Page 30

Chapter 30

THE LIE OF A FRIENDLY smile on the sorcai bitch’s face instantly drops when our eyes meet.

Alarm fills her periwinkle stare at the same time my lips peel back in a snarl, and I spring for her. Startled shouts and frenzied warnings sound off around me, but I shut all of that out, focusing only on neutralizing the immediate threat.

A roar fills the room, but whether it’s mine or someone else’s, I can’t say for sure. My dragon surges under my skin. It batters impotently against the bars forever caging it in, begging me to move faster, to kill quicker.

I obey.

Terror flashes across the sorcai’s face. She tries to stagger back, to get away from me, but Karis’s big body blocks her escape. A scream builds in her throat. She fumbles for something at her waist, but she’s too late, too slow.

I reach for my prey, delight detonating through me when I’m almost on her. The blood in this sorcai’s veins doesn’t sing like the ones I’ve been hunting all these years, but she’ll die all the same. She forfeited her life the second she dared to step into my lair.

A wall of black scale armor and muscle steps into my way. Strong arms catch me mid leap, and then my trajectory is altered as someone bodily carries me away from my target. I bellow my frustration and work to break free, but it’s just more noise joining the cacophony of chaos already crescendoing all around me.

“Get her out!” someone booms.

“Chastain, clear the scent!” someone else commands.

I don’t track who is screaming what, because I’m being robbed of my kill, and I’m fucking pissed. All I see is red. All I feel is a driving need to destroy, to protect. Flashes of memory ricochet off my rage, showing me another time sorcai stormed the royal tower I was in and everyone died. A keening snarl spills from my lips, and then suddenly everything around me goes dark.

Shock and bewilderment stall the desperate drive to end the sorcai and erase all evidence of her existence from the lair.

Did they knock me out?

No. I can still feel and hear.

My breaths are loud and harsh against the sudden onset of silence. A warm, vise-like body wraps around mine as it carries me deeper into the darkness. I stop struggling against the band of muscles caging me in, and the call for vengeance begins to quiet in my mind. The scent of sorcai and spells slips away to be replaced by something deeper, something masculine and soothing with a hint of char.

“Shhhh,” a deep voice comforts as a frustrated whimper slips out of me.

I feel off-kilter, untethered, but I have no idea why.

Soft lips press against the juncture where my neck meets my shoulder. I fight against the touch, rallying an internal war cry to kill the sorcai, but there’s no escaping this hold on me. My arms are pinned to my sides. My back is flush with an unyielding muscular chest, and I’m pretty sure my useless wiggling is only turning Aeson on.

I know that’s who has me. I want to be annoyed about it, but suddenly all I feel is…spent. After another surge of fuck you, let me go proves pointless, I finally give up. A growl that feels and sounds like rolling thunder vibrates through my back. Aeson’s approval of my submission has me clenching my teeth and wanting to remobilize, but the will to fight is hemorrhaging against his warm body and rumbling assent.

“That’s better,” Aeson murmurs, his lips skimming the shell of my ear. “Breathe me in. Feel me. You’re safe. It’s just us. No one else is here.”

Every rich and resonant syllable douses my blazing anger until I’m left guttering and confused. Each second swallowed up by the dark and trapped in the arms of Aeson Noctis has my head clearing of fury and fog, and soon I’m questioning what the hell just happened. I try to make sense of my reaction, but I can’t.

Sorcai aren’t my favorite people by any means, but their presence doesn’t usually trigger… that . The female wasn’t Tainted. She didn’t smell like a blood broker or belong to the Relacour line. There was no reason for my violent reaction, and yet I can still feel the faint call for death thrumming in my blood while my dragon paces back and forth in the center of my chest.

Tension dissolves into defeat as I continue to breathe Aeson in. My lungs fill with him, and it has me melting like I’m nothing more than a pillar of ice that’s trying to withstand the radiant attention of the sun. But what chance does an icicle have against a flame?

