
It was crafted from roughly hewn stone, and it blended into the rock aside from the glinting glass windows.
It was ugly. Had spindles dotted here and there with puffs of smoke escaping them as had the Goblins’ homes, and the rest was a gabled roof.
There was no decoration, nothing fancy. Just sheer domination over the environment.
“She needs to hire a decorator,” she told Remy who just grunted.
“The damn place cost enough to build. You think your Emperor’s tithes are extortionate, you’ve yet to see our Queen’s demands.”
She huffed at that then watched as he began to bank to the left. He hadn’t slowed down, though, and she realized why. There was a kind of runway down the center of one of the roofs, which was why that particular part was so flat.
His wings ceased flapping as he rode the wind on his approach. Then, he arched his great neck and descended with all the grace of a bird.
When they landed on the ‘runway,’ she pulled her hands free from the straps with no difficulty. Then, when he clambered to his belly again and lifted his wing, she climbed down from the saddle and made it back onto terra firma.
Before she could do more than blink, he’d shifted, and her gorgeous mate was once again standing before her.
He held out his hand for hers, and she clasped her fingers in his. As they started to move, he hesitated a second then asked, “It’s quite a walk. Are you certain you’re up for it?”
She winced. Her legs were aching already, and the slippers she wore that matched the rest of the outfit weren’t exactly made for comfort.
“I don’t want them to see me in a position of weakness,” she said to him in a low tone.
“I can understand that, dearling, but all lemans have the same weakness at the start. There’s no shame in it. It is part of the mate bond.”
“It doesn’t mean I have to like it. And it doesn’t mean I want them to see me like this either.”
He pursed his lips and contemplated their situation. “How about I carry you to a few hundred feet away from the Queen’s court? Then, we can walk through the main doors together, and our people will see you walking on your own two feet?”
Coven: (A Steamy Dragon Shifter/Vampire Romance) (Dragon Bound Book 1) Page 18
