A Kiss of Flame (Shadows Eternal #3)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

B arith couldn’t move. The moment he realized, he struggled to breathe, then came the consuming panic. Of all the things he hated most, being trapped in cramped, dark spaces was near the top of that list—especially when the suffocating space was created by magick. As a sun dragon, his instinct when he couldn’t smash through something was to burn it. Fire licked across his skin as he summoned the flames. The spell squeezed tighter, pressing his wings into his back.

This could not be how he died. It was too humiliating. Trapped by magick inside a wall and left to rot somewhere no one would find his decaying corpse.

With a surge of desperation, Barith pressed further against the stifling magickal space, the flames around him intensifying into a compressed inferno. He tried to snarl a curse, but it came out as a desperate grunt—His body constricted under the magick’s crushing force like a giant snake coiling around him.

Worse still was the thought of Levian. She’d be furious if she found out he’d died in such a stupid way, trapped in a wall on some ill-conceived quest. And dammit, he regretted not seeing her one last time. Her glowing violet eyes, her skin flushed with magick, the face she made when she was pissed at him.

Balls to that!

With a primal snarl, he pushed every remaining tendril of magick he could summon into the fire. It relented slightly before suddenly; cool air smashed against the heat of his skin as he flew through the air. He crashed headfirst into a scraggly bush, which burst into flames.

A gasp came behind him as he shakily rose, pushing the burning twigs out of his face. “Barith?” a cool, familiar voice asked. “Is that you?”

“What in the fires of Hades are you doing here?” Levian snarled, her tone sharp with disbelief.

Barith froze, his chest heaving as he gulped down cool air, his skin still smoldering, what remained of his clothes little more than scorched tatters. He turned and found Levian glaring up at him with the expression he’d been desperate to see one last time only moments before. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her fair half-fae features twisted into an expression of impatience and fury. Her curls, which were now dyed a shade of dark pink, were frizzy, with several loose strands lying over her face. Her uncharacteristically ordinary outfit was dirty and singed. The panic was gone, replaced by relief and quickly bubbling fury as he peered down at her. Despite his anger, Barith couldn’t help but feel relieved to see her alive and safe. His right hand twitched, wanting to reach out and touch her.

“I was lookin’ for you ,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. He’d thought she was dead—or worse.

Carvatticus hovered behind the mage, his expression surprised and amused as he took Barith in from toe to top. The daemon looked almost precisely as Barith remembered—short, slender, with sharp, clever eyes. His horns were shorter, probably thanks to Levian’s handiwork a few summers past. The daemon flashed a catlike smirk and took a small step back as if to say, ‘ Good luck, old chum. You’re going to need it .’

“Well, you’ve succeeded,” Levian snapped back. “And you’ve nearly gotten yourself killed in doing so.”

The house shuddered before either could say more, and a large beam began to break apart right above Levian’s head. Barith reacted instinctively, lunging forward to grab her, throwing his wings up to shield them from the falling debris.

Levian gasped in irritated shock, but she leaned into him when the dust settled. The scent of night jasmine filled his lungs as his nose pressed into her hair. It was like a wash of sunshine through his body. For a brief moment, she looked up into his face, and a crash of emotions seemed to swirl behind her eyes before she quickly tamped them down.

“Get off,” the mage snarled, shoving her hands against his chest, and though he didn’t move at first, Barith soon stepped back, giving her space.

“Before you two start again,” Car interjected as the mage hauled in a breath, “I suggest we get the Hells out of here. I plan to die in the arms of a lover, not under a caving filthy roof.” A piece of ceiling fell to the floor, punctuating his point. Without another word, the daemon turned and stalked out.

Levian glared at Barith but kept her lips pressed shut. “He’s right,” she muttered, slipping past him. “We should— ouch !” She stumbled, bracing herself on his arm.

Barith could tell Levian was exhausted, and now her ankle was hurt. He leaned over and scooped her into his arms with ease.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Levian hissed, though she wrapped her arms firmly around his neck.

“Yer hurt, and I’m no’ gonna watch you hobble yer way out of here,” he declared, following after Car.

“I’m fine,” she retorted, glaring up at him. Barith ignored her. She wasn’t fine, and he wasn’t in the mood to argue. “You’re about to lose what little clothing you have left,” she added tartly.

“Ye’ve seen me naked before,” he reminded her gruffly. Many times. In their circles and amongst the Folk, nudity wasn’t uncommon. He’d seen her naked before, too.

“That doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t worse off for it,” she shot back.

He grunted. “No one says you have to look.” Levian huffed with exasperation but went quiet.

Once they reached a clearing large enough in the trees, Barith opened his wings and shot into the air, leaving Carvatticus to find his way through the edge of the forest. Levian gripped his neck tighter and groaned several curses at him, shoving her face against the crook of his neck. She wasn’t a fan of flying. Barith landed in a grassy field, and Levian leaped from his arms. The mage shoved her hand into her enchanted bag and produced a colorful knitted blanket, which she threw at him.

