Fire of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 3) - Paranormal Fairytale Romance (11 page)

Erelah, the angeling who had captured Leksander’s heart, trailed behind, her head held high with a gloriously beaming smile on her face.

“Markos likes to make an entrance,” Leksander whispered at Lucian’s side. There was more than a little hint of jealousy in his voice.

His brother had explained that Markos was an angel of the light, a Seraphim, protector class, and Erelah’s faction leader. Ostensibly, that made him one of the good guys in the relative scheme of things. Now that Lucian had seen the angel himself, he hoped for Leksander’s sake that the rumors were true—that Seraphim would occasionally fall for a human, given the love that all angels had for humanity, but they would never fuck one of their own angelings. It was some kind of taboo, although Lucian didn’t really understand why. Erelah was the product of just such a union between a human mother and a Seraphim father, so clearly fucking humans was acceptable. Why not angelings, who were at least part angel? Did they not have sex with
each other?
Maybe that was the taboo part.

Lucian didn’t understand angels, period.

But he knew Markos
wasn’t
Erelah’s father. And with the way she was looking at him—a look that was as close to lust as Lucian had ever seen on her face—Markos could have her in his bed with barely a nod. Leksander claimed only shadow class angels thought it proper to sleep with their own hybrid creatures, and protector class angels like Markos would never stoop so low. Lucian cared only in not wanting his brother’s heart ground into the dirt—by this angel or the gorgeous angeling by his side.

The slow, majestic, and largely arrogant walk that Markos took down the long length of throne room finally brought him face-to-face with Lucian.

He was right—Markos towered over him. The angel was almost too large to be confused for human. He would have to stow his wings and use some kind of glamour to hide his unearthly beauty in order to pass, and even then… the hum of power coming off him would trigger suspicion. Then again, Lucian suspected any human female would be as happy to fall in Markos’s bed as Erelah appeared to be.

“Welcome to the House of Smoke,” Lucian said, spreading his arms wide and not so incidentally turning his palms toward the angel, displaying his fae runes which were jumping about frenetically across his skin in response to the nearness of all that angelic power.

Markos didn’t answer, just glanced to the side as Erelah skirted around him. She wore a similar toga—it barely covering her ample curves and appeared to be held on with thin, golden strings across the sides. She cupped a small box in her hands that seemed made out of pure energy. More white glow than container, it had just enough solidity to convince Lucian it was real.

“A gift for the new prince,” Erelah said, ducking her head and holding the box up high, cradled in her open palms.

Lucian wasn’t sure if he should take it—not just because the protocol here was completely unprecedented, but also because angel-imbued items had at least the possibility of being deadly for dragons.

“This will not harm you, Lucian Smoke, prince of the House of Smoke,” Markos said, his voice booming. It was overly loud, almost in angel mode, and Lucian had to steel himself against cowering away from it.

The angel tipped his head. “My apologies.” His voice was considerably dimmer now, but still vibrating with power. “I’m not accustomed to traveling in your realm.”

“We appreciate your visit and your gift,” Lucian said carefully. “It is unexpected, yet welcome.”

Erelah’s face still beamed, but Lucian could see the smile wearing a little at the edges. He had not yet taken the box. He reached out a hand, and the fae runes scurried away from the tips of his fingers as he took the gift from her.

“Should I ask what it is?” Lucian directed his question with no small amount of humor at Erelah.

Her eyes went wide, and she flicked her gaze back and forth between Markos and Lucian as if she were afraid to speak out of turn.

Lucian sighed and turned back to Markos. “If there are any precautions I should take with this gift, perhaps you can tell me now.”

The power that radiated from Markos’s face dimmed a little—it made Lucian think of a cloud blocking the sun, and he shuddered a little with it. “There is nothing wrong with the gift.” Some of the booming angelvoice had come back, and this time, Lucian did flinch, if only slightly.

