by Anya Nowlan
Had she seen him at any other time, she may have thought him handsome, but knowing the poison that flowed in his veins, she couldn’t feel anything but disgust. Remington raised his hand and tracked a line down her cheek, grabbing her by the neck with his other hand when she tried to back away from him.
“Oh, no-no-no, don’t go anywhere, my feisty little princess. You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Read a few books, huh? Your little human brain couldn’t comprehend the history between our two houses, no matter how many accounts you read of it. It is in our blood, in our ancestry… We cannot stop before justice has been done, and I swear, I will make things right again. And if that means I have to kill you right along with your dragon, I’ll be more than glad to do so.”
Her breath hitched at his words, but she kept from trembling through sheer force of will. His fingers, surprisingly cold for a man who surrounded himself with such a warm color, squeezed around her throat, seemingly enjoying the way she struggled against him.
“I think you will make a beautiful sacrifice,” he said, grinning, his dragon just under his skin. He released her, leaving Gemma hunched over and coughing. Remington turned and strolled back to his chair, sitting down with a heavy sigh. “I will wait, though, of course. Until the gold moon is over and your dragon has no other choice but to give up his place as Head of Council. I want to keep him wondering, searching for his missing princess.
And when Devon Bluewing has lost his mind with grief and anger, I will of course graciously accept the position as that is how it was always meant to be – with a Redblade at the head of Treasure Lane.”
Remington paused for a moment, looking at Gemma thoughtfully. “Or, of course, he could find another princess… Perhaps you don’t mean much at all to him, hmm? I see you do not wear his hoard. I cannot blame you, if you were waiting for a real dragon, a Bluewing would never do.”
Remington gave her a long look, his white teeth gleaming almost brighter than the gold that lines his chair. She bristled at his comments, fury raging through her veins in hot juts.
“But that would just mean he would soon die of a broken heart. We dragons are not meant to be with someone who is not our mate for too long… Either way, I will enjoy his suffering. Whether or not that requires your death is yet to be seen.”
“You’re scum,” Gemma hissed between clenched teeth. Her throat and neck hurt badly, but it was nothing compared to the flame of anger taking root within her. Oh no, she wasn’t going to let him get away with it. A bastard like that couldn’t take over Treasure Lane. And what’s more, he couldn’t be allowed to destroy Devon. With a breaking heart, she realized that he meant far too much to her to allow anyone to harm him.
“I am, but you’re just a girl hidden in the mountains, without any way to be found or any means of doing anything about it. Shame, isn’t it?” Remington mused, leaning back. Gemma straightened up. But there was a way. Carefully, she slid her hands down along her bottom, praying to all the dragons above that what she hoped was there would still be there. She could barely hide the smile that wanted to spread on her lips when she felt the bump in her back pocket.
The dragon stone…
“Yes, it is,” she agreed drily.
“Jolly!” Remington called, the little man opening the door behind Gemma just when she entwined her fingers behind her back. If she could only grab the stone, she could call for Devon. “Please take Miss Teeley back to her room.”
“Certainly,” Jolly replied, and his clammy grip locked around Gemma’s arm, pulling her off balance and making her stumble towards the door. She seethed with irritation, but hope overcame her. She just needed one moment alone, and Jolly would give her that when he took her back to her room.
Devon…
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Devon
The clouds as if parted their cover before him, giving way to the giant beast as he swept through them, making the white tendrils break and form again as new puffs. His teeth were bared in a deathly grimace and his eyes slanted, the gold burning so bright in them that they almost seemed white. Every muscle in his body was on edge, straining under the scales with a hunger to have someone to take his anger out on.
Soon… I will find you, Devon thought, careening lower in the sky to get a better look at the mountains and forests passing by under him. It had been days now without a trace of Gemma, and while it would have made any rational man sick with worry, it just made him angrier. How could he let this happen? His princess, snatched from his very paws, from his own home.
