Forbidden by Fate (6 page)

Damon’s body seized, his muscles tightening beneath her fingers. He held taut. And with a throaty moan, he thrust into her one more time, his spasms toppling her into a longer, deeper orgasm than she’d ever experienced before.

They stayed there a moment, breathing hard, letting the world spin around them.

“If you say that was fun,” Damon said as he melted over the top of her, “I may have to ask you to leave.”

Feeling his heartbeat as if it were hers, Sasha laughed into his ear and wrapped her arms around the wide span of his back.

This was it. This moment was the one she’d been waiting for. The one that made the world slip away. She welcomed the loss with open arms.

Chapter Five

“And that one?” she asked, pointing up to another petroglyph—a stick figure with a spear and shield.

Damon squeezed Sasha tighter against him. “He’s Draco. See the spots surrounding him? I’ve interpreted those to be Draco specks.”

Nuzzling deeper into his embrace, Sasha made a soft sound of understanding that warmed Damon’s chest. He cherished the feeling…until it panged him to think that by midnight he’d never hear that sound again.

They’d spent the entire morning in each other’s arms, alternating between brief moments of sleep and longer periods fulfilling their most erotic desires. He’d never felt more worn out yet more energized than he did at this moment. His legs were weak, his middle shaky and hollow, but with the renewed passion flowing through his veins, he somehow felt like he could take on the world.

“The pictures over there,” Sasha whispered, pointing to a group of carvings near the foot of his bed, “are smashed really close together. Are they a part of the same story?”

He could tell Sasha was stalling their departure, asking detailed questions about every etching she could find. Damon had gladly answered each one…in even greater detail.

“The stick figures with the wave designs at their feet are Merfolk. The ones with the vines over their heads are Weres.”

“And that guy?” She nudged her chin at a stick figure with all three features—waves at his feet, specks at his sides and vines over his head.

“I’m not sure.” Of all the years Damon had spent following the petroglyphs around the ceiling, he still hadn’t figured out why anyone would draw a figure with the ability to shift into all three forms. There weren’t even legends about such a creature. Damon lightly traced the Were mark curling around Sasha’s shoulder and then followed it up her neck. “Maybe I’m reading too much into it.”

He’d fully planned on continuing his path down her body, when she said, “Or maybe we’re all descendants of the same creature who has the ability to shift between all three forms.”

She stated it simply. Like she’d studied the carvings her entire life and had come to the conclusion after much research. And it made damned good sense, didn’t it?

Though he hated to do it, Damon stopped his trek down her chest and thought about the possibility. It would explain a lot of the etchings he’d translated, though he had no way to know if he was doing it right in the first place.

Could Dracos and Weres really have descended from the same, single shifter? What would it mean for their races if they were? That they were more alike than any of them wanted to let on?

As Sasha rolled in Damon’s arms, rubbing her backside against his shaft, he let the seriousness of their conversation flitter away. “I think you’re made for this, Sash, I really do. Is there a Were research program you can apply for? I can donate this cave as a research facility if you promise to come back and work me—I mean,
work
. Of course, I mean work. It’d be business only around here.”

“Business?” She craned her neck around, and he kissed the tip of her nose. “You mean business like we conducted today?”

“Of course.” Damon’s spirit lifted. “I’ve got a lengthy petroglyph you can decode.”

She smacked him in the side. “So what about that large group of figures on that side of the room?”

“From my best guess, they’re grouped together for some sort of social event.” He went to work smudging kisses down her back. He didn’t have to look—he knew exactly which carving she was talking about.

“What makes you think that?”

“They aren’t holding spears, keeping to separate sides, like over there.” He pointed to another grouping on the ceiling over his shoulder, behind him, where bodies were drawn flat on the ground in pools of red. She followed the direction of his finger and gave another mewing sound as he licked the groove between her shoulder blades.

“If you follow the arc across the ceiling,” Damon said, making the same arc across her back with his finger, “they progress from fighting to gathering together as friends…or at the very least, tight acquaintances.”

