He pulled his chest back but continued to hold her against the wall with his hips. “It mattered when you wouldn’t let me tell you how I feel.”
She sniffled.
“It mattered because words hold power,” Ladon continued. “They change possibilities. They change what will happen”
“Words aren’t magic.” Voicing a wish didn’t change what-will-be.
“It’s not magic. It’s will. Dragon and I choose you.” He kissed her again, his body holding her steady.
Will. Something the Dracae had in spades. They moved the unmovable and carved this beautiful home into a mountain. They had the strength to battle the inevitable.
Maybe… maybe he was right. Maybe they could bring her through this. “You choose me?” His will manifested in the small circles his fingers drew on her skin and in the trickle of energy tickling her senses even as Dragon slept.
“Yes. We choose you. I choose you. And I will have what I want, fate be damned.”
The threads rewove, altering. His strength flowed through his touch and pushed back the pain in her skull.
“Dragon and I, we will give you the life you want,” he said. “Always.”
Her terror melted, and with it, its hold on her soul. “My love.” Her lips met his in a brilliant kiss.
He tugged at her jeans. Groaning in frustration, he pulled back and searched for the zipper.
She wanted his skin and his hands and his mouth on hers. She yanked at his t-shirt and he fumbled it over his head. He twisted her shirt and seams gave way and its threads split across her belly. Its tatters landed on the floor next to his.
He ripped at her bra. “Off!”
She unhooked it and he whipped it away.
Lifting her again, he held her with his mouth at her chest and her bare back against the cool granite.
“Tell me.” His animal need took over. “Say it!” His tongue found her nipple and her back arched.
“I want you alive and in love with me.” More dread evaporated. She had a dragon, for goodness sake. A dragon who could stand against anything.
“Say it again.” His mouth devoured hers before she could answer. “I want to hear you say it. I want to know you mean it.” The zipper on her jeans released and he tugged the fabric down her hips.
“I mean it. I—oh!”
He grasped the fabric of her panties and yanked. They split into several pieces as he pulled them off her feet.
“Swear it!” He unbuttoned his jeans and she pushed them down. “You will not die. Do you understand, Rysa? We will not lose you.”
He entered her and she bucked against the wall. A deep moan pushed from her core and her nails dug into his shoulders. Shudders rippled through every one of her muscles when he thrust deeper.
“Tell me how you feel. Tell me the truth.” He thrust again as he nipped below her earlobe.
She couldn’t speak. No words formed. She kissed him instead.
Holding her hips, he dropped to the edge of the settee, and thrust as they landed. “Tell me!”
Every inch of her skin against his felt alive. Every kiss traveling over his chin and neck bonded them tighter together. He flipped her onto her back and pulled her thighs up toward his chest. He moaned and his pace increased.
She could see he wanted to say more, to demand a response again, but no more words left his throat. He said it all with his body—his need, his love.
His hurt.
“I’m sorry for the things I said.” Was this what it meant to be Parcae? To inflict on others what fate demanded because that was just how it was? Many of the behaviors Tom had done to her—the cutting off of her emotions and the little, mean things to force her away—she’d done to Ladon.
It didn’t matter what fate dealt out. She’d never again say words that hurt him.
One arm wrapped tight around her hips. His other arm flexed as he lowered her to the pillows. “You are not… going… to leave us….”
“I’m not. I won’t. Ladon!” The orgasm flooded through her and her fingers twisted into his hair.
Her nasty dipped in, not siphoning this time, but sharing.
Ladon’s eyes fluttered and his lips parted. The deep, dragon rumble erupted from his chest as elation burst through all his muscles. His core contracted and his back arched. He dropped down on top of her.
“I love you.” Her voice filled the void she’d forced between them and she opened herself to everything he and Dragon offered.
“I love both of you. I love the man and I love the dragon and I choose you. You are the fate I choose. You. Only you, for as long as you want me.”
He groaned and another spasm as strong as the first rocked through his body.
She kissed the spot on his chest that made him resonate.
