The Lost Alliance (Rise of the Drakens Book 2) by Raven Storm (free ebook reader .txt) 📗

as though it had been wrapped in smoke and shadows.

“I took this dagger from a shadow demon. It has been my favorite ever since.”

He held it out to me, and I took an involuntary step forward. Something about the knife sang to me; a darkness inside that grabbed ahold of the pain I had suffered and dug into it. It reminded me of Benedict, oddly enough.

“Blood magick is either white or black.”

“Like all magick, you said,” I interjected, eager to prove I had listened weeks ago during the draken games. It seemed almost like a lifetime ago.

He flicked the blade, twisting it in the air and catching it cleanly.

“Black uses your own pain, white uses the pain of others. You can use both to...improve yourself.”

I thought of the battles, of how my knife had kissed Sabien’s skin as he’d chanted, moments before he sacrificed himself. I shook my head.

“Improvements. Like what?”

Benedict smirked, trailing the edge of the knife down my bosom. My breath caught, fear and desire warring as the blade tickled my skin.

“Have you ever wanted to see perfectly in the dark? Run faster? Have three times the strength you possess now? Blood magick can achieve all of that.”

I didn’t like the darkness coming off him; the seriousness that clutched his heart even as the knife made my blood sing with desire. He dragged it further down my chest, playing with the tight band around my breasts.

“Three times the strength I have now still wouldn’t be that impressive.”

He snorted, and the knife retreated. The spell of darkness was broken.

“Not all strength is physical.”

Kieran’s voice cut through the dark haze that had settled over Benedict and I, snapping through my mind like a cold bucket of water. I sat up, trying in vain to chase away the blush on my cheeks.

“Kieran, do you mind giving me some time alone with Benedict?”

I saw the slight hurt in his eyes, and vowed to make it up to him later. Without a sound he stood and flapped away into the night.

“I would have taken you here with him watching,” Benedict murmured, his voice a dark purr in my ear. It would be easy to just let him have his way with me and gods did I want it. Now wasn’t the time.

“You said the witches denied aid to the drakens, but your issues with them feel more personal than that.”

He froze, as I knew he would. I pushed forward. “You know we need them to fight the Overlord. Would it kill you to be polite, or at least civil?”

I took the dagger from his hand, tracing its edge along my own neck. His eyes sparked in interest, and I smirked.

“Tell me why. I want to understand.”

Benedict snatched the knife back and tucked it into a sheath along his waist. He sighed, and I nuzzled against his side. His arm came around me, stroking gently along the smooth skin of my bare abdomen.

“You are a conniving little sneak, but I will tell you.” He gazed into the fire and began to speak.

“I knew my father was planning a suicide mission to rescue Rhyfel. I begged him to reconsider. We had so few drakens left that killing more was a waste. He refused.”

Benedict paused to gather his emotions, and I waited patiently for him to continue.

“I went to the blood witches, the strongest coven at the time. I asked for aid—to use their skills to help find Rhyfel and lend what they could to our cause. They refused.”

His body trembled, his fingers at my stomach curling and clenching around my skin.

“I crawled on my hands and knees like an animal, begging them to intercede.” He looked at me then, with a face full of such pain and remorse it stole my breath.

“They laughed at me. Those women, high on their power and their own sense of worth, spit on me and banished me from their forest. I admit—it was foolish, but...I attacked the coven leader in a rage. They wounded me and left me for dead on the coast of Dorea. The injury kept me from going on the mission with my father. If I could have gone with him, he might not have died. Instead, I nearly died.”

His fist unclenched, and his body stilled.

“Sometimes I wish I had.”

I jumped up, glaring down at him.

“Don’t say that, never say that.”

I sat, hot tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I buried my head in my hands, trying to think, trying to understand.

“You think that if you’d gone with your father you could have saved him? That’s ridiculous.”

His muscles went rigid against me, but it was vital that I made him understand.

“If D’Arcy survived, so could I. I—”

“You would never have hidden in a tree. You’d have taken half those demons with you and died beside your father. That would have left D’Arcy to be king, Sabien likely still dead, and me still with Crullfed, and who knows what the Overlord would have done with your people. I wouldn’t wish for anything that didn’t bring me to you.”

His head dropped to mine, his hands tightening a fraction around me.

“You have led your people home and offered them a future. Is that not enough?”

My hand slid down his face, down the amethyst scales that perfectly matched his eyes. His wings twitched, the only sign he was affected at all by my touch.

“I fear it will never be enough.”

The pain in his eyes was raw, and he drew away from me. I reached out for him, missing the warmth of his body. Benedict turned away; his wings already flared.

“I will send Kieran back to keep you company.”

Benedict disappeared into the night.

Eleven

“Fire witches prefer to live in natural stone but were chased away during the Demon Wars, forced to make do with the most northern forest, to the utter consternation of the earth witches.”

“So you have been quarreling among each other?” I clarified, as we continued our trek deeper inland. Benedict