Erelah turned in a circle so Rosalyn could see the back of her dress.
“I left room for wings,” Erelah said, facing the screen again. Once she remembered the oversized screen in Leksander’s bedroom could be used for communication—given his brother Lucian had interrupted their lovemaking that way—she had put it to good use.
“Too many frills,” Rosalyn said, her eyes squinty and roaming over the latest rendition of Erelah’s mating gown. This one had cascades of ruffles spiraling down from her shoulder to the floor where the extra fabric pooled. It was highly useless as clothing, but Erelah figured it would only last a few moments on her body once Leksander returned.
“But you said the last one was too plain.” Erelah heard the frustration in her own voice. “I fear I don’t understand this garment’s purpose.”
Rosalyn gave her an exasperated look. Baby Thorn was asleep in the nursery, and she appeared to be standing in the main room of their lair. “Its purpose is to make Leksander want to rip it off in a dragon-heated burst of lust!”
“I think he would wish that no matter—”
“Erelah!”
Erelah pursed her lips. “I am… not being helpful. Please forgive me.”
Rosalyn sighed. “You’re gorgeous, Erelah. You could stand there naked, and that’s all you would need. But you want something that will mark this night as something special. Because it is.”
Erelah frowned and stepped away from the screen to conjure a new dress. She magicked away the one with ruffles and thought hard. What would mark their mating as special? Unique? The beginning of a pairing that might save the world. She conjured a white toga, only this wasn’t the simple kind most angelings and angels wore, nor the tighter-bound one for the training room, but rather the most formal attire in the Dominion. It was the garment she wore when she took her vow of Chastity… and now she would make a vow of a different kind.
Erelah stepped back in front of the screen, and Rosalyn’s wide-eyed expression told her she’d made the proper choice. Due to an angeling’s high body temperature and lack of a need for modesty, the dress was by nature very revealing. A single length of white fabric draped around the back of her neck and fell down her front, covering her breasts, but just barely. A golden chain that encircled her waist held them in place while a second chain around her hips trapped them there. From the golden chain at her hips draped the fabric of the skirt, which consisted mostly of a drop in fabric in front and back, barely covering her sex and leaving her exposed underneath. Her legs and arms were bare except for a golden band around each upper arm and two more encircling each of her ankles.
“You look like a goddess,” Rosalyn breathed.
Erelah frowned. “It is not meant to be profane. It is the formal wear of—”
“Erelah, it’s perfect.” Rosalyn beamed, and that set Erelah’s heart at ease.
“Now, to await my mate’s return.” Erelah frowned again.
“Yeah, I seriously don’t know what’s taking them so long. I thought they were just going to call in the angelings and—” She cut off and looked off-screen. Erelah heard a male voice calling her name. “In here!” Rosalyn replied with a loud whisper. “The baby’s sleeping!”
“Sorry,” came Leonidas’s voice, closer. “Do you know where—” He stopped as he came on screen and caught sight of Erelah in her formal attire. “Holy shit.” His eyes went wide.
Rosalyn grinned. “I know, right?”
Leonidas’s gaze raked over her body once more. “Okay, honey,” he said to Rosalyn. “I think you need one of those.”
Rosalyn backhanded Leonidas on the chest, but she did not seem offended, judging by the smirk on her face. Leonidas flinched—far more than was necessary from the blow—then grinned at her and pulled her in for a fast kiss on the cheek.
When he looked back to the screen, he still had an arm around Rosalyn’s waist. “So how is that my brother hasn’t completely torn that off you yet? And I need to speak to him for a moment.”
Erelah’s stomach tightened. “He is not here.”
Rosalyn frowned and pulled away from her mate. “What? Isn’t he with you?” she said to Leonidas.
His smirk vanished. “Wait a minute… I thought he wasn’t answering his phone because…” He gestured to Erelah through the screen.
She lurched forward as if she could reach through the screen and grab him by the shoulders. “Where is Leksander?” she demanded.
