by Alisa Woods
His fae senses tingled when they drew near the door. Thankfully, the magical runes on his skin were covered by the length of his sleeve, for they twitched at the nearness to so much magical power protecting a single dwelling. The shoppe was meager in appearance, but an impressive four-story house lay over it that could keep a dozen witches or more—but he expected no less from an established coven of means. He hesitated at the threshold—the wards were strong. He could break them, but that would hardly serve as a proper introduction.
He had to grasp hold of Meridi’s hand to keep her from barreling through the door. “Have a care, love.” Then he rapped a knuckle on the door, and called, “Hallo! By your leave, we come with a letter!”
They waited. It took a moment, but a soft-haired woman with sharp eyes appeared at the door. “My lord? What keeps you at the door? We are open for business.”
“I warrant you are.” Leonidas smiled and held out the letter of introduction, taking care to slide his sleeve for a momentary glimpse of the writhing runes on his arm. “But our business is a most unusual kind. My introduction, if you please.”
The woman’s eyes went wide. Then she stared close at the letter and its wax seal showing the House of Smoke’s imprint. All should know it in the immortal realm—witches especially as they were under a special dispensation, as long as they kept their magicking unbeknownst to the humanity that dragons were sworn to protect.
She quickly opened it, then nodded. Looking up, she slipped the letter into the folds of her skirt. “But of course, we will welcome a sister into our arms. Come dear.” She held her arms out, and Meridi, full of uncertain smile, edged forward to embrace the woman.
Leonidas arched an eyebrow at her—a witch full in her power had a dangerous touch, one that could reduce a mortal to ash. He was no mortal, and neither was Meridi, although he could taste the magic far stronger on this woman at the door than the one who had been in his bed. Which piqued his curiosity—what would it be like to bed a stronger witch?
He kept that thought sequestered behind his lips.
“Come in, child.” The woman released Meridi, then twirled her hand in the air. The wards dropped, and Leonidas’s runes settled with them. “And you,” she addressed him. “You show us a courtesy. You’re welcome as well.”
Leonidas raised his hands. “I’m but a messenger.” To Meridi, he said, “Once you’ve finished your induction, you know where to find me.” He gave her a gentle smile, but in his heart, it felt a betrayal. Because if he were clever, he would be gone from his room before her return.
Meridi stepped off the threshold, which she was already half over, and threw her arms around him. “Bless you,” she whispered then kissed him on the cheek.
The smiles as they entered the shoppe truly warmed his heart.
He turned and strolled the London streets, aimless on his way. His good deed done, it seemed sour to fly the city. Meridi would return soon from the coven, head full of magic and spells, and likely wanting to show her prowess. Should he ruin that moment with his sudden departure? A note left in his wake, or worse, no notice at all?
It would make for a clean break.
But nothing had been clean so far in this affair. And he had to admit to a desire to see if her magic was enhanced somehow by the communing with her sisters in the dark arts. Would that magic touch between them just grow stronger? His head full of lusty imaginings, he spent the day wandering the streets, picking up bread and wine for later, should they perhaps be sequestered in his room for a long spell and in need of nourishment. While he resolved to spend at least the night in London, he wasn’t sure how much more were wise. Besides, he longed for France and fine wine and an almond pear tart so divine it could nourish the soul. There would be many things he would miss when he left, but food wouldn’t be among them.
It was nearing dusk by the time he returned to his room, arms full of supplies. Not long after, Meridi came knocking. The joy on her face made him glad he waited to be the witness of it.
“It went well, I take it?” he asked after the third embrace and tantalizing kiss.
“See for yourself!” she enthused, stepping back and drawing a small bottle from her skirts. She tapped a whitish power out into one palm, tucked the bottle away, then waved her hand above the dusty pile. At first, nothing happened… but then, slowly, the powder lifted and sparked magic, spinning like a tiny thunderstorm in her palm.
“What is it?” he asked with a smile. Conjuring magic was not terribly powerful, not like the elemental magic dragons commanded, but it was magic nonetheless.
“A seeking spell.” Her eyes were fixed upon it.
“And what have you lost?” His grin grew with her entranced delight.
She looked up, straight at him. “My heart. To you.”
His smile faltered… but before he could think of words, she extinguished the cloud with a clap of her hands and was upon him again, her lips seeking his, her hands in his hair. The magic still on them sizzled wherever they touched, and he forgot to be alarmed. She was in her bliss, finding her home and her art among her fellow witches—what harm could come from a little celebration in his bed of said fact?
Especially when her hands were so eager already.
He lifted his shirt free of his body, then liberated her blouse as well. Her hands were already working at his pants, and she dropped to her knees. As soon as his cock was free, she took it in her mouth, making him groan. He gave her free rein with it for a moment, then two, then finally wrenched her free, ignoring her protests.
“In the bed with you, fine witch,” he said with a grin as he lifted her from the floor.
She brought her legs up to wrap around his waist as he carried her over. Her skirts were between them, and that wouldn’t do, so he slid them from her after laying her on the bed. She gave him the most alluring of looks as she reached back to the headboard behind her, holding fast to it and splaying her body out for him.
