Rylin's Fire (12 page)

Chapter 19

Days turned into weeks, the silence balancing Ry on the razor edge of focus. He worried if Dara was out of his sight too long. He worried when she was near him. The dichotomy of emotions was new for him and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t used to loving someone with such force he felt as if her every breath kept him tethered.

There had been no more attacks or killings. Almost as if the rogue knew Ry had been close to identifying him. His fellow Kings insisted it was safe enough to lift the restrictions on their
liras,
but Ry didn’t swallow the belief the killer had moved on. It left too many questions unanswered. Varyk had protested the loudest, insisting if it was a Black then it was for Ry to handle but in the end Ry had his way.

The weight of the burden and his inability to track the rogue left Ry with no choice but to wait. Frustration tied him in knots.

“Do you really believe it’s over?” he asked Mikal, leaning back with his arms braced over the back of his chair as they finished their third bottle of wine.

His friend rose to his feet on a stretch. “Part of me wants to accept this was an aberration.” Mikal pressed his lips tight then added, “You don’t go from eating the hearts of females to no longer feeling the urge to kill.”

Exactly. Ry set his glass on the table in front of him and sat up, elbows to his knees. He remained quiet, assessing the situation from all angles. “What should I do?”

Gold met gold as they stared at one another. “You must find him and send him to the flames.”

“I spoke with the other Kings and got them to extend the restrictions for another week at least.”

Mikal brushed back at his blond hair. “Let’s hope our rogue breaks from his complacency.”

They finished their talk and Ry escorted him to the door, then headed to savor a few more hours with Dara. She lay curled in the center of his bed, stretched out amongst his black sheets, clad in a pair of panties and what looked to be his shirt. Ry walked to the side of his bed and sat on the edge by her splayed legs. One bare thigh bent forward, the slender limb too hard to resist.

He stroked a hand down its length, enjoying the silky touch of her skin beneath his palm. Dara’s lashes fluttered and her lids lifted to reveal a drowsy gaze. “Is everything okay, Rylin?”

“Yes, sleep. It’s still early. I didn’t intend to disturb you.” His hand brushed back the short tumble of curls about her head only to have them spring back and coil about his fingers. His
lira
. They’d made the commitment just yesterday and he still couldn’t believe she was his.

“Did the other dragon guys listen to you?”

Despite his concern and worry, Ry found himself smiling. “The
Dracol
Kings agreed to listen.”

“Good. Love you.” She snuggled back into the sheets and drifted off.

Still amused, Ry removed his clothes, joined her in the bed, and wrapped his arms about her waist.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

“Do you think he’ll come for me if he attacks again?”

And this was where Ry lied to the woman he’d met and fallen for in a single day. The worry was for him alone. “No. He wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.”

When she didn’t say anything more, Ry settled. In his mind the dead
liras’
faces morphed into Dara’s. What would he do if the rogue went after her? His arm tightened. Losing his females devastated him and not just because of his connection to them as King. He’d known those women for years, celebrated their matings.

Losing Dara was inconceivable.

***

Dara laughed at Olivan’s antics and popped a piece of fruit into her mouth. Rylin had designated the young man as her guard and he took the role seriously. She’d awakened to a kiss from Rylin, then he’d closeted himself away with Mikal. The two spent every free moment tracking the rogue. The wear was starting to show in their frantic lovemaking and Rylin’s insistence that Van accompany her everywhere.

Much to her surprise, the youth confessed to being in his late twenties. Her shock must have reflected on her face.

Van, as he asked her to call him, grinned. “Dracols mature at a slower rate. In my fiftieth year, I’ll reach full adulthood.”

Fifty? “How old is Rylin?”

They were both stretched out on the grass, the upper peaks of the castle within their sight. Van rolled to his side and rested his chin on his fist. “A little over his seventy-fifth year. He’s the youngest King to wear the mantle.”

