The Cursed King by Abigail Owen

Chapter Twenty-Two

Angelika wasn’t sure who was more nervous: her or Airk.

Rather than meet with individuals and smaller groups of the clan, gradually spreading the word of their coming here and the switch in allegiances, the imminent attack on the mountain meant a single clan-wide introduction. At least to those in this mountain, who accounted for approximately 65 percent of her father’s people.

Jordy had brought a small throng of people to their suite this morning, all of whom had been sworn to secrecy until this announcement was made. They’d spent hours—no joke—primping her and spilling her into a dress that she would have guessed was designed specifically for a phoenix when she first saw it.

Made of some white floaty material, the long skirt had hidden slits almost to her waist that parted to reveal long lengths of leg when she walked. But the bodice was what struck her as the most appropriate. The material had been cut to look like feathers over her breasts, leaving a deep V bare to her navel. The same wing design on the back attached cape-like swaths that trailed behind her. Her face had been made up with glittering, pearlescent shimmer around her eyes and temples in a subtle winged pattern.

To top it off, her white-blond hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail with a hard part down the middle. Over that, they’d placed a delicate diadem—more like a chain—of white and pale blue diamonds. A single strand traced the part in her hair, with two strands to either side, all connecting at her forehead, where a looped pattern formed.

Looking in the mirror, she had been put in mind of elves and fairies, elusive and even more secretive than dragon shifters. Otherworldly.

Not her.

“Where did you get this so quickly?” she’d asked the man who seemed to be in charge of the group helping her.

The sadness in his smile was her first warning, but his words still sliced like razor blades. “This is what your mother would have worn when her bond with King Zilant solidified and she was crowned Queen and he High King.”

“Oh.” She swallowed hard.

Her helper had offered a kindly smile. “You may have the look of your father, but you are willowy, like your mother. This was custom made for her, and it fits you like a glove, though we had to shorten the hem a bit.”

Tears burned at that. She was told so often that she was a reflection of her father, who she’d only ever known as a hellhound, and even then, none of them had truly known who Maul was until the end. The end she hadn’t been there for.

But never her mother.

“Now, now. No crying, or I’ll have to start all over.” Her helper had rushed over with a tissue, blotting carefully.

Angelika had huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t want to ruin all that. You’re a miracle worker and a true artist.”

He’d smiled. “When you have a canvas this lovely, it’s easy enough.”

A low rumble of a growl had come from the corner of the room where Airk sat. He’d been ready in less than an hour, and, despite the protests of everyone else, had stalked into the room where she was being made up, grumbling about the constraints of his suit and this being a ridiculous parade of folderol.

They’d put him in a three-piece suit of a shiny gray that almost appeared silver, white pearl buttons, and a pale blue tie that matched her own headdress—or they’d tried to put him in it, anyway. He’d refused the jacket, and damned if she hadn’t always had a thing for a guy in a formal vest with the sleeves rolled up.

The man drying her tears had frozen at Airk’s rumbled warning, then, very carefully, pulled his hands away from her.

“Stop that,” Angelika mouthed at him.

Even though she knew he couldn’t. A newly mated dragon male was possibly the most dangerous creature on earth—instinct and his creature driving him to a possessive kind of protectiveness. Oddly, a huge turn-on, and she hoped they couldn’t see how her nipples peaked at the sound. Sure enough, his gaze drifted down her body to the evidence of her reaction.

He merely shrugged, offering no apology. And was that a smile?

He’d be unbearable for a while, she understood, and despite thinking of herself as an independent, modern woman, shivers of anticipation for the next time they were alone tiptoed up her spine.

His gaze sharpened, spearing her as though he’d read her thoughts.

Jordy had ushered her helpers out at that point, leaving Airk and Angelika alone. Her mate had stayed seated, but his gaze had traveled over her in the most delicious way, heating her up from the inside out.

“Do you know what that dress makes me want to do to you?”

She’d swallowed hard, but for a different reason this time. Because now that they’d mated, it was almost as if Airk had finally given himself permission to just be with her. Holding nothing but his dragon in check. Even that seemed…easier…though difficult to tell in only a few hours.

She shook her head.

“It makes me want to lift your skirt, bend you over that table…” He glanced at the piece of furniture in question. “And fill you full of my fire all over again.”

Her heart beat a rapid tattoo that he no doubt could hear perfectly clear. He’d already done so twice more through the night and once again this morning.

