Ondrej Page 2

  Jakob Vaduva, brother in knighthood and brother in heart if not blood, was reduced to a pile of ash.

  He crashed back down to the earth, heavy with grief and rage.

  “Rest well, my brother, knowing we will avenge you,” Ondrej snarled, his hands still claws.

  Mikolas put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You’ve done this with honor.”

  “With love,” Imre added.

  “With loyalty,” Fabian said, re-affirming their motto.

  “They’ve made it personal, Ondrej. An attack on one of our own such as this cannot go unanswered.” Dezo said. “Or unpunished.”

  “It will not. We’ll find out who is controlling the ghouls and there will be no place on earth for them to hide.”

  “And our way in is to take the job. Do we even need to vote?” Fabian asked.

  “I’ll give the king our answer.” Ondrej swallowed the emotion that welled inside of him. “We cannot bury our brother, but we will bury his belongings out here under the wide night sky he loved so well. Make ready.”

  Chapter 2

  Hidden Mountain, Colorado

  Three Days Later

  “I didn’t think your crazy came in two flavors, Krys. First, you’re going to marry a werewolf, now you’re taking a road trip with dragons. Do you have any sense of self-preservation at all?”

  Krysanthe, Her Royal Highness, Princess of the Orlaith, gave her bodyguard and best friend the most disdainful look she could muster.

  But Voshkie only laughed. “Save that for the masses, sweetheart. Your safety is more important to me than your goodwill.”

  “You always have my goodwill, Vosh.”

  “Not if you’re dead.”

  “I won’t be dead. If my father trusts the Drago Knights, then I will, too. He wouldn’t put me in danger.”

  “Have you stopped to think maybe he thinks seeing you locked away by a dragon might be better than seeing your throat ripped out by a werewolf?”

  “Borgia isn’t going to rip my throat out.” She gave a nervous laugh. At least, she didn’t think he was. He seemed to want to make peace as much as she did. The Remus and the Orlaith had been at war for centuries, with neither side gaining anything, but both close to losing everything.

  “Are you going to have sex with him?” Voshkie wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That’s practically bestiality.”

  “I don’t know, I guess. I mean, we’ll be married.”

  “Gross. You so don’t have to do this. If he really wanted the peace, he would just sign an accord. He wouldn’t demand some archaic bullshit where you have to marry him. I don’t like this.”

  “So noted, for the millionth time, Vosh. Are you packed?”

  “I’ve got what I need.” She opened her jacket, showing Krysanthe the veritable arsenal she’d strapped to herself. “What about you?”

  “I’ve got you, so I guess I’m set.”

  Voshkie looked down at her outfit. “Are you sure you should be wearing that?”

  “What’s wrong with it?” She looked down at her white leather pants, boots and tank top.

  “For one, it’s white.”

  “I always wear white. It’s my thing. It’s not like I’m going to wear a dress to ride a billion miles on the back of a bike.”

  “Yeah, you look like a hood ornament for import.”

  “I like it. You look like a singer for a metal band, with all that black leather. Who are you to judge?” Krysanthe teased.

  “Oh really?” Voshkie turned this way and that. “Then I guess I’m hot as fuck. I’ll take it.” Then she scowled. “Man, gold nymphs and dragons are just not a good combination.”

  “It’ll be fine. My father tested them and they all passed. They’re good, strong males—”

  “I’ve been your bodyguard for the whole of my life. We don’t need males to protect us. I have a vagina and I can wield a sword, shoot a gun, and kick ass just fine.”

  “Of course you can, Vosh. But can you sprout wings and fly? Can you shoot fire out of your mouth?”

  Voshkie pretended to consider for a moment. “Maybe I just can.”

  Krysanthe laughed. “I’m so glad you’re coming with me.”

  “What else would I do?”

  “Stay here with me?” Aranka said from the doorway. “It sucks I have to stay home.”

  “Why ever would you want to come?” Krysanthe asked her younger sister.

  “Because I want to see a dragon.”

  “You’ll get to see them in about ten minutes,” Voshkie said, looking out the window.