His core contracted again. Pleasure radiated in tight bursts from his abdomen to his limbs. Slow waves moved across his skin and through the rasping moans escaping between their renewed kisses.
He halted mid-inhale as another spasm played sideways through each distinct muscle of his stomach and chest. His back arched again.
“Ladon!” She clenched his hair as her body reflected the spasms rocking his.
“I… oh…” He kissed her deeply.
His climax still pounded, and now it rumbled. The sound filled the cavern, and echoed to her ears moments after it flooded her body.
The first time it happened, in the van, it had warmed her soul. This time, it warmed everything, including the harshness of the spike and the coldness she’d forced between them.
Pleasure twined with love, colored with burgundies and violets, and a new orgasm rocketed to all her cells. She lost all sense of the world, of time. Ladon’s love filled all of her and when he touched her cheek, she opened her eyes to the bright and real joy filling his.
“This is our truth,” he said.
She kissed his forehead and traced the slope of his ear. “Yes.” Their truth. Hers, his, and Dragon’s too, when the beast awoke.
Ladon’s breathing steadied and he moved out of her but stayed entwined with his legs wrapped in hers and his arms tight around her waist. He kissed her jaw and tucked his face into the crook of her neck.
This man and the beast bound to him were worth fighting for. They were worth pushing against the future and taking on the inevitable. If she lost, if the fate forced as a spike in her head came to pass, she’d have this time with them. “Yes, it is.”
A flash—another crater. She winced. This time, though, she tightened her arms around the man she loved.
He kissed her temple. “I will fight every Fate and I will destroy every Burner who threatens you. And I will find a Shifter who will return your control.”
Her eyes closed but she traced the lines and planes of his face. She wouldn’t lose them. Fate be damned, they were the future she wanted, no matter how badly her uncle’s injection hurt.
The spike still distorted her seers and menaced both her and Ladon with death, but she breathed here, now, in the present. “Thank you.” She could fight. “Thank you, my love.”
Ladon led Rysa deeper into the baths. When he pulled her under the shower fed by the waterfall, she bounced. His smiles didn’t stop, didn’t decrease even with her excitement, and she kissed him, wide-eyed at his response. When he smoothed his hand over her waist and settled his fingers into hers, she caressed his hands, and wrapped her arms tight around his waist.
The water cascaded over their shoulders and they washed the river from each other. Her expression opened to him again and her face gave him everything he’d seen when she was in her visions—union, intimacy, friendship. Passion. And a pure, purposeful tenderness meant for only him.
They made love again. He held her against the stone wall with her hips balanced on the shower’s ledge. His voice left him but he whispered, unable to stop the words that rolled from his heart—love you. Beautiful one. My beloved. My mate. Mine.
Yes… It flowed from her and melded to him. Yes. And when she
kissed the spot on his chest, he rumbled with such fierceness the sound drowned the rush of the cavern’s water.
Now she slept with her back to him in a borrowed pair of Derek’s pajamas that ballooned around her middle. Mira slept on the other side of her daughter, her back also to Ladon.
He nestled closer. All of Rysa’s physical wounds had healed. The cut on her arm was nothing more than a thin line. He’d pulled the stitches in the bath. Billy’s last marks looked like they’d been healing for weeks, not hours.
So did his. The cut from the fight with the War Babies had vanished. No welt, no line. Nothing. He healed much faster than a normal, but after less than a day, he should be able to see a mark.
Ladon raised himself on an elbow and peered at Mira. Rysa had cleaned up her mother in the van, bandaging every place that the damned Burner had licked her skin. Ladon couldn’t see her wounds, yet her color had returned and she snored softly, in a sounder sleep than pain should allow.
He lay down against Rysa’s back, close enough to feel her warmth but far enough away she wouldn’t awaken.
She shivered. He tensed and flared his fingers over her hip.
His senses focused on her and all he saw—all he perceived—was that his woman hurt.
