Bond awakened, surprised to find that he couldn’t feel the wind anymore. He wasn’t in Percipia’s grasp either, although the bound book was tucked against his side. He was in an unfamiliar place, a massive room with a soaring ceiling and walls of smooth stone. He touched the one beside him, amazed by how smoothly polished it was, and thought of the passageway beneath Incendium city.

If this was a tunnel, it wasn’t dark or confined. Part of the ceiling was clear glass and he could see the bright blue sky beyond it. There were torches mounted on the walls on all sides, although they weren’t currently lit. The sunlight coming through the glass panel lit the space and warmed it, too. He was lying on a long padded bench that was one of many in the room. There was a thick rug on the stone floor, one that was almost as big as the room itself.

Where was he?

Where was Percipia?

Had she abandoned him?

A panel slid open beside him and Bond jumped at the sound. A tray slid out of the dark space, with an earthenware mug on it. Steam rose from the contents, which smelled familiar.

Anguissa used to drink this. It was made of honey and herbs, and she’d insisted it was a traditional restorative from her home. He couldn’t remember what it was called, but could recall the pleasant taste of it and its effect.

Bond lifted the cup from the tray, which then slid back into the wall. The panel closed and even though he looked, he couldn’t see its outline clearly.

He sipped and felt a welcome heat suffuse his body. His arm wasn’t too sore and he checked the state of the healing. He stretched and explored the large chamber while he drank the potion. There was only one exit, a sloping corridor that led upward to a brighter light. Bond could see a vista of mountains framed in the opening at the far end and there was a cool wind coming down the corridor.

He also saw a familiar silhouette at the distant opening. Percipia was sitting with her back to him, her hair in a long braid, and steam rose from something in her hands. He watched her for a moment, having no doubt that she’d heard him. She would have the same sharp hearing as Anguissa. That she didn’t turn and beckon to him must mean that she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Bond remembered the hazard of interrupting dragon shifters when they wanted solitude, and turned back to the cavern.

He sat on the same bench and opened Sansor’s book.

It was easy to find the entry on the lost angel, but a lot harder to read the report. From the drawing, Bond couldn’t recognize his former fellow, and even from a scan, he might not have been able to do so. The marks on the dead man’s back could only mean one thing though.

What had his mission been?

He must not have succeeded.

Bond was well aware that this could have been his fate the night before in Incendium, if not for Percipia.

He read the entire entry twice, then closed the book. He was glad that his fellow had been laid to rest, not put in a museum or some macabre collection. It was bad enough that there had been an autopsy.

Bond stood and paced, thinking about his situation and his quest. If only one day had passed, he still had time to reach the rendezvous and complete his mission. Even if two days had passed, it was possible that Percipia could help him reach the island in time.

One thing was for certain: he needed her help.

Time was wasting. Even if she preferred her privacy, he would have to interrupt her now.

Bond walked toward Percipia, the book in his hand, but his greeting was stolen from his lips in his astonishment.

The view was stupendous.

Percipia sat on a lip of stone that faced a range of mountains, swinging her feet over emptiness. The sunlight touched the jagged peaks, glistening off the snow and ice, making them look treacherous.

If not impassable.

Bond looked down and could see no path to the lip of stone and no other entrance to the cave behind him. He looked up and saw the sky, as well as some impressive mountain spikes high above. They seemed high enough to shred the clouds and the air here was thinner and colder.

He found Percipia watching him, a smile in her eyes. “Welcome to the Aerie,” she said. “Few men ever see it.” She considered the view. “Fewer angels, I would guess, at least ones that have sacrificed their wings.”

He sat down beside her, guessing her reason for bringing him here. “Because the only way to reach this place is by air?”

She nodded and sipped from the earthenware cup in her hands.

“Is the surrender of the Seed the price of leaving?”

She smiled at him. “I like that my child will have a clever father.”

Bond let his own legs swing over the abyss. The wind blew through his hair and the cold stung his eyes a bit, but he didn’t mind. The view was worth it, and he felt his heart lighten at all the empty space. “Will you tell me where we are?”

“Generally but not specifically. The location of the Aerie is a secret, but everyone knows it’s hidden in the Algor Mountains.

“That’s a long mountain range, isn’t it?”

