by Ophelia Bell
“What did you do?!” he cried and surged at her, his hand clamping around her throat as he pushed her hard against the cold stone wall.
“I should only feel pain when I am inflicting it on another, not when it is done to me. Being tortured doesn’t faze me, yet when I torture captives, I feel everything I do to them. Did you know that’s what they turned me into after our wedding night? For the first two centuries, I was a god, but before long all the blessings I was given seemed like curses. I feel every bite of the blade when I slice another woman’s skin the way I did yours. Do you still love my hand around your throat, little beast? Because I can feel the light fading from my own eyes the more I squeeze.”
He squeezed harder, and the familiar darkness she once wished for began to seep into her vision. Staring deep into his eyes, she could sense the same dark cloud creeping into his mind, and knew he hated feeling it as much as he loved inflicting it on her.
She forced a constricted breath through her lungs so she could speak.
“I can kill you with that fire, if I choose to.” Reaching up to grip his wrist, she pulled his hand away from her throat, forced his fingers open in front of her mouth, and breathed a blue tongue of flame at the center of his palm. Nikhil let out an agonized cry, struggling to pull away from her. When his skin blistered, she closed her mouth and twisted his hand back into an unnatural position. That should have hurt him as much as her fire did, yet he showed not even a flicker of discomfort. He was much stronger than she remembered, and he fought her, but he was still no match for her physical strength.
“Then kill me,” he bit out. “I know you must have wished for my death all this time. If you could have destroyed me all along, why didn’t you?”
“You have something that belongs to me, and I want it back.”
She released his arm and he gingerly held his wrist, inspecting the welt in the center of his palm. He flexed his hand as though he’d simply been arm-wrestling and not had his fingers nearly bent double the wrong way around and his elbow twisted far enough to break, though it hadn’t. The burn had clearly hurt him far worse than the other abuse.
“So this is a negotiation,” he said, flicking his eyes back up to hers and dropping his hand to his side. “Very well. What treasure do I hold that’s so valuable it kept you from obliterating me for three thousand years? And why are you only coming to beg for it now?”
“My son. The one that was taken from me before I met you. We’ve tried to find him all this time, but you seem to have hidden him too well.” She carefully avoided mention of her other child. She’d taken a risk that he never knew the true identity of the two hibernating dragons he’d stolen. If he knew one was his own daughter, she feared she would never get them back.
A chuckle rattled out of his throat, the rough, scratchy sound betraying the damage he’d done to himself by attempting to strangle her.
“You mean the bastard child your own brother gave you? I always wondered why that statue had been so well-hidden when I found it. What are you willing to do for me to get him back, little beast?”
“One night. You can have me for one night. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“You’re going to kill me when it’s over. Why should I settle for a single evening? Watching you bleed out for me again would be the pinnacle of my desires. If anything, I want it more now than I did the first time. But I won’t be satisfied with one night. Not after wanting you for so long.”
“Fine. Name your price, Nikhil. I’ll come with you now, if you want, and we can get on with it.”
One dark eyebrow rose, and she realized what was so different about him. He had barely aged, yet his face was pale and a little gaunt, as though from long-endured fatigue. He was still a powerful man—even more powerful now. And the allure of the Blessing he’d received before he was born still lingered under the surface of that dark aura, though the corrupted magic that filled him now hid it well. He was still Blessed—if she hadn’t stolen him for herself, would he have ever found the dragon mate he was meant for?
“Not tonight, sweet little beast,” he said, stepping close enough that his warm breath gusted over her forehead. “You owe me a lifetime, but I’ll settle for one week. Seven days are all I need to break you again.”
He bent and pressed his lips to her temple. They were warm and dry and the gesture was strangely comforting. A spark of old longing shot through her. Now that the nausea had passed, she could remember the pleasure he’d given her and how beautifully devoid of worry the oblivion that followed had been.
His lips drifted lower, over her cheek, and down to her mouth. As he kissed her, one hand slid down her bare arm and he gripped her wrist, his thumb idly caressing the pulse point and the tender skin just above her palm. He kissed her there softly, and with deft grace produced a blade. Before Belah could react, the sharp tip of the dagger pierced her skin and he drew a swift line down along the inside of her wrist.
The pain surprised her and mesmerized her, the old need to please him taking over again. With a hungry look, he bent his head and darted his tongue out, trailing it along the line of her blood.
“No!” she said, finally summoning the presence of mind to yank her hand out of his grasp and wrap her other hand around her wrist, staunching the flow. She stared at the dagger that rested in his grip—the blade she had once given him on their wedding day, and the only object on Earth that could make her bleed.
“Yes, my love.” His eyes sparked with lust as he began to move away from her, still licking his lips. “You still crave what I can give you. I can feel the way your body quivers under my touch. Oh, will I make you earn what you seek.”
When he reached the three figures that stood guard behind him, he said, “My Elites will come find you when I’m ready for you.”
