Fury of Shadows: Dragonfury Series: SCOTLAND #2 Page 5

  “No, no, no-no-no.” Still curled in a ball, she shook her head, adding to the denial. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.”

  “No one’s dying,” he murmured, trying to sound human. It didn’t work, and no wonder. In dragon form, he sounded like a monster: all hiss, too much fang, little to no reassurance. Suppressing a snarl, he tried again. “Easy, baby. I’ve got you.”

  She tucked in tighter, turning her face away from his scales, refusing to open her eyes.

  Afraid of him. Too lost inside her own head to see him as her protector. His dragon half howled at the unfairness. Cyprus shut his beast down. The damn thing would just have to wait—for her to calm down, for her to stop whimpering…for her to accept him as her male.

  The bond would form.

  It had to.

  With her in his paws, the connection already bloomed. Like tendrils on an octopus, her bio-energy wrapped around him. He breathed in, drawing on her scent as satisfaction sank deep, soothing him in ways nothing else ever had, and as the hum intensified, gathering strength and speed, Cyprus recognized her what she was—his mate.

  The realization tightened his chest.

  Tucking away the emotion to draw from later, he rotated in mid-air, flipping upside right. His tail clipped the treetops. Wet bark punched skyward. Ignoring the debris trail, he banked right, whirled around a cliff face, and glanced down at the female in his claws. Shite. She wasn’t any better. Still in distress. Beyond frightened. Shivering uncontrollably, even though he used his magic to warm her.

  His concern for her swelled.

  Cyprus shook his head. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t soothe now. Locked inside her own mind, she wouldn’t listen to anything he had to say. He needed to find cover and get her out of the storm first. The faster his paws touched the ground, and he shifted into human form, the better she would relate. And the quicker he’d seen to her injuries.

  How badly she was hurt, he didn’t know. But he could feel bio-energy fading: the fear, fatigue and blood loss from her injuries taking a toll, making her body weaken.

  Increasing his wing speed, Cyprus scanned the rough terrain, searching for a safe place to land. He flew up over a rise. No…not there. He considering a small clearing, but…no. It wouldn’t do either. Too exposed, not enough cover: nowhere to lay her down and touch her skin-to-skin. Only his hands on her would do now. Healing a female always worked best when a warrior took human form.

  He wanted to soothe her, but needed her trust. Otherwise, she would fight him, and the bond he required her to accept wouldn’t form.

  A dangerous thing for her right now.

  He didn’t control the connection. It all came down to her. She must acknowledge and accept the bond that would permit him to feed her. Forcing her wouldn’t work, which left him with just one option—convince her to feed or lose her forever.

  Eight

  Everything hurt. Her head. Her muscles. Her skin. Even the marrow in her bones throbbed, making her mind scream and her body shake. Like a series of powerful aftershocks, tremors rumbled through her, rattling her teeth, upping the agony, propelling her into a brutal downward spiral only ER doctors knew how to stop.

  Not that she could be fixed.

  A bleak thought, but Elise accepted it as she fought to breathe. Oxygen in. Pain out, her chest struggling to rise though each bite of fresh pain. Over and over. Again and again until each exhale sounded pathetic, less wheeze, more whimper, weaker with every breath she took. Treetops sped beneath her. Cold air nipped at her cheeks. Hard scales and sharp claws surrounding her. She tried to struggle, to keep her eyes open and her mind working, but…nope. No hope at all. There wouldn’t be any escaping…or fixing her.

  The slices across her back told a sickening tale. She was pretty sure one of her kidneys was damaged, cut open by Grizgunn’s claws when he tossed her like a baseball. Now, she bled, the slickness under her sweater turning to sticky ooze and…goddamn the asshole. He’d thrown her away like garbage, as though she didn’t matter, and—

  Elise frowned. Something had happened to make him do that.

  Something powerful.

  Something important, but…Elise shook her head. No. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t a something. It had been someone. Her brows furrowed. Right? Hadn’t it been?

  She searched her memory, trying to recall what she’d witnessed. The truth refused to surface. Confusion bubbled up instead, blurring reality. Now, she couldn’t tell fact from fiction. Had any of it been real?

