Waking the Dragon

by Juliette Cross

  I swallowed the lump swelling in my throat. I had no choice.

  “Yield to me,” he commanded. His eyes flickered to the medal dangling at the hollow of my neck. “Be what she never was. Be my queen.”

  Saint Portia.

  Oh, God. This beast, this abomination was…Larkos? It wasn’t possible, and yet I knew it as surely as the stars hung in the sky, as the wind whispered through the trees. Larkos Nightwing, the first Morgon who wiped out all of dragonkind, held me pinioned in his arms, demanding that I be his queen, be what Portia never could.

  I could be what she never was. The death of him.

  Something had happened between them. Their heartbond wasn’t strong enough. She killed herself in vain, unable to seal his fate as well.

  But I could.

  I could bond him to me, accept his horrific embrace, his barbaric body, his heartless heart. I could wind him around me in a way where my death would unequivocally equal his. I could kill this beast clutching me in his arms as if I were already his possession.

  Kol would never forgive me. But he would live. As would my family and friends.

  “Yield,” he growled, tightening his grip on my braid, my scalp pulling in pain.

  “Yes.” Pulse pounding a death knell, tears streaming in hot protest, I gave him my consent. “I will be your queen.”

  Triumph spread across his face as he lowered his lips to mine, a growl vibrating from his chest. The moment he sealed our mouths, something slammed into us both. We tumbled sideways. I rolled out of his grip to the cold ground.

  Kol loomed over the beast, rage vibrating an electric current in the air, sword slashing forward. The king flung his weight upward, knocking Kol to the side, but not before his sword lanced across his shoulder.

  He yelled, swiping a sharpened claw through the air, just missing Kol’s face. Ready for him, Kol swung, silver glinting, catching the tip of the beast’s hand.

  The creature screamed, clutching his bleeding hand. Three shadows swept into the clearing—Valla, Conn, and Lorian.

  The beast’s face contorted into a dark mask before he skyrocketed up into the night, breaking branches of trees as he spun upward. Lorian and Conn trailed in his wake, cracking more branches. Twigs and leaves falling like rain.

  Kol flew to my side and scooped me off the forest floor.

  “Kieren.” I pointed the way I’d come. “He’s hurt.”

  “Bowen and Kraven found him already,” said Valla, gaze fixed on Kol. “You get her out of here.” She vanished into the heavy darkness above.

  Clinging tight, I pressed my cheek into the curve of his neck and shoulder, sighing at the instant warmth of my heart, safe in his arms again. But the tightness of his jaw, the steely glance of his gaze, and the iron-clad embrace nearly stopped my breath. He knew what I had nearly done. What I would have done, willingly, had he not come.

  We flew under the treetops, not over. I closed my eyes and waited, hoping we didn’t have far to go. Somehow I knew where we’d end up. Sure enough, when he landed and I opened my eyes, we stood within sight of Petrus’s cabin. A square of yellow light glowed in the near distance.

  He set me on my feet with a violent jolt, gripping my shoulders, eyes blazing like a madman. I felt his agony, a visceral lash in the air against my skin.

  “You would have bound yourself to him?”

  “Kol—I—I—”

  “No.” He clutched me in his arms, an embrace of desperation and longing and sheer panic. One hand cradled my nape, fingers firm. The other spread against the small of my back. “Never.” His words ground low, like a stone wall sliding open. “Never will you sacrifice yourself for me, for anyone!”

  “I could’ve stopped him if you’d let me. I could’ve killed him.” My ire rose with his, my fingers curling into fists against his chest. “He threatened to kill everyone—”

  “I don’t give a fuck if an entire city burns to the ground. I would have died without you. Don’t you understand?” His hands came up, cradling my face, fingers spreading into my hair along my scalp, his hold too tight. “This is no longer your body, your heart, or your soul. It is mine.”

  A sob escaped. “But it’s not, is it?” Voice shaking, I have no idea how I could challenge such a man with the undeniable edge of insanity filling his eyes. Even so, I pushed him to the brink. “Not without soulfire, I’m not. I never will be.”

  The old fear skittered across his face.

