The Burning World

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Thank you, Ladon pushed. Thank you for the countless times you saved me from myself. Thank you for being my friend through the years.

  Ladon rested his hand on Rysa’s hip. Thank you for convincing me that we needed her in our lives.

  The beast rolled to the side. You are welcome, Human. An intense barrage of images flowed into Ladon’s mind: The softness of rose petals. The sweetness of Rysa’s skin. The wonder the beast felt when her fingers curled into his ultra-fine coat.

  The beast loved Rysa as much as Ladon did.

  “Hmmm….” Her hip stretched under Ladon’s palm as she extended her legs. Her upper back arched and she lifted her arm toward him, her fingers extended and waving in much the same dexterous way as Dragon stretched his digits when he woke.

  Ladon half expected talons to shink out one finger at a time as Rysa stretched her wrist.

  She rolled onto her back. The blanket whiffed against the silk sheets and the entire span of fabric covering her perfect breasts slid down.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Rysa murmured, and slowly, teasingly swirled a finger across Ladon’s chest.

  She tipped her head. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her cheeks tightened, but her lips did not thin. She contemplated in love, not anger or fear.

  Two of her seers washed outward from her, first the oboe of her past-seer, then the flute of her present-seer. The piccolo of her future-seer stayed back, a subtle undertone, a sub-vibration, to the energy she added to his connection to the beast. Her healer followed as a gentle warmth flooding from her fingertips as she settled her hand against his abdomen.

  Neither of her seers jerked. Neither writhed nor flickered. They flowed into the space between the man and the beast as a soft, calming rain bolstered by her healer’s touch.

  He and Dragon might build cathedrals of meaning, but Rysa’s presence anchored those constructs to the world. She was the foundation they’d been missing throughout all their centuries.

  Rysa smirked. “I’m going to record you.” She rubbed her hand over his stomach again. “Make ‘How to be a Good Husband’ tutorials and load them up into the world wide greater interwebs.” She waved her hand at the air to signal the ethereal place through which a normal home’s wifi would pulse with all manner of political outrage and silly cat videos.

  Ladon smiled as he ran a hand over her closest breast. “Why would you do that?” He would never tire of touching her breasts. They were excellent in both firmness and shape, and only added to his feeling that he was the luckiest man alive.

  A beautiful, bright smile lit Rysa’s face. She lifted her hand off his belly at the same time she placed her other one on Dragon’s head. “Have you ever shown him that face?” She pointed at Ladon’s nose. “The one he makes when he goes all adorable?”

  Dragon swung his head. You make Human happy, he signed.

  Rysa rolled toward Ladon and pushed up onto one arm. Her contemplative face returned, but this time she didn’t touch.

  Her past- and present-seers unfolded once more.

  “I like you happy,” she said.

  Was she shocked he hadn’t fallen back into his old ways? Disbelieving? He couldn’t tell.

  “Your father thinks reconnecting to Dragon reset my brain.” He placed her hand on his temple.

  Rysa sat up. Dragon’s shimmers caught in her hair and lovely sunset tones danced along her shoulders. She pulled her legs under herself.

  She didn’t let go. She held her fingers to the side of his face throughout her entire movement.

  “I put you through… ” he whispered. How could he explain? “… behaviors a good husband should not inflict on his family.” He pressed her other hand against the top of his head. “Shaving my hair with a steak knife,” he continued. “All the small times I reacted with anger or not at all.” He kissed her palm. “Losing my rumbles.”

  “Ladon…”

  He pulled her onto his lap before she could finish her words. He knew what she wanted to say, anyway—she’d been saying the same exact thing since he and the beast reconnected: It wasn’t your fault.

  “What I’m trying to say, my Beloved Sexy Toes, is that I feel—we feel,” he pointed at Dragon, “like I walked through a door into a whole different world. The sun’s different here. It’s brighter and the shadows it casts don’t blot out the sky.”

  Large, dark, deep, hellish shadows.

  “Dragon’s been mapping.”

  Yes, the beast signed. I have committed to memory Human’s current energy flow.