He’d make it right. Come morning, he’d speak with Mira. Hearing Dragon, manifesting her mother’s wounds, extending her health to others, all reinforced his questions. Time to ask about the other half of Rysa’s family, and in particular Sandro Torres.
Ladon closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the nape of her neck. The pain would stop. He’d give her what she needed to fight the spike.
And something told him that finding her father might just be what she needed.
Chapter Forty-One
Ladon sneezed. Sunshine flicked through the tree’s branches and onto his cheek. He rubbed at the spot. The familiar lack-of-Dragon that numbed part of his awareness when the beast slept sat on his mind. It slouched like a determined cat sitting on his leg and dug in its claws when he tried to push it away.
He ignored it, focusing instead on thoughts of his lovely Rysa and the feel of her exquisite breasts. The soft skin between them tasted as perfect as the woman herself. The little stuttered breaths she exhaled when he kissed her nipples held his attention like no other woman’s. He’d spend all day exploring the tender smoothness of her body, charting every inch, and tallying every reaction he caused with a gentle kiss or a quick nip.
Ladon rolled over. No one else slept on his bed.
He scratched at his belly and sat up. From the intensity of the light and the angle of the reflections falling on the tree, he suspected he’d been asleep for about ten hours. Rysa and Mira must have decided to let him rest. Which was a shame. He’d rather wake surrounded by women, even if one was his love’s mother.
Maybe they’d gone to the baths. He listened as an oriole called from the tree’s branches. Deep in the cave, the hydropower generator hummed. Birds tweeted in the ventilation shafts. But no sounds of activity rose from the rear cavern. They’d probably gone out to the kitchen to find something to eat or to get Rysa’s clothes from the pull cart.
Watching her hips sway in the too-big pajamas would have been a nice distraction for the morning. Maybe he’d follow her around the whole day, grinning and rubbing his chin against the slope of her neck until she sighed, even if Mira frowned at him.
Ladon pinched the bridge of his nose. Randiness when he walked into the kitchen would only embarrass Rysa. Maybe later, he’d sneak her away for an hour or two. Suggest a nap.
He allowed himself one quick groan. He awoke most mornings with a diffuse desire pumping through his veins, but now that desire had focus. A very clear and perfect focus.
Still, he should do his best not to embarrass her. The cool stone floor under his toes should help. As would a cold shower.
Maybe he could entice Rysa to join him.
Another groan and he looked up at the painted swirls covering the dome. He had work to do. Allowing himself to be distracted by his own wants in no way fixed Faustus’s damage.
He’d find a healer so when Dragon awoke they could fetch help immediately. But first he needed Mira to answer his questions.
Sister and Derek should have been home last night, though no roars or threats to Mira’s life had disturbed his sleep. He’d left messages but Sister hadn’t responded. Her irritation about a Jani Prime in her home most likely had Derek sleeping in the RV and wishing for his hospital bed.
A Sister-free morning would allow a peacefully cooked breakfast. Perhaps he’d make a frittata with basil from the garden and fresh eggs from the coop. Acceptance and a friendly gesture might help Mira to be generous with her answers.
Ladon padded across the cool floor and swung open the door. The hinges squeaked, and the iron halted as he pushed. He’d install a new counterweight system so the massive wood panel glided. He peered at the rivets on the latch. With Rysa living here—
The tang of Burner hit his nose in full, clawing fury.
Shifters and a few Fates had tried to get in since Sister and Sister-Dragon began excavation more than two centuries ago. The entrance vault kept them out. The ventilation system’s fortifications confounded everyone but the dragons. No one got in.
Not unless invited.
Ladon pressed his back against the stone wall and peered into the cave’s main chamber.
Had Billy damaged Mira’s mind? But a Burner couldn’t sustain thought long enough to brainwash a Fate. She’d done this on her own.
Somewhere near the mouth of the cave, Rysa gasped. Ladon ran the cold, stone floor toward the kitchen and stopped just out of sight of the cabinets.
Whispers spilled from the sink area, then the sounds of a tug and a push, followed by Rysa’s stuttered breathing.
