by Alisa Woods
Akkan gives me a solemn nod. “That’s because I could no longer find you. The Vardigah attacked. Wiped out my entire lair. My mother and father. My brothers. Everyone I knew. They destroyed almost all the witches as well, although I only found that out later. I had no way to find you. Dragons as a species were nearly wiped out that day.”
I just blink. This I didn’t expect. “I’m so sorry.” It seems inadequate.
“I didn’t think I would ever find you. Do you remember all your lives?”
“Yes.” I pause to recall them. “I’ve had five. Well, six, counting this one. I didn’t always remember them, not until after. I think I blocked some of it out. But the last time, I died of a heart attack at sixty-two in 1980, and I distinctly remember thinking, Well, this isn’t bad. I’ll get to see the year 2000 for sure.” I smirk. “Wasn’t as exciting as I thought it would be.”
He’s just looking at me with amazement. “Were in you New York then?”
I think back. “No, for that lifetime, I was in Europe. Survived the war—World War II. Before that, I died in the plague, so when I came back the first world war was mostly done. I was in France and Britain, mostly.”
“As was I.” He’s still taking it all in. “And in this lifetime?”
“I was born in the U.S.” I think. I don’t want to dwell on that too much. “I traveled a bit but mainly stayed in New York.”
“I’ve been in the U.S. for decades.” He’s nodding now. “It’s almost as if you were following me. Or perhaps I was following you. I stopped my travels and finally settled in the North Lair up at the Thousand Islands. I was trying to find you again. Before it was too late.”
I frown. “Too late?”
“Dragons live a long time, but I’m near the end, Daisy.”
My eyebrows lift. He told me that before. “And now you’ve found me.”
“And now I have.” He smiles, and it’s sweet. Terribly sweet. And sexy too.
And it’s all too much, all of a sudden.
My eyelids are pulling down. “You know, for a while there, with the Vardigah, I thought maybe I wouldn’t make it. That I’d be on to the next life, whatever that was going to be. I wasn’t afraid, not really. But now that I’m sticking around this lifetime… well, I’m kind of tired.”
“Of course you are.” He scrambles up from the floor and takes my hands, easing me gently up out of the chair. Then he holds me around the waist and lets me lean on his arm as he guides me back to the bedrooms.
There are two.
He tucks me into an oversized white-covered bed.
I’m asleep before my head sinks into the pillow.
Six
Akkan
What I need is some magic.
The old-school kind with witches and potions and alchemy.
Which is why I’m knocking on the door of a picturesque cottage in the Irish countryside as the sun sinks over the distant sea. I texted ahead. You don’t arrive unannounced at the lair of a dragon and his witch-mate. Grace was kind enough to teleport me once Daisy was asleep. I hope I’m not intruding as much as it seems—it’s only been a few weeks since these two were mated, and I know that’s not the time to come calling.
The witch, Alice, opens the door, but her mate, Constantine, is right behind.
“And here he is!” she proclaims with a grin. “In the flesh.” She’s as petite and fiery red-haired as I remember from that day she paired me to Daisy in a different seaside meadow.
Constantine sighs. We’ve been friends for a couple decades. He’s one of the few dragons who survived the fire in Athens, older like me, and is no doubt resenting my presence in their honeymoon.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” I rush out.
“Not at all!” Alice grabs hold of my arm and tows me inside. “We’ve managed a guest or two before, and we’ll manage it again.” This is clearly directed at Constantine.
The look he gives her in return can be described only as pure adoration. It strikes me because I’ve only been around a few mated dragons, and they’re always painfully obvious in their love, but this is at a different level.
He lifts his eyebrows at me. “You’re giving her a chance to match-make. I’d be sure that’s what you want.”
“Well, um…” I’m not sure how to explain the situation.
He bursts out laughing, shakes his head, drops a kiss on her cheek, and wishes me luck as he trots to the back of the cottage. It’s small, but I can see straight through to their bedroom and out into the meadow. Constantine strides out, shifts on his way through the door, and soars into the darkening skies. They must be remote enough that he can fly without fear of discovery.
