Feel the Burn (Dragonkin #8) Read online

  The Abomination moved closer. “You do not seem like the kind of Rider who would have many dragon friends, no matter who your sister is fucking. So who is this one?” he asked, gesturing with a gloved hand.

  “Gauis Lucius Domitus. Friend of your mother, I—”

  “Gods!” The boy immediately stepped to the dragon’s side. He reached for him, touching his shoulder and pulling him up. That’s when he saw the torc around the dragon’s neck and stepped back as quickly as he’d originally stepped forward.

  “What the battle-fuck is that thing?”

  “Some kind of evil dragon magick.”

  “Dragon magick is neither good nor evil. It just is,” the boy murmured as he studied the torc.

  “Whatever it is, Abomination, it kills him. He needs help. Help only—”

  “Yes. You’ll need to carry him, though.”

  “I will carry,” Zoya volunteered.

  Tossing the now unnecessary torch aside, Zoya walked over to the dragon and lifted his human body up and over her shoulder.

  “Show me way, freaks of nature!” Zoya happily bellowed.

  The other Abominations looked to their leader and, with a sigh, Talan motioned them forward. “Show her. Quickly.”

  There was a nod and three of the soldiers moved off with Zoya.

  “You have giantess friends, too, I see,” the Abomination noted.

  “No. She is not giant. Just one of the Kolesova Tribe. Is that not right, Zoya?”

  Zoya laughed as she walked away. “Giant? My older sisters give me nickname Pee-Wee.”

  Eyes wide, the Abomination stared at Kachka.

  With a shrug, she replied. “She tells truth. They do call her Pee-Wee. And Tiny Toy. And Baby Bear.”

  The Abomination shook his head. “That’s . . . terrifying.”

  Kachka followed behind Zoya and the others. “Only to the weak and small.”

  “Well, I’m not weak. . . .”

  Princess Talwyn, only daughter of Annwyl the Bloody, sucked the marrow out of the cold ribs left from last night’s meal and thought about how bloody bored she was.

  Gods, she was bored!

  How long was she supposed to stay here in this cave? Bored.

  So very bored!

  There was a whole world out there, and Talwyn was chomping at the bit to meet that world head-on with her blade out and her fists ready. But instead, she stayed here with most of the other offspring of human and dragon pairings and Brigida the Most Foul.

  “Stop it.”

  Talwyn looked over at her cousin by doing no more than moving her eyes. “What?” she asked around the rib still in her mouth.

  “Stop complaining.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  Talwyn’s cousin, Princess Rhianwen—Rhi to her dragon kin—sighed rather dramatically, as she liked to do, and said, “It’s all over your face. And everyone senses your unhappiness. Just stop it.”

  Talwyn dropped the now-meatless bone and reached for another. She heard the returning footsteps of her brother, but he was no longer alone.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see a motley crew of barbarians standing behind her twin. One had a corpse slung over her shoulder.

  “Why is the giant holding that body?” Talwyn asked, confused. “Is that some sort of offering to us?”

  Talan’s eye twitched the slightest bit, something that gave Talwyn more satisfaction than it should have. But her twin was always so hard to rattle that she took perverse pleasure in doing so.

  “That is not a body. That’s Gaius Lucius Domitus.”

  Rhi gasped, small hands covering her beautiful mouth. But Talwyn simply asked, “Who?”

  Both her cousin and brother gawked at her. “Gaius Lucius Domitus?” her brother pushed, as if saying the dragon’s name several times would change anything. “Iron dragon and the one-eyed Rebel King from the west?”

  Talwyn shrugged. “Still unclear.”

  “Just like her mother,” the corpse suddenly announced.

  “It’s not necessary to be nasty, foreign trash,” Talwyn snapped back.

  With a rare growl, Talan pushed her out of the way and motioned to the giant. “Here. Put him on this table.”

  As the giant made her way to the table, Talan shoved plates, chalices, and utensils onto the floor to give them a free spot. That included the half-empty plate of ribs.

