Kiss of Embers (The Dragon Lairds #5)

Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

FINN

“ C ream and sugar, lass?” I asked, looking up from the sugar bowl to meet Zara’s gaze.

She sat at the table, her hair loose around her shoulders and the faintest blush in her cheeks. The scent of apple blossoms hung heavy in the air.

Struan sat to her right, and his tongue was in serious danger of falling from his mouth and rolling across the table like a cartoon character’s. Any second now, little hearts were going to pulse from his eyes.

Zara straightened in her chair. “You have cream and sugar?”

“I have everything.” I pointed to the wooden box next to the coffee maker. “Heavy cream. Vanilla. Whiskey”—I winked at her—“Scotch, of course. And milk, both regular and almond.”

“Um. Two sugars, please.”

“You’ve got it.” I dumped two spoonfuls into Zara’s coffee, then carried our mugs to the table. En route to my chair, I stopped beside Struan and spoke under my breath. “I know she’s gorgeous, love, but you’ll catch flies if you don’t close your mouth.”

He swiped at me. “Piss off, Finn.”

Laughing, I danced out of his reach, my mug lifted high. “Och, you’ll make me spill this.”

“Good.”

I let my grin have its way as I sat and toasted him with my mug. “Slàinte.”

He gave me a dark look as he sipped his own coffee.

Zara looked between us, then cleared her throat. “You two haven’t started packing yet?”

“No need,” I said. “Everything in this tent is spelled to stay in place when we travel.”

“Really?” Zara gazed around, her brown eyes widening as she took in the overstuffed sofas and scattered furniture. “A spell like that must have cost a fortune.” As soon as she said it, the color in her cheeks deepened.

My heart turned over. She was obviously embarrassed. But she had no reason to be. “It did,” I said. “But I was happy to spend it.”

Struan caught Zara’s eye. “Finn inherited his grandfather’s wealth. The vampire princes make no distinction between their personal finances and the principality’s treasury. When Prince Dmitryo of Vostrova died, every coin in his coffers went to Finn.”

“I never wanted it,” I said, old anger simmering in my gut. “But I had no choice. Every time I tried to send the money back to Vostrova, it returned the next evening.” Memories stirred, images of the chests of jewels and priceless works of art forming in my mind. I’d kicked them over in a rage. Dumped them in the loch behind the estate. Buried the coins deep in the ground. None of it made a difference. Like clockwork, the chests reappeared—their contents intact—the following twilight.

Zara leaned her elbows on the table. “If you didn’t want the money, couldn’t you have just given it away? Donated it or spread it among your remaining relatives?”

I shook my head. “Vampire wealth follows blood. Or, as the vampires put it, the Blood. And even if I’d wanted to distribute it to other relatives, that wasn’t an option. My grandfather and all of his direct descendants were slaughtered in the same conflict.”

Zara put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, gods. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not, lass. I’m the one who slaughtered them.”

Slowly, Zara lowered her hand. I braced myself for disgust or condemnation. But her gaze was steady, and her voice was even as she said, “You can tell me about it if you want to.”

Quiet settled around the table. As I held Zara’s stare, a sort of calm stretched between us. It was her , I realized. She was willing to listen, but she hadn’t pushed. She’d simply left the door open for me to enter if I chose. And just as I knew the calm flowed from her, I understood that I’d receive no judgment for sharing my story.

I drew an even breath. “My grandfather wanted my mother to wed the prince of a rival territory. She refused, and when my grandfather ordered his guards to forcibly deliver her to her betrothed, she killed the guards and escaped.”

Admiration shone in Zara’s eyes. “She must have been very strong.”

I smiled. “She was. She evaded capture, hiding from the sun during the day and navigating the mountains at night. But she didn’t have any supplies. No food or water. She foraged when she could, but the conditions were harsh, and she was in danger of starving. The way she told it, she sank to her knees in the middle of a snowy field and resigned herself to death. And that’s when my fathers found her.”

Zara listened, her gaze rapt and her coffee growing cold. She ignored it as she propped her chin on her hand. “She was their fated mate.”

“Aye. They recognized her right away.” My memory supplied me with my mother’s cool gray eyes and long dark hair. Her quick laugh and high, sweet singing voice. “They were happy,” I said. “We were happy. But my grandfather never forgave her for running away.” My chest tightened.

Wordlessly, Struan reached over and placed his hand on top of mine. I squeezed his fingers before turning back to Zara.

