Reaper (Dragon Prophecies Book 1)

by Hickory Mack

  ‘Don’t. Care,’ Saint signed.

  “Yes, you do,” she snapped back at him. “I know you better than that.”

  “Those others aren’t as important to us as you are,” Wren said, guessing at what the hound demon had said. “However, you are in the position to negotiate. You have already proven to them that you have all the power. Tell them what you’re willing to do and stick by your word. Don’t let them push you one inch closer to that line without raising hell.”

  “But—”

  “Once I drop your boy here off in Mexico, I’ll come back to you. I’ll be nearby, so if it ever gets to be too much and you feel the need to get the fuck out of there, you can come to me. You don’t have to think about it as a permanent solution. Think of it as a test. Or even as a covert mission. Maybe you can learn more about the mages that bound you and the wolf together. Oh gods, what if we have to kill all seven of them?” Wren shuddered.

  “We already got one, and I’m sure Frosty wouldn’t mind hunting the other six down,” Elsie reminded her, and Frost sneezed with amusement. He was pleased to know one of the assholes who’d taken his freedom away were dead.

  “How much of the elixir would you need to take to restore your vitality?” Wren asked. “You should go to them with as much strength as you can. Make them doubt themselves, remind them of who you are, who they decided to fuck with. You are a demi-goddess, and they shouldn’t forget it.”

  “I’d have to take half of the second vial,” Elsie said. “That wouldn’t leave enough for Julio.”

  Saint grabbed her hand, then shook his head quickly. Half a second later, he switched and nodded. Elsie narrowed her eyes at him. He was saying she was wrong, and it could be done. She understood him perfectly, but she didn’t know if she believed him.

  “But that’s so little to work with. How can you be sure he’d manage with such a small amount?” she asked. He looked puzzled for a moment, then slowly began finger spelling.

  ‘G-e-n-i-u-s.’

  “Yes, you told me he was a genius, but even a genius can’t do much if he doesn’t have a large enough supply,” she countered. He smirked at her, rolled his eyes, and shook his head. “You really believe he can do it.”

  “I don’t think he’d try to deceive you,” Wren added, and Saint threw her a suspicious look. “Look, reaper, I really want you to think hard about this. Do you have any other suggestions? Anything else we can try? If you have a viable solution, we’ll do it, whatever it is. I don’t want to be separated from you for any amount of time, and I’m sure he doesn’t either. So if you have a better plan, please, tell us.”

  Elsie gave her a dirty look. She didn’t have anything, and Wren knew it.

  “I don’t want either of you to get hurt for me,” she said, and Saint snorted.

  ‘Not you. Me,’ he signed. He hadn’t volunteered for her. He was doing this for himself. The sooner they had their hands on a supply of the elixir, the sooner he could be back by her side. Elsie chewed on the inside of her lip while Wren looked on.

  “Whatever he just said, I second it,” she stated.

  “You’re both fighting dirty,” Elsie complained.

  Wren shrugged. “Whatever it takes to get you to agree.” Saint nodded his agreement. “You won’t be totally alone in there. The wolf will be with you, and Frida.”

  Frost rumbled in acknowledgement. She knew he’d protect her, but she also knew he’d be pissed on the daily that he had to be around so many hunters without being allowed to kill any of them. Perhaps when all of this was over, they’d team up one last time to take down the Hunter Clans.

  “Saint would still have to cross the vampire kingdoms to come back north,” she said, repeating her biggest issue with their plan. The vampire kingdoms were dangerous. They considered their territory their patch of paradise, and outsiders were not appreciated. The vampire overlords had struck a sort of agreement with the demons in the South decades ago. If the outside world stopped trying to get in, they’d stop coming out.

  Needless to say, the demons in the South found ways around that when they wanted to come north. There was a ferry system, but it was dangerous. With the water element unbalanced, the ocean was an unpredictable and moody bitch. However, the danger was less than getting caught by one of the vampires or their underlings. Lesser demons were turned into servants unless they were thought of as a tasty species, then they were added to the blood farms. Beautiful creatures, in particular, were used as sex slaves. Some were even treated as house pets. Upper class demons were either killed, or sponsored, becoming members of high society. They were nothing but the most dignified of creatures, those vampires.

