Urian crossed his arms over his chest as he met Medea’s shocked stare. “And now you know why I had my reservations about seeking out our not-so-friendly dragon for conversation. You just can’t take him out in public. Or private either.”
Medea would have made a comment had Falcyn not decided to lick the blood from his fingers. “They have these things called napkins, you know? Been around for thousands of years now. You should try one.”
Wiping the blood from his lips with his knuckle, he grinned at her. “A squeamish Daimon? Seriously? Besides, I like the taste of my enemy’s blood. It soothes me. Blood of my friends is even better, but they tend to get a little testy whenever I partake of my favorite delicacy.”
Blaise sighed. “Really, we tried home-training. He failed miserably. But he’s awesome when you need someone killed and you don’t have a place to hide a body. He eats all traces of it. Better than a pet Charonte demon.”
With one last lick to his middle finger, Falcyn turned back to Blaise. “Can you transform?”
“Haven’t tried. Why?”
“I can’t.”
Blaise looked sick to his stomach at that realization. After a second, he shook his head. “Why can’t we turn?”
“That would be the disturbing question of the moment, wouldn’t it?”
Urian laughed nervously. “How do we get back?”
“There’s always a portal of some kind.” Falcyn turned a slow, small circle as he surveyed the land around them. “We just have to figure out where it is and what it looks like. You know … fun shit that, always.”
“Yeah. Lots of fun.” Urian’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “And avoid stray magick and demons.”
“And everything else,” Medea added.
“Exactly what she said,” Falcyn muttered under his breath.
“So glad I got up this morning.” Blaise sighed heavily. “Hell, I even bathed.”
Falcyn passed a smug sneer at him. “So glad I’m stuck here with all of you. Bitching and moaning. I suddenly feel like I’m teaching kindergarten.”
Medea shook her head at Falcyn’s droll tone. “I know why I need your dragonstone. What’s the deal with the others, anyway? Why are they so hot to lay hands to it?”
“Aside from the fact that they’re assholes?” Falcyn headed for the woods. It seemed as likely a spot as any to find an enchanted portal. “Narishka wants it to bring Mordred back to life.”
“Mordred le Fey?”
He inclined his head at her. “Yeah. Apparently, they think they’ve found his tomb, and Mom wants a reunion with her precious little boy.” He smirked. “Personally, I’d like to reunite them in hell. Who’s with me?” His gaze went first to Urian, then Blaise. “Really?” he asked drily. “No takers?”
Medea shrugged. “I might be tempted if I knew who you were talking about.”
“Queen Bitch, Morgen le Fey. Can’t miss her. Tall, gorgeous, meaner than shit. Blond and lethal.”
“Sounds like me … except for the height.”
He laughed. “That’s what all the stories about you say. Are they true?”
“Depends on your side of things. My mother says I’m not mean enough.”
“Ouch.” Falcyn sucked his breath in sharply. “Take it Mommie Dearest has some issues?”
Medea snorted. “Her issues carry Samsonite.”
Urian came up between them. “Enough getting along, you two. It’s starting to creep me out. The last thing any of us needs is a meeting of the two evils.”
She rolled her eyes. “Already had that. My parents. Besides, Falcyn doesn’t strike me as evil.”
Falcyn cocked his head at that, instantly intrigued. No one put him in any other category. Ever. In fact, most ran from him as if he were his father—the fount of all evil itself. And the majority of beings had no idea what spawned him. They only assumed it, given the nature and position of his father. “Really?”
“Hmmm.” She swept a probing stare over his body. “While you are definitely cantankerous, you don’t take pleasure in hurting others.”
“And how do you know that?”
Medea smiled. “Been around real evil long enough to know the difference. Trust me, sugar, you ain’t got it by a long, long shot.”
Falcyn slowed as she quickened her steps to catch up to Blaise. What the hell was that?
A compliment?
He wasn’t quite sure, since he didn’t normally get them from anyone.
Kicks in the ass and teeth?
Those he took routinely.
But strokes to the ego? Foreign, alien beasts he had no concept of. Weird. And it left him with a strange feeling in his stomach.
Maybe those were the aforementioned hunger pangs.
Yet it felt like a hunger for something other than food, for once. And made him harder than he’d ever been in his life.
Urian reached over and brushed his thumb against Falcyn’s jaw. “You’re gaping, brother. Might want to close that before you catch some flies.”
He slapped at Urian’s hand. “Don’t be an ass.”
“Can’t help it. Spent too many centuries as the right hand of evil, myself. Left a black mark on my soul.”
As they neared the edge of the woods, Falcyn had the eerie sensation of being watched. Thankfully that curbed his attention where Medea was concerned, and distracted his gaze from straying to her constantly.
Damn, she was a lot more distracting than she should be. If his body didn’t stop, he was going to start cutting pieces of it off.
Falcyn rubbed at the hairs on the back of his neck that had risen. “Blaise?”
“Yeah … I feel it.”
Medea’s dark eyes met his and did the strangest things to his stomach. Which made him even harder, damn it all. “What is it?”
“Not sure.” Falcyn walked backward so that he could scan the meadow as he tried not to think about why he wanted to stay close to her to protect her from whatever threat he sensed. That was an innate dragon trait. One he didn’t want to scrutinize, because the ramifications terrified him.
He saw nothing around them.
Not that it meant anything, given the powers some of their preternatural brethren possessed. And he really missed being in his dragon’s body right now. A dragon’s sight was very different from that of a human’s. Much sharper and clearer. And while a trace of that followed him into a human body, it still wasn’t as good as it’d be in his other form. Which was why Blaise wasn’t blind as a dragon.
Only as a man.
Then Falcyn heard it.
A mere wisp of breath. So low as to be virtually inaudible. To a normal creature. But he wasn’t normal. Too many centuries of fighting for survival had left him paranoid and highly attuned to everything around him.
Like Medea’s soft lily scent.
Especially that subtle shift in the air that said he was being stalked by something invisible. Something approaching fast on his right …
With lightning reflexes honed by battle, he reached out and grabbed their pursuer.
“I mean you no harm!” The sound of a woman’s voice shocked him.
Falcyn tightened his grip on what felt like a throat. “Show yourself.”
She materialized in his fist and, as he’d assumed, his hand was wrapped about her neck. Large lavender eyes swallowed a face that appeared more girl than woman, and yet the fullness of her leather-wrapped body said that she was well into her twenties. Physically, anyway.
Probably older given the amount of power and confidence he sensed from her. That level of expertise came from a creature who was centuries old.
“What are you?”
She rubbed at his wrist to remind him that his death-grip was cutting off her ability to speak. Another action that said she was older than a frightened teen.
Falcyn relaxed his hold, but not enough to allow her to escape. He wasn’t a fool and he hadn’t lived to his own advanced age by playing one.
“I’m Brogan.”
“Didn’t ask your name. Don’t really care. I asked what you are.”
“Cursed. Exiled and damned. Please, let me go and I can help you.”