

# THE DRAON'S DREAM

# (Book 0.5 of the Amber Aerie Lords Series)

# By LACEY ST. SIN

# Copyright 2016 Lacey St. Sin

## ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Foremost I would like to thank my Husband and children for putting up with me on this wild ride to publishing.

Thanks to my family for believing in me, especially my sister Megan McIllwraith for her diligent reading and re-reading and re-re-reading of the book.

I would also like to thank:

Clarrissa Yeo at Yolca Designs for the beautiful cover

Shannon VanSach for editing

And you, the reader, who are taking a chance on me.

None of this would be possible without you.

## CHAPTER 1

"Your father is going to kill you," Rei popped her head out of the window opening, crumbles of mortar raining down with the movement. A frown graced her wide lips. She wiped at them, brushing away the wisps of blond hair the wind kept flattening to her face. Blue eyes looked down imploringly.

"Nonsense, he'll never suspect." Tharissa Bax, daughter of the highly respected councilor Bax, dangled, in an undignified manner, from the silken blue bed sheets she had tied to the windows supporting post.

Wind whipped at her nightdress, the lacey hem tickling her calves. Strips of chestnut invaded her vision, but she could not spare the grip to pull her curls from her face. She glanced at the pregnant dark clouds above the mansion. Mist curled below them like fingers reaching down toward the city. It would rain soon.

Admonitions about unladylike and disrespectful behavior rang through her head. Her father's lectures seemed to have a life of their own. She huffed. It was unfair they would be around to agitate her even when he wasn't.

"He locked you in. Trust me, he suspects." Rei leaned outward again, more of her own nightdress visible with her adjusted angle. Still, she made no move to follow.

"If he _really_ wanted me to stay away, he would have locked the windows, as well."

"They're solid glass," Rei's voice came out in a harsh whisper. "I doubt he expected that you would remove the pane."

Tharissa cringed. The beginnings of the storm masked her grand attempt at escape, but there were still guards in the orchard. The growing wind would only cover so much noise.

"A lack of foresight on his part," she whispered back, "now, are you coming? Or will you wait there to hoist me up when I am done?"

Tharissa didn't have to hear the grumbling to know that her maid, and best friend, would be making her way down the make-shift rope with her. The woman had been her confidant for the last decade, and though skittish as a mouse, had the grace to never let Tharissa alone with her poor choices.

Tharissa smiled grimly and shimmied down the sheet a little farther. Hopefully this wasn't a poor choice. What right did father think he had anyway? She was a grown woman, not a wayward youth looking for trouble. Most women her age were happily married and with child. They certainly did not have fathers locking them in their rooms. So what if she refused the suitors father lined up? Her entire life had been managed for her, and she would be damned if that responsibility was simply passed off to a husband who's only interest was in controlling her.

One hand at a time, she lowered herself, cursing the smooth material. Her palms were moist with the effort and her own nervousness, but silk did not absorb sweat well and she found herself clenching her fingers tighter to keep her grip.

She reached the end of the sheet-rope sooner than she had planned, a gust of wind swaying her like a pendulum and igniting a small flip in her stomach. She whispered a curse. Her feet still dangled a fair distance above the balcony that was her goal. She swung her legs around and grasped the sheet with one hand far above the other so that she could peer downward.

In the dim remains of dusk, muted by the clouds above, she could barely make out the dark gray patch that would be her landing. It didn't look too far; she could at least make out the lines delineating between the stones that constructed the balcony floor. She worked her way downward, clinging to the sheet with both hands well above her head, getting as close as she could to the drop. Then, with a small prayer to the Six, she let go.

Stone rose up to meet her and she hit it hard, bending her knees to absorb some of the impact. Even still, her body shuddered with the jolt. Her feet slid a little. Cursed useless slippers. If they weren't the height of fashion, she would have thrown them out weeks ago. Perhaps, though, she should ignore things like fashion for clandestine operations.

Rei toppled to the ground behind her, the little squeak expelled as she landed making Tharissa think she hadn't meant to let go quite yet. She turned to the other woman and lifted her up by the elbow.

"We aren't getting back in that way," Rei breathed, her face pale with bright red patches lighting her cheeks.

"I'm not worried."

"Yes, well if we get caught, your father isn't likely to fire _you_."

"You know father is never going to fire you Rei."

