Page 18 of Storm of Blood and Shadow (Merciless Dragons #3)

Varex has gone mad.

If it were just hunger or the mating frenzy, I think he could manage it—but it’s both at once. He’s out of his mind with hunger, driven wild by the need to mate. And the Mordvorren is making it all worse, filling his head with voices and whispers. I’ve heard him answering it. I’ve seen it reduce him to tears of grief and despair.

Right now, though, he seems to be feeling rage and lust, with a side of ravenous need.

I remain deep in the cleft at the back of the cave while he growls and slavers at the entrance, clawing at the stone with rabid purpose. My own body is weak and shaky from lack of food, and my stomach feels like it’s going to devour itself if I don’t get something to eat.

But there’s nothing to eat here. I’ve hunted through every corner of the cave. There’s not so much as a mushroom, a bit of lichen or moss, or a subterranean slug. I’m starving, and so is Varex. Yet still the Mordvorren continues to wail, casting torrents of rain, rattling the mountain with its thunder.

No dragon can make it through this storm. No one is coming to help us.

Dragon claws can carve rock. Given enough hours, Varex might be able to widen this tunnel enough so he can reach me, and I don’t want to find out what he’ll do when he does. He’s muttering in Dragonish while he digs at the rock, and his tone is anything but pleasant or merciful.

I could retreat farther down this crack, but it’s pitch black in here, and anything could be slithering through the dark. I might end up tumbling off a ledge and breaking my neck, or plunging into an underground river, or falling into a voratrice den.

Perhaps I should try to talk to Varex, to reason with him. The real Varex is still in there somewhere, I know it. At least a conversation will mean a reprieve from the grating sound of his claws grinding through stone.

“Varex,” I call.

The noise of his digging stops abruptly. The silence that follows is almost more terrifying.

Then his amber eye gleams at the entrance to the tunnel. “Female,” he growls, his voice deeper than ever.

“Jessiva,” I correct him firmly, though my pulse is racing.

“You smell like meat,” he growls. “Fresh, firm, tender. Fuck you full, then eat you alive. Swallow you up. I’ll slide into you, then you slide into me.” He snarls a laugh and keeps digging.

That isn’t the Varex I know. Not even hunger and lust could make him talk that way to me, to the woman he adores. This is the Mordvorren, crawling through his skull, poisoning his mind.

“This is more than starvation and the mating frenzy,” I call. “It’s the fucking storm. You have to push it out of your head. Don’t listen to it.”

“Come to me, morsel,” he hisses. “Come here and let me taste you.”

“No thank you.”

“Coward. Little prey, tasty fleshling, meat and bones and blood and holes. I have a hole inside me, bigger than the world. Maybe you can fill it.”

“I think I’ll stay right here.”

There’s a scuffle of scales on rock as he lies down, settling his great body in front of the crack. “Are you thirsty, little prey?” His deep voice echoes down the tunnel, a nightmarish singsong. “I’ll give you more of my cum to drink.”

He’s referring to the last time he came for me as a dragon. I was so ravenous that I drank as much of his cum as I could hold. It helped the hunger pangs, but it also made my stomach hurt. “I’d rather not do that again.”

Varex chuckles, and the chuckle turns into a groan, then a sharp whine of painful need. “You are cruel. Cold and harsh and merciless. Let me have you, my tender darling. Let me fill you, consume you. Be part of me forever. Never leave me, never leave me…” A grating sob bursts from him, and my heart aches for his pain, his confusion, his madness.

He lies there a long time, sobbing and snarling by turns, then chipping away at the rock with his claws.

Suddenly he goes quiet, and I lift my head, concerned by the stillness.

His jaws fill the mouth of the tunnel, his scaly snout and jagged teeth forming malevolent words. “There’s something I hadn’t thought of until now, little prey. I have magic. Void magic. It can swallow things up. I can use void magic to widen this passage. If it happens to gulp you up, too, that would be unfortunate, but at least then I would have a reprieve from the torture of your tasty fucking scent.”

Oh shit .

“If you start spitting void orbs down this tunnel, you could collapse the cave—even bring down the mountain,” I warn him.

