Dragon's Rogue (Wild Dragons Book 1)

by Anastasia Wilde

  His anger turned to rage. “Use you? I saved you last night. I took care of you! I fed you and comforted you and held you in the night—”

  “I didn’t say you could do that! You can’t keep me here!”

  “I can!” His dragon’s voice thundered through him. An old, buried Draken instinct rose up in him. “I will keep you in my lair until you give me the respect due me as your mate!”

  She backed up, fury snapping in her eyes. “I’m not your mate!”

  “You are!”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders, his mouth coming down on hers in a punishing kiss. She pushed him away with her hands and her magic. He stumbled back two steps, and they stared at each other, shocked.

  She’d bitten his lip; Zane could taste blood in his mouth.

  Hurt fury rose up inside him. He would force her to do his bidding. He growled, and wisps of gray, foul-tasting smoke came from his mouth.

  Zane reached for her, but she cast a spell at him, the stasis spell she’d used on Thorne. He shoved it away, advancing on her once more.

  She tried to cast another spell, eyes glittering with anger. A deep voice emanated from her mouth. “You dare to defy me, Draken?”

  She swayed on her feet, and her knees buckled. Zane lunged forward and caught her before her head hit the edge of the table.

  What the hell was he doing? He’d threatened Blaze. But the urge to lock her in his lair still raged in him.

  She was limp in his hands now, but her skin was hot, as if she were burning up with fever. Gray fog drifted out of her nose and mouth.

  Shock washed over Zane like a bucket of icy water, clearing his head.

  The idol. Somehow, the idol had gotten a grip on Blaze.

  And on him. He could still feel the irrational anger eating him away inside, the sense of injustice and entitlement.

  Thorne! He cried out in his mind, hoping his brother had come back to the lair and was thinking clearly again. Thorne! Tyr! I need your help. Now!

  Chapter 34

  Zane waited for his brothers, pacing back and forth near the door, running Blaze’s necklace through his hands over and over.

  He’d put her on the bed, but he didn’t trust himself to get near her. He could still feel the idol’s evil influence trying to take him over; he could feel his dragon’s darkest instincts fighting to be set free.

  She was still unconscious, but moaning softly as if she were in pain.

  Every cell in Zane’s body wanted to go over there, but he couldn’t trust himself.

  It seemed like an eternity before he heard his brothers’ hurried footsteps in the hallway, felt their presence.

  Don’t let them near our mate! his dragon warned.

  Ruthlessly, he beat back the idol’s influence. She’s sick. They have to heal her.

  He’d described the situation to Thorne as best he could. Healing wasn’t one of his major talents; Tyr had made a study of it, though, and Thorne had more of the Drakens’ natural healing abilities than either Tyr or Zane.

  Between them, he prayed they could cleanse the darkness out of Blaze before it got a good hold.

  He remembered the shadows that had sprung from them as they fought the idol last night, connecting them with it. It seemed that brief contact had given it a foothold inside them.

  Zane wanted to vomit, as if that would get the darkness out of him.

  Thorne and Tyr burst into the room, Tyr carrying a box of magical supplies.

  He immediately began setting up a spell circle, lighting white candles and incense made of cleansing herbs.

  “Check on Blaze,” Zane said. “She’s—she’s hurting.”

  The thought of her in pain made him physically sick. That and the knowledge that he’d practically attacked her. He could still feel his lip throbbing, taste the trickle of blood where she’d bitten him.

  Thorne sat on the bed next to Blaze, putting one hand on her forehead, the other on her chest. Zane clenched his teeth, a strangled growl coming from his throat at the sight of another dragon with his hands on Zane’s mate.

  Thorne was quiet for a moment, frowning in concentration. “I can feel the influence,” he said. “It’s trying its damnedest to take her over, and it’s strong. It’s going to take all three of us to get it out of her.”

  “Well, let’s do it,” Zane said. “What are we waiting for?”

  “We have to get it out of you first,” Thorne pointed out. “Or her darkness will feed off you and make things worse.”

  “Then do it without me!” Zane said. “Look at her! It’s killing her. She’s burning up.”

