Lord's Fall

  If Dragos had it to do all over with the same information he’d had at the time, he would make the same decision again. But it had been the right decision delivered badly, and he had not given Rune a chance to weigh in on the subject and change his mind. Then it had been Rune who had cut bait in favor of his mate.

  Graydon’s thoughts must have followed in a similar vein, because he said, “You all went crazy when you mated. I may want a mate, but I don’t want to go crazy.”

  Dragos smiled wryly. “I may remind you of that someday.”

  “Yeah well.” Then the other male said, wistfully, “Don’t suppose you could tell Rune all this and apologize.”

  “Things cannot return to what they were, Gray,” he said. “Even if I were to apologize—even if Rune apologized for his part in creating what happened—we cannot go back. Maybe we can find a new definition, but he will not ever be my First again. That time is done.”

  “Well,” said Graydon. “Suppose I had to ask.” He sounded disappointed but not surprised. “Do you mind saying—why me?”

  Dragos considered. “Because not only do I trust you but Pia does too. It matters to me that she loves you, and that you’re close to her. I want you to talk to her if you ever feel the need. I know she’s young, and she may not have experience with administrative shit, but she has more understanding and compassion for people than I will ever have. I think that may lend us a stability that Rune and I didn’t achieve in the end.” He smiled. “She won’t let me be too hard on you.”

  His rugged face sober, Graydon said, “Thank you for telling me.”

  Dragos nodded to him. “Let me know when you’ve decided.”

  “I’ve decided,” Graydon told him. “I’ll do it.”

  They talked for a few more moments, then the gryphon took his leave, and with that Dragos reached his limit on meaningful talks for the day. He needed out. Out of the crowded complex that was filled with so many vulnerable creatures and such a strong scent of blood. Out of the crowded city.

  He left the building and launched into flight, and let the burn of the icy winter air take him until solitude gave him a measure of balance. He would stay in the air until darkness covered the land. Then he could hope to find peace with Pia, in a dream.

  He supposed this was love. The thing of it was, he had seen examples of love that were twisted, small-minded and unhappy, so he wasn’t quite sure. The immensity of experience he had with Pia was so much more than that.

  When they came together, he felt a deep knowledge in massive bones that were as old as the Earth. The knowing was a vibration that altered the fabric of his existence. It became the sound that mystics claimed was the absolute reality in the universe. Having never, ever embraced mysticism, he thought he must have gone more than a little mad.

  She was his, his only true treasure and one possession, and part of what created that trueness was that she chose it too, and she claimed him, and he was hers. What existed between them was active and passionate and elemental, a hinge upon which everything else pivoted.

  A Prime, indivisible. That pure, that strong, that essential.

  Without this, he had nothing. Everything else might cease and pass away, but this one thing would never fail. And the rest of his life became as if seen through a glass, darkly.

  • • •

  Since he knew Pia’s true Name, bringing her into a dream was easy. Still, he took time with this one and worked to get the details right, brushing them into place with his mind like an artist putting the finishing touches on a painting. Then he cast it out, an invisible net woven with Power, and he went to sleep himself and waited.

  Part of him marked the passing of time even as he drifted quietly. Then he felt her presence slide into the dream, and he came alert.

  The setting was cool and quiet, and a light, delicate wind blew. He had recreated the subtle hues of night.

  She was outside. The light, musical tinkle of bells danced through the air. “What the . . .” she said, sounding disoriented and puzzled. Then she laughed, and the sound was more beautiful than the bells.

  He smiled, rose from the couch where he had been reclining and lifted the flap of the tent to look out.

  Sand dunes rippled underneath the silvery cascade of moonlight. Several feet away from the tent a small oasis of water, little more than the size of a comfortably large hot tub, was surrounded by a collection of ferns and palm trees, which didn’t make any ecological sense, but still, the scene was pretty.

  Pia stood on the path between the tent and the oasis, looking down at herself. Pleasure washed through Dragos. She was a symphony of the precious colors he loved the most, silver, ivory and gold, and those gorgeous sapphire eyes. Her loose hair rippled down her back, and the harem outfit he had devised for her to wear was skimpy in all the right places. Bracelets and anklets of tiny bells adorned her graceful wrists and ankles, and her slender, arched feet were bare.

  She looked up, still laughing. “You made me look like a belly dancer . . . oh my. Oh, very much my.”

  “What?” he said, strolling toward her with a slight smile. He was barefoot as well. He wore a simple linen robe that wrapped and belted at the waist, with thin cotton pants underneath. “The belly dancer outfit was my favorite part.”

  “How very sheikh-ish you look.” Her face tilted up as he neared, and her midnight-colored eyes were wide.

  He played with her jewelry, letting the dangling earrings slide over his fingers. The heavy, gold linked necklace at her neck was shamefully erotic. It highlighted the delicacy of her throat and collarbones, and evoked the concept of bondage. He said deeply, “You should wear jewelry more often.”

