“You going to ignore me forever?” he asked, and her gaze drifted to his bare chest and slowly lowered to the thin patch of hair that led deep into the water. He was bronzed, beautiful and the most infuriating man on this plane.
She rose and moved towards him, slowly dropping the sheet as she reached the giant tub. Her fingers dipped beneath the warm water and then she splashed him in the face before he could guess her plan. Silently she stood there, waiting for him to return the slight infraction.
Instead of reacting, he leaned his head back and gazed up at her with something hidden in his eyes. One minute she was glaring down at him, and the next she was in the tub with him.
“Asshole!” she snapped as she pushed herself away from him, gaining as much distance as she could.
“You’re angry,” he pointed out.
“No, something like me doesn’t have feelings. Isn’t that right? You took something I’ve worked to save for my mate. It was the perfect gift that only I could choose to give, and then you slap me in the face with it like it was nothing. No, I’m not mad at all. In fact, isn’t that part of your revenge? Doing what my people did to yours? I mean, I get it. You wanted to hurt me, and so you have. Congratulations, all you have to do now is murder me, and you can be just like my father.”
“Ciara,” he growled as he rubbed his hand down his face and stared at her with a strained look. “You’re right,” he amended, pushing from the tub, leaving her in it. “You’re my enemy, and no matter what happens between us, that will never change.”
She didn’t get out, not even when the water was ice-cold, and her flesh pruned. She sat in it until her eyes grew heavy and she leaned against it, resting her head. Strong arms picked her up, hooking around her torso and legs. She stiffened, ignoring his touch as he placed her into the bed and pulled the covers up around her.
She turned away from his touch as he climbed into the bed, facing the wall of the tent. Tears of anger and frustration filled her eyes, blurring her vision. He would die; they all would because this was something she couldn’t manage alone. Maybe that was why the Horde led by fear and strength. If you led people through fear, you didn’t have to try to sway them to see anything from your view. They either did, or they didn’t. If they didn’t, they died.
Chapter Seventeen
Days passed without word from Synthia until one day, cheering erupted outside Ciara’s prison. She tilted her head, listening as they celebrated. A lump formed in her throat, and then her stomach dropped as she heard what they celebrated.
The Horde King was gone. Taken from his own wedding in an attack that left hundreds dead or wounded. The Horde stronghold had been attacked. Bombs. Ciara’s head swam with the news, and then denial sank in. It was a lie, it had to be. No one could walk in and take the Horde King from right beneath their noses. He was the fucking Horde King! Ryder was the strongest person she’d ever known, so it just wasn’t possible, right?
She sank to her knees, clapping her hands over her ears to drown out the cheers of the dragons. Her eyes filled with tears and a silent scream choked in her throat. This wasn’t happening, not now, not after everything they’d gone through to get him to the throne.
Blane walked in with a wicked smile on his lips until he caught sight of Ciara, kneeling on the floor with tears streaming down her face. Any joy he had previously felt fled his face. He stared down at her unsure what to do, and then she screamed. Blood-curdling pain rushed from her as denial warred with how unjust it was.
Who had been killed? Had the babies been there? Was Ristan among the dead? Had she lost her brothers? Was anyone even alive? Pain tore her apart; she’d never felt anything so horrible or earth-shattering. She felt like her insides were being torn out, as if her heart was being squeezed and the blackness swallowed her vision as tiny lights flickered in the obsidian that held her.
“Ciara, fucking breathe!” Blane demanded, and yet she couldn’t. She couldn’t lose them now, not after surviving what she had, what they still had to fix from what their father had destroyed. They hadn’t even lived yet! They’d spent the entire time undoing the past, rewriting the future, and saving the world. She felt herself being shaken, and then his lips touched hers as if he thought to breathe life into her lungs.
“I’ll kill you,” she seethed. “What did you do?” she demanded.
“It wasn’t us,” he growled as he continued to hold her as her entire body shook violently. Her teeth chattered as if the cold magic was coming back, but this time, it was her. “Someone attacked when the palace was open to the Horde and other castes of the Fae. We were nowhere near it when it happened.”
“How many died?” she whispered, barely audible to her own immortal ears.
“A lot from the reports we got,” he admitted and released her as she stood to move away from him, hating her moment of weakness. “The Mages attacked, and won.”
“And the Horde is no more?” she inquired.
“The royal family is scrambling, calling in allies,” he answered carefully.
“Synthia?” she queried.
“She addressed the crowd, and was helping move the dead and wounded.”
“Then the Horde stands still,” she whispered with relief.
“She is born Blood Fae,” he retorted.
“Synthia is Goddess, and make no mistake, Blane: She’s Horde to the very marrow of her bones. If they took Ryder, Gods save their souls and have mercy on them because she will not. They were getting married today,” she said absently, lost in her mind. “The babes?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I only know what the scouts overheard. The castle is breached; hundreds have died from bomb fragments, which I assume was iron. There’s no list of names, no headcount. I only know Ryder is no longer sitting on his throne and the Horde he rules plans to move against his queen in his absence.”
