16.

  Spook

  “You two are the most immature boys I’ve ever met in my entire existence on this realm!”

  Elora’s voice cracked like a whip, sharp and merciless, cutting straight through the air and straight through my pride. Her words stung more than the bruised socket I was pressing a cold cloth to. I winced, not just from pain, but from the bitter truth behind her scolding. She wasn’t wrong. And worse, I knew it wouldn’t earn me any favour in her eyes.

  I’d lost my temper. Gone feral on Ash.

  I glanced sideways, my eye throbbing as I took in the sorry state of my opponent. Ash looked every bit as wrecked as I did. His face swollen, expression tight, arms swathed in damp linen where flame had kissed skin. He caught my look and flinched, both of us wincing like boys caught stealing bread.

  I couldn’t help it. A grin tugged at my lips. Despite everything, despite the tension and pain, the sight of us, two wrecked fools who should’ve known better, was absurd.

  “Something funny, puppy?” Elora hissed, eyes narrowing on me like daggers of ice. I stiffened and looked away, trying to force my smirk back into nothingness.

  “I didn’t think so!” she snapped before either of us could breathe. “Now, you two are going to make up like actual grown males while I go tend to patient number three.”

  At that, a flicker of fear darted across Ash’s face.

  Real fear.

  Strange.

  I’d never seen anything but fury or cold calculation in his gaze before. He tried to rise, panicked, but Elora shoved him down with surprising strength.

  “Sit your ass down. She’s fine! No thanks to you,” she snarled, then stormed out, leaving silence in her wake.

  The quiet that followed was thick and aching. The kind of silence that scrapes along the walls of your chest. I shifted against the wall, feeling every cracked rib and burn, every regret crawling under my skin.

  Then, Ash’s voice, low, raw.

  “I guess I deserved that.”

  I didn’t even have to think. “Yeah. You did.”

  His eyes snapped toward me, narrowing.

  “Don’t be an ass, Spook. I didn’t know I was draining her. She never gave me a sign.”

  I laughed bitterly, ignoring the sting in my ribs.

  “Maybe she did. But you were too busy trying to tame a gods-damned dragon. Did that make you feel powerful? Knowing you could force a creature like that to bend to your will? Was it worth it?” I leaned in, voice dropping, sharp. “Was it worth nearly losing Faelwen over it?”

  Ash’s anger drained away like water in the sun. he looked down. “No. it wasn’t.”

  Silence, again.

  Then I sighed. “Well, at least we agree on something.”

  He turned to me, face unreadable. No heat. No disdain. Just stillness. How the hell did he always keep his emotions buried beneath that mask?

  “I know we don’t always see eye to eye,” he said. “But when it comes to Faelwen… we’re the same. We both want to protect her. What I did was reckless. I thought she was strong enough. Ready. But…”

  “You miscalculated.”

  He nodded.

  “Haven’t you ever miscalculated something?”

  The answer crawled up my throat before I could stop it. “Yes. I left her. I knew she wouldn’t survive long without me, and still… I left her side. If you hadn’t found her… I wouldn’t have made it in time. The Fiend would’ve taken her.”

  Ash gave a low chuckle. “Believe me, at first, I didn’t want to protect her. She was just another complication. But then… she awoke something in me I thought I’d buried long ago.”

  I smiled despite myself.

  “She has that effect, doesn’t she?”

  We both laughed, quietly, cautiously. Like men afraid the fragile peace might shatter if we laughed too hard.

  Ash turned to me, more solemn now. “Let’s agree on something, Spook. We might not like each other, but we can be civil. A man who abandons the only city he’s ever known, who defies his master to chase after a woman, knowing she wouldn’t last alone… that’s a man I can respect. And I’m glad you did.”

  I huffed a laugh. “Glad I did too. And I can admire a man who stands up to the Fiend himself to protect the woman he loves. Alright. Civil, then. Though I make no promises about the bickering.”

  Ash grinned. “I can live with that.”

  We shared a smile. A genuine, unsaid truce shimmering between us. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

  And for the first time, I began to understand what Faelwen might saw in him.

