He sat straighter. “I was once a blacksmith apprentice for the legendary Magnus. I was once a hunter for the Primean prince.”
Conn narrowed his gaze as he considered the two options and finally said, “You were an apprentice of Magnus. The second is the lie.”
I couldn’t imagine how Bowen could possibly hunt for a human prince, so I agreed.
Bowen lifted his cup as a toast to the both of us and swallowed down his drink before pouring another.
“Wow, Bowen,” I said, truly in awe. “You studied under Magnus?”
He was a brilliant craftsman of Drakonian steel weapons, most of which cost a fortune because Magnus, a master smith, had a hand in the forging of each and every weapon. His skill was unsurpassed. My twin swords made by him were my prized possessions.
“I did.” Bowen’s smile softened his features, an expression I’d never seen the grave warrior wear. “And I hunted for a Primean king, not a prince.” His brow furrowed at the thought.
I glanced at Conn, knowing we shouldn’t pry into that one. “Your turn.”
He sat back, shifting his wings, the low-back chair creaking with his weight. “The next topic is family.” He tapped his index finger on the tin cup a few times before saying, “I’m a better firedancer than my twin brother. And he is the faster flyer.”
Considering which held more truth, I cleared my throat and swirled my cup. I didn’t know his family. I’d met Corbin once at The Obsidian Games in Drakos a few years ago. He was loud and boisterous and attracted the attention of many women. If I had to compare the twin Rowanflame brothers, I’d say that Conn was the quieter of the two. Suddenly, I found that shocking.
“Well?” he prompted. “Which is the lie?”
“The first,” I said with confidence. “Corbin is the better firedancer.”
“And you, Bowen?” he asked.
“I say you are better with fire. So the second is a lie.”
Conn chuckled. “Bowen is correct.” He raised his cup with a wink. “Drink up, Valla.”
I took a sip, rather than gulp it all down, my senses tingling down to my toes.
“So you are the better flyer as well, I presume?” I asked with a toss of my ponytail over my shoulder.
“Of course, I am. He can pack a better punch, though.” He leaned back and patted his chest with one hand. “I’m a bit of an overachiever.”
I laughed. “Well, don’t be modest or anything.”
“I’m a truth-teller, sweetheart.”
I bristled at the pet name, but Conn was once more trying to antagonize me. And it was working per usual.
“Okay. I’ll go,” offered Bowen, but then he paused. He had already shot back several glasses, ignoring the rules of the game. His expression glazed over as he focused on the center of the table.
“Bowen?” I nudged his elbow.
Without lifting his gaze from the table, he said, “My father was a human prince. And my two sisters are captives of the Blood King.”
My mouth dropped. Either of those two statements seemed far from true. First, Bowen was known as a respected member and descendent of a long line of the Huntergild clan. He wasn’t treated as an inferior as biracial Morgons so often were. But the more confusing part was we knew the Blood King had only kept human women as his captives thus far. How could he have human sisters? The children of mixed-race relationships were always Morgon. Never human. I exchanged a puzzled expression with Conn who appeared as confused as I was.
“Well?” asked Bowen, lifting his bleary-eyed gaze to Conn.
“The second is the truth,” replied Conn with complete confidence.
“Agreed,” I quickly said, wanting to be done with this round for it obviously caused the man pain.
Bowen’s mouth twisted into a sad smile as he lifted his cup and downed his drink before slamming the tin down, his fists balled on the table.
“Bowen?” I asked. “How do you have human sisters?”
Seemingly far away, he stared at the table.
“Bowen?”
“We share the same mother,” he finally said, “but have different fathers.”
He clenched his jaw, his gaze filled with fury. I reached over and wrapped a hand around his flexed forearm. The man was a steel rod.
“Are you all right?”
“Those fucking butchers still have them,” he said, not meeting my gaze. “Serena and Lena. So innocent. At least they were. Moira saw them when she was held in the limestone caves. But they’re gone now, taken to some other hideaway.” The fire popped, snapping Bowen from his glazed reverie. When he lifted his head, his green eyes glowed with the dragon burning inside him. “But I will find them,” he vowed. “And I’ll kill every Morgon man who touched them when I do.”
