by Ophelia Bell
“How is it not even slightly damaged? When Vesh came to my studio, his presence was all it took to destroy my work.”
Deva circled the tree, eyes wide and excited. “Because it’s alive, don’t you see?” She completed her circuit and stopped in front of me. “Your estrous has ended, hasn’t it?”
I opened my mouth then closed it again without answering. Turning my focus inward, I pressed my palms to my abdomen. The sense of barely contained pressure had faded to almost nothing. I stepped closer to the trunk of the tree and stared into its core, then gasped at the flare of brilliant golden magic that brightened inside the stone that resided there.
“Okay, that’s fucking amazing and wasn’t at all in the plans.”
“It’s as alive as anything you seven could have created by merging your souls. Your estrous would’ve only ended after a full month of episodes or if you’d conceived. But this beautiful creation is as much a part of all of you as a child would have been.”
I frowned. “I can still have a baby with them, right?”
Deva’s eyes flickered with magic, and she smiled. “Yes, but you’ll need to be more sparing of how much of you goes into your work at the beginning. Higher races babies demand a lot of magic, but they also produce an abundance of their own to make up for it, particularly ursa babies. This is why ursa females take multiple mates.”
The others were gathered in a circle around the tree, which upon my own circuit, I could find no leaf out of place. I paused when I had a view of the door and saw my parents walking down the hill hand-in-hand. They were so fixated on the sculpture they didn’t even see me wave, so I just stood back and basked in their wonder. My throat tightened when Mom met my eyes, and hers were glassy with tears of happiness.
I went to her and accepted her embrace. “Oh, honey, this is amazing. Truly an astounding work.”
“It was a group effort, and I see now that it was always meant to be a collaboration. I just can’t quite bring myself to take it apart.”
“What do you mean take it apart?” She turned to me, eyes wide with dismay.
“It’s not going to make it to the gallery unless we disassemble and pack it into crates. We have a detailed plan, though we’ll need to start tomorrow first thing so we have time to get it there and put back together before the show.”
“No, you can’t! It’s whole and perfect as it is.”
I shrugged. “Not as if I have a choice. I have to deliver. I spoke to the gallery manager yesterday and made arrangements…”
The big, dark-haired satyr Llyr had silently wandered close and stood just behind Mom with his arms crossed. When I trailed off and looked at him, he shook his head at me. “Leave it in one piece.”
“What the hell? This has been the plan all along. I can’t move the show here. That wouldn’t be feasible.”
“No,” Llyr said. “But you don’t need to dismantle the tree to take it there. Deva, Ozzie, and I can move it for you without taking it apart.”
“I can help,” Mom said. “My ability to drift hasn’t faded, and four will be better than three. Is the gallery ready for it yet?”
“They should have the space curtained off, so we can start anytime. As long as you guys are sure.”
“If it means not risking the integrity of this wonder, then absolutely,” Deva said. “Your work will be safe in our hands.”
35
April
Two days later, the sculpture was safely settled in the main room of the gallery but still shrouded by curtains hanging on all sides. With friends who could basically teleport us back and forth, we decided to stay on the island, since the house had more than enough space for everyone. We were still there an hour prior to the opening, getting dressed for the big night.
I’d just exited the shower and was plugging in the hair dryer when Murdoc cornered me and plucked it out of my hand.
“Not necessary, beautiful. Allow me.” He positioned me before the mirror, hands resting on my hips from behind, and met my gaze in our reflection. His eyes sparkled like diamonds, and the top of my mark shimmered with inner power over the top of the towel wrapped around me. Beyond him, Gray and Stuart leaned against the open bathroom doorway, watching. All three were decked out in tuxedos.
“What are you guys up to?” I asked, suspicious of their devious expressions.
“Just making sure you’re dressed,” Murdoc said, bunching the towel in his fingers and tugging. It came away from my chest easily and pooled on the floor at my feet.
The other two moved farther into the room, blowing white smoke as they approached. It swirled in coils and eddies on its way to me, tickling over my skin as if it had a mind of its own.
“I have clothes, you know,” I reminded them, even though the sensation of the feathery caresses made me want to close my eyes and let them do whatever they wished.
“We know,” Gray said. “But it’ll be easier to undress you later if we don’t have to worry about ruining a pretty frock.”
“Dragons are nothing if not pragmatic,” I said, giving them an appraising smile.
Murdoc slid his hands around to my belly and up, cupping my breasts as he dropped a path of kisses along the top of my shoulder. He met my gaze in the mirror, watching as the smoke teased along the back of my neck, splitting into finger-like tendrils that slipped up my scalp and through my wet hair in a strangely sensual way.
I let my eyelids close and released a contented sigh. I should’ve reminded Murdoc of the time, but I wasn’t sure if I cared. He hefted my breasts, idly brushing both thumbs across the tips. Just as I was prepared to surrender completely, he pulled away, leaving my skin cooling where his warm hands had been.
