Page 44

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

“ S o, how did your research go today?” Cael asked, holding a glass of whiskey on his knee. A crackling fire warmed his room, enough that Cael had shed his jacket and left the top few buttons of his shirt undone.

Xenia froze at his question, nibbling her shortbread biscuit. Even his distractingly handsome presence—the tiny sliver of muscular chest, the messy hair, the relaxed smile—couldn’t chase away her disappointment at what she’d learned in that hidden room.

“How did your research go?” she asked, trying—and failing—not to sound as petulant as she felt over his afternoon with Elodie.

Cael smirked, then took a sip of his whiskey. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy? From the unflappably positive Xenia Cirillo?”

She scoffed, then choked on biscuit dust and waved him off, coughing.

Real smooth, Cirillo.

“May I remind you,” he purred, “and I quote ‘ I’m not above using your dashing good looks and charm to get us the intel we need .’ Those were your exact words, if I remember correctly.”

“Did it work?”

He pulled something from his pocket, then held up his hand. Xenia’s heart leapt as a chain unfurled below his fingers. “I am capable of achieving greatness.”

She crowed a victorious laugh that dissolved when she noted the material the key was made from. Tin, not brass. “Is that the right key?”

“I had one of the stablehands make a copy for me, then ‘found’ the real one on the floor at Elodie’s feet during dinner. She was so grateful, she nearly mounted me at the table.”

“Gross,” Xenia sneered, then reached for the key.

He curled his fist around it. “I’m not sure if I should give you this.”

“Why not?” An indignant squeak.

He leaned forward, brows furrowed over storm-cloud eyes. “Because I don’t trust that you won’t go dashing to Elodie’s room this very second to open that box.”

“Come on. I’m not that stupid.”

“I would never call you stupid. Recklessly impulsive. Maybe delusionally optimistic. But never stupid.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “I’m not sure either of those are better.”

“Elodie has fittings all next week for her wedding dress,” Cael said, the words slicing past Xenia’s ribs. “She’ll be in downtown Diachre every day. You can go then. But only then. Don’t try anything beforehand.”

“I won’t ,” she said, reaching out her hand.

He tossed her the key, and she slipped it into the pocket of her cardigan before returning to the biscuits. “So how many poems did it take before she was distracted enough for you to grab it?”

Cael lowered his voice to the octave that inflamed her blood. “She was putty in my hands from line one.”

Xenia huffed. “Well, how fortunate for you to learn you have a skill to tame your future wife.”

Cael snickered, not taking the bait. “Recklessly impulsive. Delusionally optimistic. And a complete and utter fool.” Xenia recaptured his gaze and the look on his face was the softest she’d ever seen it. “Especially if you think for one minute that I would choose to share my skills with anyone other than you.”

Her jealousy melted away, leaving something warm and frothy in its wake. At least until the reality of their situation frosted over it.

“But that’s the problem,” she whispered. “You may not have a choice. And after what I learned today...”

Cael pushed a hand through his strands, spreading his legs as he slumped in his chair. “Do I want to know?”

Xenia shook her head, rolling her lips together. “I found the piece of information we were looking for. The other thing, besides the flute, that your father used to summon the dragon. And how he’s been controlling her since.”

“What?”

“He’s the only person in Ethyrios who knows the dragon’s true name.”

Cael rocked back against his chair, his limbs going numb. “The only person in all of Ethyrios?”

“Well, it depends on what you consider Ethyrios.”

“What does that mean?”

“There is someone else who knows it. But he’s been locked away in Tartarus ever since your father pried the dragon’s name from him and used her to slaughter his people.”

The information clicked together in Cael’s mind. “Aedelmar Burkhardt, the leader of the Cynn Drakan.”

Xenia offered him a wan smile. “Glad someone’s been paying attention.”

“How did my father get the name from him? I can’t imagine Burkhardt just gave it to him willingly.”

Xenia raised her palms. “There were no specifics within the journal, just the date when it occurred.”

Cael perked up a bit. “Was the name in there?”

