Page 16 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)

Chapter Sixteen

A s we moved away from the fortune teller, my mind raced with all she had said and what it could possibly mean. Everything has its opposite. For some reason, those words stuck with me most of all.

Something caught my eye across the street, and I glanced up to see Ramin and Sura and their daughter not too far away. Nalia was giggling as her father tossed her into the air, and Sura was watching them with a contented, loving smile that made my heart hurt. They waved when they saw us, and Malik waved back.

I took a step to continue walking, and a man nearly crashed into me. Luckily, one of Malik’s warriors stopped him before he could.

“’Cuse me, Your . . . Majesty.” He giggled, and the sound was slightly unhinged. “I didn’t see you there.” The man’s hair was unkempt, he was sweating profusely, and his eyes were a dark, watery red as he tottered on his feet.

“Move along!” the warrior growled, before thrusting him backward. The man nearly tripped on his own feet but managed to right himself before scurrying away.

“Damn Fleshfire addicts,” a second warrior standing beside the other grumbled.

“Fleshfire?” I asked. It was obvious the man had been taking something, but I had never heard of Fleshfire before.

The two warriors glanced at each other, then to their prince.

Malik answered for them. “It’s a drug that has cropped up recently on our streets. Highly addictive, it causes blackouts, and it can be deadly. Taj has been trying to find the source for months now, but with little success.”

It must have been a real problem if Malik had put his spymaster on it. I didn’t have long to dwell on it though, because Malik turned down a side street just off the main thoroughfare that opened into a small area between several buildings. At its center was a small bonfire, next to which sat a wrought iron stand holding several unlit candles.

I glanced to the man beside me. “Why are we here, Malik?”

His head cocked, and he grinned as a piece of hair fell into his eyes. “I like my name on your lips, siren.”

I glanced over to where the guards stood at the mouth of the street, too far away to hear. Azrun was also sitting down several paces away, cleaning his scales.

I sent Malik a censuring look, though there might have been a slight tug to my lips and perhaps a small warm flutter in my belly as I did.

Malik held up both his hands. “Fine. I brought you here to thank you for coming out with me tonight.” As he spoke, he picked up two candles from the stand and walked over to me. He ducked his head slightly, meeting my eyes. “Especially given the fact that being surrounded by all this fire might be harder for you than most.”

For an instant, I wondered who had told him of my fear and if he knew about my back. But slowly, reason prevailed as I realized that he had more likely simply put it together himself. He had seen my reaction to the flames that night Amir’s dragon transformed in the hall, after all.

Accepting the candle, I nodded. “An accident when I was young,” I said by way of explanation. “The fear has never entirely gone away.”

That was an understatement, but he didn’t push. Instead, he reached for my hand, and I let him take it as he led me a few steps closer.

“Is this all right?”

I took another deep breath and nodded again.

“Good. Now I also brought you here because I wanted to let you take part in one of the oldest Unari traditions. First, hold out your candle and think of something that has been holding you back. A resentment, hurt, or grievance. Or you can think of something you wish to accomplish or change about yourself, or wish to do differently.”

I stared at him.

“Just humor me, siren. It’s tradition.”

“Very well,” I said, holding up my candle. I considered and discarded several possibilities before something came to me. It was perhaps more a wish than anything but. . .

I didn’t want to be a part of The Order—not that I ever had, but I didn’t want to kill anymore. Even if it was a god who demanded it of me. I wanted to be done with my vow to The Assassin. Even if most of those I had killed were not good people and usually criminals themselves, I still hated it. And I hated being under Silvanus’ thumb even more. Sending me after Zara had been the last straw. No more. I was done.

It was a heady decision. I felt lighter and uplifted by it in a way I couldn’t explain. Even if I knew there would likely be consequences because of it—likely from Silvanus or the god himself. I suddenly didn’t care. I was done.

“Have you got something?” Malik asked.

I looked to him. “Yes, I do.”