His mouth dropped open then snapped shut. “He should have been back long ago. Fuck!” He ran a hand through his hair, quickly, then fished into his pocket and pulled out a phone. “Goddammit.” He stabbed at the phone, dialing someone. “We put down most of the uprising, and I thought he might want to— Lucian! He’s not at the keep. No! I have no idea. Just get back here.” He swiped the phone closed and gave Erelah a pinched look.
It felt as though the inside of her had been hollowed out. Then her fear and panic swarmed into the hole and compressed down into a burning, angry need. “You must drop the wards around the lair!” she shouted at the screen, hands clenched. “I cannot search for him while trapped in this cage!”
“What? No. I’ll look for him, Erelah—”
“Let me out, Leonidas.”
He grimaced. “I’ll call on the angelings—” He was cut off by a loud thump.
Erelah jerked back from the screen and looked up. It had come from the ceiling—no, the roof! Leksander’s bedroom was at the top level of the keep.
“What the hell was that?” Rosalyn’s voice screeched.
The thump came again, only this time, Erelah could see the ceiling shake under its force. “Leonidas!” she shouted, not taking her eyes off the white plaster above her.
“What the fuck now,” he muttered, but he wasn’t talking to her. His hands were stabbing at the screen between them. “I’m bringing up the outside cameras. Just give me a… holy shit.”
Rosalyn’s hands were covering her mouth as if to hold in her horror.
Thump. It was louder and shook the floor. Cracks appeared above her. “What is it?” Erelah shouted at the screen. She needed her blade, but she’d long ago lost it. Where? Whatever infernal creature was trying to break into Leksander’s lair would be no match for it, if she only had it in her hand.
“Just… just hold tight, okay?” There was panic in Leonidas’s eyes. He was fumbling for the phone again.
She gritted her teeth as the pounding on the roof gave way to scratching… or at least the sound of scratching. As if something with claws were tearing its way into the lair.
Her blade. She needed it now. Erelah clasped her hands together, attempting to summon the energy required to create a new one, but there was no hope of that. It would take too long, and whatever was coming through the roof would be here in minutes. Or possibly seconds.
Then she remembered: the summer queen. The last time Erelah had her blade was just before she was captured by the queen and her red-haired henchman, Kalen. And an angel blade? That was something a fae would hold onto, if only to turn it on an angel in battle.
“Leonidas! Drop the wards!” she shouted at the screen.
He was yelling into the phone at his ear, but he turned to her and said, “Just hold tight, Erelah. We’re taking care of this.”
She squinted at him and was about to demand he tell her what was coming through the roof, but then plaster started raining down into the bedroom. Erelah backed away from the dustfall and looked up—a dragon was clawing its way through. It saw her and bellowed and spewed dragonfire, but all of it—including the dragon’s silver claws—were kept back by an invisible barrier. The wards. If Leonidas dropped them, there would be nothing holding the dragon back. But Erelah was angelkind and a fair match for the beast… only this was no ordinary beast. Silver-scaled but knobbed all over, this wasn’t the gracious dragon form of the House of Smoke that she’d seen so often with Leksander…
Leksander. His eyes were the same, pale and ice-blue, only wild as he screamed and clawed and tried to get at her.
“Wyvern,” she whispered. Oh no. She rushed forward, holding her hands up, reaching for the ceiling. “My love! I will save you!” The plaster dust coated her skin as he went into more of a frenzy.
“Erelah!” Rosalyn shouted from the screen.
“Get back!” Leonidas called to her. “Erelah, he’s not… it’s not him.”
Erelah rushed back to the screen and planted her hands on it, giving a furious look into the camera embedded there. “Leonidas Smoke. You will drop these wards or have the heavens to pay.”
He just looked at her like she was crazy.
“I need my blade!” she hissed. “And I cannot get it whilst trapped in a cage!”
Leonidas’s gaze whipped between her and Rosalyn, whose face was frozen with horror. He swallowed and hesitated, and she was about to threaten him with a full angel war if he did not obey her command, but then Rosalyn gave him a nod, and he said, “Okay.” He took a breath. “Get ready. And get the hell out of there as soon as they drop.”
