“I’m his daughter. I’m used to it.”
“You shouldnae be,” he murmured, drawing gentle circles on her back. “You’re a good daughter, Cate. Solid. Loyal. Loving. You should expect the same in return from those you let into your life. Including your sire. A good sire protects his offspring, baby. Yours never has.”
So true. Not at all helpful right now.
“I know you’re right,” she said, heart hurting as the unpleasant truth thumped through her. “But—”
“No buts. It’s going tae be okay, lass. My packmates and I are powerful on our own. Together, we’re near tae unstoppable. If anyone can slip into the Witch’s Cauldron undetected and get back out again, ’tis us.”
“How do you know Rathbone’s telling you the truth?”
“He wants the TriHexe back tae badly tae screw with me. He’s given me every scrap of information he has.”
“What is it?”
“The TriHexe?”
“Yeah.”
“Cannae be sure. Not precisely. I can guess—”
“So guess. I need to know what you know, otherwise I’ll go insane when you fly out at sunset.”
“I donnae want tae leave you.”
“I know.”
“Once it’s done, I’ll come back and take you home.”
“I know.”
“Stop yer worrying.”
“I’ll try.”
“Nothing’s going tae happen tae me.”
She hoped not, otherwise…
Her stomach clenched at the thought. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever, but especially after having just found him.
Chewing on the inside of her lip, Cate corralled her dread. “Rannock?”
“Aye.”
“What you plan to do is dangerous. Really dangerous, so…” She took a deep breath. “I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“I know you’ve decided you have two missions—retrieve the TriHexe and save my father, but—”
“Now who’s reading minds?”
“But…” she said, treating him to a pointed look. “If you can’t… If you get the TriHexe, but can’t get him, don’t risk your life for his. I feel like a horrible person just saying it, but I need you to respect my wishes when it comes to my dad.”
“Bellmia,” he said, thick brogue rolling like thunder.
“I’m serious, Ran.” Shattered, hating what she asked him to do, she gripped his wrist to get his attention. “I love my father. He’s been the best dad he knows how to be, but he’s my past. You’re my future.”
Rannock murmured her name.
“As much as I love my dad, as much as it’ll hurt to lose him, I’ll grieve, then survive. But you? I don’t think I can live without you now. I need you to come back to me, Ran… no matter what. Do you understand? Tell me you—”
“I understand.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, then kissed him softly.
She drew away.
He caught her bottom lip between his teeth. A gentle nip. A quick flick of his tongue. His heated gaze collided with hers. “More.”
“How much more?”
“Everything, Cate.”
“That I can do.”
Planting her hand on his shoulder, Cate pushed. Quick to catch on, Rannock rolled onto his back. She went with him, then sat up, settling astride him, baring her breasts, rolling her hips, arching her back… giving him a show.
He growled in approval.
Seeing the need in his expression, she smiled and started to explore, with her mouth, with her hands, with all of her senses. Taking him in, learning what made him purr and growl and groan, storing up memories, ones that would need to last a lifetime if the worst happened, the Witch’s Cauldron won, and Rannock never came back to her.
15
Wings spread wide, Rannock rocketed out of thick cloud cover like a demon on fire. Cold air turned warm and humid. A strong updraft buffeted him. Frothing like lava flow, his metallic orange scales glowed in the turbulence. Liquid metal spiraled off the spikes rising along his spine. Molten sparks. One part bronze. Two parts steel. All parts deadly.
He flicked his tail. More embers flew, sparking across the night sky.
Flying above him, Levin dodged. Ice crystals swirled off his frost-blue scales. Snow exploded into a wave of flurries, freezing damp wind mid-gust. The arctic blast blanketed the burning blowback, protecting the ice dragon from overheating.
A good move, particularly since Rannock refused to slow down.
His mission demanded precision. No mistakes could be made. He needed to reach Blood Mountain and find an insertion point into the Blind Witch’s court before any of her minions realized he’d infiltrated her nest. A tall order, given the magic he sensed rising in the distance, glimmering over the landscape, hiding in the mist, feasting upon the darkest section of forest. Glamour that provided excellent cover for a coven. Remnants of the Fae. Ones left behind by a Seelie court who’d moved on long ago. Maybe to find greener pastures. Maybe to seek easier prey.
Whatever. The reasons didn’t matter.
Only one thing concerned Rannock—the fact the witch had not only found the pocket of Fae magic, but now used it to further her own ends. An excellent strategy. Let someone else do all the work. Jump on the opportunity. Capitalize on the Fae’s inattention. Claim territory abandoned to build a safe harbor for witching folk and protect herself from more powerful preternatural hunters.
He admired the effort, appreciated the conservation of energy and recycling of resources. What he didn’t like was the Blind Witch’s recent foray into the higher levels of magical realms. Her boldness with the Shadow Walkers smacked of arrogance. Tweaking Rathbone’s tail didn’t make sense. Not for a human witch with limited magical abilities, at least by Dragonkind standards.
Frowning, Rannock blasted over a small town. Pinpricks of light projected into the darkness. He checked his altitude. Twenty-five thousand feet. Plenty of distance between him and the hamlet. Little to be concerned about as he turned his mind back to the conundrum. The witch should’ve stayed inside the boundary instead of stepping outside it. Magical species from all walks came into the world understanding the hierarchy. Dragonkind sat at the top of the food chain along with the Fae, Shadow Walkers, and the handful of oracles still breathing. Kin in many ways, completely different in others.
Not that it mattered tonight.
The separation between Magickind wasn’t his problem. His focus was singular—get in, grab what Rathbone required, get the hell out, and do it in one piece. Otherwise, he wouldn’t keep his promise to Cate and return to her before night turned to day. So…
Fuck comfort.
Forget the usual caution.
Spine-bending speed was necessary. So was staying pissed off. His temper served a purpose. A good one. The angrier he got, the more focused he became.
Most Dragonkind males didn’t work that way. Levin was a prime example. His packmate worked best, was at his most lethal, when calm. Par for the course for an ice dragon, but the metal in Rannock’s blood needed to boil. Calm, cool, and collected meant too relaxed. Too laid-back. Not aware or sharp enough. And with his mate’s life on the line, he needed to be as sharp as a samurai’s sword.