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

by Alisa Woods

  His brother grimaced. “The queen requested it.”

  Oh fuck. That wasn’t good. “Still, let’s send back—” The air popped, cutting him off, and a hush fell over the whispering crowd of dragons that filled half the hall.

  Leksander’s attention—along with everyone else’s—was drawn to the center of the room where Nyssa had suddenly appeared. This time she wore black, only it was a kind of erotic battle armor. A high-collared vest was cut away at the bottom, baring skin from the under curve of her breasts down to below her navel. The black, sheer skirt she wore low on her hips was cut into four sections with more leg showing than covered. Her high-heeled, black boots covered the most skin of anything, stretching halfway up her thighs.

  It was an outfit for adventures in the bedroom, and by the furious look in her violet eyes as she sauntered forward, she was on the hunt for someone to drag back there. But as she strolled past the assembled dragons she asked for, she only had eyes for him.

  “Nyssa,” Leksander said carefully in greeting. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

  She gave an elaborate pout. “You injured my pride, dragon prince. I had to console myself for a while.”

  Leksander lifted one eyebrow. He could easily imagine Kalen was involved in this consoling. But now that she was back, what did that mean? “I meant no offense, Nyssa. It was… a slip of the tongue.” His stomach tightened. The last thing he wanted was a return trip to Nyssa’s bedchambers. He had finally had a breakthrough with Erelah—that needed all his attention.

  She stepped up on the dais, just one step below where he and Leonidas stood. Her smile was dripping with lascivious intent. “Perhaps I was hasty in throwing you out of my bed.”

  Leksander grimaced and tried to ignore the whisperings that ran through the hall. He hadn’t exactly announced his intent to seduce the queen. “Perhaps I was hasty to offer to fill it.”

  That was obviously the wrong thing to say. Nyssa’s seductive smile quickly twisted into anger. “Then I shall have one of your men instead. And perhaps I shall decide to keep him.”

  Leksander swallowed. “Nyssa, as we agreed before, volunteers only—”

  “Are you volunteering?” There was a flash of pain in her eyes, but it was quickly banished as she stepped up to stand directly in front of him, only inches between them now. He steeled himself not to back away. She dropped her voice, a whisper just for him, although the throne room had hushed to listen, including Leonidas who stood next to him, looking horrified but staying silent. “Because for you, I can be forgiving,” she said. “You came to me, dragon prince. And your offer was… enticing. All will be forgotten if you return. We will make a love that will be storied for its strength and power. But deny me… and I shall fill my needs in other ways.”

  Leksander gritted his teeth. “Nyssa, you don’t want—”

  She leaned in fast, stopping just before her lips might reach his. “But I do want, dragon prince,” she whispered, voice breathless with promise. “Do not deny me.”

  But he had to. “Don’t do this, Nyssa.”

  The anger settled, terrifying and cold and fast in her violet eyes. She stepped back. “Very well.” Then she whirled to face the assembly of dragons.

  What was he doing? Sacrificing one of his dragons, just so he could pursue Erelah? Who may not even be capable of loving him? The dishonor of that was rumbling around deep inside him, but it stepped up to alarm when Nyssa strutted straight over to Cinaed.

  “This one,” she proclaimed. Then she put a hand to his cheek, and Cinaed fell to his knees, eyes closed, mouth open and instantly panting.

  “No!” Rachel cried out by his side. She lunged at the queen’s arm. The dragons closest to her couldn’t stop her before the queen flicked a finger and sent Rachel sailing through the air. One of the dragons caught her, breaking her fall.

  “Nyssa!” Leksander roared. He leaped off the dais and stomped to her side. “Release him!”

  She didn’t, just turned to Leksander, her eyes hooded with the pleasure she and Cinaed were sharing. “You know what I want,” she breathed.

  “Release him,” Leksander said again, only this time he used the dominating voice he’d brought to their little power play in her bedroom.

  Her eyes flashed, and Cinaed slumped away from her touch. She turned to face Leksander, eyes sparkling with anticipation.

