Rebel crushed her guilt down, right beside the dragon-pity. For all she knew, this woman was no better. “I’m not on anybody’s side,” she said. “I was getting paid.” And she was protecting her family. She hadn’t heard anything from Turner since last night, and she prayed that he considered their transaction done.
“Dragons have hoards of gold,” McKenna said. “I’m sure you can work something out.”
“I thought that was just a myth.”
“Come to the lair and see.”
Dragons had immunity to most magic and the ability to breathe fire, too. Maybe, if it came down to it, they could protect Tempest from the coven.
And pay.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “Just get that fucking insane dragon out of my yard before I have to explain to my landlord how all the trees got knocked down.”
McKenna sighed, looking exhausted again. “I’m not sure it’s as easy as that. He’s—he believes he’s your mate. He may not be capable of leaving you.”
“Please tell me he doesn’t think he’s going to have sex with me in the backyard—or anywhere. Especially if he can’t even turn into a guy. Because that would be a ‘hell no’ to the giant dragon dick.”
Zane went back up on the porch, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “His dragon’s still in control,” he said to Tyr. “I don’t know what the fuck to do with him.”
Tempest, who had been writing in her notebook in between sidelong glances at Tyr, looked up from her writing. “I do.”
“What?” Tyr asked. Rebel wished he’d stop looking at Tempest like she was a fairy princess. It was bordering on creepy.
Tempest said calmly, “Rebel has to kiss him.”
Rebel walked back to the porch, staring at her sister. “No fucking way. He’s drooling smoke, and he just tried to kidnap me.”
Tempest blinked at her. “Well, I don’t mind if he stays in the backyard, but he’s stuck in dragon form and he’s very upset. It seems mean to leave him like that.”
“I’m not kissing him.”
“That’s how it works in all the stories. The fair maiden kisses the dragon so he can turn back into a prince. Like Beauty and the Beast, only with wings and scales.”
Tyr said slowly, “It might work.”
“First off,” Rebel said, “I’m pretty sure this one was never a prince to begin with. And second,” she gestured to herself, “not a maiden, if by maiden you mean virgin. And third, doesn’t it have to be true love’s kiss? Because I’m not feeling the love right now.”
Tempest put down her notebook, stood up and grabbed Rebel’s arm. “Come on. You need to do this.”
Tempest was so rarely that insistent about what needed to happen that Rebel found herself being dragged out into the yard, still protesting.
“I’m not kissing that thing! And you’re not going near it. It’ll bite our heads off and eat them like M&Ms.”
“No, he won’t.” Tempest walked right up to the dragon and faced him. “Thorne,” she said authoritatively, “be good. Put your head down so Rebel can kiss you.”
He somehow made his dragon face look sulky and resentful, but surprisingly he obeyed, lowering his head until it was right in front of them. He didn’t even try to bite them.
“What are you, the dragon whisperer?” she said to her sister.
“I love dragons. Everybody knows that. Now kiss him.”
“This is stupid. I do not love him. I will never love him. He’s a fucking dragon. A crazy one.”
Thorne’s dragon made a soft, inquiring noise, and moved his head lower. Rebel stared at him. “You actually want me to do this?”
The dragon blinked at her, and made a tiny sound that was almost like a purr.
She looked back at the others. “If I kiss him, will he leave?”
Both the other guys shrugged and spread their hands out. Great. Clueless, every last one of them.
Well, unless she wanted a dragon in her yard forever, it didn’t seem like she had a choice. She edged up to the huge scaly head.
She thought he’d smell like sulfur and burned wood, but he smelled spicy and warm. Not too bad. He seemed suddenly pitiful—angry and frustrated and somehow lonely underneath.
Sort of like her.
Crap. Now she was identifying with the rabid dragon.
She leaned over, squinched her face up, and pecked him on the side of his head just above his eye ridge.
There was a faint humming in the air, like the final chord of a choir just dying away, and she felt a sudden warmth spread from her lips down into her chest.
With a shimmer and a huge intake of air like a giant taking a breath, the dragon disappeared and a man was standing in its place.
He was tall, half a head taller than Rebel’s six feet, his dark hair mussed. He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt with blood beginning to seep through it from the wound in his chest. His right hand was also bloody, and covered in cuts from her knife.
He was possibly the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen. And the most arrogant.
He folded his arms, glaring at her. “Well? Where’s the Seal?”
That was it? No, ‘thanks for returning my sanity’ or ‘sorry I trashed your yard and tried to abduct you’?
She glared back. “I don’t know.”
He blew out a sigh. “Fuck.” He pushed past everyone and stomped across the yard toward the front of the house and the street.
At least he was leaving.
“You’re paying to get this yard fixed up,” Rebel yelled after him. “And if you ever try anything like this again, I’m going to shoot you in the balls with my magic gun.”
Thorne stomped away out of sight around the house, ignoring her.
“Asshole,” she muttered. She turned to the others. “I think it’s time you left, too.”
Zane was still staring after Thorne, his mouth open. Tyr was talking softly to Tempest, the two of them walking slowly toward the front of the house. Damn. That was going to be a problem.
