by Julia Mills
They chanted through the night, while Niall used everything in his abundant arsenal to heal Riona and Rhianna. The tiny, premature baby girl was born sometime in the wee hours of the morning, and although she was barely breathing and pale as the snow on the mountain tops, she was beautiful to all that saw her. She shared Royce’s head of bright red curly hair and the one time she graced them by opening her eyes, the brilliant blue that shined behind those tiny lids were an exact replica of his mother’s. The tiny babe had looked right into his eyes and an unbreakable bond was instantly formed. Royce willingly funneled all the energy he had left into her tiny body, praying with all that he was that she would live, that he would have the chance to watch her grow and flourish and live the life the Heavens intended.
But at daybreak, just as the warm golden rays of the first light of day crested the mountainside, the two most important people in Royce’s life simultaneously took their last breaths. The complete and utter silence of the moment rang in his ears. Everyone in attendance watched as Ronan, their Head Elder, gently laid his wife upon her pillow, placed their tiny daughter into her arms and covered them both lovingly with the blood soaked sheet. He stood watching them, as if by sheer will alone he could wish life back into them. The vast darkness felt endless, but no one moved; he wondered if they even breathed. Then, in the blink of an eye, his father threw back his head and roared. Raw power and emotion blasted through the entire lair. Windows shattered and the very timbers of their home trembled from the sheer weight of his anguish. One by one, each clan member added their voice to their leaders until the ground shook and trees toppled.
As quickly as it had begun it stopped, like a switch had been flipped, and the powerful ruler of the Blue Thunder Clan of the Dragon Shifters was gone…one second there, the next not. Royce looked out the window over his mother’s head as the growing light of a new day shone through the shards of glass still stuck in the window pane, and there, flying towards the sun, was his father’s dragon. He watched the beast get smaller and smaller as a crippling loss filled him. Turning his head he saw what he was feeling reflected on the faces of his brothers.
Unwilling to relive any more anguish he called upon the strength his dragon, and together they pushed him from his dark revelry back to reality. The residual effects of the overpowering emotions left him spent and panting. While attempting to regain his control, he looked up to find Rian leaning against the wall of the cave, head bowed, with sweat dripping from his brow. “You ok, Ri? What happened?”
“You happened, little brother. You and your blasted memories of the past. You and your ability to relive events as if they are happening all over again. I had no idea we were taking a stroll down memory lane until it was too late. A heads up next time would be nice.” He turned and faced Royce. The sweat that dotted his upper lip and the slight tremor in his hand gave away the power the memory had over him.
“Now you see why I cannot mate with her, no matter how impressive her lineage or how sterling her reputation. Ilsa had never done anything remotely dark. Hell, her parents were two white witches from highly honored covens that hadn’t practiced or even spoken of the dark arts for centuries. She was of the great mage’s lineage for Heaven’s sake! She lived with our family…our clan, for hundreds of years and was mother’s closest friend. That piece of shit, waste of skin and bones helped raise us, and in the time between breakfast and lunch was overtaken by a dark spirit seeking the power only the sacrifice of a female dragon and child can yield.”
He paused trying to regain some semblance of control. With none to be found, he continued, his voice a low snarl, “She slaughtered our family.”
The look that crossed Rian’s face let Royce know his older brother was uncharacteristically thinking before speaking. His older brother turned, stopping with his feet shoulder width apart, his hands clasped behind his back, reminding Royce of all the speeches Rian had given before the Guard had flown off into battle, but was sure this oration was not to be uplifting. He braced himself for the recrimination he was sure would follow. The voice that reached his ears was one he hadn’t heard since childhood. “Royce, I know this isn’t what you wished for or could’ve ever seen happening, but it is your reality and you need to find a way to accept it. You’ve been given a gift, one that every dragon shifter hears tales of from their first bedtime story and wishes for from the second of their transformation.