“As I’m sure you know, there is just one pureblooded dragon left in the world.”

“Cormac,” Zara said. “Your king.”

I nodded. “We lost our women more than a thousand years ago. But fate was kind, and it gave us new mates. The other Firstborn Races hate us for it.”

Struan grunted. “They hate us for other reasons too.”

Zara’s gaze went to our joined hands. The color returned to her cheeks, but her eyes remained free of judgment as she met my stare. “I’m sixty-five years old. I’ve dealt with so many fossils on the Werewolf Council, I probably qualify as an archaeologist.”

Struan chuckled. “Finn and I aren’t all that old, either. I’m a hundred and thirty.” He tipped his head toward me. “Finn turned a hundred and fifteen a few months ago.”

Zara’s lips curved. “So not quite fossilized.”

Humor danced in Struan’s eyes. “No, lass. You won’t need any pickaxes to keep us in line.”

Their gazes held, something tentative and meaningful passing between them. Then Zara swallowed as she returned her attention to me.

“What happened to your parents?” she asked softly.

“My grandfather sent one of my cousins to speak to my mother. He channeled to her side when she went walking in the Highlands alone.” Bitterness welled, turning my voice gruff. “Dmitryo planned it that way on purpose. The cousin had been friendly to my mother when they were young. If she had channeled away, she might have lived. But she trusted him, and he killed her.”

Zara thrust her hand across the table, her palm up in invitation. I took it, squeezing her fingers the same as Struan’s. With another deep breath, I finished the story.

“Dmitryo knew he was no match for my fathers. The only way to get to them was through my mother. He arranged his own daughter’s death because he couldn’t stand for a woman of his blood to be mated to a pair of dragons. My fathers felt her loss right away, and they sent me to safety. They passed shortly afterward. And when I was strong enough, I flew into Dmitryo’s territory, killed everyone in his castle, and burned the place to the ground.”

Something fierce passed through Zara’s eyes. Bloodlust. I’d seen it often enough in the mirror to recognize it.

“I’m glad,” she said, a growl in her voice. “Your vengeance was just.”

Struan stared at her, and I recognized the look in his eyes too. Adoration. He’d lusted after her before. Now, he was smitten. Watching him watch her, the weight of the past lifted. I released their hands and sat back in my chair. “So there you have it, lass. That’s how I came into my wealth.”

She curled her hands around her mug. “Did you worry the Blood would choose you as the next prince?”

It was a wise question. And from the look in her eyes, she understood how much I would have despised such an outcome.

“At the time,” I said, “I was too blinded by grief and anger to care. But it was never a concern. The Blood chooses the person most capable of leading the territory. And I never had any interest in leading vampires. On the contrary, I would have done whatever I could to destroy them.”

Zara appeared to absorb this. “What about the other nobles in your grandfather’s territory? Non-relatives. Do you think they would target you now?”

I knew my smile was more of a grimace. “After my grandfather and his kin died, the Blood chose a minor noble to sit on the throne. The new prince was pleased to be elevated. He’s no threat to me.”

Struan snorted. “He also knows you’ll roast him like a pig on a spit if he so much as looks at you.” He turned to Zara. “Or anyone Finn holds dear.”

She tensed, and there was no question she understood his meaning. She was dear to me—and I would protect her with my life.

Distant noises drifted from outside. The sounds seemed to startle Zara, as if she’d temporarily forgotten we sat on the outskirts of a camp with competitors around us.

She pushed her mug away. “I should get going. Drute will be looking for me.”

“I thought you were looking for him,” I said.

Zara paused. “I am. I mean, I was.”

“Did you tell him about the doppelganger?”

“Yes, of course. Drute is my closest advisor.”

Struan arranged his features in a polite expression, and I could have laughed at how ineffective he was at masking his dislike of the gargoyle. “How long has he served your pack?”

Zara’s gaze sharpened. “Why are you asking?”

“You’re my mate. I want to know everything about you.”

She held Struan’s stare, a little frown between her brows. Then her demeanor changed. She sat back in her chair, a cool note entering her tone. “If we’re really fated for each other, it makes sense that I should know everything about the two of you, as well. Right?”

Lachlan MacKay’s words of caution slid through my mind. She’s an alpha werewolf. Underestimate her at your peril.

Challenge swirled in the air. Struan and I exchanged a look. I knew without asking that he’d already guessed the direction of Zara’s thoughts.

“Absolutely,” I told her. “Mates have no secrets from each other.”

