Dragan

by Plum Pascal

  God, but I want to fucking kill him. And then I want to kill Cambion and after that, probably that fucking sprite. Clearly, I’m in a foul mood.

  “And you’re sure of this?” Cambion asks Raflamir. “If there’s a break in morale, perhaps we can exploit it.”

  “Perhaps,” agrees Raflamir.

  “You said yourself tension in the west is causing rifts in Variant’s numbers?” Cambion continues.

  “Even if that’s true, you don’t stand a chance,” Raflamir answers. “Here you aren’t regarded as kings, you’re fugitives.”

  Raflamir’s words fill me with rage, but Cambion shoots me a discouraging expression and I hold my tongue. Which is a good thing because I’m not exactly sure what would come out of my mouth at the moment. I’m beyond angry and I feel the need to exercise this anger—either by throwing my fists into Cambion’s smug face or fucking Eilish into tomorrow. I have a sneaking suspicion Cambion being an asshole (as per usual) isn’t the reason I’m itching for a fight. Furthermore, it’s currently Revenant’s face I’d rather sink my fists into…

  Cambion nods and once I force myself back to the conversation, I hate to admit it, but he and Raflamir are right. There’s no way we can get near Variant without starting another war. Without our previous titles, we’re a ragtag group of outcasts just clutching to a hope that our mission will end in our favor.

  Because that worked so well the last time.

  And back then, we had armies to call upon. Now? Now, we’re nothing more than a gargoyle, a bloodsucking assassin who’s missing his memory, an obnoxious sprite, and a faerie with his head stuck up his own ass. Oh, and a fucking Succubus we thought was an angel. And that’s not even the best part. If our success hinges on the probability of Cambion, Revenant and me keeping our dicks in our pants so Eilish doesn’t drain us of our powers, then we’ve got no chance in hell. Clearly, I’ve already proven I can’t fucking control myself around her.

  But Raflamir doesn’t know any of that. Raflamir can’t know any of it.

  I’ve never trusted the Steward of Earlann. His fussy disposition and wavering loyalties make him unreliable in my eyes. Even now, after he’s taken us in and told us all he knows about Variant, I still don’t trust him. There’s just something… shifty about the man that turns me off.

  “There’s a chance our old allies will listen,” Raflamir says as he looks at each of us in turn. “But they’ll need to know the true kings have returned and they’re in Earlann.”

  “Fuck no,” I rumble as I shake my head.

  Eilish looks at me expectantly. “Why not?”

  “It’s bad enough we’ve exposed ourselves as much as we have,” I explain as I shift my weight and lean forward, propping my elbows on the table. “If any of our old allies are loyal to Variant, we’ll be up to our necks in bullshit before we can even think about escaping. Anona is still out there looking for us as it is; we don’t need to draw more attention to ourselves.”

  “But we need allies,” Cambion argues, shaking his head.

  “It’s too risky,” I insist with a frown.

  Cambion faces Raflamir and breathes in deeply. “Only tell those of our allies you trust.”

  “Son of a bitch!” I growl as I pound the table with my fist.

  Cambion glares right back at me. “Raflamir’s right, you fool! We can’t fight Variant alone. We need our old allies.”

  “This is going to blow up in our faces!” I protest.

  “Can’t believe I be sayin’ this, but the Demon Prince be right. It’s too risky,” the sprite offers as it floats up from Eilish’s lap and sits its round ass on the table.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Revenant leans back in his seat. I notice with anger that Eilish stares at him openly, her expression is one of… admiration.

  “There are only three names I can remember from that time,” Revenant begins. “Kolvar, Pyre, and Aima.” He pauses for a moment, as if to make sure the names are correct. “If my fractured memory is correct,” he continues, “then they fought beside us and tried to drive back the enemy angels while we advanced toward Variant on the battlefield.” The vampire’s unsettling gaze narrows on Cambion. I don’t know what his expression means, but it’s clear Cambion recognizes the names. I only recognize two of them.

  “Kolvar and Pyre did fight alongside us, yes,” Cambion says to Revenant. “But Aima was an Unseelie advisor… to my brother.”

