Shadow's End

FIFTEEN

Khalil might be dangerous and Powerful, but his father was a first generation Djinn. Born at the beginning of the world, Soren shone with a fierce white Power.

Bel was also one of the eldest of her kind. While her Power was connected to the earth, she could still look on Soren without flinching, but she saw that those who were much younger—Melly, Claudia, Grace and Luis, and even Julian—had to brace themselves for the onslaught of Soren’s presence.

Soren had coalesced on the opposite side of the room from Khalil. Once he arrived, neither Djinn’s human form appeared to move, but the air bristled between them.

Stirring, Constantine muttered, “They’re like beta fighting fish.”

“What an interesting gathering,” said Soren. “Which of you is going to tell me why my son has summoned me here?”

“I am,” Graydon said. “Although I’ll leave the others to tell you the details. You and I, along with anyone else we can get to fight along with us, are going to kill Malphas.”

Soren lifted one white eyebrow so imperiously that, despite their differences in physical form and temperament, for one moment he looked remarkably like his son.

He drawled icily, “Please explain what brings you to such a remarkable and presumptuous conclusion.”

Bel didn’t think Soren was prepared for all the reasons that bombarded him from every direction. The Djinn stood immobile in silence, absorbing every comment.

Wrapping her arms tightly around her middle, Bel looked down at her shoes and refused to react or respond as Constantine, Khalil and Carling launched into why they had concluded that Malphas had placed a lien on the Elven High Lord’s soul.

Smoothly, Graydon slipped his big body in front of her, putting his back to everyone else in the room. When he took hold of her upper arms, she raised her gaze to his.

Just like that, they fell into their intimate landscape. Everyone else existed outside the borders. All their noise, all their strenuous argument.

Inside the boundary, Graydon’s eyes were warm, calm and clear, lit by a slight smile and free from fear.

She held her hands out to him. In a long, light caress, he slid his fingers down the length of her arms and clasped her fingers. With that gesture alone, he made her feel remarkably precious and incredibly valued.

He was so unlike Calondir’s stern, cold personality, she found it hard to believe that the two males had occupied the same universe.

Calondir had been obsessed with the letter of the law, but he’d had no real sense of compassion or the ability to make deep emotional connections to others. She hadn’t truly seen that until after they had married. It made many of his decisions harsh and unyielding. She suspected it had also made it easier for him to lash out when he grew angry.

Calondir’s son and heir had been his most prized possession. For too many years, she had watched Ferion as a boy try time and again to win his father’s love, until eventually he had stopped trying, which was the most heartbreaking thing of all, while Calondir never comprehended what he had lost.

Whereas Graydon . . . He would make an incredible father, if he were only given the chance.

His warmth, patience and affection appeared to be boundless. He would love his child with all of his big, generous heart, and do everything in his power to ensure the child felt safe, wanted and loved. Graydon would always be faithful and welcoming, always be a steady touchstone for a young, vulnerable mind.

The part of her that had gone cold and distant so very long ago, the part that he had resurrected with a touch, resonated to the realization with an immense internal vibration.

He was everything she could possibly want—everything she had always wanted. Among other things, his very loyalty had made him Dragos’s First sentinel. It was also why he would never walk away from his obligations.

She was horribly jealous of that stupid, arrogant dragon.

Stinking, raving jealous.

Tightening her fingers on his, she said softly, “Now that you’ve forced Soren’s hand, you don’t have to go to war against Malphas. You can step away from all of this and go back to your life.”

He gave her a smile that was so remarkably sweet, she felt as if she had lived for hundreds of years just so that she could see it one more time. “No, I can’t, Bel.”

“Why not?” she whispered.

He tilted his head. “Would you walk away?”

Her response came from her gut. Walk away to leave her son’s fate in the hands of others? “Never.”

His thumbs stroked over the backs of her hands. “Why not?”

Involuntarily, the answers ran through her mind.

Love and commitment. She would die before she let go of fighting for her son.

While his father had viewed him as a possession, she had been his only touchstone.

Hers had been the hands that small towheaded toddler had reached for when he had taken his first steps.

Her lap was where the young boy had buried his head when he had sobbed out his hurts and disappointments.

She was the one the proud young man had looked to when he had achieved an accomplishment.

She had been the one to tell him with fierce, passionate pride, “Well done.”

The only thing that could make her turn on Ferion would be to find out that he had become unsalvageable, as corrupt as Malphas, and a danger to others.

Because, the simple fact was, she was not built to do anything else.

You did not walk away from those you loved. You fought for them, always, with everything you had, even if it meant fighting the long fight, and staying on the hardest, quietest, most difficult course.

No matter how long it took, no matter what needed to be done.

Her lips parted on a soundless intake of breath. That couldn’t possibly be what Graydon meant by asking.

Could it?