She gave him a sharp nod and stepped back from the screen.
He closed his eyes, and Erelah could tell the moment the wards dropped—a great silver wyvern crashed through the ceiling to the bed below.
Erelah turned and twisted time and space just as Leksander’s wyvern leaped for her.
His bedroom disappeared… and suddenly she was in an entirely different bedroom.
The summer queen’s bedchamber.
Only the queen was bound to her bed with a dizzying number of leather straps that seemed strangely placed but held her imprisoned for the fae who was engaging in vigorous sex with her. So vigorously was he coupling with her, his hand at her throat, her legs held wide by the straps, that Erelah thought he might be killing her instead. But the moans of pleasure, and the fact that neither noticed her sudden arrival convinced her this was some form of sexual act, however strange.
She hurled a blast of energy at the red-haired fae, yanking him away from the queen’s bound form and hurling him across the bedchamber and tumbling across the grass. The queen was awkwardly splayed, but that wasn’t what restrained her from firing back at Erelah—she supposed it was mere shock and the interruption of their coupling.
Erelah held out her hands to show she would not attack further. “I am only here for my blade!” she rushed out.
The queen stared at her wide-eyed, mouth gaping. Her breasts—oddly on full display despite the myriad of black straps crisscrossing her body—were still heaving with the passion of their sex-making. The red-haired fae recovered from her attack and hurled himself between Erelah and the queen, a bodyguard to the last.
His penis was still erect, but the fury on his face was pure and righteous. “Back to die, angel bastard?” he spat then hurled a blast of fae power her way.
She was ready, leaping into the air and diving up high then cutting sharp to speed down, twisting to land both feet on his chest. That, and a boost of magical power right at the end, sent him sprawling again, tumbling over the queen’s immobile form and across the grassy lawn of the floor.
Erelah herself landed on the bed with the queen, standing tall and towering over her vulnerable form. “I am not here for a fight,” Erelah said, holding her hands up again to show her intent. “I have need of my blade. Leksander has gone wyvern.”
The queen’s fury diffused into confusion. In a wink, her restraints were released, and she stood on the bed, facing Erelah. The queen was still naked except for the leather straps, but she was no longer trapped by them. She held up a hand to stop her lover’s enraged charge from across the room. He seethed, chest heaving, but he stayed back.
“Wyvern?” the queen demanded. “And you mean to destroy him?”
“I mean to free him,” Erelah said. “It is not yet his time.” She didn’t know why she thought she could accomplish this, much less how, but she refused to give in to despair. Rosalyn brought Leonidas back from the curse of his wyvern form through the purity of her love. Erelah could do no less than at least attempt it herself. And perhaps Leksander’s wyvern could be pried from its hold on his mind if her blade were skillful enough.
The queen flicked her fingers at the red-haired fae, and he winked away in a pulse of light. A moment later, he returned with an angel blade—Erelah’s blade—in his hand. He gripped it hard, angrily, but she knew the moment it sang to her that it was hers.
The queen held up a hand to stop Erelah from going to it. “I believe in Leksander’s love for you, angeling. Do not betray it. Or me. Or there will be war such as you haven’t seen in your short time on this earth.”
“I have True Love of him,” Erelah hissed back, brushing aside the queen’s hand and hopping down from the bed to stalk over to the queen’s lover. “I would give my life to bring him back from that wretched form.” She stuck out her hand, demanding the blade.
The fae hesitated, but with a glance to his queen, he handed it over.
Its power surged in her hand, and a burst of hope entered her heart. She turned back to the queen. “Thank you.” Then she wasted no time, turning and twisting away from the queen and her bedchamber and back to the roof of the House of Smoke.
The battle before her made her heart seize.
And even at this distance, she could taste the demon on Leksander.