“All right. Why do you want the elixir?”

Struan and I shared another glance. This time, he answered.

“Our queen is gravely ill. She’s with child, and the pregnancy is failing.”

Zara frowned, some of her icy reserve fading. “I had no idea.”

“No one does,” I said. “And no one can find out. This has the potential to destroy our race. If the queen dies, Cormac and Niall will follow.”

Struan’s expression was sober as he added, “We’re competing for the future of our people. That’s why we want the elixir.”

Zara’s frown deepened. “Your stakes are just as high as mine.”

“Aye,” I said. “We must have that elixir.”

“And you’ll stop at nothing to win it.” Even if it means defeating me. She didn’t say it, but it hung in the air all the same.

Struan said nothing. He held himself rigid in his chair, his jaw tight with displeasure. But his gaze was steady, the answer to Zara’s unspoken question gleaming in his eyes. I knew the same answer shone in mine.

Yes. Absolutely, he and I would defeat Zara to secure the elixir.

The silence held. Then Zara pushed her chair back and stood. “I need to finish packing before we move to the next challenge site.”

Struan and I rose as one. Regret was a tight fist around my gut. Possessiveness gripped me just as fiercely. Zara was ours . But she was leaving, and nothing was resolved. She hadn’t accepted the mate bond—and now she knew Struan and I were determined to take the elixir from her.

“Thank you for the coffee,” she said.

Wings of panic beat at me. She couldn’t leave. Not like this.

She turned and started for the tent’s opening.

I channeled into her path.

She gasped, nearly bumping into me. “What are you doing?”

“Stopping you from leaving,” I murmured, my gaze on her mouth.

Her breath quickened, and her small, firm breasts rose and fell under her shirt. Another tight cotton piece. Apparently, she had a whole suitcase of them.

“It’s a damnable quandary the three of us have landed in,” Struan said, coming up behind her.

Zara swung toward him, her shoulder bumping his chest. Her pulse throbbed in her neck, and her voice went breathless as she asked, “What quandary?”

Struan reached out and lifted a strand of wheat-colored hair from her shoulder. Slowly, he brought it to his nose. His eyes deepened to a glittering sapphire as he dragged her scent into his lungs. Just as slowly, he brushed the shining strands over his mouth.

The sweet, heady scent of feminine desire swirled in the air.

“We need the elixir,” Struan said. “But we also need you.” His eyes burned, and his voice went guttural. “Badly.”

I stared at Zara’s pulse, my fangs throbbing with every delicate flutter. Struan and I bracketed her now, leaving her little room to maneuver. The scent of her arousal thickened, and my mouth watered at the thought of spreading her wide and tasting her at last.

She turned back to me, a blush staining her cheeks. “You…” she breathed, her gaze darting between Struan and me. “You have each other.”

Ah. The little sneak had watched us fuck. Now she worried there wasn’t room for her between us.

Time to disabuse her of that notion.

I caught her chin on my fingertip. “We’re dragons, lass. Polyamorous. Bisexual.” I lowered my head, giving her plenty of time to pull away. When she didn’t, I smiled. “ Very bisexual. And when we find our woman, we worship her. Protect her and honor her. We make her come.” I dipped my head lower, until my lips brushed hers. “We make her scream with pleasure, sweet Zara. You’ll never be ignored or neglected. On the contrary, you’ll be adored . Like this.” I pressed my lips to hers.

She opened on a moan, and I plunged my tongue deep, licking into her mouth. Her sweet taste exploded on my tongue. Fucking delicious. I kissed her harder, invading every inch of her hot, wet mouth. She gave an impassioned little squeal, and the feminine sound lit me up like a forest fire. MINE. The declaration was a drumbeat in my head. Mine, mine, MINE. My beast thrashed in my chest, desperate to claim her. Mark her. Make it so that any male who got near her would know to stay the fuck away.

Zara gasped into my mouth, and I lifted my head to see Struan’s face buried in her neck. His hands roamed her body, one sliding under the hem of her shirt to caress the creamy skin of her stomach. He tangled the other in her hair and pulled her head back so it rested on his shoulder.

She gazed up at me with glassy brown eyes. Her lips were swollen from my kiss. Her nipples thrust against her shirt. Struan tightened his arm around her waist, his forearm brushing the undersides of her breasts as he sucked at her neck.

“Oh…gods,” Zara gasped.

