Page 30 of Caress of Fire
“They will look up to Nyra and you.” Marielle nodded. Nothing in the Draekon world was as it seemed, she wasn’t even surprised by it anymore. “They will see you are both powerful and strong.”
“They will have eyes only for you.” Fedryc’s finger glided down to her braid, played with the curl at the end of it. “You are the strength of Aalstad that we will show to the world. And they won’t believe their eyes.”
There was such confidence in Fedryc’s words, such devotion. Her heart swelled and she grabbed his hand. He looked at her, his face all sharp angles and honey skin, silver eyes shining.
He glanced down at the box between his long fingers, then flipped it open. Without hesitating, he picked up the precious bracelet and examined it in the light of a large orb that lay on the side table. “It is perfect. A piece of art befitting of a great beauty.” He gently picked up her wrist, then frowned when she pulled it back.
“It’s marvelous,” Marielle said quickly, realizing that Fedryc stood stiffly, his face an unreadable mask. “But I can’t accept a gift like that. It’s too much.”
“This is no ordinary gift.” Fedryc smiled and it lifted his entire face. “This is the symbol of my commitment to you, to our union. It can be offered but once in a Draekon’s lifetime.”
This time, when he reached for her wrist, Marielle didn’t pull back. She was choking on her feelings, on the care with which Fedryc folded the bracelet around her wrist, like she was the most precious person in the universe. When he was done fastening the bracelet, his fingers trailed the delicate flaming scales intertwined with each other, then he brought her wrist up and kissed the inside of it, his hot mouth on the sensitive skin sending a rush of sensation all the way to her heart.
“I want you, my beautiful Draekarra.” His silver eyes looked down at her, filled with heat and the promise of carnal pleasure. “You were all I could think of all day.”
“You were all I could think of all day, too,” Marielle answered truthfully, her voice small and breathless as Fedryc’s arms closed around her waist and pulled her into his warmth. She could feel it through the fabric of her dress, that hot chest, that strong, beating heart.
No, she could never leave. She belonged to Fedryc with every fiber of her being.
* * *
The Mourning was aboutto take place, and Fedryc stood at the place of honor with Marielle at his side. Just in front of them was the stone altar where his father, Lord Aymond, lay beside the larger form of his dragon, Nissar.
Fedryc stared at his father, the strong, aristocratic features lined with hardness, drawn into the taut mask of death. Lord Aymond was still as Fedryc remembered him, with a face made to rule over man and beasts. Lord Aymond wore a silk coat with a high neckline in tones of green and gold, outlining his athletic build and strong, lean shoulders. Despite his age, Lord Aymond had been a strong man, much like his dragon. Nissar’s spring green scales shimmered softly under the moonlight, and his mighty head rested just above his Draekon, his paws curved around the man’s chest in a perfect representation of the bond they shared during their lives. Now, they would be connected in death also.
Emotions bloomed inside Fedryc at the sight of the man who had abandoned him all those years ago. The old anger was still there, but it was tempered under a veil of sadness. Because, for the first time, he understood what Lord Aymond Haal had lost the day his only son was born. Fedryc would never love his father. He would never forgive the man for the cold loneliness of his childhood, but he now understood him.
Marielle inched almost imperceptibly closer and Fedryc turned to her. She was so beautiful in the flaming dress the same color as her hair. The same shade as Nyra.
She was the flame that warmed his heart, cast out the shadows of his old life. She was everything.
Behind them, Nyra stood silent, her gaze on the assembly. He could feel the tension rippling off her scales as more dragons and their Draekons landed on the large outcrop of rocks, coming together in a rare display of intimacy. This much closeness was not characteristic of the dragons, who lived far away from each other except for the rare occasion when they found true mates.
But violence would not erupt tonight. Tonight was a time for Mourning.
Fedryc turned sharp eyes to the assembly, watching Lord Aymond Haal’s allies and enemies alike as they gathered on the large round platform under the silver rays of the moonlight.
The great red dragoness behind him bristled, fiery scales reflecting the gray light of the moon.
“Calm down, Nyra.” Fedryc patted the broad neck of the dragoness and felt a pulse of pure savagery travel up his arm. “Now is not the time to hunt.”
Nyra’s anger traveled down the bond, and it was all Fedryc could do to refrain from raging out, lashing out at the assembly with all the wrath of the uncivilized beast. After a few more seconds had passed, he was able to send up his own feelings of restraint and calculated patience to Nyra. It wouldn’t contain her for long, but it could buy him just enough time to get through the Mourning ceremony.
“She’s angry.” Marielle looked at him with her wide, storm-colored eyes.
“She knows the killer is amongst us.” Fedryc’s hand moved almost of its own accord to touch her silken cheek.
“How can she know?”
“Venemum Ardereis the only poison capable of killing a dragon,” he explained as his eyes trailed over the exquisite curves of her face. “It’s forbidden, the mere possession of it is punishable by death. Whoever fed it to Nissar not only had the dragon’s trust, but the means to buy it as well.”
“The killer was also a traitor, then.” Marielle stared at him for a second more, her eyes turning cold and deadly. He liked this side of her, the protective instinct that made her fierce.
Fedryc scanned the assembly of more than two dozen Draekon High Lords and their dragons. Then his eyes locked onto a familiar face: Lord Aldric Darragon, High Lord of Katanie, with his human Draekarra and his white dragon behind them. Not too far away stood Lord Emeril Fyr, alone with his sapphire blue dragoness. Fedryc’s heart clenched at the sight of his old friend, at the lines of grief and loneliness on his face making him appear decades older than his forty years. Fedryc remembered the boy Emeril had been at the Emperor’s palace for his defining training years, full of passion and mischief, a few years younger than he. That boy was gone, and the man standing in the Mourning assembly had taken his place.
Was that what had happened to Lord Aymond? Was he a youthful Draekon once, like Emeril? Did the birth of his only son turn him into the uncaring man who had abandoned Fedryc all those years ago?
With a tremendous effort, Fedryc looked away from the assembly and stared at his father, lying as if in a deep slumber in Nissar’s embrace. His hand closed around Marielle’s wrist and he looked up, inclining his head slightly to signal to the assembly it was time to begin the Mourning.