  “I was eating those!”

  “Would you shut up?” Rhi snarled.

  The barbarian giant dumped the dragon in human form on their table, and even Talwyn had to admit . . . he looked awful.

  “What is that around his neck?” she asked, reaching for the bit of gold that sparkled.

  Rhi slapped her hand away. “Don’t.”

  Annoyed, Talwyn slapped her hand back.

  “Owwww! What was that for?” her cousin whined.

  “You hit me first!”

  “I was helping!”

  “For the love of death and despair,” Talan growled, “both of you shut up!”

  “As entertaining as this is,” one of the barbarians said calmly, “can you help him or not?”

  Talwyn remembered this female. Kachka . . . something. The Rider who’d come here a few months ago with her wounded sister. That one had lost her eye to their mother, something even Talwyn had never done to her own mum. Of course, that was mostly down to her brother. Talan had always thrown off Talwyn’s aim anytime she had her mum in her sights. And then he’d growled at her like it was wrong for a four-year-old to shoot a crossbow at their mother’s knees.

  Such a Goody Two-claws, her brother.

  “Well . . . what is that?” Talwyn asked again about the torc around the Iron dragon’s neck.

  “Ancient, powerful magicks.” Rhi gave a small shake of her head and took several steps away from the royal, her hands lifted as if in surrender.

  Talwyn gave the smallest eye roll so that her brother wouldn’t see. Rhi was always so dramatic. How bad could the magicks on this be? Talwyn wondered, reaching out to touch the item that currently bled the royal dry of life.

  As she did, another barbarian moved behind Rhi. This one looked different from the others. All her clothes were dark. So dark they were purple, like the darkest Lightning dragon. She wore dark kohl around her black eyes and her black hair was in several large braids with black gems weaved throughout.

  She simply stood behind Rhi, without saying a word. But, suddenly, Rhi took in a breath, her eyes widening. She sensed the woman behind her. And, without a word, Rhi spun on her heel and swung her fist, ramming it right into the woman’s jaw and knocking her to the ground.

  The torc forgotten, Talwyn burst into shocked laughter. “Holy shit!”

  “Rhi!” Talan barked, stunned at Rhi’s sudden act of violence. “What the hells is wrong with you?”

  Rhi stood over the barbarian, one damning finger pointed at her. “Cause one problem here, woman. Just one—and I will rip that thing you call a soul from your body and eat it whole.”

  Talan grabbed Rhi around the waist and pulled her to the other side of the table as a loud angry voice blasted from another cavern, “What’s all this then! I was trying to sleep!”

  Talwyn leaned over and whispered to Kachka, “Probably sleeping upside down from the rafters like a bloody bat.”

  “Something to say to me, demon child?” Brigida the Foul asked . . . from behind Talwyn. Her voice had been coming from the cavern in front of Talwyn seconds ago. Gods! She hated when the witch did that. And hated even more that she wouldn’t show her how to do it.

  “Well,” Talwyn began, “since you asked . . .”

  “We don’t have time for this!” Talan cut in. “You have to help the king, Brigida.”

  The She-dragon in her human form raised a brow. “Help? An Iron? Why would I do that, boy?”

  “He’s an ally to my mother.”

  Beneath her black cloak, Brigida’s shoulders sort of twitched. “And?”

  “Just. Fucking
. Fix. Him.”

  Brigida the Foul debated removing the skin from the insolent boy, but he had a higher purpose in this world than ending up on the wrong side of her anger.

  She studied the torc around the Iron’s neck. She entertained the idea of leaving it there. Letting him die. He was only a few breaths from death as it was.

  She had no good memories of the Irons. She’d been around when that lot had separated themselves from the Fire dragons of the Southlands. Always thought they were so above it all. Calling on the gods to make them all that iron color, twisting their horns around so they looped toward their jaws instead of sitting high on their heads like any proper dragon. Why? Because they truly thought they were better than the rest.

