“Humans are tricky, vile creatures. They possess devious devices. So say our lawgivers and our priests.” The young queen’s voice dropped a notch in volume, but it grew cold as the mountain’s highest snows. Her youth did not equal weakness. “This is the time of our mating. This is the time when we ensure younglings fill our nests. I will not leave our doorways at risk.”
“The risk is not there,” Larkan replied. “It is an impossibility. The door will only open with a spell.”
“And what of the fact that there will be human eyes to see the dragons fly? What then? Their curiosity will bring them here. They were already on our doorstep earlier this day.”
Larkan was silent. There was no answer to that.
“Do you question the orders of your queen?” the tall priestess snapped.
It was madness—and murder. And yet it was true the dragons were in danger of being seen when they flew. Such a disaster had not come to pass since they had delved beneath the mountains. But what kind of creatures were they if they killed unwitting bystanders? This was folly.
In one surge, he rose to his feet, towering over the young queen. It was an act of utter defiance, and though none of the silent watchers in the room uttered a word, he could hear the rush of indrawn breath. Nadiana rose to face him, fury sharpening every line of her veiled form.
“Think, my queen, what you are asking me to do,” he gentled his voice, as if she were any other young girl. He should have saved his breath.
“Burn them if you must. They are of no more consequence than the mountain goats.”
“If that is your answer, then as first among the Flameborn, I must question you,” said Larkan. “There has to be another way. Give me time to find it.”
There was little the queen could do. Larkan was strongest among her males, and was not easily cast aside. Still, the next words she spoke were of the blackest ice. “I give you until tomorrow to find your solution. After that, use your flame. I mean to fly in this festival and take a consort. If you fail, if you displease me, you can rot under this mountain forever, Larkan Flameborn.”
Her words shocked him, his vision going dark while he tried to suck in breath. Nadiana was young, barely of the age to take a mate, but her first festival had to come eventually. And that brought with it an avalanche of consequences.
Her consort would take his place as captain of the warriors. If he wanted to keep his freedom, he would have to do battle for her hand.
He had never imagined fighting for something he wanted so little. Larkan bowed, every muscle knotted with alarm and fury.
Nadiana turned her back, her frame slim and straight as a blade. “Get out of my sight.”
At last she had given an order Larkan was happy to obey.
* * *
Hours later, Keltie sat cross-legged on her cot, camera balanced on her lap. She was the only one in the tent she shared with two of the senior students. The chilly night was already dark, and she just had one lantern hanging on the pole above. She could hear the conversation around the fire outside—laughter and chatter and the occasional snatch of song.
Keltie had delivered the news about the cave the moment she’d gotten back to camp. Dr. Switzer, along with everyone else, had immediately started up the mountain to see her discovery. He’d brought far better equipment than she had, and he’d spent the better part of the afternoon documenting the find. Thankfully Larkan had been nowhere in sight.
Now the students around the campfire were celebrating both the end of the dig and the finding of the paintings. For once, Switzer wasn’t complaining about the students’ noisy high spirits. Keltie would join them soon, but she needed a moment alone to think.
She was still smarting from her encounter with Larkan, who had tried some stupid hypnosis trick to keep her away from the cave. Who pulled that sort of stunt? Who did he think he was?
Incredulous outrage bubbled up inside her, but it had nowhere to go. The effects of his mind trick had quickly faded to a headache and a desire to kick him clear down the mountainside if they ever met again. Larkan was probably a rival from a foreign university hoping to scoop her discovery for himself. Nice try, tall dark and...and really good kisser. After enduring Dr. Switzer’s so-called mentorship, some dude playing caveman was the least of her problems—even if it felt like more.
She held up the camera and peered at its tiny, bright window, flicking from one image to the next. Impatient to get to the few shots she’d taken of the site, she scrolled past what felt like hundreds of photos of the dig. A fresh chill ran up her arms as she savored the flow of the stark images. The bird was just made of simple lines, and yet somehow she could feel the wind rushing past its wings in the pure, free abandon of flight. Whoever had drawn them had few tools to work with, but they had understood beauty—and freedom.
Keltie reached the last image and then switched the camera off, sliding it back into her backpack. Paper crumpled. She’d printed a few of the best shots on Switzer’s equipment, and now she pulled the pages out of her pack and folded them into quarters, tucking the wad of paper into the pocket of her jeans. Call it infatuation or superstition, but she didn’t want to be separated from the images for a moment. They’d quickly become her lucky charm, proof that she could someday fit in with the rarefied world of academia and stop feeling like an amazon with mud still clinging to her boots.
The noise of the campfire conversation stole into the tent, promising companionship. The students at least were good people. Suddenly lonely, she edged her way through the cramped tent and out into the mountain night. The stars were a dizzying blanket above, the air sharp with assurance of a brief, blazing autumn.
“Miss Clarke.”
She froze in her tracks, Professor Switzer’s voice stiffening her shoulders. He should have called her Doctor—she’d earned the title—but he’d never shown her that much respect. Turning, she searched for his tall, thin form in the shadows, finally finding him in the space between her tent and the one next door. His lined face, as always, was pinched with faint disapproval. “Professor?”
