by Abigail Owen
Ladon nodded slowly. “That could work. Except one thing.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not exactly known for being reasonable. Blood King, remember?”
She waved away the concern. “That doesn’t mean you can’t be now that you’re the king. Or, even better, they’ll worry if they think you’re the sane one of the two of us. Especially now that we’re mated. Mates are supposed to have a strong influence over each other. Right?”
“Hmm….” Those blue eyes narrowed, training on her in that total way of his. “I get the feeling you play crazy cop often.”
In other words, the day they met? Skylar grinned. “You think so?”
He took a few steps closer. “From what I can tell, you’re a woman who will do anything for the people she loves. And the ‘batshit crazy’ thing is your way of keeping people on their back foot.”
Well, damn. She should be irritated that he read her so easily. Most people didn’t see past the act. The fact that she might like being seen for herself was disturbing. On many levels.
She refused to step back and turned that same insight on him. “That’s an interesting theory. I might say the same about you, Blood King.”
His lips twitched, and he closed the gap with another few steps. “As long as you don’t play a part with me…”
Skylar lifted a single eyebrow. “I may be your mate, but I still don’t know you,” she pointed out with brutal honesty.
The next few steps brought him directly into her personal space, his heat, his bourbon and smoke scent curling around her, the scar marring his face less and less what she saw. “I guess we’d better work on getting to know each other, then.”
“What?” she challenged. “Starting in the bedroom?” The heat flushing through her indicated her body would totally be on board with that.
Ladon ran the back of his hand softly down the side of her face. “I did give us an hour to get ready.”
She stiffened her resolve. Token modesty, innate wariness, and lifelong contrariness insisted she put up some kind of protest. “We’re mated. It worked. Isn’t that enough?”
It would have to be. She was leaving him as soon as all this was over. Granted, that could be years yet, but she wouldn’t let herself sign up for more.
Twin flames of indigo ignited in his eyes. “Not for me.” He stepped closer, the tips of her breasts brushing against his chest in the most torturous way, even with clothing separating skin from skin. “I want my scent all over you.”
Everything in her wanted to reach for him, plans and emotions in direct opposition. Skylar fought with herself another second…and lost. The wanting was too much. Too demanding. Too tempting. Too everything.
She sighed. “It appears I mated a Tarzan.”
“I’ve been wondering when you’d get around to calling me that.” He dipped his head, bringing his lips to her ear, his hands to her hips. “So long as I get to play with Jane, you can call me anything you want.”
Skylar shivered, even as she smoothed her palms over his pecs, unable to keep from touching him for another minute. “You’re going to regret that offer.”
“Maybe,” he murmured, just before he claimed her lips.
…
“Don’t warn your men about good cop/crazy cop.”
Ladon paused in the hall, the louder clack of his dress shoes noticeably pausing as he looked at his mate. Honestly, he couldn’t stop looking at her. Partly because looking at her gave him pleasure. But a growing part of him was enjoying how her mind worked and seeing her in action. Either way, this was becoming a compulsion. Plus, she kept making him laugh.
What the hell is wrong with me? Where’d all that “scare the shit out of people” go around her? She was just supposed to be a mate. A figurehead. Plus, all the good things a phoenix brought.
He’d start questioning if that whole mates-rubbing-off-on-each-other thing was worth a closer look, but Skylar was even less reasonable and patient than he typically was.
After another tussle in bed that left him content in a way that dropped lead boulders into his gut, and yet still aching for her, she’d disappeared to return with a suitcase. A freaking suitcase. Only she wouldn’t tell him where she’d been hiding, or how she’d managed to sneak that in here with her, saying something about how a girl had to have some secrets. After commandeering a small section of his dresser and closet to unpack her things, she’d disappeared again, into the bathroom…only to emerge a completely different woman.
