Pia fell forward, desperate to provide relief for her parched mouth and throat. She scooped up cold handfuls and sucked them down. When the need to drink eased she splashed water over her face and arms, desperate to get the stink of the Goblin dungeon off of her. She scooped up more to drink and sighed.
Dragos came up for air at last, flinging back his head in a wet spray that sparkled in the moonlight.
“That’s got to be one of the best things I’ve ever tasted,” she said.
It wasn’t just thirst talking. The water was crisp and alive somehow, more nourishing and satisfying than anything else she could remember drinking. She could feel her wilted resources soaking it up greedily. It soothed the cramped, starved part of her soul into something resembling peace. Already she felt steadier than she had in a while, the sick sense of crisis brought on by exhaustion, injury and stress easing.
He grinned. “It’s being here, in the Other land. The heightened land magic makes everything more intense. If you like that, just wait until you see what else I have for you.”
She pushed back on her knees and sat up. “What is it?”
“I found some food you can eat. I got you other things too, but nourishment comes first.” He opened the leather pack and pulled out a flat leaf-wrapped package and handed it to her.
She took it with obvious reluctance. “Dragos, I don’t think I could stomach anything you found in that hellhole.”
“Don’t jump so fast to conclusions.” He nodded. “Go ahead, open it.”
She pulled the leaves apart and the most mouthwatering aroma escaped. He broke off an end of the wafer she held and coaxed it between her lips. When the piece hit her tongue, it began to melt. She chewed and swallowed with a moan. It was indescribably delicious.
“Elven wayfarer bread,” she breathed. Vegetarian, nourishing in a way that fed the soul as well as the body and imbued with healing properties. “I’ve heard about it, of course; who hasn’t? It’s legendary. But I’ve never had the chance to taste any before.”
He broke off another piece and fed it to her, watching as she closed her eyes and moaned again with delight. “Eat every bite of that. It’ll do you good,” he told her. “I found a dozen wafers. We have plenty.”
She stared at him. A dozen wafers would fetch a fortune on the black market. Most people couldn’t beg, borrow or steal the wayfarer bread. Oh. She looked down at what she held and her enjoyment dimmed. “You found it in the Goblin captain’s rooms?”
“Among other things. Remember I said half the loot was untouched?” He frowned. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“Oh, I will,” she assured him. She broke off another piece. “It’s too precious to waste, and I need it. It’s just hard to enjoy someone else’s misfortune.”
He smiled a little and touched the corner of her mouth. “For all you know, some Elf suffered a minor annoyance when his or her pack got stolen, and they’ve forgotten all about it by now. You go ahead and relish every bite.”
“That’s true.” The unknown Elf hadn’t necessarily been hurt or killed. She took a deep breath. “Aren’t you going to eat any?”
“Not my kind of food,” he told her. “I’ll go hunting if I feel the need.”
Right. Carnivore. She went back to her meal.
He reclined on his side, propped his head in his hand and watched her enjoy the wayfarer bread. He waited until she had put the last piece in her mouth. Then he started to pull other things out of the pack and lay them in her lap. A light woolen Elven blanket, a tunic and leggings, a packet of soap—soap!—and a hairbrush. She stared at the treasures.
“I know how much you hated it in there,” he said.
“Oh. My. God.” She looked at him, teary. “I think this is one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me. Aside from the fact you saved my life I don’t know how many times.”
“You saved me too, you know,” he said. He sounded thoughtful.
The need to wash became a crisis. “I’ve got to get clean.”
“Pia, you’re weaving where you sit. Why don’t you wait until you’ve slept a little? We’re going to rest here while I keep watch.”
Her hands started to shake. “You don’t get it. I can’t stand another minute stinking like them. It makes my skin crawl.”
“Okay,” he said, frowning. “If you need to get clean, you need to get clean. It’s going to be cold. I’ll gather some wood while you wash, and we’ll have a fire.”
She paused. “We’re not going to worry about the firelight being visible?”