  “Return to your Court,” he said in the same commanding tone. “I have things to attend to here. I will arrive in a week’s time. Prepare yourself for me.” Holy magic, he hoped he could find a way out of this by then.

  Her lips twitched like she was repressing a smile. “Two days, my prince. I’ll be ready.” The smile broke through, eager and hungry, just as she stepped back and twisted to disappear.

  Leksander let out the breath he’d been holding.

  Leonidas appeared by his side. Rachel had found her way to helping Cinaed up from the ground. The young blue dragon looked tormented.

  “My liege,” he croaked. “What deal have you struck?”

  “One hopefully I won’t have to keep.” Leksander couldn’t help his grimace, though. This left him almost no time to sort things out with Erelah.

  “What is your intention here, my brother?” Leonidas asked, eyebrows raised.

  “To obtain a mate,” Leksander ground out. “One way or another.” Then he lifted his chin to Cinaed and gave a pointed look to Rachel. “Something you should consider as well.”

  Cinaed’s eyes were still wide from his encounter with the queen, but he turned to Rachel and took her hands in his. “My love…”

  “It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I know you wouldn’t have, well… wanted to. Or enjoyed it. Not much, anyway. With the queen, I mean.”

  Cinaed was shaking his head and smiling. “Will you stop making my excuses, please?”

  “I’m just saying—” She cut off as Cinaed dropped to one knee.

  “Rachel, my love,” he said. “I’ve wanted so long to say…” He seemed to choke up. “I feared the risk. The sealing fraught with danger. The child who might not live. All of it struck a terror in my heart that froze me cold. But I can’t take the chance that…” He hesitated again.

  Rachel’s eyes were filling with tears.

  “Tomorrow is not promised,” Cinaed choked out. “All we may have is today. And if that’s all there is to be mine, I want it all with you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my mate?”

  “Oh my god, yes!” She threw her arms around Cinaed’s neck, and he pulled her to the floor with him, kissing her soundly. A whoop of approval and applause went up around the throne room, and there were smiles all around.

  Even Leksander had one wrenched onto his face.

  It was about time for the two of them. And far beyond time for him and Erelah. Cinaed had it precisely right—tomorrow was not promised. Even more so for the last unmated prince of the House of Smoke. Leksander needed to convince his beloved angeling that love could overcome any obstacle, including whatever immutable thing she thought stood in their way. And that love was worth fighting for.

  Cinaed whisked Rachel off her feet and was carrying her from the throne room to thunderous applause.

  As Leksander watched them go, Leonidas spoke softly to him, “Two days, Leksander. And what do we do then?”

  “I’m leaving that to you, my brother. I have a mate to seduce.” By which he meant Erelah, and Leonidas’s slow nod said he understood.

  Leksander clapped him on the back and strode after Cinaed and his soon-to-be mate.

  If only Leksander could be so lucky.

  “So the dragon prince still has love of you?”

  Markos’s voice rang clear through the gathering room. The angelings met here when not engaged in training or seclusion or sleep. Erelah stood at the far end in the alcove where Markos received petitions and reports, but it was not meant for privacy. There were no private places except one’s own cloister cell, and even there, it was meant more to minimize distra
ction, not keep secrets. All things were known to all the company of angelkind.

  Including her shame.

  The other angelings of her faction were hushed; too hushed. Listening to every word.

  “I told him it was impossible,” Erelah said. “And I left quickly.” She hadn’t told yet of the kiss because her heart panicked each time she thought of it.

  “After he healed you.” Markos’s voice was cool, measured. But it was always like that. The True Angels were exquisite in the Virtue of Patience.

  “Yes.” Erelah dropped her head. “My blood is now mixed. Dragon and…” She lowered her voice even though it was pointless. “…and fae.” Was it her imagination that the hall had gone even more quiet?

  The amount of fae magic within her was minuscule. And she suspected her angel nature had already snuffed it out, for she hardly felt it.

  “Yes, I noticed as soon as you returned,” Markos said.

