The Complete Tempted Series

by Selene Charles

  “Where am I?” she asked again for what had to be the millionth time of no one in particular.

  Wormwood heard, though, and stopped his cart until she caught up. The moss on his face made him look a little like a dirty carpet. Well, not really, but he was gross-looking.

  The only pretty thing about him was his neon eyes. “Yer in Aduaal, Princess.”

  “Princess?” She shook her head. “I’m no princess.”

  “Not a princess.” Phenome snorted. “Aye, and I’m a banshee’s arse.”

  “No, I’m Flint.” She touched her chest with one of her rose-tipped claws.

  “Aye, Princess Callisto Flintlock of the Royal House of Dragons.” Wormwood spread one of his arms, as though encompassing the whole of the realm. “Do ye not know who your grandda is, darkling?”

  Just then a roach crawled out from under a pile of moss, marching straight toward his mouth. She was about to scream at him to slap it off when he casually snatched it up, stared at it squinty-eyed, then shoved it straight into his maw and chewed on it like a cow chewing its cud.

  She grabbed her stomach.

  Phenome merely flicked a glance at his brother, gave a bored “humph,” and flicked his reins once more.

  “Shoulda asked the princess if she were hungry, Wormwood, ’tis only the polite thing,” he said in that same grating old-man’s voice as his brother’s.

  “No, I’m fine,” she was quick to say. Truth was, she just wanted to get to wherever Abel was and go.

  “Suit yerself,” Phenome said, then reached over toward Wormwood, snatched something from his face, and crammed it down his own throat.

  “Oh God,” she groaned and turned her gaze up toward the sky, just so she wouldn’t have to see them grooming themselves like monkeys anymore.

  It was because she looked up that she spotted the strange, dark shadow pass through the ghostly white clouds above. It was long, impossibly long, and moved sinuously through the air. Almost like a snake would, except it had broad, powerful wings.

  Mouth open, she was just about to ask what in the world it was when a sudden roar and a jet of flame lit up the sky like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  Frozen with shock, she couldn’t move when the giant beast shifted direction and came straight for her.

  The brownies cackled deliriously. “Dinna tell me the git’s afraid!” one of them said, though she couldn’t figure out who and she didn’t much care at the moment.

  She was going to die. The dragon, and it was definitely that, headed straight for her with single-minded determination.

  The vines that always crawled along her body now suddenly spiraled high and thick, twining and twisting around her from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head—tight, but not suffocatingly so.

  Thick, dangerously sharp thorns protruded from her shelter, and the scent of roses thickened to the point that even she gagged on the overwhelming smell.

  “Ye gods!” Phenome snarled and dropped a hand over his cartoonishly large nose. “Ye’re going to kill us, darkling, with that stench.”

  Wormwood was choking, hacking, and drooling from his mouth as he too gagged on the smell. “Turn it off, wench. Turn it off!”

  But she shook her head. “Uh, no. It wants to eat me!”

  “It don’t want ta eat ye, ye git,” Phenome said between coughs. “It’s yer familiar.”

  But she’d stopped hearing them as she braced for the fight of her life.

  And then the world shook when the beast dropped from the sky. Its arm-length talons dug into the soil as it shook its mighty head like a dog would after a bath.

  Heat wafted from its enormous nostrils, and Flint got the feeling that it was breathing her in. But unlike the two brownies, the beast liked what it smelled.

  It kept making strange wuffling sounds—kind of a mix between a whistle and a rolling grunt.

  “I taste terrible. Go away!” she cried, shooing it. Like shooing would make a bit of difference, but her “toxic” scent (and what a joke because the only ones she was choking out were herself and the two pathetic brownies) was doing absolutely nothing.

  She kept trying to do that thing she’d do where she’d think about the vines wrapping around someone else to incapacitate him or her, but her vines refused her command. They wouldn’t touch the dragon.

  Maybe they were scared of it, or maybe she was just broken.

