Married to a Dragon (No Such Thing as Dragons Book 4)

by Lauren Lively

  I just couldn’t' seem to shake it.

  I cleared my throat and tried to focus on the task at hand. And that task was trying to figure out how to go into hostile territory and eliminate a King. I looked over at Alex who was looking back at me with a curious expression on her face. She quickly looked away from me, her cheeks flushing.

  “Right,” I said. “The mission. For a guy so intent on seeing us married, he certainly seems to be doing everything in his power to get us killed.”

  “I think it speaks highly of his confidence in you both, actually,” Quint said. “He came away very impressed with the both of you as fighters. You should be honored.”

  A wry laugh escaped my lips. “So impressed, he wants to march us straight into our deaths.”

  A devious smirk tugged at the corner of Alex's mouth. “Have so little confidence in your abilities?” she asked. “That's not the Deyro I know.”

  “It's not a matter of confidence,” I said. “It's a matter of being smart about it. Do you even know what assassinating King Nepar is going to entail?”

  “I'm not stupid, Deyro,” she snapped. “I know it's not going to be easy.”

  “Not going to be easy is the understatement of the century,” I scoffed. “It's going to make what we do on a nightly basis look like a Sunday morning stroll in the park.”

  “Listen,” she said, “if you're too scared to go, I'm fine going alone. You might just hold me back anyway.”

  Anger welled up within me and it took everything in me to bite it back. This girl had no idea what she was going to be walking into. I was from Chondelai and I only had the barest notion of what we'd be encountering. A King with an army at his beck and call, was a certainty. But if he truly was Shadow Clan, who knew what else he might have waiting for us in his castle.

  “If you're not frightened,” I said to Alex, “you're foolish. Worse than that, you're reckless and dangerous.”

  “Things I reckon we're going to need to be a little bit of, if we're going to pull this off,” she said.

  I looked at Quint, who was sitting back in his seat looking at us, an amused smile playing upon his lips. What he was amused about, I had no idea.

  “So, I assume it's safe to tell Shango that you are in,” Quint asked.

  I hesitated for a moment and then sighed. “It's not like we have much choice,” I said.

  “But, tell him that we will be discussing his second condition when we return,” Alex said. “If we do this for him, we deserve a voice in this matter. And we'll have earned it.”

  “Fair enough,” said Quint.

  I looked over at Alex, still unable to shake the feeling of being smacked across the face. Worse than that though, was the strange sensation of sadness that suddenly stole over me. I didn't understand any of it, and did my best to stuff it all back down. It didn't bear thinking about.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You know this is a suicide mission, don't you?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I kind of figured as much,” she replied.

  We were sitting at a bar around the corner from her apartment, nursing our drinks. I was surprised when she'd invited me to come out for a nightcap – but found that I was glad for it. I knew what we'd agreed to. Knew what we were walking into. And knew that our chances of surviving it were slim. So yeah, sue me for wanting to have a little company on one of my final nights among the living.

  “Then why did you agree to it?” I asked. “Why are you willing to march to your death like that?”

  She took a sip of her drink and set it down on the bar. “Because what we've built – the Children and the Dragonborn – it's bigger than me. It's bigger than both of us, Deyro,” she said. “If we happen to die on our mission – which yeah, is probably likely – what we've built and been a part of is going to continue. It will go on. We have the chance to make sure of that.”

  “It almost sounds like you've already accepted your death as a certainty,” I said.

  Her laugh was soft, but sad. “I don't want to die,” she said. “There was a time I did want to die, yeah. But not now. When Ella and the Children took me in – it gave me a whole new purpose. They gave me a reason to live. And believe me, I want to live. I want to keep doing what we're doing.”

  I took a long swallow from my beer and set the bottle down. “And what is it we're doing, Alex?”

  She looked at me with something akin to irritation in her face. “You really have to ask that question?”

  “I'm just curious and want to hear your answer.”

  “We're defending the powerless,” she snapped. “Protecting those who can't protect themselves. We're preserving life and not letting the evil things in the dark take it away from anybody.”

  I nodded slowly. I knew of Alex's upbringing. Knew what she'd endured. So, it was unsurprising to me to hear her speak so passionately about protecting the weak and powerless. About preserving the life – and she could have said, innocence – of those who could not protect themselves. It was personal to her. Deeply, deeply personal.

  Which was one thing that made her so determined to be the best at what she did. In some way, I thought Alex believed that by saving lives, she was also somehow saving her own. Or at least, by slaying the creatures we slayed, she was somehow doling out punishment to those who'd abused her so badly. Those who'd stolen her life and her innocence.

  That is what drove her. That's what inspired her. And that deep commitment as well as the fiery passion in her – which were plain to see – is what made her an inspiration to other people. It's what made people believe in her. It's what made people look to her in a crisis. What made them follow her.

  It was why I knew Quint thought her a better leader than me. And sitting there, in that dimly lit bar, I couldn't say that I disagreed with him. Hell, I was willing to follow her into a hornet's nest I knew was going to result in my death.

