by Meara Platt
Anabelle tried to step between them, but there was a wild, angry look about Saron, the look of a man capable of murder, that stopped her in her tracks. “Saron, he isn’t worth killing.”
“Keep out of this, Anabelle,” he said softly. “No judge or jury will ever convict me.”
“I know. But you mustn’t. Please.”
“He doesn’t deserve your mercy.” However, he lowered his hands. He didn’t back away though. Instead, he placed his booted foot on Craddock’s neck, stopping the scoundrel when he tried to roll to his knees. “Craddock,” he said, pressing the heel against his throat and showing no pity, “you owe my wife an apology.”
Anabelle tugged at Saron’s arm. It was like gripping rock. His muscles were as tense as bands of steel. “He won’t be able to speak while you’re crushing his windpipe.”
“He can nod or shake his head. Where’s Lord Bloodaxe?”
Anabelle sighed. “He can’t answer yes or no to that question. Do let him up. He’s starting to cry.”
But Saron slowly increased the pressure to the point that Craddock’s frantic gurgles were silenced. “Mark me well, you miserable cur. Tell Brihann that if he ever comes after Anabelle again, I’ll kill him slowly, painfully, break every bone in his twisted, demonic body with my bare hands. Relay that message to all the Dragon Lords as well. I’ll destroy any one of them who dares set a hand on Anabelle. Do you understand?”
Craddock nodded.
“Get up, you pathetic excuse for a man. If I ever see your face again, I’ll kill you on the spot.”
His eyes wide with fear, Craddock croaked a heartfelt, but almost unintelligible plea for forgiveness.
Saron lifted his booted foot off Craddock’s throat. “Get him out of my sight.”
Asbury and Reston hauled him away, momentarily leaving Anabelle alone in the hall with Saron. Her body still shook from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Saron drew her close. She felt his hand tremble against her shoulder as he fingered the ripped seam. “Your sleeve is torn beyond repair.”
“It isn’t important. I’ll spend an outrageous amount of your blunt on a new gown. Will that make you feel better?”
He emitted a gruff laugh. “You scared me, little one. Do you realize how hard it is to scare a dragon?”
“But you made it back in time to rescue me.”
He laughed again. “You mean, arrived in time to pick up the pieces. You rescued yourself. In truth, I’m vastly relieved and impressed. How could a little thing like you best three assailants?”
She bent to pick up the silver candlestick that was on the floor. “This was a most useful weapon. What took you away from Lord Atwell’s ball in the first place? Was it a ruse to separate us? I still have the note you supposedly sent me.”
He stopped her before she could withdraw it from the ribbon of her gown. “Not now, we’d best speak at home. Give me a moment to finish up with Asbury and Reston.”
She rested her head against his shoulder and shut her eyes as he issued quiet commands to his companions when they soon returned. “He’s in the custody of the royal guards,” Asbury took pains to assure her. Now that her eyes were shut, her other senses took over. She coughed upon accidentally inhaling some of the foul, thick air that permeated their surroundings. The stench was that of demon blood and slime.
She turned away and began to rub her hands up and down her arms. Her skin was hot and felt uncomfortable. The moment they returned home, she would scrub herself thoroughly with a bar of lavender soap to wash away the unpleasant odors that were clinging to her and her gown.
She opened her eyes when Saron nudged her chin upward. “I almost lost you,” he said with an anguished groan.
“But you didn’t.” In truth, she was proud of the way she’d defended herself. So was he, although he’d never admit it to her.
“I’m giving you a knife.” He kissed her on the lips. “And teaching you how to use it.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “When do the lessons begin? Tonight?”
His dragon eyes were fiery embers as he said, “No, I have other plans for you this evening.”
*
Within the hour, Saron had Anabelle safely back home and seated on a stool in the kitchen while he treated her injuries. Her face was tipped upward, her doe eyes soft and gleaming as she watched him tend to her swollen cheek. He was raw with ache about what Craddock and those demons might have done to her if she hadn’t fought them off, and relieved as hell that she’d managed it.