“Think about what I said,” Blaze said to Rebel. “Do you still have my number, from the other day?”
Rebel nodded.
They turned to leave, and then Zane turned back. “Thorne saved your life, you know,” he said. “Last night, when you fell off the balcony. He barely got to you before you hit the ground. Broke his foot landing hard.”
Rebel didn’t let her shock show on her face. “Didn’t help his attitude,” she said.
Zane started to say something angry, and Blaze pulled him away, saying, “Call me if you decide to work with us on this.”
The two of them collected Tyr and left, leaving Rebel and Tempest to their train wreck of a backyard, which suddenly seemed too empty and quiet.
Rebel threw herself down into a porch chair, all her energy draining away with the fight adrenalin.
“I’ve had a lot of fucked-up days lately,” she said, “but this one just moved to the top of the rankings.”
Tempest sat down again, pulling her notebook into her lap. She wasn’t writing, just staring at the page, a faraway look in her eyes.
“Tempe?” Rebel said. “You don’t really believe all this, do you? About sleeping dragons and fiery death and destined mates?”
“They’re dragons, Reb,” she said. “Real live dragons. They’re so much more beautiful than I even imagined. Did you see the color of Tyr’s scales? Cobalt blue.”
Oh, fuck. She was falling in love with a dragon fantasy.
“He said he’d turn into a dragon for me. Somewhere safe, where I can touch him and draw him, maybe even do a painting. He said he’d take me flying. Do you know it’s true they can cloak themselves? They fly over the city all the time and no one sees them.”
She smiled. “Now I’ll always wonder if he’s flying overhead.”
“He wants something from you,” Rebel said. She winced at how harsh she sounded. Meeting a dragon was Tempest’s dream come true, and she hated to be Debbie Doom. But Tempest
could be too trusting sometimes.
Curious, she asked, “What does he make you see? Aren’t you afraid that something bad will happen, if we get involved with them?”
Guilt immediately punched her in the gut. Tempest had spent years working to get over all the anxiety caused by the stories that played out in her head. Deliberately trying to bring that back made Rebel a horrible sister.
Not if it saves her life.
Once more, she wondered if Tempest really would be better off with the dragons, at least temporarily. Tyr seemed smitten with her, and he could protect her from the coven.
Tempest said slowly, “I think… something bad will happen if we don’t help them. For the last few months, I kept seeing the mountain exploding and the volcano erupting. Over and over, and I couldn’t write it any other way.”
Rebel felt sick. “You didn’t tell me that.” Why hadn’t Tempest told her?
Her sister shook her head. “I didn’t want to talk about it. I couldn’t find a way for it not to happen.”
Rebel asked carefully, “And now? Is it still going to explode?”
“Maybe.” Tempest paused. “But now, there’s a maybe not.”
Rebel sat slowly back in her chair. Could she and Tempest really be that important to the dragons’ mission? Or was Tempest just seeing what she wanted to see, because she wanted to spend more time with them?
“And what about that dragon? Tyr?” she asked. “What do you see about him?”
Tempest smoothed a blank page in her notebook, a strange smile on her face.
“Nothing,” she said, her mouth still curved in that secret smile. “I don’t see anything at all.”
Chapter 33
Flying back to the lair, all Blaze could think about was going back to bed. She should have been starting to recover from the magical power drain last night, but if anything she felt worse than she had this morning.
She felt a sudden surge of dark anger. Why wasn’t Zane taking care of her, like he’d promised? Her stomach was churning, she hadn’t eaten anything today except cake, and she’d almost been flamed by a hysterical dragon. She hadn’t even had time to take a shower before they’d rushed off after Thorne.
Zane wasn’t even speaking to her, like this was somehow all her fault. He’d talked to her last night when they flew, hadn’t he? Her head was aching so badly she could barely remember. Why was he sulking now?
She could feel the tension in his arms and body, unlike the gentle, caring way he’d carried her last night.
Was he somehow pissed at her that she hadn’t managed to talk Rebel into accepting the dragons’ story and flying up to the lair to help them? Why hadn’t he done something? Why was it all her responsibility?
They were approaching the lair, but Zane didn’t go up to the roof. He hovered by a small balcony off his bedroom and deposited her on it, still grim and silent.
Instead of flying away, he gripped the stone balustrade with his talons and Changed. He ended up in human form, hanging by his hands from the balustrade, and pulled himself over onto the balcony.
His biceps and shoulders rippled, but Blaze didn’t even care. She just walked straight into the room, stumbling with weariness.
In a moment Zane was beside her, his arm reaching for her waist.
“Let me help you,” he said, his tone peremptory.
For some reason that made her angrier. “I’m fine,” she said, shaking off his arm. “I’m not two hundred and eighty-seven years old, for heaven’s sake. You’ll be getting me a walker next.”
Zane flinched as though she’d slapped him. His tone was calm, but with the tight patience of a person trying very hard not to be annoyed. “You seem upset,” he said. “Why don’t you get into a nice hot bath? While you’re soaking in it I’ll get the zefirs to fix you some food.’”