Gone were the black tactical clothes and long braid. Instead, she’d morphed into a sophisticated woman wearing a sleek white pantsuit, all one piece, with a demurely high neckline in the front, but no back to it. Red, fuck-me-please heels, a perfectly made-up face with matching red lipstick, and her black hair arranged in a sleek knot at the nape of her neck.
The previous time in bed disappeared as far as his dick was concerned, and he hardened painfully, pulling a grunt from him. Not even Kasia dressed this way. Somehow, he hadn’t expected it from Skylar, who seemed even less traditionally-feminine-inclined.
She sent him a sweet smile from the mirror over his…their…dresser. “Being underestimated is always an advantage.”
How often had she been forced to play a part? Because his gut told him this woman, as confidently glamorous as she appeared, wasn’t who his mate was. Not really.
And I want to know who she is. The realization had him frowning, because a relationship wasn’t what he signed up for. A partnership. A political advantage. Yes. Bonus of great sex. But no more.
So where was this new urge coming from?
With effort, Ladon dragged his gaze from her to finish buttoning a suit jacket that sat on his shoulders about as comfortably as using sandpaper to wipe his ass. The suit was an unfortunately necessary torture when meeting other clans.
“Why shouldn’t I warn them?” he asked now, when they were almost to the room where their guests waited.
“Because their honest reaction will make it seem more real.”
“They’ll be pissed at you,” he warned.
She snorted, clearly unconcerned. “And?”
The thought of teaching that sassy mouth a lesson later held more appeal than it should. Hell, he was about to walk into a room full of dragon shifters. Male dragon shifters. With her looking like that. With a growl, and his dragon driving, he leaned forward and placed his lips over the cords of her slender neck, right where that white scar marred her skin, and sucked. Hard.
Rather than push him away, Skylar leaned into his touch with a soft moan. Then came the shove he’d half been expecting.
“What was that for?” she demanded.
“You don’t bear my mark on your neck yet.”
She glared. “So?”
Ladon grinned, unable to help himself, even if the possessiveness underlying the action was entirely against his character. “So…now you do bear my mark. Of a sort.”
Her jaw worked, even as an answering heat bloomed in those pale blue eyes. “We really need to work on your Tarzan instincts,” she grumbled.
Probably. But no dragon among his men, or Gorgon’s, would mistake her as available now.
They walked into the same conference room where he’d met her for the first time. A sense of déjà vu fell over him as the council members of his Curia Regis and the warriors of his guard all got to their feet.
Kasia, meanwhile, threw her arms around her sister. “Thank the fates,” she whispered in Skylar’s ear. “It worked.”
“Fate had nothing to do with this,” Skylar whispered back, low enough that most likely only Ladon and Brand, standing closest to them, caught it. Ladon didn’t examine too closely what about those words bothered him, working their way under his skin faster than a bloodsucking tick.
He had a dragon king to host, or to confront. “You’re all up to speed?
” he asked.
Both Brand and Asher nodded.
“Good. Follow me.”
“Wait,” Kasia called out. Every person stopped. “I had a vision,” she said.
“Really?” Interest lit Skylar up as she took a step toward her sister. “How does that work?”
“What did you see?” Ladon asked, overriding his new mate.
To give her credit, Skylar merely sighed her impatience.
Kasia closed her eyes, as if accessing the images of the vision the fates had given her. “Blue and black dragons fighting together. To win the Gold Throne, we must ally ourselves with them.”
“So, it’s war?” Ladon asked. More innocent blood shed to rid themselves of these obsolete old men clinging to power?
“No…” Though Kasia hesitated over the word. She gave her head a shake, her red tresses falling over her shoulders. “I’m not sure.”
“Which is it?” Ladon demanded.
A warning grunt from Brand had him checking he wasn’t about to be gutted. The man had become even more possessive since mating the firebird.
“I see Brand inside the mountain of the Gold Clan with Uther’s Curia Regis. I see him taking the mountain. But I don’t see Brock. I do see fighting, but not inside the gold mountain.”
