Fuck this.
I climbed out and slammed the door. Rain smashed into me, and my hair was plastered to my head in seconds. “Broken down here!” I waved at the cars, urging them to go around me. Fuck, it was cold. “Around! Around!”
The rainfall drowned out my words, but seriously, could they not decipher the sign language? Okay, maybe giving them the finger wasn’t helping, but a girl needed to vent somehow.
“Hey? You need a ride?” A male voice cut through the downpour like a beacon of hope.
A limo had come to a standstill in the lane next to mine. The door was open and a man was hanging out of the passenger side door, bottle of amber liquid clutched in his hand and a fucked-out-of-his-head grin on his face. His hair, which had probably been expertly styled a moment ago, was now plastered to his head and water dripped off the clean lines of his inebriated face, but he didn’t seem to give a shit. Alcohol would have that effect on a person. It would impair their judgement, cause them to pick up strange women toting dangerous weapons ...
“You wanna ride to the party, pretty, leather-clad woman?” he asked.
Yeah, it looked like my luck had just changed.
***
The interior of the limo was warm and smelled of leather and cinnamon. And this close up, the guy was huge. Not troll huge but big. His slacks strained across his thighs, which were parted in the relaxed, let-it-all-hang-loose, slumped-in-his-seat posture. His jacket was thrown across the seat opposite me, and his feet were bare. He had nice feet.
“You got a thing for feet?” he asked before taking a glug from his bottle.
“You got a thing against shoes?” The words just fell out unchecked.
“Yes. Awful, constricting things.” He glugged from the bottle again, tipping his head back to expose the masculine column of his throat and the manly Adam’s apple which bobbed with every swallow. A new scent hit me—almonds and something else; it teased a memory at the back of my mind. “You know it’s black tie and ball gowns, right?” His lips curled almost mockingly, but his eyes remained hooded and shrouded in shadow. He ran a hand through his wet, chestnut colored hair. “Have you made a vow of silence or something?”
“Just wondering if you’re in the habit of picking up strange women.” Now why the heck would I say that?
“No. You’re the strangest one to date.” He took another swig of his drink. “I’m wondering if you’re in the habit of getting into strange men’s limousines.”
I gave him a close-lipped smile. “Only when they offer to take me to a party.”
He chuckled. “These affairs are always much more fun with a damsel on your arm.”
Why did speaking to him feel like playing with fire? “Trust me, I’m no damsel.”
“I’m sure you’re not. Not with the arsenal you’re carrying.”
Shit. That was why. I plastered my most innocent expression on my face. “Sorry?”
“The bolts and the crossbow.” He sniffed. “Daggers ... Maybe two?” He winked and offered me a sloppy smile.
Shit, shit, shit. “Excuse me if I refuse to wander into Draconi territory unarmed.”
He snorted. “Fat lot of good they’ll do you. If a Draconi wants you dead, you’ll be dead. Should have worn the pretty ball gown.” He leaned his head back and belched.
The smell hit me again. Almonds and pistachios, and my stomach turned in recognition. There was only one thing that smelled like that, and there was only one creature who could consume it without burning its insides to embers.
I swallowed hard. “Is that ... Are you drinking Dragon Tears?”
He tucked in his chin, and the shadows shifted, revealing his eyes—vertically elongated pupils set against dazzling electric-blue irises. My breath stalled, and my pulse began to hammer. There was no need for him to answer. His eyes had done that for him.
He blinked, slow and predatory, and for a moment, the inebriation lifted and his expression was cold and calculated, but then he grinned that too-wide grin of the drunken fool. “Relax. I’ve already eaten. Besides, you smell odd.”
I was sitting in a limo with a fucking dragon, a tear-the-flesh-from-your-bones and burn-you-into-crispy-oblivion dragon, and instead of bone-melting fear, offense warred with relief, and my tongue, my errant doesn’t-know-when-to-shut-the-heck-up tongue, did a thing.
“What do you mean I smell odd?” Dammit, Wila, shut the fuck up.