Her breathing became shallow. “Do you think the Dracos and Weres will ever get to that point? When they’ll come to accept…”

Us.

Though she let her words hang, Damon knew how she meant to finish it.

He hated the sudden heaviness of their conversation, but he supposed it was bound to take that turn. It had to be early afternoon, and the fight for the springs was gulping down minutes of the day faster and faster. “There’s a whole lot of bad blood between us. So I doubt it.”

“Damon,” Sasha said softly, turning to look up into his eyes. “You still haven’t told me the real reason you came back to negotiate the springs. You said it was to prove you could resist me, but we both know that’s not all there is to it. If you’re exiled, why would Queen Elixa choose you to come into Were territory and talk to my father?”

His back teeth grinded shut. What was the point of holding back the truth now? What would it matter? “If I prove my loyalties are
only
to the Dracos, they’ll accept me back into Castle Arcane and Draco society. I have to prove you hold no sway over my decisions.”

“And by that you mean…” She twirled in his arms, facing him.

“I’m going to be the Draco who claims the hot springs tonight. It’ll be all right, Sasha. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“You can’t…” Conflict plagued her eyes, filling them with shadows and despair. She clearly didn’t want a Were to win the fight any more than she wanted him to. “You have no idea the kind of wolf my father is going to bring out of his arsenal,” she said. “He’ll be a beast unlike anything you’ve ever seen.”

“And you have no idea the kind of beast I can become when I need to.”

Sasha quirked her lip disbelievingly, irritating Damon to no end.

“Isn’t there another way to convince Queen Elixa of your loyalty?” she asked. “I mean, we’ve already discussed tonight being the end. Isn’t that good enough? Couldn’t you just be upfront with her about what’s going on? About my role in my pack?”

Damon kissed the worry from her chin. “I can talk to her.”

“She can choose another Draco to fight. It doesn’t have to be you.”

Of course it did.
Deep down, Sasha had to know it.

“You can tell her that after tonight, you’ll forget about me, about us. Convince the queen of that and your Draco family will be waiting for you with open arms.”

Family.

Sasha made him feel more at home than any Draco family he’d ever known.

“Okay,” he said, and although his hands felt like they were made of lead, he returned them to his side.

She nodded slowly, her eyes sparkling a breathtaking shade of amethyst. “Okay.”

A deep, bellowing werewolf howl splintered the stillness of his cave. Sasha moved in a graceful blur. She threw herself into her pants and zipped her coat up to her neck, leaving her corset and shredded panties on the floor.

Damon didn’t bother with clothes.

A werewolf had entered his home…and had signed its own death warrant.

Damon charged into the living room and stopped short of running full force at the giant werewolf salivating all over his bearskin rug, when Sasha put a hand on his shoulder from behind.

“Wait!” she yelled, though Damon wasn’t sure if the command was meant for him or the seven-foot-tall hairball.

Muscles twitching, begging to shift, Damon stalked around the edge of the room to get a better angle on the intruder. The beast of a wolf followed, mirroring Damon’s moves, circling near the stove.

“Gordon, you need to stand down.” Sasha put herself between the two of them, arms spread to her sides. “If you’ve come on Kenyon’s command, you can go back and tell him I’m fine. This Draco didn’t hurt me. Let’s all just cool off.”

Damon didn’t know the reason the sack of fur barged into his cave, but he doubted the whole thing could be solved with a friendly handshake. This Gordon fellow came for more than Sasha. He came for blood.

The werewolf growled, its back rolling with thick mounds of gray fur. Its eyes were glowing and wide, like two plump oranges had wedged themselves in his eye sockets. And its fangs were grotesquely long, resembling saber-tooth tusks rather than the jagged chompers Damon had spotted on other wolves.

“Doesn’t look like Fur Ball speaks your language, Sasha,” Damon said, as adrenaline sparked in his veins and ratcheted down his arms. He studied the way the wolf moved. It seemed to be favoring its right back leg, putting less weight on it than the others. And though its head was massive—bigger than a boulder and probably as solid as stone—Damon bet he could find a weakness somewhere.