  “She still is,” Raflamir informs us, standing to pace in front of the table. “Aima is the one who told me Variant’s followers are unhappy with him.”

  “Did she?” Cambion’s tone is one I can’t place. There was a time when Cambion was in love with Aima—that is before she chose Theren over him and then he never spoke to her again.

  “Yes,” says Raflamir, his gaze fixed on the elf. “As Aima tells it, the Unseelie don’t trust Variant’s judgement anymore.”

  “This coming from the Unseelie advisor?” I ask with a shake of my head. “The Unseelie who also happened to be Variant’s right-hand men?”

  Raflamir nods. “Aima might have been Theren’s advisor during the war, but she now acts as an informant to those who resist Variant’s influences. She can be trusted.”

  “So you say,” I growl accusingly.

  “So I know. Everyone in Earlann is on edge due to the tension between Theren and Variant,” continues Raflamir.

  I watch as Cambion straightens in his chair. Theren is Cambion’s brother, but the two of them have never been especially brotherly. And once Theren realized he could take Cambion down from his mighty throne by backing Variant, he did exactly that.

  “The Unseelie King,” Raflamir starts, but Cambion interrupts him.

  “Call him by his fucking name,” he snaps.

  “Theren,” Raflamir corrects and glances at Cambion with an expression that’s anything but amused. “Theren rules with an iron fist, and he’s the only one with enough power and resources to be a true threat to Variant.”

  I see Cambion flinch out of the corner of my eye before his expression hardens. His brother’s betrayal is something Cambion rarely speaks of. Revanant and I must be thinking the same thing, because the vampire turns his gaze toward Cambion at the same time I do.

  “Theren backstabbed us once before,” Cambion points out.

  “I’m aware, but things are vastly different now. Variant is not the ruler he promised to be,” says Raflamir.

  I scoff at that—I could have seen the truth in that statement coming a mile away.

  “My brother can’t be trusted,” Cambion continues.

  “We need Theren and his Unseelie militia if we plan to go up against Variant and his forces,” Raflamir counters.

  “He’s right,” adds Revenant. “Without support, we are nothing.”

  We… From the sound of it, he’s thrown his lot in with ours. And I have every conviction that the reason why happens to be a buxom blond with the face of an angel who sits beside me.

  Damn Revenant to fucking hell.

  “Dragan?” Cambion faces me. I’m surprised he’s even asking my opinion.

  I shrug. “I distrust your brother as much as you do,” I say simply. The truth of the matter is, I hate Theren. Almost as much as Cambion does. “But, maybe we do need him.”

  “Reach out to Aima,” Cambion says to Raflamir. “Tell her we will meet her here tomorrow.”

  Raflamir nods as Saevel appears from the kitchen with a large bowl of something that smells heavenly. She starts with Eilish, serving her what appears to be beef stew with a variety of vegetables in a thick broth. Eilish looks up and nods in thanks.

  “I’m not sure how you’re going to eat with your hands bound,” Saevel says. Clearly, she’s interested in Eilish and wants to know more. I’m sure Raflamir feels the same.

  “I will feed her,” Revenant announces, once again causing jealous anger to spike within me. The truth of the matter is that I’m having one hell of a fucking time acting like whatever the hell
this is between them isn’t upsetting me.

  I force my attention to the plate of stew in front of me but suddenly, I’m not hungry anymore. I’m angry. Bitterly so. Steam coils up from my spoon as I force some of the sumptuous meal to my tongue. I don’t even taste it.

  Instead, I watch from the corner of my eye as Revenant reaches down and ladles a spoonful for Eilish. Then he feeds her. She swallows, and Revenant spoons up another bite.

  “She shouldn’t have to wear the ropes,” I say to Cambion. “Revenant was right when he said she isn’t guilty of anything.”

  “The ropes stay,” Cambion responds firmly.

  I grit my teeth. “She can’t even function,” I point out, my tone of voice seething.

  “The ropes stay,” he repeats, then takes a bite of his soup and thanks Saevel.