He shook his head and uncoiled from the ground. “I’ll hear anyone long before they get near enough to be a problem.”
She turned her back to him and knelt at the stream, already consumed with the thought of scouring the Goblin stink off her body. Self-consciousness tried to take over as she stripped off her ruined T-shirt and filthy bra, but she squashed it. At least it wasn’t broad daylight. He had no doubt seen thousands of naked women before. (Thousands? No, definitely not the time to go there.) Nothing mattered more than getting that stink off of her.
The soap was Elven made too and heaven sent. It softened fast, lathered well in the cold stream, was gentle on her healing cuts and had a delicate fragrance that had her sighing with pleasure.
She washed and rinsed her torso and pulled on the clean tunic. She stripped out of her capris, anklet socks and sneakers. The anklet socks were especially awful. She had bled into one of her shoes, and one anklet was crusted with dried blood. They joined the pile of clothing that was going into the fire as soon as Dragos lit it.
She pulled the blanket over her shoulders and let it drape behind her in an attempt to preserve a little privacy and finished washing the rest of her body. Her body was racked with violent shivering by the time she yanked the leggings on, but nothing was going to stop her from dunking her head in the water and lathering and rinsing her grimy hair at least once.
She dunked her head underwater, gasping at the sharp chill. She was bent over the stream, struggling with shaking hands to work the soap through her wet hair, when Dragos’s hands came over hers. “Let me,” he said.
She leaned on her hands and gave herself over to his ministrations. His long hard fingers massaged her scalp and worked the soap with patience through the long wet rope of hair that trailed in the stream. Her teeth were chattering by the time he finished scooping enough water to rinse through the length.
He wrung out her hair and slipped an arm underneath her waist to lift her to her feet. She scooped up the dirty clothes. “Over here,” he said. He had laid campfire kindling, which was waiting to be lit. As soon as she threw the clothes on top of the woodpile, he flicked a few fingers at the woodpile and it blazed alight.
“Cool trick.” Her teeth clicked together.
“Comes in handy.”
He wrapped the blanket around her. He had her sit with her back to him. Then he brushed out her hair.
With the fire in front, wrapped by the blanket and Dragos’s heat enveloping her from behind, she was toasty warm in no time.
“I’m crashing and burning fast,” she told him.
“I’m surprised you held up as long as you did,” he replied, setting the brush aside.
He pulled her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her and coaxed her head onto his shoulder.
Her eyelids felt cased in cement. She couldn’t hold them open. A great big pile of questions, doubts, thoughts and issues had piled up, but they were being held at bay by the oncoming coma that came toward her like a black train.
She made a huge effort and opened her eyes one last time to stare up at Dragos. His dark face was always going to be hard, always have an edge of the blade to it, but as he watched the fire, he looked as peaceful as she had ever seen him.
He was wicked bad, by far the scariest creature she had ever met, yet as she rested in the circle of his arms, she felt safer than she ever had in her life. His body was as strong and stable as the earth. Her eyelids drifted
closed.
“You’re right, I am a stupid woman,” she mumbled. “I don’t understand you.”
“Maybe you will someday,” he said, even though he could sense she had already plunged into sleep. He traced the elegant curve of her brow with a finger, followed the delicate arch of her ear. Her still-damp hair fell over his arm, an extravagant waterfall of moonlit gold.
Maybe you will someday, just as soon as I understand myself.
The dragon held her sleeping figure closer. He lowered his cheek to her head and looked around the clearing in bafflement, as if the quiet, peaceful scene could tell him who he was.
NINE
Pia was running for the sheer joy of it.
The wind played in her hair. The moon looked down from its throne in the royal purple sky and smiled at her. The night was brighter than she’d ever seen before, a velvet carpet strewn with stars that winked diamond bright and sang faint ice-cold snatches of song, of distant journeys and enchantments in other realms. The magic in the land nourished parts of her that had been crippled and half dead. She felt stronger, freer and wilder than she ever had before. She leaped high and reached up to tickle the edge of the moon, who laughed in delight.
