Claimed by Desire (8 page)

Not all Dracos claimed a rider out of love. Not all Sindracos accepted a proposal out of it, either. It was simply their way of life. What other choice did the race have? Dracos died without a rider. Sindracos died in shame without being chosen by a Draco.

But Misty didn’t have Draco blood flowing through her veins. She didn’t have to stay on the Isle of Feralon.

Rafe shrugged, his shoulders falling with the weight of what was to come.

“Yes, this is what happens,” he lied. “My mark burns because I branded it myself, without using the Draco spear.”

She pressed against him. “All it would take is a trip to Queen Elixa’s office to fix that. We could be formally claimed, Rafe. We could fly like we did today, every day.”

He should’ve been happy. Elated. Misty had finally opened up again, trusting him wholeheartedly. Instead it made what he had to do that much harder.

“No.” He meant to say the word with force, but instead it pushed out as a whisper. “That’s not what I want.”

She winced. “Are you still hung up on the whole imprisoning me here, thing? Rafe, I told you, that’s not how I see it.”

“It doesn’t matter how you see it. It’s the reality of our situation.” He knelt and picked up a handful of thick, charred dirt. “I’m bound to this land, Misty. I could never leave Feralon…not permanently. And that was all right with me, up until the moment I met you.” He let the wet grain sift through his fingers. “This dirt reminds me of my promise. Of my duty. Of the chains that should never bind you here. I can’t keep you.” His heart pinched at the words.

“But I want to stay. I want to live in Feralon as your rider. I tried to fight it, but I can’t anymore.” She knelt in front of him, her eyes as misty as the foam spraying into the air on its second swell. “I can’t say it any clearer.”

“You don’t have any idea what you want.”

She sucked in a breath that hissed through her lips. “How dare you treat me like a child, thinking you know what’s best for me. Is that why you wanted to bring me over here, away from the castle? So you could try to convince yourself to let me go?”

“No.” He swallowed the urge to grab her and kiss her until the words died on his lips. “I brought you here to order you to leave.”

“Order me?”

“This blowhole is the portal that will take you back to San Francisco. You’ll jump in and be swept back to your old life.” His skin clammed, turning cold. “On behalf of Queen Elixa’s royal guard, I command you to leave the Isle of Feralon.”

She slapped him clean across the face.

Cheek stinging, Rafe looked away. “If you return to Feralon, we will have no choice but to have you arrested and punish you according to Draco law.”

“Damn it, Rafe.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Please don’t do this to me again.”

She knew the routine. He’d read her the same act ten years ago.

“Punishment for breaching the portals without permission is death. As Queen Elixa’s guard, I thank you for fulfilling your duty.” Heart thumping in his ears, Rafe held out his hand. “And for returning the Draco stone.”

She dropped the glowing green stone into his hand and rubbed her fingers together as if she could still feel the buzz of its power. “What kind of thanks do I get from
you
?”

Rafe bit his lip so hard he pierced flesh.

“It amazes me how you can carve my name into your chest like it means something to you then cast me aside like I’m worth less than the dirt running through your fingers.”

He should’ve said
I love you.
He should’ve wrapped his arms around her until his body screamed
Stay
! Told her with his last breath that she was the only girl he ever loved. The words were
right there
, hanging from his lips, tipping off his tongue, burning for release.

He choked them down.

“Goodbye, Misty.” He turned.

She grabbed his hand, shooting electric currents up his arm. “I don’t know what’s come over you in the last few minutes, Rafe, but I know you love me. I know if I turn away now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. If that’s the decision you want to make, fine, but you better mean it, body and soul. Because if I jump into that portal, I’m never coming back.”

He sighed and removed his hand from her tiny grasp. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

Rafe clenched his back teeth until they all but shattered and walked away, leaving Misty standing on the precipice of her future—the one without him in it.

Chapter Seven

W
hat the hell was Rafe’s problem? Misty just couldn’t wrap her mind around what the hell was going on.

She downright
hated
the fact that she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Rafe as he walked away. She was foolish to think he’d turn around. Stupid to think he’d look back. He didn’t do either and it killed her.