“As much as you don’t want to hear it, you will listen…The Universe does not make mistakes. She and She alone knows what you need even if you don’t. Most times She acts in spite of what you believe is right for you. You have to find your faith. It is not your destiny to die alone and loveless. You more than any of us deserve to be happy, to have an entire clan of your own running around and to have a woman at your side that reminds you to lighten the hell up!”
Both brothers burst out laughing, the tension breaker needed before they ground their teeth to nubs. Royce knew his brother was right, in theory, and he was instantly filled with regret for burdening Rian with his personal problems after the horrible hand Fate had dealt him. “Ri, I’m…”
“Shut the hell up, Roy. Do you really think I’d be working so hard to pull your stubborn ass out of the past if I was still stuck there? What’s done is done. But you, my little brother,” Rian stopped, eyebrow raised and took a step forward, “have a bright future just waiting for you. All you have to do is grab it.”
“Ya’ know I really hate that you know what I’m going to say before I get it out of my mouth, and I know you’re right, at least for the most part, but there are no guarantees she won’t fall to the dark arts.”
“Dammit, Roy, pull your head out of your ass! Guarantees? You want fucking guarantees? Life has no guarantees! We get what we get and it’s up to us to make the most out of it!”
Rian turned and stood staring towards the mouth of the cave. Royce could see his brother’s shoulders rising and falling as he took deep breaths to regain his composure. It was an uncommon occurrence for his older and although he hated to admit it, wiser brother, to lose his temper. There had to be something else going on besides Royce’s inability to accept his mate. He listened as Rian’s breathing and heart rate returned to normal, but decided not to resume the conversation. If Rian wanted to he could, but Royce was fine with letting the subject die the death it deserved. Of course, his brother liked the sound of his own voice just about as much as he liked anything, so Royce was not surprised when Rian began again.
“I’ve seen your little witch in your mind, just as you see her with your own two eyes, and more importantly, with your heart. You’re drawn to her, just as it’s meant to be. Your dragon pushes for you to go to her, but you hold the past in front of you, shielding, protecting you from real happiness, from life as it was intended. You have to stop holding on to the past as some sort of tribute to mother and Rhianna. They are gone, Royce, have been for over a hundred years. Father’s gone on to join them in the heavens and they’re looking down on all of us, wishing they could bitch slap some sense into you. You’re not honoring their deaths by refusing the one person you are meant to spend all of your days with both here and in the next life…”
Rian paused, and for the first time since Royce had arrived at the clan of his birth, he realized how tired his brother looked. Something was weighing on him, something he wasn’t sharing with him. Just as he was about to speak, Rian held up his hand and looked him right in the eye. “No justifications, you are dishonoring them.”
Before Royce could respond, the space that Rian had occupied was empty. Royce was left feeling even angrier and more confused than before. He paced beside the fire, looking to the mouth of the cave every few minutes, not sure who or what he was waiting for, but sure things were about to go to hell.
~~~~~~~
Drip…drip…drip…Kyra watched the raindrops slide off the leaves and fall into the huge puddle that had formed outside the makeshift shelter Lance and Devon had built for her. Each splat seemed to
accentuate the incredible amount of time that was passing and the utter failure of her quest to catch the little shithead that had tricked her into helping him hurt the nicest bunch of people...and dragons, she had ever met. They actually cared for one another and saw each other as more than a means to an end. It was something she had never experienced before.
Smiling, she remembered how her ‘escorts’ had reacted when the first raindrop had fallen about an hour ago. It had been absolutely comical as the two big bad Guardsmen bickered like little boys as they constructed the lean-to that kept her and her supplies somewhat dry. She had laughed so hard tears had run down her face. Lance and Devon were worse than a coven full of teenage witches and that was saying something. About an hour into her wait, she’d wondered if it had occurred to them how the bright blue tarp secured to the ground behind her and attached to two large pieces of wood in the front stuck out like a sore thumb on the side of the mountain they were perched upon.
