The Dragon Legion Collection

Chapter Five



They stopped in the evening in a village, where they rented a room from an older woman who was glad of the coin. She fed them a hot meal, even managing to coax Theo to eat a little. The story that they were going to Delphi to seek counsel made perfect sense to the woman, who fussed a bit over Theo in his obvious weakness. The long day of walking and the hot meal made Lysander sleepy with comical speed. Alexander left Katina with the boys as she settled them into bed, then returned to the empty courtyard of the house to look at the stars and think.

Did he dare to hope for a future in this world, with the woman he’d missed so much? Was Jorge truly gone? Could he believe his family was safe? Alexander wasn’t one to pray, but he did so that night in the darkness.

“Where were you?” Katina asked quietly.

He turned to find her in the doorway of the room they’d rented, her hair loose over her shoulders and her eyes tired. She was wearing Pelias’ cloak, the red hue favoring her coloring.


Alexander had known it was only a matter of time before Katina asked him for the truth—and that he’d share it with her. He moved along the bench and she came to sit beside him, nestling against his shoulder.

“Would you mind if Theo stayed with us?” he asked and Katina shook her head.

“You don’t think his father is coming back, do you?”

Alexander took her hand in his and sighed. “I would hope that one of my comrades would do the same for Lysander in my place.”

“Of course,” Katina said. “I’ll take care of him, even if you can’t.”

She spoke with the generosity of spirit that he admired in her, and Alexander felt some of his tension ease away. They could be good partners, if the Pythia gave them the chance. He didn’t want to promise her too much, but he dared to take her hand and smiled when she curled her fingers around his.

They sat together in silence for a while, the stars glinting high above them. He was aware of the enticing scent of her skin, the rhythm of his son’s breathing a dozen steps away, the sounds of the rest of the household in slumber. He could feel the beat of Katina’s heart, the bright spark of her curiosity and recalled his old conviction that there was something special about her.

More than he’d guessed. Now, he could see the silvery glimmer to her skin, the hint of her powers that never completely faded from his view.

Now that he knew how to look.

He understood why her eyes were as dark as a fathomless pool, why her hair flowed down her back like a turbulent river, why she had such empathy for all of those around her, how she could accommodate any change or challenge—much as a river will find its way around any obstacle.

“What started the rumors about you?” he asked.

“I can never forget what I can do,” Katina admitted softly. “There’s so much good that can be done with such a gift. There was a drought in the village and children were thirsty. I couldn’t bear the sight of their suffering.”

“So you made it rain.” Alexander could guess the rest. “And someone saw you.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I can only assume so. No one would talk to me directly about it, but the whispers began. They whispered about the gods and their influence. I was never certain whether more people feared the favor of the gods—because they are so capricious—or their wrath. No woman would let her husband or son come near us. Lysander was told stories about naiads and their insatiable desires for men. He repeated them to me without any understanding of why he was being told them.” She met Alexander’s gaze. “I had to do something so that he wouldn’t be damaged by what I am. I had to protect him. No man would have me, so I sent word to Cetos, asking if he still wished to marry me. He did.”

“I’m sorry I was gone,” Alexander said.

“I have no regrets in my choices. It was always said that my kind would be unhappy in marriage, and I’d been lucky for a year, at least.”

“It’s not enough.”

“It had to be enough.” She looked at him with all the light of the stars in her eyes and he ached that he couldn’t make her the promise they both wanted to hear.

“I wish we had been honest with each other sooner,” he said and meant it.

Katina smiled and curled her fingers around his. “What’s important is that we’re honest with each other now.”

“You only know part of the truth, Katina, and the rest isn’t good.”

His bold wife didn’t flinch or avert her gaze. “Tell me,” she urged.

Alexander stared at the ground, uncertain where to start, but once he did start, the words flowed more easily. He wondered, even as he spoke, whether that, too, was part of her gift. He told her of marching away with Drake and the company of Pyr, of their sworn task to hunt those of their kind who had turned against mankind and silence them forever.

“We called them vipers.”

“But what do vipers do?”

“They bury themselves deep in the earth and whisper a spell of evil. Their songs aren’t discerned by men on a conscious level, but they enchant the men within their range. They fill the hearts of those men with wickedness and incite them to violence.”

Katina shivered. “Like old-speak. We can’t hear it clearly, but it can influence us.”

Alexander nodded. “And like beguiling.” At her questioning glance, he continued. “A Pyr can enthrall a mortal, by lighting flames in his eyes. The mortal stares and is entranced, at which point he can be told what to believe or what to think.”

Katina frowned, as Alexander had known she would. “Have you done this?”

“I don’t have the skill and don’t wish to learn it.”

She looked away from him. “Maybe that’s what happened to Cetos.” At Alexander’s frown, she held up a finger. “He was never violent before or so filled with rage. And it makes no sense to me that he would agree to send Lysander away. He wasn’t happy that I had a son, but there was never such a desire to be rid of him, much less entrust his welfare to a stranger. He was like a different man. What if he was enchanted? What if the merchant who wanted to buy Lysander was Jorge?”

Alexander was startled by the idea, but the more he considered it, the more sense it made. Trust Katina to see what he’d overlooked. He squeezed her hand. “You’re right. Jorge could have smelled Pyr on Cetos and pursued him. I smelled Slayer when Cetos came home.”

“I’ve interrupted your story,” Katina said, smiling at him. “Tell me.”

He told her of their company hunting a viper to its lair and their attack upon that fiend. He cast a glance at her, knowing that few other women would believe this part of the story. “We thought we had defeated him, but that was part of his spell. In fact, we were enchanted ourselves and captured by the viper.”

“How?”

“Each warrior snared by a viper becomes another of his teeth, a weapon that can be used against mankind against his own will.”

“You became teeth?”

“All of us. In time, the viper aged and grew soft, more like a worm. His teeth fell out, although we were still enchanted. The teeth were discovered, collected, even coveted by men who sensed there was something potent about them. We were trapped in that form until we were sown in the earth and given release.” He ran his thumb across Katina’s hand. “And when that finally occurred, more than two thousand years had passed.

She stared at him in astonishment.

“I thought to never see you again. I thought all of this was as dust and lost to me forever, but then something strange happened.”

Katina bit back a smile. “Only the first strange thing?” she teased.

Alexander couldn’t smile because the next part of the story troubled him deeply. “My kind know of a special flame, called darkfire. I don’t know its origins, but it burns with a blue-green light. Some wizard had locked this force into three quartz crystals, but a Slayer broke one of them in those future times, releasing it.” Alexander sighed. “Its talent is in introducing unpredictability. Strange things become possible when the darkfire burns, and assumptions are challenged if not overturned.”

“That’s how you got back,” Katina guessed. “That’s what the light was that glittered when Jorge disappeared.”

“Drake, our leader, believed we had to take custody of one of the remaining darkfire crystals, and so we did.”


“Why?”

“He heard a summons and took it as a command. I don’t know if the crystal commanded him or another Pyr, but with Drake, there was no question but to obey.”

“Drake is the commander you knew here as Stephanos? The father of Theo?”

Alexander nodded. “He believed his past was lost beyond retrieval, we all did, so he chose to take a new name. The enchantment changed us, all of us.”

“Yes,” Katina said quietly, then reached to kiss his cheek. “How could it not?”