“Why the fuck would I care?”

Alright then. Time to go.

I feel my way farther along the passage as quickly as I can, going deeper into the black depths of the mountain. Behind me I can hear Varex laughing, a horrible, empty sound, and my heart breaks quietly in the dark, grieving the gentle kindness of the dragon I know. He’ll find himself again when this is all over. He has to.

Something hurtles down the passage behind me, sizzling as it goes. I drop to the floor and flatten myself as the void orb skims over my prone body, casting a purple glow on the stone. It whizzes onward, then strikes something—the end of the passage, maybe. The rock around me shudders as the void orb sears through the cave wall and implodes on itself, shattering stone and then swallowing up the fragments.

The orb disappears, but a faint lavender glow remains. I blink several times, and when the glow doesn’t vanish, I crawl forward cautiously.

Varex’s orb broke open a path into a new cavern. I peer through the gap in the broken stone, inhaling a quick breath at the sight of the glowing blue water, the variegated walls, and the crystal formations as big as me, glowing lavender and pink and blue.

It’s like a dream. Like a promise that this nightmare is going to end. Like a vow that beauty and wonder still exist, even in the darkest of times.

I emerge into the cavern, so charmed by its luminous color that I barely notice the hollow growling of my stomach. Crouching, I cup some of the clear water in my hand. It’s cool and it smells fresh—healthier than the Mordvorren rainwater we’ve been using to drink and to wash. I’ve wondered if drinking that rain was the best choice, but it was our only option.

Carefully I sip from my palm. There’s a faint mineral taste, but the water is good. The liquid itself doesn’t glow; the bluish tint comes from the soft light of the rocky, crystal-studded bed in which the water lies.

It’s blissfully peaceful in the cavern. The howling wind outside the mountain is muffled to a faint musical hum. My ears pick up on low whistling sounds from air currents passing through the space, sifting between crystalline columns. It’s as if this place creates its own quiet music.

I don’t detect the sizzling approach of any more void orbs, nor can I hear the grinding of Varex’s claws through the rock. Maybe, with enough distance between us, the power of my scent is lessened, and he can have some peace as well.

Or maybe the Mordvorren has taken him. The thought congeals my insides with dread, and I briefly consider going back to check on my dragon… but now that I’m sitting beside the luminous pool, I can’t find the strength to get up. Not until I’ve had more water and some rest.

I drink my fill, hoping the minerals in the water will do something for my nutrient-deprived body. Then I curl up near one of the larger crystals, which exudes a faint warmth. Tucking my arm beneath my head, I let myself fall asleep.

When I rouse again, I feel so refreshed that I’m sure I must have slept for ages. I find a dark, rocky recess where I can pee, and then I return to the pool to drink again. I’m still ravenous, but filling my belly with water helps somewhat, and the sleep was refreshing. My pussy feels less swollen, and the chafed areas on my arms look better too.

With my own survival in question, I’ve been less worried about my family—or perhaps not less worried, but at least distracted from those worries. Right now, there is nothing I could possibly do to help them. I’m doing the one thing I can do—surviving both the Mordvorren and the mad dragon prince. Once the storm is over—if I live to see its end—I will have to make difficult choices. But for now, I can rest by the pool and listen to the humming of the storm and the flute-like music of the air whistling through the cavern.

The hollow notes have a sort of pattern to them, and after a while I get up and lift my arms gracefully, rising on my toes. I’ve lost some of my strength, but I’m encouraged to find my muscles awakening and my limbs falling into familiar poses. I don’t push for any difficult moves; I let myself move naturally, fluidly, finding solace in languid steps and slow twirls.

I dance beneath the mountain, amid towering crystals, beside mirror-like pools, and my dancing is not only comfort, but defiance.

However loudly the Mordvorren may howl, it has not conquered me yet.

While completing a full turn, I spot a figure watching me, and I stumble out of the spin, terror pounding in my heart.

It’s only him. Varex, naked and human, with a white cloth tied around his waist. He’s leaning against the cavern wall.

“Don’t stop,” he says softly.

