Lord's Fall (Elder Races #5)(49)

An immense bronze-and-black dragon flew over the trees and plummeted down, his wingspan spread out to the fullest and blocking out the night sky. A couple of the Elves cried out sharply. The dragon landed, not in the small clearing, but directly in the fire, snapping burning trees underneath him like they were matchsticks.

Pia’s pulse thudded as she stared. She knew he could touch coals without getting burned and he could breathe fire, but she had no idea he could immerse himself so completely in a blaze and not be injured.

His gigantic, horned head lifted along a long neck. Great witchy, Powerful eyes fixed on her. Wings still outspread, the dragon drew in a breath. He began to glow brighter and brighter until he shone like molten gold. The brighter he glowed, the duller the forest fire became around him, and the dangerous heat cooled. He was pulling the fire into himself.

Wow, that was a crazy kind of . . . um, hot.

She danced from foot to foot, barely able to contain herself until it was safe enough to approach him. She just loved him so goddamn much.

Then the fire in the forest died completely away, and the only illumination in the clearing was from the shining dragon himself. Gradually he began to dim.

As soon as her skin didn’t throb from the heat, she ran forward. She barely felt her feet touch the ground. As she approached him, Dragos shifted into his human form and raced toward her, his bronzed, machete hewn features thrown into dark shadow by the intense glow in his eyes.

When she was still a few yards away, she leaped. He snatched her out of the air and clenched her to him as she wrapped arms and legs around him. He went to his knees, holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe, and his Power enveloped her. One tremendous hand cupped the back of her head. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder as he put his face in her neck.

Neither one said anything. Their bruising hold on each other said it all.

That lasted all of thirty seconds or so, until Dragos lifted his head. It took Pia a few moments to realize the vibration she felt in his chest was the source of the deep, rough sound she heard. He was growling.

She straightened to look at him sharply. Still gripping her tight, his brutally handsome features were savage with anger and hatred as he stared over her shoulder.

She raised her eyebrows and looked over her shoulder. A few of the Elves had lit torches, and reflected firelight danced across the clearing again, while in the background the ravaged forest looked black and stark, the burned trees still smoking.

The High Lord stared at them, his face bitter with animosity. Several Elves stood with six-foot longbows, arrows aimed at Pia and Dragos. Well, she was pretty sure they were meant for Dragos, but that meant she was definitely in their sights as well.

As for her psychos, they had stationed themselves in a line on either side of Dragos and Pia. Their crossbows were loaded and aimed at the Elves, and their bodies drawn dangerously tight.

Somebody better think of something fast.

Until that happened, she patted Dragos soothingly on the chest.

“Now, honey,” she said. “You’ve got to stop getting so worked up, or you’ll have a heart attack when you hit middle age.”

ELEVEN

Dragos’s fierce gaze came back down to her, and everything he had ever promised her was there in his eyes.

I never stop thinking about you. You’re with me everywhere I go, but I miss you when we’re apart.

I’ve already shown that I will kill for you. I would also die for you.

You make me laugh. You make me happy. You’re my miracle and my home. If you as much as twitch, I get a hard-on.

I will always come for you, always want you and always need you.

As she remembered every word, she saw past those promises in his gaze to what lay underneath them. He had been so afraid for her it had driven him away from the Games and into possible war.

“Dragos,” she said, very low. “They’re just scared of you. I don’t fully understand what happened, but I believe Calondir didn’t do this. And when I told him you were coming and asked him to stay, he did.”

The feral vibration underneath her palm stilled. That had to be good, right?

Still holding her, he stood upright. Her legs loosened from around his waist, and as she landed on her feet, he swept her gently behind him and held her there.

Oh no. That had to be bad.

“Lower your weapons now,” Dragos said to Calondir. “My mate is present.”

Pia fisted a hand in the thin silk sweater that stretched across Dragos’s wide back and held on to the material tightly. The tension between the two demesne rulers reverberated with the memories of ancient confrontations and unresolved grudges, but she couldn’t keep intervening every time they were rude to each other. At some point Calondir and Dragos had to be the ones to take the next steps.

“And my consort has been taken, along with many loved ones,” Calondir said, his voice ragged from smoke but still filled with Power.

Along with many loved ones? Pia’s fist tightened as any sympathy she felt for Calondir evaporated. They were all under a lot of strain, and now was probably not the best time to parse his words, but damn, that was cold. She didn’t need to hear details, explanations or an apology for misspeaking. He said that in public, and nothing else mattered. She was on Beluviel’s side and ready for divorce court.

Calondir had continued. “I do not have time to fight with you, Cuelebre. Ferion, have your men put up their weapons and go look for survivors. We must gather the largest force we can and prepare to cross over quickly if we are to have any hope of recovering them.”