Dragons of Eternity Collection

by Alexandra Ivy

  “Crap. I was so sure that Char was innocent.” Tayla straightened.

  Levet barely heard her low words. His attention was focused on the muted hum of power he’d very nearly missed.

  “There’s something else,” he said in absent tones, feeling tugged across the room by the strange vibrations.

  Tayla followed behind him. “What is it?”

  Hmm. A most intriguing question.

  It wasn’t an illusion, he decided, his claws clicking on the floor as he moved toward a wall at the end of the room. Or a spell. It was more an echo of magic.

  “It’s ancient,” he at last decided, lifting his hand to touch the floor-to-ceiling tapestry that covered the wall.

  It was different from those in the hallway. This one was brighter, with scenes of children playing in a sunlit garden. He would wager his favorite Backstreet Boys poster that this work of art had been chosen by Ravel, not Synge.

  Tayla brushed her fingers over his wing. “Levet?”

  “Were these Blayze’s original rooms?” he asked, scrunching his snout as tingles of power shot through his arm.

  The tapestry wasn’t responsible for the magic he was sensing.

  “Yes,” Tayla said. “Why?”

  Grasping the ancient fabric, Levet gave a sharp tug to bring it tumbling to the ground. Tayla made a choked sound. Perhaps she was worried about the cloud of dust that was staining her pretty tunic. Or more likely she was considering the fiery death that Synge would bestow on anyone who dared to desecrate his beloved daughter’s room.

  Levet was more concerned with the polished stone wall. “There is something here,” he announced, his tail slashing across the floor as he took a step forward.

  Baine walked to stand directly behind Levet, his heat searing across Levet’s wings. Next time he visited a dragon lair he intended to bring a bag of marshmallows to toast. The annoying beasts were arrogant, selfish, and lacking in the most basic understanding of good manners.

  The least they could do was provide him with a yummy snack.

  “I don’t see anything,” Baine said.

  “I’ll show you.” Levet sucked in a deep breath and gathered his powers.

  “No,” Baine snapped. “Your magic is—”

  “Stupendous,” Levet interrupted, tapping the tip of his claw against the wall. At the same time, he released the magic that bubbled deep inside him.

  There was a giddy rush of anticipation, then, without warning, it burst out of him with more force than he expected.

  Not that it was his fault. Perhaps his control over his magic was a tad sketchy. Okay, it was a lot sketchy. But he couldn’t be held responsible for the fact that it actually exploded when it encountered the spell that lingered on the wall.

  There was a detonation that made Levet’s ears ring, and chunks of stone showered down from the ceiling. At the same time the floor cracked beneath his feet, as if the lair was about to split open and drop him into the pits of Hades.

  There was a low growl from the dragon behind him. “Shit,” Baine rasped. “My father is going to kill us.”

  Tayla tried to soothe her furious mate. “Not if we find Blayze.”

  Levet ignored them both, his gaze captured by the shimmering hieroglyphs that were suddenly visible on the wall.

  Ha. He knew that he’d sensed something.

  Belatedly noticing Levet’s remarkable discovery, Baine and Tayla moved to stand directly beside him.

  “What is that?” Tayla demanded.

  Levet traced one of the hieroglyphs with the tip of his claw. They looked like they’d been singed into the lower half of the wall.

  “Ancient rune marks,” Levet said, his voice distracted.

  “A part of the curse?” Tayla pressed.

  Levet shuddered, abruptly pulling his claw away from the wall. There was a pulsing darkness in the markings.

  “Oui,” he breathed, rubbing his claw on the side of his leg, trying to rid himself of the cloying evil that emanated from the runes.

  Baine made a sound of surprise. “You discovered the curse?”

  “Just an echo of it,” Levet corrected.

  “Explain,” Baine commanded.

  Levet frowned. “This is the residue from the original curse.”

  The tattoos beneath Baine’s skin swirled as he sent Levet an impatient frown. “That isn’t an explanation.”

