“You know,” Amara said, “women often end up with broken men—men who mistreat them, abuse them, thinking that it’s the ultimate good deed to ‘fix’ them. But there is no fix for people, or for shifters. We are who we are. The real issue is when we don’t love ourselves because we think we’re unworthy of anyone’s affection, including our own. Perhaps you don’t love yourself. But you should.”
Minach let out a bitter chuckle. “Of course I don’t love myself. I’m an utter jackass.”
“Not utter.” Amara threw another sly smile. “Minach, I’ve seen such generosity from you. Even now you’re here, in this place that makes you miserable, because you want to do good for others. Stop selling yourself short all the time. Stop trying to prove that you don’t deserve anyone’s love. I was so upset with you for how you spoke to Caitlin, because I know you’re better than that. I know you’re not cruel, not deep down. You care deeply about others. Stop pretending you don’t.”
Minach detected the warmth in her voice and forced his gaze to meet her own. She was smiling, still leaning in, still trying to console him with her closeness.
But he couldn’t return the smile. The truth was that his heart was shattering, and there was so much yet to say. He hadn’t yet told her the darkest of his thoughts, the one that had been eating away at his mind for days. “Trix is pregnant, Amara,” he said, his voice trembling.
“Yes, she is. But why should that upset you?”
“You don’t understand.” He knew how weak he looked; knew that tears were forming again, ready to cascade down his cheeks. But he needed to say the words, regardless of how difficult it was for him to confront his worst nightmare. “A Dragon shifter’s child inherits traits from both parents. Their baby will no doubt have red or black hair, like Trix or Lyre. Light eyes, too. It will be strong and stubborn, and probably very kind and generous.”
“Yes? I still don’t understand your concern.”
“No, you don’t, do you?” Minach looked away. “Sweet woman, it so rarely occurs to you to look through a dark lens at the world. You see, their baby could end up deaf. Because of me. Because of what I did all those years ago.”
Amara went silent for a moment, pondering his words before replying. “No, Minach, that’s not how genetics work.”
“Not how human genetics work, you mean. We don’t work on the same evolutionary scale. It doesn’t matter that Lyre’s deafness came later in life. All that matters is that he can’t hear, and neither can his Dragon. For all the power that the Relics have given the Guild members, they will never give him his hearing back. There’s a risk that his child will suffer the same fate.” Nausea overtook him as he thought of it. “I would be robbing his child and that child’s déor of a crucial sense.”
“If it’s a risk, it’s one that Lyre and Trix agreed to take together.” Amara reached for him, pressing her fingers to his arm. “Minach, Lyre is happy now. Deafness isn’t a death sentence. Don’t do your brother the disservice of behaving as though he’s somehow less of a man because of it. His child will be wonderful, and you will be a wonderful uncle.”
“How can you think that? Fuck, how can you even want to spend time with me?” he asked, a familiar scowl returning to his features as his voice deepened into a low growl. “I’m a monster; I’ve always been a monster. I’m a hollow shell of a man with a very angry Dragon inside him.”
“Never say that,” Amara replied, her voice pleading. “It may sound like a mad thing to say, given how annoyed I was with you earlier—but you’re one of the best people I know, not to mention the most honest person I’ve ever met. You never hide behind false attempts at politeness or pretence. You’re…refreshing, I suppose, even though you can be a right arse.”
“Pfft. I’m about as refreshing as a giant plate of burnt sausage.”
No, Minach. You’re so much better than you think.” All the tiredness had left Amara’s face. Her eyes were so kind, so understanding. She was the purest, best person he’d ever known.
And he would never in a million years understand why she tolerated the likes of him.
Darkness
“Do you think I’m redeemable?” asked Minach.
“Far more redeemable than I am. I’ve got foulness in my blood. Your foulness is merely on the surface.”
“Don’t say that,” he replied, pulling his hand away abruptly, his brows knitting together again. “Don’t ever say that about yourself.”
“It’s the truth.”