“No offense intended.” He drew his words out slowly and clearly. Pissing off an angel was not how he wanted this to go, and it wasn’t as if angels and dragons were natural friends to start with.

The war in heaven that created the fallen angels had divided them into light and dark, and if the stories could be believed, Lucifer, the highest of the archangels, took the form of a dragon in his fight against the archangel Michael. Lucifer now ruled the shadow class, and they were in perpetual battle with the light class angels—the Seraphim, the archangels, and even the more nebulous aeons—and they still didn’t much care for the dragon form. Or the fae magic that churned through Lucian’s veins.

Markos’s ice blue eyes were trained on him, piercing, and Lucian had no doubt that if he had a soul that Markos was taking its inventory as they spoke.

After a moment, the angel said, “The box carries a blessing. It is meant for the child. No other shall use it.”

A small shiver went through Lucian. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if the blessing was somehow bestowed upon someone it was not intended for.

He tipped his head. “Thank you. It is a generous gift.” He handed it off to Leksander at his side, whose eyes were as wide as Erelah’s. Lucian felt like he was handing him a live grenade. Hopefully, Erelah would have some guidance on how to appropriately use it. Or dispose of it. Lucian wasn’t sure he even wanted it in the House, much less actually use it on his unborn child. But none of that would keep him from graciously thanking the angel for his gift… and hoping he would leave. Soon.

Especially given that the Queen of the Summer Court was due to make her appearance in just a short while. Another historic visit for the soon-to-be-born prince of the House of Smoke. 
Whereas Zephan from the Winter Court had made several unwelcome advances, the Summer Court always kept their distance from the House of Smoke. And while the Winter Court might loathe dragons and humanity in general, the Summer Court had particular ill feelings left over from the time the original treaty had been brokered, and the magical love spell behind it created. They had not soon forgotten that a dragon had seduced their queen and formed the bloodline that would be propagated for twelve thousand years… and one more generation with the birth of Lucian’s son.

He was relishing the Summer Queen’s visit even less than the appearance of this Seraphim before him.

Markos spread his hands wide, palms forward in blessing. His wings unfurled behind him.

Lucian leaned back and tensed.

“A blessing upon the protectors of humanity.” Marcus’s voice boomed in full angel mode. A flush of magic pulsed through Lucian, and by the gasp that went around the room, everyone else received the “blessing” as well.

And then, in half a blink, Markos was gone.

Leksander still stood by his side, holding the blessing box rigidly in his hands.

Leonidas on his other side let out a low whistle. “I’m glad that’s over,” he said, wryly. “No offense, Erelah.”

Her whole body had relaxed from the vibrant joy that had been emanating from it before, but a dreamy smile remained on her face.

“You all right?” It was Leksander asking, but Lucian wasn’t the only one who could hear the sharp edge of jealousy in his voice. Leonidas raised an eyebrow and cocked his head towards Erelah, expectant.

She didn’t seem to notice, but she did blink her way out of her infatuated daydreaming, or whatever was preoccupying her. She gave Lucian a fervent look, striding over to grab hold of his hands and squeeze. “You have a blessing from a True Angel for your child!” she gushed.

Leksander grimaced at the box in his hands. “Erelah, what do I do with this? I will admit to not wanting to hold it any longer than necessary.”

“Of course, not!” she scolded. “It’s not meant for you.” She strode over and gently, reverently lifted it from Leksander’s hands and cradled it to her chest. Then she closed her eyes and let out a sigh that made Leksander’s eyes grow cold.

“Perhaps you could deliver it,” Lucian hurried out, before his brother’s heart could be eviscerated any further. “I’m sure Arabella wouldn’t mind a visit, especially for the delivery of such a…” He flicked a look of warning at Leksander.
“…powerful
gift.”

“That is a perfect idea!” Erelah whirled around, her diaphanous dress billowing out as she turned, revealing more of her curves than she probably intended.

