Blood Oath (Darkest Drae, #1)

by Raye Wagner

“Ryn, there’s a load of dishes larger than the Gemond Mountains back in the tub. I need you to get started on them, or we’ll be here all night.” “I’m not sure Mum meant for me to do dishes when she sent me to work for you.” The old coot was the closest thing to a father I’d ever known so I didn’t hesitate to try to get out of the work. Dyter gave me a pointed look that made the scar on his cheek tighten. “I’m sure she meant for you to do anything other than kill her gardens.” “Hey! I’m good at weeding.” I scowled, and it bounced straight off his stocky frame. He knew me too well. He patted me on the shoulder, turning it into a push that propelled me toward the kitchen. “Sure, you are, Ryn. Sure you are.” I whipped my dishrag over my shoulder, accidentally smacking him,

A cheap thrill, I had to admit, but a thrill nevertheless. All I really wanted at seventeen years old was something different, something more, some interruption to the path of this mundane life.

The temperature was the energy sucking kind, unseasonably warm for mid-solstice. Something about the night kissed my skin, and I welcomed the black tendrils with open arms. If the dark were a person, I’d latch onto him and never let go. This pull to be in the night was a recent thing.

how about staying at The Crane’s Nest last night instead of taking a moonlight walk and being spotted by the king’s Drae and getting into this stupid mess? Next time I decided to take a moonlit walk, I was going to slap myself. Twice. Except for now. Because I was taking a moonlit walk now. From tomorrow onward, if I ever even thought about a moonlit walk, I’d slap myself twice.

“Well? What are you standing there for? The king’s Drae is out and the soldiers, too. You need to get on home before curfew.” The man jerked, as if surprised I was addressing him. I rolled my eyes. This one must’ve dropped his acorns when he was fighting for the emperor. “You see me?” he demanded. Oh, brother. It was sad, really, what happened to men after war, but Mum said manners didn’t cost a thing. Using the politest tone possible, I asked, “Are you usually invisible?” The silence following my remark was drawn out. In only a few seconds, it became awkward. I shifted, debating whether I should leave him, but something about his surprise held me back. His mouth open and closed several times, and then he answered, “Yes.” He took a step toward me, still cloaked in shadows, and my heart stopped. It wasn’t that I immediately connected his single word reply to what it meant. Not at all. It was that the insects stopped their chatter and the night became heavy exactly as he took that step. One step and the world held its breath.

The king’s Drae was right in front of me. The shadows appeared to cling to him because they knew him. My heart sputtered in my chest, and rushes of blood sounded in my ears. I hadn’t blinked. I couldn’t blink. I couldn’t breathe . . . Lord Irrik. I took a deep breath as a billow of heat pushed against me from where I stood just beyond the center square. The warmth swirled around my legs and caressed my arms, and I felt an urge to flee and stay at the same time. Play it cool, Ryn. “Al’right. You take care now,” I said in a hoarse voice.

“You see me,” he repeated, stalking closer. But his words were no longer a question. His statement was a confirmation of what we both knew. Death stood three paces from me, and I couldn’t move. My mouth dried as I stared at the man who I knew turned into a terrible beast. My gaze dropped, taking him in. He wore black boots, black breeches, and a sleeveless aketon that hit mid-thigh. His clothing fit like a second skin, revealing a lean build that was nevertheless all muscle. His fists were clenched, and his muscles flexed as if ready to strike. I was going to die. I knew it as certainly as I knew death shouldn’t look so good. Not when it was already invincible. I’d heard Lord Irrik was beautiful, that even knowing he would bring death, looking at him would almost make up for it. My mother left that part out of my bedtime stories, but the women here talked.

Drak, I should’ve kept pretending, maybe I could salvage the situation. I smirked at him, feigning unfocused eyes, and said, “I can take you to meet Syla if you’d like?” “Stop pretending.” He growled. “I can tell.” A snicker escaped. As soon as it sounded, I slapped my trembling hands over my mouth. Mistress Moons! What was wrong with me? The intensity with which the Drae studied me cocooned us, and the rest of the world disappeared. “You can see me. You’re resistant to the droplets in my breath.” He studied me, his gaze intense and penetrating. In a low voice, almost to himself, he murmured, “It can’t be.”

