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She let out a harsh laugh. “So you’re
saying that I can trust you simply because you’re my guest?”

“My water is yours.” He softened his
voice and hung his head, deliberately shaking his hair forward to hide his
face. “My heart is yours, my very life.”

“I don’t want your water,” she retorted,
but he couldn’t help but note that she didn’t refuse his heart. She couldn’t;
she already held it in the palm of her hand.

Still loose, his hair pooled on the
white marble like the foul oil slick spreading in his soul. Shadowed he may be,
but he came on bended knee and offered all that he had, willingly, with no
pride, no honor, to stand between them. If he didn’t think she’d regret the
loss too greatly, he’d hack off his hair, the last symbol of honor that he did
not deserve.

“You accepted me as guest into your
private tent.” He bowed low, pressing his mouth to the white floor. He rose
slightly, and then leaned closer, slowly stretching out his head to press his
lips to her boot. “That you might additionally offer a single, precious tear
humbles me, brightheart.”

Her breath snagged loudly in her throat,
the sob bitten off before it could escape, but her bond shimmered with rains
and winds that had not graced the desert in a thousand years and more.

Keeping his eyes low so as not to force
aggression on her warriors, he carefully lifted his mouth and pressed a chaste
kiss to the back of her right hand. “You made a promise to your Reds. Let not
my presence as guest interfere.”

She snagged a handful of his hair in her
fist, fighting the emotion rising in her. He felt it cresting, a wave of holy
water powerful enough to demolish Shanhasson’s Shining Walls. He braced for the
onslaught, the burning acid of holy water that might blast his Shadow away
entirely. He would take it all, whatever she gave him, gladly.

With a loud cry, she buried her face
against her First Blood’s chest and let the water pour from her eyes. She
sobbed, wailed, pounding her free hand on his broad chest, even while yanking
at Mykal’s hair until his face pressed to her thigh.

“Lady help me, you almost died,” she
accused, dashing the tears from her face.

Such a wealth of temptation, a waste
that she discarded. He yearned to lick her offering, savoring every drop, even
if she did not weep for him.

“I can’t bear to lose you, too.” Her
voice broke, her pain slicing through his bond so sharply that he sucked in a
deep breath, his own eyes watering in sympathy.

“You will never lose us,
na’lanna
,” Dharman whispered soothingly.
He looked down at Mykal, his face hard, but he gave a short nod. “Without the
Black Dragon’s assistance, I fear we all would have died this day.”

“We will die together,” she said, her
emotions settling into a calmer sea. “You promised. You won’t leave me alone to
grieve again.”

“Never,” Dharman vowed.

Dread clutched Mykal’s throat, for he
could not make such a promise to her. He had no promise to offer, but that he’d
treasure whatever she chose to give him and he would fight with the last
frantic beat of his heart to ensure she lived free of the same Shadows that
tainted him.

“Turn around,” she ordered the Blood,
who immediately complied. She pressed trembling lips to the puckered scars the
arrows had left in his body. Mykal counted three. The Blood was very lucky to
still be alive.

Fresh tears dripped like sweet rain, and
he could not help but tilt his head back, open his mouth, and hope she rained
onto him.

She kissed each freshly healed wound,
and then the red-haired Blood came to take the other’s place. He bore both
arrow and sword marks, but she’d healed him as good as new. One by one, her
Reds came to her and she kissed their wounds, while her face hardened with the
White Dragon's vicious determination. This woman would not hesitate to kill in
order to protect her loved ones.

She'd promised to sample each of his
wounds, which made the Black Dragon rear his head expectantly. He'd give her
all the blood she could hold, and perhaps in her frenzy, she'd allow him a
taste of hers again. Hunger unfurled within him like sweeping black wings. He’d
do anything, anything at all, to taste her blood again.

Two blades bit into his neck, one on
either side, and each Blood dropped a hard, unyielding hand on his shoulders.
They knew his hunger, because they carried the same need. Yet the temptation to
slaughter her in one glorious bloodbath would never occur to them.

