The Dragon Legion Collection 9

  So, he would pass under this tree. It was no so bad a place to die.

  To his surprise, the old woman hadn’t left. “You are sick,” she said, helping him to sit up. She had an unexpected strength and her hands, when he glimpsed them, were as unlined as those of a maiden. She hid them away so quickly that he wondered if his vision was fading, as well.

  “I am dying,” he said, having no need for pretense. “It will not be long now. You should go. Take the rest of my provisions, and may your journey go well.”

  But she didn’t go. She moved closer and took his hand in hers. He would have looked but the pain rose within him, and he closed his eyes against it, taking comfort from her touch.

  “I will stay with you,” she said, her voice gentle. “If you like.”

  The pilgrim gritted his teeth against the rise of another spasm, trusting himself only to nod.

  “I will tell you a story,” the old woman said, settling herself beside him with his hand firmly locked in hers.

  * * *

  Thad awakened hours later, relaxed and content. The sky was turning rosy in the east and the plants in the garden were heavy with dew. He could still see stars in the western sky, but his attention was captured by the beauty nestled in his embrace. Aura had been everything he’d hoped and more. The firestorm had lived up to its reputation. And now, Aura would have his son and they would create a life together.

  He bent and kissed her forehead. A spark crackled between her soft skin and his lips, making Thad withdraw in shock.

  Had he imagined it?

  Aura turned and nestled against him, her hand trailing down the length of his chest. To Thad’s astonishment, a glow lit in the wake of her caress, as if the embers of the firestorm were being stirred to life again.

  But how could that be? The firestorm was always satisfied the first time a Pyr and his destined mate made love. He and Aura had made love more than once the night before. How could the firestorm still burn?

  There could be no doubt, though. The light caress of her fingertips summoned the heat within him again, and radiance began to grow between them. The light was deep orange but becoming brighter and whiter by the moment.

  She wasn’t pregnant.

  She wasn’t carrying his son.

  He was being punished. But why? Why was he unworthy? He had served with his fellows. He had hunted vipers. He had been enchanted and survived, then returned to finish the viper Cadmus. He had obeyed Drake without question.

  Had Cadmus cursed the Dragon’s Tooth Warriors forever? Had he somehow been cheated of his birthright?

  Thad rolled away from Aura, unable to think of another reason the firestorm could continue to burn. Worse, he couldn’t think of a way to set things to rights.

  He was so filled with restless energy that he might have gotten to his feet and paced, but he felt Aura’s hand on his shoulder. As well as the brush of her fingertips, there was the warming glow of the firestorm on his skin, heating him from within, making him think that another romantic interval might solve the issue.

  But it wouldn’t. Thad knew it.

  “Awake already?” Aura murmured. “Come back to me. I like mornings.”

  Thad turned around, captured her hand and kissed it. “I can’t,” he said, and saw her confusion. He stood up then and shoved a hand through his hair, uncertain what to do.

  “What’s wrong?” Aura was braced on one elbow, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, her lips so soft and ripe that Thad yearned for another taste. He turned his back on her, wanting to solve the problem.

  “The firestorm is still burning.”

  “So, it is.”

  Thad heard her get to her feet. She made a little incoherent sound as she stretched and he couldn’t resist the temptation to look. She was as luscious and alluring as when he’d first glimpsed her. The firestorm heated to a simmer, driving practical issues from his thoughts.

  Aura caught his gaze and smiled, extending one hand to him. “We wanted to prolong it and it looks like we succeeded. Let’s put that spark to good use.” It took everything within Thad not to take her up on that offer.

  He had to make his case while he still could. “Don’t you see? The firestorm is still burning!” He gestured and sparks flared from his fingertips when his hand neared her.

  Aura folded her arms across her chest and watched him warily. “This was a good thing last night, but it’s a bad thing this morning?”

  “It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “It did happen. We can enjoy it.”