Xenia shot him a glare, like Duh . He nearly chuckled at the sight of it. Xenia was the rare human who was wholly unafraid of him. He loved it. “I wonder if Leonard knows it.”

“Who?”

“Leonard. He’s the dragon’s main caretaker. Has been since the war.”

Xenia cocked her head. “I doubt Arran would have been that careless.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Once Arran used the flute and uttered the dragon’s name, a powerful bond was created between them. One that’s kept the dragon within his thrall for centuries. Do you think…” Xenia hesitated. “Could you ask your father for it?”

Cael snorted an incredulous laugh. “And what do you think his first question would be? He’d want to know how I even knew to ask in the first place. Then he’d want to know why I want to know. Can you come up with any possible reason—other than me trying to steal the dragon from right under his nose—why I would be asking?”

“Professional curiosity? You have been visiting the mountain a lot. You could say you want to know for when you eventually take over the business?”

“No way,” Cael said, shaking his head. “It’s too big of a risk. We’ll need to find the name some other way.”

Xenia scoffed. “What, like break into Tartarus to ask Aedelmar Burkhardt?”

Cael smiled slyly. “Well, I’m certainly not going to. But I know someone who might be desperate enough to try.”

“Tristan?” Xenia blurted. “How would he even get in? And even if he could, how would he get back out to tell us the name?”

Cael rested his chin on his knuckles. “I don’t know. I’ll talk to him about it when I see him tomorrow. In the meantime, keep searching my father’s journals. Maybe there’s some kind of hint about the dragon’s name. I’ll ask Leonard as well.”

Xenia nodded slowly, her thoughtful gaze glued to the fire.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

She grazed her fingers along the scar on her neck. “Nothing, I…” She sucked in a breath. “This just all seems so… hopeless .”

He couldn’t stomach the despair in Xenia’s voice, a tone he hadn’t heard there in…well, ever. She was supposed to be the effortlessly positive one. The one who always saw the silver lining, no matter how bleak the situation.

And before she’d barreled back into his life, he might have even let her despair drag him down as well.

But his bucket of positivity was well and truly full, thanks to her sunny presence. And he was determined to do for her what she’d done for him.

Drag her back toward the light.

By any means necessary.

Xenia hadn’t felt this despondent in…well, ever . Every piece of information she uncovered just led to more mysteries. And they only had a little over two weeks until Cael would be taken away from her forever.

And she would be stuck here. In this lodge. With Arran.

And Tomas.

Her breathing went shallow, but before she could give in to the impending panic, Cael strode over to the bed and pulled a thin volume from underneath his rumpled jacket.

She recognized the gold-embossed title instantly.

Odes on the Seasons of Love . By Laetitius.

A small smile crept onto her face as Cael settled into his chair, spreading his legs wide.

She cocked an eyebrow and he chuckled. “What? I tortured myself with this shit all afternoon. Now it’s your turn.” He ran his fingers along the cloth cover. “Do you know why my performance with Elodie this afternoon was so convincing? Convincing enough that she didn’t notice me slipping off her necklace?”

“Why?” Xenia asked, her breath trapped in her throat.

Cael tilted his head down, peering at her through his dark lashes. A rare, toe-curling appearance from shy Cael. “Because I was thinking about you.”

Warmth prickled across Xenia’s limbs, settling between her thighs.

“Come over here,” he whispered, patting his knee, “and take off your cardigan.”

She obeyed, perching herself in his lap and nestling her head against his shoulder. His arms encircled her as he flipped through the pages, then held the book open with one hand as he placed the other at her hip, rubbing in idle, soothing circles.

Her eyes slid closed as Cael began to read.

“ She is the summer storm that drenches parched fields.

“Her love is relief.

“She is the autumn wind that strips away dried death.

“Her love is remedy.

“She is the winter snow that shields barren land.

“Her love is protection.

“She is the spring sun that coaxes fledgling green.

“Her love is renewal.

“All the seasons of my heart, from coldest stone to warmest growth,

“Belong to you, and you alone.