"Just because he hasn't yet is no reason to think he won't."

Poor Rei. Tharissa really didn't deserve such a friend. Worry stamped across her face and she pulled at her fingers, nervously twisting the tips.

"I would never stand for it."

"Against him? He still locks you in your room, what makes you think you can influence anything he does?"

"He locked me in, but he didn't keep me there, did he? Because I always find a way. Now hush, let's get in there. I don't want to miss them." Tharissa crossed the eight feet of the balcony to the double doors that led to her father's chambers. She squared her shoulders, trying not to find the smooth dark panels imposing.

Rei sighed, a distinctly put out sound. "Who are these important guests that are worth risking your father's ire over?"

"Not sure, but I have my suspicions."

"You mean we're sneaking out...er...in to spy on a meeting and you don't even know who's there?" Rei staggered, looking feint.

"You might have waited in the room." Tharissa pulled the handle, the iron cold and unwelcoming. It clicked and the right door swung open more quickly than she expected, a draft from the growing wind sucking it outward. She stumbled into Rei before she adjusted her hold.

Rei snorted softly, pale hands steadying Tharissa's shoulders. "I'd be in even more trouble if he thought I let you out of my sight."

Well, that was...confusing logic, but truthfully, Tharissa was glad that she wasn't alone.

Father's room was a collection of dark shapes, the looming contours of his furniture casting ominous shadows against the walls and floor. Her stomach flipped again, but this time it had nothing to do with heights.

She inhaled and let her breath out slowly. There was nothing out of place here, except here. The servants had not yet come and light the lanterns and the fireplace before bed, so the room should be dark. Should _feel_ dark.

The smell of well used leather permeated the air, with an underlying hint of smoke. She could picture Greath polishing father's riding boots, as he puffed his pipe and paced the floor before the balcony doors.

The low pitched murmur of approaching voices wafted into the room and Tharissa froze. She had made her way halfway into the chamber, the floor beneath her slippers changing from hard, unyielding stone to a soft, plush comfort. She toed the edge of father's decorative panther skin rug, avoiding the head that was still attached. Whoever had fashioned the piece had thought it clever to remake the animal's skull and give it a predatory edge, mouth wide and still bearing the animals original teeth. She didn't need to be tripping over the appendage and drawing attention into the room. If someone were to come in now she would be caught, her plans ruined. She tried to still her breathing, or quiet it at least, so that she could assess the situation.

As the muttering came closer, the voices became more distinct; an older man, each word expelled on a forced breath, his voice distinct and familiar. Councilor Adlo. What he said she didn't quite catch.

"I did not welcome the Lords into this city, and I certainly don't welcome them into this house, send them away."

Excitement thrummed into Tharissa. _Tha_ t was father, and she had been right. His reaction proved everything. There were Dragon Lords here. Men that were symbionts with dragons...men that _became_ dragons. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining large graceful forms gliding up to the house. To fly, free like that, what would it be like?

Of course, they wouldn't have actually flown. Dragon Lords were strictly restricted within the city. Only their human form was allowed, and then so rarely that most of the population thought them a myth. In fact, the only reason Tharissa knew any different was because of snooping just like this.

The voices were just past the far door on the right hand side of father's room, the one leading to his office. She snuck toward it. If Councilor Adlo was with him, they would probably head to the lounge. That was where father took all of his important visitors. She would be able to follow them through the office to get there.

"You have to deal with them some time Bax. Your law breaks every aspect of their treaty. They aren't happy with you."

"I have dealt with them," father grunted. "I sent them away."

"And you think that's going to stop them? The law hasn't passed yet, so, as of now, they still have rights."

"Not in my house they don't."

A door clanged shut, cutting off the conversation. The men had left the office.

Tharissa hesitated. If father hadn't let them in, and didn't plan to, perhaps the lounge was not where she needed to be. Where were they? Waiting out front?

She glanced back to the balcony door where she and Rei had entered. It still hung open, gaping into the darkness. Rain had begun to fall while she was focused elsewhere, and not a light misting, enough heavy droplets pounded down to have already formed puddles on the stones.

That would be in poor taste. One did not leave important guests floundering out in the rain.

She changed her direction, heading for the main door into the hall, instead.

"Where are you going? Shouldn't we be getting into the office now that they're out of it?"

