“It hurt you, didn’t it? Pouring your magic into Dusk as his power was stripped away?” Layla knew how weak and in pain Rhennic had been after the battle, his every movement carefully controlled as if everything in his body hurt ferociously. She hadn’t seen him at all last night after they had returned to the Château – he’d spent the night being treated by his Storm Dragon healers and fight-medics.
“It hurt like the seven hells of Tirennia,” Rhennic spoke soberly, though his lips still smiled. “But I wouldn’t have held back, not for anything in the world.”
“Because you knew how much I love Dusk?”
“Because I knew I could never face you again if I hadn’t given everything to save him.”
It was a deep sentiment, and it pulled at Layla’s heart. She found her breath quickening, curling out in a steam of sweet bourbon scent as she watched Rhennic inhale, opening his lips as his eyes brightened. His breath quickened also, and Layla could smell a heather-lavender fragrance on the air. It made her body heat, as her Dragon curled over inside her veins with a pleased, eager smile.
“What about courting me?” Layla spoke, feeling this deep intensity between them. “Where do we stand on that whole thing now that you’re part of the Bind?”
“I promised you a year and a day to get to know me,” Rhennic chuckled, his eyes luminous upon her, “and I hold to that, even though we’re Bound now. I won’t interrupt your life, Layla, or force myself into your bed. I know my place is here at Chambord right now, acting as Regent while my Lineage undergoes a fractious transition. But I want you to know… I will be dreaming of you. And wishing I could stand at your side. I will be here for you, anytime you need me – all you have to do is call. I can feel you now, deep inside my heart from the Bind. And I will know when you call for me.”
Layla swallowed hard, feeling the honesty of Rhennic’s words as they curled around her with a subtle passion in the bright winter day. Like a white knight, he seemed to shine in the morning light, and Layla thought back to his Dragon-form – his ferociously bright white scales edged in royal blue and crimson fractal patterns. She could feel the complex simplicity of Rhennic’s personality, just like the fractals on his Dragon-scales. He was a steadiness she needed in her life, in the Bind.
Even though there was so much more to discover about him.
She felt the golden cord between them then, and Rhennic felt it also, reaching out to corral her around the waist with his big hands as their bodies pulled closer. He exhaled, and Layla saw him fight an urge to pull her close and kiss her. To break all his gentlemanly composure and throw her down, taking her like a wild thing out in the silence of the Château’s orchards. She felt the power in him, the power she had seen and felt in action during the battle yesterday, the force of nature he was, so elegantly contained.
Rhennic was the son of two of Europe’s most powerful Royal Dragons. And now he was Regent of his Lineage, holding the throne until someone challenged him. Breathing out, Layla suddenly felt how many dominance battles Rhennic would have to undergo in the coming months. It unsteadied her, and she blinked, feeling tears gather at the corners of her eyes.
“What’s that look for?” Rhennic breathed, his big hands pulling her closer to his tall, rock-solid body.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Layla spoke briskly, swallowing her tears back. “You’re going to face a lot of challengers soon, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He blinked his long blond eyelashes, a shocked amazement filling his handsome face – followed by a soft wonder. “You wouldn’t have said anything like that to me yesterday.”
“Yesterday, I didn’t feel what I feel now.” Layla whispered, feeling their golden cord pull tighter like it pulled directly on her heart.
“Yesterday, you didn’t love me.” Rhennic spoke with a subtle roguishness lifting the corners of his lips. “But today…”
“Don’t push your luck, buddy.”
Rhennic laughed, a bright, lovely sound that reminded Layla of Adrian. But in the next moment, his big hands were pulling her in, cradling her close to all that amazingly tall, strong physique. Layla tasted heather and lavender on his lips and he kissed her deep and slow. Pulling her into his storm winds, a swirl of air surrounded them as a roll of thunder rippled through the orchard. Layla found herself kissing him back, tasting his lips and body with a slow, deeppassion, as if the blessing of him would never cease. Curling her closer in his muscled arms, Rhennic crushed her to his amazingly powerful yet elegant body. Layla melted, moulding to him as she drank his kiss like lavender honey on her tongue.
It was a long while before Rhennic pulled back. With a deep sigh, he kissed her lips one last time. “Where have you been all my life, Royal Dragon Bind?”
