by Donna Grant
The days turned into weeks as the two of them explored island after island, always at night so no one saw them going into the water and shifting. Varek had swum with a pod of dolphins and whales. He’d even been tempted to continue swimming far out into the vast ocean where no one would ever see him and then launch from the water into the air. But with satellites, it would cause too much of a stir, which was why none of the dragons shifted where any mortals might see them.
It wasn’t long before he and Merrill found feminine company. The woman Varek had chosen was in her mid-forties with a sadness about her that told of past pain that had left deep scars. She had been lonely—as had he. Those nights together had been a respite both needed. She’d never spoken of her pain, but she didn’t need to. He’d seen it in too many women who’d spent years if not decades married to someone who abused them. Or cheated on them. Or simply didn’t love them as the women needed.
The woman on the isles ended things between them early. Varek would’ve continued seeing her until he and Merrill returned to Dreagan, but he didn’t try to stop her or question her. To his delight, when she left, her smile was brighter, and she didn’t look as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders anymore. It was then that Varek began walking around the isle. Merrill was otherwise engaged with his female companion, and Varek liked the time alone with his thoughts.
On one of those walks, he’d found something, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He knew he had been excited about it and wanted Merrill to see. He’d gone to get his friend and then rushed back.
And…that’s all he could remember. Varek wracked his brain for more but only managed to make his head hurt worse.
Chapter Three
“What?” In shock, Jeyra gawked at the council before her.
Arn, who sat in the middle, stared at her with beady, cold, blue eyes. He was clean-shaven, his thin, gray hair cut short. His pale skin was wrinkled with age, and his lips were so thin, they were nearly nonexistent. He wasn’t known for his mercy or kindness. But he was fair, which was why he had been elected. Since he had served on the council for a few terms already, he was the leader, the one who ran the meetings and became the deciding vote if the other four were divided.
“You caught the Dragon King. Now it is up to you to learn all his secrets,” Arn stated.
Jeyra swallowed, trying to keep control of a situation that was rapidly spinning out of control. Her gaze rose to the ceiling painted with a picture of the village in its prime. Three large windows graced the walls on either side of her. Behind her was a door that led outside, guarded by two men—one inside and one out. In front of her, the council members were seated behind a wooden table, polished to a high shine and devoid of any decoration. On either side of the table stood the two highest-ranking warriors—one of them Rankin.
Jeyra glanced at him, but his gaze was elsewhere. They hadn’t spoken since he had carried the King to the village. Jeyra’s heart hurt for the loss of friendship—and even family—she had shared with Rankin.
But he had made his choice.
Just as she had.
She lifted her chin and tried to keep her breathing even, despite the panic swirling dizzily inside her. Her stomach churned, and nausea set in, but she refused to be sick in front of the council. At least their meeting had been done in private so the public couldn’t see or hear anything.
Arn narrowed his eyes. “That isn’t a request, Jeyra.”
“I’m not an interrogator,” she argued in a soft voice. The last thing she wanted was to show any disrespect or anger. If she did, things could go very, very badly for her. “I’m a warrior.”
Fu lifted a perfectly arched black brow and said in a cultured voice that showed the nobility she had been born into, “The King is your prize. Therefore, it is up to you to gain what we seek.”
Jeyra stared into Fu’s narrow, hooded, dark eyes. The councilwoman’s thick, black hair was pulled up in an elaborate style that, along with the tailored gown and jeweled armbands she wore, proclaimed Fu’s wealth and position. She was tall, thin, and bony with pale skin. And she wasn’t one to be trifled with. Ever.
“There are others trained in interrogation who would be more suited,” Jeyra replied.
The last place she wanted to be was with the Dragon King. All she wanted was to see his death, and then she could carry on with her life. She had expected him to be executed already. Now, she realized what the holdup was—everyone feared him. Even bound as he was and unable to do magic.
Although, it might be a good thing they wished for her to talk to him. At least then, she wouldn’t have to worry about the King telling anyone that she had crossed the border. Or hired the old crone to open a portal.
Magic simply wasn’t done in the city—any of their cities. Magic was feared by all. It was considered evil, malicious, and revolting. But no one needed to know that she had stooped so low to achieve her dream of bringing a Dragon King to justice.
Jeyra looked at each of the five council members. Two men, three women. All powerful and influential people who could make her life hell. It was obvious by their looks of impatience that they had come to this decision unanimously, and the fact that she still stood before them questioning their demands didn’t sit well with them.
More arguments filled her mouth, but somehow, Jeyra kept them to herself. She bowed her head. “I will do as commanded.” When she straightened, she looked at Rankin once more, but he still wouldn’t meet her gaze.
Jeyra turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving the council, Rankin, and the other warriors behind. The moment she was out of the building, she walked around the side and leaned against the stone structure to drag in huge gulps of air. She bent at the waist and braced her hands on her knees as she breathed through her mouth while her heart raced.
“Shite. Shiteshiteshiteshiteshite,” she murmured.
Nothing was going to plan. She had been so proud of herself for capturing a Dragon King. She hadn’t cared what she had to do to get him because she had honestly believed he would be killed for his crimes.