Alexander looked at her, needing to know if she preferred him now or before.

Katina smiled a little, affection in her eyes. “Your emotions are easier to read. Maybe I’ve changed, too, but I feel closer to you now, not just when we’re making love.”

A lump rose in Alexander’s throat. Could the darkfire give him a gift? He knew it could, just as he knew it could snatch away any delight for some caprice of its own.

He cleared his throat, knowing that Katina waited for the rest of the tale. “As soon as Drake had the crystal in his hand, the light of the darkfire within it began to brighten and pulse. It would flare to brilliance and when its light faded, we would find ourselves transported, through space and perhaps through time. We weren’t sure what was happening, but we lost many men along the way. The fourth time, it deposited us near the village and I knew where we were.” He frowned, staring at her hand, and his voice dropped low. “Drake said they would wait, but the crystal lit once again.” He glanced up at Katina. “I ran away from them, to ensure that I was left behind. I had to see you.”

He saw immediately that she understood. “You think it will collect you again. You think you will be taken back with your company again. It’s not just the Pythia’s judgment that concerns you.”

Alexander took a breath and said his fear aloud. “I fear the price of my transgression will be losing you all over again.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “I don’t know how to endure it.”

To Alexander’s surprise, Katina framed his face in her hands and smiled at him. Her eyes shone brightly, as if she might cry, but still she smiled. “Then let’s make every moment count, Alexander. I’ve waited eight years to feel your body against mine again, and once was never enough for either of us.” She brushed her lips across his and her voice turned husky. “Love me, Alexander,” she urged. “Love me as if we could be parted at any time. Love me with a vigor that will give both of us something to remember.”

Alexander couldn’t argue with that.



* * *



They came to Delphi three days later, Katina’s love for her husband bolstered by three nights of thorough loving. Katina walked beside Alexander, her hand clasped in his. She felt closer to him than ever and more in love than she could have imagined. They whispered to each other at night, exchanging secrets and confessions, learning more about each other and their powers. He’d told her stories of all he’d seen and she’d told him of all the gossip from the village. They explored ideas of what they might achieve, as well as exploring the pleasure they could give each other. Katina didn’t want this interval to end.

But all the same, she wanted to know Alexander’s fate.

She could feel his strength returning and his body healing, but worried about the spot on his chest that was missing a scale. Even in human form, it was red and angry-looking. Worse, it didn’t seem to heal. She didn’t like the possibility that he was uncertain about the yellow dragon, either.

And she wasn’t looking forward to the Pythia’s pronouncement. That one woman could hold their entire future in her hands seemed unfair, but Katina knew Alexander would do whatever the Pythia demanded of him.

She dreaded the reappearance of the darkfire, too.

Theo had awakened on the second day and walked a bit more each day. He was still weak, but made steady improvement.

They reached Delphi late in the evening and should have waited until the next morning to visit the shrine. Katina couldn’t imagine how she would sleep, knowing that judgment was so close.

“Let’s go now,” Alexander said. “In case we aren’t too late.”

As soon as he made the suggestion, Katina was in full agreement. They immediately began the ascent to the shrine, Lysander walking ahead of them and Alexander carrying Theo.

Katina glanced up the hill at the white columns on the sanctuary of Apollo’s shrine and felt Alexander’s grip tighten on her hand.

They climbed to the shrine of Athena Pronaia at Marmaria first, giving honor to the goddess even as they marveled at the beauty and ancient power of the place. High above them towered the twin peaks of Mount Parnassus. The land spilled below them, dropping steeply to the Gulf of Corinth. It felt, on this journey just as on the last one, to be a place outside of time, a place where gods might walk alongside one.

Or maybe where two beings with unusual powers might find a way to make a future. Katina stood with Alexander in the round Tholos temple, with its three circles of columns and looked over the site with awe. She felt serenity well within her, a confidence that all would come right and that the gods would hold her and Alexander in the palms of their hands. There must be a reason for them to have their abilities and to be together. There must be a way they could aid the future.

She remembered the Pythia’s prophecy and wondered how Lysander might save the earth.

“My pottery,” she said, stopping for a second in her surprise that they’d missed the obvious.

Of course, she hadn’t known his secret then.

“Your fire and earth, like the prophecy,” Alexander said.

“But what if that’s not it?” Katina said, her excitement rising. “What if there’s a reason I was never any good at it?” She tightened her grip on his hand. “What if you’re the fire I need?”

Alexander looked at her for a long moment. “In the future, the Pyr are each said to have an affinity with two elements. Each mate has an affinity to the two elements her Pyr lacks.”

“So, together, they create a united whole!” Katina said with delight. “I’m water. You’re fire.”

“One of us must have earth and the other, air.” He squeezed her fingers as they walked more quickly. “The future Pyr associate air with ideas and dreams and prophecies. That’s you.”

“And what about earth?”

“They associate it with practicality and reliability.”

Katina laughed. “That would be you.”

They continued in thoughtful silence to the Kastalian spring and Katina wondered if she were the only one feeling a tentative hope for the future. “We wash ourselves here,” she told the boys. “To purify our bodies before we enter the temple.”

“Isn’t Kastalia a naiad?” Alexander asked quietly and Katina nodded. “Maybe she’s the forebear of your kind.”

Katina didn’t know. It was difficult to learn much about her powers, since revealing her nature usually meant being ostracized by others and she’d been rejected at the shrine.

But when she reached for the water of the spring, it surged toward her like a tide. The water splashed high, sprinkling her, as if greeting her home.

“Did you do that?” Lysander asked, but Katina could only shake her head.

“The water recognized you,” Alexander murmured and Katina thought he was probably right, even though nothing like that had ever happened to her before.


She reached into the water as if to embrace it and was startled to see a dozen women’s faces in the water. They smiled at her, their hair streaming back over their shoulders and their voices as light as a rippling stream. “Welcome, sister,” they said, and Katina realized that her companions hadn’t heard them.

Welcome, sister.

When she raised handfuls of water to her face, the water caressed her skin like a thousand kisses.

Could her home be at Delphi?

They passed through the gate to the Sacred Way and climbed the steep road past the treasuries. Alexander pointed out the monuments from Sparta to the boys. The sun was setting, painting the entire scene in orange and gold when they climbed the last increment to the temple itself.

A sacrifice had been made on behalf of all supplicants earlier that day, so they only had to pay the pelanos. “The Pythia should have stopped already,” complained the attendant. “But today, she insisted upon remaining. She said she’s waiting. I’m not sure for whom.”

Alexander and Katina exchanged a look that was filled with hope.

They all held hands as they proceeded into the temple’s interior, which was filled with shadows. The boys walked between Katina and Alexander. Katina could see the silhouette of the laurel tree that grew in the central sanctuary, its branches stretching as high as the tallest columns. She smelled the fumes that rose from the cleft in the earth and heard the Pythia murmuring to herself. She saw the glow of the sacred fire on the hearth of the temple, the fire that was used to light the hearth fires throughout Greece. She smelled the laurel leaves that had been burned on the altar, along with barley.

It was hazy and dark within the temple, a place beyond time and as distant from her own world as Katina could imagine. She remembered so clearly the first time she had entered this place, how she had walked through this same entry with her parents, how she had seen the young men pledged to Apollo’s service standing at the perimeter, how the sparks had danced between her and Alexander. It had seemed then to have leapt from the altar of the temple.