“She isn’t queen yet, and there’s no chance they can take the kingdom from her. If Zahruk lives, they will fall before they’ve entered the courtyard. He is powerful, very powerful. Thank you for telling me,” she said as she moved to the bed and sat, listening as those outside the tent celebrated the fall of the Horde King. “You may want to tell them that if Faery stands, he isn’t dead yet. Celebrating is premature. If Ryder dies, so too will Faery. All of it, and eventually we will follow our lands and cease to exists.”
“One woman cannot kill a world,” he argued.
“Synthia can, and she would if anything happens to him. He’s her world. She survived death to be with him. Those children you wanted to take from them? They are the key to saving this world, your world,” she hissed. “You think we’re the bad people, but you know what, Blane? We are the only ones fighting to save it. The High Fae have somehow managed to put everything done to them behind us for the good of this world. You think you are the only ones he hurt? My father tore apart this world and every caste in his tyranny. They left that hurt and pain in the past. Yet here you are, fighting against us as we try to right everything our murderous, bastard father has done to people like you. And you’re not innocent either, are you? You steal women from other castes of Fae to mate with. What’s the matter? Your own women want out so bad they left you?”
“Careful, Ciara,” he warned. “We had our own women. Dragons mate for life, or most of them do. When your family raped and murdered them, the men refused to take new mates. They fuck other creatures to breed the next generation. They do not mate with them or stay with only one woman because most are thousands of years old. You took their mates; your people slaughtered them and their children while we burned the infants to protect them. So yes, we steal women to breed with, and they’re not unhappy about it either. We take abused women, slaves to the men who think they own them, and we save them and offer them the deal.”
“And what deal is that?” she asked haughtily as she placed her
hands onto her hips, in anger.
“To stay with us, carry our children, and never be abused again. They’re fed, loved, and taken care of. They are women, they deserve to be adored and cherished, and not one has complained or said her dragon is lacking in bed. Can you say the same?”
“No, but then something like me wouldn’t understand that. I don’t deserve to be loved or taken care of because of what I am. Right? After all, I’m the whore of the Horde, a seductress who uses my body and pussy to lure men to their deaths. Now, go celebrate and breed with your women. I’m sure you’d rather be out with your people than in here with me. Maybe you can find one who actually enjoys your sour company!”
“Indeed, I think I will,” he growled as he pushed his fingers through his hair as he rose.
“Good,” she said, bringing her legs up on the bed as she pulled the covers over her body.
He sighed and left the tent, leaving Ciara to the turmoil in her mind. She had to believe that Synthia and Zahruk were handling whatever was going on, if Zahruk lived. Zahruk was never far from Ryder; he was his self-appointed protector and right-hand man. If Ryder died, would Synthia stay? Or would she leave as Zahruk ascended to the throne in Ryder’s place until a new beast chose the rightful heir? Would the heir be kind, or able to control his beast, or would it cave in to the darker side of it that Ryder had fought so hard to overcome? Too many questions and no answers forthcoming made the need to get away from this place pressing and imminent.
Blane had left her untied since the ropes had left her flesh raw. He was growing lax around her, so if she was going to go, it was now. He thought her subdued, and unable to cast, but she could and she would, just as soon as she figured out how to. The only problem was, would the chain cut her in half if she left the camp? With her luck lately, it would. But she had to try, she had to escape him and get back to her people. She was needed. If Ryder were genuinely missing, they’d need everyone they could get to help find him and bring him back.
If the cold magic came while she was on her own, could she live through it? She huffed, blowing her hair out of her face as she grew frustrated with unknowns. She prayed to Danu, praying against the odds that she’d extend a helping hand to her daughter. Synthia was a new Goddess, an untrained one who blew up more sheep than anything else.
She was a warrior. The kind of woman Ciara fought to become. Reality, however, was a lot different, since while outside she seemed fearless, inside, she still had nightmares that her father would return from the dead, and rise against her brothers.
It was a feeling she could never shake, never get away from. It kept her awake in the twilight hours while the others slept without fear. She’d admitted a long time ago to herself that she was shattered, but never broken. She’d been torn apart, dissected, and yet each time she’d come back stronger than before. She’d escape her dragon, and when she did, she’d never look back.
Chapter Eighteen
Ciara awoke to something touching her; her instincts were to push it away. A husky laugh forced her swollen eyes to open to see what the disturbance was. Blane stared down at her with a sexy grin spread across his lips. She could smell the alcohol coming from him, see his heated eyes as he slowly uncovered her nakedness.
“Go celebrate with someone else,” she hissed as she brought her foot up, intending to dislodge him from between her legs. He caught it, kissing her ankle and calf as his fingers danced over her flesh.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured drunkenly.
“You’re drunk,” she accused and watched as he dragged the tips of his fingers up her thigh to her flesh.
“You’re mine,” he mumbled as he dropped her leg to work at his clothing. “They’ll never take you from me.”
“No, no, your idiotic plan to cut me in half will prevent that from happening. Then you’ll get to clean up the mess, dragon whelp.”
