“I would drop dead at your feet if I
ever frightened you. You should never doubt
me
.
So what are you afraid of?”
“Temptation.”
His fingers slid across her cheek and
sank into her hair. He tightened his grip and stepped closer, looming over her,
close enough his sweet scent of honeycakes filled her nose.
Her breathing quickened. Her mouth
watered. It had been his scent, the hot velvet of his chest against her face, earlier,
that had cut through her long habit of denial.
“You’re afraid of what you’ll feel if
you allow me to touch you, no matter how innocently.” He stepped closer,
invading her personal space. “You’re afraid of what you might want me to do.”
Instinctively, she took a step back, but
he followed, quicker, until her back pressed against the wall. Cold seeped
through her linen shirt, but that’s not why she shivered.
“I’m not Khul. I’m not Gregar, the
Shadowed Blood who tempted you to Shadow. I’m not Sal, who aches for your
darkest urges, although what you do to him, you can always do to me, too.”
“What do you want?” Her voice sounded
much too fragile, but she couldn’t catch her breath. He was so big, so forceful
and confident, that he was a stranger to her.
“I want to spread you out against this
wall and nag you so hard your nobles will fear the castle walls are tumbling
down around their heads.”
She dropped her head back against the
stone, her body instinctively arching toward his. Lady above, she loved Rhaekhar
without question, but he only rarely made love to her hard and savagely.
Sometimes, that’s exactly what she wanted. Gregar had known it, but stirring
his darker urges was always risky. One—or both of them—could end up dead.
With Dharman, she didn’t feel that cold
promise of death and Shadow curled up inside him, just waiting for a chance to
overwhelm his control. His bond roared in her mind, as red as blood and as hot
as the molten lava that spewed from Vulkar’s Mountain with His fury. But not
danger. Could he love her hard, wildly, without ever feeling tempted to butcher
her?
“Absolutely.”
“Dharman,” she breathed out, trembling.
He released her and stepped back, the
small curve on his lips showing a knowing sensuality she’d never seen on his
face before. “And that’s the only word I want to hear on your lips when I’m
inside you.”
Was he stepping out more confidently
because of Khul’s absence? Would this blatant sensual challenge have played out
even with Rhaekhar standing in this very room?
Yes, she was terribly afraid her young
Blood would have said the exact same thing if both Rhaekhar and Gregar had been
standing with her. The very moment she’d pressed her face against Dharman’s
chest, breathed his scent, and felt the answer of desire in her body, the
strained polite distance between them had dissolved.
That small moment had fueled his
confidence.
“Go take your bath in private,
Khul’lanna. Sleep alone as you requested. If you need anything, anything at
all, call my name, whether aloud or silently through our bond. Nothing shall
keep me from you, but you.”
CHAPTER
FOUR
THE DREAM BEGAN AS MANY
OTHERS. She floated on her back gazing up at a large full moon that filled the
sky with silvered brilliance. The water was cool, but when some splashed into
her mouth, she was surprised by the slight saltiness. The Silver Lake had never
tasted like the ocean.
Or tears.
The three jagged peaks of Vulkar’s
Mountain did not loom on the horizon.
High above the steep edges of the bowled
cavern, the full moon still gleamed, but that was the only familiar element
from her other Dreams. She took a step and froze.
Her body had changed.
Shining scales covered her sinuous form,
a long tail curled at her clawed feet, and impossibly large butterfly wings
shimmered and floated about her. Staring down at her reflection in the water,
she saw a beast with a large triangular head, vicious teeth and a long,
graceful neck like a swan.
She’d walked as the Dark Mare before,
but never a dragon. Staring at the image, she noticed a dark spot on the
creature’s chest. A scale was missing, directly over her heart.
“Allow me,” a male spoke, his voice like
the sudden fall of night across the land.
She jerked her head up, wings cocked,
prepared for flight. Sliding across the midnight sky, the moon became her
missing scale, lying in a massive clawed foot as black as a starless, moonless
night.
With a gentleness that surprised her,
the black claw placed the circled scale on her chest. Light blinded her, a
flash of pure silver that burned through the shadows, illuminating a black
dragon so large he dwarfed her. He made a small sound of pain and averted his
serpentine head at her brilliance.
“Who am I?”
“Dim your light,
azhar-jalbi
, and we will talk.”
Brightheart. She knew this as an endearment
he’d often called her as surely as she recognized him, but from where?
Confused, she watched the blazing luminance of the moon dim within her, but she
didn’t understand what or how she did it.
Darker than the night, he crept closer
to the edge and curled one taloned foreleg at her in invitation. Why not? What
did a dragon fear? With a single leap, she joined him on the edge and stared
out over a barren land so baked by the sun the earth had long ago cracked open
and died.
“Here in this land they know you as She
Who Hung the Moon.” He cocked his head, opening his mouth slightly in what she
assumed was a smile of greeting. “I’m rather new to this land and form, too. I
find myself thinking and saying all sorts of strange things, like
azhar-jalbi
. It’s right, though; this
land is right in a way I haven’t felt in a very long time. I must admit,
though, it’s very strange to call you brightheart again. I believe I’ve called
you much worse over the years, but I can’t say that I regret it.”
He winked, and she laughed softly. She
had a feeling this big hulking brute of a male was bad, even to the point of
unadulterated evil, but there was something achingly familiar about him. “Oh,
yes, you were more likely to call me
thal-jalbi
,
the coldest heart of all.” Her amusement died in her throat, choking her. Where
had that come from? “Do I know you?”
“You always know me.” He nodded
solemnly. “Although we only rarely have an opportunity like this to talk. I’m
afraid we’re usually trying too hard to kill each other.”