  Or maybe not. Erelah’s shoulders drooped. “He was only trying to heal me. I was in torment yet with the shadow strike and…” She looked up and tried to regain some of her dignity. “It was a Kindness. Not to allow it would have been uncharitable.” It was a decent explanation and a partial truth. When she searched her heart, she knew she simply couldn’t refuse him, not when the torment on his face was so plain. And the shadow strike had made her very sick. She hadn’t the will to refuse him in that state. Besides, it would have taken her a long time to recover without his assistance… but those were excuses. Truth. She was trying to adhere to it as much as possible. The truth was that she welcomed Leksander’s offer to heal her because she desired it.

  Which was part of why she needed to seek Penance.

  Markos was carefully examining her. His angel nature let him see into her soul in ways she couldn’t even understand. No doubt he saw her guilt, hanging over it like a plague, even if he didn’t know the exact reason.

  “It’s imperative that the prince finds a mate,” Markos said, finally.

  “I understand,” Erelah said quickly. “Which is why I seek a transfer and some time in Penance.” The Penance was for her. She needed to purge the guilt of that kiss—guilt for leading Leksander on, for never seeing his love before now, for subjecting him to years of torment in unrequited love. But the transfer was for Leksander’s sake—to take her irrevocably away from him, so she would risk no more harm. And to convince him to move on quickly.

  For it was Tajael’s words which haunted her the most. He would never let you go.

  All the Angels in Heaven, please don’t let that be true.

  “A transfer will not fix this, Erelah.” There was too much Kindness in his voice! Her heart spasmed. He was going to turn her down.

  “If you would recommend me to apprentice,” she pleaded, “in the Diligence Faction, I hear tell that their apprenticeship includes a seclusion. It cannot be reversed once started. The prince would be forced to seek a mate elsewhere. I am already refusing his summons. Once I am apprenticed, word could be sent that I have gone into an irreversible retreat. A decade would suffice. Enough that he would know the impossibility of the situation.”

  He coolly regarded her. “And your Penance?”

  She nodded quickly. “I was thinking the Worship Choir. Not all ten years, perhaps. But as long as I’m able.” Worship was arduous but among the most purifying of Penance duties. Perpetual angelsong, given in worship to God. Every waking hour was spent in that state, nearly pulled apart at the seams by not only your own song but the resonance with the others. It was really the province of the Angels, but the angelings had their own choir. Most lasted only a few months. Others became inured in a way and stayed until they withered to nothing. It was how some angelings gave their lives, singing praise until the very end. It was a noble and righteous way to die, if that were necessary.

  She didn’t want to die. But if that were required to free the prince from her, then she would make that sacrifice. It was as she told him—she would readily lay down her life for his. And she knew Markos would understand. If he suggested a lengthy Penance in Choir, she knew what that meant. And she would accept it.

  But he was taking too long to consider her request.

  She waited, counting this as work on her least favorite Virtue. Patience.

  Finally, Markos said, “I don’t think it’s wise for you to leave Chastity at this time, Erelah.”

  Her shoulders sagged again. “But I could—”

  He raised a finger, so she shut her mouth. “You’re to remain available to Tajael while the situation in the House of Smoke is waiting to resolve. You are still our best source of understanding about the ways of the dragons, and your contribution there may yet be required.”

  A panicky despair gripped her heart. “May I not have even a small Penance?” She wasn’t sure how she could endure this. She needed to do something. Seclusion in her room would drive her mad.

  Markos gave her a look filled with Kindness. “Reconciliation with Tajael is where you should start.”

  Angels of light… that was the thing she least wanted to do. Which probably made it the most righteous Penance. She nodded dully. Markos dismissed her with a wave. She dragged her wings through the gathering room, stares following her the entire way.

  No transfer.

  No Penance.

  Somehow she had to ignore Leksander’s insistent calls and make peace with Tajael. She avoided her cell, as the crystal she gave to Leksander was taken from the walls of her room. When he spoke to it, the walls whispered in his voice. She couldn’t be there, not knowing when he might try again. So she wandered the Dominion, ostensibly searching for Tajael. He wasn’t in his cell or the gathering room she just left nor the training room. Finally, she asked after him and heard told he was hunting demons in Seattle. Of course. Carrying on with Diligence, that was Tajael.

