“Because he’s my friend.”
Her heart gave a funny jerk. As if someone had attached a string to it and was giving it a tug.
“Loyalty,” she breathed.
She moved closer to his side, but before she could continue, a pulse of heat slammed into her back.
Dragon.
Her muscles tensed as she turned to watch the male step into the corridor behind them.
He was a pureblood with a short, stocky form that was covered by a formal golden robe trimmed with rubies the size of her fists. He had long, dark hair and dark eyes, with deeply bronzed skin. She supposed he was handsome, in a rugged sort of way. And he had enough power to make the floor tremble. But she didn’t feel any of the zips and zings that ricocheted through her stomach when she glanced at Char.
Instead, her only thought was convincing him to go away without attracting attention.
“Do not move,” the stranger commanded.
His arrogant tone, not to mention the over-the-top robe, revealed that he was a guest of her father, not a guard. Still, he clearly expected her to obey his order.
Blayze angled her chin so her nose was in the air. It was a trick her mother used when she wanted to intimidate someone.
“Is something wrong?” she demanded.
The male frowned, moving toward them. “This is the private quarters of the lair.”
Char instinctively angled his body until he was half standing in front of her, his aggression filling the air with a searing heat. “I am aware of our location,” he said.
The dragon’s nose flared, a curl of smoke trailing from his nostril.
“I was speaking to your mistress,” he reprimanded Char.
Flames danced over Char’s skin, and Blayze was swift to move so she was the one standing in front of him. What was wrong with the foolish male? He was going to get himself killed.
“Did Synge send you to follow me?” she asked the dragon.
There was a tense pause before the dragon moved his gaze from Char back to Blayze.
“He mentioned that you were worried that there was a plot to harm his unborn child,” he admitted.
Blayze was confused. If Synge wanted to keep an eye on them, why not send a guard?
“Are you a member of his clan?” she asked.
The dragon arched a brow, as if amazed that Blayze didn’t instantly recognize him.
Typical dragon conceit.
“I am Bolt, son of Ash, and I am certain you have heard that I am to be betrothed to Synge’s daughter.”
Char’s breath hissed through his teeth. This time, however, he managed to keep his lips closed.
A miracle.
Blayze concentrated on the dragon in front of her.
“You are Bolt?” she asked, finding it impossible to visualize this male as her mate.
Yes, she’d already determined he was handsome. And powerful. And wearing jewels that revealed he had an impressive hoard.
All the things most females desired in a male.
But the mere thought of being bonded to a male who wasn’t Char made her shudder in horror.
Unaware of her dark thoughts, Bolt gave a small dip of his head. “Yes. And you?”
“Blayze, from the clan of Ravel,” Blayze said, offering a formal curtsy.
It was awkward, but it was good enough to fool the male who was clearly more concerned with her presence in this particular corridor.
“You have not answered why you are in the private quarters,” he reminded her, allowing his power to hum in the air.
A less than subtle warning.
And one Char couldn’t ignore.
He shouldered his way to her side, glaring at the other male. “Because we don’t have to.”
Bolt stepped forward, releasing even more of his power. The torches rattled and dust fell from the ceiling.
Crap. This encounter was going downhill fast.
She had to do something before the males decided to do more than glare and blow smoke at each other.
“Char.” She laid her hand on his arm, careful to move slowly. An angry dragon, even a half-breed one, could do all sorts of bad things if he was startled. “Perhaps it would be best if I speak with Bolt alone.”
He turned his head, his eyes a molten silver as he glared at her in disbelief. “No way in hell.”
Bolt moved until he was just a foot away, his beefy hands clenched into fists. “You will not speak to your mistress in that manner.”
Char’s skin began to shimmer as his inner beast demanded release. Any other time Blayze would have been amazed. It was rare for a half-breed to be capable of shifting.
Plus, he had the magic of his fey mother.
A dangerous combination.
Still, he didn’t have the power to take on a pureblood dragon.
“You—”
“Char.” She turned so she was standing directly in front of him, her fingers pressing against his lips. “We can’t risk attracting attention.”
Char reluctantly transferred his gaze from Bolt to her pleading expression. His eyes continued to smolder with silver fire.
“That is precisely what I said before you insisted on heading into the throne room,” he growled.
“Why do you allow your servant to display such disrespect?” Bolt demanded, blatantly trying to provoke Char into a fight.
Blayze rolled her eyes. She didn’t have much experience with males, but she was already discovering they were aggravating creatures.
“Char,” she said in soft, soothing tones. “Trust me.”
He didn’t want to. It was obvious in his tightly clenched expression and the sparks that continued to hover in the air around him. But with an obvious effort, he forced himself to take a deep breath. And then another.
At last he managed to overcome his primal male urge to shield her from any danger.
“I’ll give you five minutes,” he rasped, glancing toward Bolt. “Touch her and I’ll kill you.”
Bolt’s eyes narrowed, but Blayze gave Char a small shove before the two could start exchanging blows. Or worse, dragon-fire.