“I’m not a whelp,” he growled as he stood, shedding his pants. “When I was fucking you, I heard no complaints, little princess,” he responded thickly.
“Probably because I have nothing to compare it to,” she confessed. “I’m sure once I do, your performance will prove to be lacking.”
“You think I’ll allow you to be with anyone else?” he asked as his gaze held hers.
“I’m not yours,” she laughed soundlessly. “I’m your prisoner, that’s all. Nothing more, make sure you remember it. I’m not here because I want to be. I’m here because you brought me here against my will, Blane. I’m not your girl. I’m your unwilling guest. That doesn’t make me yours; it only makes me yours until I find a way out of this and leave your ass.”
“I bet you drive men insane. I bet they dream of touching you, spreading your flesh and driving their cock to the hilt in it. I bet you create fantasies and more than you could ever know pleasure themselves to your image,” he groaned as he slid into the bed, pushing her over to make room for his wide frame. She rolled onto her side, away from him. His hand slid beneath her, pulling her back to him until their noses touched. “The untouched princess,” he mused as his lips brushed hers. “Tell me, how many men have you fantasized about fucking? Was there ever any who made you touch that silk flesh as you dreamed of fucking them? How many did you consider actually allowing to do it?”
“None,” she replied coldly as she moved her mouth away from his. “I planned to go to my marriage pure and untouched, but you ruined that.”
“I could marry you,” he laughed huskily.
Ciara’s eyes rolled as she ignored his drunken taunt. “No, you couldn’t. I don’t even like you,” she responded with sadness deep in her tone. “I’m not marrying you, dragon.”
“Most brides don’t like their husbands, or even know much about them when they wed. Besides, we know you like my cock, and that is more than most brides can say on their betrothal.”
“You’re not asking me to marry you, so why are we even having this conversation?”
“Because I’m considering it,” he shocked her by saying. “Imagine your family’s reaction to getting you back married to a dragon, swollen with my child growing in your belly.”
“I imagine you on a rack in the dungeon, beyond that, maybe a little torture. That is all I imagine that includes you.”
“Tell me,” he mused. “What kind of torture?” His finger traced her jawline to her ear as he pushed her hair away from her face. “I don’t think you have it in you. Your mouth could deliver some sinful torture. I imagine your throat is as tight as this sweet pussy.”
“You’d be surprised at what I want to do to you right now.”
“And what’s that?” he asked, ignoring her growl as he hefted her body over his and stared up at her. His cock slid between her slick folds slowly as he used her hips to move her over his erection. “Come on, Ciara. Show me what you want to do to me.”
His cock entered her body, and she cried out, unready to take his full length. He growled from deep in his chest as he pulled her body up and then slammed her back down on his thick cock. She closed her eyes against the multitude of sensations that came to life with the slightest movement. She grabbed his hands, holding them with hers, threading his fingers through hers. She used them to find balance before her own instincts kicked in. She ground against him, rocking her body against his as her eyes closed against the intensity she saw in his endless ocean depths.
Blane’s moans drove her to be brazen, pushing her own insecurities aside as he watched her as if she was the most beautiful creature in this realm. Her head bent low, and her lips brushed against his, smothering his moan as her body pleasured his. He rolled them without warning, stealing a cry of surprise from her as he pushed deeper into her body.
His eyes changed, revealing he was so much more as he watched her come undone for him. Her fingers trailed up his sides slowly, watching as the dragon within stared down at her. It
was ancient, an ethereal being that held untold knowledge. His cock grew, and she groaned, spreading her legs further apart, wrapping them around his tapered hips as she adjusted to what it was giving. It demanded she take more until her body burned with it, as if it was marking its claim on her flesh.
“I see you,” she murmured as she lifted her lips and kissed Blane, knowing his dragon was the one in control. It was no longer Blane driving his mind or body, it was his dragon who watched her as if it was trying to figure out if he wanted her or not. She was its prey in this bed, and it viewed her as such. She felt it to her core which it was driving its cock against slowly, unhurried as it took her with precise precision. It lived and breathed ecstasy into her body. A mere touch here or there and she felt tiny explosions as if its touch could deliver an endless supply of orgasms if it chose to.
It responded to her in an ancient language, the words a mixture of sounds that touched her soul as it continued to grow, testing her body until she cried out in pain, arching her spine and baring her neck to him. His mouth lowered, tasting her pulse before slowly moving down her body as his cock withdrew painfully. It left her bereft of its touch, and she craved it, telling him as much as throaty laughter fluttered to her ears.
Ciara shivered violently, watching as he slowly tasted his way down her body before his tongue lapped greedily over her sex. He growled from deep in his chest, pushing his mouth against her pussy as the vibration shot to her pleasure core. The noises he made as he sucked her flesh and tasted her arousal sent her over the edge without warning. Arms wrapped around her thighs, holding her apart as he watched her coming undone. His tongue pushed in, reaching further than it should have ever been able to and she stilled, lifting herself onto her elbows as she held inhuman eyes.