“Because there’s a lady present,” Damon said, circling in front of the door to block the wolf’s exit, “I’ll give you two seconds to shift back to Were form. Then, and only then, will I let you walk out of my cave.”

With a growl that rumbled the floor, the wolf lurched into the center of the room, shoulders curled, ready to fight. He was so large that with a single jump, the arch of his back would brush the ceiling.

“Or I can drag your hairy carcass out. No scales off my snout.” Damon harnessed the shifting energy surging through him and pushed outward, blowing through his Draco form.

“No! Don’t!” Sasha yelled, running to Damon’s side.

But it was too late.

Wings exploded from his back. Scales cloaked his skin. Talons curled out from his fingertips. Strength pulsed through him, hardening him. But he couldn’t fight yet. Sasha was dangerously close. If she got hurt, Damon would never forgive himself.

He nudged Sasha into the kitchen with his wing and pushed her behind the stone slab table. She fought hard, throwing her entire body into him and screaming at them to stop, but her cries fell on deaf ears.

Wolf Boy Gordon didn’t come to talk.

He came to die.

Using every burst of speed and strength he had in him, Damon bounded over the couch. He spun in the air, slicing his wings like knives toward Gordon’s throat. Leaning back, Gordon dodged Damon’s thrust and then countered by swiping a heavy-handed claw against Damon’s chest.

Although he was one of the quickest wolves Damon had ever met up with, he was still much too slow. And no match for Damon’s skill.

Damon snatched Gordon’s paw midair, twisted it into an unnatural angle and popped it out of socket. Howling, Gordon clawed and scratched at Damon’s back with his other paw. Damon felt nothing but the early stitch of victory burning in his side.

Still holding strong to Gordon’s front leg, Damon leaped through the air, kicked off the wall and flew onto Gordon’s back. In one swift move, Damon gouged a razor-sharp talon into the soft shell of the wolf’s eye. As he reared back, shrieking in pain, Damon roped the tip of his wing around its weakened back leg and squeezed, snapping it clean off.

Damon didn’t hear Sasha’s gasps until he’d taken the kill shot—another stab of his deadly wing right into Gordon’s throat.

The bloodied wolf dropped like a stone. Damon fell over the top of him, landing with one taloned paw on either side of his monstrous body.

Sasha stood behind the table, her eyes wider than Damon had ever seen them. He’d scared her. The shock was written all over her face. He’d finally showed her how vicious he could really be. He’d killed Gordon, her packmate, and in all probability, her friend.

As a shudder rippled through him, he pinched his eyes closed and shifted back to Draco form. But by the time he opened his eyes again, Sasha was gone.

A second, high-pitched wolf howl resounded through the river valley outside his cave door. Damon didn’t have to see Sasha in wolf form to know the howl was hers. It was pained, torn and full of remorse. It sounded exactly how Damon felt inside, knowing this could be the last time Sasha would ever see him.

And he was standing over her friend’s lifeless body, covered in wolf blood.

Chapter Six

It’d taken Sasha six hours to run back to Were Mountain. Even as a wolf, with four legs moving at lightning speed, it’d taken much longer than she expected. With each step, the sun sank lower beneath the horizon and the full moon rose higher, fueling her fear that she wouldn’t make it in time.

As she stood before Kenyon, back in Were form, Sasha had the overwhelming feeling that what she was about to tell her father was not going to go over well. Especially considering their fight with the Dracos was in a few short hours.

If she could only word it right, the fight for the hot springs could all be avoided and no one would get hurt.

“Where’ve you been?” Kenyon stared her down with empty black eyes. “I sent scouts to look for you.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she said, her throat cotton dry. “There was this cave I really wanted to see, and I didn’t think I’d be gone as long as I was.”

