Waking the Dragon (27 page)

I inched back against the headboard, my hands braced on the pillow, knowing what lay beneath. He continued to gaze at the medal, eyes observing every detail. When he spoke, the deep, broken tenor struck me again as unnatural.

“You humans still honor your saints and your God.”

Still? How did he not know this? Our religious practices weren’t a state secret.

“Speak,” he commanded, shifting his gaze to me. “I know you want to.”

Willing myself to breathe evenly, I tilted my chin up, holding my head high. “We honor what is good. Not what is evil.”

He smiled. If you could call it that. Sharp teeth, two canines longer than the rest, jutted out. My heart tripped faster.

“There is no good or evil. There is only power, and who has the most.”

I begged to differ. Evil incarnate stood not two feet from me at the edge of the bed. He rubbed a clawed thumb over the face of the medal, finally dangling it from the uppermost tier of the candelabra on the nightstand. Ropes of muscle rippled and bunched with every movement he made.

“So you honor your saint. I assume she has her own order.”

Many of our saints did. Portia certainly did. The Sisters of Light were a peaceful order who lived reclusive lives southwest of Primus. They devoted their lives to helping the poor and less fortunate, especially orphans. But I sure as hell wasn’t telling him.

He moved closer, a slow, primitive movement from someone who knew his prey could not get away. “You are afraid, which proves you are intelligent. You are also angry, which ensures you have strength. For a human female, you are well-muscled and have a strong body. You also show signs of being fruitful.”

His eyes raked over my breasts, the transparent fabric giving him a good view. He inched closer, his giant wings opening in a gesture of dominance. His wingspan demanded awe. I sucked in a breath.

“You may fair better than the last.”

I gulped air, refusing to think about what happened to the last woman he used as a breeder. Or tried to.

“Who are you?” I managed to ask without stuttering.

He reached down a clawed hand. I forced myself not to move, not to grab the syringe now and launch myself at him. I couldn’t take the chance of missing. If I did, he’d snap my neck in two seconds, just like he did to Gor. I needed him closer. Bracing one hand on the bed, he leaned toward me, then trailed his knuckles over my cheek, along my jaw, and gripped my chin in strong fingers.

“I am your lord and master, your king and sire. I am your sun and moon, your every breath, your every waking moment. I am your summer and winter, your entire world, your everything.”

An invisible pulse beat and rippled in the air. I gasped.

While my brain scrambled to comprehend what just happened, I felt split in half. Panic vibrated through my bones, a primal instinct screamed for me to get away—fast. Another part of me wanted to bow down before him, to do anything he wanted, to worship him. An aura of power, pure and strong, hovered around him. His dragon gift of dominance threatened to tear me in two.

I felt like a butterfly pressed to a collector’s board. Fluttering my wings would only tear them, rendering me helpless, unable to fly. So instead of trying to flee, I lay there petrified.

“What did you just do to me?” I asked, voice shaking, recognizing the presence of Morgon magic.

“What is within my power and is my right.” He lifted his chin in a dominant gesture. “Now. Lay down and spread your legs.”

Shit!
I was doing it, his dominance a pulse against my skin. Morgon magic bent my will to do his bidding, not my own.

Looming above me on his knees, he unfastened the belt holding his tunic, readying himself, my nightmare coming to life.

“You won’t breed from this mating,” he said in a gruff voice, dragon eyes brightening. He removed his tunic and tossed it aside. I stared at the ceiling, definitely not wanting to see that part of him.

“How do you know?” I asked, trying to entice him into conversation, stall him. I reached both hands above my head, angling my body into a submissive pose, letting one hand slide just under the edge of the pillow.

“We know when our women will breed. We can smell her when she is ready.”

I’d known about a Morgon’s heightened senses, but I didn’t know they could scent a woman’s hormonal changes. The fact that he lowered himself to me, knowing I couldn’t breed, sparked a new fear inside me.

“Then why bother with me now?” My body obeyed his dominance against my own will. And still, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “Let’s just wait if there’s no purpose.”

He laughed, crawling over me, above me on all fours, willing me to look at him. I did, captured in fire-and-gold. Dread gripping me as it had in my nightmare.

