by Zoe Chant
He knelt at the edge of the river and splashed water over his face, scrubbing hard. She was baffled until she remembered how one of the attackers had thrown some liquid in his face and he’d reacted as if it had hurt him.
When he straightened up, she anxiously peered at his face, but saw no mark on it. “What did that guy throw on you? Pepper spray?”
Lucas shook his head. “Dragonsbane. It wouldn’t do anything to you. But it stops me from shifting.”
“It looked like it hurt.”
“It does. When I was a boy, my great-uncle, Grand Duke Vaclav, would sometimes dip our practice swords in it and have us fight with our shirts off, so any hits we took would feel like real wounds.”
Journey recalled the Grand Duke with dislike. “When you say boy, how old are you talking about?”
“Since I was eleven.”
“What an asshole!”
“He didn’t do it to be sadistic. You need to learn to take a blow seriously, and you need to learn to fight while you’re in pain. His training saved my life and yours tonight.” Then Lucas gave her a wry smile, softening the angular planes of his face. “But you’re right. He’s an asshole.”
Journey tried to smile with him, but she was having a hard time thinking of anything but all that blood.
“Can I take off your shirt?” Heat rose to her face as she heard her own words. “I mean, to tear it up for bandages.”
“You may see to my wounds when we arrive. And don’t worry so much about me. Shifters heal quickly.” Lucas touched her hand. Even the slightest skin-to-skin contact with him sent a shock of pleasure through her body. “I’m going to become a dragon. Don’t be frightened— What am I saying? You stood with me unarmed against six assassins with swords.”
“I wasn’t unarmed,” Journey pointed out. “I had a big rock.”
“And you made excellent use of it,” Lucas said, his tone lightening. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“Thank you for saving mine.”
The riverbank was silent except for the sound of the rushing waters. Lucas’s amber eyes were bleached silver by the moonlight. The blood on his tunic looked black.
Journey knew then, in her gut and in her heart, that he was not a man who cheated or lied. He’d seemed to be a sweet-talking cheater at the ball, but appearances could be deceiving. Good country boys could be liars and thieves. Small-town girls named Ashley could be world travelers named Journey. Princes could be dragons.
“Are you engaged?” she asked.
“No.” His immediate reply was more convincing than any lengthy explanation. “It’s complicated, but no.”
“Are you in love with Princess Raluca?”
“No. And she’s not in love with me, either. We’re both trying to extract ourselves from an arrangement made by other people five years ago— an arrangement neither of us ever wanted.”
“I believe you,” Journey said. “I’m sorry I ran away from you without giving you a chance to explain. Now let’s see you turn into a dragon!”
Though he was obviously still in pain, Lucas’s startled grin made him look unexpectedly lighthearted and boyish. “I think I make things too complicated, sometimes. You make them so simple. Now stand aside. When I become a dragon, you can ride me. Don’t worry about being seen. Once you get on my back, I’ll make myself invisible.”
“Invisible!” she breathed delightedly. “So it’ll be like I’m riding on air?”
“I don’t think so,” Lucas replied. “I believe that even people who are not dragon shifters can see me if they’re actually touching me. In any case, we will soon find out.”
Journey stepped back.
The air around Lucas sparkled. Though the moonlight made everything else look black and white, the sparks around him glittered gold. He stood within a whirlwind of spinning fireflies. The golden cloud expanded, getting denser and denser until Lucas vanished from sight. Then it dispersed, and Journey stood before a dragon.
Like the sparks, the dragon was the only thing in the landscape that had color. It was pure gold, gleaming bright and true as the precious metal. She stared at the dragon, marveling. The membranes of his folded wings were thin as cloth, semi-transparent. His claws were sharp as golden daggers.
But he wasn’t changed beyond all recognition. The man’s wounds had transferred to the dragon, the bloody slashes shocking against his gleaming hide. And his eyes were Lucas’s eyes, translucent amber. Even if she’d seen the dragon without warning or explanation, she felt like she would have known him.
