Page 69 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons
Peace. When was the last time I'd known peace?
I moved through the forest like a wraith, following her trail with predatory patience. She was clever, I had to admit—she'd chosen her route well, sticking to rocky ground where possible to minimize tracks, avoiding the obvious paths that would make her easy to follow. If she'd been fleeing from an ordinary pursuer, she might have had a chance.
But I was not ordinary, and the shadows themselves were my allies.
A tendril of darkness slithered ahead of me, moving between the trees like a snake made of liquid night. It tasted her scent on the air, felt the warmth of her footprints on the cold earth, reported back with information that no human sense could have gathered. She had stumbled here, caught herself against that tree, paused by this stream to drink and splash water on her face.
The intimacy of tracking her this way was almost overwhelming. Through my connection to the shadows, I could sense her emotional state—the fear that drove her forward, the exhaustion that made her stumble, the determination that kept her moving despite the hopelessness of her situation. She was magnificent in her defiance, a warrior to her core even when faced with supernatural pursuit.
It made me want her more.
The physical desire was becoming painful, a constant ache that pulsed through my body with each heartbeat. The memory of her naked skin beneath my hands, the taste of her on my tongue, the way she'd arched beneath me in desperate need—it haunted every step of the hunt. I could have taken her that first night, could have bitten her deeply and sealed the bond that sang between us. The urge had been overwhelming, nearly breaking my control entirely.
But something had held me back. Some fragment of the man I'd been before the magic claimed me, whispering warnings about consequences and choices and the irreversible nature of what I was contemplating.
Because once I claimed her properly, there would be no going back. Mate bonds were permanent, or so the stories claimed. If I marked her as mine, she would be tied to me for whatever remained of my life—and my descent into madness would become her burden to bear.
The responsible thing would be to let her go. To allow her to escape into the forest and find her way back to whatever life she'd been living before the battle brought us together. She deserved freedom, deserved the chance to choose her own fate rather than being trapped by the accident of supernatural chemistry.
But responsibility was a luxury I could no longer afford.
The voices were getting stronger with each passing day, their whispers becoming harder to distinguish from my own thoughts. Soon I would be like Sayven, lost in the grey spaces between sanity and power, and when that happened I would need an anchor. Something real and warm and purely mine to hold onto when the darkness tried to claim me entirely.
She could be that anchor. The peace I'd felt while holding her proved it was possible.
I just had to convince her to stay willingly... or ensure she had no choice in the matter.
The hunt continued through the night hours, a deadly game of cat and mouse played out in the deep shadows beneath ancient pines. She was tiring—I could sense it in the way her movements became less coordinated, the increasing frequency of her stumbles. Soon she would be forced to rest, and when she did, I would take her.
But first, I wanted to play with her a little.
A shadow detached itself from the base of a tree directly in her path, forming into the vague shape of a man before dissolving back into darkness. She stopped abruptly, her breathing harsh in the still air, and I felt a spike of fear lance through the connection between us. Good. Let her understand that escape was impossible, that I was everywhere the darkness touched.
Another shadow moved to her left, then another to her right. Not attacking, just... watching. Making their presence known. She spun in a circle, her Imperial uniform dark with sweat, her hand reaching instinctively for a weapon she no longer carried.
"I know you're there," she called out, her voice steady despite the terror I could sense radiating from her. "Stop playing games and face me."
The challenge in her tone sent fresh heat coursing through my veins. Even exhausted and afraid, she remained defiant. Most people would have collapsed by now, weeping and begging for mercy. But not her. Never her.
It was exactly what I'd expected from someone strong enough to carry mate marks from not one but two other males.
The scars on her throat haunted me almost as much as her escape. I'd felt them beneath my fingers that first night, the twin puncture wounds that marked her as claimed by others. Dragons, most likely—the spacing and depth suggested fangs rather than human teeth. The rage I'd felt at that discoveryhad been primal and overwhelming, a possessive fury that demanded I erase those marks with my own.
But dragons were powerful creatures, and if she was already bonded to shifters, the complications would be... significant. I was strong, stronger than most Talfen dragons.
I'd claimed her first by right of rescue, taken her from a battlefield where she would have died without my intervention. Whatever bonds she might have formed before were irrelevant now—she was mine, and I would keep her regardless of who might object.
The shadows that had been menacing her suddenly withdrew, melting back into the natural darkness of the forest. I heard her sharp intake of breath as the immediate threat disappeared, but I knew she was smart enough to understand this was just a temporary reprieve.
I was toying with her, and she knew it.
Time to end the game.
I stepped out from behind a massive pine, allowing her to see me clearly for the first time since the hunt began. Her hand flew to her throat in an unconscious defensive gesture, and I saw her eyes go wide as she took in my appearance.
The hunt had awakened something primal in me, something that showed in every line of my body. Power flowed around me like a visible aura, and the shadows seemed to cling to my form as if seeking the warmth of living flesh. I was no longer the man who had fed her by hand and taught her words in my native tongue. I was the creature of nightmare that had torn Imperial soldiers from their mounts and left their army broken in the valley below.
"Aeveth," I said, using the name I'd given her that first night.Little flame.It suited her—the way she burned bright against the darkness that surrounded her, never quite extinguished no matter how hopeless her situation became.