It was a hell of a logical leap for her to make, from what he had actually said, which was let’s see where we might take this to love.

And now wasn’t the time to ask what he had meant. Not with ten other people with super sharp hearing and an abundance of curiosity overcrowding the room, not to mention an impending war with a Djinn.

Words fell out of her mouth anyway. She, who was respected for her sense of diplomacy and discretion, had no control over herself. The last twenty-four hours had obliterated any filters she might otherwise have had.

“What are you saying?” she demanded, yanking his hands.

At her vehemence, he looked quietly astonished. Then his expression shifted to something very male, and so intense it rocked her foundation.

He yanked her hands in return, only his grip was so strong, he pulled her forward until she collided with his chest.

She had to tilt her head back to keep staring at him. The front of her torso, everywhere they touched, felt seared by his hard body. Oh gods, she had never forgotten how hungry she had been for him, back in England, but this felt entirely new, deeper and more raw than anything she could remember or imagine.

“Intense though your conversation may be,” Soren snapped, “you will have to set it aside for later.”

The Djinn’s acid tone splintered the bubble that surrounded Bel. Flinching, she realized Soren had moved across the room and stood right beside them. The Djinn looked furious.

Moving so fast he blurred, Graydon snatched at Bel, clamping her against his side, away from the Djinn. At the same time, he snarled at Soren wordlessly.

Oh, dear gods.

Graydon’s normal features, that had become so beautiful and dear to her, had vanished.

In his place stood a huge monster, with a feral, distorted face, fangs and claws. In an instant, he had gone from gentle, even sensual, to barbaric and half animal.

Bel’s mouth fell open, and she goggled at him.

“Whoa, okay,” Constantine said sharply. “Back up, Soren. Back up, now. How the hell do you get a Djinn to back the fuck up? Like right now!”

“I told you he was close to flipping his shit,” Luis said.

Rune ordered, “Everybody else, leave the suite! Go out into the hall!”

Carling’s calm, telepathic voice flowed into Bel’s mind. Bel, you need to talk to Graydon and get him to calm down. Do it now.

I don’t understand, Bel stammered. Funny, she didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid. Simply astonished and confused. She hadn’t sensed any threat in the room, yet Graydon was clearly primed for battle.

Soren backed away, looking astonished and thoughtful.

I’ve seen this behavior before, and I know what it is, Carling said. We’ll talk about it later. Don’t be afraid, honey.

I’m not afraid. Bel switched to verbal speech. She said as calmly as she could, “Graydon, my love. All is well. There’s nothing dangerous here at all. Can you look at me?”

The monster had not stopped glaring at Soren. His long fangs were exposed in warning. The massive muscles in the arm that held her clamped to his side were hard as iron.

Where had her gentle giant gone? This was the same monster who had faced down Malphas in the Djinn’s country manor house in Wembley.

Something about Soren’s antagonistic attitude had triggered Graydon’s fight instinct.

The monster didn’t appear to pay any attention to her, but she noticed the sound of his growling subsided.

Hoping he quieted so he could hear the sound of her voice, she continued softly. “I need for you to pay attention, Gray. Are you listening to me? I need for you to pay attention to me right now.”

She injected all the urgency she could into her voice.

The monster’s gaze snapped to her.

Relief caused her muscles to turn shaky. He could listen to her. He could respond.

She laid a palm against his cheek. “Watch only me,” she whispered. “Never mind anything else that happens. Pay attention only to me.”

As people quietly slipped out of the room, the monster turned his head toward the movement and hissed.

Bel felt her eyebrows shoot up. He seemed to be protecting her? His behavior was beyond irrational. It was . . . it was . . .

When the answer finally came to her, she felt her world undergo an irrevocable shift.

It was Wyr mating behavior.

In an instant, everything she knew and read about Wyr mating flashed through her mind.

When the Wyr began to mate, they turned violent, irrational and possessive. Fascinated by the idea, she had once read everything she could about it.

Not that she had found much definitive information.

Wyr mated for life, but no one fully understood how or why it happened, not even the Wyr themselves. It was a complex occurrence involving sex, personality, emotion, timing and instinct.

She had read first-person accounts where Wyr had described falling in love, and even coping with a broken heart after a love affair had ended, yet they hadn’t experienced the mating frenzy.

As one Wyr female had said, she had fully believed she was in love, and thought she understood the full range of what that meant in terms of emotion, but it was only some years later, after she had mated, that she finally understood the depth of fulfillment, completion and even the edge of despair that mating gave to her.

If the mating Wyr weren’t handled with understanding and care, they could turn on lifelong friends and family. For even the gentlest among them, a time of mating could be unpredictable and dangerous.

Just as quickly as realization hit, Bel felt overcome by a huge tidal wave of reaction. Everything in her soul cried out in hunger and gladness, and reached greedily for the immense, precious gift that seemed to appear as if by magic in front of her.