But I’m already running to him, my chest tight, my eyes filling with tears. He catches me, and I throw my arms around his neck.

“You didn’t die,” I breathe against his throat, kissing his warm skin. “And you didn’t kill me.”

When he doesn’t answer, I rear back to look into his face. His eyes are hollow, filled with an aching dread.

“What is it?” I whisper.

He takes my hand and leads me to the broken part of the wall, where his void orb smashed it. When I lean out through the opening, I sob out a gasp and clap my hand over my mouth.

The narrow crack is gone. In its place there is a yawning void, wide open to Varex’s cave. I can see all the way to the cave’s mouth, to the darkness and rain beyond. While I was sleeping, the dragon widened the passage and destroyed my hiding place, the only area where I could be safe from him. From the burn smudges and claw marks scoring the rock, I would guess he did it with both void orbs and fire. Either I was too exhausted to hear any of it, or the water I drank had some soporific properties.

The next time he changes, Varex will break through the last bit of rock into the crystal cavern, and he will either eat me or fuck me to death.

“Don’t look at it now.” Varex pulls me back into the lavender haven. When we’re standing here, I could almost imagine that we’re both safe, and that no harm will come to either of us.

But this place isn’t safe. There is nowhere safe anymore. There’s no manipulation I can try, no schemes, no distractions. The beautiful black dragon who saved my life is going to kill me within the next several hours.

I press myself close to him, my hands curled against his chest. My legs tremble, weak from hunger and from the terrible knowledge of what’s coming.

“I wanted to see you one more time,” Varex whispers into my hair. “And I wanted you to understand the reason behind my actions.”

“It’s the fucking storm,” I grit out. “It’s wrecking your mind.”

“Yes… but it speaks some truth,” he says quietly. “I failed to save my mother from the monster that seized her. I failed to save Grimmaw and Vylar. I failed to save Kyreagan from going to war and from carrying out his foolish plan to kidnap humans. I failed to provide enough food for you. And I am failing in my struggle against this storm, this entity, whatever it is. I refuse to watch you starve in front of me, and I refuse to be your rapist or your murderer.”

I open my mouth in protest, but he hushes me gently with his fingertips.

“You know it will happen the next time I turn,” he says. “I will split you open with my cock and then tear into you with my teeth. I won’t be able to stop myself, because when I am a dragon, when my void calls to the storm and it summons me, I am not myself. I am something else, something primal and evil.”

He removes his fingers from my lips, brushes my hair back from my face, and kisses me. The touch of his mouth lights up my skin, my mind, my soul. I sweep my fingers through his snowy hair and deepen the kiss, playing with his tongue, desperate to occupy him so he won’t talk anymore. I don’t want to hear what I think he might say.

But he breaks the kiss and pulls back to look into my eyes. His eyes are brown when he’s human, not the glowing amber of his dragon form.

“I love you,” he says. “I give you my permission to devour me when it’s done. Keep yourself alive. Do whatever it takes.”

He shoves me aside and dashes for the gap in the wall.

“Varex!” I try to follow him, but I’m weak. I stumble on the way, nearly turning my ankle. When I scramble through the opening, he’s already far ahead of me, standing by our bed, his tall figure outlined in the orange light of the dyre-stones. He bends, picks up something from the ground. A sharp, triangular piece of rock.

“Varex!” I scream.

I’m running. I’m too slow.

He drags the pointed corner of the object across the side of his throat.

“Varex!” I gasp out. “Fuck… Varex…”

He’s still standing there. I rush up to him, dart around him—and I cover my mouth at the sight of the blood pouring from the gash he made.

“No,” I breathe. “No, fuck…”

I lunge forward, pressing my hand over the injury. His neck is slick, and I can’t clamp down as firmly as I want to.

“Change,” I order him. “Switch to dragon form, and maybe you can survive this.”

His legs crumple beneath him and when he falls, I try to catch him. He’s too big and tall for me to do much except ease his descent a little and pull his head into my lap. I rip off the top part of my dance costume, wad up the material, and press it hard against the cut on his throat.

