Claimed by a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 9) - Paranormal Fairytale Romance

by Alisa Woods

  “No!” Erelah’s voice rang out. She raised her hands as if in benediction over them, to keep them at peace. “You will not make war over me. Or my child.” To her father, she said, “That would only plunge us both into shadow, father. And I want to give my baby a chance—a chance at the light.”

  She could see the heartbreak on his face, but it was Truth, and she was vowed to Truth in all things now. It was part of what kept her out of the darkness. To Markos, she said, “Do not call your warriors. I will go with you and Tajael.”

  She looked to Leksander—she had made this decision without him, but he was nodding his approval. He had one hand on the small of her back and the other on her elbow, steadying her. She still had her shadow angel blade in her hand, and that wouldn’t be welcome in Markos’s Dominion.

  She handed it over to Tajael. “Give this to my father.” As he did so, she said to him, “Someday, my father, I hope to see you return to the light. Until this baby comes, however things turn out, the light is where I need to be.”

  Razael accepted the blade. Gripping it, he gave her a long, wordless look. She didn’t quite understand the emotions she saw splaying across his face, but before she could say any more, he lifted from the balcony, summoning his Regiment of dark angelings to fly to the top of his cavern, leaving only angels and angelings of light and a single dragon on the balcony.

  “That was a wise choice, Erelah.” Somehow Markos’s approval felt tarnished by the lingering sadness her father left behind.

  “It is for the best,” Tajael added. He was back by her side. “Do you need assistance?” he asked as if she were crippled by carrying this tiny spark of a child, barely a day old. But now that her father had departed, and the tension had eased, the baby was quiet again.

  “I remember the way home,” Erelah said with a small smile.

  She gripped Leksander’s hand in hers and twisted time and space to take her there.

  Leksander stumbled as they landed in the training chamber of Markos’s Dominion.

  He had hoped Erelah would take them straight to her cell—he was desperate for time alone with her. But he could see the logic. This was neutral territory, of sorts. Markos’s throne room would show she was fully back in the fold. Her cell would be uncomfortably tight with all four of them… plus Leksander didn’t want either Markos or Tajael in what was essentially Erelah’s bedchamber. Not that he was jealous of them, but she was his mate. This was their child. For all the fighting going on to “claim” Erelah as a member of the light or dark, it was his mark she carried on her back.

  Which made it painful when she kissed Tajael.

  Leksander knew it was a life kiss, and any fool could see the angeling needed it—he had dark, inky wounds all over his body—but dammit, he didn’t like watching it. Markos looked on with cool approval, inscrutable the way True Angels usually were. But he seemed pleased to be back in his domain with his prize. It might be safer here—fuck if Leksander really knew anything at this point—but it still ground his gears to see that smug expression on Markos’s face.

  Holy fuck, that life kiss was going on forever.

  He was about to break it up when Erelah released the angeling, and Tajael stumbled free.

  “That was unnecessary,” Tajael breathed, but Leksander knew exactly how he felt. Elated. Riding a high like no other. Alive in a way no one normally experienced. At least, that’s how it felt when Erelah had given him a life kiss and brought him back from the wounds inflicted by Elyon’s dark angelings.

  And now he was fucking jealous. And not of the high.

  “Of course it was.” Erelah was shaking her head at Tajael. “You’re lucky to have escaped with your life.”

  Leksander strode over to slide his arm around Erelah’s shoulder. It was a possessive move, but the way she melted into him, arm around his back, hand on his chest… it was like she was feeling the same thing. The need to touch—to connect—again.

  He nuzzled into her hair. “How far is it to your cell?” he asked, voice already husky. He’d only been to Markos’s Dominion a few times and didn’t have the layout memorized.

  She peered at him, confusion writ on her face.

  Okay, maybe they weren’t thinking exactly the same thing…

  “I have something for you, Erelah.” Markos produced an angel blade from somewhere in his spare angel toga.

  To Leksander’s chagrin, she escaped from his touch to go retrieve it.