Tharissa shook her head before realizing Rei probably couldn't see her. "We're going out front."

Rei grasped her upper arm. "Tharissa, it's raining. Not just raining, it's a torrent out there. What could we possibly gain by going outside except a bad cold?"

Tharissa pulled from Rei's grasp and edged toward the main chamber door. "Hopefully answers, because I have some questions."

She took another step. Rei hadn't answered her and, in the dark, she couldn't tell if the woman still followed.

"Coming Rei?"

A strong scent enveloped her, moments before a band of heavy muscle wound around her chest, pulling her back against a solid body. A hand covered her lower face before she could expel a scream of surprise.

Tharissa flinched and twisted against her captor's hold, but it was no use; his strength far outweighed hers. Panic grabbed at her, she wasn't getting enough air. Worse, the man's musky smell, a combination of sweat and some bitter scent, caused bile to rise in her throat and she worried she might be sick.

"Which one?" a raspy voice asked; an unfamiliar and definitely masculine voice.

"The lady, we've no use for a chambermaid," a second voice answered, this one from where she had left Rei.

"They are both wearing nightclothes how do we tell which _is_ the lady?"

Across from her, Rei whimpered, and Tharissa's gut clenched for the woman. She would be terrified and it was all her fault. But who could have foreseen this? The mansion had its own compliment of guards, no one should have been able to break into the main house.

The hand on Tharissa's face loosened a little, much to her relief.

"Scream and it is both your lives," the man who held her threatened. "Which is lady Bax?"

The room filled with silence, a tension she could almost breathe in. What should she do? There had to be a way out of this if she could only think quickly enough. Across the chamber, Rei let out a soft pained cry.

"I am," the woman whispered at last.

Tharissa drew in a breath. What did Rei think she was doing? It was Tharissa's fault they were here to begin with and now Rei was vying for her place, to prevent whatever it was these men planned for her. The fear that had been churning circles in her stomach grew. She couldn't let that happen, she couldn't let Rei take her fate. For better or worse she had to stop her.

"She's lying," Tharissa gasped out.

A growl formed behind her. A distinctly inhuman sound, much more like the snarling of a wild beast, or a dog, perhaps, than any man. The hand that had held her face grasped at the back of her neck, pressing hard against the spot where her shoulders ended. Pain erupted through her, so intense her knees weakened and the room spun slightly.

"I can prove it," she managed to whisper.

The pressure receded, the relief so intense Tharissa almost sighed.

"Speak fast woman," the raspy voice commanded.

"I have three rings on my left hand, not something a chambermaid would possess."

The man behind her grunted, running fingers over the hand she indicated.

"You're an idiot," the second voice growled at him.

Then the hand over her face returned, but something was different this time. Cloth pressed against her instead of skin, a strange scent invaded her nostrils, unpleasant in its bitterness. She struggled against his grip, but it only increased her panting, pulling the fabric into her nose and mouth. Every breath got heavier and her mind began to fog.

She searched the dark desperately for Rei, praying that the woman would somehow find safety. She would be unable to help her now. The reality of what was happening had finally set in.

She was being drugged.

## CHAPTER 2

Some cursed fool was chopping a tree right next to her head. Actually, if she didn't know better she would have thought he was chopping _inside_ her head. Each whack echoed around her skull, slicing with a sharp blow and then leaving a dull ache in its place.

She squished her eyes closed tighter. They hurt, too; almost like something heavy had been sitting on top of them for too long.

Dizziness and then nausea joined her symptoms.

"I'm dying," she muttered. The words stumbled over her tongue, which felt swollen and clumsy.

"She's coming to," the genius doing the chopping announced.

"Thank the dark goddess. You'd better hope she lives."

"It's not my fault she couldn't handle the Thifram," ax man spoke again. She recognized that rasp from somewhere.

"It is your fault you drugged her like a Shifter. Human females are fragile, practically useless."

Leaves rustled and something cracked...a branch? Was she in the orchard behind the house? The sound shot a new layer of pain into the space behind her eyeballs. Thifram huh?

"Either shut your muzzles or give me more of that stuff and let me die in peace."

A long breath of silence met her demand.

"You sure we didn't grab the maid? This one is too lippy to be a lady," Raspy asked.

"It's her. They've already called council to discuss action. A few more days and we'll be back in our beds."