“Saron, what are you rubbing on my cheek?”
“Whiskey to cleanse the scratches, nothing more.” He sighed when she opened her mouth to ask another question. “Be quiet, little one. You look like a drunken sailor after a rowdy bar brawl.” He ruined the effect of the admonition by pouring his longing and relief into the kiss he planted on her lips, for the dragon part of him had yet to calm down from this latest incident.
After ending the long kiss, he drew back and returned to the task of cleansing the cuts on her cheek and arms. “Ow! That stings.”
“Hold still. Warriors don’t whine.” He rubbed a little more gently.
“Ow!” But she smiled at him. “You think I’m a warrior? I rather like that. However, would you mind if this warrior indulged in a lavender-scented bath? I’m stiff and aching and feeling soiled.”
He needed a bath as well. His evening clothes were stained with sweat and spattered with blood from the demons he and Reston had encountered after they’d been summoned from Lord Atwell’s by a fake alert about Prinny. Seems someone had purposely drawn him away from Anabelle and left behind several accomplices to make certain she’d be left on her own. The fight she’d described was no doubt staged and the note she’d received had been forged.
He ordered a tub brought upstairs to her quarters, and once he was assured that his staff would assist Anabelle, he retired to the privacy of his own quarters. He removed his clothes and handed them to his valet, then dismissed him for the evening.
Tonight, he meant to take Anabelle in his arms the moment they climbed into bed and hold her close throughout the night. Eager to return to her side, he poured water into the basin on his night stand and quickly washed the grime out of his hair and off his body. He dried himself and then donned his robe. Anabelle had given him the note during their carriage ride home and he took a moment to carefully examine it. A good forgery, but still obvious.
He set it aside, already knowing who’d done it, and walked to the door between his quarters and Anabelle’s. He knocked softly. “Anabelle, are you decent?”
She laughed as she opened the door, her eyes aglow and her hair tumbling down around her shoulders and over her breasts. With the help of her maids, she’d removed her gown and underclothes and was now wearing a pale silk robe that hid little of her slender figure. “I haven’t bathed yet, but do come in.”
He entered her room and saw that her tub had just been filled. He dismissed her maids and they hurried off giggling. Anabelle looked at him in expectation. “They just filled the tub. Water’s still warm. Care to join me?”
Her seductive offer was stirring his dragon lust, but when did she not stir him? “No, but I’ll assist you.”
“Ah, a man of many talents. Protector, doctor, and now, my maidservant. You’re quite a bit brawnier than Sally,” she said, referring to her cheerful maid. “Will you promise to be gentle while you…assist me?” Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him. “I think I’ll enjoy being attended to by you.”
He took her into his arms and kissed her once more with a desperation he couldn’t restrain. “You might have been killed tonight, little one.”
“But I wasn’t.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “You could be next time. Don’t make light of it.”
“I’m not. I’m sorry if you think I was.” She placed her hand on his chest. Her fingers were cold upon his skin and her hand trembled. “In truth, I’m badly shaken. So are you, I expect.”
He grunted.
“Is that a yes?”
He didn’t answer.
She sighed. “I wasn’t afraid of Craddock. Did you see his face when you first came upon him? I gave him two black eyes. I think I broke his nose.”
She was so proud of herself, he couldn’t help but grin. “You’re dangerous with a candlestick. I’ll have to remember that.”
Her eyes rounded in alarm. “I’d never strike you.”
“I know.” He shook his head, so many conflicting feelings roiling in his gut. Pride, worry, relief were only a few. “You think you are ten feet tall and invincible, but you’re just a little thing.”
“So was David, but he managed to slay Goliath.” She slipped off her robe, the sight of her naked body causing his heart to shoot into his throat. Apparently unaware of the riot of reactions she was causing, she sank into the tub with a soft “ah” and reached over its lip to take the lavender soap in her hands.
