Black Dalliances (A Blushing Death Novel) (21 page)

“Dahlia?” Dean questioned, seeming more to respond to my Eithina’s unanswered growl instead of the burning stench of my flesh.

“Uh huh,” I groaned, wrapping my fingers around the hard object in the dragon’s chest. It fit in the palm of my hand and was the only cold thing in the dragon’s body. Sighing when I got a firm hold on it, I tugged. It didn’t budge even one inch.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growled.

“What?” Dean asked, worried.

“It’s stuck!”

“You got it?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.”

Dean grabbed me at my waist, bracing one foot on the beast’s belly, and tugged with all his might. He growled in my ear with a hurried desperation. I felt the cold heart give just a little, then the muscles and ligaments began to tear around the dragon’s heart. Slowly, the organ tore free from the tissue containing it and ripped from the dragon’s chest. Dean and I fell in a heap on the ground from the force of our combined strength. The ice-cold dragon’s heart was still clutched in my hand.

“Get some water,” Dean growled at Saeran.

The fae king took off in a dead sprint back in the other direction to the lake.

“Are you okay?” Dean growled. His voice rumbled against my ear and the hair at my neck stood on end. Wrapping his arms around me, he held me to him too tight for just my comfort.

“It burns,” I said through gritted teeth.

“We’ll get it off,” he whispered with a confidence I wasn’t sure he felt.

I opened my palm to reveal the deep crimson stone, a large round ball that I’d clutched inside the dragon’s chest with a long cylinder cut of the same stone the length of my hand. The rich red color caught the light as the dragon’s blood oozed down and away from the slick surface. My heart slowed with relief and awe as the magic in the stone pulsed in cold tingles through my fingers as if frost stretched across a window pane.

“That was stupid,” he grumbled in my ear as he tugged me even tighter against him. “At least I would’ve healed.”

“Yeah, I forgot,” I said in an even almost apologetic tone. As blood dripped from my arm, the pain lessened, as did my agitation. Dean kissed my neck behind my ear and breathed me in.

“I thought you were a goner there for a second.”

“Me, too,” I admitted, leaning into him.

Saeran came back with a tankard full of water. He poured it in a careful, easy stream over my arm, revealing bright red skin and too many tiny blisters to count. Luckily, he’d thought to get the fresh water from the streams flowing in, instead of the pool sitting stagnant and full of salt. Thank heaven for small favors because I sure as hell didn’t get many.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Saeran asked with the first signs of concern in his usually calm voice.

“Ask Baba Yaga,” I hissed as Dean grabbed a spare T-shirt from his pack and wiped the last of the dragon’s blood from my arm. Throwing the stained shirt away, Dean dug around in his pack and pulled the first-aid kit, as well as the Ewen blade, from its depths.

“What could your lack of healing bring to Baba Yaga?” Saeran asked, glancing around the cavern at the carnage and then down to me.

“How do we find out?” Dean growled.

“I don’t know,” Saeran answered.

Dean slid the dragon’s heart up through the topaz to complete the sword, snapping the scarlet hilt into place without hesitation.

Magic erupted in a shockwave, spreading out from the blade. Shoving me back against Dean, the strength of the magic from the Ewen’s blade consumed the entire mountain in a flash of light and sound.

The walls shook.

The air whisked in a whirlwind.

Sound evaporated into nothing as the magic fused with the blade. The mountain rumbled, split as rock crumbled and admitted the first rays of sunlight to seep into the underground cavern from above.

A shrill cackle from beyond the mountain’s walls echoed in my ears, and I knew whatever tests Baba Yaga had set before us, we’d passed. But I doubted she was done with us, especially when I could feel her pulsing through my veins, a black fire that couldn’t be squelched.

“We should go,” I shouted, shuffling out of Dean’s warm grasp to get to my feet. As I stood, my knees wobbled a little but not enough for me to lose my balance. That was at least something.

“Time is of the essence,” Saeran said, picking up my pack from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder.

Dean picked up his own pack, sliding the Ewen blade deep into its depths and back into hiding. He wrapped his arm around my waist for support and practically carried me toward the light emanating through the cracks in the rock. “What’s next?”