What she wouldn't give for them to stop talking. Her stomach had stopped flip-flopping, but she lay still, praying to the Six it wouldn't start again. While she lay, she assessed her situation.

She was outside, she could feel the breeze against her bare arms.

The realization sent a jangle of alarm along her skin. How much of her was bare? She couldn't tell, a horrible and vulnerable thought.

She could hear the rain, pattering against the ground and against something louder, too, proving she was no longer in the mansion. Yet she was dry, as far as she could tell, and warm...mostly. Her backside was freezing, but since her important bits were mostly attached to her front, she didn't pay her rear too much mind.

The popping and cracking fell into place and she recognized the sounds of a fire, which explained her dual temperature problem. Even from behind her eyelids, she could tell the world was bright, too bright to be anything but midday. She had lost hours to whatever they had done to her. Plenty of time for her captors to do nefarious things. She didn't _feel_ used, yet a dark memory of fear encouraged her to be sure. At any rate, anyone who would steal a lady from her home could not be trusted to keep their hands...or other parts to themselves.

She held back the lurch of bile that threatened and cracked an eye open slightly.

Hot white light seared what was left of her vision, pain burst through her temple, and she immediately squeezed her eyes closed again, groaning.

"What are we supposed to be doing with her?"

Gods his voice was torture.

"We wait for instructions, we get paid when he comes for her."

"What then? What happens to her?"

"Why do you care, so long as he pays? He'll kill her, most likely."

_That_ stilled her complaints. Even the pain and the feeling that the world was twisting around her faded into the background. Certain death did that.

"What difference does it make if I over drugged her if she's just awaiting death?"

The second voice grunted. "He wants to do it himself."

"Still, it's a shame, she sparks a man's imagination."

"She's human," the first voice said. As if that explained everything.

Raspy grunted and went back to his chopping.

These were Shifters, then, the men and women of the forest, not quite human and not quite beast, but constantly moving between. The question was, which group did they fall into? Were they the tribe that lived with and served the Dragon Lords? Or were they the more dangerous, murdering rogue sort? Of course, the indications pointed to the latter, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence that the Dragon Lords had been at the mansion the same time she was taken. That, and her father's new law would give them plenty of motive. The lords protected the far boundaries of the city, beyond the cropland that sustained it, but they were mercenaries. Except, instead of money, they worked for women.

The arrangement disgusted her, even if she found herself fascinated by the dragons themselves. Women were not commodities to be traded at will. And she supported father's work dissolving such an agreement.

She had learned recently that he had already made it illegal for any but the merchant caste to travel to their stronghold and, even then, the traders were heavily taxed.

So if the Dragon Lords had heard of her father's work...there was a chance...a good chance they might take action against such things. Women _were_ their form of payment, after all. Objects, and if one happened to be in the way? Well, she would be disposable, wouldn't she?

Not this woman.

Tharissa forced her eyes open again, this time with determination. She _would_ take stock of her situation, and she _would_ escape, because she was no one's tool and she was _not_ disposable. The pain returned, but she grit her teeth, biting a corner of her lip until the taste of blood made her reconsider. Squinting helped. Things were blurry, but the ache wasn't so sharp. She had been right about being outdoors, in the forest to be exact, no sign of civilization anywhere.

An alarming development. The forest was rumored to be a vastly dangerous place.

Even if she managed to get free, making it back home in one piece would be challenging. The Dragon Lords weren't contracted to protect the city from fluffy bunnies and snails.

Sadly, no one had ever really elaborated on what the city _did_ need protection from, but it must be big. The merchant class knew, but some social law had kept them from revealing the danger to a noble, no matter how hard she tried to pry stories from them. Or perhaps that had just been father's influence, trying to protect her. A lot of good that did her now.

It was afternoon, the sun high enough to light the world into bright spots of torment and heavy, sharp shadows. The fire then, was a function of warmth. She lay on a furry pelt, the remains of some poor dead creature. Above her, a canvas was strung tightly, tilted so that its front covered the blaze and its back neared the ground behind her. Water droplets ran along the material, their shadows creating intricate patterns before they dripped from the shelter and ran down the slope behind her. They pounded against the leaves above and splattered on the ground beyond her furs. She watched, fascinated for a moment with the patterns the droplets made amongst one another, then shook her head, attempting to clear the effects of the drug.

