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“I don’t want to hurt you.”

One of the guards made a low sound of
amusement, but she didn’t stop tormenting his mouth. “They laugh because
usually I’m the one protesting. Unleash your darkest desires on me, isn’t that
what you said? I say the same. I want all of you, Mykal
tal
'Mamba, even
the parts you’re trying so very hard to hide.”

She stroked his bond, white wings flying
through the darkness of his memories one by one. Stealing the very breath from
his body with her kiss, she took his memories, too, and he made no effort to
stop her. Unflinchingly, she saw him as Stephan. She saw the last meeting with
Theo, who’d brought a young attractive Far Illione noble’s son to his caffe
estate.

:Benton’s
older son,:
she whispered in his mind.

He gave her the vision of the twisted
black spire raping the sky, boiling acid at its base eating away at Keldar day
by day.
:I took his life and killed him
while wandering in the deserts, trying to reach the inner Venom Lake.:

 
:I’ve never heard of it; how did you know it
was there?:

:Dreams.:
He let her see the Black Dragon devour him, those hateful red eyes flashing in
his soul.
:This is the beast you’ve taken
into yourself.:

:He
likes me as the White well enough.:
She swirled her hips,
clenching her inner muscles harder until he gasped out loud.
:As do you. Now show me the rest, but I want
to be beneath you.:

He rolled her back into the center of
her bed, grateful to get the knife out of his back. In their bond, the Black
had the White’s shoulder gripped in his jaws, her wings stretched out on the
glistening sands, her sleek belly vulnerable and inviting. The Well of Tears
was gone, but the full moon shone larger than ever, brighter than the day but
softer, gentler, without the punishing heat of Agni.

Could She forgive him, too? Or would She
require his life in final payment for his
devalki
?
He didn’t want to die now, not when heaven lay beneath him, her scent of roses
melting with his sandalwood, her cries driving him to thrust deeper.

However, the last, most horrible vision
played in his mind and he couldn't prevent her from seeing every wretched
detail.

She saw the ring roll from his finger
and leap to lock about her neck. She saw her belly growing, the Shadow he’d
planted sucking the life and joy from her soul, even as he grew young and
strong once more. He stood before her as her hated enemy and touched her
stomach. Violence rumbled through the dragon, a thirst for blood and flesh that
no amount of sweet White blood could satisfy, not if he lost her forever. He
roared to the heavens, blanketing the night sky with his poison, but he could
not stop the life growing within her.

She touched a single fingertip to his
forehead and the vision shattered. Wincing, he felt like his mind had been
sliced by shards of glass. His heart was sore, tattered and weak in his chest.
His vision swam, his head sagging forward. She cupped his face firmly. “Mykal.”

Her sharp voice cut through the haze. He
focused on her, dread heavy in the pit of his stomach. Now she would order her
Reds to kill him. She would banish him from her bed, her life, her heart for
all time.

Confused, he waited for the stroke of
steel at his throat. The red-haired guard would go for his liver, the other for
his heart.

“Your Dream drove you to rid yourself of
the ring.”

He nodded, and he wasn’t ashamed when
tears dripped down his cheeks. “I would rather die and suffer eternal damnation
for my crimes then let that foulness chain you.”

“Love changes everything.” She smiled,
stroked her thumb across his bottom lip, and licked those tears from his
cheeks. “And that's why I’ll carry your son.”

His breath hissed out, his mind blanked,
his body froze. “No. You can’t possibly…Your Blood said…They won’t allow it.”

She arched a brow at him, her mouth
quirking. “My Blood protect me, true, but I am Our Blessed Lady’s Daughter.
When She sends a Dream powerful enough to make a man wholly dedicated to Shadow
for centuries suddenly fling that dark power away from him and change the path
of his life, I can do nothing else. She gave you that Dream, Mykal. Months ago,
she gave me a similar Dream of a son.
Your
son.”

