Soulfire: A Dragon Fantasy Romance (Nightwing Book 1)

by Juliette Cross

  “Ah, the wedding gown,” said Aron, shifting closer to me. “Yes, you must shop early.” He wrapped a hand around my waist, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Be sure to buy something special for the wedding night.” His hand slipped to my hip and squeezed.

  I heard something pop from the fuming man across from me. His jaw? A bone in the clenched fist at his side? I wasn’t sure. Aron apparently didn’t know or care that Morgons had dragon hearing. I swallowed, but found my mouth bone-dry, trying to find the courage to face Lucius’s gaze. When I did, I found him fixated on Aron’s hand at my hip, and I was afraid he might actually blow flame to remove it.

  “Here we are. More champagne.” My father burst in on us, all cheery-as-shit. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. I used the moment to move out of Aron’s hold.

  Moira sat at a table with her friend Krissa. They giggled together. Moira, sweet and innocent, laughed openly, oblivious to the war raging inside of me. To give up my sister or my heart, my freedom…my life? Obviously, there was only one choice, but the pain of it pierced me deep.

  I grabbed the first champagne glass and gulped the whole thing down. Then grabbed another.

  “Slow down, sweetheart,” said Aron, wrapping a proprietary hand around my wrist. “You know how alcohol makes you.”

  I gave him a scathing look and knocked the second one back.

  “Yes,” interrupted Lucius. “Alcohol can make her a bit…unreasonable.”

  Aron shot him a look, most likely wondering how he could know such a thing. I pulled my wrist from Aron’s grasp to lean over and take a third glass of champagne from the table. My father still engaged Adicus, Lorian, and Demetrius in conversation.

  I edged closer to Lucius. “I’m only unreasonable when men try to manage me.”

  “Mmm.” Lucius glowered. “Perhaps the men in your life cannot abide defiance and lies. To you, it only appears unreasonable.”

  “I don’t lie.”

  An arched brow raised on his granite face. “I think that is a lie.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. I was a liar, but not in the way Lucius thought. I was standing there, an imposter, pretending I would tie myself to a man like Aron when I never could. Never would. I valued myself too much to betray my heart, my soul, in such a way.

  “Well then,”—came my father’s booming voice—“let us lift our glasses one more time to the happy couple.”

  Everyone else did. I didn’t. I could feel Aron’s eyes on me to my left. I didn’t give a shit. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from what I wanted most in the world. Lucius raised his glass, but didn’t drink, a mocking smile cracking his stony expression into something frightening. His eyes blazed with malevolence. I shook my head, pleading with him to understand. Apparently, he didn’t. With a last fiery glare, he turned on his heel and exited toward the gardens.

  I glanced over at Moira, who happened to look up at that exact moment. Her smile wilted, seeing the sadness in my eyes. I set my glass down, maneuvered around the table and pulled her out of her chair into a tight hug. The others probably thought it some female whim to hug a sister in celebration of the engagement. This embrace was far different. It was goodbye.

  “I love you,” I whispered into her ear.

  “I love you, too.” She pulled back, eyes glistening with unshed tears. She knew something was terribly wrong. “What is it?”

  I shook my head, forcing a smile, then pecked her on the cheek and ran for the garden door. Rushing, I tripped past the columns, down the stone steps, and onto the garden path. I searched for him in the sky.

  Nothing. A pall of gray clouds smothered the night in gloomy darkness, mirroring my emotions.

  He was gone.

  “Lucius.” Please, don’t be gone. Please don’t leave me. I looked up, wishing for a star, wishing Fate wouldn’t keep him. “Send him back again.” Tears scalded my cheeks.

  “You have got to be out of your mind.” I whirled to find Aron standing right behind me, eyes dark as pitch under the starless night. He’d followed me. “A Morgon? A Nightwing!” He sneered down, gripping both my arms. “You actually think you’re in love with that monster?”

  “Aron, let me go.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” His face and neck tightened with strain. Danger glinted in storm-shadowed eyes.

  “Let me go.” A primitive fear urged me to get away, escape. Fast.

  “I’m going to teach you who you belong to. Right now.”

