Dragon's Rogue (Wild Dragons Book 1)

by Anastasia Wilde

  Blaze backed up a step, her arms going up in preparation for another spell. Tyr at least had the sense not to step on the terrace, avoiding the rope trap spell.

  Witch: 2, Dragons: 1.

  Tyr stayed just inside the study, leaning on the doorjamb, taking in the sight of his bound, bare-chested brothers with their shirts and jackets in tatters. “Well. This looks like a kinky yet potentially fun game. Sort of a reverse harem thing going on. Can I play?”

  Thorne said impatiently, “She’s looking for coven tattoos.”

  “I’m looking for answers,” Blaze said.

  Tyr looked at Thorne. “Coven tattoos? She thinks we’re sorcerers? That’s adorable.” He made his shirt and tux jacket vanish, keeping his bow tie intact. He looked like a male stripper. He twirled slowly, letting Blaze get a good look at his chest and back, flexing for good measure. Zane was happy to see that Blaze looked less than impressed.

  “No tattoos here either,” Tyr said. “Would you like me to take off my pants, just to make sure?”

  “No,” said Blaze, Zane and Thorne simultaneously.

  Tyr shrugged. “Your loss.”

  Blaze glared, but apparently decided against smiting him. Zane wished she would. His dragon was not happy that Tyr was showing off his muscles to their mate.

  Instead, she turned to Thorne. “I know who you are. You’re well known on the Shadow Market—you make good on your deals, and you don’t fuck with people to try to get out of paying. If the wrong people should find out you’ll steal what you can’t buy, your reputation will go to hell. One word from me to Jean-Claude, and you’re finished.”

  Thorne said, very coolly for a man strung up by his wrists, “So what are you proposing?”

  While Blaze’s attention was diverted, Zane was working quietly at neutralizing the spell that held the ropes. It was trickier than eluding a spell that was touching him, but he could do it. It would just take a couple of minutes.

  Blaze said, “Give me back the idol.”

  “We never wanted the idol,” Thorne replied. “I wanted the Dragonfly of Morocco. It may be something I’ve been hunting for a long time.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “So why did your minion decide to take the idol instead?”

  The spell unraveled, and the ropes slithered off Zane’s wrists. Witch: 2, Dragons: 2. All even. “Not a minion,” he said, his temper rising. “And I didn’t. It came to me.”

  Chapter 17

  Blaze turned to the thief. Zane. His name was Zane. And oh, hell, he was standing on the terrace now, not suspended above it. He was watching her warily, shifting his weight on his lean muscular legs, his hands free.

  He’d neutralized her spell. Damn, damn, damn—he was powerful. Blaze took another step back, trying to keep them all in sight at once. This could get ugly fast.

  Zane seemed to be able to read her face. He also took a step back and held up his hand, indicating that he wasn’t going to try anything.

  Yeah, right.

  He rolled his shoulders to loosen them, and Blaze almost forgot to keep her guard up. He was big—well over six feet—and his chest was incredible. Defined pecs, eight-pack abs—all of it rippling in the moonlight right in front of her.

  She focused with an effort. “What do you mean, the idol came to you?”

  “There was someone else there that night,” he said. “In the vault. She had the box with the idol in her hands when I got there. She opened it, the tracking dust hit her in the face, and she dropped the box. The idol fell on my damned foot. I picked it up, the alarm went off, and I shoved it into my pocket without thinking and ran.”

  It would have sounded completely unbelievable, except she knew it was true. Rebel Smith was there. That was why she’d had the magic residue on her. She’d wanted the idol, but she didn’t get it.

  And Zane wanted the Dragonfly, and had ended up with the idol. It was almost comical.

  Almost.

  Blaze said, “Where is the idol now?”

  Astoundingly, Zane reached right into the pocket of his tattered jacket and pulled out the velvet pouch.