“Craddock, that piece of human refuse, is hardly Goliath.” He took the soap from her and began to rub the scented bar across her back, lifting her hair aside while his soaped palm glided over her soft skin. She had a beautiful body, one he would never tire of exploring.
She twisted her wild mass of red-gold hair and pinned it up to give him better access to her neck. “Will you teach me how to defend myself?”
He lathered soap over her neck and then her slender arms that had no muscles to speak of. “You can’t defend yourself against the Dragon Lords.”
“But they must have weaknesses. You’ve been able to best them and keep them contained.”
He wasn’t going to turn her into a demon hunter. “I’m a dragon. You’re not.” The scent of lavender filled his nostrils. He helped her wash her hair, then rinsed her off and lifted her wet body out of the tub and up against him, for he was aroused and not in control, and needed to feel her against him as though to make certain she was unharmed and alive. She looked exquisite by candlelight, her doe eyes glistening and her smile seductive.
He took hardly a moment to dry her off before scooping her back in his arms and carrying her to bed. They’d sleep in her chamber tonight, assuming they slept at all.
“Wait,” she said as he settled over her, longing to feel her legs wrap around him and hear her breathy moans as he entered her. “Who wrote the note? Craddock must have had accomplices.”
His laughter mingled with his groans as he eased back and simply held her in his arms so that her soft curves molded to his hard planes. She wanted to talk. He’d indulge her tonight, for he was still aching over what might have been had she not fought off her assailants. “Reston and Asbury will take care of them. We have a good idea who they are.”
He bent to kiss her, but the pressure of his lips on hers did little to still her questions, which came out muffled as his mouth pressed to hers. “Who? And how can you be certain? Aren’t Reston and Asbury also suspects?”
He rolled to his side once more and sighed, knowing he had to keep his dragon lust restrained a little while longer. “They’ve been cleared. We now know who is working for Brihann.”
She sat up, her eyes rounding in surprise. “You do?”
He drew her back down beside him and wrapped her in his arms once more. “You gave me the clue. Bellingham. You said he made such a show of letting us all think he was leaving town. So I had him followed.”
Anabelle gasped. “And he stayed right here.”
“That’s right.” He loved the soft way she looked at him. “Are we done talking? Or is this to go on all night?”
“For a little while longer,” she said, grinning at him. “What of the Atwells? Those demons could not have gotten into their home unless invited in.” She nestled against him, resting her head against his heart. “I hate to think they were in league with Bellingham. I liked Lady Atwell very much. They seemed genuinely fond of each other. How could their thoughts turn to evil?”
Saron knew what he was about to tell Anabelle would disappoint her greatly, for she was a gentle soul and wished to find the good in everyone. “It takes wealth to entertain in Society. I don’t think the pair started out evil, but the lure of untold riches at their disposal was too much for them to resist. Lord Atwell was desperate to impress his young wife and deprive her of nothing for fear of losing her affections. Lady Atwell, having come from poverty, was desperate to be accepted among the elite and show them up. I think one needn’t be evil to be corrupted, just greedy or envious.”
“I’m so sorry for them.” He felt her soft body shiver against the hard length of him. He drew her legs between his to warm them and tried to remain calm even though his dragon lust for this girl would not stay quiet. “Saron, you lived among the Dragon Lords and know them better than anyone else does. What are their weaknesses? Please don’t say they haven’t any. Everyone has a vulnerability.”
He dreaded having this discussion, but tonight had shown the need for Anabelle to protect herself whenever he was not around. She’d amazed him this evening, for it could have ended in disaster. He doubted any other newly married couple ever had such conversations, but there was something wonderful about stretching out beside her in the quiet of the night and unburdening himself of all he’d held inside for years.
He would have rather unburdened his soul after they’d made love and she had wrung him dry. But right now, he was no better than Lord Atwell. He needed to indulge Anabelle, wanted to indulge her and deprive her of nothing. “Necros is the weakest of the Dragon Lords,” he said, caressing her hair and refusing to think about how many nights they would share like this before she was taken from him.
