To Catch a Prince (Age of Gold Book 2)

by May Sage

  Coaxing her lips open, he took her mouth deep, long, languorously, as his hands explored her endless perfect curves.

  She moaned. He lost it.

  Fuck.

  He lifted her up and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. Through too many layers of clothes, he felt her heat for him. Her gaze was clouded with raw unapologetic need. She ground against his hardening length, and somehow he stayed upright, although every one of his muscles was tightening so damn painfully. Vincent couldn’t get enough of her. He might even have taken her right there, in front of his parents’ apartment, if he hadn’t wanted more. So much more. His head dipped to her throat and he sucked on her sensitive skin as she begged, chanting “please, please,” like a mantra.

  Insanity. This was insanity. No other word for it.

  “You need to come, sweet thing.” She blushed so hard. Adorable. “You need to come so bad you’d let me take you here, within hearing range of my parents, in a corridor where anyone could walk by.” She looked right and left and blushed some more. “Bad, bad witch. Let it be known that I’ll always give you what you need.”

  He moved the fabric out of the way, pulling the silk up, and opened his own trousers. She gasped. “We can’t…”

  He’d pegged her right. An innocent little thing he was going to love corrupting. “And we won’t. Not yet. Not now,” he said, as the length of his dick rested against the drenched fabric of her panties. Vincent pushed it aside, and then they were heat to heat, flesh to flesh. He ground up, thrusting between her pussy lips. She bit his jacket to stop herself from crying out as he carried on. Grinding, grinding, grinding some more. Her hips moved with him and they both started panting hard as they dry-humped each other. He moved harder, taking care to hit her clit each time.

  If anyone saw them now, they’d assume they were actually fucking each other’s brains out. They wouldn’t be completely wrong. He smirked, and his dragon growled its approval, trying to coax him into taking more, to penetrate her maddening heat.

  Did she know how close he was to giving in?

  Her body shuddered and a thick liquid coated his cock. His nostrils flared, taking in her delicious scent. His own release followed. Damn, how long had it been since he’d come in minutes? Not since he’d been a youth, centuries ago, but her scent, the feel of her, her voice - it had all been too much.

  “I…” she started and gave up on words after that.

  His forehead dropped to hers and he closed his eyes.

  “Yeah, me, too,” was all he said, because it somehow summed up how fucked, confused, and unhinged he felt.

  17

  The Danger

  Talia had liked keeping to her handsome room for a few hours of peace by herself the previous day. Now she hated it. Abhorred it. Instead of enjoying the incredibly rich library at her disposal here, or simply, quietly, thinking of the new world she’d just entered - a world she loved - she stared at the ceiling, playing that kiss, and everything else Vincent had done to her, over and over in her mind. Her legs were crossed tight, her core, boiling, her breasts, heavy, needy.

  She knew of this. She knew of lust. She’d read about it. Never had she believed it to be such a heady, unyielding, powerful spell she couldn’t break free of. The way he’d felt there. So thick and hot and big. She bit her lip and blushed. Part of her wanted to stop thinking of it at all. Another part of her…

  He’s not far, somewhere close, in the family wing. Just a little locator spell and you could join him…

  Her Shadow was the worst influence, ever.

  But why not, indeed? She was an adult, with needs she perfectly comprehended, although they’d never been awakened before. Before him. Before his hands and his lips and his cock.

  A knock on her door thankfully pulled her from her reverie.

  “What have you been up to this morning?” Aleria asked, walking in. “I went to see you before heading towards the clinic with Elza.”

  Talia felt her whole body heat up.

  “With the Archduke and his wife.” Why she didn’t mention Vincent, she’d never know. “We had tea and spoke of a potential position for me here. They think I could be of use as a mage.”

  “From what I saw at the clinic, that’s right. I’ll prioritize seeing to the issue with those births, but it was hell, Tali-bear.”