He stood from the table and wobbled. One wing opened and closed as he caught his balance before he ambled to the closest mattress and plopped down. He grabbed his pack and chucked it at the head for a pillow.
“My father was an elder of the Huntergild clan,” he added, facing the wall. “But my mother was human. A princess of Primus,” he mumbled as he lay down and instantly drifted off.
I faced Conn, whose expression was hardened like the granite mask Bowen so often wore. “I didn’t know,” I said. “I didn’t realize he was half human.”
“Neither did I,” admitted Conn. “I didn’t know he lost his sisters to those bastards.”
“But they’re not lost,” I whispered. “If Moira saw them alive, they may very well still be.”
Conn clenched his jaw, gaze narrowing, the firelight dancing over his chiseled profile. “Even if he gets them back, Valla, they are still lost. They will no longer be the girls he remembered.”
I swallowed hard, knowing the human women these butchers kept were used for one of two things—sex or blood. The entire reason we were making this horrific journey into no-man’s-land was to discover what the Syren Sisters might know and why this Morgon cult, or whatever they were, would be harvesting human blood. The idea of being drained dry, helpless and afraid, tied my stomach into knots. The idea of being kept as a sex slave forced bile up my throat. “We’ll get them back,” I managed to say past the lump in my throat.
“Yes. We will,” said Conn. His confidence raised my spirits as he poured more moonshine for both of us.
“I think we’ve had enough for the night.”
“One more round,” he said, brushing off the dark subject like a heavy blanket. “New topic.” The way his mouth quirked up on one side sent my blood humming.
“What do you mean? We should end the game and go to sleep.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you afraid?”
Damn him. He knew how to get me every time. I’d never admit I was afraid, not even if I was. “But I didn’t finish the last round on family. Shouldn’t we finish that first?”
“No need. I know your family too well anyway.” That was certainly true. “New topic.”
I squirmed under his intense gaze when he paused. “Well?” I asked.
“Sex.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to play anymore.”
“You’re afraid.”
“No, I’m not.” Okay, maybe a little. “This is an inappropriate game to play with colleagues.”
“Valla…”
My insides quivered when he spoke my name that way.
“It’s just a game. And we’re more than colleagues.”
What did he mean by that? Because our families knew each other? Because we were on a dangerous mission in the middle of nowhere? My mind raced, trying to analyze his intention. And the moonshine was fuzzing my brain, which didn’t help my deductive reasoning. Or my judgment.
He leaned both forearms on the table, his wings opening slightly at his back, once more drawing my gaze to the immensity of his wingspan. “Don’t tell me you’re actually quitting.”
“I’ve never quit anything in my life.”
“Then it’s your turn. Truth or lie. Let’s g
o.”
It was a dare. He was expecting me to quit. I’d be damned before I would. I pondered what I could confess that wouldn’t reveal too much then finally settled on something as vague as possible.
“Kissing is boring.” I stared at my hands molding my cup before saying rather flippantly with a shrug of one shoulder, “And sex is overrated.”
Conn let out a loud bark of laughter. “Oh, Valla. No matter which one of those is true tells me you’re doing it all wrong. Or you haven’t been with the right partner.”
“Don’t be an ass, Conn. Play the game.”
He gave a stiff nod, grinning like a fiend and leaning on the table to examine me closer. The short sleeve of his black T-shirt tightened around his bicep. “I’ll say the first is the truth.”
“Nope,” I said, gesturing toward his cup. “Bottoms up.”
But the heavy tension rippling from the man across the table told me he wasn’t playing anymore. And my sad attempt at hiding my inexperience wasn’t working.
“So if the first was a lie, that means you enjoy kissing,” he said in a low rumble.
I shrugged again. “Sure.”
“Sorry you’ve had less than adequate partners in bed, though. That’s a sin, in my opinion.”