Alexander held tightly to her hand as they proceeded, and she saw a line of other young men standing silently in the shadows around the perimeter of the space.

Were they all Pyr, as well?

One attendant gestured that they should continue to the small space where supplicants waited, out of sight of the Pythia, for her pronouncement, but the old woman cried out.

“Fire and water, come to me!

This is a union   I must see.”

Alexander and Katina stepped toward the oracle, leaving the boys to wait. The air in the core of the temple was even more hazy and the smell of the fumes was strong. It seemed dangerous and unpredictable, on the verge of chaos beyond their understanding. Katina saw that blue light begin to glow around Alexander, the glow that indicated he was on the cusp of change. He was watchful and intent, prepared to defend her against any threat.

They fell to their knees together before the enthroned Pythia and bowed their heads, Katina’s gaze drawn to the long cleft in the earth that divided the temple, the one that emitted the strange vapors. That crevasse worried her, although she couldn’t say why. It hadn’t troubled her when she’d been here before.

Then the Pythia spoke and she listened with care.



“Evil must face its just defeat,

By Pyr trained to soldiers elite.

Apollo makes this task your price,

A life of service will suffice.

You, naiad-spawn, lost and found,

Have gifts beyond any count.

Here you will learn skills still unknown;

Here you will bear sons more of your own;

Here you and Pyr will live as one;

Here you will lay future’s cornerstone.”



Katina gasped with delight. Alexander would be staying in Delphi, and she would remain with him. She knew he would love training the young Pyr as his service, and that he would excel at it. They exchanged a glance and his hand tightened over hers.

The Pythia descended from her tripod then, and came toward Alexander and Katina. She was old, her face lined and her cheeks sunken. She stood straight, though, and walked to them without assistance. Her chiton was made of yellow silk, as was her tunic, and both were embellished with rich purple embroidery. Her feet were bare, and when she paused before them, she put out her hand, palm up.

Alexander and Katina looked at her in confusion.

“I will heal you, Pyr,” she said quietly. “But you must assist me.”

“The scale!” Katina said and the Pythia smiled. Lysander had been listening because he hurried forward. He pulled all the broken pieces of Alexander’s lost scale from his pouch, then fell to his knees and offered them to the Pythia in both hands.

“Become what you are,” the Pythia commanded Alexander. The blue shimmer became brighter and he changed shape in a flash of light. Katina thrilled to find the deep purple dragon beside her, his head bowed before the Pythia and his claw beneath her hand.

The Pythia smiled and turned to survey the eight young men who stood as attendants in the shrine. The youngest was a few years older than Lysander, the oldest no more than seventeen. There was a brilliant shimmer of blue light, as they all changed to their dragon form. They reared up tall in the temple, moving with that same slow majesty as Alexander did. Lysander stared between them all in obvious amazement.

The Pythia beckoned to Theo, then kissed his cheeks in turn. “Be healed, young one,” she murmured as she reached to brush her fingertips across his chest.

“He’s mine!” came a shout loud enough to shake the temple.

Katina scanned the sanctuary for the source of the cry. She realized that all of the young Pyr seemed to have been struck to stone, and the Pythia was frozen, with one hand upraised. What was happening?

Alexander was scanning the sanctuary, a sign that he knew what to expect. “Slayers can move through space and time,” he murmured quietly, and she searched for some hint of the yellow dragon.

A flicker of movement drew her gaze to a yellow salamander on the lip of the crevasse. It leapt toward Theo with remarkable power for its size. Alexander roared and breathed dragonfire at the small lizard.

“The Slayer!” Lysander cried in the same moment, and Katina guessed he had identified the creature’s scent. “Stop him, Papa!”

Alexander’s dragonfire was vivid orange, hot and fierce, but the salamander jumped through it unscathed. Katina was frightened to see that this Slayer could also survive dragonfire. The yellow salamander landed on Theo’s shoulder and bared his teeth to bite the boy’s neck.

“No!” cried Katina and Lysander together.

Alexander slashed at the salamander and a spark of blue-green light leapt from his talon to the salamander. Alexander looked as astonished as the Slayer, and Katina recalled his statement that darkfire was an unpredictable force.

The Slayer cried out as he was struck by the spark, then illuminated as if he’d been hit by lightning. Katina saw the creature silhouetted in the blue-green light of the darkfire, his legs splayed, then the light flashed brighter and he vanished completely.

“How did you command the darkfire?” she demanded, but Alexander only shook his head.

“I did not. It came to our aid.” Alexander continued to survey sanctuary for some new threat and Lysander was sniffing diligently. Katina had a strange certainty that the Slayer was gone.

Forever.

“Is he here, Papa?”

“I don’t think so.”

No sooner had the light of the darkfire faded than a single spark leapt from the fire on the altar. It divided in the air as Katina watched, then struck both her and Alexander simultaneously in the chest. She saw the light of the firestorm leap between them once more, then felt its heat slip through her body. It had a blue-green shimmer for a moment, then faded to the familiar orange glow of their first meeting.


“Darkfire rekindles the firestorm,” Alexander whispered. “Against all odds.”

Darkfire was giving them the gift of a second chance. That was when Katina knew that the Slayer was truly gone.

It was also when she realized the darkfire was on their side.

The young Pyr along the walls shook themselves, as if waking from dreams, and looked around in confusion. Katina had the sense that the Slayer’s attack had been a moment stolen out of time.

Theo shuddered beside her and might have collapsed to the ground, but Katina caught him in her arms. The Pythia stepped forward and touched the burn mark on Theo’s chest, as if her gesture had never been halted. “Be healed, young one,” she said again and his color improved with her touch. When Katina helped Theo to his feet, he stood straighter and his gaze was clearer.

That was when Katina saw the black dragon mark on his upper arm, exactly the same as the one Alexander had gotten in his travels. At her gasp, Lysander pushed back his tunic and grinned at the similar mark on his own arm. There was a little shimmer of blue-green that shot around the perimeter of the mark, but when Katina blinked it was gone as surely as if she’d imagined it.

“Know thyself,” the Pythia murmured with satisfaction.

The Pythia then took the pieces of the scale from Lysander. “Your kind are vulnerable only to love,” she told him. “And the loss of a scale indicates a heart is lost. Your father loves a woman more than life itself, and there should be no weakness in that.”

Katina felt her cheeks heat with pleasure.

The Pythia cast the pieces of scale into the fire on the altar and the boys gasped in unison. The flame on the sacred hearth burned high with sudden vigor, the orange light reflecting off the scales of the dragons who watched.

When the flames died down again, the Pythia reached into the fire and removed the scale with her bare fingers. “The Pyr protect mankind,” she told Lysander. “And so this scale will not burn my mortal fingers.” She reached out, placing her other hand on the gap in Alexander’s armor. “All four elements must be present to heal a scale.” She looked at Katina. “Water, sister.”

Katina summoned the power of the element within her. She was aware of Alexander’s admiring gaze as she let her body change into a rippling cascade of water. The Pythia passed Alexander’s scale through the stream and it hissed slightly as it cooled.

She offered it to Alexander even as Katina took her human form again. “Fire,” she said, and he breathed fire on the scale, controlling the plume of flame so that it didn’t touch the Pythia’s fingers. She smiled at this, then held the scale toward Katina again. “Air,” she commanded, and Katina blew on the scale.

