Her lips were lush and soft and spiced with sweet temptation. The taste flooded his senses, as intoxicating as demon’s brew.
There was a rustle of silk as she stepped closer, allowing the heat of her dragon to play over his body. Char groaned, his fingers skimming down the side of her neck.
Her skin glowed brighter, her eyes shimmering with breathtaking beauty. The sight ignited his flames, and they danced around them as his dragon snarled in an effort to be let free.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
The word whispered in the back of his mind, and with a muttered curse, he forced himself to pull away.
“Let’s go,” he rasped.
He continued to play with fire. Literally.
One of these times, he was going to get burned.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Blayze felt dizzy. Or maybe she was giddy.
Hard to tell, since she had zero actual experience with desire.
What she did know was that the quicker she could kill the treacherous servant who intended to curse her, the quicker she could drag Char into a private room and lock the door.
She wanted to fully explore the sensations that were scorching through her body. And she wanted to make sure that the next time Char kissed her there was nothing to stop him from continuing with his seduction.
Or maybe she would seduce him.
It couldn’t be that hard to figure out, could it?
The warm giddiness continued to flow through her body as Char steered her down a separate hallway that led away from the more formal area of the lair. It felt glorious, or at least it did until she noticed the tension that was humming around Char as he walked beside her.
Turning her head, she met his brooding gaze. “Is something wrong?”
He paused before abruptly speaking. “Am I the first?”
She blinked, not entirely sure what he was asking. “What do you mean?”
“Am I the first male to kiss you?”
“Oh.” She blinked in surprise. It was a strange question, considering that he had to know she’d been cursed when she was just a hatchling. “Yes, you’re the first.”
Another brooding glance. “Are you sorry?”
“Why would I be sorry?”
His hands balled into fists, as if he was struggling to contain some fierce emotion.
“You’ve pointed out that I’m a half-breed more than once.”
She frowned. She’d pointed out he was a half-breed because he was a half-breed. Why would that bother him?
It took several seconds before she at last realized that he’d mistakenly assumed she considered his mixed heritage to be a bad thing.
She came to a halt. She could already catch the scent of fairies and vampires and even goblins that seeped through the air. Which meant the servants’ quarters was just ahead.
Right now, however, she was more interested in Char’s idiotic belief that she cared about his pedigree.
“I’ve spent centuries locked away from the world,” she reminded him. “It allowed me to concentrate on what was important. And what was stupid.”
His studied her face, as if searching for some hidden meaning in her words. “So what’s important?”
She didn’t even have to think about it. “Loyalty. Trust. Devotion.”
Fire briefly danced over his skin. Blayze’s heart missed a beat at the beauty of the silvery flames.
“Yes,” he breathed.
She smiled. She liked the dazed look on his face. Just as much as she liked the knowledge that she’d put it there.
She tilted her head to the side, sending him a coy glance. Or at least she hoped it was coy. She might just look ridiculous.
“You didn’t ask what I thought was stupid,” she told him.
His eyes smoldered, the flames continuing to halo his body. “I’m afraid.”
She allowed her fingers to brush up his arm, savoring the feel of his dragon-fire.
“I think it’s stupid to waste your days pursuing power and riches.” She answered the question he refused to ask. “Or judging others by the purity of their blood rather than the contents of their heart.”
Something in his expression seemed to ease, as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Still, he studied her with a wary gaze.
“I doubt your parents would agree.”
Blayze shrugged. She would always owe her mother a huge debt. The female dragon had sacrificed everything to keep Blayze protected. But while she loved her mother, she was done having her life controlled by others.
From now on, she was living each day precisely as she wanted to.
“Thank the goddess I am finally allowed to make my own decisions.”
His fingers brushed over her lips, but he didn’t lean down and kiss her as she hoped. Instead, he drew in a deep breath, and turned to continue down the corridor. “We’ll finish this conversation after we find the servant and destroy the curse.”
Blayze shrugged and fell into step beside him. She didn’t understand why he was so suspicious. Did he expect her to change her mind? She’d had centuries to witness the world, even if it was through her mother’s eyes. She knew what she wanted for her future.
And Char was becoming more firmly woven into her plans.
Unless…Blayze frowned as she was struck by a sudden thought.
“What about you?” she abruptly demanded.
He glanced down at her in confusion. “What are you asking?”
“You are a servant to Baine.”
He nodded. “I am.”
“Which means that if we return to our proper time he will have control over your life,” she said.
He surprised her by giving a shake of his head. “No one controls my life.”
“But—” She hesitated. This male was unpredictably sensitive about his half-breed status. “Isn’t he your master?”
“Not anymore,” he said. “Baine offered me my freedom nearly a century ago.”
She felt a stab of surprise. It was rare for a master to release a servant. They had a belief that every creature should be delighted to be their slaves for an eternity.
“Why do you stay?” she demanded.
A smile curved Char’s lips, easing his grim expression. There was no mistaking his affection for Baine.
