Light My Fire (Dragon Kin #7)(50)

It was set back from the street a bit so that it had a little more room for the “balls,” two rounded buildings attached to either side of the tower. And the tower that stood in the middle traveled straight up and seemed to go on forever. It was taller than he would be as dragon. Gods, the damn thing was taller than Éibhear as dragon! And that alone was shocking.

The entire building overwhelmed everything else on the street, making the other temples seem puny and weak in comparison.

Something Celyn was sure had been done on purpose.

Elina walked toward the building, taking Celyn’s hand and pulling him behind her. But the closer they got, the more unsettled he felt.

Unlike his royal cousins, Celyn didn’t have definite feelings about any gods. They served their purpose, they sometimes helped, and perhaps if he were more magically inclined, he’d happily turn to them for assistance during spells or whatever. But, in all honesty, he could take or leave the gods. Just like most dragons. So going into temples had never bothered him before.

Until now. Until this very moment.

Celyn tried to stop but Elina yanked him along.

Gods, she’s strong.

They reached the front doors and a pretty priestess, her hair cut so short that it barely covered her skull, smiled at them.

“Blessings, lady. Sir.” She stepped to the side and gestured with her hand. “Please . . . join us.”

Elina walked inside and forced Celyn to follow. The smell of some foreign incense hit him first. And it hit him like a stone wall.

He stumbled a bit and the Rider glanced back at him, her head cocking to the side. She suddenly reminded him of a dog and he laughed.

With a shake of her head, she continued on.

As Celyn walked, he studied the people here. They were on their knees, some with arms outstretched; others with hands clasped. But all were praying to their god. To Chramnesind.

Who suddenly didn’t seem that bad a chap to Celyn. So Chramnesind thought the offspring of dragons and humans were wrong. Maybe they were. Maybe Celyn’s cousins shouldn’t be here. Maybe Celyn shouldn’t be here. And what about the world? Should the world be here?

Should any of them?

“Dolt. Are you listening to me?”

Celyn blinked, pulled from his absolutely amazing thoughts. “Aye?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. You know . . . you’re very pretty.”

“What?”

“Not in the conventional sense. You’re not Talaith pretty. But she’s astounding. Briec lucked out with her. Though she argues everything with him . . . but I think he likes that. But you are pretty. And a beautiful soul. We should get naked,” he announced, now walking forward, “lay ourselves on that altar, and f*ck for the blessings of the gods!”

He faced Elina, grinned. “What say you, Death Worshipper?”

Elina grabbed Celyn’s balls and twisted until she had him on his knees, his loud grunts of pain catching everyone’s attention.

“I will tell you once, Dolt. You will snap out of whatever is happening to you right now or I will tear these off and wear them around neck like ornament.”

“Is everything all right here?” some fool in white robes asked as he came near.

Elina glanced around and noticed that there were several men moving in. Close. Too close.

It was one of the first things that Daughters of the Steppes were taught: never let a group of men get too close. In a lot of ways, they were like wild beast packs and when they got too close to a lone woman, they attacked. That’s why it was so important to keep control of them and make sure they weren’t allowed to congregate in large groups.

Because they couldn’t be trusted.

“Get up, Dolt. Now.”

She released Celyn’s balls and he got to his feet. Reaching under his cape, she grabbed his chain-mail shirt and pulled him through the praying sheep on the ground. As she cut through them, she kicked a few, stepped on others, and forced Celyn to do the same.

It woke some of them out of their stupor and they shot up, confused and lost, stumbling into the way of the men trying to grab Elina and Celyn. They only slowed those priests for a few seconds, but the distraction gave Elina enough time to run through one of the doors that led into another part of the building. She slammed the door shut and threw the bolt closed.

She grabbed Celyn’s hand and started down toward the hallway, but more priests came from that direction while banging came from the door behind them.

“They will get through that in no time, Dolt.”

“Don’t worry, pretty little lady.” He patted her head. “I will help you.”

He turned toward the wall, took in a big breath, and then unleashed . . . a big breath.

“Huh,” Celyn said when he saw that nothing had happened to the wall. “Isn’t that funny?”

“Not really.”

A large hand clamped down on Elina’s shoulder and she immediately slapped it off.

In response, the priest backhanded her across the face. “Insolent fema—”

His words ended when flames drowned them out, and Elina flew back from the fire as Celyn shoved her out of the way.

The priest’s screams filled the long hallway and Elina rushed behind Celyn and pushed him down the hall until they reached a large window.

A priest followed behind her and when he was close, she grabbed him by his robes, spun them both around until she had some momentum, and rammed him into the thick glass. The glass didn’t break, but it shattered a bit. So Elina pulled the priest back and rammed him again, breaking the glass into pieces.