  The blade seemed to hum, and she smiled. “You’ve blessed it,” she gushed. The look on her face… Leksander had seen it time and again, and it always spurred a jealous knot in his stomach. She adored Markos. It was clear to anyone with eyes. Leksander used to think it was sexual, despite what he’d heard about angels and angelings not fucking each other. But not that long ago he’d witnessed a kiss between her and Tajael he took for something very sexual. He’d been mistaken about that, and he wasn’t sure why now, of all times, his jealousy was spiking, and he was questioning Markos’s intentions regarding Erelah again.

  Maybe because, this time, she was Leksander’s mate.

  Maybe because, this time, he knew Markos wanted something from her. Badly.

  Maybe because angelings having sex and staying in the light had never been a real possibility before, but here Erelah stood, gorgeous and womanly and pregnant with a world-changing baby… and Markos was feasting on her with his eyes.

  Fucking angels. “Okay, thanks for the blade,” Leksander said, bringing Erelah back under his arm again. “We shouldn’t need it here, right? You’re supposed to protect us.” He definitely put the us in there on purpose. In case Markos got any ideas about Leksander now being an expendable piece of this equation.

  “The danger is still considerable,” Tajael said. His face was glowing from the life kiss, and the inky shadow markings had vanished. “But we’ll be more prepared now than at the cave.” He glanced Markos and seemed hesitant to elaborate.

  But that was Leksander’s House that took a beating. “What did happen there? Erelah and I were a little busy, just the two of us.” He threw a pointed look at Markos so he would be clear on that—he and Erelah were fucking. “By the time we were finished, everyone was gone. I still haven’t had a chance to contact my brothers and find out what went down.” And he was hoping like hell they were still alive and not being roasted for dinner by Elyon’s dark Regiment.

  “Tajael returned with news of your baby… and your blade.” Markos nodded to the angel blade humming in Erelah’s hand. “Unfortunately, the blade’s short time outside the wards of your cave was enough to alert Elyon that you still lived… and thus may be carrying the child. By the time we returned with a few Guardian angelings, Elyon had already attacked your dragon contingent.”

  Leksander gritted his teeth. The angel spoke of this like it was just an unfortunate accident, not dragon lives at stake. “How many survived?”

  “We were able to retrieve most of your warriors and both of your brothers,” Markos said, coolly.

  Relief gushed through Leksander. Erelah squeezed his hand and smiled her relief. “Where are they now?” he asked Markos. If the angel brought them here…

  “My Guardian angelings were able to transport them back to your keep, out of harm’s way, but we couldn’t force Elyon’s Regiment from the cave—their numbers were too great. By the time we returned here to gather reinforcements and send the call out to other angels of the light to garner their help… Razael had already fought off Elyon and taken hold of Erelah and the baby.”

  That wasn’t exactly how it went down between Razael and Elyon, but Leksander wasn’t going to fill him in.

  Erelah did it instead. “My father promised Elyon he would turn me to shadow. The last thing Elyon wants is for me to be here, in the light.”

  “As long as he doesn’t know, we should be fine… right?” Leksander asked.

  Tajael gestured to the blade in Erelah’s hand. “Normally, Elyon would know you by your blade. But he witnessed your se
paration from it, with you being sequestered in the cave while the blade was with the forces of the light. He will assume that is still the case and you are with your father. But he will not be fooled for long.”

  Markos stepped closer to Erelah. He held a hand out in blessing over her belly, which was still flat, without actually touching her. The baby was less than a day old, and already the world was coming unhinged over it. “Your child’s magical signature will grow with it. This is an angeling of light. Elyon will be drawn to it and eventually realize what has happened.” He gestured her forward, out of Leksander’s arms. “Come, let me bless this child who will change angelkind forever.”

  Leksander restrained the growl welling up inside him as Erelah hurried forward to let Markos lay a hand on her belly. When he did, her back arched, and she let out a little gasp as the angel pulsed his power into her. Leksander knew it wasn’t sex, but his wyvern form was surging under his skin, wild with jealousy. It seemed to go on forever, and Erelah was too fucking blissful when it was done. Leksander gathered her back into his arms when it was over.

  “Thank you,” Erelah whispered, her words definitely for Markos and not him.

  “You and the child will be safe in my Dominion,” he said. “You may return to your cell now.”