With his olive skin lit by the flames, highlighting the dips and valleys of his chest and arms, Malik looked inhuman, untouchable, painfully masculine, and everything I shouldn’t let myself want. And for the first time, I could not deny or explain away the answering desire smoldering in his eyes as he regarded me. I didn’t want to. His fingers traced down my arm, following the line of my inner wrist. The brush of skin on skin made me suck in a breath, and then he cupped my hand, holding the candle and held his much larger one over mine as he guided it towards the flames of the bonfire. Heat tickled my skin, and I shuddered, pushing back the painful memories that attempted to invade and intrude on this moment.

“Easy, isholet ,” he murmured, his rough thumb rubbing circles against the delicate skin of my wrist where it rested. “I’m right here. You will not be harmed.” The touch and his words were soothing, and I forced myself to relax.

The small wick lit, and I quickly pulled the now burning candle back as Malik dropped his hand. I instantly missed the calming touch. “Now what?” I asked, holding the flame away from me like it was one of the cobras I had seen a street urchin performing with earlier.

I could tell Malik was desperately trying to hold back a grin, though part of one still slipped through. “Now you let the wick burn down,” he explained. I realized the small candle holder part way down the candle was no doubt to protect our hands from the melted wax, as it did just that.

He closed his eyes for a moment before lighting his own candle. I found myself wondering what he thought of before he did.

When he opened his eyes, they immediately found mine. The moment felt weighted, and I couldn’t for the life of me understand the look in his eyes. Then those incredible orbs dropped to my mouth.

My breath caught, my heartbeat pounding madly in my ears.

Without a word, he took my candle from me and placed both of them back in the holders on the small stand.

Then he took a step closer and leaned slowly down.

Warm lips caressed mine. Seeking. Asking. I stood frozen for several heartbeats as his mouth moved over mine. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

Malik was kissing me. Malik. Was. Kissing. Me.

His tongue traced the seam of my lips. His honey voice filled with equal parts command and need as he murmured, “Open for me.”

And I stopped thinking at all.

For the first time, a crack fractured that wall inside me. Maybe I was still riding the high of the decision I had just come to, or maybe it was the heady taste of him, but I decided not to fight it. Not to battle this pull I felt toward this man before me.

“Malik . . .” The whispered plea left me in a rush. He took the word for what it was. A surrender.

My hands pressed to his chest as our mouths met and he claimed me. I felt hesitant and unsure, but then his hand cupped the back of my neck, pulling me closer. My mouth parted and his lips slanted over mine with a low growl. Then his fingers moved into my hair, massaging my scalp as his lips and tongue coaxed and teased.

I had never felt such a stirring in my body before, this pounding need all centered around the man who drank from my lips as if he would die without my taste. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

I never wanted it to end.

His hands fell to grip my waist and tightened as he pulled back. I could see that the restraint cost him. His eyes were like ink and full of molten need as he stared down at me. His panting breath ghosted tantalizingly across my lips. “Siren,” he murmured, his voice huskier than I had ever heard it. “I wanted to—”

His words were cut off as a dragon’s shriek split the night and both of us looked up. There were all kinds of noises coming from the crowded street not far from us, including a few dragons in their minor forms, but this was different. This was the cry of a much larger dragon in its natural form, and it was close.

I could make out nothing in the night sky above, but that was not surprising, considering all the light from the nearby flames.

“What—” I began.

Then I heard the screams.

“Warrior save us! We’re being attacked!”

“Dragon fire!” another yelled.

Without hesitation, Malik grabbed my hand and we both darted back down the alley toward the main road. Azrun and our guards fell into step in front and behind us.

When we made it to the street, my eyes were drawn towards the distant screams, and horror filled me at what I saw.

Further down the street, people who moments ago had been laughing and celebrating, were now rushing toward us, desperately trying to escape from a massive dragon flying low overhead as it let loose a breath of dragon flame.

