Page 94 of Once the Skies Fade (Immortal Reveries #2)

Chapter 94

Matthias

I didn’t remember much after I tackled Alek and nearly burst my abdomen open—more open, anyway. Sliding in and out of consciousness, I heard bits and pieces of their conversation. Talking was usually more ideal than fighting, so we must not have lost. At one point the ground seemed to vibrate, sending stabbing pain through my upper back and down to my gut.

“Scales?”

That word pierced the darkness around me. I wanted to ask what that was about, but my body refused to let me open my eyes again, conserving my energy. I supposed not dying was more important than seeking clarification. I found enough energy, though, to bellow out a groan when something pressed hard against my belly.

Make it stop.

Just leave them hanging out.

I’ll find a way to live with my innards on the outside.

Once the pain subsided, my world tilted, forcing a grunt from my chest, and the same pressure—though thankfully less agonizing—settled on my back, and warmth wrapped around my torso. The rock floor floated away from me, replaced by firm grips on my legs and arms as I slipped back into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Darkness enveloped me—so dark I was nearly convinced I’d lost control of my eyelids. Or I’d gone blind. At least I was out of that chair and seemed to be lying down. I shifted, surprised to find a luxurious, warm bed beneath me instead of the rough, unforgiving rock. Moving, though—even that small amount—seemed to tug at my larger wounds, not painfully, but noticeably enough. In fact, the pain had all but disappeared, and only a faint itch nagged at the two spots. My fingertips throbbed minimally, a blessing compared to the flames that had ripped through them before.

“Are you there, Killer?” I croaked out the words, my eyes searching the blackness for her.

Silence.

I took another breath, and as I exhaled, a flicker of hope lit in my chest, not from me, but from the bond.

The scratch and hiss of a match lighting warned me to close my eyes against the oncoming light. A warm glow breached the darkness, but I didn’t open them yet, waiting for her to answer.

Another breath passed and then fingers—smooth and warm—clutched my hand where it lay beside me.

“I’m here,” she finally said, her voice lacking the relief I’d hoped to hear.

My mind plummeted into a sea of speculation. Had someone died? Had we not escaped? Had Graham somehow won?

“Where is here, exactly?” I asked.

Her hand rested on my shoulder, but when she said nothing, I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at her. The lantern on the table beside her cast eerie shadows across her face.

Calla’s eyes searched mine, but for what I couldn’t fathom. Averting her eyes, she sighed. “Still on Dolobare, with the nightwalkers.”

“How did we get away? Is everyone okay?”

“We’re all fine, aside from some minor cuts, bruises, and a fractured rib or two. None as injured as you. Alek helped us out.”

“And Graham?”

“Dead.” The word fell heavily from her lips like a lifeless body.

“Only dead? Not burned, maimed, dismembered, and tossed into a sea of ravenous sharks?”

Calla shrugged and pulled her lips back into a smirk. “Perhaps a little maimed. Would have been worse, but”—she swallowed hard—“there was no time for all he deserved.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Her brows shot up. “Why? Because I didn’t get to torture the villain more?”

I swallowed the chuckle her words incited. “For all the times you had to save my ass.”

“It’s an ass worth saving.”

Sighing loudly, I lifted my hand to her face and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just don’t tell Connor how many times I nearly died? It’s somewhat embarrassing.”

“Well, I cannot make any promises there, especially if he inquires about your performance in the competition. After all, it’s ill form to lie to an ally.”

“Even when it’s to protect your mate?” I asked, immediately regretting using the word. We hadn’t talked since that first dream, and even though she’d traveled over an entire sea for me, I couldn’t quite tell how she felt about the bond.

“Perhaps I can make an exception for that—perhaps,” she said, tapping her finger to her chin. “But only if you promise me something in return?”

“What’s that?” My throat constricted, as if afraid I wouldn’t be able to swallow whatever she was about to request.

Dropping her eyes down to our clasped hands, she said, “Promise you’ll return to me after you go home.”

A hint of worry sparked in my veins, shared over the bond. For a moment I watched Calla curiously, wishing I could lean forward and kiss away the tension in her lips. “Why would I go back to Emeryn without you?”

She lifted her gaze, and her features twisted, as if questioning my sanity. “Because I can’t? I’m still queen of?—”

“And last I checked, you were still in need of a king.” My palms were actually sweating, like an adolescent male asking his first female out to dinner.

Calla’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Her lips twitched at the corners, but I couldn’t tell if she was trying to fight back a smile or a grimace. My insides were such a chaotic jumble of nervousness, excitement, worry, fear, and something else I couldn’t pinpoint that made it nearly impossible to tell which emotions were mine and which might be hers. That fear and worry grew, though, when she pulled her hands slowly away from me and folded them in her lap. Her stony expression betrayed none of her thoughts as she studied me. I itched under her scrutiny—or maybe that was simply my healing wounds.

