Kiss of a Dragon(50)

Another man stood in the stone-floored entryway of the dragon’s lair. “Do not go against me, dragon.”

“I was only taking a taste,” the dragon hissed, but he took a step back from both Arabella and this strange new man who had stopped him.

He was beautiful in the way some men were—slender but high-cheeked; dark, flowing hair long past his shoulders, wispy and straight. Those runes that Lucian had were on this man as well, only just on his face. His eyes were ice-colored, nearly clear, with a hint of blue that dazzled as he fixed a stare on her. But the most strange part about him was his ears… they were pointed, like an elf. Or maybe a faery.

The fae. This must be the fae that Lucian mentioned. Or one of them, at least. Had he come to rescue her? A flame of hope lit her heart.

“This one is not for the likes of you to taste, Tytus,” the fae said. He slowly raked his eyes over her body. Heat rushed her face, and she crossed her arms over her bare breasts. “Although I can see why you would want to try.” He smiled, and Arabella’s small hope was doused in ice.

“Lucian’s going to come for me,” she said, defiantly, but it was far more hope than any kind of certainty.

“Of that, I have no doubt.” His smile tempered a little, and he gave a half wave in her direction. Suddenly, she was clothed again, the tatters of her original t-shirt still lying on the ground while she now wore a gauzy, white blouse, so thin as to hardly be any cover at all without a bra underneath. In fact, the thin cuts from the dragon’s talons seeped red immediately into the fabric, sticking it to her. She frowned, confused as to what was happening. It was like he wanted to cover her up, but he didn’t care if she was a bloody mess.

He gave her an appreciative once over, then turned to Tytus. “Cross me again, dragon, and you’ll know the full power of my displeasure. Make no mistake—you are not protected by the treaty, and those wards on your keep are an insult. Did you really think to prevent my coming with that?”

Tytus dipped his head. “Of course, not. Those were for the prince in case he followed—”

The fae snorted, a clear look of disgust on his face. “You are as stupid as you are clumsy. Those would never have stopped him.”

“I only meant to delay—”

“Don’t lie to me, Tytus.” The fae’s voice went ice-cold. “You live at my forbearance, and only as long as you are useful to me. Do not test it.”

Tytus growled. “We both have the same purpose in this. And when you are done with her—”

“You will not touch her again.” The fae’s voice boomed, heavy with the same magical power that shook the air before. Then he calmed and gave the dragon a sickly kind of smile. “Not until such time as I permit.”

Tytus bowed again and took a step back.

The fae turned his icy stare back to her. “Now, my lovely Arabella, you and I have a few things to discuss.”

She shivered as he held out his hand to her, beckoning her forward. Talk? What the hell were they going to talk about? Should she refuse? Would that serve any purpose whatsoever? Her whole body was still trembling with cold and fear and shock, and her brain was locked up with the panic that came with all of it. She couldn’t really think straight, but she didn’t see much in the way of options. She managed to unlock her legs and stumble forward.

The gleam in his nearly-clear eyes heightened as she reached out to take his hand. A small smile snuck onto his face.

Then the world vanished in a blink.





Lucian sped toward the House of Drakkon like a man possessed.

And he was—images kept haunting him of Arabella lying in a pool of her own blood. He squashed those down and ignored the horrible, creeping, black feeling that he would arrive too late—moments too late, seconds too late—after any chance of saving her was gone, no matter how powerful the magic in his blood. He focused instead on finally having just cause to tear out Tytus’s liver and feed it to him.

Even at his top speed, the trip to Idaho was agonizingly long. But he knew Tytus would take her to his lair. Surrounded by his fellow black dragons was the only way he could hope to hold Arabella for any length of time. He had to know Lucian would come for her—and him—which was part of why Lucian was convinced he would arrive too late. Tytus knew the clock would be ticking. And that was the part Lucian couldn’t understand—why take her at all? Why risk war with the House of Smoke? Because Lucian would arrive first, but his brothers and his House would be on his smoke trail, ready with talons and dragonfire to render the House of Drakkon to ash. Why risk it? All to spite Lucian for enforcing some common decency upon Tytus in his treatment of bedmates?