The Dragon Legion Collection(67)

“They are Earthdaughters who never met a man who was more than a man.”

Damien’s gaze locked with hers. “And what of those who do?”

Petra smiled tightly. “Who would sacrifice a partnership like ours to become a standing stone?” Damien had only a heartbeat to smile at that, then Petra screamed as the next contraction ripped through her body.

Damien saw the stones move even closer, one bending over on either side of Petra. When he narrowed his eyes, he could see the forms of elderly women, their hair grey and their faces lined, their eyes filled with the wisdom of the ages. When he strained his ears, he could hear them murmuring, like pebbles falling into a crevasse.

He knew they were advising Petra, because she nodded and smiled at them, following their instructions. He sat back and simply witnessed the birth of his son, within the circle of the Mothers, so wise and kind and giving.

As Petra finished her contraction, there was a whisper in Damien’s ear.

“Harder,” he said. “Push harder the next time.”

Petra flicked a skeptical glance his way. “I thought you knew nothing about the birth of children.”

He flashed her a confident smile. “The Mothers are teaching me. By the time we have our next son, I’ll be able to help you alone, wherever we are.” He laughed at the shushing of the Mothers, their soft disapproval on all sides. “But I’ll bring you here, even so.” He felt the ripple of their satisfaction, then Petra’s next contraction came.

She pushed and she panted, she screamed when she had to and she held fast to Damien’s hand. The sun had sunk a little lower by the time Damien saw the baby’s head appear and was dipping low when his son’s lusty cry reverberated from the stony peak.

He was a beautiful hale boy, with hair as blond as honey.

Damien smiled at the sight of him, a survivor of the underworld. Both of them had been touched by their time there. Damien had realized the value of what he had left behind, and knew better than to make that mistake again. His son had been given the opportunity to live. Darkfire had given Damien the most precious gift possible, in the second chance of his firestorm.

He washed his son while Petra dozed, and the Mothers slowly returned to their previous positions. He wrapped the baby in Petra’s chiton, beneath the gazes of a circle of roughly hewn grey stones.

Petra opened her eyes then and Damien helped her to clean up. Finally, he tucked their son into her arms, made a fire and wrapped himself around her back for warmth.

“Our next son,” Petra repeated. “What makes you think I’ll let you seduce me again?”

Damien laughed. “What makes you think you’ll be able to resist me?” He kissed her soundly then, loving that she met him touch for touch. His breath was coming quickly when he lifted his head, and he grinned down at her even as she frowned.

“Your hair,” she said, reaching up to touch him.

“What about it?”

“It’s pale now, like flax.”

“Like our son’s, you mean.”

Petra looked startled, then checked their son’s head. She met Damien’s gaze in amazement.

“Good thing you had a fair son, or people would think he wasn’t mine.” He pretended to be horrified by the thought and Petra laughed.

“It’s because you escaped the realm of the dead,” she guessed. “It had to leave some mark on you and him.”

“And what about you?”

“I was dead. I belonged there.”

“Until the darkfire gave us a second chance.” Damien held her closer as she traced the tattoo on his upper arm with one fingertip.

“Where did you get this mark? You didn’t have it before.”

“We all got them. It’s called a tattoo and is made with needles and dye.”

Petra peered more closely at the tattoo. “But it’s what you are. A dragon.”

Damien nodded. “The entire legion got them at once. Our nature was the one constant in our world and it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

“You don’t know where they are,” Petra said softly.

“If the darkfire has taken them to their firestorms, I know they’re happy,” Damien said with resolve. Petra smiled at him as the baby stirred. His lips pursed as he rooted against Petra’s breast, seeking a nipple.

“Impatient, just like his father,” Petra murmured.

“He needs a name,” Damien said. “I don’t think Impatient or Stubborn will work.”

“You had a friend,” Petra said. “That night the firestorm sparked.”

“Orion.”

She watched him with a smile. “A good friend?”

“A very good friend.” Damien smiled. “Last I saw him, he was having a firestorm several hundred miles west of here and several thousand years in the future.”

“You won’t see him again, then.”

“You never know, not when the darkfire’s burning.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “But I like the idea of naming our son after him, either way.”

Petra caught her breath as their son found her nipple and closed his mouth around it. “Hello, Orion,” she whispered. “I suppose all of you Pyr warriors know what you want and aren’t afraid to go after it.”