My mind refused to comprehend it. A dragon was flying this way, breathing fire, and destroying everything in its wake. A black and yellow dragon . . . with a rider on its back.

“Move!” Malik roared. At the same moment, he yanked me towards a stone archway. We managed to reach it and crouched down, Malik’s body covering mine before the dragon was on top of us. The guards pressed close. I doubted it would be enough. Very little could withstand dragon fire.

But the pain I expected didn’t come. Instead, I heard gasps all around and the sound of toppling stone.

I opened my eyes and glanced up to see giant crimson wings spread out above us. I realized Azrun had transformed to his natural size, a building partially caving in to make way for his enormous bulk. His impressive wingspan covered the length of nearly an entire block, his dragonscales protecting everyone underneath from the flames.

Azrun lowered his wings and looked down at Malik with a rumbling growl in his throat. Malik stared back, and I could tell they were communicating mind to mind.

The attacking dragon had disappeared into the night. No doubt wheeling back around for another pass over the city.

Malik turned to the guards surrounding us. “Go! Get her somewhere safe and stay there,” he ordered.

“My prince,” the Zehvitian warriors all replied before bowing slightly. Even my guards nodded. One of the warriors handed Malik one of their sai blades as he turned toward Azrun.

“Malik, wait!” I cried, grasping his arm. He halted, turning back to me. I was shocked he had actually stopped and hadn’t dismissed me outright. “The dragon—the rider . . . did you see?”

There was a beat of silence, then, “I know.”

“But why would he—”

“I don’t know.”

I had been stunned when I recalled where I remembered those colors. Black and yellow. Sekar. Ramin’s dragon. Ramin had just attacked the city, his own people. Quiet, patient Ramin. Ramin, who I had spared with, who was Zara’s teacher and a member of Malik’s Fangdar. Ramin, who was Sura’s husband, and Nalia’s father. We had just seen them in the street. And he had been wearing the doting look of a man content with his life. Not someone who was planning— this.

“What will you do?” I asked, trying to keep the sudden waver from my voice.

I saw the flash of pain in his eyes before Malik could hide it. “What I must.”

Then he turned away and climbed up Azrun’s foreleg and settled on his back at the base of the dragon’s large neck. Without a saddle and wearing no armor, Malik bent low as Azrun beat his massive wings and launched into the sky.

They flew directly for the circling dragon I could barely make out in the dark sky.

“My lady, we need to go,” one of my guards urged.

I nodded and began to follow when a pained cry drew my attention to one of the crumbling buildings across the street. The tall sandstone structure had been damaged by the dragon fire, the sandstone blackened around a collapsed storefront. At least a dozen people were stuck in the rubble, pleading for help in the utter chaos around us.

I moved to run over and help, when one of my new Zehvitian guards stepped in front of me.

“Your Highness, our orders were to get you to safety.”

“We need to help them,” I said firmly. “So you can either assist me or watch, but either way, I’m going over there. Though, if you help, it will go faster.”

The warrior stared at me for a moment before his remote expression glinted with a hint of grudging respect, and he nodded. We crossed the street, and he directed the other guards to start moving some of the debris. I bent down as the warriors sheathed their blades, and we got to work.

After several minutes, we were able to shift and loosen enough of the wreckage to free several people. We had already come across one body, an older man, probably around his sixth decade. When I saw the lifeless hand sticking out of the rubble, I knew, and my heart had clenched as the guards moved his body carefully to the side. One woman was wedged under a large beam that looked to have held up the canopy outside the store. I reached for a piece of the wreckage without thought, but the instant my hand made contact with the hunk of wood, scalding heat seared my skin.

“ Realms! ” I hissed and pulled back, hugging my injured hand to my chest.

“Are you all right, Princess?” the warrior I’d argued with asked with concern. I noticed he had a long scar across one cheek.

I nodded, even though my palm throbbed. “It’s nothing.” He didn’t look convinced.