  “Someone once told me to never let fear lead me.” I swiped the back of one hand across my cheek. “But you do. How long will you let fear lead you?”

  I knew the second he snapped, the moment he took what fate had offered. I caught a glimpse of possession, obsession, and devotion from the piercing blue. Then he made me his, once and for all.

  I don’t know how, but a second later, I was on the ground underneath him, his glorious body pinning me to the earth. His mouth opened over mine, a brutal taking. His tongue stroked in deep. He pressed harder against my body, sealing our love with a kiss only Kol could give.

  A blazing wave of liquid fire melted from his mouth into mine, streaming into my blood, rocking me through muscle and bone. I flinched at the electric shock. He pressed me harder into the cold ground, as if I needed to feel the force he wielded, the power of his love, sealing us with the flames of soulfire. My pulse pounded an erratic rhythm as molten pleasure flooded through my veins. I moaned, sucking on his tongue to feel another wave pound through my body, a rush of flowing flame.

  Jessen was right. There were no words.

  A growl rumbled against my chest…then I felt it. A syncing, interlocking snick, my heart beating in perfect rhythm to his. Breathless and panting, I pulled apart.

  Yes. He felt it. His expression reflected my own—a profound knowing of one another locked into place. Fixed, like the brightest star in the darkest night. We didn’t just belong to one another. We existed on the same plane, every breath a comingling of our love, growing, expanding, as long as we lived.

  For many minutes, we did nothing but touch each other and absorb the sensation into our skin, as if love itself were a tangible blanket wrapping us in an unbreakable bond. When he pulled away from me, I was exhausted, and yet ached for more at the same time.

  “Now,” he said, voice like black velvet, “you are mine.” He pressed his mouth more gently against my lips.

  The sensual sting of soulfire slid down my throat, pouring straight to the heat between my legs. “I am yours.”

  He trailed his hot mouth down the tender column of my throat.

  “Forever?” I asked.

  “Yes.” As always, Kol gave me the immediate truth, a promise that nothing could sever us in this world.

  He let his teeth scrape before he licked and kissed a trail lower. Though my brain fogged and could hardly function when his mouth and hands worked on me, I needed to know something. “Kol?” My voice was little more than a whisper.

  I’d avoided this question till now. I couldn’t let a sorrowful answer change my decision of being bound to him. I wanted nothing more in my entire life, and I wouldn’t let my own fears stand in the way.

  “Yes.” He lifted his head, meeting my gaze, eyes a cerulean sea. His thumb stroked a tender caress along my jaw as if I were a precious treasure he feared he would break or lose if he pressed too hard.

  “Will you live my lifespan? Or, will I live yours?”

  Morgons lived much longer than humans. I feared my earlier death would doom him. Yet, I had been too selfish to ask, wanting all of him no matter what the consequences might be.

  Kol smiled. A wicked, lascivious smile. “Moira, my love. We are the dominant species. In all ways. Your heart will stay strong, linked to mine. And now that I have you, I plan to live longer than Petrus himself.”

  I laughed. He pressed his lips to mine again, soulfire singing down my throat. I whimpered, tasting the Morgon elixir of love, life, and eternal belonging. I nipped
his lips.

  “Can we do this again when we’re alone? When we’re back home.” I could only imagine the pleasure of soulfire when we were bound in the most intimate of ways.

  “It’s my first priority.”

  “Of course it is.”

  He brushed a lingering, sensual kiss along my lips, teasing with slow precision. A soft moan escaped me. “I wish we were back home. And alone.”

  “So do I.” He shifted over me, showing me how much he truly wished we were.

  I laughed, joy buoying me up after the near-death experience in the woods. Kol grew serious all of a sudden. “Which home would that be?”

  “Yours. I want to live with you.”

  “You’d leave Gladium for me?”

  “In a heartbeat.” I smiled.

  “I wouldn’t do that to you, Moira. We’ll find a place in Gladium together, where you can do your work and I can do mine.”

  “What about your place in the Feygreir mountains?”

  “We’ll go there when we want to hide from the world.”

  I nipped again at his lips, so tempting. “Sounds like heaven.”