Disbelief still wracked him, driving him to desperate passes like this, flying much too low to remain unseen in the hopes that he would catch a whiff of her sweet honey and vanilla scent or sense where she was. So far, no luck.
He had been searching since he discovered her and Jolly missing. The man’s betrayal was another thing he could scarcely fathom. A family, who had seemed so loyal to the Bluewing cause, now stealing what was dearest to him? It would have hurt less if they’d taken all of his gold. His heart was teetering on the edge of breaking. And that, Devon knew, was no simple problem to fix for a dragon.
Proud and majestic, few things could rattle the ancient beasts, but when their loyalty was betrayed or their mate perished, no dragon could go on for long.
It ate them up from the inside out, leaving nothing but a husk of scales and bitter regrets. As much as Devon was determined to not let that happen – avoiding hurt like this was just the reason he had never tried finding his mate – he seemed powerless in its wake. He had to find Gemma. There was no other way.
The first place he had checked to the great chagrin of Remington’s wife Cassiopeia was the Redblade mansion. Having heard years’ worth of tales of the malice and wickedness of the Bluewings, the woman was less than helpful in locating Gemma. In fact, she had been outraged both at the insinuation that her husband could have anything to do with it, and then at the notion that if he, in fact, did have something to do with it, that she would help a Bluewing uncover it.
Devon had to hand it to Remington – he had picked a woman vile enough to complete him. Or, fate had picked her for him, whichever way it went.
After that, he had scoured through every known location the Redblades had inhabited, finding empty cottages and mansions all over the world, stocked with aggravated servants not quite willing to work with a hated Bluewing. He had no proof that Remington was behind it all, but his gut and his heart were in agreement – no one else would do something quite as despicable.
His rage soothed the exhaustion in him, wiping it away each time he thought of what could be happening to Gemma. Devon was sure she was not dead yet – he would feel it in the very core of his being, and that sensation was not something that was easy to miss, as his father Dayton had told him after his mother died.
“It is like your world unravels around you and all the colors are immediately sucked out of it. You don’t need to be told that she is gone, you simply know,” he had said, infinite sadness in his eyes – an emotion he had never seen in his father before his mother’s passing.
Devon was not yet properly tied to Gemma, but the connection was there, and he knew she still had to be alright. He just couldn’t find her quite as easily as he would have if their bond were sealed.
Time after time, his flights kept bringing him back to an incredibly dense thicket of forest in the far-off mountains of Colorado, their tips dotted with icy snow. But despite his best efforts, he couldn’t find a place where Gemma could have been held. The cold wind batted at him, fueling his frustration. Devon dipped lower, letting his massive wings bring him down on one of the secluded mountaintops.
He landed on an outcrop, long clawed feet scratching against the rocky surface as he touched down. His heavy tail curled around his feet quickly, bathing them in the warmth of his body. Dragons weren’t meant for cold, at least not fire dragons. Devon had never understood how the ice dragons of the north could tolerate the chill or why they enjoyed it, and he had cer
tainly never picked up their fondness for it.
With smoke billowing from his nostrils, Devon surveyed the surroundings. He could see an almost unending blanket of dark green below him, stretching as far as the eye could see without anything to disturb it. He bared his teeth, breathing in the scent of the valley, looking for even the slightest hint of his beloved. There was something there, so faint that he almost missed it.
Devon’s eyes narrowed, his long serpentine tongue lapping at the air to smell it better. His wings rustled as he packed them on his back, shards of ice falling off of the black-blue scales from the long, cold flight.
Gem, where are you…
As if answering his wordless cry, Devon suddenly felt a pull. His eyes widened, and on reflex, his wings spread and he jumped into the air, his body knowing the right direction before his brain could catch up. She was calling for him, just like those times in the mansion when his heart had constricted with worry that something was wrong, only now it leapt for joy.