If it had been another man, the possibility might have frightened or disturbed her, but this was Graydon.

This was everything she had ever wanted for herself, everything she could have hoped for. His warmth, his gentleness and constancy, and yes, this fierce, frightening creature as well. There was nothing cold or distant about him.

All other considerations fell away. The other people in the group, their lack of privacy, the challenge that lay before them, even the danger to her son.

This time, she put both hands to the monster’s face and turned him toward her.

He could have easily resisted her touch. Physically, he was much stronger than she was. But he obeyed the urging of her hands. The snarl that had distorted his lips eased.

Stroking his hair, she thought, I have never seen anything more beautiful than this.

“Come here,” she whispered. “Come here.”

The monster’s eyes narrowed. For a moment he looked uncertain and so filled with yearning, it caused a deep ache to fill her chest.

Watching her closely, again he obeyed. He bowed his head.

As he did, she stood on tiptoe and kissed that adorable, dangerous monster on his snarly, fang-filled mouth.

He froze. She could tell he wasn’t even breathing. Where she leaned against his chest, the powerful engine of his heart hammered too fast against her breasts.

Then the shape of his body and the contour of his mouth changed. His bruising, iron-hard hold on her gentled.

He gathered her close, slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her with such passionate tenderness, tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. She kissed him in return, holding onto him fiercely. For that one moment nothing else existed.

When he eased away, he looked sober and self-contained. His expression was so unlike what she had expected, she shivered.

After a quick glance around the empty room, he muttered, “I lost control.”

“Yes, you did,” she told him gently. “Do you remember what happened?”

His mouth tightened. He passed a hand over her hair in a fleeting caress, then let her go and stepped away. “I remember enough. Soren was angry and aggressive. He came at us too close, too fast. He’s such a dangerous Djinn, it threw me—back to the manor house.” His dark gray eyes met hers briefly before he turned away. “I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

Thrown off-balance, she stared at his broad, powerful back. She thought she had understood what was happening, but this wasn’t anything like she imagined. After such ferocity, and a kiss so devastatingly tender she could still feel his lips on hers, he now acted almost as if he was embarrassed.

Could she have read the situation wrong? Had he really just been thrown back to the confrontation in Wembley?

She felt as if a whole shining future had been snatched away from her. Just as fierce and overwhelming as the joy that had swept through her only moments ago, disappointment crashed down on her so heavily she felt a crushing weight on her chest.

She wanted that future. She wanted it desperately. She wanted him, and the kind of love she sensed that he was capable of giving.

I love him, she thought. Somehow, at some point in time, I fell in love with him.

I want him, more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.

If nothing else, admitting the truth to herself was an immense relief.

She stepped toward him, one hand outstretched, not that he could see it, since he still had his back turned toward her. “It’s all right, Graydon. I don’t want you to apologize. I want . . .”

I want my monster back. The words sounded so raw and needy, she caught herself before she could say them.

His shoulders had stiffened. With an unpleasant shock, she realized that he didn’t welcome anything she might have to say. His silent, rigid posture stopped her words as effectively as if he had stuffed a gag in her mouth.

Breathing hard, she pulled the ragged pieces of herself together. After a moment, she said, “Since you’ve recovered, we should ask the others to return.”

“Yes,” he said. He strode toward the door that led to the outside hall. “We have a lot to do, and as you pointed out, time is slipping away from us.”

His too-quick response shoved her over some kind of edge. She felt as if she had been heading toward that place for a very long time.

After running a gamut of emotions over the last twenty-four hours, she jammed on the emergency brake and came to a full stop. Angling her jaw, she put her hands on her hips.

Maybe it was unwise. But she was tired of trying to be wise. Of trying to think only of the greater good or taking the best course of action.

She was fed up with taking the long view, holding the course. Always looking out for other people.

And fuck diplomacy. Really, just kick that shit to the curb.

This, she thought, is about what I want. No one else.

Telepathically, she said, We have a lot to do, and a lot to decide. None of it is going to be easy. I get that now is not the time to talk. Even so, I still want you to know I love you. Graydon, I’m in love with you. I think I have been ever since that night we spent in the forest.

Quick as a cat, he spun around to face her. His gaze had turned raw, and a muscle leaped in the tense line of his jaw.

Whatever barrier he had erected between them seemed to be gone. In the face of his intensity, the fierce focus she had acquired splintered completely.

She stumbled on. So . . . either you’ll welcome that, or you won’t. But I’m not going to be silent about it. And . . . and well, that’s all I had to say. Oh, except—after we get done killing Malphas and fighting to free Ferion, I’m going to fight for you too. Unless . . . unless of course you don’t want me to.

Aaaggghh.

