Daughter Of The Dragon Princess

by Nina Croft

  “Lily,” he murmured, lowering the hood. Weyland, the bastard. “Good, I’m glad you’re awake. I’d hate you to miss the highlight of the evening.”

  The sound of his voice brought the memories flooding back.

  Joe.

  A sharp jolt of pain stabbed through her, and tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away. Pushing the pain down, she let her anger rise until her fingers clawed into the stone, concentrating her mind. “What do you plan to do with me?”

  “Don’t worry about that. But I promise you it will be painless.”

  “Fuck that. Let me go.”

  He didn’t answer and a cold hard lump settled in her belly. This was madness. She didn’t want to die without understanding why. Shit, she didn’t want to die at all. Where the hell was Mal? He was leaving it a little late. She had to give him more time.

  “What’s the point of all this?” she asked Weyland. “Come on, you’re going to kill me, you could at least explain why. Don’t tell me you believe all this rubbish about dragons.”

  A smile curved his lips. “Are you telling me that you don’t believe?”

  Yeah, she believed. And as she said the words in her head, she closed the door on her dream of a normal life forever. Hell, any sort of life would be good right now. She shook her head. “What do you hope to get from this?”

  Wayland’s features hardened. “We’ll get what the dragons denied us.”

  “And that is?”

  “Immortality.”

  Okay, one step too far. The whole world had gone crazy, not just her this time.

  All around her, the haze of smoke was thickening, the air dense, oily with whatever they were burning. Bile rose in the back of her throat. “I’m going to be sick.”

  Weyland nodded at the men holding her, and they released her ankles and wrists. She rolled over and came up on all fours retching. Once her stomach was empty, she knelt panting, unable to get enough air. Raising her head, she looked at Weyland. “Don’t do this.”

  “We have to—we’ve waited too long. We want what is owed to us. What was denied us when we were cast aside by the dragons as worthless dross.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to. Just know that your blood will give us the power to continue the fight.”

  He gestured to the men. They took her shoulders, turned her roughly so her head slammed against the hard rock, and stars flashed before her eyes. She struggled, but they gripped her wrists and ankles viciously. The urge to call the fire rose up inside her, but the fumes were fogging her brain, and she couldn’t concentrate.

  Mal!

  They shifted her so her head hung over the edge of the rock, her hair streaming down to the grass, the long line of her throat stretched taut. A knife glinted in Weyland’s hand. Lily wanted desperately to close her eyes, shut out the sight, but she couldn’t look away from the long, gleaming blade poised above her.

  Then the world exploded.

  Chapter 11

  The sound of chanting rose up from inside the circle, and beneath the chant, the hum of the portal throbbed on the night air.

  Mal froze as the sound vibrated through him, filling his mind with the memory of home. He was soaring over the mountains of Ankesh, far above lakes of fire. Heat soaked through the thick skin of his belly, burning the fragile membranes under his wings. He climbed higher and higher, and then plummeted into the flames, breathing in the hot, smoky air, roaring his pleasure.

  He blinked and he was back in the shadows of the great stones, Cole at his side. The robed figures gathered in a thick knot around the altar and behind them, the archway rose tall and stark.

  Every muscle tensed with the need to move, but he couldn’t see Lily.

  Then something glinted within the circle of men. A gap opened revealing Lily stretched out naked on the altar. In the flickering torchlight, her pale skin glimmered. Long red hair flowed behind her like living flame, reaching to the ground, and the smooth line of her throat lay exposed to the knife, poised high above her.

  Adrenaline surged through his blood.

  He leaped forward, left hand extended and blue black tongues of dragon fire shot from his fingertips.

  The figure holding the knife exploded into flames, a human torch that twisted and turned, reeling into the ring of men around him. The circle broke, and the four men holding Lily leapt back as the burning figure tore at his robes, his whole body on fire. He rolled on the ground, back arching, high-pitched screams rending the night. Finally, they faded to whimpers, and he lay still.