  She remembered a ring of fire and the violent crack of impact. Felt the way Grizgunn jerked in mid-air, heard his scream inside her head, but…she sucked in an agonizing breath, struggling to sort through what she’d seen. Nothing clear formed. Just a scattering of imagery—thoughts and perceptions—that made no sense. Scales and serrated teeth. Fire and bite of wind chill. The pain and mind-torque of mental blur.

  Weakness setting in, her head bobbed forward. Her cheek brushed something warm and hard. A growl reverberated through the ridged surface. She pressed closer, soaking up the heat, listening to the rumble, needing the connection.

  Another growl. More skin-stroking vibrations.

  The pain eased a little. Just enough to push her toward numbness.

  Elise snuggled closer still. Why? She didn’t know. It wasn’t a nice sound. The growl was guttural and rough, so nasty most people would’ve deployed self-preservation like a parachute. But as the sound came again, a steady rumbling purr, it registered as reassuring instead of frightening, helpful instead of harmful, soothing and—

  The earth swayed.

  Her body followed, interrupting her train of thought. Or rather, her trip down the rabbit hole. A good explanation. Clearly, she’d lost her mind. Nothing else explained the brain drift or her sudden contentment. The emotional shift made no sense—must be a fallacy. A story spun in an endorphin-fueled cloud of euphoria to distract her from the fact she couldn’t feel her legs anymore.

  As physical awareness faded, Elise accepted reality. She wasn’t tethered to her body anymore. Pain severed the connection, giving her a clear message—she was going to die. Impending doom loomed like a crow, its repetitive caw sounding like a death knell as her muscles numbed and her mind faded.

  “Lass.” The deep voice rolled through her. A jarring bump. The sound of flapping. A fresh burst of pain. The cold rush of air as something rustled. “Look at me.”

  The command pierced through the mind fog. As it swirled, leaving clear patches in its wake, Elise tried to obey. He spoke again. She clung to his voice, using it as a lifeline, trying to raise her lashes. Her body refused to cooperate. Her eyes remained shut.

  “Shite,” the voice said, coming from far away. “Hang on, talmina.”

  “Who?”

  “Cyprus.”

  “I know you.”

  “Aye, you do.” Gentle hands touched her. “Open your eyes for me.”

  Elise tried again, but as he picked her up, the fog became too thick. She couldn’t fight her way through it. “Can’t.”

  “Then give me your name.”

  She whispered it to him.

  “Elise—stay awake. Stay with me.”

  She wanted to listen. Needed to stay connected to the sound of his voice, but as the world shifted, she lost her bearings, falling head long into darkness. Into an abyss that reached up and swallowed her whole.

  Nine

  Crouched in the driveway with Elise in his arms, Cyprus scanned the front of the house. Ancient stone façade. Tall rectangular windows with the curtains drawn. No lights on inside. No vehicles in the circular drive rimmed by massive trees. Cyprus growled in approval. A summer home abandoned for the winter by its human owners.

  The perfect place to take Elise.

  The smell of wet leaves in the air, he pushed to his feet with her cradled against him and searched his surroundings one more time. No danger lurking in the shadows behind the row of shrubs. No rogues in pursuit in the storm darkened
sky behind him. He released a pent-up breath. Safe enough for now. Maybe for the rest of the night. Maybe just for an hour. Either way, would work. He required time, enough to assess the extent of Elise’s injuries and determine his next step.

  Dragon half still hunting for unseen threats, he headed for the front entrance. Flanked by huge urns, the portico acted like a beacon, ornate pillars gleaming beneath the faint fall of moonlight, guiding him toward the main walkway. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, he glanced around again, then down at Elise. So pretty. So pale. Drifting in and out of consciousness. Her breathing far too shallow.

  Steadying her with one arm, he cupped her chin. His thumb settled against her pulse point and…shite. Not strong enough. Despite his best efforts—his attempts to stabilize her in flight—her heart continued to slow, the beat becoming more sluggish by the moment.

