by Tessa Dawn
There was nothing the Seven could do about it.
Sure, they could manufacture a whole new system of transmitting and allowing radio waves and such to move in and out of the Pantheon; they could take Amber’s cell phone and bar her from reading—or responding to—her messages; or they could send some of their mercenaries to Earth to destroy Drak’s clever creation. But Requiem and Trader, as well as Zeik and Grunge, were banking on the fact that Axeviathon—or whatever male had taken Amber—was as eager as they were to receive the transmissions. The Dragyr wanted to get to Tony as badly as Tony wanted to get to Amber. In short, they would allow the texts to go through, even if they were the ones who were reading them. However, the first few texts—the first time it happened—Amber was as likely as not to see them. The Dragyr would not be expecting it, and thus, they would be reactive as opposed to proactive—they might take her phone after it happened, but they wouldn’t think to take it before…
Tony sighed.
What-the-hell-ever…
The details were beyond his comprehension—or his pay grade.
His job was to send a slew of texts to Amber, hope they got through, then wait along with his demon cohorts for the Dragyr to take the bait:
Amber, baby, I miss you so much!
I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to protect you.
Please come home.
Please come back.
Zeik and Grunge can help us…
Meet me at the empty field behind the house, the one that follows the dry canal. I’ll be there every morning, noon, and night.
12AM.
12PM.
Like clockwork.
Even if it takes months to find you.
And the moment you show up, I promise—we WILL get away. A new home, a new identity, a whole new life. I will protect you from now on, Amber. I love you! You know this…
Baby, please! I’m lost without you.
So, yeah, Tony was doing his duty like a good, obedient human.
He had copied the texts, and with the help of a supernatural sphere, courtesy of the dark lord of the underworld, he had pasted it again and again…and again…into Messages, and sent them every hour, on the hour, to Amber.
No one really believed the girl would show up.
No one believed the Dragyr would let her.
But they were betting on the fact that Axeviathon would bite, and when he did, Trader, Zeik and Grunge would be ready.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Later that night: the Pantheon
It was 11:30 PM, and that meant Axe had exactly twenty-nine minutes to show up at the Temple of Seven. Amber shivered, even as she shuffled back, trying to camouflage her body beside a massive stone fireplace that separated the Sapphire Lair’s great room from the hall that led to the open gourmet kitchen and eating nook.
All five of Lord Saphyrius’ progeny, as well as Jordan, were present in the great room: Zane, Levi, Nakai, Jace, and of course, Axeviathon. The latter had just introduced Amber to all of them, and she couldn’t help but feel like a bug beneath a microscope, surrounded by terrifying, immortal giants. Levi had been kind when he had greeted her in the most deep, melodious voice; nonetheless, the male had hands—he had fists—like two iron wrecking balls, and not even his light sense of humor could detract from his obvious wild nature. Nakai had been a bit more reserved—like he was more of a thinker than a talker. Just the same, he was equally intimidating, with that small archaic tattoo emblazoned on his left temple, some sort of winged cross in a circle that stood out as a constant reminder: Forget the gorgeous dark-brown hair, the sapphire irises, or the light-brown pupils; I’m anything but human, and those wings aren’t just symbolic…
Amber rubbed her hands up and down her arms to try to generate some warmth.
Jace had been the easiest to relate to, with his warm, captivating eyes and his breathtaking smile. For a moment, Amber had almost forgotten that he was also dragyri. Yet his sinewy, but strong, muscular build, coupled with the power that practically radiated around him, overshadowed those sea-green pupils and that short blond hair that lay back in perfect waves—no, she couldn’t forget that Jace was also lethal. As for Zane, Jordan’s mate, well, the male was just…something special. According to Axe, he was a Genesis offspring, a firstborn son to Lord Saphyrius, and yeah, his rugged, almost medieval good looks did nothing to hide his savage bearing. Amber had no idea how Jordan had ever warmed up to him.
And then there was the secret…
The cell phone set to mute in Amber’s pocket—the thing had not stopped ringing…
Well, vibrating, but just the same: Tony had been texting Amber hourly, begging her to meet him in the meadow…a field about a mile and a half behind their Denver residence…swearing that he, Zeik, and Grunge could help her. They could whisk her away and hide her. And that meant Antonio Rossi was still alive, and so were Zeik and Grunge. Beyond that, it meant that the three of them knew everything: where Amber was, who she was with, and what it would really take to save her…to protect her…to get her away from the powerful Dragyr.
Needless to say, she was trying to figure a way to work it out.
Yes, a part of her felt like shit for doing it.
And no, she wasn’t eager to go back to Tony…
Jordan had been correct about the trauma bonds—whatever pull, whatever affection, whatever need had once been there, however distorted and unhealthy, it was suddenly and irretrievably gone. Amber felt nothing for Tony Rossi, other than loathing. And while Axe had been both generous and kind, checking in on Amber and seeing to her needs, reaching out to talk to her, touch her, reassure her all day, she still couldn’t get with the program: She couldn’t digest this terrifying fate, and she couldn’t embrace this strange, mythical world. She couldn’t see herself living in this opulent lair, not even with the gorgeous cathedral ceilings; the thick crisscrossed wooden beams; or the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the most breathtaking views Amber had ever seen, not the least of which was a stunning waterfall that provided a soothing, constant, ambient serenade in the background.