She was in a field miles wide, with all the room in the world to stretch her legs. Distant trees shadowed the edges. A tall dark man with raven hair and gold raptor’s eyes stood in the trees and watched her.
She didn’t care. He couldn’t catch her. Nothing could, not even the wind, unless she let it.
Pia.
She knew that voice. She loved that voice. She turned and saw her mother running toward her. In her true shape, her mother had an incomparable loveliness and shone brighter than the moon who bowed down before her.
Mom? She slowed and turned. She felt like a little girl again. Mommy?
They came together. She threw eager arms around her mother, who nuzzled her. My sweet baby girl.
I miss you so much, Pia told her. Please come home.
Her mother drew back and looked at her with great, liquid eyes. I cannot. I have faded from your world. I no longer belong there.
Then let me come with you, she pleaded. Take me to wherever you are.
A roar of denial shook the trees. It ran through the earth, which trembled at their feet. Pia looked back at the male, although her mother remained untouched by the disturbance and seemed unaware of the figure in the trees.
You cannot join me, darling. Your place is among the living. Exquisite eyes smiled at Pia. Giving birth to you was the single most selfish thing I have ever done. Forgive me for leaving. I did not mean to abandon you.
Tears clogged her throat. I know you couldn’t help it.
I have come to warn you, said her mother. Pia, you must not be in this place. There is too much magic here. It is why I never dared to take you to an Other land.
She looked around. But I like it here. It feels so good.
You will be exposed here, and hunted. Go back. Starlight began to shine through her mother’s figure. Go back; blend in with humankind.
No, don’t go yet. Pia tried to reach for her.
But her mother had already faded, leaving a final message on the wind. Be safe. Know that you are loved.
She reached after her mother, almost grasping an answer to something important. She could almost make out where her mother had gone, could almost follow her, except the whispering wind curled around her and held her to the earth.
The whispering circled around her, stroked along delicate nerve endings, coaxing her, Pia, stay. That was not her true Name, but the Power behind the whispering was enough to make her hesitate. The wind became a dragon twining around her, brushing against her skin like a cat. Stay. Live.
She brushed her fingers along the hot skin of the beautiful, feral creature. It turned its head. Great molten, hypnotic eyes stared into hers and she was caught.
She woke up.
She was lying on the ground, wrapped in the Elven blanket, beside the glowing red coals of the dying campfire. Dragos crouched over her, hands cupping her head. He was whispering in a language she didn’t recognize, but it tugged at her bones.
“What is it?” she asked in a sleepy voice. She glanced down at herself. She was gleaming with a faint, pearl-like luminescence. She jolted full awake. “Goddammit, I lost hold of the dampening spell in that dream we had too. I’ve never lost control like that before. I can’t keep doing this!”
He took a deep breath. His body was clenched. A fine tremor ran through his heavy muscles. He was paler than she had ever seen him, eyes dilated and stark.
“What’s the matter?” she asked again. She laid a bright ivory hand against his cheek. “What happened?”
“I put you down,” he said. His blade-honed face was drawn. “I went to go wash at the stream. I wasn’t gone long . . . I was just twenty feet away.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Whatever happened, it’s okay now.”
He was so upset, unlike anything she had seen from him. To date he had been calm, arrogant, infuriating, amused, angry, cautious, downright imperious. But this was like how he had been when she found him chained in the cell, only worse. It was hard to see such an indomitable male so shaken. She stroked his face.
He sank his fists into her hair as if to trap her more completely. “I turned around,” he gritted, “and I could see the fire through your body. You were transparent, Pia, and you were fading.”
“That’s impossible,” she said.
Or was it? Her mind raced back to her dream. If she had started to fade—could her mother have visited her in truth? Her lips pulled into a bittersweet smile.