  “No, not as men. As dragons. Flying. I want to fly!” Aranka’s amber-gold eyes glowed with excitement.

  “You’ll fly plenty if one steals you,” Voshkie warned.

  “Oh, really? Is that a thing that can happen? That would be so cool.”

  “To be taken against your will, to some aerie, or worse dragon lands—”

  Aranka perked. “Dragon lands? Oh, I want to go. Of course, the dragon who steals me will have to be hot. I’m thinking I’d like a dark-haired one. I mean, everyone here is so gold. So blond. I wonder what color their scales are? Are there purple ones, and blue ones, and green ones, or do you think they’re super lizardy or—”

  “Oh my goddess, Aranka! If one steals you, he’ll be like a winged t-rex with a big, fat ass, tiny little arms, and he won’t have time for you. All he’ll want from you will be your gold. Which you don’t have because you’re not the first born princess.” Voshkie took that opportunity to crap all over her parade.

  But Aranka wasn’t to be put off. “No, he won’t. He’ll be smart and wise, because all dragons are. He’ll have a library and it’ll be like beauty and the beast. Also, I bet he’ll be really good in bed.” And before Voshkie could say anything else, Aranka added, “I have my own talents with gold. I don’t need to make it out of nothing. I can do other things. You know, Vosh, if I was a different sort of nymph, you’d make me feel really bad about myself. That’s a shitty thing to do.”

  Voshkie was still nonplussed. “If telling you the truth makes you feel shitty, then I think you’ve got some work that needs to be done on your world view and your self-view. It’s not up to me to perpetuate a myth.”

  “You just have no imagination.” Aranka plopped on the bed.

  “I have plenty of imagination. I have plenty of experience too, little one.” Voshkie eyed her.

  “I don’t want you to go alone, Krys.” Aranka pulled her sister down to the bed with her and put her head in Krys’s lap. “And not just because I want to see a werewolf, too.”

  “This child is going to be the death of me, Krys.” Voshkie shook her head. “I’m going to go check with your father and let him know we’re ready.”

  “But we’re not ready.” Aranka looked up at Krysanthe. “I’m not ready.”

  Krysanthe stroked her sister’s hair. “You’re a hundred years old. You can have your own adventure. But I need you to promise me that you’re not going to try and follow me. You could get hurt.”

  “Which is why you should just take me from the get go. I mean, it solves all kinds of problems.”

  “It would solve all kinds of problems if you could promise to stay here and look after Father.” She hugged her sister tight. “You know he’s going to be lonely.”

  Aranka was silent, but she returned the hug.

  “Aranka.”

  Her sister pulled back and nodded, but then hugged her again.

  Krysanthe knew she should probably make her sister say the words out loud, she was that kind of nymph, but she couldn’t bear to let her go. She didn’t know when she was going to see her again, if ever.

  For all that she put on a brave face, Krysanthe was terrified. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to marry someone she barely knew, didn’t want to live among his people who for all intents and purposes hated her simply because she was a gold nymph.

  And she sure as hell didn’t want to be Turned.

  Nym
phs rarely survived a Turn. Those who did were pale ghosts of the creatures they’d been before, often becoming what the werewolves called Berserkers. They were horrible beasts of nightmares, unthinking, eating and ravaging machines with no memories, no feelings, no self. She rather imagined that was one of the worst things that could happen to her.

  Initially, she’d even tried to get Voshkie to stay at Hidden Mountain with their people, but she refused to hear of it and Krysanthe was grateful. As unroyal of her as it was, she was afraid to go alone.

  Her father kept telling her she didn’t have to do this, but what other option did they have? Ending the war could save thousands of her people’s lives. She’d take the risk.

  When the door creaked open, she looked up expecting to see Voshkie, but she didn’t. It was her father.

  It took everything in her not to run and jump into his arms the same way that Aranka had jumped into hers.

  “So you’re ready?” he asked, his eyes sad.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “I’m not ready. I don’t want her to go,” Aranka said.

  “None of us do,” King Glorfindel said as he opened his arms. “Come.”