“You do know I won’t melt, right?” She yelled. “That was the Wicked Witch of the West. I’m the Short Sarcastic Witch of the South,” she snorted at her own joke and heard them laugh along.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you won’t melt. I’ve heard only sugar melts. However, all your witchy goodies may and after thirteen days of absolutely no sign of the traitor, I’m not taking a chance that we’ll miss him the first time you get a jingle or whatever happens on your magic mirror,” Devon answered, and she could tell that he and Lance were moving closer.
She shifted her bags to the side to make room for their larger than usual bodies when the toe of a soggy, worn-out cowboy boot entered her view. “Hey, Snarky Witch,” Lance chuckled at his own joke and the thought of kicking him in the shin made her grin, “Looks like the weather is clearing up. Since we’ve established you won’t melt, how about you get packed up and let’s see if we can find the little asshole?”
“Thank the Goddess,” she mumbled as she grabbed the handles of her bags. “I’m so ready to find that shithead and give him a swift kick in the ass.” She stood and walked out into the reappearing sunlight.
When she saw them, she laughed out loud. “You guys look like a couple of drowned rats. You sure you don’t want to head back and get some dry clothes before we continue.”
The last word was barely out of her mouth before they answered in unison, “Hell, no!”
She raised her palms in a sign of surrender. “No problem. I just don’t want your mate,” she looked at Lance, “and your momma,” she looked at Devon, “to get pissed at me when you both get the sniffles.”
“We don’t get sick,” they answered in unison.
“You two really need to talk one at a time or take your ventriloquism act on the road,” she laughed as she placed her bags on a rock and turned to start taking down the shelter.
“We can get it. You just cop a squat and we’ll be on our way in a minute,” Lance winked and she wondered if his new mate, Samantha, ever got tired of his constant joking.
Then she remembered the dreamy way they looked at one another, as if no one else existed, and she knew the answer. Unfortunately, the image of the largest man she’d ever seen with brooding brown eyes and absolutely luscious lips burst into her mind. It didn’t matter that she’d barely ever seen them in anything but a frown or heard little more than a grumble come from them, his lips were still completely kissable and occupied her thoughts way more than they should. She hadn’t seen the man she knew Fate had picked out for her for almost two weeks. Apparently, he had left before sunrise the morning after Baby Jay’s first birthday party. Jerk! He’d been completely unbearable and basically anti-social, even to his brethren, during one of the most joyous occasions his clan had known. It was a huge deal that the Commander of the Elite Dragon Force and his beautiful mate had been blessed with a son, and an even bigger deal that in the middle of the search for the traitor that had damned near killed the child’s mother, the entire Force had taken a day off to celebrate the little would-be warrior’s first birthday.
She’d tried everything she could think of to get him to speak to her but had failed…totally…miserably, and then completely lost her nerve when she crashed right into his chest. To make matters worse…he had growled…really growled at her when her hand had landed just above his waist. What the hell! He was six-foot ten and she was five-foot two; her hands only reached so far and she was about to fall on her ass. It had been one of the most embarrassing moments of her life, and she knew Devon had witnessed it all. Thankfully, he’d had the decency to never mention it.
Dammit, she was no wimp! Kyra St. Croix had never cowered from anything in her life. She was the daughter and heiress of Grand Priestess Calysta St. Croix, the leader of the oldest and most powerful coven of Earth witches in the world. She’d made it through every test that could have been thrown at her when her right of succession had been questioned, completely based on her ‘mixed race’. Was it her fault her father was a human? That her mom had a thing for mortals? She had only laid eyes on the man three times in her entire life; that was the way of their coven. Not one she really agreed with, but who was she to buck thousands of years of a tradition she really didn’t care about? He seemed nice enough, but three times in seventy-five years did not a daddy-daughter relationship make. He was a sperm donor in her eyes, plain and simple. She had endured forty days and forty nights in the Forest of Darkness, with only what she could scavenge to survive and infused with a magic-dampening spell to prove she had what it took to lead the prestigious coven.