“You’ve always been the adventurous type, haven’t you?” He nodded slowly, taking a little too long to speak his next words. “So what’s this urgent matter you need to discuss with me before we head to the springs?”

She swallowed down her fear. “Don’t send anyone into the fight.”

“
This
was the emergency?” He laughed and scrubbed his hands through the mess of black hair atop his head. “I thought you were going to tell me something important, like the
truth
about where you were last night.”

She took a knee in front of him, like she’d watched many warriors do before battle. “Request a meeting with Queen Elixa. Demand the negotiation for the hot springs be made another way. Don’t allow the fight to take place.”

“Have you lost your mind?” He pulled her to her feet by her shoulders. “Our land is challenged, we fight and we win. We’re wolves. It’s what we do.”

That’s
exactly
what had Sasha gasping for each shallow breath of air. Damon wouldn’t say a thing to his queen. He would fight…because that’s what he’d been prepped to do. After seeing the way he fought and killed Gordon—with such confidence and brute strength—Sasha knew he’d grown into a warrior, through and through.

And warriors didn’t yield. She both admired and hated Damon at this very moment.

If she couldn’t convince Kenyon to stand down, he’d send the strongest Were in their pack to fight Damon. And just because she couldn’t promise Damon a life together didn’t mean she wanted to see him fighting to the death with one of her packmates.

“I understand your reasons, Father.” She met his onyx eyes and suppressed a shiver. It was like pleading to Death himself. “But I have mine as well. Reconsider the fight.”

He studied her face and the crumpled lines in her clothes. “Of what reasons do you speak?”

Lying through her teeth, she said, “I fear for our fighter’s life.”

“You have our pack’s interest at heart?” He raised a brow and snapped for a guard to open the side door leading into the antechamber. “How is it possible that still, even now, you’ve learned nothing about being Alpha? You disappoint me.”

The largest Were Sasha had ever seen entered the den, ducking beneath the door’s threshold. Even though he was fully clothed in leather, Sasha could tell he was a solid wall of muscle turned steel. He had gray-blue hair, a splotchy beard and coal-black eyes that seemed to burn through her. Well over eight feet tall, the beast had a lumbering stride and clenched fists that brushed his knees.

“You don’t lead our pack by fearing for their survival.” Kenyon, a massive Were in his own right, strode beside the warrior. Although Kenyon seemed to blend into his shadow, he still exuded the air of a natural, unchallenged leader. “You lead by showing no fear at all. I’d like you to meet Bludge.”

Bludge?

Wait…Sasha had heard of him before. In fact, she’d met him during negotiation over the eastern end of Were Mountain a few years back. The falls had belonged to the Merfolk back then. Kenyon had used Bludge as a bargaining chip, intimidating the Merfolk into unfair terms.

Bludge smiled, revealing a mouthful of silver and gold, and stretched out his hand.

Sasha didn’t take it. How could she, when she could barely speak through the shock pummeling her system? This monster was the warrior who’d fight Damon?

Damon was stronger and faster than she could’ve ever imagined, but who was she kidding? He didn’t stand a chance.

There was only one way out now. One way to save Damon’s life. Sasha looked to her father, feigning confidence she didn’t have. “If this is the Were you’ve chosen to fight for the hot springs, say goodbye to him now.”

Bludge flinched at the words as if she’d struck him, but her father held his ground, leveling her with an eerie blank stare. “Calm down, Bludge. She may be young and stupid, but she’s learning.”

Damn the mind-chatter
. Would she ever be able to hear their thoughts and command their actions? Would the position of Alpha grant her that?

“Bludge has never lost a fight, Sasha. He’s a living, breathing war machine, bred for a moment like this, when we can call upon him to uphold our honor. He won’t let us down.”

“He will.” Sasha willed her legs to move, one foot in front of the other, then perched on the edge of the leather back chair in front of the room. “He won’t stand a chance against the Draco they’ve chosen.”

Her father’s gaze flared as it set upon hers. “How would you know which Draco they’ve chosen to fight?”

