Knight Awakened (Circle of Seven #1) (23 page)

Dizziness hit him. His brain went sideways inside his head. Jesu, he was going to...

He lifted his mouth from Afina’s. Short of breath, his chest heaved as he placed his hand, palm down, on the pallet to stop the spinning.

Afina steadied him. “What?”

“’Tis...” he broke off, his stomach taking the battle to his throat. “I’m not...”

“Here.” She smoothed her hand over his hair, massaging in circles. Reaching the nape of his neck, she applied gentle pressure and brought his head down. He exhaled as his cheek touched down on her breastbone. “Rest a moment.”

Without the strength to argue, Xavian settled into her softness. Her hands were magic. Each stroke and release evened him out, chased the spinning away until the pitch and roll of nausea followed its retreat. His conscience murmured, told him to pull away as he nestled in, trying to get closer.

“Better?”

He nodded, unraveling a thread at a time deep inside. The result was a messy pile of confusion. She turned him inside out. “Thank you for staying.”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“So we’re even now?”

“Not even close.” The devil in her tone, she trailed her fingertips down his spine. He shivered, stretching like a cat beneath his master’s hand. “You still owe me for Severin.”

“Wench,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against her. Snared by his whiskers, her gown shifted and the wool slipped to her upper arm. A small mark sat on the curve of her shoulder. He stroked his thumb over it. Not a bruise at all, but a birthmark; a crescent moon with a tiny star nestled inside it. Unable to resist, he traced the outline, savoring her softness as a memory rose. He recognized the mark. Had seen it before, but...where?

Too tired to search for the answer, he tucked the mystery away. He would solve it another time. Right now Afina was beneath him, white skin exposed. Needing another taste, he flicked her with his tongue and almost groaned. God, she was sweet.

“Xavian,” she said, warning him.

Jesu, even with that tone he loved the way she said his name. Foolishness, no doubt, but he couldn’t help it. She wasn’t afraid of him like all the others. But then, she didn’t have much to fear. He was as weak as a babe and just as manageable.

With a grumble, he raised his head, making sure he kept the movement slow and even. An ache pounded between his temples, but his stomach stayed true, only pitching a little. Shadows flickered against the cave wall. Good, she’d kept the fire going.

Afina placed her hand against his forehead. “Does your head hurt?”

“’Twill pass,” he said, not wanting her to worry.

Propped on one elbow, he settled his free hand at her waist and scanned the back of the cavern, looking for Mayhem. He stilled and counted again. Three horses, not two. His grip on Afina tightened. “
Draga
—”

“Goddamn!”

The roar came from outside the cavern. A scrape and claw and hiss echoed, the reverberation against stone walls loud in semi-darkness. The zing of twin blades split the air as ash and the smell of sulfur billowed into the cave.

The hair on the back of Xavian’s neck stood on end. “Afina, where are—”

She pushed against his shoulders and rolled. He landed on his arse and reached for her.
Rahat.
She was already out of range, heading hell-bent toward the entrance.

What did she think she was doing? Fool woman. She should be cowering behind him, not running headlong into danger.

Metal clanged against metal.

Something unearthly growled. Another round of smoke rolled in, clouding the entrance.

Xavian gritted his teeth and, using the uneven stone wall for leverage, lurched to his feet. The blanket hit the floor, taking his heat with it. He swayed and glanced down. Good Christ, she’d stripped him to the skin. With a curse, he ignored the pile of clothes and grabbed his swords. His trews would have to wait. He needed to reach Afina before whatever was out there killed her.

Thick yellow smoke burned Afina’s eyes. Tears welled, combating the sting like water dousing fire on a thatched roof. She swiped at the moisture and ran toward the mouth of the cave. Her senses reeled. The sharp stab of intuition made her head ache, and reaching deep, Afina struggled to decipher its message. The meaning floated just out of reach, close enough to taunt, far enough away to deny her the answer.

What was out there? Why the smoke and now the silence?

The question snapped, crackling in the air around her. Foreboding brushed the nape of her neck, urging her to retreat. The idea was seductive. Save herself and live to see another sunrise. But Afina refused to run away. Henrik was out there...somewhere. She couldn’t leave him to the mercy of the beast.