“Do cover yourself up,” she commanded.

With a grunt, Barith wrapped the blanket around his waist, sending what little remained of his charred clothing cascading to the ground.

“Only you would set yourself aflame as a means of escape,” she muttered, rubbing her temple.

“It’s no’ like I’m often trapped inside enchanted bloody walls,” he snapped.

Levian sighed deeply through her nose and looked up to the dusky sky as if she were silently beseeching the Goddesses for strength. “What are you doing here, Barith?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be home feasting and celebrating your upcoming nuptials?” Her words had a sharp edge, more cutting than usual.

Barith met her glare with a surly look of his own. He should be home—playing his part. Instead, he was here, in damned Germany, searching for Levian. “You disappeared,” he growled.

“ And ?” she challenged. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t disappeared before, though this time had been different.

“Gwen sent word,” he explained angrily. “She said she thought you might be in trouble. Forgive me for tryin’ to make sure ye werenae dead or trapped in some old witch’s dungeon.”

The mage’s brows furrowed. She could see through him—she always could. She knew he was lying, at least partially. “Gwen made you think I was in real trouble?” she questioned astutely. “Or told you I might be getting into trouble? We both know they aren’t the same thing.”

A direct hit. Barith couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth: after he’d last talked to Gwen, he’d been consumed with the need to find Levian—to see her safe. Admittedly, the mage was always in some trouble, but that didn’t absolve her entirely. “Gwen was troubled and worried about you,” he replied flatly—the truth. Gwen had been worried, and her worry had leached into Barith.

Levian’s gaze softened at that, and she let out a little sigh. “I haven’t talked to her in a few weeks,” the mage admitted, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she leaned back to sit on a small rock. “I broke my phone and haven’t replaced it. I should have checked in, but I’m sure Sirus told her I would be fine, although I know she likes to worry.”

“Aye. She does,” he confirmed.

Gwendolyn was very new to their world of immortals, and she did tend to overthink things. However, given that an evil High Priestess had tried to kill her and steal her magick the year before, they all felt she deserved a bit of grace in her concerns.

Levian met his gaze and cocked a brow. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here, though,” she challenged him. “You cannot have truly been so concerned for my wellbeing that you ditched your fiancée and risked upsetting your mother to come find me.”

Barith doubted his betrothed missed him at all. Their mating was a political arrangement, nothing more. Sera was no doubt enjoying the reprieve just as much as he was if he had to guess, but Levian’s words stung nonetheless. His ears burned. She would have been right, of course, if he’d mattered much to the process of his courtship at all. At this point, it was all nothing but icing on an already settled agreement between his horde and the Ceanadachs. His mother, Queen Eithne, knew he’d do his duty, which is why she’d not made much fuss when he’d told her he wished to take a short trip.

“This isnae about me,” he deflected. “Gwen told me you were huntin’ some thieves before ye vanished, and she called me all worried, and that got me worried, so here I bloody am—so yeah, I was concerned enough to ditch everythin’ and come find you,” he seethed.

Levian looked away from his sheepishly. “Well,” she mumbled. “Fine. I should have called Gwen, like I said.”

Barith growled and ran his hand through his matted hair. He was angry that Levian hadn’t bothered to tell Gwen she was alright, knowing how she liked to worry, but he knew he’d gotten too worked up over it. He was still tense and irritated from being trapped in that wall, amongst many other reasons. “Who are they?” he grumbled. “The thieves?”

The mage sniffed. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Barith clenched his jaw and glanced at Carvatticus, who was standing at a fair distance, clearly trying to give them space. “But it’s his business?” he clipped, his voice rising. “What in the devil’s arse is Carvatticus even doing here? Shouldnae his Lordliness be perched on a throne somewhere in Obsidian?”

Levian rubbed her temple again, and he felt a tinge of guilt. “Carvatticus has been a help to me, which is more than I can say for you at the moment,” she retorted. Barith bristled at the bite in her tone. “How did you even know to look for me here?” she asked, puzzled.

The mage was usually clever in hiding her tracks, but Gwen had told Barith Levian had been heading for Paris before she’d lost contact. After a few days in the city, he’d managed to catch a few leads by visiting places he knew she liked, which brought him to a small shop in Montmartre where he’d been required to bribe the pixie who owned it with enough coin to make his granny blush. From there, he’d flown straight to Germany, stopping at a nearby village or two until he’d figured out where the old pixie’s estate was. Then he’d followed her scent of night jasmine, found the old house, was almost immediately devoured by a wall where he thought he would rot, to now be standing naked in the middle of a field except for the afghan Levian had given him.

“Yer no’ the only one with connections, you know,” he replied sharply, unwilling to share more.

Levian narrowed her eyes and let out an exasperated breath.

“Not to interrupt,” Carvatticus interrupted, “but can we continue this reunion somewhere with alcohol and a hot bath?”