She chose her words carefully.
“I saw a warrior, one of the largest Dracos I’ve ever seen, kill Gordon with a single swipe of his wing.”

“You lie.” But even as he spoke the words, he snapped to a guard and pointed down the hall. The guard was gone. Going to check Gordon’s whereabouts, no doubt. They wouldn’t find him. Not unless they knew where Damon had dumped his body.

Sasha could almost feel the commands shooting through Kenyon’s mind.

He rushed to Sasha’s chair and went palms down over her. “Who is responsible for Gordon’s death? Who is the Draco who’ll fight in the hot springs?” He was so close she could taste the anger spewing off his tongue.

“I don’t know his name,” Sasha pushed out. He meant to intimidate her, but Sasha’s blood boiled with determination. “I was on my way home, running through the forest, when I spotted them fighting. I’ve never seen him before.”

Kenyon sniffed the air but didn’t flinch another muscle. “You lie to me, Sasha. I can smell Draco on you.”

“I’m not lying, Father. I only feared for our pack’s safety should we face such a monster.” Sasha took in a deep breath as subtly as she could, but she couldn’t detect a hint of Damon. He was testing her will, her story. She raised her chin—a notion of defiance her father caught in his smoldering onyx eyes. “If you had the pack’s best interest at heart, you would not allow the fight to take place.”

“Tell me his name, Sasha, my daughter dearest.” Kenyon brushed the back of his hand down her cheek. Her skin broke out in a cold sweat. “That’s an order.”

* * *

“You are ready for this fight in strength, speed and courage.” Queen Elixa flipped a honey-blond strand of hair over her shoulder, allowing Damon a glimpse of the radiant sapphire Draco specks arching across her cheekbones. Her specks were legendary. Flawlessly crystal-blue. “But you will not win this fight because of any of those things.”

Damon kneeled before his queen at the edge of the rainforest, a few feet from the springs and battleground. Even with early spikes of adrenaline firing through his body, Damon was hyperaware of the clan of dragons behind him. Seemed the fight for the hot springs had garnered buzz around Castle Arcane. Their scales created a rainbow of colors on the green canvas of the rainforest: ruby, sapphire, citrine and gold. They were former friends. Family.

“Enlighten me, Queen,” Damon said, keeping his ears open.

With gentle fingers, she lifted his chin so that their gazes collided. “Vengeance burns inside you, Damon. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve been waiting for the moment when you can repay the pain those wolves inflicted upon you.” She motioned for Damon to rise to his feet. He did so, dwarfing her petite frame. She eyed him carefully, from his stomach to his chest and then up to his eyes. “You’re the greatest warrior we have. Take the anger bubbling inside you and unleash it on the wolf from their pack. You’ll be unstoppable.”

She didn’t have any idea what burned inside him or what he’d been waiting for…

“I will do what needs to be done to earn my way back into Castle Arcane.” Heavy drums of adrenaline pounded through Damon’s ribcage.

Queen Elixa nodded as the sharp, pungent scent of wolves descended upon them.

“The fight is about to begin.” With dramatic flare, she spread her arms to the crowd of dragons who’d gathered and let her heavy blue cloak fall open. “The hot springs will soon be ours!”

Dragons stomped their back feet wildly, stepping forward to line the forest around the springs on the Draco side. High above their heads, wolves climbed over the side of Were Mountain and perched on rocky overhangs leaning over the springs. It seemed every shifter in the area was chomping at the bit to watch the fight.

Queen Elixa brushed her hand down Damon’s arm. “The hot springs are more than steaming pools of water, Damon. Remember what we are fighting for.”

The hot springs meant more to him, but that was because of what he and Sasha had shared there. Their love had bloomed along with the purple trumpet flowers drooping over the water. Their passion had flourished, bubbling into something meaningful.

He wasn’t quite sure what the hot springs meant to the queen.

He didn’t have time to ask.

