Abigail’s chin jutted upward, her hackles raised and her eyes shooting daggers. “Since you think so little of me, and you’ve gone so far out of your way to arrange this little meeting, why don’t we settle this here and now? You started this when you broke our agreement—”
“No,” Ronan interjected. “I’ve never even spoken to you before. You started this when you decided that a decision that our families made was binding and somehow guaranteed you access to power.”
Natasha thought that Abigail might begin to vibrate with rage, she was so angry. But Natasha admired Ronan and the way he was forceful, but calm. Determined, but not antagonistic. He was everything a leader should be, and for him, it wasn’t about power. It was about protecting what he stood for and defending the people he loved.
“Never interrupt me,” Abigail warned him, her voice clipped. “You started this, and you can end it now. We don’t even have to involve anyone else. It’s just you and me here, a one-on-one battle. The winner takes leadership of the Boston clan and controls Natasha. The loser leaves and is never heard from again.”
Natasha felt a jolt of surprise at finding herself suddenly the subject and prize for a fight between two supernatural beings. She couldn’t imagine why Abigail would want “control” over her, but it couldn’t be for anything that was good. Abigail would know of her special abilities, and the thing that Natasha had always feared was having her healing powers attract the attention of people who wanted to force her to work against her will. Abigail was exactly the kind—and that was best-case scenario. Worst-case scenario, Abigail would kill her or imprison her for her so-called violations.
No, there was nothing good that could come of this transaction, and Natasha reached out, putting her hand on Ronan’s arm to make sure that he knew she didn’t want him to fight for her.
But it didn’t stop him.
Ronan stepped forward and began unbuttoning his shirt without taking his eyes off Abigail. “You lose, you leave. Forever. Never heard from again.”
“You have my word.”
The shirt came off his shoulders, falling to the ground. Natasha was torn between confusion at what he was doing and the gulp of desire she always felt when looking at his muscled torso. Even his back was rippling with definition. “Ronan,” she said, letting her concern overcome her distracted desire. “Don’t.”
“Trust me,” he said, looking at her over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t risk you.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” she promised him, her hand taking his. She was going to ask him not to do it anyway—not to risk it while he was cursed. Not to put himself in that position. But she realized that she couldn’t—and shouldn’t—do that. Ronan was a leader and a fighter and no matter how much she loved him and wanted to protect him, she had to let him do what he needed to do.
If he needed her, then she would be there, ready to take his pain on her and let her body absorb it so that he never had to feel it again.
Their eyes met and held, and the look in his told her just how much he loved her for the sacrifice she was making. She forced a supportive smile, unable to let go of the fact that Abigail wasn’t a woman of honor or of her word and there was no guarantee that she would fight fairly or that she would actually leave if they lost.
But Natasha trusted Ronan, and she wouldn’t doubt him again.
He let go of her hand and reached for his belt, undoing it from his pants as he stared back at Abigail. “Rules?”
“Anything goes. But we’re not fighting to kill.”
“Agreed. And anything goes…except when it comes to Natasha. You don’t go after her during the battle, no matter what.”
“She’s not worth it.
“Fine,” Ronan said, not arguing the point. “Remember. When you lose—you leave. You leave the city, you leave the country, you leave the clan. You’re gone. You go find your power somewhere else.”
“If you play by the same rules, then yes. I agree.”
Natasha’s heart thudded in her chest as Ronan looked back at her, his hands sliding his pants down his legs so that he could step out of them. I love you, he mouthed. And then he transitioned into the black, majestic creature that still took her breath away every time she saw him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ronan
He was taking a risk, and he knew that. His painful transition reminded him of that fact, making him well aware that he was not at his strongest or in his best condition. Although his wings felt sure and strong and the power in his tail was still enough to knock over a small building if he set his mind to it, he just wasn’t at the top of his game.
It didn’t matter though.
Ronan knew that he could take Abigail, because no matter how good of a fighter she was, he had more on the line. He had Natasha to fight for, and he could and would move worlds to keep her safe. Of that, there was no doubt.
More than that, she was his secret weapon, because he knew that she would heal him, and Abigail herself had said that anything was fair game. Ronan stalked toward Abigail, his neck outstretched, his eyes alive with fierce determination, and his entire body poised and ready to take down the woman who was threatening his life and his position.
She reached back and unzipped the blue dress she was wearing—the one that made her look far younger and more innocent than she had proven to be. It fell to the ground and she stepped out of it, standing in front of him in just her bra and panties, letting him look his fill.
Ronan knew she was showing him everything that he had missed by choosing not to marry her, and while her body was, objectively, gorgeous, he felt no desire whatsoever for her. She was a beautiful woman, and he had always known that, but Natasha’s fierce, strong beauty was so much more appealing to him and he knew it was because Natasha was just as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.
Sending a clear message, Ronan snorted at Abigail, little flames descending from his nostrils. The message was clear. I’m not interested. Get on with it. He was ready to crush her rebellion and recommit himself to finding a way for he and his friends to marry the people they loved and have their children together. Abigail was merely a bump in the road he was on to get there.