That lack of experience thing only seemed to make for more fun as they both tested new touches, explored each other with abandon, and generally went with whatever felt good. Really good. For instance, she now knew that he shuddered every time she licked between his balls. Who knew such a small touch could set him off that way? And he’d figured out that her riding him gave him ample access to all sorts of parts of her. That orgasm had come harder than the others.

What might they learn this time?

She’d moved to the table in question and placed her palms on it, feet spread, then glanced at him over her shoulder, promises in her eyes. Temptation parting her lips. “Like this?”

Color flared over his cheekbones, and he’d grunted as though in pain. “When we get back.”

“Now.” She batted her eyes.

His hands fisted around his crossed leg. “Jordy will be back to escort us any moment.”

“Then you’d better lock the door.”

He moved so fast she hardly saw the blur of him. In seconds he was up, door locked, his pants down around his knees and her dress rucked up to her waist. Fingers delving deep, he’d tested her to find her ready.

“Fuck.”

Their coupling had been harsh and hard, fast and furious. And beautiful.

Afterward, he’d insisted on cleaning her with a washcloth before lowering her dress. “They will smell me on you. Smell what we did,” he warned almost apologetically.

“Let them.”

The primitive flare of satisfaction in his eyes might have led to round two, except Jordy knocked at the door at that moment.

Actually, he might have earlier, and they didn’t hear him.

Now here they were, standing in the shadowy room that led out onto a balcony that reminded her of videos of British royals at Buckingham Palace in London waving to the masses after some splendidly opulent occasion or other. Similarly, this balcony looked out over the large common area at the center of the “town,” packed so tightly with white dragon shifters all Angelika saw was one big blur of faces and colors of clothing.

No sound, though. They remained eerily silent as Mös made his announcements.

Probably shock because of finding out so much—the wrongful death of Zilant Amon, Serefina’s escape and her children, Pytheios’s hand in everything, the death of Volos now in question, Brock being named king, his death, and now the arrival of Airk and Angelika both, with all the implications.

Rough day to be a white dragon shifter. Pity settled around the need to help them if they would let her.

As Mös got to Zilant’s wrongful death, he introduced Airk, who shared the same story he had with the leaders. The silence turned heavier, angrier. Though she couldn’t tell now who it was aimed at. Themselves? Their leaders? Pytheios? Or even Airk, if they didn’t believe him? Probably a little of all of the above. She needed to be ready for that.

“One of the phoenixes—the daughters of King Zilant Amon and Serefina Hanyu,” Mös announced, “has come to us willingly, offering to devote herself to the clan of her father, if we will have her.”

That announcement, at least, pulled an audible inhalation from the listeners. Not a gasp, necessarily. Almost like taking a breath before the impact of a hit they could see coming.

Mös turned, and Angelika found her legs were weighted with lead. Nerves were never a problem for her usually, but this was…important. She needed her father’s people to accept her.

A glance at Airk showed him watching her in that intense way of his, concern drawing his dark brows down. Almost as though he could sense her panic, his lips turned up in a barely there smile. Just for her.

The encouragement tables had neatly turned.

Something seemed to jump-start her nervous system and force her limbs to function. Stepping forward, she moved until she stood slightly ahead of both men on the platform, looking out over the sea of faces. Those closest she could see more clearly, and an array of emotions reflected back to her—stoic nothingness, hostility, awe, curiosity…even relief on a few.

Meira had done this once, facing an introduction to the Black Clan. How had her poor, quiet sister, blessed with empathic abilities, survived under the scrutiny and weight and judgment?

Drawing back her shoulders, Angelika forced a new surge through herself—stone-cold determination. If Meira could do this, so could she. Taking a deep breath, Angelika started to speak the words they’d agreed on yesterday in that meeting but paused before the first sound passed her lips. A memorized speech wasn’t going to do the job.

They needed to see her heart.

“For five hundred years, my mother hid us away, keeping us safe from a man who misled us all. Giving us the time to mature, to be ready to meet our mates and take our places among our people.”

She swallowed, now realizing who she looked out on. “If my parents had lived, I would have known you. Grown up with you. Celebrated with you. Cheered with you. Fought beside you.”

Nothing from those watching.

She tipped her head up, closing her eyes. “As a little girl I used to close my eyes and picture what my life would have been, and I like to think, with the blessings my phoenix mother would have brought to this clan and all dragon shifters, that it would have been a good life. Happy and well cared for. For all of us.”

Angelika opened her eyes. “But that future, that life, was stolen from me. Stolen from you, as well. All we can do now is move forward with what has been given to us.”

