Dragonbane_[AN_SK] Read online

  Seraphina choked as she remembered the last words he’d spoken to her so long ago as he glared up at her with eyes haunted by betrayal—I told you when we mated that I would gladly give you my heart, my life, and my love, but that when I did so they came with one condition. Never abuse me. Love is not abuse. And you have harmed me for the last time, my lady. I am done with you. Forever.

  But Fate had forced her back to him.

  And she had no choice. She needed his help.

  Her throat tightened as she thought of the best way to tell him what she needed to. He would hate her even more for the secret she’d kept. And she couldn’t blame him for it. She’d been so wrong for what they’d done to him.

  What she’d personally done.

  Arcadian. Katagari. In retrospect, it all seemed so stupid. And the bitter agony in his eyes tonight told her exactly how much damage their cruelty had wrought—the lingering scars they’d engraved on his loyal soul.

  You have to tell him.

  But how? The human race had already done so much to him and his brothers before she’d even met him, and by way of her own cruel hands, they’d done him even more harm. He had every right to despise them all.

  Stop being a coward. You have to let him know. He has a right to hear it from your own lips.

  Honestly, there was no easy way to do this.

  No quick or easy, or even gentle method.

  And as he headed for the door to leave, she had no choice except to blurt it out for him.

  “Your children need you, Maxis. If I don’t hand you over, they’ll kill them both.”

  3

  Max blinked slowly as Seraphina’s words hit him like a sledgehammer. For a full minute, he couldn’t breathe as they sank in and he realized their full implication. “Children?”

  “Son and daughter.”

  The room tilted. Yeah, that really was what she’d meant. He hadn’t misunderstood her.

  Max reached out and braced his hand against the wall as he struggled to comprehend everything she was telling him.

  He was a father.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It was the night before your rebellion…”

  His rebellion. Nice word choice, there. Screw the truth and what had actually happened. Skew everything out of proportion. Sure. Let him be the bad guy in all of this.

  Why not?

  Nothing ever changes. And that right there was why he’d walked away and left behind the only real home he’d ever known. Why he’d had no choice. To them, to her, he was nothing but a mindless animal that needed to be controlled and collared. Something to be placed in a cage and fed table scraps.

  Or viciously put down.

  He’d been forced to leave before they’d taken the last vestige of his sanity, along with what had been left of his shattered pride.

  He’d stupidly thought all this time that she’d already taken everything from him.

  Now this. She’d hidden his children from him. Hated him and his heritage so much that she’d purposefully kept him out of their lives where he couldn’t even be there to participate in the raising of his own dragonets.

  Max clenched his teeth as pain racked him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was going to … that night … you know.… Then afterward, you were long gone. I had no way of tracking you.”

  Because a pregnant dragonswan couldn’t time travel and he’d left her Amazon village far behind, vowing to never, ever return to her or her world again. She was the only reason he’d ever stayed in ancient Greece.

  And he’d only ventured there because of his brother’s Bane-Cry that had summoned him to war from his own home and time period.

  After Hadyn’s brutal death, his intent had been to leave that time period and country far behind … but in Max’s darkest hour, she’d found him. There for a little while, he’d mistakenly thought that she’d been divinely sent to comfort his pain.…

  He couldn’t have been more wrong. Seraphina had never been anything but his own personal hell.

  “You could have sent one of your sisters,” he spat that hated word out, “after me.”

  “I did. You covered your trail admirably. No one was ever able to find any trace of you.”

  It was just as well. As pissed as he’d been back then, he’d have most likely slaughtered them before they could speak. Only time and distance—and absolute shock—had allowed him to spare them on their arrival here tonight.

  She swallowed hard before she spoke again. “You would be proud of your children, Maxis. They are an honor to us both.”

  Those words were a dagger through his heart. “Their names?”

  “Hadyn and Edena.”

  He repeated the names silently in his head and let the warmth of fatherly love spread over him as he tried to imagine what they would look like. Be like.

  If they would hate him as much as he hated his own father. But in Max’s defense, his absence had been lack of knowledge. Not the hatred and disgust for his young that his father had borne for him.

  “Named for your mother?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “And Hadyn in honor of your brother who died the day before we met.”

  He couldn’t believe she’d remembered his brother’s name. He’d only mentioned Hadyn to her once, in an hour of extreme weakness on the first anniversary of Hadyn’s death. Never before and never since.

  “Where are they now?”

  “Nala has them in hiding. She’s in league with a demon who has demanded the Dragonbane be delivered to him. If I fail to bring you to them, they’ll kill the children.”

  Max cursed under his breath. The only reason Nala knew of his dragonbane mark that betrayed his wretched heritage and curse was from the night Sera had handed him over to her queen for public discipline and ridicule.

  He involuntarily flinched as he remembered the bitter details of something he did his best to never think about. “Why didn’t you tell her who I was when she was here?”

  “I didn’t realize it was you until after she was gone. Not that it matters. I still wouldn’t have turned you over to her. Not after last time.”

  Yeah, right. Her loyalty to those bitches was absolute. A lesson learned the hardest way imaginable. “Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe.”