“There is purpose.” One of his hands rested beside my head on top of the pillow. The other lifted my woven braids of hair. “I want you. That is reason enough.” He sniffed my hair. “And we must break your body in so that it knows mine and will open to my seed.”

I couldn’t breathe. He grinned, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

Saint Portia, help me!

“But the most important reason is I want to scrape the scent of your man from your body.” A new panic overwhelmed me. I didn’t want to lose Kol’s scent under my skin. I didn’t want to lose any part of him.

“No,” I muttered under my breath.

Flaming eyes caught mine. His shoulders stiffened. He’d heard me.

“No?” Fury laced this one, gruff word.

He gripped one of my thighs, his claws pricking into my skin. I cried out, tears pooling in my eyes, as my hand groped under the pillow.

“You are mine and will obey.” His mouth came over mine, a long tongue snaking inside, nearly choking me. I squirmed and whimpered, yanking my face to the side. Sharp teeth nicked my lip. He weighed me down with his chest. “Your former lover marked you hard,” he growled close to my ear, licking my neck with that long tongue, right where Kol left his bite. I cringed. “But I will mark you harder.”

My fingers fumbled, making contact with nothing. His chest rumbled with a sinister laugh, the hollow sound full of darkness.

“Looking for something?”

I met his leering gaze, horror dawning.

“I had no intentions of being stabbed with your little needle while taking my pleasure.” I couldn’t form a word of response, my mouth agape. “If you can get to it, be my guest.” He made that horrible sound in his chest again, meant to be laughter. I caught sight of the syringe on the table against the far wall.

He squeezed my thigh, his pelvis dropping, preparing to thrust inside my body. On instinct, I used the first move Demetrius had taught me, a short-distance hand-heel punch directly up into his nose.

Crunch.

“Ah!” He whipped up onto his knees, his wings wide. I twisted out from underneath him, landing a swift upward kick with my foot to his jaw so I could scramble away. I shot off the other side of the bed and onto my feet.

His feral smile found me, anger blazing on the tight lines of his monstrous face. My gaze flicked to the syringe. So did his, then back to me. I launched myself toward the needle. With one beat of his massive wings, he crashed into me, an arm around my waist. I fell against the table, knocking it over, both of us tumbling to the floor.

The syringe fell and rolled a foot away. On my stomach, I reached for it right at the edge of my fingertips. He gripped the backs of my thighs, claws pricking the skin. I cried out, ignoring the pain as I curled the needle into my hand.

“Yes,” he ground out in a demonic voice. “You’ll make the perfect breeder for me.” He hauled me back, preparing to take me from behind. “Maybe even more than that,” he ground out, voice full of hard lust.

I subconsciously thanked myself for pushing my body into maintaining flexibility and agility. With one hand, I shoved my weight off the ground, twisted on my knees, and plunged the needle right into his throat. The shock made him freeze. I pumped the liquid in and scrambled away. All of which took about three seconds. My body trembling, I prayed.

Dumbfounded, he pulled the empty syringe from his neck. He wiped his finger over the spot and sniffed his fingers.

“Black Hellebore.” He chuckled, rising to his feet. I couldn’t help but glance at his groin and be thankful he hadn’t finished the job. He wouldn’t have broke my body in—he’d have broken me in half. “You do have strength.” His words slurred. “I am afraid you will be disappoi—”

Before he’d even collapsed to the floor, I leaped across the room, snatched my medal, and swung open the iron door.

“What are you doing?” A Sunsting guard pivoted, marched for me and, reaching out, crumpled into a heap. Gaius stood behind him, bloody dagger in hand. He shoved the body into the chamber, closing the iron doors. Blowing a fine line of flame all along the frame, he melded the doors shut.

Tossing me a burlap sack, he hissed, “Put these on. Fast!”

I stripped and pulled on my jeans, dirty sweater, a pair of wool socks, and a long, black trench that was too big while he watched for others. I didn’t ask who the socks and coat belonged to. I didn’t care.