Aeson’s hold loosens ever so slightly, and I allow myself this one moment of weakness. He can’t see me. I can’t see him. I can take a second and just…be.

My head rests back against his chest, and I close my eyes.

“She was here to look at your anklet,” Aeson tells me, the tip of his nose tracing the line of my jaw. “I know you like wearing it, and I didn’t want the magic to run out before you were ready. I thought you would be more comfortable doing it here because you’d have to take the charm off for her to examine it. I was wrong. It won’t happen again. No more visitors until you say otherwise.”

My eyes flash open and I try to look up at him. I can just barely make out the scruff on his jaw and the border of his full lips. His apology surprises me, but I’m more taken aback by the satisfaction that hums through me at his declaration. Why do I care if he has visitors?

I shouldn’t.

I don’t.

And yet Aeson’s capitulation undeniably soothes something frayed and jagged in my chest.

My dragon finally calms.

Aeson’s mouth ghosts over my shoulder and up the side of my throat. Need heats my blood and burns away the last of my bloodlust. Desire pools between my thighs, and I clench them. Aeson’s chest expands, the hard muscles of his pecs pressing against my back as he scents me. Another roll of approving thunder slips out of him and vibrates into me while he splays a hand across my stomach and presses my ass more firmly against his hard length.

I bite back a moan, but I’m not fast enough to trap the gasp that escapes when Aeson nips the lobe of my ear. I’m playing with fire, in more ways than one. I should move away from the commander, demand distance. But the thought of doing any of that right now feels wrong, and I’m so fucking tired of feeling wrong.

With each slow blink, my eyes start to adjust to pitch black shadows surrounding us. I can just make out gloomy shapes that look like couches and one on the opposite side of the space that I’m pretty sure is a bed.

“Where are we?” I ask, puzzled.

“My room,” Aeson answers evenly, his breath once again teasing my ear.

Every cell in my body suddenly comes alive. I’m all at once glaringly aware of the way Aeson’s massive arms cradle me. The press of his large palm against my stomach is suddenly at the forefront of my focus. The scrape of his five o’clock shadow against my temple feels perfectly indecent, and the pitch of his resonant voice is quickly becoming something I’d like to add to my favorite playlist and listen to on repeat.

He’s holding me like my weight doesn’t even faze him, subduing me with nothing more than his presence, and it’s so good…and so so bad.

“Lights to one hundred percent,” I call out, needing a shock to my senses to help snap me out of whatever spell Aeson has me under.

Did that sorcai bitch get a shot off and I didn’t realize? Something to make me all docile and bewildered?

Unsurprisingly, Aeson’s room doesn’t obey. I can feel the amused smile that stretches across the commander’s face, but my attention is drawn to the way his thumb is arcing across the bare skin of my torso and stopping just under the bottom hem of my top—which is way too close, and not nearly close enough, to the bottom swell of my breasts.

“Lights at fifty percent,” Aeson orders, and instantly incandescence chases away the dark’s inky claim.

Once again, I’m both annoyed and pleased by Aeson’s assent to my wishes. I wanted light and now there’s light. I wanted to shank his guest and now no more guests. It’s what I’m asking for, but why the fuck is he giving in to me?

“If I put you down, are you going to attack anyone else?” he asks me, and there’s no missing the inflection of amusement in his question.

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s hard to say,” I grump while trying to cross my arms over my chest. Unfortunately, his arm is still banded around me—and therefore in the way—so I’m forced to leave mine hanging at my sides while my feet dangle above the ground.

I look like an idiot.

Why did I want the lights on again? Oh right, illumination makes me less inclined to hump the scion.

“I’m fine,” I huff. “Unless any more sorcai or wyverns come storming in here. She must have triggered a flashback of something,” I tell the commander dismissively, even though that’s not totally accurate. I did see flashes of the night of the rebellion, but that was after I was already triggered by something else. I still have no idea what though.

“A flashback. Sure. That must have been it,” Aeson agrees, except something in his tone makes me think he doesn’t actually believe that’s true.