“And earth,” the Pythia concluded, scattering a handful of dust from the floor of the temple over the scale. She then pressed the scale firmly to the gap on Alexander’s chest where it belonged. He bared his teeth and tipped back his head, and Katina knew it hurt.

“A gift from you,” the Pythia demanded, extending a hand to Katina. “A gem to make the scale adhere.”

Katina impulsively pulled off the gold ring Alexander had given her years before, the one she’d never removed, and pressed it against the scale. The carnelian set in the gold shimmered for a second, winking like a small dragon eye. Katina felt the scale soften and the ring melted into it with a shimmer. Then it was just a stone, just a ring, just a circle of gold embedded in the deep amethyst scale on Alexander’s chest.

The Pythia stepped back and flung out her hands. “All hail, your new commander!” she cried and Katina heard a rumble like thunder.

“Old-speak!” Lysander said with wonder, turning to look at the young Pyr around him. Katina realized they were hailing Alexander, as commanded.

Alexander stretched his wings wide, displaying the perfection of his repaired chest, then shifted shape quickly. The other Pyr in the temple changed shape in the same moment, becoming strong young men who stood at attention once more. The temple looked as it had when they’d entered, except for the golden light of the firestorm.

Alexander caught Katina’s hand in his and the light flared between them. She felt the heat of the firestorm slide through her body, making her keenly aware of Alexander standing strong and tall beside her. It was more subdued than it had been before, but the radiant glow between them couldn’t be disguised in the comparative darkness of the temple. Her future was with Alexander, here in Delphi, ensuring that the Pyr were prepared for the challenge of their future.

The Pythia smiled secretly. “I told you before that your future was with fire and earth.”

“Alexander,” Katina breathed.

“No more pots,” Alexander agreed, a twinkle in his eye.

The Pythia glanced down at their interlocked hands and the sparks dancing between them. “A gift, to one of Apollo’s faithful,” she said. “Use it wisely.” She smiled, then returned to her tripod, even as Katina planned the conception of their second son.

She turned to face the man she loved, knowing that she would seduce him so completely on this night that even the darkfire wouldn’t be able to steal him away again.

Alexander smiled, as if he’d read her thoughts and agreed, then kissed her soundly right in the sanctuary of the temple.



* * * * *





[pageKiss of Darkness

The Second Dragon Legion Novella



by Deborah Cooke





They will sacrifice anything to regain the loves they’ve lost...



Damien, the heartbreaker of the dragon shape shifter warriors called the Pyr, can’t forget Petra, the only woman who could both captivate him and destroy him. He’s haunted by their firestorm, the prophecy that compelled him to leave her—and her subsequent death. When the darkfire crystal takes the Dragon Legion to the underworld, Damien seizes the chance to save his son. To his surprise he finds Petra just as enticing as ever...and still pregnant. When his kiss makes their baby stir to life again, they both hope for a different future. Can they learn from the past and trust each other? Even if they solve the riddle of the prophecy, will they be able to escape the underworld, claim the promise of the firestorm and save their son?





]Chapter One



When the light of the darkfire crystal faded and its wind had stilled, Drake and his men found themselves in a sunny but empty plaza. It was early in the morning, dew fresh on the flowers in the heavy planters that were scattered across the space. One man watered the flowers, starting when he turned to find eight men had silently arrived in the space. A large fountain was in the middle of the square, water splashing from it and sparkling in the sunshine. There were buildings around the square, their windows shuttered or dark.

They had manifested in the shadows near what was clearly a restaurant. It was closed now, but the tables and chairs were still set up under awnings on its patio. The company of warriors pulled together a pair of tables and sat down together, flicking anxious glances around themselves.

Damien knew he wasn’t the only one who was hungry and exhausted. He guessed they were in southern Europe, maybe back in the twenty-first century again. He’d know better when the women appeared, by the style of their clothes.

Drake, their leader, had immediately counted their dwindling company. Damien had noticed that Aeson was gone. They were down to eight survivors: Drake and Damien, Thad and Ty, Peter and Ashe, Orion and Ignatio.

Drake scanned the plaza with unfounded optimism, then his lips tightened. He looked down at the large quartz crystal in his hand, and Damien was relieved that the light within it had dimmed.


For the moment. The darkfire crystal seemed intent on flinging them across the universe. Repeatedly and without warning.

“Aeson,” Ty said, defeat in his tone.

“One more lost,” Peter said with a grim satisfaction. He was always looking for the dark clouds on the horizon. “Besides Alexander, that is.” He glared at Drake. “You shouldn’t have let him go.”

“I have no wish to deny a man his greatest desire,” Drake said, his tone as tired as Damien felt. He held up the dark crystal, then closed his hand over it. “I wish it hadn’t lit so soon. I wish we could have waited for him.” He passed a hand over his forehead, and Damien saw how much this ordeal was costing their usually stalwart leader.

“He chose to look for Katina,” Ashe said to Peter, his tone defensive. “It’s our responsibility to defend our mates after we’ve had a firestorm. Alexander did what was right.”

“He ran to her,” Ty added. “Making sure the crystal left him behind.”

“Well, I hope she was there,” Ashe said, practical as ever. Drake cleared his throat but the younger man glanced up. “Well, I do! It would be terrible if he’d taken that chance only to find her gone.”

“Married,” Iggy added.

“Ancient,” added Peter. “There was no telling how much time had passed for her.”

“Or dead,” Damien felt obliged to add. “Alexander might have ended up alone.”

A shudder rolled through the group of men, as their worst fear was expressed aloud.

“That would suit you,” Iggy said to Damien, obviously trying to lighten the mood of his fellows. “Love them and leave them, that’s our Damien. Mr. Heartbreaker.”

Damien smiled at their teasing.

“Do you even have a heart?” Ty joked. He and Iggy as the youngest of the group were most envious of Damien’s sexual success. They wouldn’t have been envious of Damien’s experience, that was for sure, but he was never going to confide that story in them. “I remember that one in Paris.” Ty whistled through his teeth and Iggy grinned. “She could have had my heart and soul just for the asking, but not Damien.”

“He takes what they offer and leaves them behind,” Iggy concluded.

“And we’ll refrain from commentary on how that serves the good of mankind,” Peter muttered.

“They’re happy for a little bit,” Damien said, refusing to be defensive. “It’s not like I trick them. They know what they’re getting.” He spread his hands, as if he himself were enough of a gift.

Ashe rolled his eyes and Drake pretended not to have heard. Ty and Iggy laughed. Peter snorted with a disgust that had more to do with his lack of success with women than Damien’s luck.

A pair of older women came into the square at the opposite end, unlocking a door and moving inside. Mid to late twentieth-century, Damien guessed, by the cut of their clothing.

Then he smelled the coffee they had started to make. His stomach growled audibly.

“It’s a bakery,” Ashe whispered. “Get ready for temptation when they get that oven going.”

There was an almost-silent groan from the men. “If we’re still here, we’ll go see if we can buy something,” Drake said.

“Or make a deal.” Iggy nudged Damien. “If our money’s no good, maybe Mr. Charm can get us some breakfast.” Damien smiled as Iggy and Ty began to needle him, speculating on how he could obtain breakfast for eight hungry warriors for free.