  Her first thought was pure relief. He’d brought the idol; she could get it back right now. Her second thought came out of her mouth before she could stop it. “You brought that here, to a gathering of the most powerful dealers in dark magic in Portland? With no wards but that pouch? Are you insane? What the hell were you thinking?”

  Zane glanced down at the idol in his hand, looking nonplused. Couldn’t he feel the evil emanating from it? Now that it was out in the open, Blaze could feel it from where she was standing.

  Or maybe he was already under its influence.

  It was the one in the doorway who spoke, though.

  “Thorne was thinking we could trade it back to you. For the Dragonfly of Morocco.”

  Fury swept through Blaze. They had the nerve to steal something from her, and then expect her to buy it back? She forgot that there were three of them, all bigger than her, and that at least one of them had crazy powerful magic. She forgot everything except the times that people who were bigger and more powerful than her thought they could take advantage of her.

  They’d thought wrong.

  “I don’t know who the hell you think you are,” she hissed, “but I do not buy back my own property from thieves.”

  She made a sweeping gesture, and plucked the idol out of Zane’s grasp with a retrieval spell. It sped through the night toward her hand.

  And then stopped dead.

  The man leaning against the doorway had flung his hand out negligently, his power matching hers and freezing the idol in mid-air. Blaze could feel it straining to go to him.

  Oh hell no. Blaze intensified her spell, and the idol quivered. Out of the corner of her eye, Blaze saw Thorne Greystone rip his hands out of her ropes and stride forward. She flung out her left arm towards him, casting the strongest stasis spell she could manage with half her attention on the idol. He might be able to shrug it off, but it should at least slow him down.

  It stopped him in his tracks.

  All three men stared at her with various degrees of shock, like they hadn’t expected she could contain Thorne. Honestly, neither had she.

  It was a standoff—for the moment.

  But Zane was free, and she had nothing left to stop him with. She had about two minutes left on these spells, and then her strength would run out. And they’d win.

  She looked over at Zane. He was watching her, a slight frown between his eyebrows. She could feel the sweat beginning to trickle down her chest, but she wouldn’t give up.

  Zane walked forward. When he got to the idol, he raised his hand and swiped it through the air between her and the little statue. She felt her spell cut off, and she staggered backward, panting, still holding Thorne in stasis. Before she could gather herself for another spell, Zane said quietly, “Tyr.”

  The man in the doorway rolled his eyes, but he let the idol drift slowly down into Zane’s palm. Then, to Blaze’s shock, Zane turned to her and held it out. “Here,” he said. “Take it.”

  “Zane,” Thorne growled.

  Zane ignored him. He held Blaze’s gaze, and a strange warmth spread through her, centered in her chest. He didn’t move.

  She approached him cautiously, but he just stood there, hand out, very still. Like someone trying to coax a wild animal to come to them.

  She reached out to take the idol. He let it slide easily out of his grasp, but before she could withdraw her hand he closed his around it, large and warm.

  Blaze felt all the breath leave her body. What the hell was it with this man? How could he make her feel like this? Was he some kind of sex demon?

  “Can I talk to you alone?” he asked. She started to shake her head, but he still cupped her hand lightly. “Please?”

  She couldn’t look away from those eyes. They seemed to gleam in the moonlight with hidden blue fire, as if they had a light of their own. His hand was so warm—and warmth seemed to radiate off his bare c
hest. It made her want to just curl up against him, cozy and safe, and bask in it.

  But that would be crazy. Wouldn’t it?

  He waited quietly for her to make up her mind. Finally she nodded, once.

  A hint of a smile came to his lips. Not a self-satisfied, “I won” smile. More like someone had given him a present that he really wanted. Something that made him happy.

  “Go on,” he said to the other two, without looking away from her. “We’ll be fine.”

  Thorne began muttering, and Zane smiled at her. “You can let him go. None of us will hurt you.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she released her stasis spell. Thorne shook himself like a dog, glaring at her. He stalked off through the double doors to the study, his shirt and jacket magically restoring themselves as he went.

  So he did have power. All three of them did—lots of it. Why weren’t they in a coven? Were they demons of some kind?