She slowly straightened as she thought about that. Why wasn’t the council preparing for the King’s death? Why were they so adamant about learning what he knew? They had spoken to Dragon Kings before. It had been years and years ago, but it wasn’t as if this was the first time they’d had one in their midst or within their grasp. What was so different about him? Surely, they didn’t know he wasn’t of this world. Perhaps they wanted to trip her up. Make her look weak. Maybe they were looking for a reason to release the King.
“That’s not going to happen,” she said between clenched teeth and pushed away from the building.
She strode through the city, dodging horses and carriages on her way to the outskirts where the dungeon was. With every step, she tried to figure out how to start with the Dragon King when being around him made her want to physically hurt him for all the damage his kind had caused. She wasn’t at all thrilled about having to talk to him. Jeyra had expected Rankin to back her up and say that an interrogator should have a go at the King. But he hadn’t. And she needed to realize that Rankin might never come to her defense again.
That hurt more than she cared to admit.
By the time Jeyra reached the dungeon, she had more questions than answers. She paused at the entrance and looked up at the hefty gate and high walls. Someone shouted down to her from the guard tower.
Her lips parted to announce her name when the gate opened, and three guards in red tunics and black uniform pants stood there. One motioned her in. “We’ve been expecting you,” he said and turned.
She hurried to catch up. He said nothing more as he guided her into the dungeon, and she didn’t talk since she had nothing to say. Deeper into the mountain and lower into the earth he led her, twisting and turning through the maze of tunnels until he pointed to where the Dragon King had been deposited two days earlier. As if she hadn’t been here herself.
Jeyra was so inte
nt on the prisoner, she barely registered that the guard had walked away. The King sat with his back to her, leaning against the iron bars. His pristine white shirt looked tan now from the dirt. His blond hair was rumpled as if he’d run his fingers through it multiple times. She hadn’t paid much attention to it earlier. Now, she took in its thickness, the way the top layers, longer than the sides and back, fell from the part. His shoulders lifted as he drew in a deep breath and released it. She steeled herself, thinking he would turn to face her, but he didn’t move.
The last time she had looked into his eyes, it had been right before she pulled him to this realm. He had been smiling, and it had been…appealing. Charming, inviting. Enchanting, even. But it was all a ruse. Everything about the Dragon Kings was a deception. It had taken her people a long time to discover that, but once they had, they had done what was needed to protect themselves.
“I doona suppose you brought food?”
His deep, throaty voice made chills race over her skin. She’d never heard such an accent. It was mesmerizing. Along with the unique and utterly luring cadence of his voice, the combination made her want to hear more. But Jeyra reminded herself just who she was dealing with.
“No.”
His head lifted in response to her word, but still, he didn’t turn to face her. “Hmm.”
She frowned, wondering what that was supposed to mean. Instead of asking, she was grateful that he’d kept his back to her. Maybe if he stayed that way, he wouldn’t remember that she had apprehended him. If she were in his position and saw the person responsible for her imprisonment, she wouldn’t talk to them.
“I can get you food.”
At this, he cocked his head. “Why?”
“Why?” she repeated before she thought better of it.
“Well, lass, either I’m to be tortured and eventually killed, in which case food wouldna be given. You’d want me weak. Or, the other option is you’re seeking ransom. Personally, I’m going with the latter.”
Damn. Did his voice have to be so…amazing? Jeyra looked at the ground as she kicked the toe of her boot against it.
“Silence. That’s telling,” the Dragon King replied.
To her shock, she heard a hint of a smile in his voice. She couldn’t imagine what would make him grin unless he knew that he would get free and bring the other Kings to the city to destroy it. Jeyra wouldn’t let that happen. As long as the chains stayed on his wrists, and he remained in the dungeon, they would all be fine.
“If you give me some information, I’ll get you food,” she told him, happy that she had found a way to get him to talk.
Chapter Four
Varek waffled between anger, frustration, and alarm as the minutes turned into hours after he’d found himself locked away. The dungeon—because that’s exactly where he had been put—only had minimal lighting from torches. Actual fire torches. Shallow bowls held by the same type of metal as his prison, housed whatever liquid they used to keep the torches lit continuously.
He didn’t see any natural light, so he couldn’t tell if it was day or night. Not that it mattered. He was too wrapped up in the fact that he couldn’t get free. Varek had tried to use the mental link all dragons had, but no one answered. That wouldn’t happen unless the other Dragon Kings were incapacitated.
Or they couldn’t hear him.
Coupled with that was the fact that he couldn’t shift. It had been the last thing Varek had attempted because he’d feared the exact outcome that had happened. Nothing. For the first time, he had to consider that he might very well be trapped in his human form, never able to shift or do magic again.
He’d been surprised to hear two people coming toward him. One left, leaving the other. He recognized the tread of the female who had been there when his captors dumped him into the cell. He wanted to turn and look at her, but decided it might be better if he didn’t show much interest. The longer she stood without talking, the more curious he became.
When he asked if she’d brought food, he wasn’t surprised by her answer. But he was intrigued by the throaty sound of her voice. One word wasn’t enough for him. He wanted—needed—to hear more to try and decipher her origins.
