Chapter Five

“Before we blast our way into the Lair of the most powerful creatures on the whole effin’ planet, can I ask you one last thing?”

Dropping her hands and swinging her eyes towards Mars, Willa deadpanned, “Make it snappy.”

“Is this Dragon your mate?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know or you’re not saying?” Mars’ tone was more than a little cheeky, and the twinkle in his eye said he wanted nothing more than to paint Willa’s happily-ever-after in the sky with stardust and glitter, but she was having none of that. The man needed her help. That was all that mattered.

“Sorry, time’s up,” she scoffed, turning back towards the gates.

Staring at the majestic iron Dragons, so tall she had to let her head fall back as far as it would go to see the fierce look of battle on their faces, Willa knew that Mars already had the answer to his question. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d felt the growing feelings she had for the Dragon. Or that he knew the affirmation from the Goddess of the Moon had confirmed what Willa already felt. But the Romani and her mate were a long way from white picket fences and two-point-five children playing in the backyard. If there was one thing she’d learned in her long life, it was not to take anything for granted. Sure, the Universe didn’t make mistakes and Fate always got what She wanted, whether it be by hook or by crook, but there were exceptions to every rule, and somehow Willa never failed to find them.

“Ye hav’ tae believe that Good willnoe letcha down, Willa, me girl.” Her Granny Eleanor, a Druid Priestess and stalwart believer in the Light of the Earth, used to always say. It was her conviction that even in the darkest of things, the Light would always rise victorious. She even went so far as to say, “Dontcha knoo that’s why Ah married yur Granddad? His old Romani beliefs were harsh and cold. Ah am the Light tae his Darkness. Just as ye will be tae yur mate.”

I really hope you were right, Granny.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a single blue dragonfly flew from the leaves of the Alder branch hanging over the gate. With her hand instinctively covering the clear quartz pendant Eleanor had worn every day of her life, Willa followed the flight of the dragonfly’s glistening wings as she whispered, “Thank you, Granny, for everything.”

Taking the last step, placing one hand on each iron Dragon, Willa’s body shuddered, goosebumps rose up and down her arms and her hair floated off her shoulders. Unable to pull away, she wholeheartedly accepted the massive, never-ending charge of untainted, uncorrupted, spectacularly pure Dragon magic.

Stunned as it raced through every fiber of her being and comingled with her own Druid and Romani mysticism, Willa’s heart beat with renewed vigor. The confirmation that she was meant to spend eternity with her Dragon became perfectly clear as the enchantment landed dead center of her soul, bursting into millions of flashing, super-charged starbursts that empowered her unlike anything she’d ever known.

“Willa?” Mars murmured in awe. “What the… You’re glowing.”

With a single-minded determination that outweighed all other, even her lifelong friend, she pushed on the gates with no more effort than it took to close a cabinet door. Following them forward as they silently opened, she walked through the veil of the protective magic that reminded her of swimming through the waterfalls in the Amazon.

Immediately recognizing that she’d led them into the rear of the Dragons’ Lair, Willa gazed at the houses, large and small, their windows dark as the sounds of peaceful slumber floated all around. Opening her senses, following the stream of spiritual energy lighting her way, she confidently stepped onto the path to her left. Farther into the heart of the Lair, amazed at the multitude of lush gardens, immaculate lawns and beautiful fountains, the feelings of security, peace and home reassured her that she was indeed exactly where she needed to be.

Feeling Mars’ wariness, Willa stopped, spun on her toes and stepped into his path. Waiting for him to make eye contact, she was forced to say, “Just look at me, will ya?” His eyes snapped to hers as she asked, “What’s wrong? Why are you sulking?”

When Mars didn’t immediately answer, Willa impatiently grumbled, “Answer me dammit. I’m not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want.”

Eyes widening, his expression going from frustration to shock, Willa shook her head and threw her hands in the air. “Just go home, Mars. I’ll save the Dragon on my own.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind.” The male voice was sharp and threatening but not nearly as sharp and threatening as the tip of his blade as it pushed into the small of her back. “You are trespassing and the penalty is death.”

“Yeah, I hear that a lot,” Willa sassed, stepping away from the point of the weapon and whirling around to face the Guardsman. Nodding to his blade, now aimed at her heart, she added, “But you’ll not stop me with that.”

“It’s just for show.” He took a threatening step forward, the point of his sword touching the soft cotton of her blouse. “It’s my fire you should be scared of.” His deep amber eyes, the color of hundred-year-old single malt, glowed as a surge of power hummed between them, the air wavering to its beat.

The mysticism coursing through her veins rose up to meet his, adding a kaleidoscope of transparent colors to the highly charged static. The Guardsman’s eyes narrowed. His knuckles grew white as his fingers tightened on the grip of his blade. “Who are you? Why do possess the magic of my kin?” He demanded. “How did you get through the gates?”

“I…”

“She came for Asher.” A voice from the darkness answered. “It’s his magic mixing with hers that you feel. The chaos is obvious.” The owner of the smooth, controlled, almost melodic voice appeared out of the shadows, his light blue eyes shining, his lips curled into an impish grin. “Put down your sword, Dec. She’s got ample reason to be here.”

Dropping his blade and stepping back, the Guardsman who looked more like a soldier with his close-shaven hair and ‘take no shit’ attitude, grumbled something in Gaelic that sounded like he was calling her a ‘little girl’ as the one whose very essence exuded calm took his place. Holding out his hand, his grin grew into a smile. “My name is Pearce and my overzealous brethren is Declan.”

Firmly shaking his hand, giving him a little shock to show she was not some ‘little girl’ they could push around, she ignored the twinkle in Pearce’s eyes as she reciprocated, “Nice to meet you. I’m Willa Petrescu.” Slipping her hand from his and turning to the side, she motioned behind her as she added, “And this is Mars Gabori, Prince of the Gabori Clan.”

