Burned by Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  She swayed, exquisite darts of pleasure shooting through her as he released a small burst of power that branded her skin where his lips lingered.

  It should have hurt—she didn’t doubt that his dragon-fire had singed her neck. But instead she grew damp between her legs.

  Oh dear goddess.

  What was wrong with her?

  “I can’t pay it all,” she breathed in desperation. “At least not right now. But I have money—”

  “Not you.” He jerked his head up, his elegant features suddenly hard. “The debt is your father’s and only he can pay it.”

  “I don’t know how to contact him,” she muttered.

  It was true. She’d deliberately avoided him after her escape, worried they would use him to try and get to her.

  What a joke. All this time she’d been trying to protect him when he’d happily used her as collateral.

  Baine studied her with arrogant satisfaction. “Then you belong to me.”

  Lifting his hand, he released a burst of fire that nearly blinded her. Then, allowing it to recede, he revealed a delicate golden chain.

  A dragon marque.

  Panic raced through her as he calmly slipped the necklace over her head, the precious metal warm as it settled against her bare skin.

  The golden chain might be exquisitely crafted, but it wasn’t just a pretty bauble. It was a visible claim that she belonged to Blaine. And no one, not even she, could remove it.

  “No.”

  His head once again lowered, his lips only intensifying her panic as he traced the line of her jaw. His touch was light, but it ignited tiny bursts of excitement. How could she be terrified and furious and aroused all at the same time?

  “Yes,” he murmured.

  “Baine.”

  His mouth scorched the curve of her throat, the brush of his dragon-fire making her shudder.

  “I like the sound of my name on your lips.”

  The urge to whisper his name again and again was nearly irresistible. Crappity, crap, crap.

  “If you will just give me time I can pay you back—”

  Her words were cut short as he covered her mouth in a kiss that demanded complete and utter surrender.

  “I have waited twenty-five years,” he at last whispered against her throbbing lips. “The debt will be paid now.”

  Without warning Tayla felt herself being swept off her feet and carried toward one of the double doors located behind the throne.

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded, not surprised when the words came out as a squeak.

  “To the harem,” he informed her, stepping through the door and into a long corridor lined with priceless tapestries. “Where else?”

  Where else, indeed.

  Trembling as he pressed her tight against his chest, she studied his starkly beautiful face as he easily carried her down a long flight of stairs.

  A voice in the back of her mind continued to screech out a warning. She needed to flee. This dragon was dangerous. And not just because he could turn her into a crispy critter.

  The first time she’d encountered Baine she’d told herself her fierce response to his beauty was a result of her weakened state.

  She’d been kidnapped, terrorized, and tossed through a portal into a dragon’s lair.

  Any female would be a little sensitive.

  But now she couldn’t pretend her reaction was anything but the result of a female screamingly attracted to a gorgeous, sensual male. She had to get away before her treacherous desires made her do something she was going to regret.

  But even as the urge to flee pulsed through her body, there was another part of her mind that whispered she wasn’t being fair.

  How could she leave?

  As much as she might hate it, her father had given her as payment. The debt might be Odel’s, but he’d paid it by selling his only daughter.

  Wasn’t she being as dishonorable as her father by trying to escape?

  Trapped in her dark thoughts, she barely noticed her surroundings until Baine came to a halt and slowly lowered her to her feet. Taking a step away from the sizzling heat of his body, she glanced around the vast courtyard with a large fountain in the center of the smooth paving stones.

  Overhead was a honeycomb dome that allowed in a golden patchwork of sunlight. Illusion? Probably, but it felt real. The floors were tiled into a beautiful mosaic of blue and yellow and brilliant red, and the windows covered by delicate lattice panels. There were bronze urns that stood taller than her and chandeliers crusted with breathtaking gems.

  At the far end of the courtyard were arched doors that led to the private rooms where she could catch glimpses of low, deeply cushioned sofas and oversized velvet pillows. No doubt the rooms were filled with beautiful women who devoted their lives to pleasing their master.

  As far as prisons went, it wasn’t bad.

  She wrinkled her nose, her gaze lingering on the fountain that sprayed a sparkling cascade of water into the air. Okay. It was better than ‘not bad.’ It was as close to paradise as she’d ever been.

  But that didn’t make it any less a prison.

  She heaved a wistful sigh, unprepared for Baine to grasp her chin and tug her face up to meet his brooding gaze.

  “Don’t,” he commanded in abrupt tones.

  Tayla frowned. “Don’t what?”

  “Look so hurt,” he growled, his amber eyes smoldering with frustration. “It…troubles me.”

  “It troubles you?” she demanded. Was he serious? Did he expect her to be dancing with joy? “What about me? I just learned that my own father bartered me off like a piece of property.”

  He studied her, his fingers skimming lightly down her throat to linger on the small, sensitive burn he’d created with his dragon-kiss.

  “Do you fear your time with me?” he asked, something in his dark voice suggesting he wasn’t pleased by the thought she might be afraid of him. “I have no intention of hurting you.”

