Loved by a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 7)-Paranormal Fairytale Romance

by Alisa Woods

  “She would give anything to protect the treaty,” he whispered. “I don’t want her to do something rash.”

  Rosalyn’s eyes went wide, but she had to know. Erelah’s blade saved her and baby Thorn. She had to see the zeal that gripped Erelah. “I won’t say anything,” Rosalyn said quietly.

  The House had gone back to whispering amongst themselves, although subdued. As if Leksander’s outburst had put a pall over them, reminding them that the business of the treaty was as yet unfulfilled.

  “Thank you,” Leksander said with true gratitude.

  “However, I still think you should.” She went back to frowning.

  Leksander just rolled his eyes and shook his head. The time for that was long past. In this, Erelah was correct—he needed to buckle down and get to the business of seducing a woman to carry his dragonling. If he were lucky, maybe he would even grow fond of her. It was possible, he supposed. The main problem would be that he hadn’t seduced a woman in decades—not since he realized that his fascination with a certain beautiful angeling had morphed into something much stronger and more persistent and, ultimately, more destructive than simple lust.

  And all these years, he kept hoping, kept wishing, that she would finally find her way to loving him. But he should have known—if it was possible for an angeling to love a dragon, it would have happened years ago. If Erelah could be a woman first and an angel second—at least with him—she would have noticed the time and slavish attention he’d given her for decades. But it had become painfully obvious to everyone—including him—that it would not happen.

  He was a fool for ever thinking otherwise.

  From the first moment they met, his runes had always danced in her presence—not because there was any magic attraction between them, but because his blood contained summer fae magic, and the fae and angels were natural enemies. It would be worse if his ancestor was winter fae instead of summer… then again, a winter fae would never care enough to fall in love with a dragon. Nor protect humanity with her magic. And any fae was far more likely to fall in love with a dragon than an angeling ever would be.

  Now that the treaty depended solely on him, he couldn’t afford to indulge the fantasy any longer.

  A sudden hush fell over the throne room and drew his attention. The far door—the one he’d come through—opened of its own accord, some magic in play. The wards were down, and Leksander hadn’t kept up with the schedule of visitors, but he didn’t have to wait long to see who was next up in the queue.

  The Queen of the Summer Fae strolled through the open doorway, hips swaying and a smile playing on her lips. The queen’s beauty rivaled that of any angeling—the fae and the fallen had more in common than they might wish to think. They were rivals precisely because of their immortal beauty and insanely powerful magic. Just a few drops of fae blood, diluted by ten generations, still powered Leksander to magic that was greater than any other mortal species. Yet the way the queen strutted down the center of the long throne room, her ethereally silver dress wrapped tightly around her curves, her waves of silver-white hair floating in a long train behind her, was far more seductive than a show of power. Or much like a head of state coming to pay respects to the new prince of the House of Smoke. The way her eyes roamed the bodies of the male dragons, and even a few of their mates, was astonishing in its frankness.

  Leksander wracked his memory for when the queen had visited the first time, on the advent of little Larik’s birth. She seemed much more… reserved… then. She had bestowed the bronze dragon totem which ended up saving Thorn’s life—was this new attitude part of that? Leksander’s brain was too tired to sort it out, but the way Leonidas rose from his throne and handed his son off to his mate put Leksander’s teeth on edge. He stepped down from the dais with Leonidas, standing protectively in front of the mother and child, as the fae queen arrived at the front.

  Her smile for Leonidas and Leksander was no less lusty than the gazes she swept over every other dragon. With a wave of her hand, she conjured an enormous butterfly that seemed made of light—a bluish magical light. It hovered over her palm, and as the queen lifted her hand, it fluttered to Leonidas, hovering in front of his face.

  “Well, go on,” the queen said with a smile. “Take it. I promise you, it won’t bite.”

  Leonidas gave her a pinched look but raised his hand, palm up. The magical butterfly, as big as Leonidas’s head, alighted on his hand and instantly transformed into a tiny crystalline version of the same.

  “Another totem?” Leonidas asked.