  Erelah was nodding, but Leksander gave him a pinched look. He did not like this idea that somehow Markos was in charge, saying when they could go and where.

  Markos faced to him. “We can prepare you a cell as well, prince of the House of Smoke.”

  What? Fuck no. “I’ll be sleeping with Erelah.”

  Tajael cringed, but Markos didn’t seem perturbed by the anger in Leksander’s voice. “As you wish,” Markos said then turned and strode from the room.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” Tajael asked, still looking uncomfortable.

  What the hell? Did they expect them to sleep in separate quarters? “No, we’re fine.” Leksander didn’t loathe Tajael as he did Markos—the angeling had done nothing but help—but he’d had his fill of “help” from angelkind for the moment.

  “I’ll need food. Eventually. Not just yet,” Erelah said, her voice still a little blurry from the blessing from Markos.

  Leksander grimaced. He should have thought of that. “Just bring it to Erelah’s cell when you have a chance,” he said to Tajael. Then he found Erelah’s hand with his and gave her a look that said, Can we please get the fuck away from these people now?

  She nodded, but when she led him from the training room, it was with light and slow steps, as if she were floating. Leksander’s need to have her—to pleasure her in a way that would compete with this bliss-feeling she got from Markos—just grew as they wound through the brightly-lit crystal-walled hallways.

  When they finally arrived at her room, he couldn’t wait to close the door.

  It was just as stark as he remembered—no furniture or artwork, only a perch high overhead in the narrow room—but he’d forgotten how small the bed was. It was just meant for one, and it wasn’t like angelings slept all that much.

  But that was okay—he didn’t intend on sleeping much either.

  Erelah drifted to a wall, pressed it gently to open a secret drawer, then placed her shiny-new Markos-blessed angel blade inside. Leksander was glad to see it go, and he was ready to see her tightly-wrapped angel toga leave as well.

  He came up behind her as soon as the drawer was closed and slipped his hands around her to cup her breasts. “I’ve been dying to touch you,” he whispered into her hair, leaning in and pressing her gently against the wall. His cock got the memo and was rising to the occasion. But Erelah seemed not to—she twisted in his arms to face him, leaving his hands with nothing but wall to hold.

  She peered up into his eyes. “You need to make love to me, Leksander.”

  “Hell yeah, I do.” He bent to kiss her, hands in her hair, pressing her back against the wall. He was so absorbed in the kiss, plundering her mouth with his tongue, claiming her once again with his body… he almost missed that she wasn’t as enthusiastic about this as he was. He pulled back, breathless, his now-rock-hard erection sandwiched between them. “What’s wrong?’

  She seemed to struggle for words. Then she dropped her gaze to his chest. They were still clothed, so she toyed with the fabric there.

  “Hey,” he said, coming back to his senses a little. “Come here.” He took her hands and brought her to the tiny bed. He doubted they could even lie down on it together, so he just sat and pulled her into his lap. Then he brushed the hair from her face, which was still drawn down. “What is it?”

  “I’m just… worried.”

  “Of course, you are.” God, he was such an idiot. They’d been through hell and back—literally attacked and taken to the shadow realm—and all he wanted to do was fuck. Well… that wasn’t really true. He wanted to make love to the woman he loved more than life itself. But… yeah, probably looked like fucking to her.

  “I’m not afraid for myself,” she explained.

  He smirked. “You never are. It’s really inconvenient at times.”

  She gave him a puzzled look.

  He held her tight on his lap with one arm around her back, but his other hand was free to roam. He skimmed her arm, rounded up over her breast, then trailed the backs of his fingers up her neck and to her cheek. Everywhere their bare skin met sparked magic, and he could see that working its effect on her. Lips parted. Eyes dilating. A small ripple of goose bumps along her arm. “Erelah, my gorgeous and sexy mate. You are fierce and brave and fearless. You’re never afraid for yourself. It’s amazing and wondrous and sexy as hell.” He let his fingers trail down her neck again and started to tug at her toga, loosening its hold on her chest. He could magick it away—since he was the one who conjured it—but she needed time to decompress, relax, and enjoy the pleasure he was determined to give her.

