Tamed By Air

QUINN LOFTIS

Copyright © 2022 by Quinn Loftis

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For all those who continue to read my books. I am humbled and honored.

Contents

Play List

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Veiled By Smoke Sneak Peek

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Quinn’s Bookshelf

Play List

Dynasty- Miia

Soldier- Fleurie

Rush- Lewis Capaldi

Under My Feet- Zach Williams

Over Again- X62

Mississippi Blood- Lynyrd Skynyrd

If You Love her- Forest Black

I’m Not Me Without You- Ill-Advised Poetry

Hold My Girl- George Ezra

Rescue- Lauren Daigle

Seasons- NEEDTOBREATHE

Fear Is a Liar- Zach Williams

Stand By Me- Florence + the Machine

Eyelids- Paris Jackson

Running For So Long- Parker Ainsworth

High- Miley Cyrus

Shallow- Lady Gaga & Bradley Cooper

Falling- Harry Styles

Feel It- X62

Unsteady- X Ambassadors

Carried Me with You- Brandi Carlile

If I need You- Rachel Bradshaw

On My Way- Banditos

I Get to Love You- Ruelle

War of Hearts- Ruelle

Monsters- Ruelle

The World We Made- Ruelle

Whatever It Takes- Imagine Dragons

Girls Like Us- Zoe Week

Tourniquet- Evanescence

Remember Me- Eivor

Brighter Days- Blessing Offer

I’m Not the Devil- Cody Jinks

Prologue

“I’m in hell. That’s not a figure of speech to describe high school what with its horde of hormonal teenage girls swarming the halls who terrorize those they believe are beneath them. You know the ones. Those girls who are so insecure about themselves they feel the need—no, the unending compulsion—to do everything in their power to make others feel inferior. Me, bitter? No way…

But I’m not in high school. I’m in the actual hell—like the literal underworld. I’ve been kidnapped by an incredibly handsome immortal being that is hell-bent on making me his wife. And an even more handsome immortal being, who is my soul mate, is fighting his way through hell to rescue me. So I’ll let you decide where you’d rather be: hell or high school?” ~Shelly

“It pisses me off that I can’t tell you to go to hell … or burn in hell … or say anything else that expresses how much I want to condemn you to hell.” Shelly paced the living room of Osiris’s house, which, of course, was literally in hell. “Who has a freaking house in hell, anyway?” She threw her hands in the air. “I mean, other than the people who live in Hollywood. We all know that LA is just the topside version of hell. But let’s not get off topic.”

“I didn’t know we were having a conversation.” Osiris took a seat on the sofa, propping his ankle on his knee. He leaned back and rested his left arm along the top of the pillows lined up behind him. His dark hair was artfully disheveled, and his—to Shelly’s complete irritation—handsome face was completely relaxed. He didn’t look at all like a man who had just cast a demon to the pits of hell, killed a woman, and dragged Shelly once again to the underworld. He wore a black suit, and—again to Shelly’s annoyance—he wore it well. “I thought you were simply giving me a verbal dressing down.”

She stopped and stared at him. “Dressing down? How old are you?” Then she quickly held up her hand. “Don’t answer that. I know it was a dumb question. I know you’re literally older than dirt.”

He shrugged. “But to answer your question as to why I maintain a domicile—”

“It was rhetorical,” she snapped.

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’m the lord of the underworld. Where else would I have a house?”

“The question is more, why do you need a house?” She stood with her arms folded in front of her. Shelly’s uniform—the one given to her after she was blessed by Aviur with fire elementalist powers and that marked her as a student of the fire elementalist school—was gone. With a snap of his fingers, Osiris had made it vanish, replacing it with a flowing dress made of the finest material in the world … or in hell. She wasn’t sure where Osiris did his shopping. Did they have dress shops in hell? Regardless, she hated how the soft fabric draped so elegantly over her or how it felt so good against her skin. Focus, Shelly. She mentally barked at herself and narrowed her eyes at her captor. “Do you need to sleep or eat or do … other human-type things that we won’t say out loud because that’s just freaking not okay?”

His lips curved up in a sly smile. “Are you asking me if I use the—”

“Nope.” Shelly shook her head. “I’m just asking you why you need a house.”

“Because I like nice things.” He motioned to the surrounding space. “As a general rule, hell is the opposite of nice. Why should I be surrounded by so much unpleasantness?”

Shelly admitted, albeit not out loud, that the house was just as nice as she remembered it from when she and Ra had been there; it was positively lavish. During that first visit, she and Ra had explored a little, but they’d not looked in every door they’d come to, so this was her first time seeing this particular room. But it didn’t matter how beautiful it was, the room was still a cage. She was a captive, not a guest.

Shelly had no idea how long she’d been imprisoned … this time around. Time moved differently in the underworld, and she had no way of tracking the days. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d gone to sleep, though she honestly slept little because she couldn’t stop worrying.

