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Authors: Michelle Howard

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BOOK: Rylin's Fire
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“G-g-good.” Dara lost the train of her thoughts. Rylin adjusted his weight and the tip of his hardness teased with its back and forth glide. She sucked in a breath. “Rylin.”

He shook his head, the dark strands falling over his brow again. “We will talk of it later. For now, accept me.”

Dara had no time to agree or disagree. With a short thrust, he pierced her aching core, the slick wetness almost embarrassing Dara with the clear evidence of her own greed and desire.

Rylin pulled out and caught her chin with one hand. “More?”

“Yes. Oh, please yes.” Her breath escaped in a rush, the words tumbling over one another.

He plunged back into her, face tight and hips moving against her. Dara’s hoarse scream ripped free. His sack rasped against her folds as he went deep. Her inner walls convulsed and began to burn.

Rylin grunted from above, features reflecting the strain. A sense of power filled Dara to see the visible evidence of his reaction to their lovemaking. Rocking with him, Dara clenched her lower muscles and concentrated on matching his hectic pace. His tortured groan was rewarding and to her surprise, Dara laughed.

 Her hand curled around his nape. “Can you keep up?”

Rylin’s head snapped up and his mouth fell open.

“Well?” she taunted.

The leash on his control snapped as he kissed the thumping pulse at her throat. Rylin sucked at the tender skin hard enough to bruise. The strength of his desire for her bordered on violence. He moved lower, gaze on his target. His mouth closed over a nipple, the wet heat zinging up her spine. Dara arched into his touch.

“Rylin.” His name dragged from her.

 Agony bathed his features. The fast strokes and the harder smack of his thighs against her sent Dara careening into a blinding orgasm. Sparks glared behind her closed eyelids before she collapsed, every breath ripped from her.

Rylin jerked above her as he bathed her insides with the hot jet of his seed. “I’m The King of the Black Dracol. I will always keep up with you.”

Chapter 16

 

Dara woke abruptly thanks to the loud, raised voices. She recognized one as Rylin and after a moment of hesitation leaped from the bed to tug on her dress from the night before. Grimacing at the wrinkled material and her lack of underwear, Dara followed the sounds down the hall. The muscles in her lower region twinged from the vigorous workout during the night.

She wasn’t sure how late in the morning it was, but bright sunlight blared through the entire suite. Tiptoeing pass each room, including the one filled with treasure, signaled her attempt at stealth. Dara might as well have given up the effort.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of what resembled a living area, Rylin and the tall blond from before spun at her approach. Mikal, she remembered. Both men wore dark clothing that molded to their body. Fitted pants and tight sleeveless shirts displayed arms that looked as if they could squeeze a grown man in half. Or an Earth woman with little sense.

“Dara.” Heat flashed through Rylin’s gaze as their eyes connected.

Refusing to succumb to the embarrassment of her disheveled state, Dara walked calmly to his side beneath the watchful stare of Mikal. Ry’s arm encircled her shoulders, immediately alleviating some of her discomfort.

Mikal cleared his throat and shifted his stance, releasing Dara from the penetrating scope of those gold eyes. “We made the official announcement today. Females are angry and their mates justifiably worried. The attack on Varyk’s sister only proves the rogue is not afraid to go after anyone. Now, the King of the Green is up in arms swearing it’s someone from the Black. We’ve lost the fewest number of
liras
, increasing the suspicion placed on us.”

Rylin’s chest twitched behind Dara, his frame going rigid. “We need to find him and put a stop to these attacks.”

The dark tone of Rylin’s voice hinted at his displeasure. Mikal nodded. “I’ll continue my investigation and work with the other seconds for any information that could reveal the identity.”

“Good.” Rylin waited until Mikal left and turned Dara in his arms. The kiss he placed on her lips brought back the steamy memories from their night together. She’d lost count of how many times he’d reached for her, taking her body. Sometimes with savage intensity, and others with gentleness.

“I want your things moved here today. I’ll be able to keep an eye on you better while I track the killer.”