Another thing she’d learned. The mantle stored the power base of the Black sect and determined who would rule them through a process that made her cringe. The line of black scales down Rylin’s back wasn’t just a spot to get him heated during sex. Dara snickered. Anything got him heated. Those scales represented visible evidence of his mantle and status as King.

“Finally,” a familiar voice snarled. “I didn’t think I’d ever catch you away from him.”

Van leaped to his feet, but Dara was slower to rise. Her gaze widened at the shirtless man standing in front of them. A shiver of foreboding slid down her spine.

“Step back, Dara.” Van ordered, his gold eyes flickering.

Not the least bit foolish, she followed his direction, taking the chance on moving.

“Oh, no.” Ranald laughed, keeping her in his sights. “She’s the reason I’m here. The heart of King Rylin’s
lira
will make a tasty treat.”

He turned his attention on her. Pleasure glittered from the depths of his gaze as Dara looked death in the face.

Chapter 20

“Here’s something,” Mikal stated, drawing Ry’s attention.

He leaned over the table at the papers spread out before them. The ancient text was written in a language the Dracol no longer used, but Ry recognized the sketch of the symbol taking up most of the page. It was the one the rogue left behind as his marking.

“It says the
heckti
image will act as a conduit to pull forth a female’s higher energy.”

Mikal slammed his fist down. “Then we’re right, this person is following ancient rituals.”

“He started with the other sects, looking to place blame on my shoulders. Then focused on the Black, but the goal has always been power.” And power corrupted. “We’re not dealing with a stable mind.”  

Mikal glanced in his direction. They’d spent the last hours pouring over ancient writings searching for the stories of power attainment and other myths. “If the rogue doing this has gone mad, but believes his actions justified, it could block you from picking up on him from the mantle.”

Ry started to answer when the scream ripped through his head, down his back, and tore through his gut. Pain, urgency then fear flooded his senses.

In a split second, Ry went from lax to alert. His Dracol barreled to the forefront with one goal and one goal only. Find Dara. Find his
lira
.

“What’s wrong, Ry?” Muscles tense, Mikal stared.

“Dara. Where’s my
lira
?”

Ry held his breath as he waited for his friend’s response even as he strained to find her along the mate connection. To his horror, he reached only empty space where once Dara’s presence had shined like a beacon.

“She was outside earlier. With Van as you ordered.”

“The rogue is attacking.” The roar barely cleared Ry’s throat before another scream pierced his heart.

Dara was dying. Ry could feel it in his soul. When Dara took her last breath, Ry would cease to live, because he’d bonded himself to her, not wanting her to suffer Miram’s fate.

Rylin burst through the door and tore down the stairs. When he cleared the front, he shifted, wings spread and took to the skies.

His fellow Dracol trumpeted behind him. Mikal, no doubt. Ry didn’t have to go far. He scanned the grounds and his eyes immediately went to the crumpled form of his
lira
. Van was inches away, blood soaking the area between them.

Ry landed in human form, the shift seamless in his effort to get to Dara. Her shirt bore a tear down the back, a long wicked scar carved into her flesh. The stalker had marked her, but unlike the other females he’d attacked, Dara still breathed.

“Dara,” her name broke from his numb lips. Ry dropped to his knees beside her. He reached for their mating connection, a place he usually accessed with ease.
‘Dara. Answer me, lira.’

“I believe the end game has finally arrived.”

The new voice came from behind him. Ry’s head jerked around. “Ranald!”

A maniacal laugh. “You thought you were so smart because you bear the mantle.”

“Why would you do this?” Ry pushed to his feet to meet the threat.

Mikal was around somewhere. They’d been together. He would watch over Dara.

“Nothing can stop me.” The rogue swung without warning.

Armored scales plated over Ry’s chest and absorbed the blow. “Are you crazed, Ranald? Cease this madness.”

Ranald grinned, blood dripping from his elongated teeth. “There is no madness in me, King Rylin, only freedom. Finally my essence is free to be what all Dracol are meant to be.”

