Dragonsworn

But she could have never cursed her own children, even in the midst of that kind of unreasoning grief. Not for anything. That he could do such to her father and her was an unforgivable sin.

  And Falcyn understood that loss himself. While they hadn't killed his son, he'd thought of him as murdered--which was the same range of emotions Medea had lived with. He'd gone through identical pain over the centuries.

  No wonder he was barely this side of insane. He lived in the same dismal hell she called home.

  That, too, weakened her for him. Bonded them together. It was rare to find anyone who could relate to her fury. To her need for blood atonement. Someone who didn't judge her for wanting vengeance, even all these centuries later.

  Worse, those thoughts brought an unexpected wave of tenderness crashing through her. One that made her throat tight and eyes water.

  Don't, Medea! She couldn't emotionally afford to go there. Rather, she needed to focus on something else.

  Quick, before she lost herself entirely to this dragon by her side.

  Blinking, she tried her best to clear her vision. "Where are the others?"

  "Not sure." He glanced around as if looking for either friend or foe. There was a light behind his eyes that said he had something else going on in his thoughts. "They scattered, and like you, I was blinded enough that I couldn't see where they went. I'm trying to reach Blaise with my powers. Something has me blocked. I'd Bane-Cry for him, but given this place, I'm not sure I want to even attempt that. Who knows what might answer with him, or head toward his position. While I have no problem beating the hell out of anything that rears its head, I don't want to lead trouble to him."

  She bit back a smile at the emotion in his voice. He always thought of Blaise first.

  In every situation. Which made her suspicious ...

  "You love him a lot more than a brother, you know that? What's the deal with you two?"

  Hands on hips, he turned to face her. "Don't know what you mean."

  She tsked at the suddenly defensive dragon who confirmed her opinion and solidified it. No wonder he was so protective....

  There was only one logical reason for that.

  "I had a moment where I thought he might be that son you mentioned, but since he knew your son in Camelot ... my money says he's your grandkid, isn't he?"

  Oh yeah, there was an expression that confirmed it on those handsome dragon features. Falcyn should never play poker. His opponents would clean house with his wallet.

  His continued silence on this matter only added another layer of veracity.

  Medea approached him slowly. "That's why I didn't ask about it while they were around us. I knew it would piss you off. And I was right." No one could miss the fury that burned deep in those steely blues.

  Tsking, she cocked her head. "So what really happened to separate him from his parents? 'Cause I know you didn't give him up without a fight."

  Falcyn started to tell her to go to hell and take her ridiculous assumptions with her. It was what he'd always done in the past when someone asked something he didn't like. He couldn't stand being questioned.

  And yet as he saw her honest sincerity and the tenderness of her expression and it touched a part of him that he hated, the truth ran past his lips before he could catch it and lock it down. "I don't know. I wasn't there when Blaise was born. Maybe his father did what Blaise said and left him to die. I've never met Maddor. Have no idea about his character or anything else. He could easily be as big a bastard as I am. Even though he's my son, he's a complete stranger to me."

  "Why?" As soon as the question came out, she regretted it, because it wrung such a look of pain from him that she could feel it.

  It was an expression of soul-deep anguish. The kind only a parent could feel at the loss of a child.

  And she hated how well she related to it. How much she understood.

  How much she despised herself for reopening his wounds when it was obvious that he wasn't really a bastard. In spite of his words, he cared about his unknown son as much as she'd cared about hers. And he ached over the loss every bit as much. It was the loss of all those years together that never went away. The anguish of wondering what could have been. What kind of man her son would have grown into. What kind of relationship they would have had.

  All those questions and all those doubts and the pain. It never dulled. Never stopped.

  Damn life for it.

  And Falcyn loved Blaise more than his own life. She'd seen that firsthand in everything he did for him. The way he doted and guarded.

  Before she realized what she was doing, she pulled him against her and held him. "I'm sorry, Falcyn."

  Falcyn swallowed hard, wanting to shove her and her pity away from him like a disease. He was drakomai. The first of the dragons. He didn't need kindness or compassion.