“Because he’s my friend.”
Her heart gave a funny jerk. As if someone had attached a string to it and was giving it a tug.
“Loyalty,” she breathed.
She moved closer to his side, but before she could continue, a pulse of heat slammed into her back.
Dragon.
Her muscles tensed as she turned to watch the male step into the corridor behind them.
He was a pureblood with a short, stocky form that was covered by a formal golden robe trimmed with rubies the size of her fists. He had long, dark hair and dark eyes, with deeply bronzed skin. She supposed he was handsome, in a rugged sort of way. And he had enough power to make the floor tremble. But she didn’t feel any of the zips and zings that ricocheted through her stomach when she glanced at Char.
Instead, her only thought was convincing him to go away without attracting attention.
“Do not move,” the stranger commanded.
His arrogant tone, not to mention the over-the-top robe, revealed that he was a guest of her father, not a guard. Still, he clearly expected her to obey his order.
Blayze angled her chin so her nose was in the air. It was a trick her mother used when she wanted to intimidate someone.
“Is something wrong?” she demanded.
The male frowned, moving toward them. “This is the private quarters of the lair.”
Char instinctively angled his body until he was half standing in front of her, his aggression filling the air with a searing heat. “I am aware of our location,” he said.
The dragon’s nose flared, a curl of smoke trailing from his nostril.
“I was speaking to your mistress,” he reprimanded Char.
Flame
s danced over Char’s skin, and Blayze was swift to move so she was the one standing in front of him. What was wrong with the foolish male? He was going to get himself killed.
“Did Synge send you to follow me?” she asked the dragon.
There was a tense pause before the dragon moved his gaze from Char back to Blayze.
“He mentioned that you were worried that there was a plot to harm his unborn child,” he admitted.
Blayze was confused. If Synge wanted to keep an eye on them, why not send a guard?
“Are you a member of his clan?” she asked.
The dragon arched a brow, as if amazed that Blayze didn’t instantly recognize him.
Typical dragon conceit.
“I am Bolt, son of Ash, and I am certain you have heard that I am to be betrothed to Synge’s daughter.”
Char’s breath hissed through his teeth. This time, however, he managed to keep his lips closed.
A miracle.
Blayze concentrated on the dragon in front of her.
“You are Bolt?” she asked, finding it impossible to visualize this male as her mate.
Yes, she’d already determined he was handsome. And powerful. And wearing jewels that revealed he had an impressive hoard.
All the things most females desired in a male.
But the mere thought of being bonded to a male who wasn’t Char made her shudder in horror.
Unaware of her dark thoughts, Bolt gave a small dip of his head. “Yes. And you?”
“Blayze, from the clan of Ravel,” Blayze said, offering a formal curtsy.
It was awkward, but it was good enough to fool the male who was clearly more concerned with her presence in this particular corridor.
“You have not answered why you are in the private quarters,” he reminded her, allowing his power to hum in the air.
A less than subtle warning.
And one Char couldn’t ignore.
He shouldered his way to her side, glaring at the other male. “Because we don’t have to.”
Bolt stepped forward, releasing even more of his power. The torches rattled and dust fell from the ceiling.
Crap. This encounter was going downhill fast.
She had to do something before the males decided to do more than glare and blow smoke at each other.
“Char.” She laid her hand on his arm, careful to move slowly. An angry dragon, even a half-breed one, could do all sorts of bad things if he was startled. “Perhaps it would be best if I speak with Bolt alone.”
He turned his head, his eyes a molten silver as he glared at her in disbelief. “No way in hell.”
Bolt moved until he was just a foot away, his beefy hands clenched into fists. “You will not speak to your mistress in that manner.”
Char’s skin began to shimmer as his inner beast demanded release. Any other time Blayze would have been amazed. It was rare for a half-breed to be capable of shifting.
Plus, he had the magic of his fey mother.
A dangerous combination.
Still, he didn’t have the power to take on a pureblood dragon.
“You—”
“Char.” She turned so she was standing directly in front of him, her fingers pressing against his lips. “We can’t risk attracting attention.”
Char reluctantly transferred his gaze from Bolt to her pleading expression. His eyes continued to smolder with silver fire.
“That is precisely what I said before you insisted on heading into the throne room,” he growled.
“Why do you allow your servant to display such disrespect?” Bolt demanded, blatantly trying to provoke Char into a fight.
Blayze rolled her eyes. She didn’t have much experience with males, but she was already discovering they were aggravating creatures.
“Char,” she said in soft, soothing tones. “Trust me.”
He didn’t want to. It was obvious in his tightly clenched expression and the sparks that continued to hover in the air around him. But with an obvious effort, he forced himself to take a deep breath. And then another.
At last he managed to overcome his primal male urge to shield her from any danger.
“I’ll give you five minutes,” he rasped, glancing toward Bolt. “Touch her and I’ll kill you.”
