The Cursed King by Abigail Owen

Chapter Eleven

Airk stood in a corner, listening. As soon as Angelika had explained everything, the room had sat in tense silence for a solid minute.

She looked from face to face. “I think Airk and I should go to Kamen.”

All three kings jerked upright, eyes flaming. “The headquarters for the White Clan?” Ladon demanded. “Why?”

Angelika sat forward, serious, and yet Airk caught a hint of that hopefulness she never seemed to shake in the way she held herself. Almost eager. Too much so. He glanced at her sisters. Didn’t they see it?

“Because,” Angelika said in what sounded like a careful voice to him. “With allies here, what if we can form an alliance with them, too? What if—”

“No,” Airk said.

She tossed an irritated frown toward his corner. “Hear me out.”

He shot her a hard glare. “I refuse to go with you.”

The hurt in her eyes—like a flash of lightning in a night sky, blinding and then gone—about took his knees out from under him. But all he had to do was picture his dragon tail wrapped around her, threatening to crush her, and he hardened his heart to the small pain he might give her now.

“That’s not what you said last night,” she pointed out. In front of her family.

He ignored the looks. “I have altered my thoughts. It is too dangerous.”

Angelika’s gaze narrowed. “For you or for me?”

He returned her stare unblinkingly.

Angelika’s eyes flared, and he swore, for the space of a hummingbird’s heartbeat, that white flame sparked in those glacial depths. But the phantom was gone so fast, it could have been a trick of the lighting. Besides, it made no sense.

Angelika held no fire. They’d already proven that.

“Then I’ll go alone.” She turned away from him as if that answered that question.

“The fuck you will.” The words snarled from his throat before he thought to utter them, cutting off all three of her sisters and their mates. Belyy watched silently, clearly reserving judgment.

Despite the way everyone else looked askance at his unusual show of emotion, she merely shot him an unimpressed glance over her shoulder. “You said you’re out. You don’t get a vote here.”

Airk’s dragon snarled so loud in his head, the other dragons in the room must’ve sensed it, because they each tensed one at a time, turning their bodies so that they faced the predator in the room.

The threat. Exactly what he’d always be.

The tension ratcheted up another ten notches, but apparently Angelika was either oblivious or ignored it. After an assessing pause, she stalked across the floor, right into his space. “May I speak to you in private?” she asked in a low, tight voice.

She didn’t wait for him to say anything. Just turned and expected him to follow. Which he did, jaw aching with the way he was clenching it. Did she take him into the room they’d shared on purpose? Because he could still smell her—smell them—in here. Damned if his traitorous body didn’t send every ounce of blood straight to his cock.

Hells.

“I don’t know what is going on with you,” she said quietly as she slowly turned to face him. “One minute, you’re in my bed and mating is finally a real possibility. The next, you can hardly stand to look at me.”

“That is not true.” He mentally grimaced. Words were popping out without his permission, but he couldn’t stand the edge of hurt beneath the veneer of calm she was projecting.

Angelika crossed her arms. “Then what is true? I’d love to know.”

Hells. “Last night we were not sure of the situation with our clans. Now we are. With White and Green so clearly siding with Pytheios, the risk is too high.”

She glanced away, everything about her appearing…brittle. Did she really care that much? “It’s worth the risk,” she insisted, not looking at him.

“Not with me along, it is not.”

Angelika opened her mouth as she looked back at him, then paused, her gaze seeming to take in something in his expression, which he kept carefully blank.

“Not with you…” she said, eyes narrowing as she worked things out in her head. “Why not?”

“The danger,” he repeated again.

Her lips flattened, but the compassion softening her expression was harder to ignore. “Try again.”

“I am dangerous, dammit. I woke up this morning partially shifted—”

The last thing he expected was for delight to flare in her eyes. Almost as though melting, her body let go of the tension, and Angelika crowded into his space, hand on his arm, lips curving into the softest smile. “That’s wonderful.”

He jerked back, ignoring her frown. “No.”

“You shifted partially and still maintained control. That’s an incredible first step—”

“I was not in control,” he snapped.

Gods, why was he even telling her this? Despite not knowing her for much time, he was more than convinced that Angelika couldn’t walk away from a wounded creature. And that’s exactly what he was to her. Wounded. Broken.

Sure enough, rather than fear, her gaze narrowed with speculative interest and a hint of concern. “I wasn’t murdered in my sleep by a feral dragon. That sounds like control to me.”

His beast snarled at that description from her lips, the sound rumbling up Airk’s throat.

Her eyes widened, but she pressed on. “I’d say you figured it out.”

Airk shook his head. “I am not a bird with a broken wing that you help nurse to health, Angelika.”

“I know that.”

“No. You think you can fix me. I see it in your eyes right now.”

“Fixing you is not what I want,” she uttered in a dust-dry voice.

“Semantics,” he growled. Why couldn’t she see this was only going to get worse?

Angelika glanced away, hands going to her hips as she thought for a moment before turning her gaze back to him, watching him with those eyes that seemed to see past the guards he put up for everyone else.