“Ignore him,” Alice says, now pulling me into a small side room that’s clearly her apothecary. Or her spell room. It’s heavy with wood, from the table laden with cauldrons and boxes and bottles to the bookshelves lined with leather-bound tomes. “He’s insatiable that one. Keeps me fierce busy. He’ll survive a minute.”
“I’m not so sure,” I say with a smile. “But I appreciate the help.”
“What’s your trouble?” She’s eager, and it makes the whole thing easier.
“My soul mate, Daisy, was one of the ones captured by the Vardigah.”
“I remember.” Of course, she does—she paired us.
“She was in a coma for three weeks. Just woke up, but she’s still very weak. I recall, from my days as a boy, that witches could use dragon blood to create spells. Healing spells. Is that true? And if so, I’m here to offer up as much as you need—for Daisy and any other spell-making you might care to do. I understand our people used to make such exchanges with yours.” I give a glance at the books on the shelves and hope the answer lies in there somewhere.
“I like the sound of that.” Her green eyes are certainly lit up in the dusty haze of this workshop of hers. “Is she just a bit fatigued? Or is there more to it?”
“Well, there was the torture.”
The glee in her eyes at the prospect of magic-making dims a little. “Aye. There was.” She purses her lips. “I’m sorry for that, you know. I did what I could.”
I dip my head. “You’re the only reason I have my mate at all.” I know the story—how Alice was tricked into helping the Vardigah find the soul mates and how she was instrumental in getting them free—but I didn’t imagine she’d hold so tightly to the guilt.
“Making your love possible… it’s what a witch is meant to do.” She says it with reverence.
I smile at the sweetness of it then glance again at the books. “Do you have something that will just restore her energy? She’s an incredibly strong person. I’m sure, if she were only feeling a little better…” I don’t know where I’m going with that. Seducing Daisy is out of the question.
A twinkle returns to Alice’s eyes. “I have just the thing.” She scurries to the bookshelf and runs her finger along the bindings, scanning them. She quickly finds the one she wants and pulls it down, plopping it heavily on the workbench and flipping through the ornately decorated pages. “Mind you, it’ll be some nasty stuff,” she muses. “You’ll have to convince her to choke it down.”
“She’s very mystical and seems to take magic for granted.” I watch as Alice gathers things from around her workshop. “I don’t think it will be a problem.” Then I keep quiet as the witch makes her magic, pulling out a somber black pot and tossing things in. Feathery, dusty, herb-like things. And others I’m not sure I could identify. Then she uncorks some wine and pours it over the lot. I take a half step back as she conjures a small blue flame under the pot and stirs with a wooden spoon.
“I’ll be needing that dragon blood of yours.”
“How much?” I reach for a curved dagger lying on the benchtop.
She sees it and exclaims, “Hold up! Are ye thick?” She gingerly takes it from me, carefully holding the handle. “There’s magic on that one. Never mind the rust.” She shakes her head, amazed at my recklessness, and carefully stows the blade under her workbench. Then she fi
shes around a set of tiny drawers until she pulls out a razor blade. She affixes it to an ebony stick and passes the blade end through the blue flame until it heats. “We’re doing magic here, not barbarism.” She passes the blade-tipped stick. “I’ll need a fair bit. Maybe ten drops. Better to make it fifteen. Can ye manage?”
I just slice open my palm and hold it over her pot. It stings, but the problem is more that my dragon healing will seal up the cut before we’re done. We wait, counting the steady drip. Then Alice snatches up a tiny blue bottle and holds it to my palm, catching the excess blood and easing us away from the pot.
She holds my hand and the bottle like that, literally bleeding me. “You’re doing a fine thing here, Akkan.”
“It’s nothing.” And it truly is. I won’t even feel this in a few minutes.
“I mean caring for her.” She squeezes my hand to renew the blood flow.
I manage not to wince.
“I know how dragons are,” she says. “You love with a fierce passion, and you’d give your life for your mate, but sometimes, you forget that a woman needs something more.”