  The chanting ceased, but the hum of the portal was louder now, like a swarm of angry bees.

  Mal stepped into the stone circle. Deep inside, his dragon stirred, scenting their homeland, and roaring to be free.

  It had been so long.

  But he had to get to Lily. The sorcerers would have shielded against the dragon fire as soon as they’d seen their burning companion. He pulled out the gun as Cole came up beside him, his own gun drawn and side by side, they moved forward.

  The robed figures backed away before them, retreating into the shadows of the tall stones.

  “I’m going to get Lily,” Mal spoke softly to Cole. “If anybody moves, shoot them.”

  Lily huddled on the altar stone, hugging her knees to her chest. As he approached, she blinked up at him, her eyes dazed; they must have drugged her during the long day. “I knew you’d come,” she said.

  She uncurled, her arms wrapping around her naked body.

  Closing the distance between them, he dragged his T-shirt over his head and tossed it to her. The shirt covered her down to her slender thighs.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Now, let’s get out of here.” But he couldn’t resist a brief touch and he ran his finger down her cheek. As he caressed her skin, the archway flared to brilliant life, the darkness banished by the ever-burning fires of Ankesh. Green and blue flames, crimson and orange, twisting and dancing.

  His heart beat faster. The portal had recognized the Dragon Princess. Not only that, but it had recognized him. Vortigen had sworn the portal would never open for a dragon of impure blood. A wave of bitterness washed over him. Had the King always known?

  The gateway was opening, and inside him, his dragon stirred again, filling every cell with a longing to take his true form, and fly free once more.

  He pulled Lily into his arms, and the flames burned brighter. Power swelled inside him, unlike anything he’d experienced for centuries, as though the magic of Ankesh was seeping through the portal. He knew then that they could go together, that the gateway would open for them. They would be safe on the other side. The Dragon Princesses had always had the ability to survive in Ankesh.

  Unlike humans.

  The thought sobered him. He glanced back to where Cole stood alone against almost twenty adversaries. The glow from the arch highlighted their shrouded figures. They’d halted their retreat when the gateway opened. Now, they gazed at it in wonder. All except Cole knew, or at least guessed, the significance.

  “Mal!” Cole shouted a warning, and then the night erupted in gunfire around them.

  He dragged Lily behind the altar stone, and peered over. Cole had also lunged for cover, but he’d been hit, and lay motionless.

  Mal gave one last, longing look at the archway. The burning fires beckoned him. They could just go. After all, what was the detective to him?

  Once, he would have done nothing to save a million human lives. He would have gone through the portal without a thought. He gritted his teeth, frustration clawing at his insides—he wanted to go so badly, the craving was a physical pain.

  “Goddammit!”

  He couldn’t do it—Cole was a friend.

  “Stay down,” he whispered to Lily. He stood, and shot into the ring of men surrounding Cole.

  Two fell. The others shrank back into the shadows of the stones, seeming to merge into the night.

  He turned back to Lily. “Can you wal
k?”

  “I think so.”

  “Stay behind me then.”

  They made their way to where Cole lay unmoving but still conscious. A bullet had hit him in the left shoulder, and blood pulsed from the wound.

  “Lily, take my gun,” Mal said. “If anything moves—shoot it.” He crouched down. “Cole?”

  “Yeah, I’m still here,” Cole muttered through gritted teeth. “Next time you tell me to go home, remind me I should listen.”

  “I will. I’m going to carry you down. This will hurt, but we haven’t got time to sort you out now.”

  “There’s no time to carry me down either. Just leave me. Get Lily away from here. I’m not going to make it, anyway.”

  He coughed and blood flecked his lips. The bullet must have nicked a lung.

  “Don’t be so melodramatic.” Reaching down, Mal ignored Cole’s grunt of pain, picked him up, and hoisted him over his shoulder.