  Not long after, two small figures slipped into the room, children swaddled in threadbare rags, their tiny feet silent against the stone floor. Between them, they carried a wooden tray laden with food and a pitcher of water, their wide, inhuman eyes flitting from face to face like cautious sparrows. Elora who’d come back, rose without a word, taking a plate and gently filling it for Faelwen. She left again, the scent of herbs and steam trailing faintly behind her. I watched as Ash glanced after her, the tension in his shoulder betraying the unease he never spoke aloud.

  “I hope she’s okay,” he murmured.

  “She will be,” I tried to reassure him.

  One of the children approached Ash, it’s strange, slit-pupil eyes scanning his bandaged arms with eerie precision. With deft fingers, the child pointed at the wrappings, then reached for a small clay jar of ointment. Ash didn’t resist, he slowly began to unwrap the cloth, revealing blistered, angry skin. I flinched despite myself. Gods, that had to hurt.

  But Ash made no sound.

  That’s when she entered.

  The dragon lady we met earlier stepped through the doorway with the same quiet majesty she’d carried the first time we’d met her. Her presence was commanding, her movement fluid, like a stream gliding over ancient stone. Glacial blue eyes swept across the room, cool and assessing. She spoke in Elvish, the language flowing from her lips like wind through silver chimes.

  “In the other bedroom,” Ash answered in the common tongue, nodding toward the door Elora had passed through.

  She shifted her gaze to him, then to me, and transitioned fluidly into my language. “Have you found the Runestone?”

  I reached for my back and dragged it toward me, rummaging through it until my fingers closed around cold stone. I pulled the artifact free and held it out for her to see.

  Like Syltharian’s, this Runestone had shrunk to the size of a thick, palm-sized tome. A square slate etched with a single glowing rune, this one pulsing in a fading ochre-yellow light. Syltharian’s had shimmered with a silvery blue. Each rune unique, each one alive with meaning I couldn’t decipher.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The dragon lady took it carefully in her long-fingered hands, tilting it beneath the lantern light.

  “Hmm… exactly as I remember it,” she said softly, before handing it back. “How many do you have now?” she asked, gaze flicking between us.

  “Two,” Ash said through gritted teeth as the child began rewrapping his scorched arms. “Another search party has one and they’re retrieving a second.”

  The dragon lady gave a small nod, eyes lingering on his bandages. “Those wounds already look better. The balm will prevent most of the scarring,” she said, a ghost of a smile curing her lips. Then her expression grew sombre again. “So one Runestone remains unaccounted for?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you happen to know where it might be?”

  “Not precisely,” she replied. “When the runes were entrusted, all dragons belonged to one great clan. But after the elves and humans claimed these lands, we splintered. Some remained in the Fae territories, others, like us, migrated north.”

  Her voice became distant as if she got lost in her own memories.

  “I know of Syltharian Duskflame, a younger guardian. He remained behind, dwelling in the ruins of our ancestral city, now home to elves. Sylmathra Veilshroud, the one whose Runestone you stole… she was one of ours. And finally, there was Drazkhar Stonebane whom I remember. One of the eldest to accept the guardianship. He remained near the hatching grounds, deep in the Everbloom Wilds.”

  The name hung heavy in the air, Sylmathra. Hearing it from her mouth made her kind feel… real. Less like monsters, more like people.

  “We have Syltharian’s Runestone,” I said. “But not Drazkhar’s.”

  Ash leaned forward. “Where exactly in the Wilds are these hatching grounds?”

  The dragon ladie’s shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “I was born here, in Zan’kareth. I’ve never seen them. And even the eldest of our kind… well, centuries blur what memory leaves behind. The forest has changed. It may no longer look anything like it once did.”

  Ash’s face fell, shadows gathering in the hollows of his features.

  “At least we know where to look next,” I said, trying to lift the weight off his shoulders. “Thank you, Lady…”

  I faltered, realizing I didn’t know her name.

  “Vaeranyx Emberlash,” she said with a smile, bowing her head. I mirrored the motion.

  “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  She chuckled softly. “You may stay here as long as needed. Rest. Recover. You are under my protection. Sylmathra will not reach you here.”

  Ash straightened. “She’s still looking for us?”