  It also made me consider my own reasons for becoming a Ranger. And as I considered them – and compared them to Alex's, I realized that mine were shallow and selfish. Yes, I believed in the mission. I genuinely believed in helping those who could not help themselves. In protecting and defending life.

  But on another level, I knew that I'd become a Ranger for the prestige that went with it. For the honor of being one of Chondelai's elite. I'd always been very good with a sword – it was a natural gift. So, being able to hone that gift seemed the next logical step. And because I was held in such high esteem as a Ranger, I was considered a hero. It heightened the esteem I – and my family – was held in.

  My family was of the lower Houses in our clan. Growing up, we were never held in much esteem. But once I excelled in the Academy, once I made a name for myself and became a Ranger, my family's level of esteem and prestige shot through the roof. And when I became a Warden, it would only grow further. I knew if I continued on doing what I was doing, it wouldn't be long before we became one of the major Houses in our clan.

  So yeah, at the heart of things, my reasons for becoming a Ranger were selfish. They were motivated by reasons other than pure belief in the mission. I told myself that devotion to my family, to my House, was noble. It was pure. And there was nothing wrong with it. I could hold a belief in my mission and seek to better my family's position at the same time – they were not mutually exclusive things.

  But as I sat there, listening to Alex, and knowing what I did about her, I began to feel selfish. Cowardly. A loathsome creature. Her belief was pure. Her motivation for what she did was rooted in others – without thought of gain for herself. She served – and would gladly give her life – so that others could live free and safe. And neither for, nor expecting, anything in return.

  Yeah, in that moment, I felt like a real asshole.

  “What do you think about Shango's other requirement?” I asked in an attempt to lighten the mood some – and because I was a little bit curious.

  She laughed. “What? About us getting married?” she said. “It's absurd.”

  “
Yeah,” I laughed along with her. “Totally absurd. Why do you think so though?”

  She looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Us? Married?” she asked. “We barely get along well enough to not kill each other most days.”

  I shrugged and gave her a flirty little smile. “I can think of plenty of times we got along pretty well.”

  “That's sex,” she said. “Totally different from marriage. Or even a relationship. We're both adults, we both live strange lives, we both have needs – we're there to scratch those itches when we get them. Nothing complicated about it. We both get something out of the deal, so it's all good. Why overthink or overcomplicate things?”

  I had no idea what was going on in my head, but her words hit me hard. Again. To hear whatever it was between us described in such cold, clinical terms was – strangely upsetting to me. Strange, because I didn't understand it. Didn't understand where that upset was coming from. It was disconcerting, really.

  “Do you really think marriage is a – complication?” I asked.

  She nodded and drained the last of her drink, signaling to the bartender for another round. “It can be, yeah.”

  “How so?”

  The bartender came over and slid fresh drinks in front of us. Alex picked up her glass and downed half of it in one swallow. Which told me that she was more nervous than she was letting on. Which was good. Fear could be a useful tool – and in the coming fight, we were going to need every arrow in our quiver.

  Of course, even having a full arsenal might not be enough to get us out alive. Probably wouldn't be.

  “When you get married, there are suddenly expectations,” she said. “There are demands. Compromises. You're suddenly answerable to somebody. I don't like being answerable to anybody. I don't like any man – no offense – thinking he can control me. Dictate my behavior. Think he has some say in how I live my life.”

  And that was the root of it. Her power and control over herself – her own agency – had been stripped away from her at such a young age. And she'd lived her life in fear, under the control of another for so long, that now she rebelled against even the vaguest notion of giving that up again.

  Ella and the Children had certainly given her a new life – and a new spirit. They'd infused her with a fire I rarely saw in humans. And in that moment, sitting at that bar with her as we contemplated our own demises, I realized just how attractive I found her to be – and realized that I carried feelings for her I never let myself accept before.

  But of course, I knew I had to stuff those down. Abandon them. Those feelings weren't going anywhere, so it was pointless to dwell on them.

  “Wait,” she said, a mischievous smirk on her face. “You weren't really thinking about it, were you?”

  “Thinking about what?”

  “Marrying me,” she said, a wide smile on her face. “You weren't seriously considering it, were you?”

  I waved her off and forced out a laugh I hoped sounded natural – and real. “Of course not,” I said. “That's crazy.”

  “Beyond crazy,” she said.

  I nodded, sipped my beer, and looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. A long moment of silence stretched out between us and I found myself grappling with a maelstrom of emotions I'd never really felt before. It was confusing and yet, at the same time, exhilarating. I wasn't one given to deep emotions. They weren't something I related well to. So, to suddenly have this overwhelming wave of emotions pulling me under – as odd as it was, it was something I enjoyed. I thought it almost made me more – human – in a way.

  Not that I aspired to be human – but it did allow me to understand them better. To better relate to them. And if I wanted to be a Warden, and have the Scouts under my command, I was going to have to learn to relate to them.

  “Besides,” she said, “it's not like we're even going to get out of this live to get married.”

  “Right,” I said. “Of course.”

  “Because, you know, this is a total suicide mission,” she said. “Which kind of makes the whole getting married thing when we return moot, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely,” I said. “Totally moot.”