  ***

  Lily’s bare toes curled into the soft, cool grass. She breathed in the clean air, ridding her lungs of the lingering fumes of incense and smoke. Every sense alert, her blood fizzed with energy, and adrenalin coursed through her system. She shifted and the soft material of Mal’s shirt stroked against her bare skin, teasing her sensitized nipples. A shiver ran through her. She had never felt so intensely alive.

  “Lily?”

  She glanced across to where Mal stood with Cole draped over his shoulder. He was studying her, head tilted to one side. His eyes ran over her body, settling on her bare feet. “Are you okay? Can you walk like that?”

  “I’m good.”

  She was more than good—she was alive. It was unbelievable. Only minutes ago, she’d stared up at that knife, seen the moonlight glinting on the razor sharp blade, and been filled with the awareness of her own imminent death. She’d known that no one would save her.

  Yet, here she was.

  “Let’s go, then,” Mal said. “Shout if you can’t keep up.”

  She almost smiled. Just how fast did he think he could go while carrying a six-foot policeman?

  Then he was off.

  For the first few steps, her legs were unsteady, but slowly her body came to life, casting off the effects of the drugs. Moonlight silvered the path in front of her. Once or twice, she glanced behind her as they descended, but the sorcerers had vanished.

  At the foot of the hill, Mal led the way through a copse of oak trees and came to a halt beside a dark estate car. Cole must have lost consciousness, since he didn’t stir as Mal opened the door and laid his limp form across the back seat.

  Lily chewed on her lower lip as Mal checked Cole’s pulse.

  “He’s still alive,” Mal said.

  She released her breath. “Thank God.”

  The euphoria of finding herself alive had drained away somewhere on the journey down. Now her legs were shaking, and her head whirled with all that had happened.

  Mal glanced up at her. “Can you check in the back for a first-aid box?”

  She went around the car and opened the trunk. The box was beside the spare wheel and she handed it to Mal. Leaning over Cole, he pushed his jacket aside, and tore open his shirt. Lily winced as the bloody wound was exposed.

  “Will he be all right?” she asked. It didn’t seem possible.

  “I think so.” He peered down at the detective with something close to resentment on his face. “He’d better be.”

  Strapping a pad across the shoulder, he bandaged it tightly, then straightened. “That should stop the bleeding for the moment, but we have to get him somewhere I can treat him.” Slamming the car door, he came around to the driver’s side and climbed in.

  Lily got in beside him. “Where are we going?”

  “For now, I just want to put some distance between us and them.”

  It seemed like an excellent idea. Lily sat back and closed her eyes as Mal turned on the ignition and pulled out into the road. She was definitely down from the high of just being alive, and reaction had set in. The night was warm, but she shivered, tugging the thin shirt tighter around herself. Behind her closed lids, fires flickered and danced, but failed to warm her. She remembered the flames from the stones. What had she seen through the archway? A glimpse into another world?

  It was as though the existence she had always known had shattered into a thousand little shards and then remade itself in a different pattern.

  She bit down on her lower lip, trying to get control of herself, but like her world, she was disintegrating. Wrapping her arms round her middle, she clamped her teeth on her lower lip, and tried to stop herself from falling apart.

  They’d been driving for ten minutes when Mal glanced sideways at her, a slight frown drawing his brows together. “Are you all right?”

  No

  She bit back the answer and forced a weak smile. “I’m just cold.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but a groan came from behind them, and he obviously changed his mind. “We have to keep going.”

  “I know.” She peered behind her. Cole was still unconscious.

  Her emotions were all over the place. Euphoria, sadness, the first stirrings of anger and defiance. What did Mal plan to do with her now? Did he still mean to hand her over to this other man?

  No way.

  From now on, she refused to be anyone’s pawn.

  But—whatever his motives—Mal had saved her life tonight. Again.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For saving my life.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Anytime.”

  “And Mal?”

  “Yes?” He sounded wary.