“You don’t deserve nice things.” Shelly barely kept herself from stomping her foot. Osiris’s mouth pinched, and his eyes crinkled in the corners. She shuddered when his gaze upon her became more intense. Maybe I should choose my words more carefully. I don’t want to end up like poor Zuri. Shelly knew she’d never forget the look of complete agony in Zuri’s eyes. It wasn’t the look when the knife slid across the woman’s own throat. Not at all. Instead, it was Zuri’s face when she found out what had happened to Jax. If there was ever any doubt that Zuri loved the earth elementalist, it was erased in that moment. Shelly couldn’t help but think how she would feel if she had to watch Ra killed in battle.

The thought chased away Shelly’s sense of self-preservation. “You deserve to burn in hell, not live in luxury. You killed a woman in cold blood.”

“I assure you, little one, my blood is never cold.” He smirked at her. “But, yes, I did eliminate a rather nasty thorn in my side. Though, to be fair, she tried to kill me first.”

“You’re the devil, genius. You can’t be killed. She was no threat to you. Why not simply let Zuri go and pop back to your posh, hellish home and let her be? I guess that would have been too easy. Instead, you decided her life was worthless. You didn’t consider how her death would affect those who care about her.” Shelly pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. Her head hurt. It wasn’t the first time. Since Osiris had brought her back to hell, however long ago that had been, Shelly had been having periodic headaches. They seemed to be getting progressively worse. And that wasn’t all. She’d also noticed a throbbing in her chest. It started as a dull ache and grew until she was sure that she had to be having a heart attack. The headaches tended to last a half hour or so, while the chest pains subsided after about fifteen minutes. So far, they hadn’t occurred simultaneously, for which Shelly was grateful. She opened her eyes and hoped the pain wouldn’t get any worse.

“Is your head hurting again?” Osiris asked, his voice lowering a bit. He dropped his arm from the back of the couch and leaned forward.

Much to her annoyance, Shelly couldn’t hide the pain from her captor. And while Shelly didn’t know what caused the episodes, she had a hunch Osiris knew. Though she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking him. “Don’t pretend you care.” Shelly huffed. “If you cared about me at all, you wouldn’t have kidnapped me.”

“You can hardly blame me for my lack of empathy. As you keep pointing out”—he shrugged—“I’m the devil. You can’t expect me to have emotions.”

“Oh, you have emotions. Emotions like rage, anger, fury, selfishness—”

“Selfishness isn’t an emotion.”

She continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. “Self-pity, resentment, jealousy, narcissism—”

He tapped his fingers on the back of the couch, his voice nonchalant as he spoke. “Also not an emotion.”

“And how about the inability to keep your mouth shut because you always have to have the last word?” Shelly wanted to slap him. It didn’t even have to be a big slap. It could be a teeny, tiny slap that left only a hint of redness. Anything that left a mark, that left some evidence that she wasn’t powerless, that she could affect him somehow. Okay, who was she kidding? She wanted to knock the hell out of him. “Ugh. Why is hell in so many of my favorite expressions? The word is irrelevant to me now.”

Osiris raised his hand as if he was a student in class. Then, like a four-year-old blurting out without being called on, said, “Inability to keep my mouth shut is, obviously, not an emotion.” Shelly opened her mouth to respond, but he held out his palm, and she snapped her jaw closed. “And hell should be anything but an irrelevant word to you, considering it is your home.”

“No!” she shouted at him before she could restrain herself. With the shout came more pain. It ripped through her skull, and Shelly had to force her arms to remain down to keep from grasping her head. “This is not my home. Don’t ever say that again. My home is with my family, my friends, and with Ra.”

Osiris leaped to his feet. In the blink of an eye, he stood directly in front of her, his face mere inches from hers. When he spoke, the lord of the underworld’s voice was so deep and cold it sent a chill up Shelly’s spine. “Never, ever speak his name in my presence again.”

Shelly couldn’t help herself. It was as if someone else had taken over her body. All reason left her. She felt as if she was watching someone else lean into Osiris. Her lips moved closer, a hair’s breadth from his ear. “Ra,” she whispered, breathing out her mate’s name like a prayer, but also a dare to the devil himself. Perhaps it wasn’t her brightest moment.

He pulled back to look into her eyes. His jaw clenched. Shelly could practically feel his body vibrating as his eyes danced with the flames of his rage. She’d gone too far. She knew at any minute he would whip out a knife and slash it across her throat, just as he had done to Zuri. Then he’d drop her to the ground and laugh while she bled out onto the hardwood floors of his immaculate home. The last thing Shelly would see would be Osiris’s mocking face. Her chest barely rose and fell as she struggled to breathe. Shelly’s body suddenly felt heavy, as if any attempt at movement would be futile. She waited. One heartbeat, two, three. But the knife never came. Nor did any other expression of rage she expected.

The heat of Osiris’s breath fanned across her face when he finally spoke, the words coming with a calm determination that scared her more than any scream of rage he could have issued. “If it is the last thing I ever do in my great existence, I will convince you to choose me.” Then his hand gripped her arm, firmly but not painfully. In an instant, she materialized in her own room—her prison. But Osiris wasn’t there. He’d released her and disappeared. To where? Shelly couldn’t even guess.