  “You are my heaven.” His arms squeezed me tighter against him.

  “And you are mine.”

  After Mikal, I’d decided that love wasn’t all that important. That marriage could be found in some distant future of my own choosing. And the husband of my choosing would be conciliatory and passive, allowing me to chase my dreams without his interference.

  What I hadn’t imagined was that an exceedingly dominant man would come into my life and rattle me to the point that I didn’t give a damn about my dreams, because life with him had become most important. What I hadn’t imagined was that this same man—knowing my heart as well as his own, knowing my life would be incomplete without fulfilling those dreams—would insist on being my equal, my partner. Never my master. I hadn’t imagined this man would be my silent, steadfast protector so that I could have every wish my heart desired. I hadn’t imagined…Kol Moonring. The one who orbited my life and encircled my heart with a love beyond imagining. He was Fate fallen from the sky.

  Chapter 26

  The anchorwoman stood in front of the Vaenger Stadium, listing the names of the four murdered girls. Their still photos, the ones I had scanned and sent to her from my bulletin board, popped up briefly on the comm-screen.

  Then she launched into the latest news. “The leader of the Devlin Butchers, Barron Coalglass of the Cloven Province, was killed in an attempt to bring him to justice by the international Morgon Guard and Gladium’s own Nightwing Security team. We have Chief Jackson of the Gladium Precinct here with a statement.”

  The forty-something human, graying at the temples, with steel-gray eyes, stared into the camera. “Barron Coalglass was the undeniable ringleader of the so-called Devlin Butchers. Many of his gang were also killed in an attempt to apprehend them. Those who got away are in hiding, but we’ll find them. There is no evidence that the escapees will continue their leader’s criminal path. Therefore, the Vaenger Stadium here in Gladium is open to all of the public once again. Our forces will be vigilant in protecting the people of this city until all perpetrators are brought to justice. Thank you.”

  Chief Jackson gave a stiff nod and slipped off-screen.

  Kol stepped into the living room of our high-rise apartment on the edge of Gladium. Less than a week since it all had happened, I moved out of my old place and into this one with him.

  Kol buttoned up the front of his starched gray shirt, listening to the reporter wrap up her story. I walked behind him and started buttoning the back flaps beneath his wings. “It’s a lie.”

  He opened his wings to give me better access. “A necessary one. If we want a world of peace, some lies must be told.”

  “Hmph. You’re sounding more like a politician. You sure you don’t want to take a place in the Senate?” I finished up the last of his buttons.

  He folded his wings, turned, and took me in his arms. “No, Kittycat.”

  The nickname that once made me bristle now made me smile. “No?”

  “I’ll leave that to my brother.” He brushed a light kiss across my lips. “Though I’m afraid Kieren will have to stay in hiding for now.”

  “Is he really in danger?”

  He scoffed. “Titus Coalglass is a powerful son of a bitch, and he won’t turn a blind eye to the blade justice committed on his son. Kieren will be absent from the Cloven Senate for a time. We’ll keep him well-hidden.”

  That was only part of the current agenda of the Morgon Guard and Nightwing Security. Another was the scientific analysis of Larkos’s pinky finger. Kol had severed it clear from his hand. A lab technician in Nightwing Security forensics was currently dissecting the digit to discover if this monstrous Morgon could indeed be the first Morgon from ancient tales. How DNA tests could determine this was still a mystery to me. At the moment, Kol and I were alone in believing the Butcher King was in fact the first Morgon to ever live. Even Lucius and Lorian were skeptical. No Morgon in recorded history had lived a full millennium, much less four. Historical records dated Larkos Nightwing’s birth back to forty-two hundred years ago.

  There was also the question of the mole in our ranks, but no one had an inkling who that could be, either. Kol had set certain pieces into motion, but for now, we felt safe. All signs of the Devlin Butchers had vanished, though we knew it was only a matter of time before the world tilted in the other direction.

  “So…” I trailed a finger along the sexy V where his shirt dipped beneath his throat. “You and your brother have made amends.”

  His hands slid down my back, finding my hips, the silky fabric of my black dress clinging to my curves.