Her entire life, Journey had always longed for magic to be real. As a child, she’d crammed herself into every closet in the house, forever hoping that this time the back would open into Narnia. When she got older, she gave up on magical doorways to other lands and instead pinned her dreams on airplanes that would take her away from Lummox.
And here she was, face to face with a dragon.
A dragon who was also the man who had saved her life.
A man who might be free to love her.
Journey mentally shook herself. She might believe in dragons, but she wasn’t sure she believed in love at first sight. But she thought back to the look in his eyes when he’d first seen her, that bright regard like molten gold. To dancing with Lucas, and how they’d moved together like two bodies with a single heart. To how upset he’d gotten, his smooth charm shattering like glass, when that pair of horrible old men had marched up and tried to poison her mind against him. To Lucas squaring off against six assassins, placing his own body between her and danger.
The dragon spread out his magnificent wings, like sunlight made flesh. Then he reached out a claw and delicately tapped her shoulder.
Journey stepped around to the dragon’s side, her thoughts whirling as fast as the glittering cloud that had surrounded Lucas. Did he really love her? Did she love him?
Did she dare love him?
Journey pushed those thoughts aside. She could worry about that later. Right now, she was going to get to ride a dragon!
The dragon offered her his bent forearm. She stepped on to it, then threw her leg over his back. Journey settled into a hollow behind his neck, big enough for her to fit into but small enough to hold her in place. She stroked his neck. The scales were smooth and soft, more like suede than snakeskin. A few blunt spines at his neck provided something for her to hold on to.
A huff of breath warned her to tighten her grip. Then the dragon leaped into the air. She gasped in surprise and wonder as they rose above the earth. The river became a thread of silver as the dragon soared higher. She could see the entire city spread out below her, a patchwork of buildings, roads, and forests. The castle gleamed in the center of the city, but she could see the towers and walls of other castles, some topping hills, some nestled in the woods.
Above her, the stars glittered like diamonds and the moon gleamed like a great pearl. The air was cold but bracing, with a faint scent of rain and pine. Journey had never felt more awake or alive, close to the stars and one with the night.
She supposed that Lucas must have made himself invisible by now, but he’d been correct that she could still see him. His wings steadily stroked the air. She knew he was in pain and weary, but his flight didn’t show it. But she had the sense that flying made Lucas feel better, not worse. The thrill and joy she felt soaring through the air had to be felt by the dragon too. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing it was possible to get tired of.
The three treasures of the dragon, she recalled Lucas saying. Honor. Gold. And the open sky.
They flew out of the city and into the countryside, then above a dense forest. The dragon began to spiral downward to where a castle’s towers pierced the mass of trees. Down he flew, over the castle walls, and landed light as a feather on a courtyard on the roof.
Journey slid off and stepped back. Golden sparks gathered and spun around the dragon, then dispersed. Lucas was left standing on the courtyard, his sword buckled at his side and his tunic covered in dryi
ng blood.
“Please tell me there’s a doctor here,” Journey said.
“I’m afraid not,” he admitted. “It’s one of the royal family’s winter retreats. This time of year, there’s no one here but guards outside the walls and weekly caretakers. Nobody will even know we’re here.”
“But—”
He took her hand. “I told you, dragons heal quickly. I don’t need anyone but you.”
Journey drew in her breath, hearing a double meaning in his words. “Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.”
Lucas let her inside, then led her down a flight of stairs and into a hallway. The interior of the castle was the same blend of traditional lavishness with modern conveniences as she’d seen in the palace. The gold chandeliers had electric lights. As he’d said, it was absolutely empty. Their shoes echoed on the marble floors.
He opened a door to a luxurious suite, moved a painting aside to turn on the heat controls concealed behind it, and then headed straight for the bathroom. Journey started to hang back, but he said, “No, please come in.”