“By Zeus, maybe that’s the point,” Thad said suddenly, interrupting the conversation. The others turned to look at him. “What if the darkfire crystal isn’t as unpredictable as we think? What if it’s got a plan to fulfill?”

“Such as?” Peter demanded. “What possible reason could be behind this insanity? Every time it flashes, we get picked up and flung down somewhere else. We don’t know where we are...”

“We don’t know when we are,” Ashe interjected.

“I’d say Italy, roughly 1972,” Damien murmured.

Drake peered at a church tower and shrugged. “Rome,” he said flatly.

Peter flicked a look at the pair of them that spoke volumes, then shoved a hand through his silvered hair. “We can’t eat, we can’t sleep, we don’t dare wander away from Drake and the stupid crystal in case it lights when we’re too far away and we get left behind. What kind of plan could there possibly be?”

Thad looked untroubled by the older man’s scathing tone. “Maybe it’s not an accident. Maybe the crystal is returning each of us to the place we belong. Scattering us like salt through the ages.”

“But how would it know?” Peter demanded.

“The firestorm,” Drake murmured, and the other men looked at him.

Orion frowned. “You mean that the darkfire crystal took us to Alexander’s village, precisely so he could be reunited with Katina?”

Thad nodded with enthusiasm. “It makes sense! Darkfire doesn’t have to be irrational. It’s disruptive and it’s unpredictable, if you don’t understand what it’s doing or why, but mostly, I think it makes unlikely things happen.” He nodded at the others. “And it’s linked to us. It’s a force associated with the Pyr. Why wouldn’t it enable the firestorm?”

“So, it sent Alexander back in time more than two thousand years to be with his wife and son,” Ashe said thoughtfully.

“So he could keep his duty to defend his mate and son,” Iggy agreed. “Makes sense to me.”

“If they’re there,” Peter said. “If she still wants him.”

Another beat of silence passed. “That’s all well and good,” Orion said, pacing around the group with his usual impatience. “But what can we do? How can we guide it? How can we guess where we are and why, or control where we go next?”

“Who else has had a firestorm?” Ty asked. “If Thad is right, the crystal will take us back to the mate.”

Excitement now passed through the small company, along with a sense of possibility that Damien didn’t share. He knew that Petra was dead. If Thad was right, he was going to end up alone with the crystal, which wasn’t an enticing possibility.

The more implausible possibility was even less enticing. Damien shivered.

“I left a wife and son,” Drake admitted, his words soft. “Theo was a little older than Alexander’s son and Cassandra...” His voice faded and he stared into the distance.

“I don’t think you should tease yourselves,” Damien interjected, knowing he had to say something.

“Why not?” Iggy demanded.

“It’s better than doing nothing,” Orion said.

“Because now one of you is thinking that your destined mate must be here,” Damien said, his tone harder than usual. “And each of you who hasn’t had a firestorm is going to want to break rank, no matter where we end up. You don’t know what the darkfire crystal is planning, if it’s planning anything. You could end up doing something stupid.”

Peter gave him a hard look. “Did you have a firestorm?”

“Yes,” Damien admitted, noting their surprise. “And no power is ever going to take us to where she is.”

Ty nudged Iggy. “We’re right. He doesn’t have a heart because he already gave it away.”


“You don’t know anything about it!” Damien snapped, and the rare glimpse of his temper silenced the two of them.

Orion caught his breath suddenly, drawing the attention of his fellows. He lifted his hand and his eyes widened as fire began to glow around his fingertips. The flames grew, becoming a dancing halo of flame.

“Great Wyvern,” Orion whispered in awe. “So this is what it feels like.”

Damien got to his feet, knowing what he was witnessing. Sure enough, a woman had come into the square and was knocking on the door that the older women had unlocked. Her hair was dark and long, and he guessed she was in her mid-twenties. Her shoes were flat and her skirt short, her legs perfect.

A spark exploded from Orion’s fingertip and arched through the air toward her. An answering spark rose from the woman, and the two sparks collided in a brilliant burst of yellow light over top of the fountain.

She turned to look, her eyes wide with astonishment.

“She’s the one,” Orion said and began to march across the square. Damien watched with mixed feelings: he was glad that his friend was experiencing his firestorm, but hoped Orion’s ended better than his own firestorm had.

Even given his experience, though, Damien wouldn’t have missed his firestorm—and knowing Petra—for the world.

“You were right,” Iggy whispered to Thad, whose mouth was open in surprise.

“Not again,” Drake muttered.

Damien turned to see the blue-green light beginning to pulse in the center of the darkfire crystal.

“Run!” Ty shouted and Orion did, bolting across the square, drawn to the woman who could bear his son by the heat of the firestorm. Damien saw her smile at Orion, then the darkfire became a blindingly brilliant flash.

Once again, they were tossed through the air and lashed by a vicious wind. Finally, Damien was cast to the ground and grunted at the force of the impact.

The darkfire faded to nothing, leaving the air as dark as pitch. It was still, wherever he had landed, and it was cold.

As cold as the grave.

Damien got to his feet, sure that his guess had to be wrong. His heart was pounding, even as he saw the deadened trees, the starless sky, the inky black river that separated them from a land filled with shadows. His heart felt heavy in this place, burdened by sorrow as it seldom was, even though his fellow warriors still surrounded him.

Petra had to be here.

Damien knew he’d made the right choice in leaving her, knew there was no point in dwelling on the past, knew there certainly was no chance of changing what he’d done. There had been the prophecy. It had all been so clear.

Why had the darkfire brought him here? He and Petra had no future... Damien had no sooner wondered than the answer became clear to him. The darkfire was giving him a chance to save his son.

It made perfect sense. It wasn’t their son’s fault that he and Petra hadn’t remained together. His son was Pyr, like Damien, and deserved a dragon’s education. The Pyr could use another dragon warrior in their corps. The firestorm, Damien was certain, had brought him to the underworld to retrieve his son.

Which meant it must be possible.

As Damien watched, a flat boat left the far shore. The hooded ferryman pushed his pole into the river, guiding his boat toward them. There was only darkness within the shadows of his hood and his fingers gleamed because they were bare bones.

“Charon,” he whispered, without intending to do so. Despite himself, Damien scanned the distant bank, seeking a glimpse of Petra. She’d been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—when she was alive. What did she look like now? How would he feel when he saw her? Just the possibility made him want to know for sure.

He doubted she’d surrender their son easily. Petra had always been stubborn.

But she was a mother. Surely she would sacrifice her own desires for her son’s welfare?

Damien didn’t know what to expect from her. He eyed the cold dead land on the other side of the river and remembered Petra’s passionate nature. He could doubt, but he guessed the darkfire would continue to bring him to this place until he accepted the opportunity it offered.

With that, Damien’s decision was made.

A dog began to bark then and was joined by the barking of two others. Damien narrowed his eyes to see the three-headed dog Cerberus on the far shore, its teeth white and sharp as it barked before a pair of gates.

“We’re in the realm of Hades,” Peter whispered in horror from behind him.

“All seven of us,” Drake said.

“That’ll be six, now,” Damien said, taking a step toward the shore. “This would be my stop.” He reached into his pocket, glad to find that he had two coins for the ferryman, and looked across the river. As he stepped closer to the shore, the dead who lacked the fare for the ferryman milled around him. They were no more substantial than a dark mist, but he shivered at the press of them on every side.