That determination coursing through her coalesced in her belly, a rock of fortitude on which to build. “I offer myself to you. Not as a leader or a ruler. I offer myself in any capacity that this clan needs to find that future again. To take back what was stolen. I offer my sisters and all the powers of my phoenix family. I offer my sisters’ mates and an alliance with their clans. And…” She turned and held her hand out to Airk. They hadn’t discussed this, and she hoped like hells she was doing the right thing. “I pledge my life and these offerings by making myself one of you permanently, by taking a white dragon shifter as a mate.”

…

Airk stared out over the crowd, inspecting every single face, and his dragon coiled inside him, stoking their fire. Most reactions were benign. But, almost as though a spotlight fell on each individual with a harsher reaction, he picked out glittering flame-filled eyes. Gazes full of a starving sort of fury and uglier emotions—blame, suspicion, even retribution.

For him? For her? He didn’t care. They were a threat.

Angelika was still speaking, her face an open book of guileless obliviousness. She didn’t see the menaces out there among the people she was pledging herself to, or maybe she didn’t want to see. But he couldn’t get her off this platform where she was vulnerable fast enough.

Deliberately, he stepped closer to her, taking the hand she’d offered in one and settling his other hand at the small of her back, which earned him a sideways glance.

Luckily, she was winding down. “I know this is a massive decision, and one every dragon must make for himself, herself, and for your families. My door is open to anyone who wishes to discuss it. No one—” She tilted her chin down, turning earnest but also deadly serious. “Absolutely no one will be punished or thought less of if you decide to leave.”

Behind him, Mös gave a soft growl that no one else below probably heard. They hadn’t talked about that at all during their meeting.

With a final nod, Angelika turned away. Turned her back on predators who could move at incredible speeds and snap her neck in an instant if they wished. Not only that, she paused there, looking him dead in the eyes, and Airk’s lips flattened as he realized that she knew exactly what she was doing and why.

She was offering trust. Foolishly.

He added a conversation about risking her damn life to the list of things they would be talking about next.

Finally, she raised her hand in a courtly gesture he hadn’t seen in ages. Airk moved quickly to offer his arm for her to lightly place her hand on. Despite his dragon driving him to pick her up and run, they walked sedately off the platform and back inside.

As soon as they were out of view, he looked at Mös, Belyy, and the others. “We need to get her somewhere safe.”

“No.” Angelika’s answer was soft but firm.

This time a growl did rip from him, and for once he was in perfect accord with his dragon. “You did not see some of those faces. Flaming eyes giving away their emotions—”

“I saw.”

Fuck. Of course she did. Stubborn mate. “They want you dead, or me dead, or both. Both is more likely.”

“I know.”

“Then there is no way—”

Angelika put a hand to his cheek, soothing, her gaze full of a thousand unsaid words—regret, apology, but also determination. “That’s exactly why I need to be seen among the people. Immediately. Hiding will only make those already against us question us louder.”

Airk’s body seized with trepidation. “What do you mean, among the people?”

“Exactly that.” She looked over his shoulder at Belyy. “I want those who bear my family mark with me.”

“As protection?” Belyy asked slowly.

She shook her head. “As witnesses. They need to hear your stories, too.”

After a pause, Belyy dipped his head in a half nod, half bow.

She lifted her gaze to Airk, her hand still cupping his jaw. “Can you keep control?” she asked, searching his gaze.

In other words, she was doing this, with or without him.

“I will have to,” he said, voice guttural now. “There is no way I will let you do this alone.”

Her smile was resigned, but then she wrinkled her nose. “I’m just as scared for you as I am for me,” she said. “But I know this is the only way to gain their trust. And without trust…” She shrugged.

Gods, he’d mated the rashest, bravest, most selfless woman he’d ever known. Both heavens and hells on earth, because he might die of terror before he reached old age if she was going to put them in situations like this all the time. “How did I get the selfless one?”

Angelika grinned, but her next words stole his breath. “I want babies,” she leaned forward to whisper. “Your babies. But first we have to make our world safe for them.”

The image of her, belly swollen with his child, was as cruel as a gunshot and as beautiful as a dream. And damned if now he didn’t want to pick her up, carry her back to their chambers, and fill her full of his seed, willing it to take root in her womb.

“You may be the death of me, Angelika Amon,” he muttered with a shake of his head.

“Angelika Azdajah,” she corrected.