He sets me on my feet, and I sense a split second of hesitation before he steps back. Deliberately and slowly, he lets his hands slide off my body as he moves further away. I shoot a glare at him over my shoulder and ignore the way my blood heats at the sensual contact. His nostrils flare, scenting me, and his smile is wicked and unapologetic as he finally puts a few feet of distance between us.

“It was a flashback,” I argue, more to put some emotional distance between us as well as physical space.

“Sure,” he agrees again, but it’s placating and ambivalent.

“What does that mean?” I demand, both annoyed and curious.

Aeson’s smile widens even more, and I instantly question if I want to hear whatever he’s about to say.

“It’s nothing, Claws. It’s perfectly normal for dragons to feel territorial in these kinds of situations. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

My brow furrows.

“These kinds of situations?” I repeat slowly.

He steps closer to me, and I have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. Damn, he’s big.

“Yes, Claws, these kinds of situations,” he reaffirms, lifting his hand and running the back of his fingers lightly across my cheek.

I startle as his meaning hits me.

“Wait,” I demand as I back away from him. “You think I went after that sorcai because I was feeling territorial over…you?”

The humor drops from Aeson’s face. “I don’t think, Claws, I know. I’ve seen territorial displays before. You would have too if you were raised around other dragons. That’s exactly what happened.”

I flinch at his statement about growing up with other dragons but quickly shake it off. “I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of girls fighting over you, but your overinflated ego is misleading you if you think that’s what was happening out there.” I gesture in the direction of the great room.

Aeson’s snort is incredulous, and he folds his arms over his chest, mirroring my stubborn stance. “I don’t need you to admit it, Claws. I know what I saw. So do the others.”

His mention of his Wing pisses me off even more, and an irritated growl crawls up my throat as I stride in the direction of the door that connects our rooms. This pointless conversation is over.

“Arrogant, presumptuous asshole,” I grumble to myself as I go.

Why the fuck would I feel territorial over Aeson Noctis? I’d like nothing more than to get as far from The Horde as I can. Yeah, I kissed him, but it was just a kiss. A moment of weakness, nothing more. I hate The Horde. I hate him , his father, his older brother, and anyone else that benefited from the slaughter and suffering of my people. Does he not remember that they brought me here against my will? I’m sure as shit not fighting to stay, let alone getting all growly over his big Burner ass.

I’m halfway to the door when a large hand wraps around my arm and spins me back in the direction I’m trying to escape. I move to break Aeson’s hold, but the fucking dragon has speed and strength on me, and he gets a hold of both of my wrists. I try every move I know to reclaim my limbs, but every headbutt, kick, twist, hit, and body check fails me.

I clench my jaw and level Aeson with a murderous stare that doesn’t faze him in the slightest. It’s crystal clear the only way he’s going to let go is if he wants to. That, or if I shoot him with a pulse bow, but since I’m fresh out of those, it looks like I’ll be gnawing my arm off just to make a fucking point.

He steps into me and I back up until I hit a wall.

“You need proof, Claws? Fine, I’m happy to supply it,” he growls, and try as I might, it affects me.

I hate that it affects me.

He leans down until his eyes are level with mine and there’s no escaping his gaze or the intensity filling it.

“Was it her presence or her scent that set you off?” he asks, watching me, surveying me, his blue eyes blazing brighter with the question. “My guess is scent. That’s usually the one we’re more sensitive to at first. Did you see red, Claws? Imagine a hundred ways to kill her in the blink of an eye? Did your body move before you even told it to?”

He nuzzles the tip of his nose against mine, and I don’t know if I want to snarl at him to back off or claim his mouth to shut him up.

“What calmed you, my Syphon? Was it the loss of your sight, the change of scenery, or was it me? My touch? My scent? My hard dick pressing against your perfect ass? If I reached my hand inside your pants right now, would you be wet for me, Claws? Are you dripping for me? What kind of sounds will you make when I play with this pussy? Should we find out?”