  “Your touch gives me strength,” she said, a little breathy from his hand slipping into her toga and finding her breast.

  Fuck, her nipples were hard, and his cock was aching. But he would take this slow and talk his way through it… to make sure she was okay.

  “Good,” he breathed, leaning forward to kiss her neck. “Because I’m going to touch you a lot.” He felt the shudder caused by his words and his touch, and it rushed a masculine pride through him. She was his. She carried his child. She was everything he wanted and desired and needed. And he would make damn sure the next six weeks of her life held the maximum pleasure her body could stand.

  He gripped her breast, twisting her nipple, and she gave another one of those shudders. Then he pulled back and held her gaze. Her gorgeous blue eyes were already dropping to half-mast. “You may not be afraid for yourself, but you’re carrying my child, princess of the House of Smoke. And now you must allow me to pleasure and pamper and provide for you in every way possible.” He gave her a mischievous smile. “For the baby.”

  She breathed out, a little shaky, but from pleasure, he was pretty sure. “The baby does respond, for better and worse. When we’re making love, he’s as quiet as a lamb. But through all the turmoil, the fighting, the shadow realm—”

  He cut her off by dragging his free hand up to shush her lips. “We’re free of that now. I’m no fan of Markos, but if staying in his Dominion keeps the world from interfering with this baby coming into the world, then I’ll stay and make this our own personal heaven.”

  A small smile tugged at her lips. “Our own personal heaven.”

  “Damn straight.” He pulled her in for a soft and lingering kiss on the lips. He loved this woman—this strong, brave, amazing woman who was carrying his child—so much. His heart ached with the love he had for her, and it trembled in awe of the love he would feel for this tiny baby, who was barely more than a thought so far.

  But someday… someday, he would hold his infant son in his arms.

  He finished the kiss before he choked up, then he slipped his hand into her hair, fisting it and tilting back her head, so her
neck was open to him. He nipped at the delicious magic of her skin, tasting her and reveling in the small moan that vibrated in her chest.

  “How shall I take you, angeling of light?” he whispered hoarsely into her skin. “Because I will have you. Now.”

  She whimpered, and that went straight to his cock. She said something, but it was just a breath.

  “Louder, my sexy hot angeling.” He bit down on her neck because he really couldn’t stand it much longer. He needed to be buried in her.

  “From behind,” she gasped out.

  Oh, really? He released her hair and grasped hold of her waist, lifting her off his lap and standing her on her own two legs.

  “From behind it is,” he said, rising up himself. He turned her to face the wall opposite the bed, which really wasn’t far away—just a few feet. This cell of hers was more of a monk’s retreat than a bedchamber… but he planned to christen every square inch.

  “Hands up,” he commanded, taking hold of her wrists and planting her palms flat on the wall. He pressed his chest against her back, forcing her against the wall and nudging her legs apart with his knee. He held one of her hands in place above and used the other to run a rough, groping feel up the length of her body. She was already breathing hard. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, angel girl,” he whispered in her ear.

  He magicked away their clothes, making her gasp at the sudden skin contact. His cock was blessedly free now, but it was pressed into her delicious bottom… not quite where he wanted to be yet. He slid lower, still pressed against her, and the small moan that elicited made his heart rush. Fuck, he wanted her so badly. He slid his hand between her legs and decided to not waste any more time.

  He held her one hand pinned to the wall and reached around with the other to find her sweet spot. She gasped again when he flicked the nub of pleasure that made his angel sing. Then he lifted her slightly away from the wall, just enough to position his cock at her entrance.

  “You are mine, angel girl,” he growled as he thrust into her.

  She cried out, and fuck… she was so tight. Every single time. He didn’t know what magic made that work, but no matter how often he took her, it was always like he was deflowering her for the first time. He groaned, pulled back, and thrust up hard. Again and again. He picked up speed when she started clawing at the wall, crying out with each thrust. Then he had to hold her down, his hand pressing her shoulder to the wall, just because his thrusts into her hot tightness were making her move entirely too much. Then suddenly, he could feel it—the delicate quivering that presaged her coming—and he braced for that even as he kept thrusting.