  A bright blob-like image flashed in Ladon’s mind as it moved between them and onto Rysa.

  “Oh,” she whispered. “Dragon’s running brain scans on you?” She touched the beast’s snout. “Have you shared this with Dad? He asked me about the dragons doing scans.” She looked up at Ladon. “Please.”

  He kissed her hair just above her ear. “Yes. He warned us that this change might not be permanent. It tends not to be with normals.”

  “True,” she said.

  “He asked that we check in twice a year, more if we feel it necessary.” Now Ladon touched Dragon’s snout.

  I will keep you on track, Human, the beast pushed.

  “Thank you,” Ladon and Rysa said at the same time.

  She sat up again. A new, brighter smile lit her face as she leaned away to hug Dragon. “What would we do without you?”

  All the times she’d broken through the melancholy—all the times she’d touched his cheek and he’d felt real or the times she’d kissed away his fatigue or calmed traumas welling up from the holes in his soul—all those moments synchronized. They vibrated out along his nerves to the tips of his fingers.

  And Ladon knew Sandro Torres was correct. He had been shocked into living again.

  “If you need a small healing, just ask, okay?” Rysa ran her hand over his shoulder and down his bicep.

  Her nipples had tightened also, and her cheeks and lips plumped.

  She was never this receptive before the ceremony, Ladon pushed to Dragon.

  The beast only returned the pushed equivalent of a dragon laugh.

  Rysa moved her hand lower along his stomach, toward his groin.

  “I will take any healing you wish to offer, woman,” he purred.

  Rysa laughed again. “Such a smooth talker,” she said as she pushed him back onto the pillows and straddled his hips so that she could slowly, distractingly rub her parts against his.

  The moment solidified. Space and time, the weave of the universe, the shell of what-was-is-will-be, shimmered with life and love of his woman.

  And Ladon couldn’t help but smile.

  Chapter Six

  St. Paul, Minnesota…

  Gavin Bower stopped just short of slamming into the overnight bag over his younger brother’s shoulder.

  Ian Bower wouldn’t have been the one to fall on his ass if they collided. He was more stable on his prosthetic leg than Gavin was on his organic two, but that didn’t excuse the dead stop at the base of the steps up to the house Gavin shared with Daisy.

  “What?” Ian said—yelled, really, right out in front of Gavin’s pregnant girlfriend’s swanky home where every pucker-mouthed, angry old neighbor could see and hear him.

  The sun had gone down a couple hours earlier and now the neighborhood windows glowed with dining room and kitchen lights. People were eating their evening meal. Gavin should be eating his meal in the company of his hopefully bride-to-be, but for some stupid reason, he’d thought having his brother stay over for their first real night back in the house might be fun, especially since they were still housemate-free and didn’t have to worry about hiding a thirteen-foot-long dragon.

  And, Gavin had thought, a two-day visit might be a good time to begin easing Ian into the truth about some of what he’d been through these past eight months, plus a few other details of his life with Daisy. A stay allowed for a controlled exchange of information. But mostly it allowed Gavin to isolate his brother in case he freaked out the way he
was right now.

  He’d already showed Ian the Tsar’s cursed ring. It hung from a leather cord around Gavin’s neck and he did his best to keep it hidden under his shirts. The thing did attract attention, and Ian had decided to give him shit about it.

  “It’s a family heirloom,” Gavin had said. He’d refused to answer any more of Ian’s questions about Russian customs, or why Daisy’s family made him carry around such an ugly piece of jewelry.

  Gavin had almost told him the truth—“I wear it so Fates can’t use me because it disrupts their abilities”—but that would have opened a whole new can of worms. Besides, they’d been in the Student Union when Ian asked, and Gavin hadn’t wanted the drama.

  Ian was good at drama. Good at causing a scene, even if he never understood that a scene had been caused. It was his superpower.

  Maybe Gavin had made a poor choice, letting his plans to ask Daisy to marry him slip out here on the literally slippery walk. He could have gotten them both hurt.

  Ian rolled his eyes and made the same “you’re an idiot” look he’d been making since he was old enough to steal Gavin’s Legos.

