I think your fiancé is right: You don’t pick a side. You do what your conscience tells you is the right thing.
“Ha! You hear that! The Goddess of Fire agrees with me,” Drayce crowed for anyone and everyone to hear.
It was a good answer, but it didn’t help him to know what to do when it came to Green Spring. Maybe he wouldn’t know until the moment was right in front of him. Sadly, his conscience was pointing more and more toward the godstones.
That was not something he could think about right now. Not when he could risk Drayce hearing it. Not when they were both planning for a future together. That would never happen if Caelan was in a godstone for the rest of eternity.
Instead, he buried that fear deep inside of his chest and smiled warmly at his mate as he celebrated his victory. Sliding his hands up Drayce’s chest, he hooked his arms behind his lover’s neck and kissed his way up his neck to his lips.
“Really? Now?” Drayce gasped in between kisses. “But…but the goddess…”
Caelan snickered as he leaned his full weight into Drayce, pushing him to the ground. He climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. “What?”
“How do you know she’s not still listening?”
“Drayce, I had a head full of gods for months. If I was worried about what they saw or heard, we would never have kissed in the first place, let alone fucked like horny teenagers.”
Drayce’s loud moan was half-muffled by his hands as he brought them up to cover his face. “Oh, gods! I don’t want to think about that. Were they freaking watching the entire time?”
“I thought you didn’t want to think about it,” Caelan teased.
“I don’t, but now I can’t stop thinking about it. I can imagine them sitting in your head, passing a bucket of popcorn like they’re at the freaking movies.” Drayce suddenly gasped and lowered his hands. “No! Did they offer a running commentary?”
Caelan threw his head back and laughed. He freaking loved Drayce’s mind, twisted and weird as it was. “I have no idea. I learned to block them out.”
“How?”
With a wicked grin, Caelan captured Drayce’s mouth in a deep, draining kiss. Drayce’s lips parted and their tongues instantly tangled. Drayce wrapped his arms around Caelan, pulling their bodies tighter together so that he was completely lost in the heat of the dragon beneath him. He loved the taste of his mate, the growls of need that rose from his throat, the way his body moved under him as if he were trying to merge them into a single person. Everything about Drayce was utterly addictive, and it was impossible to think of anything else when they were together.
Not even the gods could come between them.
Planting his hands on the ground, Caelan shoved upright, wringing an unhappy whine from Drayce as they separated. He grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. As he tossed it aside, trembling fingers smoothed across his chest, coming to rest right over his heart. Or more accurately, over the long white scar that stretched across his heart.
“Why did it leave a scar?” Drayce demanded in a choked voice.
Caelan gazed down to find the fire that had blazed in Drayce’s eyes had been extinguished and replaced with a shimmer of unshed tears. His encounter with Lore had left him with two scars—one across the throat and another over his heart. They both were white and looked as if they were years old, but they were disturbing to see nonetheless.
With a smile, he lifted his hand and covered Drayce’s. “As a reminder. Queen Amara used to tell me that great change can be achieved only in the furnace of sacrifice and pain. This pain and sacrifice allowed me to be reborn into what I am now. And it will allow me to be with you for an eternity.”
“Okay,” Drayce agreed with a sniff. “But no more of that bullshit.”
“No more,” Caelan whispered, as he leaned forward to kiss Drayce. He just prayed the gods didn’t make him break that promise.
As their lips touched, muffled screams of pain and terror rose above the sound of rushing water and the buzz of insects. They instantly jerked apart and froze. Their eyes were locked on each other, but Caelan knew they were straining to hear the same sound again. Could it have been a trick? Were they mistaken?
The screams and shouts crested, followed by angry roars.
Hidden Falls was under attack.
SIXTEEN
Rayne Laurent
“To the falls!” Rayne shouted at the top of his lungs in both New Rosanthe and Rosarian. He gripped knives in either fist as he tried to fight his way up the people-clogged street, toward the attacking cats.
Safa. This had to be Safa.
The memory of the slaughter she’d incited through the streets of Temit was fresh in his mind. Safa had called large cats to tear apart innocent citizens, supposedly offering them up to the Dead God.