Irrik closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why are you even in this kingdom? Do you want to die? You need to be gone. Right now.” The intensity of his words made my skin crawl, and the burn of his stare made me want to quiver at his feet like a mouse before a hawk. What he was saying didn’t add up. “What?” “The soldiers saw us,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t know how you’re . . . alive. But you need to leave. I’m going to try to fix it, but I can’t risk . . .” He made no sense, yet his warning seemed sincere. I stared into the stone-cold face of the king’s Drae and could have almost mistaken the wild look in his eyes for. . . fear.

“They’re coming for you. They’ve gone to the wrong house.” How was that possible when Snake and Toady knew where I lived? “How will we get . . . ?” The rest of my sentence evaporated as I caught sight of my mother’s face and spun to the window just in time to see Lord Irrik climb through. If this situation didn’t leave icy-cold fear in every part of my body, I would have been rolling on the floor with laughter. The Drae even looked mildly disgruntled at being subjected to the indignity of a schoolboy entrance. He was dressed exactly the same, in fitted black clothing. His dark gaze rested on me, searching up and down.

“How. . . ?” he said, staring at my mother as though looking at a specter. “How can you be here?” He reached forward as if to touch her but stopped before making contact. “I was told you all died.” His voice radiated fury, and it was the simplest of self-preservation instincts that had me backing away toward my mother. Mum ignored him, tapped her index finger to her lips, and began to pace. I looked between them. Did my mother know who this was? She couldn’t, based on her inappropriate lack of fear. And how did Irrik know her?

The rumble of Lord Irrik’s voice carried out to me. “That would mean—” “It’s why he must never know. You need to protect her. You must swear to me. If there was any other way, don’t you think I would take it? If you take me to the king, he will find out.” My mother’s voice was choked and filled with tears. Before tonight, I’d never ever seen her cry, aside from peeling onions. “I didn’t know,” Irrik said quietly.

With a glint in his predatory eyes, he covered my mouth with his. Fire exploded between us. I tried to turn away, but he nipped my lip as he raised his hands to hold my face immobile. I pushed uselessly at his chest. But as the kiss went on, I struggled to remember why I wanted to end it in the first place. His tongue brushed against my lips, and I sighed, returning the tender caress languidly. He growled again, and the kiss became soft, like the first shadows of dusk. Irrik threaded his hands into my long hair and pulled me to him. I went willingly, wrapping my arms around his neck as we continued our intimate dance.

“If you’re lucky, the king will see you’re not a threat.” Irrik studied me, his gaze flicking to my lips and then back to my eyes. “Because you’re not a rebel, right, Ryn? You know saying that will get you killed?” The darkness of night cocooned us, and I knew Irrik had blocked us from view of the other soldiers. He tipped his head down and pressed his lips to mine. His warmth pulsed through me again, and I stood on my tiptoes to prolong the kiss. When we pulled away, I beamed up at him. “You don’t want me to die?” “No,” he said in a quiet voice, eyes sad again.

threaded his other hand back into my hair. “Please don’t,” I begged, tears dripping from my eyes. “Shh,” he whispered. “I only want to keep you safe.” Fiery urgency pulsed between us. Irrik’s kisses were harder this time, and I could taste the saltiness of my tears on his lips. He kneaded my back, and his teeth grazed my lower lip.

First rule of torture club, don’t talk about torture club.

I scooted to the edge, and my stomach roiled with the movement. I accepted his offer for help, but when I stood, my legs buckled. He caught me and scooped me up in his arms. Out of respect for what he’d done for me, I kept my hands to myself although they itched to touch his face again. With another search, he strode out the door, down the empty hall and damp stairs to my dungeon cell. Heat radiated from him to me, a warmth that seeped into my skin and into my soul. Having arms around me, arms that hadn’t hurt me, made me feel human again. Hesitantly, I rested my cheek against his shoulder as he carried me, and I closed my eyes, listening to his heart.

“Why are you helping me?” I mumbled against his hard chest. He pulled me closer, holding me tight as we entered my cell. He set me down on the bed and knelt next to me. “I don’t want to be alone.” I hung my head at my confession. He gathered me in his arms once more, stroking my hair

You are strong, he said in my mind. You haven’t betrayed anyone. You are still kind and good. Don’t confuse humanity for weakness.