He sat her on a chair and hustled into the connecting bathroom, putting out towels and a fluffy blue robe. Blaze fumed. Dimly she knew she was being ridiculous, but everything grated on her. She suddenly felt a suffocating sensation, like she couldn’t breathe.
It was this damn necklace. It was choking her. Zane was suffocating her, with his fussing over her and carrying her around and insisting that she was some kind of princess mate.
She should never have listened to him. Suspicion rose up inside her. Maybe Rebel was right. Maybe he was using magic on her, to make her love him.
It was the necklace. She had to get this necklace off. She’d do it in the bathroom where he couldn’t see.
When he was done fussing she went in the bathroom, closing the door firmly in his concerned face.
He was faking all that concern. He was a liar. They were all liars. She felt consumed by that certainty. She had to fool Zane until she got some food and a shower and clothes, and then she’d figure out how to get away. But she felt so sick, and she was so tired.
If only she could think. Somehow she couldn’t think.
The bathroom was palatial—a huge expanse the size of a normal bedroom, with a massive mahogany-encased tub and a huge glassed-in shower, plus a marble-topped vanity with two sinks and ornate gold spigots in the shape of mermaids. And an actual golden toilet.
It disgusted her. Dragons, living on this ridge looking down on everyone else, hoarding their wealth and power.
Zane had started the water running in the bathtub, which had two more golden mermaid spigots. Annoyed that he was telling her what to do, Blaze turned them off and let the water drain.
Who was he to decide she wanted a bath? She’d have a shower. She took off the necklace and dumped it on the marble vanity. Immediately, she felt like she could breathe more easily.
As soon as she got in the shower, though, her knees buckled. She felt sick. Food. She needed food. She’d just wash herself and then she’d get food, and then she’d get away.
But it took all her strength to soap herself down and wash her hair, and she had to sit and rest on the vanity bench before she toweled herself off.
She finally dragged the robe on and stood before the bathroom door, her wet hair dripping down on her shoulders. She could feel Zane out there, pacing around, just waiting to grab her and make her do what he wanted.
His scent was on the robe, overwhelming her, like his presence.
She breathed deeply, gathering her strength. She could do this.
Zane paced back and forth in front of the bathroom door, running his fingers repeatedly through his hair.
Blaze was angry. He could feel it in the air, see it in the lines of her body. She’d turned off the bath water and taken a shower. For some reason that made him angry too.
He was trying to take care of her, and she was shoving him away at every turn.
That’s not the way a mate should behave.
Dark anger rose up inside him. First at himself, for not being able to take care of a mate properly. Then at her, for not appreciating anything he was doing.
A zefir brought in a tray of food, and he indicated the table behind him, not thanking it as he usually did.
Why bother? It was just an elemental, and he had other things on his mind. The zefir unloaded the dishes of food, and then the tray hesitated for a few moments just inside the door. When he didn’t say anything, the zefir took it away and shut the door.
Zane heard the shower turn off, and thought about going into the bathroom to get Blaze. What was she doing in there for so long? He needed to have this out with her. Tell her how a good mate was supposed to act.
His dragon moved restlessly inside him. Mate wants to leave, he said. Treasure. Can’t leave. Hold her. Make her stay!
No, Zane thought dimly. That wasn’t right. Yes. Make her stay. Lock the doors, keep treasure safe. He heard a growl come out of his throat.
That’s right. Keep treasure safe.
She came out of the bathroom, looking small and vulnerable in his oversized robe, her damp hair curling over her shoulders.
She smelled wonderful. Clean and warm and sweet, and he wanted
to hold her close and lock her in his lair and keep her safe forever.
He went to gather her up in his arms, and she stepped back, looking at him warily. Anger radiated off her, and sickness. Like there was something wrong with her.
Fear and anger stabbed through him. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. He saw her bare neck. “Where’s the necklace?”
“I took it off. It was suffocating me.”
The words cut him to the heart. It was a treasured part of his hoard, given to her in love. And she was throwing it back in his face.
She refused our gift, his dragon said. Fire rumbled in him. She wants to leave us. She doesn’t love us. She must love us.
Zane felt sick with the need to make her love him. But he had to be cunning.
“I got you food.” He made his voice gentle.
“I hope it’s more than cake.” Her voice was sharp. She walked over to the table, but he could see she looked unsteady.
Help her!
She won’t let me.
She lifted the silver cover on one of the dishes, a delicious plate of roast chicken. She turned pale and put it down again.
She’d rejected his gift of gold. Now she was rejecting his food.
The anger in Zane grew hotter. “You have to eat,” he said. “And then you have to rest. You can stay here in my chamber. We can even bring things from your house. Or buy new ones. Silk sheets. Gold adornments.”
What did women of this era like? He couldn’t remember anymore. Everything was jumbled in his mind; all he knew was he needed to give her things and make her love him. Now.
She was staring at him. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. Her eyes were hard, not soft and loving like they were supposed to be. “I can’t stay here. I have to get home and straighten out my workroom. Get the doors repaired. For God’s sake, I haven’t even fed my cat! But you don’t care about that, do you? You just want to use me.”
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