“No smiling. This isn’t something to fucking smile about,” he snarled at her, his fists tightening. “You were almost gone. My hands passed right through you. If I hadn’t started calling you back, you would have disappeared for good.”
“Maybe, I guess, but I don’t think so,” she said in an absent tone, letting her fingers slide through his hair. She loved the inky black strands of silk. There wasn’t a kink or hint of curl in it. “I don’t think I could have gone where I tried to go. She said it wasn’t my place.”
“What are you talking about?” His eyes narrowed, but the tension in his body dialed down a notch.
“I dreamed about my mother.” Her gaze went unfocused and she said, “And I think it actually was her. When she left I tried to follow her.”
“You are never to do that again,” he said between his teeth. “Do you understand?”
“Dragos,” she said, speaking with care because he was still so upset. “You’ve got to stop giving me orders.”
No matter how gently she said it, it was still like a spark to dry tinder.
“Fuck you,” he snapped. He thrust his face down to hers, eyes flaring to lava and features hardening. “You’re mine. And you. Can’t. Leave.”
“Whoa, there. I don’t know what to say to you. You’re like some stalker guy on steroids.” She threw back her hands and rolled her eyes. “You are aware, aren’t you, that you can’t have slaves any longer. You know, abolition. Big war. Happened a hundred and forty, forty-five years ago.”
“Human history, human terms,” he snarled. “They mean nothing to me.”
She had already known she shouldn’t attribute human motives or emotions to him. Here was the reminder. The dragon was very close to the surface. The big body crouching over her was taut with menace. Every legend she had ever heard of a dragon’s possessive, territorial nature came to mind.
Damn, it was enough to make her swallow hard but not, she realized, in fear. Muscle by muscle she relaxed. “Okay then, big guy,” she said, soft and easy. “You tell me what you mean.”
“I don’t know.” That fierce, proud face was puzzled. “All I know is you’re mine to keep and protect. You can’t fade away, and you can’t die. I won’t let you.”
She thought it was not the time to point out that she was going to die at some point. She had too much human in her.
“I don’t know,” he said again. “I haven’t figured this out yet.”
A sudden rush of affection surprised her. He wasn’t faking his perplexity. He wasn’t putting on an act. “That makes two of us,” she said. She thought of the Elven wayfarer bread, the hairbrush and the soap, and his thoughtfulness surprised her all over again. She reached up to run a finger down his throat. “So, for the sake of argument, if I’m yours as you said, to keep and protect, that seems to me like you would want me to—be all right. To thrive?”
“Of course,” he said. He looked down at her hand as she drew circles on his chest, and the menace he exuded turned darker, smokier.
“Dragos,” she murmured, “I don’t thrive when someone barks orders at me all the time.”
She peeked at him to see how he reacted to her logic. He was frowning. “It’s how I talk to people,” he said.
“It’s how you talk to your employees and servants, you mean?” she replied.
His frown deepened. She bit her lips to keep back a smile. How could she be so damn charmed by such a primitive thug? She had to establish a different footing with him or be mowed under by the sheer force of his personality.
“See, here’s the thing.” She kept her voice gentle while she started to rub his chest in soothing circles. “Someone barking orders at me makes me feel trapped and stifled. I understand you’ve gotten into a habit, but maybe,” she suggested, “you could try not ordering me around sometimes. You know, just until you get bored and let me go.”
He had grown heavy-lidded as she stroked him, but at that his narrowed gaze snapped up to her face. She smiled at him, nonthreatening and relaxed. “What if I don’t get bored?” he said. “What if I don’t let you go?”
She was jolted by a sense of longing that swept over her. She lost her smile and looked away. “We don’t even know what we’re talking about, anyway,” she said.
He loosened his grip on her hair, shifted his weight onto one elbow and took her luminescent hand. He tilted her arm and looked at it. “You’re remarkable. No, don’t!” he said, as she remembered and began to dampen the glow. “Let me see you as you really are, for a while at least. Look at how fast you’re healing.”