  “Aron. Don’t—”

  He forced me to the ground, pinning me under his weight. “I’m going to make you mine.” Frightening words hissed in my ear.

  I struggled, punching, pushing. He pressed a fierce kiss to my lips, cutting mine with his teeth when I jerked my head away. He stilled. I pushed him farther off of me, watching him slide his tongue along the spot of crimson on his lip. He grinned.

  “It’s to be rough, is it? No problem. I prefer it that way.”

  He backhanded me hard across my cheekbone. My head snapped to the side, knocking me into a daze. He yanked, ripping my strap off my shoulder, exposing my naked breasts to the night air. “Finally,” said the monster on top of me.

  His hands squeezed my breasts, hard. It hurt. His breathing was ragged, repulsive with violent lust. My cheek stung and my head was fuzzy.

  “That’s right, sweetheart. You lie still for me.”

  His hand crawled under my dress and up my thigh. I opened my mouth to scream when a shadow descended. Aron was ripped off me. I heard a strangled gagging.

  The haze receding, I rolled onto my side to find Lucius on top of Aron, choking him with one hand. Oh, God!

  I crawled to him and grabbed hold of the arm snuffing the life out of Aron, whose eyes already glazed with the emptiness of death.

  “Lucius. No!” I shook him. He was as immovable as a steel wall. I shook harder. “Stop! Don’t kill him.” He didn’t hear me, consumed by bloody rage. “They’ll lock you up.” His other hand gripped Aron’s throat—to kill him faster. “They’ll take you away from me! Lucius, I’ll be alone.”

  I wrapped my arm across the front of his chest, trying to force him to look at me. My words must’ve broken through the maddening fury, as he released the now unconscious Aron, seconds away from death.

  I cupped Lucius’s face in my hands, stark white against dark skin. Turning his face to me, I gasped at the terrifying rage that marked every line. His breath came quick and harsh.

  “I’m okay,” I whispered, brushing my lips to his cheek, trying to bring him back. “I’m okay.” With gentle kisses, he finally softened, awakening from bloodlust’s grip.

  He moved me away from Aron’s body with urgent swiftness. Before I could be embarrassed about my nakedness, Lucius took my broken straps in trembling fingers and tied it in a knot at my shoulder, covering me. How this man went from murderous frenzy to tenderness in a few short minutes rattled me to my bones. With hands on my shoulders, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to mine, slowly gaining control.

  My breath caught on a sob. He wiped the tears away with a gentle, shaking hand. Blue-fire blazing down, he scooped me in his arms, cradling me against his chest in an unyielding iron embrace. We shot up into the air, melding with night and shadows. I clung to him, my soul sighing now that I was finally where I belonged.

  Chapter 12

  Bloodlust pumped hard and strong through my veins. Somehow, I’d managed not to kill him. If Jessen hadn’t stopped me, he’d be a ghost already. My dragon growled, wanting to tuck her safely in my lair, then hunt him again. Make sure he understood the true meaning of pain and suffering. He dared to hurt her. Choking was too swift, too easy a death. When I had flown back to the garden and found him on top of her, there had been no thought, only a veil of black and an undeniable need for my hands to wrap his throat and squeeze the life out of him.

  I flew fast to get her to safety and to get out of killing range. I had to get far away from him, or the beast inside me wo
uld keep pushing me to return and finish him off. She cradled against me, pressing her cheek to my neck, her chest to my chest, her lips to my skin. Her fingers caressed the nape of my neck, soothing the beast, gentling him with her touch. So sweet. Long black waves of her hair whipped in the wind, her scent invading my senses. She tucked her head in the crook under my chin. It was…perfect.

  I dove fast and winged onto my terrace with a jolt, too eager to smooth my landing. Brant had left my chamber door open as I’d asked. Of course, I hadn’t thought I’d be bringing Jessen home with me. She lifted her head as I carried her through the curtain screen into my bedchamber. Finally having her safe in my domain, sealed behind secure doors and alarms, I could breathe again. Barely.