I opened my eyes to more curling wisps of smoke weaving themselves together around my torso. The smoke that had worked its way into my hair was busy doing something. It was warm and soft as it combed through in hypnotic strokes. I watched in fascination as my hair quickly dried into ringlets then began to move, gradually arranging atop my head in a cascade of golden curls.
The smoke constricted around my body like a comfortable sheathe, pushing my breasts up and together and cascading over the curves of my hips down to the tops of my feet, then around and beneath my feet too. Within just a few more seconds, I was fully dressed in a shimmering floor-length gown covered in what looked like red and gold sequins. The strapless bodice supported my breasts perfectly while still leaving a revealing deep-cut neckline that plunged far enough between my breasts that my mating marks were easily visible. My previously bare feet now sported a pair of strappy gold pumps.
I grinned at my dragons, marveling at the creation they’d given me. When I twisted from side to side, the iridescent material reflected the light, making it look like I was dressed in fire.
“What is this fabric? It’s amazing!” I ran my hand over it and stared down in wonder upon my discovery that the texture was nearly identical to the velvety softness of dragon scales.
“Just a little something to evoke the half of you that belongs to us,” Stuart said from the doorway, his silver eyes tracking up and down my body with proprietary hunger.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and a moment later, Tate pushed past Stuart with Chayton and Eddie on his heels. The three of them also wore tuxes.
“Whoa, you guys clean up nice!” I turned away from the mirror to properly appreciate them all. After a few weeks seeing them covered in sweat and soot from the studio, the sharp-dressed sextet were a feast for the eyes. Not quite as nice as if they were naked, but a girl had to exercise some restraint once in a while.
Tate’s cheeks flushed, and he glanced down, tugging awkwardly at one lapel. “It’s constricting as fuck, but you said this shindig was black-tie, so…” That’s when I noticed he held a polished wooden box in his other hand.
“What’s this?” I swayed closer, pointing at the object gripped in one big paw.
The three of them abruptly dropped to one knee, Tate taking point with the other two on eithe
r side just behind him. He held the box up as an offering.
I stared at the beautifully polished lid, with its inlaid replica of our tree of life, all four seasons represented among its branches.
With a hard swallow, I finally found my voice. “Guys, we’re already mated. You don’t need to propose.”
“It’s an ursa custom for males to craft their mate a gift when she first bears a child. We know this isn’t exactly the same thing, but when Deva said the sculpture was alive, that all seven of us shared in its creation, we knew we needed to follow the custom. This is our pledge to you to always honor our collective power to create new life, in whatever form it takes.”
He lifted the lid, revealing an asymmetrical open-collar necklace that resembled a coiling vine. It was crafted out of red gold with a perfect green patina coating the trio of leaves that draped down on the longer side, while the shorter side held three shiny gold baubles that looked like small fruit, so highly polished they practically glowed with inner light. Except no, they weren’t gold at all.
I stared in awe, then lifted my gaze to Stuart, when I realized what I was looking at. “Did you capture actual fire inside glass beads?” Reaching out, I delicately touched one of them. The light within flared on contact.
“Allow me,” Eddie said, picking the collar up and moving around behind me with it. I shivered in anticipation when he kissed the back of my neck, then gently slipped the collar around, so the fire beads rested right over my collarbone and the leaves curved down to the center of my chest.
I turned to look in the mirror again, overwhelmed by the sight of the woman who stared back at me. My mates moved in on either side, ursa to my left, dragons to my right.
As surreal as the scene was, I knew all the way to the deepest part of my soul that this was meant to be. The guys joined hands, then Tate and Gray each slipped a hand into one of mine. My heart swelled, nearly overwhelming me with the limitless possibilities of our connection. Only one word could describe the bond the seven of us shared: unbreakable.
Epilogue One
Gray
One Year and Six Months Later
I came to Seattle a year and a half ago with the intention of carving out a new place for myself among the art community here, to reclaim what roots a dragon is capable of having. The day I drove into the city, I felt more aimless than I’d felt since my Ascension. At least the day my generation of dragons woke from our five centuries of hibernation, I hadn’t been alone. Stuart and Murdoc had been by my side that day.
But the day I met April was the first day since birth that I felt truly alone, and despaired that the new chapter of my life I embarked on was destined to be a solitary one, even if I found a position as a teacher at the school. That is, until I met her.
The moment I first wrapped my arms around my beautiful glassblower, I no longer cared about the job that had brought me there. I would go where she went, my skills were hers to command. And when the others joined us, they fell into step with me as if we’d never been apart, our goals more in sync than ever.
We barely left April’s estate after that month. Once her show was finished, with the help of a few local nymphs, we drifted our tree back to the island, effectively planting it in a small, level clearing overlooking the Sound. Then we got to work on our plan for the future.
