by Rosko, Mandy
Inferno had known from the beginning that as the oldest son he was supposed to be mated to an Istavan, but that there was no one in their line for him. Everyone in his family had known this, which was why he’d grown up knowing he would marry his distant cousin, Tinder, instead.
Inferno had thought he was strong. He’d felt he could handle this hand he had been dealt because he sure as hell wasn’t about to let himself waste away longing for a mate he’d never met. But there, in a tiny bakery that he walked into on a whim, in a city he was only visiting to make good with the humans, his mate was waiting to serve him cupcakes.
What were the odds of that?
“Okay, so if you’re sure about this, what are you going to do? What about Tinder? What about Aunt Charrling?”
“What about them?”
“Charrling might take it easier, she’ll know about the importance of the family lines, but you know Tinder—”
A distant scream cut off his brother before he could finish. Inferno’s spine stiffened. He spread his wings out and jumped off the roof.
“Hey, fucker! Wait for me!”
Inferno ignored his brother and flew across to the other building. He hit the wall next to the Istavan’s window. His claws dug into the cement and brick, punching holes and letting him stick in place. He looked through the window, cursing the curtain that was in the way, but it was thin, and he could see a touch more than shadow this time. He got a hint of color through the white material, and with how close he was, he could hear…
Crying.
Inferno’s heart clenched. His heart never clenched. Tinder cried for things in front of him many times in her attempt to manipulate him into buying gifts or spending more time with her, but his chest never constricted the way it did now.
“What’s happening? Is she crying?”
Inferno glanced up at his brother, who stared at him upside down above the window.
“Clearly she is, just shut up for a minute.”
Inferno listened carefully to the sobs that came from inside the window. He couldn’t understand what she would be crying over, but these were not the soft, delicate sobs that Tinder made when she was looking for attention.
The crying stopped a moment later, replaced with sniffles. Inferno tried looking through the window again. He thought he could make out the figure inside cleaning something up off the floor. That changed when a hard bang came from her door.
“Who is it?” He heard her ask.
The banging happened again, and his mate made a growling noise that made Inferno proud. “What? I don’t want to buy anything. Go away.”
She knew how to handle people annoying her at her door. He loved this more and more. When he took her out of here to woo her, it would be an interesting match.
A crash sounded, and his mate screamed.
Inferno’s lungs briefly seized with the panic of hearing such a noise. He and his brother exchanged a look in a single split-second before crashing through the window. Inferno was momentarily blinded by the yellow light of the room that hit him worse than the street lamps outside. Luckily, his vision cleared quickly, and he hissed at the sight of four men in black suits and masks around his mate. They’d placed a black bag over her head, and one man was holding a knife to her throat.
The room itself froze. The men stared at Inferno through the holes in their black masks while Inferno’s mind raced to find a solution to the problem of the knife.
“If you even think of putting that blade any closer to her throat, I swear you won’t be able to run fast enough. If you put it down and walk out of here, I’ll let the lot of you live.”
Not that there was any chance that he’d let them live after this. No fucking way was that going to happen.
The idiot with the knife pulled it away a few inches; more than enough space for Inferno to act.
His hand went for the blade he kept holstered to his side. Inferno was usually quick, but as he threw the knife, his heart was seized with the worst sort of fear. If he’d been too late, too slow, the man’s edge would connect to her throat, and it would all be over.
Inferno’s throwing blade landed in the man’s eye, mercifully far enough away from his mate for his heart to start beating again. The man yanked backward, screaming a wretched noise, prompting the other men around him to pull their weapons. Blaze responded by releasing a roar that made the walls around them vibrate, but Inferno made no sound at all. The rage within him blistered dangerously quiet as he withdrew another throwing knife.
The men broke formation, but they didn’t charge the dragon brothers. Instead, they bolted toward the door. Inferno blinked as he looked to Blaze.
“Did those idiots just run away?”
“Looks like it. See if you can catch them. I need—”
“I know, I’m on it.” Blaze was swift, neatly jumping over the woman as he ran for the door after the men.
Inferno fell to his knees in front of her. Her shirt was torn open, revealing a white cotton bra that was slightly crooked on her breasts, as if she’d given quite the struggle against her attackers.
His primary concern was the bag on her head though and making sure she was still breathing. They’d tied the bag tightly around her neck, pressing the string into the sooth, fragile skin of her throat.
Inferno pulled his claws out and neatly cut the string, stretching the bag open and drawing it off her head. The rope left behind a deep red mark, but he didn’t see blood anywhere. Not from the line or the knife that Captain Fuckface had been holding against her.
The green eyes that stared up into his were wide and frightened. Inferno was a prince, the first in line to inherit the North American Kingdom of dragons, and as such, he had extensive training in self-defense, first aid, leading armies into battle, and reassuring his people. Yet in this moment, he had no idea what to do.
She was motionless but alive. Everything had happened too quickly, but he could still see life in her eyes. She wasn’t gone from this world. Not yet.