“You don’t trust me if she bleeds.”
Mykal smiled and didn’t try to hide the dragon rising in him. “Good. You
shouldn’t.”

*
* *

“WE SHOULD TAKE CARE OF some
preliminaries.”
Now
, Shannari thought,
before I lose my head and do
something stupid.
“Whatever happens tonight, don't draw my blood.”

“Agreed.” Dharman flashed a command and
Lew offered the desert savage a flask. “Drink this.”

Of course he would think of her welfare
first, and the birth of the twins had nearly killed her. Yet she couldn't
forget the Dream she'd experienced at Dalden Bay.
Is that what brought this
dragon from his burning sands? A son?

Mykal still knelt close enough she could
smell sandalwood, but he hadn’t dared come closer. Not with two
rahke
tips buried in his throat. He
stared up at Dharman, face flat and devoid of emotion. “What is it?”

“
Drakkar
,”
Dharman replied. “If you drink a cup of this each day with us, you’ll be unable
to give
na’lanna Qwen
a child.”

Mykal blinked, the silver in his eyes
fading to darkness. “You all drink this?”

“Aye. Even her mate drank it before his
death. Her delivery of the twins was difficult and he didn’t wish to risk her
life again. If you refuse, I shall refuse you access to her bed, no matter how
much she wants you.”

Emptiness spread in Mykal’s eyes,
sending her heart rate up another notch. She might carry this warrior's blood
bond, but she didn't hold the same trust and affection for him as she did for
her Blood. Inevitably, they would fight to determine supremacy. Could they
control him enough to avoid bloodshed?
If he hurts one of my Blood, I'll
never forgive myself for bringing him here.

“Why should she allow you such control
over whom gives her pleasure?” Mykal drawled in that pleasant voice that made
chills slither down her spine. “Is she not High Queen? Does she not command
your bonds?”

Dharman didn’t advance or move, but he
seemed to take up more space. His shoulders were broader, his biceps bulging,
his thighs and chest rock hard and more than ready to pummel the slender savage
from Keldar.

Her heart thumped harder with anxiety.
Despite the size difference, it would not be an easy fight for her young Blood.
Mykal had cooperated so far, but she fully expected him to show his true colors
soon. He was Shadowed. She knew very well what that meant with respect to her.
He had nearly twice the age of her young Blood, and his eyes were even older
than that, as though a truly ancient soul lived inside.

Nothing would surprise or shock him.
Certainly nothing would cause him fear, least of all her honorable Blood.

Then
he’ll fear the ivory rahke in my hand
, she swore.
I won’t risk their lives just to have him.

“I am First,” Dharman replied slowly,
each word ringing with determination. “I control who comes to her bed and what
happens there. I say again, if you refuse to protect her life by ensuring she
doesn’t carry a child, then you’ll never be allowed to touch one hair on her
head.”

Mykal turned that empty gaze on her and
the hairs rose on her arms. “What say you, brightheart? Is this so?”

Tension coiled in her stomach and
pressure simmered in the back of her mind, as though she needed to be
somewhere, doing something, urgently, that she couldn't quite remember. Her
palms dampened and her stomach churned queasily. She had to be absolutely sure
before even considering another child, and d
rakkar
would give her time
for the Lady's will to unfold. “Drink it as he says or I’ll send you to sleep
with your
tals
.”

Lips curving in that smug dragon smile,
Mykal practically purred. “Excellent. Bottoms up, gentlemen.”

Stunned, both by his ready acceptance
and his strange un-Keldari words, she watched as Lew held the flask to his
mouth. The long column of Mykal's throat worked on the fluid and his eyes
flashed. With amusement? Anticipation?

The black bond in her mind radiated a
strange, overwhelming relief. Why would Mykal be relieved that her Blood had
enforced this rule? Even odder, the dragon he carried howled and clawed at his
mind, but he ignored it completely. Each swallow looped another chain on the
beast until it lay muzzled in the corner of his mind, glaring with vile hatred.