  She embraced him, and found comfort there. Krysanthe knew she wouldn’t see him for a long time. She couldn’t go running to daddy at every turn. No matter how much she wanted to.

  “If you should change your mind, no one here would fault you. I’ve had my advisors working on a campaign and possible alliances with other werewolf packs. Like the Rommulus and the Woolvens. This isn’t your only option.”

  “I’d never be safe, nor would our people. He’d take it as a personal insult now.”

  “You would, if we were aligned with the dragons.”

  Krysanthe looked up at her father. “This whole dragon escort thing, it’s not just for my protection, is it?”

  “No. It’s to protect you, and show you that there are other options.”

  “You didn’t pay him to…”

  “Of course not, Krysanthe. It’s to put you in new situations with other types of creatures who are different, but not so different. You’ve lived many mortal years, but you’re still a shining idealist. In your mind, you’ve made the sacrifice. So while it might be dark for a while, you believe that you’ll be rewarded in the end. With your people safe because you’ve still got a fairytale heart. I’m more pragmatic. You have a choice.”

  “A choice? What if that choice was a biker dragon? What if we have a mad, passionate affair and I end up with hatchlings. Then what?”

  “Better than puppies you’d get with a werewolf, I say.” Aranka offered.

  Her father put his hands on her shoulders and searched her face for a long moment. “If that is what would make you the happiest, then it’s not for me to say anything but give you my blessing.”

  “Oh, but what if he steals her?” Aranka grinned. “Voshkie was telling me about how dragons used to steal nymphs.”

  “If he stole her, my little golden heart, that would be another matter entirely. Then I’d summon all of his gold to me and he’d never find it again. And your sister, she’d turn his wings into gold and his own people would rip them from him in a murderous frenzy. Then she’d turn them into gold, too.” Glorfindel spoke as if he were reciting a fairytale.

  “I like that story.” Aranka then hugged them both. “I love you.” She didn’t wait for a reply, but flitted out of the door, presumably to go find some dragons.

  “What are they like, these dragons?”

  “Ondrej Tatsu and the Drago Knights have an impeccable reputation as honest, loyal, brave, and brutal with those who cross them. They’re everything I could ask to keep you safe.”

  “No, I mean, what was his measure as a person?”

  “That’s something you’ll have to see for yourself.” King Glorfindel looked up, as if he heard something no one else could, and indeed, he did. The gold spoke to him. “They’re here.”

  “I’m ready.” She followed her father down the long, white marble halls and into the lift that would take them to the receiving area. The nymphs mostly preferred to live underground, but they kept a large façade carved into the side of the mountain for guests. Many felt uncomfortable below the earth.

  At her first sight of them, she realized she wasn’t anywhere near as ready as she thought.

  There were five of them, and they were giants. While nymph males were tall, they weren’t bulky. They were slender, and graceful, representing whatever element was their manna. She felt small and cornered before they even walked up the stairs.

  They just got bigger the closer they came. Every time it seemed she had a grasp on how large they were, the concept was driven home again.

  “Ondrej,” Glorfindel said and extended his hand to the one in front.

  The biggest. He was their Alpha. She was entranced by scales on his right arm. She knew to human eyes, it would appear as a tattoo, but it was his true self. They shimmered in the light, reminding her of the stone in the Aurelius Amulet. Her first instinct was to reach out and touch him, but she held her hands stiff at her sides.

  She realized she could even smell him and he smelled like gold, of course, and something else. Something like the wind on a winter night, but that wasn’t possible, was it? To carry the scent of the wind? Perhaps flight had a scent and that was it? No matter what it was, she was intrigued.

  “You have our deepest sympathies for what happened to your brother.”

  “Thank you,” Ondrej said, sincerity obvious in his tone and grief blatant in his eyes.

  “What happened?” She touched her father’s arm in concern.

  “There were ghouls hunting the night I found them,” Glorfindel said.

  “I’m so sorry. If you’d like to put off our departure, I invite you to stay. To take comfort in the gold waters and our hospitality.” She reached out instinctively to touch Ondrej’s hand.