  Weirdly, she believed him. His touch was possessive, but oh-so-tender. As if he was deliberately leashing his power to make sure he didn’t bruise her skin.

  She shivered. Bad Tayla. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about his soft caresses. Or imagining those slender fingers stroking down her naked body while he gently parted her legs and…

  “That’s not the point,” she abruptly muttered. Yeesh. This dragon was obviously screwing with her mind.

  He toyed with the tiny ribbon that was threaded through the neckline of her nightgown, the back of his fingers brushing over the upper curve of her breasts.

  Sparks crackled over her skin.

  “Then what is?” he demanded.

  She struggled to remember. She had a point. Of course she did. It was just that it was hard to think when her nipples were hard.

  “I have a life. A business,” she at last managed to latch on to a stray reason. “I don’t want to be a part of your harem.”

  ###

  Baine made a sound of annoyance. Why was she making this so difficult?

  She should appreciate the fact that he’d brought her to his harem that had been specifically designed for her comfort. And that he’d treated her with such fragile care.

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t share his desire. Her arousal scented the air like the finest perfume.

  Torn between the need to carry her to the nearest bed and prove her reluctance was no more than a pretense, and his pride that demanded she admit the truth without his coercion, Baine stiffened as Char whispered in the back of his mind.

  Dammit.

  What now?

  “Choose your bedroom and change into one of the gowns,” he commanded, sweeping an arrogant hand toward the arched doorway. “I will return to share our dinner.”

  Without warning, the imp reached out to grasp his arm.

  “Baine,” she said in a soft protest.

  His gaze was locked on the fingers that lay against his bare skin. They were slender and pale and exquisitely
feminine in contrast to the vivid tattoos that swirled over his body.

  It was the first time she’d willingly touched him. The sensation was…cataclysmic.

  “You’ve accepted you belong to me,” he said, the words clipped. He wasn’t prepared for her to witness his intense reaction.

  There was a pause before she gave a grudging nod of her head.

  “Yes.”

  “Then do as I command.”

  Shaking off her hand, he turned to head out of the courtyard. He’d reached the door when her voice brought him to a sharp halt.

  “How long?” she demanded.

  He glanced over his shoulder, feeling a funny twinge in the center of his chest at the sight of her standing alone in the middle of the room. With her shoulders squared and her chin tilted to a proud angle, she should have looked silly. He could destroy her with one puff of fire.

  But he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

  Her hair tumbled down her back, shimmering with hidden hints of golden fire in the sunlight that streamed through the dome. Her eyes were the color of the purest emeralds with shards of jade. And her slender body was visible beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown.

  “What?”

  “How long am I to remain your prisoner?”

  He scowled. Aggravating imp.

  For centuries he’d enjoyed females who eagerly competed to enter his bed. A few had killed for the privilege. So why did this imp pretend it was a punishment to be his lover?

  “You’re my courtesan, not my prisoner,” he informed her. “And you’ll stay with me until I say you may leave.”

  Her lips thinned. “In other words, I’m your prisoner.”

  “You’re very stubborn.”

  “Not stubborn, merely weary of having my life screwed up by males who think they own me.”

  Baine made a sound of impatience, resuming his exit out of the courtyard.

  “Prepare for my return,” he ordered in tones that left no room for argument.

  He was heading up the stairs when he heard the sound of shattering glass. Tayla had just destroyed one of his priceless urns. Without warning, his lips twitched. Then he tilted back his head to laugh with rich enjoyment.

  He hoped it was the orange one with gaudy opals that he’d received as a gift from an ancient aunt.

  He hated that thing.

  Refusing to dwell on his strange, unpredictable responses to the female, he instead focused on the slender male standing on the top step.

  “Char,” he murmured, coming to a halt directly in front of his servant. “Maybe I didn’t make it clear I had no desire to be interrupted.”

  The male grimaced, his eyes darkened to smoke. “You made it clear, but we have a problem.”

  Baine was on instant alert. “Tell me.”

  “Your father.”

  “What about him?”

  “He just arrived.”

  What the hell? Baine momentarily froze. He couldn’t have been more shocked if Char had told him that the tooth fairy had magically appeared.

  Then, with a shake of his head, he was heading toward his throne room, his long strides eating up the distance.

  “Did he give a reason for his visit?”

  Char hurried to keep pace, his expression grim. “No, but he brought gifts.”

  “Damn.” Baine’s initial shock was quickly replaced with suspicion as he sent his companion a warning glance. “Put the guards on alert.”

  Char instinctively reached to touch his dagger with the diamond blade that he had strapped beneath his shirt.

  “You expect trouble?”

  Baine clenched his teeth. “When my father arrives bearing gifts, he intends to try and bribe me into doing something I don’t want to do. Or…”

  “Or?” Char prompted.

  “It’s a declaration of war.”

  Shoving open the door, Baine stepped into the throne room. Heat immediately blasted around him. Even braced for his father’s power it made him flinch.

  Synge was a large, cruel, lethally clever predator. Currently he’d chosen a human form with dark hair that he kept cut short and eyes the color of polished silver. Striding up and down the length of the room, he was dressed in leather pants and a black T-shirt that looked as if it’d been painted on his broad chest.