  Damn sure didn't want it from a Daimon leader.

  That was what his mind screamed out. But his body wouldn't cooperate or listen. In all these centuries, no one had ever held him when he was hurt.

  Never once.

  He was always abandoned during those darkest hours of his life. Left alone to ache and bleed until he'd learned to expect nothing else.

  From anyone.

  But instead of rejecting her for her unique kindness, he lifted his hand and buried it deep in her soft hair so that he could hold her close and savor the novelty of this moment. The novelty of being held and soothed by someone who smelled like gentle lily flowers.

  Damn.

  The warmth of her skin was unlike anything he'd ever felt or known. It shook him to the core of his being. And touched him more than he wanted it to.

  He felt her smiling against his cheek. "Your skin really is cooler than most, isn't it?"

  Again, such a comment would have normally moved him to righteous anger, but he didn't hear disdain or mockery in her tone. She was amused by the fact that he was a cold-blooded creature.

  "My basal temp is significantly lower than yours, yes."

  "It's nice. My skin's always hot. I can't stand it most of the time."

  "Anytime you want to cool off, I volunteer to suck all the heat out of you."

  Smiling even wider, she placed the most chaste kiss imaginable to his cheek before she stepped away, and yet it fired his blood more than any he'd ever had before.

  How screwed up was that?

  Even worse were the sudden fantasies in his mind of holding her in a much more intimate setting. Of making love to her for the rest of the day until they were both sweaty and spent.

  Consequences be damned. And it left him harder than he'd ever been. Needier than he could stand. All he wanted right then was to be inside her.

  Unaware of his hunger, Medea headed deeper into the forest to search for the others.

  "My brother."

  She paused at Falcyn's barely audible words. "Pardon?"

  "You asked me why I wasn't around my son. My brother cursed him."

  Medea froze instantly. Those words shook her on several levels. Not the least of which was the very personal one over what had resulted after her grandfather had cursed her entire race to die. While she didn't know Falcyn's brother, this knowledge made her instantly hate him. "What kind of curse?"

  "That the mandrakes would never be able to sustain their dragon forms for long. They can fight in them, fly in them, but they can't live permentantly as dragons. Mandrakes are basically nothing more than men who have the ability to assume a dragon's power when they need it."

  She scowled at his words. "Why would he do that?"

  "For their own good and mine, he said."

  She didn't miss the note in his voice as he spoke. "But you don't believe that?"

  He let out a bitter, scoffing laugh. "My son's mother was so infuriated when she learned that Max had cursed them that she took Maddor to Landvaetyria where I couldn't get to him. When Igraine and her sisters could find no way to work around Max's spell, the entire mandrake race they conceived was enslaved and tortured because of
it--with my child being their primary whipping boy and the focal point of their hatred. So how can I? I was banned from ever seeing my child. From protecting him from their cruelty. He could stand beside me to this day and I wouldn't know him. I'm sure he hates me. Who could blame him for it?"

  With a ragged breath, he shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe Max was right. The Adoni would have most likely still found a way to enslave them for their purposes, and sooner or later, we'd have been at war with them because of Morgen and her ambitions. Evil bitch that she is, she would have eventually pitted us against each other. That I don't doubt. It is how she is. War would have come regardless. Had Merlin not sequestered the mandrakes here behind the veil centuries ago, we most likely would have been forced to put them down for their sakes as well as ours. But the father in me doesn't care about any of that. I would have found a way to save my son."

  "And your sister? Why is she trapped here?"

  He winced. "She came here because of me and Maddor. While I was banned from visiting Landvaetyria, she wasn't. Morgen and her aunts set about trying to breed more mandrakes with other dragons. They would lure them here, breed them, and then kill them. I didn't know the latter part until after Arthur's son, Anir, brought word to me that Xyn was dead. That she'd died while trying to free Anir, his army, and Maddor from Morgen."

  "But she's a statue? Not dead?" That was what Brandor had said.