Her eyes roamed over the room, and she sighed. A bed, covered in black and white pillows and a soft black comforter, dominated the center of the room. Rich, black tapestries hung from the walls. Black—are you beginning to see a pattern here?—silky curtains hung over the windows, which weren’t actually windows at all, but illusions of some kind. Thank goodness. The last thing Shelly wanted was a view of the fire and brimstone outside. Instead, Shelly had discovered, the landscape beyond the windows showed whatever the person looking outward wanted to see at that moment. The first time Shelly had peered through the window, she’d seen the grounds of Terra Academy. Upon seeing the school, she’d fallen to the floor and cried for an hour. Shelly knew the image hadn’t been real, but she’d so desperately wanted it to be. When Osiris came to fetch her the next morning, she’d asked about the windows. After a mirthless chuckle, he’d explained why she’d seen the image. Since then, she’d kept the curtains closed. She didn’t want to sit and stare longingly at what she couldn’t have. Self-torture wasn’t exactly her thing. Unless it was Ra doing the torturing, and he was deliciously teasing her body. That was a kind of torture she could happily endure forever. “Don’t go there, Shelly,” she said out loud. Every time she thought about the man she loved, the headache or the chest pain increased.

Not thinking about Ra was next to impossible. Thankfully, her room contained a large bookshelf, made of black wood, of course, filled with books that helped distract her. But the respite was never for very long. No matter what she tried to read, from romance novels to self-help books—why in the world did the devil have self-help books?—her mind would eventually drift back to Ra.

Shelly’s room connected to a lavish bathroom, which contained a bathtub the size of a small swimming pool. She’d used the tub on the first day of her arrival and realized it never ran out of hot water. She’d rolled her eyes. Of course, hell would have an endless supply of hot water. Running out of heated water here would be like Antarctica running out of ice.

Shelly walked to the bed and sat. “What would Ra do?” It wasn’t lost on her that she’d begun to talk out loud even when she was alone. “He’d unleash a tornado of ass-whipping all over these demons.” She sighed. “But he has all sorts of power, both the fire and pharaoh kind.” Shelly flopped back on the bed, gritting her teeth as she growled. She stared up at the ceiling as agony filled her head. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it was trying to escape the confines of her body.

She turned her thoughts toward Tara and Gabby, wondering what her friends were doing. Shelly knew Tara would be going out of her mind. Even though Tara showed little emotion toward her, Shelly knew her best-freaky-friend-forever (BFFF) loved her. Tara would have kicked her to the curb a long time ago if she didn’t care about Shelly. Then her mind turned down a new alley. She thought about Aston, who had been kidnapped by some tough-ass looking chick riding a dragon. Shelly had to admit the woman looked cool as hell riding the beast, and Shelly would be lying if she said she wasn’t just a little jealous. Who doesn’t want to ride a dragon? She wondered if Aston was okay and if “dragon chick” was holding him as a prisoner, too. During the battle at the Devil’s Heart, she remembered the girl saying something about Aston being hers. Did that mean they were … soul bonded? Weird.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” she told the ceiling. “But how?” The ceiling did not help. She wished some magic writing would appear there, telling her what to do. But the ceiling remained frustratingly blank.

Shelly rolled to her side and propped herself up on an elbow. She wondered how long Osiris would be pissed this time. It had become a hobby of hers to push his buttons, and each time she thought he’d kill her, he simply took her back to her room and left her. Her stomach growled. Moments later, as if on cue, a tray full of food appeared on her bed. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Whenever she felt hungry, food would appear. Somehow Osiris knew when she needed to eat. She’d come to expect it, though the first time it had happened, she’d almost fallen off the bed. Of course, the offered meal wasn’t merely a sandwich and a glass of water. The food Osiris provided looked and tasted as if it had been cooked in a five-star restaurant. The exquisite aromas filled the air, and her mouth watered as she stared at the deliciousness before her.

She reached for a buttery roll and inwardly berated herself. She felt guilty for eating the food, as if it was a sign of acceptance of her circumstances. But it wasn’t. Shelly ate because starving herself would be stupid. An awesome escape plan was sure to pop into her mind any day now. And she couldn’t escape if she was weak from hunger. With that conviction running through her, Shelly ate until her stomach couldn’t take anymore. Then she grabbed the book she’d been reading—a shifter romance that made her blush a bit at times. She’d let herself escape into a different kind of supernatural world, one where she wasn’t the bride-to-be of the devil, and hell wasn’t her home.

Chapter One

“So, how did you two meet?”

Oh, you know, just like everyone else does, I guess. She flew over me while riding a dragon that snatched me up in its talons … and the rest is history … said absolutely no one ever. Until me.” ~Aston Spence

“Is he your captive or your mate?” Kimba asked. The surrounding air was chilly, so Rory leaned against the dragon, soaking in the warmth emanating from the beast’s body. The iridescent scales seemed to take on the same hue as whatever colors Kimba was near. They radiated heat like a perfect campfire, just enough to warm Rory, but not enough that she had to keep rotating like a rotisserie chicken.