He closed his eyes at the sound of her name that way, but his lips twisted. If she could be selfless, then so could he. “Your father’s line has no male dragons to carry on the name.”

“Neither does yours, other than you,” she pointed out.

“My father wasn’t king.”

She blew out a breath. “I guess we’re both stubborn.” He lifted an eyebrow at that, and she huffed a soft laugh. “Let us figure out names later. First, I want to change, and then we will go on a little walk.”

Half an hour later, both of them dressed in pants called jeans and plain white T-shirts, she led them out into what most dragon mountains considered to be the heart of the community. At the base of the atrium inside the hollowed-out mountain was what essentially acted as a town hub.

Airk paused at the sight.

He’d grown up here in his early years. Played in these streets. And in his cell, when he had nothing to do, he pictured every building, every detail, every paved cobblestone of this place. In his imagination, he would wander in and out of the shops and businesses. Other than his parents’ faces, this was the memory he’d held on to most. Maybe because he’d always felt…safe…here as a child. A place of wonder and his people.

Home.

And it hadn’t changed. Not in five hundred years.

Well…not much. The first two or three levels had always been businesses of all types—restaurants, shops, a bookstore, grocers, even a nail salon and a barber. Some of the shops were different since he’d been here last, he could see already—the buildings still mostly original but updated. And the area was more brightly lit than before. Gone were torches and streetlamps, replaced by the more modern trick of lighting the dragons used inside their mountains, bringing the day into the would-be darkness.

Unlike Ben Nevis, which was set up more like a main street with a single thoroughfare, Kamen was more like a village inside castle walls. The architecture was modeled after human innovations over centuries, seen in the archways, domes, and towers of Byzantine styles, but combined with the open-and-closed spaces more often seen in Chinese buildings. However, everything here was white. Pure white walls.

Nathair had once shown him pictures in a book about Greece, and the white buildings of Santorini had reminded him a little of home. But those structures were simpler. These were ornate. Carvings of dragons crusted in pearls and opals and white diamonds, symbols of their people, their kings, the ruling houses, turrets with intricate carvings. The city of Kamen sparkled.

A scent struck him—chamomile, the small daisies that grew all over this mountain, aromatic, fruity, and floral. Combined with the scents of rock and the slightly smoky scent of dragons, the smells dragged him into memory after memory.

I am home.

He lowered his gaze to find Angelika turned and waiting, a compassionate sort of understanding in her eyes. She reached out a hand to him. “Show me what you missed most,” she said.

He stared. “Did I speak my thoughts?”

She shook her head. “No. But I think I caught them anyway.”

He blew out a harsh breath. How could he ever deserve this woman?

Stepping forward, he wrapped his hand around her smaller one, and together they moved into the first building.

A tea shop, of all things.

The proprietor and all his customers looked up, then gasped. One even sank into a deep bow. “My lady,” they murmured.

“Please don’t stand on ceremony for me,” Angelika said with a wave of her hand and an infectious grin.

The one in the bow rose, and the others lifted gazes that had been lowered. Airk stared at them all, unsmiling, searching for any evidence that these people were those who might harm her.

Angelika, however, appeared completely relaxed, her smile one of open friendliness. “I grew up on stories my mother told me of this place. She used to talk about this shop and how my father loved the piroshki here.”

The proprietor, a man not much younger than Airk, changed so rapidly from wariness to a warm gratification it would have been funny if Airk wasn’t busy wrestling with a memory long forgotten, her words bringing it back.

“That is so kind to say,” the man was saying. “My mother ran this establishment when Zilant was king. She would be so gratified to hear that he loved it.” Then his gaze swung to Airk. “I remember you, though you were a boy. Older than me.”

Airk nodded slowly. “I used to come here with my mother.” He smiled, suddenly hearing her voice in his head. A voice that had faded with time long ago. “She would say that more business could be done over a good meal with two women than a hundred men in a stuffy room debating.”

The way Angelika’s hand tightened around his, Airk knew she understood what that memory meant to him. Not his mother’s last screams, which he’d heard in nightmares for a hundred years after her death, and sometimes even still. But a fond moment.

“Your mother was a smart woman. And kind. I always liked her because she’d bring me candies.” The proprietor took a breath. “What can I get you?”

Angelika turned to the glassed-in case displaying an array of baked goodies, her face suddenly giving him an idea of how she would have looked as a little girl—cherubic and eager.

“Hmmmm…” She pondered. “What’s your most popular—”

“For the High King!” a rough male voice boomed out.