  Her sister looked exhausted. Another thing that had never occurred with the poised, perfect Aleria in their hometown. She had changed so much since their departure - they both had.

  “There was a birth today. Xandrie helped Elza. Sister, you should have seen it. The dragonling was moving like no other child I’ve ever seen in his mother’s womb. Writhing like a trapped wild thing. But Xandrie just put her hands on the belly, and talked softly.” There were tears in her eyes. “She just said sweet nonsense and it calmed down. The mom and baby are just fine. She does so well here, but there’s only one of her and a whole Kingdom with dying mothers. This needs fixing.”

  “What do you think, then?”

  Aleria smiled. “Short term, I’ll have to work on a potion drunk by the mothers to keep their babies quiet before birth. Something that couldn’t harm the child, of course. I’d be of more use if I were an alchemist.”

  Talia had to snort. “No one compares to you at crafting potions.”

  “In Malek,” Aleria added, rolling her eyes. “But, long term, the root cause needs addressing, too. Everyone says that this development happened a few short centuries ago - the mortality rate was much lower in the past. I talked to that Elder man.” It was Aleria’s turn to blush now.

  “Nathos?” Talia supplied.

  “Yes, him. We chatted, and came to the conclusion that it could be due to a lack of fresh blood - there are only about twelve original dragon families. By mating with their own kind over the last millennium, they’ve become a little inbred around the edges. He offered to draw a list comparing ‘pure’ dragon lines to those which have been mixed with other shifters and humans, even elves and faes. If it’s clear that only the pure dragon families are affected, we’ll have our answer. It’ll be a matter of studying and correcting the genetic defects. Again, they’ll need a scientist, rather than me.”

  And there she was again, dismissing her own importance. Talia’s brows creased - she wondered how often Aleria did that.

  “And yet you have, in one day, possibly pinpointed the problem that has plagued their kind for ages. They’ll hire scientists if they need to, oh wise elder sister. For now, I daresay they’re happy to have a good, willing, and talented mage to aid them.”

  Aleria reflected on it for a while. “I’m not used to being praised. It feels weird. I don’t think I like it.”

  She had to snort. “You get compliments for breathing.”

  “I get flattery because of the face I was born with. Not praise for my work.”

  Again, probably true. “You know, I used to think Xandrie was the most messed up by our parents, but she actually turned out alright. She just ignored them and went into the woods. I was the canoodled baby.”

  “Not to mention the little genius.”

  She grimaced. “Yes, that. But I think the one they really did a number on is you. After Damion left, they focused on you…”

  “Because I look so much like him.”

  They were nearly-identical twins. Damion had never been one to grow a beard, and while he was strong and muscular, he’d remained lithe, rather than bulky, so their resemblance had never faded, despite their different sexes.

  “He really isn’t dead, you know. When we were children, perhaps five, before you were born, he had a terrible illness - the plague our parents cured. I recall it so clearly. Damion almost died, and I would have died with him, Talia. They kept us separated so the illness wouldn’t spread, but I knew when he got worse, and I knew when he was healed, well before anyone came to tell me.”

  Talia remained silent, listening with all her heart.

  “The day Damion disappeared? I felt some
thing big. Huge. It kept me unmoving and frightened for him. Then nothing. No pain, no terror. It’s as if our bond had been muted. A wall erected between him and me. Yet, every now and then, through our bond, I feel something. Great happiness. Great sorrow.” Her voice dropped. “More sorrow than happiness. Something happened to him alright. But he isn’t dead.”

  She’d never really dared to believe it until now. Now, there was no doubt. Her sister was no fool, and what she described was nothing short of proof, as far as Talia was concerned. She felt tears running down her face, although she couldn’t recall her heart ever being so full.

  Xandrie had always been Damion’s favorite. They shared their love of the outdoors, of weapons and wild, untamed things. But he was theirs - he belonged to all of them as their brother, their blood, the man who’d showed them his sex could be kind and honorable, when no one else had.