“My lady. My love.”

Lulled by the silky cadence of Cael’s voice and the beauty of the poem, Xenia laid against him and matched his breathing. In this moment, she didn’t care where they were or what danger they were in or what lay ahead of them.

All that mattered was that she’d found her way back to him. And had somehow helped him find a way back to himself. Despite everything, the Cael she’d known these past weeks had been light, upbeat. Teasing, even. She hadn’t even broached the subject of his missing wing.

But maybe she’d never needed to. Maybe just showing up here, having risked her life and her safety, had proven to him what she’d always known. That he was worth something. Worth everything . If only to her.

Was it enough? To be everything to just one single person? She knew it was for her.

But she’d never dared hope that it would be enough for him, too.

He closed the book and placed it on the table, then turned her in his lap to face him. Her thighs parted around his as he wrapped an arm around her waist and tangled his fingers through her curls.

She placed steadying hands on his firm chest and stared into his thundercloud eyes.

The side of his lip quirked up. “Did my performance pass muster?”

Her own rose in response. “I suppose it will do.”

“Cruel little human.” He tugged on her hair, a reprimand. “Laetitius certainly does have a way with words, though. Said it better than I ever could.” His eyes bounced between hers, their faces close enough that she could taste the wind on his breath. “I've wanted you since the moment you flung this finger in my face and called me a pterodactyl.” She laughed as he plucked up the offending finger and placed a gentle kiss upon it. “But I’m a stubborn, foolish bastard, and it took me far, far too long to admit it. After I lost my wing?—”

“You don’t have to?—”

“No, let me finish. After I lost my wing, I convinced myself that I wasn’t good enough for you. That you deserved more than a broken male. And when you kept needling me to talk about it, you played right into my assumptions. I thought you were trying to fix me. And I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing you. But I think…I think I’ve finally realized that you weren’t trying to fix me at all. You were just trying to show me that I was worthy of love and acceptance. Broken pieces and all.” He brushed a strand of hair behind Xenia’s ear, his fingers trailing over her scar. “I will find a way to get this out of you, Xenia. And afterward, you’re mine . Where I go, you go. I will never leave you again.”

She surged against him, kissing him so fiercely she nearly tore her lower lip open on his fangs. His rumbling groan lit up her entire lower body, and she rocked her hips against his growing hardness. Weaving her fingers into the soft waves at the base of his neck, she pulled him closer. But not close enough. She wanted to consume him, to be consumed by him.

“Cael,” she moaned as he kissed across her collarbone, “I want you so badly.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “As soon as it’s safe, you’ll have all of me.”

She grumbled a protest that he silenced by plunging his tongue into her mouth. She sucked it down greedily as he tucked his fingers into the straps of her chemise, then peeled them down slowly. His mouth was wet and impossibly warm as he swirled his tongue around an aching nipple, then bit down gently. She cried out, arching into him, and he caught her around the waist. He lifted her from his lap, then placed her down on the shaggy rug, nearly as warm from the fire as her heated skin. She laid back against it as Cael spread her thighs and knelt between her legs.

She reached up to fist his shirt. “Take this off. I want to look at you.”

“Demanding,” Cael smirked, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto a chair.

Cael’s reverent gaze crawled over her exposed flesh, her chemise bunched around her middle with nothing but her panties and stockings covering her lower half. She studied him as well—his lean, sculpted torso, his broad shoulders, those insane cuts of muscle that dipped below his waistband.

“Turn around,” she whispered.

He cocked an eyebrow, and for a moment, she thought he was going to protest. But he merely closed his eyes, and turned, tucking his wing to avoid smacking her with it.

She sat upright, then began to rub his shoulders. He relaxed under her ministrations, moaning softly. An encouraging sign. She moved her hands lower.

Toward his scar.

She rubbed a tentative finger over it and he tensed.

“Xenia,” he bit out. “You shouldn’t?—”

“Shh. It’s okay.”

He dipped his head forward, hanging it over his chest. “I haven’t even looked at it since it happened.”