“What’s that?” I’m a two-hundred-and-twenty-five-year-old dragon who’s loved more women than I can name. Alice looks to be barely eighteen. But she has an aura of real wisdom. And she’s mated. Which trumps every experience I’ve ever had.
“She needs a purpose.” Alice finishes the blood-letting by sliding the bottle up my palm to capture the last drops then curling my fist closed on the wound. “I saw her, just as you did, in the pairing, Akkan. I got a glimpse of that soul even as she was wrecked. She’ll love ye, and she’ll need ye, but she’s special. You’ll have to let her be who she is.” She corks the bottle of blood and sets it aside, her payment for her services, then she gives the cauldron a stir. “It’s not complicated. But it can be hard.” She wrinkles her nose at the smell of the potion. Even from a few feet away, it’s like musty bat and boiled wine. She quickly finds another bottle, larger and clear, and decants the potion into it. Corking that, she hands it over. “Now, I will say that’s not the worst I’ve ever drank, but it will be murder to get down. And it’ll have an after-kick. Just creeps up on ye and says, How’s it going?”
“Duly noted.” I take the potion. “Thank you, Alice. For the advice as well. I have every intention of letting Daisy be whoever she needs to be. Even if that means without me.”
She waves that off. “You’ll do grand. Fine, even. Off with you.”
I smile and carry out my prize, texting Grace on the way for a ride. She’s a chatterbox of questions before she whisks me back to the small island cottage, but then she leaves quickly enough. I peek in on Daisy, but she’s sleeping. I leave the potion in the kitchen, and I should sleep as well, but I’m restless. I find myself out on the balcony overlooking the sea. The fresh air, the gentle hills, the soft sound of the port in the evening, warming up with diners, mostly tourists soaking in the beauty of the Isles, all ease my mind a little. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed Greece. After I found the lair burnt to the ground, I didn’t return for decades. As I told Daisy, I wandered Europe for a long time. There were many sojourns, some back into temples and caves for contemplation, some through the brothels of each continent in turn. Eventually, I stumbled upon the European lair, but being back among dragons, each fruitlessly romancing one human woman after another, always seeking their one true love… I had no taste for it. It took decades more, a world that modernized around me, and to be honest, nearing my two hundredth birthday before I decided I belonged with dragonkind after all.
At least, at the end of my long and sorry life.
Not that I didn’t have love—the human kind, on occasion—but I knew what I was missing all too well. Niko of the North Lair convinced me to try again. To actually romance women once more, but it was a pursuit without spirit. I knew my luck wasn’t that good—it never had been. Constantine and I spent many nights prowling the streets of the city, but we always knew we were hunting for other men’s mates—that we would never find our own.
And then everything changed with Alice. For Constantine most dramatically of all, and I’m truly happy for my friend. But when she paired every dragon on the planet once more, suddenly, there was real hope.
I lean on the balcony wall and gaze at the stars just emerging from the sunset’s last fiery herald of the night. Is my luck changing? Or is this simply one more cruel twist the fates have brought me in the end? My soul mate is within reach, after chasing each other’s spirits across the centuries, and yet… she has no interest in me. Maybe even an aversion. I’ve loved enough women to know when one is attracted—and when one is not.
I decide that whatever tomorrow brings, I should be rested for it. I trudge back inside, find my separate bedroom, and turn in for the night.
I awake to the soft, thudding sound of something dragging across the floor. The kitchen floor, my mind blearily identifies as it races up to consciousness. What? I throw off the covers and race down the hall, through the sitting room, and careen into the kitchen only to come to a stumbling stop.
Daisy is eating breakfast.
She startles. “Oh! Good morning.” Then she stares. I’m standing, barefoot and disheveled, in just my sleep pants, on the kitchen threshold.
“I thought…” I stall out, not wanting to speak my fears aloud. That the Vardigah had come for her. I swallow and try to nonchalantly stride to the second chair of the table. “I’m surprised you’re up.” I take a seat, feeling slightly ridiculous—I’m half-dressed and still getting my bearings.