Lucas had walked steadily and held his head high all the way down the stairs and along the corridor. But once he reached the bathroom, he sank down on the edge of an enormous sunken tub as if his legs had given way.
Journey put her arm around his shoulders, holding him steady, and was alarmed by how cold he felt. “You’re freezing. You should take a hot bath.”
“Later. There’s medical supplies in the cabinet, I think.” He gestured vaguely toward it. “Well, there were five years ago.”
Journey opened it. The closet contained an interesting assortment of modern medical kits and witchy-looking wooden boxes filled with mysterious jars of herbs, labeled in spidery handwriting.
She started to reach for a first aid kit, then hesitated. “Do you want bandages and antiseptic, or possibly-magical herbs?”
That got a hint of a smile from Lucas. “Bandages and antiseptic, please. And one possibly-magical herb. Look for a bottle of liquid that says ‘Heartsease.’”
Journey set the first aid kit on the floor, then began searching the witchy boxes for heartsease. “What’s that?”
“The antidote to dragonsbane.” He touched his cheek lightly, then jerked his fingers away as if he’d laid them on an open wound.
“I thought it washed off.”
“It does, but that only makes it possible to shift. The pain remains until you take the antidote.” Lucas spoke calmly, but she could hear the stress in his voice. “I’m lucky none got in my mouth.”
“Is it poisonous?”
“Very. A small amount wouldn’t kill you, but even a single swallowed drop would make you wish you were dead. In olden times it was used for torture.” The tight control in Lucas’s voice implied more pain than Journey liked to imagine.
She searched through the boxes until she finally found the heartsease. “Got it!”
He took the bottle and carefully tipped a few drops into his mouth. Almost immediately, a little color returned to his face, his stiff posture relaxed, and he gave a long sigh of relief. “That’s better.”
Journey stretched, shaking out her own tense muscles. She hadn’t realized how much Lucas’s pain had affected her until she saw it relieved. “Let me get your shirt off now.”
She used a pair of scissors from the first aid kit to shear it off, exposing a lean but muscular chest smeared with drying blood and marked with an abstract pattern in glittering gold.
“You’ve got tattoos!” she exclaimed.
“You sound so shocked,” Lucas teased. “Didn’t you expect me to be... How do you say it...? Tatted in?”
“It’s ‘tatted out.’ And no, I sure didn’t.” She started sponging the blood off his chest, exposing more of the golden tattoo. The intricate pattern covered his left shoulder and the left side of his upper chest. It was on his belly, too, fanning out symmetrically from his belly button.
“It’s not a tattoo,” Lucas admitted. “I was born with it. It’s called dragonmarks. We all have them somewhere on our bodies, but the patterns are different. Unique. Like fingerprints.”
Now that she’d cleaned the blood off, she could see where he was wounded. There was a slash near his right shoulder and another at his right side, but both had already started to close. They looked as if they had been inflicted the day before, not an hour ago.
Dragon magic, Journey thought with wonder.
She began cleaning his wounds with antiseptic. She’d never gotten any formal first aid training, but growing up in Lummox with the nearest doctor an hour’s bumpy drive away, you learned to treat your own cuts and sprains.
His body grew warmer and warmer under her hands, until she wondered if he had a fever. Then remembered how hot he’d felt when she’d danced with him. “What’s your normal temperature?”
“Thirty-nine degrees. That is, one hundred and two Fahrenheit. Dragons run hot.”
“Thanks,” Journey replied. “I know I should be used to Celsius by now, but I have to look it up every time. Well, I think you’re back to normal now.”
He nodded. “The chill was an effect of the dragonsbane.”
Journey taped a bandage over the slash on his shoulder. Intent on her task, she forgot all the other questions she wanted to ask. Lucas too was silent, but Journey only noticed the quiet in the room when she finished and settled back to examine her work.