  “But you should be pregnant!” Thad flung out his hands. “The firestorm should be satisfied the first time a Pyr and his destined mate are intimate.”

  “Because she always conceives the first time?” Aura asked, her tone skeptical. Thad nodded and she smiled. “Every time?”

  “Every time! That’s how it works.”

  “Well, I don’t think we did it wrong,” Aura teased, coming to his side. She ran her fingertips over his shoulder and down his arm, her gaze following her touch. Thad swallowed, feeling his entire being focus on her and the heat she generated. She bent and touched her lips to his shoulder, sending a surge of desire through him that weakened his knees. “We could try again, just to be sure,” she whispered against his flesh, then closed her hand around his erection.

  Thad shut his eyes, not having the strength to step away from her caress. “Aura, you don’t understand. This is important. I must have failed the Pyr somehow...”

  Aura froze. “You? Never! There has to be another reason.”

  “What could it be? The firestorm sparked, I followed its heat to you, and it should be satisfied.” He glanced down to find consideration in her gaze. “You should be carrying my son.”

  Aura regarded him with new wariness. “And without the son, you don’t want me?”

  “I want both!”

  She leaned closer, her gaze intent. “Which do you want more?”

  Thad stared at her. He knew his answer was important to her, and he could guess why, but the situation made no sense. “I shouldn’t have to choose,” he said. “The firestorm should be satisfied, and we should be planning a life together, you, me and our son.”

  Aura shook her head. “What if I told you that I was never going to have your son?”

  “What?” Thad took a step back, moving away from the distraction of her enticing touch. “Why not? Don’t you want to have a child?”

  Aura held his gaze, her own resolve clear. “I don’t want to only have a child, Thad, and I don’t want to have a child alone.”

  “But I promised you...”

  “I know.” Aura frowned. “But you were wrong and I knew it.” She met his gaze and smiled slightly. “I couldn’t resist you.”

  Thad took a step back. “I don’t understand. You knew the firestorm wouldn’t be satisfied, and you didn’t tell me?”

  “I didn’t know that, not exactly.” Aura sighed. “I see the future, Thad. It’s my gift. When you came to me, I looked into the possibilities of the future. There was no child in our joined future.”

  Thad shook his head. “That’s impossible. That’s how the firestorm works.”

  “I know you believe that. I was uncertain, because you were sure there would be a son, yet my vision was so clear that there wouldn’t be one.”

  “That’s why we came here,” Thad said in sudden understanding. “That’s why you wanted me to eat a golden apple.”

  “I needed to know whether you were telling me the truth.” Aura shrugged. “You were, at least as much of it as you knew.” She smiled slightly, her expression apologetic. “But you were wrong, Thad. There is never going to be a son from our union.” She lifted her hand and the firestorm’s flames danced between them. “Looks like you’re the only one who expects otherwise. Is that so bad? We could have a lifetime of nights like this together.” Aura reached for him. “We can share so much pleasure, without worrying about consequences. Think of a hundred nights like last night, a h
undred flights across the seas, a hundred secret refuges that only you and I can reach together. We could have so much together.”

  Thad was tempted, but he caught her hands in his. “Not if I’m a failure to my kind.”

  “You don’t know that’s true.”

  “There has to be some reason! The firestorm is always satisfied.”

  “We could have each other,” Aura urged.

  Thad spun away from her and paced. Was it a curse from Cadmus or his own failure at root? The problem was that he couldn’t think of how he had failed his kind. He felt Aura watching him and was aware that the firestorm’s heat faded with distance. He turned back to study her and couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t as agitated as he was.

  In fact, she seemed disappointed. He couldn’t bear the sight of her resignation. Just then, Thad remembered Rafferty’s firestorm. Rafferty’s mate hadn’t been able to conceive a child at all, but the firestorm had brought them together and subsequently brought a daughter to them. Was there something wrong with Aura? He couldn’t believe it. Was there a kind of sorcery in this garden that obstructed the firestorm? No matter what was going on, he had to follow Rafferty’s lead and be true to his mate.