“No, it’s not. There is nothing in you that’s foul. You’re a beautiful creature, inside and out.”
“I’m not sure I want to talk about myself, Minach.” Amara turned away to look out the window towards the jagged coastal cliffs silhouetted against the afternoon sky.
“Well, that’s unfortunate. Because every time I look at you I’m reminded how good a person can be, and I want to be a better man. Every time. You’re as near perfect as anyone in the world, Amara. You just don’t see it.”
She wiped away an errant tear that had slipped down her cheek, cursing herself for the show of emotion. “Not so,” she said, slipping off the bed to step towards the window. “But I want you to realize that you and I aren’t so very different. You’re imperfect, just as I am, but you’re not a villain, Minach.” She turned and stared at him. “You should stop acting like one. Stop denying what you could be. Stop denying yourself happiness.”
“Stop denying myself happiness?” He rose to his feet, stepping swiftly around the bed towards her. “Do you begin to understand what you just asked of me?”
He was close now. So close that she could taste him. Her desire was almost unbearable. To wrap her arms around him, to taste him.
Clearly he felt the same need, because in one smooth gesture he cupped a hand around the back of her head and crushed his lips to hers. The world tumbled, Amara’s head spinning like a feather caught in a hurricane. His tongue found its way to hers, aggressive but gentle. It was the most wonderful thing she’d ever felt. The taste of him was magic, her mind swimming in a sea of bliss. Life surged through her; heat, joy, the perfection of the moment.
Perhaps it was that she couldn’t hope for more than a kiss. Perhaps it was that she knew this was as far as she would ever get with Minach. Whatever the reason, his lips against hers summoned the most wonderful explosion inside her, greater than any orgasm she could imagine.
He was kissing her cheek now, her neck, pressing her back towards the wall, his hands pinning hers to her sides as his mouth explored her jaw, her chin, her neck. Oh, his lips were so hungry for her body, and she welcomed them. Moving down her chest now, seeking a nipple through her cotton shirt. Amara had forgotten how good it felt to be tended by a man, to be so desired. She’d forgotten how alive, how immersed in erotic pleasure she could feel.
“We have to stop,” she moaned, uncertain that she could possibly mean it when everything he was doing to her body was so, so good.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, laying soft kisses on her breast, lifting her hands over her head to intertwine his fingers with hers. “Do you?”
No, of course she didn’t. She wanted him to keep going, to keep up his aggression until he was on top of her, deep inside her, her legs wrapped about his waist as he sheathed himself over and over again. Wanted to cry out his name as he filled her with his seed.
Desire flooded through her in a torrent. Desire for his body, for his soul, for his very life force. She wanted to consume him.
She wanted to drain him of everything, of his warmth, his very essence.
His blood.
Oh, God.
No, no, no!
Minach had no idea what sort of danger he was in. Her Wolf might have faded, but the blood-seeker inside her was starving, and in a matter of seconds, he’d become a potential feast.
“I said stop it!” She thrust her hands against him and pushed with surprising force. Minach careened backwards into the bed’s footboard, flying almost into the opposite
wall. He raised his hands in submission as he seemed to realize what had just happened. He was many things, but he was not the sort of man to force a woman to do anything against her will.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked. “I don’t understand what you want from me, Amara. Last night, and now this…”
“I can’t be with you. I’ve told you that. I can’t. You should have listened,” she cried, pulling herself backwards. “This place upsets you because you see constant reminders of what once did. You want to know what it feels like to be me, Minach? It doesn’t matter where I go, you know. I’m constantly surrounded by reminders of what I can’t have, what I can never be. Try living with that.” She threw her arms out, gesturing to the whole world. Her chest was heaving, her voice hoarse with pain and longing.
“Amara…”
“Please, just go. Leave me alone, for both our sakes.”
He was too desirable. Too delicious. Too strong, too good, too bad. Too everything. Powerful blood coursed through his veins, and despite the fact that she’d never craved it before, she was filled with a sudden, painful longing for the hot red liquid. Some terrifying power had overtaken her, and it took every ounce of strength that she had to fight it back.