“Very long.” She took another sip. “Even so, I suppose someone could find it if they really wanted to.”

“Is it sacred?”

Percipia frowned. “It’s no more special to most people than any other place on Incendium. We don’t really trouble with religion on Incendium, at least not the dragon shifters. And we certainly don’t believe in magic. We rely upon science and logic.”

“This is a refuge that only your kind can reach. There must be a reason for that.”

“Because we were once hunted, of course.” She slanted a glance at him and indicated her mug. “Do you want some more?”

So she knew he had already had one cup of it. Bond nodded. “I can’t remember what it’s called, but I know Anguissa used to drink it.”

Percipia smiled. “A taste of home.”

“Something like that.” Bond watched as she reached to the wall on her other side, opening a panel and tapping in a code. He memorized that, just by force of habit. A panel opened in the polished rock, revealing a square space with a steaming earthenware cup of some liquid within it. Percipia handed it to him.

Once again, he couldn’t see any hairlines once the panel closed.

“Favusa,” she told him as he sipped. “A beverage made from honeycomb mixed with various fruit, dried and then reconstituted with hot water. It travels well, keeps well, and is exactly the thing after a long night flight.” She sipped with satisfaction. “This is my third cup.”

“How old is this place? How can something like this—” he gestured to the panel “—even be here?”

“The Aerie dates from the dawn of our time on Incendium, though it was used most frequently before the days of Scintillon, when our survival was threatened.” She smiled at him again. “It’s a nursery, where any of our kind can come to bear young in safety.”

“It seems a long way to come in labor.”

“We bear eggs, remember, which must be nurtured and kept warm until the young hatch. They are of considerable size and moving them is treacherous. The Aerie is a haven and a sanctuary, and I think our kind only survives on Incendium because of it.”

“But someone must maintain it and stock its provisions, as well as service its systems.”

“Someone does, but they are of our kind, always. The custodian of the Aerie is a very high position in my father’s court, awarded only to the most trustworthy of dragon shifters in Incendium, both a secret and a sacred trust.” She eyed him. “Do you feel better?”

“Much, thank you.”

“How did your wound heal so quickly?”

He was startled to realize that she must have looked at his injury and that he was unaware of it. “Sansor tended it...”

Percipia shook her head. “It was more than that. What powers do angels have when they take flesh?”

“I think you’ve guessed.”

“Anguissa must have found you useful on her crew.”

“She did, but not for my healing powers.” Bond finished the favusa. “She never realized I had them.”

“Why not?”

“Using them would have revealed my nature.”

“Did you stand aside when anyone was injured?” Her horror was clear.

Bond was glad he could shake his head. “I was lucky in that there were no injuries. Those who serve Anguissa either die or survive relatively unscathed.” She was still watching him, so he continued. “I used to worry about that happening, about having to choose between my quest and the survival of another being. I’m glad I never had to.”

Percipia nodded and finished her own favusa. “I would be, too.”

He sensed that she would have been content to sit and watch the sun rise higher, but his situation didn’t allow that. “I don’t want to be rude, because you’ve already helped me a great deal, but I must meet the Host,” he said. “I must be on time.”

“When and where?”

Bond frowned, reluctant to say the words aloud. “You can’t tell anyone else.”

“Who would I tell? We’re alone.”

“But at some point, we’ll leave. You’ll leave. You cannot ever tell anyone the rendezvous point.”

Her gaze filled with understanding. “Because the Host continue to use it.”

Bond nodded.

“How often do the angels come to Incendium?”

“I can’t say.”

“You can’t betray your kind,” Percipia said without surprise. “I think we could make an agreement, Bond, given that you are at the Aerie, which is just as great of a secret outside of my kind.”

He nodded and surveyed the vista before himself.

She seemed to guess his concern, for she spoke. “The Aerie is located so that it can’t be reached on foot.”

“But caves are often tunnels.”

“Not this one. It has been sealed on the inner side and buttressed.” Her conviction was such that Bond believed her. She raised a hand. “In addition, the acoustics of this particular area amplify the slightest sound to anyone in this opening of this cavern.”

“Really?”

She took a pebble and flicked it into the air. Bond thought he could hear the wind whistle around it, which was remarkable. What was more remarkable was the clatter it made when it collided with the mountainside and fell down into the abyss. It sounded like a landslide.