“Go,” she pleaded.
He did. But not without a lot of glowering and stomping his feet. Blayze swallowed a sigh, waiting until he was around the curve of the corridor before she turned to meet Bolt’s burning gaze.
“That servant is in dire need of discipline,” he informed her.
She smiled wryly. “Yes, I know.”
A portion of the seething anger eased as Bolt focused his attention fully on her. That didn’t make him any less dangerous. But at least he wasn’t considering the pleasure of following Char and ripping him into tiny shreds.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
Blayze wrinkled her nose. She didn’t remind him that she’d already given him her name and clan. That wasn’t what he was asking.
He wanted to know if she was there to hurt Synge or his unborn child. And he wasn’t going be satisfied with some vague story.
Which meant she either came up with a convincing lie or she told him the truth.
Really, there was no choice.
She’d been mentally connected to her mother. Which meant she’d never developed the talent for deceiving others.
She sucked in a deep breath. She was about to put her life in the hands of this stranger, and she had no idea if he was going to help her or kill her on the spot.
A realization that would make any dragon’s heart beat a little faster.
“This is going to be difficult to believe,” she warned him.
Bolt waved an impatient hand. “Explain.”
“I am your betrothed.”
Silence. The sort of silence that was tangible. Like a heavy weight sitting on her chest. She was smart enough not to break it.
“Are you jesting?” he at last demanded.
“No.” She gave a somber shake of her head. “Indeed, nothing has ever been so serious. At least for me.”
His brows snapped together
. “My betrothed has not been born.”
She waved a hand toward the wooden bench that was set beneath a brightly burning torch. It didn’t look particularly comfortable, but it would have to do.
“Perhaps we could have a seat?” she suggested.
Bolt glanced around. Probably searching to see if this was a trap. Then he offered a grudging nod of his head. “Very well.”
Together they perched on the narrow bench, and, clearing her throat, Blayze offered a condensed version of her life. She told him about the curse when she’d been just a baby. She told him about the Council condemning her to death and her mother’s frantic effort to keep her hidden while protecting her from the evil magic. She told him about Char’s magic that had given her a temporary reprieve, and her own ability to use the curse to pull herself backward through the centuries until she’d arrived in this time and place.
He listened in silence, his expression unreadable. Then, as she stopped speaking to give him the opportunity to absorb her wild tale, he released a harsh breath.
“So you are Synge’s daughter,” he said. He spoke the words slowly.
Was he was trying to make sure that he’d heard her right? Or maybe just trying to determine if she was utterly delusional.
“I know it sounds crazy, but yes, I’m Synge’s daughter,” she assured him.
He reached to grasp her chin, gently tilting her face upward so he could study her with a searching gaze.
“I can sense his blood,” he abruptly said. “And your eyes are the same as your mother’s.”
She offered a tentative smile. “I’m sorry. I know this must be confusing.”
Surprisingly, he gave a small shrug. “It is an astonishing tale, but I have encountered another dragon who possessed the rare talent of manipulating magic,” he told her. “I believe you.”
Blayze felt a stab of relief. She hadn’t expected him to be so easily convinced that she was speaking the truth. Honestly, she’d half expected Bolt to be calling for the guards so she could be hauled to the dungeons.
Or simply blasted with his fire.
It took a minute for her to realize that he was still studying her. Like she was a weird, not entirely pleasant puzzle.
“You are looking at me strangely,” she said.
“You are my mate.” His expression remained stoic, but there was something that might have been pain smoldering in the back of his dark eyes. Was his dragon wounded? “You have gone from a distant future to a flesh and blood reality.”
“That troubles you?” she demanded.
“I am…” His hand dropped as he sought the proper words to explain his feelings. “Pleased,” he at last said. “You are even more beautiful than I could ever have dreamed. And you have courage that would make any mate proud.”
She tilted her head to the side. She didn’t miss the hollowness in his tone. Another female might take offense at his obvious lack of pleasure in meeting his betrothed. But Blayze had never had the opportunity to develop the same sense of vanity as other females. Instead, she found herself sympathizing with the male’s inner pain.
“Very pretty, but I can sense your heart belongs to another,” she said.
Bolt turned his head, casting a glance down the corridor. Was he nervous?
That was odd.
Few things could make a full-grown dragon jumpy.
“Who told you that?”
“Your eyes,” she admitted.
He grimaced before he was arranging his features back into a smooth mask. “It is not meant to be.”
“Why not?”
“My father has decided that it is my duty to align our clan with Synge.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Just as my father decided it was the duty of his unborn daughter to give him the power necessary to challenge for a seat on the Council.”
His eyes widened, as if he was startled by the fact she knew Synge was angling to gain the ultimate power. Clearly he did not realize that particular piece of gossip was running rampant through the gathered guests.
Then, he gave a small nod. “Precisely.”
She squared her shoulders. Bolt didn’t want this mating. Which meant she might be able to convince him to help her. At the very least, she could convince him not to stand in her path.