  He marched back to Aura’s side, feeling the heat build between them with every step. He saw the sheen of tears in her gaze, although she tried to hide it. “Tell me,” he invited in a murmur.

  “I had hoped that I might be enough.”

  Her words cut deep, because Thad had never meant to imply that she was less than his every dream come true. “You are enough,” he insisted. “I will stay with you. The Great Wyvern chose you as my destined mate because our futures are entwined, and because there is more that we can do together.”

  She eyed him. “But a son was part of your expectation.”

  Thad had to nod agreement to that. “But you accepted me, only because there wasn’t going to be a child,” he said, no accusation in his tone. She dropped her gaze in acknowledgement and his heart clenched. “Why don’t you want my son, Aura?”

  “It’s not your son, Thad. It’s any son. Any child, really.”

  Had Aura been able to interfere with the firestorm’s promise?

  Aura turned her back on Thad, and he knew this was important to her. He followed her and caught her shoulders in his hands, bending to touch his lips to her neck. He felt her shiver in response to the same shimmer of heat that erupted from the point of contact and rolled through his body. He could have tried to change her mind with passion, especially with the firestorm on his side, but Thad sensed that he had to listen. “I won’t abandon you, Aura. I promise. Son or no son, our futures are bound together.”

  Her hand rose so that her fingers entangled with his, and he felt her trembling. “I believe you,” she admitted quietly, and he was relieved. “But I still don’t see a son in our future.”

  “You think you know why,” he dared to guess and she nodded once. “Aura, tell me.”

  She glanced up at him, both enticing and vulnerable. “Remember that tree?”

  Thad was startled by the change of topic. He spared a glance at the orchard of golden apples, but Aura shook her head. “Not those trees.”

  “The one outside the garden?” he asked, unable to think of another she’d singled out for his attention. Aura nodded. The tree had something to do with the firestorm?

  “Let’s go there, now, and I’ll tell you a story.”

  Thad was ready to do anything to fulfill the firestorm and to win Aura’s trust, even if he couldn’t understand her reasoning as yet. He summoned the change from deep within himself and savored the surge of power that rolled through him with his transformation. He took flight over the lush garden, then hovered over Aura.

  She had picked up the golden apple, the one they had shared. It had two distinct bites out of it but was otherwise intact. She tucked it into her tunic, hiding it from view, then smiled at him and lifted her arms toward him. “Show me what it’s like to fly with a dragon,” she demanded, and Thad was only too glad to comply.

  She was his mate. She was his future. He would spend every moment of his life believing in the firestorm and proving as much to her.

  And if the firestorm burned for all of that time, he would savor every spark.

  Thad swept down and gathered Aura up, chuckling at her shout of delight. He soared high over the garden, even as her hair swirled around him and tickled his scales. She was unafraid, her eyes shining. He showed off a little, wanting to prompt her laughter, but only until she pointed to the road outside the garden.

  “The tree,” she commanded, so fearless that he knew she was his match in every way.

  “The tree,” Thad agreed, fixing her with an intent look. “And the story.”

  Aura nodded and settled against him, leaning her cheek against his chest. Thad raced out of the garden and over the lip of the mountaintop, spiraling through the air in a way he knew Aura would appreciate. He was so busy trying to show her the similarities between their powers that he didn’t notice the scale from his chest fall free and into her hand.

  * * *

  The dark scale lifted from Thad’s hide so easily that it might not have really been attached. Aura caught it in her hand and glanced up at him, realizing immediately that he hadn’t noticed it fall. He was intent upon flying, and while she admired his skill, the scale mystified her.

  Did the Pyr lose their scales like this all the time?

  It couldn’t have hurt him to lose it, or he would have noticed. Maybe the Pyr routinely shed scales and grew new ones. But when Aura looked over Thad’s muscled dragon form, she couldn’t see another missing scale anywhere. The dark scales were locked over each over in perfect rows, as if providing complete protection.