“I was hungry.” She takes in my bed-head and bare chest, then suddenly looks back to her food. It’s only the tiniest hint of attraction—virtually the only I’ve seen from her—but it raises a ridiculous amount of hope. Not to mention stirs my body in response.
“Is it good?” I reach for a wooden kabob of souvlaki and pull off a bite from one end. She’s watching me, so I enjoy the morsel with more obvious relish. “Mmm. Grace found the real thing for us.”
She nods and seems flushed. I return the skewer, and she digs into her food again, obviously trying not to meet my gaze or look at my half-naked body. My need for her wells up from deep within, everything tightening. I hadn’t expected to have to battle lust first thing in the morning, but here we are. Yet, I know it’s far too early to even play at this kind of game.
“I have something for you.” I get up and retrieve the flask of potion from the countertop. The kitchen is small but exquisite—marble and steel, hanging copper pots and herbs, modern appliances, but an Old World feel. I return to the table and set the clear glass bottle before her.
“What’s this?” Her eyes are bright. She seems healthier already, just from the rest.
“It’s a potion from the witch who paired us.” I wish I could pull back the last part of that, but it’s too late. “It’s for healing,” I add quickly.
She picks up the flask and examines it. “What’s in it?” The deep red color of the wine isn’t enough to disguise the odd bits and flakes of magic-knows-what floating inside.
“My blood, for one.”
“You want me to drink your blood?” Her nose wrinkles, but she uncorks the flask. Then it wrinkles even more.
“That’s where the magic comes from.” I plead with my eyes. “I know it’s awful. Alice said, It’ll be murder to get down.” I do my best impression of her Irish accent.
It makes Daisy smile, which unexpectedly squeezes my heart. I fiercely beat down all my hopeful expectations. For the love of magic, Akkan—a simple smile isn’t her falling in love with you.
“I’m already feeling better,” she offers, giving the flask a freshly dubious look.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah. And no dreams either.” She meets my gaze. “That’s a good thing, trust me.”
I scoot closer and clasp my hands on the table. “You do look better.” The urge to touch her is getting insane.
She smiles again, but it’s bashful
. “I know I just need to give it time.” She swirls the flask and watches the debris dance. “Or maybe some magic dragon blood.”
“When I was young, before the Vardigah destroyed everything, dragons and witches did this all the time. We’d pay in blood, which was really nothing—we heal quickly and regenerate our blood even faster. They’d pair us with our soul mates and occasionally make potions such as these. It’s an ancient art that Alice is bringing back, almost single-handed.”
“It is nice of her to help.” But the grimace lingers. “And you.” She meets my gaze. “I do appreciate everything you’re doing.”
“It’s nothing. But I do desperately want you to try the potion.” Which is the truth. “Alice wouldn’t have agreed to make it unless it would help. Rest is powerful, but this is magic, after all.”
She takes a breath. “All right.” Then she takes a small taste. “Oh, God!” She almost spits it out.
“I’m sorry.” I lay my hand on hers, which is pressed into the tabletop. “I suppose it’s more like medicine. I’d take it for you if I could.”
“It’s okay. I can do this.” The grimace is even worse now, but she girds herself and drinks. There’s at least a cup of liquid, and she chokes her way through it, nearly gagging at the end. As she finishes the last of it, I jump up and get a glass of water for her. By the time I return, she’s gripping the table, looking distinctly sick. “What in the Universe was that?”
“I couldn’t tell you.” I hand her the glass. “And I doubt you’d want to know.”
She gulps down the water, but it doesn’t seem to help. She curls up over her stomach. “Oh, God… Akkan.”
Alarm trips through me. I put my arm around her to keep her from sliding off the chair.
She tries to push me away, but it’s for my benefit, not hers. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Alice said it would be rough.” I stand and then scoop her out of the chair. She fights me then curls up into me, clutching her stomach. “Let’s get you to bed.” She just moans softly. It rips through me as I hurry her back to her bedroom. I lay her down on the bed, but she’s curled up so badly, I slide in behind her and hold her.
