Soul of the Dragon (37 page)

Ryc’s body bowed as if shocked with electricity. Alexa half expected him to rise into the air, spin, crackle with bolts of lightning. The end wasn’t quite so spectacular. But neither was it mundane.
 

The light grew in intensity until she could barely look into it from behind her splayed fingers. A shape formed within the light, a hulking shape with a large head and a curved tail that thrashed as if in fury or pain. The image sharpened, but Ryc was unchanged. Then the dragon’s large head turned toward Alexa, and she could see him clearly, superimposed on Ryc.
 

“Goodbye, Alexa.” The voice was Cyrgyn’s, heard clearly in the room but also in her head.
 

Her voice frozen, she could only answer silently.
Goodbye, old friend
.
 

The light flashed out, and Ryc collapsed on the floor.
 

Alexa and the men rushed forward. She had been closest and reached him first. He was conscious, but clearly exhausted. He coughed weakly as she tried to raise his head and shoulders off the floor.
 

“Grab a pillow.” The order came from Aunt Ethel, who stood by the door. “Slide it under his head.” She strode nearer, then knelt. “Don’t make him stand up. Water?” She looked around, then nodded at Kurt when he handed her a canteen. “Give him some of this. Slowly, now.”
 

Alexa leaned over him and held the neck of the canteen to Ryc’s lips with shaking hands. She couldn’t believe her reaction. She’d given field first aid dozens of times. She never panicked, always took charge.
 

Well, she guessed she knew where she got that trait. “Thanks, Aunt Ethel.” She managed a smile, then tuned out her family to focus on Ryc.
 

“Ryc. Can you hear me?”
 

He didn’t open his eyes. “Of course I can hear you. You’re an inch from my ear.”
 

Alexa relaxed and smiled. “How do you feel?”
 

“I can feel all my extremities. My fingers and toes move.” She felt his arm shift against
her stomach. “My strength is about nil, but I’m breathing okay. Except for this heavy weight on my chest.” He cracked a reproachful eye. She realized he was talking about her and sat up with an apology. “Everything seems okay, except that I’m freezing.”
 

“I guess that comes with losing the fire in your gut,” she said.
 

Kurt spoke softly behind her. “Check his orientation.”
 

“Do you know where you are?” she asked Ryc.
 

He smiled. “On the very dirty floor of our cabin in the forest in Scotland. It’s probably about three a.m. and my name…” He opened his eyes and looked directly at her. “…is Ryc Dreugan.”
 

“Oh, my God.” It hit her hard. “It is. You are. You didn’t.” Her hands began moving over him, feeling his extremely human muscle and bone. “You’re not a dragon.”
 

“Not anymore.” He rose to one elbow and cupped his hand around her neck. “Thank God.” He pulled her down and kissed her again.
 

This kiss was…incredible. They had kissed in the past out of desperation, need, desire, and despair. Now they kissed only of love, and Alexa felt the world explode around her and settle back into place. She ignored the throat clearings and foot tappings and concentrated only on Ryc’s taste and the love she felt pouring back from him.
 

When they broke apart she found herself sitting on the floor with Ryc towering above her, their positions the reverse of how they’d begun the kiss.
 

“Oh, great,” she said. “We’re still gonna have control issues.”
 

The smile that broke over Ryc’s face was brilliant. “Count on it.” He stood and drew her to her feet. Together, they faced Tarsuinn one last time.
 

The mage looked ancient. He leaned against the table, his energy clearly gone. His face—indeed, his whole body seemed to droop. Alexa had expected defeat, even residual anger, but not this sadness. He looked like he’d never recover. Despite everything he’d done, she was sorry for that. In the end, he had provided them with the key, even if they hadn’t recognized it.
 

She stepped forward. “Tarsuinn.”
 

The mage held up a hand. “Please, Alexa, say nothing. Just…be happy.”
 

“I will.” She moved toward him again, and quickly wrapped him in a hug. She couldn’t hate him. It would do no good for any of them, and he had lost. “Find peace,” she whispered.
 

The mage stood and looked at Ryc, who said nothing. Alexa could see hundreds of years of communication fly between them. Finally, Tarsuinn nodded, turned, and left.
 

“Do you want us to follow him?” Kurt asked. Alexa turned to Ryc, who hadn’t stopped touching her.
 

“No,” he said, still gazing out into the silent darkness. Tars had gone, apparently taking his sister with him. “There’s nothing we can do to punish him more than he’ll do himself.”
 

“It’s hard not to hate him,” Peter said. His hands were in fists and Alexa could see the tension in his jaw. “To blame him.”
 

“I only feel pity.” Ryc tugged Alexa closer and she gladly went. She rested her head on his shoulder and wished the others would go away. “There’s enough blame to go around,” he went on, and Peter nodded.
 

“I know.” He looked haunted, and Alexa reached out a hand.
 

“Will you be okay?”
 

“I have to be, don’t I?” He shrugged. “I think you’ve been through a little more than I
have, overall. I’ll survive.”
 

“Don’t.” He’d been through his own hell, tonight. “Peter, I’m so sorry.”
 

“Like I said, sis. I’ll survive.” He kissed her cheek, shook Ryc’s hand, and turned to help Kurt gather up the extraneous gear. Alexa watched, feeling like she should be helping. But all she wanted was all of them gone, so she and Ryc could be alone.
 

Aunt Ethel braced Alexa’s face in her hands. “Sweetie, I am probably confused enough to be diagnosed with senility. I know you need some time, but please, for the sake of an old lady’s sanity, come home soon and explain all this.”
 

“I will,” Alexa promised.
 

“I’ll get them home safely,” Kurt reassured her. “Do what you need to do, then call me when you get back to the States.”
 