Meanwhile, two of the other warriors stepped in to help the woman and managed to move the beam enough to drag her out from under it.

The warrior opened his mouth to say something else, but his words were lost as another dragon roar echoed around us.

We all looked up to see a third rider had entered the fray. This one was sand-colored, and I thought it might belong to Harun, Malik’s second in command. It was hard to tell. All I caught were flashes against the night overhead. I was glad Malik would have some help. Most of the dragon riders, including the Fangdar, were up at the palace. I hoped they were made aware of the attack soon, if they hadn’t been already. It had only been mere minutes since the attack had started, and thanks to all the bonfires tonight, seeing flames would be nothing too concerning on the surface, but surely the noise and chaos wouldn’t go unnoticed for long.

Then I heard a cry coming from the upper floors of the building we stood beneath. Was that a child? I glanced around, but it seemed no one else had heard it. The building groaned, clearly unstable. Not surprising, since nearly a third of it had already collapsed. The guards began moving rubble in earnest. But I couldn’t leave someone—especially not a child—to such a horrific fate.

Without another thought, I took off up the stairs along the outer wall of the building.

“Wait!” the Zehvitian guard cried, darting after me.

He made to stop me, and I yelled back over my shoulder. “I think I heard someone up here!”

“Then you let one of us investigate, Your Highness,” he chided.

But I didn’t stop. I leapt over a crumbling step just as the building trembled underfoot. I nearly lost my balance, but the warrior quickly caught my arm and steadied me. I met his disapproving stare with a thankful look as he released me.

“There’s no time,” I told him. “Please, help me.”

The warrior sighed and reluctantly nodded just as another cry sounded. Unmistakable. And we both heard it this time.

Without another word, we both raced up the remaining steps to the second story. An open door led to a small living space, but we found nothing. On the third story we came upon another room, which I quickly surveyed. This one with a square bed and a tiny pile of blankets and cushions laid on the floor to one side. A mewling infant lay inside, arms flailing as it wailed.

My pulse pounding, I took in a harsh breath, and dashed over and knelt beside the pile. The babe was much younger than I had first thought, perhaps only a few weeks old. “Hush now,” I soothed, scooping up the babe in my arms along with a blanket, ignoring the pain in my injured hand as I did.

The warrior saw my wince, however, and extended his arms. “Give him to me.”

Now was no time for protesting, so I handed the child over and he tucked him firmly against his chest.

The building underneath us shook again as I got to my feet. Time to go. Screams rang out from the streets below. As the trembling subsided, I couldn’t help thinking of how not ten minutes before this street had been filled with laughing, celebrating revelers enjoying the holiday—and now this.

Once the floor was solid beneath us once more, the warrior led the way as we stepped back out onto the outer stairs. He had only taken a few steps downward when a large section of the steps shifted and crumbled. I hauled myself backward while the warrior leapt onto the lower stairs, just as the steps he had just been standing on crashed to the ground several stories below. I stared in horror as I realized the gap—nearly the entire section of stairs between the second and third floors—was too big for me to jump without almost certainly falling to my death.

The warrior realized it, too. Our eyes met.

Swallowing hard, I shouted, “Go! Go! I’ll find another way down.”

He stared at me for another moment, then down at the babe in his arms, before he reluctantly nodded and turned, heading back down.

I spun and took the stairs two at a time to the roof. A short, waist-high wall was all that surrounded the open space, and a line of clothing was strung across it.

Not far overhead, flames lit up the darkness, accompanied by the roar of a dragon. I caught sight of Azrun and Malik and Harun and his dragon as they tried to corral their brother in arms. I had no doubt that the only reason the pair hadn’t yet subdued him was because they didn’t want to hurt their friend. He, however, didn’t appear to have the same hesitation.

Sekar let loose a torrent of flames toward the other dragons and they separated to avoid the blast. I still couldn’t fathom what in the Nine Realms had possessed Ramin to attack the city. I didn’t know the rider well, but even I knew it was so out of character as to be absurd. Something else had to be going on.

