Dragon Bound

Page 44

She got maybe fifteen minutes of peace and quiet. Then Urien hissed in her head, You have just made a very bad mistake, Pia Giovanni. What I did to your boyfriend is nothing compared to what I will do to you when I catch you.
Snot, snot. Threat, threat.
The lunatic inhabiting her body said to the Fae King, I can beat any pace you set, ass**le. Catch me if you can.
Okay, let’s face it. It wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done. But she had so had it up to here with mean people today.
The rain started to come down harder. She ran faster.
Her awareness narrowed to what was around her, watching for obstacles, plotting her course ahead through the trees, and working to keep her footing on ground that became increasingly slippery. Soon she was soaked to the skin. The forest grew more shadowy and treacherous.
Then she saw a break in the trees ahead. She managed to skid to a stop before she went tumbling head over heels down a rocky incline.
Oh, that’s not so good. Ahead of her stretched a very large expanse of rolling meadow. It wasn’t the size of the plain where she and Dragos had been trapped, but it was still far too large and exposed for her liking.
She bit her lip and tried to think. Couldn’t go back. Shouldn’t go to either side. Urien would spread his men out as they pursued her. Damn. Nothing to do but go forward. Maybe she could get to the other side before she was seen.
She bounded down the incline, hit the bottom and sprinted with everything she had.
Pia, Dragos said.
She stepped into some kind of animal hole and went down. Pain lanced up her leg. She clutched it and rocked. Dragos! Damn it.
She thought she heard him say, Thank you, gods. Then he demanded more loudly, Where are you?
Well, I don’t know that, do I? she snapped. I got drugged again and carted off to one of Urien’s vacation homes. Then I escaped, and now he’s chasing me, and I just stepped into some damn gopher or rabbit hole. Damn, DAMN, damnedy damn it—
Did you break anything?
I don’t know. She bit her lip and with a gigantic effort flexed her ankle. The pain was a railroad spike shooting up her leg.
Can you run?
I don’t know! She pushed to her feet and tried to put her weight on the ankle.
Describe where you are, he demanded.
She pushed her hair out of her eyes, looked around and told him what she saw. The ankle protested but bore her weight. Barely. She lurched into a limping run, but her former speed was gone.
Hey, big guy, she said, gritting her teeth against the pain. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you came or how good it is to hear your voice.
How glad you are that I came, he said in a flat voice. What the hell does that mean?
What do you think it means! she snapped. Forget it. I can’t talk right now. This is too hard.
She tried to push harder, to eke out a little more speed, but there wasn’t any more to be had. Jagged splinters of pain shot up her leg with every step. If she were a horse, she would have herself put down.
She wasn’t going to make it.
She put her hands on her hips, caught her breath and walked. The rain felt good, nice and cool on her overwarm body. She was about halfway across the meadow when a sense of malevolence made her turn around. She looked back to the tree line from which she had just come.
Urien and his men, mounted on horses, stood staring down at her.
She had passed the in-for-a-penny-in-for-a-pound road sign a long time ago. Hell, she was cruising the neighborhood streets of tonnage by now. Limping backward, she raised her middle finger to the Fae King.
Their horses plunged down the incline. With a casualness that spoke of contempt, he and his men trotted toward her.
She pulled the crossbow from her back. As soon as they were in range for her, she would be in range for them. She must stand out against the twilight like a lighthouse. She tore off her white T-shirt and tossed it aside, then turned her body to present less of a target.
I’m so sorry, peanut.
She located Urien in the crossbow telescope. The bastard had started a nasty smile. He kicked to a canter. She shot just as a blow slammed into her.
It knocked her down.
She lay sprawled on her back and blinked up at the rain that felt so good, so maybe she was the only one on the ground who saw the dragon plummet, screaming, out of the sky.
Forelegs extended, talons spread, wicked teeth bared, Dragos snatched Urien from the back of his horse. He pumped his wings to rise in the air above the trees; then he threw back his head and roared as he ripped the Fae King apart.
