The Mating Destiny: Werewolves of Montana Book 7

by Bonnie Vanak

  As he tried to land on the rooftop, something repelled him with the force of a large hand. He tried to push past it, but could not.

  Alex landed in the field next to the club and looked around, folding his wings back. More Dark Fae magick. If he couldn’t break into the club as dragon, he’d have to get inside another way.

  He flew off, landing near the black rock where Drust said he’d hidden the gold. Alex dug at the dirt with one claw and uncovered a shoebox. He shifted back to Skin and lifted the lid of the box. A blue velvet bag the size of his fist lay inside. He conjured khaki trousers, a navy blue polo shirt and polished loafers. Might as well act the part.

  Stuffing the bag of gold into his pocket, he headed back for the brothel.

  On the street, he studied the black wrought iron fence ringing the property and then touched it, wincing at the magick tingling his fingertips. To Skins the fence looked rusty and disused, guarding only a few dead trees and dry brush set into the dusty earth.

  A round buzzer with an intercom and was beneath the sign that read No Solicitors. That includes ogres, dragons, Lupines, sprites and especially trolls. A security camera sat on the fencepost.

  Alex pressed the buzzer.

  “State your purpose,” a deep voice growled.

  “I’m here for the auction.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  Damn. He didn’t think of that. Alex removed the pouch from his pocket, took out a coin and held it up to the camera.

  “Do I need one?”

  The gate buzzed open. Greed worked every time.

  As he cleared the gate, it closed behind him with an ominous bang. He felt the power surge to his bones and shuddered.

  Emma, in this formidable place. Gods, she must be so scared.

  The building was two stories, the size of a 4,000 square foot house. It even looked like a house, painted a pale cream color, with green shutters. The walkway was concrete.

  The front door was solid oak, with an intricate carving of runes he recognized as Fae.

  Alex shoved his hands into his pockets and strode toward the front entrance, feeling the magick in the air pulse. He had to get her out of here. Not sure how, but he’d find a way.

  Because he’d be damned if he let another male touch her.

  No one was going to touch her, ever.

  Mine.

  The thought startled him. Where the hell did that come from? Emma wasn’t his.

  But as he stood outside and pressed the buzzer next to the door, he couldn’t erase the deep longing for her.

  Not as a friend, but as a lover…

  No. He would never dishonor her.

  The door opened and a tall, lanky man dressed in a major domo uniform stood before him. “Show me the gold.”

  Detecting the scent of Fae, he suppressed his rage. Alex removed the pouch and opened it. As the Fae started to reach for it, Alex yanked it away.

  “You saw my gold. Now, show me the goods.”

  Dear dragon’s breath, calling his sweet Emma goods…

  “First, the rules. No magick. And because we must ensure this…” The Fae dangled an iron bracelet. “Restraining bolt. It goes on your left wrist. When you leave here, it will be removed.”

  Expecting as much, he held out his left wrist, wincing as the magick-laced iron touched his skin.

  Opulent furnishings greeted him as he was escorted inside. Jewel-toned Persian carpets laid upon the marbled floors and the tall ceilings featured corniced moldings. The receiving area resembled a sheikh’s palace.

  He willed away his rage as he stared at the crowd. Perhaps four green ogres, dressed in leather jerkins and leather trousers. Four or five Lupines, all looking seedy and panting with lust, restlessly pacing the reception room.

  And a dozen Fae, recognizable by their long white-blond hair, pale faces and intense blue eyes.

  No other dragons.

  The Fae sat on red cushions on the floor with straight-back pillows resting against the wall, or they milled about, sampling fruit in the jeweled bowls set around the room. Alex’s nostrils twitched as he recognized the scent of a powerful aphrodisiac.

  When the potential buyers were escorted into the adjacent room by the tall Fae, he tightened his resolve. Nothing could prepare him for the agony of seeing who was on the raised dais. Wide blue eyes, golden hair—she was beautiful as the night and thousands of stars sparkling overhead. Lovelier than a dragon in flight.