  The whole thing had pissed her off so much that Brigida had actually involved herself in that war. Had been knees deep in blood and death and the cries of the innocent, as she often liked to be, but instead of just drinking all that in and taking what she needed from the slain and dying for her spells, she’d actually fought beside the Dragon Queen of the time. Together, they’d pushed the Irons back into the west, past the Western Mountains. Brigida had thought that would be the last they heard of them, assuming they’d die out.

  That hadn’t happened. Instead, they’d grown stronger, working with the humans of the west until they were strong enough to make those humans friend or slave. Once they’d established the Quintilian Provinces, they’d spread out, keeping the Western Mountains at their back while they took over the towns and cities that surrounded them.

  Now, they were the Quintilian Sovereigns Empire.

  An empire once ruled by another tyrant, Overlord Thracius. But he’d been taken down by one of the new Dragon Queen’s prince-lings. The youngest. A Blue, just like his grandfather. And since then, the Provinces had been taken over by some nephew of Thracius’s. A young buck not even three hundred, and his twin sister.

  It was rumored, and Brigida knew it to be true, that the mother of the twins had been so concerned about them surviving past their first century with that family of theirs that she’d called powerful witches—dragon and human—from all over the west to bless her offspring.

  The fact that they still breathed proved the magick must have had some effect.

  And this boy was one of those twins. She recognized that face. Not because she knew him, but because she’d known his great-grandfather and, as human, he looked just like him.

  “Are you going to save him, old woman, or just stare at him?”

  Slowly, Brigida looked up at the Rider standing across from her. She remembered her, too. One of Glebovicha Shestakova’s offspring. The one who hadn’t had her eye torn from her head by her own mother.

  She didn’t flinch when Brigida stared at her. Surprising when even the Kolesova female turned from Brigida. Most did, if they had any sense.

  The Rider pointed at the Iron. “Save him.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you will have Annwyl the Bloody to deal with. I waste time with dragon only for her.”

  Brigida knew this human wasn’t telling the complete truth, but she didn’t care. This dragon would serve his purpose, like everyone else.

  Tucking her walking stick against her shoulder and leaning against it, Brigida raised both her hands and centered them over the torc. She was not fool enough to touch the thing, but she had no need to.

  She closed her eyes and chanted words filled with ancient magicks while her fingers drew powerful runes in the air. After a few moments, the torc shook until it broke into three pieces and fell away from the Iron’s neck.

  “He does not breathe,” another Rider accused.

  “He will.” Brigida pulled her hands back and grabbed hold of her walking stick. She was exhausted now, so she used it to keep her upright.

  “If I were you,” she warned the Riders, “I’d move back a step . . . or eighty.”

  The small group took a step back just as the Iron’s eyes popped open. He took in a large, shuddering breath, and Brigida watched as color flooded his human cheeks and his human body began to grow stronger before their eyes.

  After a few seconds, he rolled to the side and off the table, stumbling across the floor.

  The boy started after him. Weak like his mother, that one. Always trying to help. Some things you just couldn’t help.

  Brigida used her staff to block the boy from moving and watched as the Iron made his way to the middle of the room.

  With his arms around his waist and his body bent over, he suddenly roared. Flames burst to life around him and he went from frail human to powerful dragon in seconds.

  Powerful, hungry dragon.

  His lone eye searched around the chamber, finally locking on the barbarians.

  Brigida lifted her staff and slammed it to the ground once, the sound echoing for miles, the floor shuddering beneath. It was enough to get the Iron’s attention.

  “Outside,” Brigida ordered. “There’s a whole herd of—”

  The Iron turned, unleashed his wings, and, in seconds, was gone.

  Silence followed the Iron’s exit until the Kolesova woman suddenly asked, “Herd of what . . . exactly? For we are hungry too.”

  Chapter Five

  Gaius decimated most of the herd of elk and devoured them in less time than he was comfortable with. But his need could not be contained.

  Even though he’d been fed by his captors, it had been as if the food did not nourish him in any way. So he’d starved while eating. A nightmare if there ever was one.