  She changed out of her still blood-soaked clothes into something fresh and appropriate for hunting—a snug halter top and wrapped leggings. They suited better for flying through the human realm, even if they looked more Warrior class than Protector. Mercifully, Leksander didn’t call during the brief time she was in her room. She twisted her angel magic and popped out over Seattle.

  The night sky was clouded, but the buildings below glittered.

  She unfurled her wings and soared, relishing the cool night air and the way it washed her body clean. It didn’t take long to find Tajael—his angel essence was unmistakable in a city drenched in human, shifter, and witch scents, along with an abundance of demon. No wonder Tajael was busy here. He ought to recruit a legion of angelings to assist him, but that decision befell Markos, and for whatever reason, he was holding back. Perhaps not wanting to provoke the fae, although Erelah could see no sense in that.

  She flew over the alleyway where she sensed Tajael just as he soared up and out, carrying an elderly woman. He alit on the rooftop with his rescued human, deftly cleaving the demon and breathing life into her. Erelah landed nearby and waited for him to finish. The woman toddled off, a fresh lift to her step when he was done, and Tajael’s cheeks were rosy with the aftereffects of the life kiss he’d bestowed.

  “You’re back!” Tajael said, all smiles and flushed happiness. “And in good health I see.” Then he frowned.

  “And carrying Leksander’s blood,” Erelah added. There was no sense in avoiding the topic. It was plain for Tajael to sense. Any angel worth their wings could detect their avowed enemy. Erelah was more used to it than the others, with all the time she spent with Leksander.

  Even that brief thought of him made the broken-wide rift inside her ache a little more.

  “Well, then,” Tajael said, seeming nonplussed. “That is an interesting turn.”

  “I… he, um…” It was at the tip of her mouth, the words about the kiss.

  “He healed you,” Tajael offered with a small frown, as if confused why she couldn’t speak it.

  “He kissed me.” There, a confession.

  Tajael’s eyebrows flew up, an
d he leaned back. “Oh.”

  “I wanted to pay my Penance in the Worship Choir,” she said, “but Markos made me come say I’m sorry to you instead.”

  A smile grew slowly across Tajael’s face, then he finally burst out with a short laugh.

  “It’s not funny.” She scowled at him.

  He was still grinning. “I’ve forgiven you, E. Don’t you see?”

  She frowned. “No.”

  “And Markos knows it.”

  She scowled. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  His smile faded a little, and he frowned as well. “No, it doesn’t. But you know how Angels are. Or rather, they’re impossible to understand. But Markos must have some other intent, sending you here rather than locking you away in Worship.”

  Erelah gave her head a small shake. She’d felt off since Leksander’s healing, but she figured it was just the trauma of the kiss. Now she wondered if the fae and dragon magic were still warring with her angel nature or some such thing. Making it difficult to focus.

  Either way, her mind was too tormented to follow where Tajael was leading. “What is Markos’s intent with this?”

  He spread his hands wide then his wings. “Who knows?” He wasn’t flying just flexing them and shaking off the effects of the life kiss. “By all that’s holy, Erelah, I would tell you. Let’s just say the Angels are mysterious, and we know not always their ways.” He grimaced. “Shall we hunt demon? I’m getting rather addicted to this line of work.”

  She shook her head at him. “Then you should stop.”

  “Probably.” He smirked in that rascally way of his. “But not quite yet.” He flexed his wings and lifted off from the roof.

  She leaped into the air to follow, but just as her feet left the rooftop, something slammed hard into her back and down she went, skittering across the rough tar-paper roof. She reflexively sprung up and pulsed power away from her, but then Tajael fell from the sky, missing the edge of the building and plummeting seven stories below.

  “Tajael!” She leaped into the air again, but something snared her and fouled her wings and dragged her back to the rooftop. This time she twisted around to see a man standing not ten feet from her—no, not a man. Fae.