“I can’t do this without you,” she said quietly. “You know that.”

Airk tried not to tense at the words, the tone. If she had fought, railed, or yelled, he could have stayed strong against that. But this quiet kind of pleading…

Gods, this woman would be his undoing, and he was terrified, down to the depths of his scarred soul, that he would be her destruction.

“This is important,” she continued.

“I know that.”

She nodded. “More than anything else, maybe.” She stepped closer. Not touching, not in his space yet, but her delicate human scent wound around him. “More than me. The risk is acceptable.”

“I cannot mate you.”

The woman who’d shared pleasure with him last night, who, even as he fought against the pull she had for him, he wanted to throw on the bed and bury his face between her legs and watch as she shattered under his mouth… That woman turned ice cold, her eyes suddenly the warmest thing about her. So unlike her that it made him hurt in places he didn’t know existed inside him.

“Fine,” she said. Not angry, just firmly resigned. “Mating is back off the table.”

What? No.

The knee-jerk reaction lined up exactly with his dragon suddenly thrashing inside him, sending pounding pain through his mind, his skin rippling with iridescent scales. Airk shoved all of it—the dragon and his own needs—into a dark fucking hole and buried it.

“Fine.” A new word for him, but it got to the heart of his frustration fairly well.

With a nod as though things had been decided, she marched from the room to the others waiting outside. Airk followed more reluctantly.

He walked in right in time to hear Angelika announce, “We need a witch or warlock to perform a binding spell.”

“Fuck that.” This from Brand.

“I’m not asking,” Angelika shot at the gold dragon. “This man has given us his loyalty.” She waved at Belyy.

“And you wish him to prove it with a binding oath?” Brand wasn’t letting this go, despite Kasia wrapping a hand around his wrist.

“Yes.”

Airk had to give it to her—Angelika wasn’t afraid of anything. It would get her killed one day if she wasn’t careful. He couldn’t be around to witness that. It would destroy him.

Ladon growled. “You don’t know—”

Meira sighed. “She does know.”

“Mother told us all about it,” Kasia said.

“Do we know of anyone we’d trust?” Skylar looked between the men.

“You’re going to let her do this?” Ladon demanded of his mate, flinging an arm in Angelika’s direction. A nerve near Ladon’s scar visibly twitched, a sure sign the Blood King was upset.

“You try stopping her,” Skylar said. Not that she sounded happy about it.

Ladon turned on Angelika. “I thought you were supposed to be the easygoing one.”

“I am. But that doesn’t make me a pushover.” The smile she turned on Ladon made Airk want to shove the guy aside—pure sunshine, and part of him wanted to keep it for himself. Only for himself.

A small, resigned growl of sound had them all turning to Brand. “I don’t know of a specific mage, but I know someone who probably can make a recommendation.”

…

One phone call from Brand, and now Angelika was staring at two people. A man and woman, clearly a mated pair, though mating was different for witches.

That in and of itself wasn’t extraordinary. What had struck her speechless was the fact that they arrived only five minutes later. Silently appearing. No rush of wind like a mage who could teleport, and this mountain, like all other dragon-shifter locations, had been warded against teleportation in general.

So how had they gotten in?

“I know you,” Ladon said slowly, studying the man closely.

He received a nod of greeting. “Alasdair Blakesley, head of the Covens’ Syndicate.”

A warlock. Extremely powerful to head the group that governed all mages in the world at such a young age. Early to mid-thirties at most and handsome with it—raven-black hair and blue eyes that seemed to stray to the woman he arrived with more often than not.

“This is my wife, Delilah.”

She nodded.

No one asked what she was, which was considered rude. She was dressed in a pristine white pantsuit, and her black hair was pinned in an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck. Her demeanor might cause one to assume she was the less dangerous of the two, but Angelika got the sense that, if anything, Delilah was the more powerful. And not necessarily a witch.

“Which of you wishes a binding oath performed?” Delilah asked.

“I do.” Angelika stepped forward.

Richly dark eyes turned her way, assessing and yet unthreatening. “You understand what you ask?”

“Yes.”

“These oaths can act unpredictably,” Delilah warned.

Again.

“I’m well aware.”

“Very well. Let me understand what you wish the oath to be.”

“You will be performing it?” Airk asked, glancing between Delilah and Alasdair.

The woman’s smile could be in the dictionary next to the word enigmatic. “I’m more familiar with these particular…spells.”

So she was a witch? Or not? “How do you know Brand?”

The question slipped out. That darn curiosity cat-killing thing she had.

Delilah’s eyes slid in Brand’s direction, and she smiled primly. “I offer all my clients and contractors privacy and discretion.”

Which meant she wouldn’t answer for him. Angelika’s estimation of this woman went up a few notches.

Delilah turned her gaze to Angelika. “Who will be involved?”

“This man.” Angelika indicated Belyy with a wave. “And others.”

“Others?” Kasia frowned.

“You said nothing about multiple binding spells,” Skylar snapped. “I don’t like this.”