Her beloved, in his wretched silver wyvern form, was surrounded by a host of dragons, including Leonidas’s elegant bronze form. They were all hovering in the air, diving and sniping and blasting him with dragonfire, all to keep him contained. She could tell they were slowly shepherding him away from the keep… but to where? She knew the fate they expected for him—a death where he was torn apart by a hundred dragon talons rather than be allowed loose on the earth to rape and ravage.
None had yet seen her.
Gripping her blade and holding it aloft, she lifted into the air, wings free to unfurl with her backless dress—her mating gown—and she let loose a warrior cry that shook the roof below her.
All fighting ceased as they turned to her.
Leksander moved first, bellowing dragonfire and charging through the blockade toward her. His beastly wings pumped the air, but the magic boost he was powering with put him quickly ahead of any other dragon, although Leonidas’s bronze dragon was in close pursuit. Erelah flew straight up, gaining height above the keep and a strategic distance from Leksander, forcing his wyvern to pull up to follow… then she winged away from the keep itself, out above the nearby ravines, giving them room to battle without damage to the keep or the occupants inside. The keep was their home now—and home to the baby princes of the House of Smoke. Their battle, however it may end, must be drawn away from there.
Leksander’s wyvern scream sounded behind her, closing fast.
She could outrun him.
She had no intention of doing so.
She swooped up, pivoted, then dove back down, straight toward his on-rushing, silver-glinted form. His scream dropped to a guttural growl, one laced with sexual intent. Leonidas was still trailing behind, towing a legion of dragons in his wake, but none of that mattered—she would reach Leksander first. She barreled forth, and he didn’t slow, but at the last second, they both pulled up, killing speed and meeting with a crashing force just short of knocking them from the air. Erelah’s warrior cry loosed from her lips without her bidding as she grappled onto Leksander’s rugged, knobbed wing and sunk her blade in deep. Just a slashing wound, meant to distract while she climbed his back and figured what magic she could work with her blade, but instead, the wound slowed him not at all. In fact, he tucked his wing in, drawing her to the front where his talons grabbed hold of her legs and pinned her wings painfully to her body.
He held her tight to his chest, attempting to fly off with his treasure, but they simply tumbled through the air, spiraling madly as his wyvern thrashed to compensate for the torn wing. His talons bit her flesh, but he clearly meant not to hurt her, only carry her off. With her body tucked up against his belly, her legs brushed something dripping wet at his underside… his engorged penis flopped there, and she nearly heaved out her disgust over his silver scales. Even as they thrashed the air, he seemed to attempt to move her toward it, as if he could couple with her mid-air.
A blast of dragonfire blanketed them from above, and Leksander’s wyvern scream split her ears. He banked left and then dove. Through it all, she still had her blade, and while she could feel the pounding of his heart within the scaly chest he had tucked her against, she feared to plunge her blade there for risk of killing him outright. What she needed was to get loose again and climb up on his back—her original plan was sound, but she needed access to his mind, where the demon had infected him.
Only now they were plummeting to the ground.
Leonidas was hot on Leksander’s tail, and Erelah feared they both might simply crash into the rocky ravine below, but Leksander pulled up at the last moment, gliding just above the treetops, attempting to flee with her in his talons. If only Leonidas would let him. Once they were free of the fighting and fleeing—once Leksander released her, even if he attempted to ravage her as his wyvern was driven to do—then she could make quick work with her blade. Even as they dipped and soared along the tree line, she splayed her hand across his chest and attempted to perceive the demon within him. As she had done with baby Thorn while he was still in his mother’s womb, she sensed the outlines of the presence of the demon. Like Thorn, the demon was deeply entwined with Leksander’s dragon essence. It was hardly possible to parse between them, especially with the bump and jostle of the flight, but she knew they were distinct. The trick would be vanquishing the demon without destroying the dragon. With baby Thorn, the dragonling was tiny and helpless—in other words, well within her control. With Leksander—and with her trapped in his talons—she wasn’t exactly able to hold him still.