  The bells at her wrist tinkled as she raised a hand and laid it at his chest where the robe parted. Her fingertips were cool on his bare skin, her hand unsteady, resting against him as light as a trembling butterfly. “It’s at times like this that I want to say something incredibly foolish,” she said. She sounded breathless.

  He captured her fingers and brought them up to his lips. “Like what?”

  She murmured, “Like I’ll wear anything you want me to, whenever you want.”

  “I see nothing at all wrong with that statement.” He mouthed the words against her fingers.

  She snickered. “Of course you don’t. And I’m not saying it. I’m only confessing to the impulse.”

  He told her, “You should always tell me your foolish impulses so that I may take advantage of them.”

  “That is not going to happen, your majesty,” she informed him. “The ones I do tell you are bad enough.” She looked down at herself and her voice grew mournful. “This outfit makes me look fat, doesn’t it?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he growled. He had started to bend down to her for a kiss, and he reared his head back to glare at her. Without a clever layering of clothing to hide it, her slender waist flowed gracefully out to a lightly rounded belly, and her breasts were lush and ripe, the creamy skin soft as a white peach. Everything inside him tightened at the sight. “You look utterly incredible.”

  She swayed forward. He put an arm around her as she leaned against him, and his head came down over hers. He rested his cheek in her thick, soft hair, and for the first time that day the dragon’s constant, rogue urge to violence subsided. What it left behind was a deep, hungering ache. He wanted to drag her to the ground and ease his cock inside of her while she gripped him with her inner muscles and rocked him with her strong, supple body until he spilled everything he had into her. He was the hardiest of all creatures, but good gods, these dreams were going to kill him.

  He slid a greedy, possessive hand down the front of her body to cup her rounded belly. A pang of disappointment lanced him as he realized the familiar, young bright spirit was absent. “I didn’t notice before,” he murmured. “The baby isn’t here.”


  She tilted her head back, gaze darkening in ready sympathy. “I can sense him, but I guess he isn’t dreaming?”

  He shook his head and shoved the disappointment away. “No.”

  She rubbed his back. After a moment she asked, “How did . . . everything go today?”

  He answered her real question. “Everybody is fine. All the sentinels and, yes, your friend have won through to the next round.”

  “That’s good.” She searched his gaze. “Right?”

  “Yes.” Suddenly the playful, pretty scene was no match for his darkening mood. Setting his teeth, he let go of her and turned away.

  Silence fell between them. He gazed over the endless-seeming, empty desert with a scowl. When he heard tinkling and a splash, he looked over his shoulder. Pia sat by the edge of the oasis with her feet in the water, harem trousers rolled over her knees. She had taken off the anklets. She straightened one leg and lifted her pretty foot out, looked at it then let it fall with a splash back into the water.

  Somehow she knew when not to push him. Yes, she was wiser sometimes than he would ever be. He walked over to ease down behind her until she sat between his legs, and when he put his arms around her again she leaned back with a sigh. The feel of her body in his arms felt maddeningly familiar and yet somehow incomplete. Damn these dreams, yet he would not go the week without them.

  He said, “I asked Gray to be my First, and he said yes.”

  She turned her head slightly. “That’s great news.”

  He sighed. “We also talked a little about Rune and what happened last summer.”

  She said gently, “That must have felt complicated.”

  “It did.”

  “I’m glad you finally talked to someone about it. Did it help?” She rubbed slender fingers soothingly along his forearms.

  “Yes, actually, it did.” He pressed his mouth to the place where her neck met her shoulder. “How was your day?”

  “Complicated too in its own way.” She reached behind her and cupped the back of his head, stroking his hair in a brief caress. “I like Beluviel, and she told me some things I didn’t know about my mom. That hurt, but it was kind of a good hurt, if that makes any sense. I think we really connected. She told me something interesting that may throw a monkey wrench into my visit. They’ve received word that an emissary from Numenlaur is coming to meet with them.”

  Dragos raised his head. “Did they?”

  She twisted to look over her shoulder, searching his expression. “Calondir has gone into Lirithriel Wood to get ready for their arrival. Have you ever heard of Numenlaurians visiting the U.S. before?”

  “No.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “Are you sure that Beluviel said Calondir went into the Wood? She didn’t say that he crossed over to prepare for the emissary in their Other land?”

  She frowned and scooted around until she could face him fully. “Yes, I’m sure. Why?”

  “Do you remember how I once described Other lands like bodies of water, from small lakes to large oceans, with streams or rivers that sometimes linked them together?” She nodded, and he continued, “I know their Elven Other land is quite large, and I’ve suspected for some time that it has several connections, or crossovers, to Earth and to Other lands. I think they’ve had the ability to travel to and from places in Europe.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Stories of arrivals and departures,” he told her. “People disappearing and then reappearing in other places.”

  She cocked her head. “Sometimes sudden appearances and disappearances can be explained when the Djinn are involved.”

