by Gaja J. Kos
Because aside from the fundamental thread of danger embedded in the Keeper’s flesh, he had found that familiar streak Nathaniel had spoken of.
Sebastian had never doubted the human or his science, but actually feeling it somehow made it more real.
“What are you?” he whispered, eyes scanning the pages again and again.
The Keepers weren’t Kresniks, yet they shared a common trait—a thread of the old world only select individuals possessed. Almost as if these beings were some offshoot of the essence Sebastian and the rest of his kin carried within them.
He rubbed his eyes, a silent groan uncurling from his lips. Since the beginning of time, there were only two branches with that particular genetic makeup. The Kresniks, and their opposites, Črti—the fallen brethren, equal in everything but their decision to follow the darker path of mischief and destruction.
Although the pantheon had cared for their subjects, there was no one else tasked with the kind of oversight the Kresniks had. No one.
The Keepers had only come into existence after the Realm of Kolovrat had fallen and the balance of the world had experienced a fundamental shift. The majority of the human population had remained ignorant of the change. Unsurprisingly, since instead of infusing more magic into the very fabric of existence, the end of the old pantheon, the end of the Realm, had lessened its presence.
“Oh, shit,” Sebastian muttered, realizing his mistake.
All this time, he had thought of the mortals. Of beings with no power, or those who possessed energies of lesser magnitude and, as such, still fell under the care of his people.
But the Kresniks hadn’t been the only protectors in the realm long lost.
There were the Zorya, as well. Two guardian goddesses, tasked with protecting not the individuals, as Sebastian and his kin, but the balance of all the realms.
He had forgotten.
Forgotten about their existence because they had been a presence not active among the people, but one that loomed above all creation, even more distant than the gods of old.
Unease swirled through him.
He had forgotten because the disappearance of the Zorya coincided with the rise of the Keepers. As well as the sudden absence of the Črti.
How could he have been so blind?
“What is it?” Nathaniel asked, voice tight.
Sebastian spun around, his gaze falling on the human’s slightly ashen face. “I think the fall of the Old World fucked up more things than we ever imagined.”
Nathaniel flashed him a confused glance, the wariness in his eyes matching Sebastian’s own.
He sighed. “I think the shift in the fabric of reality created the Keepers by merging two ancient forces into something new.”
“But merged or not, the Keepers were, for the most part, benevolent.” The human frowned. “Why change the way they operate now?”
Sebastian ignored the nausea rising within him. By the gods, why had it taken him this long to see the truth? All the warning signs were there. Had been for a while.
The wolf-man and the toxin that should never even exist. The Dark Ones. Rose’s rise to power. The Upirs. And, finally, Morana’s return.
“Because I think the world is preparing itself for another change.”
Rose perched herself on the heavy counter next to Greta and Casimir, Veles joining her on her right, and let her gaze wander across the room. Pri Sojenicah was filled with pack and incubi dragons, the space brimming even with nine people missing from the quickly organized gathering, carried on the heels of Sebastian’s cryptic message.
Katja had stayed at the residence, keeping an eye on the tracker and going through the notes dominating the walls of her war room once more. Evelin was there, too, only now under Nadia’s care. Veles had reached out and transported the seasoned healer to her stepdaughter as soon as he returned from the Kolduny’s sacred circle the previous day, when it became clear neither Serafina nor Sander—both absent even now—needed his immediate assistance.
Although Evelin was already doing much better, Tim and Mark were still secreted away at Veles’s summer residence, waiting for the god to pick them up later in the afternoon. Rose knew Mark would want to visit his mate the instant he returned, and she wanted to be there with him—as well as for him—when that happened.
Rorik and Nathaniel had left for the circle half an hour ago, merely dropping by on their way from the lab to report they were going to the Kolduny. Although their detour was redundant. Sebastian had beaten them to it by a few minutes, sharing the exact same news. However, that hadn’t been all the Kresnik had wanted her to know. And it was the other information he divulged before flying off that made the gold filaments in Rose’s eyes shine with power. With knowledge, too.