  "I should have thought of that. It must have been what she was doing instead of killing them." He released an elongated sigh. "It was always Morgen's special cruelty for her enemies. Anir and every soldier under his command were turned by her magick into her personal Stone Legion."

  Medea scowled at the unfamiliar term. "Stone Legion?"

  "An army of gargoyles. The only reprieve Merlin could give them from Morgen's evil is that under the light of a full moon, they turn human until dawn. Otherwise, they're frozen statues during daylight and are her army whenever she needs it."

  So she cursed them and then forced them to fight for her? Yeah, what a cruel bitch. Not even her mother was that bad, and her mother could be brutal.

  "That's horrible!"

  He nodded. "Compassion isn't one of Morgen's virtues."

  "And Maddor's mother? Who was she?" She hoped it wasn't Morgen.

  When he spoke, she learned she was right. But the truth was even worse.

  "Morgen's mother."

  Medea felt sick at that news. "Morgen le Fey is the half sister of your son?"

  A tic began working in his jaw. "Indeed."

  "Morgen knows this?"

  "I'm sure she does. Not like Igraine or her sisters ever hid it."

  And still Morgen had enslaved her own brother....

  Then again, why was she surprised?

  If the legends were true, Morgen had done much worse than that to her family. Especially her brother Arthur. So why she'd expect her to have any compassion for Maddor, she didn't know.

  This was why Medea had no regard for humanity. Why she viewed them as parasites. Their cruelty was truly spectacular and surpassed only by the gods themselves.

  Wishing for a better world for all of them, Medea paused in the middle of the woods as she realized everything here looked the same. A person could easily get lost and never find a way out of the forest. Get turned around and walk in circles without ever knowing.

  Yet Falcyn navigated the landscape as if he knew exactly where he was headed. "Where are we?"

  He gave her a droll smirk. "A dark and enchanted forest."

  She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. "Uncalled for. Where are we headed?"

  "Merlin's palace. Since it was the last place we discussed, I figure it's where we're most likely to find the others."

  "And you know the way ... how?"

  "While my powers aren't up to par, I can still feel the heart, as it were, of this place. Can't you?"

  "I thought it was indigestion."

  He snorted. "Yeah, sure you did."

  But he was right. She could feel those sharp, emanating powers. Had he not been with her, she would have avoided them. Not out of fear. Out of respect. One didn't walk into the den of a sorcerer without knowing what you were getting into.

  With no better solution on how to get out of this place, she followed after him again. "So how did you get hooked up with Igraine, of all people?"

  "Dragonvane."

  That didn't make sense to her. "I thought that repelled you guys."

  "Not bane. Vane. It's a special scent that mixes amber and musk with myrrh. Sadly, we find it as irresistible as a cat with catnip."

  Ah, that explained it. "You were drugged."

  "I promise you, I wouldn't have slept with her otherwise. While Igraine was highly attractive, I was well aware of how she'd brutally killed her second husband in order to seduce and then marry Arthur's father. Given her track record of murdering husbands and lovers, I would have never taken a dip into her pool, had I been in my right mind. No woman is that attractive." He let out a tired sigh. "Makes me wonder what spell she used on Uther Pendragon. I find it hard to believe he'd have succumbed any quicker than I did."

  "At least you're in good company."

  "Yeah, the Fucked-Over Club. Hooray. That makes it so much better."

  She popped him on the arm.

  Shocked, he gaped at her. "You have absolutely no fear of me, do you?"

  "Should I?"

  "Given my track record? Yeah, you should. I live to make meals off tender morsels like you."

  Scoffing, she walked right up and smirked in his face. "Have you seen my track record, buddy? Between the two of us, you should probably be the one afraid."

  "Now you're just trying to turn me on."

  "And that does it for you, huh?"

  With a wicked grin, he glanced down at the bulge in his jeans. "Apparently."

  Medea blushed as she realized that he wasn't joking. He really was turned on.

  Even worse? She wasn't offended by it.