Fuck me. I think we’re about to.

Desire fries my synapses, and longing anchors me to the way Aeson guides my hand down over my pants. He molds his fingers over mine until we’re both cupping between my thighs. My breaths are quick and needy. My nipples are hard, my breasts heavy, and my skin is entirely too sensitive for the way his breath is dancing down my neck and quivering across my collarbone. He grinds our palms against my clit while his words edge me closer to a truth I don’t want to acknowledge.

A soft moan escapes me, and Aeson’s knowing smile grows in response.

“Mmmm, just like that,” he whispers lewdly as he presses his forehead against mine. “Get nice and ready for me. Then I’ll lick you clean before I fuck the stubborn denial out of you.”

My hand presses harder, and the pace of the rhythmic circles against my clit starts to pick up. I pretend it’s his doing, but it might be mine. This is a really bad idea, but just like our kiss before, it feels entirely too good to stop. I’ve been nothing but tense and on edge since I was brought here, and the idea of unraveling, even for just a second, is too tempting to walk away from.

If I can just take a small break, breathe for a little while without feeling like I’m being crushed by all the fear, anger, and pressure, then I can pick it all back up and carry on.

“Fuck,” I whimper as my climax starts to build.

“There it is, my Syphon,” Aeson purrs. “Break open for me, Beautiful. I want to see your surrender dripping down your thighs.”

My head falls back and I ride the ascending tide of our combined touch and his filthy words. Out of nowhere, a hard knock pounds through the room. The sound startles me out of my chase for release, and my head snaps in the direction of the door. Aeson’s snarl is baleful and dangerous. And it almost tips me over the edge, but then his hand stops between my thighs, and the orgasm I was eager for flutters away.

“What?” Aeson snaps, lifting his head from mine and shooting daggers in the direction of the door and whoever’s daring to interrupt us.

“Your meeting with the Council starts in ten minutes,” Karis announces tentatively.

Looks like the big man drew the short straw.

Aeson’s frustrated sigh brushes across my fevered skin, and he puts a few inches of space between us. It’s exactly what I need to come to my senses. I breathe air that isn’t saturated with only his scent, and it helps me realize how fucking stupid I’m being right now.

Before he can change his mind and erase the distance he just put between us, I slide out from where Aeson has me pinned against the wall. He lets me. And something inside of me is both relieved and disappointed by that. I’m quick to kick the latter part of that thought in the face and focus on straightening my clothes and collecting myself.

I can feel Aeson’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare meet them.

That was close.

Too fucking close.

Flustered and all at once pissed at myself, my traitorous body, and at the scion, I spin to leave. I need to get out of here and as far away from Aeson Noctis as I can get. But something sparkly suddenly catches my eye, and my steps slow despite myself. The wall we were up against isn’t a wall. Well, it was when I was next to it before, but it must have some kind of cloaking tech on it, because now it’s a glass-encased cabinet filled with shelves and…treasure.

Holy shit, this must be Aeson’s trove.

Immediately I tell myself to look away. A dragon’s trove is not something to fuck with, but I can’t pull my stare from what’s sitting front and center in the middle of all the shelves. And then I can’t stop my steps as they carry me closer.

I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s some kind of jeweled flower, but the breathtaking bloom looks as though it was plucked from the deepest reaches of space itself. Glimmering, crystalized stars speckle the delicate surface of the petals, and the stamen in the middle can only be described as a small bouquet of gossamer galaxies.

“It’s a constellation lily,” Aeson tells me, and I freeze and hold my breath as he draws closer. “It was my grandmother’s. The pride of her trove. I could stare at it for hours every time we’d visit her when I was young. Surprisingly, she always let me, even though she wasn’t otherwise prone to those kinds of soft indulgences.”

I dart a glance toward Aeson, but he doesn’t look protective or offended by the covetous way I’m staring at something he, no doubt, considers precious.