Behind her, a door opened, sending a beam of soft light shining into my darkened room. The air seemed to chill—even through the lush blanket tucked around me—as someone entered on near-silent footsteps.

“General Orelian,” came a voice smooth as silk but with a deadly edge. A male and female drifted into focus, both with complexions so light they seemed to be glowing faintly. “How nice it is to see you’re awake.”

Pushing up onto my elbows, I winced as the movement pulled at my injuries. Calla hurriedly moved some pillows into place behind me, taking my arm to help me sit up.

“Thank you?” It came out a question despite my better judgment—offending a pair of nightwalkers was probably not the best idea—but they didn’t seem to mind.

“We do hope the accommodations have been satisfactory,” the female said. Her voice held a more subtle hint of danger to it than her companion’s, though it still made me uneasy. Not that fae and nightwalkers were enemies by any means––mostly due to fae blood being lethal to vampires. They were also notorious hermits who preferred to remain neutral in most conflicts, hence why they had fled to this dreary island when Connor’s uncle had inadvertently started the war all those decades ago.

I offered them as easy a smile as I could under their disconcerting stares. “I was unconscious until just a moment ago, but the last several minutes have been a significant improvement over my most recent lodgings. May I ask who healed me, though?”

“Not one of our kind, if that’s your concern,” the female said.

“Seems like that would be more a concern for you than for me,” I noted, earning me a dry, humorless laugh from the male.

Calla lighted her hand on my arm. “It was Ami. With the help of Asher and his brothers.”

“Ami? As in the healer-turned-traitor? You didn’t—” Her quick shake of her head stopped me short, and I pulled my lips into a surprised frown. “Since when is Asher a healer though? Or are his brothers?”

“They helped in a slightly different sort of way, you could say,” Calla said around a sheepish smile.

“Why all the mystery? Nervous I’ll be mad that they saved my life?”

“No,” she said quickly, her eyes darting away.

“Well, that was downright unconvincing, Killer. What did they do exactly?”

Pursing her lips, she slowly lifted her shoulders into an apologetic shrug before pulling the blankets back to reveal my abdomen. Where my guts had once been leaking out of my body, they were now—presumably, since I was still alive and felt relatively normal—stuffed back inside, with the wound covered by gold, bronze, blue, and purple scales. But they weren’t simply laying atop my skin; they were embedded into me, as if my skin had merely been peeled back to reveal a layer of dragon armor beneath.

Reaching my hand behind my neck, I crept my fingers toward the space between my shoulder blades. Sure enough, instead of a bloody section of skin missing, I found a set of scales fused to my body.

“Well, that explains the itching as these heal,” I muttered. Shooting a sideways look at my mate, I asked, “And they offered these pieces of themselves willingly?”

Another shrug. “It was Asher’s idea. They have to remain in their dragon forms until the scales grow back. We couldn’t use them on your ears, unfortunately, but Ami assures me those will heal easily on their own and don’t carry the same risk of infection as the other wounds. They’ll forever be rounded though.”

The male cleared his throat, drawing our attention to him. “Queen Vael, we wanted to once again extend our deepest thanks to you for sparing our man.”

“Of course, Niko,” Calla said with a dip of her chin. “I know having us here isn’t ideal for you, so we will be heading home as soon as Matthias feels healed enough to fly.”

With quick nods, the pair gave a crisp turn on their heels. As they exited, I leaned toward Calla’s ear and whispered, “I know a way we could test to see if I’m fit enough to ride a dragon.”

I half-expected her to scoff and swat at me with the back of her hand, but instead she peaked a brow, her eyes falling to rest on my mouth. Tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she rose from her chair and slid up onto the bed, gracefully lifting her leg to straddle me, careful not to lower her whole weight. My body reacted at once despite the layers of bed linens separating us, and my hands found their way to her hips as if they’d been called there by some beacon.

Fisting the edges of her tunic, I kept my eyes locked on hers. “You’re not going to break me, you know.”

“You were nearly gutted, general.”

“Key word, nearly .”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. Cupping my jaw in her palms, she drew out her shadows to caress my face and move my hair from my forehead. They traveled lower, over my bare chest and down across the new scaly addition to my midsection, before slipping beneath the blanket that sat between us. I tensed in the best possible way at the feel of her cold magic against my skin, which made it difficult to get my words out without gasping.

“Do you treat everyone you hate to this…torture?” I asked, barely able to finish the thought with how her shadows pressed along my length.

Calla wet her lips and donned a fiendish smile as she leaned forward. “I hate no one like I hate you, Matthias.”

“I—”

Her lips pressed to mine, cutting off my words and transforming my voice into a low growl. Whether her shadows stilled or not, I didn’t know—my full attention focused on the taste of her tongue as it swept across mine.

This was no mere kiss. I’d had my share of kisses, many good ones, in fact, but all faded from memory as Calla—my mate—led me in a new stars-blessed dance where our delight and wonder and desire crashed together along the bond.