He cocked his head, inhaled, then shrugged before taking another swig of the beverage that would kill anyone who wasn’t Draconi. “Just not ... edible.”
Not edible. Yeah. That was good. I could live with that.
“So, why the BDSM outfit?” he asked so casually it took a moment to register what he was saying.
“Leather does not equal BDSM.”
His smile was slightly lopsided now, giving him a mischievous air. “It is when it’s that tight.” He cocked his head. “Tell me, do you have your clothes custom made for your uber petite, some would even call, dinky, frame?”
Okay, so I like my pants fitted; they were soft leather, breathable and extremely malleable. But then to look at them, you wouldn’t be able to tell. Wait had he just called me dinky?
He leaned in, his almond-intoxicated breath wafting into my face, his body heat beating against my skin. “And you have fuck-me eyes.”
A wave of carnal desire shot through me and at the same time my pulse slammed in my throat, throbbing in fear and eager to be free. What the hell? But then he sat back in his seat and closed his eyes again.
“Relax,” he drawled. “I’ve already fucked tonight, and unlike a number of my brethren, I don’t take what isn’t offered freely.”
The wise thing to do was to keep quiet. To just take the ride, jump out once we were over the border, and then let luck do its thing, but curiosity—the talon-wielding bitch—tore self-preservation to shreds.
“So, how come you’re on this side of the border?”
His eyes remained closed, and he didn’t answer straight away. I sat back in my seat, resigning myself to a silent ride and eyeballing his aquiline profile. The cars were moving at a snail’s pace. Border checks were probably extra thorough tonight.
“Liaison,” he said finally, his tone lazy. “Even the mighty Draconi need to play at politics, and my liege is nothing if not a political player. I’m the lackey that gets to live Northside. The lion amongst the lambs.” His eyes opened a crack, those electric irises fixing on me through slitted lids. “Which makes me wonder why I’ve not seen you in polite society before?”
Shit. Come on, silver tongue. “Northside is a big place, lots of neph. It’s not surprising we haven’t come across one another.”
He studied me for a long, intense, bone-numbing beat, the kind of regard a jaguar would give its trapped prey before leisurely pouncing. The blood slowed in my veins, and my breath grew shallow as I tore my gaze away, fixing it firmly on the window. Never look a dragon in the eyes—cardinal rule number one when dealing with the beasts—because they didn’t all feed off flesh. Some liked to feast on souls, and what did they say about the eyes? Windows to the soul and all that stuff.
A low rumble filled the back of the limo. “I’m not hungry. Yet.”
Oh, fuck. When was the journey going to be over?
The limo ground to a halt and someone tapped on the window. It wound down and a liveried guard, way too big for his uniform, peered in. He took one look at my host and stood up straight, eyes fixed ahead.
“I’m sorry, sir. I should have recognized the plates.”
My host waved a hand. “Relax.” He held out the bottle. “Have something to take the edge off.”
The guard blinked at the bottle. “Thank you, sir, but we aren’t permitted to drink on the job.”
My host’s eyes narrowed, his whole body tightening and tensing as if ready to strike. “Are you rejecting my offer?”
The guard’s throat bobbed. “No. Sir. Of course not, but the liege’s orders—”
�
��Is the liege here now?”
“No, sir.” The guard looked like he would rather be lying in the path of a bulldozer than be the object of my host’s attention. “I apologize, sir.”
The dragon dude sighed and his body relaxed. “Please, don’t shit yourself. I was only joking.” He waved the guard off. “Go do guard stuff elsewhere.”
“Yes, sir.” The guard inclined his head.
The window wound up and the car shot forward, and my heart was in my mouth because who the heck was this guy to demand such reverence and fear. My lips twitched, wanting to ask the question, but this time self-preservation won. If he was some high up Draconi, and if I was meant to be important enough to be invited to this equinox celebration, then I should know, right?
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” His tone was light on the surface, but there was an edge which my finely tuned ears picked up on.