As a rousing declaration of love, that foolish speech left a lot to be desired. She felt stupid and naked, and completely out of her depth.

After they stared at each other for a pulsing moment, she threw up her hands and charged for the door. Someone, anyone needed to come back into this blasted suite. In fact, right now would be a good time.

“I love you too,” Graydon said aloud. His voice had gone hoarse. “For two hundred years, I’ve been waiting for you, hoping for you. Fighting for you any way I could. I never dared let myself hope you might feel the same way, or I couldn’t have walked away from you.”

He strode across the room toward her.

Before she fully realized what she was doing, she leaped at him and crashed into his chest.

He didn’t even stagger as he snatched her out of the air and crushed her to him. Blindly, hungrily, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist and held onto him with everything she had.

“Are you mating with me?” she whispered, burying her face in his hair.

“I’m beginning to, yes,” he said very low into her neck. “I haven’t gone too far. Not yet, so if you’re not sure about this in any way, there’s still time to back away.”

Back away from the warmth of that friendly blaze? From his kindness, constancy and faithfulness? Turn away from the smile in his beautiful gray eyes, or the way the proud gryphon seemed self-conscious whenever she praised or petted him? Stop flying?

Let go of this adorable, dangerous man?

Not on your life, she thought. Never again in his life, or in hers.

She went nose-to-nose with him. “That goes for you too,” she whispered. “Would you back away?”

“Never.” His response was immediate and adamant, and his gaze was as steady as bedrock. “Not unless you needed me to.”

Pressing her lips tightly together, she nodded, for a moment too overcome to speak. The whole conversation felt as necessary as breathing, yet it was also precipitous, immensely inconvenient.

Issues piled up in her head. Malphas, Ferion, and oh gods, if they both survived this coming confrontation, she was going to have to find some way to come to terms with that blasted dragon.

If they both survived.

Once her mind started thinking along that path, it couldn’t stop.

If Graydon went too far mating and something happened to her, neither one of them would survive. The realization sank some serious teeth into her and shook her harder than anything else had.

She had to let him go for now. She had to, until this whole nightmare was over, because she couldn’t do anything else. The thought of him mating with her, only to die if she did was unthinkable.

“We’ll have time,” she said. She hugged him again with all her strength. “Later—afterward. We’ll make time to figure this out. We’ll take all the time we need. We’ll have all the time in the world.”

He pressed his lips to her temple and told her, “Of course we will.”

Of all the conversations they’d had, that was the only thing she had ever heard him say to her that sounded like a lie.

Her legs loosened from around his hips. As he let her slide to her feet, she frowned up at him.

What the hell?

Something felt . . . incredibly off. She didn’t know what it could be. Everything was fraught with too much tension, driven by a lack of time and extremely limited privacy. Even though they had hardly begun to talk, they had to focus on other concerns.

If it was just a matter of pressing a pause button until they could talk at a later time, she could handle that. Her life had been filled with countless moments just like this one, where her personal concerns had to go on hold because of some other, more pressing matters.

What she didn’t think she could handle was the thought that everything she wanted, everything she had begun to dream about and hope for, might vanish again like an illusion.

“We will,” she insisted.

His expression hardened. “If I have anything to say about it, we will,” he promised. “We just need to fight hard enough, cleverly enough. There is a way to win though.”

Truth had come back into his voice. Relieved, she grabbed onto that thought and didn’t let go.

“I couldn’t have held on for so long if I didn’t believe that,” she said. She had to believe it. It was the only thing she had to hang on to.

He pressed his lips against her forehead. “Let’s call the others back in. We have a war to plan.”

She straightened her shoulders. Enough people in the group had such sensitive hearing that everything she and Graydon had said aloud to each other had been said virtually in public.

She wasn’t embarrassed, and she certainly wasn’t ashamed.

Still, as Graydon rapped his knuckles on the door of the suite and the others returned, she felt heat touch her cheeks.

It was hard to bare one’s soul to someone else. She had also just bared her soul to ten other people. The sense of exposure was unsettling to say the least.

Most avoided meeting her gaze, except for Constantine. He stared at her with the same mixture of curiosity and wistfulness that she had noticed before.

Her self-consciousness vaporized as Soren entered the room. He studied both her and Graydon with a piercing frown.

Soren said, “I have heard everything that the others had to say. Now I want to hear it from you.”

Biting her lip, she stared at the floor. Graydon said carefully, “If you’ve heard everything, you know there’s only so much we can say.”

“Not true,” replied Soren. “I can remove any connection you may have with another Djinn.”

Astonishment and hope flared. Her gaze flashed up and collided with Graydon’s.

She asked, “Can you do it without alerting the other Djinn?”

“I believe so. If you will allow me to do so, that is.” Soren raised his eyebrows pointedly at Graydon. “May I approach?”