Ladon did his best to sift through all that.
At least her vision didn’t involve more sitting and waiting. That shit was getting old.
“Right. First things first. We feel out Gorgon and his people. Then develop a plan that involves bringing the fight to Brock.”
He didn’t need the nods of agreement around the room, but he got them. Bonus, Skylar didn’t argue. Was she starting to trust him?
“Good. Let’s go meet a king.”
As a group, they filed their way to the next level where receiving rooms, more welcoming with comfortable seating, lovely art, the last of what had once been a valuable collection before the previous king sold most of it, and soft lighting, held their guests. One of the few places in the mountain that Thanatos had kept nice, for the sake of appearances.
Ladon paused outside the door to the reception room where his people had brought King Gorgon and his entourage. Skylar slipped a hand in his as naturally as though they’d always touched this way. She paused beside him, watching but silent. Behind them, Ladon’s own entourage waited for their king to make his move.
He looked down at the woman, who until a few days ago, he’d had no idea existed, and today was his mate, and raised his eyebrows in question. She gave a small nod. She was ready.
Let’s do this.
With a twist of his hand, he led the way into the room. Gorgon stood at the center, ten men gathered behind him, the captain of his guard, Samael Veles, to his right.
Tall and lanky, with a face all angles, black hair peppered with gray and slicked back, and the fathomless black eyes of a black dragon shifter, Gorgon bore himself with a regal authority that, after so long on the throne, was probably as natural as blinking.
As a child, Ladon had found this man intimidating. But he was no longer a child.
Ladon stopped in the center of the room and dipped his head in acknowledgment. “King Gorgon. To what do we owe the honor?”
Only the dragon king’s gaze slid to Skylar and remained there. The man raised his head, sniffing the air, no doubt checking her scent. Primitive satisfaction oozed through Ladon; he’d made damn sure Skylar carried his scent.
For her part, Skylar narrowed her eyes. “Staring is rude, you know. So is sniffing.”
Apparently, she was going straight for crazy cop. Behind him, Asher let loose a low sound of warning, or protest, at the same time that Samael growled beside Gorgon, and the tension in the room ratcheted up a notch on both sides.
Ladon snapped a quelling look their way, and both men blinked in obvious surprise but stopped. Turning back, he moved his gaze to the king before him.
After a long, pregnant pause, Gorgon smiled. “My apologies. It’s been too long since I’ve been in the presence of a phoenix.”
Skylar tossed Gorgon a look that clearly said she was unimpressed—a single raised eyebrow and those cold eyes gone glacial—a look now familiar since she treated him to the same look the day they met. “How’d you guess?”
Gorgon cocked his head. “Based on your scent, you are King Ladon’s mate.”
Skylar managed to appear bored. “And?”
“And you smell of smoke.”
“So do most dragon mates,” she shot back.
Gorgon finally glanced at Ladon, who said nothing. He was having too much fun watching the fearless woman beside him walk all over one of the strongest of the six kings—the only one to retain his throne when Pytheios purged the other clans of their original kings.
“Perhaps we should take some time for introductions,” Gorgon finally murmured.
“You think?” Skylar muttered, but under her breath. Which of course, every shifter in the otherwise quiet room could hear, and she knew that.
Again, Asher’s displeasure with her came out as a tsk of a sound, and Reid cleared his throat.
Ladon leveled a glare on them that had the scar on his face twitching. “One more sound and you can leave.”
Both men paled slightly, then lowered their eyes. A sign of submission.
“Of course.” Ladon returned his attention to the black king and moved forward, Skylar’s hand in his. “May I present my mate, Skylar Amon Ormarr.”
Her new name slipped from his lips like he’d said it a thousand times. He liked the sound of it.
“Amon.” The whisper moved through Gorgon’s men as they recognized the name of the previous lineage of white kings.