Yeah, I said it. He’s a Prince. You may think you can mess with me, but you people admire royalty. At least, I hope you do…

Walking past, Mars slid his eyes at her, a sure sign he was more than a little pissed and that she would hear about it for at least the next hundred years or so, before taking the Dragon’s hand and acquiescing, “Thank you and I apologize for our intrusion.” His emphasis and irritation flashed like the neon lights of Broadway as he continued, “But Willa seems to think that you have one of your kin chained in a cave like an animal.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes flashing to hers, the one called Pearce nodded, “Indeed we do.” Raising his hand to his chin and scratching at the stubble, he shrugged, the shift in his attitude apparent and then confirmed when he answered, “And I’m sorry, but he’s not accepting visitors. So, you’ll need to be going now. As soon as he’s…ah…feeling better, we’ll let you know.”

Pushing past Mars, Willa marched straight up to the Guardsman, rose onto her toes, and growled, “Don’t fuck with me, Dragon. I’ve gone through bigger and tougher than you.”

“Willa…” Mars’ warning growl was overshadowed by a blast of hot, bitter, acrid air beating at her face. The tension, so thick she doubted a bomb could break it, was coming from every direction. Pearce’s pupils stretched and elongated, taking on the elliptical shape of his Dragon as he spread his feet shoulder width apart, his arms dropping to his sides, his fists bouncing off the tense muscles of his thighs.

Not so calm, cool and collected now, are you Dragon?

In a flash, Declan was at his brethren’s side, his sword at the ready and his Dragon not far behind, if the primary blue scales crawling up his arms were any indication.

“You want to run that by me again?” Pearce growled.

Pushing up onto the very tip of her toes, her nose still at least six inches below his, Willa spat, “Move or be moved. I’m not leaving without Asher.” Pausing for a split second to make her point, she added, “Is that clear enough for ya’?

The name felt oddly familiar as it rolled off her tongue, even though it was the first time she’d ever said it. Had she always known, somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind had his name been there the whole time? Written on her heart and soul like Granny used to say? Had the Goddess Rhiannon told her? Whatever the reason, the name fit, which only strengthened her resolve to blow through the Dragon Guardsmen impeding her progress and get to her Dragon as soon as she could.

Wondering why Mars was leaving her to handle the Dragons all alone, something that never happened, her question was soon answered when the scent of the sea mixed with warm vanilla swooped in from behind at the precise moment an ominous baritone rumbled, “You might need to rethink your plan.”

“Yeah, what he said,” added a female voice charged with Earthen magic and enough sass that Willa had to drop down to her toes and turn around to see who had joined the party.

The Witch’s long dark curls were spun up in a bun atop her head and her deep emerald eyes sparkled with unspent magic, but it was the tall, broad-shouldered giant who stood beside her that made Willa wonder if being at least six-foot-six was a prerequisite for being a Guardsman. Leveling her glare at his deep blue glower, she scoffed, “Never had a plan I couldn’t execute.”

“There’s a first time for everything, Sista,” the Witch snapped, closing the distance between them and scowling down at Willa.

Irritated that she wasn’t taller, hating that she had to look up at the snarky Witch, Willa wanted so bad to zap the cocky look right off her porcelain-skinned face, but instead slid her left foot backward, plastered on the sweetest smile she could muster and batted her eyes. “And who’s gonna make that happen, Sista?”

Static that reminded her of angry bees filled her mind as the names Murdock and Kalliope road the waves of interference. The Dragons and the Witch were speaking telepathically. Any other time, Willa would’ve tried to listen, but on this occasion, she couldn’t care. She was on a mission. They were in her way. Something had to give and it was about to be them.

Sarcasm still hanging about from her snappy comeback as she was winding up another, every thought was expelled from her mind when an unholy roar tore through the night sky, shattered the tension and left everyone standing with their mouths hanging open. Spinning towards the sound, drowning in agony, pain shooting up her left arm as visions of blood spraying all over stone walls, leaving puddles on the hard-packed dirt slashed at her consciousness, Willa grabbed the Witch named Kalliope’s arm to stay upright.

“I-I…i-it’s…” She stammered, unable to make her mouth work, drowning in the searing torment. Gulping at the air, she felt strong hands slide under her arms as another roar, this one full of rage and fury, reeking of indignation and the need for vengeance, ripped through the trees.

“H-he’s…h-he’s…”

Words failed her as the man from her visions, Asher, burst through the trees, making a beeline right for her. Blood poured from his left arm, a huge silver shackle and chain still attached to his right clanking against the cold, hard ground, his cracked and bleeding lips mouthing her name again and again. Breaking through his brethren as if they were no more than bowling pins, the seven-foot hulk of a man, snatched Willa from the Guardsman called Murdock, threw her over his shoulder and raced towards the gates.

Raising her head, the blur of the iron told her they were no longer in the Lair of the Dragons, as a symphony of screaming voices called their names. But Asher was not stopping, their yells only fueled his overwhelming need to escape. Letting her head fall forward, warm drops of the Dragon’s blood splat upon Willa’s cheek.

Looking the backside of Asher up and down the best she could while hanging upside down, her heart skipped a beat as her inspection landed upon his left wrist. Blinking furiously, her eyes watering from the motion, she looked again, still wondering if she might be dreaming or at the very least delusional.

But there was no denying what was right before her. It wasn’t a figment of her imagination or a nightmare. She wasn’t on a movie set. It was real life. The cold hard truth and it scared her shitless in more ways than she could count. 

The man from her dreams, the Dragon who was being tortured, the only person who’d ever affected her in such a way…had literally torn off his own hand to come to her aid.