by Anya Bast
The only warning Dragos had received was a nagging unease that had plagued him all afternoon. His unease had increased to the point where he couldn’t settle until he went to check on his property.
He had known his lair had been infiltrated as soon as he had set foot near the hidden entrance to the underground cavern. Still he couldn’t believe it, even after he had torn inside to discover the indisputable evidence of the theft, along with something else that trumped all other inconceivability.
He looked down at his clenched right foot. He wheeled in an abrupt motion to set a return path to the city. Rune followed and settled smoothly into place behind him, Dragos’s rear-right wingman.
You are to locate this thief. Do everything possible, Dragos said. Everything; you understand? Use all magical and nonmagical means. Nothing else exists for you. No other tasks, no other diversions. Pass all of your current duties on to Aryal or Grym.
I understand, my lord, Rune said, keeping his mental voice quiet.
Dragos sensed other conversations in the air, although no one dared direct contact with him. He suspected his First had begun giving orders to transfer duties to the others.
He said, Be very clear about something, Rune: I do not want this thief harmed or killed by anyone but me. You are not to allow it. Be sure of the people you use on this hunt.
I will.
It will be on your head if something goes wrong, Dragos told him. He couldn’t have articulated even to himself why he pressed the matter with this creature who for centuries had been as steady and reliable as a metronome. His claws clenched on his implausible scrap of evidence. Understood?
Understood, my lord, Rune replied, calm as ever.
Good enough, he growled.
Dragos noticed they had returned to the city. The sky around them was clear of all air traffic. He soared in a wide circle to settle on the spacious landing pad atop Cuelebre Tower. As soon as he settled, he shifted into his human shape, a massive six-foot-eight, dark-haired male with dark bronze skin and gold raptor’s eyes.
Dragos turned to watch Rune land. The gryphon’s majestic wings shone in the fading afternoon sun until he also shifted into his human form, a tawny haired male almost as massive as Dragos himself.
Rune lowered his head to Dragos in a brief bow of respect before loping to the roof doors. After the other male had left, Dragos unclenched his right fist in which he held a crumpled scrap of paper.
Why had he not told Rune about it? Why was he not even now calling the gryphon back to tell him? He didn’t know. He just obeyed the impulse to secrecy.
Dragos held the paper to his nose and inhaled. A scent still clung to the paper which had absorbed oil from the thief ’s hand. It was a feminine scent that smelled like wild sunshine, and it was familiar in a way that pulled at all of Dragos’s deepest instincts.
He stood immobile, eyes closed as he concentrated on inhaling that wild feminine sunshine in deep breaths. There was something about it, something from a long time ago. If only he could remember. He had lived for so long, his memory was a vast and convoluted tangle. It could take him weeks to locate the memory.
He strained harder for that elusive time with a younger sun, a deep green forest, and a celestial scent that drove him crashing through the underbrush—
The fragile memory thread broke. A low growl of frustration rumbled through his chest. He opened his eyes and willed himself not to shred the paper he held with such tense care.
It occurred to Dragos that Rune had forgotten to ask what the thief had stolen.
His underground lair was enormous by necessity, with cavern upon cavern filled with a hoard the likes of which the world had never seen. The treasure of empires filled the caves.
Astonishing works of beauty graced rough cavern walls. Items of magic, miniature portraits, tinkling crystal earrings that threw rainbows in the lamplight. Art masterpieces packed to protect them from the environment. Rubies and emeralds and diamonds the size of goose eggs, and loops upon loops of pearls. Egyptian scarabs, cartouches, and pendants. Greek gold, Syrian statues, Persian gems, Chinese jade, Spanish treasure from sunken ships. He even kept a modern coin collection he had started several years ago and added to in a haphazard way whenever he remembered.
On the ostrich’s head was a hot fudge sundae. . . .
His obsessive attention to detail, an immaculate memory of each and every piece in that gigantic treasure, a trail of scent like wild sunshine, and instinct had all led Dragos to the right place. He discovered the thief had taken a U.S.minted 1962 copper penny from ajar of coins he had not yet bothered to put into a coin-collecting book.
. . . and on the hot fudge sundae atop that ostrich’s head was perched a cherry. . . .
The thief had left something for him in place of what she had taken. She had perched it with care on top of the coin jar. It was a message written on a scrap of paper in a spidery, unsteady hand. The message was wrapped around an offering.
I’m sorry, the message said.
The theft was a violation of privacy. It was an unbelievable act of impudence and disrespect. Not only that, it was—baffling. He was murderous, incandescent with fury. He was older than sin and could not remember when he had last been in such a rage.
He looked at the paper again.
I’m sorry I had to take your penny. Here’s another to replace it.
Yep, that’s what it said.
One corner of his mouth twitched. He gave himself a deep shock when he burst into an explosive guffaw.
ALSO FROM NATIONAL BESTSELLING AUTHOR
ANYA BAST
“Sizzling suspense and sexy magic are sure to propel this hot new series onto the charts.”
—Romantic Times
THE ELEMENTAL WITCHES SERIES
WITCH FIRE
WITCH BLOOD
WITCH HEART
WITCH FURY
PRAISE FOR THE AUTHOR
“Deliciously sexy and intriguingly original.”
—New York Times bestselling author Angela Knight
“Fast-paced, edgy suspense.”
—ParaNormal Romance Reviews
“Anya Bast tells a really passionate story and leaves you wanting more.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
penguin.com
Don’t miss a word from the “erotic and darkly bewitching”* series featuring the D’Artigo sisters, half-human, half-Fae supernatural agents.
By New York Times Bestselling Author
Yasmine Galenorn
WITCHLING
CHANGELING
DARKLING
DRAGON WYTCH
NIGHT HUNTRESS
DEMON MISTRESS
BONE MAGIC
HARVEST HUNTING
BLOOD WYNE
Praise for the Otherworld series:
“Pure delight.”
—MaryJanice Davidson, New York Times bestselling author
“Vivid, sexy, and mesmerizing.”
—Romantic Times
penguin.com
*Jeaniene Frost, New York Times bestselling author
M192AS0910
Berkley Sensation titles by Anya Bast
WITCH FIRE
WITCH BLOOD
WITCH HEART
WITCH FURY
WICKED ENCHANTMENT
CRUEL ENCHANTMENT
DARK ENCHANTMENT
Heat titles by Anya Bast
THE CHOSEN SIN
JEWELED