  One eye on the front door, the rest of his attention on her, he kept his feet moving and called on magic. Heat crested like a wave, the dark flow feverish as he linked to her bio-energy. Her aura flared bright for second, then settled into a gentle glow. Fear tightened his chest. Goddess help him. Elise was in serious trouble. Her vital signs plummeting so fast he didn’t know if he could pull her back from the brink before she bottomed out. Before she depleted the last of her energy reserves. Before the long, slow slide toward death became irreversible.

  Cyprus sprinted across the driveway.

  Elise whimpered. He murmured, hoping to soothe her, but didn’t slow down. As much as he hated hurting her, she could handle a little more pain. What she couldn’t afford was anymore delays. He needed her out of her clothes and tucked up against him—full body contact, skin on skin. The simple touch of his hands would no longer be enough.

  Reaching the flagstone path, he raced toward the front steps. He glanced down and…his heart fisted inside his chest. She looked worse, the pallor of her skin so white it appeared translucent. Desperation made him move even faster. Knees pumping, he took the stairs three at a time. Elise cried out, twisting in his arms. He kept going and, crossing the portico, unleashed a torrent of magic. Multiple deadbolts groaned a second before the door blew open. The heavy wood panel hit the interior wall with a bang and swung back toward him.

  Quick feet helped him avoid the backlash.

  A quicker survey of the entry hall turned him left beneath a wide archway. His gaze swept the space. High, tall windows hidden behind silk curtains. A stone fireplace living large in the center of the longest wall. A square-backed couch, a cluster of armchairs, coffee and side tables, the entire lot draped by white sheets. Cyprus nodded. Living room, no question…a good place to strip Elise and assess her injuries.

  Oriental rug underfoot, he sidestepped an ottoman. Not bothering to remove the sheet, he laid her down on the couch. Plush seat cushions softened beneath her.

  Her eyelashes flickered. He caught a flash of blue before she closed her eyes again. “Cyprus.”

  “Aye, lass. Hang on. Hang on for me,” he said, his fear for her so sharp pain streaked through him. “Almost there.”

  “I want to go home,” she whispered, her words broken.

  “I know, talmina.”

  “Now? Can I go now?”

  Cyprus wanted to say “no”. The need to tell her the truth—that he would never let her go, that she would never again be far from his side—knocked through him. He quelled the urge. Honesty would have its day, but the time wasn’t now and the place wasn’t here. “Not yet.”

  She whimpered.

  He gripped both lapels and, with a vicious yank, ripped her coat open. Fat buttons flew in all directions, bouncing off the closest table, flying over the couch back, hitting the wooden floor with high-pitched pings. He didn’t care. The house could fall down around him and he still wouldn’t stop. He needed his hands on her. Now and…goddamn it, he should have flown faster. Found a safe place to land quicker. Something. Anything. It should have been five minutes ago, but with the storm raging, he’d done the best with what he’d been given.

  On one knee beside the couch, he wrestled her out of her coat, pulled the boots off her feet, and tugged her jeans down her legs. Her sweater came off next. Her underwear followed and—

  “Fucking hell.” So much blood. Cuts and bruises all over her. And her leg…Jesus. With magic feeding him information, he knew it was broken, her femur cracked in two places.

  With clenched teeth and gentle hands, Cyprus turned her onto her side. Shock made him flinch. He sucked in a quick breath. Dear goddess, her back…her lower back…Grizgunn had sliced her wide open. He stared at the gaping hole for a moment. His dragon half snarled at him, telling him to hurry, shoving his mounting fury out of the way. Save it for later. Later, for when he got his claws on the bastard. Right now, only one thing mattered—Elise. His female needed him to stay on task.

  His hand pressed to the wound, he murmured a spell. Heat gathered in his palm as his clothes disappeared. Fuck modesty. To hell with civility. He didn’t have time for polite and proper. Naked was better. Full body contact worked best when feeding a female. But first, he needed Elise to link in and accept what he offered.

  Lifting her into his arms, Cyprus took her place on the couch. He settled in her his lap, then swung his feet up and laid back, stretching out with her on top of him. Soft breasts met his chest. Her belly resting against his, he spread his legs, allowing space for both of hers between his. The movement jarred her. She mewled in protest. Whispering an apology, he kept one hand against the wound on her back and cupped her nape with the other.