Inferno finally remembered his training. It only took the one breath and slight compression to remind her lungs what they were supposed to be doing.
She convulsed and coughed beneath him. He pulled back as his mate turned to her side, clutching her throat, coughing and gasping for breath. He saw tears spill from her eyes as she sucked back another breath, and another, each seeming to come easier than the last.
Inferno’s chest felt like it was held in a vice. He had to touch her. Had to hold her after coming so close to losing her. It was too much to nearly lose her after he’d only just managed to find her.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, pulled her into his lap, and wrapped his arms around her. His emotions bubbled over, coming out as a laugh, one that sounded a little maniacal, even to him. Against his body, hers felt so small and fragile, like a rag doll.
Her breath wheezed. Inferno didn’t realize right away that she was speaking to him. “Thank you.”
He kissed her beautiful red hair, damp and cold with sweat as it was from being in that hideous black bag. As much as she was trying to catch her breath and bearings, he too was trying to compose himself. He was unable to stop the feeling that he had almost lost something as essential to him as a limb. Even more so. She was something he couldn’t live without. “You’re coming with me now, sweetheart.”
Because there was no way in hell he was going to risk something like this happening again.
3
Fiona remembered a black bag being shoved on her head, but then nothing else after those horrifying seconds when she couldn’t breathe.
The next thing she knew she shot up and gasped, her hand coming to her throat, desperate to yank the bag off.
But there was no bag. There was nothing on her face. She was…she was breathing. She was all right. Her heart slammed against her ribs as if it was trying to break out of there forcefully, but she was all right and breathing. She placed a hand over her heart, as though she could calm it down with the pres
sure.
She immediately noticed the difference in fabric her hand was touching.
She looked down at herself. Her clothes didn’t just feel different. They were different. This was some soft, fancy stuff she was wearing. Is this…cashmere? Do they even make pajamas out of cashmere?
She almost couldn’t stop touching it; it was so soft and comfortable. It took her another couple of seconds before she realized, holy shit, this was definitely not her bedspread. This wasn’t her bed. She didn’t even have a bed, just the futon. This mattress with its fluffy quilts felt like she was lying on pillows that had been placed on top of even puffier pillows.
Fiona was afraid to look up and around, but she did it anyway. The dark room had a few strategically placed lamps on the wall. Their glow was small and soft, like the nightlight she used to avoid stepping on things when she had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. Only there were more than one of these lights, and they weren’t plugged into wall sockets.
The room was bigger than her whole apartment. It had to be at least three times the size. The ceiling was higher, too. High enough that another apartment could have been put up there, and Fiona had only been able to tell that because she had to lean outside the canopy bed to have a look.
She took quick stock of herself, her hands sliding around her body, searching. Okay, she needed to calm down. She wasn’t tied down, and she didn’t feel injured in any way, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a prisoner. She didn’t know what these people wanted from her, but whatever it was she was not about to let any weird shit happen to her.
Shit. Had someone seen her on TV making eyes at the dragon prince?
Was this their way of teaching her a lesson?
She had to get out of here. She needed to get out of this bed, find her clothes, and go.
Fiona hooked her legs over the side of the bed. She nearly groaned when her feet touched the soft carpet. God, this place was strange, and she didn’t like how she’d come to be here, but damn, this bed was warm and comfortable. How stupid was it that she didn’t want to leave it?
Yeah, pretty stupid. She needed to get a move on.
There were slippers next to the bed, fuzzy and a matching shade of pink to her luxurious pajamas. Not exactly what you’d find in a mature woman’s closet…
Which didn’t stop Fiona from wanting to wear them. If they were anything like the carpet and pajamas she wore, they probably felt like stepping on cotton balls.
No! What the hell was her problem? Okay, focus. She’d been attacked and kidnapped. If her attackers came back in here and saw her awake, what was she going to do if they wanted to choke her out again?
Clothes. Where were her clothes?
There was an honest to God wardrobe to her right. She opened it up, shocked to find it empty, even the little drawers beneath it. There was another set of drawers, something that looked as if it was made out of solid wood, nothing at all like the set Fiona had been eyeballing from IKEA. It was also empty.
Why would someone have a big room like this with so much expensive furniture and not bother filling it with anything?
Fiona tensed, a rush of irritation and annoyance flooding over her the likes of which she couldn’t entirely explain.
“Is this a guest room?”
The idea seemed ludicrous and insulting. Again, she couldn’t fully explain it even to herself. Fiona lived in a bachelor apartment. She would have loved to have enough money to have a single bedroom. It was her dream to one day have enough money to buy a small house with an office for her and a spare bedroom for friends and family visitors though she wouldn’t keep it filled with furniture that would never be used. She’d still find something to do with her guest room instead of just leaving it empty, collecting dust while waiting for someone to use it.
Maybe I’m just jealous.
Fiona went to the window, pulling aside the heavy curtains, wondering if they cost about as much as her month’s rent.
