But then he’d arrived.
An enormous ghostly figure materializing in the fog, his cloak flaring behind him and his horse’s hooves spitting up gravel. It had been like watching Death gallop toward them, the light from her meagre fire glinting off bared steel.
She’d gaped—as had her attackers—and then came the flash of a sword and a head was rolling.
The men had fled and he’d chased them down, one by one, before returning to her.
“Do you even know how to hold that thing?” he’d demanded, as she’d peeked from behind a tree.
She’d thought he’d be no better than the men who’d tried to rob her, but as he’d slid from his horse, he’d told her—eloquently—that she was a fool for daring to camp alone. If she couldn’t even lift a sword, then how was she supposed to protect herself?
The resulting argument had ended in a challenge: He would teach her how to use the sword if she dared ride with him toward Brasov, where her uncle lived.
And though she’d been wary, there’d been something about him that had stilled all her fears.
Mircea scowled up at her. “I told you we would visit when the dawn broke.”
“You were snoring,” Alina shot back, kicking her heels free of the stirrups and dismounting. “And I couldn’t sleep. There was no point waking you—”
“Well, if an elephant hadn’t tiptoed through the camp I’d probably still be sleeping now. You made enough noise to wake half the village.”
An elephant? She mouthed the word.
Mircea rolled his eyes. “They’re as big as dreki, though twice as cumbersome. You can find them in Africa.”
He always said such strange things, though she didn’t dare ask how far he had travelled. Mircea rarely spoke of his past, and what he did reveal gave her more questions than answers.
Dreki. Dragons. Wyrms. Elephants. Of them all, that last one seemed the strangest.
“I wanted to see my home. Alone.”
“Now that is a lie.” Mircea tapped her on the nose. “You wanted to find what killed those two boys last week. You wanted to rush in here with sword drawn and vengeance in your heart, and finally slay your demons.”
Alina batted his finger aside. “You seemed in no hurry.”
“This is not my first monster hunt. Why are you here, Alina? What is this rush? You’ve been on edge ever since you heard of two boys being mauled beside the lake.”
Slowly, Alina turned toward the lake that filled the crater of the volcano, tugging her leather gloves from her fingers, one by one. “I’m here to kill the dreki that slaughtered my parents.”
And finally lay her demons to rest.
*
“Eat,” Mircea told her later that night, as she paced the small room they’d rented for the night.
Alina cracked her knuckles. “No one saw it. No one heard it. All they found was the bloodied remains of those two boys. How can it have lived by the lake all these years and yet no one has seen it? Someone would have noticed it in the skies!”
“Perhaps the beast can’t fly. Nobody ever said it was a dreki.”
Alina shot him a glare. “I said it was a dreki or a dragon. I was the only one who ever saw it, and I don’t doubt my own eyes.”
“That you saw a dreki in the skies the day your parents died is not a fact I dispute,” he murmured, his hands in constant motion as he carved a tiny piece of beech he’d found earlier today. “But whether it was the dreki that killed them is the question I ask. There might have been something else there. Both attacks have happened right beside the lake. That—and the fact nobody has seen a dreki in the skies—argues for a creature that lives in the waters.”
“Two attacks in the span of eight years,” she countered, more to herself than him. “Perhaps it hunts elsewhere in the meantime. Perhaps it has only just returned.”
Mircea merely shrugged. “We will soon discover the truth. Now eat. Your dinner is growing cold.”
Alina glared at him as the tore her bread roll in half.
Every night he would sit like this and he would tell her old stories about myths and legends, while he whittled some glorious form out of wood. Sometimes she kept them; the little bear cub she couldn’t bear to part with; the wolf that reminded her of one of her father’s old stories; the fox that cocked its head like her mother had.
And the heart-shaped shield that a pair of dragons held aloft like an ancient crest.
Though she’d never told him that she kept that one.
He left them for the children of the villages they stayed in, or nestled on a windowsill in some inn.
“The water’s not very deep. And the lake’s not very long or wide. It can’t be some sort of lake monster,” she said, around her mouthful of bread.
“The lake is formed in the hollow of a volcano and gas hisses from the bottom. Perhaps there’s a crevice there, leading to subterranean waters.”
“Why are you trying so hard to convince me this isn’t a dragon?”
“Dreki,” he growled, even as his firm hands continued carving little filings of wood from the timber with his knife. “Dreki were sired by the Great Goddess Tiamat many a millennium ago, and are noble spirits of fire and earth and air. Dragons are loathsome, lumbering creatures with the intelligence of a gnat. The bastard progeny of Tiamat’s lesser offspring.”
“Dreki,” she said with a shrug. “Dragons. They’re all worth killing. And they all look the same.”
He slowly put down the knife. “They do not look the same, though both can fly. Dreki breathe fire, and whip a storm into a frenzy with a mere thought. You’d have no chance of bringing one of them down, though you might be able to kill a dragon.”
She tossed a piece of bread in the air and caught it between her teeth. “Why are you so worried about the difference between them?”
“Why are you so determined to irritate me tonight?”
Alina swallowed the bread.
Perhaps he was right.
She’d been on edge ever since they rode over the mountains.
