CHAPTER FIVE
Tripping to the Afterlife
God dammit. He was dying.
No. no, no. Steele yelled the words, but they wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Nothing in his body wanted to work.
He had to make it.
He would not leave Fleur. He had to protect her. Steele fought like hell to stay conscious, to hang on to life so he could be there for her.
Fleur, his beautiful, luscious flower. His true mate. He’d only met her hours ago, and he knew to his core they belonged together.
The beats of Steele’s heart shuttered in his chest. Darkness pushed at the edges of his vison. The colors of the night faded to black and white. The only light left was the beautiful green of Fleur’s eyes glowing from deep within. He held onto to that light, that love.
Even her eyes faded. He wanted to stay, needed to, for her.
The darkness overwhelmed Steele’s consciousness, tunneling him under until there was nothing.
Steele died.
He felt himself slipping away while reaching for her with everything he had, but his soul. She already had that.
He’d left her alone in a world where demon dragons spread plague and death for shits and giggles. What an asshole he was to go and die on her. He should have been more careful, done more to protect her. He’d failed at the greatest duty a dragon had. Would she ever forgive him?
He did not understand how this had happened. One minute he had found his fated mate and the next he lost her. That was not how this story was supposed to go. Steele was a dragon warrior. No way he had lost a battle with a demon dragon.
His shard. The only thing he could think of was how he had lost all his power when one of the bastards had stolen his soul shard. He hadn’t been wearing it when he first met Fleur, which was dumb. It gave him the ability to shift.
He would never understand now how he’d been defeated or how Fleur fared. Because he was dead and none of it mattered any longer.
Steele couldn’t believe he was dead.
How was he even believing it? His thoughts still functioned but his body did not. That was too weird.
Voices filtered into his mind from somewhere far away. “Why couldn’t he stick to the fucking plan?”
“Maybe because Steele didn’t know about it, my love.”
He heard a couple arguing and they talking about him. Tally number two for the weird column.
Was it his parents? No. His mother had died almost a hundred years ago, but his father was still alive. A dragon well into his Wisdom.
Maybe this was the beginning of his life flashing before his eyes. Or perhaps the First Dragon was reviewing Steele’s short one hundred and forty-four years of life to determine if he was worthy of the afterlife.
“What the hell are we supposed to do with him now?” A deep voice filled with the resonance of an alpha, a power like he’d never felt before rang through Steele’s ears.
The voice had the ring of more than an alpha. Jakob’s voice could command any green dragon to do his bidding. Match, the alpha of alphas had even more power. Neither compared to the pure power in this dragon’s voice.
Holy alpha of all. He was hearing the voice of... the First Dragon. A flood of adrenaline tsunamied through him, prickling at every sense he had.
He was pulled from the total darkness into a shaded forest, where the trees grew taller than he’d ever seen, and the earth below was warm and fertile. This place was warm and comforting, like home. Again, he didn’t really understand where he was or how he was there. He only knew he wanted to stay. Everything in him said this was the green dragon afterlife. Paradise.
Through a mist, a dragon with scales every color of the rainbow and a gash through one of his wings appeared, circling Steele, looking him up and down, growling between breaths, snorting smoke and wisps of flame.
He should have fought harder. Killed more demon dragons. Protected Fleur. His body didn’t seem to exist, yet he had the feeling he was being measured and weighed.
“Well, aren’t you a dumbass?” The voice boomed through the forest and shook Steele to his core. The sound had gone directly into his head and bored into his skull.
“Yes, I’m talking to you, dumbass. You fucked my plans right up by going and dying. Inanna practically served your true mate up on a platter for you and what do you do? You fucking die before you can claim her.”
Steele didn’t know how to respond to that. Sorry didn’t quite cover it.
A woman, heart-wrenchingly beautiful, soft and warm, ghosted through the misty veil and clung to the dragon’s front leg. “Don’t be so hard on the boy. He found her, didn’t he, all the way across the ocean. We didn’t exactly make it easy. Poor youngling was so close to claiming her. He’d already gained his power.”
She smiled at Steele and the adrenaline inside subsided. Her power wrapped him in the smell of fresh baked bread, a crackling fire, and love. Home. She was the very essence of this place.
“He didn’t find her, your gift to her sucked him in. You practically placed a blinking neon I’m-your-mate sign above her head.” The dragon snuffled the woman’s hair and his fury subsided for the moment.
Or, less than a moment. He glared at Steele and snorted. “He never should have taken the shard of his soul off. Then he could have claimed her right away. But, no. He left himself vulnerable, just like Jakob.”
The First Dragon pointed a talon at Steele. “Those pieces of shit Galla Dragons almost stole his dragon-forsaken soul.”
The woman in white patted the dragon’s cheek. “He is young. Younger than Jakob, and it was your idea to give them their powers before they claimed their mates.”
That must be what had happened when Steele put his shard back on after the party. Those powers had helped him destroy half a dozen demon dragons.
They hadn’t helped him stay with Fleur.
The dragon flapped its wings in a way that Steele recognized was like throwing his hands in the air. “They weren’t supposed to wait. Powers, claim, mate, dragon babies, victory. Seems pretty damn clear to me. Being young is even more reason he shouldn’t have died. He had another four or five hundred years. The dumbass. Do you know how many Galla Dragons he could have defeated in four centuries?”