  “The first one worked splendidly.” She smiled wider. “So I hear. This one will watch over the child. A protection against all ailments in the future. With any luck, it will not be necessary to use it.”

  Leonidas nodded, and his shoulders seemed to relax. “The House of Smoke is tremendously grateful for your gift. You have my personal gratitude for helping save both my son and my mate as well.”

  At the mention of Rosalyn, she rose from her throne, baby Thorn in her arms. She stepped forward, peering over Leonidas’s shoulder. “We haven’t met,” she said to the queen, “but you should know that your magic lives on in both my son and me.”

  “Yes, dear, I know.” The queen’s smile turned into a smirk. “I sensed you the moment I was in the keep.” She swept her gaze over the entire royal family. “Fae magic is hard to miss.”

  Leksander’s runes were certainly dancing up and down his body in response to the queen’s powerful magic so nearby.

  “Well, thank you,” Rosalyn added. “I doubt there’s anything we can do to repay you, but if there is, please let us know.”

  The queen’s nearly colorless blue eyes glittered, and her smirk grew in a hungry way. Leksander shot a glance at Leonidas—his brother’s entire body had stiffened.

  “You know what I want, Leonidas,” the queen purred.

  Rosalyn frowned and looked to him, but it wasn’t until Leonidas gave her an embarrassed shake of the head—as if she shouldn’t ask him, not now in front of everyone—that Leksander finally remembered what this was about. And the debt the queen was here to collect.

  Leonidas had warned them about the bargain he had struck—the queen forced Zephan, Prince of the Winter Court, to release Rosalyn in exchange for unspecified favors of a sexual nature for the queen. Not with Leonidas, but rather with some random dragon from the House of Smoke. Or dragons, plural. Apparently, the queen had a taste for them like her mother before her—where it had been ten generations for the House of Smoke since the treaty was formed, Queen Nyssa was the direct descendent of the original fae queen who fell in love with a dragon and spawned the entire House of Smoke lineage.

  Leonidas gave a slow nod to the queen. “The House of Smoke will honor its debt to you, Nyssa. But only volunteers. And I expect them to return—alive—from your bedchambers.”

  A rustle of sucked-in breaths flitted across the throne room.

  Leksander grimaced. Alive? He had assumed that sleeping with a fae would be a dangerous business, but was this even worse than he thought? It was difficult to kill a dragon… unless you were fae. It wasn’t hard to imagine Nyssa accidentally smiting her lover in the throes of her passion.

  Nyssa barely tipped her head in acknowledgment to Leonidas’s condition before turning to saunter slowly past the standing legion of dragon warriors in attendance. To their credit, they were mostly unflinching under her long, lascivious looks up and down their bodies, checking them out in the most obvious way.

  Leksander gritted his teeth. The woman was certainly taking her time. She made the entire circuit, down to the door and back. Finally, she stopped next to Cinaed. He went rigid before her, eyes wide. His love, Rachel, stood next to him.

  “Oh, hell no—” she said, but Cinaed cut her off with a wave of his hand.

  He stood stoically under the queen’s gaze, but Nyssa just smirked and moved to the dragon standing next to him. It was Dirk, a youngish dragon not long in the House. Leksander scoured his memories
, but he couldn’t recall the young dragon having yet taken a mate.

  He stood straight under the queen’s examination.

  Finally, she breathed out in a whisper full of promise, “This one.” Then she reached out a single finger to stroke Dirk’s cheek.

  His eyes fell shut, and his mouth fell open. His gasp was unmistakably sexual, plus the instant erection that strained against his formalwear pants, loose and draped as befit the custom for the House’s royal ceremonies. Then he dropped to his knees, the full effect of whatever Nyssa was doing apparently ramping up.

  Still touching his face, the queen seemed equally affected, her voice ragged as she whispered, “Oh yes.” Then she withdrew her hand, and Dirk reeled back, gasping.

  But it definitely wasn’t in pain.

  And that was just with a single touch. Holy fuck.

  The effect on the room was instant—the tension was gone, and Leksander imagined every unmated dragon was now highly interested in finding out just exactly what Dirk had experienced… and how they could be next in Nyssa’s bed.