  I set her down and started a fire in the grate, trying to settle my nerves, needing to soothe her, unable to do so in my current state. After blowing flame to a pile of kindling, I tossed on two logs, the fire licking up with a crackle.

  Wide-eyed, she examined the room. I scented her anxiety, which immediately gave me alarm. I followed her gaze to my bed, covered in the same black silk sheets she’d seen draped around her image in the portrait at the gallery. I froze, knowing full well what made her tremble. But I wasn’t a man of many words. Hell, I’d bungled this relationship from the beginning for holding my tongue or saying the wrong thing. I couldn’t speak of Grayson without wanting to do some sort of violence, though I’d never hurt her. Ever. She didn’t need to see that side of me, any more than she already had tonight. I tried to think of something to take both our minds away from the horror of tonight. Of what she’d been through.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I asked softly, gesturing toward my bar across the room.

  “I could use one,” she said with a tilted smile. “How about you?”

  “I could use ten,” I answered honestly.

  She laughed, and the sweet sound cooled the flames burning me on the inside. With a deep breath of relief that she was beginning to unwind, I strolled to the bar.

  “Wine?” I asked.

  “Yes. Please.”

  She unbuckled the straps of her heels and settled on the large cushioned ottoman with her legs folded underneath her. As she seemed to relax, so did I. I hadn’t realized how tightly wound I’d been since that scene in the garden. I poured my tumbler of whiskey to the rim and rejoined her, passing her a full glass of dark, rich claret.

  “Here.” I handed over her glass and settled in my leather chair, designed specifically with a narrow, flat back so it wouldn’t obstruct my wings if I wanted to recline.

  She cupped the glass with both hands and sipped deeply. It was a strong wine, and I was glad to see the strain in her brow disappear with a big gulp. I took a deep swallow of my own, needing to mellow for a moment.

  “Is it good?” I asked.

  “Very.”

  That sweet smile again. Almost shy. Not quite the young woman I knew. But then, there was that incident. I swallowed the rest of my whiskey in one shot. She stared at the fire, but still shivered. Her bare shoulders pebbled with a chill. Setting my glass on the mantel, I opened the trunk at the foot of my bed and pulled out a soft, white blanket. Moving with slow precision, I draped it around her shoulders, then resumed my place in the chair across from her.

  What I wanted to do was haul her into my arms and kiss her senseless. Though I might be a beast, I wasn’t a monster. She suffered at the hands of Grayson. I wouldn’t frighten her or push my own needs on her, even if it felt as if a ball of razor-blades was tumbling around inside my chest and the only thing that could soothe it was her touch. Nothing mattered but her safety and peace of mind—on the inside and the out. I’d wait. As for Grayson, I wasn’t through with him yet.

  “Tell me another story, Lucius.”

  She stared into the fire, which cast a golden glow on her lovely pale skin and shone in her black hair. She could’ve been Queen Morga herself.“A story?”

  She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders with one hand, holding the glass of wine close with the other. Her gaze remained fixed on the fire.

  “A good story.” She took a sip. “One of the heart. One with a happily ever after.”

  Leaning forward, I clasped my hands loosely, resting elbows on my knees. “A love story then.”

  “Yes.” Then she pierced me with those dark eyes that had haunted me constantly since that night at Acropolis. “A happy one.”

  “Hmm,” I made a pretense at this being a difficult task. She laughed lightly. “I suppose I might know one of those.”

  She sipped her wine, waiting patiently. She appeared to be shrouded in gold by the firelight, which reminded me of one story in particular.

  “I think you might like a tale my great grandmother used to tell me. The one of The Vale of Stars.”

  “The Vale of Stars? What is that?”

  “It’s a magical place of beauty and treasure.”

  She laughed, turning more toward me on the ottoman. “That’s a bit obscure.”

  “It is.” I returned her teasing smile. “That’s because there are dozens of versions of the story with a dozen different ideas what the vale truly is. But I like my great grandmother’s version the best.”

  “Let’s hear it then.” She shifted off of the cushion onto the thick rug and propped out her elbow, head in hand, balancing her wine on the ottoman.

  Clearing my throat, I thought back to how it started.

  “Once upon a time—”

  “Oh, I love this already.”