The taped-on bandages stood out stark white against Lucas’s ivory skin and golden dragonmarks. They moved with each breath he took, just as the lean muscle of his chest and belly moved, and the dragonmarks glittered in the light. His shoulders and arms were more muscular than she’d realized when he’d had his tunic on. His hands were as beautiful as ever, but now she was close enough to see the corded tendons at his wrists and a few small scars across his knuckles.
In the ballroom, clothed and dancing, Lucas was every inch a prince, a sensual but unattainable fantasy. Half-naked and sitting in front of her, his skin still wet from the sponge she’d rubbed over his body, he seemed less elegant. More primal. She could feel the heat of his bare skin and smell a spicy scent that might be cologne or might just be him.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. They gleamed hot and bright, closer to gold than to topaz. He had looked at her like that at the ball, from across a crowded room. She hadn’t understood what it meant, back then. She did now. He wanted her, as much as she wanted him.
“Lucas...” she whispered.
His voice was low and husky, unlike his usual polished tones. “I have wanted you since the moment I first laid eyes on you. When we danced at the ball, it was all I could do to not rip your clothes off and have you then and there, on the dance floor with everyone watching.”
Journey swallowed, imagining it as vividly as if he really had done that. She could almost feel his strong hands lowering her to the ground, her clothes ripping like paper, the marble floor cold against her back, and Lucas kneeling over her, driving into her until she forgot about the onlookers and lost herself in him.
“Take me now,” she said. “I’m yours.”
He moved faster than she expected, sweeping her into his arms. She started to gasp with surprise, but it was cut off as his mouth came down on hers. His lips were soft and hot, and the inside of his mouth was like a furnace.
Of course, Journey thought dizzily. He’s a dragon. He can breathe fire.
But the heat of his mouth was no more than the heat she felt building inside of her. She kissed him passionately, reveling in sheer sensation, in the touch of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers on her shoulders. But it wasn’t just his touch that made her dizzy, it was him. He’d saved her life. He’d been wounded defending her. And he wanted her.
She could have kept kissing him forever, but Lucas stood up, lifting her as easily as if she was the tiny glass bottle of heartsease.
“You’re so strong,” she said, amazed. No one had ever lifted her before.
“I like the wa
y you feel in my arms,” he replied, pulling her tighter in to his chest.
In a few strides, he reached the huge bed and laid her down on the velvet cover. Journey stretched luxuriously, enjoying the softness of the velvet and the sight of Lucas, bare-chested, his dragonmarks gleaming, looking down at her with hunger in his golden eyes.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Journey hesitated. Even now, she found it hard to believe that a man— a prince— a dragon— would do what she asked, simply because she asked for it.
“Nothing?” Lucas inquired, with a teasing lilt in his voice. “There’s absolutely nothing you want from me?”
Her doubts vanished. “There’s a lot that I want from you. But you could start by taking off your clothes and letting me get a look at you.”
“Your wish is my command,” Lucas replied. Then his voice lowered, teasing gone, as he added, “I like that you want to see my body. I have been longing to see yours.”
Journey swallowed. She’d never heard such naked, sincere lust in a man’s voice before— never seen it in a man’s eyes.
She lay back and watched as he removed his sword and hung it on the bedpost, then bent to take off his boots and breeches. The movement of his muscles beneath his skin and the glittering dragonmarks was almost unbearably sensual, as was the knowledge that this magnificent man was stripping for her pleasure. He pulled off his underwear, revealing a rampant erection pressing against his taut belly. Then he stood, letting her drink him in.
He hadn’t taken off his jewelry. A heavy gold chain was clasped around the ivory column of his throat. More gold chains spiraled around his wrists and forearms. His long-fingered hands sparkled with gold and diamond rings. Journey wondered what all that gold would feel like against her skin, if it would be cool or warmed by the heat of his body.
Lucas turned slowly, letting her see every inch of him. The rippling muscles of his back. His fine ass. His long, lean legs, like a runner’s. The glittering dragonmarks on his left shoulder extended a little way on to his back.