The St. George estate is now the St. George School and holds seasonal concentration courses in glassblowing, ceramics, blacksmithing, jewelry making, and woodworking. Of course, our students are exclusively Bloodline, and Deva Rainsong has dedicated a pair of her six hounds when courses are in session to help the unattached students find their soul mates among each other.
The guys and I have never been happier, spending our days teaching our skills to a hand-picked group of highly talented young artists, and our nights sharing one huge custom-made bed with our Chimera.
Some members of the higher races have even shown interest in attending classes at our school. I suspect they’re more interested in Bloodline mates now that word has gotten out that many of the Bloodline carry so much higher races blood they’re less human than we previously believed. None of our students have displayed anything close to the level of talent April possesses, however.
April’s power has grown exponentially in the past twelve months. Defying all logic, our tree has grown as well, its branches and leaves and the globes that hang from it now reflect each of the seasons as they come and go. Metal roots have worked their way into the soil at its base, and it seems to draw power from the earth, surprising us regularly with new growth as if its inorganic elements are fully capable of their own kind of life.
In between sessions, we have the island to ourselves for two nights before the next group of students arrives. On these nights, the seven of us have taken to lying beneath the branches just to watch the transformation of the globes. Tonight, April catches me staring up at one in particular that I swear wasn’t there before.
It’s autumn now, and the globes have been transformed into mini-landscapes of reds and golds. The tree’s trunk and branches also have a redder hue to the metal, the copper shining brighter than it does during the spring and summer. Yet there’s a globe among all the others with a pale frosty sheen on the glass and nothing but gray ash within. It belongs to winter, when all the globes turn gray and dormant, though Stuart, Murdoc, and I all appreciate the stark beauty of the tree when it’s silvery-bright in its cloak of winter frost.
Today, nearly a month before the Solstice, I sense a spark inside the ash-filled globe that evokes both life and death simultaneously, but can’t make sense of the duality. It takes April’s tug on my arm and then a whispered promise before I finally look away, forgetting about the oddity of the strange globe in favor of the thing April has just said to me.
“Come help the others put a baby in me.”
I am on my feet within a breath, swinging her up into my arms and climbing the stairs two at a time. We would all be fools to turn down an offer like that.
Epilogue Two
Benedetta
To die by the fire of Osiris is to live among the ashes of eternity, my ghost no more than smoke cast far and wide by the sons of thunder. I have been both not quite dead and not quite alive for a hundred human lifetimes, my soul a blackened coal and my body no more than dust.
But a beacon has just been lit, drawing me to it as the flame calls to the moth. That which is already ash cannot be burned, so I go, fearless in death as I was in life. What I find is no more than a stone prison within the heart of a tree grown out of a mating between fire and earth, six guardians standing watch.
Yet beyond those sentinels are three others, dark as shadows with hearts of fire, the brightest lights I have seen since the day Osiris put me down to cleanse my soul of its corruption.
These three who hide in shadows yet whose fires burn so bright will reignite my soul someday, for it was fire that burned my body from the world before, and it will be fire alone to bring me back.
Coming Soon…
Thieves of Fate
Fate’s Fools Book Nine
Thieves of Fate
Coming September 29, 2020
Exclusively in the Wicked Souls Limited Edition Reverse Harem Collection
Preorder Now
Once an Ultiori Elite, Benedetta’s psyche crumbled under the corrupting mind control inflicted on her by her evil master. She begged for release by the immortal dragon who loved her, and her death in his cleansing fire severed their bond forever.
But a new force in the world has resurrected Benedetta’s essence from the ashes left behind. Life magic has blended with fire and reached back through the Bloodline, lighting a spark and calling to a soul that never really perished.
Alive once more and free from the soul bond to her old immortal lover, her lonely soul cries out for a mate, but who can fill the void left by the Void himself?
A trio of Shadow dragons, that’s who.
Want More Fate’s Fools?
I
f you were curious about Deva Rainsong’s story, read the rest of the series about Deva and Fate’s Fools. Read on for an excerpt from the first book.
Fate’s Fools Series
Fate’s Fools
Fool’s Folly
Fool’s Paradise
Fool’s Errand
Nobody’s Fool
* * *
Fate’s Fools Chapter One
The ursa claimed that when they went on their pilgrimage as young adults, they did this thing they called “soul searching.” I’d always wondered what this meant. Were their souls vessels that needed to be emptied like old luggage and rifled through to find clues to their true paths? Or were they missing their souls and the pilgrimage was how they found them?
I’d never asked anyone else this question because I kind of already knew the answer—their soul searching was a journey to understand the souls they already possessed. I liked to think my own pilgrimage was the same thing, except I was probably fooling myself.
First of all, I wasn’t really on a pilgrimage. I ran away from home, and my family was probably looking for me.
Secondly, I didn’t have a soul, which was a double-edged sword. It meant I was nearly impossible for my family to find, but it also meant I was missing the one thing that could probably have told me where I belonged in the world, and was fairly certain my quest wasn’t going to lead me to it.