“What kind of question is that?” Rory replied. The dragon had become her best friend, not that she’d had many options to choose from. There were no other humans in the dragon realm, and Rory wouldn’t have befriended them anyway. Unlike humans, dragons were trustworthy. Their actions and words could contain no deceit. Kimba had explained that honesty was simply woven into their DNA. Much like Rory was born with magic, Kimba had been born with truthfulness.

Rory gazed at the landscape below. The view from the mountain took her breath away, just as it had done all the months ago when she’d first arrived. This had become one of her favorite spots of contemplation. Mostly she thought about the task she’d been given by Danni, the high priestess of the Cornwall coven. Until recently, Rory had thought the woman was her mother.

Rory and Danni had traveled to the dragon realm. For what purpose, Danni had refused to say until they arrived. The truth, when it was finally revealed, was so repulsive Rory had fled. She’d found the exit from the dragon realm blocked by Danni’s magic. It wasn’t the first time the Cornwall high priestess had done something questionable as a mother, but Rory wanted Danni’s approval so badly that she’d once again blindly followed the woman.

“It’s a legitimate question,” Kimba answered. “Two weeks has passed since you abducted him.”

“Relocated him,” Rory interjected. “I relocated Aston. And then I introduced myself. I didn’t abduct him. Abducted just sounds dirty. And for the record, you were the one who said he needed to be saved, and you were the one who took your wicked claws and snatched him up.”

The dragon made a noise in her snout, which sounded to Rory like a human guffawing. “By saved, I didn’t mean hold hostage for a day or even a week. And you are one to complain about being dirty. I know you completed the bond. And the human mating ritual isn’t exactly a clean activity. ”

“Ugh.” Rory groaned. “I should never have told you that. And what do you know about human mating, anyway?”

“I know enough. And you didn’t have to tell me. I could smell him on you from a mile away. He smells like clean air, unpolluted by any unnatural chemicals. He also smells like lust. Pheromones and all that.”

Rory glanced at the dragon and pursed her lips. “That’s just wrong. Sometimes I wonder why we’re friends.”

Kimba’s lips turned up into what Rory had come to recognize as a smile, though it was an expression that would likely make those unfamiliar with the dragon flee in terror. “Because I’m the only one that didn’t immediately threaten to eat you when you first arrived.”

Rory shrugged. “You’re not wrong.”

Kimba shifted her large body and lightly bumped Rory’s shoulder. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“He’s my mate, obviously.” Rory said finally. “If Aston was my captive, then that would mean he’s too weak to break free. I don’t go for weak males.” She felt a sharp pain in her chest and rubbed at the place over her heart. She’d noticed when she was away from Aston, especially for long stretches of time during the day, that her body ached and something inside of her prodded her to return to him. The impulse only made her want to stay away longer. Giving into the pull meant that the sensation—that he—controlled her. After Danni’s deceit, Rory had vowed that nothing and no one would control her again.

Kimba’s warm breath fanned over Rory. “If he’s not your prisoner, then why are you two still here?”

Rory climbed to her feet, careful to push herself back so that when she stood, she wouldn’t topple forward and plunge to her death. Even if she fell, Rory was pretty sure Kimba would save her. Maybe. Judging by the irritation that laced the dragon’s voice, Rory didn’t want to bet on it. “I asked him to stay.” Rory crossed her arms over her chest as if she could somehow hold herself together. Ever since she and Aston had completed the bond, she felt as if she was coming apart at the seams. Shouldn’t I be feeling better, not worse? Rory felt like a raggedy stuffed bear being pulled in two directions by equally determined toddlers. She fought back the urge to either scream at the sky or burst into tears. Rory wasn’t exactly sure which she wanted to do more.

“And he wants to stay?” Kimba asked. “He wants to remain here in the dragon realm and … what? Make a life with you? Do you two plan on building a nice ranch-style house complete with a white picket fence and front porch swing? Perhaps raise a nest of hatchlings while you're at it?”

“Humans don’t have hatchlings.” Rory raised a brow at Kimba.

The dragon rolled her eyes, which Rory might have found humorous if she wasn’t so busy trying to deflect the barrage of truth arrows the beast was slinging directly into her innermost being.

Kimba continued as if Rory hadn’t spoken. “Take a glance around, Rory. Do you see any other humans? Aston is an air elementalist. He is part of the human Tempest Academy. He has friends there that I’m sure he cares about. Friends who, I might add, are probably searching for him at this very moment. Would you ask him to abandon all that without so much as a goodbye to his old life?”

Rory began to sputter. “I … uh … I mean…”

“Child, I love you, but you don’t have a track record of making the best choices. One need only look so far as your recent association with Danni.”

“You don’t understand—”

“A woman who exudes evil…”

“But she—” Rory began.

“A woman who is more suited to be the lord of the underworld’s bride than to be anyone’s mother.”