He still had a few moments to figure out how to get past Cerberus.

Never mind how to leave Hades alive.

Petra would be another challenge altogether. His son would certainly be with her, a babe in arms who wouldn’t be easily surrendered. Petra was loyal to those she loved, and a part of Damien regretted losing that distinction.

To his surprise, he felt a flicker of anticipation and a quickening of his pulse as the ferry drew closer. It made no sense. He knew what Petra was. He knew she’d been only an interlude in his life, a connection that couldn’t be sustained. The firestorm had brought them together to ensure his son’s conception, no more than that. He couldn’t be looking forward to seeing Petra again.

He was thrilled by the chance to save his son, no more than that.

As soon as Damien had stepped onto Charon’s vessel, he felt the flash of the darkfire. He glanced back at its brilliant light, then it faded to nothing.

The other Dragon Legion Warriors were gone.

He swallowed and paid the ferryman, knowing the way forward was the only possible way out. He still had a few moments to figure out how to get past Cerberus.

Never mind how to leave Hades alive.



* * *



Boredom was the worst part of being dead, as far as Petra was concerned. The underworld was locked in twilight, perpetually on the cusp of evening. It always felt like the middle of winter, although there were no seasons. The trees were stark and barren, the air was damp and chilly. The shadows stayed the same depth and darkness and hue. The underworld was colorless and devoid of sensation. Every single moment was identical to its follower and its predecessor. She and all the dead were frozen in time—yet Petra was trapped in the most awkward state of her life.

She was at the full term of her pregnancy.

On the one hand, it was a consolation that her son hadn’t been abandoned in the world of the living as an infant. With Damien gone and her family far away, there would have been no one to care for him in her absence. On the other hand, it was devastating to her that he had never taken his first breath. She’d never seen the son that she and Damien had conceived, never held him, never named him. She carried a reminder of everything she had lost and couldn’t forget whose fault it was.

She cursed Damien regularly—for his charm, his good looks, his heart of ice.

If his heart had been made of stone, their partnership might have had a chance.

Petra’s state might have been uncomfortable, if she’d still felt her body. In this realm, she was numb, or even less aware of sensation than that. The dead had no appetites, no occasions, no celebrations, no work, no craft. They had no purpose, no pain, no sorrow and no joy. She alone was restless and impatient among the dead. She alone yearned for novelty, for a quest, and yes, for vengeance.


But then, Petra had always been different. She was used to the sense that she didn’t fit in. The difference was that she’d once had hope that she’d find a partner, that the old saying of her kind would be fulfilled and she’d have a companion forever.

She’d been so sure that partner was Damien.

She’d been so wrong about him.

A strange blue-green spark lit at her feet with sudden brilliance, then disappeared as if it had never been. She wondered whether she’d imagined it, because it was both unlike anything she’d seen before and unlike everything else in the underworld.

Was this a delusion?

Would it be better or worse to be insane as well as dead?

Petra refused to think about that. She searched for the spark and was delighted when it glimmered at her feet again.

This time, it reminded her of a similar spark, one of brilliant yellow that had set her heart afire and changed her life forever.

The spark of the firestorm had launched all of her woes.

When the blue-green spark appeared a third time, Petra pushed the firestorm from her thoughts. It wasn’t relevant anymore. Damien had abandoned her and was never coming back. She was trapped in the underworld forevermore. The novelty of the spark was just a welcome distraction.

The spark disappeared, then lit again a dozen steps away.

The pattern repeated, a fifth light appearing briefly beyond the fourth.

Petra decided it was an invitation and followed it.

She waited where the last light had shone, impatient in her anticipation. When the next blue-green spark appeared, Petra followed the trail. She was intrigued by the way the spark seemed to wait for her, the next illumination occurring once she’d reached the last indicated point.

This was the most interesting thing that had happened since her arrival here.

It was the only interesting thing that had happened since then.

She couldn’t help remembering the hot spark of the firestorm. She could see again the glow of it in that tavern, the way light had danced between her and the most handsome man in the place. A stranger. She remembered how she had blushed and how he had smiled. She remembered how he hadn’t looked away, how he hadn’t been afraid of her, and her strange conviction that he was the one. She remembered how well she’d sung that night, how sinuously she’d danced, because she’d been performing for him alone. She could recall the heat of desire that had filled her when the firestorm had flared, her sense of the inevitability of their partnership. She would have done anything for Damien—and in fact, she had done a great deal.

Not that he’d appreciated any of it. Petra’s hand fell protectively to the ripe curve of her belly.

She wouldn’t think about his rejection.

She would think about passion. She would think about that first sweet hot kiss, and how his glorious seduction might just have been worth paying any price. She’d remember how the firestorm had flared and burned between them, how magical and powerful it had been, how lovemaking had been beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She wouldn’t think about the way her adoration of Damien had eclipsed everything else in her life.

Because it made her feel stupid.

Bitterness filled Petra’s heart and she found herself walking more quickly after the blue-green sparks.

The lights stopped abruptly at the gates of the underworld. The dark pillars of stone rose high then made an arch overhead, casting a cold shadow over the ground. A dead vine with blackened leaves twined around the stone. There should have been a breeze here from the river that flowed beyond the gates, but the air was still and stagnant.

Petra shuddered and tried not to look at the dark surface.

On the far shore were thousands of ghostly forms, milling aimlessly along the side of the River Acheron. They were the ones without a coin for the ferry, the ones Charon refused to take to the realm of the dead because they could not pay. They waited endlessly for a transition that would never come. Petra remembered their sense of despair and how it had engulfed her as she’d passed through their ranks.

She shuddered again.

Cerberus was barking furiously, as if he’d happily devour whatever or whoever arrived in the underworld. The three-headed dog that guarded the gates against trespassers—and kept the dead securely inside—was large and fierce. He didn’t usually bark so much, though. Petra peered around the pillar of the gates with curiosity and sure enough, Charon was guiding his barge to this shore.

But he wasn’t just bringing the dead. The man who stood at their fore, scanning the shore, was very much alive.

If Petra’s heart had still been beating, it would have stopped. It was the very man who had been filling her thoughts.

Damien.

She immediately felt flustered, as she seldom was. Why would he come here, when he was still alive? There was no doubt of his state, given the vibrant color of his skin and the flash of his eyes. He was no corpse.

Could he have come for her? Petra knew she shouldn’t hope for a different ending to their story, but she had sung too many love songs not to be a romantic in her heart. She chided herself silently for not having learned her lesson when she had the chance. Would he be repulsed by her? She knew she didn’t look as she had when they’d been together.

One thing was certain: Damien couldn’t intend to die in this realm. No, he must have some heroic feat planned and despite herself, Petra was curious as to what it might be. She watched from the shadows, halfway hoping he’d fail. It would serve that cocky dragon right.

Damien didn’t look as if he considered any possibility other than success. He was so trim and handsome that Petra felt a traitorous yearning. She’d forgotten just how attractive he was, and the way he could look so resolute. He’d looked like that when he’d first met her and the firestorm had burned—but she’d been the target of his attention.

She felt a strange warming within her, but it must have been an illusion or a memory. The dead felt nothing.

Even if she could have sworn her heart was fluttering.

Would Cerberus rip her faithless lover to shreds?

Petra couldn’t decide if she wanted that to happen or not. She’d been angry with Damien for so long, but one sight of him was making her remember other sweeter emotions. Did that mean she’d learned nothing by having her heart broken?