Lucian could see his brother soften at the sight, no doubt yearning for her as he always did. But after meeting a True Angel in the flesh—so to speak, given they weren’t really human at all—Lucian was convinced more than ever that his brother’s quest to win this angeling’s heart was thoroughly doomed. Not when a Seraphim left her dizzy and swooning. How could a dragon even compete with that?

“Well, after this delightful encounter,” Leonidas said, breaking the tension, “meeting the Summer Queen should be a breeze.”

Lucian shook his head.

He would be glad when the receiving of gifts and the formal ceremonies were behind him, and he could return once again to his lair, his mate, and very soon…
his child.

Only five more days,
and Arabella would be a
mama.

The idea thrilled and terrified her—what the hell did she know about being a mom?—and yet somehow, impossibly, it looked like it might really happen. The last few weeks, ever since she’d had that horrible hot flash that almost took her and the baby, she’d been fine. Perfect. Blissful even, except for the increasingly awkward belly that was just ridiculous at this point. She couldn’t even
see her feet!
She glanced down to check, and nope—her bare toes weren’t even close to visible over the basketball-sized belly she was sporting. She’d given up wearing shoes because she never left the lair, so seriously, what was the point? Her full-time job was now eating enough to keep up with the baby, professional-level napping, and being the recipient of multiple orgasms courtesy of Lucian. Their lovemaking had hardly slowed down, even as the baby grew, and Lucian insisted on finding new ways to make her come every day.

She wasn’t complaining about that part. Or any of it, really.

She shoved another spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream in her mouth and tried not to think about how spoiled—and dependent on everyone else—she had become in such a short time.

Rachel scowled at the heap of presents, half still wrapped, in the corner of the nursery. “What in the world are we supposed to do with all this stuff?” she complained, hands on hips. Then she dug into the pile.

The gifts had been flowing in, non-stop for weeks, and they’d just been piling up in the corner until Arabella figured out what she was supposed to do with it all. Literally none of it was practical—between the magic and the money of her billionaire-dragon-shifter mate, this baby would want for nothing. The gifts came from all over the immortal world and were entirely symbolic or just weird stuff she had no idea what it even meant. But now that the baby was just days away, it was time to clear out the clutter. Rachel attacked the problem with the efficiency she normally brought to their business, which had been sadly neglected while they were holed up in the mountains, trying to make sure Arabella and the baby both
lived.

But once the baby was born, what then? Would she really be able to go back to the office?

Arabella couldn’t even think that far ahead. All of her energy was absorbed in growing the tiny, feisty little guy in her belly. As if on cue, he churned around inside there. She patted him absently, stroking whatever fist or tiny foot he was poking her with this time. He quickly settled down.

Rachel backed out of the pile and held up something metallic for inspection. “I know the immortal world has some crazy fetish for the impractical, but this gift, though?” It looked like a tiny chainmail blanket. “Seriously… why?”

“To keep baby dragons warm?”

“Wait… what?” Rachel straightened. “Are you saying the baby will shift into a dragon? Like a little dragon? A tiny, crazy, fire-breathing, midget dragon?”

“Mm-hmm,” Arabella said around her mouthful of ice cream. Then she licked the spoon clean and wistfully set the bowl down on the dresser that was fully-stocked with tiny clothes for a tiny human/dragon shifter baby. “Lucian says dragons can shift even in the womb. It’s #541 on the list of Things Lucian Worries Might Go Wrong.”

Rachel’s nose scrunched up. “Is he seriously telling you all those things? What’s wrong with that man?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Arabella sighed, thinking about the last time they’d made love—just that morning before he’d gotten all dressed up and gone off for another round of meeting important people in the immortal world, all come to congratulate him on the impending birth of his son. She missed him when he was gone—a high-pitched aching kind of feeling that wasn’t at all comfortable and that required lots of Reconnection Sex as soon as they got back together again—but she was happy to avoid the official ceremonies. She was out of her element there.