“You don’t understa—”

“And you gave her your loyalty blindly, without so much as a question as to why your mother—a woman you cannot remember raising you before the age of ten, mind you—could be so utterly and completely evil.”

“To be fair,” Rory said quickly, before Kimba could continue, “how the hell was I supposed to know she wasn’t my mother? Believe it or not, humans can’t smell blood relations like dragons can.” She threw her hands up in the air. This was not the first time they’d had this argument. “And they don’t exactly have DNA vending machines on every street corner. I’ve been with her since I was ten years old, Kimba. She was all I knew.” Rory couldn’t remember her early childhood. All she could ever remember was Danni and the witches, and the earliest memory she had was from age ten. She’d never questioned Danni about why that was. Okay, looking back, perhaps that wasn’t the most intelligent of decisions. But things were always sort of foggy when she tried to remember her distant past. Rory had just assumed she’d somehow blocked out her early childhood or that she had a poor memory. If she were being honest with herself, Rory would have to admit that, as she’d grown older, there had been times she’d inwardly questioned whether Danni was actually her mother. Over the years, there had been clues.

For one, Rory felt no connection with Danni. If Danni had been her mother, wouldn’t she have felt something that tied them together? Even if Rory had been adopted, wouldn’t there have been some sort of bond? But other than a deep need for the perpetually critical woman’s approval, Rory felt nothing. Then, there’d been a conversation she’d overheard between Danni and one of the older witches of the coven. Danni had said something about making certain all Rory’s medical records were destroyed. Why on earth would her medical records need to be destroyed?

But even with all the questions, Rory hadn’t wanted to doubt her relationship with Danni. Because if she wasn’t Danni’s daughter, then who the hell was she?

“I know,” Kimba said, her voice gentler. “And I understand why you want to stay here, where you’re safe from the outside world, safe from anyone who might do you harm. But you don’t belong here, Rory. I’m not saying you can’t come to visit.” Kimba leaned her big head forward and pressed the tip of her nose to Rory’s stomach. “But you’re human. You need to be around other humans.”

“I can’t trust them.” Rory’s hands clenched at her sides. “I lived with a coven of witches. They summoned demons and worked with dark elementals. I don’t exactly have an impressive track record with humans. And if Danni isn’t my mother, then what happened to my birth mother? Where is she? Why didn’t she want me?” It was a question Rory tried not to ask because it made her feel vulnerable and lonely.

“You don’t know that she didn’t want you,” Kimba said. “There are so many reasons that could have caused you to end up in Danni’s clutches, reasons beyond your birth mother’s control. You’ve got to let go of that bitterness. It’s going to eat you alive from the inside out and blind you to anything good you could have in your life.”

Rory knew Kimba was right. Darkness had been growing inside of Rory since she turned sixteen. It wasn’t simply the impending doom of puberty and the monthly visitor that came with it. It was more than hormones, or at least she felt it had to be. She didn’t know if there was some sort of witchy magic behind that day, but after her birthday, her relationship with Danni had deteriorated in a hurry.

Rory had never been able to please Danni. Previously, Danni had merely expressed her continual disappointment. Before her sweet sixteen—which should never be called sweet to begin with because no female at the age of any number followed with “teen” is ever sweet—their relationship had been pretty typical of any mother and daughter from what Rory could tell just by watching her friends. They argued about her hair, her clothes, what to eat, and what not to eat. Danni fussed because Rory talked on the phone too long. She griped because Rory left clothes strewn about her bedroom, though she still didn’t understand why that bothered Danni, as it wasn’t her bedroom. They argued about getting up too late and not going to bed earlier enough. Pretty much all the typical parent child disagreements since the beginning of time.

But after sixteen, it seemed as if Rory’s very existence was a personal affront to the high priestess. No matter what Rory did, it was never good enough. And simple disappointment was just the beginning. It felt to Rory that Danni was convinced Rory went out of her way to make sure to ruin anything Danni might otherwise enjoy. No matter how hard Rory tried, she could have tried harder according to Danni. Rory couldn’t even stand to think of her in terms of “her mother,” because even if the woman had adopted Rory, she’d never been a mother to her.

“Aren’t you even a little curious about living in the world, away from witches and demons? Five of my brethren said they took care of every witch in the Devil’s Heart forest. You’re free, Rory. You have a new start, and you don’t have to do it alone.” Kimba’s voice was full of compassion. By the way Kimba treated her, it seemed like they’d been friends for years, versus only a few months. “Kindred spirits,” Kimba had said. An instant connection that couldn’t be explained.

“I need to get back to Aston,” Rory said, ignoring the question. The ache to be with him was getting worse. Ugh, that damnable ache! She ground her teeth. Perhaps instead of going straight to him, she’d make a quick detour, just to prove she could. She wasn’t beholden to the pull between them. Although she’d been the one who had wanted to make sure he couldn’t leave her with the bond completed, she’d never considered that it meant she couldn’t leave him either. She was glad she wouldn’t be alone any longer. But if she’d thought about that beforehand and known that being without Aston would be so painful, both emotionally and physically, she might have reconsidered.

