He was lying, but I wondered if he knew it. I could feel a deeper truth underneath his harsh bravado, a yearning that had him hovering here trading words instead of attacking me again. A longing for something that he didn’t believe in and wouldn’t let himself acknowledge.
I wondered if he knew that this bond existed between us, and that it told me so much that he wouldn’t say. I had never realized it, and it was possible that he wasn’t conscious of it, either… although now that I knew it existed I had no doubt it was what had led him to me.
“You’re not going to kill me,” I said confidently. “And it’s time for you to leave.”
“You’re wrong,” he roared, launching himself at me.
He knocked into my wing, throwing me off balance, and slashed at my head with his front claws. I flamed at him, jerking out of his grasp, and succeeded in loosening his hold enough to twist away. He went for my head again, trying to wrench my jaws open, and I realized with a start what he was trying to do. Our dragon bodies healed so quickly that we were virtually indestructible… in all areas but one. He knew where I was vulnerable, and even though I wanted to believe that he wouldn’t go through with it, he was trying to attack the one spot that could kill me.
I dove at him, shredding his hide as I ripped at his underbelly. It wouldn’t kill him—I didn’t want to—but I was determined to inflict enough damage to get my point across. He grunted, instinctively folding in on himself in protection, and I went after his wings, piercing the tough membrane and driving him back with every slash.
“Leave,” I said, refusing to let up.
“Weakling,” he gasped. “You know this isn’t going to stop me.”
“It will, brother,” I said, whipping my spiked tail across his eyes as I continued to attack him with claws and teeth and the sheer force of my determination. “You have become what you are because I failed you once, but I won’t do it again. I will never give up on you. Someday you’ll remember that I chose to stop you this way, rather than kill you. I want you to live, and someday, when your destiny finds you, I want you to remember what you found here, and what you can have, if you let yourself.”
“You have nothing that I want,” he spat.
He pushed away from me, his shredded wings laboring, and I didn’t follow. I half expected him to attack me again, but with a muttered oath, he turned and sped toward the open ocean. A glittering rain of scales trailed in his wake, and the sight gave me a moment of concern, knowing how much damage I’d inflicted. Yes, he would heal, but if he was really leaving, he had a long flight across the Atlantic ahead of him.
I tentatively pushed my mind toward him. It felt different than my bond with Devin. With my mate, I could feel everything. His thoughts became mine, his feelings were inside me, his heartbeat felt closer than my own. With Ivan, it was a subtler sense, and not an automatic “knowing” as it was with Devin. I had to try to reach him… and as soon as he felt me trying, he blocked me.
But I was willing to bet he could still hear me.
I’m not giving up on you, I reminded him. And then, even though I suspected it was a wasted sentiment, I added, Be safe, brother.
For a moment there was silence. Maybe I had been wrong, and the bond didn’t work the way I thought. But then I heard him.
My safety is not your concern, мудак.
With that final insult, he shut me out. Still, now that I’d discovered the bond, I retained a faint sense of him even after he blocked me. He wouldn’t be able to surprise me again.
As much as I wished things could be different between us, I was glad he was gone for the moment. I longed to be back with my mate, to hold my children and put our lives back in order. But someday, under other circumstances, I hoped to see my brother again.
He was family, too.
30
~ Devin ~
Ben had hustled me downstairs and managed to put the fire out, but the master bedroom was a total loss. He offered to sleep in the nursery with the boys so Maks and I could take the guest room he’d been using, and he went to prepare it for us while I took care of the babies.
I stripped off the scorched remnants of their clothing as soon as I could and went over every inch of them. Their dragon blood seemed to have protected them from the fire, but I couldn’t quell my instinct as a parent to see for myself. Michael patiently sucked on his fist while I fussed over him, then promptly went to sleep when I put him down. I could already tell he was destined to be an easy baby.
Zach was a different story. Even after knowing him for just one day, I trusted that his current crankiness had more to do with his personality than with any harm from the fire, but I still needed to make sure. He was restless, and quick to fuss—“Energetic,” Ben had labeled it indulgently—and as he squirmed and twisted away while I tried to wash and dress him, I frowned. I didn’t see any damage from the fire, but he had a faint mark on his shoulder in the shape of Ivan’s grip.