Bolt’s eyes narrowed, but Blayze gave Char a small shove before the two could start exchanging blows. Or worse, dragon-fire.
“Go,” she pleaded.
He did. But not without a lot of glowering and stomping his feet. Blayze swallowed a sigh, waiting until he was around the curve of the corridor before she turned to meet Bolt’s burning gaze.
“That servant is in dire need of discipline,” he informed her.
She smiled wryly. “Yes, I know.”
A portion of the seething anger eased as Bolt focused his attention fully on her. That didn’t make him any less dangerous. But at least he wasn’t considering the pleasure of following Char and ripping him into tiny shreds.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
Blayze wrinkled her nose. She didn’t remind him that she’d already given him her name and clan. That wasn’t what he was asking.
He wanted to know if she was there to hurt Synge or his unborn child. And he wasn’t going be satisfied with some vague story.
Which meant she either came up with a convincing lie or she told him the truth.
Really, there was no choice.
She’d been mentally connected to her mother. Which meant she’d never developed the talent for deceiving others.
She sucked in a deep breath. She was about to put her life in the hands of this stranger, and she had no idea if he was going to help her or kill her on the spot.
A realization that would make any dragon’s heart beat a little faster.
“This is going to be difficult to believe,” she warned him.
Bolt waved an impatient hand. “Explain.”
“I am your betrothed.”
Silence. The sort of silence that was tangible. Like a heavy weight sitting on her chest. She was smart enough not to break it.
“Are you jesting?” he at last demanded.
“No.” She gave a somber shake of her head. “Indeed, nothing has ever been so serious. At least for me.”
His brows snapped together. “My betrothed has not been born.”
She waved a hand toward the wooden bench that was set beneath a brightly burning torch. It didn’t look particularly comfortable, but it would have to do.
“Perhaps we could have a seat?” she suggested.
Bolt glanced around. Probably searching to see if this was a trap. Then he offered a grudging nod of his head. “Very well.”
Together they perched on the narrow bench, and, clearing her throat, Blayze offered a condensed version of her life. She told him about the curse when she’d been just a baby. She told him about the Council condemning her to death and her mother’s frantic effort to keep her hidden while protecting her from the evil magic. She told him about Char’s magic that had given her a temporary reprieve, and her own ability to use the curse to pull herself backward through the centuries until she’d arrived in this time and place.
He listened in silence, his expression unreadable. Then, as she stopped speaking to give him the opportunity to absorb her wild tale, he released a harsh breath.
“So you are Synge’s daughter,” he said. He spoke the words slowly.
Was he was trying to make sure that he’d heard her right? Or maybe just trying to determine if she was utterly delusional.
“I know it sounds crazy, but yes, I’m Synge’s daughter,” she assured him.
He reached to grasp her chin, gently tilting her face upward so he could study her with a searching gaze.
“I can sense his blood,” he abruptly said. “And your eyes are the same as your mother’s.”
She offered a tentative smile. “I’m sorry. I know this must be confusing.”
Surprisingly, he gave a small shrug. “It is an astonishing tale, but
I have encountered another dragon who possessed the rare talent of manipulating magic,” he told her. “I believe you.”
Blayze felt a stab of relief. She hadn’t expected him to be so easily convinced that she was speaking the truth. Honestly, she’d half expected Bolt to be calling for the guards so she could be hauled to the dungeons.
Or simply blasted with his fire.
It took a minute for her to realize that he was still studying her. Like she was a weird, not entirely pleasant puzzle.
“You are looking at me strangely,” she said.
“You are my mate.” His expression remained stoic, but there was something that might have been pain smoldering in the back of his dark eyes. Was his dragon wounded? “You have gone from a distant future to a flesh and blood reality.”
“That troubles you?” she demanded.
“I am…” His hand dropped as he sought the proper words to explain his feelings. “Pleased,” he at last said. “You are even more beautiful than I could ever have dreamed. And you have courage that would make any mate proud.”
She tilted her head to the side. She didn’t miss the hollowness in his tone. Another female might take offense at his obvious lack of pleasure in meeting his betrothed. But Blayze had never had the opportunity to develop the same sense of vanity as other females. Instead, she found herself sympathizing with the male’s inner pain.
“Very pretty, but I can sense your heart belongs to another,” she said.
Bolt turned his head, casting a glance down the corridor. Was he nervous?
That was odd.
Few things could make a full-grown dragon jumpy.
“Who told you that?”
“Your eyes,” she admitted.
He grimaced before he was arranging his features back into a smooth mask. “It is not meant to be.”
“Why not?”
“My father has decided that it is my duty to align our clan with Synge.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Just as my father decided it was the duty of his unborn daughter to give him the power necessary to challenge for a seat on the Council.”
His eyes widened, as if he was startled by the fact she knew Synge was angling to gain the ultimate power. Clearly he did not realize that particular piece of gossip was running rampant through the gathered guests.
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