Percipia smiled and he knew his surprise showed. “And my hearing is infinitely more sensitive than yours.”

Bond’s decision was made. “Is this the morning after we met at Ambrosia?”

Percipia nodded agreement.

“Then the day after tomorrow, I must be on Finis Island when the sun sets. There is a clearing at the very center of the island where the Host will descend.”

“And if you aren’t there?”

“I will be considered lost.”

“And your quest?”

“Will be a failure.”

She studied him for a long moment. “It’s important?”

“I wouldn’t have taken it otherwise. If I fail, the universe will be changed forever, and not in a good way.”

“Does the departure of Anguissa’s ship have something to do with it?”

“I’m not sure.” Bond saw her skepticism. “I’m not!” He thought about it. “Possibly.”

“Is Anguissa in danger?”

“Anguissa is always in peril of one kind or another,” Bond said gently. “I think she cultivates it.”

“I think she likes it,” Percipia agreed. “She told me once that it made her feel alive.”

Bond nodded. “Yes. I can understand that.”

She surveyed him again. “Will you miss being mortal?”

“Probably not.”

She was shocked and turned away from him again, staring out over the mountain range. Bond felt as if he’d disappointed her, but reminded himself that he couldn’t let his brethren down. He’d already told Percipia too much. As the sun rose higher, the reflections from the snow were brighter and he had to narrow his eyes.

“Are you going to tell me who they were?” she asked finally, her tone revealing her expectation of his reply.

It was obvious that she meant the people pursuing him.

Bond saw no reason to withhold the truth. “I don’t know, actually.”

“You know who sent them, though.”

He nodded and averted his gaze. “I can guess.”

“Because you know what they wanted.”

“Me dead. It’s not that complicated.”

“Why didn’t you just shift shape when we were cornered?” she asked with curiosity and Bond was startled by the question.

He frowned. “I’m not a shape shifter.”

“Because you lost your wings?”

He was amused by her choice of words. “I didn’t lose them, the way you might misplace an access code. I volunteered to sacrifice them.”

“Why?”

“To assume the quest. To pass amongst you, unnoticed.”

That flush stained her cheeks again and she dropped her gaze shyly. “I would notice you anywhere,” she confessed in a low voice, one that sent a thrill through him.

It also reminded him of her terms.

“Is that because of the Seed?”

She nodded with conviction. “The scent of the Seed multiplies the reaction, but I think I’d notice you even without it.”

Bond found himself flattered and pleased.

“I can’t think of a single quest that would convince me to surrender my wings,” she said then.

“You might be surprised,” he replied, hearing humor in his own tone.

“What’s it like, being an angel?”

“It’s different than being a mortal man.”

“In what way?”

“In every way.”

“What do you miss the most?”

Bond had to think about that. One thing he liked about Percipia was that she waited. She was patient when it mattered and he respected that. She was also curious about his nature and he found himself wanting to confide in her. Maybe if he confided in her, she’d remember him.

She’d have something to tell the child they conceived.

Bond liked that idea. He stared into the distance, his thumb caressing the spine of Sansor’s book, as he sought the right words to share his essence with the princess who would bear his child.

Percipia watched Bond as he thought, liking that he was taking the time to answer her questions honestly. There was a lovely sizzle between them, a frisson of awareness that was new to Percipia and sexual, coupled with a feeling of ease, as if they were old friends—or as if they could have become friends, given the time they didn’t have. She felt greedy about these moments with him, because she wanted to know as much as possible.

She could fly him to Finis Island in a day. They had time.

She was keenly aware of the heat of his thigh beside her own, of the sound of his breathing and even the beating of his heart. His hair blew a bit in the wind and she wondered if he realized how he kept turning his face toward it.

He did miss flying.

That made perfect sense to her.

“Being invulnerable,” Bond admitted finally. “And having intellectual union with all of my kind.” He grinned. “I like knowing everything instantly. I miss that.”

Percipia could imagine. “You can hear their thoughts?”

“I suppose you could explain it like that. It feels more as if there is one thought or one stream of thoughts.” He shook a finger at her. “Imagine that you’re at a party and you can hear the thoughts of the people close to you, and hear them so clearly that they seem to be your own.”