“Don’t be,” he said in his husky voice that was now more comforting than any other sound. The rawness in his voice squeezed my heart in a vice, and I had to swallow back my emotion. “How did you do this all alone?” “Now that I know you, I’m not sure.” My chest constricted with loss. I wanted my mother. I wanted Dyter. I missed Arnik. I wanted someone to hold me, to hug me, to tell me things were going to be all right and mean it. “I miss my mother,” I said, and a fat tear slipped down my cheek and landed on the sharp stone I sat upon. “I know, beautiful. I know.” I choked on a cry, forcing it back, not wanting to place more burden on this man. “Tell me about her,” he said, surprising me.

He paused and took a deep breath before pressing my hand to his jaw. The color of the sun was reflecting off the freshly plowed fields this morning. It reminded me of your hair. I closed my eyes, pressing my trembling lips together, and tried to draw up the image he’d created. “Thank you.” My voice broke. I couldn’t help the welling emotion in my chest. In this dungeon-hole, Ty was like my sun, and Tyr was my moon. The circumstances accelerated the bonds between us, and my feelings couldn’t be rationalized away.

A drop landed on my arm, and I startled, glancing up at Tyr’s hooded face. His strong jawline wasn’t clean shaven, not like it usually was, and his full lips were twisted as if trying to contain . . . A tear trickled from his cheek to his chin and then dripped. “Tyr,” I whispered. He was crying. For me. My heart squeezed, and my throat clogged with emotion. He held one of my hands gingerly, stroking his thumb over my palm. Instead of pulling it up to his face, he brought his face to my hand. Ryn, he thought, full lips pressed together. I’m going to get you out of here. I swear. Please hold on.

He knelt next to me, and for a moment I stared at the familiar slope of his shoulders, the curve of his jaw, and my gaze flitted to the bow of his lips. I reached for him. He didn’t ask questions but simply pulled me into his arms and held me close, pressing his warm cheek to mine. Any touching between us in the past occurred after my torture sessions, when I was physically and mentally exhausted, not before. Tyr’s kindness had always been a comfort or boon of compassion.

Something flashed in the Drae’s eyes, and he looked around at the wilted gardens in disgust. “I hate sunlight.” It hates you right back, nightmare man.

Lord Irrik watched me do field laps from the shade of a wilting willow tree. “Drae jerk,” I wheezed. “I heard that,” he called.

“Yes,” Irrik said. “The king instructed me to protect you.” My brain had a difficult time wrapping itself around Irrik killing the guards. Shock made my response slow, and with raised brows, I asked, “Do you think he meant against his own men?” The Drae curled his lips, and scales briefly appeared, rippling across his chest. In the daylight, they had a different hue, like a neon-blue flickered deep under the surface. “He should have been more specific.” “Is that the only one you’ve killed today?” I hushed as he stood and dusted off the back of his aketon. He scoffed and began walking back across the potato field with a silent tread. I take that as a no.

Recovering, he averted his eyes with a look of annoyance and approached the bath. I froze as he dipped one of his fingers into the water by my hip. The water nearest to the tip of his forefinger rippled, and the temperature rose to steaming within ten seconds. I groaned, resting back. “I finally see a point for Drae.” He choked, and I cracked open an eye to check if the sound was somehow laughter.

“You’re the worst kind of fool. Tako mi je žao.”

But it was on the other side of the room, by the couch. The couch where I’d fallen asleep . . . and was no longer lying. I gasped, sure I must still be in a nightmare because there was no way I’d willingly be in Lord Irrik’s bed. But I was. Fully dressed, thank the stars, but in his bed nonetheless. The Drae was gone, and the panels were wide open, exposing a large expanse of sky from a short balcony. I strained my ears to listen, but couldn’t hear him in the washroom. My curiosity swelled, and I jumped from the bed and crossed to the terrace.

A dark bird pulled into the air from one of the zones, but as the bird neared, it grew, and I realized Lord Irrik was on his way back to his tower. The Drae screamed and beat his wings, and I stood staring in awe. As much as I hated him, I had to grudgingly admit he was beautiful.

He stood to one side, and as I passed, I risked a glance to assess his mood. His eyes were hooded and dark, his face an impassive mask. A smirk pulled on one side of his lips. “Did you know you sleepwalk? You’re lucky it’s comfortable to sleep on the ground in my dragon form.” I closed my eyes and grimaced. I’d sleepwalked to his bed? Mortifying. At least he’d left and slept on the floor, so he said. “Did you know you shape-shift?” I asked with a quirk of my lips. “But don’t worry, you’re black, inside and out.”