“There’s my bad boy,” she whispered. God, he was breathtaking.
A strange melee played out in the meadow. It was like something out of a nightmare. Gryphons attacked Fae while horses screamed and plunged in terror. She thought she saw a winged, demonic-looking creature rip out the throat of a Fae. There was a huge dark bird that caused thunder with the beat of its massive wings. Lightning flashed out of its eyes, but maybe by that point she was beginning to hallucinate.
Graydon bent over her. “Oh f**k, no,” he whispered. He grabbed for her crumbled shirt and pressed it around the crossbow bolt sticking from her chest. “Hold on, honey.”
She touched his hand. “I’m okay,” she tried to tell him. “Everything’s going to be all right now.”
She didn’t think she managed to get the words out because he wiped his cheek on his shoulder and shouted, “Dragos!”
Then Dragos fell to his knees beside her, and her world turned right again. His face was ashen, his eyes stark. He added pressure to the wound at her chest and laid a hand against her cheek.
“Pia.” He spoke like the words were ripped out of him. “Don’t you dare leave me. I swear to God, I will follow you into hell if I have to and drag you back by the hair.”
One corner of her mouth lifted. She put her hand over his on her cheek. She said, “You say the most god-awful things.”
She was tired so she rested her eyes for a minute.
Afterward she remembered a series of images, like pearls on a string.
She opened her eyes to find that Graydon held her back against his chest, one arm across her shoulders, the other arm clamped low around her waist. They sat in a cage made of talons formed by Dragos’s two front feet. Rune stood over them, looking through the talons. “Hold her just like that,” he said with his face grim. “Don’t let her get jostled.”
“I got her,” Graydon said. “Let’s go.”
They were acting so dramatic, like it was life or death or something. So much for being big tough warriors. They were worse than a bunch of high school girls.
She faded out as Dragos launched.
The next thing she knew Dragos was the one holding her. She could have carried a brimming wineglass and not spilled a drop as he raced up a flight of stairs. “I don’t care!” he roared. “Get any goddamn doctor fast as you can. Steal one from Monroe if you have to. One of you fly to New York and get our Wyr healer!”
She tried to focus her blurry gaze. Is this Urien’s house again? I’m awake, I’m asleep, I’m awake, I’m asleep. I’m in the house, I’m out. Now I’m in again. This is getting ridiculous.
And she faded out.
Then things got really strange.
She was immersed in the dragon’s Power. He had consumed her. With every breath, he worked her lungs. Her heartbeat faltered. The great engine of his heart took over the rhythm. Her Power started to fade, but he had her Name. He demanded she stay in her flesh. She drifted inside him, inextricably woven with his life force.
She thought she heard her mother say, He cannot hold you forever. You may come to me if you wish.
But there was somebody else with them, a bright, tiny, stubborn spark. He was just a new creation, but he already had his own opinions. Dragos held her life to her body, but her son’s Power pulsed inside her.
He was trying to heal her. She roused.
Oh no, sweet baby, she crooned. You’re too small for that.
The peanut begged to differ.
A warm glow of energy suffused her body, so like her mother’s healing Power, so like her own. For one moment everything was shining and well and right. Then, with infinite gentleness, the dragon laid his Power on that tiny spark of life that glowed too bright, too strong, and eased it back until it nestled into place.
Precious baby boy.
Her fingers crept an inch across a sheet. They were grasped by a much larger, more powerful hand that held on to her hard as she fell asleep.
TWENTY
When she woke up again for real she was in their bed at Cuelebre Tower. She gazed at the ceiling for an unmeasured time as the light changed. It was quiet. She was warm, clean and dry and pain free.
Dragos lay beside her, his arm around her. She looked at his sleeping face and saw something she had never seen before. He looked exhausted and worn, as if something inside of him had stretched too thin. She frowned. Had he gotten hurt in the battle?