Beast.

The word rang inside her head and awareness expanded, pushing outward until it struck the inside of her skull like a smithy’s hammer. Dizziness rose in a sickly wave. Afina shook her head to clear her vision and forced one foot in front of the other.

She couldn’t quit now. Something was out there. Something familiar and unfriendly and in need of...what? Taming? Like Goliath and his pack of wolves?

She came through the wall of smoke. The haze went from yellow to white then grey. Fine wisps curled around her forearms, pulling at her, begging her to flee. With a jerk, she sliced them aside, followed instinct, and moved left. A hiss slithered through the fog, wrapping her in a chill so complete an involuntary shiver rolled down her spine. Afina stopped short, aware now the thing stood just beyond the circle of stones. She inched forward, fear and curiosity a morbid mix that weighed like a stone in the center of her chest.

Where was Henrik? Was he dead? Is that why—

A blast of cold air hit her full force as something shifted. Something...big.

“Priestess-ssss.”

Afina’s mouth went dry. “H-hello?”

A guttural snarl swirled in the mist. Menace lived in the sound, pulling the fine hair on her arms upright. The scent of brimstone assaulted her, a harsh accompaniment to the rush of wind that cleared the air enough for her to see over the standing stones.

She saw the huge wing first.

Unfurled, it stretched from one side of the pit to the other. Band after band tightened around her rib cage, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe. Spun between disbelief and fascination, she stared, her heart an empty echo inside her chest. The appendage folded, the indigo webbing retreating foot by unbelievable foot until the wing met the side of a body.

Iridescent scales gleamed in the low light. Deep-hued purples moved into blues, the color coming alive as muscle undulated along its flank. A paw, tipped with razor-sharp claws, gripped the top of a boulder, and the jagged spines down the center of its back rippled as it raised its head. Afina tipped her own back and
watched it rise, her gaze bouncing from the horns atop its skull to the fangs sitting just below.

Was that a...Blessed mother, creator of all things. It couldn’t be. Dragons didn’t exist. The stuff of legends, they belonged in the imaginations of the storytellers. Not in Transylvania or the mountains surrounding it.

The beast in front of her clearly didn’t agree. Larger than life, it stared at her, hunger in its eyes.

Her muscles quivered.

“Don’t run,” she said under her breath, trying to convince her feet to stay put. The pair shuffled, itching to bolt for safer ground.

She killed the urge and stayed stock-still. Running wasn’t an option. Predators liked to chase. A sudden movement might prompt it to attack, and honestly? Being eaten by a fire-breathing dragon wasn’t high on her list of priorities.

Horned head tilted, it shifted sideways, like a snake before the first strike and...

Afina saw it. The size of a man’s fist, the medallion rested at the base of the beast’s throat. Suspended around its neck by gold links, the disc’s center boasted a blood crystal. Tiny lights swirled in the gemstone’s center. Afina fell into its spin, relaxing into the downward spiral. Her eyelids grew heavy and she swayed, wanting to touch the pendant so badly her fingertips tingled.

The dragon snorted.

Afina flinched, dragging her focus back to the beast. Twin wisps of smoke curled up from its nostrils and a cloud of sulfur rolled into her face. Her nose twitched and she held her breath, trying to stave off the inevitable. It didn’t help. The sneeze shot out like an arrow leaving a bow. The dragon surged, bringing
half its body over the high monoliths. Spine and head aligned, it stopped, on the verge of attack.

Her breath coming in shallow drifts, Afina locked her knees to stay standing and prayed. Instead of divine intervention, a curse, followed by a grunt, drifted from behind the beast. One eye on the dragon, she shuffled sideways to improve her view. Held fast in its back talon, Henrik struck the thing’s foot, hammering it with his fist.

Good goddess. Was he insane? What the devil did he think he was doing?

No doubt asking the same question, the dragon swung its head around to glare at Henrik. He kept at it, alternating between punching the beast and trying to pry himself out of its grip. It retaliated, shaking Henrik so hard she heard his teeth rattle.

“Let him go.” The words escaped before she could stop them. Afina took a step back as the dragon’s head swung around to her again. She swallowed, working moisture back into her mouth. “Please.”

