Temporarily blinded and disoriented, Medea had no idea in which direction to head.
Someone grabbed her.
She spun to slug them, only to catch the crisp masculine scent she knew more intimately than she cared to admit. And it was one that was starting to give an innate comfort to her that she didn’t even want to investigate. “Falcyn?”
“Yeah, hang on.” He lifted her and pulled her with him toward her left.
Normally, she’d protest being manhandled like this. But she was so grateful to have someone who could see what was happening that she went along without complaint or assault. Especially since he was being remarkably gentle. In fact, he kept her cradled against him as he twisted and dodged past things she could only guess about.
And that terrified her. She hadn’t trusted anyone like this—with her safety—in more centuries than she could count. Truth be told, she couldn’t remember ever being this trusting. It just wasn’t in her. Yet something about Falcyn made it a lot easier than she’d ever thought possible.
By the time they made the woods, she could finally see again. And it was only then that she realized how tightly she was holding on to him. The fact that she had her face buried in the crook of his neck and had surrendered herself completely.
That was even more terrifying than the attackers she couldn’t see.
He was her anchor in this madness that kept her grounded and sane.
Better yet, he was her life preserver. And she both hated and adored that sensation.
What the hell is wrong with me?
How could she ever trust a stranger like this? A dragon, no less?
With her still in his arms, Falcyn turned around slowly to survey their surroundings and to make sure they’d escaped the possessed gallu sylphs.
Although it was a bit painful and her sight was peppered with pinpoints of light, she scanned with him and saw nothing. They appeared safe for the moment.
To her instant regret, Falcyn set her down on her feet. She didn’t know why, but a part of her wanted for him to hold on to her the way Blaise had done with Brogan. To be as reluctant to let her go.
Are you insane?
She had to be. Medea Theoxena needed no one. Not for anything. Emotions were for suckers and fools. Neither of which was her.
Ever.
I will never be weak again. Not for any reason.
Not for any person.
That had been the promise she’d made to herself the day she stood over the bodies of her husband and child. The day she’d torn through the human village like a vengeful harpy, laying waste to every being there.
To this day, she could hear their screams and see their faces as she made them pay for what they’d ruthlessly taken from her without regard or remorse. That was the only thing that had allowed her to live with the anguish of her loss. The knowledge that she’d returned to them the same pain they’d coldly served to her.
And still it wasn’t enough. That thirst for vengeance continued to burn within her like the passions of Aphrodite. To that end, she understood why her grandfather had gone wild on the Apollite race over his own son and mistress. She would never fault him for that rage that demanded blood sacrifices to slake it.
But she could have never cursed her own children, even in the midst of that kind of unreasoning grief. Not for anything. That he could do such to her father and her was an unforgivable sin.
And Falcyn understood that loss himself. While they hadn’t killed his son, he’d thought of him as murdered—which was the same range of emotions Medea had lived with. He’d gone through identical pain over the centuries.
No wonder he was barely this side of insane. He lived in the same dismal hell she called home.
That, too, weakened her for him. Bonded them together. It was rare to find anyone who could relate to her fury. To her need for blood atonement. Someone who didn’t judge her for wanting vengeance, even all these centuries later.
Worse, those thoughts brought an unexpected wave of tenderness crashing through her. One that made her throat tight and eyes water.
Don’t, Medea! She couldn’t emotionally afford to go there. Rather, she needed to focus on something else.
Quick, before she lost herself entirely to this dragon by her side.
Blinking, she tried her best to clear her vision. “Where are the others?”
“Not sure.” He glanced around as if looking for either friend or foe. There was a light behind his eyes that said he had something else going on in his thoughts. “They scattered, and like you, I was blinded enough that I couldn’t see where they went. I’m trying to reach Blaise with my powers. Something has me blocked. I’d Bane-Cry for him, but given this place, I’m not sure I want to even attempt that. Who knows what might answer with him, or head toward his position. While I have no problem beating the hell out of anything that rears its head, I don’t want to lead trouble to him.”
She bit back a smile at the emotion in his voice. He always thought of Blaise first.
In every situation. Which made her suspicious …
“You love him a lot more than a brother, you know that? What’s the deal with you two?”
Hands on hips, he turned to face her. “Don’t know what you mean.”
She tsked at the suddenly defensive dragon who confirmed her opinion and solidified it. No wonder he was so protective.…
There was only one logical reason for that.
“I had a moment where I thought he might be that son you mentioned, but since he knew your son in Camelot … my money says he’s your grandkid, isn’t he?”
Oh yeah, there was an expression that confirmed it on those handsome dragon features. Falcyn should never play poker. His opponents would clean house with his wallet.
His continued silence on this matter only added another layer of veracity.
Medea approached him slowly. “That’s why I didn’t ask about it while they were around us. I knew it would piss you off. And I was right.” No one could miss the fury that burned deep in those steely blues.
Tsking, she cocked her head. “So what really happened to separate him from his parents? ’Cause I know you didn’t give him up without a fight.”
Falcyn started to tell her to go to hell and take her ridiculous assumptions with her. It was what he’d always done in the past when someone asked something he didn’t like. He couldn’t stand being questioned.
And yet as he saw her honest sincerity and the tenderness of her expression and it touched a part of him that he hated, the truth ran past his lips before he could catch it and lock it down. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there when Blaise was born. Maybe his father did what Blaise said and left him to die. I’ve never met Maddor. Have no idea about his character or anything else. He could easily be as big a bastard as I am. Even though he’s my son, he’s a complete stranger to me.”
“Why?” As soon as the question came out, she regretted it, because it wrung such a look of pain from him that she could feel it.
It was an expression of soul-deep anguish. The kind only a parent could feel at the loss of a child.
And she hated how well she related to it. How much she understood.
How much she despised herself for reopening his wounds when it was obvious that he wasn’t really a bastard. In spite of his words, he cared about his unknown son as much as she’d cared about hers. And he ached over the loss every bit as much. It was the loss of all those years together that never went away. The anguish of wondering what could have been. What kind of man her son would have grown into. What kind of relationship they would have had.
All those questions and all those doubts and the pain. It never dulled. Never stopped.
Damn life for it.
And Falcyn loved Blaise more than his own life. She’d seen that firsthand in everything he did for him. The way he doted and guarded.
Before she realized what she was doing, she pulled him against her and held him. “I’m sorry, Falcyn.”
Falcyn swallowed hard, wanting to shove her and her pity away from him like a disease. He was drakomai. The first of the dragons. He didn’t need kindness or compassion.
Damn sure didn’t want it from a Daimon leader.
That was what his mind screamed out. But his body wouldn’t cooperate or listen. In all these centuries, no one had ever held him when he was hurt.