  Thorne said, “She’s okay for the moment. She’s got some kind of magical protection that’s fighting it hard. Maybe your necklace. That gives her some protection—” He broke off as he pulled the lapel of Blaze’s robe aside. “Where’s the necklace?”

  “Here. She took it off. I don’t know why she took it off.” That still hurt, even though he knew she hadn’t been in her right mind.

  “The idol’s influence, probably,” Thorne said. He held out his hand, and Zane tossed the necklace to him. As soon as Thorne put it around Blaze’s neck, Zane felt something inside him ease. The gold in the room sounded a faint harmonic, and Blaze’s whimpering stopped.

  “Ready now,” Tyr said. Zane went to step inside the circle, but Tyr put up his hand. “Thorne first,” he said.

  “What?” Thorne said. “I didn’t connect with the damn thing.”

  “You were holding it when it activated, though,” Tyr said. “Last night, before we put it in the spell cage. And you started to get wacky right afterward. I wondered why you got treasure fever over something that wasn’t even in your hoard. And you wouldn’t let me heal you after what happened this afternoon, either.”

  Now Zane realized that Thorne wore bandages under his shirt, both in the front where he’d been hit by Tempest’s magic bullet, and in the back where Tyr had clawed him.

  Thorne looked startled, but stepped into the spell circle. Tyr ran his hands slowly through the air about an inch from Thorne’s body, scanning him. He stopped at a spot just below his heart.

  “That’s what I thought. Here. Drink this.” He handed a small potion vial to Thorne, and he tossed it back like a shot of whiskey.

  “Ugh.” Thorne made a face. “Put a little peppermint or something in it next time, would you?”

  “Don’t be a fucking baby,” Tyr muttered. “Now, hold this.” He tossed a rough lump of gold at Thorne, about the size of his fist. Zane knew it was a part of Thorne’s hoard, one of his first pieces, and so one of the most precious and most attuned to him.

  Tyr held a narrow dark crystal cylinder about as long as his hand. It was a harmony stone—a crystal that could be tuned to match the harmonics of a dragon’s hoard, focusing its power to help heal him. Tyr flicked his finger against it, making it vibrate, tuning it to the gold Thorne held.

  Then he picked up a large clear quartz crystal in his other hand. “Here goes. Brace yourself. And no whining.”

  He positioned the point of the clear crystal over the spot he’d identified near Thorne’s heart, and began to chant in ancient Draken. Slowly, Thorne’s gold began to sing, the harmony stone intensifying the song. The crystal glowed with a bright light. When it was almost too bright to look at, it shot a beam of light into Thorne’s chest. He gave a strangled cry as darkness was sucked out of him and into the crystal, dimming its light.

  The crystal’s glow faded and Thorne was left in the middle of the circle, sweating and panting. “Fuck it all, Tyr, you have all the finesse of a construction worker with a jackhammer.”

  “You’re welcome,” Tyr said. He rubbed the crystal with a white cloth specially anointed with magical oils. The darkness seeped out of the crystal and into the cloth. Tyr put the cloth carefully in a rune-stitched bag to be burned later.

  “Next,” he said, looking at Zane. He gave him a vial of potion.

  With one more agonized look at Blaze, Zane stepped into t
he spell circle, downing the potion in one gulp. Thorne was right; it tasted vile.

  Tyr was circling the room, tuning his stone to Zane’s gold. As it all resonated in harmony, Zane felt a slight easing in his chest, and he heard Blaze give out a small sigh.

  His heart clutched with worry. “Let’s get this over with so we can help her,” he ground out.

  It was worse than he’d expected, and it took both his brothers. Thorne held the harmony stone, keeping the frequency tuned properly and directing the power of Zane’s gold.

  When Tyr turned the crystal on him, he felt like it was gouging out his internal organs one by one. Everything went dark around him, and all he could feel was ripping pain. If it weren’t for the pieces of his hoard supporting him with their song, he would have screamed in agony.

  He gritted his teeth, but he could still hear himself emitting strangled noises. It seemed to go on forever. Finally the pain ended and he was on his knees in the middle of the circle, soaked with sweat and panting like he’d flown for miles at top speed.