Again.

For the second time in ten years, Misty had played the part of the Fool.

Frustrated as hell, she picked up a handful of dirt and rock and chucked it into the sea.

“Damn this land!” she screamed into the wind. “Damn this isle and damn you, Rafe! I should’ve never come back.”

As she spoke the last words, she took them back. If she hadn’t returned to Feralon, she never would’ve been invited to a Draco claiming ceremony. Never would’ve traveled through the eastern ridge, straight through the heart of werewolf territory. Never would’ve seen the spectacular lights thrown off by the fins of merfolk as they swam beneath the midnight sky. But most of all, Misty would’ve missed the chance to touch Rafe one more time.

Damn it, she couldn’t even regret the experience.

Sighing deep, Misty faced the sea and peered into the blowhole. It was about a twenty-foot drop from the ledge where she teetered, and she was no more comfortable with jumping into the hole than she was the first time, two days before.

Part of her ached to talk Rafe out of his decision. He loved her. She knew it with every beat of her heart. And she loved him, too. More than she could’ve imagined. They could work out whatever issues he was having—even if those issues were based on his warped thoughts about what
he thought
she deserved.

She spun toward the castle, scheming her plan of attack. Barge through the front door or sneak up the back steps? Scream and curse or shut him up with a heart-stopping kiss? She dragged her feet to a stop.

Why was she always the one convincing Rafe to be with her? Didn’t she deserve someone who would give anything to be a part of her life? Someone who would beg and plead to spend another moment—always one more moment—with her?

Misty made up her mind, then and there. No matter how she’d tried to fight it, she loved Rafe. Loved him more than she’d ever loved another. But she deserved more than he’d offered to give her.

She needed someone who would die for her.

Turning back to the blowhole, Misty leaned far over the edge and watched the tide fill the fat space between the rock.

If Rafe wanted her, he’d have to come get her.

Misty timed her jump with the heaving swell—
one…two…

*

Standing in front of the bay window of her study, Queen Elixa tossed the Draco stone in her long, manicured fingers like it was a worthless paperweight. “I have to admit, Rafe, for a while there I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”

“Love will make you do crazy things, I guess.” He slumped into the seat in front of her desk, feeling beyond drained from the journey. “I had to let her go.”

Queen Elixa cocked her head to the side and studied him, an odd smile painted on her face. “I wasn’t talking about letting Misty go back to the city. I simply didn’t think you’d make it back to Castle Arcane in time for the meeting. It was quite brilliant, really—forcing Misty to handle the stone. Because she doesn’t have Draco blood flowing through her system, her veins served as a perfect conduit through which our energy could flow. But how did you know it would work?”

“Guess I’m smarter than I look.”

“I suppose you are.” She laughed, a petite little string of huffs that rang through his ears. “Werewolf and merfolk representatives are awaiting my arrival downstairs. Thanks to you and your empath, we’ll be able to negotiate boundary lines without being seen as defenseless.”

Skin shrinking sensations, like hot pokers searing through Rafe’s chest, pinched his heart in a vise. Death was closing in… “Any idea who took the stone or how it got into merfolk territory?”

“We believe a rogue group of werewolves got their paws on it and tried to pin the act on an innocent school of merfolk. Gage is questioning the alleged pack leader as we speak.”

Rafe took a hefty breath. Stabbing pain pierced his side, cutting his breath short. “You put my brother in charge? May not be the wisest decision, knowing his volatile past with the mangy beasts.”

“I would’ve rather had another brother on the case, but unfortunately, he’s decided to take his own life.” She paused, sizing him up with pleading blue eyes. “You know, there are hundreds of women out there, Sindraco or not, who would chomp at the bit to ride a dragon like you.”

“I don’t want hundreds,” he said. “I only want one.”

As if she felt Death’s chill swamp the room, Queen Elixa approached Rafe’s side and stroked his shoulder. “For the record, when it came down to it, I didn’t think you’d let Misty leave, either. It wasn’t too late for the two of you. Our Draco spear is hanging right there.”