Xenia used two fingers to caress the puckered skin, mimicking the movement with her other hand at his intact wing. Right where it met his shoulder blade. The most sensitive spot.

“ Fuck , Blondie.” Cael’s breath went ragged as Xenia continued to stroke him.

“Do you want to know what I see when I look upon this scar, Cael?”

“If I say no, I suspect you’ll tell me anyway,” he chuckled, and she removed her fingers from his wing. “Wait, don’t stop. You can tell me whatever you want as long as you keep touching me there.”

She huffed a small laugh, then stroked her fingers down his wing and scar again. His responding moan was so addictive she wanted to inject it into her veins.

“I see bravery,” she said. “I see the male who butchered my captors. The male who rescued me. The male who healed my wounds and made me feel safe.”

She stroked her fingers harder, faster, trying to form the connection in Cael’s mind and body—the damaged part just as capable of bringing him immense pleasure. His muscles tensed and his breathing grew ragged.

“I see the male who is everything to me. A male who is not nearly as broken as he thinks he is.” She pressed her breasts against his back, then tucked her chin over his shoulder to whisper in his ear, “I see the male who makes me come hard enough to see stars.”

Cael’s restraint snapped. Snarling, he turned, then speared his hand into her hair and fused their mouths together. He pressed her back down onto the rug, curving over her and settling between her thighs. He was hard as a fucking rock.

He twisted her panties in his fist and tore them clean off. She yelped, slightly from pain, but more from delight at Cael’s base, feral state. And the knowledge that she had brought him there.

He thrust against her, running the hard length behind his thin black pants up through her soaked core and along her swollen clit. He peppered her jaw, her neck, her breasts with kisses, nibbling softly with his fangs. His rough hands mapped her body, holding her against him as he stroked her with his cock.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he breathed around a nipple. “Is that all for me?”

She arched upward, shoving her chest toward his mouth. “The poetry helped.”

He laughed, then clamped down on her breast nearly hard enough to break skin as he drove his hips into her harder.

“ Taste. ” The word was a guttural, primitive growl, but she knew what he meant. She dipped her hands between their bodies, pushing into herself, then brought her fingers to Cael’s lips.

It was simultaneously too much and not enough. His cock grinding against her clit, his slick tongue sliding between her fingers, the weight of his powerful body crushing her into the rug.

His muscles tensed, his grunts accelerated, and she could tell he was close.

“Come with me,” he commanded when she removed her fingers from his mouth, then wrapped her arms around him, stroking his scar and wing in tandem again.

“Yes,” was the last word she managed to say as Cael drove against her, a final, mighty thrust, and her body broke into scintillating shivers of heat. She sank her teeth into his shoulder, screaming his name against his sweat-slick skin as he came apart with a shuddering groan, his release soaking through his pants. He gazed down at her, his fangs glinting between parted lips as he fought to catch his breath.

He rolled onto his back and dragged her on top of him. “Holy fucking High Gods, if I don’t get to do that for real soon, I might die.” He tangled his fingers through her curls, kissing the top of her head.

“Dramatic,” she said, then yelped when he nipped her earlobe.

“Promise me,” he whispered.

“Promise you what?” She nuzzled in closer, aftershocks of her orgasm quivering her thighs.

“Promise me you didn’t just do all that because you pity me. That you’re not with me because you’re trying to fix me.”

Xenia’s heart constricted. He was such a fool. She didn’t know how he could even think that.

She pushed up onto an elbow and poured every ounce of sincerity she could muster into her gaze. “Cael. There’s only one reason I’m with you.” She trailed her hand up his thigh, finding him still half-hard beneath her fingers. “Your enormous coc?—”

He rolled back on top of her, laughing and biting her neck.

There was so much more she could have said. But she didn’t want to spoil this moment of peace. This calm eye in the storm of their circumstances.

But as Cael rolled over and tucked her against him, his breathing growing soft and shallow, Xenia thought to herself that even though she was his light, he was her light, too.

And that maybe, just maybe, he was starting to believe it.