  “I’m so grateful you got me out of Malek. I was too much a coward, too sheltered to even think I could possibly go gallivanting around the continent. But we did just fine. And by Eartia, once I’m done with this, once the women are safe, I’m going to go find our brother. And slap him for making us all so miserable.”

  They chuckled. Then Talia shifted and embraced Aleria, holding her so damn close.

  “You won’t be alone. Not any step of the way. I am no use with the science behind spells, but put me to work - I’ll be your slave.” Talia was the best at mixing potions, using spells, and recalling them, too, but creating them? She couldn’t hope to do anything so creative if her life depended on it. She was the scholar, and Aleria, the artist of the family. That would never change, regardless of what title she now bore amongst mages. If her spells could be stronger than Aleria’s, she’d be the one mixing them. But it would still be her sister’s work. “Then, when you’re ready to go find Damion, I’ll…”

  “You’ll stay here. You’ll send missives all around the world, to every kingdom, and tell them exactly where you are if they’re in need of you. And you’ll remain, for such is your duty.”

  She pouted.

  “And if I am in need of your aid, I shall also know where to contact you, little sister.”

  That cheered her up.

  “Now, you wanna tell me why you’re avoiding talking of the other companion at your tea party?”

  They were both laughing when she heard it in the distance, felt it to her bones. The hair at the back of her neck stood and her eyes turned to the west, pulled towards an invisible danger beyond the walls of the castle.

  She knew it, down to her essence.

  An Enchantress, said her Shadow.

  Yes. Yet, it felt like so much more. So much more dangerous and edgy.

  You’re light and you let in Shadow. She’s Shadow. Sometimes she listens to light.

  Oh. Well, that was bloody terrifying.

  18

  The Shadows

  He felt edgy before the knock on his door came. When he heard what the frantic woman who’d come to disturb him in the middle of the night had to say, he released a long trail of curses that he had no business saying in front of a lady.

  “I’m going to strangle her,” he muttered as he practically ran out the door, pulling clothing and armor on his limbs as he moved.

  Talia had sensed a danger. That much was okay. Annoying and frightening, but he could deal with it. What he had a problem with was the fact that Aleria, her sister, had been the one to come to him, because the idiot had just gone off on her own.

  He wished he’d kept Kross with him. The man was needed in Norda in Vincent’s absence, but, right about now, he seriously fucking needed wings. It had taken Aleria a while to find him.

  She’d initially been looking for Rhey, who dwelled beneath the castle in his den, a place so protected no mage could hope to locate it with spells. So, she gave up and came for him. According to her, Talia had left half an hour ago. She could have gone anywhere, in any direction, and by horse, too.

  His guts told him to turn west. If she was indeed sensing the malevolent Enchantress, she must come from the continent. That meant heading to Norda, his home.

  His dragon was there, just beneath the surface; not watching this time. Oh no. It was seething. Panting. All but ready to reduce the world to fire.

  The very last thing he needed.

  Preparing his own horse, Vincent managed to be on his way in record time. But was he even going in the right direction?

  Yes.

  A simple answer. How would the dragon know? It wasn’t like his senses were so astute that he could smell or hear a rider with close to an hour’s head start. But yet, the beast just knew where she was. Impossible. So why wasn’t he even fucking surprised, or doubting it?

  Because she was their fucking mate, that’s why. Because there was a link between them, a bond as concrete as Demelza’s and Xandrie’s, although there was no mark on their palms, and as solid as Xandrie’s and Rhey’s, although Vincent had yet to take her for his own, in every sense of the term. He would. Soon.

  As he rode his horse at high speed, he wondered why the dragon wasn’t more panicked right now. Vincent certainly was at his wits’ end, alternatively begging the gods that she’d be fine, and promising himself that he’d collar her and keep her on a leash, close to him at all times.

  It was just as well that he’d never professed to being sane.

  The dragon was calmer. Ready to attack at a moment’s notice, but steady, strong. Why?