She stepped back, then she transitioned, and Ronan had to admit that he was taken aback this time by the beauty of the creature she became. Abigail had rose-gold scales that shimmered in the sunlight and made her look as though she was draped in elegant, luxurious jewelry. Around her face, her scales were studded with glinting jewels, and her tail was robed in stones of different colors, which served a dual purpose of making her that much more beautiful and that much more dangerous.
Abigail was, by far, the most incredible dragon he had ever seen in his life, and he was absolutely committed to crushing her.
Ronan jumped into the air, flying high with just three powerful strokes of his wings, and Abigail was right behind him. He did a quick turn in the air, where he was far more agile than he was on land, and swiped at her with his tail, but hers met his in return, the two armed lances clashing together. The force thrust Ronan backward, but Abigail hardly moved at all, and it was at that moment that Ronan realized just how serious this fight was.
He flew back at her, opening his mouth wide like he was going to breathe fire at her, but instead thrusting his neck out to grab her own neck in his strong jaws. He shook her back and forth, rattling her, and then he dropped her. She fell several feet before she was able to right herself again, but when she could, she came back at him full force, knocking him across the head with one of her wings. He tumbled backward, falling through the air for a moment, then soared upward again, bashing the steel strength of his head against Abigail’s soft underbelly.
She roared, and he knew that he had hurt her. The silver blood that was splatted across her underside when he looked up only confirmed that, and he didn’t waste a second launching another wave of attack, knowing that he had to get her when she was hurt.
Ronan lunged for her throat again, t
wisting her wildly in the air, but he didn’t anticipate her jeweled tail swinging around to hit him in the head. It struck him in the eye, his own silver blood spilling out onto his jet-black scales. Half blinded, he reared backward, the pain immense. He had to admit that he was already feeling weak, Josiah Webb’s curse still alive and well within him. But his will to win hadn’t dissipated at all.
Pain radiating through him and one eye blinded with blood, Ronan flew at Abigail again, locking his taloned feet with hers and swinging her around in the air. He threw her against a tree, and she pushed back from it, coming back at him and grabbing his head in her talons, throwing him toward the ground.
Again and again, they came at each other, rolling about in the air, knocking each other into the ground, into trees, into anything they could. And still, each of them came back each time, scratching, clawing, biting, and thrashing against each other to get the upper hand.
Ronan was exhausted. He could feel his body dragging him down, the curse sapping his strength out of his muscles. It was everything he could do to keep going, and it was his mental strength that kept him coming back for more and more and more every time Abigail swiped at him. He roared with frustration as he tumbled her to the ground again, bashing her throat with his head as her tail lashed at his back. He breathed fire into her face, though he knew it would never penetrate her scales or damage her own fireproof throat. He just did it because he was furious. Because she had targeted Natasha. Because she had no respect for what he lived his life by. Because she was shallow and heartless and—
He roared as Abigail got the perfect angle to drag her sharp talons down the length of his underbelly, opening up the soft skin so that silver blood poured forth, spilling onto the grass.
Ronan shuddered with pain, feeling his body spasm with it, but as he began to fall out of the air, he grabbed onto her, dragging her with him and using every bit of strength he had left to slam her into the ground. He knew he couldn’t go on much longer, and he turned his head, looking at Natasha for the first time. Their eyes locked across the clearing, hers wide and terrified and his glazed with pain.
He wasn’t giving up. He never would, no matter what plagued him. The sight of her standing there was more than enough inspiration to accomplish anything.
Ronan forced his wings to move, pulling himself onto his feet again, silver coating the grass as his blood flowed. He strained his neck backward, letting out a roar that both invigorated him and was meant as a clear message to Abigail that there was no way he was beaten. He lunged at her again, his wings lifting him so that he had the higher ground, and as he grabbed her around the throat, he could see plenty of her own blood flowing. She was suffering as well, but she wasn’t going to give up until she had literally nothing left in her.
Neither was he.
Ronan shook her, striking her about her head with his wing, and then he tumbled to the grass, landing on his back as she kicked out at him. He anticipated her getting on top of him, pinning him to the ground, and he immediately rolled, preparing his counter attack.
But she didn’t appear above him, and for a moment he was confused—then he was terrified. He got to his feet just in time to see her rushing toward Natasha who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Ronan roared his protest, warning her off as he began to charge, but Abigail was fast, and Natasha was defenseless against her.
Ronan watched for a half-second as Natasha’s legs dangled, flying high above him, and then he was in the air, following after them. He gained on Abigail quickly, his adrenaline giving him the extra push that he needed to start to overtake her. Eyes on Natasha the whole time, he stroked his wings through the air and reached out his neck as far as it would go, ready to snatch her from Abigail’s talons.
It didn’t matter that there was still daylight and that they were growing closer and closer to civilization. It didn’t matter that they would be sighted at any moment. All that mattered was making sure that Natasha did not fall into whatever horrible plans Abigail had for her.