Damien leapt from the ferry, as fearless and strong as ever. Petra watched openly. He turned a cool glance upon the hellhound of Hades just as Cerberus lunged toward him, jaws snapping. Damien glared at the dog, something cold in his eyes.

Petra knew that expression and was thrilled that she would see him again in his dragon form. Damien could shift shape to a dragon of dark green, so strong and beautiful and virile that the sight of him made her mouth go dry. His scales were so deep a green as to be almost black, and each one was tipped in gold, as if it had been dipped in the molten metal. His eyes became more golden when he changed shape, and he was altogether magnificent. His dragon form was a perfect expression of the best part of his nature, his power and commitment to a cause, his ability to fight for justice.

And a hint of what they had in common.

Petra narrowed her eyes, waiting for the pale blue glow that would surround his figure just before he changed shape. He’d taught her to never watch him change and to close her eyes at the first glimmer of blue.

She was ready and waiting for that light to appear.

Except it didn’t.



* * *



Damien was astonished.

He couldn’t shift shape.

That couldn’t be right! He’d summoned the change from deep within himself, just as he was leaping from the ferry to the shore, but nothing happened. There was no pale blue light. There was no surge of heat through his body, no tumult of the change.


He landed on the dark mud of the shore in human form, shocked.

And fearful of the hellhound’s bite. What had happened to him? He pulled his dagger and kicked the dog in the chest, darting backward as he tried to shift shape again.

No luck.

Damien looked back to see the dead sliding from the barge to the shore. They were a dark shadow of indistinguishable faces, a crowd in which he could discern no features. They jostled him slightly, like a cold bank of fog, and he heard the clatter of their belts and swords. Charon waited, his pole driven into the mud of the shore, Damien’s promise of extra payment having stayed his departure.

For the moment.

All Damien had to do was get past the dog, enter the underworld, find his son and get back to the river. He heard the dead on the far shore of the river wailing for the ferryman and saw the strange glimmer of blue-green darkfire dance over the dark surface of the water.

Had the darkfire set him up?

Cerberus stood with all four feet braced against the ground, barking and snarling. The dog’s eyes burned bright red as it awaited his next move. The dog let the dead pass untroubled. The gates to the underworld arched high and dark, a shadow against the night, twenty paces away.

The hellhound was the largest dog Damien had ever seen, as tall as his chest, and all lean strength. It was black, darker than midnight, its eyes lit with an infernal flame and its teeth numerous. That it had three sets of teeth was less than ideal.

Damien tried to shift shape again, still without success.

The hellhound lost patience. It leapt toward him, teeth bared. Damien stabbed with his dagger but missed the dog’s chest. Cerberus bit him with ferocious power, its teeth sinking deep into Damien’s thigh.

Damien shouted in pain, but the dog clenched its jaws more tightly. The pain was excruciating as it tore flesh, and Damien feared the dog would eat him alive.

He punched that head between the eyes, glad to see the light dim slightly in its strange eyes. The dog loosened his bite enough for Damien to kick the beast away. He backed up, his dagger held high, as the warm rush of his own blood streamed down his leg and soaked his pants.

The dog snarled.

The blood was slipping into Damien’s boot when he realized the scene before his eyes had changed—or that he could see it more clearly. The dead surrounding him had faces now, and he could distinguish them from each other. The hellhound was more detailed to his view. He saw the silver in its fur, the blood on its jowls, the mane of snakes on each of its three heads. The snakes were black and glistening, thousands of them rooted to each head. They reared up and hissed at him like cobras, their eyes glinting and their fangs bared.

Damien felt a trickle of sweat run down his back.

He hated snakes more than anything in the world.

The hellhound leapt for him again and Damien lunged with the dagger. He missed the dog’s head, but sliced off a hundred snakes from one head. Their bodies wriggled on the ground even after they were cut free, a sight that made Damien’s blood run cold. He focused on the dog just as it went for him again. He swung the dagger and missed once more, then kicked the hellhound between one set of eyes. The beast attacked, its claws digging deeply into Damien’s chest and knocking him backward.

He fell and the hellhound leapt atop him. It was heavy, so heavy that he couldn’t budge it. One set of jaws locked around each arm, holding Damien captive.

Damien was incredulous. He couldn’t die here, not before he even entered the underworld. He couldn’t fail at his quest before it began.

But he couldn’t shift shape, and a man was no match for a hellhound.

Damien didn’t surrender easily. He thrashed and fought, even though his efforts made no difference. The dog’s teeth dug deeply into his flesh, making his blood course freely. The snakes bit him, too, tormenting him with a thousand needle bites. The eyes of that middle head shone brilliant red, then the dog bared its teeth and bent to rip out Damien’s heart.

He was powerless to do anything but watch.

Why had the darkfire betrayed him?

Damien roared in frustration, still struggling to shift. He moaned as he felt the hellhound’s hot breath on his flesh.

And then the sound of a woman’s voice floated to his ears.

She sang in the same voice that haunted his dreams.

Petra!

He glanced up and the sight of her was like a knife to his gut. Petra was just as lovely as she had been before. Her hair flowed in dark waves over her shoulders and she was deliciously feminine. But Damien was startled to see how pale she was, more like a ghost than the vivacious woman he’d known.

Dead. Of course. But no less alluring for all of that.

And she was singing to save him. Maybe that was a sign that his mission could succeed.

Damien felt the teeth of Cerberus graze his skin and decided he’d take hope where he could find it.



* * *



As furious as she was with him, Petra couldn’t let Damien be torn to pieces by the gatekeeper of the underworld.

She didn’t think about the tune, just sang the first familiar melody that came into her mind. It was after the second line that she realized the choice she’d unwittingly made.

She was singing the love song she’d first sung to Damien on the night the firestorm had sparked.

But she couldn’t stop now.

The blue-green light sparked from her fingertips and leapt through the air toward Damien and the hellhound. It illuminated the shadows, showed the confusion on the faces of the arriving dead, and cast a strange light over the deadened world. Petra was surprised, for this was no magic of her own. Charon watched from inside the deep shadows of his hood, his pose utterly still.

To her relief, Cerberus paused before ripping open Damien’s chest. The head that had been bent over Damien lifted and turned to Petra, the red glow of its eyes dying to pale gold. The snarl on the dog’s lips disappeared and its ears flicked.

The second head of Cerberus released Damien’s arm. It also turned toward Petra. The tangle of vipers in its mane slowed, swaying like grass in the wind. The animosity faded from its eyes, as well.

Petra sang even more loudly, putting all her heart into her song.

The strange blue-green light of the darkfire swirled around her, sparkling and glowing with increasing intensity as it danced between her and Damien. It was like the firestorm, but the wrong color. Petra felt the same heat of desire as she had that first time—but it seemed even stronger.

Unpredictable and exciting.

She felt dizzy with the promise of a thousand possibilities and excited as she hadn’t since Damien had left her. The feeling couldn’t last, but she couldn’t resist the opportunity to enjoy it.

Meanwhile, the third head of Cerberus sniffed at the air. The dog jumped from Damien’s chest, abandoning him before it sauntered back to the gates. Its movements became more sleepy with every step. Damien sat up, wariness in his expression, but Petra continued to sing to the hellhound.