  “Good,” she said and nodded. “Glad we're on the same page.”

  “Me too.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alexis

  The moment we set foot into my apartment, I knew something was different. I could sense it. Feel it. There was something changing between Deyro and I – I just couldn't put my finger on what it was.

  While the idea of us being married was outrageous, I got the feeling that it was something he was open to. When we'd talked at the bar – hell, when we'd been sitting there after Quint had dropped that bombshell on us – he seemed to be making arguments in favor of it. Or at least, seemed more willing to entertain the idea than I'd been.

  Marriage was never something I thought about. Not something I wanted. What I'd told him at the bar was true – I didn't like being answerable to anybody. I didn't like the feeling that somebody else had a say in my life. I was my own woman and I would make my own decisions. Nobody would ever dictate my life to me again.

  Even knowing that about myself though, I would have been lying if I'd said there wasn't some small voice in the back of my mind whispering to me. It said that there would be worse men than Deyro to be paired with. For all of his faults – and there were many – I knew him to be a good man. He did the right thing. Was honest. In his way, he was compassionate and kind. At the root of him was a man with a good heart. That much I knew.

  But he was also smug, arrogant, and completely full of himself. He believed that he was the best in most everything and that the rest of us were a rung below him. He called it confidence – I called it cockiness. And it really was one of his most unattractive qualities.

  But still, the arranged marriage question was a moot point. We were heading out on a suicide mission. I had no doubt we'd manage to get in and we'd do our best to complete our task, but even if we did, there was no guarantee we'd get out. In fact, I wasn't banking on the idea of getting out. I had a pretty good notion that we were going to die in Chondelai.

  If my death though, served the greater purpose, if it allowed our alliance to go on and get stronger, if it allowed the Children and the Dragonborn go on and continue to protect the helpless, then it would be worth it. It would be a good death and one I could not just accept, but embrace.

  That certainty of death though, made what was going to be my last night in my own home, in my own world, a strange time. Though the cold hand of death was already caressing me, I wanted to taste life one more time.

  Which was why I invited Deyro back to my place. There was nothing more life-affirming than making love. Of course, it would have been even better if I'd been with somebody I truly loved. But I was going to enjoy every last moment of it anyway.

  Maybe I didn't love him, but I couldn't deny there was some feeling for him in my heart. I had no idea what that feeling was, hadn't ever taken the time to stop and analyze it, but it was something.

  It would have to be good enough.

  “I didn't actually expect to ever be invited back to your place,” Deyro chuckled as he closed the door behind him.

  “Honestly, I didn't expect that I'd ever invite you back,” I admitted.

  A strange look crossed his face, darkening it for a moment. But then he gave me a small, sheepish smile.

  “So, what changed?” he asked.

  I gave him a small shrug. “It's probably our last night among the living,” I admitted. “Might as well make it an enjoyable one, right?”

  His smile grew wider. “So, you're saying that you enjoy sex with me, then?” he asked. “It's maybe more than just scratching an itch?”

  “Shut up,” I laughed. “Don't go thinking you're all that. I could just as easily go back down to that bar and pick somebody else up.”

  Deyro smiled and pushed me against the wall. He leaned down and kissed me, running a hand th
rough my hair. My body responded instantly, the fires within me igniting as our tongues touched and swirled around one another in my mouth. I ran my hands across his broad, thick chest, feeling the fires inside of me burning bright and hot.

  I let my hands drift down to his waist and started to undo his belt buckle. I was already so hot that I intended to do him right there in the entryway of my apartment. But he gently took my hands in his and stepped back. He had the strangest expression on his face – one I couldn't identify. I cocked my head and opened my mouth to speak, but he put his finger to my lips, silencing me.

  Picking me up in his arms like I weighed nothing, Deyro carried me through my apartment to my bedroom. He nudged the door open with his foot and walked inside, sitting me down on the edge of my bed. I looked up at him, not knowing what it was he wanted.

  In all the times we'd been together, we'd never actually had sex in my bedroom. To me, my bedroom was my personal space. It was my safe space. The one place I could retreat to and be alone. It was sacrosanct to me. Which was why I'd never allowed Deyro into my room before.

  But there was something different about him. I saw something changing in him. I noticed it when he'd come by earlier to make sure I knew he respected me. It was silly and awkward, of course, but he was earnest about it. He wanted to make sure I knew he was being sincere and that he respected me. For whatever reason, it had been important to him.

  And in that moment, the way he was looking at me – I saw something in his eyes that I'd never seen before. I wouldn't call it love, but there was definitely something there. Something that went well beyond the battle-buddy relationship we'd had to that point. And it was something that stoked the fires in me even higher. My mind and my body were responding to what I saw in his face – not that I even truly understood what I was seeing.

  Deyro looked at me and ran a fingertip along my jawline, caressed my cheek with it, and smiled down at me. He got down onto his knees before me and pushed me back on the bed. My breath caught in my throat as he ran his hands up my thighs, pushing my skirt up along with them. He slid my panties down slowly, gently – almost reverently. When he had them off, he dropped them on the floor and looked me in the eye with a deep, abiding hunger.