“Get home to Marilee. And thanks.” She hugged him, then her brother, then followed them out the door.
 

When they’d gone, Ryc and Alexa ended up back on the porch steps.
 

“I’m exhausted.” Alexa leaned her head back against Ryc’s shoulder and looked up at the star-filled sky. “I don’t want to fall asleep, though, and wake up to find none of it happened.”
 

Ryc kissed her temple and tightened his hold a fraction. “It happened. Nothing can change it now.”
 

“What, exactly, did happen?” she asked. “Tarsuinn didn’t do anything.”
 

“He didn’t have to. Remember the words of the curse.”
 

It didn’t take long to understand. The curse, obscure as it was, had been written so that she had to choose. Obviously, the intent had been for love, truly felt and freely given, to reverse the curse. Tarsuinn had hoped she’d choose him.
 

They sat in silence for a while, absorbing each other’s warmth, the stillness of the night, and the peace that came with the end of a quest.
 

“So what happens next?” Alexa asked finally.
 

Ryc laughed. “I have no idea.”
 

“You need a better past if you want to work anywhere. Transcripts, work history. Luckily I have connections.” She grinned at him, then rattled on. “I need a new job, too. Maybe we can open a business together. We’ll need a home base…”
 

Ryc cut her off with a kiss. “How about a home?” he murmured when she was pliant and her train of thought had completely derailed. “How about we just live?”
 

Alexa smiled dreamily. That sounded good to her. Then she frowned. “But I want to marry you. Your identity doesn’t have enough depth. Then there’s my family. Oh, Lord, my father. We have to tell him we’re getting married. And…Okay, I’ll shut up.” She let him kiss her again, and decided the details could wait.
 

 

Enjoy this excerpt from
Soulflight
, book 2 in the Soul Series
 

Bright lights, emerald-green fields, jolly fans, and baseball. Samantha Ranger sat in her seat behind home plate, inhaled the scent of peanuts and beer, and decided that tonight, at least, she was going to let go and enjoy herself. For maybe the first time in thirteen years, she was going to have undiluted fun.
 

“T
ake me out
do
a ball game...”
 

Her nearly three-year-old godson bellowed the song behind her, and Samantha turned to grin at him. Zachary kicked his feet as he stared around, singing almost absently. It was his first time at Jacobs Field.
 

“Having fun, kiddo?”
 

He nodded, wide-eyed, then pointed below. “Look! Aunt Sammie! It’s Slider!”
 

The Cleveland Indians mascot had run onto the field to rev up the crowd. Zack’s father, Jason, leaned forward so his head was between Samantha’s and his wife’s.
 

“Sorry about the seats,” he said. “You know this was the best I could get.”
 

“Whaddya talkin’ about?” Samantha held out her hands toward the field. “We’re right behind home plate!” She gestured to the roof above, then to the chain link fence three rows behind them, at the top of the stands. “We’ve got shelter in case it rains, and a nice breeze off Lake Erie. It’s perfect, Jason.”
 

Ellie, his wife, reached back over her shoulder to pat his cheek. “We’re easily pleased, sweetie. Now pay attention. They’re playing the National Anthem.”
 

They all stood, and Samantha scooped up Zachary when he whined that he couldn’t see. He solemnly placed his hand over his heart and hummed while a local high school student crooned the anthem. A moment later, he nearly burst her eardrum as he cheered with the crowd.
 

“Play ball!” he echoed the umpire on the field, and the game began.
 

The Indians were down by two in the fourth inning when Jason left to take Zack to the bathroom and get refreshments. Samantha noticed a guy across the aisle watching them as they went down the stairs. He wore an Indians t-shirt and held a beer just like any other spectator, but the intensity in his gaze was odd. He looked familiar to her, too, but she couldn’t figure out why. Was it one of
Them?
she fretted, then laughed at her imagination. He was just as likely to be from
America’s Most Wanted
. She watched the show religiously, still illogically searching all these years later for the men who had shot her.
 

“It’s okay, Sam.” Ellie had apparently noticed her worried expression. “It’s been ages and nothing has happened. You’re as safe here as you are in your library.”
 

Samantha murmured her agreement but wasn’t sure either place fit that description. She doubted she’d ever feel completely safe.
 

It helped, though, to have friends who knew her before, people who helped her deal with her fears. Who sometimes even made her forget why she’d run.
 

Jason and Zack were coming back up the stairs, Zack urging his father on by bobbing his head and shoulders. He clutched a soda cup between his hands and sported a new Wahoo ball cap.
 

“Mommy! Aunt Sammie! Looka my hat!” He lifted his hand to touch the brim just as Jason began to set him down. His little elbow bumped the tray of drinks Jason carried. Two cups tipped, sending soda cascading down his mother’s back.
 

Ellie shrieked and leapt to her feet. Jason grabbed a wad of napkins and swiped at her neck and shoulders, while Samantha pulled Ellie’s shirt out of her waistband to let ice out the bottom.
 

“Ohhhhh, that’s cold!” Ellie wrung her hands and bounced, helpless to do anything except stand there while her friend and husband tried to clean her up. A nice couple in front of them offered more napkins, and Sam cleaned off Ellie’s seat.
 

“Thank you,” Ellie said and sat back down, huffing out a breath.
 

“Honey, I’m so sorry. Really. Zack hit my hand—” Jason broke off and looked around. “Zack! Where did he go?”
 

Samantha’s heart jumped into her throat and she whipped her head back and forth. No adorable blond toddler with a new red hat. She looked down the fairly empty row in the other direction. Nothing except fans roaring at a hit or catch or something unimportant.
God, no. Not Zack
. Her godson was so tiny.