Chapter Eleven
Blake watched Max, with Heather on his back, land in the courtyard. His knuckles went white as he clutched at the sword and shield he held. His heart had gone off in a series of bangs and crashes when he had seen Max flying overhead. He’d hoped, he had hoped so much, that Christy would come back too. That she would decide she wanted to come back to him as well.
Why hadn’t he gone right along with Max? Why hadn’t he gone to her and asked her for one more chance, to just try to have something with him? Max had decided to go, to try to see if Heather still wanted him—but Max had had the advantage of knowing that Heather cared for him.
That made that venture of a lot less risky. If he had gone, well. Christy had made it very clear that she did not care for him, did not want him, and did not want to be in that world. He could not live in hers. He just could not do it. Her world was a place where he could not see himself because there he would never be able to just be himself.
He turned away from the sight of the happy couple. His rage started up, and most of it was directed at himself. He had let her go, and she was everything he had ever wanted. He knew that and he had known it almost from the first moment, but he had been unable to tell her so, even when it was time for her to leave, which would have been the perfect time to tell her. He could have, should have; he had given Max the advice that had sent Max into that other world in search of Heather, but he had not been able to take that advice himself.
He tossed the sword and shield aside and took to the skies. His wings beat the air, and he flew hard and fast, trying to outrun his pain, but no matter how hard he flew, it stayed there, lodged right into his heart.
He landed on a craggy outcropping and stood there. This was his kingdom; this was his place. He was a king here, but at that moment he felt like he had absolutely nothing.
He turned and headed down a sharp path, changing as he went. The graves of his family were nearby and he wanted to see them, to spend time at the small house his family had lived in before the last terrible wars that had caused the death of most of the human life on his world and all the dragons to take up residence in the castle, the one spot where they could defend themselves and what was left of the humans.
The house was just below: a small stone structure tucked into a long expanse of lovely grass and wildflowers. He ignored it for the moment and walked into the small shady glen just beyond. The trees were old and tall and the sun filtered through them, landing on the ground in dapples of light that he had always thought were beautiful.
His parents had been buried side by side, and he took a seat on the grass, staring at the plain stones that marked their graves. His brother was beside them. The Orcs had come, and his father had been away, fighting hard. Blake had been young, but older than his brother, and when the three dozen Orcs and the trolls had come from the woods, they had surrounded that house, knowing it was the home of dragons.
His mother and brother and he had all fought hard. They had battled with everything in them, but in the end, it had not been enough. His mother had died of her wounds, and his brother had died from the brutal clubs of the Orcs. Blake, battered and broken and bleeding, had managed to kill the troll and the last Orc, but it had been an act of revenge, not salvation. His father had come in time to hold his wife as she died.
It had been the deaths of his family that had caused Blake’s father to go after the traitor dragon, the one who had set the Orcs and the trolls and other evil creatures that had existed then to killing off the dragons and humans in their houses, that had forced them all to move away and into the castle.
The other dragons wanted to punish him, but they had not been able to bring themselves to go against the law that was supposed to keep them friends rather than enemies.
His father had drawn his sword that day, standing there in the hall of that castle, and killed that dragon without a single moment’s hesitation. He had simply said it must be done. To protect their world and the world from which Christy had come. That if he was to break the law, he would break it for honor and to protect those he had always sworn to protect.
And that edict had rolled down.
Blake knew his father had had little left to live for. He had loved his wife, Blake’s mother, for centuries. She too had once been human and been cursed because of the way she had helped to fight that wizard. She’d had magic even as a human and she had stood against that wizard, firing off spell after spell at him and helping those who would become dragons stay alive with those spells, helping them get close enough to kill him.
That was what he wanted: love. He wanted love, and he wanted it with a woman who would stand beside him and fight next to him, one who would love him as fiercely as he loved her and he had really hoped that that woman would be Christy.
“You should have been here to meet her,” he said softly to the graves of his family. “She’s beautiful and strong. She’s fierce, and she’s…”She’s prefect, but for her to be perfect for me, she has to want me.
He stood, his shoulders slumping. She did not want him. He had to deal with the impending war now, but after, well, after maybe he would try again. He would go into that world and try again to find a mate. And he was damn sure not trusting human technology to help him either!
He looked toward the house and then changed, deciding to fly instead. He took the air with a powerful upward thrust of his body and wings, and he found a current of air and stayed aloft easily, just drifting along the updrafts. His thoughts were so centered on his heartache he did not really pay much attention to what was happening below him.
He heard a scream and looked down, his brows drawing together. There was a human girl running through a field, her long hair trailing behind her. A human man was chasing her. What was happening? He lowered towards the wind, swooping down to rescue her, but just as his shadow started showing on the earth, the man caught her and she turned to face him with a laugh and shriek, and their lips met.
Blake soared upward again. His shadow fell over the pair, and they broke the kiss off and looked up at him. He ignored them, had to ignore them because the sight of them embracing reminded him all over again of just what it was that he had hoped for with Christy, and had lost because he had not known how to tell her exactly what it was that he wanted—and because she, unlike the woman below, was not running just so she could be caught.
She was running because she didn’t want him.