“You can’t possibly bear a child of my
blood. Shadow wants to corrupt Her bloodline. He wants a son to warp and maim
the rest of Her daughters. Don’t you see? I’m Shadowed, I’m tainted, I’m
poison.”

In a voice soft as the White's downiest
wings, she whispered, “Our Blessed Lady already gave me a daughter of Red and
White and one of White and Black. Now, She wants a son to carry both darkness
and light. I know it, Mykal, as I know that the sun will rise tomorrow and the
Silver Lake shines in my heart. I don’t claim to understand Our Blessed Lady’s
will fully, but She has a purpose.”

He shuddered, his heart shredded,
bleeding, ripping from his chest with regret. “My sole purpose as Mykal was to
give you this son of Shadow.”

“My Light is strong enough to bear him.”

“The horse drink…”

She gripped his throat in her jaws,
biting firmly, and his toes curled, his back arched, and he exploded. Gasping
he fell into her arms. She wrapped him tightly, held him while he struggled to
catch his breath. Sorrow and joy, both, tore through him.

Nibbling his ear, she laughed huskily.
“If Our Blessed Lady wants a son, then no amount of
drakkar
will prevent it.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY
TWO

EVEN
WALKING DOWN THE HALLWAY WAS COMPLICATED NOW THAT SHE’D TAKEN ANOTHER MAN TO
HER BED. As always, Dharman had her back. Sal typically walked in front of her,
swaying his hair invitingly with mischievous little grins over his shoulder to
flash that dimple at her. With Mykal at her side, though, Sal refused to walk
ahead. He pressed close to her right side, even though he knew she liked to
keep her hands free in case an assassin struck.

Dharman spoke in her mind.
:He doesn’t want to lose his place.:

His bond wasn’t uneasy, exactly, or even
shaken—he was as solid and deeply embedded in her heart and soul as ever. Yet
change was never easy, especially when she risked so much.
:My Blood will never lose their place.:

He didn’t reply, but he couldn’t hide
his disquiet, his soul-deep worry for her welfare.
:Are you sure?:

Not about displacing her Blood. No, he
was worried about this possible pregnancy. Even three years couldn't dim the
memory of the bone-crushing pain and endless, agonizing hours of labor before
her precious daughters' birth. Without
Kae'Shaman
, she would have died,
and he'd retreated to the Tenth Camp.

Yet Dalden Bay's Dream could not be
denied. There, in the holiest place in the Green lands, Our Blessed Lady's
wishes had been clear.

:I
felt the Call so strongly his Dream might as well have been mine.:

:You
must do as you feel Called. I will never interfere in your purpose. But I
cannot lie,
na'lanna
. I fear for you. Greatly:

:Do
you have a premonition?:

:Nothing
concrete.:
He sighed, his bond shimmering, twisting her closer
to him in an invisible embrace.
:I feel
trouble. A storm brews on the horizon, although I cannot see the source.
Beware,
na’lanna
, and keep us close.
Even Mykal.:

Sal smiled at her Keldari so hard his
face must hurt and his fingers stroked the
rahke
on his hip. Irritated, she shoved into him, using her whole body to push his
back against the stone wall. Before he could react, she unsheathed his
rahke
and pressed the tip to his throat.

“
Na’lanna
Qwen
…”

“Enough, Sal. Do you need me to remind
you how much I love you? How much I need you in particular?” She twisted her
wrist, deliberately breaking his skin with the
rahke.
“What do you give me that no one else does?”

“I need you to hurt me.” His eyes
darkened, his breathing quickened, and he nodded rapidly. “Please remind me,
na’lanna
.”

She sheathed the
rahke
back on his hip and settled her hands on his waist. “What do
you need me to do, Sal?”

Tossing his head in that flirtatious way
that sent his heavy blood auburn hair tumbling about her, he replied, “I need
you to bite me.”

“How hard?”

“As hard as you wish.”