  Tyr was wiping the crystal with a cloth that was quickly turning black. Zane shuddered, thinking that had been inside him, growing, eating away at his soul.

  Blaze gave another moan. Zane got unsteadily to his feet, but Thorne was already at the bed. She was curled on her side, clutching her stomach.

  Thorne had his hand on her forehead. “Damn. Her fever’s rising,” he said.

  Tyr joined them, scanning Blaze magically. “There’s definitely something wrong here. It’s like a magical immune reaction. Maybe the necklace—”

  He broke off as the smell of burnt cloth filled the air, and then the back of Blaze’s robe began to smoke. A hole burned through the robe over the small of her back. Zane suddenly remembered her tattoo, the way it had felt hot after they made love this afternoon.

  Now the damn thing was about to set her robe on fire. As the fabric smoldered and disintegrated, light glowed from the tattoo, and he could see it was a circle with a dragonfly inside.

  “What the hell is that?” Thorne asked.

  “Fucking hell,” Tyr breathed. “I think it’s the Seal.”

  Chapter 35

  Zane felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

  Thorne stared at Tyr. “It’s fused into her?” he said. “How could she not have known that?”

  “We were looking for an object,” Zane said. “We didn’t know it could take the form of a tattoo. Why the hell should she?”

  Tyr said, “I did wonder how she resisted the lure of the idol for so long, when no one else in her coven could. This would explain it.”

  “Then why isn’t it working now?” Thorne demanded. “If it’s the Seal…”

  “It’s designed to keep the tomb locked,” Tyr said. “Not to fight the influence of pissed-off sorcerers. The protection aspect is probably more of a side effect of the—”

  “This isn’t the time for a lecture on magical side effects,” Zane snapped. “We have to scrub the idol’s influence out of her before it’s too late.”

  He carried Blaze to the circle and laid her gently inside, while Tyr tuned the harmony stone to her necklace.

  “Her connection with Zane’s hoard seemed to help before,” he said in answer to Thorne’s questioning look. “It can’t hurt.”

  He had Zane sit in the center of the circle with Blaze, supporting her against his chest, while Thorne kept the stone tuned and Tyr removed the dark magic.

  Zane held Blaze while she convulsed in his arms, screaming as the pain ripped through her. He closed his eyes and held on, whispering comforting words that he didn’t know if she could hear.

  It was worse than going through it himself.

  Finally Tyr stopped. Blaze, soaked with sweat, curled up half-conscious in Zane’s arms, clutching weakly at him and whimpering softly.

  “Is it gone?” he asked.

  Tyr was still wiping the darkness from the crystal—he was on his second cloth. The first was completely black. “I hope so,” he said, looking troubled. “I got out all I could, but I’m not completely sure there isn’t a little seed of it still in there.”

  “Why?” Zane demanded. “You got it out of us, didn’t you?”

  Tyr sighed. His face was grayish and his eyes shadowed. Zane felt a twinge of guilt—Tyr had exhausted himself healing them. But this was Blaze. Nothing could happen to Blaze.

  “We have a natural immunity to magic,” Tyr said. “She doesn’t. And she was weak from expending all her magic fighting the coven, so it got a good hold. But the Seal is still helping to protect her, and we’ll keep an eye on her.” He touched Zane’s shoulder briefly. “She’ll be okay.”

  “We have to get the Seal out of her,” Thorne said. “It has to go in the tomb.”

  Zane turned on him with a growl. “Did you not hear what Tyr just said? If there’s any more of that dark magic in her, the Seal is the only thing protecting her.”

  “Do we have to do this now?” Tyr said. “She’s passed out, and she’s going to be weak for a couple of days. She doesn’t have the strength to do anything with the Seal for the moment.”

  “Well, we can try to get it out ourselves—” Thorne began.

  Zane snarled at him.

  “Freely given,” Tyr reminded him wearily. “Whatever’s going to happen with the Seal, she’s the one who has to do it. We’ll just have to hope Vyrkos doesn’t wake up before she does.”

  Zane carried Blaze carefully to the bed and laid her in it. He banished the burned robe and replaced it with the softest, most comfortable cotton pajamas he could conjure.