Her hands were bound with sinew, if she guessed correctly, and her feet, as well. But her night-dress was intact—thank the Six—and relatively clean and undisturbed. So her unconscious state hadn't been taken advantage of. Something that she couldn't count on happening again, if she interpreted the way that Raspy glanced at her correctly.

Tharissa frowned at him, and then pulled her thoughts back to what she knew. The second voice had said _he_ would do what he needed. Meaning, neither of these two.

"So you aren't acting on your own? Who are you working for?"

Raspy's lips pulled into a tight line and he turned back to his task. A hefty man with...yes, indeed, that was an ax in his hands. He wore a dark pair of trousers, but had left off a shirt, so that, as the rain struck him, it pooled along his thick bunched muscles. He lifted and swung against an enormous chunk of tree, recently felled. His skin was a deep brown and covered, in most areas, with a fine black speckling of hair that streaked downward with the moisture. His face sported growth, too, it had been days since he shaved...or bathed. She remembered his distinctive smell when he grabbed her. Well, maybe the rain would take care of that, though she doubted it.

The second man was paler, his hair a sandy color and neatly tied back. He had taken the time to trim his beard, at least, and sat back beneath a second canvas, intelligent eyes moving between studying her and the woodland around them.

He would be her problem. He met her gaze, his lips twitching downward. He didn't seem inclined to answer her, either. Maybe she could goad him, instead, even get him to leave, anger him while she could. He did say that they needed her alive for now. If she could get rid of him, then she would only have one to deal with, and she might trick the other man into loosening her bonds.

"Are you really cowardly enough to kill a bound woman?" She demanded.

An eyebrow raised in surprise. Maybe he didn't expect that she had been coherent enough to keep up with the conversation. Then he shrugged, as if deciding that answering her didn't matter.

"You are disposable."

So much for goading him, there wasn't much she could do with that response. She lifted her head, to see him better, to assess, but she was still too dizzy to sit.

"I doubt you're going to think so when my father hunts you down."

The man snorted. "I do not fear your pathetic race."

"No? Just those better than you, then? I suppose it is right to fear the Dragon Lords."

The man's eyes narrowed dangerously, a low growl signifying his displeasure. A sore spot, then.

"Is that why you behave so despicably, the Lords force you?" she persisted.

"Listen woman," the man with the ax slammed the blade into the trunk and turned to her. She flinched. The other Shifter had been her target, but it seemed she had hit too close to the truth for either man. "No one forces us to do anything. Dragon Lords are nothing but sniveling, greedy parasites, dependent on others for all that they have. If you want proof of a Shifter's strength, I'll be happy to demonstrate. In fact, I'd love to teach you who is better."

She forced her face into neutrality. Maybe she was pushing a little too far. She had angered them, but neither man looked as though they were about to leave out of frustration with her. She should concentrate on the bindings, instead.

She moved her arms closer, pretending to shudder from the cold, and worked them so that the knot was facing her and hidden by her hands.

The second man's eyes narrowed, proving that she hadn't fooled him. She _was_ cold, though. It had numbed her fingertips and, between that and the drug, she couldn't work the knot at all. Whoever tied the knot knew what they were doing.

A wave of dizziness had her panting for breath. She had concentrated too hard. Cold sweat rose along her spine and she dropped her forehead to the ground, waiting for the nausea to pass. When she looked up once more, the men were no longer focused on her. They had frozen, intently alert, nostrils flaring.

"What..."

She was cut off from her question when a blood red...creature dropped from the sky. It moved so fast it was blurred among the green background. A snarl ripped through the trees as it descended, sending cascades of raindrops from nearby leaves. Flashes of razor edged scales and sharp talons had her looking desperately back toward the man with the ax for protection. It might not have been the smartest thing she could do, but he seemed relatively safe compared to the vicious beast before her. Except, when she glanced toward him, she found he was simply gone, in his place lurked the biggest wolf she had ever seen. The size of a carriage horse, its shoulders reached to the lowest branches of the tree behind it. Its lips curled upward, revealing gleaming white teeth. The muscles at its hackles bunched, raising black spikes of waterlogged fur. This was the man's beast form.

An involuntary squeal slipped between her lips. She tried to get her numb arms and legs to coordinate in getting her away from the animal...both animals.