  “Are you going to let me tell the story or not?” I teased.

  She mimed zipping her lips and grinned like a fiend before settling in again with a contented smile. Something beneath my rib cage cracked at the beauty of it. Arching a brow at her, I began again.

  “Once upon a time,” I started slowly, daring her with a challenging look. She laughed warmly but didn’t interrupt. “There was a poor human boy who lived at the foot of Mount Obsidian. Paulinus was the only child of a shepherd who was enamored of the dragons winging up over the mountains near their hillside home. His father would always scold him. ‘Paulinus, you must get your head out of the clouds, boy.’ But every day as he drove the sheep to and from pasture, he’d crane his neck and watch the heavens for the winged beasts who ruled the sky.”

  Jessen drank down the last of her glass of wine and set it on the floor by her feet, propping her chin on her clasped hands. The blanket slipped from her bare shoulder, the perfect silk-and-cream curve causing a flare of soulfire to burn with a sharp sting.

  “The dragons didn’t try to eat humans or anything?” she asked, noting my pause and where my eyes had lingered.

  Thankfully, she didn’t appear alarmed by my wayward gaze. Quite the contrary, she smiled.

  “Well, did they eat humans?” she asked again, lifting her head and jarring me back to the story.

  “Did the dragons eat humans?” I struggled not to laugh before answering, “No more than Morgons want to eat humans.”

  Her breath hitched, for she certainly caught the heat in my gaze and the innuendo in my answer. I didn’t mean to make her nervous, but the thought of tasting her sent another unwanted flare blazing through my body.

  “Shall I continue the story?”

  Her cheeks flushed a perfect pink, then she resumed her position with her chin upon her clasped hands. “Yes, please.”

  With a tight nod, I did.

  “One day, Paulinus drove his sheep far out into pasture and was caught in a thunderous storm. His faithful dog helped him corral them toward the rocky foothills of Mount Obsidian where he knew there was a cave to shelter out the tempest. Over the clamor of thunder, lightning, the cries of his sheep, and the yelping of his dog, another sound of distress rode the storm. A girl’s cry. A girl in pain. Paulinus rushed toward the sound, only to find a young maiden trapped beneath a pile of rocks caused by a lightning strike. He immediately set to work, pulling the large stones that had pinned her legs. What he notic
ed as he hauled rock after rock from the now quiet maiden was her breathtaking beauty.”

  “Of course.” Jessen inflected with a lilt of sarcasm.

  “You did say you wanted a love story, didn’t you?”

  “Actually, I said a happily ever after.”

  “The best happily-ever-afters are love stories, Jessen,” I said pointedly.

  She pressed her lips together as if to keep something from tumbling out of those beautiful lips.

  “I suppose I can go on, then.” She made no protest, but her cheeks were painted a delightful deeper shade of pink. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, Paulinus recognized this maiden was exceptionally beautiful—golden blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, and fire-gold eyes. She was even wearing a shimmering dress of pale yellow. Of course, now it was drenched through as was her hair.

  “When he hauled off the last rock, he asked, ‘Are you hurt? How can I help you?’ To which she replied as she shivered, ‘I’m so cold.’

  “Paulinus lifted her without delay and carried her into the mouth of the nearby cave where his sheep had found shelter. After sheering three of his own sheep with the knife he kept in his boot, he made a warm bed and lay her in it, covering her with the wool.

  “But she still appeared to be in pain. He asked again, ‘How can I help you?’

  “She replied, ‘I am thirsty.’

  “He ran to the opening of the cave, cupped his hands and let the rain water fill them. When he returned and held his offering to her lips, she smiled sadly and shook her head.

  “‘Water cannot heal me. I need blood to drink.’”

  “Wait.” Jessen’s brow pinched together. “This is a love story?”

  I couldn’t help but grin. “A Morgon love story. Be patient.”

  “Okay. Go on.” She seemed eager, listening intently.

  “As you might have guessed, Paulinus was both terrified and fascinated to discover that she was indeed a dragon. For it was known that an injured dragon could heal more quickly by drinking blood. Human blood was the best, of course.”