  She wasn’t sure what had happened back there, but she had seen something through the archway, a glimpse of another world. “Was that Ankesh?” she asked. “Through the arch?”

  He nodded. “The gate opened for us.”

  His voice filled with wonder and a twinge of bitterness stabbed her in the gut. Her life was turning to shit. Joe was dead, and Mal didn’t care. But why should he? He had a chance to go home, and Joe was nothing to him.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Joe’s dead.”

  “Joe?”

  “He was my friend.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Why did she find that hard to believe? “Are you?”

  He glanced sideways at her, then shrugged. “Tell me what happened. How did the sorcerers get you?”

  She told him briefly. Joe and the professor, Stark. About waking up in the stone circle.

  Afterward, he sat, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “The professor, was that the guy with the knife?”

  She shuddered as she remembered. “Yes.”

  “Well, I guess he won’t be using his place anytime soon. We’ll go back there.”

  “Won’t that be dangerous?”

  “I doubt any of the others will show up. Their leader is dead—their power depleted. They’ll lay low for a while. And we need somewhere to get Cole sorted.”

  Nodding, she relaxed back in her seat as he turned the car around and headed back the way they had come.

  She closed her eyes. Behind her lids, the flickering flames of Ankesh played, and in her mind, she recalled the almost irresistible urge to commit herself to those flames, to feel the kiss of the fire against her flesh.

  To discover what was on the other side.

  Chapter 12

  Weyland’s house stood in darkness and appeared deserted—so far, so good.

  Lily scrambled out and came around to help Mal with Cole. The detective was still unconscious, his face pale with a splash of crimson staining his lips.

  “Will he be all right?” she asked. “Maybe we should take him to a hospital. Get him some proper treatment. He might need surgery. We can’t do anything like that here.”

  She was babbling, but the sight of so much blood was doing weird things to her insides.

  “I’ll treat him,” Mal said. “I know what has to be done.”

  Was there anything
dragons couldn’t do? But she kept quiet as he carried Cole into the house, down the hallway, and into a small sitting room. After laying him on the sofa, he unbuttoned the shirt. Lily gasped—Cole’s whole chest was a mass of scarlet gore. Her gaze flashed to Mal’s face, but his expression was blank.

  “Can you find me some water?” he asked.

  Lily nodded, glad to have something to do. Back out in the hallway, she tried each of the doors. The first one was the study she’d been in earlier. She was tugging the door shut when she spotted her jeans lying over the back of the sofa—Weyland must have stripped her in here—the fucking pervert. As she picked them up, she saw the body lying on the floor, behind the sofa. Joe. How could she have forgotten him? She owed her life to him, and now she’d caused his death. Inadvertently maybe, but she had no doubts it was down to her. She grabbed her jeans, pulled them on and backed out of the room.

  One more death to avenge. But Weyland was beyond her vengeance. He was already dead, torched in the stone circle. At least the bastard had died screaming.

  The kitchen was at the end of the hall, and she filled a bowl with water, then searched in the cupboards until she came across a pile of clean towels. She grabbed a couple and hurried back.

  Mal took them from her and hunkered down by the sofa. He soaked one of the towels and started to wipe away the blood. There were two bullet wounds, one in the shoulder and one lower down.

  She hovered, shifting from foot to foot. “How is he?”

  “The shoulder wound is no problem, the bullet went right through. The chest one is a little worse. I’ll have to get the bullet out before I can heal him.”

  “Heal him? How are you going to do that? He needs a hospital.”

  Mal glanced up and smiled. “Have a little faith, Lily. I thought you were ready to believe.”

  Yeah, but believe what? She kept her mouth shut.

  Mal drew a knife from the sheath on his belt. He held up his left hand, blue-black flames flickered from his fingertips and he passed the blade through the fire. Lily clamped her eyes shut as he probed the wound in Cole’s chest. At least the detective didn’t regain consciousness, though he twitched and moaned as the knife entered.