“I was just coming to speak with you. There are arrangements to be made, and very little time to get things in place.”
“Arrangements?” she asked.
“For tomorrow. Breaking camp.”
“Of course.”
He stepped closer, looking Keltie over. They’d been at the camp for two months, and she knew she looked rumpled, although she had managed to wash off the day’s dirt. Switzer’s clothes looked freshly pressed. Keltie wondered if he had a staff of servants stashed in a trunk.
He gave her a stiff smile. “It’s been my experience that it’s hard to get the students moving on time when it means packing up to leave. I’ll need your help to get everyone on the trucks in a quick and orderly fashion.”
She knew that already, so she simply nodded.
“I need to leave early,” Switzer went on. “ I need equipment from the university to properly document and test those paintings. There are papers to file. Permissions. Verifications. Claims. Time is of the essence. The sooner I leave, the sooner I can get back.”
“Of course,” Keltie agreed. This was why she’d taken the discovery to the professor. A find of this importance required someone with Switzer’s connections to make sure everything was done right.
“Tom and Braden have agreed to act as my media liaisons. They are already preparing a press release.”
Keltie frowned. Those were his two favorite students. “Shall I drop by and give them my first impressions of the site?”
“If you like,” he said in a dismissive tone. “We can work that detail into a longer piece if there’s room.”
Keltie’s cheeks heated. A good teacher would help her get the most out of her discovery, but in true Switzer fashion, he’d made himself the star. “But I was the one who found the paintings.”
“And I am more grateful than you know.” He paused, stroking his short gray beard. He somehow made it sound like she’d d
one him a favor.
“I’m going to be one of the primary scholars working on that site,” Keltie said firmly.
“We’ll see,” he said quickly. “And that brings me to the point of this discussion. I need you to remain here until I can return with my equipment. Now that we’ve found this site, word could easily get out. There could be vandals, thieves or others wanting to claim the find as their own. Someone needs to keep the site safe until I get back. If you want to be useful, that’s something you could do.”
Keltie’s mouth dropped open. It wasn’t as if she had a fabulous life waiting at home—she didn’t even have a goldfish to notice she was gone—but leaving her here in the mountains could only mean one thing. Switzer didn’t want her around when he announced his big discovery. “But I should be with you.”
He shook his head. “Face facts. These events are as much an exercise in politics and public relations as they are about scholarship. The public, and by that I mean donors, want to see familiar faces like mine. Faces they trust. Or at least ones that are media-friendly.”
Not those of girls who were too tall or too rough, girls who grew up in work camps and on ranches with their brothers. She was smart and capable, but she would never fit with the yacht-and-caviar crowd who could write a check to fund Switzer’s work.
“You’re stealing my find,” she said softly. Her chest hurt, as if Switzer’s fist was around her heart and squeezing hard. If she didn’t whisper, she’d start to scream. “You can’t leave me behind!”
Switzer narrowed his eyes, his soft voice suddenly ten times colder. “I’m giving you a role to play. Take it or leave it.”
Chapter Four
From his place in the shadows, Larkan saw Keltie talking to the leader of the human team. Larkan strained to hear their conversation, but the chatter from around the campfire drowned out their words. He cursed under his breath and slipped a few feet closer, using the darkness the way another might use a cloak.
Larkan’s stomach still felt hollow after his audience with the queen, as if she’d stolen something vital. Perhaps she had. He’d lived his life on a blade’s edge, balancing duty against need, and now she threatened both. Of course any maiden on the threshold of her first flight would be anxious, but the unquestioned power handed down from one royal to another had warped the young queen’s fears into cruelty. And if no one stood against her, she would never mend her ways.
His friend Rand had counseled patience, but then Rand was a priest of the Flame as well as his brother-in-arms. Rand had faith in the plans of the universe, while Larkan saw only a job to do. He had a day to get rid of the humans before Nadiana gave the task to someone with fewer scruples. The safety of those lives came first. Only then, after the humans were safely away, would he confront the disaster of the festival and what that would mean. A life as Nadiana’s consort? Imprisonment? Dishonor? Exile? Deep in the core of his heart, none of the available choices were ones he could face.
But for once it looked as if luck was on his side. In the time since he had taken up his observation post, the humans had begun packing their vehicles with trunks and boxes. At least some of Keltie’s people were already leaving—but were they all? Larkan strained to hear, trying to pick out even a few words.
The man was speaking in a light, sneering voice, his silhouette sharp against the glow of a neighboring tent. The man was clearly no warrior in strength or spirit and yet he seemed to have the power to make Keltie unhappy. As the conversation went on, her lithe body was growing stiff and tight, as bracing for a blow. Protective anger swept through Larkan, pushing him forward a step before he remembered to stay hidden. Every instinct begged that he take dragon form and snatch the man up in his jaws. There were a few deep mountain lakes where the fish might be hungry.
But when the conversation ended the man left Keltie alone. Larkan clenched his jaw, biting back frustration. He hadn’t learned anything, and now he ached to put his arms around the forlorn figure standing adrift in the darkness. By the Flame, are you growing softheaded? Why comfort someone he was trying to chase away? Because it’s Keltie.