  “Yes, they can, but these accounts are different,” he told her. “Beluviel and Calondir were involved in rescuing Jews during World War Two. A few of the survivors described journeys that sounded like they traveled in an Other land until they suddenly arrived in America.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “I’d like to learn more about that sometime, but what is the connection here?”

  “I wonder how the emissary is traveling. I find it hard to imagine that members from an enclave community would travel from Europe on this side if they had any choice to travel in an Other land. If they are making the journey from the Other land, why would Calondir choose to host them in the Wood, here on this side? Why not host them on the other side of the crossover, where they would be more comfortable? The pieces don’t quite fit together in my mind.”

  “Maybe I’ll get a chance to find out how they fit together,” Pia said. “Beluviel said that she and Calondir were originally from Numenlaur. I wonder why they left.”

  “Do you remember, you also once asked me why Elves might not keep their word?” he asked. “You had said you’d never heard anything bad about their integrity.”

  “Yes, we were just leaving Charleston after you got shot. You called my car a POS.” She frowned, thinking back. “You also said that every race has had its moments now and then, so I suppose that means the Elves had a moment.”

  He played with her bracelet of bells. “They had more than their fair share of moments. They were responsible for one of the greatest wars in prehuman history.”

  “Who did they fight?”

  “Themselves. They fought until Elven blood ran over the land, and they finally drove themselves into a diaspora. Did you know that the Light Fae and the Dark Fae are children of the Elves?”

  “I had no idea.” Pia watched him with a fascinated gaze. “I guess it makes sense since the similarities between the three races are pretty obvious. They’re all long lived, and magical in some way, and of course they all have the pointed ears. But there are some pretty obvious differences too.”

  He said, “The Fae races came out of that original Elven diaspora. I believe their differences evolved because of their differences in environment. The Dark Fae are most often found in northern lands, with their pale skin, dark hair and affinity for metal. The Light Fae, with their brown skin, lighter hair, aversion to certain metals and a strong affinity to water, are most often found in more southern climates.”

  “Then there are the Elves,” she said. “And they feel like no other creatures in the world. At least no other creatures that I’ve met.”

  It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. For someone of her relative youth and inexperience, she had a remarkably refined sensitivity to creatures of Power. “Interesting. You sense a difference in how they feel?” She nodded. He told her, “You are correct. Their Power is different from any others. It’s elemental, literally.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Their Power comes from the five elements—air, fire, water, wood and earth. Like the Wyr and many of the other Elder Races, the Elves grow in Power as they age. The ancient Elves can control weather, shift tides, cause landscapes to shift. In many ways the Earth was a different place before they warred with themselves.”

  “That sounds terrifying,” she muttered.

  “It was,” he said. “And I still have not forgiven them for it.”

  A shudder ran through her, and she looked up at him. “Lirithriel Wood. Is it something they created?”

  “I believe it is at least something they started,” he said. “It was born out of their Power and is combined with the magic of one of the strongest crossovers passageways in America. The Wood appears to have achieved a certain intelligence that is entirely wild and not necessarily safe.”

  “I think it’s beautiful.”

  “And I suppose it is that too.” He laced his fingers with hers.

  She made a sudden moue. “That’s probably my segue into telling you that Beluviel invited me to their home in the Wood so that I can speak with Calondir.”

  In an instant, his uneasy sense of peace and balance vaporized, and the dragon roared to the surface. He snapped, “Absolutely not.”

  She froze,
her mouth open, and stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “I said no,” he growled. “You do not go deeper into the Elves’ territory. I have allowed you to go this far, but I will not allow that.”

  She blinked several times. She said slowly, “So when Beluviel invited me, and since it is the only way I can speak to Calondir on this trip, I said yes. We leave first thing in the morning.”

  “Pia, I said no, dammit!”

  Her expression grew cold. “I heard what you dictated the first time,” she told him, shaping each word deliberately. “I chose not to respond right away so that you could have a moment to think about what you just said, and how you said it to me.”

  He went nose to nose with her and hissed, “You will not disobey me on this. I forbid it. They are my enemy.”

  She flinched but did not back away. “Yes, Dragos,” she said. “They are your enemy. They are not mine.”

  He said between his teeth, “That is a foolish attitude. My enemies are yours. You are my mate—if you die, I die.”

  “Just because our lives are linked together, I do not believe that makes the Elves my enemy too. When Beluviel made the invitation, she was clearly trying to help.” She pushed to her feet, and he rose too. She lifted her gaze, and the hurt, anger and disappointment in her eyes speared him. She said with quiet bite, “Now I am going to figure out how to wake myself up, and I’m going to turn off my phone. That should give you more time to think, because we have also had this conversation before. I am NOT your employee, NOR am I your servant, and I never promised to obey you. And what’s more, Dragos, you should not speak to your employees or your servants like that anyway. If what happened with Rune taught you anything, it should have taught you that.”

  He sucked in a breath. Maybe to roar, or maybe to apologize. Not even he knew what he intended. Perhaps both. Whichever it was he was too late, for she turned away from him.