Percipia nodded. “Okay.”

“And then, as you move through the party, you hear more thoughts and more exchanges.”

Understanding dawned within her. “Different ones depending upon your proximity to others.”

“It’s similar, but time and space are irrelevant to angels.” He grimaced. “The analogy isn’t perfect.”

“But how can time and space be irrelevant?”

“We’re timeless and endure forever. We’re not bound by physical constraints in any way.” He smiled. “We can be everywhere and nowhere.”

Percipia didn’t understand that at all. “How do you move around at this party and hear other thoughts?”

“My focus of attention moves, not my being. Or maybe it’s the thoughts that move. I’m not sure. I just know that if I think of Raphael, for example, I’m more aware of the thoughts he’s sifting and generating. It’s similar to proximity but not the same.”

Percipia tried to accept that. “But you don’t die. Ever.”

“No. We exist but don’t live, not the way you do.”

“So, you can’t be in danger, then. There’s nothing to lose.”

“The stakes are always about other creatures and beings, and their survival, not ours.”

“Don’t you miss that?”

His smile was quick. “Yes and no. There’s something thrilling about danger and risk.” His eyes shone as he glanced her way and Percipia’s heart skipped. “Something seductive about sensation. I can’t resist it.” His gaze dropped to her lips and she licked them, unable to stop herself. When his gaze darkened, she felt warm all over.

She put her hand on his and he turned his over, smiling as he clasped their hands together.

“It’s so potent to be alive,” he whispered.

“But immortal. I can’t imagine that.”

“We existed before the first light was sparked and will still exist after the last star is extinguished.”

“I’ve never met anyone outside of my family who was older than me.”

Again, his smile was quick and wicked. “You should leave Incendium.”

“Space travel is for Anguissa. I’m happy to stay here.” Percipia drained her cup. “How old are you?”

“I don’t know,” Bond admitted. “As old as time. Older than time! It doesn’t matter in the celestial realm.”

“But you gave that up, by choice?”

Bond nodded, his eyes narrowed. He looked grim and resolved now, and no less handsome. “The stakes demanded it.” He met her gaze steadily. “The task had to be done.”

“I’m guessing that the task is the reason those four were trying to kill you.”

Bond didn’t reply.

Percipia frowned then. “Can you die?”

“In this guise? Of course. I have taken flesh and am therefore mortal.”

“Forever?”

Bond shook his head. “Nothing is forever in the mortal realm. That’s both its charm and its poignancy.”

Something in his tone must have caught her attention because she considered him. “If you succeed in your quest, what happens?”

His smile lit his eyes, making them sparkle with mischief. “What do you think?”

“You get your wings back?”

Bond nodded. “And return to the celestial realm again.”

There was disappointment in his tone, which she hadn’t expected. “Aren’t you looking forward to that?”

“Yes, and no.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know anything about sensation until I surrendered my wings, and then I learned about pain. I didn’t know anything about solitude or loneliness or even the notion of myself as an individual, not until I fell and took flesh. I have yearned to return to everything I knew.”

“But?”

Bond smiled. “But there is something marvelous about mortals, the hunger for life, the need to make the most of moments before they’re gone, the urgency, the danger, the passion, the pleasure—and even the pain, that I will miss.” He shook his head. “If I remember any of it.”

“What do you mean?”

He met her gaze again and she knew he was telling her the truth. “They say we forget it all. I hope it isn’t true, but I’m resigned to the possibility.” His expression turned wistful as he surveyed her, his gaze roving over her. “If I could remember just one thing, I would like to remember this,” he murmured.

“This?” she echoed.

“This place. This view.” He turned to consider her again and his smile broadened. “This dragon princess,” he murmured, his eyes dark with intent.

She knew then that he’d decided to surrender the Seed.

She knew and she was thrilled. She smiled and held his gaze as Bond leaned closer, cupped her chin in his hand, and kissed her.

It would be the last time.

It would be his gift to Percipia.

Bond wanted to make it last.

He led Percipia back into the cavern and was almost overwhelmed by his desire for her. Her eyes were shining with anticipation and she had that alluring flush on her cheeks. She was glowing just a little and he just stood for a moment, drinking in the sum of her beauty.