“Oh.” She gave him a sly look from
beneath her lashes—if dragons had lashes. “Who won last time?”
“You did,” he replied without
hesitation. He stretched out on the sands and looked up at the night sky, the
tip of his tail tapping and twitching to some music only he heard. “This place
is very strange, its people more savage than I guess even your barbarian horse
king living among his herd.”
She drew back, shaken by an image of a
fiery red stallion blazing through her mind. Vulkar. She’d been the Dark Mare
then.
The black dragon chuckled and rolled
over on his back, giving her a playful look. “They even expect me to fight.
With
swords
.” He unsheathed his claws
and swiped ineffectually at the air. “They call it Dancing the Blades.” He
shuddered delicately. “I’d much rather breathe on my enemies and kill them with
my poison.”
He gave a little puff through his
nostrils and she scrambled away.
Curling on his side, he stretched his
muzzle out on his front legs. “You were never afraid of my poisons,
brightheart. I occasionally sent them just to keep your claws sharp, but I knew
you’d sniff them out. You always do.”
A cold dread pounded in her stomach. She
knew this man, this dragon, yet she couldn’t think of his name. “Shadow.”
“
Iyeh
.”
He grimaced, his sword teeth flashing in the night. “I’ve always been Shadow,
but never yours, not since the beginning. Others were sent to tempt you.”
“Gregar,” she whispered. She remembered
the laughing, dark-eyed man who carried an ivory blade as white as this beast’s
teeth. Warily, she slipped closer and sniffed at the dark form. “You don’t
smell like him at all.”
The black beast winked at her, breath
puffing out again on a laugh. She smelled the acidic taint in the air, but
beneath its bitterness, another scent lingered. She couldn’t quite place it. “I
know caffe very well indeed, but I never smelled like it. I quite like this
scent. The land is so dry, here, that one’s skin turns to leather within
moments if not protected. They use an oil—you don’t want to know where it comes
from—and each male tends to wear a trademark scent so they can identify each
other from long distances.”
The memory of sandalwood oil crashed
through her mind, fire blazing along her skin, her horse king filled with lust.
Such frenzy had definitely come from dragons. Heat stirred within her, although
fire wasn’t her gift. The black’s scent curled about her, rich, musky
sandalwood, spiced with desert sands and night shadows. How could he have
possibly known to use sandalwood?
His voice husked with a deep-throated, rumbling
purr. “I must admit surprise that you loved the last Shadow sent to kill you.
Did you know that your love disrupted years of planning? Yet love him you did,
and even more shocking, he died to save you when he should have buried his
white assassin’s blade in your heart.”
Sorrow pierced through her. She tried to
stifle the gasp of pain, but he heard. Averting his face, he whispered, “I
actually began to consider…dare I say hope…that you might…love me again, too.”
Such yearning filled his voice. Another
memory, this one as ancient as the curse upon this land, flashed through her
mind.
She
held him clutched to her breast, wings beating the air, but she couldn’t stop
their tumbling spiral from the sky. Down, down, they fell toward their doom.
He
whispered, “
Release me. Save yourself.”
“Never,
my love.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. Holding
his breath, he reverently licked the fluid from her scales. She lowered her
head and rubbed along his cheek and down his long neck. “What happened to us?”
“Love happened to us. Great love turned
to hatred and jealousy.” The black dragon hissed bitterly. “
He
never wanted you to love anyone but
him.”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Not my
Khul. He’s never been jealous.”
“I don’t speak of your horse king, but
of your Fire, your Red. He won’t like me at all, brightheart. He never does.
Perhaps I should save us both the trouble and simply kill you now.”
She bit him gently, gripping his
vulnerable throat in her jaws. “You are welcome to try.”
He rumbled with pleasure, but raked his
claws up her flank to the vulnerable spot beneath her foreleg. A well-placed
spear planted there would find its way to her heart. “I could kill you now.”
“But you won’t,” she whispered, staring
down into his liquid ink eyes.
“I suppose not.” He breathed out a long,
drawn-out breath and licked his jaws. “But it’s been so very long since I
tasted your blood. Your scent…torments me. It’s never been safe for us to be
together.”
Before she could answer, he flipped her
over so hard the stars blurred and the ground shook. Talons dug into her, one
clawed foot at her throat, one of his rear feet planted on her abdomen. In a
heartbeat, he could eviscerate her or rip out her throat. Her breathing
quickened at the thought, but she didn’t fight him. There was no need.
All she had to do was let her heart
glow, a symbol of her love.
Releasing a chuckling hiss of pain, he
withdrew. Shadows enfolded him, his wings slithering along the ground in a dry
rustle. At the edge of her glowing nimbus, he paused. “The coming darkness is
not my doing. Even I would spare you that pain.”
Dread tightened her chest. She scrambled
to her feet. “What do you mean?”
His voice echoed in the distance. “Your
own Most Beloved Red calls him home to the Clouds. I take no part in this sorrow.”
“Who?” Her heart hammered so loudly she
barely heard the flap of his wings. He didn’t answer, but she knew. Screaming,
she leaped into the air. “Rhaekhar!”
Streaking through the night as a shining
white dragon, she knew exactly where to go. The Tenth Camp nestled in the green
cradle atop Vulkar’s Mountain. Horses whinnied in terror and galloped from her
approach. Ignoring them, she landed beside the strange tree that had become
their meeting place.
“Gregar!”
Waiting for the Shadowed Blood who’d
died to keep her safe, she stared at the tree he’d called the
kae'sangral
.
Something was wrong with it. Red leaves fluttered one by one to the ground,
plopping like drops of blood, while the black leaves shriveled in her shining
light. She took a step closer, and brittle leaves crunched beneath her claws.