  “Cambion,” I start, but then I lose interest in arguing with him. Instead, I reach down and grip Eilish’s hands beneath the table. I begin fumbling with the ropes as she looks at me in surprise.

  “Dragan?” she says and I delight in the sound of my name on her tongue. Immediately, I remember the last time I heard her name on my tongue—when I was in the middle of thrusting inside her, repeatedly.

  “You need to be able to eat,” I answer and drop the rope on the floor as she rubs her wrists. Cambion glances at her newly freed wrists then at me.

  “You and I are going to have a discussion later,” he promises.

  “Yes, we fucking are,” I respond.

  Eilish grips my hand beneath the table as if to steady my anger, but her touch only ignites my passion. She squeezes my fingers lightly, offering me a small smile of encouragement, before Revenant says something to her and she turns back to him. She smiles at him and shifts her hair over her shoulder and that’s when I see the marks on her neck.

  Two dots, side by side.

  The mark of the vampire.

  The bite of the vampire.

  And that seals it for me.

  My stomach drops as my heart starts pounding and I subdue the need to rip her dress off and fuck her until she understands who her fucking man is. And it’s not fucking Revenant!

  I don’t know the exact details obviously, but the fucker touched her. And the shameful blush on her cheeks each time she meets his stare is also telling. I can’t decide which I’d rather do—pummel my fists into Revenant’s smug face or bend Eilish over the table right here, right now, right in front of the bastard.

  I can’t explain why, but I shift her hand and rest it against the growing bulge in my pants, snapping her eyes back to me. She’s shocked. I can see as much in her wide gaze. And she’s confused.

  Well, fucking let her be confused because the first moment I have alone with her, I’m going to show her, in no uncertain terms, who the fuck she belongs to.

  Even though I don’t know what the fuck to make of Eilish or how the fuck I should act around her, this never changes—this yearning that constantly swirls around us. I don’t know if it’s her powers or something else, but I feel it and I know she does. Or, at least, she used to. Who the fuck knows what she feels now? Especially after Revenant fucking got to her.

  Those thin, elegant fingers wrap around my girth and I rock against her hand. The heat of her palm fixes something inside me I didn’t even realize was broken. But she calms my anger and turns it into something else—something carnal.

  My eyes drop to the shadows beneath the table where Eilish sits beside me, my vision adjusting to the darkness as the constant hum of conversation around us continues. Revenant places his hand on Eilish’s thigh and, as I watch, he inches her gown up her thigh, pulling it still higher until the milky white of her skin is plainly obvious.

  I want to howl my possession, but an unwelcome thrill causes my cock to thicken further. There’s something undeniably erotic about the sight of another man’s hand on… my woman.

  I might not trust the vampire, or like him, but I see the way he looks at her.

  I know the power of his desire, because it also echoes within me.

  EIGHTEEN

  Eilish

  Earlann

  I lift the spoon to my mouth as I remind myself to chew and swallow.

  Chew and swallow.

  Saevel’s lips move as she asks me something, but I can’t understand her.

  “I’m sorry? Can you repeat the question?” I ask distractedly. Baron’s hand draws light circles along the inside of my thigh, causing me to clench my legs together, trapping his hand right where he wants it. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Prior to our exchange in the bedroom, I’d never thought he was even remotely attracted to me.

  I brush the throbbing crown of Dragan’s cock above his pants, feigning innocence to my dinner companions even as I feel a flaming blush steal across my cheeks.

  Baron leans closer and I feel his breath against my ear. “The air is thick with your arousal,” he whispers. He glances down and notices my hand on Dragan and merely gives me a smug little grin. Baron continues to surprise me.

  The teasing scrape of Baron’s fangs against my neck causes me to squeeze Dragan and all I can think about is how incredible it would be to have them both together—at the same time. The gargoyle’s nostrils flare and he growls low in his chest, a sound which can easily be mistaken for a response to the ongoing conversation.

  I lick my lips and Dragan’s eyes flicker to my tongue as I do my best to pay attention to the discussion around me and not lose myself to the feel of Baron’s fingers as they find my wetness. He presses against the cleft of my folds, and images of our time in the bathtub race through my mind.