“I never asked you to come with me for this journey,” she pointed out, instead of admitting the truth. “I said I could handle it.”
Mircea leaned back in his chair, his sleeves rolled up to reveal bronzed forearms. Outside, a lash of lightning flickered through the window, briefly highlighting his golden eyes. And for a second, she imagined some sort of possessive scowl as if she’d dared to defy him. “We ride together.”
“There’s no gold in this job,” she reminded him. “This one is personal. And you like gold. You should have ridden east, toward those rumors we heard of strigoi haunting that castle.”
“You insisted upon riding west.”
Some part of her wanted to push him tonight. He’d taught her everything he knew about slaying monsters, but she still didn’t know why he’d taken her under his wing, or still insisted they remain as one. “You didn’t have to follow me.”
“Someone has to pick you out of the lake monster’s teeth.”
“I—”
“Alina,” he growled.
Alina let out a slow breath. Sometimes, when he looked at her like that, she couldn’t remember why she was arguing.
But then the moment would pass and the heated look would be gone, and she would have to pretend she’d only imagined it.
“You’ve taught me everything I need to know about hunting monsters,” she said softly. “I’m not going to die here, where my parents were slaughtered. I don’t need you this time.”
“We fight together,” he pointed out. “We ride together.”
She tossed her hunk of bread on her plate, and snatched at her goblet instead. A mouthful of wine did little to dispel her frustration. “But that is all.”
All four legs of the chair hit the ground. Every inch of him focused upon her in that way he sometimes had. “Is there supposed to be something more between us?”
There.
&n
bsp; There it was.
The world shimmered with the sudden unspoken conflict between them, and her first instinct was to back away, as she always did.
She didn’t want to ruin what they had between them.
Even if the chasm between them felt like it grew every single day.
Alina downed the rest of her wine. She couldn’t continue on this way, with the restless itch beneath her skin every time he looked at her. She wanted more. She always had. But if he’d wanted her in return, surely he would have taken her by now.
Wouldn’t he?
“Alina?” His voice turned molten. “You didn’t answer the question.”
Fuck it.
She might die on the morrow.
And she didn’t want to die not knowing.
Setting the empty goblet down very precisely, she sauntered toward him. His gaze dropped to her hips as if he sensed the abrupt leonine shift to her stride, and her heart soared.
“You always watch over me while I sleep,” she whispered, “but I don’t want you watching over me anymore—”
“You don’t want me riding with—?”
“No.” Alina straddled his thighs, her hands coming to rest upon his chest. “I want you in my blankets with me.”
Every muscle in his body stiffened, though his left hand came to rest on her thigh. Heat darkened those eyes. “What are you doing?”
She reached out, brushing her thumb over his lower lip. “What does it look like?” His mouth was so soft. She leaned closer. “I am tired of this push and pull between us—”
“You’ve been drinking.”
Not enough to shield her bruised heart. “Ah. You’re going to tell me I’m too drunk to make this decision.”
His hand half-lifted, before he curled his fingers into a fist and laid it to rest gently upon her thigh. “Grief and wine make poor choices.”
“Too young. Too broken-hearted. Too drunk.” She pushed away from him. “If the answer is no, Mircea, then tell me no. Stop looking at me as if you want to strip me naked and eat me all up. Stop hunting with me. Tell me no and I’ll ride away, I swear I will. I will never bother you again.”
He pushed to his feet and captured her wrist, and there it was again, the hot flash of molten heat in his eyes.
“Stop it,” she said, slamming her palms against his chest. “Stop looking at me like that if you don’t want me.”
“I never said I didn’t want you.”
What? Alina gaped at him. “Then why the hell do you tell me no?”
“Because you’re still living in the past. All you can see is a vicious dreki killing your parents. All you want to do is kill it—”
“If they were your parents, would you not wish the same?”
The muscle in his jaw clenched. “Perhaps. But you don’t know what happened that day. You don’t know the truth of their deaths. You were knocked unconscious before you could reach them.”
“What am I supposed to do? Ask the dragon?”
“Dreki,” he growled.
Alina threw her hands in the air and pushed away from him. “Dreki. Dragon. Wyrm. They’re all the same.”
“They are not the same.”
“Then they’re just an excuse not to touch me,” she shouted.
Mircea stared at her.
She glared back, her chest quivering and her breath coming in harsh pants. Want ached within her. Not merely a desire to have his hands on her, but a heartfelt yearning that tore her in two. She wanted him. She wanted his touches. His kisses. But most of all, she wanted his heart.
“Perhaps I don’t want to be a poor choice made from a mix of loneliness and grief,” he finally said. “Have you ever thought of that? Perhaps I want to be more than a night’s mistake. Or a regret.”
Alina drew back sharply. “A mistake?”
“And perhaps one day you’ll forgive me,” he finally said.
“Forgive you? For what?”
“For this.”
Mircea captured the base of her skull with his palm and hauled her against him.
The bruising claim of his mouth stole a gasp from her, and then he was kissing her as if he wanted to claim her. Alina curled her fists into his shirt, wilting into the embrace.