“I am here to alter our futures,” she promised in a soft voice.
“Alter the future?” He frowned in confusion. “What does that mean?”
She paused. She had enough knowledge of males to realize that Bolt would dig in his feet if he thought she was asking him to betray his loyalty to his clan.
“Perhaps we can both seek happiness rather than duty,” she finally said.
As expected, he gave a sharp shake of his head. “My father will never allow me to break the betrothal.”
“Never say never,” she warned him. “I believe in miracles.”
Without warning, he glanced down corridor. “Does your miracle include your servant?”
Warmth raced through her blood at the thought of Char. Even out of sight she could feel him. She sensed his frustration and fear at being forced to stay away. And his pounding need to know that she was safe.
Barely realizing what she was doing, she reached out with her mind to offer him comfort. Instantly he reached back, offering a mental stroke that sent a tingle of pleasure snaking down her spine.
A small smile curved her lips.
So that was that.
There was no way she could have so easily connected to Char if he wasn’t her true mate.
“Yes, I suppose he is a miracle,” she agreed.
Blayze felt a hot color stain her cheeks, but thankfully, Bolt didn’t ask for more information. He obviously sensed that she was closer to a mere half-breed than she should be. But since she hadn’t interrogated him when it came to the female he preferred, he offered her the same respect for her privacy.
“You said that you used the curse to travel back to this time?”
Happy to return the conversation to more pressing matters, she swiveled on the bench to face him. She wanted him to see her expression and know that she was determined to succeed in her goals.
“Yes. I thought it would bring me to the precise time that the curse was cast, but instead it seems to have brought me to the time that the curse was smuggled into this lair.”
He gave a slow nod. “So you’ll discover who is responsible?”
“Char already managed to discover who was responsible.”
“Who?”
“A dragon named Magma.”
“Bastard.” With a low roar, Bolt was on his feet, bluish flames swirling around his body. “I am not surprised that he would be the traitor.”
Blayze rose from the bench, inwardly pleased by Bolt’s reaction. “Why aren’t you surprised?”
“It has been whispered for many years that he is a dragon without honor,” Bolt said. “Not only has he broken contracts, and stolen from his own clansmen, but he has used nefarious means to defeat his enemies rather than facing them in open battle.”
Blayze felt a surge of anger as she thought of the dragon who was evil enough to use black magic on a mere hatchling to keep his position of power.
“He is obviously willing to go to any lengths to maintain his place with the Council.”
Bolt continued to look disgusted, but it was the hint of resolve hardening his features that gave her a tiny burst of hope.
“The male will pay for his treachery,” he growled.
She lifted a warning hand. “First I must track down the servant who has the curse.”
He frowned. “Magma used one of his servants to bring the curse to the lair?”
She shook her head. “Not one of his,” she corrected. “One of my father’s.”
He stiffened in shock. “You are certain?”
“Yes.”
Bolt clenched his hands, his flames continuing to dance over his body. “We should warn Synge.”
“We’ve already tried to tell him th
at there is danger,” she told him. “My father refuses to believe that anyone would dare and try to attack him in his own lair. And if Magma learns we have discovered his plan he will either strike out and cause a war between clans, or he will find another way to hurt my father.” She held his dark gaze. “Or even you.”
Bolt was immediately offended by her warning. He bristled with male pride, puffing out his chest. “He does not frighten me.”
Blayze rolled her eyes. “Are all males the same?” she demanded.
He pretended he didn’t hear her. “How do you intend to learn which servant has the curse?”
“My hope is that I can sense the magic,” she said, grimacing as she realized it didn’t sound like a very good plan when she said it out loud.
Bolt, however, merely nodded. “And when you find him?”
She blinked. Why did people continue to ask such a stupid question?
“I’ll kill him, of course.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Levet paced from one end of the tiled floor to the other. Back and forth. Back and forth. His tail swished behind him and his wings were drooping.
It’d been over an hour since they’d entered Blayze’s private chamber. Vex continued to perch on the edge of the bed, her eyes closed while Tayla watched her with a growing impatience.
“What’s she doing?” Tayla at last burst out.
Levet halted his pacing to glance toward Vex. The succubus didn’t move, but he could feel the hum of her power. It didn’t have the erotic edge that most succubi used, but it still sent tiny tingles of pleasure through his body.
“She is searching for Blayze’s mental imprint,” he said, his gaze swiveling toward Tayla.
The imp folded her arms around her waist. Her pretty face was pale and tight with strain. Levet swallowed a sigh. He hated to see her so stressed-up. No wait…stressed out.
“Why is it taking so long?” Tayla demanded.
Vex abruptly lifted her lashes, her golden eyes dark with frustration.
“Because the dragon is either dead or in another dimension,” she announced in clipped tones.
“Dead?” Tayla gasped, pressing a hand to the center of her chest. “No. I refuse to believe that fate could be so cruel.”
Vex shrugged. Unlike Tayla and Levet, the succubus had nothing to lose if someone had managed to kill Blayze.
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