Page 37 of Wings of Frost and Fury (Merciless Dragons #4)

Sometimes, when she’s lucid, she asks me to slip inside her.

The sensations in her body are so overwhelming that she often begs for my cock with tearful desperation.

She likes me to stay inside her for hours, even after I’ve come.

The fullness of my length in her channel seems to soothe the painful disturbance of her body’s energy.

I have to coax her to eat, and even with my best efforts, the lush curves of her body begin to disappear, leaving her more angular, with sharper corners.

She is beautiful at any size, but I recognize the thinning of her shape for what it is—a decline that could end in death.

I fight it with everything I have, tempting her with tasty morsels of food whenever I can.

When she needs to crawl out of the nest to relieve herself, I offer the support of my strength no matter which form I’m in.

As a human, I’m able to help her wash herself.

She’s especially distressed by the state of her hair, mentioning it often, even though I assure her that it still looks beautiful.

“You’re lying,” she hisses at me.

“I’m not. ”

“My hair is dull, greasy, frizzy, and tangled. You don’t get to say that it looks beautiful.” She seethes the words through clenched teeth, but her jaws rattle as another chill shakes her bones.

For a moment, I yield to my own exhaustion. “Fine. Your hair looks wretched and tangled, like dried seaweed or a bird’s nest. Is that what you want to hear?”

She stares at me, and then she rasps a sound—the ghost of her usual laugh. “Shut up and lie down with me.”

I put my cock inside her again, and this time, as my cum pumps slowly into her belly, I feel satisfaction wash over me—the easing of the mating heat, the sense of a job done, a mission fulfilled. The seed I’ve been spilling inside her has finally done its work. She is carrying my offspring.

I cup my hand over her lower belly, closing my eyes in joyful wonder.

“Thelise,” I whisper, but she doesn’t answer. Sex often soothes her to sleep. Someday, when she is herself again, we will make such violent love that sleep will be the farthest thing from her mind. But for now, I am gentle with her. It’s what she needs from me.

Nights and days bleed together during the storm, so I’m not sure how many hours pass…

but by the time Thelise wakes again, the mating heat has returned to me in full force, and I understand, with sinking sorrow, that the pregnancy has failed, only hours after it began.

It’s the fault of the Mordvorren, no doubt, and its effects on her body.

Over the succeeding days, the same joy and loss occur twice more. I’m silent about it each time, refusing to lay that pain upon Thelise when she is already suffering so deeply. I bear the knowledge alone.

Hatred for the storm grows in my heart like a poisonous vine. It’s not enough that it is hurting my darling—it has also stolen our chances of sharing offspring this season. I want to destroy the tempest, to ruin it.

When I’m in dragon form, I spew frost-fire out of the cave into the rain and the darkness, very nearly getting speared by the lightning strikes of the Mordvorren.

But my frost-fire cannot burn clouds or freeze shadows.

The most I can do is incite a rush of steam or transform some of the rain into frozen beads that tinkle musically against the stone.

I’m watching the storm again, letting angry vengeance build in my chest, when I hear Thelise calling my name. Her rich, musical voice is a wisp of its former self. “Ashvelon.”

I choke down the frost-fire I was about to release, and I turn toward the nest.

We’ve been together for days, but for some reason the sight of her shocks me.

She’s gaunt, and her brown skin is paler than it was when we met.

Her full lips are crusty and cracked, despite my efforts to give her water at every opportunity.

Her beautiful brown eyes, once so brilliant and full of life, are dull and swollen, the whites yellowed.

She is dying.

She is dying, and I can’t stop it.

I pace toward her, trying not to let my despair show in the sag of my wings or the tightness of my jaw. “What can I do for you, my love?”

“Eat me,” she murmurs, with a faintly humorous twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“Eat me, and end all this suffering. I know you’ve run out of meat.

I know you’re hungry… or at least your dragon side is.

And I’m so tired, Ash. I can’t do this anymore.

I feel myself fading away, and I’d rather be part of you forever than disappear entirely. ”

She sounds lucid, but her request is wildly irrational. I lick her shoulder and discover that she’s burning with fever again.

Summoning the cold side of my fire, I puff frosty air above her. Her eyes drift shut, tears sliding from beneath the lids .

“Maybe I deserve this,” she breathes. “I failed Katlee, all those years ago. If I’d been a better friend, maybe she wouldn’t have thought of herself as lacking something.

I should have helped her understand that she didn’t have to be like everyone else, that she didn’t have to change. I should have held my ground.”

“You told me it was her choice,” I reply. “She considered her options and made a decision. She asked you to use your magic on her behalf.”

“Yes.”

“Then you are absolved.”

“There can be no absolution,” Thelise rasps. “She died, and it was my fault. I owe the universe a life.”

“And you have paid with three.” The words tear out of me, bloodied by the agony of my heart.

“What are you talking about?”

“Three times my seed has taken root inside you.” My sides heave with huge, ragged breaths. “Three times I have hoped that we might share offspring. Three times the ravages of the storm have caused havoc in your body and stolen those lives within hours of their conception.”

Thelise pushes herself up on a trembling arm. “You’re saying I was pregnant three times, and within a few hours those pregnancies ended?”

“Yes. I should not have told you. I promised myself I wouldn’t say anything—I didn’t want you to suffer additional pain.”

“Sweet dragon,” she says, with a wan smile. “I’m not sure those were actually lives yet. It was so early… they were so new…”

I stare at her, feeling two great, hot tears form at the corners of my eyes and roll down my muzzle .

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she says softly. “They were real and important to you . Their loss hurt you, and you have every right to feel as you do. Come here.”