  He had tattoos similar to Baine’s, although not nearly as many and they didn’t swirl. Instead they faded in and out, sometimes disappearing for days.

  Synge preferred brute strength to intelligence. He’d never been a collector of knowledge.

  Remaining close to the door, Baine waited for his father to halt his pacing and turn to face him before he performed a small bow.

  “Sire.”

  The older man moved toward him, his broad, roughly carved face impossible to read.

  “Baine.”

  “To what do I owe the honor?”

  Halting a few feet away, Synge cocked a dark brow. “Can’t a father visit his son?”

  Baine gave a sharp laugh. His father had kicked him out of the family lair the second he was old enough to be considered a threat. Synge didn’t share. Not his harem, not his power, and certainly not his hoard.

  And while the older male had occasionally commanded Baine to return home so he could inform Baine of his severe disappointment in his eldest son, Synge had never once stepped foot in Baine’s lair.

  “He could, but in five hundred years you’ve never bothered to visit before, so you will understand my surprise,” Baine drawled.

  Synge folded his arms over his chest, a nasty smile curving his lips.

  “And you claim I have no manners.”

  Baine shrugged. He didn’t know why his father was there, and frankly he didn’t give a shit. His only interest was returning to the female who he’d waited twenty-five years to bed.

  “I’m too busy for games,” he said in cold tones.

  “So I’ve heard,” his father drawled.

  Baine stiffened. A nasty premonition crawled through him, twisting his gut into a tight knot.

  “What did you hear?” he demanded.

  “That you have my pretty little imp.”

  Shit. Why hadn’t he realized that his father’s sudden appearance was connected to Tayla? There were no such things as coincidences.

  But he was truly caught off guard.

  Ruthlessly leashing the aggression that detonated through him at the mere thought that another male was interested in his female, he clenched his hands into tight fists.

  “Who told you?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” The T-shirt nearly split in two as Synge deliberately flexed his muscles. “I want her.”

  “No.”

  Danger vibrated through the air. No one said ‘no’ to Synge.

  “The trolls gave her to me.”

  “And I bought her.”

  Synge waved a hand toward the heavy trunk that was sitting on Baine’s throne.

  “I’m returning your payment.”

  Baine forced himself to suck in a deep breath. Christ. His every instinct urged him to attack.

  It didn’t matter that this dragon was his father. Or that Synge was offering a fortune for the imp’s return. His primitive nature only knew that another male was trying to take away his female.

  Once he’d stifled his more violent urges, his brain came back online, allowing him to consider his father’s unexpected arrival with a much-needed logic.

  The first question was how the hell Synge had discovered he’d managed to locate Tayla. It had to be a spy in his household, of course. Nothing else would explain how the older dragon had learned about her presence so quickly.

  Dragon-fire licked over his skin. He would deal with the traitor later.

  For now he was much more interested in discovering his father’s interest in Tayla. It had to be a significant reason for him to return a fortune in gold and an emerald the size of a baseball.

  “Why?” he demanded.

  Synge abruptly turned
to pace toward the far wall, pretending an interest in a marble statue that was set in a shallow alcove.

  “I want the imp,” he said.

  Baine’s brows snapped together. His father wasn’t subtle or devious or capable of elaborate schemes. He was a bully who was blunt to the point of rudeness.

  So what was he hiding?

  “For what purpose?” he pressed.

  “The same purpose I want any female.” Synge turned to face him, a ruddy color staining his face. “To warm my bed.”

  He was lying.

  The question was…why?

  “If that was true then you would chose a concubine from your harem,” Baine pointed out. “You have no need to pay for a bed-warmer.”

  Synge glanced toward the treasure chest on the throne. “You were willing to pay.”

  Baine shook his head. “Tell me why you want her.”

  A low growl rumbled in his father’s chest. “She’s a beautiful creature and she lingered in my thoughts after she…” There was the slightest pause. “Disappeared.”

  Baine stepped forward, the air prickling with his power. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’ve returned your payment,” Synge snarled, his belligerent tone intended to intimidate. “Now give me the imp.”

  “No.”

  Tension pulsed in the air, the potential for a bloody confrontation a tangible force.

  Then, with an obvious effort, Synge dialed back his hostility.

  “So you’re my son after all,” he jeered. “Fine. You want more treasure? I’m prepared to barter.”

  It was so out of character for his father to even suggest he negotiate rather than simply take what he wanted that Baine should have shouted with joy.

  How often had he wished he could see his father groveling at his feet?

  Instead, all logical thought was shattered as the beast inside Baine roared, his skin suddenly feeling too tight for the fury that pounded through him.

  Barter for Tayla?

  Not a chance in hell.

  “She’s not for sale,” he rasped.

  The silver eyes burned with a strange desperation. “Of course she is.” Synge stepped forward, the words that Baine never thought to hear tumbling from his lips. “Name your price.”

  Baine couldn’t concentrate on his father’s bizarre behavior. Not until he’d made certain the bastard understood there was no way he was getting his hands on Tayla.