Page 45 of A Kiss of Flame
She was doing them both a favor. He could return home mad at her, try to put all this behind him, and focus on his future and his horde. At the same time, she could slip away, back to her life, with her heart and her pride thoroughly intact. She knew better than anyone that it wouldn’t be enough even if she did love Barith and he loved her. Love was never enough when it came to two creatures from such different worlds. Her parents had been direct proof of that, and she would be skewered through before she let her heart be shattered like her mother’s.
Barith stirred, his hand reaching out over the space where she’d laid beside him. As she tiptoed out of the library, the sun began to rise in earnest. Levian’s heart thrummed in protest as she glided down the steps and cursed at it to stop making this so difficult. When she reached the base of the stairs, the tears she’d been holding back began to fall; this time, she didn’t fight them.
Chapter Thirteen
Barith breathed in Levian's soft scent and grumbled in his sleep-heavy state. Memories of their evening together fluttered through his mind in blurred fragments. He smirked, recalling when she'd told him to kneel. Then came the memories of her soft skin, the sounds of her pleasure, their instinctive rhythm—it had been nothing less than magickal.
Delirious, Barith reached for her. His fingers met cool blankets. He reached further but didn't touch skin. The dragon popped open one eye and snarled in protest. The library curtains were open, filling the room with enough sunlight to make him want to roll over and bury his head under a pillow. Once his vision adjusted, he could see Levian wasn't in her little love nest, the chair, or the couch. Beatrice still sat atop the mantle, though. He propped himself up on his elbows and grumbled; the mage wasn't perched behind the vast table at the edge of the library with her usual stack of books either. Half-awake, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and ran his hand over the spot where she had lain beside him. It was very cool to the touch.
Dread filled his stomach, and a vivid memory snapped into his head. It was Beltane all over again—reaching out for Levianamong the grass after their night of lovemaking, only to find she’d snuck away while he’d slept.
Barith rose, his heart thrumming faster. He knew he was being paranoid. She was likely in the shower, dressing, or had run out for something. But the sinking feeling settled deeper the more conscious he became; like he could feel her absence deep in his bones.
With a curse, he lumbered into the hall. A clatter echoed up the stairs from the kitchen below. Then another. Relief washed over him. Levian could barely be considered a living creature in the morning before she'd had her coffee. Barith rubbed his hands over his face, chuckled at his panicked response, and made his way quietly down the stairs toward the kitchen.
They needed to talk about many things, but the prospect didn’t loom heavy over him. He hoped they could at least enjoy a quiet morning together first. A bit of breakfast and some coffee sounded wonderful. Maybe a walk in the park if the weather wasn't too foul.
He turned toward the kitchen, hoping to find the mage as naked as himself. If so, perhaps breakfast could wait for a wee bit. Barith took in a breath, prepared to say something cheeky about their nudity, but immediately choked on his words when he came face to face with two of his sisters.
Catrìona, his second eldest sister, was about to open the fridge when she caught sight of Barith in all his naked glory. She immediately flew into a fit of snarled curses, clapping her hands over her eyes and begging the Goddesses to strike her blind. Barith cursed, too, snatching hold of his wing to cover himself, his skin flaming with embarrassment and fury. His youngest sister, Judith, sat at the small nook table holding a plate to shield her face, scolding him for walking around naked.
Suddenly, Barith felt sucked back into his youth when all his sisters would gang up on him, talking over each other untilthe noise was so deafening his brain rattled. Even just with two of them barking at him, his head began to pound, and he immediately felt like a right arse for walking about naked. At least until he remembered they were inhishouse, and he could do whatever the bloody Hells he wanted. "What the feck are ye doin' here?" he snarled at them.
Cat, who refused to drop her eyes from the ceiling, grunted, "Mum." It was enough of an explanation.
Barith growled and ran his free hand through his matted hair. “And how did ye bloody get in?" he demanded, still very aware that he needed to find Levian before his sisters did.
Cat snorted, turning her back to him to continue making the coffee she'd been attempting before he'd barged in. "Da gave Ember Hall to you, but I know how to find it and sneak my way in when I need to," she retorted. She poured some milk from the fridge into the collector, shoved in a pod, pushed the button, and the machine sprang to life, filling the room with the rich aroma.
All the McCroy children were between 3 and 50 years apart in age, but with their dragon heritage and Folk immortality, it was hard to tell. Their mother, Queen Eithne, had been blessed with a rare brood of bairns. Typically, dragons had one child, maybe two, if they were lucky. Never five. A blessing or a curse was still up for debate, depending on who was asked.
Jude found an apron left over from last Christmas hanging near the oven and tossed it to Barith. “For sun's sake, cover yourself before Cat scratches out her eyes!"
He took the apron with a grunt, turned it sideways, and wrapped it around his middle, tucking in a corner like a towel until his essential bits were covered. His sisters grumbled in overdramatic relief and went about making their coffees.
Catrìona, the third-born of the McCroy brood and the second eldest daughter, was nearly as tall as Barith, with a shaved head and rippled with muscle. She was the strongest of his sisters,tough as nails, and full of more sass than a faerie queen holding court.
Barith cursed again, running his hands over his face. "So ye just decided to break into my house to check on me?" he growled. "Ye could have just called."
He scanned the kitchen for signs of Levian. Her usual half-eaten piece of toast and fancy coffee service were nowhere to be found. Barith fidgeted anxiously. Levian had to know his sisters were here if she was home, and it was only a matter of time before she fluttered in to confront them. The mage had only ever met his sister, Judith, and they were far from friendly.
His sisters weren’t the easiest creatures to get along with, and it didn’t help that dragons tended to be prejudiced and territorial. To his sisters, Levian was a friend who represented the self-indulgent life he’d abandoned his horde for. Barith just prayed the mage had run out to her favorite café a few blocks away to indulge in one of those new-aged coffee drinks she liked because he was not awake enough to deal with the blending of worlds and personalities quite yet.
"Plans have changed," Jude clipped, pushing Cat out of the way to make her own coffee.
The baby of the family, Judith, had inherited all of their mother's slender curves along with far too much of her critical personality. She was the smallest, the cutest, and the most likely to set Hades himself down a peg or two with a single scathing look.
A cup of black coffee appeared under his nose, and Judith glared at him. Her cute, wee face was marred with more than its typical amount of severity. "We need to leave in a quarter-hour. Get dressed,” she ordered.
Barith took the coffee as Cat threw open cabinets and complained about how little there was to eat in the house. He let out a huff of irritation and tried to steady himself. He wasunder-slept and had woken, hoping to have the day with Levian—maybe to make love some more, eat a proper meal, and then eventually get to the serious topics of what this all meant and when they should plan to visit Merlin. He hadnotplanned on being forced to deal with his two most overbearing sisters before he’d even gotten the chance to have a wee.
"I'm not going home," he declared flatly. Jude’s eyes narrowed angrily.
Cat peeked at him from around a cabinet door. “Ever or just today?” she probed, her tone sharp and biting. It was a subtle but clear jab at how long he’d been away from the horde over the last several centuries.
Barith grumbled again. He was too bloody tired for this. "Mum gave me two weeks, and I still have five days left," he clarified. "Tell the Queen she'll have to manage without me." Whatever this was about, his mother would manage—at the moment, all he was worried about was Levian returning unawares and being forced to deal with his unhinged sisters.
Jude grunted almost precisely as he did and threw her long, silky, auburn hair over her shoulder as she made her coffee. "Ye think mum cares how many days ye have left?" she clipped as if he were daft. "And we did try to call yesterday, but ye didn't answer."