“No one was more shocked than I was when she gifted it to me the day I moved into my own tower and officially started my own trove. I was speechless. I’d never felt so excited and so worried that any second, she would tell me she made a mistake and take it back. But she set it in my hands and then told me that every dragon deserved to fill their life with treasures that they’ll cherish, revere, and protect. She brushed my hair out of my face and cupped my cheek and said that one day I would discover something infinitely more precious than this breathtaking flower. And when that day came, only then would I start to understand just how much she loved me, because seeing me admire and appreciate her beloved constellation lily brought her more joy and contentment than the flower itself ever did.”

I can’t help the small smile that slips across my face. I never met the Noctis Matriarch, but her stout and ferocious personality was legendary even out in The Scorch.

“She died shortly after my mother did,” Aeson tells me, his voice growing soft and sad.

I remember hearing about the queen and how she died trying to bring a third son into the world. The baby didn’t make it either. Back then, the information was nothing more than a fact added to files about the Noctis monarchy. But standing here now, with Aeson so close I can feel his heat and sorrow, it adds an element of reality to it all. Suddenly what the commander went through and the grief he feels isn’t just intel, it’s a piece of his story, a part of who he is. And for the first time since I heard about what happened, I feel for what he lost.

There are a finite number of people in each of our lives who truly love us. That love warms us against the frigid toll life can take. It’s a light that guides us and fortifies us, and losing it leaves us dimmer, leaves our lives darker.

I lost myself in the black abyss for a while. But like the petals of the constellation lily, pinpricks of light have speckled their way through my darkness. My sister. The other Syphons. The wyverns that helped protect and raise all of us.

I study the commander’s reflection in the pane of glass in front of me. His stare is sorrowful and fixed on the beautiful flower that caught my eye. He looks up and our gazes meet in the glass. We stare at one another, and for a flicker of a second, it feels like…everything.

“I’m sorry,” I offer, but I don’t know exactly what I’m apologizing for.

Am I sorry for his loss? His sadness? Mine? For this fucked-up game we’re playing? Or for what I’m really here to do?

A wistful smile tips the corners of his mouth up. “Don’t be. After her rare declaration of love, she cuffed me on the back of the head and told me not to break it or else.”

A small laugh sneaks out of me, and I straighten, pulling my gaze from the display case and stepping back. Aeson waves and once again the glass shelves and the glimmering collections they hold disappear behind the facade of a dragon stone wall.

I haven’t seen this kind of tech before. The wall feels solid. I knock on it, and it doesn’t even sound hollow. There isn’t the slightest hint that anything else could exist here aside from carved stone.

I don’t know if trove tech like this existed back in my father’s day. Maybe it didn’t, or maybe my father was just old school. Older beings can be like that, distrustful or resistant to change. My father had a spelled armoire for his trove, but thank fuck for that, or Enslee and I wouldn’t have had anywhere to hide the night our world ended.

“I have to go,” Aeson tells me after another drawn out moment where our thoughts wander to different times and places.

I clear my throat, giving him a nod, and then I once again move for the door that separates our rooms. I realize as I go that Aeson’s space is a mirror of mine. Bed fixed against the same wall, same sitting area and large archways leading outside. His space is more masculine, darker woods, more leather, bulkier furniture built to be comfortable for someone of his massive stature.

“This isn’t over, Claws. It’s to be continued,” Aeson calls to my back as I twist the knob and open the door that separates our spaces. A door that, until now, has always remained closed.

I try not to read into that while I step from his room into mine.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at your Naming,” he tells me, the promise and warning in that statement dangling on a tantalizing string.

I escape without a word in response or a look over my shoulder. I close the door behind me and press my forehead against the dragons carved into it and sigh.

What the fuck was that? I demand, but of course, no answer is forthcoming.

Aeson and I can never be anything but enemies. He may not know that yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Yes, he burns bright and hot, and the cold dark parts of my broken soul crave that heat, but it could never work. A moth will never survive its love for fire. Ice will always bow to the sun. And I can never be Aeson Noctis’s mate, not when I’m here to become his reckoning.