“Don’t say it again,” she teased.

“But it’s true. You are beautiful.”

“I’m the logical one. Peri is the pretty one.”

“You’re more than pretty.” He wondered then what she’d do after she conceived. Would she just have the child on her own? He expected that her royal status would give her that option as there would be no financial considerations. He couldn’t believe she’d remain friends with Sansor, much less marry the apothecary’s son, given what Sansor had done. He thought it possible that she would be compelled to make a diplomatic marriage, but didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it.

He wanted this moment to be about the two of them.

Percipia spun in front of him, clearly enjoying his admiration. “I feel beautiful when I’m with you,” she said, then circled the chamber, touching a point below each of the sconces in turn. They lit, one after the other, filling the chamber with golden light. When they were all burning, she ran her hand over another place on the wall and dark metal slid over the clear ceiling overhead. They were plunged into shadows that he found intimate and reminiscent of the night they’d met, at Ambrosia.

She smiled and walked toward him, unfastening her tunic, pushing it over her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. She removed her boots, casting them aside, then eased out of her pants, her gaze never swerving from his. She unfastened the braid in her hair and shook it out, so that it fell in dark waves over her shoulders. Her nipples were taut, her body was trim, and her eyes shone with the clarity of the midday sky. She walked toward him, hips swinging with grace, and reached for him with one hand. The fiery glow that surrounded her was more vivid in the darkness, reminding him of what she was and what she could do, filling him with wonder that this woman would have his child.

He planted a kiss in her palm, then undressed quickly himself, setting his lazes aside with more care. He was well aware of the way she watched him, the avidity in her gaze that hinted at her nature, and watched her take a deep breath. She seemed to glitter then and he was intrigued.

“Tell me about the Seed,” he said, lifting a hand to her cheek.

“The scent is incredibly powerful,” she said, then shook her head. “I’ve never been so aware of my body, of sensation, of every detail of the world.” Bond lifted her hair and kissed her neck below her ear very gently. She sighed. “Everything is amplified,” she whispered, then shivered when he kissed her again. “Everything is more potent.” She pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. “And everything leads my attention back to you.”

“Sounds distracting,” he said, then lifted a hand to cup her breast. He ran his thumb over the tight nipple, teasing it in an effort to be distracting himself.

“It is.” She gasped and closed her eyes in pleasure. “You are.”

“Dangerous, too,” he whispered in her ear, then kissed her there so very slowly. He rolled her nipple between his finger and thumb, and she arched her back, tipping her head back in surrender. There was only an increment of space between them, and it was so hot that Bond halfway thought flames might erupt. He felt as if her shimmer touched him, changed him, seared him, but he couldn’t step away. He slid his other hand into her hair and drew her lips to his for a kiss.

“You’re dangerous,” she murmured, just before their lips touched. “And I love it,” she breathed and he swallowed her words, slanting his mouth over hers to deepen his kiss. She turned in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and making their kiss more passionate. She feasted upon him and Bond let her, holding her tightly against his chest. He could feel the pounding of her heart against his own, smell the heat of her desire, and felt as if that golden shimmer was consuming him.

He was afire with need.

He broke their kiss and bent to take her nipple into his mouth, remembering how vehemently she’d responded the last time. Percipia shuddered and gasped, arching back again and locking her fingers into his hair. “I want more,” she confessed, her words husky. “But I never want this to end.”

Bond could understand that feeling, for he shared it. Even as he kissed and suckled her, he cupped her other breast in his hand and caressed her nipple with his fingers. His free hand slid down, easing between her thighs to the slick feast that awaited him there, the heat of her desire making his heart skip. He caressed her and she moaned, taking a step to one side to grant him better access and gripping his shoulders. She swayed slightly as he coaxed her desire higher with his fingertips, then he kissed her other breast. She was trembling and her heart was racing when he trailed kisses over her belly, caught her hips in his hands and flicked his tongue against her.