He didn’t care that he might be the one taken and killed. It was in the nature of his work and he accepted the dangers. He was no innocent either, for he’d killed in the heat of battle and meant to kill Bloodaxe and the other Dragon Lords if he ever got his hands on them. “Ever since Queen Melody cut off the tip of his tail, he’s had trouble maintaining his balance when flying. But what use is this information? You can’t fly and haven’t the power to do anything about it.”
“I know.” She ran her fingers casually across his chest. “Tell me more. It feels important that I have this knowledge.”
She’d saved herself this evening, a miracle as far as he was concerned, so who was he to deny her request? “I mentioned that Mordain, the red dragon, is the son of Lucifer. He has remained neutral throughout the battles, but there is no telling if or when he’ll take his place beside Brihann. He has no physical weakness that I can tell. Oddly, he hates Brihann. I don’t know the reason why. Perhaps because Brihann was once Lucifer’s favorite and Mordain didn’t like competition for his father’s affections.”
Anabelle groaned. “You cannot believe that these Underworld demons are afflicted with the same human foibles we all bear? Are you suggesting that Mordain is jealous of Brihann because Mordain’s father liked him best?”
Saron tweaked her nose. “It is possible. They weren’t always the soulless creatures they are now. In truth, I think Mordain has held on to a remnant of his soul. No matter. Whatever happened between them was long before my time.”
“Tell me about Brihann. He’s uncle to King Cadeyrn of the Fae.”
“A twisted creature, one filled with envy and greed and rage even in his early years as a Fae prince. But he wished to be king of the Fae, so he murdered his own brother and spent a Fae lifetime trying to kill Cadeyrn, the rightful heir to the throne. He’s hunted Cadeyrn from the moment he was born. All his efforts have been to no avail, thankfully.”
“The Fae prophecy written on the Stone of Draloch must have acted as a talisman to protect him from his evil uncle.”
Saron nodded.
“As you dearly hope it will protect me.”
He tensed, not quite trusting the pull it had on Anabelle or its intentions toward her. “No, you’re my wife. My responsibility to protect. In truth, I don’t care for the influence it holds over you. There are no words of salvation for the D
raloch dukes written on this stone. I no longer am certain who it serves or its purpose in manipulating us.”
She must have sensed his rising anger, for she sought to placate him. Of course, she was hungry for knowledge of the ancient stone and its power, and of the ancient beings who walked the earth unseen beside them. “I’ll keep that in mind. Tell me more about Brihann.”
“He never gave up on his desire to be king of the Fae, no matter that he was the younger brother. In the last major battle between Fae and demon, Brihann captured Cadeyrn’s wife and imprisoned her in the Underworld. During their encounter, Brihann was wounded. An old wound that was reopened and now festers. Right here.” He pointed to his chest at a spot beside his heart. “This is his weakness.”
She frowned in thought. “The Stone of Draloch protected Cadeyrn and saved the Fae kingdoms from Brihann’s monstrous rule. Yet you still don’t believe in its guidance when it comes to you and Bloodaxe.”
The comment deserved no response, for he would never reconcile with a brother who’d killed Gideon. Nor did Bloodaxe ever protect him all those years ago when he was a child subjected to his daily beatings in the Underworld. “Python is an old elf whose magic is ancient and dark. He takes potions every day to survive. Hide his draughts and elixirs and he will die.”
He paused a moment and swallowed hard, even now finding it difficult to speak about the Dragon Lord he’d saved for last, Bloodaxe.
But Anabelle surprised him by putting a finger to his lips. “My love, you’ve told me enough. I don’t need to know about Bloodaxe. I know his weakness.”
Saron arched an eyebrow in confusion.
Anabelle sighed. “You’re his weakness. He’ll never allow Brihann to hurt you…the brother he loves.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Bloodaxe and I have been mortal enemies since childhood,” Saron said, too agitated to lie still. He rolled to his feet and stared down at Anabelle as she drew the sheet around her body and scrambled to sit up. “Never believe that there is any brotherly love between us.”