  Her chin wobbled. What a pathetic excuse for a rescuer she was turning out to be. Barely into Act I and she was about to meet her doom at the hands—or rather claws—of a dragon.

  Though it was a really pretty dragon. So ridiculous the way the mind worked. She was probably two seconds away from being its late-night snack, but instead all she could seem to focus on was how pretty its scales were.

  For a reptile anyway—she’d always hated those cold-blooded monsters. Slimy-looking and evil with their slitted eyes and forked, hissing tongues. She almost shuddered, but then she thought about Carlos and how pretty his eyes had been and how sweet he was. Okay, so maybe they weren’t all bad. And the one in front of her was definitely prettier than most.

  Its scales were a deep onyx, but every time it shifted they gleamed either a dark purple or green—sort of like the chitinous armor of a scarab beetle in the flickering light of flame.

  Its belly was a light lavender color with blue shading between each ridge, but its wings were really its crown jewel. They reminded Flint of a cross between faerie and bat wings—faerie because of their lambent radiance, and bat because of their design and size.

  Its neck was long and sensuous with spikes along each crest, and its face was wide and triangular with two horns that curved upward from right above its eyebrow ridge. Its eyes were pale lavender with flecks of silver throughout.

  “Welcome, great daughter of The Ciardah. I am Crystal Moon.”

  It was possible that Flint squeaked when she heard the dragon speak in the smooth, cultured and refined voice of a woman. If she’d closed her eyes and had no idea who’d been speaking, she’d have thought the creature beautiful and extremely feminine.

  “I mean you no harm, my princess.” Crystal dipped her elegantly long neck, and Flint had zero idea what to do now.

  Bow back? Say she was sorry for becoming a living statue of ivy? Cry? Scream…? Really no clue.

  So she stood there like a dummy instead.

  Baby jets of flame sputtered from its prominent nostrils as it laughed. “Have you never seen a dragon before, my princess?”

  Bless that dragon, her kind words were already beginning to help Flint mellow.

  “I… I…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “No. Never. You guys are supposed to only exist in fairy tales.”

  Pale lavender eyes glinted with amusement. “I could say the same to you.”

  The absurdity of just how true a statement that was sank in when she glanced down at herself. Here she stood in front of a dragon, leaves dancing around her body, rosebuds curling out from her hideous black talons, and pale skin that glowed like someone had shoved a lit candle up her behind.

  She laughed.

  Crystal spread her wings wide, and that’s when Flint noticed what looked to be a harness and leather saddle attached to her massive girth. “Come, Princess, The Ciardah awaits.”

  Okay. One, clearly she was going to have to trust this dragon not to eat her, and two, whoever Ciardah was, he really seemed important. She glanced at the brownies, whom she hadn’t noticed had sidled closer to her during her chat with Crystal Moon.

  That was a fun name. Crystal Moon.

  She frowned at the doll-men, especially when Phenome reached out a gnarled hand and took the edge of her robe in his hands, rubbing it thoughtfully.

  “Release her dress,” Crystal snapped, and there was nothing of the cultured feminine in her voice now. It rumbled and rolled with power that traveled across Flint’s flesh like heavy static and caused her hair to stand on end.

  The wee brownie shrieked and sla
pped his reins down on the rat’s hind legs until it shuffled a fair distance away from—no doubt—the dragon’s waiting jaws.

  “It weren’t nothing. I were just admiring the silkiness of such fine fabric, dragon,” Phenome squeaked.

  Wormwood, clearly smarter than his brother, had flounced off when his brother had but hadn’t paused; his cart rumbled up and over the hill, back the way they’d come, disappearing from sight almost immediately.

  “Attempt it again, brownie, and I shall suck out your marrow.”

  The brownie’s dark skin turned a shade of ashen gray, and with a bob of his head, he too followed the way of his brother and fled.

  Which didn’t inspire much confidence in Flint. She hadn’t exactly trusted Tweedledee and Tweedledum, but she’d also not feared them.