  Levet scowled, glancing toward Tayla. “Does he have to be here? I can’t concentrate with an overgrown lizard breathing down my neck.”

  She heaved a sigh, as if dealing with two males was more than any poor imp should have to endure. “Please, Levet, this is important.”

  Levet flattened his lips, forcing himself to turn back toward the seething dragon.

  “When the curse was cast, it imprinted itself on the wall,” he explained.

  “Cast?” Baine narrowed his amber eyes. “Are you saying the curse came from a witch?”

  “It was designed by magic.” Levet considered for a long moment. There were many creatures capable of creating a spell. Including dragons, the fey, and gargoyles. But he would have been able to detect their lingering scents. The fact that no trace remained indicated it was probably from a human. And that whoever it was had already died. “The most likely creator was a witch,” he decided.

  Baine studied him with a suspicious gaze. Then, seeming to decide that Levet wasn’t yakking up his chin—no wait, that wasn’t right…yanking his chain…oui, that was it—the dragon glanced toward the wall.

  “Why didn’t we see the runes before?”

  Levet shrugged. “The curse must have been designed to conceal all traces of it.”

  Baine lifted his hand, holding it near the wall, but wisely not touching it. Levet grimaced. He could still feel the lingering evil.

  “If we get rid of the runes, will that break the curse?” the dragon demanded.

  “No.” Levet waved his hands toward the runes. “The marks are just the residue from the casting. You must discover the original object that held the spell and destroy it.”

  Tayla’s brow furrowed. “If the witch is dead, how are we supposed to discover the object?”

  “Find the creature who cast the curse,” Levet told her. “They must still have the vessel used to contain the magic.”

  “The witch—”

  “Created the spell,” Levet interrupted. “It was another who cast it.”

  Tayla slowly turned. Levet felt his heart drop at the sight of the unreasonable hope etched on her pretty face.

  He might be a hero, but he couldn’t perform miracles. At least not with a dragon breathing down his neck. It was very unnerving to have a female regarding him with that particular expression.

  “Can you tell who it was?”

  Levet swallowed a sigh and closed his eyes. The curse had been cast centuries ago, but the sheer power of the spell had been massive. Whoever had cast it must have left behind at least a small portion of their essence.

  He concentrated on the area around the wall, sorting through the various scents laced through the room like a tangled road map.

  It might have been an impossible task, but Levet suspected that the rooms had been sealed shut after Ravel had left with Blayze all those years ago. There was a thick emptiness between the various layers.

  Concentrating on the unmistakable chill he’d just discovered, Levet did his best to ignore the power that beat through the room like a drum.

  Was Baine deliberately trying to distract him?

  Foolish creature.

  Bending down, Levet drew in a deep breath, isolating the scent until he was certain it was the one attached to the spell.

  “A vampire,” Levet at last announced, opening his eyes to glance toward Tayla.

  He was expecting amazement. Awed wonderment. Perhaps even a shower of kisses.

  He had, after all, just solved a centuries-old mystery.

  At the very least there should be squeals of delight.

  Instea
d Tayla was glancing toward the door with wide eyes.

  A bad feeling settled in the pit of Levet’s stomach as he turned to see what the imp was staring at. Only then did he realize the cause of the excessive power that throbbed through the room.

  Now there wasn’t just one dragon, but two.

  The new one was a large, brutish male with short black hair and eyes the color of liquid silver. He was wearing a loose pair of cargo pants and his chest was left bare to reveal his bulging muscles.

  Synge.

  “The vampires took my baby?” he said in low, awful tones.

  Tayla took a step forward. “No, sire.”

  Synge pointed a finger in Levet’s direction. “He just said that a vampire cursed her.”

  Tayla held up a hand, almost as if she was trying to calm the ancient dragon. “It’s possible, but—”

  Flames danced over the dragon’s skin, scorching the floor and reminding Levet why he hated being around dragons. They were forever spouting fire.