“Whatever.” I avoided eye contact, sipping the moonshine which had lost its burn. Not a good sign. “I just don’t see what the big deal is about.”
Conn laughed and shook his head. “Like I said, you’ve had the wrong partners.”
Anxious to change the subject, I tapped my cup with my fingernail.
“Wait a second,” he leaned forward. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I did.
“You’ve never had sex before, have you?”
“What?” I laughed. Sort of. Then scoffed. Then gulped the last sip of my moonshine to have something to do other than meet the fiery gaze of the Morgon man leaning into my space across the table.
“You haven’t. That’s why you think it’s overrated.”
“It’s really none of your damn business. This has gotten too personal.”
But he wasn’t done yet.
“And who have you been kissing, Valla?”
“Definitely none of your business.”
“I’ll bet you’ve never been kissed either.”
“Pffft. Of course, I have. I’ve kissed lots of men.”
“Oh, really. Like who?”
“Taron Woodblade.”
“That was a mistake. He’s an idiot. He has no clue what to do with a woman. Who else?”
“Um…” I stared toward the domed ceiling, alcohol humming through my veins. I couldn’t focus with the scent of Conn swirling around me, knocking any and all sense I had left out of my head.
“Wait, wait, wait. The only man you’ve ever kissed is Taron Woodblade?”
I shrugged.
“And you liked it?” he asked, sounding incredulous.
I shivered, remembering that one lousy date that ended in a slobbery kiss at the door. “No. He was horrible, actually.” I heaved a sigh. “I’m not really fond of kissing either.”
I think the moonshine was a truth serum. I couldn’t shut my stupid mouth up.
The real truth was I hadn’t had time for men. I’d always been ambitious and driven toward my goals. And I’d accomplished them. One reason I’d become the youngest member of the Assassin’s Order in the Morgon Guard. But after spending so many years focusing on my career and shunning interference, like dating, I didn’t know how to reopen the door I’d closed long ago. Other women my age had tried a few men on for size and narrowed down to the type they liked. I relished my independence and didn’t want a dominant man, like the one sitting across from me agitating me beyond reason.
“You cheated,” said Conn. He reached across the table and took my cup from my hands. “That deserves a penalty.”
“What do you mean I cheated?”
“Because you told the truth about kissing being a bore since Taron ruined that experience for you, and you’ve never had sex, so you can’t judge what you don’t know. Your lie was a truth, and your truth was a lie. You cheated.”
“So I cheated. It’s just a game.”
“I require a penalty.”
I narrowed my gaze. Damn Morgon men. They were serious about their games.
“What kind of penalty?”
“A kiss.”
“Goodnight, Conn.”
I stood and wobbled. He was at my side, steadying me by the elbow.
“I could show you what you’re missing.”
He didn’t smile. He wasn’t joking. And deep down, I knew he could. Temptation swirled in the air. My dragon raised her head and sniffed. I stood there, speechless, trying to form the tiny word no, but it wouldn’t come out of my mouth.
He arched a brow. “You’ve never properly experienced a kiss, Valla. And you know it.”
A feverish heat licked up my insides. Was it the moonshine? I didn’t think so. Unwillingly, I stared at his lips. “Just a kiss?” I asked in a whisper.
“Then you can judge if it’s boring…or not.”
He was already moving closer, his broad shoulders filling up my space. My reason had left with the first shot of drink, so I nodded, my pulse pounding in my throat.
Conn gripped my waist with one hand, his other splayed across the small of my back. “Look at me, Valla.”
Still staring at his chest, trancelike, I lifted my chin. His fire-gold eyes burned hot with his dragon riding him, his pupils straight slits.
He dipped his head and grazed my parted lips with his, twice, before giving me the delicious pressure of his mouth, angling so that we molded perfectly together. Feeling brazen with the alcohol streaming through my blood, I darted my tongue inside first.
A deep growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating against my breasts. His hand came up and gripped the nape of my neck, holding me hard as he swept in with fierce strokes. His hand at my back pressed me closer, revealing the evidence of his arousal against my abdomen. I tried not to make a sound but moaned into his mouth anyway.