She saw soft orange, pink, and blue glows in the distance that meant the sun was about to come up. As a baker, Fiona had a high internal alarm clock. If the sun’s coming up, I should have been at Mateen’s an hour ago. He’s probably having a fit right now.
But she couldn’t bring herself to feel panic over that.
Maybe it was because of how he took credit for her cupcakes, or maybe it was the kidnapping putting everything into perspective, but she knew there was no way she’d ever go back to working for him. Not now.
That stupid asshole.
Letting her eyes take in the beautifully manicured and vast gardens, Fiona saw that her kidnapper was clearly loaded. She’d heard about humans being kidnapped and sold to wealthy dragons, and that it could be a lucrative business. If that was what was happening, was she at the home of the rich kidnapper, or already at the home of the human-buying dragon scum?
Fiona quickly closed the window when a man in a black suit and shades, his hands behind his back, looked up at her. There was no way he hadn’t seen that. They’d looked right at each other, and even if by some miracle he hadn’t seen her, he would definitely see the rustle of the curtains. “Shit.”
Okay, time to forget about her clothes, but she was going to need some shoes.
Fiona eyed the pink slippers.
She rushed to them and slipped them on. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. God, these were stupidly comfortable.
Whatever. It was time to go. Fiona sprinted to the wide door that, just like the furniture, could have been carved from a solid piece of wood. She didn’t want to think about how much money the door handles cost.
Maybe she should take something. Theft wasn’t her thing, but if she could take something from the people who’d kidnapped her, then it would only be fair play.
And it wouldn’t hurt to find a weapon while she was at it.
Right, back to the drawing board.
Fiona rushed to the nightstand, yanking it open, and holy God, was she lucky or what? Like every other piece of furniture she’d so far checked, it was mostly empty, but there was a pad of paper and a pen. She opened the cap and saw it was the sort of thing designed to look like a dip pen, but wasn’t.
Sharp. She could use this to defend herself, and maybe sell it for a little cash.
Might as well get paid for her trouble.
Okay, her heart raced, but she could handle this. Fiona went back to the door. She sucked in a deep breath before turning the handle as slowly and carefully as possible.
As if there was a baby in the room she didn’t want to wake.
Careful, careful.
The knob clicked a little when she managed to get it open. Fiona cringed. Fuck. Why was nothing ever silent when she needed to be quiet? Was it one of the rules of the world?
No alarms sounded. No one burst through the door and slammed her back down onto the ground, and no black bags came.
Fiona swallowed. She pulled herself out of that memory before she let it fling her into a full-on panic attack.
Stay alert and stay aware. That was her mission.
Of course, the door also creaked when she pulled it open. A long, loud noise that seemed to get louder the slower she went.
Fiona flipped the pen in her hand so she held it like a knife. She sucked up her courage and took a small, easy step out into the empty hall. She glanced down one way, then jumped when she peered down the other and spotted a man less than two feet away from her. She fell against the other side of the door. The man didn’t move. He had a single brow raised as he looked at her, almost with concern in his eyes.
“Are you all right, Miss?”
Fiona said nothing. She held her pen as she stared at him. He wore a black suit with sunglasses and an earpiece as if he was in the secret service or something.
If she went for his face, he would have to defend his eyes. That might help her get away. Would the slippers stay on her feet if she ran as hard and fast as she could outside?
The man smiled at her. She saw no
w that he was young, with a boyish face and straight white teeth showing out from his quirked lips. “You’re safe here, and you don’t need to worry. The people who hurt you are gone.”
Fiona blinked. “W-What?”
That cute smile faded slightly. “You were attacked, weren’t you? Your throat is bleeding.”
“It is?”
Fiona brought her hand up to her neck. When she pulled it back, there was just a tiny bit of blood there, not enough to worry over. “I must have scratched myself when I—hey!”
The young man sprung fast, so swiftly Fiona didn’t have a chance to lash out at him, to make him back off before he had his hands around her wrist, pulling her hand up high before he forced her fingers open and took her pen.
He danced back effortlessly when she swung her fist at his face, knocking her knuckles against the doorframe. The burst of pain in her hand shot up her arm. “Oh, God.” Fiona held her hand between her legs, crouching down to shelter her hand from more abuse, even though she’d been the reason why it had happened in the first place.
“I am very sorry, miss,” said the guy who was no longer looking quite so cute. “But I can’t have you walking around threatening members of staff. Does your hand hurt? I can take you to the physician.”
He reached down and grabbed her by the elbow. Fiona yanked her arm away. “Don’t touch me.” She pulled herself to her feet to stop him from making any more moves to help her.
He raised his hands and backed off. “If that’s what you want, miss, but at the very least I need to tell His Highness that you’re awake.”
That caught her attention. Fiona stopped squeezing her hand so tight and looked hard at the guy in front of her. “What did…his highness? As in Prince Inferno? You’re saying Prince Inferno kidnapped me?”
The young guard cocked his head to the side a little. “No, not really. While he did relocate you without your consent, it was after you’d been attacked, and he didn’t trust the human authorities to handle you properly.”