“One spell,” Angelika said, her voice indicating this was no big deal even though she knew full well it was. But she was determined. “Multiple people.”

“I’ll have them summoned,” Belyy said and hurried away before anyone else could argue.

“While he’s doing that,” Delilah said, her gaze on the man’s departing back, “why don’t you explain exactly what you want to happen and why?”

Thirty minutes later, the people who’d come yesterday stood in the room, tension evident in rigid shoulders and fisted hands, surrounded by the kings and queens who had been their enemies not even twenty-four hours before.

“How do you do this? Bring people together this way?” Airk muttered to Angelika under his breath. “You are a miracle worker.”

She tossed him an easy grin she wasn’t entirely feeling, a flock of prehistoric-sized butterflies taking off in her tummy. At Delilah’s beckoning, she moved to the center of the circle the woman had formed with those men and the one woman in the ranks.

Airk wasn’t going to join her. She wouldn’t let him. Not with the risk of what it might trigger in his dragon. Not with his rejection ringing in her ears. Despite what they’d shared, he wasn’t even willing to try to fight for her—for them—and the dull anguish that had left in her heart went beyond chemistry or political alliances.

When this became about her and him, and not the rest, she wasn’t sure.

“Ready?” the sorceress, or whatever Delilah was—it still wasn’t clear—asked. “Last chance to change your mind.”

“This is necessary.” No hesitation. Angelika was sure of the need for this action, even if it backfired on her. Desperate times and all that. Deep down, she knew this was the right path, even if where it ultimately led remained shrouded in darkness.

“All right.” Delilah nodded. “Hands up.”

She’d already walked those participating through what had to happen. Each person standing around Angelika lifted a hand, holding it palm facing her.

Here we go.

…

As she stood at the center of the circle, Angelika looked as ethereal and as fragile as she was, yet strong as dragonsteel. The woman, Delilah, started chanting, and immediately a familiar electric buzz of magic filled the air.

A string of ancient words passed her lips, known to Airk only because of the one friend he had had on the inside. Nathair had taught him the oldest language in existence—that of angels…and demons. Airk jerked at the shock of recognition, fisting his hands to keep from stopping her immediately.

What in the hells was this woman?

Raising their own voices, those in the circle, including Angelika, repeated the words with her. Over and over.

The words wound around him and through him, penetrating, becoming part of him. The chant took up space inside his head, crowding in there with his dragon. Pounding. Airk found his lips moving with Angelika’s lips, though no sound came from him.

Then she gasped.

Her eyes flared wide, gaze landing on him, and he lurched forward a step only to stumble to a halt as she started to glow. Not the others, still chanting. Just Angelika. Bright lights of all colors of the rainbow came from every part of her, illuminating her as though she were her namesake—an angel in every sense of the word.

“Keep going,” Alasdair called as others stumbled over words, including Angelika. “Don’t stop until it’s finished.”

Angelika’s lips started to move again, but she didn’t take her gaze from him. The words, still a part of him in the strangest way, only grew louder in his head, more insistent, more frantic. The light coming from Angelika intensified, turning near blinding, and yet somehow he could still see her eyes, wide in her face.

And she was terrified.

Airk was across the room before deciding to move.

“No!” Delilah called.

But he didn’t stop, moving between two of the men in the circle, he stepped right into the woman who scared him more than just about anything in this world. He took her face in his hands. Gods, she was shaking.

“Do you still want this?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Then keep going.”

Holding her gaze, he spoke the words with her. One after another until the sounds blurred together, the beat primal, pumping to the heavy, unfettered beat of his heart.

The glow around her encompassed him, folded around him, like being pulled inside her embrace last night, and he never looked away, never stopped. Then, with a sudden flare, white heat lanced through the flesh on the back of his hand between his thumb and forefinger.

He’d hardly grunted in reaction when everything stopped.

Silence fell over the room, so loud it was practically deafening, and he had to blink a few times, clearing his gaze after the brightness.

“What just happened?” he was vaguely aware of one of her sisters asking, worry in her voice.

“Fuck-a-doodle-doo,” Brand muttered.

“What?” That was Ladon.

Airk finally raised his gaze from Angelika, though he didn’t release his hold on her. “What?” he echoed the blue king’s demand.

“My king’s mark,” Tovar said, awe and something else in his voice. “It’s changed.”

He held up his hand, and sure enough, a new symbol—no longer that of Volos—graced the flesh there.

Airk jerked his own hand up and stared at an identical symbol, now stark against his own skin. A new mark of loyalty where before there had been none.

The change hadn’t come with the usual searing pain, either. The sigil was not Brand’s or Ladon’s or Samael’s, as they’d expected. The intricate twisting and turning lines were the same as those that had once graced his hand as a child, and his father’s hand, and his mother’s…

He traced the familiar shape, connected to this symbol more now than he’d been as a boy, the tug of loyalty and another emotion a physical presence in his chest.

The mark of the Amon family.

Angelika’sfamily.