  She turned back to Zane, who was still watching at her intently. “Um, you can let go of my hand now.”

  He looked down at their clasped hands, the idol between them in its pouch, and slowly let her go. His fingers trailed over her wrist, sending shivers up her arm and down through her body to her core.

  He stepped back. His shirt was still torn, and she could see his chest moving. He was breathing faster than he should have been. Her own heart was racing, and she almost thought she could hear his thumping wildly, matching hers exactly.

  She waited to hear what he had to say. But instead of saying anything, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out an oversized playing card. He held it out to her.

  It was her missing Tarot card. The Knight of Flames, riding a dragon.

  Chapter 18

  Blaze stared at him. “Where did you get that?”

  His eyes never left her face. “You know where.”

  Off her workroom floor, after it had burst into flames. But it wasn’t burned now.

  “Why did you take it?” she asked.

  “I saw you working your spell. I was in it.”

  “You were spying on me?”

  He shrugged, a small smile hovering around his lips. “I was breaking into your house, remember? Of course I was spying on you. What I want to know is, why did I come up in a card reading you were doing?”

  Blaze snapped, “Maybe because you were about to break into my house?”

  “It’s more than that,” Zane said. He nodded at the idol in her hand. “Whatever is going on with that idol, I’m connected to it. I have a right to know what it is.”

  “You have no right to anything of mine,” she said. “Including secrets and information. You broke into my house and stole from me.”

  “I gave it back,” he pointed out, giving her a smile and a ‘don’t I get points for cuteness?’ look.

  No. He did not. She couldn’t let his overwhelming hotness make her let her guard down. “Only because you want something else from me. That being the case, it might be a good plan to start by saying you’re sorry for breaking in and stealing my idol. And smashing my window.”

  The smile widened. “You wouldn’t want me to start our relationship out by lying to you, would you?”

  “We don’t have a relationship.”

  He held the card out to her again and said softly, “You don’t think so? You saw me in your spell.” He took a deep breath. “And I’ve seen you in my dreams. For almost as long as I can remember.”

  That stopped her breath. Once again she saw the tumble of memories and sensations that had washed through her mind when he kissed her.

  I’ve seen you in my dreams…

  They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Then he asked, “Who was the other man in the vision? And how is he linked to the idol?”

  She said quietly, “His name is Silas Turner. I stole the idol from him. One day soon, he’s going to come and try to take it back. And then I’m going to kill him, if he doesn’t kill me first.”

  Zane’s dragon roared inside him. It was all he could do not to Change right there where he was standing—and then go find this Silas dirtbag and turn him into a pile of charred bones.

  “You’re not going to die,” he said. She looked taken aback at the ferocity in his voice.

  “I doubt you can stop it, and I doubt even more that you’ll try,” she said.

  “Maybe I can stop it,” he said. “Maybe that’s why I was in your vision.”

  She didn’t say anything, just rubbed her thumb absently over the idol, as if she were thinking. Then she seemed to realize what she was doing, and he saw a shudder pass through her body. She stuffed the idol into her clutch bag and snapped it shut.

  “Look,” he said. “If I help you with the idol, with this Silas guy, will you let me look at the Dragonfly of Morocco? Just look at it.”

  She studied him. “Why is it so important?”

  He hesitated, not knowing what to say. How could he possibly make her understand? He looked at her, clutching her purse with that damned evil idol in it. He could tell she hated it, but she was keeping it away from this Silas dude.

  He’d worried at first she was a dark sorceress, but he knew now she wasn’t. She’d taken on three dragons just to get this thing back in her vault where it couldn’t do any damage.

  He said, “You think Turner is going to take the idol and hurt a lot of people with it, right?”

  She nodded.

  “And you’re willing to risk your life to stop that from happening?”

  She gave a tiny shrug, looking away. “If I have to.”

  His heart surged with pride. She was amazing, brave as well as powerful. She cared about doing the right thing.