Or did she _want_ to get away from them? She had been looking for a distraction, hadn't she? Now both men were suitably occupied...albeit, the dragon might eat them all.

She forced herself to still, to calm internally, as much as that was possible, and study what was going on. The dragon swung a long, snake-like tail, its barbed end coming far too close to her pelt for comfort. The scales gleamed with the moisture, the edges sparkling, dangerously sharp, and in her imagination she was sliced to bits by a miscalculated placement.

She wondered if she might use that somehow, if she could place herself just so, she might get one of those edges to cut through her bindings. The thought only lasted a moment. Long enough for the appendage to slam against the forest floor with a terrifying thud, leaving a long gash in the dirt and neatly breaking several arm-sized branches. No, it would be far too dangerous to attempt such a feat, she needed another way.

Something new toppled from the sky. A big, dark shadow, it hurtled at a speed that had her stomach lurching to her throat once more. A tail whipped around and great wings spread at the last moment. This was another dragon, and it wasn't falling, as she had first thought, rather it dove. A highly acrobatic move that allowed it to maneuver through the wide branches and fat leaves. It plucked the wolf from the red dragon's back with ease, before dragging him into the undergrowth with a bone crunching crash.

"I have to get out of here," she muttered. A glimmer from the dying fire caught her attention. A reflection on the ax, it lay where the Shifter had dropped it, a few feet away from the foot of her pelt. She rolled twice, attempting to reach it. It didn't get her as close to the ax as she had hoped. Somehow she did a half circle and wound up at an awkward angle so that she had to scoot like a worm to position herself.

It was impossible to focus on the bindings, especially since something _was_ going on in the battle. The second Shifter, the one that had been sitting beneath the other canvas, lay still. Tharissa could see his legs protruding toward the fire at an awkward angle. He hadn't even had the chance to change to his more defensible form. His stillness bothered her, so she tried not to focus on it.

Besides, she had other things to think about, such as how it was not a dragon standing above him now. She blew out a breath. She didn't know if her mind could handle any more of these sudden changes. The man that stood in the dragon's place was furious. Black brows bunched together over vividly amber eyes. Her breath caught for a moment and she forgot what it was she had been concentrating on. Not only were his eyes an unusual shade, but, Great Six, they glowed. Anger sparked in them like a living flame as he glowered.

It was then that the second fact struck her.

He was naked. He stood with a proud grace, the body of a warrior, all defined muscle and lots of it. Combined with the firm lines of his jaw and the dusting of dark facial hair, he was, without contest, the most attractive man she had ever encountered.

Or maybe not a man. Red wings still stretched from his back. Her first experience with a Dragon Lord and all she could think was that this was why they got away with demanding women for payment, the women weren't the ones complaining.

Feeling a little like a failure to the female population of the city, and especially to father, she worked at her wrist bindings. The ax blade was sharp and, once she had it in position, it took very little effort to slice through the sinew. She didn't rise from her prone position though. The Dragon Lord might be focused on the broken shifter, but there was no need to draw attention to herself on purpose. Cutting the bindings at her feet was a bit more difficult, especially since she was trying to be subtle and still watch the clearing.

A new man strode out of the undergrowth. The other Dragon Lord, she assumed. He was much younger, his muscles still had the lean grace of youth. Full plump lips turned downward, the stormy expression on his face lending a seriousness usually reserved for men grown. This Lord might be young, but he was definitely still a warrior and had to be respected as such. His hair was even darker than that of the red-winged Lord and hung to his shoulders, loose from bindings. His amber eyes glowed, too, but his with determination, and something darker that Tharissa couldn't place. He reminded her a little of a wild creature, trapped against his will. Dangerous.

And she thought the Shifters would give her trouble. She could feel her chances of freedom all but evaporate.

"Rogues," the younger Lord announced, no inflection of emotion in his tone.

The red-winged Dragon stepped back from the Shifter...actually, she was coming to fear, in the back of her mind, that he was no longer alive, but a corpse.

"That makes no sense. Why go to the trouble of kidnapping from the nobility? Gods know those women are more trouble than they are worth. If they simply wanted a woman, they could easily have gotten away with one of the street whores."

Tharissa tried to stem the indignation. In one conversation, this Lord had called her useless and compared her to a whore.