  Scarlet skirts clutched in one clenched fist, her chin upright and defiant, Emma stared out into the sea of men. Lust in their eyes, they made crude remarks. Instinct demanded Alex yank her off the platform, gather her into his sheltering arms and flee. Protecting her was in his warrior nature. He had to save her.

  Alex locked his gaze on Emma’s face. He summoned all the discipline he had learned as a silver warrior dragon, not as a prince to his people. He quelled the desire always burning deep inside him when he was near her, when he had wanted nothing more than to tumble Emma down and thrust deeply into the softness of her lush body and whisper words of passion in her delicate, shell-like ear. When he would have sold his soul for them to be lovers, and for him to abdicate duties pressed upon him by bloodlines.

  Mine, mine, mine. The possessive chant filled him as he glared at the other men. The same craving was reflected in their greedy faces, as if Emma were a tasty dish to be consumed.

  But he had never thought of her as something to be used and discarded. These men did not know her, could not appreciate her. Alex looked at Emma and silently sent a message, wishing she somehow could hear.

  I love you. I will not let another man use you for his lust and violate your honor. You are not goods to be bought and sold. You deserve love, a man who will cherish you as the treasure you are. You are more precious to me than all the gold in my kingdom. I would give up all the riches I own to hold you in my arms for one single night. I would sacrifice all my tomorrows for one night of your true love.

  A short, squat troll dressed in a black silk suit, looking totally incongruous, came out into the room and introduced himself as Simon, the auction master.

  All this would be quite absurd if not for the dragon on the dais, who thrust her chin into the air as if she weren’t being sold like a sheep.

  And he knew what dragons did to sheep…

  The auction master lifted the gown, leering as he did so, to show off what awaited Emma’s buyer in bed. Alex swore silently, restrained by the restraining bolt ringing his wrist. No magick. He had only his wits to drive him on.

  Alex glanced around at the men crowding the platform. Sensing her terror, he willed a message to Emma.

  Do not fear. I will not let them have you.

  She had never been so scared, nor so determined. Upon waking up after the four dragons shoved a rag filled with chloroform into her face, she found herself lying on the floor of a basement, only a slit of window showing sunshine in the room. She peered out the window and saw a vast desert.

  Her captors had outfitted her with a black bracelet fashioned with a restraining bolt that suppressed all her magick. Except they were dull-witted for they didn’t know her little secret.

  The other girls imprisoned with her were half-bloods as well, but they were not Fae. They sat in the sofas and chairs scattered around the basement. There were thick carpets scattered over the floor, even a small kitchen, but it was clearly a prison.

  Of all the girls, she alone possessed Fae magick. Just before they shoved the rag into her face, she glamoured herself to be much fatter than she actually was.

  Now she sat on one of the overstuffed chairs, tugging at the bracelet. It was tight, but eventually would come off. And then she could access her powers.

  Ever since she awoke from her kidnapping, rage filled her.

  Not at her fate, but the fate of the girls with her. All of them untouched as Emma was, and of a dragon bloodline. The other girls were younger than Emma’s 25 years. Most were 22, and had already experienced the
ir first shift into dragon, but one was as young as 16. They all shared one thing in common—they were terrified.

  “They say we’re to be sold as sex slaves,” the youngest dragon said, clutching at Emma’s arm. “I’ve never been with a man. I’m so scared.”

  Emma had hugged her, wishing she had her magick. She could only hold the glamor for a few hours. She’d tear this place apart and then scatter the innards of the men waiting to purchase them. And then she’d feast on those running this place, and spit them out over the desert for the crows to pick apart.

  She tried to reassure the girls by telling them stories Alex had told her, of magical dragons who roamed the earth and ate their enemies, and rescued fairy princesses.

  The girls looked a little reassured.

  Until the tall, lanky major domo entered the basement a few minutes ago and announced Emma would be the first girl auctioned today. The rest would follow in two days.

  Two days! She had two days to rescue these captives.

