by Meg Ripley
13
Mads had come for her, as she knew he would. When Savannah left to meet him, she didn’t bother securing April to the chair—a fact that April didn’t even notice at first. Her hand throbbed with excruciating intensity, three of her five fingers bent at odd angles. Every twitch caused new agony to tear through her, and even if she remained perfectly still, she couldn’t make the pain abate. There was heat in her side, just below her ribs, and heavy drops of blood flowed over her hip.
But adrenaline took the edge off her pain, allowing her to shuffle to the door and try the handle. It turned in her hand, much to her surprise, and as long as she heard the two dragons overhead, she could keep moving. She kept hoping for the final roar of the deathblow—it never occurred to her that Mads wouldn’t win. She’d not only seen him fight before, but now she knew the dragon intimately; knew his size, his strength, his speed, his age. He’d killed Chester with hardly any effort at all.
But the fight went on and on and on. The earth itself shook with the force of their brutality, windows and frames rattling with every roar. When she peeped through window at the end of the hall, the world had turned into a merry hell of dancing flames. At that moment, the dragons were so far above her that they were nothing but tiny specks, but soon they were plummeting back to earth. At first, she thought Mads was driving Savannah down from the clouds, but as they got closer, she realized it was Savannah with the upper-hand.
Mads slammed down, wings outspread, his tail going limp as soon as he landed. April forgot about the ceaseless throbbing in her hand, the free-flowing blood on her side. She forgot about everything except her need to be at his side. It didn’t even occur to her that Savannah might dart down from the sky and pluck her up like an eagle capturing a rabbit. Her place was at his side, and regardless of their fate, they would meet it together.
The late summer day might have been comfortable if not for the fire zipping around the yard. The flames were already licking at the corners of the house and it wouldn’t be long before it went up like a dry tinder box. April ignored it all and raced for her dragon, still lying immobile where he landed. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. The fall had stunned him. Had knocked him unconscious but it certainly hadn’t been enough to kill him.
The closer she got to his immobile form, the more her conviction faltered. He’d landed so hard, he’d made a crater, and his great chest didn’t rise and fall. No smoke twirled from his nostrils, and even the vibrant red of his scales had dimmed to something almost black. Like burnt cherrywood.
She felt something gathering deep in her stomach. A cry without words. A prayer for a missing god. It built on itself, growing stronger by the second, pushing up from the core of her body to her chest, bubbling and fomenting into her throat. Heat stung the back of her eyes, but there were no tears. She moved towards him like she was walking under water, but she covered the distance in mere seconds, unmindful of the dragon hovering above her.
When she finally reached his side, there was no heat radiating from his body. She touched his dear face, but there was no response; no flicker of his eyes, or air filling his lungs. The dark feeling inside of her continued to grow. It felt like a hot stone in the base of her throat and she opened her mouth wide, like she could disgorge herself of that pressure.
“Now you will die at his side. And you will both BUUUUURN.”
The sounds coming from Savannah’s mouth were not words—at least, they weren’t English words. But somehow, April understood every single syllable. How dare she. How dare she?
All of her life, April preferred to take the path of least resistance. If somebody angered or upset her, she walked away instead of confronting the culprit. If somebody stole from her, she shrugged it off and simply replaced the item. She even did her best to keep people at a distance, avoiding making new friends because then she would never have to work at having a relationship. She had never considered herself a coward, but it was simply easier to live like one—without confrontation, without struggle, without a fight.
But now April had something she wanted to fight for. She had anger that couldn’t be contained. She had lost something that nobody had the right to take from her; something that could not be replaced. She pushed herself to her feet and dragged herself up the wall that was Mads’ ribcage, climbing onto his stomach, spreading her blood across his scales.
From her vantage point, she lifted her face to the sky and she roared. The dark thing inside of her dislodged from her throat and flew at the great monster in the sky. For a moment, April was sure she could actually see it: some sort of cloud that expanded until it surrounded Savannah completely.
In the next instant, Savannah turned to stone.
The massive rock shattered as it hit the earth, immediately losing its form, turning to dust and pebbles. The earth shook from the impact and she lost her footing, falling flat on Mads’ stomach. She lay where she fell, silent tears wetting her cheeks, falling down on him like rain. She could feel the heat of the fire-now completely wild across the parched land. It would spread to them soon, and they would burn, exactly as Savannah had predicted. April could get up and run, but run to where? Home? What home did she have without Mads?
Her tears fell in a torrent, clogging her nose and sinuses, until she was finally forced to lift her head. The fire danced ever closer, and she couldn’t withstand the heat on her cheeks. Her tears evaporated, her skin pulled tight, and a sort of peace enveloped her. This is it. This is…
Movement beneath her cut off her thought. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the sudden flare of hope. It’s nothing. He’s not-
Breathing. One long slow inhale. One very slow exhale. And another one after that.
April crawled up his body. “Mads? Mads, are you awake? Mads?”
