Verin tossed aside the sword—which vanished—and shifted so suddenly that I barely caught the transformation. One second he was a man and the next, a Dragon. He didn't have wings but he was enormous and merely had to stretch his neck to reach us. His whiskers wound around Gargo's hand, yanking it away from my throat as his Dragon jaws closed around Gargo's waist.
“Don't hurt him!” I shouted even as I fell free.
In response, the Blue Dragon coiled its long body around mine and transported us through the Veil; magic crackling off his whiskers like lightning.
Chapter Forty-One
“Where are we?” I asked after we reformed.
“My palace.” Verin shifted back to human.
“But the others won't know to come here.”
“It was instinct.” Verin shrugged and headed through an archway, leaving me behind.
That's when I noticed he was naked. I averted my eyes while he got dressed and set my stare on the room instead. A bedroom. A luxurious one. With a bed large enough to sleep a dragon... if he coiled up properly. If I hadn't been so upset, I might have been affected by the sight of such a blatantly masculine and exotic room; onyx sheets edged in gold, indigo stone floors covered in Oriental rugs, and a vaulted ceiling that, again, could accommodate a full-sized Lóng; a fact that our arrival had just proved. But the room only reminded me of Slate and his preferred style of somber elegance. And I had just abandoned Slate to battle Gargo alone. Gargo, who was killing Slate's people and using his body to do it.
I covered my face with my hands and pushed the heels of my palms into my eyes. Despite my effort, a few tears slipped past the barrier.
Warm hands slipped over my shoulders and pulled me against a solid chest. The scent of leather and Verin rose around me. I let out a shivering breath, lowered my hands, and wrapped my arms around him. The comfort he offered broke my control and I began to cry; silently at first and then in big, body-wracking sobs. I wept in the way that I hadn't allowed myself to do around my men; not since the Lucifer incident. I didn't want them to see me break; I needed to be strong this time. But my control had been steadily weakening around Verin and it had finally shattered.
Verin offered no judgments, only comfort. His arms became a safe haven I could fall apart within. They held me together, supporting me when I collapsed, and his head bowed over me to form a complete shield. I felt his cheek press against the top of my head and one hand began to stroke my hair soothingly but he didn't say anything. Didn't even make a sound. Verin just held me until I felt strong enough to let go.
I stepped back at last, swiped at my eyes, and lifted my stare to Verin's. His eyes had gone indigo. What emotion was this? Perhaps the shade of his stare wasn't an indicator of a particular emotion at all, but instead, a gauge on how much of it he felt.
“Where will they have gone?” Verin asked gently.
I blinked. Processed. Right; my lovers. Sweet stones, Elaria, focus!
“Kyanite,” I said as I extended a hand to him. “Will you come with me?”
For an answer, Verin took my hand and held on tightly.
Chapter Forty-Two
“There you are!” Gage grabbed me and yanked me into his arms.
“Is everyone okay?” I asked as I hugged him back.
“We're all fine,” Torin confirmed calmly.
“All of us except for Slate,” Darc growled furiously.
“How the fuck did Gargo get into him?” Banning asked.
“Slate and I were just talking about Gargo,” I murmured. “How God souls can't be destroyed. How Darc and I had imprisoned parts of ours but we didn't do so with Gargo's. We even asked Daha if Gargo's soul was the one wreaking havoc around the Zone; if it was haunting us.”
“And what did Daha say?” Darc's gaze went piercing.
“Daha said it was Gargo's blood causing the trouble and that his soul was definitely not loose.” I grimaced. “That's why I was sure it wasn't him.”
“His soul wasn't loose,” Declan noted. “It was in Slate.”
“Why would he mislead you?” Darc mused.
“I think Daha believed I'd be hurt if I knew about Gargo too soon,” I mused.
“How long has Gargo been in Slate?” Gage asked furiously.
“When I asked him that on Pyrosvesti, he implied it was a quite a while,” I reminded him. “What if he's been in Slate since Lucifer exorcised him from Poseidon?”
“It's very likely he has,” Darc surmised. “All Gods are different but, if Gargo is anything like we were, he'd be able to survive in spiritual form for as long as he wished. But if that were the case—if he'd been roaming free all this time—when he decided to return, he could have simply created a new body for himself. One that would have been far more powerful than Slate's.”
“But he didn't,” I murmured. “So, that tells us he was likely weakened by the war and couldn't create a new body.”
“And yet he managed to take Slate's,” Declan argued.
“My point exactly,” Darc said. “Even at his strongest, Gargo wasn't able to force his way into a Beneather's body; he had to trick Poseidon into letting him in. So, how did Gargo get into Slate?”
“Yes; that's the question!” Gage growled. “Care to hazard a guess?”
“Slate was unconscious when Gargo was expelled from Poseidon; the perfect target,” Torin concluded.
“And, as a Gargoyle, he was also the perfect host for Gargo,” I muttered. “Practically custom-built for him.”
“I'm so sorry this hasn't saved your lover,” Saif said to me. “I know this puts you at greater risk too.”
“Saif, I'm the one who's sorry. Please forgive me for dragging you and your family into this when it wasn't your fight. I was so certain it was the Jinx,
