by Lori Devoti
He turned to grab the lantern, to look inside. The manacle attached to his wrist jerked. He twirled back. Amma’s body had moved. Her arm spasmed, and his arm, bound to hers by the manacles, was yanked again.
Her chest moved up and down with shallow breaths, but breaths all the same. Unable to fully lift the hand manacled to his wrist, she raised her other hand and rubbed her fingers across her eyes.
“Amma?” he prompted. “Are you in there?” Realizing his words were sharp, he took a breath and regained his normal tone. “Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered open, and there were her eyes, huge and cornflower-blue just as he’d remembered them. He stood lost for a second, unable to do anything except stare into their depths.
Her lips, full and soft, parted. “Dragon?” she murmured.
He leaned closer, until he could feel her breath puff lightly against his cheek. “Are you hungry…thirsty?” he asked. His voice was deeper than normal. He cleared his throat and tried to loosen the lump that seemed to be blocking his words.
“I…” Something flickered in her eyes, but Joarr barely took notice. He was too occupied inhaling her scent…inviting, like sun-warmed earth.
She shivered.
“Are you cold?” He reached with his free hand and felt her arm. It was cool to his touch.
She shook her head, then nodded. “A little. Will you help me?” She fluttered her fingers, telling him she needed his help to sit. Instantly, he slid his free arm behind her and propped her against his chest. Her face fell against his neck; her hair clung to his face. She was tiny, seemed fragile, in need of protection and care.
He liked her this way, almost forgot the hellion he’d hunted and lost. He bent his face to hers. She breathed against his lips. He captured the air that had just escaped her lungs and lowered his mouth to hers.
Her lips were soft. They showed no sign that her body had been without life for a hundred-plus years. He didn’t know what power had kept her so perfect, but as he cuddled her against his chest, as her tongue stroked his and fire began to build in his core, he blessed that power.
He ran his fingers up the curve of her neck, into her hair, and tilted her face more completely to his. His manacled hand twitched with the need to touch her more. Her hand lifted; he followed her movements, keeping the chain connecting them loose. He sensed she didn’t realize it was there. She would be angered when she did, and he didn’t want that, not now, not yet.
Her fingers spread over his chest. He covered her hand with his own and intensified the kiss. The heat inside him continued to build. He let it escape through his skin, warming her and revealing his desire. It was a dragon ritual. A female dragon, if she enjoyed the act and wanted more, would return the favor, sharing a portion of her fire in exchange—not a lot—just enough for the male to feel her excitement. Female dragons were much more guarded than males when sharing their fire. They rarely released total control. If they did, it meant something—to both dragons. Joarr had yet to experience such an exchange, but he was never stingy in sharing his own flame.
And even though Amma wasn’t a dragon, had no fire to share, he wanted her to feel his.
She murmured and moved closer. He tightened his arm behind her and engulfed her in warmth.
Her palm pressed flat against his chest, then she moved her free hand to his back and did the same there. He waited, inexplicably expecting her to do as he had done, share her heat… She was a witch, he reminded himself. She didn’t have the ability.
He felt a tug. Power…magic being pulled from his body.
He stiffened.
He shared and she took. He had offered his fire, but as an exchange. She wasn’t sharing. She wasn’t caught up in a moment of passion. She, the damned manipulative witch, was stealing. Again.
He forced himself not to react, visibly at least, but he cursed himself silently for forgetting who and what she was and what she’d done to him in the past.
She was pulling power from his body. It made sense: witches didn’t create power of their own; they stole it from other sources. And forandre—shape-shifters like dragons, hellhounds and garm—were magical beings. They emitted waves of energy when they shifted, but were always letting off some amount.
And no forandre was more magical than a dragon.
He could afford the magic and could understand that she would want to rebuild her reserves, but he also realized this was Amma—the witch who had tricked him once before. Innocent and feminine as she might appear, she was also deadly.
He tipped her face up to his. “I think that is just about enough.” Then he snapped down his shields.
Her eyes rounded, then narrowed.
He shook his head and made a tsking sound. “Didn’t know I could do that, did you? If you’re going to steal from someone, you really should study their defenses better.”
She shoved him away, sitting up and flinging her legs over the table’s side as she did. Her eyes flared. “What defenses? You left the cup lying about like a discarded rag. You practically gave it to me.” She paused; her gaze darted around the dark cavern. He could see her coming back to herself, stepping away from her annoyance and slipping into the role that had sucked him in before.