It sat down before Petra, its eyes now pale gold. To her relief, one head yawned elaborately. The other heads quickly began to yawn as well, then the dog circled and laid down before the gates. It sighed as it put its heads down.

Its manes of vipers stilled, as if they too fell asleep.

Then Cerberus began to snore.

Petra wanted to shout with joy.

Except that Damien was striding toward her, purpose in his every step, and that dagger in his grasp. He wore strange clothing, but that didn’t disguise his muscular build, his vitality or the blood on his leg. He paused to peel off his upper garment, then tore a length of fabric from the hem while Petra stared at the perfection of his body. He bound his wounded leg tightly, but the blood continued to seep through it. She saw his bare chest, his muscles, a mark on his arm, and remembered the hard press of his body against her.


It was too easy to recall his arms wrapped around her and his heat inside her, his lips against her ear.

Even knowing what she did of him, Petra yearned. He’d promised her a night, but he’d stayed three months. Had their partnership really been that ill-fated?

Damien shoved the dagger into his belt and threw away the torn remains of his garment. He resumed his march toward her, limping slightly, his burning gaze locking on her face. Petra’s heart seemed to skip in anticipation.

They’d either fight or make love. It had always been that way between the two of them. She was taken aback to realize just how much she’d missed her fiery dragon. Ever since he’d left her, life had seemed flat and monotonous—although the underworld was even worse.

Petra eased behind the pillar, guessing his plan and not liking it. There was only one more thing he could want her to surrender to him.

“You could have enchanted the hellhound sooner,” Damien said, his low voice sending a familiar thrill through her even as his words surprised her. He arched a brow. “Or was that your way of getting even?”

Petra hoped she looked more indifferent to his presence than she felt. “I assumed you had a plan. You always do.” She shrugged as she dared to provoke him. “I guess it wasn’t a good one this time.”

Damien’s eyes flashed, although Petra wasn’t sure if his reaction was anger or desire. She was less sure it mattered. That blue-green light swirled around them, intoxicating her with its circling patterns. It leapt between them and touched her skin intermittently. It should have distracted her but instead, it made her world smaller, tightening her focus on Damien.

They could have been alone in the underworld.

“You knew Cerberus would attack me,” he said, then gestured to his leg. “Was this what you wanted?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to speak to you unless you shed blood.”

Damien blinked, then shoved a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know that.” His eyes narrowed and Petra knew he was thinking about what he had seen, weighing his experience and observations against her words. She’d never met a more analytical or observant man and a part of her wanted his attention turned upon the riddle of her again.

“Because you don’t pay attention to stories,” she chided. “You never have.”

“They’re not real.” He was dismissive, just as he’d always been. “I’m interested in truth.”

Petra folded her arms across her chest. “So, you’ve given up on prophecies?”

Damien inhaled sharply and she saw that he wanted to take a step back. His trepidation made her angry with him again. “Stories are as real as you and me,” she informed him. “Or do you prefer to think of every kind other than the Pyr as just stories?”

Damien grimaced, which she could have anticipated, then avoided the question, which was even less of a surprise. He bent to press the flat of his hand against his wound, as if he’d close it by sheer willpower. “I always hated snakes,” he muttered.

Petra refused to feel sorry for him.

At least, she refused to give any sign that she felt sorry for him.

“Then you should leave. This place is thick with them.”

He glanced up. “Why are there so many?”

“Darkness, the underworld, lost secrets and hidden desires. It’s all the business of snakes.”

He almost smiled and Petra was shocked by how alluring she found him. “And I’d know that from listening to stories.” His words were low, teasing, in the same tone he’d always used in bed. He looked up, a glint in his eyes, and if Petra could have blushed, she was sure she would have.

“Just because they’re stories doesn’t mean they don’t contain facts,” she said as she’d said a hundred times to him before. She was startled when Damien said the same words simultaneously. She loved the sound of his voice mixing with hers and was impatient with herself for being so easily seduced.

Maybe he had learned something.

But he’d left her once he’d discovered what she was.

“That’s how I know it,” she said, her voice harder than she’d intended. “But there are thousands of them here. Run now, while you can.”

Damien straightened, leaning closer to her. She could almost feel his gaze boring into her mind. “Is that what you think I did before? Run away?”

Petra held his gaze unflinchingly, letting him see that she did think that.

Damien raised a finger. “This time, I’m not leaving without my son.” He cast a glance back at Charon, who still waited. “Where is he? The ferryman won’t wait forever.”

His determination was familiar, as was the resolve in his eyes. Damien always achieved his goals and never expected any woman to deny him.

But his words were unwelcome. Just as Petra had feared, she’d only been useful to him. He only cared about his son. Anger burned hot in her chest and she enjoyed the fact that she could shock him in turn.

“Sadly for you, he and I are eternally together.” Petra stepped away from the pillar, revealing her figure to Damien.

His gaze fell to her round belly. “But you’re pregnant!”

Petra gave him a skeptical look. “You did have a part in that.”

“But...” He was at a complete loss for words, and Petra realized she’d never seen him so confused.

She wouldn’t feel compassion for him.

She’d savor the sight of his plan failing to come together.

“I was pregnant when you left,” she reminded him more gently than she knew he deserved. “Not quite this far along, but still visibly pregnant.”

He swallowed and frowned, his agitation clear. His reaction undermined her determination to despise him. “But you shouldn’t have been on the ferry while you were pregnant. You were going to go home after our son was born.”

“I changed my mind.” Petra waited, hoping for some sweet confession and knowing she shouldn’t believe it if it came.

“I thought...” His voice faded. Damien looked at her, then back at Charon. When he turned to face her, his expression was set. Petra knew he’d decided something, but wasn’t prepared for him to snatch her off her feet.

“What are you doing?” she cried. She struggled, as much against his grip as her own unwelcome reaction.

“I’m saving my son!” Damien lifted her in his arms with both care and firmness, then began to march back toward the waiting ferry. Charon watched, silent and still.

“Idiot!” Petra said as she twisted in his arms. “That’s impossible.”

“Doesn’t seem to be impossible. We’re doing it.”

“Your son’s as dead as I am. Neither one of us can leave.”

“Are you going to tell me to listen to stories?” Damien taunted. “How about Eurydice and Orpheus?”

“He looked back at her at the gates and lost her forever,” Petra snapped. “Although why you should feel any common ground with a man with no control over his desires, I can’t begin to guess.”

“You liked it once when I had no control over my desires.”

“That was before I was dead.”

Damien grunted as she squirmed, but still easily kept his hold on her. “What about Persephone?”

“She’s stuck here for a third of each year. That’s not an escape.” Petra knew he was hampered by his determination not to hurt her, but she had no such constraint.


“Hercules.”

“Please. Don’t compare yourself to epic heroes. They weren’t doomed to failure.”

Damien chuckled, surprising her. He looked like a daring renegade, the same one who had stolen her heart away. “The only way to know for sure is to try.”

“Not all the rules change just because you want them to.”

“You’re coming with me. We’ll argue about it later.”

“Because your son is in my womb, and you can’t take him without me?” Petra demanded. “Is that the only reason you’re taking me along? You thought you’d just come and get him, but leave me here, didn’t you?”

There was a beat of silence, which told Petra all she needed to know.

She was just as foolish as she’d been the first time she’d met Damien.

But that had just changed.