He ran toward me, but I was distracted by a pounding on the door. Before I could move, he’d hooked an arm around my waist, and in a heartbeat, Lord Irrik pulled me off the terrace and into the air. I tried to scream as we plunged to the ground, but the fear was trapped in my chest, and I couldn’t voice it against the rushing wind. Then Lord Irrik was gone and a black dragon held me wrapped in his powerful claws. My mind caught up enough a few seconds later to tell me nothing about being clutched in the digits of a beast was normal. Don’t be afraid, the Drae said in my mind. We’re landing now.

“The more powerful you are, the tighter Irdelron will attempt to tether you.” “You don’t trust him.” I didn’t see how anyone could, but I wanted to hear Irrik’s answer. “I only trust myself. Everyone else will betray you if they have enough motivation.” I furrowed my brow. “And Tyr. You trust Tyr, right?” Irrik sent him down to care for me. He frowned, and his gaze darted to my lips, making me blush. Finally, he said, “Only to a point.”

I swiped my bloody finger over the sharp edge and swung the hoe in a wide, vicious circle, then released it straight at the Drae. His eyes widened, and my jaw dropped as the tool careened toward him. Irrik raised his arm to protect his head and the blade sliced into his forearm. “Mistress Moons.” I covered my mouth with my hands, and the hoe dropped to the dirt with a thud. Irrik ran his fingertips over the deep gash. Black blood dripped down his arm. “Did you . . . just attack me with a garden hoe?” I was a fool. Irrik was bad, but Jotun was worse. If Irrik died . . . I rushed to him, crying out, “It had my blood on it!” My hands fluttered over the grotesque wound. “Tell me what to do. I don’t want it to kill you.” He moved to look at me, a curious expression falling over his face. “You regret hurting me?” “What? No. Well, killing you, yes.”

Maybe I would wait to see if it worked before shouting my victory to every Harvest Zone. “That was a decent idea,” Irrik said from behind me. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t sound so surprised. Anyway, I thought I was incompetent.” “You are. But maybe you won’t always be so inept.” Fire-breathing jerk.

I stifled a yawn as I trudged after Lord Broody-pants and snickered at my own joke. Broody-pants. Classic. He was extra broody today.

I couldn’t help a nervous glance around the stone hallway—if the incarnation of evil were present, he remained in the shadows. I glared at Irrik, hating him for making me feel weak. If he were one centimeter closer, I’d punch him. Maybe. “I was laughing at you,” I snapped. “Dimwit.” The Drae clutched my elbow. “I don’t see the humor in the joke, Khosana.”

I batted my eyes at him. “Oh, do go on. I love when you talk Drae to me.”

“You bloody fool,” Irrik growled over my head. I kept my eyes closed and waited for his verbal lashing. At least he was accurate in his assessment today. I was bloody. “Next pail.” A roar split the air, followed by a series of crunching sounds, and a shadow blocked the sun’s rays. Not nearly as good as a drink, but the shadow offered some reprieve from the heat. “Next pail,” I murmured again, slumping to the ground.

Irrik crouched beside me, tracing my forehead with his fingers, and he swore in Drae. A cool cloth covered my forehead, and I sighed in relief. The Drae lifted me, and the space around us blurred as he moved. I mean, really moved. Air circulated around my body for a full minute before he stopped abruptly. A moment later, he submerged us in deliciously cool water. It was up to my chin, held as I was in his arms.

Awareness seeped slowly into my consciousness, as I truly realized I was being held by Lord Irrik. In the water. In only my undergarments. How the hay did that happen? My eyes flew open, but there was only black. “Where am I?” I croaked. “Why can’t I see?” “This is my lair,” Irrik said, his voice resonating through my back. “You had heat stroke. It was getting severe.” He had a lair? Why didn’t that surprise me? I swallowed back my panic. “Where?” “I’m going to lift you out of the water. There is an aketon to the right you can wear.”