“Hell if I know.”

Chapter 21

“This is madness,” Konstantin said, running his hand through his thick hair.

Milagra loved the feel of his black, silken strands sliding between her fingers. He brushed his hair from his face, forgetting the scar marring his profile. She appreciated that he felt comfortable enough to forget about the large gash he’d suffered long before she’d arrived in Likho’s castle. He never allowed anyone else to see his face full on. None but her.

Konstantin was her companion, her hero, her savior. The one person in her prison that loved her and that she loved. No matter how many bows and ribbons Likho put on the castle or how many pretty faces he hid his monster behind, Milagra understood it was a prison.

“You cannot convince me to give in,” Milagra murmured.

“This vampire is dangerous. Neither you nor Likho understand how much,” he said, his accent, thick and graveled, became rough with concern.

“He is the key. The old hag told me to get her into the outer realm and that I would find her through him,” she snapped.

“Yes, as the hag said. We found the woman, but this vampire is more than he seems. And what does the hag want with the woman? Have you not asked yourself that?”

“I don’t care what her purpose is. I just want to be free of this place.” Milagra’s voice quivered just a bit and she hoped Konstantin hadn’t heard the desperation she heard in her own words.

“He is dangerous, Milashka. If the vampire is dangerous, what of the woman? She must be a danger to us too.”

“Perhaps, but the old hag said if we found her, we would also find our escape. This way, Likho gets what he wants and we get what we want.”

“What does Likho want?” Konstantin whispered.

“A means to an end. He believes Saeran can lift his banishment. I don’t know if that’s true.”

“You would take the chance of destroying your foster father?” Konstantin asked, his eyes narrowing on her in disbelief.

“He will not come. He never has in the past. Why would he come now?” Milagra fought back the tears. She’d vowed to herself never to shed another tear for Searan. He’d let her go, just as her own father had. “The had hag wanted her and with her, we get our freedom.”

“Milashka-,” Konstantin started.

Closing the distance between them, Milagra slid her arms around his trim waist and snuggled in against his chest, cutting off his words. She breathed in his familiar scent, black licorice and the heady musk of male. Konstantin was the only light in her bleak existence, standing by her no matter what. He loved her even if she was . . . damaged.

“I can’t give up,” Milagra whispered against the harsh fabric of his wool cloak. “Not now, when we are so close.”

“Forget about the hag, the woman, and the vampire. We should leave this place forever,” Konstantin begged. Cupping her face in his hands, he tilted her chin up and forced Milagra to meet the pleading in his gaze.

“Where would we go?” Milagra asked, defeat making tears burn behind her eyes. “You are banished to the Outer Realm and Likho’s magic keeps you alive. In the outside world, how long would you last?” She clung to him, squeezing him tighter. “I couldn’t bear it if I lost you.”

“Milashka.” He’d given her that pet name too many years ago to remember but she loved it.

“If Searan
is
with them, as the vampire says, and we hand him over to Likho, maybe he will forget about us. Then we can escape as the hag predicted.”

“You can’t trust Likho or the hag. You know he offers you what you want while dangling what you fear before you. The hag . . . we know nothing of her. She could be using us for her own ends.”

“I’m willing to risk it. I can’t take it anymore.” She couldn’t stop the hiccup from making her words desperate and husky. “And I won’t let Likho hurt you.”

Blood drained from his face and his lips disappeared into a thin line of anger as his dark undamaged eye bore down on her.

Squirming under that glare, she couldn’t admit to Konstantin what she sacrificed to keep Likho’s vengeance from destroying him. She didn’t want to admit to herself what she’d given that monster to keep Konstantin safe. She buried her face in his scent, forgetting all the wounds—both visible and not so visible—that festered since the last time Likho had threatened Konstantin’s life.

“I don’t ever want to talk about Likho again. We’ll hand Saeran and the vampire over to him and leave, go back to Faerie and live a very long time together and forget about this horrible place. That vampire is our key to freedom. Help me, please.” Tears streamed down her heated cheeks and her knuckles ached from clutching the fabric of his cloak tight in her fingers.