No, Amber couldn’t live in the Sapphire Lair, and she couldn’t become a member of the Pantheon of Dragons. She sure as hell couldn’t enter that temple—again—and just stand there as the seven dragon lords scorched her with fire…
Jordan reached out to touch her arm, and Amber nearly jumped out of her skin. “You okay?” the hazel-eyed beauty asked. “I know this has got to be overwhelming.”
Amber forced an insincere smile and nodded. “I’m fine; well, I’m trying to be. But thank you.”
Jordan reached for Amber’s hand and squeezed it, and Amber squeezed Jordan’s back.
Amber had already decided to reach out to the hazel-eyed dragyra, to do her level best to befriend the female, and not because she intended to stick around or keep the relationship, going forward. But because she had overheard Jordan telling her mate that she wanted to go to a concert with someone named Macy on Friday night, and she wanted Zane to use his amulet to escort her through the portal—however that worked—to drop her off at the venue’s entrance, where she would meet up with her friend for a girl’s night out, then return to the exact same spot to be escorted home at midnight.
The country-western concert was less than five miles from Amber’s house…
And it was supposed to end around 11:30 PM.
The proximity was perfect, and the timing was impeccable.
If Amber could get Jordan to let her tag along, she could slip away during the concert—or even make a break for it as soon as it was over; hire a driver from one of those transportation networks; hell, even a cab or a town car would do—and have the service drop her off at the field. She could come up with some excuse or another to break free from Jordan and Macy, if only for five minutes—she had to. And then it would be sink or swim, live or die, get into that vehicle and escape, or live the rest of your life in the Pantheon. Amber was nothing if she wasn’t resourceful. Somehow…some way…
she would make it happen, even if she had to cause a commotion, crawl out of a bathroom window, or change her appearance in a bathroom stall in order to sneak past her female companions.
And, thus, the texts she had sent back to Tony:
This Friday night at midnight.
I’ll try to make it happen.
But we won’t have very much time—maybe five minutes at most.
You have to be prepared on your end for the fact that I might be followed by a dragyra and her human friend, and she may be followed by her dragyri mate—don’t hurt them, Tony. Don’t hurt anyone. No one else gets involved, or I won’t go with you. I mean it: I’ll fight you before I let you (Zeik or Grunge) touch the women…
Just get me out of there quickly!
We may only have this one opportunity…
Amber squeezed Jordan’s hand a second time before quickly releasing it, and her stomach roiled inside. Amber was not a duplicitous person, and Jordan had been nothing but gracious, thoughtful, and kind. Under different circumstances, perhaps in another life, Amber would’ve given her right arm for a friendship with such an outstanding person—talk about a far cry from home, from all she had ever lived with or known—but this wasn’t another lifetime, and the circumstances were grave. Amber had one shot to get this shit right. She had one chance to get away from Axe and to avoid that temple.
And damn it all to hell if she hadn’t spent her whole entire life being obedient, taking care of others, letting herself be used because someone else had an agenda that was more important.
No more.
This time, Amber had to be selfish.
She had to escape the Pantheon and then escape Tony—she had to reclaim her life.
“Are you worried about Axe?” Jordan whispered, clearly picking up on Amber’s distress. The beautiful dragyra eyed the enormous pool table beside a well-stocked bar, tucked at the back of the great room, and sighed. “These guys are strong; he’ll be okay.”
Once again, Amber felt like crap. “I think the whole damn thing is unconscionable,” she said, and every word was the truth. Seven pounds of flesh; seven pints of blood; seven broken bones—all the more reason why Amber couldn’t stay. These immortal beings were both savage and cruel. The lives they lived were beyond imagining.
And then Axe stepped away from the pool table.
He met Amber’s gaze from across the room, and her stomach literally clenched.
This was awful…horrifying…the dragyri was about to go through hell and them some for Amber, and all the while, she was plotting to get away from him.
Stop! she told herself, nearly grinding her teeth together. Don’t go there. Just don’t. Be strong…stay focused! She straightened her spine and raised her chin as Axe ambled away from his lair mates, crossed the room in a dozen long strides, and stood before Amber and Jordan. Despite his bearing—his power and his determination—his face was slightly ashen, and his sapphire eyes were cold. There were no flames burning in those depths, no passion, no fire, nothing but resolve. The male was steeling himself for what was about to happen in the temple.
“Amber girl, I have to go now.” For a moment, he glanced down toward her pocket, the pocket concealing her cell phone, and Amber’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. “You stay close to Jordan for the next twelve hours, okay? I’ll be out of commission for a few, but my lair mates have my back…they have your back…and so does she.” His gaze met Jordan’s, and somehow, he forced himself to smile.
Jordan bit her lip and looked away. She was clearly fighting tears, trying her best not to cry. She stepped toward Axe, threw her arms around him, and gave him a warm, loving hug. “Lord Ethyron is a bastard,” she whispered icily.