  She did not protest as the Fae led her upstairs to a large room, and onto a dais. She didn’t even budge when he adjusted her gown to show more cleavage.

  Inside she trembled with fury, but kept her thoughts secret and guarded.

  Emma stared into the faceless crowd gathered to buy her as a sex slave.

  Minutes passed in agonizing slowness. Emma bit hard on her lower lip as the troll, the auction master, raised her gown to mid-thigh. She tried to slap his hand, but the restraining bolt around her wrist zinged her.

  “Look at this lovely dragon. Have you ever seen such a treasure? Surely this one will bring you to paradise when you take her to bed. Dragons are well-versed in the arts of sensual delight.”

  Oh yeah? How would you like me to demonstrate how well-versed I am in the arts of snapping your neck? Remove this bracelet and I will.

  Murmurs filled the air, cackling noises that splintered her self-possession. If they saw her fear, they would frenzy. Emma steeled her spine and tried to quiet her heart rate. You are not a spectacle. You will not let these bastards intimidate you.

  She needed a focus, a peaceful place of serenity that would shut out the leering men and their ribald remarks.

  Alex’s image filled her mind, pushing aside the fear. His startling blue eyes, his fierce warrior’s might, his polish and urbane charm as crown prince. He was a man of honor. A man of might. A dragon who could slay these bastards with one sweep of his tail, one breath of fire.

  What would Alex say to defray her fears?

  He would wink and say, “Look at them. Don’t be afraid. Imagine them naked and impotent. The sagging paunches, the dimples in their overweight bottoms, their tiny little…”

  She thought of Alex scrutinizing the grinning ogre in the front row. “Look at old green nose. Do you think he has a tiny green dick? I mean, who would want to screw him? He has to pay to get a lover. No one would want him but the Jolly Green Giant.”

  Oh Alex, she thought silently, wishing with all her heart to see him. You make me laugh. You always made me feel safe. Even now, when you are far away, I am surrounded by your memories and can survive.

  Resolve filled her to stand upright and throw back her shoulders. Smiling, Emma kept the image of Alex in mind, his friendly grin and breezy self-assurance, his tender concern and remarkable courage.

  Alex was always on stage like this, stared at and studied by his peers, his family. The insight startled her. Had Alex felt as naked as she did? Yet he seemed to handle the role of prince well, only dropping the formalities around her.

  The bidding began. She glared at the customers.

  “This lovely lady is available to one man, exclusively, for five hours. The bidding opens at five hundred dollars.”

  Fingers flicked, heads nodded, and the bids climbed higher and higher. Panic tightened her chest. It was worse than she’d thought. The bidding rose to one thousand dollars. Two thousand. Emma thought of Alex’s reassuring smile, his tender manner. She must not panic.

  The Fae casting the last bid stood toward the front. His face was lean and hollow-cheeked. He had a cruel smile. Emma could not prevent a shudder from racing down her spine, nor the icy fingers of fear wrapping about her heart.

  “Two dozen pieces of gold,” a quiet voice said, and it held an air of arrogant assurance.

  All heads swerved toward the back, toward the commanding voice that had softly dominated the airless, musty room. It sounded like Alex’s voice, but Emma could not be sure. She craned her neck to see, but the man in back stood in the shadows.

  No other offers followed. The room remained draped in awed silence.

  The auction master barked, “Sold! Please retreat to the reception room to make arrangements to pay.”

  Emma was hustled off before she glimpsed the tall, dark-garbed stranger. She could only pray with all her heart that her new master’s manner with her did not match the tempered steel in that deep voice.

  The building featured a large inner courtyard and dark wooded latticework windows overlooking lush gardens. Inside, a high ceiling and elaborate tile work decorated the private apartment where she had been imprisoned. Divans and heavy cushions were scattered about the room. Set into a small alcove was an obscenely large bed. Silk pillows sat atop a richly embroidered coverlet.

  Two grim Fae guarded the door, granting no one but her new master access and barring her escape. Rubbing her arms, Emma paced, fighting her razor-sharp fear. You can do this. Think of the others whose fate you share.