  I whimper without realizing what I’m doing and immediately cover the sound with a cough. Cambion glances at me with dropped brow and he shifts in his chair. I wonder if he feels it, too: the heat that pulls the four of us together, even as we fight it. I offer him a quick smile and he looks away.

  Baron applies more pressure on my clit and then inserts his index finger into me. My pulse quickens. Dragan grinds against my hand, but I snatch it away when Saevel addresses me again.

  “Do you have any family?” she asks as I pull Baron’s finger out of me and return his hand to his own lap, beneath the table. I don’t spare him another glance.

  There’s no way I can continue this game with both of them and still pretend like I’m paying attention to dinner conversation.

  Instead, I focus on Saevel and do my best to remember what she just asked me. At first appearance, she looks like an elf, but further inspection reveals the unique curve of her pointed ears. A hybrid.

  Hybrids are rare and often looked down upon due to their ‘impure’ blood. Saevel appears half demon and half fae—imp and faun, to be exact—but I see no sign of horns and her legs are covered by her skirts. Only when she brushes a hand through her long auburn waves do I see a hint of a stump where her horns should be. Most half-breeds spend their lives in brothels or enslaved elsewhere, but I’m glad Raflamir found a place for her, though I’m not sure if she’s his wife or what exactly.

  “No, none that I know of,” I answer and I can feel both Baron’s and Dragan’s attention riveted on me. I clear my throat and hope the blush overtaking my cheeks isn’t too obvious.

  “Pity,” she says.

  I dip my head and swallow the final bite of my stew. Flumph wipes his hands on the tablecloth and finishes what’s left in his bowl. It’s his second helping. Or, it might be his third.

  “I can tell you’ve all been through quite a lot,” Raflamir remarks. “But the tides are changing and there is light on the horizon.”

  “Thank you for the words of encouragement,” Cambion says.

  We finish supper and retire to the living room, where we relax in front of the fire. I notice all the window shades are drawn and the front door is locked. Raflamir is clearly taking a risk in having us here. Luckily, his home is the last on the road, and just beside it is a hovel that’s no longer inhabited. Both Cambion and Dragan used their light and shadow magi
c to weave a charm around Raflamir’s house to ensure no one would be able to overhear us.

  I sit on the floor next to Flumph and watch the rest of my group. Dragan is already staring at me, and I’m afraid he knows something happened between Baron and me. I don’t know why I think that, though—maybe it’s just my guilty conscience.

  But what do you have to feel guilty about? I ask myself. You owe Dragan nothing! He turned on you as soon as he found out you were Succubus.

  He’s fighting himself.

  Even so, he revealed the truth about how he feels about you in no uncertain terms. He can fight himself all he wants but when you needed him, he wasn’t there for you. The only one who didn’t judge you was Baron.

  For that, I will forever be grateful to the vampire. I have to admit, I’m pleasantly surprised with the recent development of our relationship. I like the fact that I feel I have an ally in Baron, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly attractive. And sexy. Beyond sexy.

  He touches me in such a way that it feels like he knows my body and has for years.

  I take another sip of the sweet liquid in my glass. Dragan called it mead, but that doesn’t mean much to me. What I do notice is that it makes me feel… light on my feet. And happy. It seems to be having a similar effect on Cambion and Dragan, because neither of them is arguing. Thank God.

  Cambion stands in front of the fire with his glass of mead in his hand. He laughs with Raflimir in a way that makes him appear boyish. I’ve never seen this easy, affable side of him, and I like it. A lot.

  When Raflamir excuses himself, I move to Cambion’s side. He appears surprised to see me. I hold up my unbound hands and offer him the rope that Dragan untied earlier. “I understand why you feel better with me bound,” I say. It’s a peace offering. A way of saying “I’m trying to prove to you I’m not the person you think I am.”

  Without a word, he sets his glass on the mantle and grabs the rope, throwing it into the fire. I feel my eyes widen in shock. I’m fairly sure it’s just the mead talking through him, but I’m impressed all the same. And relieved.