He was so focused on Natasha, and so close to reaching her, that he didn’t see Abigail’s tail before it came crashing down on his head. It spun him in the air, sending him reeling to the left, his head throbbing and his bad eye going completely dark. He tumbled, losing his bearings, and when he finally regained control and looked to the sky, Abigail and Natasha were gone—vanished into the thin air.
Ronan roared with anger, lifting himself higher into the sky, his head throbbing, his vision blurred, and his wings barely strong enough to keep him in the air. Frantically, he looked in every direction, but it was as though they had simply disappeared. The air was still, the sun shining as though everything was normal, and the woman he loved was gone.
Gone, and in the hands of a heartless woman scorned.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Natasha
She was caught up in the talons of a dragon who meant nothing but harm for her, and yet all that Natasha could think about was what might have happened to Ronan when Abigail hit him that last time. He had gone spiraling, and before he had steadied himself again, Abigail had dipped them down, skimming Natasha along a small river as she flew low over the water. The trees were above them, keeping them covered, and then before she knew it, Natasha was rolling out onto the grass as Abigail dropped her, and the beautiful rose-gold dragon disappeared, leaving an equally-gorgeous, naked woman standing there instead.
“I’m still stronger than you,” Abigail told her sharply. “Don’t try anything.”
“I’m not going with you,” Natasha replied, quietly but firmly. “You’ll have to knock me out and carry me yourself. I won’t go.”
Abigail glared at her. “Don’t think I won’t. Give me your shirt. Now.”
Natasha looked down at her flowing, burgundy blouse, her fingers twisting at the hem of it. “No.”
With a growl of frustration, Abigail stalked over to her and lifted it straight over Natasha’s head, yanking it over her hair and off her arms. “It’ll be easier if you just do what I say,” Abigail told her, pulling the burgundy top over her own head. Abigail was shorter than Natasha by several inches, and the shirt was about the length of a club dress on her. It covered her enough that she would be passable in public, and it hid most of the bruises showing up all over her skin and the worst of the silver blood that lingered from her brutal fight with Ronan.
Topless, Natasha fought the urge to hug her arms over her exposed body. Her bra was insubstantial, and her breasts were barely covered by the nude lace. She felt vulnerable, and she hated it, but she wasn’t going to try to fight Abigail to get the shirt back. All she could think about was getting away and somehow making herself seen to Ronan. He would come for her. She knew he would. All she had to do was help him find her.
“Give me your cell phone.”
Natasha was already backing up from Abigail, ready to make a run for it, and she shook her head, edging toward a tree that looked particularly climbable. The chances of her actually escaping the woman who could, if she needed to, transition back into a dragon were slim, but Natasha knew that if Abigail was pressed, she would take her dragon form back on—and if she did that, Ronan was much more likely to see them.
“No,” Natasha told her, pressing her back up against the tree and eyeing the branch that was within her reach. “I’m not helping you. You’re going to have to carry me away from here.”
Abigail’s cell phone was back in the clearing, where she had left her things before fighting with Ronan, and that was several miles away, at least. There was no way she was going back for it on foot. Natasha could feel her own cell phone in the back pocket of her jeans, and that’s where it was staying, unless Abigail forced it from her. Before she gave the woman a chance to do that, though, she grabbed onto the wiry branch above her head and began to scramble her way up the tree, the bark scraping at her bare skin and leaving marks that healed almost instantly.
“Damn it,” Abigail said in frustration, and then Natasha fe
lt a hand grab onto her hair, pulling her backward. She lost her grip on the tree and fell backward, tumbling Abigail to the ground, where they tussled briefly. Abigail couldn’t hurt Natasha, but she was still stronger than her, and in mere seconds, Abigail had her on her back as she hovered above, glaring down at her with seething hate. “You’re paying for everything he did,” Abigail said, her pretty features twisted with the darkness inside of her. “You’re paying for all of it. Now—I said give me your fucking cell phone.”
Natasha couldn’t stop Abigail from reaching into her back pocket and pulling out the device, nor could she stop her from pressing Natasha’s finger to the screen to activate the mechanism that would open the phone. What number Abigail dialed, Natasha didn’t know, but she remained pinned beneath Abigail as the conversation took place in short, abbreviated thoughts.
“No, it didn’t go well. We have to restructure things. No—I don’t want to talk about it now. Come get me. This is my new number—I’m texting you my GPS location. Get here now.”
Whoever was on the other end of the line, it was clear that Abigail had little regard for him. But then again, Natasha was realizing that Abigail had regard for no one other than herself.
“Ronan will come for me, you know,” Natasha said, as Abigail hung up the phone. “He’ll find me. He’s looking for me right now.”
“Ronan can go to hell,” Abigail snapped. “This is all his fault. He messed with the dynamics. He ruined my life.”
Natasha rolled her eyes. “Yes, poor you. You were so hard done by. A man who had never met you decided that he wanted to marry someone of his own choosing. Whatever were you going to do with all of your other options in life? You, who were so burdened by beauty and intelligence. You poor thing—he abandoned you.”
Celtic Dragons Page 115