  Then he tucked her in, stroking her hair back from her forehead. He touched the necklace, and it began to sing quietly—a soft lullaby.

  Zane looked up at Thorne, his hand still on Blaze’s head. “Where’s that fucking idol?” he growled.

  Thorne looked wary. “In the vault, still in the spell cage,” he said. “Don’t fuck with it, Zane. If you wake it up again and piss it off, it could bring the tomb down. And we don’t have the Seals yet.” He looked meaningfully at Blaze.

  Zane rose to his feet and stood before his brother. “Swear to me, on your honor as a Draken, that you won’t touch her or the Seal while I’m away from her.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Swear!” He could feel his eyes going dragon.

  Thorne gazed at him for a long moment, his arms folded across his chest. Finally he looked away and sighed. “I swear.” Zane waited. “On my honor as a Draken.” He looked Zane in the eye again, and Zane saw truth there.

  Zane nodded. “Take care of her,” he said.

  He strode down the hall and took the elevator to the lower level, rage and guilt warring in his heart. That damned idol—and the fucking wizard inside it—had almost made him hurt Blaze. He’d lost her trust. She didn’t love him, and she’d never want to be his mate now.

  And he’d let it happen. He should have realized what was going on. He was supposed to protect her, keep her safe, and he’d let her be infected with evil. Then he’d gone and fanned the flames.

  He hated himself. He was unworthy—too wrapped up in himself to protect the people he loved. He’d failed her, just as he’d failed his family.

  At least she was still alive, and he’d get a second chance. A chance to protect her, at least.

  The sound of his boot heels echoed off the walls as he walked down the stone hallway to the vault. It was where they kept any dangerous magical items they came across—getting them out of the hands of humans and keeping them locked away where they couldn’t do any harm.

  He put his palm on a sensor pad in the reinforced stone wall and the door grated open. It was dark inside, lit only by the glow from the spell cage resting on the table in the middle of the floor.

  Ignoring the other items on the shelves, he stood in front of the cage and looked down, hatred in his heart.

  “You fucked with the wrong dragon’s mate, Corwyn,” he said.

  The idol’s e
yes were still closed, as if in sleep. He didn’t know if the sorcerer could hear him; he probably couldn’t. But if he could, Zane wanted him to know that hell was going to rain down on him for harming Blaze.

  “I’m going to find a way to get you out of that idol, and I’m going to annihilate you and send your spirit to whatever wizard’s hell you belong in. And that’s a fucking promise.”

  The idol didn’t respond, simply remained still with its eyes closed.

  “And in the meantime, you keep your goddamned claws out of me, my mate, and my brothers. Or I will put you through such pain, you’ll wish you’d died for good a thousand years ago.”

  He stared at the idol for another minute, and then he turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the vault door behind him.

  Inside the vault, the light around the spell cage dimmed. The idol’s eyes opened, glowing red in the darkness.

  Corwyn said, “He is arrogant, Master. He dares to threaten us. He dares to threaten you.”

  “He knows nothing,” said Vyrkos’ deep, rumbling voice in return. “He sees what we wish him to see. He is no Draken, just a weak and watered-down mixed-breed, tainted with the blood of humans and bear-shifters. He will help us unwittingly, and in the despair that follows I will bend him to my will. He will die in agony, and his filthy human mate with him.”

  The idol’s eyes grew brighter, fixing on the small door in the front of the cage. The light was dimmest there. Underneath the illusion he had cast for the foolish half-breed, the bars of the cage were disintegrating.

  “Just a little longer,” Vyrkos said, focusing his power at the cage, chipping away at its defenses. “Then we will have our freedom.”

  And our revenge, thought Corwyn. He had even more incentive now to escape. Not only did he finally have a coven at his beck and call—he’d learned something else.

  Maia’s spirit was still alive—and now he knew where it was.

  Chapter 36

  Blaze woke up to her cat Bucephalus standing on her chest, kneading her boobs and meowing. “It’s not time to get up yet,” she muttered, trying to bury her head in her pillow. “Go eat a mouse or something.”