Ry danced back, dodging the swipe of Ranald’s claws. “Frenzied killers? Dracol are protectors. Honorable to the Goddess of Fate.”

The glow in Ranald’s amber eyes burned brighter. There’d be no reasoning with him. “There is no Goddess, you fool. No Fate. Only the powerful shall rule and I am powerful. I will rule the Black into greatness.”

“How did you fool everyone? None of the Kings suspected. I gave you my trust.”

“More’s the pity.” The smile stretching Ranald’s lips only enhanced the features of the handsome man.

Evil should appear wicked. Hideous. But no, Ry wouldn’t have guessed this male would turn killer. He growled, the sound rolling from deep in his throat.

“Give up the mantle and I might let you live,” Ranald ordered.

Even if such were possible, Ry wouldn’t have agreed. Fire coursed through his veins. “You’re a disgrace to the Black.”

“I am meant to be a King!” With those words, Ranald shifted into the hulking form of his black Dracol, tail lashing out behind him.

Fear for Dara drove Rylin’s shift. His essence rose and met the rippling currents of the mantle. The combined energy swept through him and his Dracol landed on clawed feet with a roar, swiping at Ranald’s snarling jaw.

The lumbering beast fell back.

More of his people arrived, landing with thunderous footsteps. Roars and snarls burst forth as the identity of the killer stalking them spread.

Ranald’s long, sinuous neck moved, his amber stare promising death as spurts of fire escaped his parted jaw. Ranald charged and Ry used his own fire to blaze a path. The flames couldn’t harm those of his sect but the delay gave him the needed time to distract.

‘Stay back!’
Ry blasted the command through the mantle as he launched into the air and took flight. It was too late. Females, those who were mated, collapsed to the ground like toys with their string cut. Ranald was messing with their minds. Male Dracols roared out a challenge as their
liras
fell. Bodies littered the grass.

But life pulsed within. The mantle reassured him the connection still existed. Ranald hadn’t killed them. Probably couldn’t. No, Ranald’s ability lay in his skill to somehow block the mating connection so he could do the terrible deed by hand.

“It stops now!”
Ry shouted.

“It’s only begun, my king.”

The connection between them made Ry ill. It shouldn’t have been possible to establish telepathic contact, but Ranald whatever drove him to kill must have developed as a mutation. It was the only explanation for his growing madness.

Ry whipped out his tail, striking Ranald along his side. The Dracol hissed, shooting flames in his direction. Ry rolled and soared over Ranald. Their bodies collided as Ry clawed at his enemy. Partially submerged beneath the essence of his Dracol, he brought all of his strength forth to battle.

Pain lashed at him from the blows Ranald landed. They grappled, rolling head over tail. Ry thought of Dara, unconscious and blocked from him.

‘What did you do to my lira?’

Ranald laughed in triumph and reared back. Ry released him and flapped his wings, dodging the claw aimed for his face.

‘I only had a little taste.’
Ranald’s tongue licked around his scaled mouth, sharp teeth flashing.

Rage exploded. Ry flew toward him. He bit and raked at Ranald’s vulnerable belly. The mantle poured more power through him and Ry’s jaw locked around Ranald’s throat.
‘You chose the wrong one.’

With one snap, he broke Ranald’s neck and let go. The Dracol tumbled to the ground and hit several trees before an extended branch pierced his hide. The body of the raptor jerked, the deadly fall stopped, but Ry didn’t care.

He arrowed his wings and sped back to his mate.

‘Dara!’

Mikal, Quinn, and Nolan provided a protective circle around her. Ry stumbled to his feet, not bothering to cover his nudity as he crouched over her.

‘Dara, please.’
Ry reached long the mate connection, searching for any sign she wasn’t too far gone. He stretched his senses, breath held until a spark flickered.
‘Dara?’

Thick lashes fluttered and the most beautiful sight greeted him when she opened her green eyes. “Did you get him?”

Ry gathered her close, tears burning his throat. “I got him.”