  She twitched, fighting his control.

  He held firm and, pressing her cheek to his chest, called on the Meridian. A whirlwind started inside his head. He banged on the gateway again, requesting access to the source of all living things. Please, Goddess…let it work. He’d never fed a female before. When near a female he always took, opening the connection to take what he needed—the nourishment that kept him healthy and strong. What he attempted now was new to him. Instead of taking energy, he wanted to give it, to heal instead of feed and—

  The door inside his mind slammed open. The rush hit him like a drug, the impact so intoxicating his mind blurred. Everything went fuzzy. His eyes closed. Pleasure streamed through him, wiping his mental slate clean and…huh. What the hell had just happened? Fighting through the mind fog, Cyprus frowned. He should be doing something, shouldn’t he? The question struck like a spiked hammer. He waffled a moment, trying to get his bearings.

  Soft skin shifted against his.

  Mental acuity surged back to the forefront.

  Bloody hell. Elise.

  Stabilizing the flow, Cyprus grabbed it by the tail. He looped it end over end, controlling the current, increasing its potency, all his focus on Elise. Power snaked through his veins, enclosing him in magical splendor. He held it in a firm grip, allowed the pressure to build, then let it go, channeling every ounce of energy in Elise’s direction.

  She jerked against him. Her spine arched. He kept her in place, willing her to accept the connection. She made a small sound of distress, fighting the infusion.

  “Please, talmina,” he whispered against the top of her head.

  Reaching out with his mind, he attempted to touch hers. She’d heard him before. Had listened to him in the cathedral. Maybe she would this time too. Cyprus needed her to accept him. He couldn’t force the life bond. Energy-fuse required a female’s cooperation. If Elise refused him, she would die without ever waking up. Without ever truly meeting him.

  Holding her tighter, he mind-spoke, pushing the plea from his head into hers. “Elise, donnae fight it. Take from me.”

  His voice stilled her mid-struggle. Forehead now pressed to the middle of his chest, she stayed in place as he spoke to her again. The whisper simmered in the air between them. A crease formed between her brows. He gentled his touch, caressing her nape, her shoulder, the length of her arm. With each stroke of his hand, she relaxed a little more. Raising his head, Cyprus nudged her
with his chin. She turned toward him. He set his mouth against her temple. The energy stream amplified, and she took a deep breath, softening against him.

  “There we go. Come on, baby…open up, let me in,” he said, staying with mind-speak, praying she not only responded, but obeyed.

  A heartbeat passed.

  Worry trickled in.

  He asked again. Another second and—

  He sensed the shift. The bond formed, holding him captive as Elise took control of the connection. Healing energy surged from him into her. Heat exploded through him. Bliss followed, making him groan as she drank deep and hummed in pleasure. Her aura started to glow hot and bright, warming her skin, knitting sinew and bone, repairing her kidney and relieving the worst of her pain. It would be hours yet before she was fully healed, but God, what a way to spend it—skin to skin and heart to heart with the female meant to be his.

  Murmuring to her, Cyprus pressed soft kisses to her temple. Thank God. He’d done it. Fused with a female and claimed his mate. Elise may not know it yet, but she now belonged to him. She would feel the bond they now shared the second she woke in his arms. Energy-fuse was a powerful force: tying hearts, minds and lives together, forming a bond that lasted a lifetime and could never be broken.

  Contentment washed through him.

  With a sigh, Cyprus grabbed the sheet draped over the back of the couch. He tugged, flipping the cotton forward, covering Elise from shoulders to toes. She didn’t need it for warmth. As a fire dragon, his core temperature always ran hot. The heat he gave off would sustain them both, but…

  Duty called.

  As much as he wanted to wallow in the feel of his female, it was time. He must let his warriors know where he’d landed. Wallaig would get nasty if he didn’t, so…time to reassert his command.

  Rechecking the energy flow, he urged Elise to take more. She obeyed, her greed a steady draw that made him hum in approval. Good. She was all right. Not quite out of danger, but on automatic pilot, drinking deep, assuaging her thirst, taking all he fed her.