It was on the tip of Dara’s tongue to protest. Moving in with him constituted a big step, but then she reflected on their last conversation when he sought to protect her by pushing her away. Asking her to move in revealed his need for assurance of her safety.

Rylin nudged her chin with his knuckles. His eyes darkened to a deep amber, only hints of the gold wisping along the outer iris. “I need this.”

Dara sucked in a breath. Trust. One word with a meaning and implication a mile long. But somehow Dara knew this moment would prove to be pivotal. Yes, she’d almost lost faith when he attempted to chase her away, but the hunger he’d exhibited during the night, the desperation in each stroke as he took her to pleasure time and time again, said more than words.

“I trust you, Rylin.” Dara turned to fully face him, her arms drawing up and about his neck.

He growled, the sound creating dips in her belly. Then he wrapped his hands about her hips and tugged her close. “Good.”

She expected him to say more or to carry her into the bedroom, though she wasn’t sure how much more gymnastics she could handle. Instead, he stepped back after a brief squeeze to her waist and the corner of his mouth curled up. “I’ll send for your things. In the meantime, make free use of my suite. Bathe. Someone will come for you.”

Dara arched a brow and placed her hands on her hips. “And where will you be?”

A mask slipped over his features and any signs of humor vanished. “Hunting a killer.”

 

***

 

Ry angled his wings to turn toward the clearing and slowed his descent. Below he made out the group waiting for his arrival at the sect boundaries where his land ended. Though he knew of his visitors, territorial instinct had flames licking free of his mouth. Another flap of his leathery, scaled wings brought him closer. The mantle and his essence merged, filling Ry with a burst of power to deal with the confrontation to come.

He let out a warning screech, signaling his approach, and shifted between one breath and the next, landing on two feet instead of dragon claws. The four men gathered all glared in his direction, the deep rumbles of their displeasure rousing his Dracol.

Ry tamped down his essence and greeted them in a neutral tone. Mikal and Layne landed on softly padded feet and stood to one side of him. Neither bothered to disguise the aggressive, guttural sounds rolling from their throats.

Pulling on the non-stop flow of energy from the mantle, Ry clothed all of them in a simple loincloth of black silk with a thought. “I’m here, Varyk.”

The King of the Green took a step toward him and Mikal blocked Ry’s view with a simple shift in front of him. Layne tensed, his hands fisting at his sides.

Ry exhaled softly, knowing this was the response his men would take based on the threatening message Varyk sent. It was understandable that he’d be in a rage over the attack on his twin. All of the sects were in arms over the senseless killings. Milana’s mate refused to let her out of his sight until they captured whoever did this.

“Stand clear,” Ry muttered in an undertone that didn’t travel further than his men.

Mikal hesitated for a split second before clearing the way. Layne didn’t relax his stance but his snarls ceased. Varyk’s lips twisted as he bypassed Ry’s guards. The two of them walked further away, leaving behind the four Green Varyk had flown with.

“You cannot tell me these attacks are random. I’ve been hit the hardest. My
liras
deliberately targeted,” Varyk snapped as soon as they were out of hearing of the others.

“You know I have no quarrel with you, Varyk. Why would I send a Black to do this?”

Varyk’s eyes narrowed and a steady stream of smoke leaked from both nostrils. “My land borders yours. Sarkin often challenged me by crossing the set boundaries.”

“I’m not Sarkin.”

And that was the crux of the animosity Varyk constantly exhibited toward the Black. It didn’t matter that Ry had ruled with stern order and discipline over the last decade. Simple border battles rarely occurred any more once Ry began punishing the offenders.

King Sarkin may have turned a blind eye to those things, considering them petty squabbles, but Ry had dealt with each of his men in a manner they couldn’t miss. He wouldn’t countenance pointless attacks and false shows of bravados by letting his Dracol fight other sects.

“Why should I believe you?” Varyk’s dismissive question had Ry’s claws popping free.

The Green King smirked at the sign of Ry’s loss of control.

“You don’t have to believe me, Varyk.” Ry curled his fingers and his claws retracted into the finger slits. “But stay out of my way.”