  When they touched, it was a physical shock. Like touching a live wire. Electricity jolted through her and she had to fight to keep from rubbing her hand. It seemed he felt it too, or she hadn’t done as good a job hiding her reaction as she thought.

  “It’s a kind offer, Princess. But the best way to avenge my brother is to get on the road. They’ll come for us again, and they’ll come for you. I hope you’re prepared.”

  “We’re prepared just fine,” Voshkie said, coming to stand on the other side of Glorfindel.

  “Ah, the bodyguard. There you go, Imre. You said you wanted to see her. Even if she can kick your ass.” The big one to Ondrej’s left said.

  “What, like I’m a fucking zoo animal?” Voshkie snarled.

  “No, just the fiercest woman I’ve ever seen. Hi, I’m Imre.” He stepped forward and extended his hand.

  Voshkie looked at it like it was made of garbage, and in her mind, it probably was.

  Aranka, bless her, was happy to fill in. “She hates dragons. But I don’t. I’m Aranka.” She shook his hand.

  Krysanthe saw something flash in Imre’s eyes. As if for a moment, they were gold. A sign of the gold lust, she’d read. But Imre was nothing but polite with Aranka. After his eyes flashed, he didn’t step any closer to her, didn’t become at all aggressive.

  As if Ondrej read her thoughts he said, “He’s young, but he’ll do his duty and protect you. Gold or not.”

  She nodded. “If my father has faith in you, then you have mine as well.” Krysanthe smiled. “Aranka was very curious to see dragons as well.”

  Ondrej narrowed his eyes. “She’s not coming with us, is she?”

  “No, no. She has to stay home this time.” Her eyes drank in the sight of her sister, storing it up so when she missed her, she could remember every detail of her face. From the way her hair curled at the delicate points of her ears to light sound of her joyous laugh.

  “That’s good. I think those two would get in all kinds of trouble. They seem like two peas in a danger pod.”

  Krysanthe liked how easily it came to speak w
ith him. Even though his appearance had originally intimidated her, practically stolen the breath from her lungs, something about him now calmed her.

  “Since they’ve already introduced themselves, I’m Krysanthe.” She held out her hand again, testing to see if they’d feel that same spark again.

  Ondrej looked at her hand and arched a brow before shaking it. “Ondrej Tatsu.”

  The spark was altogether different this time. This time, it wasn’t like an electrical shock, this time it was pure heat rushing through her veins, her muscles, her bones. Her whole body was on fire, but it wasn’t the kind of fire that hurt. It burned to be sure, but it was bliss.

  “That’s Voshkie, my bodyguard.”

  “We’ve heard stories, I’m Mikolas.” He shook her hand, and then Voshkie’s.

  No spark whatsoever.

  For her.

  For Voshkie, it seemed like it had begun as a game of mercy, or two males in a pissing contest. They kept hold of each other’s hands, neither one smiling, each trying to outgrip the other. Or so it seemed.

  “Mik.” Ondrej inclined his head.

  “What? I like holding hands with a pretty nymph.”

  Voshkie narrowed her eyes and the sound that came from her might have actually been a growl. Krysanthe couldn’t be sure. She finally let go and Mikolas laughed.

  “This is Dezo and Fabian behind me.” Ondrej continued the introductions. “And we’ll be your escorts to West Virginia.”

  This was real. This was actually happening.

  Krysanthe was about to leave the only home she’d ever known for a werewolf compound in West Virginia to marry one.

  She turned to her father and embraced him again.

  “Remember what I said, Krysanthe.”

  Chapter 3

  After getting Krysanthe set up with her helmet, showing her how to work the mic inside, he helped her onto the bike.

  He was going to have a hard time with this one.

  Such a hard time.

  Even if she hadn’t been a gold nymph, his cock would’ve been interested. The way that white leather hugged her ass. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to unwrap her like a present or—he had to put those thoughts out of his head. Not only did he need to keep himself in the game, but she was going to be riding in front of him. For her protection, of course, but she hadn’t signed up to ride his cock. They didn’t need some odd thousand miles of his fucking boner pressed against her ass.