Kastali Dun

Verath strode through the keep at a brisk pace, deep in thought. He nodded absentmindedly to those who passed. Usually he found himself brooding over Desaree. Claire had departed two days ago and he hadn't seen Desaree since. She was avoiding him. The obviousness irked him. But what irked him more was that a mere human had the power to get under his skin—that a mere human controlled his emotions this much. Shouldn't the Drengr race be above such things?

He snorted, earning a startled look from a pair of servants who passed. He offered them a nod. Both females blushed and took flight like frightened birds. He kept walking.

Today he was focused on the future. On Dallin. It was mid-morning. They'd just finished training. Dallin showed promise—filled with the energy of youth. It was almost too much for his aging bones. Dallin's swordsmanship needed work, true. No argument there. But he never complained. He followed orders. He listened with a lack of arrogance that older Drengr often displayed.

Talon was right. Dallin was pliable. Perhaps their ranks would benefit from him after all. Even though he hated the idea of replacing Cyrus. Even though it was necessary and inevitable.

At least Claire liked the lad. There was that.

His mind jumped to his future queen. His future queen! He had to repeat the words a few times because the sound of them was so foreign. After hundreds of years it was nearly too much. And he wasn't the only one struck with disbelief. They had all been shocked. Things were changing. Times were changing.

The thought of Claire gallivanting off to the forest made him uneasy. Filled him with a sense of duty—a need to protect. And she'd been sent with Koldis, no less. Koldis! Gods! Better him than Jovari, though, or the both of them together, which would have been even worse.

The Sprites. Manipulative tree-lovers! People who ate no meat and cared nothing for the hunt.

He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. Would she be safe with them?

He strode into his quarters, unbelting his Sverak, and tossed it on the table.

"Verath?"

He froze, arm outstretched, and blinked. "Desaree? What are you doing here?"

"I..." She blushed and pushed off the wall where she'd been lurking.

"I mean—" He stepped forward but stopped himself. His thoughts jumbled together at the sudden sight of her. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just surprised to see you."

"You're right. I...I shouldn't have intruded." She scrambled for his door.

"No!" He lunged for her, wrapping his hands about her waist, catching her. She stilled beneath his touch. Almost as quickly, he released her, afraid to overstep his bounds. "Please." The desperation in his voice was embarrassing. "I don't want you to leave. Tell me what you came for."

She faced him. "I..." Emotions played out, crossing her features, one after another. "I miss you," she said at last, turning an even darker shade of red.

He stifled a cry of relief and pulled her into his arms, enveloping her, burying his face in her hair. Slowly, she brought her arms around him and he sighed.

"I miss you too," he murmured. "I do not like what is happening to us. And for that matter, what is happening to us, Des?" The question had eaten at him long enough, since their break. She told him she needed time to think things through. Space away from him. He gave it to her. It should have been easy to let her go, but he couldn't stop having flashes of Kendra and how he'd let her go, too.

"I've made my decision." Desaree's sudden words had him pulling away. "About us, I mean."

He nodded, trying not to let his unease show, his fear for what she might say next. "Come. Sit with me." She glanced between his hand and the sofa before accepting. Every moment of silence felt tangible. She picked at a stray thread on her skirt, avoiding his gaze. "Why do I get the feeling you are about to reject me?" His voice caught. He clamped his jaw shut.

"Reject you?" Her mouth opened and closed.

She ought to. It would be for the best—better for her, at least. He waited.

"Verath, you want me to be happy, do you not?"

He frowned. "Of course I—"

"The problem is, you've got preconceived notions of what will make me happy. You claim to know what is best for me." She shook her head.

"Desaree." A familiar frustration welled up. This was the argument they'd had the night she'd asked for space. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can you not see? I would only ever be your lover. Nothing more."

"So? Why is that bad?"

His voice was quiet as he said, "Because I cannot give you a marriage. I cannot give you children. A family. I cannot be a husband to you. It would be improper to take you without offering those things in return."

She scowled. "Says who? All those old fashioned ninnies out there?" She waved her arm. "Please tell me you do not care what they think! You—King Talon's Shield?!"

"Of course not! I care about your honor."

"My honor!" She snorted. "Love transcends honor, Verath. Besides, you said it yourself: you cannot give me children. What honor is there to be lost, then?"

His gaze traced the planes of her face, of her smooth, flawless skin. "What of my long life compared to your human one?" He hated to bring it up, but crossed his arms anyway.

"You are right. I will grow old and die. You probably won't bear to look at me when that happens. You'll want nothing to do with me then. But until then...we might be happy."