And a feast for the eyes she was.
“I’m yours, fine dragon prince,” she said with a wicked grin.
“Indeed, you are.” And then he dispensed with words and put his mouth to better use. Starting with her toes, then working up with a slow madness, he kissed and touched and licked every inch of heavenly skin. Each sparked that same magic, and unless his imagination was playing tricks, it was stronger than before. She squirmed and gasped under his attentions, but when he reached her sex, the cries started in earnest. He didn’t tarry there, too eager to take her well-offered body, so he continued his journey north. When he reached her mouth, her lips parted and breath heaving, he gave her what her cries demanded and thrust into her with such force as to thump the bed. He held the bedboard by her hands and stroked harder with her mounting cries. His own release was quickening, and he surged on hard and fast, glorying in the magic that sparked deep inside her body, intimate and wild, suffusing him with pleasure even more raw than all the times before. When he felt her feminine flesh quiver around him, he was jerked over the edge. His moans were as loud as hers when he spilled into her. On and on it went, and when it finished, he was spent in every way. He withdrew and rolled away, laying prone next to her, eyes closed, enjoying the after sparks that still flit across his skin.
After a moment and a kiss on his cheek, she arose and scurried off to the water closet adjoining his room, as she often did straight after—assuming they weren’t already onto the next round. But this one left him drained, and he didn’t protest. She would be back soon enough, freshened and ready for more.
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The room had darkened since she arrived, near onto night, and he expected they would spend it finding bliss in his bed. But what of this losing her heart to him? Every dragon learned the fine art of seducing a woman—it was essential to propagating the species and extending his own life—but mating with a witch? It wasn’t done, for reasons having more to do with convention and peace among the realms than anything else. More importantly, he was far from
ready to settle down and attempt a dragonling—a bloody, risky business better left for more desperate dragons than he. And those later in life. When he was nearing his fifth century, not his first, he would consider such things. But for now? No. And the sooner he cut this growing cord between them, the better.
Leaving London suddenly felt urgent.
He lifted his head to peer at the water closet—the door was closed, and she was taking more time than most. Perhaps now was the time, swift and clean, like a bandage torn all at once.
He rose from the bed, conjured clothes suitable for a quick exit, then strode to the door of the water closet. Only when he opened it, he found her tipping a bottle and drinking the contents, a sight so strange, it took him aback for an instant. He reflexively reached out with his fae senses and tasted the contents—lead and water.
Poison.
“What in the name of magic—” He stepped into the closet and yanked the bottle from her hand.
She stared wide-eyed at him, trembling.
He magically tasted the contents of the small bottle again to be sure, but there was no doubting it was a foul mixture none should drink.
“’Tis only blacksmith water.” Her voice quavered along with her naked body. Her skirt lay at her feet, and that must be from whence the bottle came.
“But why, Meridi?” He was still aghast and uncomprehending.
“I pray thee, don’t be angry.” She fluttered her hands at him, then drew back. “My love for you is too fierce, sweet prince. I couldn’t bear to have a child of yours, only to leave it abandoned as a foundling. It would break my heart. I would have to keep it. This tonic stops such a thing from coming between us.”
“A child?” he asked, still stunned. Then he pieced it together. “You take this foul tonic to prevent it?”
“Yes!” she said, seeming relieved that he understood finally. “It’s a common tonic—all the maids who dally come round the back of the apothecary to get it. And it works! For all our time together, I’ve not yet become with child.”
He briefly squeezed his eyes closed and then let his hand with the bottle lower. When he opened his eyes again, there was still fear on her face.
“I should have explained,” he said, and the dragontongue curses rolling through his head had much to say about that. “Dragons have great difficulty creating a dragonling. It is a painful and dangerous process. There is no possibility of a child with you, Meridi.”
But instead of looking relieved, the corners of her mouth turned down. “You do not wish a child with me.”
“No, of course not—” He stopped at the heartbreak on her face. “That is to say… mating is simply not something a young dragon such as myself…” His words faded off at the lit-up expression her eyes. He was struggling to keep up with the mercurial quality of her mood.
She stepped up to him, placing her hands on his bare chest and sparking that magic again. Her naked body so close was already wrenching a response out of his.
“Mating?” she asked, that eagerness back again. “Is that like marriage? Only for dragons?”
“Yes… and no.” Words were tangling in his mouth. More cursing traveled through his head. This mess was his just payment for delaying and indulgence. “Dragons live a long time, Meridi. Hundreds of years—”
“Hundreds?” she gasped.
“I am already a hundred years on, love,” he said, gently. “But I’ll go for another four before I can consider taking a mate. Producing a dragonling is a fraught business, something that brings another five hundred years for the lucky dragon who can manage it, but it also brings a limit to those years. If I mate earlier than that, my time on this earth will be cut short. Well, shorter than it could have been. In the meantime, there is much to enjoy—”
But she had stepped back from him, that frown returning. “Five hundred years?”