Gaius put one finger to his mouth, ensuring I kept quiet. I knew all about Morgons’ extra-sensory abilities. No way was I taking a chance in getting caught now. I nodded and followed up the corridor, which sloped higher and higher at a steady angle. Ignoring the pain in my thighs where his claws and teeth had punctured, I rode on adrenaline alone and the need to get as far away as possible. Whatever signal Gaius gave me as we moved fast and silent, I obeyed. Within a hundred yards, we came to an opening where snow gusted in.

Gaius flattened me against the wall, mouthing,
Wait
, as he pulled out his dagger. With soundless stealth, he rounded the corner. I heard a short scuffle, then a gurgling, then nothing at all. He returned, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out onto the edge of a land of sheer rock.

The moon shone tonight, gleaming over the flatlands as far as I could see in every direction. Two Morgons lay dead near the entrance.

“Here. Step inside this.” He held a canvas object in his hands.

“A body bag?”

“I can’t be seen carrying a human,” he spat out quickly, holding the straps open. “That’s not done in Cloven, which is where I’m taking you. A Morgon carrying baggage won’t cause suspicion.”

“Baggage? Nice,” I said, stepping in. I shivered, wondering how Gaius had easy access to a body bag. Was this how they carried their victims and dumped the bodies?

“Better that than being spied by one of the many scouts.”

Gazing into the night sky, I asked, “Are there many?”

“Many. The patrols don’t stop, so we have no time to waste.”

“I’m ready.”

“Good.”

For the briefest of moments, I wondered if I could trust him. What the angry Primus girl had said caused me to wonder. But logic proved he was on my side. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have risked his own life to get me out. And I had just watched him kill a few of the enemy to do so.

I gave him a sharp nod. “Zip me up.”

“There are slits here”—he pointed—“so you can reach through and hold onto these straps.”

Somehow, he understood that hanging inside a bag without a place to grip could drive a human crazy. As he zipped past my neck, I stopped him. “Gaius. Thank you. I thought I…back there I mean—” I broke off, an aftershock of emotion pouring down my cheeks from the fear of what could have been and the relief that I’d survived.

“No need. This is my duty. If I can save one, then I’ve done well.” He zipped the bag to the top. I heard him belt the bag to him in three places.

“I’ve cut a patch out on your right and replaced it with mesh so you can breathe more easily.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He lifted off with a strong beat of wings. I never thought I’d be so grateful to be helpless in a body bag, hovering thousands of feet in the air. “Gaius. Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” Strangely, the bag didn’t mute his voice much. “We need to remain quiet until we reach a safer zone.”

“But, Gaius. Kol told me that when you got me out, we should go to Safehouse X.”

His wings beat harder as we lifted above the clouds. Through the mesh, I could see a blanket of white, moon-bright and rolling, like a cotton-soft sea. Cold air rushed through the opening, making me feel less claustrophobic, more at ease.

“He visited you in a dream?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go.”

“Is Safehouse X in Cloven?”

“There is one in every Morgon Province. He will have back-up waiting for us at each one.”

Tears spilled anew. Kol would have men scouring every territory searching for me. Soon, I would be safe in his arms. My spirit soared at the thought, reminding me that the man of ice had chiseled his way into my heart.

My gut clenched tight. I’d never known fear like I had in that cell, when I thought I would die there and be separated from Kol forever. I’d never known fear like I had when that monster held me like I was his possession, when he nearly took me in the way only one man had the right to. I was desperate to be with Kol again, to tell him exactly what I thought of walls and isolation and separation from the world and the ones you loved. Life was too short to waste, harboring bitterness against family and cherishing loneliness like it was his own precious pet. Life was too short to waste on ambition alone, pretending it was enough for me. I wanted more. I wanted Kol. I wanted…love.

We flew for nearly two hours. Gaius used evasive maneuvers, never staying on the same altitude or flying in a direct path. He plummeted to the ground and hid us in a copse of trees, silencing me as he peered overhead. He wrapped me in his arms, enveloping us both in his wings, camouflaging us in the trees, even to a Morgon’s keen eyesight from above. One great advantage of having wings the color of nature.

“Scouting party, heading northeast to the palace,” he said in a hushed whisper.

After ten minutes of utter silence and stillness, he whipped open his wings and lifted off again toward Cloven. The monotonous rhythm of his beating wings lulled me to sleep. When I awoke, I peered through the mesh at an amazing sight—Cloven.