  The fae queen bid Dirk to rise with a flutter of her fingers. Leksander had never seen a man move so fast to obey. He was on his feet and by her side in a flash.

  Nyssa turned to face the front dais. “This one will do. For now,” she said to Leonidas. Then, without waiting for a response or turning to Dirk, she reached back, clasped his arm, then twisted and disappeared in a flash of light.

  A release of held breaths sighed throughout the room.

  “Don’t know if we’ll be seeing him anytime soon,” Leonidas said with a chuckle, returning to sit on his receiving throne. Rosalyn took her seat as well.

  Leksander no longer worried about Dirk’s fate—the man he might not even want to return. Which was fine—the affairs of the fae were the least of his concerns at the moment.

  Rosalyn’s wide-eyed look had given way to whispering something to her mate. Leonidas gave her a curious look, arched an eyebrow, then lifted his chin to Leksander to have him draw near. The throne room had descended into a frenzy of whispered conversations anyway, and they had time before whoever was slated to visit next. Leksander stepped over to Leonidas’s throne—baby Thorn was once again tucked in the crook of his arm.

  “Yes?” Leksander asked.

  Leonidas was fighting a smirk. “When Nyssa returns, perhaps you should go next.”

  “What?” Was his brother serious? Leksander shot a look to Rosalyn—she was leaning over the edge of her throne to nod encouragingly. “For the love of magic…” Did they just forget he had an urgent need to find a mate?

  Leonidas cocked an eyebrow. “Seducing the summer queen would be about as difficult as breathing.”

  “Only a lot more dangerous.” Leksander scowled. “Besides, I’ve another urgent matter to attend to. Even if I’m loathe to do it.”

  “Just hear me out,” Leonidas said, holding up his baby-free hand. “It’s not as if a fae queen has never fallen in love with a dragon before.”

  Leksander drew back. His brother truly had gone mad.

  “And,” Leonidas continued, “think of it, my brother. If you could win the queen’s heart, your mating would be... fantastically powerful. It would renew the treaty in a way that was previously unthinkable. And unbreakable. The strength of the fae blood in your dragonling alone… I know your heart remains with Erelah, but if mating is not possible for you two, the strategic merits of this are almost impossible to calculate.”

  Leksander scowled more and more with each word. His heart was bruised and battered… but this? Mating with a fae queen? “It matters not if she’s Queen of the Summer Court. Her love would have to be True to renew the treaty. And I just don’t think…” Leksander shook his head. It was madness.

  Leonidas nodded. “I’ll admit it’s far-fetched. But what’s the worst that could happen, my brother? You haven’t been in a woman’s bed for… how long? Decades now?”

  Leksander just growled at him.

  Leonidas held up his hand for peace again. “I’m just saying. Some mind-blowing sex with the fae queen might be just what you need to move on from a certain angeling’s grip on your heart. Then, if sex is all the queen desires, you’ll be ready to get to the business of seducing a woman to be your mate. Think about it, my brother. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “And don’t take too long about it,” Rosalyn added.

  They both gave her a somewhat startled look. But she just rose from her throne and planted her hands on her hips. “You deserve someone who loves you, Leksander,” she said, fiercely staring up at him. “Either that angeling of yours figures it out, or you get together with the fae queen, or something. But this business of waiting around to have your heart stomped on? No.” She dashed a look to Leonidas, and the love in her eyes sprang a stab of jealousy through Leksander’s heart. He couldn’t help but want Erelah to look at him that way. The fact that she never would… Rosalyn turned back to face him. She had tears in her eyes. “You can’t just wait for love, Leksander. You have to fight for it.”

  He nodded quickly—because what argument could he have against that? When he’d watched the two of them risk everything for their love, he knew she was speaking the truth. And that was precisely the kind of love he was willing to give… and had been all along. He just needed to find someone willing—and able—to return it.

  He glanced at his brother. “You’re a lucky man, Leonidas.”

  “I know that every damn minute of the day,” he said solemnly.

  Leksander faced Rosalyn again. “Okay. If the queen returns, I’ll see what interest she might have in a dragon prince. And if she doesn’t…” He swallowed. “I’ll start my search on the morrow. I promise you, Rosalyn. I will give this my full devotion.”