  So rude.

  “I’ll kill the bastards,” Synge roared, before he was pivoting on his heel to storm away in dramatic fashion.

  “Shit.” Sending Levet a withering glare, Baine was hurrying from the room in the wake of his father.

  Levet breathed a small sigh of relief. The air had finally cooled to a bearable level.

  “Where are they going?” he asked Tayla.

  She bit her lip, her face oddly pale. “I would guess that Synge intends to start a war with the vampires, and my mate is trying to halt the looming genocide.”

  “Ah.” Levet considered for a minute, then with a small shrug, he headed toward the door. “My work here is done,” he said. “Now I intend to return to my fire imp and her toasty bed beneath the volcano.”

  Already busy imagining the lovely imp, Levet had reached the middle of the room when Tayla rushed to stand directly in his path.

  “No,” she breathed.

  Halting, Levet regarded her in confusion. “Non?”

  “We have to do something to avoid disaster,” Tayla told him. “You have to convince Synge that you aren’t certain the vampires are responsible.”

  Levet waited for the punch line. He rarely understood the jokes among other species, but he was polite enough to laugh when it was expected.

  But Tayla continued to stare at him with an expectant expression. Mon dieu. She was serious.

  “Talk to an enraged dragon?” He gave a sharp shake of his head. “And people call me locomotive.”

  The pretty imp heaved an exasperated sigh. “Loco,” she muttered in impatient tones.

  “Oui, loco.” Levet waved an impatient hand. “I prefer to keep my bits and pieces un-singed.”

  Tayla pressed a hand to her stomach, the scent of lemons bursting through the air. She was genuinely afraid.

  “Maybe Baine can stop him,” she said, her voice uncertain.

  “Let us hope so,” Levet said. “The peace treaty that was signed between the dragons and vampires a thousand years ago is the only thing that has kept this world from being bathed in bloodshed.”

  Tayla made a sound of distress, and Levet belatedly realized he had made a strategic mistake. He should have tried to convince Tayla that all would be well. That Synge could rampage all he liked without fear of reprisal.

  Instead he’d reminded her of the dire consequences of a war between the dragons and the vampires.

  “You have to warn the Anasso,” she abruptly decided, referring to the leader of the vampires by his formal title.

  Levet’s wings twitched. He hadn’t confessed to his friend that he was currently avoiding Styx.

  He cleared his throat. “Actually that would be a most unwise idea.”

  Tayla frowned. “Why?”

  “The thing is that Styx might be the teeniest bit unhappy with me,” Levet admitted.

  Tayla rolled her eyes. “What did you do?”

  Levet resisted the urge to ask why she would assume it was his fault. After all, Styx could be such a baby. Typical vampire.

  “I might have put his absurdly large sword up for bid on eBay,” he reluctantly confessed.

  Tayla sucked in a shocked breath. “You didn’t.”

  Levet thrust out his lower lip in an aggrieved pout. “I merely wished to see how much an enterprising demon might get for the thing,” he said. The ancient weapon had just been hanging on the wall in Styx’s lair. It wasn’t as if he was using the thing. “It was quite astonishing. I could be a very wealthy gargoyle if Styx was not such a selfish creature.”

  Tayla rolled her eyes. “You must have a death wish.”

  “Non, I do not,” Levet assured her. “Which is why I prefer to avoid the vampires until their tempers cool.” He considered a minute. “Perhaps in a few centuries.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Char had always prided himself on his ability to roll with the punches.

  What choice did he have? From the time he was very young, he’d understood his life as a half-breed dragon meant he would be controlled by others. First his father had bartered him to Synge to repay a debt. And then Synge had offered him to his son, Baine, as a personal guard.

  But while other males might have resented their fate, Char had decided to embrace what he was given.