Ry leaned forward and lowered his voice further. The mantle added potency to his words as he allowed his essence to rise. With the full throttle of the Dracol echoing in his voice, Ry declared, “If I find that you impede the search for the one responsible for these killings because you are blinded by past wrongs—I. Will. Destroy. You.”

Varyk’s gaze flickered. His second lids dropped, blending the man and his Dracol. “You would threaten me? In the midst of a peace talk?”

“Peace talk?” Ry snorted, unable to keep his Dracol from his tone. The deep hiss and rasp stirred his need to fight, to battle, as was his nature when another trespassed against him. “You sent a demand to meet.”

Any other time, Ry would have ignored the missive, but with all of the upheaval and murders, he couldn’t afford to appear unconcerned.

Varyk’s shoulders dropped and he shoved a hand through the loose green hair flowing about his shoulders. “Milana jumps at shadows in our home. Our home, where she should feel safe!”

Sympathy displaced some of Ry’s anger. One glance at Varyk’s face revealed the pain in his confession. It was no secret the rare twins born of one shell loved one another deeply.

“You have my vow. I did not order an attack on
liras
. Not Milana nor the others. I have no gripe with the Green. If one of mine is behind the slaughters, I will mete out appropriate justice. Do you give me the same?” Ry held Varyk’s stare until the man inhaled and backed up.

“Your vow is meaningless to me, Black Dracol. Stay far from Green territory whilst you solve this.” Varyk ported across the short space, placing them chest to chest. Venom dripped from his words. “You best find him before I do.”

Varyk turned on his heel, raising his left arm at his men. Between one step and the next, Varyk took on his Dracol form. The huge green raptor wasted no time launching into the air. Seconds later, three Green followed suit.

Ry waited until he could no longer see their wings in the distance with his raptor vision. Mikal and Layne approached.

The ends of Layne’s red hair flew across his face. He caught the strands in his fist and held them back. “Did King Varyk have any news to report?”

“No. Just more attempts to point fingers at this being an attempt of the Black going after him. I think I managed to convince him of my innocence.”

Mikal rolled his eyes. “And he believed you?”

Funny enough, Ry felt like Varyk did.

 

Chapter 17

 

Someone had indeed dropped off her clothes and belongings. After taking a much needed shower in a bathroom big enough for an entire basketball team, Dara dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a ribbed long sleeve top in red. Most of her tops were long sleeve, since the clime on Vovin was cooler than Earth and they didn’t have changing seasons.

She ran her hands through her hair with a bit of product to control the curl but didn’t spend a lot of time trying to tame the wild mess. She admired herself in the stand up mirror and wondered what her mother would think if she could see her. The thought caused a pang in her heart.

This was the longest she’d ever gone without contact with her mom. Dara turned away from her image and debated asking Rylin for use of Vovin’s communication system. The expense of a special face to face call would cost more than Dara could afford since she didn’t have her own established link-phone but surely Rylin and his people had one. She’d ask him when he returned.

Rylin had been very specific about her waiting and not wandering around on her own. That didn’t stop Dara from stepping outside the door of his suite of rooms.

Conversation in the hall drifted to her. Most of it pertained to the death of the woman, Shara, and other names she didn’t recognize. Dara bit her lower lip as doubts crept in. It had taken the first ten minutes of standing beneath the stinging hot spray of the shower to stop her mental back and forth.

“Avi says the body was mutilated,” one of the men muttered.

“Savaged. We have to keep a closer eye on our females.”

 “Dara Fletcher?”

The men dispersed when a younger man approached, striding down the long hallway and distracting Dara. “Yes?”

His tan cheeks pinkened when she faced him. Brown hair fell about a narrow face with thin braids intermixed. He wore black leathers and a black tee shirt made of stretchy material. His eyes swept over her from head to toe and if possible, his face got redder. “I’m Olivan. King Rylin asked me to shadow you until his return. I can show you around the grounds if you like.”

Holding back an amused grin at his awkward appraisal, Dara nodded. “I’d love that. Thanks.”