Barith glared at the daemon, who grinned and slid next to Levian. They were an odd pair. Both slender, of similar heights, with narrow features. But while Carvatticus was pale and horned, Levian’s skin was the color of rich caramel and had ethereal features inherited by her wood fae mother. They were childhood friends and very close but very different in many ways. Barith had never really taken a liking to the daemon. Levian chalked it up to competition—since he and Car were both obnoxious flirts. The truth, however, was more grating.

“You’re welcome to join me for a soak,” the daemon purred. “I know of a lovely bathhouse in the city that is very discreet and?—”

“I dinnae need your bloody bathhouse,” Barith bit out.

Car’s lips curled as he looked Barith up and down. “I would beg to differ. But if you find my company so abhorrent these days, that is your loss.” With a heavy sigh, he draped an arm around Levian’s waist.

Barith glared at the daemon, and Car replied with a cocky smile. This is why the dragon disliked Carvatticus. The daemon was smug about the fact that he had known Levian longer and that they were as thick as thieves; Barith and the mage had always been more like oil and water—constantly squabbling. With Carvatticus, she seemed at ease.

“Did the daemons gain some sense and kick ye out of Obsidian?”Barith growled out.

Levian shot him a sharp look, warning him to watch himself.

The Daemon Lord didn’t flinch. “I was in Paris on business, ran into Vi Vi here, and offered to keep her company while she hunted her pesky little thieves.”

Barith looked to Levian and crossed his arms, waiting for her to elaborate as he’d asked.

The mage rolled her eyes and relented. “There have been several thefts,” Levian explained, her tone clipped, “as you heard from Gwen. I’m simply trying to uncover who’s behind them.”

“The Council of Mages has you hunting thieves?” Barith asked skeptically. He’d thought it odd when Gwen had told him what Levian was up to. Not the thief hunting necessarily, but that Council would have asked the mage to do it alone.

“They tried to steal from Abigail,” she told him.

Barith’s brows shit up. Abigail was a powerful witch and highly respected among the Folk, though not so much among her own kind. The Houses of Witches tended to shun anyone who played with potions that prolonged life in a way they found unnatural, and they weren’t keen on being friendly with the Fae Kingdoms either. Abigail did both. Levian knew the witch well, and Barith knew her well enough to realize anyone bold enough to steal from Abigail had to have some brass balls.

“I’ve been tracking them for several weeks,” Levian continued. “The pixie that used to live here was a collector. He was also quite fond of booby traps, as you discovered.” Barith’s skin flushed with embarrassment.

“It’s amusing,” Car chuckled. “We were just talking about you before we found you in that wall. Do you remember when?—”

“I need a drink,” Levian cut in. “And the bathhouse sounds lovely.”

“Of course, ViVi,” Car purred, pulling her closer. Barith held in the irritated growl that threatened to pop out.

“The Dragon’s Delight,” the daemon said with a wink. “The name of the bathhouse.”

“Of course it is,” Levian grumbled.

Barith’s gaze flicked to the daemon’s elaborately ringed fingers as they settled on Levian’s waist. “Did you find it?” he asked, barely more than a growl.

“What?” she questioned.

“What ye came here for.”

Levian hesitated for a moment before she nodded. “I did, yes.”

“Good,” Barith grunted.

“That has yet to be determined,” she told him before letting out a slight sigh. Levian wrapped her arm around the daemon’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid you’re too large for my brand of magick,” Car said, looking Barith over again. “But I do hope you’ll join us for a soak. It would be nice to catch up like civilized hedonists.”

Levian swatted at Car’s obnoxiousness before looking at Barith. “I’m fine, as you can see,” she said. He was sure she would tell him to go home, but instead, she briskly offered, “If you would like to join, you are welcome. If not, it was good to see you.” She paused, then added, “I wish you and your future mate many blessings.”

Barith bristled at how hollow sentiment, his jaw tightening.

“If you don’t come,” Car added before Barith could respond, “I also wish you a brood of fat offspring and a mate with a backside as round as a—” Levian elbowed him clear in the ribs. The daemon winced in pain and cursed under his breath.

“Take care of yourself,” she said, finally meeting Barith’s gaze.

Something in her violet eyes churned his insides. She looked earnest but sad. Resigned. It made him feel like a right arse. They’d barely spoken in months, and it’d been heated the last time they had. He wanted to apologize, to explain, to say a thousand things.

“Vi, I—” was all he managed before a swirl of ashen smoke enveloped them, and they were gone.

Barith cursed loudly and looked up to the sky. Carvatticus was a right arse and had done it to get under his skin.

His skin began to cool rapidly as twilight settled over the forest. Barith breathed deeply, the lingering scent of Levian’s night jasmine perfume clinging to the air. With another curse, he opened his wings wide and took off into the sky, tightly holding Levian’s knitted blanket around his hips. Barith glamoured himself so that none of the humans below could see him flying overhead as he approached a village.

Now that he’d started this, Barith was determined to finish it. He wouldn’t slink back home to his horde without clearing the air with Levian first, even if it meant gagging and chaining his Daemon Lordliness up in a basement to get a moment alone with her.