  That torc had not been designed merely to keep a dragon captive in his human form. It had been designed to torture. But why? He was clearly worth more alive than dead. It wasn’t arrogance that brought him to that belief either. It was politics.

  And yet the longer they’d taken to travel to wherever his captives had been leading him, the more he’d known he was moments from dying. He was sure of it.

  Gaius realized he must have finally sated his hunger if he was sitting around, analyzing his current situation. He could only manage that when he was fed and happy or paranoid and desperate.

  Now that he could think clearly again, he finally did what he’d been unable to do since this had all started.

  Gaius called out to his sister.

  A long, painful moment of silence greeted him and then . . . nothing but yelling.

  He winced as his sister called him every derogatory name she could think of—and there were many; she had a mouth just like their plebian mother—while at the same time sobbing with relief.

  Gaius let her vent as long as she needed. It was the least he could do. And the gods knew, he wouldn’t have been much better if the tables had been turned. As it was, he knew what it was like to live for too long without his twin. But he honestly wasn’t sure which was worse—not knowing what happened to his twin or knowing all too well.

  Vateria, cunt of the ages, had made sure he’d received detailed reports of what his sister had endured at their cousin’s claws. She’d always been that perverse. That cruel. And between Vateria’s reports and his own imagination, Gaius had soon grown as cruel as she, his anger leading the way.

  When Queen Annwyl had finally tracked him down, he’d been one step away from being no better than his Uncle Thracius. In fact, to this day, he had no idea what had held him back from slaying the human female outright. He’d hated Annwyl on sight, so it should have been easy. But something had stayed his claw. Something had kept him from killing her and her small party of dragons and one human girl.

  Whatever the reason, the universe would never know how grateful he truly was for that decision. Because it was Annwyl and her party who had eventually managed to rescue his sister. Killing Thracius and destroying his army had just been a bonus gift.

  When Gaius had returned to his cave, he’d found his sister there. Alive and well and waiting for him. In front of their troops, their greeting to each other had been sweet but aloof. They were still royals after all, rebels or not.

>   But, once they were alone, Gaius had held his sister while she’d sobbed against his chest. Her sobs had been filled with pain and rage and relief that it was all over.

  They hadn’t discussed it again after that, but they didn’t have to. Just like now. Aggie didn’t need to tell Gaius how worried she’d been about him. He could just feel it. In his bones.

  You’re safe now, though? she finally asked, slowly getting hold of herself.

  I am.

  Good. Then I’ll touch base with you later.

  All right. I’ll be here.

  You better. Or I swear to all the gods . . .

  She didn’t need to finish that threat. And it was a threat.

  The communication between them abruptly ended and Gaius took in a deep breath. One that he would let out slowly. A technique he’d learned to control his weaker elements. But before he could do anything, an arrow shot past him and lodged into the neck of a bear that had been gnawing on the bones Gaius had littered over the ground during his feasting.

  The bear gave a strangled roar before falling flat on its back. A few seconds later, Kachka Shestakova walked past Gaius to retrieve her prize.

  “Excellent shooting,” he noted, very glad to be distracted from his sister’s pain and fear.

  “I do not allow for any other kind.”

  “Of course you don’t.”

  Gaius watched the Rider carefully place aside her bow and quiver before pulling out a short sword and dragging it across the bear’s throat. She wiped that blade clean with a cloth and returned it to its scabbard before taking a rope and tying one end to the legs of the bear. She threw the other end of the rope over a nearby sturdy tree and proceeded to haul the carcass up so that the blood would drain and she could remove the fur and butcher the animal.

  Gaius didn’t offer to help her because he knew better. Rider females didn’t need the help of anyone but another Rider. And they definitely didn’t need the help of some imperialist male.

  Grateful as Gaius was to Kachka Shestakova, he wasn’t about to insult her. So he sat there and watched while he ground an elk leg down until the end was a point, then proceeded to use that to pick his fangs clean of flesh and hide.