  “Okay,” he said. “I get that. My brothers and I—we’re also trying to prevent something from happening that will hurt a lot of people. And the Dragonfly might be able to help us stop it. All I have to do is look at it, maybe touch it. If it’s what we think it is, we’ll give you a fair price for it. Hell, we’ll give you whatever you want.” He paused. “And whether it is or not, I’ll help you fight off this Silas person, when he comes.”

  She studied him, her eyes looking deeply into his. He wondered what she was seeing. He saw a hundred years of dream-memories. Love and laughter and joy and tears.

  “Okay,” she said. “Come to my house tomorrow night. At seven. You can tell me about this mini-apocalypse you’re trying to stop, and I’ll decide if you can see the Dragonfly.”

  He nodded. It was a chance. That was all he could hope for. “Thank you.”

  She nodded back. He stepped aside, and watched her walk into the house. As she disappeared through the French doors, he called after her, “I wish I could say I’m sorry I broke into your house, but I’m not.” He paused. “After all, I got to kiss you.”

  She froze in her tracks for a moment, then started walking again. “Yeah,” she called over her shoulder. “Try that tomorrow, and I’ll shove you out the window again. And this time I’ll make sure you go splat on the patio.”

  A worthy mate, his dragon said again.

  Yep. All he had to do was convince her that he was one, too.

  “It isn’t there,” Rebel said.

  She still wasn’t used to talking to a magical projection of a dark wizard. And he was a dark wizard, no matter what he or Jack tried to tell her.

  All she had to do was look at Jack, hanging in the air like a marionette in his crappy living room, eyes open and staring at nothing, a black hole in his chest where this motherfucker projected himself through from whatever hell he inhabited. No one but a dark wizard would use another person that way.

  Rebel was in way over her head here. She should never have listened to fucking Jack Harper when he was on drugs. And now he was a puppet and she was face to face with a dude with a black robe, with a face that looked like it had been mauled by a rabid raccoon, and a dangerous obsession with a golden idol.

  “It has to be there!” the wizard snarled. “I have not come this far to
be thwarted now. I paid you to find the artifact—”

  Rebel interrupted him. “I went back in the house. I looked in the vault. The box is there, but the idol isn’t. I also looked in the artifact room and her magic room. And in her bedroom. I couldn’t search every nook and cranny in the whole goddamn house while she was out at a party. She could have sold it. Given it away. Put it in a bank vault. This job is a bust. I’m out.”

  The figure of the sorcerer grew very still, his eyes dark and deadly. “You’re not out until I say you’re out. I have my hand on your pathetic boyfriend’s heart, and I could kill him with a thought. So listen carefully to what I require of you now.”

  Rebel listened as the sorcerer issued his orders. When he was through, he disappeared back through the hole in Jack’s chest. Jack crumpled to the floor, heaving in his breath with a great gasp, his chest intact again.

  He got weaker every time.

  He might be a useless good-for-nothing addict who she’d fallen out of love with a long time ago, but he still didn’t deserve this.

  She got Jack some water and helped him onto the couch, putting a blanket over him.

  Then she left, thinking hard.

  She didn’t like the sound of the sorcerer’s final plan, but she didn’t see that she had much of a choice. The gloves were off. He wasn’t even pretending to be a good guy anymore.

  If he turned on Rebel, Tempest could get caught in the crossfire.

  There was nothing Rebel wouldn’t do to protect her sister. And as far as tough decisions went, throwing an evil rogue sorceress under the bus wasn’t even in the top ten.

  Chapter 19

  Blaze thought she’d prepared herself to resist Zane Greystone. But when she opened her front door to him the following night, it was like the sun had suddenly come out on the darkest of rainy days.

  He looked even better than he’d looked the night before. Mouth-watering, in casual jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt that made his eyes look like deep blue lakes you could just dive into and drown. His blond hair was still artfully tousled in that just-got-out-of-bed-and-could-be-talked-into-going-right-back style that made her want to run her fingers through it.