The dragon stone had done what he could not – bring him to her. He flew over the forest so fast that the bows of the trees bent under the wind from his wings. Devon snarled, keeping his roar painfully in his throat as to not warn Remington of his arrival. The flight seemed endlessly long, even if it was just a few minutes.
Hidden away in a narrow gorge between towering mountains, stood a mansion so lavish that it could only have been owned by a Redblade. Now that he had found it, it seemed impossible that he hadn’t seen it before. The ostentatiousness of it all almost blinded him. The mansion was of fine red brick and had golden windowsills with thick maroon and gold curtains covering most of the windows as if something was hidden away in there. And Devon knew it housed the greatest prize he had – his mate.
He couldn’t keep the roar within him anymore. Like a tidal wave it cascaded from him, making the mountains rumble and shake under the weight of it. There was anger and fury there, but also a desperate longing he hadn’t thought himself capable of – it just went to show that the love of the right woman could affect even the most brazen bad boy. The windows shook as he roared, and he could hear the satisfying sound of glass cracking somewhere.
Soon, his paws touched the roof of the mansion, smooth stones forming a terrace as was traditional on all dragon houses.
Devon had every plan to shift into a human and find his mate, but he was stopped before he could go any further. Heaving with rage, Devon watched as the door leading into the mansion was flung open and Remington Redblade strolled out, only the slight redness on his neck hinting that he wasn’t completely pleased with Devon finding him.
“I see I must have underestimated your mate a little, hmm? I wonder how she got you here. No matter. This had to be done sooner or later,” Remington said, stopping in front of Devon, hands tucked into the pockets of his black slacks. The man eyed the dragon, and Devon’s nostrils flared, breathing in air in large gulps.
“How about we settle it like our forefathers, Bluewing? I know you thought it a crude tradition that was best to be forgotten in the annals of time, but I’d like to believe I’ve changed your mind now.”
His Cheshire grin drove Devon mad. Fire burned in his belly, ready to be showered down on the destroyer of his happiness. Just as he prepared to douse Remington with flames (knowing it would do little more than to annoy him, as dragons weren’t easily swayed by fire), something caught his attention in the corner of his eye that made him stop dead in his tracks.
Gem…
There she was, her golden hair a disheveled crown around her head, defiance in her eyes as Jolly held onto her, a golden dagger at her neck. The little man sneered at Devon, and it took every ounce of self-control he had to keep from going on a rampage. If it hadn’t had the distinct danger of hurting Gemma in the process, there would have been little keeping him back. He was relieved to see that she was alright, though.
It renewed the strength in him that had been waning from the long search, bolstering him when he felt like he was on the verge of exhaustion. As if new life had been breathed into him, Devon stood up taller, baring his teeth as he looked back on Remington.
I accept the challenge, he thought, echoing it to Remington. Impossibly, the dark sneer on Remington’s face only widened.
“May the best dragon win,” Remington said, and then the shift took him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Gemma
Gemma watched in abject horror as Remington turned into his dragon form, lean and elegant next to Devon, like beasts from different times. Where Devon was brimming with strength and speed, Remington possessed a wily, feline grace that looked almost out of place on a beast the size of a dragon. She hadn’t noticed that she was holding her breath until both of the beasts rose from the roof, their wings creating little hurricanes that threatened to sweep both Gemma and Jolly off the side of the roof if they weren’t careful.
“Yes, yes, finally!” Jolly murmured, vibrating with exuberance behind Gemma. She had almost forgotten about the sharp dagger pressing on her throat – so little did it seem to matter now when Devon’s life was in danger. She saw the heaviness in his movements, the weariness in him, and knew that he must have been searching for a long time.
“Destroy him!” she heard herself suddenly yelling, screaming at the two dragons slowly rising up, their eyes locked on one another.
“Shut up,” Jolly seethed behind her, the dagger so close that it nicked her a little, crimson blood marring the otherwise clean, pristine blade. Gemma bit her lip, tears brimming in her eyes. She didn’t care one iota about her own safety but found herself gripped with fear for Devon. Right there and then, she knew she couldn’t live if anything happened to him.