Focusing back on my current predicament, I quickly realized jumping across to one of the neighboring buildings would have to be a last resort. I might have superior climbing skills, but I was still rather small and jumping that far wouldn’t end well.

Climbing down might also have been a possibility, except my hand was injured and climbing would take time. I likely only had minutes until the building came down. As if in confirmation, flames already licked up the latticework windows of the lower floors. I coughed and covered my mouth against the rising smoke. I had to do something now.

When no options readily came to me, I decided I would just have to risk it and jump across to the closest rooftop. At least if I jumped there was a possibility I would make it.

Bending down, I tore a piece of the underskirt of my dress away to allow more freedom of movement and then used the cloth to wrap my hand.

Praying to The Assassin, The Maiden, and all the other Nine gods, I climbed up onto the edge of the roof, ignoring the throbbing pain in my hand. I put my arms out for balance and wished I were wearing my leather climbing suit rather than this dress.

I closed my eyes and tried to center myself before jumping to my doom. Suddenly, there was a loud thudding noise above me, and a gust of wind buffeted me. My eyes snapped open as I struggled to maintain my balance. The building jolted beneath me, and my foot slipped.

I cried out and began to fall just as something hard wrapped around my entire midsection. It gripped me like a vise and halted my descent. I stared down in shock at the large claws encircling me as my feet dangled in the air. Nothing but red scales filled my vision when I glanced up, and it took my mind a second to comprehend what I was seeing.

Azrun. Azrun had just saved my life by catching me in his massive claws, and we were flying away from the now collapsing building. I watched in a sort of detached fascination as the roof I had just been standing on caved inward in a plume of dust and fiery smoke. I prayed everyone was able to get clear before it came down.

I barely had a moment to take in my impromptu flight before Azrun was flying low over another tall rooftop, this one thankfully not on fire or in danger of collapsing, and then he released me. I only dropped a few feet, and after a few stumbling steps, was able to right myself.

Azrun beat his wings and hovered in place just long enough for me to make out Malik on his back. “Stay there!” Malik yelled, and I nodded shakily before he gave me a furious nod and Azrun propelled them upward.

Something in the sky behind Malik and Azrun caught my eye.

“Malik!” I screamed.

I wasn’t sure if he heard me or just saw the danger himself, but Azrun was just able to swoop out of the way before Sekar and Harun’s dragon—along with their riders—came barreling through the sky towards the ground. Sekar had a hold of the other dragon’s neck and refused to let go.

Azrun wheeled around in an agile maneuver that was impressive for a dragon that size. In moments, he used all four sets of claws to latch onto Sekar. The black and yellow dragon roared in pain, releasing his opponent. Harun’s dragon was able to right himself and stop from crashing into the building below, but Sekar wasn’t so lucky. Even though Azrun’s attack had slowed his descent significantly, the dragon still crashed into a building a few down from the one I now stood on with a thundering boom, demolishing it completely.

The ground shook, and more cries could be heard from the street as chunks of stone tumbled to the ground.

I staggered over to the edge of the roof to get a closer look.

Sekar let out a whimpering roar, and though the dragon was obviously hurt, he still tried to rise from the rubble. But Azrun and Malik were there, dropping down and pinning Sekar to the ground. Sekar lashed out in fury and Azrun bit down on his neck. I could tell it was not a killing blow. He was simply holding the dragon down, waiting for him to submit. The red dragon’s powerful legs and jaws held him in place.

I doubted Sekar would submit. He seemed frantic, almost feral. I scanned the dragon’s back for his rider and saw Ramin was still there, but was slumped in his saddle. I prayed he was only unconscious.

Even though I knew that the damage Sekar and Ramin could have inflicted if they weren’t stopped would have been far worse. As I glanced around the mostly deserted streets below, I prayed no one had been inside the building that was just destroyed.