Not that any of that really mattered. There was no way her mother would ever forgive her for leaving, skulking off in the night, to avoid being paraded from dragon clan to dragon clan to identify her mate. She was not a show pony, or worse yet, a beauty queen on tour. Her mother had refused to listen, insisting that they needed to locate her mate as soon as possible with no explanation why. Only after a few months of arguing had Kyra overheard the conversation that changed everything.
She had been heading back to her room after one of the absolutely worst training sessions in the history of training sessions. One that made her want to rip out every last strand of her hair and scream to the heavens. Training had never been something she enjoyed, whether she was doing it or receiving it, and it had definitely never been her lifelong dream to instruct orphaned teen witches with raging hormones. All the talk of boys, hair, and New Kids on the Block triggered her gag reflex, ranking right up there with talking about her feelings and painting her toenails…shit that made her ass twitch. Lost in thought, she almost ran into the wall when she heard her mother say, “Kyra will do as she is told,” from behind the half-closed door of her mother’s office. She slowed and leaned against the wall, pretending to review the training schedule stuck to the clipboard in her hands.
Calysta was talking to one of Kyra’s many aunts, detailing her contact with the leaders of the dragon clans in the area concerning the ‘new development’. Not surprisingly, they had all agreed that Kyra needed to be ‘united’ with her mate as soon as possible. WOW! Romance much? Even though her mate had been predetermined by Fate hundreds of years before she was even a twinkle in her daddy’s eye, it pissed her off that her mother was trying to control it. Kyra wasn’t looking for a fairy tale love story or anything mushy, but the chance to meet on their own terms would have been nice.
It was not the first time since her fiftieth birthday that she had cursed the dragon tattoo on her right hip. Like most things her mother was involved in, one of the coolest things to happen to Kyra had taken a swift slide down a slippery slope. At first she had been excited, kind of giddy, even though that was not an emotion she’d really ever experienced. The prospect of being a part of something bigger than herself, something that had absolutely nothing to do with her mother or her aunts or her coven, was exciting.
The marking that spelled out a huge part of her future was beautiful and majestic; it fit Kyra. She just knew it was meant for her and that she belonged to the beast it
represented and the man with whom he shared his soul. The blue dragon with ever so faint touches of green was in flight and appeared to be simply enjoying the air through his wings and on his scales. He was slightly tipped to the side, so that one wing appeared higher than the other and in just the right light, she could make out the depth of emotion glowing in his deep brown eyes. He had opposing horns and a tail that was long and barbed and she knew would be treacherous in battle but was elegant in flight. More than anything, the tattoo was hers and what came with it was her destiny, and her alone. The other witches gushed over it and wished for their own. She listened to the giggles and whispers until she thought she might scream.
Kyra was a NOT a girly-girl, never had been. She didn’t gush or giggle or even gossip like the other girls had when she was younger, and as the years passed, she’d pretty much avoided every female-centered conversation she could. It just wasn’t her thing. But when the beautiful blue-green dragon that looked like it was flying through a perfect sky had appeared, she’d immediately felt a sense of purpose…of belonging. In that moment, she had realized that’s what she’d been missing and it was within her reach. Then in came momma! Leave it to Calysta to insert herself smack ass in the middle of a situation that had absolutely nothing to do with her. What the hell was it about Kyra that made her mother incapable of letting her have any kind of life that was her own? Goddess knew that the Grand Priestess had done nothing but groom her to take over the coven from her first steps. She had never been a real mom. There had been no tea parties, no Barbie dolls, and no make-up tips…absolutely nothing but hour after hour of training in one form or another.
She had been so lost in her anger that she had almost missed her aunt’s comment about ‘The Prophecy’. If it was possible, she got even madder with each word she heard. So mad that power began to build in her veins, making her hair lift around her face. Her anger was spiraling out of control until a crack began to form above her head. It had been years since she’d lost control, but just the prospect of her mom ruining the one thing she wanted for herself was the last straw. She had quickly ducked into the storage room beside her mom’s office. Leaning against the wall, attempting to regain her control, a plan came to mind. A way to show her mother and all those other bitches that she was through with their crazy ass plans for her life.