The woman in white grinned like she found his rampage at Steele cute. “Then you’ll just have to send him back.”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that? He’s dead. D. E. A. D. Dead.” The First Dragon paced in front of Steele, his scales rippling, sending showers of red, blue, gold, and green sparks through the air.
“Use the girl.”
Girl? Steele glanced around but saw only more trees. Did she mean Fleur?
Steele knew Fleur was something special. More than the half of her that was flower nymph. But, he hadn’t been able to tell what she was. He had scented something in her that cried out shifter, but it was so deep, he wasn’t sure.
Maybe he was wrong. Could she be a necromancer? Those dark powers weren’t right. Fleur was love and light.
The dragon shook his head. “The flower? She’s a witch. She can’t have them.”
The woman in white countered him with a confident nod. “Let her use the gifts we bestowed upon her father, and his father before him, and his father before him.”
There were legends told to every dragon warrior about how the First Dragon’s mate, the White Witch had given gifts, special powers to each of their children.
Steele received the gift of dragon’s breath, a healing touch, from his father, who’d gotten it from his father, and so on up the line to the first green dragon son who’d been given the gift by his mother.
This woman, who felt like a mother to him, was...she was the mother of all dragons. The White Witch.
The shock and awe of that fact hit Steele right in the throat. He couldn’t swallow, He could hardly breath.
He guessed that didn’t matter since he was dead.
“No, no, and nope. The flower is female, and those are
dragon powers.”
There was no such thing as female dragons.
The White Witch tsked at him. “Kur.”
His name rang through Steele’s head, digging deep into his psyche to find a place to hide.
“What?” He rolled his eyes exactly the way a recalcitrant youngling dragon who knew they were whining would.
The First Dragon and the White Witch had been dead for hundreds of years. Long before Steele had been born.
Dead. Like Steele was now.
Holy First Dragon.
It was them. The mother and father of all Dragonkind and he was standing here like a dumbass.
They were not what he expected. They were...almost normal, an old married couple you’d see in a sitcom. He liked them.
“My love, my mate.” She took his fisted claws, uncurled them and kissed his palm. “You can’t protect Ishtar by hiding her from the world any longer.”
Who was Ishtar and why were they hiding her? What about Fleur?
“I can, and I will.” He spoke softly to her now. “We’re not talking about Ishtar, we’re trying to figure out how to get the flower and this dumbass together.”
She uncurled his other fist and gave that hand the same treatment. “Kur, sweetheart, it’s always about Ishtar. She is our daughter. Our hope.”
Whoa. No legend, no archives, no dragon had ever said anything about The First Dragon and the White Witch having a daughter.
The First Dragon closed his fists again, the tension rippling through the air around them. “Which is why we have to protect her.”
One by one, she pulled his talons open. “She will die if you don’t allow her the freedom to fly. She’s been cooped up for almost seven hundred years, and in all that time you haven’t allowed a single dragon daughter to assume her powers. Sooner or later he will find out about Ishtar.”
The First Dragon roared, his scales rippling in rainbows across his body, his scales shimmering with light and fire taking over.
The White Witch took the First Dragon’s jaw in her hands and laid her cheek against his. She stroked his scales. “Enough, my love. The world will need her and all the dragon daughters to win the coming battle. Let the flower bloom, it will make both Ishtar and me happy.”
The First Dragon huffed and puffed, pacing between the trees. Steele was all but forgotten. He gathered all the will he had to get their attention, to remind them about Fleur and whatever gift they were going to give her. Whether it helped him back to life or not, she needed whatever they had for her to survive against the demon dragon scum.
The White Witch and Steele watched the First Dragon growl and snort fire. He took to the air and circled the treetops.
Steele growled and reached for his own dragon self. He could feel the change inside of him pushing to get out, to protect Fleur even from the afterlife.
The First Dragon stared down at him from his angry flight.
“Calm yourself, dumbass. You will be back with your mate soon. If she’s anything like mine, you’ll need all the help you can get to protect her.”
A moment later he landed and easily slipped into his human form. “You’re damn sneaky, woman, giving me and my sons daughters. How can I say no to you?”
The White Witch blew a kiss to Steele, and did the same to her mate. “You can’t. Besides, the gift was not entirely for you. And you love my sneaky side.”
He chuckled. “Do I?”
“Yes, you do.”
He proved her right by kissing her hard enough to make Steele squirm watching them.
She broke the kiss but stayed in his arms. “Now allow the flower access to her powers. She already feels them bubbling inside of her.”
He stole another quick kiss from her. “Fine.”
The First Dragon turned his full attention to Steele, baring down with his eyes, speaking straight into his soul. “Steele Greendragon, you dumbass. Listen to me and listen close. Don’t let those Galla Dragons steal your soul again. They don’t know what the fuck to do with it anyway.”
A ripple of power went through Steele. A fine green mist rose over and around, blurring his vision so they were only silhouettes. His voice rang in Steele’s head still.