Out of the corner of his eye, Damon spotted Kenyon pushing through the mist on the far side of the largest spring. Two large werewolves flanked him, their muscles twitching and flexing in anticipation.

One wolf was gigantic, with splotchy blue fur, a wide, drooling mouth and a clunky stride. The other was slightly smaller and sleek, though no less menacing than the first. It had shiny black fur, thick paws, a narrow nose and razor-sharp fangs. Damon bet it moved as quick as lightning.

He knew which one he’d need to watch out for.

Large wolves were stronger, but they couldn’t get a bead on him. Smaller wolves were faster and deadlier, able to strike in flashes of fury. Though he’d never been caught off guard in a fight, the slick black wolf likely had the ability to do it.

He could tell from its long, stealthy stride. It moved low to the ground, slowly, like it didn’t want to be seen at all.

“Queen Elixa,” Kenyon boomed, stopping on the opposite side of the spring. “You’re just as scaly as I remember.”

Her royal façade remained fixed. “And you’ve matured into a pudgy little puppy, haven’t you?”

“Mind if we get this show on the road?” Damon said, stepping in front of the queen, cutting their foreplay short. “I’ve got somewhere to be in an hour.”

Laughter rumbled from all around them. Wolves were everywhere, hanging from the mountain, emerging from the mist, all salivating for a Were victory.

Was Sasha among the pack somewhere high on the mountain, looking down on him? Knowing Kenyon and his power trips, he probably forbade her to watch. Damon couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened to them had her father not been in the picture.

“I don’t mind speeding this up at all,” he growled. “Whether you’re dead in a minute or an hour is of no consequence to me. Shall we go over the rules so you can’t claim ignorance as a fault?”

Damon stepped forward. The dopey-looking wolf crouched low, ready to spring, while the other, sleeker wolf shifted its eyes back and forth between them. Almost like it was eager to get started.

“I know the rules.” Damon stepped closer still, peering through the thickening mist. “Two shifters step onto neutral ground, only one steps off.”

“Fight to the death,” Kenyon said.

“Right.”

“We’re ready.” With a growl, the Alpha pulled back his shoulders.

“That’s great that you’re
all
ready, but only one of you can fight.” As Damon knelt on the ground, letting the familiar shifting spasms roll through him, Queen Elixa fell in line with the rest of the pack.

“If you’re on this ground when I’m finished shifting, Kenyon,” Damon said, stealing a last glance at the Alpha from beneath his brows. “I’m coming after you.”

“I await the day.” He whispered something to the smaller of the two wolves before retreating onto Were territory with the burlier, splotchy one.

Oh, so the sleek one was the deadliest. Damon had been right.

Damon stepped out of his jeans, tossed aside his cloak and hung his head low. With a loud snapping sound, his wings exploded from his back. They unfurled, bulking up. He stretched them to their fullest with a quick flap and then shook a heavy coat of scales down his body.

Despite the fact that he was about to kill his second wolf of the night, Damon didn’t feel as powerful as he had before, when he was lying in bed with Sasha. His muscles were firing hot, ready to strike. His legs were light, and adrenaline was worming its way through him, pumping him up for what was to come.

Even so, Damon couldn’t help but feel like this was
not
a new beginning with the rest of his clan at Castle Arcane—this was the end.

A definitive end to the possibility of a life with Sasha.

After this moment—this one last kill strike—he’d never look back. Never look at another full moon, wondering if Sasha was thinking of him, too. Damon would leave her behind, along with every memory at the springs. It’d kill him to do it—he’d be a ghost of the Draco he once was—but it had to be done.

This was it.

Damon unfurled his wings to their greatest length, sat back on his haunches and roared, rattling the leaves from the trees. He called to Sasha, wherever she was, yelling until his lungs emptied and his chest ached. His cry startled the wolf, who hunched low, its face shadowing to an ominous black slate.

Damon pounced, bounded through the air and over the spring. He landed with a thud as the wolf rolled out of the way. It charged around the other side. Damon was right—the slick-backed fur ball was quick.