  At least, that’s what they liked to believe of themselves. Everyone around them prayed for the day Akunin Yaksha returned to wipe them all out. He was the progenitor, the creature who created all vampires. Every few hundred years or so, he obliterated the vampire population, sparing only his favorites, but he hadn’t been seen since the Dragons had left, so it was a dim hope that he would return.

  “He’ll be fine,” Wren said. “He’s been smart enough to survive on his own for several years. He can figure out how to come back north. With a face that pretty, it shouldn’t be too hard. You’re far better looking in person, you know?”

  Saint looked to Elsie in confusion. “She saw you in my head,” Elsie explained. “Wren can lift thoughts from other people’s minds, including images of what you want most. What she found was you.”

  He gave her a little smirk, and she suppressed a smile.

  “I have to say, we need to work on your visualization skills,” Wren said, looking at Saint once more. She leaned forward and scooped Frida out of Elsie’s lap. The cat grumbled at her. “To get back, he’s going to have to follow your bond.”

  Elsie nodded. They’d already figured that out earlier.

  “Why don’t the two of you take some time to get that sorted before taking the elixir? Frost and I will go for a walk to give you some privacy. Go ahead and whistle when you’re ready for me to come back,” Wren said.

  Elsie felt herself go hot all over. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her would-be lover was actually encouraging her to fool around with her mate. She’d assumed there would be tension between the two of them, but Wren seemed perfectly willing to accept the situation and Saint.

  “If you don’t, it’ll take longer to find you when he’s got the supply. The point in all of this is keeping you safe, and the sooner we can get that supply and get you away from the hunters, the safer you’ll be,” Wren persisted. She waved a hand at Saint. “Do what you must. Just remember, she’s mine.”

  ‘Mine,’ Saint signed with a scowl. Wren cackled, and her eyes twinkled mischievously.

  “You wish,” she taunted as though she knew exactly what he’d said. “Come on, wolf. They don’t want you creeping on them while they ‘get reacquainted’ with each other.”

  Frost growled at her, pointedly looking away. As always, he wanted nothing to do with the spirit or her bossy ways.

  “Precious, please go with Wren. I’ll be perfectly safe here with Saint,” Elsie pleaded. A heavy feeling of distrust settled over her mind, and she nodded in understanding. “He’s safe, I swear. Besides, Wren’s tincture is giving me some energy. I think I could take him.” She grinned.

  Saint and Frost snorted at the same time, and Elsie laughed at them. If she’d been feeling better, she’d have sent an elbow into Saint’s ribs.

  “Go on,” she pestered when it looked like the wolf was going to continue laying where he was. With a great sigh, he heaved himself to his feet and stalked into the trees. Wren stood and winked at Elsie.

  “Try not to get too carried away. Energy or not, you have your injuries to think of. You wouldn’t want your stab wound to start bleeding again,” the spirit warned.

  “I seriously doubt that will be a problem,” Elsie grumbled.

  “One never can be too cautious.” Wren’s voice tinkled with laughter.

/>   “Stop teasing me and go away,” Elsie ordered. The spirit gave her a big smile, then bent over and kissed the top of her head.

  “Remember, just whistle when you’re ready for us to come back.”

  “We’ll remember,” she groaned in reply. Wren hurried after Frost with Frida wriggling excitedly in her arms, and Elsie watched her long after she was out of sight. The spirit could be a tricky little thing, and she wouldn’t put it past her to listen in for her own entertainment.

  Eventually, she lost interest and looked down at her hands. Her tan skin was pale compared to Saint’s brown. Such a flirt, he used to joke that he was chocolate and she was caramel. They were simply meant to be.

  “Mistress…” His voice was so soft, almost pleading. Elsie looked over at him, and he touched her cheek gently. His face was so close to hers that she knew what he wanted. Her body came alive, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. He was waiting for her permission; all she needed to do was close the gap, but she wanted him to do it.