“He’s been hanging out with Zephyr?” Kimba asked.

“Yep,” Rory replied. “One thing is for sure: Aston is not bored.” At least Rory didn’t think he was. She couldn’t say for sure, considering they didn’t really talk much. “My mate is a brainiac and loves to absorb information. You dragons fascinate him. Though he won’t go near Rhox, since … you know … he ate Aston’s friend. Which, I suppose, is understandable.”

Kimba snorted, her large snout bouncing a bit. “You think?”

Rory walked over to her friend and reached up. Kimba leaned to the side and turned her head, giving Rory a gentle lift until the woman was seated on the dragon’s back. “I think we need to take a break from one another,” Rory said. “You’re becoming entirely too snarky. There’s only room for one snarky chick in this relationship.”

Kimba rose to her feet and spread out her massive wings. “You do remember I can flip over and let you fall right out of the sky, right?”

“See?” Rory huffed. “Snarky. Not cool, dragon, not cool.”

With a powerful push of her hind legs, Kimba launched her body into the sky. Rory closed her eyes as the wind rushed against her face and through her hair. She loved to fly with Kimba. When they were in the air with the world far below them, Rory felt as if nothing could touch her. There were no witches, demons, or dark elementals. The existence of a mother out there somewhere, living her life without Rory in it, wasn’t a possibility. Flying, the only things that existed were Kimba, Rory, and the endless sky. Simple. Except now you have a mate, genius, her inner voice so kindly reminded her. No matter how high or how long they flew, they always had to go back down. Rory had to return to the earth, to her mate, and to an uncertain future.

Aston sucked in a sharp breath when his chest contracted. The pain was constant when Rory wasn’t around. And while Aston had grown somewhat accustomed to it, occasional waves would still catch him off guard.

Of course he knew what the pain was. Elias had told him all about the discomfort he felt when he and his soul mate, Tara, were separated. Soul-bonded elementalists needed to stay in close proximity. Their souls longed for closeness, and when they weren’t together, the souls themselves rebelled against the bodies. For Aston, the pain seemed to worsen every day. He gritted his teeth as his heart ached for Rory, the woman his soul cried out for.

Aston had never wished so badly in his life that his brothers were with him. He was growing restless in the dragon realm. At first, it had been fascinating, and all the new experiences helped distract him from the torment of being separated from Rory. She spent most of the day away from him, and he desperately needed a distraction.

Now, the enchantment of an entirely new realm was wearing off, and Aston was ready to go home. He’d fooled Rory into thinking he was fine because he didn’t want to pressure her or make her feel bad. But inside, Aston was confused. He needed Ra’s strength and ability to stay in control, Liam’s humor, and Elias’s levelheadedness. For the first time in a long time, Aston felt he had no plan, no clear direction he could follow. He was used to meticulously planning his next move, putting the pieces on the board in such a way as to get the best possible result. At the moment, Aston simply existed.

He lived day-to-day in a monotonous cycle with his soul bonded—a woman he’d only known two weeks. He didn’t have a clue how to handle her. Rory wasn’t sure of herself like Tara, playful like Shelly, or badass like Gabby. Okay, that’s a lie. Rory was totally badass, but her badass-ness felt … dark. It was something sinister and violent. Aston could feel her emotions through their bond, and they scared him. He could tell Rory was barely hanging on, and it seemed she might lose control at any moment. When they touched, which she allowed very little of, Aston saw in his mind’s eye something horrible. He could see Rory’s soul, or rather what was left of it. It looked like a broken vase. Pieces lay in shambles, strewn across the floor. The sight broke his heart. She needed him. He knew that was the whole point of a soul bonded, to be a source of strength when the other was weak. But he didn’t know exactly what Rory needed and how to be that something. At times, Aston wasn’t sure she even wanted him to be that for her. Did she feel the pain he felt when she was away? He wanted to ask her but feared her answer. What if the desire to be close was only one-sided?

Aston sighed, his warm breath causing steam to flow out into the cold air. Rory had given him a marvelous jacket made from dragon scales. But beyond being beautiful, it also completely blocked the cold, which was just as amazing. So walking out in the dragon realm’s winter wasn’t nearly as cold as it would be without it. He leaned down and picked up a round, flat rock and tossed it with a flick of his wrist, sending it skipping across the frozen lake in front of him. The dragon realm was stunning even in winter. There were evergreens dotting the land, interrupting the trees that looked like glass from the ice surrounding the limbs. The snow covering the rolling hills was the purest white, with no sign of the dinginess that often appeared in the cold substance on earth. There wasn’t any pollution here. It honestly looked like a winter wonderland drawing from a fantastical storybook. The sky was a deep blue, and the sun, even in winter, shone with a bright beaming yellow casting rainbows off of the bright snowy ground. But it wasn’t home. There were no computers to hack, bad guys to fight, or supernatural schools to attend. Aside from talking to a couple of the dragons, there was only Rory. And other than the night they’d completed the bond, she seemed to want little to do with him. As lame as it felt to admit it, Aston was lonely.