Three hands reached up and rested on Nikhil’s shoulders, the three dark-clad Elites watching her solemnly from the shadows. She looked at each in turn, opening her mind to theirs to seek out what information she could glean. The first had wavy, silver-blond hair and sad, gray eyes. The second seemed somehow familiar, with his closely trimmed, russet hair and gentle brown eyes. All three Elites exuded familiar power that reminded her of her own brothers. But the third sparked a sudden memory.
A shimmering bubble surrounded them. Just before they flickered out of existence, she met the gaze of that tall, painfully beautiful man. The slightest glint of recognition reflected back at her from his dark eyes, and he nodded his head almost imperceptibly.
“Naaz,” she whispered when they were gone. The child she’d blessed so long ago was still alive, but one of Nikhil’s soldiers now. Not just any soldier, either—an Elite. But what of his twin sister, Neela? “Oh, sweet, Blessed children.” She raised her hand and wiped tears from her eyes. “Is this what he made you? Sweet Mother, forgive me.”
Movement caught her eye from the shadows beyond, and she focused on the shape. Ozzie sat with eyes wide and mouth agape, holding his crumpled jacket to a bleeding cut on his forehead.
Voices from somewhere nearby called her name, the Shadows rushing through in a flurry, but Belah brushed them off. “I’m fine, and I think you guys can take the night off—they won’t be bothering me again.”
“Mistress, Kol told us never to lose sight of you,” the leader of her guard said. “Something strange happened. One second the two of you were kissing, and the next … well, the whole scene shifted and the turul was on the ground. I don’t know what happened.”
Belah looked into his eyes. “Nikhil is what happened. He’s learned a thing or two from the nymphaea. There’s nothing you could have done, but I am fine. He’s still not strong enough to take me, at least. And if you’re not going to leave me, at least go back to pretending you’re not here, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said, and he and the other Shadow exited the corridor into the night, where they seemed to bleed b
ack into the shadows like ghosts.
“You…” Ozzie croaked. “You exist. The old tales were true, then, weren’t they? That our enemy was made by … by one of the Dragon Council. You’re the Blue Beast they tell stories about to frighten our children. If we don’t behave, you’ll come and turn us into unfeeling, blood-thirsty monsters like the Ultiori.”
He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. Belah could only stand and silently witness the growing disgust and fear cross his face. She gave him a sad smile.
“This is what misplaced desire can do to you, if you let it. You’re safer waiting for your true mate, Oszkar, and cherish her when you find her.”
“By the Winds, I’m fucking glad you weren’t my One.”
A pair of silhouetted figures appeared in the entrance to the underground passage and Erika rushed toward her.
“Belah! Oh, thank God. Geva said he had a bad feeling when we were walking through the park … Ozzie? What the hell happened to you guys?” Erika looked between the two of them, taking in Belah’s disheveled appearance and Ozzie’s blood-streaked face.
“You guys are better off steering clear of her,” Ozzie said. He spat at her feet and Geva moved like a flash, lifted him by his collar, and shook him.
“Show more respect to a daughter of Fate, you feathered bastard,” Geva growled.
“So you know what she’s done, then? What her part was in the existence of those fucking Ultiori bastards who hunt us? I’m fucking swearing off dragons. You guys can have each other.”
“Let him go, Geva,” Belah said. “He isn’t wrong.”
With a grumble, Geva released him. Ozzie’s feet barely hit the ground again before he shifted. His finely tailored clothing fell in a heap and huge, feathered wings beat at the air, carrying him through the shadows out of the underground corridor. His winged turul shape came into view high in the sky, blocked out the light of the moon for a moment, and then he was gone.
Erika rushed to Belah and squeezed her upper arms, rubbing gently. “Are you all right? Come on.” She slipped an arm around Belah’s waist and led her out into the open again, to one of the benches that surrounded the courtyard. Belah sat with Erika beside her and Geva squatting in front of her.
“Did they hurt you?” he asked, scanning her up and down. He let out a growl when his gaze fell on the still unhealed cut on her wrist. He grabbed her hand. “How did this happen? You’re immortal. If the Ultiori have ways to cut one of you…”
“It’s my fault. Everything Ozzie said is true. I’m the dragon who made Nikhil what he is.”
“Bullshit,” Geva said. “I’m the son of a Queen. When my mother died, she left behind all the secrets a dragon queen is privy to. That includes the fact that you had help from the other races. What did that Ultiori bastard want from you?”
“It isn’t what he wants from me that matters,” she said with a sigh. “It’s what I want from him. He has my son and daughter.”
Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she gave in and told her hosts the truth, leaving no detail unmentioned, except for one. They didn’t need to know that she’d had a child with their enemy. That detail was no one’s business.
“His power has grown over the centuries. He carries nymphaea magic now and knows how to use it,” she concluded. “That’s the only way he and his Elites could have disappeared the way they did. I’ve seen it before, long ago. The satyrs were often the strongest and could create a bubble that allowed them to manipulate the fabric of space and time. He must be using the same magic to hide my babies. No wonder dragon magic hasn’t been able to find them.”
“At least you figured that out. Knowledge is half the battle,” Erika said. “We can have these … nymphaea … help look for them. My team can help, too. You don’t have to give yourself to him again, Belah.”
Belah let out a humorless laugh. “The nymphaea are a capricious race. I doubt they would care enough to bother.”
