Kiss of Embers (The Dragon Lairds #5)

Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

STRUAN

T wo challenges down. Two to go.

And one fated female saved.

Relief coursed through me as I shook off the last of the lake and jogged forward. I wasn’t sure Zara realized how close she’d come to danger. Mermaids were the mean girls of the sea, infamous for throwing more shade than a solar eclipse—right before they made ropes out of your intestines.

Ahead, the temple walls wavered, signaling another transition. As I ran, the stone under my feet rippled and then turned into rust-colored rock covered with small pebbles. A few dozen feet ahead, the floor disappeared completely, and another vast chasm took its place. A cliff’s edge loomed ahead, like the Grand Canyon I’d dragged Finn to on one of the vacations he bitched about but ended up enjoying.

Shouts filled the air, and I ran faster. I’d lost valuable time doubling back for Zara. Now, other competitors had caught up to me.

More details appeared as I neared the cliff’s edge. Thick ropes dangled over the chasm like something out of a Tarzan movie. Several contestants clung to them, swinging in great arcs as they maneuvered from rope to rope. Easy enough for someone with an immortal’s strength and stamina.

Except each rope was on fire.

The scent of ash and smoke hit my nostrils as I stopped at the chasm’s edge. Smoke rolled across the void in great, noxious clouds. High overhead, a roaring fire formed a seething, flickering ceiling. An illusion, but a damn convincing one.

The fire was real enough, though. A fae on one of the ropes yelped as the blaze reached his hands. Gritting his teeth, the man launched his body through the air, releasing the first rope and catching the next. The rope he’d abandoned swung wildly, the flames continuing to descend the braided hemp. The rope above the blaze remained intact, unscathed by the fire.

The pattern repeated on all the ropes. Beads of fire rolled down each length, smoking and crackling before dropping into the abyss. Then a new bead formed at the top, and the process started all over again.

A burly werewolf on one of the ropes bellowed as the fire above him began to descend more quickly. He arched his back, clearly trying to create the momentum he needed to leap for the next rope.

Finn materialized next to me, his face a mask of worry. He’d caught up to me after we left the lake the first time, both of us beset by a sense of impending doom. We’d agreed for him to continue the challenge while I circled back to check on Zara.

“Did you find her?” he asked now.

“Aye. She’s finishing in the lake.” The fire sizzled down the werewolf’s rope. He slid several feet down the hemp. I winced. Rope burns were a special kind of torment.

“She’s well?”

The werewolf arched again, then flung himself to the next rope. For a split second, he looked like he’d judged it too short. Then he snagged the rope one-handed, his arm muscles bulging with the effort. He swung in a wide arc before he steadied himself.

“Struan!”

I looked at Finn, whose expression had gone from anxious to exasperated. “She’s fine,” I said. “I rescued her.” Anticipation coiled within me, and I heard the huskiness in my voice as I added, “I expect she’ll be grateful later on.”

“Or she’ll take you to task for intervening.”

The anticipation coiled more tightly. I turned my attention to the werewolf, but my head filled with visions of Zara doing indecent things. “She can take me to task,” I said throatily.

Finn watched the wolf land safely on the opposite cliff before turning back to me. “You should get moving. Unless you’re having too much fun watching sweaty men swing on ropes.”

I huffed. “You’ve done your share of watching.”

He channeled behind me and spoke in my ear. “I’d stick around and watch you , but I have a challenge to win. Don’t be too long.” He pinched my ass. By the time I spun around, he’d channeled away.

“Wanker,” I muttered, rubbing my abused posterior. He’d obviously tested Bolveg’s shortcuts rule. No surprise, Finn only had to “experience” the obstacle once. He’d crossed the ropes while I went back for Zara, which meant he could channel directly to the air obstacle.

Which meant he was probably going to take first place. Well, no matter. Zara was more important.

But I still needed to shave as much time off my finish as I could. I backed up a few paces. Wiping my palms on my pants, I eyed the closest rope. When the fire reformed at the very top, I sprinted to the edge of the cliff and jumped.

The rope smacked into my palms. My stomach flipped over as I swung through the air, my feet gliding above the abyss. The earthy stench of burnt hemp stung my nostrils. Smoke swirled around me as I swung like a pendulum toward the next rope. Falling would be inconvenient, but it posed no danger considering I could simply take shadow form and return to the top of the cliff. But starting over would cost precious time and energy, so I tightened my grip and focused on the rope. I had to time it perfectly…

Heat built above my head. The bead of fire approached. The flames wouldn’t burn me, but they’d be a nuisance. I arched as I’d seen the werewolf do, swinging my legs to create more momentum. Wind whistled in my ears as I rode the rope upward and then back down, streaking toward the next fiery lifeline.

As the heat licked at the top of my head, I released my rope and caught the next one. Prickly hemp bit into my palms, and smoke swirled around my legs as I swung over the abyss. Fire swept down the rope on a collision course with my hands. With a burst of strength, I flung myself toward the next rope—and caught it.

Triumph surged. Maybe I’d best Finn, after all. Using my momentum, I sailed to the next rope.

Release. Catch.

Too easy. Through fire and smoke, I swung my way over the chasm, my gaze on the safety of the cliff’s edge. My movements became automatic, my muscles fueled by adrenaline and the urge to put the entire challenge behind me. The occasional flame danced over my skin, the fire tickling without burning. The beads continued on their path and dropped into the chasm like fiery tears.

My heart raced, and sweat dotted my forehead. The cliff face loomed. Almost there.