  For the first time, the beast did him a favor. His vision blurred and was replaced by a completely different landscape; a little town a few miles away. There was a horse, drinking water.

  “Thanks for letting him drink.”

  Talia’s voice. Somehow, he was in Talia’s mind, for one instant. It passed quickly, and left him confused, but a little reassured now. She was fine, for the moment at least.

  But how could his dragon see through her eyes? It made no sense.

  Shadow, the creature growled. Shadow-linked.

  He got it, somehow. His dragon was his darkness, his shadow, and if, indeed, Talia was his, then her shadow belonged to the monster. The dragon could see her shadow, perhaps communicate with it, too.

  He didn’t question how it was supposed to work. Instead, he did something dangerous. A slippery slope he might come to regret later. He decided to trust his dragon on this - just a little. Trust it to guide them to Talia.

  He knew what had happened the last time he’d believed the beast would keep a woman safe and he certainly didn’t want a rerun of that. But he was a three- century-old powerful man now. He could keep it in check.

  Hopefully.

  He stopped in Vern, the small town where he’d seen Talia in his weird vision.

  “My lord!” said a woman outside the lively pub he’d visited once or twice. She inclined her head and pressed her fist to her chest in respect.

  “Greetings. Have you seen a woman pass through on horseback? Dark hair, in a hurry.”

  He didn’t doubt it, but her nod reassured him, nonetheless. “Not even twenty minutes ago. Polite little thing. Wanted to give me money for letting her poor horse take some water,” she shook her head as though it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

  “She headed west, did she not?”

  “Aye, that she did.”

  “Thank you. I’ll quench my own horse’s thirst, if you don’t mind.”

  “So long as you don’t flash your purse, you’re welcome to.”

  Stopping, even for a minute, was downright painful, but he wasn’t one to exhaust his animal.

  There’s another way, said the voice of the monster, and he ignored him. The dragon didn’t seem surprised. He didn’t push, either.

  Vincent tensed, feeling like the beast knew him a little too well. No argument was going to make him relinquish the rules of their body now and his dragon was aware of that. But the dangerous watchful creature was waiting for an opportunity, that much was clear. When came a time where Vincent mi
ght have a doubt, he would use it.

  Not long ago, he would have said that there was no way the dragon would ever win that internal fight. But if they were on a beach today, and a horde of orcs appeared near Talia, just like they had so long ago? If he was too far? There was a chance he might let the monster out.

  He forced himself to recall what had occurred the last time he’d done that. To remember that the monster wasn’t one to protect.

  She was already dead.

  It was the first time that the dragon talked of it. Even back then, when it had just happened, his beast had remained silent, enraged, before simply withdrawing from their conscience.

  Now, three centuries later, the dragon pulled a memory back from their minds. A memory Vincent had either suppressed or failed to notice.

  Clarya on the beach, in her cougar form. She leapt at an orc, and a spear pierced her heart. Even at a distance, the eyes of the dragon caught it all. The dragon’s acute hearing heard every beat of her heart, until there were none.

  Then, he’d beat his wings, flew over the monsters, and killed them all.

  They’d failed the poor innocent girl, but he wouldn’t fail to avenge her.

  Vincent felt sick to his stomach when his vision cleared up, returning him to the present. Not because of what had occurred then; because of what he’d done after. He’d blamed his dragon. Every day, for three hundred years, he’d cursed it, calling him an evil thing, a monster.

  The dragon hadn’t been sealed by the guilt over what he’d done. He’d stayed away from the man who had given up on him, hating himself, and remaining in shadows where he was relentlessly told he belonged.

  His dragon had remained soaked in self-hatred so long it was a miracle there was anything left of him by the time she came.

  She. Their mate. Their treasure. The only person who could heal the beast who’d stopped believing in Vincent.

  Damn, Talia was really everything to him - to them. If anything happened to her…

  “Enough. Let’s fucking fly.”