Geva nodded. “Not to mention the males are extinct. It’s no wonder the Ultiori have use of their power—they hunted down the males and captured and killed them until none remained. The females refuse to conceive male children anymore because they won’t give the Ultiori the satisfaction of holding anything over their heads. Every one of the races had to adapt in some fashion.”
Belah gripped Geva’s hand where it rested on her knee and squeezed. “The hibernations saved us. In some ways, having a common adversary was a blessing. I just wish it didn’t have to come at such a price.”
“It’s important that you know I don’t blame you, Belah. None of the Court does, now that we know the truth. The other races will come around.”
“Yeah, honey. Forget what Ozzie said. Besides, if you were the one for him, he’d have loved you anyway.” Erika rubbed a comforting hand in a circle between Belah’s shoulder blades.
“The fact that ‘the one for me’ won’t have a choice isn’t exactly a consolation. I never gave Nikhil a choice, either—he would have gladly accepted my mark and become my mate, even though it meant he’d lose his free will. I planned to give him that, despite my desire to the contrary. Our hope was that the wedding blessings he was given would protect him from the strength of my magic.”
Everything had gone exactly as she’d hoped on the night of her wedding to Nikhil, but Belah had no control over what would happen when too much of her blood had flowed from her body to remain fully conscious. She could never have predicted that her beloved brother would misinterpret Nikhil’s gift to her and spirit her away, believing he was saving her from a madman. None of them could have predicted that consuming her blood would allow Nikhil to survive her brother’s fire, nor could they predict his actions in the aftermath of losing her.
They had all suffered so much since. She didn’t know whether finding a new mate and bearing a child with him would have any effect on the future. What she did know was that she had a chance to redeem herself now, and to find her lost children in the process.
She would submit to Nikhil one more time to find out how to get her son and daughter back. And then she would kill him.
“Belah?” Erika said in a strangely panicked tone. “Please let go of Geva now, okay?”
Geva let out a pained grunt that made her refocus her attention on him. His teeth were bared in a grimace of pain. “Yeah, if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep that hand.”
She stared down where her hand still gripped his tightly. Shining blue talons had manifested where her fingers had been and pierced cleanly through his palm. Blood dripped from the wounds and onto the bricks that paved the ground beneath.
With a cry of alarm, she released him and forced her clawed hand back to its human shape.
“Jesus! Baby, are you going to be okay?” Erika reached for Geva’s mangled hand and he winced.
Cursing softly to herself, Belah let out a quick breath, directing the numbing blue smoke to wrap itself around his hand. Geva’s shoulders sagged in relief when the anesthetic properties of her magic took effect.
“Your date didn’t quite manage to top you off, I take it?” Geva asked. His aura flickered as he inhaled, summoning his magic into his lungs, then exhaled his own healing power over the surface of his palm. The wounds knit slowly and his blood stopped flowing. He surreptitiously bent and shot a quick blaze out of his mouth to burn away the blood that had fallen to the bricks beneath. It would be foolish to leave even a drop of dragon blood out in the open.
“We were interrupted. I suppose it’s better they stepped in before he made the mistake of making love to me. Fewer regrets for him this way.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t solve the immediate issue, does it?” Erika said. “You won’t let us help, so the least I can do is get you laid tonight. Come on, you two.” She reached out and grabbed both their hands, pulling them along toward the steps that led up out of the plaza. “I know just the place, and hotties, that’ll wo
rk for you. And maybe we’ll even find you that mate in the process. Kill two turul with one dragon, so to speak. Though I am kind of bummed Ozzie wasn’t the one. That man is sex on a stick—you seriously don’t know what you’re missing. I was kind of hoping we could compare notes after.”
Belah let Erika lead her through the park, too weary from her need for energy to argue. The meal had certainly taken the edge off, but was still nothing close to an adequate substitute for the magic she needed. She no longer cared who Erika had in mind for her, as long as she wasn’t interrupted again once she had him alone for five minutes. Though at this point she probably needed more than a single night, or a single partner, to be fully replenished.
After walking for several minutes among the busy city streets, she heard the music from her dreams and smiled. The pleasant buzz that always seemed to accompany those images incited fresh yearning to find the male who would belong to her. The fact that Ozzie had been one of the musicians had given her hope that he might be the one. Now that she knew it wasn’t him, she wondered if the music was simply a turul thing, and that any one of the thousands of male turul out there might be him. If the music was merely symbolic, it might take weeks to find her mate, but she was willing to keep searching.
In the meantime, she would let herself enjoy the music the turul made, and would happily let Erika be the choreographer of her trysts to replenish in between searching.
The world fell away when she entered the dimly lit club and let Erika lead her to an isolated booth along the back wall. The place was nearly full, the patrons listening raptly to the band on stage. Belah sat and closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the music to wash over her and acclimating herself to the environment. The myriad minds of the humans and other creatures in public places could be distracting, particularly when she was too low on energy to block out the psychic noise. The coaxing nature of the music helped her focus her attention on it alone, and she let out a sigh.
“What do you think?” Erika asked.