She knew now what she’d always suspected. She would have to stay away from him for the rest of her days. She could never touch him again. She could never give herself to him.
Because if she did, she would destroy them both.
Progress
Day two.
Cornwall.
Nine a.m.
Status of mission: Fucked.
“This trip was supposed to be simple,” Minach muttered to himself under his breath. “Go to Cornwall. Find a Dragon, tell him to get his arse in gear, and then locate the Relic.”
But no. In the short time since his and Amara’s arrival, he’d managed to discover that the Dragon was dead, his Seeker was torn between her Wolf and human sides, and Amara had pushed him away again.
Probably for good this time.
She was still upstairs in her room, no doubt determined to avoid any contact with him. And who could blame her? He’d kissed her like a fool, even though she’d told him that she couldn’t be with him.
He hadn’t respected her plea for solitude. He’d fucked up. Again.
Well, it was high time that he made his way into town in search of Caitlin. The sooner he found her and persuaded her to help him, the sooner he could head back to London, back to his old life and away from the pain associated with this godforsaken place.
Damn this cottage, damn my desire, and damn the Relics.
He left a note on the kitchen table for Amara, telling her of his plan. She would know where to find him if she needed him, but he assured her that he could look after business on his own. The Enlightened should get whatever rest she needed; no doubt she’d been as lacking in sleep last night as he had.
As he strode out of the cottage, his feet hitting the grassy path that led towards Perthewey, his pace quickened. The horrible truth was that he couldn’t get away fast enough from Amara’s scent, from her presence, from anything associated with her, and he needed to focus his mind on something else.
He had no idea what had happened inside that beautiful head of hers yesterday, but it wasn’t good. He’d never seen her look so hostile, never heard such strange violence in her voice.
Well, he couldn’t blame her for any of it. It wasn’t her fault that he wanted her so badly.
Or maybe it was.
She showed up in his life too often, yet not often enough. She teased him with her presence, then pulled herself away. His balls had gone from blue to indigo on more than one occasion, his body left frustrated, craving her affection, her touch.
Yet he couldn’t be angry with her. She was denying herself, too. Giving herself tiny tastes of the Dragon shifter then retreating, for both their sakes. Minach was no idiot; he understood at least some of the insurmountable difficulties that her life entailed. He just bloody wished she’d let him help her. If her concern was that she was too frail, then he could be gentle. If she was frightened, he could protect her, or at least calm her. But the damned woman was as stubborn as he was, and headstrong. Convinced that she functioned best alone, when he knew exactly how badly she wanted his touch, his companionship. He knew what it was to be lonely. He knew that the gift they could give one another would cure them of that particular plight, if nothing else.
Something inside Amara had snapped the previous day, a temporary madness taking up residence inside her. She’d behaved for a moment like a snarling animal, forcing him to flee from her, when all he wanted was to calm her. The look in her eyes had been so strange; a look he’d only ever seen from Forsaken seeking a kill.
Amara was no Forsaken, though. She would never hurt him. Or would she?
The thought of it sent a reluctant shiver down his spine as he made his way towards Perthewey’s High Street. He realized for the first time that he hadn’t eaten anything that morning. Or had coffee, for fuck’s sake. That was what he needed to clear his mind: a solid cup of hot brown liquid. He stopped to look at the first café he came to, hoping to grab a pastry or anything solid, to feed his mounting hunger.
The place was welcoming, a small sign in its window advertising an authentic English breakfast, and his stomach growled approval as he stepped inside. But his temporary joy at finding sustenance was quickly cut short. The moment he edged up to the counter, a familiar voice called out from somewhere behind him.
“Minach!”
His eyes narrowed in a wince before he pivoted to face the speaker.
“Caitlin,” he said, turning to greet the Wolf shifter, an artificial smile working its way over his features. He’d come looking for her, yes, but he wasn’t convinced that he could deal with her mood swings before ingesting a gallon of caffeine. “How are you this morning?”