Release. Catch.

Release. Catch.

At last, I swung over rocky, pebble-dusted dirt. With a final release, I dropped to solid ground.

Catching my breath, I swung around, my eyes peeled for Zara.

There. She sailed over the abyss, her bright head like a beacon in the gloom. The lithe muscles in her arms pulled taut as she gripped the rope. Even at a distance, the resolve in her eyes shone as brightly as her hair. With a graceful leap, she released her rope and caught the next one. A bead of fire burned above her. She didn’t seem to notice. Eyes on the rope ahead of her, she bided her time, swinging back and forth before soaring to her target.

Admiration welled in my chest. She was strong—and so beautiful I wanted to snatch her from the ropes and carry her off. My kind had a centuries-old reputation for doing that sort of thing. Now I knew why.

A fae landed in a crouch beside me. The aura of menace rolling off him marked him as Unseelie. He rose, chest heaving, and swatted at the fire climbing up the hem of his shirt. Soot streaked his face. An angry red burn on his neck healed as he smothered the flames. When he’d finally extinguished the fire, he looked up.

“What are you looking at?” He followed my gaze to Zara, then made a disgusted sound. “Gods, you dragons are all the same, thinking with your dicks.” He stalked off, his long braid swinging.

“You missed a spot,” I called.

He spun around, swatting at his scorched shirt. “Where?”

“Just kidding.”

The fae scowled. “Get fucked.”

“I intend to,” I said honestly. “Just as soon as I can manage it.” Well, technically, I’d do the fucking. Finn was the bossiest bottom to ever walk the earth plane. And Zara… Lust hit me like a blast furnace. My woman was an undiscovered country of sensual delights. I was down for whatever she wanted wherever she wanted it.

“Ugh.” The Unseelie’s exclamation brought my attention back to him. He lifted a forestalling hand. “Whatever you’re thinking about, I don’t want to know.” With a halfhearted flash of his fangs, he strode off.

“Good luck finishing the challenge with that stick up your arse!” I called cheerfully.

The Unseelie stuck his middle finger in the air without slowing.

I turned back to Zara. She neared the cliff’s edge, and a bubble of pride threatened to make me giddy despite my less than ideal surroundings. She was doing well. She’d make it. And I really couldn’t afford to delay any longer. With a final lingering look, I charged after the fae.

The temple walls reemerged, the landscape rippling. Smoke cleared, and the air turned chilly. A breeze tugged at my hair.

I slowed as the rocky cliff under my feet disappeared and stone took its place. A few more strides, and the stone split down the middle and slid apart, retreating like two giants pulling a carpet from either side of the cavern.

A scowl formed in my head as I gazed over yet another black abyss. Clearly, Bolveg and the Rules Committee had something of a fetish.

The wind picked up…and then continued building until it reached hurricane status. Apparently, Bolveg and company disliked subtlety as much as they loved bottomless chasms. Cold and ruthless, the wind ripped at my clothes, banishing the last of the dampness from the lake. I blinked and, suddenly, narrow rope bridges spanned the chasm. Dozens of them stretched from one side to the other, forming a spiderweb of pathways barely wide enough to accommodate a single person.

A witch in a red barasta labored across one of the structures, his hair whipping around his head as the wind buffeted him. His bridge rocked wildly, sending him staggering against the webbing that acted as a handrail of sorts.

Pop! The sound split the air like a gunshot. A split second later, one side of the witch’s bridge burst from its moorings in a volley of rocks. My breath caught as the bridge fell in a great arc. The witch clung to the rope, his barasta flapping wildly as the bridge sailed toward the opposite cliff like a stone loosed from a slingshot. The witch slammed into the rock face.

But he held on.

Heart in my throat, I watched as the wind battered his barasta and sent him twisting against the cliff’s face. After a second, he braced his feet against the rock and began to haul himself up. Wind screamed from everywhere and nowhere, setting the rest of the bridges swinging like phantom children played jump rope.

The fae who’d insulted me jogged from the shadows and started across one of the other bridges. His silver hair rippled behind him like a flag. He was nimbler than the witch, his steps steady and sure. My gut soured. The Unseelie dipstick was going to get across just fine.

Finn appeared next to me. “The bridge won’t hold,” he shouted over the wind.

“How do you know?” I shouted back.

“Just watch.”

Moments later, the bridge snapped. Like the witch, the Unseelie maintained his grip as he plunged. The wind pummeled him, but he eventually climbed the ruined bridge, slowly scaling the rock face.

My expletive was snatched by the wind. Finn cupped a hand around my ear.

“Not all the bridges snap. Some hold, but it’s impossible to know which ones are solid. But I don’t think it matters. The point of the challenge is to endure the wind without falling.”

I nodded, my gaze on the Unseelie as the wind slammed him into the rock. To hear witches tell it, air was the most fickle of the elements. Right now, though, it just seemed like a cunt.

I put my lips against Finn’s ear. “You should go! Get across the finish line before anyone else.”

He shook his head. “Once I cross, I won’t be able to return to the temple. I’m not leaving until I know you and Zara are safe.”

“I’ll keep an eye on Zara.”

A familiar stubborn glint entered his eyes. “Hurry up, and I won’t have to wait long.”

“Finn—”

“Go, Struan! You’re wasting time.”

I hesitated. Queen Isolde needed that elixir. Everything depended on Finn and me getting it. But Zara had to stay safe. Everything depended on that, too.

“Go!” Finn shouted.

I ran for the rope bridges.