“Milashka,” he whispered, stroking his long, strong fingers through her hair. “I will do what needs to be done for us to escape, for you to be safe. Ask me to climb a mountain and I will. Ask me to give my life for you, and it is yours. But please, don’t ask me to risk your life. That I cannot do.” Leaning down, he brushed his lips against her mouth, kissing the tears from her lips. “You play a dangerous game, my love. This vampire is deadly and the one he speaks of . . . he fears this Blushing Death. I can see it in his eyes.”

“Konstantin, please be careful.” Milagra rose up on tiptoes and closed the distance between their slightly parted lips. The hard length of him pressed against her ribcage, making her finally feel safe and loved. Breaking the soft press of lips, she said, “And stay out of Likho’s way. He’ll pick up your fear and use it against us. Leave the vampire to me.”

Chapter 22

“You have survived,” Baba Yaga’s ragged voice echoed as she hobbled out from behind a large pine, not far from the mouth of the mountain. The closer she got to us, the more my stomach twisted and tightened. Every hair on my body stood on end as magic rippled around me, stronger than before. I’d thought we were done. I’d gotten the damned blade. What more could she want from us, from me?

The pestle and mortar followed behind her on its own like a damned puppy. Whipping through the trees, the wind whistled, making her long, stringy, silver hair flow loose at her shoulders. In the glimmering daylight, I caught sight of the sharp point of her ears, exposing her fae heritage.

“Yes, we survived,” I snapped. I’d just killed a damned dragon and she wanted to chit-fucking-chat. No thank you. My bones ached, my muscles were taut and ready to snap, and my arm throbbed from the burn of the dragon’s flesh. My body and mind were exhausted. I didn’t have the strength or the mental capacity to go another round with Baba Yaga. I just didn’t.

“You looked better before,” she cackled, and a hideous smile spread across her face, revealing the dark gaps from her missing teeth.

“Probably,” I spat. “I hadn’t wrestled a fucking dragon at that point.”

“She’s not healing,” Dean growled at the ancient witch.

“Ah,” she said with a satisfied grin. “A brave pup to speak up when your betters are talking.”

“He’s not part of this,” I hissed in Russian. I had to keep Dean out of this conversation or he’d lose. If he ended up indebted to Baba Yaga, she would own him and his pack. A thing of nightmares, she was not a being to be trusted. The longer I was in Faerie, the more I thought none of the fae were to be trusted.

“The pup made himself part of this, yes?” she asked in English, making sure Dean and Searan understood every word. She turned greedy eyes on Dean, and my blood ran cold. “You want to keep her, pup? You want her whole?”

There was a price to pay for Baba Yaga’s help. There was always a price to pay for magic. Dean thought he was strong enough to face anything. Maybe he was but he was too focused on me and my pain, not the people he was responsible for back home. We were both responsible for them. I wasn’t willing to risk him or them to find out what Baba Yaga’s price was.

“Yes,” he growled.

“Tre,” I snapped, hoping he would keep his mouth shut.

Glaring down at me with determination in his gaze, he set his shoulders in a rigid line of solid muscle.

“No,” he barked. “I’m tired of watching you suffer and can’t do anything about it,” he roared. It was the most he’d said in front of another person—that wasn’t Patrick or myself—since I’d come back. Anger and helplessness flashed in his eyes, and my chest tightened. He’d been carrying all this stress on his shoulders for a long time. Carrying it for me.

“What would you give, Pup?” Baba Yaga cooed.

“No!” I cried. “He isn’t a part of this. We both know that whatever you want, Baba Yaga, you want it from me.”

Baba Yaga’s laughing eyes turned deadly as her irises flooded solid black and the flicker of fire reflected in their dark depths. She turned her deadly black gaze to Dean and my blood ran cold.

Dean pressed his hand flat on my stomach, forcing me back alongside him. I could almost see his hackles rise as he put distance between us and the witch, as if a few feet mattered.