“It passes faster than you might—”
“But I’ll be long dead by then.” Her beautiful blue eyes implored him.
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
She was shuffling back against the wall and the chamber pot. “You never were… you never meant to…”
And what could he say? Because it was true. He never intended her for a mate. A diversion? A delight? Yes. But not that harrowing adventure of sealing her and placing his seed inside her with the intent of a dragonling.
Tears seemed to threaten in her eyes, but before they could fall, she grabbed her skirt from the floor and slipped past him out into the room.
“Meridi, wait.” He turned to go after her, but she had already grabbed her blouse from the floor and was half out the door.
She slammed it behind her, racing out into the hall, naked and clutching her clothes.
He should go after her. He should stop her from this tawdry escape from his room. But what would he say? She was giving him what he wished—a clean break.
He let her go.
She would return to her coven—at least he had given her that. And he thanked the stars that they’d aligned for the letter to arrive before this dreaded revelation.
But guilt arrowed through his heart for the tears she had to be shedding by now.
It had been three days, and Leonidas still hadn’t left London.
The busty maid riding his cock at the moment gave him some comfort. But all her panting and moans couldn’t erase the guilt that rode him harder than any maid… and chained him to his room like he was awaiting execution. The maid’s grunting and grinding finally gave him a moment of blessed release… then he shooed her from the room.
What was he waiting for?
Perhaps he hoped Meridi would return. Why that would be, he couldn’t fathom. And by staying away, she was clearly the better spirit. He cursed his fecklessness and resolved to finally leave. He would stop by the coven on his way, just to ensure she had found safe haven there. Then he would be winging his way back to France as he should have done before that fateful night when he discovered Meridi in the theatre.
Leonidas washed and dressed in clothes fit for a gentleman, paying his finals on the lease to ensure he couldn’t change his mind, then strode out into the dusk settling on London’s streets. After dark was not a time to be on the streets, but he was dragon, and any vagrants and would-be robbers cleared out before his imposing frame and clearly foul mood. Even the constables let him pass, probably due to the station of his clothes more than his demeanor.
After a time, he noticed a fiery glow lighting up one end of London. Given that fires and wooden houses made for a horrific mix, he hurried his pace, striding faster toward the coven in the guise of an oddities shoppe to make sure that whatever fire raged did not threaten them. To his relief, when he reached the shoppe, the fire was clearly some distance apart—although its charring smell and smoke were filling the streets with even more noxious fumes. It was not terribly far, though, and a thought crossed his mind to visit it with magic and put out the flames… but revealing his magic was forbidden except under the most extreme of circumstances.
He rapped on the coven door, vowing to at least visit the fire once his business was done. Only as a shuffle of feet could be heard behind the door did he think what he would say if Meridi chanced to come to the door. He was spared that fate, however, when the same witch who answered his first call unlocked the door, which had been shut for the night, and showed her solemn face.
“Good eve,” he started.
She drew back inside the protective wards on the building and scowled at him. “You cannot hold us accountable.”
“I… beg pardon?” Alarm tripped through his heart.
“She was young and untrained. A hazard waiting to happen.”
“I don’t take your meaning.” Stridency worked into his voice.
“You disavowed her.” Her scowl drew into a hateful thing. “What care you what becomes of her after that?”
“So help me…” His frustration was choking him. “I will tear down these wards and come after you, witch,
if you are not plain in your speech. What has happened to Meridi?”
Her eyes flew wide, and she took another step back, still gripping the edge of the door as if to slam it in his face, but only just holding back. “She begged us for love spells and potions that might turn your heart, but we told her there was no hope. You were a dragon, and thus inured to almost all of the dark arts. She believed us not and took to lesser witches and potion makers. The streets are filled with those plying the trade or pretending to. It was inevitable that she would be found out. And her vagrancy was not in her favor.”
“Vagrancy?” His mind was still pounded by the witch’s words, grasping to comprehend them.
“Did you not know?” The woman’s disgust sharpened. “She didn’t have two pence to rub together.”
“Wait… what do you mean, she was found out?” Horror stole into his mind and set camp.
“It’s too late, prince of the House of Smoke,” she said, the grim look returning. Then she glanced in the direction of the fire…
Leonidas’s heart ran cold.
“No.” But he didn’t wait for more… he ran. Then he cloaked and took wing to get there faster. The pyre raged a full inferno. A figure was bound to the pole in the middle, flames licking and consuming her, but there were no screams, no movement, only a slumped form hanging from her bindings. He knew without question it was her, and his most desperate fear was that she must already be dead. But in case she wasn’t, in case there was any hope… his heart broke as he swooped in, the only salve being that she wasn’t suffering. His cloak kept the milling crowd from seeing him, and his own scales kept the fire from being any more than a heat of annoyance, but as he landed on the pyre next to her, his heart cried out for the flames already consuming her body. He slashed her bindings and beat the flames, then simply wrapped her scorched body in his wings and magically lifted free of the inferno around her. If any saw the witch disappear from her pile, their cries of surprise were lost to him.