The shard he used was blunter than it looked, and jagged. Though it tore his flesh, I don’t think it went deep. Maybe he didn’t strike anything vital. Maybe he can survive this.

He tried to kill himself, for me. To save me. He offered his flesh for me to eat. He loves me more fiercely and wonderfully than anyone ever has.

And I wanted to leave him—why? Because I feel responsible for children I didn’t make? Because I feel as if my life must be forever burdened by the choices and needs of my family? Because I consider it my duty to be there for them, to be miserable for their sake?

Isn’t that selfless love? Isn’t that laudable and beautiful? Shouldn’t I be willing to give up everything to protect those little ones? Shouldn’t I be ready to sacrifice the life I could have and the dragon I love, for them?

The dragon I love …

Yes. I do love him. The love bloomed inside me like a dance being choreographed, step by step, soft and tentative, practiced through conversations and kisses, through ecstasy and anger, until it became something new, something dramatic and forceful. The love will always be there now, dancing inside me to the music of his soul and mine.

He shifts in my lap, his eyes unfocused. There’s a frantic purpose in his gaze, and his hand crawls toward the place where he dropped the shard, like he’s intent on finishing himself off. Furiously I kick the shard away.

“Be still,” I tell him, despair threading my tone. “Don’t move. I have to keep pressure here. Don’t try to talk.”

We sit there for hours, I think, though it’s hard to tell with the storm roaring outside and no sunshine or moonlight to indicate the passage of time. Varex’s skin grows paler than usual, and a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead. I keep pressure on his wound for so long that my arm aches miserably, yet I’m afraid to move the cloth and see if the blood is staunched, lest the material rip away the clot and set the wound bleeding again. So I remain still, though my legs are cramping and my arm quivers from exhaustion.

Varex seems to have fallen asleep, his dark lashes lying against the shadowed skin beneath his eyes. Some of his beautiful white hair is scarlet now, soaked in blood. He looks so lovely and so helpless that I can’t keep tears from prickling in my eyes.

Beautiful, terrible, gentle prince. I love you .

I don’t say any of it aloud. But I stroke my thumb along his cheekbone.

Sometime later his eyes open and he murmurs. “I have not died.”

“Not yet,” I say. “If you plan to, I wish you’d hurry up and quit dragging it out.” It’s an attempt at dry, morbid humor, but my voice shakes and tears surge in my eyes. Two of them drip onto his face, and he lifts his gaze to meet mine. Or he starts to, and then he’s distracted by my bare chest.

“I needed the cloth to staunch your wound,” I explain.

“What a delightful idea.” He lifts one hand slowly and touches my breast. “Darling, you must let me die.”

“No.”

“Don’t make me endure the horror of killing you.” His eyes glisten with misery.

“There’s another way,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “There has to be. If only the fucking storm would stop —if only there was a spell to make it vanish. Where is Thelise in all this? She should be doing something.”

“I doubt her magic is powerful enough to combat something this immense and this ancient,” Varex murmurs. “To make this storm disappear, it would take a cosmic force—” His eyes go wide as if he has just realized something.

“What?” I ask. “What were you going to say?”

“I need to shift,” he gasps. “Let me up.”

“But if you switch forms…”

“I think if I change now, of my own will, I’ll have a few moments before the madness hits. It will have to be long enough.”

“Long enough for what?” I smack the side of his face lightly. “You’d better explain, you fucking obstinate dragon.”

“Something that might save us. Let me go, Jessiva—let me try this.”

“Your last solution for our problems was a fucking stupid one,” I protest. “Is this new idea any better?”

“I think so.” He pushes firmly against my arm, and reluctantly I allow him to rise.

“Careful,” I urge him. “Hold the cloth against your wound. I think it stopped bleeding, but I can’t be sure.”

“I suppose I didn’t do a good job of ending my life.” He gives me a weak grin. “I didn’t know how deep to cut.”

He casts the scrap of pink cloth away, and I get one glimpse of the jagged mark along his throat before he transforms.

The black dragon looks at me with boundless love shining in his amber eyes, and then he leaps out of the cave into the storm.