I shook my head, and I pressed my body to hers, wedging her soft curves between me and Struan. “No gods,” I said, cupping her cheek. “Just us. Just your mates.” I pressed my hips into hers, lodging my straining cock against her heat. “Do you feel what you do to us?”

She squirmed, her hips rolling. Her eyes had brightened, her irises a gorgeous, shining amber. “Y-Yes.” A soft whimper escaped her. “I feel you.”

Struan trailed kisses down her neck. He scooped his hips, clearly grinding his dick against her ass. She whimpered again, her eyes sliding shut.

My fangs slid down. Zara’s jugular beckoned like a tiny blue river. But her mouth was just as tempting, her lips parted as she began to pant.

“Feel what you do to us,” I growled, bending for another kiss.

“Zara?” a gruff voice sounded from just outside the tent. “Are you in there?”

I jerked my head up. Zara gasped, then shoved at my chest until I stumbled backward.

Struan glared at the tent opening over my shoulder. “Gargoyle,” he muttered, the word more growl than actual speech.

Crimson-faced, Zara yanked her shirt down. “I have to go,” she said, then darted for the opening.

“Wait—” I reached for her, but my hand closed on air. The tent flaps fell into place.

Zara was gone.

Damn. She was faster than I’d thought.

The gargoyle’s voice sounded from outside. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Zara said. “Let’s go.” Rapid footsteps drifted through the canvas, the sound fading quickly.

Struan went to the table and leaned over it, his head bent and one fist pressed to the surface.

“You okay?” I asked.

He grunted. “Just getting my bearings. If we need an extra tent pole, my dick can handle the job.”

“That’s a visual.”

“You asked me.”

“I’m not doing much better,” I confessed, adjusting my own erection.

The first notes of “Imperial March” filled the air.

Struan jerked his head up. We stared at each other.

“Niall,” we said at the same time.

I started toward Struan. “Where’s your phone?”

“I’ve got it.” He raced to his pack and dug his phone from the front pocket. He shot me an anxious look before swiping the screen. “Consort.”

“MacLure,” Niall rasped over the line. His voice was even more strained than the first time he’d called. “Nice work winning the first challenge.”

Struan gulped. “Thanks.” He gave me a wide-eyed look and mouthed, How does he know that?

I shrugged as I moved to his side. Niall’s powers were a mystery to everyone, especially now that he was more or less the de facto king of the witches. For all I knew, he’d spent the first challenge hanging out in a cloud of water vapor.

“It appears other congratulations are in order,” Niall said.

Struan and I both tensed—and, suddenly, I knew why Niall had phoned us.

“Consort,” I said, “I want to assure you that Struan and I are committed to securing the elixir. Finding Zara hasn’t changed our goal. We’re going to win the Games.”

Niall’s voice softened. “I appreciate that, Finn. And I won’t pretend to understand what you’re up against. Your female is competing alongside you. The urge to protect her must be overwhelming. But I need you both focused on that elixir.” He paused. “Isolde continues to decline. She’s too weak to talk now.” Another pause. “I’m losing my grip on Cormac. The situation couldn’t be more dire.”

And the stakes had just soared impossibly high. The gods were having a hearty laugh at my and Struan’s expense. But we’d found Zara—and if the past ten minutes were any indication, she wanted us as much as we wanted her. Whatever happened, she was our fated mate. That wasn’t going to change.

“We understand,” Struan said. “We’re focused. You have our word.”

Niall exhaled, then switched to Gaelic. “I believe you. And I thank you for the service you’re doing for me…and for all of us.” He ended the call.

Struan lowered the phone. His tight smile didn’t quite conceal the anxiety in his eyes. “No pressure, right?”

I snagged his hip and pulled him into me. “We’ll be fine. The only thing you have to worry about is coming in second place tomorrow.”

“You’re really going with that again after I kicked your arse last night?”

“I let you win.”

“Shut up.”

“I felt sorry for you.” My sentence ended on a smothered laugh as he grabbed my face and kissed me. It was deep and thorough—and more than a little unhinged. But when we drew apart at last, his eyes shone with determination instead of worry.

“Zara responded to us,” he said. “She was eager for more.”

I nodded. “So we stay the course. We keep her safe, and we make sure we win.”

His eyes lit up. “And then we move to the fourth step.”

“Fourth step?”

“Claiming Zara.” Anticipation hummed around him. “Finishing what we started a few minutes ago.”

I smiled, wicked thoughts filtering through my mind. “Sounds like a plan.”