“And this”—Ladon turned to Brand, who stood to his left—“is Braneck Astarot Dagrun, newly branded King of the Gold Clan…and his mate, Kasia Amon Astarot.”
Only a twitch at the corner of his mouth indicated that the revelation had thrown him. Otherwise, Gorgon’s eyes tightened with patent curiosity about both Brand and the sisters, but Ladon continued around the room, introducing the rest of his people. Gorgon did the same.
Formalities over, Ladon took a seat on one of the leather couches situated across from each other, crossing his ankle over his knee in a deliberately relaxed pose. Skylar took the seat beside him, and he rested his hand on her knee. That move wasn’t deliberate…more like compulsion.
Gorgon settled in the wingback chair at an angle to Ladon, the captain of his guard standing at his back. “May I speak plainly?”
“Please.” Ladon waved him on.
“We came because of rumors that you have a phoenix.” He flicked a glance at Skylar and Kasia, who stood with Brand behind the couch. “But you appear to have…two.”
Ladon couldn’t get a handle on what the king thought of there being more than one. The presence of a phoenix could potentially turn some of the clans in his favor. Gorgon in particular. Of the old kings, he seemed the most likely to be turned. He knew what it was to reign under a true High King.
“We do.” Ladon’s words hung heavy in the room.
Again, Gorgon’s gaze flicked to Skylar, who returned his stare with a bored one of her own. “Two is not possible. It’s never happened before.”
Ladon opened his mouth to reply, but Skylar beat him to it. “What is your interest in phoenixes?”
Gorgon gave her a condescending smile, and Ladon was surprised he didn’t hear popping sounds from Skylar’s jaw as she gritted her teeth.
“I should think that obvious,” the black king replied. “Our kind base our leadership on who mates the phoenix. In fact, I would have liked to have her consider me.”
Given there were four of them, that made Gorgon’s comment even more interesting than the old king was aware.
“And now that you know both are already mated?” Ladon asked.
Gorgon cleared his throat. “I would owe my allegiance to the rightful High King. But, again, we have the problem of two.”
“You would go against Pytheios?” Brand demanded softly, dangerously.
A wealth of implication lay in that one question. Gorgon would have to word his reply carefully.
Only the King of the Black Clan appeared perfectly relaxed. Crossing his legs, mirroring Ladon’s posture, he gave Brand a direct look. “I’ve been king of my clan since before any of you were born. I held that position by giving Pytheios no reason to take it away, but I remember a time when peace reigned among our people. I’ve been waiting over five hundred years for a phoenix to appear, choose a king, and allow us to take down that red-winged bastard.”
Damn. New respect sifted through Ladon at the king’s extremely non-politic answer.
“If you’re so eager to see Pytheios gone, why not come forward sooner?” Skylar asked. “Like when Ladon took the Blue Throne?”
“I’ve tried. Several times. The last time, we were on our way here when this mountain was attacked.”
Skylar lifted a single eyebrow, showing her visible doubt.
“I have no proof other than my word.” A smile transformed the man’s face, turning those angles into something both charming and compelling. “You have the look of your grandmother,” he said softly. Gently.
Behind him, Kasia’s soft gasp dropped into the silence. Skylar, meanwhile, tensed, but he knew that only because she sat beside him.
When none of them said anything, Gorgon continued. “I was around during a time when the High King was named Hanyu. That king was mated to a phoenix who willingly gave up her powers to her daughter, Serefina, who was mated to Zilant…Amon. The King of the White Clan.”
Gorgon rose to his feet. “Your grandmother was a beautiful woman, and, other than your father’s eyes, you are her spitting image.” His gaze slowly slid to Kasia. “While you have more of your grandfather in you, red hair being more common among red dragon shifters. I’ll tell you what I remember of them sometime, if you wish.”
Kasia nodded, but Skylar remained unresponsive, stiff beside Ladon on the couch. He had the strangest urge to put a hand to her back in a show of…what? Comfort? Support? Except he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it right now.