She was seated at a table at the side of the café, a small cup of some steaming beverage in her hand. “Wonderful, now that I’m seeing you,” she said, her expression far too bubbly for a woman in mourning. “Come, sit with me. Mary will look after you.”
“Mary?” Minach replied, turning to see that the rosy-cheeked woman behind the counter was smiling at him and nodding. “Ah, Mary.”
“What can I get you?” the woman asked.
“Something solid and unhealthy, and a very large coffee. Thanks.”
He made his way towards Caitlin’s table, his body tense. Her eyes were glowing bright, her Wolf very near the surface. The beast was acting as a sort of protective sentinel again, a wall that stood between Minach and the human inside her. For a moment, empathy overtook him. He almost understood how the shifter felt. After all, he’d spent the bulk of his life concealed behind a rather protective Dragon. He understood what it was to hide behind one’s déor in order to quash feelings of sadness or trauma. He also understood the desire that Caitlin’s Wolf felt to find a companion, perhaps more now than ever before. Loneliness was a misfortune for humans, but for shifters it was a damned curse.
“There was a meeting this morning,” Caitlin chirped in a happy voice as he joined her, pulling up a chair on the other side of the table. “The pack got together down at Percival’s Cove.”
“Percival’s Cove?” he asked. “Where’s that?”
“Not far from Land’s End. A little ways east. I could show you later, if you’d like. We could walk down…or maybe I could ride your Dragon.”
Minach concealed a shudder. Whereas Amara was always welcome on his back—or on any part of him, for that matter—Caitlin wrapping her legs around him seemed far too intimate and very, very wrong.
“I think it would be nicer to walk,” he said. “Don’t you?”
A look of disappointment crossed her face. “I suppose. If you’d prefer.”
“I would,” he replied, a little too abruptly. Amara would have glared at him for his tone, but she wasn’t here, was she? “Now listen, what was the meeting about?”
/>
“A bunch of things. Leadership. You. Me. Amara. The Dire Wolves.”
“All right, that was a lot of information. Please back up for a moment, and let’s begin at the end. What’s this about Dire Wolves?”
Caitlin sipped her drink, which, from the smell of things, was a cup of hot apple cider. “There’s a pack of shifters that lives up near Trekilling,” she said. “They’re the old breed of Wolves. They’re enormous.” For a moment her eyes seemed to glaze over, and Minach wasn’t sure if the look was one of admiration or fear.
“Is that…good?” he asked.
“Well, they’re impressive,” she replied. “They’ve been in the area for generations. Duncan didn’t much like them, and he told them to stay away from Perthewey. Said he didn’t want them moving about our territory.”
“And what do you think of them?” As Minach asked the question, Mary the café owner set down a cup of steaming coffee and a warm danish in front of him. “Thank you,” he said, throwing her a quick smile.
“I’m not sure,” said Caitlin. “All I know is that we have no defences against them, should they try something. Unless someone like you…”
“Yes?” Minach was grinding his jaw now, his patience failing him. Spit it out, woman.
“Unless someone like you helps us. That is, if you were to settle here…”
Here we go again. Fuck no.
He wanted to palm the bottom of the table, throw it across the room, to yell, “No damned way would I stay in this hellish place!” and storm out. But Caitlin was the Seeker, and throwing furniture or giant fits in her presence was probably a very, very bad idea. Must be nice, he told himself. Mustn’t rock the sodding boat until the Relic’s been recovered.
“We’ll see about that,” he said, smiling as sweetly as he could. “Now, I have more questions, of course, but I need to ask: have you given any more thought to the verse we talked about?”
“Not really,” she replied, stroking a hand over her belly. “The baby was kicking last night so I didn’t sleep all that well. He misses his daddy.”
Dragon's Curse: A Dragon Shifter Romance (Dragon Guild Chronicles Book 4) Page 11