Axe hugged her back, then stepped away, pressing one finger to his lips. “Shh,” he cautioned. “Be careful, Jordan. Gods have ears, and this isn’t your drama. Zane would kill me if I somehow got you in trouble. I’ll be fine.”
Jordan crossed her arms over her stomach, looked down at the floor, and the tears started to flow freely. She took Axe’s hand in hers and held it—she stood there, clinging to his hand for nearly sixty seconds—and all Amber could think was that it should’ve been her: Amber should’ve been the one crying, consoling him. At the very least, she could at least reach out, maybe say thank you, or try to encourage him, but as it was, she just stood there and watched as another woman—an incredibly beautiful, compassionate woman—tried to comfort the male who was paying a debt for Amber.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” Amber murmured, feeling like a fool for interrupting the moment, but the awkward silence—and the equally intimate exchange—was unnerving her.
Jordan released Axe’s hand, rose to the tips of her toes, and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his cheek. And then, without looking back, she walked away, heading toward the pool table and Zane.
“That’s okay,” Axe replied, his tone softer than Amber remembered. “I just hate that you have to be alone right now. I mean, you’ve got the whole lair and Jordan, but I hate that we won’t have more time…at least not for a while.” He reached out to cup her cheek in his hand, and for the first time, Amber let him—she didn’t pull away or try to remove it.
There was no way she was going to reject him right now.
And truth be told, she needed the contact as much as he did.
She curled her fingers around his wrist and leaned into his touch—it wasn’t a caress, but it was close enough. “Axeviathon,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “Axe.”
She smiled. “I don’t understand why this is happening, Axe. Any of it. Not why you took me. Not why you want me. And not what I’m doing here. And I especially don’t understand what this dragon god wants to do to you—or why you have to go through this.” She swallowed her confusion, her sorrow, and her regret and stared into his enchanting eyes. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry…about all of it.”
He blinked, and the flames in his pupils returned. “Do you understand this, Amber?” He placed his other hand on her other cheek, bent his head, and leaned in to kiss her. Only he didn’t press his lips to hers; he just brushed them lightly—a gentle graze over her parted mouth—and hovered above her. “Kiss me, Amber girl.”
He wanted her to come to him.
He wanted her to want the intimacy.
But most of all, he must have hoped…he must have wanted…for her to feel the strength of their preordained connection.
Amber’s heart began to pound in her chest, her knees felt weak, and her palms grew sweaty. Gods help her because, in that moment, she was feeling all of it.
She stared at his lips.
Those perfect, sculpted, full masculine lips…
And she closed the distance between them.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Having climbed the white marble staircase, passed the seven magnificent pillars, and cleansed his hands in the sacred fountain, Axeviathon traversed the foyer in the Temple of Seven, clutched one of the two mammoth stone doors that led into the inner sanctuary, and drew it open with resolution.
He could do this.
He had no choice.
It was just a matter of getting it over with.
Squinting against the familiar blinding light—the reflection of gemstones in the glass floor beneath him projecting mirrored prisms from the high coffered ceilings, which were plated in all seven jewels—he kept his eyes focused forward and headed straight for the octagon dais. He didn’t bother to look at the opulent paintings or glance at the pearlescent Oracle Pool; he just climbed the seven stairs, ignored the dual pair of anchored handholds set into the platform—soon, Amber would be kneeling right there—and took his place, opposite Lord Ethyron’s empty emerald throne.
He bowed his head and waited.
He shuffled from side to side, linked his hands behind his back, and tried to still his thunderous heartbeat—the sanctuary was so damn quiet…
Too damn quiet for Axe’s liking.
A
nd then, to his surprise, Lord Saphyrius materialized first, appearing on the sapphire throne as if out of an ancient mist. “Axeviathon.” He spoke Axe’s name with kindness…compassion…almost reverence.
“Father,” Axe responded, referring to Lord Saphyrius as the sire of his lair.
“Lord Ethyron will join us in a moment,” the sapphire dragon said. “I wanted a private word with you before the unpleasant event commences.”
Axe gulped.
The unpleasant event—yeah, that was one way to put it.
He held his tongue—he may have even held his breath—and waited for Lord Saphyrius to continue. He wasn’t at all certain he could speak coherently anyway; the stress was beginning to take its toll.
“Are you aware of the cell phone transmissions passing through the Sapphire Lair?” Lord Saphyrius asked.
Axe frowned and raised his chin. “Come again?” While the dragon lord may have been in amalgamated form, his deep, scaly brows were furrowed, and Axe immediately caught his own error: He might be scared shitless and unable to form coherent sentences, but that didn’t mean he could get flippant, or casual, with his dragon lord. “Apologies, Father. Would you please repeat that?”
Lord Saphyrius sighed and leaned back on his throne. “Were you aware that your dragyra has been receiving transmissions from Earth through her cell phone, several throughout the day, actually, and earlier this night, she responded. Look up, son.”
Axeviathon raised his eyes toward the ceiling, and an emblazoned scroll of light unfolded, words appearing on the canvas in bright-orange flames:
