Dragon's Curse: A Dragon Shifter Romance (Dragon Guild Chronicles Book 4)
Page 15
Suddenly her eyes sprang open to the sound of gasps from the onlookers. Amara had changed, her dark irises brightened to the lightest shade of blue. Minach nearly leapt up with shock at the sight. He knew that colour; he’d seen it on some of the shifters in Perthewey. These were the eyes of a Wolf, the eyes of a being whose animal was near the surface, ready to break free of its human form.
They were the eyes of a strong, healthy shifter.
Amara pulled herself up as soon as she realized what was happening, thrusting her face and body away from Minach. Blood laced her lips, tinting them a healthy red. Her cheeks, too, were flushed, the ashen hue gone from her complexion. She was more beautiful than ever, more alive than Minach had ever seen her. But a look of utter horror marred her features.
Worse than that, a look of hatred.
“What have you done to me?” she cried, wiping the blood away with the back of her hand and staring at the crimson streak left behind on her skin. “Minach, what did you do?” She looked up at the others, her expression accusing, livid, unforgiving.
“You were going to die,” Minach said softly, reaching a hand out to touch her. “Amara, I couldn’t lose you. I’m sorry. I couldn’t bear it. It was my selfish need…”
“Go, all of you,” she commanded, her voice deep, dark and menacing. “You don’t know what you’ve done. You don’t know what’s about to happen.”
“What do you mean?” asked Trix. “Amara, you’re alive now because of what Minach did.”
The Enlightened narrowed her eyes and glared at the Hunter. “I’m not alive,” she snarled. “You’ve never seen an Enlightened change. You’ve never witnessed the fall. It will come fast, and when it does you’ll wish for your sake that you’d just let me die. Now leave. Please, just go, and don’t come back.”
Minach opened his mouth to protest, but instead he turned and began to trudge in the direction of the village. The others followed him. Only Trix lingered for a moment, eyes locked on her friend’s.
“Amara,” she said, “You have to know that he did what he did because he cares about you.”
“You don’t get it, do you? No one will ever care about me,” she growled. “No one.”
With that, she rose to her feet and stormed through the cottage’s back door, slamming it behind her.
Amara threw herself onto a chair in the kitchen and wept in heaving sobs, her face buried in her hands. She hadn’t cried like this in many years, not since her childhood. She wept for the same loss that had crushed her then. She wept for her lost innocence. She wept for her loss of the man she loved.
For what she would become in a matter of minutes.
He’d turned her into a monster. The change would destroy her quickly, corrupt her mind, steal away her clarity. She would wander the streets of London one day soon, murderous and cruel. Desiring the blood of every human who walked by her, and it would be hell on earth. Minach had brought the blood-seeker inside her to the surface, given her the cruel gift of a long, tortured life, when it would have been kinder to let her die.
A restlessness was already overtaking her. She could feel the strange, mounting energy coming from somewhere deep inside. She couldn’t sit still, not for long. Some powerful force was warning her, telling her to get out of this house, and now. No doubt the horrid creature inside her already wanted her to hunt, to seek a victim. To feed her newly stoked addiction. She was nothing more now than a murderous, hateful goddamned junkie.
Giving in to the desire, she stood up and marched to the door, cracking it open. Minach was already long gone, thank God. She didn’t want him to be her first victim. Even if sanity deserted her, she would find a way to keep her distance from him, from Trix, from all of the Guild, from now on. She would never see them again; it was a promise she made to herself. They might be powerful shifters, but they would never be safe when she was around.
She pulled a few steps away from the house before turning back to stare at one of its windows. She could see herself reflected, vivid and rosy-cheeked among her green and grey surroundings. Her torn-up shirt hung off her like a rag, dark stains reminding her of the violence Tryst had inflicted on her. Reminding her of how close she’d come to dying. She pulled at the fabric, tearing it away from her flesh, and looked down.
The wounds, which had been so deep and bloody, were gone now. Only streaks of dried blood remained in their place.
“This makes no sense,” she muttered. “The Forsaken aren’t healers. They’re not immune to injury.”
It must have been Minach’s blood that had healed her. Something in him had forced the wounds to close. Well, he’d healed her just in time for the coming madness to set in.
She waited, frozen, for the bloodlust to show its face. She’d seen newly turned Forsaken before. Their first minutes were always filled with a sort of demented fervour, an impulsive rage overtaking their bodies as they convulsed on the ground, an agonizing transition like a seizure dominating their extremities.
It was in that moment that they came into their new bodies like wild creatures readying themselves for a hunt. The newly-turned were animals with no control over their minds. That was what she had to look forward to. It was her new fate.
Tormented, she waited and watched her reflection. But the bloodlust never came. Amara felt nothing but an aura of strength, power. Her mind remained clear, her body whole.
What’s happening to me? Why hasn’t it come?
She stepped towards the window, examining her face more closely. It was when she looked at her eyes that shock overtook her for the first time. Her irises had gone so light that they all but glowed. These weren’t the strange, frightening eyes of a Forsaken. They were her Wolf’s. Eyes that she’d once thought she’d never see again.
“What’s going on?” she asked the air around her. “I don’t understand…I drank his blood. I can still taste it on my lips. I should have been corrupted.”
It was finally starting to sink in: the fragile hope that the change would never come. An old, familiar feeling was returning to her body, one that she hadn’t enjoyed in years. She dared a few steps into the open field next to the house, and when no spins or madness overtook her, she moved towards the wooded area beyond the property. This would be her first true test, and she could hardly muster the hope to pass it.
Gradually, she sped up her pace to a jog, challenging her body to find its strength. For weeks she’d felt too weak, too frail to run as she used to do. The affliction of her cursed nature had made its way too invasively into her bloodstream; she’d turned all but anemic, suffering from many bouts of pure exhaustion. But now her muscles and lungs seemed to gain energy with each step, gathering strength from her speed.
A smile spread across her lips and she shut her eyes, letting the cool wind strike her face as she sped along. Even the rocky territory underfoot was no obstacle; with each step she found her balance, her feet moving in easy strides beneath her.
For a moment she let her mind picture her Wolf, the companion from her youth who’d been shut out of her life for far too long. Her Wolf was her freedom, her escape. Her Wolf was proof that she was capable of redemption; that she could be something other than a monster. Come back to me, she whispered. Come back and tell me what I want to know.
A moment later she felt four giant paws beneath her, striking the ground hard as she bounded along at blinding speed. Opening her eyes, she could see that the world had regained its colour. Bright greens, a vivid blue sky. Even the rocks coated in lichen had altered to beautiful, subtle shades of yellow and grey. She could see everything around her, down to the most minute detail. Outlined feathers of birds flying overhead. The crease in a blade of grass in the distance, twitching in the wind.
Halting for a moment, she sat on her haunches, panting with pleasure, her head turning to look about. But her Wolf didn’t want to stay still for long. After so many months of absence, all she wanted was to romp through the wild, to dash at top speed towards the woods ahead.
> Nearly there, Amara told her. We’ll make our way through and see how things go. She hardly dared hope that this feeling of utter euphoria could be permanent. Hardly believed that the bloodlust had been conquered at last.
She bounded into the woods, navigating with incredible speed between trees of all shapes and sizes before she realized how small the clump of forest actually was. Within seconds she’d burst through onto the other side, and now she found herself staring out at a solitary country house.
Standing just outside of the building was a man, sweeping a stone pathway.
Amara’s déor froze, taking a tentative step backwards. This was the first time she’d seen a human since she’d consumed Minach’s blood. This would be a test of her will, of her addiction. A Forsaken coming upon a solitary figure would have been sorely tempted by the man’s very heartbeat, would crave the sustenance that flooded his body.
But neither the Wolf nor the woman wanted anything to do with the stranger. Amara’s first instinct was to hide herself, and she revelled in that desire. She turned on a dime and sprinted back through the woods towards the cottage. There was only one thing to do now.
She had to find Minach.
Reunion
Minach’s Dragon treaded air high above the ocean, his eyes fixed on the small cottage near the coastal cliffs.
Amara had said she never wanted to see him again. Well, if that was what she wanted, so be it. He would do his best to mask his Dragon form in the clouds so that her beautiful eyes wouldn’t be infected by the sight of him.
But he needed to see her.
He’d planned to head down to Perthewey, and eventually back to London with the others. But to do so would have gone against every protective instinct inside him. He needed to make sure that Amara was all right, to get one final look at her before he took his leave forever. So he’d forced himself into a shift and shot back towards the cottage only to find the house deserted, her scent leaving a faint trail leading to the woods in the distance.
Well, he’d wait. No doubt she’d be back, and he could wait. He needed to prove to himself that he hadn’t entirely ruined her life. To apologize one last time, even if the apology was a silent one breathed from a distance. If she was determined never to speak to him again, she would have her wish.
Minach had ruined Lyre’s life so many years ago in a place so like this one. All the ill feelings had returned in full force to haunt his mind; nausea, guilt, doubt. But this time, at least, the circumstances were different. This time he’d tried with all his strength to save the person he loved. This time he hadn’t stood by like a coward and watched; he’d been aggressive in his defence, a protector through and through. If Amara hated him for it, he could live with it.
For once in his life, he knew he’d done the right thing.
When his eyes picked up the sleek, beautiful grey Wolf darting back towards the cottage, his Dragon’s heart caught fire in his chest. Not only was Amara alive and well, but her incredible déor had come back to life, strong and vibrant. The amazing creature was alive, energetic, bounding over Cornwall’s rocky terrain as though she’d never forgotten how to run. She’d become the wind itself, floating over tall grasses and jagged rock. This was no Forsaken with a thirst for human blood. This was a strong, healthy shifter.
He watched her sprint to the house’s front door, watched her stop, her eyes turning up to look for him as she sat back on her haunches, panting hard. As the Dragon stared into her distant eyes, he understood what he needed to do. He knew that Amara’s anger had left her, and she wanted to speak to him.
Minach’s Dragon swept downwards, landing hard on the ground in front of the cottage. He reached his immense muzzle out nearly far enough to touch the Wolf’s nose. Without a moment’s hesitation she shifted, a hand reaching out to stroke the scales on his face.
“Minach, I’m so sorry,” she said, tears brightening her already ethereal eyes. “Please forgive me. I should never have spoken to you like that. I was upset, but now I understand that I shouldn’t have been. I can’t begin to explain what you’ve done for me…”
In an instant the tall, black-haired man stood before her, a smile on his lips as he looked down into her happy eyes. A euphoria unlike any feeling he’d ever known filled him as he reached for her, his thumb stroking her soft, rosy cheek. “You had every reason to be angry with me,” he told her. “I took a risk, and to be honest I didn’t know if it would pay off. I didn’t know if the power of the Relics would be enough. All I knew was that I couldn’t lose you, Amara. I would rather have you alive, even as a Forsaken, than lifeless on the ground. Hate me though you may, I love you far too much to let you go without a fight.”
“You…” she whispered, her voice catching in her chest before she could bring the next words to life. A smile more exquisite than anything the Dragon shifter had ever seen stretched its way across her lips. “You really love me, Minach?”
“I’ve loved you since the day we met,” he said, the words rising up from somewhere deep in his chest. “Don’t you know that by now, silly girl?”
She shook her head against his palm. “All I know for certain is how I feel about you. If it’s possible, I love you more now than ever before. What you’ve done for me…I can’t tell you what it means.”
“It’s the Relics,” he said. “They’re assembled now, and ours to keep. Their power is in me, and in you as well, thanks to the blood that flows through my veins and yours.” He took her face in both hands, pressing his lips to her forehead. She was warm for the first time since he’d met her, the blood of a Wolf coursing through her veins. The blood-seeker who had dominated her had been sent away, relegated forever to a place hidden somewhere deep inside her. Devastating, unrelenting need had been quashed in one quick swipe of a blade, the Dragon’s blood curing the Enlightened of her illness at last.
Amara wrapped her arms around him, pressing her small body into his enormous frame, and Minach enveloped her in a tight embrace. She felt smaller now. Or perhaps it was that he’d grown larger. It didn’t matter. She was his beautiful, strong Amara once again. Nothing and no one would ever separate them as long as he lived.
“Come,” he said. “Let’s get you inside.”
Rest
Amara lay in her bed, the sea breeze wafting in through an open window somewhere to her right. After her near-death experience Minach, unwilling to take any chances with her health, had insisted that she get some rest. Yes, her Wolf had returned. But he’d wanted to make sure that she hadn’t simply experienced a temporary remission from her suffering.
He sat in an antique wooden chair by the window as he had done all night, his two index fingers forming a triangle shape over his upper lip as he stared at her.
She’d been immersed deep in a peaceful sleep for hours. Occasionally the Dragon shifter had walked over and lain a hand on her cheek to make sure she was still warm. He’d never seen her looking so calm, so content, so bloody perfect. The colour seemed to have returned to her cheeks permanently, a shade of rose more beautiful than anything he’d ever encountered enhancing her features.
They said that when a Dragon shifter mated, his lover received a gift of some of his power. But this was different. Despite every emotional up and down they’d been through, the two of them had not made love. Theirs was a bond purely of blood, of a deep, real affection. Perhaps one day if he was very fortunate, Minach’s wish might come true. His lips might meet hers again, his desire for her touch temporarily sated. But for now, all he cared about was her. He’d finally learned to let go of selfishness and to embrace his love of another being.
After a time, Amara’s eyes opened and she turned slowly towards him. He pulled his hands away from his face and sat up straight, his expression inquiring. She smiled and rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?” she asked.
“Eight or so, by the looks of it,” the Dragon shifter replied, looking out the window.
“Eight? I’d have thought it would be dark by now.”
Amara pushed herself upright, a realization seeming to hit as memories flooded back into her mind. “Oh God…the attack…” she said. “I’d almost forgotten all of it.”
“Don’t think of it. I haven’t seen any more signs of Tryst. I suppose she didn’t want to scrap with half of our Guild. It would seem that we’re safe for now.”
“But we should check on the town’s inhabitants,” Amara said. “Make sure everything is looked after and so on. I’d like to see Caitlin. She’s been through a good deal.”
Minach rose to his feet and strolled over to the bed, pressing a hand to Amara’s forehead. “Sweet woman, worrying about her when you came so close…” He stopped himself from finishing the horrid thought. “All in good time,” he said softly. “Your health is the important thing for now.”
She stared up at him. Beautiful woman was trying to figure out if he was being sincere, and who could blame her? She wasn’t accustomed to this level of care from the shifter known as Minach Grumpyface.
“Do you really mean that?” she asked. “About my health?”
He nodded, slipping to his knees to kneel next to the bed as he took her right hand and kissed it. “Of course I do, you madwoman. You really don’t know what you are to me, do you?”
Amara shook her head. Her eyes were still light, her Wolf still very much alive inside her. Even her scent had changed. It was still wonderful, enticing, sensual as always, but Minach picked up the aroma of her déor as well, musky, feral and untamed. He loved how whole she’d become.