Her eyes narrowed on me, making me feel small and anxious, and I curbed the instinct to run. “You speak the truth,” she said in Russian. “I want nothing from them. The Kingling is the gravel beneath my feet and the pup is strong but not strong enough to be any benefit to me. I have no use for puppies. But you . . . you are something special—the first in a thousand human years.” The corner of her lips turned up in a hideous grin that sent chills up my spine. “I demand but a small sacrifice from you. An exchange.”

“What are you talking about?” I hissed.

“Your humanity is what they fear and what those parasites do not understand. You’ll thank me later.”

“I doubt that.” Grinding my teeth, I said, “I don’t understand.”

“You are Fertiri. To rule them, you cannot be one of them,” she answered in a soft Russian murmur.

“I don’t want to rule anyone.”

She cackled in response, the shrill slap of her laugh making my blood tingle and crackling every nerve ending to the point of pain.

Baba Yaga’s demeanor shifted, becoming brisk and commanding again. “Your powers of healing will be better than human. The wounds already appear better.” She glanced at Dean with her dark, flaming eyes, and then back to me. “But you cannot be what you were,” she hissed in English.

“A sacrifice of my abilities. Payment for the Ewen blade,” I said in understanding.

“Such a smart
devooshka
.” Baba Yaga clapped her hands in delight, cooing at my response like a proud parent.

“I’ll consider it a fair trade if you tell us where to find Patrick.” I’d been human before without the ability to heal. I could do it again. Evaluating my arm, I realized Baba Yaga was right; it was healing. The burn would be gone in a day or so. Faster than any normal human could heal, just not as fast as Dean or Patrick. If it meant keeping Dean out of Baba Yaga’s cross hairs, I’d give up much more than my ability to heal.

“Through the forest,” she said, brushing her nails against her arm. “Follow the line of Linden trees. His castle is at its end.” Toothless and conniving, she grinned her victory. Her shrill cackle grated up my spine, and like a puff of smoke, she was gone.

“What’ve you done?” Dean roared, rage and frustration making his deep baritone quake.

“Please, don’t worry,” I said softly. I’d been a fool to think we’d get out of an encounter with Baba Yaga unscathed. I should’ve known better, had known better.

“You just gave away the only power that’s saved your life,” he roared. His eyes burned the bright blue of his wolf as he grasped my shoulders and shook me. Harder than he was probably aware. My flesh ached where his fingers dug into my biceps and my teeth rattled in my head.

“Tre,” I breathed, fighting back tears. “Please stop.”

His body froze as he met my eyes. Helplessness. Fear. Pain. Shame. Shining bright in his gaze, his Caribbean blue gaze glanced away. “Baby, I’m . . . I’m so sorry,” he stammered, staring down at his hands on my arms. “I’m hurting you.” Jerking his hands away, he peered down at them as if they were somehow different. His hands shook as he drew them in against his body and balled them up into tight fists.

“It’s all right,” I said, reaching for him. Cupping his face in my hands, I made him look at me. Made him see me.

“How do we fix this?” he asked. The hitch of fear disappeared from his voice. Once again he sounded firm and solid as his blue eyes bore into me.

“What’s done is done, my friend. Everyone pays a price in the Outer Realm,” Saeran said, almost remorseful.

Dean brushed the hair from my face as the winter wind whipped around us, chilling me to the bone. His jaw was as solid as steel and his lips disappeared into a thin line of what I could only image was regret.

“Why did you do it?”

Shrugging one shoulder, I met his gaze. “I knew the odds going in with Baba Yaga, you didn’t. She would’ve taken much more from you. The Pack. You would’ve gladly given it. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“But, baby—”

“It’s done.”

Brushing my lips across his, I tasted the richness of him, the salt of his sweat, and the fear he couldn’t hide.

“We should go,” Saeran said, interrupting the only peace I’d found since we’d entered this godforsaken wasteland. “I doubt the way is as easy as the witch made it out to be.”

“In the back of my head, I feel like a clock is ticking down. Time’s running out.”

“Then get moving. But you’re telling Pat about this.”

“Deal.” I reached down and slung the pack over my shoulder and headed into the forest as Baba Yaga had directed. “I’d feel a lot better if I could kill something,” I said, almost too low for either of them to hear.

“So would I,” Dean growled behind me.