Because the ethereal awareness now active inside her let her know he was right.
She sighed, her gaze falling on the gathered crowd once more.
Sebastian had been able to confirm his suspicions through the joined fragments of the higher knowledge they both possessed. But she was adamant not to leave any stone unturned, to broach the subjects with those who knew of the fallen realm firsthand. Her eyes locked with Enyan’s.
“You flew with Mokoš, didn’t you?” she asked softly.
The Perelesnyk stiffened, his flight echoing their leader’s response in a ripple of muscles. “Who told you? No one but my own know of my allegiance with the goddess.”
Rose smiled. A true smile that scattered some of the chill. “Because I am of her blood. And the knowledge that is rightfully mine hides nothing of her from me.” Veles’s fingers touched her spine lightly—a gesture of pride and reassurance alike. “I know of the relationship you had with her. She loved you like family, and I am sorry for your loss.”
Enyan’s eyes glistened in the dimmed light of Pri Sojenicah, but his voice was steady as he said, “I fought for her until the very end.”
“I know you did. And so did she.”
It was the truth, too. Somehow, amidst all the raw data the knowledge of the higher circles brought, there were clear glimpses of the past—and, when it came to Mokoš herself, even echoes of emotion. To say it was disturbing to have an awareness of a long gone deity pulsing in her mind was a severe understatement. Especially when that part of her that came from the goddess’s blood seemed to respond to the stirrings of memories, as if the essence of Mokoš inside her was a living, breathing thing. And, perhaps, it truly was.
She shrugged the thought away. “Since you not only lived in the same age as her, but were close, do you perhaps have any recollection of the Zorya?”
While Veles had been very much alive at the time, the god had been unable to shed light on those particular deities. Aside from the gatherings of the pantheon—which the Zorya did not attend—he had kept to the underworld and this realm, not the one where magic reigned. The same went for Morana, too.
“They were never seen, yet their presence was everywhere,” the Perelesnyk said after a moment of thought. “They resided within the Realm of Kolovrat, but their power stretched far beyond its borders. The Zorya balanced the mythological and human alike, protecting one as much as they did the other. Legends say they were the keepers of the simargl, a creature that would devour the constellations should he be set free.
“Of course, that’s nothing but folly, twisted through the generations. The simargls were many, and they were the companions of the gods, not some creatures to be feared. But the stories were right in one regard. The Zorya existed to keep the world from devouring itself, to punish those who overstepped the line—even if their unparalleled power had, in the end, been unable to stop the Realm of Kolovrat from shattering.”
With a tight knot jammed in her throat, Rose pushed down the sorrow that surged at the memory of the simargl, at the echoes of love and affection she had seen in his dying eyes.
A companion of the gods.
The realization slammed into her full force. The simargl had known who she was long before her ascen
sion had started. Long before anyone had guessed just who she would turn out to be.
And yet Rose knew the connection between them had reached beyond the bond of a deity and its creature.
Friend. The simargl had been her friend.
With a long inhale, she obliterated the thorns of loss digging into her flesh and met Enyan’s gaze.
The present.
“So,” she began, voice only slightly hoarse from the once more buried emotions, “if you were to add the essence of the Zorya and mix in just a dash of darkness like the Črti carried—”
“You would get beings bent on not only protecting the world, but shaping it to their liking at the same time.”
Rose sighed. “Like the Keepers.”
Chapter 24
“Do you want me to do it?” Rorik asked, his breath brushing against the nape of Nathaniel’s neck, far warmer than the soft breeze weaving through the forest. Far more pleasurable, too.
Nathaniel groaned involuntarily, but shook his head. “Just hand me the damned dagger.”
The Perelesnyk chuckled, and the sound washed across his skin like silk. He had claimed he wasn’t using his incubus wiles on him, but how was it possible for someone to be this attractive if magic wasn’t behind it?