  He might be a servant, but by the time he’d arrived in Baine’s lair, he’d already developed an easy charm that made him a favorite among the other warriors. And, of course, it didn’t hurt that he was capable of shape-shifting into an elegant male with sculpted features, pale silver-blond hair and gray eyes that sparkled with humor.

  The female dragons were usually eager to ensure that he never felt as if he was less than equal to any other male.

  His luck had continued over the years, as he’d developed a relationship with Baine that went way beyond master and servant. The two males were as close as any brothers. But still Char had remained prepared to adapt to the inevitable changes in his life.

  And they’d arrived.

  Baine had found his mate. A lovely imp, who would no doubt start producing babies. And unlike most dragons, Baine would be a doting father who didn’t sell his offspring to the highest bidder.

  Char wasn’t sure what that would mean for his own place in the household, but it was certain to be different.

  Still, it was all good. He was a guy who understood how to adapt and overcome.

  Until this moment.

  Right now he didn’t know what the hell was happening.

  One minute he was standing next to Blayze’s bed, and the next, the world around them was fading to black.

  Just for a second, he thought he must be dying. What else could explain the encroaching darkness and the sensation that the floor had disappeared and he was floating through space?

  It wasn’t a portal. He’d traveled through hundreds of them in his long life. He’d even visited Hades on a dare from Baine—a journey he never intended to take again.

  But this was different. He felt as if he was melting along with the room, his very being dissolving into nothingness.

  He couldn’t tell how long he drifted in the nothingness before the world once again became solid.

  It was almost as disconcerting as the melting.

  One minute he was weightless, and the next his feet were hitting a marble floor with enough force to send him to his knees. He grunted in pain, his mind scrambling to clear out the fog.

  It was still dark, but it was the darkness of natural shadows, not…well, whatever had surrounded him before.

  Holding up his hand, he allowed flames to dance over his skin as he cautiously rose to his feet.

  He was in a large octagonal chamber. It looked similar in size and shape to the room he’d just been zapped out of, only it wasn’t lavishly decorated. At least not yet.

  Glancing around he could see the domed ceiling was in the process of being covered with priceless golden tiles, while the heavy furniture and tapestries were carefully stowed in the corners of the spac
e.

  What was going on? Was this some sort of illusion meant to deceive his eyes?

  On the point of moving toward the door on the far wall, he came to a sharp halt as he caught sight of an object lying on the stone floor.

  No. Not an object.

  Blayze.

  Shit. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might have been sucked up in the same magic that was affecting him. Stupid, of course. Why would anyone go to the effort of wasting their power on him? He was just a servant.

  But Blayze…

  She was priceless.

  Not only was she a rare, pureblood female dragon, but she was the daughter of Synge. One of the most powerful dragons in all the worlds.

  With a blur of motion he was moving to kneel at her side, studying her delicately carved features.

  The slender nose, the full lips that were the color of summer roses. The pale, creamy skin that sharply contrasted with the ebony darkness of her hair that spilled across the stone floor in a river of silk.

  Just like the first time he’d seen her lying unconscious in her bed, the sight of her punched him in the gut with stunning force.

  It wasn’t her beauty. Dragons better than any other creature understood the outer shell was meaningless. They could alter their shape on a whim.

  No, it was her inner essence that reached out to touch the dragon within him.

  Char grimaced, squashing his renegade blast of awareness.

  This female was destined to become the mate of a powerful, pureblood dragon. The only reason he’d even been allowed close to her was because Synge had been desperate to slow time until they could find a way to break the curse that had been placed on her when she was just a hatchling…

  Char hissed in shock. The web of magic he’d spread over Blayze had been disrupted when the darkness had filled the room. So why couldn’t he sense her curse?

  “Blayze?” Holding up his hand that still glowed with flames, he leaned forward, barely resisting the urge to brush his mouth over the soft temptation of her lips. “Blayze, can you hear me?”

  Nothing happened for a tense minute, then the long, luxuriously thick lashes slowly swept upward.

  Char felt another punch to the gut. Her eyes were magnificent.