“Bloody hell, man,” he growled to himself, using his best British accent and imagining it was Elias talking to him. “Pull yourself together and get your arse in gear.” It wasn’t the first time he’d given himself a pep talk. He’d even done it in Ra’s voice and Liam’s. Maybe he was going mad. But then Rory would come back to their cave, and he would see the despair that filled her eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to give her an ultimatum—come with him or stay. How could he leave her?

After skipping several more rocks across the frozen lake and watching the sun start to descend from the sky, Aston turned and headed back to the cave. He didn’t hurry. Rory wouldn’t be there. She rarely showed until much later in the evening, and he had no desire to sit alone in a damn cave, aching for her to come to him, to touch him, and to let him touch her.

As he walked along the side of the lake, the evening air blew across the tall, dead grass and the last leaves from fall that seemed determined to hold on to the limbs, rustled, sounding as if they were applauding the beautiful winter sunset. He wanted to enjoy it, but after two weeks of isolation, it was no longer a serene sanctuary. It was a prison. One partially of his own making. He hadn’t even tried to leave. Aston’s thoughts were interrupted, and his footsteps faltered when he heard a soft voice. Moving forward slowly, stepping carefully, he edged farther down the lake and took cover behind a large tree. He leaned around the tree and saw the source of the voice. The air whooshed from his lungs, and his heartbeat picked up speed. The pain he’d endured from being away from Rory lessened immediately. But now he couldn’t breathe for an entirely different reason.

Rory, his soul bonded, was bathing in one of the many hot springs the dragons maintained. Naked. Why was she naked? Because she’s taking a bath, moron, he snapped at himself. The only reason he didn’t turn away was because her back was to him, and the water covered her from the waist down. Rory’s olive skin glistened with droplets. As they rolled down her body, Aston forced his eyes from tracing the water’s path. Rory’s movements were unhurried. She cupped the water in her hands and poured it over her shoulder. She looked the most relaxed he’d seen her since their first night together. The sorrow she seemed to wear like a cloak was momentarily gone, as if the cloak had been folded and tucked away. She hummed a song while she bathed.

Aston wanted to go to her. His hands itched to touch her, and he realized he was shaking like a junky needing his next fix. He longed to hold her and ask her what she needed from him. It was tearing him up inside that he couldn’t figure out what to say or do. Aston had never thought of himself as a failure, but he was definitely failing at being a suitable mate to his soul bonded.

“You can join me if you’d like.” Rory’s voice startled him from his thoughts. “Kimba heated the water to almost scalding. It’s quite nice.”

Aston whipped himself back behind the tree. Shame filled him, and he sucked in several quick breaths. His pulse pounded in his ears. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the image of her, though he knew it would be burned in his brain for the rest of his life. His beautiful, soul-bonded female, with her hair tied up on top of her head, wispy escaped tendrils swirling about her neck, the last bit of sunlight kissing her skin as if to bid her goodnight.

“Why are you hiding, Aston?” she asked. “Am I that hideous to you?”

The shock of her words hit him like a ton of bricks. How could she ask him such a question? When they were together, he thought she could plainly see the desire in his eyes. He wondered if perhaps that was what scared her enough to leave him so often. Did she seriously believe he thought her anything less than beautiful? Before he could think about what he was doing, he lunged from behind the tree. “What?” His voice came out harsher than intended. He clenched his jaw as his eyes bore into hers. And yes, he had to fight himself to stay focused on her eyes. “Why the hell would you ask me that?”

“Because I’m your soul bonded, naked, in a lake, and you haven’t jumped at the opportunity to come to me.” She spread her arms as she spoke, as if offering him a smorgasbord. Aston’s eyes dropped now, and he took in her glorious body displayed before him. His eyes snapped back up to her face.

“Even now you won’t look at me. What am I supposed to think?” Rory lowered her arms and crossed them over her chest. “You’ve barely touched me in the two weeks you’ve been here. You don’t ask to join me when I go out in the morning. You barely talk to me. What conclusion am I supposed to draw?”

Aston hadn’t thought his heart could ache any more than it had been. Hearing that she felt rejected by him, that he’d caused her to feel unwanted, practically shattered the organ that beat only for her. But that wasn’t the only emotion he felt. Anger simmered just below it. Perhaps he could have tried harder, but a relationship went two ways.

“We need to talk,” he practically growled. “Get out, get dressed, and meet me back at the cave.” He turned, but then paused. “Please.” The last word should have sounded softer, but it came out just as harsh as his previous commands. Of all Aston’s brothers, he was the calmest. He didn’t blow up or get offended or worry about something he couldn’t change. But when he finally came to the end of his rope, he found it very difficult to reel himself back in. The walk back to the cave would give him time to think, to calm down, and to formulate the words he would say—words he should have communicated weeks ago. Instead, he’d been a docile male, leaving his female to guess where she stood with him.