When she finally spoke again, he found himself entranced by her sultry voice. He was so captivated by it that it took him a moment to comprehend the words she had spoken, and that he still couldn’t place her accent.
Her offer of food in exchange for information fascinated him. He wasn’t fool enough to trust anything she said, but he might be able to use her to his advantage. If for nothing more than to get free. Varek could charm anyone when he set his mind to it, and his very life depended on it now. There was no question that he would succeed.
He rose to his knees, careful to keep his head ducked so he didn’t whack it on the low-hanging ceiling. Only after he had shifted positions and sat back down to face the woman did he let his gaze move to her. The moment his eyes landed on her, all the air was sucked out of his lungs. He was transfixed, completely enraptured by the magnificent creature before him.
Varek had seen beauty before, but something about this female was decidedly different. It looked as if dragon fire had touched her hair. It burned bright red, even pulled away from her face in several small braids that merged into one thick plait. What he couldn’t tell was how long it was since the braid was wound into a bun. The need to sink his hand into her fiery mane and feel the weight of it as the strands ran through his fingers was…overwhelming.
Arresting amber eyes studied him with a mixture of aversion and curiosity. She had an oval face, a slim neck, and a mouth made for sinful, decadent things. While she might be of average height, there was nothing ordinary about her. She stood with her back straight, her legs braced slightly apart, her arms hanging at her sides, fingers loose—a warrior’s stance.
Varek took in the golden-brown sleeveless tunic that showed off the toned sinew of her arms. His gaze moved along the plunging neckline to the outline of her full breasts. The top fit her like a second skin and stopped an inch short of meeting the deep brown breeches that encased her slim legs and were tucked into tall, leather boots. His gaze moved back up her calves and thighs and over the flare of her hips to her small waist and the well-defined abdominal muscles he was able to glimpse. She wore no jewelry but thick, silver armbands around each arm.
He swallowed hard, his body reacting viscerally to the woman before him. When he met her gaze once more, her sculpted brows were drawn together in confusion. Varek drew in a deep breath to get a handle on his emotions and the primal need raging through him, uncontrolled and unbridled. He wasn’t at all ready to speak, but he had a feeling if he didn’t say anything or the right things, this female might not return. And that simply wouldn’t do.
“What kind of information?” he managed to say despite the blood pounding in his ears.
Her chin lifted slightly as her face smoothed, devoid of all emotion. She then crossed her arms over her chest. “Everything.”
“That’s a lot,” he said with a chuckle. “Perhaps you could be more specific.”
“I want to know everything there is to know about the Dragon Kings.”
It was a good thing Varek was sitting down. Otherwise, he was pretty sure his legs would’ve buckled. He was so used to hiding his true identity, as all Dragon Kings had for eons, having someone know what he was unsettled him.
She rolled her eyes. “Is this where you tell me you aren’t a Dragon King? Don’t waste your breath. I know what you are. We all do.”
“And how is that?”
The woman issued a snort of laughter as her arms dropped to her sides, and she glanced to the right. “If you think by asking me idiotic questions it’ll somehow help you, you’re wrong.”
Varek’s shock was gone, replaced by simmering fury. “You want information? Well, lass, so do I. Perhaps we should start with something simple. Like your name.”
“My name?” she asked with a frown. “Why does that matter?”
“What’s the harm in giving a name? I’m Varek.”
For several long, tense seconds, she simply glared at him. Finally, she said, “I’m Jeyra.”
“Jeyra. An unusual name. I’ve no’ heard it before.”
“I doubt you would.”
It was his turn to narrow his gaze at her. “Is that because I’m no’ from this realm?” The lack of response was telling. “I see. Care to tell me how I got here?”
“Not really,” she replied.
Which told him that he hadn’t come of his own volition. He’d known something wasn’t right, and now he knew why none of the other Kings had answered his calls. Varek looked down at the shackles on his wrists. If he couldn’t break them, then he couldn’t get free of the prison and get back to Earth and his brethren.
“Are you ready to give me information?” Jeyra asked.
Varek looked up at her, not bothering to hide his seething anger. “Why am I being held here? Who took me prisoner? What crime have I committed against anyone on a realm I’ve never been to before?”
“I take that to mean you aren’t ready to talk.”
In a flash, Varek was at the bars, his fingers around the damp metal. It infuriated him that he couldn’t stand straight, that he was made to remain on his knees as he glared up at Jeyra. “Free me. Now. Or you and your people will rue the day you ever brought me here.”
“Strong words for someone behind bars and bound. The best thing you can do is accept your Fate.” She then pivoted and walked away.
Varek wanted to throw back his head and bellow. He wanted to smash the rock around him, yank out the bars and crumple them into balls as he knew he could. But he wouldn’t give anyone listening or watching the satisfaction of seeing how close to the edge he was.
If only he had his magic and the strength he had been born with as a dragon. Was it this realm that kept his powers away? The prison? The manacles around his wrists? Or a combination of everything? If he was going to get free, he needed those answers. Unfortunately, in order to get those, he would have to play along with whatever Jeyra and her people wanted of him.