Breathing deeply to calm her nerves only
served to bring more of his sandalwood scent into her lungs. The slow burn of
desire heated her blood, and she hated it. She hated feeling so vulnerable to
his appeal despite the questions and doubts darkening her mind. She had too
many questions to dare take this man into her bed, but she couldn't send him
away. She couldn't deny the affect he had on her.

At that thought, Mykal surged forward.
He disregarded the blades at his throat and the rumbled warning from Dharman.
She unsheathed her
rahke
and braced
for full-scale war.

Crouched on all fours, Mykal lowered his
head to the floor but kept his gaze locked on her. He swirled his tongue
against the white marble in long, open-mouthed licks and made a sound that sent
shards of ice shrieking down her spine. It took her a moment to realize he was
licking every single tear she'd cried. A man didn't stare up at her, but a
silver-eyed Black Dragon burning with thirst.

* * *

TWO
RAHKES
IN THE CUR’S neck hadn't stopped him. Dharman glared at Jorah and Lew both,
but what could they do? It might take force enough to kill the savage to
control him, and they dared not wound
na’lanna
Qwen’s
heart.

Mykal sat back on his heels and licked
his chops. “Now I have two more wounds for you to taste, brightheart.”

Her eyes flared, her breathing deepening
to seek his accursed scent that she found so compelling.

Tense, Dharman waited for a signal from
her on how she wanted to proceed. It mattered naught how much she’d come to
love him, nor that she’d finally accepted him into her heart and bed as First,
if she now disregarded the hierarchy they’d established to take this man.

Casually, she walked toward the kneeling
savage, her hips swaying seductively, her eyes glowing with desire.

Sick at heart, Dharman barely breathed.
At least he could still serve as First Blood. If she wanted this other warrior
instead, he’d not prevent it, but she couldn’t expect him to come to her bed
and join another warrior who’d taken his place. Rhaekhar had been different. He
would have obeyed Khul as First without question, but this Shadowed man? Never.

No one else stood between her and
whatever dark deed the Endless Night had commissioned this man to commit.

She smiled, and the hair on Dharman’s
neck prickled. He’d bet his
rahke
that the savage was sweating. She touched the ivory
rahke
to Mykal’s cheek, trailed it down his neck, and without a
single muscle in her face or body betraying her, she jammed it to the hilt in
his shoulder. A painful wound, but not life threatening.

“Now you have a third.” She jerked the
blade out and lifted it to her mouth. Mykal hadn’t made a sound when she’d
stabbed him, but when she began to lick the blade, he groaned deep in his
throat. “When my Blood tell you to stay put, you had best do so. They may spare
your life out of consideration for me, but I assure you, I won’t hesitate to
kill you if I must.”

Relief nearly made Dharman’s knees sag.
He said nothing and made no request through the bond, but she still came to
stand before him. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she dropped
her head against his chest over her mark, and his breath exploded out. She
reached out to Sal and he came to her so fast his hair flapped and fluttered
about his shoulders to fall into her face. She fisted her hand in that hair and
teasingly set her teeth in Dharman’s chest.

Vulkar, she knew what her teeth did to
him.

“I want a bath, and I want you.” She
turned her head enough to leave her mouth on his skin but she could still peek
up at him through Sal’s hair. “You decide the order,
na’lanna
First Blood.”

In a span of heartbeats, she had
reaffirmed his position not just as First Blood but as First in her heart and
bed.

He turned her around toward Sal and
shifted them all around so he could stare over her shoulder at Mykal.

“Put your mouth on whatever flesh I uncover,”
Dharman ordered the other Blood.

His voice was thick and rough but he
didn’t care. He fisted his hands in her shirt, and since it was filthy and
ruined anyway, he ripped it open. Sal went to his knees and eagerly inhaled her
breasts.