She was tempted to edge backward, but her curiosity stemmed the movement. Dragon Lords, and she had seen the Dragons, too. Granted, she wasn't quite in the position she had hoped to be in when she met them, but she had so many questions it took all her strength to keep from speaking up and drawing attention to herself.

"They must have known her disappearance would be dealt with immediately, yet they sit within miles of the city," the red winged man continued, flinging his hand away from the camp. "As if they wanted to be found."

"I am more disturbed that they grabbed her while we waited outside. How is it that they hid their presence from our men?"

The red winged Lord let out a breath. "There is that, too."

Tharissa glanced the direction they had indicated. The city was that way, she assumed. She had a weapon and a direction now, two things she hadn't had moments ago. Things were looking up.

The younger Lord had remained silent, he simply watched the surrounding forest, but now his impassive gaze roamed over her.

"They could have been hired," he said. The first Lord turned to him, lips pressed into a thin line. "Rogues sometimes undertake paid tasks, guarding traders, that sort of work," he explained.

"So they took a mission and failed it?"

"Maybe."

"You're saying that someone hired them and they agreed to die for some cause? That isn't a very good job, nor would they take it, from what I understand about rogues."

Tharissa paled, so that Shifter was dead and the raspy one, too. There was something a little more disturbing about arguing over a dead body like it wasn't there than over a prisoner. It brought her to reality. This wasn't father's lounge where she might listen from the safety of her hiding places; here she was, right out in the open, vulnerable. And according to father, the Dragon Lords had even worse moral characters than the Shifters.

She stood up slowly, keeping her back to the forest in a defensible position.

"I doubt they agreed to die," the younger man said.

"A trick, then, but who is there employer? And what good does this do?" The red-winged Lord waved his arm again, this time encompassing the camp. "We found them within half a day. Pointless."

The younger Lord shrugged, uninterested, or uncaring. "What of the woman?"

Two sets of amber eyes met hers. She held the ax before her, her jaw set so hard her teeth ached. She glared threateningly.

Sadly, neither seemed overly threatened. The first Lord ignored her entirely, turning back to his study of the dead man. Her. A woman with an ax. The younger raised a single brow, but showed no other emotion.

"I will return her to the aerie," the first Lord announced.

He was interrupted by a squawk. It only took a breath for Tharissa to realize it was her own. She cleared her throat.

"I'm sure you meant to say you would return me to my home," she hefted her weapon.

"I said exactly what I meant."

"Listen, I don't want to have to use this..." she warned, trying to force her tone to convincingly finish her sentence, to imply she would use it. It came out a little weaker than she intended, and a lot less intimidating. It didn't help that he was advancing on her now. Slow, deliberate steps and absolutely no indication that he was worried about her, or her ax skills, at all.

When he neared close enough and it became obvious that he wasn't going to answer, she swung at him. It was an embarrassingly feeble swing. She really didn't want to hit him. Dragon Lord or not, she couldn't strike another living being. The idea of the damage the ax blade could do sent her stomach into another series of flip-flops.

It didn't make it anywhere close. He moved with a speed she could never hope to match and grasped the handle before she was half-way through the swing. Impossibly strong fingers pried her hands away. Then she was standing before him, defenseless once more.

"You will come to the aerie, where you can be provided with safety and protection until we know why you specifically were taken."

"That is called kidnapping," she spat, frustrated with the situation and her own powerlessness against it. "As far as I can tell, the biggest thing I need protection from now is you."

A slow, sexy grin spread across his face, revealing straight white teeth and a dimple just below his left eye. His eyes flashed.

"You have no idea."

## CHAPTER 3

The trip to the aerie was an awkward one, especially since she was the only one wearing clothing. The Dragon Lords insisted on walking, despite the obvious fact that they were capable of flight.

Tharissa pouted. She _hated_ feeling powerless, and surrounded by the two Dragon Lords and their accompaniment of Shifter warriors she could hardly feel anything but. Every time she even misplaced a step someone glared at her, or the Shifters, often in their frightening wolf form, crowded in as though she would dash off and try to escape. As if that was even a possibility anymore. She wanted to go home, not die lost in the great forest.