He followed her gaze to a glass cabinet on the side wall, where a bony wooden spear hung from two heavy hooks inside. Queen Elixa unhinged the door and placed the Draco stone on a wooden pedestal…right beside the sacred Draco spear.

“Asking her to stay would’ve meant asking her to give up the rest of her life to be with me.” Rafe averted his eyes as Queen Elixa shut the cabinet door. “I love her too much to put that decision on her shoulders.”

“I don’t think you would’ve had to ask her.”

Queen Elixa strode to the doorway and stopped as if she wanted to say something more. Rafe was suddenly so fatigued he could barely push his head around to stare over his shoulder. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said someone slipped him a sleeping pill. His eyelids grew heavy. His shoulders relaxed. His breathing slowed.

“You know, Rafe,” he heard Queen Elixa say. “It’s a nice gesture…that you’d rather die so the woman you love can grow old, far from Feralon’s enchanted restrictions on her lifespan. But I can’t help but feel like it’s not your decision to make. It’s not only her life, and her future, at stake, but her happiness as well. What good is life lived, if you’re miserable all of your days?”

Rafe chewed over her words, though his brain didn’t register them all. They jumbled into a fuzzy mass and fumbled around in his head.

The study door clicked shut.

Struggling to his feet, Rafe used the arms of the chair for support, and stood in front of the glass case holding the Draco spear. His reflection stared back at him, tired and drooping.

Shit, he looked like Death warmed over. His cheeks were sunken. His color was much too pale. And his Draco specks were dull and no longer shimmering. They blended with the gray pallor of his skin.

He didn’t have much time left.

Rafe shrugged out of his shirt and stared at the scrawl of Misty’s name reflected in the glass. As he began tracing the blazing letters, he blacked out and hit the floor, succumbing to the longest, darkest second of his life.

*

Misty teetered on the edge of the blowhole, her weight shifting, dragging her over.

“Here goes nothing,” she said, and stopped dead as a blast of cold, clammy air hit her with hurricane force. Her senses roused like they’d been asleep for years. Carried on that sudden gust of wind was the sensation that something…or someone…was hurt. Dying, maybe.

She searched the landing below, where spewing seawater met rock, looking for a dead or dying animal. Nothing. She scanned the land behind her, searching deep into the rain forest for signs of an animal or Draco in distress. Nothing there, either.

A wicked bout of nausea spiked in the pit of Misty’s stomach, threatening to bowl her over. Damn, her sixth sense had never been so intense. Something was wrong. Something she couldn’t turn away from.

She scoped out her fingers for the umpteenth time. They looked normal. But they sure didn’t feel normal. She rubbed them together again, feeling sparks of energy jolt from one hand to the other. If she squinted, if she tried really hard, she could almost
see
electricity jumping between the pads of her fingers. Her fingers had been humming since the Draco stone dropped into Rafe’s hand. Now, she wondered if that electricity was related to the uneasy feeling writhing in her middle.

Damn it, she had the sick feeling that the sensations were only going to get worse until she figured out what the hell was going on.

Letting her feet control her head, Misty stepped back from the ledge and turned toward Castle Arcane.

It didn’t take long to find the back entrance. Winding stairs led up the side ending at a single wrought-iron door. She pushed it open, stepped inside, turning down a familiar, winding hallway as her paranormal senses flared, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

“Misty?”

She spun around. Queen Elixa stood before her in a blazing red gown, her blue eyes glazed with…was that disdain?

“Queen Elixa,” Misty began, heart pinching with each breath. “I don’t know for sure, I don’t know how to explain it, but I…I think—”

“You’re here for Rafe.” Queen Elixa’s expression soured. “He’s in my study.”

Throbbing pain shot through Misty’s temples as she shook her head. Queen Elixa must’ve misunderstood. “I’m not here for Rafe…at least I hope not. I have a feeling in my gut that something’s not right.”
Spit it out, Misty, spit it out.
“There’s a Draco dying somewhere in the castle.”

Instead of barking orders that’d send out a search party, Queen Elixa clenched her jaw and stared Misty down. “Of course there is, Misty. It’s because of you we’ve lost the strongest Draco to grace our clan in a thousand years.”