They’d wasted enough time tiptoeing around one another. It was time to get everything on the table. Expectations needed to be set and compromises would have to be made. And it was time for him to step up and be the leader Rory needed him to be. She’d been held in darkness’s embrace for far too long. It was Aston’s job to pull her from that terrible place and wrap her in light.

Rory stood in the water, watching Aston’s retreating form. She wanted to call him back because she knew that just being near him would soothe the tumult of emotions raging within her. But she couldn’t. Words, if she could even formulate them in her mind, would not escape her throat. What the heck had just happened? And where had her quiet mate gone? The man who had just commanded her to get out and follow him couldn’t be the same guy who’d been waiting so patiently over the last two weeks. Why he’d bothered to throw the “please” in at the end she couldn’t guess. Maybe that’s the way his mother had raised him? Wouldn’t she be proud to see him now, mated to a dragon tamer so broken she couldn’t even trust him?

When Rory could no longer see him, she carefully climbed from the water. The lake bottom was lined with rocks that were all too happy to slice a foot if she carelessly shifted wrong. As her feet reached the soft grass of the forest, Rory shook off as much of the water as she could and then pulled her clothes on over her damp skin. She shivered as the cold air caressed her skin and wished she had the luxury of a heated bathroom instead of an outdoor lagoon in the middle of winter. As much solace as she had found in the dragon realm, there were some modern conveniences in the human world she missed. Indoor plumbing, four walls and a roof, and, oddly enough, a towel to dry off with so her clothes didn’t stick to her after bathing.

Even though everything within her was screaming for her to hurry—to run to Aston—Rory moved slowly, slipping her socks and shoes on with deliberate care, taking much longer than the task required. She was stalling, which was ridiculous, considering she was on the point of shivering from the chill. But the emotions she saw in Aston’s eyes and heard in his voice had shaken her. She scrunched up her face, trying to process what she’d seen and heard. There was anger, that was obvious, but there was also pain.

When Rory had spoken with Kimba about Rory’s feelings, she hadn’t told the dragon the whole truth. Though Aston had been interested in learning about the dragon realm, Rory knew he had no interest in staying. Despite his repeated assurances to Rory, she heard the lie in his voice. She knew little about the soul bonded, but she knew they couldn’t lie to one another. This was why she had spoken so sparingly to him. It wasn’t fair to accuse him of ignoring her when she’d done the same. Nor was it fair of her to expect him to make the first move. Yet that’s exactly what she wanted. No, if she was honest with herself, Rory would understand that deep down she needed Aston to make the first move, to pursue her, to show her she was worth it and that he was actually someone she could trust. Apparently her plan of giving the silent treatment to force Aston’s actions—even if she hadn’t known consciously that’s what she was doing—had worked a little better than she thought it would. He’d made his move, and it had been entirely unexpected. Now she had no choice but to face him on the emotional battleground she’d pushed him on to.

She walked toward the cave, her steps slow and reluctant, thinking about Aston’s reaction. His words hurt. After all, she hadn’t deliberately set up the scenario for him to come upon her while she bathed. But never in her wildest imagination did she think he would pass up an opportunity to be naked with her. Especially since he hadn’t seen her in such a state since the night they’d made love. Should Rory really have anticipated anything different? She honestly didn’t know, but she knew she hadn’t exactly given him a reason to want to be with her.

She’d hoped Aston would simply be happy in the dragon realm. And shouldn’t he be? Shouldn’t her presence be enough for him to want to stay? They could leave the human realm—and all its problems—far behind. But instead of being happy, Aston seemed more and more distant with each passing day. Rory didn’t know what to do. She’d never been in a relationship before. And even her unromantic relationships weren’t healthy. Well, she’d only actually had one relationship—the one with her mother. And that relationship was anything but healthy. Rory didn’t have any friends, what with growing up in a coven of witches and all. The witches were selfish and bloodthirsty, not exactly the most positive of role models. And even though she despised them, Rory realized the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. She was just as wicked and self-absorbed as Danni had been. That kind of behavior was all she knew. It was all she’d ever been shown. And like a spoiled brat, Rory wanted to stomp her foot and demand that Aston stay with her and be happy, even if it killed him. “Wow,” she muttered under her breath as she pushed the tall grass and bushes out of the way, “I am a catch.”

Much too soon, the mouth of the cave came into view. It sat atop a rocky rise, accessible by a smooth, worn path easily climbed. Dread filled her. She did not know what Aston would say, what he would do. And even less of a clue what she might say or do. Maybe she could seduce him and make him forget his ire? Rory shook her head at the idea. Aston was too astute for that to work. He’d see through the ploy in less than a minute. After all, if he could so easily refrain from skinny-dipping with her, he must have willpower in spades.

She reached the entrance and saw Aston standing, facing her with his arms folded across his chest, feet firmly planted apart. He made no movement toward her; he only stared. Aston had started a fire. The flames caused his shadow to dance across the cave walls, somehow making him seem bigger, more imposing. He pulled his shoulders back, and his chin rose, his only acknowledgment of her presence.