  Except for the spot this one had left bare. Aura could see a bit of uncovered skin, and it worried her to think that her dragon had any vulnerabilities. She’d ask him more about the scale after she told him the story she’d promised him.

  The sky was brighter in the east and the sun had crested the horizon. When Thad flew high, they were above the lingering shadows of the night, and a crisp wind lifted Aura’s hair. She wondered if it was anyone she knew, a notion that made her smile.

  “I’m waiting,” Thad murmured in old-speak and Aura smiled.

  It was so easy to confide in Thad. Aura knew that was because she trusted him to keep his word.

  “Once upon a time,” she said. “There was a beautiful nymph.”

  “I know a beautiful nymph,” Thad interjected and she poked him.

  “A different nymph.”

  “Then she must have been less beautiful than my nymph.”

  Aura smiled at his possessive tone then continued. “She loved to make music in the world around her. She would make water spray so that it splashed on broad water lily leaves, or cast it tinkling into a pool of still water. She would blow through the rushes so they whistled and race through icicles so they made a sparkling tune. She was happy with these amusements and would have stayed so.”

  “But...” Thad prompted.

  “One day, Zeus himself spied her and was filled with lust. She refused his advances but he was determined to have her. He tricked her by becoming a tree with silvery leaves that made music when they were stirred by the wind. She discovered this and couldn’t resist the tree, for the music it made was sweeter than sweet. The third time she blew through the tree’s leaves, Zeus surprised her. He changed shape, captured her and claimed her by force. Once he had had his fill of the beautiful nymph, he abandoned her on a remote hilltop and went in search of another beauty to claim.”

  Thad stilled at this and fixed her with a look that commanded the truth. “Are you certain I don’t know this nymph?” He looked dangerous and ready to avenge her, even against the king of the gods.

  “Positive,” Aura said, liking how Thad closed one claw more protectively around her. He flew higher, taking a turn over the mountain that sheltered the garden and narrowed his gaze as h
e stared toward the horizons. Was he checking the area for amorous gods? Aura could believe not only that, but that he wouldn’t flinch from defending her.

  The warm glow of the firestorm surrounded them, like an orb of golden light, its caress making her imagine many earthy ways to reward her loyal dragon.

  But first, the story.

  “Hera knew of her husband’s infidelity, but she blamed the nymph for tempting Zeus. She came to the nymph, determined to punish her. Once Hera saw the result of what her husband had done, though, she felt only pity for the nymph who had been so ill-used. She also knew at a glance that the nymph would bear Zeus’s daughter. The nymph had no desire to play or change shape any more. She was weary of the world and begged Hera to help her somehow. She vowed to accept any price to avoid the lust of gods and men.

  “This suited Hera very well, for she didn’t want Zeus returning to the nymph—not for the sake of any of them. So, Hera made the nymph an offer: she would change the nymph into a tree, a tree with lovely silver leaves that made music in the wind, and the nymph would be safe forever from the desires of men and gods in that guise. The nymph loved this idea and would have accepted immediately, but Hera told her that she was going to have a daughter by Zeus. The nymph felt snared by this news and appealed to Hera for help.

  “Hera had been trapped by the children of Zeus and his lovers before, so she resolved to make an ally of this unborn daughter. She offered to raise the nymph’s daughter as her own, letting the girl grow up in the Garden of the Hesperides, which was tended by other nymphs. The nymph gratefully agreed, asking only that her daughter knew the truth of her conception. Hera said she would do better than that and give the daughter the gift of foresight, so that she would know the result of any union before it occurred. She took the nymph to the Garden of the Hesperides and after her daughter was born, Hera kept her promise and raised the child there. She ensured that the daughter not only knew her mother’s story but visited her mother often on the hill below, stirring the silver leaves to make music.”