  He sighed. “Not exactly. But I think he’s beginning to understand I could’ve been right about our father’s death.”

  “You know, Kol. He saved my life.”

  “For which I’m eternally grateful.”

  “Valla says you’re both fools.” I kissed the patch of skin at my eye-level. “Actually, she says all men are fools.”

  “Valla is a smart, young Morgon woman.”

  His hands glided lower, fingers inching up the fabric of my black dress. His lips found my neck.

  “Kol—”

  “Mm?” His mouth melted my insides to goo.

  “We don’t have time.” My protest sounded like nothing of the sort as his hands slid up the back of my bare thighs.

  He let them linger. He swept his lips along my neck and brushed a kiss on my pulse. Finally, with a heavy sigh, his hands disappeared, smoothing my dress back in place.

  “You’re right.” A quick peck on the lips, he gripped my hand and led me to the terrace. “Where’s your cloak?”

  “Here.” I pulled it from the back of the sofa. I slipped into the loose sleeves of the crimson-colored, velvet cloak, flipping up the hood. The luxurious wrap draped to my ankles. “I don’t know how I’m going to wear a harness in this thing.”

  “We won’t need one. The ceremony isn’t too far.”

  “I wish I didn’t have to be toted around like a baby-doll.”

  “I’m so glad that you do.” He swept me up in his arms. “I like the feel of you at my mercy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Valla was definitely right. Men are fools.”

  He nipped my bottom lip. “Yes. But I am your fool. Yours alone.” My heart fluttered.

  He stepped farther onto our terrace and lifted us both up into the pink twilight.

  “We won’t be late, will we? The sun is already setting.”

  “No. The ceremony begins when the sun has dipped beyond the horizon.”

  From this side of Gladium, it was a short flight before we were flying over the foothills of the Feygreir. Other Morgons flew in from all directions, landing on a flat outcropping just below Pike’s Peak. I was relieved to see more than one carrying a human—Lucius and Jessen, Lorian and Sorcha. We landed in silenc
e, surrounding the unlit pyre. A gray-haired Morgon priest, white-winged in snowy robes, stood like a sentinel guarding his treasure, fingers steepled before him. I’d never seen a Morgon priest up close, having never been to a funeral rite or heartbinding ceremony. Kol informed me that no one speaks at a burial rite. No one but the priest. So I knew not to ask any questions. They’d have to wait till tonight in the warmth of our bed.

  Gaius lay atop a thin slab of stone, a mount of kindling circling him. Body and wings wrapped in a brown shroud, the color of his clan, one hand was left exposed, gripping his sword. Warriors were buried with sword in hand.

  Kol shifted me in front of him. I kept my hood up, a glacial wind raking over the precipice. Jessen gave me a warm smile, Lucius protectively at her back. Lorian and Sorcha stood on our right. His stance the same.

  I scanned the Morgon faces, recognizing many from the Morgon Guard and a few from Nightwing Security. Bowen. Kraven. Valla. Conn stood a few feet behind her, eyes glancing at her platinum hair whipping in the wind. The flaxen-haired Morgon who guarded me outside of The Herald, Wulfgang, stood across the pyre, staring stone-faced at the body we’d come to farewell. He’d finally been released from guarding Kris, who I’m not sure was happy by his absence.

  The crowd opened. A line of brown-winged Morgons marched in stoic silence, surrounding the pyre in a semi-circle. The head of the line was a hard-faced Morgon, Gaius’s father, next to a slender, brown-haired female. Three sisters followed, tears falling in quiet mourning. The others must’ve been more distant relations, all still within the same clan.

  The priest stared at the horizon, watching as the orange sun slipped beyond Mount Grimm, Feygreir’s highest peak, casting the sky in deep purple.

  He opened his arms, white robes and wings spread wide. “All spirits move from one plane to another. It is not our right to judge when one has come and gone. The Great Creator breathes them into existence, giving us mortality to experience the earthly world before sending us onto another, higher plane. We thank Him for our time with Gaius Atrius Woodblade. We honor His call to gather our son’s soul from this world. We send Gaius with grace and blessings and love.”