  Crystal turned her giant head back toward Flint in a move reminiscent of a snake’s undulation, and she couldn’t help but swallow hard and pray that halfling wasn’t what’s for dinner.

  “You’ve no need to fear me, Princess. In all things, I am foremost your humble servant.”

  “How? I’ve never been here before, I don’t know you, and—”

  Rising up to her gloriously full and slightly intimidating height, Crystal’s reptilian mouth turned up into a regal smile. “Through your veins runs the royal blood of the house of dragon. I am sworn to protect your kind at all costs.”

  Wow…

  Flint hadn’t realized she’d spoken that word out loud until Crystal chuckled again, emitting baby sparks of flame.

  “Why’d you threaten Phenome like that?”

  Crystal inclined her head. “You do not know our world nor the threats you face. To lose any part of yourself here is irrevocable.”

  That word alone caused black ice to skate down Flint’s spine. “What do you mean irrevocable?”

  The dragon cocked her head and a shrewd look crossed her face. “What is your name in the other world?”

  “Flint DeLuca,” she answered without thinking. “Why does it matter?”

  The dragon shrugged, but it wasn’t the type of shrug a human would do; this had been more of a full-body quiver.

  “Because you still believe yourself human. Still think of yourself as human. Mortal. But you are none of those things. You are you.”

  “And I am what exactly?” Finally she’d found someone who knew, who could tell her everything about who she was. What she was.

  “That is a story for The Ciardah to tell.”

  Those words felt a little like a slap of cold water to the face. Flint wanted to scream and stomp her foot, to demand answers. But she wasn’t just here for herself, she was here to rescue Abel. Which meant she couldn’t afford to alienate anyone.

  “Then can you tell me who Ciardah is? I’ve heard his name mentioned many times and I’m curious.”

  A visible tremor rippled down the dragon’s spine. “He is the source. The soul of the dragon. The keeper of the Wild Hunt. And your grandfather.”

  55

  Cain

  “Flint!” Cain shouted.

  It’d been hours since she and Abel had sunk into the earth, and he’d tried to fight his misgivings, tried to be the understanding boyfriend who wasn’t currently ready to snap heads from necks if she didn’t come back.

  At first he thought he’d be okay, until suddenly the connection between them severed, leaving him panting and clutching his chest as cold sweat covered him from head to toe.

  She was gone.

  Just gone.

  Staring wide-eyed at the mound of dirt and vines where she’d vanished, he began tearing his fingers through it, tossing giant clods of dirt over his shoulder in his desperate attempt to dig down to her.

  Two powerful sets of hands clamped down on his arms.

  “Breathe, buddy, just breathe. Your woman’s fine.”

  Chest rising and falling, Cain fought the panic, fought the violence of the berserker rising up in him and tried to reason through this blinding fog of terror clamping him.

  “Where’d she go!” he snapped, trying to wrestle his arms loose.

  But Eli and Seth were in a semi-raged form and could easily tear him limb from limb if they wanted to.

  Eli shook his head, his blond hair poked up around his head as though he’d been asleep and had come to only at Cain’s roar.

  “Look, you know Flint can handle herself. She’s tough, man. Tough as nails. I know, I saw the things she did. She’s freaking amazing, dude.”

  Seth nodded, backing up his brother. “Eli’s right. She took Abel down there because she can fix him. So let her do what she needs to do. And you do what you need to do.”

  Feeling ineffective and desperate, Cain flexed his dirt-stained hands. He could no longer even smell her. Her scent of flowers was gone. The mind link they’d established back in the woods thanks to the mating bond was also gone.

  Pulse racing, it was all he could do not to slam his cousins to the ground and demand a fight to the death. Violence rode him hard, but unlike most times when the rage overcame any shred of common sense and rationale, he realized he was doing something he’d never done while in a rage before.

  He could think. Clearly.

  He was desperate. He was scared for her. But Cain’s thoughts were clear. And on the heels of that thought came another. Nestled in his chest was a tiny sphere of warmth that pulsed with life. Her life.

