The Last Slayer (9 page)

His lips found mine. Dazed and suddenly drugged with power, I returned the kiss, my mouth eager for his. His magic mingled with mine and magnified our strength.

He massaged my breasts gently, then tweaked a nipple. My breathing quickened, and I placed my hand over his, urging him to take me as he wanted.

His mouth traveled downward and enveloped my other nipple with a scalding heat. Crying out, I arched my back. I parted my legs and nestled him between my thighs. He fit perfectly there, but didn’t enter. Instead, he intensified his assault on my breasts, then moved down to my sex, licking my slick newly healed flesh.

What he did—it reached beyond the physical. It went straight to my core and overloaded my senses until I saw nothing but stars and every fiber of my body contracted tightly in anticipation of the most intense orgasm of my life.

But he didn’t allow the release. Instead, he seemed content just licking me.

Frustration and pleasure rushed over me. I found that my voice worked again. “Fuck me, damn it.”

He laughed, the vibration caused by the sound enough to push me over the edge. I screamed, my back arching taut as a bow. Oh what a feeling! To be launched into the sky from the most powerful catapult in the world and know that you’ll be safe because your lover will catch you.

He didn’t stop. His tongue moved faster over my wet folds, and I writhed. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“No.” I gasped. “I can’t.”

“You will.”

And I did, again and again. Each time, I flew higher until I thought I would die from it.

Finally, he plunged into me, his sex stretching me tightly. My fingers dug into his back muscles.

He didn’t waste any time, moving in and out, each stroke more gratifying than the previous one. Pleasure washed over me like waves of ambrosia. I felt like crying, giving myself to him completely.

When I tensed and screamed my final release, he let go and allowed the ecstasy to claim him as well.

Finally I opened my eyes. It was Ramiel, of course. Sex—the real thing—floated around us like dandelion wisps. I’d never seen it out of the bottle before. I reached out, but it scattered at my touch, quick and skittish as a school of fish. Ramiel cupped a hand and Sex gathered and pooled in it, glowing moonbeam white. He spread it over my skin like warm oil. I shuddered at this further infusion of power. He licked his fingers clean, his pink tongue running over them leisurely. The sight reminded me of the things he’d done to me, and I bit my lower lip from moaning as the desire rekindled. His eyes grew dark and hot, but he didn’t make a move. To distract myself I rubbed a bit of Sex from my chest and put it in my mouth. It was amazing—delicious, as sweet and rich as freshly whipped cream. It filled my mouth with a smooth coolness that made my tongue tingle, like a meringue made from ice-cold sparkling water. I felt refreshed and surprisingly well rested.

“Happy birthday, Ashera.”

“I’m dead. I don’t think there’s much to celebrate.”

He laughed. “You’re hardly dead. Look.”

I blinked several times, and my brain began taking in my surroundings. People were gawking. He wasn’t on top of me. He was kneeling beside me, still fully armored. The wyrm carcass lay some yards away. It stank like a butcher shop that had just received a shipment of half-spoiled meat.

I raised myself up slowly. My clothes were tattered and soiled beyond repair, but I wasn’t naked. Thick slippery black liquid stuck to me. I sniffed and gritted my teeth. I was
not
going to hurl because of some dragon saliva.

So that was astral sex, the purely psyche-based mating. I’d never experienced it before, and I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not. The orgasms were oh-god good, but I hated getting my psyche invaded—even if it generated a ton of Sex that didn’t taste gross, and my power reservoir felt replenished and brimming. Why hadn’t he taken more? He’d had some—he’d licked it off his fingers—but there was plenty to go around. He certainly didn’t have to give it all to me.

“Who are you?” I got to my feet. “Really.”

He rose with me. “As I told you, I am called Ramiel.” He bowed deeply, his hair brushing against the dark road. When he came up there was a faint smile on his face. “At your service.”

Maybe he really was Ramiel. “So…what are you?” I said.

“I am the Dragonlord of Besade and a triumvir of Lapslora.” He glanced at the chunks of metal that used to be my car. “Do you require transportation?”