Her eyes rounded, back to innocence. But it was too late; he’d seen the truth. He’d felt it, too.
He ran his hand down his sleeve, smoothing the wrinkles that had formed. “You know I’m not referring to the cup, but to the magic you were so sweetly siphoning out of me. I realize having such power so near has to challenge your self-control, but really, if we are to make this arrangement work, you will need to learn to keep rein on yourself.” He angled his head and arched one brow, playing a role of his own—cocky and condescending.
It worked. Her eyes snapped with anger again. “Lucky for me I don’t see a need to make this work. I don’t see a need to be near you at all.” She lifted her palm; a burnished silver ball of power was cupped inside it.
They were only a foot or so apart. At such close range the sphere winging toward him would have killed any other being, but Joarr wasn’t any other being.
It really was time for Amma to realize that.
He shifted. The elfin magic inside the manacles allowed for a massive change in his size. Unfortunately in the small space he was only able to change in shape, not mass. Still, he knew the shift was impressive. In his dragon form he was more silver and dazzling than a thousand of the little toys she’d tossed at him, and he saw it on her face. He had only a second to enjoy her expression. But he had no doubt there would be more opportunities, had no doubt that Amma would challenge him again. And next time he wouldn’t be limited by the walls of his cavern. He looked forward to it.
The ball inches from his head, he opened his jaws and blew…ice this time. He loved having the choice, loved how it awed his victims, left them guessing what would come next.
The sphere hit the icy shield his breath had formed and shattered it into what looked like a million diamond-sharp shards.
Amma gasped and tried to run, but chained to Joarr, she fell instead, dangled half on, half off the table. Joarr flung out his wing, shielding her from the blast. Magic shot up and back, striking the ceiling and wall of the cavern. But the caverns were strong. They had been around long before the dragons discovered them. It would take more than one magical spitball to down them.
As the magic rained down around them, he glanced at the witch. She was lying on the floor, her chest moving up and down in gasping breaths. Her gaze was fixed on her wrist and the chain that connected her to the giant silver dragon.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Joarr asked, transferring the question into her mind. “Because, really, I was expecting more.”
She spit out a curse and spread the fingers on both hands. Energy sizzled between them, forming a powerful, dangerous web. Dangerous for most, that was, but again, not for Joarr, not in his dragon form and not while Amma’s body was so depleted of power. This was almost getting dull.<
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He shook his head and breathed again—aimed at the air over her head. Tiny bits of ice this time, barely visible to the naked eye, but just as sharp as the magic she aimed at him, pattered down on her. She flipped her hands, palms up over her head. The shards hit the magic and sizzled to nothing but steam.
She smiled at him, victory shining from her eyes.
He sighed and sat, waited for her to realize this time he’d done the outwitting.
Watching him from the corner of her eye, she scrambled to a stand. Her golden hair fell over her face. She flipped it over her shoulder with an impatient flick of her wrist. Then she faced him, one hand wrapped around the chain that connected them, the other held out toward him.
“Release me,” she ordered.
“I could,” he replied, but made no move to do so.
She rubbed her fingers together, seemed to be checking for something. Doubt flickered deep in her eyes, but she covered the emotion quickly. “Release me,” she repeated. “Or I will do it myself.”
He tilted his head. “Go ahead.”
Her fingers glowed…pure white light poured from their tips. With an arrogant glance in his direction, she wrapped her hand around the chain. The metal glowed as power poured from Amma into it. Her eyes closed; lines formed on her forehead.
Joarr flicked his tail through the dirt while he waited. He wished she would hurry. In his dragon form the room was confining. The entire thing was just uncomfortable.
Her brows pulled together. Joarr flicked his tail again.
It was obvious the task was draining her. Of course, that had been Joarr’s intention. He yawned, wondered how much longer it could possibly take for her to realize her folly.
As magic continued to leak into the metal, the links swelled, until they had doubled in size. Amma seemed unaware of their change, bending at the waist from their increased weight but not halting what she was doing. As the chain swelled more, she stumbled and fell onto the floor.
Joarr took a step forward. “Are you done?” Steam shot from his nostrils. Tired of the games, he didn’t wait for her response; he shifted back to his human form and clothing. Unlike less magical forandre, he was able to create clothing with his shifts. He dressed himself in his favorite color, white—suit pants and a crisp cotton shirt.