One final check in the room and Dara followed him. He led her into the outer hall and past several opened doors, down a winding stair case into a large open space foyer. The ceilings of the castle soared high above their heads and small rainbows landed throughout the tiled floor from the wall-to-wall glass windows.

“It’s really bright,” she noted, her steps slowing as she took her first real look at the inside of Rylin’s castle. Spacious came to mind, and empty. There had been people everywhere on her previous visit and yesterday. Today it echoed with an unexpected quiet.

Olivan offered her a smile over his shoulder and continued toward the front door. “Dracol don’t like to be boxed in.”

“I bet,” Dara mumbled under her breath.

Outside Dara received another reminder why she’d selected Vovin. The vast country side laid out before her awed with its simple beauty. There were green lands and soaring mountains for as far as the eye could see. Trees towered high in a field to her right, and Dara could make out the blue of at least three lakes to her left where a steep cliff dropped off.

“Do you want to walk around?” Olivan asked, shoving the tips of his fingers into the front pocket of his pants.

Dara faced him with a shrug. In between mating parties, she hadn’t strayed far. “Sure. I haven’t seen much of Vovin except for the tourist sections, and even that’s limited.”

“Dracol are private and protective of our territory lines.” Olivan picked his way down the path of a rocky incline and Dara kept pace with him. “We’re not fond of outsiders on our land.”

Keeping her eyes on the ground, Dara held her arms out for balance. Olivan didn’t seem to have any trouble as he made his way. “Well, I’m very much an outsider. I’m from Earth and part of the Singles Program.”

His shoulders stiffened and his foot slipped before he stopped and turned toward her. “The Singles Program sends women to other worlds looking for males.”

With his youthful features, Dara didn’t place him at more than eighteen, maybe twenty. But right now, with his gold eyes swirling and the lowered register in his voice, she was reminded that a deadly predator stood with her. Not sure if he meant to ask or make a statement, she replied, “Yes.”

He waited a beat then nodded. “I’ve heard of them.”

Dara snorted, humor winning out over her brief moment of fear. “Rylin explained to me about my fellow humans…Earth peers? I don’t think they made a good impression.”

Olivan cracked a smile. The curving of his lips took the dark haired youth from cute to handsome. His features were in the transition stage from boyhood to adulthood but his body already showed the signs of a muscular frame to come. He’d make some woman very happy if he continued at this rate.

“They didn’t make a good impression,” he agreed.

Dara glanced around. “So where exactly are we going?”

His tanned cheeks reddened. “I thought since the King wanted you to see things, I’d take you to the cliffs.”

Hearing Rylin referred to as King again caught her off-guard, then the rest of his words sunk in. Her heart skipped a beat and Dara swallowed. “Cliffs?”

His steps slowed until she was closer and he bumped her with his shoulder. “It’s fun. You’ll see.”

Then, without waiting to see if she’d follow, Olivan trotted down the rock-strewn path and disappeared beyond the trees.

“Alright-y.” Dara rubbed her hands together and jogged in the direction after him.

 

***

 

Fun.
Rylin’s castle was built into the heart of a mountain side, and the surrounding area consisted of jagged peaks and edges that fell off into empty space. As evidence by the sheer rock surface she stood near with Olivan grinning like a loon beside her.

A crowd of people milled about the area with wooden benches amongst blankets on the ground. Men and women lounged about, smiles on their faces, and children tumbled and played. Occasionally growls or snarls broke out.

“You like?” Olivan’s smug tone broke into her thoughts.

But his humor didn’t hold Dara’s attention. It didn’t compare to the magnificent sight of dragons soaring past on enormous wingspans. The air filled with squawks and high pitched screeches that pierced her eardrums. As far as her eyes could see, Dracol dotted the sky in flight.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Willow left after her mating to join the Silver, but typically the celebration lasts for a full seven-day period.” Olivan frowned. “With the murder of the
liras
setting everyone on edge, King Rylin thought it best to continue the celebrations. Dracol don’t like to be restrained.”

“Huh.” The Dracol carried on the same as she imagined people would on Earth, if men were still into marriage and weddings were the big elaborate parties of the past.