  Vaeranyx’s nod was grave. “Her fury has not lessened. If anything, it’s grown.” Her gaze darkened with sorrow. “We may have to put her down. There is no reasoning with her anymore.”

  A cold ache spread through my chest. She said it with regret, not anger. As if speaking of a fallen sister.

  Vaeranyx glanced once more between us, then turned on her heel and slipped into the other room where Faelwen and Elora were resting.

  The children followed her out, giggling like the weight of the world hadn’t yet touched their small shoulders. When the room quieted, I exhaled slowly.

  “It’s a shame,” I muttered. “She was beautiful.”

  Ash didn’t respond at first. When he did, his voice was low, thoughtful.

  “Nothing shatters a parent more than losing a child before you even get the chance to see them grow up. I… I understand her rage. In a strange way. But I also know what it’s like to drown in it. She lost herself chasing vengeance. And vengeance never brings back what’s gone.”

  His words pierced something in me. I looked at him, truly looked. Ash had lost a child.

  A child he never even got to meet.

  I thought of the time I stole King Edmund’s child for the Guild and didn’t want to imagine how he must have felt.

  I wanted to say something, anything, to let him know I understood. But the truth was, I didn’t.

  Not really.

  So I said nothing.

  And in that heavy silence… we both sat with our inner demons.

  ? ? ?

  The day passed in a haze of silence and rest. Ash, stubborn as ever, had won the argument with Elora and hadn’t left Faelwen’s side since.

  As the evening drew in, I slipped into the bed beside Elora. She turned her back to me without a word. Still angry, then.

  “I talked it over with Ash,” I murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her gently toward me. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t melt into me either.

  “Good to hear, boy,” she replied coolly.

  I exhaled through my nose.

  “Oh great, we’re back to that again?”

  I let go and flopped onto my back, irritation blooming like wildfire in my chest.

  “Only boys act before they think,” she shot over her shoulder.

  “I was angry,” I growled.

  “Clearly.”

  She shifted further away, the space between us growing as thick and heavy as fog. I stared at the ceiling. “Are you angry that I lost control when I thought Faelwen was dying?”

  She rolled over to face me then, her eyes hard as polished stone. “I don’t care about your feelings for her. I care that you lost control over something small in a moment where everything was falling apart. That’s not strength. That’s recklessness. And only boys lose control.”

  “I’m not a boy.”

  “To me, right now, you are.”

  “Damn it Elora.” I sat up, running a hand through my hair. “If I can’t live up to your impossible standards, then tell me why you keep flirting with me.”

  Her voice was maddingly calm. “I don’t flirt. I enjoy moments when I think you’re worth enjoying. That’s all. We’ve had our conversation about what this is, Spook. You know we’re not built for the long run. But we can have fun while the fire burns.”

  Her words struck deeper than I expected, sharp as any blade. My jaw tensed.

  “So I’m a toy, then. Just something to play with when the mood suits you.”

  Elora sighed and closed her eyes, her lashes brushing her cheeks like gold-threaded fans. “Humans can be so emotional.”

  That was the final spark. “Emotional?!” I hissed, barely keeping my voice from rising. “You cut me with your words and expect me to act like I don’t bleed?”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Her tone softened, but didn’t break. “It’s just… hard to grasp how deeply humans feel. Even Ash and Faelwen, though only half-human, are swept up in their emotions so easily.”

  I looked down at her, studying the subtle furrow of her brow, the vulnerability peeking through her composed mask. Elora rarely let her confusion show, and now I saw it.

  “I’m not used to males feeling this much. We elves are more reserved in our emotions,” she admitted. “I don’t always know what to do with your emotions.”

  Something melted in me. The anger drained away, replaced by something warmer, not quite peace, not quite desire, but a tangle of both. I leaned down toward her, brushing a strand of golden hair from her cheek, letting my fingers trail over the graceful curve of her ear.

  “I know a few ways you could help calm these wild emotions of mine,” I teased, A grin forming on my face. Her expression shifted to playful and daring. A spark ignited in her eyes. “Well maybe I can be persuaded,” she answered. The blanket slipped to her hips, revealing the elegant lines of her linen dress and the shimmer of her bare skin beneath the glow of the mage lights. I drank in the sight of her: all her angles and softness, strength wrapped in silk.