She tried to raise her right arm to stroke his face but she couldn’t. She tugged at her arm, and all of a sudden Dragos rose up on his elbow. He put his hand on her arm to hold her down. “Sweetheart, don’t do that.”
“My hand’s caught on something,” she mumbled. She looked up at him with sleepy anxiety. “What’s wrong? You look so sad. Are you hurt?”
He smiled down at her, gold eyes alight, and the careworn look vanished. “I did not get hurt, other than in my heart.”
“Somebody shot you in the heart!” She tried to jerk her hand up.
“Pia love, stop. Look at your arm.” She turned and followed the direction of his pointing finger. “You have an IV drip. You keep trying to pull it out in your sleep, so we had your hand tied down. We didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Oh.” Feeling foolish, she subsided. She turned back to him. “Somebody shot you in the heart!”
“Yes.” He kissed her nose. “You did, metaphorically speaking.” He kissed her mouth, his caressing lips infinitely gentle. “You were dying, you little shit. Your heart shut down and your lungs stopped working. I had to take over for a while. Then our son decided to help and almost burned himself out healing you. It scared centuries off my life.”
He nuzzled at her, his eyelids closed. She breathed him in, rubbed her cheek against his and let his presence soothe the jagged edges inside.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. A tear slid out of a corner of her eye and soaked her hair, followed by another. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
“Stop that.” He cupped her face and wiped the tears away. “It’s not your fault. I flew your doctor back from Cancún and had quite a talk with her. First I found out what an IUD was and how it could have endangered both you and the pregnancy. I understand why you panicked and why you were afraid I had forced the pregnancy on you.”
“I should have known better.”
“How could you? We’ve been together for less than a week and under far less than ideal circumstances. But of course I didn’t mean to make you pregnant. You’ve ruined me.” His voice and face were rueful. He stroked her hair. “I had no idea my control had slipped to that extent.”
Her gaze clung to him as her free hand slid to cover her abdomen in a protective gesture that was fast becoming habitual. Something tentative and fragile in her expression seemed to catch his attention. The dark slash of his eyebrows contracted. He covered her hand with his, lacing his fingers with hers.
“The pregnancy is a total shock,” he told her. “Connecting with our son when he healed you—he’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I can’t begin to describe my reaction to him. I’ve never felt these feelings before.”
“That’s actually a pretty good way to describe it,” she whispered. “Me either. I’m terrified.”
He kissed her, his lips moving slow and easy as he savored her. “I have no idea how to act around small new creatures. But I’m glad.”
“I am too,” she whispered. Her eyes glittered with easy moisture as she smiled at him. Then her gaze turned inward and grew haunted. “I killed five people.”
His eyes narrowed. “How do you figure?”
“It’s my fault the man in the truck got shot—”
He tapped her lips. “That one’s easy. He’s not dead. It was touch and go at first, but they say he’s going to pull through just fine.”
“Thank God,” she said, sighing.
“There were, however, four dead guards around Urien’s house that we’ve been mighty curious about. Was that you?” He searched her face. His fingers couldn’t seem to stop stroking her cheekbones, her jaw, her throat.
She grimaced and nodded.
He showed her his teeth. “I am so damn proud of you. You stepped it up when you had to. You did what needed to be done and got yourself away.”
“Yeah, well, you’re a bloodthirsty monster. Who cares what you think,” she muttered. She drifted for a few minutes and he let her be, stroking her hair. She roused enough to say, “To be honest, I was feeling bad about not feeling bad. Except for the guy in the truck. Him I just felt bad about.”
“That’s stupid and convoluted. You are going to stop it right now,” he ordered.
She gave a ghost of a giggle. “There you go again, giving orders. His Majesty is starting to feel better. Oh, speaking of majesties.” Her eyes opened very wide. “Urien actually thought he was going to be the boss of me.”
“Which was one of the things that finally got him killed.” His eyes crinkled. “Imagine that.”
She slept for a while with the easy exhaustion of a convalescent. She woke up once to say with sudden urgency, “Don’t go anywhere.”