Ramiel of Besade, legendary for killing Kyran, the slayer overlord. If he was telling the truth, I was dealing with a heavy-duty badass. Kyran had fought his way up to become defender of the race almost a millennium ago, and he had been the single biggest obstacle to the genocide of the slayers. Ramiel had been a mere two hundred years old—the youngest of all the dragonlords—when he’d decapitated the slayer overlord. The problem was I didn’t think “Ramiel” was honest. He was beyond gorgeous, as most supernaturals that have mortal shape are, and his entire being glowed as most creatures of nightmare do after Sex. It was something of a puzzle. Dragonlords couldn’t invade people’s dreams, and incubi couldn’t do what Ramiel had done. For now I’d consider him a dragonlord with incubus power—maybe he’d bargained with one of them…although I couldn’t imagine why he’d bother. And I needed to watch what I said and did around him. Messing with incubi was one thing, messing with demigods quite another.

“You don’t believe me.”

I crossed my arms. “You don’t exactly inspire trust.”

“I healed you at the expense of depleting my own magic.”

Touché. Still, something about him rankled. Maybe because he had been able to invade my subconscious twice in the past twenty-four hours. Maybe because he was a supernatural and I just didn’t trust his kind. “What do you want?”

He put a hand over his heart. It was completely unaffected, a gesture out of another age. “To ensure you are protected.”

Altruism? From a demigod? No supernatural does anyone a favor without an ulterior motive. I wasn’t sure I wanted to pay the price.

He continued, “What you did against the wyrm in the woods was magnificent. And to last so long against the second wyrm after the use of such magic was highly praiseworthy, much better than I expected.” He glanced at the wyrm carcass. “That was Nathanael’s creature, one of his best.”

Getting praised by a demon was more than a little strange. “How do you know about the first wyrm?”

He looked puzzled. “The reverberations of
draco perditio
, of course.”

All right, so maybe he hadn’t been spying on me. Practiced magic users can sense powerful spells.

“So I went to observe.”

Aha! He
had
been watching. And waiting. If he were that worried about my well-being, he could’ve killed the second wyrm sooner instead of taking in the show. This was how you knew you were dealing with a demon—nothing but pretty little lies.

To ensure you are protected.
Whatever.

It was time to leave. I still needed to retrieve that book. The last thing I wanted was a trio of dragonlords accusing me of disobeying them.

“I’ll tell you why the two wyrms went on a rampage today,” Ramiel continued, “and transport you to wherever you need to go. I give you my word that’s all I will do.”

I glanced at my car—or what was left of it. What choice did I have? Supernaturals couldn’t break their word, so maybe…just maybe it was okay to accept his offer so long as I remembered what a liar he was.

Taking my silence as a yes, he whistled, the sound high and clear. An amphitere descended from the sky, its purple and red wings stretched tight in a smooth gliding approach. A thick velvet pad and coverlet hung from its back. Against the deep blue of the fabric, a silver hydra crest writhed furiously. No doubt it sensed Ramiel’s bloodied sword. This is one way you can tell a truly magical item from a fake. The real ones live and evolve along with their owners.

The crowd around us shouted and pointed at the flying dragon. Incredibly, there were still lots of cell phones out, and most of them started snapping pictures. Some people crossed the concrete divider and ran toward Ramiel. The sharper ones must’ve realized he was a supernatural—not that there was much room for doubt. The man positively glowed.

Ramiel sighed at the dragon groupies’ mad rush. He turned away from them, the faintest of lines appearing between his eyebrows for just an instant. The ones in the lead suddenly stopped short, their clothes flattening against their bodies, then stumbled backward. They pushed against the invisible barrier and then banged on it with their fists, but there wasn’t any sound except their desperate cries.

“Take us with you! Please!”

“I love you!” a woman shrieked.

My face turned hot. Couldn’t we maintain more dignity around the demons…even if this one was a demigod? How could they still want to worship supernaturals after what had just happened?

When the amphitere stopped before him, Ramiel stepped onto it easily and extended me a hand. I hesitated, then took it and climbed aboard. The amphitere’s muscles twitched. Maybe it was galled to carry a dragon-killing mortal.

“Hold tight,” Ramiel said.