“Especially not me,” he said with an exhale. A stupor blanketed the warning voice in my mind, and I pushed closer, threading my fingers into his damp hair. Black scales appeared at the top of his chest, the centers pulsing blue. His nose skimmed the soft skin of my neck, tracing under my jaw to my ear. He pushed his lips to my neck in soft kisses. He nipped, and I threw my head back to give him better access. My mind clouded with desire and want, and the voice of warning faded. I forgot everything else except my need for him. Gripping his shoulders, I begged, “Please.” He growled, a low sound of lustful hunger that called for me to feed him. “Please,” I whispered, standing up on my tiptoes, pushing my body to his as I pulled him to me. He crushed his mouth to mine. Energy pulsed between us, a mixture of longing, need, desperation, and something so strong I couldn’t even put a name to it. I clung to him as he kissed me, and when my lips were free, I murmured his name, which brought his lips back to me.

I reached up in the darkness to touch his face, to caress his cheek, and to touch his lips again. “Tako mi je žao,” he whispered.

I recognized his broad shoulders, his sculpted lips, and his clean-shaven jawline. His lips parted, as if he would speak, and he reached a tentative hand toward me. “Tyr,” I mouthed. With a small sob, I threw myself into his arms, burying my face in the folds of his cloak on his chest. He locked me in a tight embrace, pressing his lips to my forehead, and then loosened his grip enough to stroke my hair. After two months, it was nearly down to my chin. Silver strands now that Mum wasn’t here to dye it.

My heart thumped in my chest as I stared up at Tyr. I traced my fingers over his lips, and he caught my finger between his teeth. Desire burned low in my belly. I have wanted to kiss you . . . for so long. Triumph at his words made me smile, and I stepped closer. “I want you to kiss me, too,” I whispered, rising onto my tiptoes. “I’ve wanted it—” There was a flash of his white teeth before he crushed his lips to mine. His fingers threaded into my hair, and his other hand dropped to my waist to pull me tight against him.

My fingertips encountered a row of smooth rolling bumps. What the hay? “Clearly I can’t trust Jotun to keep his hands to himself,” Irrik mused. He waved me forward. “Come with me. I’ll return you to our room.” “Your room, and what about the lesson you were teaching me?” Shut up, Ryn! He arched a brow, face cooling. “Would you rather stay?” “Lesson learned,” I blurted. I hurried out of the cell, skin tingling as I brushed past the Drae.

I followed Lord Irrik inside, dreaming of the steaming bath water I’d be soaking in soon. Two nice things about the Drae’s rooms: I got to bathe and the food was yum. I slept on the couch. Or at least I started each night on the couch. Something in my body or brain would click off after falling asleep, and a thread of insanity made me climb into his bed. I liked to think my affinity for his bed was the softness of his blankets. After the same thing happened several nights in a row, he told me it would be easier if I just started there and he slept on the couch. That way he didn’t have to move to avoid my bumbling sleepwalks. So I guess there were three good things. I’d bumped the king’s Drae out of his own bed. I was a force to be reckoned with.

“Why do you keep saving me?” I asked, glancing back. He crossed the room to the wardrobe, picked a black aketon from a row of black aketons, and pulled it over his head. It must be so hard for him to decide what to wear each morning.

I snuggled under my blanket with a yawn. I’d pushed him far enough. “Sorry,” I murmured, then, more quietly to myself, I added, “No need to get your aketon in a twist.” The wind blew, and clouds skittered past the first of our twin moons. I sighed as the night brushed over me, absently scratching at my forearm. The night air up on the top of the king’s mountain was much cooler than in the valley, and I wished Irrik’s room had a fireplace. “Are you warm enough?” he asked. “Do you need another blanket?” I yawned again, but my muscles bunched with the cold. “Is there another? It’s really cold with the panels open, but I don’t want you to close them.” The bed creaked, but he moved silently across the room, nothing more than a silhouette of darkness. The wardrobe opened, and seconds later a warm blanket settled over me, followed by a third blanket, which effectively trapped the warmth. I sighed and stretched out beneath the covers. “Thank you.”

reached and held my hand out, waiting to see if he would let me touch him. Irrik inched to the side and brushed my hand against the smooth onyx scales. Come. I want to show you something. Come where? He unfurled his right foreclaw. “You want me to climb inside your razor-sharp talons?” He had to be kidding. I knew the stories. He could cut through trees with those things. And what if he dropped me? I won’t drop you. Come on. You’ll like it. I promise. Right. I climbed into the palm of his upturned claw anyway.