Percipia groaned and her knees shook. They fell onto the thick rug together and Bond feasted upon her, driving her wild with his lips and tongue and teeth. When she was writhing on the rug, her hair tangled beneath her and her fingers digging into his shoulders, he eased into her slick heat.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her gaze filled with fire. He stared at her, wanting to hold this memory forever but fearing he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Then she rolled him to his back, moving with the athletic power he associated with her. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder and her smile turned wicked. “I’m the one claiming the Seed,” she whispered and Bond had time to chuckle before she rolled her hips. She stretched her hands high over her head and rocked against him, rubbing against him, giving him a spectacular view. They moved together as if they’d made love a thousand times, finding the ways to feed each other’s passion, coaxing the flames higher then pausing before continuing their mutual seduction.

Bond was dizzy with desire. He’d never wanted a woman more. He’d never savored a mating more. He could only think of Percipia, of the mysteries in her gaze, of all the things he wanted to know about her but probably never would.

It seemed as if he’d been wanting her forever, as if he’d been waiting for her forever. Bond had the fleeting thought that he had taken flesh to find her, and the Seed certainly appeared to support that notion.

It was glorious to have found her and to be with her, especially like this, alone in a sanctuary where neither of them had to worry about pursuit. It was also bittersweet, for his time was at an end in this sphere.

Bond averted his gaze from her, his throat tight with the fear that he would forget her, that he would forget this. It was unjust. It was unfair.

It was a sacrifice far beyond the surrender of his wings.

He felt a tear on his cheek, then Percipia bent over him, her breasts colliding with his chest, her hair surrounding them like a dark cloud. “I will remember,” she said fiercely, clearly having guessed his thoughts. “I will remember enough for both of us.” She was glowing with an inner radiance, ferocious in her conviction, and he devoured the sight of her. “I love you, Bond,” she whispered and he felt his heart break that he couldn’t give her more.

Then her eyes glittered and she bent lower, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss. They moved together more quickly, their desire sharpening to an inferno. The golden light she emanated grew so bright that Bond couldn’t see beyond his radiant dragon princess.

She was everything.

She was his.

And he would love her for all time.

He rolled her over and buried himself deep within her, moving so that she found her own pleasure. She gasped, then cried out, her entire body clenching with the power of her release. Bond welcomed her cry and waited for her eyes to open, waited for the sight of that sapphire glitter, before he surrendered to his own release. He bellowed loudly enough to make the cavern echo with the sound of pleasure.

Percipia lay entangled with Bond, unwilling to move. He dozed on her shoulder, his hair tousled and his features relaxed. She pressed a kiss to his temple and ran her hands over him, wanting to remember every second of their time together.

She had claimed the Seed. She knew because she couldn’t smell it anymore. She didn’t feel enticed and filled with desire anymore. But she wasn’t her normal self, either. Sensation remained heightened.

It was curious. She watched Bond’s dark hair slide through her fingers and felt its silky curl more keenly than she’d ever noticed her sense of touch before. She noticed its inky darkness against the pale hue of her skin and found the sight pleasing. The weight of him upon her was a welcome one, his hard strength pressed against her from shoulder to toe.

She considered the wound that had been on his upper arm and was amazed by how quickly it had healed. There was only a red mark on the flesh now, as if the injury had been sustained months ago instead of less than a day before.

She eased from beneath his weight, wanting to look at another scar. Bond sighed, his eyelids flickered, then he dozed again on his stomach on the rug. Percipia went to the controls and let the sunlight shine into the cavern again. She extinguished the lights, watching Bond sleep as she did so.

She liked the flames in the darkness but Bond, she suspected, preferred silvery starlight, clouds, and the expanse of sky. She knelt beside him and examined the scars from his wings. The sight pained her as the notion of losing her own was so horrifying. She compelled herself to look, to see that the flesh was healed, to notice that it looked as if it had been seared.

As if the wings had been sliced free and the wound cauterized.

It must have been incredibly painful.

It would have made anyone hate taking flesh.

But Bond had found pleasure and made it his own. She doubted that anyone had been loved as sweetly and thoroughly as she had been. She bent and touched her lips to the base of one scar and then the other, realizing too late that her hair swept over his skin.

He stirred and braced himself on one elbow, looking at her with a smile. “So?”

“The Seed is claimed. I can’t smell it anymore.”

His smile turned mischievous, just the way she liked it best. “Don’t you think we should make sure?” he murmured, offering his hand to her.

It wasn’t logical, but Percipia was only too glad to surrender to sensation all over again.