Violet eyes with oval pupils narrowed on her. “No.”

No.
No? Heaven help her, the thing could talk.

“Goddamn it, woman...run!” Henrik snarled and kicked out, thumping the dragon in the side. Attention trained on her, the beast lowered its foot. Afina cringed as it pinned Henrik to the ground beneath its claw.

She watched Henrik struggle for a moment, torn between following his advice and standing her ground. Courage didn’t come naturally to her. She’d been running and hiding all her life, but the last week had taught her something. Running only made things worse.

“I am Afina, High Priestess of Orm,” she said, feet planted, shoulders squared. Forget Henrik and his idiot command.
She knew the beast somehow. Not that they’d ever met. The certainty was instinctual; a truth buried deep, banked but alive in her blood. “By my command, release him.”

“You hold no power over us-sss.”

“Christ, Afina...go,” Henrik rasped, struggling to breathe.

Afina closed her mind to his plea, more concerned by the dragon’s use of
us
. “Where are the others?”

Hot breath fanned the back of her neck. “Here.”

Shivers chased the warm air, whispering over her skin in a wave of gooseflesh. Keeping the movement slow, she glanced over her shoulder. Little more than ten feet away, a second dragon, the color of fire, stood between the cave wall and smooth surface of the cornerstone. Green eyes narrowed, its lip curled, no doubt fantasizing about eating her.

“And here.” The smell of smoke came from above, carrying a third voice.

Oh, no, an ambush...three strong.

She was surrounded and as good as dead if she couldn’t bring them around. The fact she believed she could surprised her. But as implausible as it seemed, she saw the truth in it. The proof lay in the conversation and the lead dragon’s willingness to engage in one. He could kill her without effort, yet here he stood, talking.

There must be a reason. He was obviously an intelligent creature. The key was to find out what he wanted and give it to him in return for their lives.

Taking a deep breath, she waded into uncertain waters. “What is your name?”

The dragon drew his head back. A look of consternation in his eyes, he studied her, the silence so thick it pulled her muscles tight.
Please answer.
The silent plea drifted through her mind an instant before—

“Tareek,” the one behind her said, shifting closer. Firelight flickered, casting eerie patterns on his red-tipped scales.

Violet Eyes snarled at his companion, knifelike teeth gleaming in the low light.

“What matters a name...” Tareek’s forked tongue licked over one of his fangs, “when she will not live to repeat it?”

Lovely. Mayhap the belief she could turn them to her side was based more in wishful thinking than reality. Where was that voice when she needed it? Guidance, a strategy, the last rites...anything at all would be welcome.

Not knowing what else to do, she lied. “The goddess will not be happy if I am harmed.”

Wings flapped as the third adjusted his perch, watching like a vulture from above. “What care we?”

“Remember the White Temple, dragon, and your duty.”

Violet Eyes snorted, smoke rising from his nostrils. “Unwise to remind us from whence you come, Priestess-sss...and of the bitch who whelped you.”

She looked him square in the eyes. A truth shone in their violet depths. Here was her clue. The inkling—intangible but real—rose from deep inside her. It dragged a memory with it...of a girl-child playing hide-and-seek with a fanged beast. “You serve me and my house.”

“No longer.” The whispered growl carried pain in each syllable; of great loss and wrenching sorrow.

The sadness swirled in the space between them and her heart ached. He had suffered a terrible hurt, one so intense he couldn’t see past his anger. Afina had suffered the same and understood, but now was not the time for weakness. Like it or not, the dragon would strike. It was only a matter of time until he did.

“I have no wish to hurt you,” she said, having no idea whether she could. It was so much bravado. The strategy, however, was simple: make the enemy believe you held the upper hand and thereby the power. Her mother, at least, had taught her that. “Release Henrik and be on your way.”

Tareek hissed. “We come for the male...the other.”

The leader raised his hind claw and tossed Henrik over the standing stones. He landed with a thump and rolled to a stop beside her feet. Stepping forward and left, she placed herself in front of Xavian’s man, giving him a moment to recover his breath.

“Where is Xavian?” One paw spread wide beside the fire pit, the dragon closed the distance between them. “I smell him on you.”