Ladon crept silently into the shadows. Rysa stood in the bright light flooding the kitchen with her back against the table. She shook. Her eyes were blank. Her fingers bent into claws.
She was in another overwhelming vision.
Faustus crouched on the table clutching to Rysa’s throat a dagger forged from the same night metal as Metus’s swords. Mira sniveled in the corner.
“Ladon-Human,” Faustus murmured. “It’s about time you woke up.” His seer danced with Rysa’s, small movements here, another there.
Her nose bled.
“Let her go.” The more the bastard twisted the spike, the more damage he did. And the more pain he inflicted.
Faustus yanked on Rysa’s neck. “No blackouts, pumpkin. Alert and in the moment is what we want.”
Mira screamed a blistering string of Latin profanity and whipped a plate at Faustus’s head. It slammed against the wall and shattered into a spray of ceramic chips.
Rysa slipped to the left but her uncle held her tightly. The bastard yowled. “Mira, take the burndust I brought and quit your pathetic bawling.”
Mira shrieked and hurled another dish. So she’d let him in for burndust, seeking it like some junkie. Ladon should have seen this coming. He shouldn’t have offered trust, even with her apology. If the damned dust calmed the sickness, she’d need it now.
Yet Mira threw dishes. She let Faustus in, but regretted it. Damned Fates, never strong enough to fight their futures.
Maybe she’d find her backbone. Ladon picked up a dirty glass from the counter and flung it at Mira’s head. If her present-seer showed his intent, she’d cooperate, dust-addled or not.
“Shut up, cow!” he barked, pointing at her as he released the glass.
Mira screeched and dramatically flailed as she ducked, as he had hoped. Faustus’s attention flitted to his sister.
Rysa jerked free of his grip.
Ladon lunged. Faustus sliced, but Rysa yanked on her uncle’s arm. He dropped the dagger, and missed Ladon’s stomach by a fraction of an inch.
Ladon slid across the table and landed on the other side.
Rysa flung herself over the surface and into his arms. Her cla
mmy skin shocked his when he set her down behind his back. Her entire body shook as she pressed her forehead between his shoulder blades.
“Help her!” Ladon bellowed. If Faustus didn’t release the spike, he’d cause permanent damage. No healer could counter it, no matter their skill.
“You’re the one addicted, you damned fiend! I didn’t let you in for the dust.” Mira leaned against a counter. “You’re killing her.” She panted and buckled forward. “Fix what you did, brother! How many of our triad’s children do you have to send to their deaths? Les Enfants are shadows of who they could have been, all because of you. How many of our babies do you have to murder? Fix my daughter or I will gouge your eyes from their sockets!”
Faustus’s future-seer thundered through the kitchen. He rolled his eyes. “No, you won’t.” He pointed at a plastic bag on the counter. “The dust will make you feel better. It will stop the pain in your joints.”
“You’re going to die,” Mira muttered.
“Quiet, dear sister.” Faustus sneered and shook his head.
“I don’t know what your seer has shown you.” Ladon held Rysa against his back. “Whatever is coming is not my doing. Nor is it Sister’s. You should understand that. All the Fates should understand that.”
“Parcae!” Faustus scowled.
“I won’t go with him,” Rysa murmured.
“What was that, pumpkin? Did you have something to add?” Faustus leaned toward her.
Ladon twisted to stay between them.
“Oh, I think you will. The pain’s so strong you’ll do anything to make it stop.”
“I’ll die first.”
Faustus’s eyebrows arched. “Ha! You’ll kill him first.”
“Get out!” Mira shuffled forward. “Twenty centuries and I’ve always done what my seer told me to do. I shouldn’t have listened this time.”
“You know none of us has a choice.” Faustus latched onto Mira’s neck. “I won’t kill you, but I will snap a bone or two.”
A colossal wave of power rolled off Mira’s body. She hit Faustus with a full blast from her present-seer.
Games of Fate (Fate Fire Shifter Dragon Book 1) Page 29