  “Yes, Saint. Kiss me.”

  Chapter 17

  He looked into her eyes for a long moment, the smallest smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Lifting a hand, he touched her cheek then pushed the wild strands of her unruly hair back before cupping the back of her head. She tilted her chin obediently, but he made her wait a moment longer, drawing it out.

  “Saint,” she whispered. She wanted this so badly her whole body hurt with the strain of holding herself back.

  There was no further hesitation. His lips brushed against hers, a soft, barely there kiss that left her wondering if she’d imagined it. Her breath caught, but before she could miss him, he was back for another. Soft butterfly kisses that fluttered teasingly, daring her to take more. When she attempted to chase his lips, the fingers in her hair tightened slightly, holding her still.

  The next time he swooped in, the tip of his tongue teased between her lips, but he pulled back just as she parted for him. He continued to tease every bit of her lips, impressing them in his mind so he’d never forget the feel of her. She smiled when she realized what he was doing, and he nipped her bottom lip, taking it between his teeth before sliding his tongue across.

  Gods, this man was going to have her begging for him. Elsie let out a little sigh of acceptance. He could take all the time he wanted. They had nine years apart to make up for. Besides, she was in no hurry to be separated from him a second time. Reaching out, she touched the bristles of his beard before her fingers traced his jaw.

  He nipped her again, then pushed her lips apart with his. His tongue dipped in to taste her, and she moaned, but this time he didn’t dart away. He held her in place with trembling hands, and his kisses changed from whisper soft to a smooth, sensual caress. Mindful of her injury, Saint’s free hand moved behind her, pulling her away from the tree and closer to him. His fingers wrapped around her waist, electricity burning into her skin everywhere he touched her. For the first time, Elsie remembered that she’d been sitting there that whole time in just a bra.

  “You’re mine, Mistress,” he murmured, pulling back slightly so he could steal a glance at her face before returning to her mouth. Saint pulled gently on her hair, and she tilted her head back. His kisses rained down on her throat, the occasional rake of a fang sending shivers straight to her lower region.

  “Yes,” she agreed, her hands diving into his riot of curls. “I’m yours, Saint.”

  Elsie didn’t dare make her claim over him; no matter how much she wanted to, she would keep silent. She’d been his owner once and couldn’t bring herself to initiate any form of ownership over him again. Though he’d said it himself earlier, this moment was too important. It had to come from him.

  His fingers gripped her hip, and she wiggled closer to him, facing him so she could press her chest against his. She was starting to get tiny tastes of his emotions. His overwhelming desire to protect her at any cost. The hurt, the fear, and the raw need to never let her go again.

  It fueled the heat in her belly, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her whole body shaking with unspent emotion. She’d been kidding herself all these years. She hadn’t done a good job of processing his loss. Stuffing it down and pretending she was okay had never been enough, and now that she had him in her arms, it was like the relief and built up grief had joined together to form a massive tidal wave.

  Her chest was full to bursting, and it came out as tears dripping down her cheeks until their kisses tasted of salt, but he didn’t stop. If anything, he kissed her harder. Elsie held onto him tight, as though afraid he’d vanish at any moment. She couldn’t let him go, but he didn’t mind. He held her as secure as her wound allowed, stealing looks at her between every kiss.

  “You’re my Mistress,” he said, wiping away one of her tears. Changing that one word changed the entire meaning. She didn’t just belong to him, he was hers, too. Elsie could feel the fear sliding away, replaced by a sense of contentment. This was what they both craved, and his declaration clicked everything into place.

  “You’re mine,” she told him, burying her face in his neck where she dropped kisses in all the most sensitive places. It was then that the connection reforged. The bits of each other that had clung to their hearts reached out, and the magic of their bond roared to life.

  They both cried out in pain, clinging to each other as a sheen of sweat broke out over their bodies. The bond had held on for years, slowly fading and growing weaker over time. The backlash of reforging it forced them to relive all the grief, anger, and pain of being separated. To Elsie, it was worse than when her lung had collapsed and died while she writhed on the floor in agony.