Slowly, she leaned closer, rising up on
her tiptoes to hover over the small wound she’d made on his throat. She let him
have a languorous swipe of her tongue and he cried out, wrapping his arms
around her to draw her flush against him. “What does your blood do to me?”

“I make you hungry for cookies.”

She laughed, grazing him with her teeth.
“My gingerbread Blood.”

“Please, Shannari.” The use of her name
brought her head up so she could search his gaze. “Don’t tease me. Don’t make
me wait.”

“As you wish.” She fisted her hand in
his hair and steadily pulled his head back, stretching his neck in an arc. He
groaned deep in his throat and arched his back, pressing his hips against her.
Instead of biting him in the neck at the wound, she dropped to her knees,
sliding and pulling her hand through his hair to keep his head forced back, and
sank her teeth into the tight skin of his lower abdomen, more groin than
stomach.

She made a ring about the old puncture
wound she’d given him. It seemed like a hundred years ago when he’d drilled
with her, taunting and laughing while grabbing her throat from behind. Gregar
had refused to relent in her drills until she'd struck without thought. Sal had
borne the brunt of that attack.

Even then, staring at the boy with
adorable dimples, she’d been entranced by the blood gushing down his body. It
tasted all the sweeter now that she knew the honorable man into which he’d
grown.

Groaning, he released all the pent up
jealousy and hurt that had been straining in him since she’d taken the Keldari
into her bath and then her bed. He wrapped his arms around her head and held
her to him, folding his body around hers. “Thank you,
na’lanna
.”

“I’ll always need you, Sal. I’ll never
let you go.”

He drew her up and brushed his mouth
against hers. “Good, because I’m never leaving.”

“Go get cleaned up; we’ll wait for you.”

Sal trotted back into her bedchamber.

She turned, expecting to see amusement
on Dharman’s face, but his mouth was tight, eyes, grim. “Bane reported a body
at the end of the hall.”

She strode down the hall, her boots
ringing in the silence. Her stomach tightened. Had an assassin come after her
and killed one of the Palace servants? She turned the corner and stopped short.
“Benton.”

The man who’d refused to swear a blood
oath to her. Why him? Whoever killed him had deliberately left him just out of
sight from the Blood always guarding her door. Indeed, the body had been
artfully arranged: seated, boots crossed, hands folded in his lap. The only
thing marring the scene was his head sagging awkwardly.

Mykal squatted beside the body and
pointed to his neck. “There’s the wound that killed him.”

The small puncture was deceivingly small
and innocent, but it laid on top of the major vein in the neck. With very
little blood on the man’s clothing and only a few drops on the floor, he must
have been killed elsewhere and deliberately brought here.

“Dragons will occasionally bring kills
to the female they’re attempting to woo,” Mykal said, his voice flat. “This man
refused your will, and now he’s dead. He’s a gift. One of the
tals
attempts to win the White Dragon’s
favor.”

His bond felt tight and withdrawn,
singing with alarm that only grew with intensity. Lightly, she stroked his
cheek, and he flinched, his gaze jerking toward hers. “What is it? I know you
had no part in this.”

“It’s a very deliberate message.” He
licked his lips, fighting to keep his gaze on hers. “Someone knows who I used
to be.”

She bent down, keeping her hand steady
on his face and her gaze locked on his. He couldn’t miss the quickening of her
heart, the silent alarm racing through her body. “Why do you say that?”

He averted his face in shame, but let
her have the memory. High in the mountains of Pella, Stephan and Theo had sat
down at a round table together. She saw the servant girl come into the room,
disturbingly similar in looks and coloring to her, and Stephan had struck with
the silver needle, the same one he’d threatened her with in Our Lady’s Chapel
on the Bay.

She couldn’t help the shudder that tore
through her. Dharman placed his palm on her back, the heat of his body against
her, and some of the instantaneous fear eased. Stephan and Theo had held cups
to the servant’s throat, caught her blood, tossed her aside like garbage, and
then toasted each other while they drained their cups.