His jaw fell open. "How callous do you think me? I would stay with you till the end, Desaree, and love you long after."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

He stilled. The answer was one he hadn't wanted to confront, one that drove him into this mess in the first place, drove him to push her away. "Regret, Des. I am afraid, that you will regret me." The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but they were out before he could stop them. "I fear that when you are older, when you've passed a childbearing age, you will feel I held you back from a family. That you will blame me. And you would be right to do so. I am a selfish creature."

She hesitated, but he could see her thoughts turning over. "Tell me, Verath, you served King Tallek and Queen Ahlessa for a short time, did you not?"

"Yes?" His gaze narrowed. "What's that got to do with it?"

"Queen Ahlessa's ladies in waiting—how often did they take husbands?" She lifted her chin as victory flashed across her expression.

He knew then that she'd won. He sighed, slumping back against the sofa. "None. The queen's ladies always remain single to serve. Although...there was one once one who wished to marry. Ahlessa granted her wishes, affording her an early retirement."

"And when Claire becomes queen, will she abandon that tradition?"

They both knew it was unlikely. How could a lady in waiting serve a queen when her duty was to her family? Queen Ahlessa kept her ladies close at hand. They lived in the tower with her, as Desaree would when Claire became queen.

Hope blossomed in his chest. Desaree had backed him into a corner and he loved her more for it, for her fighting spirit. She wouldn't give up on him.

Warmth spread through his limbs, left his fingers tingling. "This was going to be your argument all along, wasn't it?" She offered him a slow grin. It forced the breath from his chest. "Well, you've caught me then, Des. I can offer no better rebuttal."

She glanced down at her hands, folded in her lap. "Verath...what happened between you and Kendra is...regrettable. I admit, I foster jealousy for a woman I have never met. A woman who isn't even alive. Gods!" She shook her head. "Kendra is long gone and I still envy the connection you shared, never having met her. I am selfish too, you see."

His gaze was fixed upon her face—upon her chocolate eyes. "Selfish...over me?" The rhythm of his heart skipped. A reflection of his growing hope—his growing desire.

"I will not share you with another, for as long as I live. My life might be short, the blink of an eye compared to yours. But for me, it is the chance to be happy." He inched his fingers closer to hers, to where they rested in her lap. She glanced down and ripped her hand away, crossing her arms, pinning him with a fierce, defiant glare. "If you deprive me of yourself, Verath, you will rob me of my happiness. Is that what you want? To be a thief? To rob me the way you—" Her hand flew to her mouth.

He gaped at her. But she was right. "You can say it," he drawled, feeling the sting keenly. "The way I robbed Kendra." She winced and nodded. "And for the record, I would not dare. You know I would not."

"Then...then you will be with me? You will choose me?"

He exhaled, shaking his head in complete bafflement. "I chose you long ago, Des. The power rests with you. Only you. I should have made love to you after the ball. I regret my hesitation. But I needed you to know me—all of me. I needed you to make your choice knowing all the facts." He swallowed.

"I have made my choice, Verath. I choose you." She scooted closer to him and his heart burst, breaking open a deeper part of him, the place where his regret lurked, chipping away at him. "But you cannot hold back anymore," she added. "If you are with me, you are with me fully."

"I am with you fully," he said, reaching across the distance and pulling her into his lap. She brought her lips down on his and he groaned, pulling away. "Shall I prove it?" His words were breathless.

"Yes," she whispered, trembling against him.

He gripped her face, bringing her mouth back to his, exploring the taste of her. A flash of red scales shot through his mind. The rumble of something deeper. The flick of a tail, like an image at the edge of his vision. His inhuman side stirred.

He kissed her deeper, more fiercely, pawing at her gown, working with the ties in the back. Her hands grasped fistfuls of his tunic. She pulled it up and over his head before he could stop her. Before he could stop her fingers as they roved over every inch of his exposed skin, sinking below his waistband.

The dragon within purred, taking over. He lifted her from the sofa and deposited her beside the bed, where he stripped away her gown until she was down to her chemise. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered against her lips. He searched her eyes for a hint of hesitation. There was none.

"I've never been more sure of anything in all my life," she said. Her hands found the ties of his pants and he froze, unable to pull his gaze away from her efforts. His breathing turned ragged as she unlaced him, undressed him. He pulled her into his arms and onto the bed.

There, he took the pain of regret, the loss over losing his mate, and let it fuel him. Desaree rose to the challenge, filling the holes left behind. With every touch of her fingers, every kiss of her lips, every brush of her skin against his, his beast's purring turned to a roar.

It rang in his ears and sang in his soul, wrapping around him. Tangling with him the way Desaree's body did. Healing him. Until there was nothing left but the two of them. Nothing but the love he proved so deeply, over and over. There could never again be any question between them. He was complete.

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