  She panted and gasped, the hole in her stomach forgotten as a new pain overtook all cognizant thought. Saint laughed, taking her by surprise. He was feeling everything she was.

  “This pain is a gift,” he gasped out, confusing her. “When I came looking for you today, I’d thought I’d be lucky if all that happened was I caught a glimpse of you. Maybe by some miracle I could get some closure or even an explanation. Instead, I got you. If this pain is the price of having you back in my life, I’ll accept it tenfold.”

  Elsie rested her head against his shoulder. It was the sweetest way imaginable to look at things, but it still fucking hurt. And it would be worse in the coming days. He’d be leaving her again, and the bond would struggle to bring them back together. Would it survive being in separate dimensions again? What if they couldn’t feel each other? A thousand imaginary scenarios ran through her mind, only stopping when she felt a rumbling in his chest.

  “Calm down,” he murmured. “I can feel your anxiety rising. Stop worrying about tomorrow. Think only about right now.”

  Her demon lifted her chin and kissed her until her head was spinning. Ignoring her stab wound, Elsie climbed into his lap and he propped his knees up, giving her a little more of a height advantage. Their eyes were level with each other, so she no longer had to reach for his kisses.

  Saint gave the quietest moan, and it was her undoing. The sensations of his taste, his scent, and the feeling of him all around her culminated in that single sound. Elsie’s kisses grew aggressive, using her teeth and her tongue to raise his need for her to the next level. He gripped her hips and pulled her down sharply until she sat atop his obviously hard cock.

  Elsie whimpered, plastering herself against him, her hips rocking against his, seeking relief. He let her continue, but when she tried to unbutton his pants, he grabbed her hands, stopping her. If they sealed their bond now, he’d never be able to go to Mexico for the elixir. The bond wouldn’t allow their separation.

  “We have to stop,” he breathed, though he kept kissing her. His mind and his desire were at odds, and Elsie was doing her best to push him over the edge. She didn’t want him to leave, and she’d sabotage the trip if she could, even if it meant the elixir never made it into Julio’s hands.

  “Mistress,” he tried again, starting to feel like he was fighting in vain. He
wanted to give in to her so badly. With a deep sigh, he turned his head away and whistled. Elsie sat back and stared at him in shock. “We have to stop, Mistress. You’re oozing.”

  “What?”

  He pointed to her stomach. She glanced down and grumbled. A pinkish liquid dripped from the bottom of her bandages. Not straight blood, but it didn’t look good. Luckily, none of it had gotten on Saint. His keen nose had alerted him to it before they were a complete mess.

  Frost was there within seconds of Saint’s whistle. His nose lifted into the air, and he gave a disgruntled growl. They’d been given a very basic set of instructions, with the most important being that Elsie shouldn’t strain herself, and here she was leaking all over herself.

  She waved a hand at him dismissively. “Don’t be like that. I’m fine.”

  “Better than fine, I’d say,” Wren cut in as she arrived. “You’ve begun healing at your regular pace, and your body is pushing the moss out with a build-up of fluid. Let’s clean you up.”

  The spirit said nothing about the fact that Elsie was still perched in Saint’s lap with her hands held firmly captive. He held her gaze for far longer than was polite in mixed company, but she didn’t care. Elsie would sit there with him as long as he would let her. Apparently the change in their bond was the difference between him worrying about her kissing his hand and letting her sit in his lap in front of Wren and Frost.

  Saint was making a very clear statement to both the spirit and the wolf. She was his, and they’d better not try anything to change it. Elsie loved it. She leaned forward and kissed him until Wren clucked at her.

  “You can make out all you want when we’ve got you cleaned up,” the spirit chided. Saint smiled up at Elsie, finally releasing her hands. She stood on unsteady legs and wobbled over to Wren. As the spirit patched her up, her gaze kept sliding back to the wolfhound demon, each time finding that he was watching her closely.