“What are you talking about?” Misty clutched at her heart as it drummed through her rib cage. “What did I do?”

“You wouldn’t let a Draco claim you,” she spat. “You didn’t deserve him anyway. He should’ve picked a Sindraco to be his rider…You’re nothing but a spoiled little brat.”

“Rafe? You’re talking about Rafe? You think that I—” Misty’s stomach fell to the glossed floor. “Why are you talking about him in past tense?”

“Because that’s what happens when a Draco refuses to claim a rider, you naive temptress. They die.” She spun on her heels and stormed down the hall, her crimson coattails floating behind her. “I don’t have time for this—I’m late for my meeting. Do me a favor and let yourself out.”

Misty couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs simply refused to inflate. Realization set in. Rafe was dying so she could live.

Misty ran down the hall and burst through the door leading to Queen Elixa’s study. She slapped the door shut behind her, searched frantically around the room…and fell to her knees.

“Oh God, Rafe, no!”

He’d fallen on his side, arms splayed out, head twisted at an awkward angle in their crook. His Draco specks looked more like freckles than an enchanted characteristic of the Draco race.

She dragged his body over her knees and stroked his forehead. He was chilled. Cold. Matching the freeze in her heart. She put two fingers to his jugular and waited to feel the strum of his vein against her skin…it never came.

He was gone. She was too late.

This wasn’t happening. Rafe couldn’t be dead. She’d been so stupid to ignore her instincts! She could’ve gotten to the castle in time, if she hadn’t wasted precious seconds at the damned blowhole. He should never have taken her there. He should have told her the truth.

Damn it, there were too many things they both could’ve and should’ve done. Now, because of her stupidity and his stubbornness, the only man she’d ever loved was dead.

“I’m here now, Rafe,” she whispered, cradling his head, rocking back and forth. “I’m late, but I’m here.” Regret stung her eyes and words fell like tears. “I wanted nothing more than to be your rider, every day of my life. It’s all I ever wanted, all I ever dreamed about. Feralon is the only place I’ve ever considered home. My heart was left here, Rafe. My heart was left with you…God, Rafe, I’m so sorry…”

Misty softly stroked the letters of her name he’d carved into his chest. They burned at the touch, although the rest of his body was ice-cold. She pulled back her hand, staring at the red, raised letters, feeling that eerie buzz dance across her fingers.

“If I couldn’t be claimed as your rider in life…” She brushed her lips over his. “Then I’ll be claimed in death.”

She slid from beneath Rafe’s body and searched around the study. She found what she was looking for, tucked into the glass case beside him: the Draco spear.

Misty opened the case and withdrew the heavy piece of wood, clutching it in her shaking grasp. She knelt at Rafe’s side. Holding the spear high above his chest, Misty pinched her eyes tight and cleared her mind. Thought about nothing but her burning desire to be claimed as his rider. She let that desire fill her heart, warm her chest and radiate heat through her body. Very carefully, she scraped the tip of the spear against his skin. She began to write, carving her name into his chest over the scrawl of the original letters.

Light beamed from each letter as she finished carving it, blinding her, even with her eyes closed. Low, burning sensations snaked from her hand into her arm, numbing the upper half of her body. Yet she kept writing, thoughts consumed with Rafe and her endless love for him. As she curled the tail on the Y, pulses of heat surged through her veins. Her heart jolted into overdrive with the force of an electric shock.

When she opened her eyes, a gasp squeaked past her lips. Tendrils of white energy—hot and warped like lightning rods—snaked through the room. They blasted from her fingers, tangled around the spear, traced over each letter of her name on Rafe’s chest, spun through the air and into the glass case…right into the heart of the radiating Draco stone.

Queen Elixa had been right.

She could harness its energy.

Misty closed her eyes and pulled on the power source. Filled up on its brilliance. Light surged through her hands, into the spear, into Rafe.

With a cry of agony, he reared up, breathing hard, his chest glowing incandescently white.

Misty dropped the spear, snapping the tendrils of light back into her fingers.