  Flint had given a part of herself to him, be it her soul, consciousness, or something otherworldly and fae, it didn’t matter, all that did was that he still felt her life pulsing inside him.

  Which meant she was alive and, for now, safe. And that was all that counted.

  Jerking his arms out of his cousins’ hands, he patted the earth and muttered, “I’m good now.”

  From the corner of his eye he saw Eli shrug and give his brother a worried frown. They weren’t quite sure what to think about his sudden lack of violence; always before they’d had to pound Cain to within an inch of his life to get his rage to subside.

  But his compass had breathed new life into him, and Cain would not let her sacrifice be in vain.

  “Look, I’m not happy about any of this, but you’re right. Flint’s working on my brother, and we don’t know how long that might take. Wherever they are now, they’re beyond our reach. I have to trust that she knew what she was doing.”

  Adam cleared his throat; Cain had forgotten that his father had been out here half the night with him. Rhi had left a while ago—likely she’d gone to Janet’s trailer to watch over her.

  “You’re right, son, they are.”

  Cain’s jaw almost came unhinged. Never in all his life had Adam ever referred to either Cain or Abel as his sons.

  Looking tired and suddenly as ancient as Cain knew Adam truly was, his father shook his shoulders almost like a dog would to wake itself up. He looked like hell. His star-dusted blue eyes were thick with black bags, and his skin was a washed-out paper-white color.

  In all the time they’d been searching for Abel, it’d never really dawned on Cain until just now that not only had he lost his mother and brother, but Adam had lost his son thanks to the betrayal of his own wife. If anyone had a legitimate reason to be angry, it was Adam.

  That thought took a lot of the fight out of Cain.

  Flint was gone. But he trusted her to come back to him. He also trusted that she’d do everything in her power to fix Abel before she did.

  Adam blew out a heavy breath. “There’s nothing left for us here anymore. We’re useless to your fae and Abel.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Seth asked slowly.

  Cain also frowned, not liking where this conversation was headed.

  “Grace explained to me that the fae can move between dimensions, sometimes even into other realms, other worlds. If Flint’s gonna save Abel, that’s where she’ll have to do it.”

  Cain heard a “but” in there. He waited for Adam to say something, but when he gave no indication of continuing, he prompte
d him.

  “But you’re not telling us something.”

  He shrugged. “But it’s going to take time. Precious time we don’t have to just sit around and wait. If Armageddon’s really gnawing at our heels, then we have to prepare. We have to go back to that cave Grace set up and get ready for whatever’s about to come at us.”

  “And leave them?” Cain shook his head. “No. No way.”

  Adam grabbed him by the shoulders. “We don’t have a choice, boy. This isn’t some whim or game we’re playing here; this is war. Of the deadliest kind. Trust Flint to return to you. You and she have soul bonded, which means when she comes back, you’ll know.”

  “Why did you never bond with Layla?”

  He hadn’t meant to ask that. Cain hadn’t even realized the question had bothered him until just now.

  It wouldn’t have surprised him if Adam had punched him for asking something so personal, or turned and walked away. What did surprise him however was the faraway and shattered look that crawled through his eyes as he said, “I’ll regret it for the rest of my days.” Sniffing, he scrubbed a hand down his jaw, took a deep breath, and said, “Now let’s go find the girls and go.”

  Flint

  * * *

  Once the brownies had ditched her and Flint had seen no other evidence of any life-forms around to help her out, she knew she only had one choice available.

  And that was to ride the dragon and trust that wherever she took her it would bring her one step closer to Abel’s side.

  Bending low on one knee, Crystal dipped her long neck forward until she rested it upon the earth. “You must climb onto me, darkling.”

  “Where will you take me?” Why couldn’t they just walk? She’d much rather walk.

  “The Ciardah’s keep is in the sky.”

  Grumbling to herself, Flint mumbled, “Why couldn’t he just have his house on the ground like normal people?”

  She’d thought she’d said it low enough that the dragon wouldn’t hear it, but her lavender eyes turned sharply in Flint’s direction.