  Ian smoothed a loose curl up toward the ball of hair on top of his head. “You’re going to ask your billionaire, mega-hot girlfriend to marry you? Why?” He threw out his arms in a gesture that screamed I don’t believe you. “Dude, she’s slumming. The veterinarian thing is because she’s a bored rich girl. You’re the poor kid she’s dating to piss off her owns-the-world daddy.”

  Ian’s jackassery knew no bounds.

  Other than his hazel eyes, his pathetic attempt at growing a beard, and his terrible choice of hair styles, Gavin and his brother were almost physically identical. They had the same chocolate brown, wavy hair and the same wiry, strong build, though Ian carried more width in his shoulders. They were almost exactly the same height. Ian had gotten quite good at walking with his prosthetic leg, even on the snow and ice, and they even had similar gaits.

  Ian probably would have been a long distance runner like their grandfather if Fina Blake hadn’t hit-and-run them when they were kids.

  Ian, though, had his full hearing, and knew damned well that Gavin’s Praesagio-built hearing aids worked, so the yelling was unnecessary.

  “Mr. Pavlovich likes me.” How did something as incredibly stupid sounding as but he likes me pass his lips? Gavin crunched up his nose.

  Ian chortled. “He’s going to send the KGB after our entire family, dumbass.”

  Who needs the KGB when you have Praetorian Guard and can go full ancient-Roman on someone’s ass? Gavin thought. “Mr. Pavlovich is the CEO of Praesagio Industries. He has no use for the Russian government.”

  Gavin sniffed as if the smell of his own stupid comments made him nauseated. “Besides, it’s not the KGB anymore.” He couldn’t remember the proper acronym, and honestly, it didn’t seem all that important, anyway.

  No, they had more pressing issues. Fate-induced issues Gavin had yet to explain to Ian, mostly because of the very attitude he displayed right now.

  Ian rolled his eyes again. “Can you hear yourself? Next you’re going to tell me you have to marry her because you knocked her up and her Russian family is seriously old-fashioned.”

  Ian paid little attention to anything other than his quest to get into the MIT or UC Berkeley graduate programs. He wouldn’t notice a tornado leveling campus around his head, yet he somehow picked up on Daisy’s pregnancy?

  Gavin’s mouth opened and closed.

  Ian’s eyes narrowed and he breathed out a big puff of fog into the cold air. “You didn’t.”

  Gavin didn’t move, nor did he say a word.

  “Oh my God you did.”

  Gavin nodded yes.

  “She’s pregnant?” Ian hissed. At least this time he didn’t yell. “What about med school? You got accepted to Washington University. You’re going to St. Louis!”

  It didn’t matter what school he would be attending, nor did it matter how shocked anyone was by the baby.

  His shock, Daisy’s shock, no one’s shock made any difference at all.

  He loved Daisy and he had a family now and he was going to act like an adult. “The baby’s due after finals. And she’s from Branson.”

  Ian threw his hands into the air once again. “This is what happens when no one funds sex education.”

  Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose. Ian and his fucking drama. Controlled environment or not, Gavin didn’t need Ian’s shit. “Go home. You can’t stay here.”

  Ian, once again, did exactly what Gavin expected—he rolled his eyes.

  Gavin pointed at the street. “Daisy doesn’t need your shit tonight.” He dropped his hands to his waist and looked up at the clear, cold sky. “She doesn’t need your shit any night, got it?”

  Ian frowned.

  Gavin poked his brother’s shoulder. “You. Are. An. Asshole.”

  Ian’s entire posture changed. His face fell. He blinked and Gavin immediately knew his little brother’s brain had just caught up with his smartass mouth.

  “You do not say anything about the baby, understand?” Why had Gavin thought a dinner and an evening with his brother and his girlfriend was a good idea? “You leave her the fuck alone. No bullshit comments about her father or her money. Nothing about the ring.” Gavin tugged on the leather cord tucked under his shirt. “If you want to stay, you don’t ask questions unless Daisy asks first. Got it?”