Both of his hands slid over my bottom, squeezed, then glided farther down, gripped my thighs, and lifted me. My wings opened on instinct, as they always did when my feet left the ground. I locked my legs around him to hold myself up, but there was no need. Conn wrapped one arm all the way around my waist, his fingers curling around my ribs on the other side, and his other hand clutched my thigh. I was held in a hot vise called Conn Rowanflame. And it was magnificent. Glorious.
Nipping down my neck, he left a trail of heat wherever his lips touched. The sensation of his hard body pressing against my soft one, his mouth on mine, his teasing tongue, drove me mad. My hands were in his hair, clutching and pulling him closer. I rocked my hips, rubbing against his hard length, wondering how the hell any woman could take that inside her body. His growl had never ceased, soft and steady, like a roll of thunder far above the clouds, letting the world know that a storm was coming.
He gripped both my hips to still them and broke the kiss, then pressed his forehead to mine.
“Fuck.” His breathing was ragged and fast. So was mine.
I untangled my fingers from his hair to let them sit lightly on his shoulders. “No. Just a kiss. That was the deal.”
He chuckled. I couldn’t help but smile as he lowered me to the floor, his large hands framing my waist. I folded my wings back.
“Was that better than Taron Woodblade?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “A little.”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but I pushed gently out of his arms. The reality of our positions, of our roles as fellow officers and partners, reared to the forefront of my drunken, kiss-addled brain. “Goodnight, Conn.”
I ambled to my mattress, plopped down, and lay on my stomach, using my arm as a pillow. Focusing on steadying my erratic breathing, I heard him settle on the creaky chair by the hearth. The sound of Conn blowing new flame into the grate and the subsequent spark
and pop of a blazing fire were the last I heard before slipping into a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 5
Wearing only a gossamer, silk gown, I spread my wings flat on the satin-covered mattress, then lay myself bare for my black-eyed guardian—my silent lover who worshipped me more every day. His muscles bunched as he stood at the edge of the bed awaiting my command. His dark skin was illumined by candlelight. As I slowly unbuttoned my gown and opened the sheer fabric to reveal my body, pale and wanting, he flexed into a stone-like wall.
I skimmed my palms over my full breasts, rounded stomach, and inner thighs. He groaned—the sound of a dying man, not the feral beast I knew he was. He gave me pleasure in so many ways. His fierce and feral nature spoke to my own savage heart. His undying devotion to do my bidding, no matter what command I gave him. His insatiable desire for my body and infinite patience, awaiting my permission…as he did now.
Naked and rigid from head to toe, he had waited long enough. Spreading my thighs wide, I beckoned him with my body. A small whimper escaped my lips as he raked me with those haunted, black eyes. As always, he would not move unless I said the words.
“Come to me, lover.”
His wings flared, half carrying him onto the bed. He was over me and inside me in seconds. Swallowed by the decadent dark, I arched my back, pressing my breasts to his muscular chest. He groaned again, pumping with desperate need, his thighs slapping mine in quick tempo, pounding me hard. Enveloped in the shadow of his wings and smothered by his powerful body, I whispered words to drive him mad, to tie him to me further, no matter that we hadn’t bonded with soulfire.
“You were my first, Decimus…you will be my last.” He thrust deeper. “The others were only a means to an end.”
I trailed my tongue along his taut throat, straining like every other muscle in his body. My fangs extended, as always in passion, grazing along his sensitive skin, teasing. I would never harm my dark lover. Never. But the edge of danger, of death, sent him over the brink. And me with him. He spilled his seed inside of me, though I knew it would come to nothing.
Both of us spent and panting, we didn’t sense the newcomers approach in the courtyard outside my chamber. The sound of the gong stirred us both. He stood and wrapped his red tunic around his waist in sharp movements and, ever the soldier, strapped his shoulder harness for his short-sword. My soldier.
Dragon in the Blood (Vale of Stars Book 2) Page 4