An edge that had me sitting up straighter, alert and ready to bolt, except the limo was moving super-fast now that we were past border checks and the world outside was a dark blur of rocky terrain and distant mountains. This was the Westside, a meld of our world and their supernatural prison. There was no escape if he decided to turn on me now. Heck, who was I kidding? There’d been no escape ever since I got into the limo.
I cleared my throat. “I’d be a fool not to know who you are.” It was a gamble but...
“Yes. Yes, you would.”
He didn’t press. Why didn’t he press? Because he was intoxicated. Thank God for luck. Shit, how much time did I have left? An hour and a half? There was no escaping him, not until we reached our destination, which, if we were going straight to the festivities, would be the Central Keep. I’d be headed straight into the dragon’s den.
He was looking at me, his gaze hot on the side of my face, and damn, did it take everything I had not to turn and look at him.
“You could be my guest,” he said softly. “It could be interesting.”
It wasn’t a request, at least it didn’t sound like one, which meant he was accustomed to giving orders in the guise of appeals. My scalp prickled. He suspected something was off. Even through the haze of dragon tears, he suspected.
I smiled, eyes still on the landscape. “I’d be honored, of course.”
“Of course.” Was that a hint of amusement in his tone?
But when I slid a quick look his way, his head was tipped back and his eyes were once again closed. He was perfectly at ease, perfectly relaxed, then why the heck did I feel like I’d just buzzed straight into a Venus fly trap?
The limo began to slow, and my heartbeat sped up.
His lips curved in a slow smile. “And so it begins.”
Chapter 4
Arock face rose on either side of the limo, set with lights that looked like a multitude of eyes. No doubt, this was the bottleneck that led to the Central Keep. If not for the lights, this route would be pitch black because the rock walls blocked out the stars and the moon. My stomach dipped and anxiety fluttered to life in my chest. Not an enclosed space, Bastion, it’s fine, it’s totally fine. We were on an incline, and the walls around us slowly receded until there was nothing but the clear, starry sky after a storm. The knot building in my chest unraveled. We were high up, real high up, and a new kind of flutter flared to life in my stomach. How long left on my luck potion? I needed to get the heck out of this limo and away from this lethargically dangerous dragon who was playing havoc with my sixth sense.
A crack and a whoosh followed by an eerie roar filled the interior of the vehicle. My disconcertion must have been written on my face because my host chuckled low.
“Not all Draconi will be arriving on four wheels.” He jerked his head toward the window. “Take a look.”
The window wound down, and the noise grew louder; it sounded like the beating of wings, huge wings. Oh, God. Slipping my head out the window, I tilted it up to the starry sky, but the stars were gone, blocked out by a parade of massive, scaly beasts. Except, up there in the air, they were no longer monstrous, they were beautifully graceful, wings spread wide as they caught the air and coasted before they were forced to beat the air into submission. The cool air stole my breath, and the sight stole my mind. I’d heard tales, of course, but to see them like this was something else. They were headed to the Central Keep, then to the equinox celebration, and I was about to enter a mountain filled with beasts.
I ducked back into the limo, and the window slid up.
My host polished off the bottle of Dragon Tears and then retrieved a fresh bottle from a hidden compartment in the armrest of his seat. He slipped his feet into a pair of expensive-looking shoes that seemed to materialize from nowhere and then fixed me with that disturbingly penetrating gaze of his. I broke contact by lowering my lids.
“I’m not going to suck out your soul.”
“I’ll take that on advisement.”
A bark of laughter. “Yes, tonight should be interesting.” The interior of the limo fell into absolute darkness. “Ready to rock the leather?”
Damn Adam Noir and his lack of heads up about this event. “Sure.”
The car came to a smooth halt, and he leaned across me, his huge frame shedding heat and delicious aroma that enticed a mixture of desire and terror, like being pushed up against a big cat with scales. He released the catch and shoved open the door.
I blinked at him.
He jerked his head toward the exit. “Draconi are many things, but gentlemen aren’t one of them.”