  At least she had the decency to look away. “You were warned, repeatedly, what would happen if you didn’t stop rebelling against our laws. I begged you to bow down to them.”

  “I am drakomai!” he snarled. “Born in the sacred hallow of gods, and nursed on the breastmilk of demons! I’m not a dog to be leashed and taught to heel. Not even for a queen.”

  “No, that you most certainly aren’t.” She walked into his arms and he felt his resolve weaken.

  Worse? His self-preservation crashed even faster.

  Damn it.

  Standing up on her tiptoes, she pressed her breasts against his chest and sank her graceful hand in his hair. Those long, finely shaped nails scraped against his skin, making him even harder and more desperate for the last thing he could do with her.

  He wanted to curse her and pull back, but she had him captured in her siren’s lure.

  And he was helpless in her arms. He’d always been helpless before her wiles.

  “I never wanted you hurt, Maxis. If I could take back my actions, I would have gone with you when you asked me to leave my tribe. And you’re right. I should have fought for you. You would have fought for me.”

  Yes, he would have. With every ounce of lifeblood he possessed.

  If only she’d been so loyal to him.

  Even now, he struggled not to touch her. To remain perfectly still and wrapped in the hatred he needed to feel in order to protect himself from allowing her to hurt him any worse. She hadn’t just carved out his heart, she’d hand-fed it to him. “I would have died for you.”

  A sad frown lined her brow as she brushed her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. It raised chills all along his b
ody and fired every hormone he possessed. “I miss your braids and feathers. You look so foreign with this short hair and odd clothing. But no less fierce or handsome.”

  He missed the days when he’d foolishly thought they could have a future together. When he’d stupidly believed that she loved him and was as committed to their mated-union as he was. “Tell me of this demon who holds my dragonets. Why is it after me?”

  “Because you are drakomai, they believe you’re guarding some object the demon needs for vengeance against a Daimon named Stryker. The demon stole something called the Smaragdine Tablet and—”

  “You mean the Emerald Tablet?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. It is green. Is that important?”

  Was it important? He couldn’t believe she’d asked that.

  He gave her a droll stare. “Since it contains the words to undo the creation of the world … Little bit.”

  The color drained from her face. “You’re serious?”

  “I would never joke about the end of all existence, or something that could open the sacred gates and unleash all manner of hell onto this earth.… That tablet was what my brother protected. What Hadyn gave his life for.”

  She dropped her hand. “So you know this object?”

  “I know of it. Hadyn would never allow me to view it. That is the curse of my race. We keep our secrets from all. Even blood kin.”

  Seraphina silently winced as those words reminded her of her betrayal against him. Sadly, it wasn’t the nature of her species. But he was right. The drakomai were bred to be the sentinels and protectors of sacred objects for the gods and fey. It was hardwired into their DNA to savagely defend whatever fell under their protection. To let no one take it from them so long as they had breath in their bodies. The need to keep that pact was so strong that they’d been known to regenerate limbs and even heads to continue their fight against any enemy who tried to take their charges from them.

  There was nothing like their will to survive and to protect. They were truly the most vicious and loyal creatures ever born.

  And she had callously thrown that away for a group of bitches who lacked all understanding of real loyalty.

  I am all kinds of stupid.

  Wishing she could change what had happened between them, she brushed her hand against the area of his thigh where he’d been branded as a young drakomas.

  He caught her wrist to stop her from touching him. Those golden hazel eyes seared her with the fiery beauty that had always been her Maxis. How could she have ever chosen someone else over him?

  “Where are my dragonets?” By his tone, she knew he intended to go after them. Alone. But then, that was the nature of the beast.

  “They’ll kill you.”

  He scoffed. “Let them try.”

  Ever brave.

  Ever stupid.

  “You are one. They are many.”

  And still that old light burned deep in his fearlessly ferocious eyes. Nothing could ever deter a dragonswain when he was set on his course.

  Even one of suicide.

  “Draki don’t scare me. I was a natural-born drakomas long before they were created or birthed. Not half-bred. Fully blooded and vested, spawned from the egg of my demon mother. If they think they can stop me, I defy them to bring the best they have and I shall roast them over a pit of their own arrogant stupidity.”

  Reaching up, she cupped his cheek in her palm. “And you were merged with an Apollite prince. That blood and form weakens you. They know how to force your change and lock you in this frail body where you can’t fight with your full drakomas power.” Tears choked her as the past came back with a vengeance and she remembered what they’d done to her proud mate. “I can’t watch them do that to you again. I barely survived your last harrowing.”

  He stiffened as the fury returned to his eyes and his cheeks darkened, warning her that he was barely holding on to his human form. “That makes two of us.”

  A tear slid from her eye as her memories surged again. For a moment, she saw him as he’d been when they met. Wrapped in the furs and hides of the Arcadian Were-Hunters he’d vanquished who had foolishly tried to slay him, he had been sitting in the rear of the small kapeleia, drinking alone. His long, dark blond hair had held tiny braids in the front like many Thracians, and Gerakian feathers had been braided into it. His beautiful face had been painted like a thousand other barbarians’ with a spiraling Celtic or Pictish pattern.