There was food and drink covering several tables with more food piled in the baskets next to the families relaxing on the spread out blankets. She received a few odd looks but for the most part everyone stayed to themselves. Olivan told her funny stories as he introduced her to men and women both young and old.

She noticed he made a point to emphasize Rylin wanted her as his
lira
. Only one person did a double take. Olivan tried to steer them away but it didn’t work. The red-head woman who had invaded Rylin’s personal space approached, hips swaying. Her fitted pants and strapless top were enough to drive all eyes to her body. Dara admitted to a twinge of envy.

“I’m Sana.”

“Nice to meet you.” Nothing on Dara’s face showed her curiosity about this woman. She wouldn’t give her the pleasure.

Olivan grimaced, his efforts to move on obvious, but Dara didn’t budge. His hand grasped Dara’s wrist and tugged. “We’ll see you later, Sana.”

“He won’t really love you. There will never be children for a Dracol unwilling to let a female close.”

The whisper was low but Dara knew she was meant to hear. Narrowing her eyes, she whispered back, “That’s my concern, now isn’t it?”

Sana head jerked back as if she hadn’t expected Dara to respond. Thoughtful gold eyes took on a wary cast.

That’s right, witch. Meet your match
. Dara did a mental fist pump for not using profanity. She allowed Olivan to drag her away, glorifying in her minor victory.

“She used to be with Rylin, right?” Dara asked as soon as they were far enough away.

Olivan stumbled. “Ah. They…Sana was his
lira
.”

Though she’d put two and two together prior to the acknowledgment, it hurt. More than she wanted it to. The woman was gorgeous. Dara massaged the ache in her chest. “And they’re not together anymore.”

“No!” came Olivan’s sharp retort, startling her. He once more pinkened. “Sana is
lira
to Mikal. They have a little one.”

Dara followed the direction he indicated and caught her breath. The little girl with bright red curls defined adorable. Her giggle trilled on the air as she chased a smaller little girl with black hair in pig tails.

“She’s pretty.” Gold eyes, red hair and slender arms and legs as she raced around. Mikal’s daughter, not Rylin’s.

“Van, who’s with you?”

Dara turned and froze at the man from the mating who had been with Breya. He walked toward them slow and steady, brown hair ruffling from his pace. Olivan tensed and side-stepped in a subtle manner, which placed him in front of Dara. She bit her bottom lip in amusement at having a teen watch over her.

“What do you want, Ranald?” Olivan may have appeared young, but nothing in the rumbling growl coming from his chest sounded youthful. The playful humor of earlier faded and he faced the man who drew to a halt beside them

“Is this the female our King favors over his own kind?” Amusement danced in the gold eyes as the dark haired man leaned to the side to see her.

Olivan adjusted his stance and snarled. “She’s no concern of yours.”

Not sure of the cause for the animosity, Dara reached up and squeezed Olivan’s shoulder. She moved from behind him and smiled. “Hi, I’m Dara.”

When she extended her hand, Ranald mirrored Rylin’s gesture from the day they met and kissed her knuckles. Olivan grumbled and shouldered Dara aside gently. Ranald only smiled, his handsome features bordering on beautiful, almost but not quite on Rylin’s level.

“Van is being protective.” Apparently this amused him to no end.

“Why?” Dara didn’t understand the vibes but at least the tension only seemed on Olivan’s part.

Ranald smirked. “Because our King has already lost one
lira
to another, perhaps.”

Olivan folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t you need to follow Breya around?”

“Be careful, young one,” Ranald snapped, his face wiped clean of laughter.

This time Olivan’s lips ticked up in the corner. “Maybe you need to make sure no one steals your
lira
.” Olivan leaned forward. “Oh, wait,
you
already did that to King Konlan.”

Ranald’s arm lashed out and gripped Olivan by the shirt, but Olivan reached out and pushed Dara behind him. Her arms flailed before she fell to the ground. They’d drawn the attention of the others but she had no time for embarrassment as the two men shifted, their massive Dracol forms taking up space.

BOOK: Rylin's Fire
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