“You claim that flower and you give her your soul. She’ll keep it safe. Don’t dick around about it, either. Wake up. Claim her. Give her your soul. Protect her. Give her a good six or seven orgasms so she likes you—”
The White Witch smacked the First Dragon’s side. Then she addressed Steele. Her light shone so brightly. Each of her words wrapped around him, imbuing him with a sense of love he’d never known existed. “She’ll like you just fine, youngling, just make sure she feels the love you have in your soul for her.”
Steele swallowed and nodded, soothed by her words and her love.
Then she winked at him. “Give her at least a dozen orgasm.”
The First Dragon nodded. “I find the more the better too woo your mate.” He pinched the White Witch’s butt, and she squealed, but a lust beyond description sparked between them. The First Dragon pulled her tight to his side, kissing her neck, until she wriggled out of his hold and nodded to Steele. He thought for a second they were going to go at it right there.
“Right.” He pointed at Steele. “It’s time for you and your brothers to stop screwing around with these pansy-ass battles and defeat the Black Dragon and his offspring already. Enough is enough. You hear me?”
Steele’s voice rose up for the first time, and he could speak again. “Yes, sir.”
“If you die again, I’m going to kick your scrawny ass.” He would do it to, from the afterlife or not.
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t make me come down there.”
Steele shook his head.
“No, sir.”
“Good.” He glanced into a distance Steele couldn’t see and blew out the healing breath of a green dragon. It disappeared into the void behind.
“Oh, Kur, my love, this youngling probably doesn’t need to remember anything about me or Ishtar and the others.”
“He won’t remember anything but what we told him to do. Will you, dumbass?”
Steele wanted to remember. He needed to tell the AllWyr council what he’d learned. “No, sir.”
He looked far beyond Steele. “Alright, here she goes. One more thing, youngling.”
“Yes, sir?”
He glanced at the White Witch and dipped his head, lowering his voice. She gave him a glare, but he chuckled and whispered to Steele anyway. “This will drive your mate insane, I promise. When you’ve got your head between those lush thighs of hers, use your dragon tongue to—”
Steele was pulled from the light of wherever he’d been and into darkness again.
CHAPTER SIX
Dragon’s Breath
A beat-up red pick-up truck screeched to a halt and its headlight fell out, clattering to the ground. A man who Fleur had always considered a silver fox jumped out with an old-fashioned doctor’s bag under his arm.
Doc. That’s all she knew of his name, just Doc. They’d had plenty of friendly conversations about her medicinal herbs and how either or both of them could help the pack. They were both outsiders who’d been taken in by the Troikas.
He gave the women and their wounds cursory glances but made it to Fleur’s side within a few moments.
“What kind of shifter is he?” Doc asked looking Steele up and down with a frown.
“Dragon,” Fleur answered.
Doc raised his eyebrows, but then nodded. “Okay, I got this. Move aside. Let me see what I can do.”
Fleur gripped her pendant and Steele’s crystal, and breathed a sigh, not exactly of relief, because Steele wasn’t out of danger. Maybe the situation wasn’t completely hopeless now.
With her breath, a green wisp flowed out of her mouth and drifted over Steele’s body.
Whoa. She hadn’t even eaten garlic or onions or anything.
Doc lifted his hands, not willing to touch this new unknown. He gl
anced at her and shined his pen light at her mouth. “What are you?”
She pulled her lips in and closed her mouth tight. Great, even the medically trained healer who dealt with shifters and witches and Zeus knew what other kind of beings on a daily basis thought she was a weirdo. But right now, who cared? If her unknown level of weirdness helped Steele, she’d take it.
The green breath swirled around Steele’s body and seeped into him. It gathered at his chest and the light intensified.
Zara knelt beside her, glancing back and forth between Fleur, Doc, Niko, and the green swirls. “What did you do, Fleur?”
Zara grabbed her hand and squeezed.
Fleur welcomed the support her friend gave. “I don’t know.”
“It’s dragon’s breath.” Dax’s voice sounded awed. He stared at Fleur too, studying her.
She covered her mouth, the crystal dangling from her fingers. Okay, this was getting embarrassing. “I swear, I brushed my teeth.”
The light swirls seeped into the wounds, closing them before everyone’s eyes. The color that had been slowly fading from him shot back up his neck and face.
“Steele?” She reached out, touching his chest with her hand, pressing his crystal to his chest.
He sat straight up and sucked in a deep ragged breath, gasping. Steele smacked his hand over hers and the crystal, holding both tight to his chest.
Both power and joy streamed through her body, sparking like a million lighting bugs. He was alive and so was she. Her senses were flying high. Little wildflowers popped up through the cracks in the sidewalk around them.
The tattoo of the dragon flickered across his skin, scales rippled up his neck and his eyes changed from dark round pupils to elongated with a deep green glow in his irises.
He looked at Fleur and growled. “Mate?”
Uh, no. His fist only tightened around hers. The heat flowing back and forth between them, where they touched, was scorching, but in a good way.
Dax grabbed Steele’s shoulder. “Dude, I thought you were dead.”
Steele took a long moment to drag his eyes from Fleur’s and look at his friend. “I think I was. But, I needed to get back to my mate.”