Another blast of dragonfire from behind caused Leksander’s wyvern to twist and turn to face his foe. But in turning, that cut in speed allowed Leonidas to catch the still-bleeding wing fluttering tattered in the wind. Leksander howled in pain and dropped like a stone through the trees. He tucked her up tight against him and rolled, protecting her from the trees as they fell. Still, when they met the ground, it was with such force she was knocked free of his hold, tumbling through the leafy fern underbrush as Leksander bounced and crashed into a nearby fallen tree trunk.
She scrambled to her feet and turned to face him, blade still in hand.
He recovered almost as quick, underbrush scattering under the desperate drag of his talons as he righted himself and rushed at her. She had more warning this time, but he was still too quick for her, knocking her on her back into the ferns then pressing her down with the weight of his body. One claw had wound around the fabric of her long skirt, and he was hoisting it above her head. As he gazed down at her, snorting hot dragon breath in her face, she realized what he was attempting—the slow slide of his dragon-scaled belly up her body, the pulsing hardness of his penis inching up her leg. Then he shook his head, once, twice, and then bellowed dragonfire into the forest.
His large, scraggly dragon head swiveled back to peer down at her.
His eyes… the torment there nearly broke her.
She reached a hand to his scaly face. “My beloved—” A crash sounded from above, and a split second later, Leksander was knocked from on top of her. Talons slashed and dragonfire raged as Leonidas and Leksander mowed down the forest around them.
She hastened to her feet and dashed after them. “Leonidas, no! Do not hurt him!”
They didn’t cease, so she took a running start, leaped into the air, and sent a blast of angel energy at the swirling, tumbling mass of dragon talons, tails, and teeth. The two were knocked apart and momentarily stunned. Before Erelah could dive to reach him, Leksander heaved himself up in the air, limping higher with his injured wing. But he wasn’t coming for her… he was flying away.
Leonidas scrambled to his feet.
“Wait!” Erelah cried. “Leonidas!”
He aborted his take-off, shifted hastily back to human, and stumbled through the underbrush. “Erelah! Are you okay?” He scanned her torn and disheveled dress as if that were of any importance.
“He did not hurt me, Leonidas.”
“He would have. I stopped him—”
“No.” She grabbed hold of his shoulder. He winced, and her hand came away bloody, so she released him. “I saw it in his eyes. He stopped the wyvern. He turned away.”
Leonidas grimaced and looked after the path through the canopy Leksander had cut during his flight from the forest. But if anyone should understand that a man could remain a man while appearing to be a beast… it was this particular dragon prince of the House of Smoke.
He turned back to her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” And she was. Her beloved was held hostage by a malevolent demon force, and there was nothing in heaven nor earth that would stop her from reclaiming him. “Let me go after him.”
“What? No—”
“I can save him, Leonidas.” She held up the blade, still stained with Leksander’s blood from when she sliced his wing. “I’m the only one who can. But I cannot do it while flying through the forest or being pursued by a legion of dragons.” Those very dragons—the loyal warriors of the House of Smoke—were circling overhead and drifting down to alight on the forest floor around them.
Leonidas let out a deep breath. “If he tries to hurt you—”
“I can defend myself.” She switched the grip on her blade and held it tight. “I will wait until he’s calm. In control. Then I’ll approach. You need not worry about me, dragon prince of the House of Smoke. You need worry that we will stand here talking while my chance to save your brother is escaping away from us.”
He grimaced, curled up a fist, and then blew out a frustrated breath. But she was not asking permission. She was only asking that he refrain from attack. If not, she would outrace them all and reach Leksander before they did.
“All right.” He growled and kicked at a rock on the forest floor. “But I’m only giving you a head start, Erelah. If you fail or, sweet magic, if he hurts you…” Leonidas looked like emotion was choking the words right out of him. “I’ll have to hunt him down and destroy him. It has to be done. You understand that, right?”
“I will not fail.” Then she lifted into the air, not waiting to hear any more from him.
Leksander was slipping away, and the only way she might truly fail would be if she couldn’t find him.