“Don’t worry”—Rorik pulled the blade from the amulet-filled satchel he cradled in his hands—“I’ll kiss it and make it all better.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
Nathaniel snorted as Rorik grinned, but he brushed his fingers lightly against the Perelesnyk’s hand nonetheless, accepting the dagger. The blade was clean, sharp, and he sliced it across his palm before he had a chance to change his mind.
The stone set at the entrance of the Kolduny’s sacred circle accepted the offering like land after a long drought.
Intrigued, Nathaniel watched his blood disappear into the hard surface, whatever power fueled this protective barrier drinking up the crimson liquid until not even a smidgeon of it stained the rough gray surface any longer. He curled his fingers, keeping his injured hand from dripping all over the ground, and looked at the land stretching beyond the stone.
Rose had told him what to expect when he’d dropped by Pri Sojenicah, but hearing about it and seeing it with his own eyes were two very different things. And no amount of preparations, regardless of what he might have thought, could ease the impact of the change that followed.
A gasp left his lips as the woods before him shifted, the nature gaining an ethereal touch that spoke of something other. Something that didn’t fit in the world humans knew.
Even those who weren’t exactly strangers to the supernatural.
Because this—this was another realm.
The very structure of the air seemed richer, interwoven with magic and the whispers of history long gone. Nathaniel’s breath faltered, a part of him almost wanting to bow before the magnificence that was the Kolduny’s sacred ground.
“Well that is something,” Rorik whispered from behind.
He glanced at the handsome Perelesnyk, noting the surprise and admiration swirling across his handsome features and making his blue eyes even clearer. “You’ve never been here?”
He had been positive Sander had invited Rorik to the circle at some time or another, given their shared history.
“The crones would probably skin me and use my scales to pave their twisted paths through the woods.”
While his words were easy, they held a somewhat bitter undertone. The harsh edge of truth.
“Why the hate?” Nathaniel asked as they stepped into the embrace of eternal spring. Winds ruffled his hair, his lungs accepting the rich air with gratitude.
The bitterness in Rorik’s voice was stronger this time. “Isn’t the fact that we’re dragons who feed on sex reason enough?”
Nathaniel turned around. “If anything, that makes you fucking badass.”
There was a short pause, then Rorik’s entire face lit up. His grin was sincere and filled with the kind of warmth that echoed deep within Nathaniel’s own body.
“You, my delicious human,” he purred, “are toeing a dangerous line.”
Heartbeat pounding in his ears, Nathaniel arched an eyebrow, a hint of a smile curling up the corners of his lips. “Who says I’m toeing anything?”
Suddenly, the spring air was sizzling with electricity that had absolutely nothing to do with the power of the realm long lost. They looked at each other in silence, the distance between them nearly nonexistent as they stood on the narrow earth-hewn path, letting the seconds tick by.
One moment, they were locked in that almost daze-like state, the next Rorik moved too fast for Nathaniel to see. The Perelesnyk wrapped his arms around his body and, without wasting a single moment, crushed his lips to his. The taste of ancient magic mixed with the alluring flavor of Rorik’s maleness exploded in Nathaniel’s mouth. It dispelled the world around him, casting him into a hazy mist until his entire reality narrowed down to the strong touch of Rorik’s palms on his back and the hungry exploration of their tongues.
And it felt good. It felt so good, so right, that Nathaniel groaned into the kiss and flattened his body against the hardness of Rorik’s. The Perelesnyk responded instantly, his hands roaming up and down Nathaniel’s spine, stopping only a hair’s width above his ass. The touch was light, yet heated, making him want nothing more than to take Rorik up on the silent offer right here, right now.
But somehow, a small part of him remembered where they were. Remembered why they had entered these woods.
Reluctantly, he pulled away.
“You certainly did make it better,” he rasped, unable to conceal his blossoming grin, then waved his injured hand. “Even if you didn’t stop the bleeding.”