His wings had been splayed over the ground, but now they moved up, enclosing her in a protective cocoon. The heat of the wildfire disappeared and she could hear his heart beating against his ribs. The tears sprung back to her eyes, though this time they were from pure relief. He was alive. She’d been mistaken before. What did she know about dragon physiology? Perhaps he’d just been in shock and—
His talons closed around her and the world shifted as he righted himself, wings pulling back to lift them towards the clouds and safety. She looked down as the flames caught the house, consuming the dry wood in seconds. The thick smoke was already obscuring the sun, and Mads was moving swiftly to escape the battleground, but April saw the outline of the dragon’s tail in a stone cropping. It looked like the remnants of an ancient dinosaur, and that too was lost to the golden-red fire.
14
“Tell me again, what happened?”
April sighed. “My story is not going to change, you know.”
“I’m not expecting it to change. I’m just trying to understand.”
“You’re trying to understand? What makes you think I understand? You were dead. She turned to stone.”
“And your fingers are healed,” Mads added.
April looked down at her hand—normal now. No pain, no twisted fingers, no swollen, broken joints or discolored bruises. She had no memory of when her hand returned to normal. Was it before or after Mads lifted her to safety? Was it before or after he died?
“Well, I don’t care.”
“You don’t care?” Mads asked.
“No. I don’t. All I care about is that you’re alive and she’s not, and now we’re both safe.” She was still staring at her hand as she spoke. It was difficult, if not impossible, to meet his eyes. Since they reached the sanctity of his penthouse, she felt uncomfortable. Like she was walking on pins and needles, and soon her feet would turn into balloons.
“I don’t believe you don’t care.”
“Then enlighten me on what I feel.”
He lowered himself to one knee and took her hand, running his fingers over her unbroken knuckles. Her hand was so small in his. “You’re frightened.”
“Savannah’s dead. Why should I b
e scared?”
“You’re not afraid of Savannah. You’re afraid of yourself.”
April pulled her hand away. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You know you can fool everybody else, April, but you can’t fool me. I can feel what you feel. I can hear your heart pounding and your blood racing. I can see the shadow in your eyes.”
She sighed again. She knew she was beat. He wouldn’t be dissuaded by silence or by sarcasm. He would sit there all night if he had to, and all the next morning, and the day after that. “What kind of monster am I, Mads?”
“You’re not a monster. I can tell you that right now.”
“But I killed a dragon in mid-air.”
“And you brought one back to life.”
“Yeah, that, well, that’s not normal. Normal people don’t turn things to stone. Normal people don’t bring back the dead. Normal people don’t fall in love with—”
“With monsters?”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“You’re not a monster. You’re a beautiful, brilliant woman. You’re also a gorgon.”
April blinked. “What? I’m a...gorgon?”
“Yes.”
“I’m a creature so ugly I turn men to stone? Like Medusa?”
“She was not so ugly that she turned men to stone. She was so beautiful that she turned men to stone. She crippled armies because a single look at her and a man no longer wanted to fight. Do you know anything else about gorgons?”
April shook her head. She remembered the story of Medusa from school, but she couldn’t recall any other mention of gorgons.
“They are powerful creatures of protection. A long time ago, gorgons were as numerous as dragons. They would often favor a single family or clan and protect them from generation to generation. As a result, they were worshipped as goddesses all over the world and throughout time.”
“What happened to them?”
“Powerful women are not always regarded highly. Many were burned and hung as witches, and those that survived went into hiding. I haven’t seen a gorgon in a couple of centuries, at least.” He tilted his head, regarding her with a thoughtful quirk of his lips. “Perhaps that is why I did not recognize you as one at first.”
“But how can I be a gorgon?”
“Was your mother one?”
“No...well, I don’t know. I never knew my mother. My father raised me. He said she had to go home.”
“Home? What does that mean?”
“I thought it meant heaven, to tell you the truth. There was another girl in my class whose mother had died, and she said that her mother went home to the angels. So I figured that’s probably where mine went, too. But…”
“But perhaps he meant something different.”
“Perhaps.” She tugged on his hand, pulling him to his feet. She needed more than the touch of his hand. He understood her silent request, setting on the bed beside her and pulling her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, listening for the steady beat of his heart. It was the most joyful, comforting sound she’d ever heard.
“I can bring back the dead?” she asked.
“The blood from your right side will cure all and, yes, bring back the dead. The blood from your left is a poison that nobody can recover from.”
“And I can turn things to stone?”
“I had always assumed that was merely part of the legend, but apparently, I was mistaken.”
“What else? You said gorgons could protect a single family for generations. Does that mean I’m immortal?”
“You are like me. Not invulnerable to death, but you’re not going to die unless your head is removed.”
It would take her some time and space to fully process and understand everything she’d learned about herself, but that was all she truly needed to know. She was not going to grow old and die, leaving Mads behind. Perhaps they could never have a child together, but their time together would not be limited by a mortal lifespan.