I move to the nest and lie down beside her, careful not to let my claws, wings, or tail touch her frail body. When I settle my head next to hers, she falls back against the blankets, but she reaches up to stroke my nose.

“I love you,” she whispers. “You have the biggest heart in the world.”

All I can manage in response is a low rumble.

“You have to promise me something.” Her breath is slow, labored.

“If I die, you won’t go back to alethia.

You’ll find healthier ways to manage your pain.

Maybe you’ll even—” she grimaces, as if the thought irritates her— “find another woman to love.” She wrinkles her nose, and I can’t help releasing a rough laugh.

“Not fucking likely,” I tell her. “You are my obsession, and I believe you always will be.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to try to stay alive,” she says. “Even if I don’t feel worthy of surviving this, you are worthy of happiness.”

“So are you,” I tell her. “Mistakes do not make you unworthy of life, of peace, of pleasure. You have every right to a full and beautiful existence.”

She kisses my nose and sighs. “I wish this storm would end. I’ve prayed to it, you know.

Begged it to stop. It’s vicious, Ash. It loves violence and pain.

It feeds on trauma and fear. If I hadn’t let go with you that night and released some of the emotions I was holding back, I’d probably be dead already. ”

“Fuck, don’t say that.” I caress her with my tongue, and she smiles a little, murmuring, “Sweet dragon.”

“Stop calling me sweet,” I growl. “Call me rude, call me a brute and a bastard, call me monster, terror, asshole, motherfucker, anything else. Stoke that fire within you. Don’t you dare let it go out.”

She narrows her eyes. “Go shit off a cliff.”

“That’s my girl.”

We lie there together, and when she falls asleep, I listen to her breathing like it’s the loveliest music. At one point it stops, and I nearly panic… but it begins again.

And then it stops. Pauses for so long that I whimper, and then she breathes, too shallowly.

She’s fucking dying.

I try to shift to human shape, but my change to dragon form is too recent, and I can’t focus.

Her breathing halts again.

I count to ten, and then it continues.

Suddenly her body goes rigid and her eyes fly wide open. She startles up to a sitting position, gasping frantically, “Something is happening. The storm… it’s changing, it’s…”

My head whips toward the cave entrance.

She’s right. The darkness of the storm has lightened, and the rain is slacking. Within seconds the clouds dissipate and sunshine floods the air outside, glittering through the raindrops, casting colorful flecks of light into the cave.

Thelise takes a deep breath, one hand pressed to her chest.

“My heart isn’t beating so fast anymore,” she says. “And the nausea is gone. Oh my god… I got so used to living with it that I didn’t remember how good it feels to not be sick to my stomach!”

“Food!” I exclaim. “You need food. We have a little food left—I’ll get you more food. Water? You should have wine? You want wine, yes?”

She’s laughing, and it’s still weak, but there’s life in it. “Yes, pet, I would like some wine.”

“Thank the Bone-Builder.” My voice cracks, and I feel such relief that I want to collapse and weep. But my woman needs sustenance, so I pull myself together and bring her the remaining cheese and a bottle of wine.

She devours the food and takes a few sips of wine, but even that small effort wearies her, and she has to lie down again.

She directs me to bring her a silver flask from her bag, one she attempted to drink from during the storm.

This one doesn’t contain liquor, but a strength tonic she brought along when I first carried her to Ouroskelle.

While the Mordvorren was in force, the tonic had little effect, but now that the storm has passed, the contents of that flask should help her.

I could leave the cave to hunt, but I refuse to be parted from her until I’m sure she’s out of danger. Finding out how my clan fared during the storm, learning the results of the mating heat, finding more food—all of it can wait.

As the hours pass, Thelise improves noticeably.

She starts complaining about how “gross” she feels, and she summons enough strength to wash up with some of the rainwater I collected.

She shaves her legs and underarms, expressing satisfaction once those areas are smooth again.

She applies copious amounts of scented lotion to her dry skin as well.

“There’s not enough water to properly wash my hair,” she says. “I’m tempted to try the spell I usually perform on it.”

“No,” I growl. “You are too weak.”

She makes a rebellious little pout. “I feel much better. My energy is rising rapidly.”

“Nevertheless.”

“You don’t give me commands, pet.”

“When you’ve been so ill you nearly died, yes the fuck I do.”

Her eyes widen, and then she delivers a seductive grin that nearly turns my very bones watery. I could melt onto the stone, right in front of her. I can feel myself beginning to yield, but I decide to try one more thing .

I transform from my dragon shape to my human one and approach her as a man, cupping her face between my palms. Looking deep into her eyes, I stroke my thumbs along her cheekbones.

“Please,” I say quietly. “Please don’t perform any unnecessary magic until you have fully recovered. Please, my love.”

Thelise curls her slender fingers over mine.

“For you, I will wait one more day. After that, I will use magic to clean my hair. Or you’ll have to take me to a pond or a lake or something.

I’d prefer the magic, though. So much easier.

Just a quick spell, and you have clean, sleek, detangled hair—or hair of any texture and color you desire. Isn’t magic wonderful?”

“Indeed it is.” I lower my lips to the softness of her mouth.

I believe she and I both have a similar idea of how the next hour could be spent, but we’ve barely begun kissing when a wild sound rips across the sky of Ouroskelle. I break the kiss, my heartbeat jumping into a new, panicked rhythm.

I recognize Kyreagan’s voice. He is roaring like his wings are being torn off.

I glance at Thelise, conflicted.

She nods, understanding and determination in her brown eyes. “Something terrible has happened. You have to go, and I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not strong enough,” I object.

“I’m recovering, pet. I’m well enough to hold onto you. And trust me, whatever is making your prince scream like that can’t mean anything good for the clan. I might be able to help.”