  Instead, it sent a wave of unexpected desire through her. And another of great curiosity. One that didn't really bear investigating. Or thinking about, as it led her thoughts into very dangerous territory.

  "So how long has it been?" he asked.

  "For what?"

  A teasing grin curved his lips. "That long, huh? You can't even remember what I'm asking?"

  More heat crept over her cheeks. "It's been a while. Hard to cozy up to men you know are only one minute away from death. Especially after you've already lost your heart and soul--the last of the good ones." She gave him a gimlet stare. "What about you?"

  "I know exactly how long it's been since I last slept with someone. I wasn't asking me about me."

  She snorted irritably at his continued sarcasm. "You're avoiding my question."

  "I know. And I would like to continue avoiding it, as I just had a nasty altercation over this very topic."

  "Meaning?"

  He rubbed at his eye. "I was briefly and I do mean b-r-i-e-f-l-y involved with an Amazon dragonslayer."

  She paused to gape at him. "I beg your pardon ... are you insane?"

  "Yeah, well, in my defense, it worked out well for both my brothers. They're quite happily married to dragonslayer dragonswans. In my case on the dating front, not so much. She definitely wanted to skin my hide more than climb it. But she's the only reason I hung around Sanctuary as long as I did."

  "You were trying to work it out?"

  "Not really. Even my masochism has its limits. I was getting ready to leave when you showed up."

  Medea didn't know why, but she felt bad for him. And a little jealous. But in the end, her curiosity got the best of her as she slowed her stride. "So what went wrong?"

  "As long as I was in a human body, she was fine. Sadly, I can't stay in one. Sooner or later, I have to be what I am. And human's not it. The moment I shifted and Tis was reminded that I'm an animal, she lost her human mind."

  Medea tried to imagine what he must look like as a d
ragon. It was hard to think of this insanely hot man with scales and claws. To think of him as a massive beast.

  Of course, he was massively large in human form, too. Even his hands were gigantic.

  Which made her even more curious....

  "So how is it you can shapeshift? I didn't think a full-blooded drakomai could do that."

  "Most can't."

  She arched a brow at him. "But..."

  This time, he was the one who paused. He turned to look at her as if he wanted to see her expression. "I can shift for the same reason your father can."

  You're an ass was the first thought she had, but it was quickly followed by the truth.

  A truth that slapped her hard.

  No ...

  Her stomach shrank. "You're a demigod."

  "Technically, I'm a full god who was cursed at my birth."

  Oh yeah, now an ulcer was starting to form. Either that, or she was getting ready to give birth to a diamond, because her stomach clenched hard enough to create one in the pit of her belly. "What?"

  "You know," he said sarcastically. "Both my parents were gods. My mother made a play for the head of her pantheon, and when his wife found out, she reacted as any goddess would. Sadly, my mother's powers weren't what she thought them to be, and she learned the hard way how weak she was in comparison to Shyamala."

  Medea furrowed her brow as she tried to follow his explanation. "Shyamala? I don't know a goddess with that name."

  "Yeah, you do. You just know her by her more contemporary name. Azura."

  Medea felt the blood drain from her cheeks as she made the most horrific connection ever.

  If Azura was the goddess who cursed his mother for dabbling with her mate, there was only one male god who could have fathered him.

  Holy fucking shit ...

  "You're a son of Noir."

  The king god of all evil.

  8

  Falcyn let out a long, tired sigh. "No one can help who their parents are."

  "Yeah, but Noir ... I didn't know he had any children."

  "We are few and far between, as Azura can't stand us and tends to put a hit on us from the moment we're conceived. Most of our mothers never survive to birth us."

  Little wonder he was so paranoid. Angry.

  And fierce.

  No doubt he'd been looking over his shoulder his entire life.

  "What happened to your mother?"

  "As soon as Azura found out, my mother, Lilith, was cast from her pantheon, turned into a demon, and villainized. Of course, my mother didn't go quietly into the good night. Her wrath was such that she over-embraced her new role as lead bitch, and began plotting revenge on them all."