She froze at his unexpected question. Pardon?
“A redheaded woman brought me water from your falls earlier. I know how you are about trespassers. So I was wondering how she got it.” He stroked her scales. “Her hair matched your coloring.”
She swallowed. Hard. Then did her best to keep her voice and tone level and even. Did it?
He scowled, then tilted his head to study her eyes. “Aye. It did … Even her eyes.”
Stumbling back, he shook his head as he stared at her in disbelief. “Sarraxyn? Can you take human form?”
Why did he have to ask her that?
Why now?
Fear wedged itself inside her heart. She wanted … nay, needed to lie to him. She knew it was the prudent thing to do.
If only she could.
Gods, help me.
Bracing herself for whatever would happen, she transformed into her human self so that he could finally see the truth of her.
And waited.
Then waited some more.
Urian stood there, completely stunned and unable to move. Rage and betrayal warred within him. They mixed with grief to such a level that he didn’t know what to think. How to react. He’d come here for comfort and now …
Who and what was she?
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her long auburn hair shimmered in the dim light. In all honesty, she was exquisite in her fey beauty. Her green eyes practically glowed. She was, indeed, the woman he’d seen earlier. The one who’d touched his hair.
“I was afraid to.”
He swept his gaze over her. Dressed in a flowing bronze-colored peplos, she was a goddess. Her lips were perfectly formed and made for kisses.
And her body …
Urian had a hard time reconciling this woman with the dragon he’d known all these years. At least until he saw her pointed ears. There was something strangely apropos about them.
She stepped toward him.
He moved away.
“Urian—”
“Don’t, Xyn.” He needed time to accept this. The fact that she’d lied to him all this time.
Well, maybe not lied. Misled or withheld.
Whatever it was, it left an ache inside him.
“Please, understand. I didn’t want to hurt you. I know there’s nothing for us. You’re Apollite and I can’t feed you.” Tears welled in her eyes and made her lips quiver. “I’ve loved you all these years.”
Urian winced as he realized how much he’d loved her, too.
And there was nothing they could do. Because she was right. This was beyond cruel.
To both of them.
How could they be together when the only way for him to eat would be to take his nourishment from another woman, knowing that the feeding would drive him to have sex with someone else? Or else he’d have to go back to his disgusting bladders of congealed blood …
That wouldn’t be fair to her or him.
She cupped his face in her hands and pressed her forehead to his. “I’ve snuck off to see you so many times.”
Pain burned his throat as he realized how many times he’d glimpsed her among the people of their town. “I know. Now that I see you … Yours is the face I’ve seen in the crowd so many times.” Fisting his hand in her soft, vibrant hair that stood out among their drab paleness, he kissed her and growled at the bitter sweetness of her mouth.
She was so much to him. His best friend. His touchstone.
His dragon.
And he could never have her.
Never.
His heart breaking, he let her go and stepped away. Tonight, he hadn’t just lost his mother. He’d also lost his dragon and best friend.
And probably his wife, too.
April 30, 9508 BC
Ophion ducked as a vase flew past his head and shattered less than an inch from his face. It was even closer to Urian, who didn’t move at all.
But then Urian was used to shit flying at him when he least expected it. Too bad it didn’t kill him.
His jaw agape, Ophion stared at Urian in utter disbelief, not only at the shattered projectile but at Urian’s complete nonreaction to it. “Shite, brother! What have you done to your wife?”
Urian rolled the dice across the table and sighed as he lost another round. Figured. His luck was holding.
Bad to worse.
“I’ve been taking my meals in other places, and she’s rather pissed because of my poor life choices.”
Ophion grimaced in sympathetic pain. “What happened?”
Sighing, Urian sat back in his chair. “Let’s just say I’d rather starve than take meals that turn my stomach.”
His brother glanced through the open doors in the direction Xanthia had gone off with her friends. “What’s she doing for food, then?”
“Haven’t asked and I don’t care.” No doubt his wife was spreading her legs for someone.
Ophion’s eyebrow shot up. “You really mean that?”
Urian nodded. “Unlike you, adelphos, I married for convenience and sustenance, not passion. When she ceased being those things … she can seek her comfort wherever she finds it.” He shrugged at a sad, painful truth. He really didn’t care whom she screwed or when. “The children, however, are another matter. I’m still caring for them.” His father had bred responsibility into them and would be the first to beat them down if they neglected to care for those who couldn’t fend for themselves.
As he’d always said, you protected whoever stood at your back. Fought with those who stood by your side, and killed whoever was dumb enough to stand before you.
Never be their enemy.
Trates appeared out of thin air, at their side. “Urian? Your father summons you. Immediately.”
That tone was extremely disconcerting. As was his unexpected appearance. It was rare for such a summons to come and even more so to be in such a dire manner.
Exchanging a frown with Ophion, he rose.
His brother remained seated.
At Urian’s unspoken question, he laughed bitterly. “I’d come with you, but I don’t like the sound of it. In fact, I’m pretty sure my testicles just crawled back into my belly.” He smacked Urian on the arm. “Have fun, brother. I’ll make a pyre for your funeral games.”
“May the gods strike you down, asshole,” Urian grumbled as he followed after Trates to see what their father wanted with him now. Though to be honest, he could think of nothing he’d done particularly vexing.
At least not tonight.
Which was actually a record for him, given how most nights went. Normally, he’d be due a good ass-kicking by this time.
For once, and in spite of his wife’s anger toward him, he’d been on his better behavior.
He hadn’t punched anyone in the face. Started any revolts. Most miraculously of all, he hadn’t even brawled with his brothers.
Yet as he entered his father’s study and found a group of unfamiliar Daimons there, he drew up short.
This is unexpected. Especially given the fact that every member of the party, including their leader, was a woman. Dressed in a breastplate of white orichalcum, she, like the rest of them, was strikingly gorgeous. Her long blond hair was plaited, and laced with bright red ribbons that matched her cloak. A cloak that contrasted with the studded black leather of her pteruges and tall black war sandals.
Damn …
She and her warriors were the epitome of a teen Apollite fantasy made real. The kind of dream he’d spent a lot of his youth wishing would happen upon him while he was alone in the woods, lost and naked.
The moment their leader met his gaze, he felt an instant jolt of electricity go straight to his groin, which also remembered those countless hours of his misspent imaginings.
At least until she scowled angrily, then turned back toward his father. “He’s an Apollite?”
Seated on the smaller version of his bone throne that he kept in their main hall, his father shrugged nonchalantly. “Indeed. I would have warned you, but I didn’t think you’d believe me unless you saw it for yourself.”
Aghast, she closed the distance between them until she stood in front of Urian so that she could study him, nose to nose. “You’re the one who led the raid on the human village?”
“I am.”
“You?” Could there be any more disdain in that tone? “You killed them all with only a handful of men?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he nodded. “My brothers.”
Her jaw dropped again. “Also Apollites?”