  A full-length brass-edged mirror mounted on a wall caught her attention. Emma wandered over to examine her appearance. Large blue eyes stared back at her. A gauze gown of crimson with white flounces covered her body. She wore saffron-colored slippers of soft kid leather, edged with red piping and embroidered with tiny red-and-white flowers. Emma touched the mirror.

  “I look like an escapee from a bad B movie,” she muttered.

  Walking the length of the room, she analyzed every wall and each painting of erotic art. In the painting of a centaur raping a woman, she found exactly what she’d suspected, and feared.

  A camera. Emma placed her hand over it, and her senses felt no current of electricity.

  She spied a decorative table with a bronze statue of a nude woman displaying her vulva and moved it over to block the camera.

  Resigned, she walked over to the bed, testing it with one hand. Soft as a cloud. Knowing what would happen there shook her self-confidence. Emma sat, working on the bracelet again to try to tug it off her hand.

  She thought of Alex, how gently he used to take her hand when they walked in the gardens near his home. How his fierce blue eyes had roved the park, ever-watchful for enemies.

  Footsteps pounded down the corridor. Emma tensed. Damn. She thought she’d have more time to remove the bracelet. Her clammy fingers plucked at the gauze of her harem trousers as the iron door opened. She heard the hard, firm click of masculine heels walk inside. Quivering, Emma stared at the floor and saw approaching polished brown leather loafers.

  She needed to pretend to be humble, and scared and submissive. Then she could beat the hell out of her would-be john, glamour herself as him and escape. That would still leave the girls in the basement. It killed her to leave them behind.

  Speaking in a low voice, she bowed. “I am most willing to do whatever you wish of me. All I ask is—please, please, be gentle with me and do not hurt me.” The words came out in a trembling whisper.

  Be gentle with me so I can kick your ass, you bastard.

  The bed sank with her new captor’s weight. A hand caught her chin, lifted it up. Emma lifted her gaze. And found herself looking directly into a familiar pair of blue-green eyes.

  “My dear Emma,” the Prince of Clan Drakon said softly. “As long as I draw breath, no one will ever hurt you.”

  Chapter 4

  Alex. Emma pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, or this was a nightmare. Because having the crown prince of all of Clan Drakon was a
nightmare. If anyone found him here…

  “What are you doing?!” she demanded.

  Assuredness shone in his eyes. He spoke in a deep, husky whisper, “I’m sure there are eyes watching us. Keep your voice down.”

  “There is one camera and it’s off. I already checked. Now, what the hell are you doing here, Alex?!”

  “Rescuing you.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Getting you out is going to be a bit of a challenge, that’s all. A challenge.”

  “Alex, don’t be so arrogant. The bars on the windows are pure iron and laced with magick. It’s too dangerous. You might break a claw and damage your manicure.”

  He sputtered. “I have no manicure.”

  Weary, she leaned back upon the bed. “You shouldn’t have come here. You’re the crown prince. And I can rescue myself. Why did you have to do this?”

  “I’m your friend and I would not see them sell you like a fucking sheep!”

  “Alex, you’re shouting. What did I warn you about losing your temper? Put a sock in it.”

  His broad shoulders sagged. “I had to come here. Who else is going to spring you?”

  “Me. I’m not helpless.”

  The prince swept over her with his impervious gaze. “In that outfit?”

  Emma plucked at the silk harem trousers and the gauze that barely covered her. “I look ridiculous.”

  “You look amazing,” he murmured. Then he turned hastily. “Never mind how you look. Let’s break you free.”

  “You can’t. I have a plan and it did not include you.”

  But he seemed to ignore her statement. Alex went to the window. It was fashioned from latticework to look pretty, but thick iron bars blocked access.

  “It’s enchanted. Don’t touch it,” she warned. “The guard who brought me here said it contains dark magick and burns your flesh, be you shifter or Fae.”

  He touched one and winced. Emma folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “Hello? Listen much?”