  She tilted her head, daring me closer. “What are you waiting for, puppy? Show me how sorry you actually are.”

  Her voice, low and full of challenge, lured me in like a flame. She knew exactly what she was doing.

  And so did I.

  I leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that burned slow and hungry. Her hands slid over my bare chest, fingers tracing the faint scars and muscle with the same tenderness she might use to turn the pages of a fragile book. Her touch burned, not with heat but with the weight of wanting, of knowing. I let out a breath as she explored my back, nails occasionally grazing down in teasing lines that made my skin tighten.

  I answered her unspoken invitation, slipping my hands beneath the hem of her linen dress, the fabric whispering up her sides before I gently pushed it up. Her breasts, soft and perfect, rose to meet my mouth and I kissed them with reverence, letting my lips brush and then nip, just enough to make her gasp. She tugged at my hair in response, arching beneath me and kicking the blanket away.

  With her dress gathered just above her breasts, I took a moment to drink her in. her golden hair was tangled, gleaming bright in the mage light. Her eyes heavy with need, her lips parted in anticipation. She smiled, lazy and confident. “Take it off, Puppy. I want to see all of you.”

  I grinned and obeyed, peeling the rest of my clothes away. Her gaze was challenge and endearing all at once. With a single crook of her finger, she beckoned me closer, and when I returned to her, her legs coiled around my hips, pulling me flush against her. Our mouths collided, desperate and hot, and I began to move, slow, rhythmic, grinding just enough for her to feel how much I wanted her.

  She gasped into my kiss as I bit gently at her lower lip, then trailed kisses down her throat, to her collarbone, to her chest. My hand slipped between us, fingers brushing against her heat. She was already slick, already trembling. “Gods, I love to feel how much you want me,” I whispered, voice low in her ear. She shivered, then replied with a teasing hum, “Only when I allow you to touch me like that.”

  That earned a chuckle from deep in my chest. She thought she was in charge? I pressed my fingers in soft, deliberate circles, keeping her just on the edge, watching her expression twist with need. And just when her hips lifted for more, I stopped.

  “Bastard,” she moaned, eyes half-lidded, lips flushed.

  I leaned closer, brushing my mouth over hers without kissing her.

  “Say my name, princess. Maybe then I’ll finish what I started.”

  Her glare could’ve scorched stone, but it melted quickly into something softer as I returned my touch to her. Again, I brought her right to the brink, and again I pulled away when she didn’t speak my name.

  “Puppy,” she breathed, eyes narrowing in defiance.

  With a wicked grin, I gave her a sharp slap between her thighs. She jolted in shock, squealing before slapping my ass in return. “How dare you,” she hissed, trying and failing to hide her grin.

  “That’s not my name,” I growled, lips, brushing her ear.

  She rolled her eyes and arched into me, seeking the friction she’d been denied. “Last chance,” I murmured, fingers finding her rhythm again. She was close, gods, so close. I could feel it in the way her body tightened, in the way her voice caught in her throat. “Come on, princess,” I whispered, my voice thick with hunger. “Say it.”

  This time I didn’t stop. I slid inside her in one smooth, aching motion, and her body welcomed me with a shudder that nearly undid me. I found a steady rhythm, each thrust sending us closer to that rising storm. “Pu…” she gasped, and I pulled out only to drive into her again, harder.

  “Spook,” she cried, her voice breaking around my name. that was it. That sound. That surrender.

  I moved faster, her moans wrapping around me, her nails digging into my backs as I held her close. We moved like wildfire, dangerous and consuming, and when I buried my face into the crook of her neck, her scent and her warmth overwhelmed me. The world narrowed to the slide of skin, the desperate pull of breath, the heat building in us both.

  And when release finally hit, it shattered through us both. I held her as we trembled together, bodies slick with sweat, breath caught between kisses.

  After a long, quiet moment, I pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “You’re the worst,” she chuckled back.

  “And you love that about me.”

  Her eyes sparkled as our mouths met again, not with heat this time, but with something dangerously close to tenderness.