As much as he was a bastard bad boy, who thought he could do whatever he wanted, he was her bad boy, and this was something she wasn’t ready to let go, not now, not ever.
I love you. The words echoed in her head, not hers but mirrored by her. She stilled for a moment, looking at the mighty blue-black dragon. Now and forever, the voice said again, unmistakably Devon’s.
“I love you too,” she mouthed quietly, green eyes shimmering with worry. Yes, she did love him. There was little doubt in her mind. It had come suddenly and out of the blue, but being ripped from his side showed her that she couldn’t be without him, nor wanted to.
“Quiet,” Jolly raged, squeezing her arm tighter with the hand that wasn’t holding the blade. “Just watch. This is the greatest battle you will see in all your time, and finally, the ancient injustice will be undone. Your puny little human brain can’t comprehend this, but there has been a great wrong done here, and finally, it will be set right!” Jolly said, his voice reverent.
A hiss had entered it, now sounding more reptilian than ever. If she could have looked over her shoulder, she was sure that his expression would have shown all the endless love he must have felt for the Redblades, finally allowed out of its hiding. He disgusted her, though on some small scale, she could understand him – he didn’t know any better than to believe what he believed.
She didn’t have any more time to worry about Jolly or his kin. The dragons had ascended into the sky now and were circling one another. Gemma could see Devon’s chest expanding, and then, marked by a yelp of surprise, she watched him douse Remington in blue-red flames, the fire so hot she could feel it on the ground. Jolly took a step back, pulling her under an awning on the roof to protect them from the heat, though she hadn’t missed the gasp he gave when Devon attacked first.
The flames seemed to dance around Remington for far longer than the initial breath would have suggested, but the big red dragon flew out of them, smoke billowing around him. She could see that the tips of his wings were a bit scorched and his maw marred with soot. Thick black smoke now rose from Devon’s nostrils, so different from the hazy gray plume she had got used to seeing when he was aggravated. Neither one of them was toying around anymore. This was to the death, and she didn’t need it to be spelled out for her to understand it.
Her hands gripped into fists as she watched the dragons begin their tormenting dance, circling one another and attacking where they could. The first breath of fire from Remington surrounded Devon for the scantest of moments, but the blue-black dragon escaped it quickly with only a mark on his belly where the flames had hit hardest.
When they roared, it felt like the sky would come tumbling down on the ground – epic, deathly screams that brought forth nightmares Gemma didn’t even know she had.
Somewhere in the human subconscious, she felt suddenly very vulnerable, both because she was facing these mighty beasts and because the one she loved was fighting for his life. For both of their lives, really. Because would it really be life without him there?
The dragons flew so high sometimes that it was hard to see them and then swooped down so low she was sure they would take pieces of the mansion with them. Roars and growls made the gorge tremble, and when they tumbled down from the skies, she thought they would barely fit between the rocky walls. She could see the bright white of their long teeth, snapping at one another in desperate attempt to tear flesh from limb. This wasn’t just for show.
She knew from the books she had read that when dragons fought for dominance, it hardly ever went further than peacocking around one another, showing the opponent who was bigger, stronger and had hotter flames. Now, they had abandoned any pretense of it being a battle that could be easily settled. Gemma watched with cold shivers running through her as Remington lunged for Devon in the sky, catching one of his legs between his jaws and thrashing at it, his long neck making sickly undulating movements as he ripped at the scales.
Devon screeched, and Gemma’s heart ached for him, almost sensing his pain.
Devon pushed him back by covering him in flames again, catching the back of the red dragon, scorching the ends of his leathery wings and ripping at them. Gemma gasped as she saw a tear forming in one of them. Remington pulled back, one wing now weaker than the other. Both of their maws were contorted in horrific snarls, and Remignton’s teeth were marked with blue blood, the wound on Devon’s foot seeping with it.