  At the time, she’d thought nothing of it because she knew naught of his breed. She hadn’t realized that the feathers in his hair were trophies from Were-Hunter Sentinels who’d once hunted him for sport and found him a far worthier adversary than their advanced martial skills had been prepared to handle. Rather, she’d assumed he was of some human nomadic steppe tribe that was passing through Scythian territory.

  Her Amazonian sisters had spread out through the crowded drinking den to find partners, who’d eagerly greeted them with drunken revelry.

  Grief-stricken, Maxis hadn’t even looked up at their approach. His golden gaze haunted, he’d been lacing a silver chain through his fingers. One that still bore the bloodstains of his slaughtered brother.

  When she’d neared his small table, he’d given her a look of warning that said he wanted to be left alone. She should have listened.

  Rather, that aloof arrogance had beckoned her toward him against all common sense. And of course, it hadn’t hurt that he’d possessed the best body and handsomest face of any male there. Even better, those long legs and arms had told her he was much taller than the average man. Something that she’d always found desirable and sexy. Irresistible.

  Best of all, he held the aura of a savage, bloodthirsty warrior. A barbarian warlord. A fact the dragon sword on the table next to his hand had borne testament to. Had she not been in the throes of her spawning cycle, she might have resisted him.

  Instead, she’d walked up with full Amazon temerity, pushed him back in his chair, and boldly straddled that long, muscular body.

  As she slid herself up his thighs and into his lap, he’d gasped audibly and she’d taken advantage of that to ravage his open mouth. To sink her hands into his lush, soft, feather-laced hair and taste every bit of those amazing lips and skilled tongue. Now fully vested in her embrace and attention, Maxis had only broken from her kiss long enough to pay the kapeleia owner for his drink and to rent one of their oikemata—small rooms—for privacy.

  That had been the most amazing night of her life. She should have known by his stamina, dexterity, skills, and scars that he wasn’t human. But truthfully, she’d been too grateful to find a male who could finally satiate the aching hunger inside her to question it.

  Naked, breathing raggedly, and still entwined, they’d finally paused for a small repast just after dawn. Right as the room began to lighten, both of them had pulled back as the burning in their palms began and their mating marks appeared.

  Shocked and horrified, she’d looked from her hand to his to verify her worst fear. “You’re a Were-Hunter?”

  He’d hesitated before he responded. “Not exactly.”

  She’d frowned and prayed silently that they were at least the same branch of her species and that that was what he’d meant by his cryptic response. Because they were born humans who learned to shapeshift during puberty, many of her breed disavowed their animal natures. “Arcadian?”

  “No.”

  Her fear had tripled with that simple denial. Dear gods, don’t let it be true. She’d almost choked on the next, bitterly despised word. “Katagaria?”

  “No.”

  No? Even sicker to her stomach, she could only think of one other grisly possibility. “Human?” she’d tried again.

  He’d shaken his head.

  What the hell was left? He didn’t have fangs so there was no way he could be a Daimon or Apollite.

  No Were-Hunter had ever mated to a god or demon to her knowledge.…

  Even more terrified, she’d stared at him. “
I don’t understand.” She compared their marks again and they were identical. Neither one had been there earlier. They were definitely the unique mating marks of the Draki. “If you’re not Arcadian, Katagari, or human, what are you? How are we mated together?”

  “By a trio of vicious bitches who hate us both and begrudge the very air we breathe.”

  It was then he’d explained that he was a rare, true-born dragon who’d been captured and deformed by an ancient god and the king who’d begun her race to save his sons so that they wouldn’t die horribly as his wife had done.

  That he was the very first dragon Were-Hunter ever made of man and beast. And that he knew exactly what the mark meant.

  They either accepted the mating they’d had no say in, or he’d be left impotent, and both would be sterile for the rest of their lives.

  Which was no choice at all since he was an immortal drakomas born from the forbidden and cursed union of a demon and an arel.

  Now here, centuries later, they stood as eternal bitter enemies.

  He a natural-born drakomas.

  She a born Arcadian dragonswan who was pledged to hunt down and kill all the Katagaria Draki she could find.

  That was just the beginning of their differences—with the largest being that he was the dragon who’d founded her race. The Dragonbane—the one creature every Were-Hunter would sell their soul to kill.

  Another mark on his body she hadn’t seen until after they’d consummated their mating, and Maxis was dressing. The moment her eyes had fallen to the branded shape of a dragon crawling from its egg that was hidden beneath the hairs on his left thigh, she’d known its significance instantly.

  Maxis was the branded Drakos—the first of their breed who had killed another Were-Hunter in cold-blooded savagery. Killed, it was rumored, for no reason whatsoever.

  The one beast all Were-Hunters wanted to skin alive and claim the bounty for. His life had been the first one the Omegrion—the council that governed her people—had come together to denounce and demand a death sentence for.

  And he was her mate.

  The father of her children.

  The originator of her race.