The amphitere took off with a shocking suddenness, and I was forced to grab Ramiel’s waist to avoid falling backward. He stood without any problem, gripping a long leather cord tied to the dragon’s body armor.

Under us, the people who were pushing against the wall suddenly pitched forward and fell. The ones behind ran over them and spilled into the gigantic shadow created by the amphitere. They glared and shouted at me as if somehow I was responsible for Ramiel’s departure.

Idiots. Those people should have been grateful that spit maggots weren’t feasting on their flesh. They should have been helping the wounded rather than running after a dragonlord. The injured remained on the highway, forgotten by the healthy.

The amphitere soared into the sky. With each powerful stroke of its wings the air grew colder, and soon we were high up. I expected to begin freezing and sucking for oxygen, but neither happened.

Maybe it was the result of the shared Sex. Some engage in selfish Sex, where one partner takes everything and gives nothing to the other. Creatures of nightmare are a prime example. What Ramiel and I had done wasn’t like that. Mutual pleasure, but unequal sharing in my favor.

I couldn’t decide what to make of that.

“Where are we going?” I said, when he didn’t make any attempt to land the dragon somewhere secluded for our talk.

“To Besade.”

“To
what?”

“Besade. My dragonhold.”

“I know what Besade is. Why are we going there?”

He glanced at me over a shoulder and gave a small frown. “You can’t think to return to your home.”

“Funnily enough, I can.”

“It isn’t necessary.” He pulled something out of a fold of his cloak. It was the old and worn book of spells that contained
draco perditio.
“I believe you were intending to retrieve this?”

“How did you know it was that book? And how did you get it?”

“It has the forbidden spell. And I possess the ability to read.” He gave me a faint smile. “You should guard your dwelling more carefully.”

“You broke the wardings. Again.”

“Ah, yes. Useless distractions. What did you think you could do with such things? They wouldn’t even stop an infant wyrm.” He turned slightly, so that we were no longer quite front-to-back. “Your home is marked now, and not just by Madainsair. Wyrms will be waiting for you there.”

There was that “marked” again. “What does it mean to be marked?”

“To be marked is to become a beacon. Whoever marked you or your dwelling can track you. Possibly spy upon you.”

So…a magical GPS bug. Wasn’t I lucky?

“I removed it for you the first time.”

The burning sensation in my dream. “That Selena thing was working for Madainsair?”

“No.”

“Well, who then?”

“I am not yet sure. Someone with an interest in seeing the status quo remain, obviously.”

“But why me?”

“You still live,” he said dispassionately.

I opened my mouth to say something sharp, but the amphitere’s cry caught my attention. A large island with lush greenery and dark rocks floated in the air before us.

I let my mouth stay open.

I’d read about floating islands and seen a few antique artists’ sketches. None of them captured the magic of the real thing. And magic as old and powerful as this was simply beautiful. At that moment, hypocritical or not, I wished I had a camera.

Hundreds of buttresses rose from the foothills in the center of the island to support an enormous castle with sharp turrets. As we drew closer, I could see life-sized bas-reliefs of dragons, dragonlords and slayers moving over the stone surface. Protruding slightly from the wall, the sculptures displayed the meticulous detail that only comes from the finest workmanship. They seemed to be in battle, smashing one another. I’d never seen anything like it, and I’d had plenty of opportunities to see some amazing things—the Johnsons owned a lot of magical artifacts. A mortal would have to perform a series of death rites to harness enough power to run something this enormous. I wouldn’t have believed Ramiel could afford to spend this much magic on just his
walls
if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. And the longer I looked at the bas-reliefs the more nervous I became. What could any dragonlord possibly want from me?

With each blow, chunks of stone fell to the ground. “Why do you let them mutilate each other? I would be pissed if my decorations refused to get along.”

Ramiel gave a cursory glance at the battles royal flowing along his castle’s brickwork. “They’re to educate young dragons who haven’t learned our history yet.” He pointed at a tangled mass of dragons and slayers. The latter were doing a fine job of hacking away at the former. “That’s a campaign from the Fall of the Dragons.”

It was sort of a weird choice. Why remind himself of an ancient war in which his kind had lost? It would’ve been more fun to select something from the Twilight of Slayers.