“I want to go back to Germany.”
“Then we shall.”
“Is this finally over? Or is Charles going to come after us next?”
“Charles? That threat has been removed.”
She blinked up at Mads. “Did you kill him?”
“No, but I sent somebody to pay him a… friendly visit. He’s already lost his wife and his son. He doesn’t want to risk anything else.”
“For his sake, I hope that’s true.”
“Would you take his life, April?” Mads asked.
“I don’t want to take anybody’s life. But I’m never... I’ll never see you like that again. Dead.” She swallowed hard and shook her head. “No. Never again.”
15
Their return to Germany brought April a level of peace she hadn’t anticipated. Despite only being there once before in her life, she experienced the undeniable sensation of returning home. When she stepped into the huge fortress, she saw it with the eyes of a weary traveler finally coming to a place of rest. Something unknotted itself in her chest and she almost broke down in tears. She had to turn away from Mads and blink until the stinging sensation passed.
“Are you well?” Mads asked.
“Yes. I’m fine.” She smiled up at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears still swimming in her eyes. “I just need a few minutes to freshen up.”
She didn’t leave the bathroom until the tears were dry and the wave of emotion completely passed over her. She showered, changed out of her traveling clothes into comfortable pajamas and then went in search of her man. She found Mads in his library, standing knee deep in books, his face creased with a thoughtful frown.
“Busy?”
“Not at all. I was just doing a bit of reading.”
“On what?”
“You. I wanted to be prepared in case you had any further questions.”
“I’m sure I’ll have a lot of questions for you.” She stepped forward and gently took the book from his fingers, scanning over the open page. Her eyes fell on the illustration of Medusa—a monstrous face with a crown of hissing snakes. “But I don’t know if I feel like talking about it right now.”
His hand fell over the page, obscuring the image. “I know how it feels. Looking for yourself and finding a monster. But April, you’re not a monster.”
She let him take the book from her and his arms closed around her. She melted against him, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, blocking everything else from her senses. She reacted that way each time he held her, utterly devoting herself to the experience of the embrace, doing her best to brand every second to her memory, as though it could all be taken from her in an instant. It nearly was stolen from her. It almost ended before they really even could begin.
“Oh, Mads,” she cried, burying her face in his chest. He stiffened slightly and she could feel the tension in his arms and along his ramrod straight spine and suddenly his silk shirt felt as rough against her cheek as a burlap bag. She tore at the garment mindlessly, tugging the buttons open until she finally felt his skin. She sought out the heat of his body with her mouth, inhaling him, tasting him, still needing more of him. The mark on her thigh throbbed as her lips moved over the expanse of his chest.
“April—”
“I need you. I need...I need to know that you’re here. I need to feel the fire that burns inside of you.” She kissed him with each word, tears streaming down her cheeks, her mouth ravenous, moving up his throat, along his jawline, back down his shoulder. She felt like she was in a freefall until the moment he grasped her arms, his fingers like bands of iron hot from the forge.
“April!” Her name was a joyous roar, a sound that felt like long nails scratching down her back. Her spine arched and she tingled with goose bumps. Her mouth became bolder, her hands exploring every inch of him she could reach. She scratched and teased with her nails until she felt a shiver work down his spine.
His hands were busy, too, removing the silk pajamas she wore after her shower. They fe
ll from her without a sound, pooling at her feet to reveal her sensitive body to his questing fingers. His left hand went directly to her breast, cupping her with a possessive, yet gentle, touch. His right hand moved to her waist, pulling her closer against his erection, then moved over the sensitive skin at the small of her back. He found every sensitive spot, every place that made her knees quiver.
April had the taste of his skin in her mouth, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close to enough. She hooked her fingers over his pants and tugged them down, not even allowing him to step free of their confines before closing her mouth around his cock. She closed her eyes and nearly whimpered with the delight of him—of the texture of his skin, the salty taste, the heat, the rhythm of his vein against her tongue. She inhaled deeply to take in the scent of his skin as well, and it mingled and created the true, living scent of him.
His fingers threaded through her hair, his palm coming to rest on the back of her head. He didn’t try to guide her, simply held her, as if to anchor himself. She eagerly took his full length, drawing the fat tip to the back of her throat and holding him there, using her tongue and throat muscles to draw long moans from him. They were so deep and low they were almost growls, punctuated only occasionally by words. Yes. Oh yes. Oh April.
Her pussy clenched with each vibration of sound, reminding her incessantly that she still needed him. That as good as he felt in her mouth, as good as he tasted and smelled and sounded, it still wasn’t even close to enough. Her clit throbbed, and the mark in her thigh was now almost screaming for relief from an itch that went deeper than any human fingers could scratch.
“God, I can feel you,” he said on a sharp intake of breath, and she knew he didn’t mean her mouth or her hands. He meant he could feel the fire roaring through her. A fire that couldn’t be quenched or drowned. A fire that could only be stopped with matching flames.