She came in his direction, head bowed. The moon was nearly full, washing the camp in a fey silver sheen. As she approached Larkan felt suddenly lightheaded, drunk on the scent of pine and snow and the sight of female grace. He willed himself invisible among the trees, but he couldn’t have wished very hard. She saw him right away.
“You,” she said sharply, as if the mere fact of Larkan being Larkan was crime enough.
“Yes, me,” he replied.
“What did you try to do to me with that mind trick?” She marched up to him, not stopping until he could feel her breath on his face. “It didn’t work, but I should sue you anyway.”
“I wanted you to forget,” he said. It was hard to think with her standing so close.
She grimaced. “Forget what, that kiss?”
“No.” Larkan’s temper heated. He was prime among the dragon warriors—not something any female forgot once the festival started. “I wanted you to forget the cave. The paintings.”
She looked disgusted. “No kidding.”
Fire and ash! “I do not know why you find those scribbles so interesting. They are nothing.”
She stepped back, fixing him with a glare. “Then why the secrecy?”
“Because you must leave.”
“Why?”
“There are good reasons.”
“You haven’t given me any reasons. Just vague warnings. It makes me want to stay just to find out what you’re up to.”
“That’s not a wise idea.” Larkan’s head swam. This is what he got for being conscientious. Blasting the humans with fire would have been so much simpler. “Your whole camp is packing to leave?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
He exhaled. “Good.”
She put one palm to his chest and pushed him back toward the trunk of the tree behind him. Caught by surprise, Larkan didn’t resist. His spine connected with the bark as she leaned in. “What’s going on? Who are you?”
“I thought I knew until I met you.” His sense of duty to queen and den had defined him. His rank had granted him liberty, which had saved him from suffocation. And yet all that paled to nothing as he stood there, his skin warm where they almost touched. Why does she have this effect on me?
The answer was there before the question had fully formed. Because Keltie was brave and beautiful and had tried to rescue him from a seven-year-old playing a prank. Clearly she’d driven him mad. “I should be tying you up and throwing you into one of the trucks,” Larkan snapped.
“I don’t think so,” she growled back.
He almost laughed. He had an idea how humans saw dragons—as large, scaly monsters that devoured entire villages in a single banquet. No doubt Keltie would do her utmost to slay him. “I’d rather be persuasive.”
“By hypnotizing me?”
The clear moonlight showed the oval of her face and her remarkable brown eyes. They pulled at him like a vortex, drowning his will. “That was clearly a mistake.”
“You think?”
“How do I convince you to forgive me?”
“Give me a reason to believe you.”
Her expression begged him for the truth. Larkan hesitated, feeling as if he were the one being hypnotized. She had the most remarkable mouth, soft and generous. Her scent surrounded him, the musky sweetness of human female, tinged with sharp emotion. And he liked how incredibly stubborn she was. Yet the only truth he could give her was the pounding in his blood.
He could stand it no longer, and slid a hand around her waist, searching beneath her coat and sweater until he found bare skin. The silken warmth heated his desire like a powerful drink. This is folly. She has to leave, so why do you yearn to draw her close? You might as well tear off your own wings.
“Don’t,” she said, though she didn’t move. “You haven’t answered my questions.”
&nb
sp; “I’m tired of talking.”
“Oh.” The single syllable was a plea.
She was tall, but he was taller and could look down into her gaze. The darkness made her eyes into a mirror of the night sky. A dragon could lose himself in that much infinity. Just as well she’s going.
The thought was no comfort. Pain shot through him, anguish born of loss yet to come. Larkan slid his hand up her spine, pulling her closer. Dragons hoarded treasure; they didn’t let it walk away.
Lifting Keltie easily, he reversed their position so that her back was to the tree. Then he caught the tab of her coat zipper and pulled it open in a long, slow move. “What are you doing?” she protested, but he answered in deeds rather than words.
He leaned in to her mouth, savoring the softness of her lips as his fingers traced the delicate arch of her spine. She made a noise of protest, putting her hands against his chest, but her muscles softened as the kiss went on, surrendering to his insistent persuasion. But he was far from done, nipping lightly as he deepened the kiss. He wasn’t even going to try controlling her memories this time. Since she was leaving, he’d give her a memory to keep.
His hands circled to her stomach, then up beneath her sweater to the delicate fabric covering her breasts. This was a garment unlike anything he’d touched before and its clever architecture intrigued him. Warm roundness tantalized him, responding to his caresses without escaping the frail fabric. He slid fingers beneath the silk, making her gasp as he teased her nipples to exquisite hardness. As she arched into his touch, a deep growl of satisfaction rumbled from his throat.
At the sound, a shudder ran through Keltie. The length of her body pushed against him, giving urgency to his desire. It had been far too long since he’d satisfied his mating lust, and Larkan could feel his self-control slipping away. He would have promised her anything in that moment. He would have torn out the wall of the cave and presented it to her, paintings and all, as tribute.
Lord Dragon's Conquest Page 3