In all her imaginings of this moment, she’d never come close to the truth.
His tongue lashed into her mouth, and she could barely breathe. Barely think. He kissed as if this was the last chance he’d ever have. He kissed as if he’d spent years yearning for this moment, banking every hint of passion before it finally spilled over them….
Her back hit the wall, and then he captured her behind the thighs and hauled her up into his arms. The shock of his body pressing against her took her by surprise. She’d always known he was larger than her, all heated muscle and power. But every movement he made was deliberate, and she realized that even whilst sparring, he’d been gentle with her.
There was no gentleness here. No restraint.
Only the hungry demand of his mouth as his teeth grazed her chin and he kissed his way down her throat. The rasp of his stubble sent a shiver through her, but it was the demanding grasp of his hands clenching her bottom that made wetness slick between her thighs.
It was more than she’d ever dreamed of, and she’d spent plenty of nights conjuring up wicked thoughts of this moment.
“Mircea!” she gasped, her eyes widening when the blunt head of his erection brushed between her thighs. Digging her nails into his biceps, she threw her head back with a muffled curse as he rocked against her.
Hot lips grazed her throat, and then his teeth rasped there, biting just lightly enough to bruise.
Mircea broke away with a curse, his shoulders heaving.
Wait. Alina’s fist tightened in his shirt. But he disentangled himself, shooting her a moody glare as if this was all her fault. Alina staggered back against the wall the second her boots hit the ground.
“I wasn’t saying no!” she told him.
“But maybe it needs to be a no.” He paused, one hand on the door.
“Where are you going?” she blurted.
He yanked at the door handle. “I’ll be downstairs. I think it best if I stay there tonight.”
What?
“Why?”
The broad line of his shoulders stiffened, and she caught a glimpse of half his profile as he half turned his head toward her, before he paused, clearly thinking better of it. “You want me in your bed, Alina? Well, I will go there and gladly, but only once this quest is finished. Only once you know the truth. Because the second I get you under me, then you will be mine.” His voice roughened. “There will be no going back. There will be no regrets. And there will be no more quests that consume you.”
She let out a ragged breath as the door slammed shut behind him.
*
Morning brought with it a break in the storm. Alina saddled her mount in silence, stealing glances at Mircea as he soothed the enormous black stallion he rode.
Her head ached viciously from the after effects of her indulgence, but it was the shock of his kiss that had branded her mouth all night and left her tossing and turning in bed.
And the fact that he hadn’t returned to the rooms they shared.
“I thought you were in a hurry?” he called, swinging into his saddle.
Alina shoved her foot in the stirrup. She should have been thinking about the task ahead—not the taste of his mouth. “I am in a hurry. I want this done.”
Mircea looked at her, all heat and possession, and her breath caught.
“So do I,” he told her.
She felt it again—the swirling maelstrom of emotion that threatened to drag her under. You will be mine, he’d said, and she didn’t know what to make of it.
You’re on a hunt, she told herself. And distraction will get you killed.
Because he was wrong.
It wasn’t the quest that consumed her thoughts.
She needed to focus on the dreki they hunted, and not on the way his mouth had tasted.
They trotted through the early morning mist, thick stands of beech enveloping them as they rode toward the lake. Alina forced herself to think only of what was coming.
Two boys had been killed a week ago, their bodies found torn and bloodied by the edge of Lake Saint Anne. One of them had been half-eaten.
Mist clung to the edges of the lake like a gossamer skirt, and Alina’s knuckles tensed around the reins. Perfect setting for an ambush. She glanced up, but the leaden skies remained sullen and empty. If there were black wings up there, then they were well hidden.
“These were once the haunts of a forgotten dreki prince,” Mircea murmured, his reins lax in his hands as he looked about the mountains. “He made his home here three hundred years ago, when the forests were younger and there were fewer people about.”
She arched her brow. “You’ve never told me this story before.”
“You were never ready to hear it.”
Alina’s lips thinned. “You know of the… dreki who lived in these mountains and you didn’t tell me?”
“More than you can possibly imagine,” he murmured, but his face was tilted to the skies again, and he was breathing in the sunlight as if it warmed every inch of him. “But you haven’t answered my question. Are you ready to hear it?”
Alina knotted her reins in her fist. A part of her simply wanted this done. She wanted to kill the wretched beast and move on with her life. And to do that, she would need to know all her enemy’s weaknesses. “Yes. Please.”
Mircea shot her a glance that told her he wasn’t fooled by her tone. “It’s a little known fact that dreki can shift their shapes and walk among mankind—”
Alina’s fist clenched around her horse’s reins. “I thought that was mere superstition.”
He stared straight ahead. “Sometimes superstition gets the details right. The dreki was the eldest son of an ancient voivode. The House of Drăculești ruled Wallachia during a turbulent time when dreki grew involved with the affairs of mortal kingdoms. They had their share of enemies in the House of Dănești who disputed their claim to the throne, the Ottoman Turks who wished to rule all, and the land-hungry dreki voivodes of Transylvania. His father, Vlad Dracul, was weak and had given his word of allegiance to the Ottomans, but it was his enemies to the west that he should have watched.”
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