  She gave a short nod of approval.

  As much as he meant that promise, it still filled him with dread. The open wound in his heart—the one he had carried for decades—needed some kind of solace to close it before he could even begin to make good on his words. Maybe his brother was right. Maybe some knee-buckling sex with an exotic fae queen would be just the searing he needed to cauterize that wound. So he could move on.

  One way or another, he had to make this work.

  Erelah’s warrior cry shook the crystal walls around her.

  She dove from the pinnacle of the training room, wings tucked back, blade held out, and rushed at the phantom hovering along the floor. Her landing stuck with a crackling that rippled through the crystalline structure of the room. She pinned the phantom while simultaneously plunging her blade into its body. The thing evaporated into mist. There was no joy, no surge of demon-killing pleasure, just the cool satisfaction of sharpening her skills.

  For this phantom was not a true demon, just a training dummy, conjured of magic and righteous intent. The true demons were still haunting Seattle, but she couldn’t bring herself to hunt alone, without Leksander. Her failure to understand him, much less help him in his duty, was eating away at her and pitching her into a bleakness of mind that made it impossible to think. And she needed to think. There had to be some way to help him that she was missing, but her unsettled state made it almost impossible to figure out.

  Hence, the hours in the training room.

  Normally, the other angelings would use the room as well, but her beleaguered cries and hours of relentless “kills” had driven off everyone. The room was constructed of the same massive, translucent crystal beams that comprised all of Markos’s Dominion, and like all angel realms, it existed in a magical space outside the normal, mortal world. Only angels or angelings could travel here—or the fae, if they had a death wish about them. Erelah had brought Leksander to visit a few times, and the wonder on his face had made her smile. It was her home, a refuge from a mortal realm that did not understand her kind, but he was suitably awed by the endless shimmering corridors of the Dominion, each magic-crystal-encased cloister cell serving the angels and angelings who dwelt there. It was a palace of light and beauty
, a stronghold for the Virtues they all strived for, and Leksander seemed to delight in it as much as she did.

  Now she was not only alone without his company—rebuked by him in her failure to help—but she’d driven off her fellow angelings as well with her ill-temper. Patience was the Virtue she struggled with most, and even the exertion of the training room couldn’t wholly bring it within her grasp.

  Her body hummed with the power stoked by her frustration, and she let loose with another cry, arms held high, eyes closed, mouth wide…

  When the echoes of her angelsong faded, a plain voice said, “No wonder you’re alone.”

  She popped open her eyes and whirled, blade raised, to face the one mocking her.

  It was just Tajael.

  He was one of her cohort, the five angelings brought to Markos’s Dominion at the same time as her, and he was her oldest friend. The other three—Sajit, Oriel, and Halo—had either gone shadow, in the case of Sajit, or apprenticed out to other Dominions. Oriel was still in the Chastity faction, but under another Seraphim, Raeph. Halo had found the Patience faction more to her suiting. Erelah had seen none of them since that initial foray out into the mortal realm when they all came of age. Only Tajael remained with her, here in Markos’s Dominion.

  Beyond Leksander, he was her most trusted aid in all things.

  “I’m not in the mood for mocking, Tajael,” she said, sheathing her blade and giving him a small frown.

  He gestured to the glistening walls around them. “All the training in the world cannot prepare you for the level of mocking of which I am capable.” But his smile was gentle. Her friend was far more accomplished in the human social arts than she was, especially the Virtues of Charity and Kindness. He somehow knew how to say the right things at just the right moments to ease the burdens of humans, which was why Markos often sent him out on guardian angel duty. She, on the other hand, had never quite grasped the nuances of the human world as Tajael had. But then he nearly went shadow during his walkabout on earth, which lasted five years to Erelah’s six months. It almost cost him his wings. Erelah quickly saw the folly of that, at least for her—she didn’t have his skills—and she’d retreated to living in the Dominion once again. She understood that realm and the company of angels and angelings who expected nothing but the best from her. To some extent, she understood the dragon realm as well. Or perhaps, not as well as she thought, given her failure with Leksander.