With a deep breath, I climbed out into the night air, the night air inside a fucking cave. The entrance was a roughly hewn, gaping maw behind us. More cars spilled in, parked up, and spat out guests—women in fancy ball gowns and men all suited and booted. The Draconi were easily distinguishable by their eerie eyes and much larger statures, and the rest were neph. Many of the Draconi came bearing gifts, trays laden with gems as large as my fist, silverware, and sparkly trinkets. Dragons liked the shiny stuff. A van farther up was unloading long wooden boxes that looked like coffins.
“Private tribute.” My Draconi ride appeared beside me, his body dwarfing mine. He inhaled and his pupils dilated a fraction, but then his lip curled in disgust and he shook his head.
“Private tribute?”
He looked down on me, as if seeing me for the first time, and it took everything I had not to lock gazes with him.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
But as I counted the little coffins filled with air holes being unloaded onto a cart, the penny dropped and my stomach turned. The kids were in those boxes, and I needed to follow the Draconi who were rolling them away.
“Um, thank you for the ride, but I should really go and find my ... friends.” God, I sounded lame.
His brow arched and the corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. “Of course, if that’s what you want. They’re probably somewhere up ahead waiting to pass through the tech and weapons sensors.”
Fuck! There was no way I’d get through a weapons check, and the damn coffins were getting away. A door opened on the other side of the road, and the Draconi rolled the carts through it. Dammit. Finding them meant getting inside, and right now my only hope lay with my nameless host.
I leaned in conspiratorially. “I don’t like people touching my weapons.”
His almond breath tickled the top of my head. “Then maybe your friends can meet you inside.”
Was he offering me an out?
His arm slid around my waist, and the contact was like electricity shooting through my veins. My whole body tightened, and my breath exploded from my lungs. His bicep flexed, muscles jumping, but when I tilted my head to look up at him, he was busy swigging from his bottle of Dragon Tears. And then we were off, winding our way past the queuing guests and walking straight up to the entrance manned by two mammoth Draconi who looked more beast than man. Their thick necks and wide nostrils indicated they were in partial shift. They clutched long rods used for detection of weapons and tech. My h
eart crawled up into my throat because my weapons were one thing, but if they found the catseye and the transponder ... But as we approached, they stepped back and let us straight through. We breezed in, down a short lily-white corridor and straight into a ballroom out of a fucking fairytale, if fairytales took place in dragon lairs. Music played, loud enough to mask other people’s conversation, but not too loud as to make it impossible to converse. People stood about in groups, clutching fluted glasses of sparkling liquid, and servers floated from cluster to cluster offering refills and aperitifs. It was all very ... civil and totally un-Draconi like. The whole thing sent a chill up my spine, because under the face of every Draconi there was a monster watching its prey. Every neph in this room was a potential snack, and there were many, their pulses fluttering in their throats like trapped animals. Why the heck would they have come here? A few familiar faces jumped out at me, faces from the interweb. Arcana house members, and several neph high up in political matters.
Several Draconi eyes skimmed over me, taking in my attire, but they quickly dismissed me. “I thought you said my clothes would be an issue.”
My escort snorted. “They would, if you weren’t with me, but you’re hanging with the black sheep. No one will expect anything much of you.”
The black sheep? What was he talking about? It didn’t matter I had less than an hour of luck left and a bunch of coffins to locate, but my escort was leading me through the crowd toward a buffet table and straight at a hungry-looking group of Draconi. Every hair on my body stood to attention, and then we were surrounded.
A tall, athletic female turned to face us, and a huge, toothy smile filled her face. “Valance, so good to see you.” Her tone said otherwise.
So that was his name.
“Pity I can’t say the same,” Valance drawled.
The female didn’t even bat an eye; instead she turned her unnerving gaze on me, and the smooth curve of her face seemed to sharpen to a razor’s edge before my eyes. “I see you haven’t shaken the habit of playing with your food.” She pouted. “Although this one doesn’t smell that appetizing.”
Chronicles of Arcana (The complete collection books 1-4) Page 4