After smoothing a wrinkle, this one out of his pants, he bent and scooped the exhausted witch from the floor. She was looking frail and innocent again. His heart tightened, but he kept his voice terse. “You don’t think I wouldn’t consider you in my plans, do you? I do know you are a witch. Even fully recovered, your magic won’t break the cuffs or the chain that connects them. It will strengthen them actually. The elves built the manacles to work like a witch—magic directly applied to any part of them is absorbed. Ingenious idea, don’t you think?” He didn’t expect or wait for a response. He jostled her in his arms, so her head fell against his shoulder.
He continued talking as he carried her from the back room into the main part of his cavern. She didn’t reply and didn’t struggle, leaving him to wonder if she was even awake.
On reaching the main room, he got his answer. “How about you, dragon? Do you absorb power now, too?” she hissed. Her body was limp. She had managed to drain herself thoroughly. But her voice was strong and her cornflower eyes were hard, like cold jewels.
He released the arm that held her legs and let her body slide down his form, felt every inch of her as it pressed against him. She didn’t resist. She seemed to enjoy the slow trip down his body as much as he did. Her eyes glowing with challenge, she stared at him.
“It would take more than one little witch to fell me, no matter how fully charged her battery,” he murmured.
Amma’s gaze grew sharper. He could see she wanted to say something, rebuff his words, but she stopped herself.
“But, just in case you are thinking you can…remember these.” He held up his wrist, the one connected to hers. “Dragons convert to their dragon state when they die. If you plan to kill me, best work that into the equation, too. And what you saw back there—” he jerked his head toward the back room “—was not my full form, just a modified version. Trust me, you would not be making a quick getaway. In fact I doubt you’d get away at all.”
Her eyes shuttered off. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away, or tried to. Their connected state stopped her from completing either act entirely.
Tired of their standoff, Joarr bent forward and flung her over his shoulder. She elbowed him in the head.
His ears rang from the blow, but he kept walking. “I’m taking us to the portal. Once there you can tell me what else you remember. As long as you keep your word, I’ll keep mine. We will be free of each other in no time.”
Chapter 5
The trip to the portal was uncomfortable. The dragon insisted on making the journey in his human form despite Amma’s efforts to convince him flying would be more efficient. If he had shifted, magic would have leaked out of him like water through a sieve. Amma suspected that would be the best time to pull his power. She had messed up before by trying to pull the energy she needed while he was standing still and easily able to sense what she was doing. Of course, she had thought he was occupied with more base things—enough heat had been pouring out of him. She knew he was attracted to her. She had thought that attraction would be enough to distract him. But it hadn’t been, or perhaps he’d been playing her all along, pretending attraction to get her to show her hand.
The last thought was annoying. He was annoying…and appealing. She ran her fingers over her lips. She had been tempted by his kiss, tempted to wait before stealing his power. It had been so long since she had been able to feel anything, then to be thrown into the depths of sensation the dragon offered…
It was like resisting a promise from the gods.
But hard as it had been, she had resisted.
And then he had shocked her by somehow shutting off her attempts to drain his magic. A skill she hadn’t realized dragons had, but now that she did, she would be smarter and not let any opportunity slip by. If only she had been thinking when he had shifted in the cavern.
He might be able to stop her from pulling power when he was steady in one form, but while he was shifting? Too much magic was released then. There was no way he could keep her from gathering energy.
So, while her goal was to escape him altogether, until then she had to get him to shift as frequently as possible, and she would soak up the resulting magic like a sponge, silent and unobtrusive. She would stay that way until she was so full of energy her hair sizzled with it.
He had no idea who she was or what she was capable of.
He also had no idea what was at stake for her.
She placed a hand on her abdomen. The dragon couldn’t learn her secret. Couldn’t learn she’d found a way to get the family she craved…and how he had helped.
The bar was located about ten miles from the dragon stronghold. They had ridden a motorcycle down the steep mountain, the engine roaring in Amma’s ears and Joarr somehow steering with one hand. The entire thing had been both unsettling and exhilarating—a bit like the dragon himself.
Joarr parked the machine in the bar’s huge gravel lot. The squat building of white stone looked out of place here—as if it had been plopped down from the sky. It was little more than a way station. Most in- between places the size of the dragons’ home didn’t warrant a portal this size, but no other in-between place was home to all of the nine worlds’ male dragons. And although dragons didn’t need portals—in their dragon forms they could fly anywhere they liked—they used them. Flying meant arriving in their dragon form, taking away any element of surprise.