  Sometimes it was difficult to remember that Ian was eighteen, with his semi-beard and his fluffy hair, and the fact that he was already a junior and would be graduating a year behind Gavin. He’d always been the tougher one, since his disability was more obvious than Gavin’s. When they were kids, Ian often did a lot of signing translation for Gavin.

  But he’d never been good around women. Gavin always thought he was self-conscious about his leg. But his stiff, asshole-ish behaviors didn’t change when the girls started noticing him in high school. He’d stuck his head in his books instead of interacting with just about everyone, especially the girls.

  “I swear if you make her even one ounce uncomfortable, I will disown you.” Gavin’s brother was not going to go into full-fledged dick mode around the love of Gavin’s life.

  Ian nodded.

  Gavin looked up at the cold night sky. “We’re going to make it work. Her family is good people, Ian. They will support our choices no matter what happens.” AnnaBelinda had taken him aside at the reception and specifically said that she considered him Dragons’ Legion. He was part of their village now and officially under the protection of both dragons.

  For a second, it had felt condescending, but then he remembered how long she’d been alive, and how many “villages” she’d seen die. AnnaBelinda and Sister-Dragon cared enough about Daisy and about him to stand between them and horrors like Vivicus and Aiden Blake.

  Sister-Dragon had flashed exactly the same response, as had Brother-Dragon. Ladon and Derek also promised more hand-to-hand and weapons training.

  Mr. Pavlovich made it abundantly clear that financial support would be in place for as long as they needed it. Gavin got the impression that Dmitri did not like the idea of leaving his grandbaby wanting.

  No matter what happened, even if they lost all their support, he and Daisy could make this work. He’d give up everything for her, if he had to. He was the luckiest man on Earth and he was going to act like an adult, even if Ian refused to.

  His brother looked up at the front door. Another stray hair flipped out of his stupid bun and wisped in the winter air. “I’m cold,” he said.

  “I’m serious, Ian. Keep the attitude in check.” Not that she’d take any shit from Gavin’s scruffy man-child brother.

  Ian nodded. “I’m sorry, man. I am. I was surprised. That’s all.” He rubbed at his ear. “When are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”

  Gavin shrugged. “When Daisy’s comfortable telling them.” When Mom stops giving her the stink-eye every time she thinks Daisy’s not looking, Ga
vin thought.

  Ian chuckled. “You know Mom was hoping you’d marry a good Minnesota farm girl.” He chuckled again. “Since you’re over here on the St. Paul campus with the cows and agriculture students.” He glanced at the steps and carefully took the first one, stepping up with his whole leg, then swinging up his prosthetic.

  Gavin offered his arm for balance. “I got myself an animal-loving legit princess instead.”

  Ian stopped halfway up the steps. “Legit princess, huh?” He shook his head. “Next you’re going to tell me that weird-ass ring belonged to the Tsar and she’s Alexei Romanov’s missing love child.”

  That about sums it up, doesn’t it? Gavin thought. Especially since Daisy once thought Derek was her daddy. “Someday, Daisy will tell you the whole story.”

  Ian stopped again and stared at Gavin with wide open eyes. “Is she a Romanov? Because nothing’s going to make this weirder.”

  “Oh, we are only scratching the surface of the weird here, brother.” Gavin led Ian toward the front door of the house he shared with the woman whom he hoped would soon be his fiancé. “Only the surface.”

  Chapter Seven

  The order had come down from Mr. Pavlovich himself: The house was to be livable before the start of the spring semester. A repair crew had come in from The Land of Milk and Honey within a day of Vivicus’s attack, and had immediately started clean-up and assessment.

  Someone had taken care of the police and the city—and the neighbors. Who it was, Gavin didn’t know, but he suspected one of the Land’s enthrallers. Neither he nor Daisy had dealt with any questions or issues since returning from the reception in Branson, and he suspected they wouldn’t anytime in the future, either.

  The crew rebuilt the entire front staircase, repaired the front door and the porch, gutted the kitchen and replaced most of the cabinets and all the appliances, fixed the broken plumbing, tested and rewired the necessary electrical, fished cable and internet, and installed upgraded computer and entertainment systems in several rooms.