“I’ve been here,” Layla spoke with a strange mystery, “waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me.” With an equally mysterious smile, Rhennic cradled her closer to his body as he reached up, caressing a curl of Layla’s hair back from her face. “I have duties here at Chambord. But will you wait for me? A year and a day… that’s all I ask.”
“Yes.” Layla was surprised at how quickly it tumbled from her mouth, yet also not surprised. Something deep inside her wanted Rhennic, in a calm, amazing way none of her other Royal Dragons had. “Yes.”
“Yes.” With that same incredible smile, he nuzzled her nose. And then kissed her again, deep and thorough, before pulling back and escorting her to the Château like a knight with his lady.
CHAPTER 26 – RISORGIMENTO
Back at the Paris Hotel, Layla faced the gilded mirror in her apartment, finishing affixing her mother Mimi’s black diamond earrings on her ears, and clasping the waterfall necklace of black diamonds around her neck. She was dressed all in black tonight, in respect for the dead. Head Clothier Amalia DuFane had created her a stunning garment to show mourning for all that had happened – and all that was about to. Made of exquisitely ornate black lace, the gown was fitted off her shoulders, torso, and hips, with long, draping sleeves and a trumpet shape with a modest train. Layla’s curls were up tonight, and with her Dragon’s austere bone structure since October, she looked both stunning and terrifying in the ensemble.
This was not a night for romance – this was battle, and Layla had dressed accordingly.
Setting a hand to Mimi’s black diamonds and glancing in the mirror, Layla paused, thinking back over the past few days. Queen Justine Toulet’s funeral at Château de Chambord had been astonishing, the day after Lulu’s interrogation. Even though Adrian had been eager to get back to the Hotel, everyone had stayed for it, and in the coliseum, the European Storm Dragon clan had gathered to pay their respects to their fallen Queen. The amphitheater had been filled with people whose eyes flashed with lightning, as well as hundreds of Blood Dragons come to support King Huttr in his grief for their slain ally. As Layla sat with Adrian, Luke, Rikyava, and her friends, gazing down upon a beautiful bier of woven branches and flowers that Queen Justine’s body had been prepared on, Justine had been surrounded by her top lightning-strikers in the middle of the amphitheater as King Huttr and his elder son Halfdir looked on from the sidelines.
Dressed in crisp militaristic uniforms of storm-blue, medals of valor had been clipped to the lightning-strikers’ breasts, and Rhennic had been among them. In a similar outfit of pure white, the Storm Dragon color of mourning, a dark storm-blue sash had complemented Rhennic’s stunning array of medals. Layla knew now why Rhennic had been so heavily decorated over his past two hundred years, and had been his mother’s Clan Second. He was a force of nature in a fight, calm but terrible. As she watched, he had given a crisp command, himself and the lightning-strikers raising their hands as one. Together, they had called down an astounding array of silent lightning from the blue winter sky, and moving as a group, had worked together to weave that lightning into a bright dome around the bier.
Smoothing it, braiding lightning into ornate patterns and flows with their movements, they had formed an enormous yet intricate plasma-sphere around the fallen Queen. As Layla watched, they released it in unison, and it took on a life of its own. Beautiful films of rippling lightning had flushed through the translucent sphere, lancing Queen Justine’s body in flowing waves. Eerily silent, it had been haunting, the enormous coliseum filled with people who hardly even breathed. Gradually, the Queen’s body had been desiccated by the lightning, then charred into white ash. None of the herbs on the bier had been touched, but as the dome dissipated, a heavenly scent of flowers, ozone, and thunderstorms had filled the space.
Layla had never smelled anything like it, the strongest, most delicate perfume she’d ever scented. She doubted she’d ever smell anything like it again, and as Rhennic had quietly gathered his mother’s ashes by moving his hands to summon a cool wind to caress them into a pile with the flowers and herbs, Layla had breathed a deep sigh. Rhennic had swept everything up into an urn made of opal lightning-stone like the Château, and the unworldly fragrance had gradually cleared from the air. With a bow to the lightning-strikers, then a deep bow to the coliseum and to his father Huttr, Rhennic had lifted the urn and carried it from the hall, off to be deposited in the King’s catacombs beneath the Château.