Rorik laughed and captured Nathaniel’s bloody palm. He lifted it to his mouth and slowly, sensually traced the wound with his tongue. Once the skin bore no more than a faint white scar, the Perelesnyk looked at him once again.
“Anticoagulant?” Nathaniel asked, his words touched by laughter. “You do know how to woo a man of medicine.”
Rorik chuckled. “Trust me, this was just the beginning.”
Heat crept up Nathaniel’s cheeks. He realized he wanted this to be just the beginning. And knew he wasn’t going to fight his desire any longer.
His resolution must have shown, because Rorik smiled, that last bit of tension that had still echoed in the straightness of his spine now disappearing. The incubus dragon slowly scanned the realm of ethereal spring encompassing them from all sides, then met Nathaniel’s gaze, mischief brimming in the breathtaking blue of his eyes.
“What do you say to having a little fun and making an epic entrance?”
Nathaniel laughed. He laughed from the moment he climbed up those deep red scales and straddled Rorik’s back, finding his position between two sleek ridges. And when the Perelesnyk batted those majestic leathery wings, taking them higher and higher, his laugh had become an unstoppable force that sounded across the clear blue skies of the sacred circle.
Warm wind touched his cheeks as they soared through the air, circling above the green canopy of trees until, finally, Rorik started to descend, his large body lithe and agile as he landed in the middle of a wide, grassy clearing. As Nathaniel climbed off the Perelesnyk’s back, mindful of the stunning wings Rorik had tucked close to his body, silhouettes started filtering through the shadows pooling on the edge of the woods. He barely caught a glimpse of Sander’s bronze skin when magic pulsed from his left, so strong and potent he had no trouble sensing it even with his human limitations.
His gaze went to Rorik’s blurred form as it shrank and transformed, until the person standing next to him wasn’t a dragon any longer, but a blond man with a wicked grin playing on his features.
A man completely devoid of clothes.
Blushing violently at the honed perfection that was Rorik’s body, Nathaniel shrugged off the backpack from his shoulders and unzipped it to fish out the spare clothes Rorik had packed. He
handed them to the dragon, who was now smiling even wider, visibly pleased by the way Nathaniel couldn’t control his wandering gaze, reaching well below the chiseled planes of his abdomen.
“Later,” he mouthed, wiggling his shapely eyebrows, and accepted the bundle of clothes.
Nathaniel’s body tightened at the promise, his breath as wild as his pulse. Luckily, the soft sound of feet brushing against grass chose that precise moment to filter through to his ears, reminding him of where he was. And easing the storm of desire that had started to surge within him.
Saved. For now.
“Flashy as always,” Sander commented as he came to a stop before them, mirth saturating the tone of his voice.
Rorik dipped his head in a slight bow, then winked at Nathaniel before he tugged on the black shirt, and turned his attention back on the Koldun. “You know, I figured, why should you be the only one flaunting your magic, when I can show them just how powerful the allies you have in your midst are…”
Sander laughed, clasping his hand with the Perelesnyk. “You never could resist showing off, zmajček.”
“Too much fun not to.” Rorik shrugged, his expression gradually turning serious, though the remnants of a smile still lingered on his lips. “How are you doing?”
“Mostly recovered.” He half spun towards the gathered crowd waiting on the edge of the clearing and motioned Serafina to come over. “Some are glad of the change in leadership, some have their reservations. But nobody is foolish enough to take me on.” He smiled coldly. “So far.”
“But they’ll do as we agreed?” Nathaniel asked, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that Sander had battled for leadership. Although he was certainly not surprised the Koldun had won.
His very presence spoke of power. The kind that made people follow—or break them until they did.
Sander nodded. “They aren’t exactly thrilled, but they’re wise enough not to argue.” He cocked his head to the side, bronze eyes observing Nathaniel with interest. “You really did it? You managed to create amulets that can store our magic, not just echo it?”