Rain pattered on her skin, each drop a cool reminder of her soggy state. Her hair hung limp and her nightdress clung against her. It wasn't cold if she kept moving, thank the Six, but it was far from comfortable. Mud sucked at her slippers and she fought to keep them on. No one said anything about her struggles, though it must have been obvious that she would have less trouble if she just forgot about the shoes. She couldn't though, she refused to give up anything else. Her own little bid for autonomy.

She sniffled a little, feeling sorry for herself, and then flung forward as her foot suctioned in the mud once more. A firm hand grasped her upper arm, keeping her upright. The heat beneath the hand was intense, like the warmth when one got a little too close to the fire. She found herself pressing into it.

It was the first Lord, the red-winged one, though his wings had retracted earlier. He held her steady and bent, retrieving the slipper and sliding it back on her foot. To be fair, he didn't look any less miserable than she felt.

"Why are you still here?" she asked, breaking the half-hour silence.

He looked at her questioningly.

"Why not just fly where you are going, fly _me_ where you are going. Not that I want to fly," she added hastily. "It just doesn't make sense to walk through this."

"Flying ahead would abandon most of our unit," the Dragon Lord nodded to the wolves. "Even to carry you to safety, that would be dishonorable. Besides, dragons don't always care for passengers, it is hard to convince the beast the importance of not dropping their burden."

Tharissa swallowed. Walking through the muddy forest suddenly sounded far more appealing. The sentiment was loyal, though, he spoke of a unit, as though the Shifters were essential to him. She wasn't sure what to make of that, it certainly wasn't consistent with what information she had gathered.

"So you never travel without them?"

"Not often. Their senses are invaluable to us, as is our strength to them."

Huh. It all sounded so...civil. Not barbaric at all.

"Except rogues," they were exactly the way she had imagined. The wolf next to her, a deep gray animal with black tips to his fur, turned his head, studying her briefly before looking away. She did her best to withhold a shudder. Having the attention of such a large predator felt uncomfortable. She had seen a few of the men change back and forth from human form, but she couldn't get the idea out of her mind that they were more animal than man.

"Rogues find value in little other than themselves. It is why they are rogue, no pack can withstand selfish members, and no aerie will allow an unfaithful pack."

It might have been her imagination but the Shifters all seemed to tense at his statement. She recalled the rogue's words, his anger at her suggestion the Lords were better.

The rain lightened into more of a drizzle, misting through the air. Tiny particles gathered and shimmered on trees and the underlying plant growth beneath them. Intermittently, fat droplets that had gathered among the leaves toppled downward, doppling the earth below.

A fat leaf splatted in her face, and she swiped at it with frustration.

It might have helped if she could keep her eyes on the road, where they belonged. She couldn't claim that as her own fault, however, when surrounded with various aspects of male perfection.

They had joined, almost immediately upon leaving the camp, with the Shifters that served with the Dragon Lords in battle. One look at them had proved her naivety that she had thought the men who had taken her might be the same. _These_ Shifters did not leer, or even look at her directly.

She stumbled again, against the Lord, who now traveled next to her. When she found her balance, she pulled away, trying to remind herself that this was her kidnapper, he was no better than the men who had taken her from her home. She certainly shouldn't find his touch pleasant and she definitely should stop studying his lower extremities.

Honestly, she was a little ashamed of her weakness. What kind of woman found her captor appealing or became fascinated by his...

"What is your name, woman?"

Tharissa blinked and turned her face, hiding a rising heat in her cheeks. She wondered if he had noticed her staring. The idea that he might have, and where that might lead, sent a pull of tingling energy to her core. She found herself briefly forgetting about mud and rain, which would not do at all.

"Weren't you sent to find me _and return me_? If you don't know my name how do you even know you've got the right woman?"

"Believe it or not there aren't too many noble women running about the forest."  
"No? You keep all your bounty tucked away?"

His head turned from his observations of the surroundings, his brows drew together creating two little valleys on his forehead.

"Bounty?"

"Yes, you protect the city's boundaries and in return the city sends women to you, like they are nothing but pieces of coin ready to be used for payment."

His eyes flashed surprise and a bit of confusion.

" _You_ think _we_ trade women like coin?"

"I _know_ the arrangement."

His eyes narrowed. "You agree with your father's proposal, to deny the treaty that has been in place for a thousand years."

"A treaty that trades women like livestock? Did you think that I would argue to keep in in place?"

A frown tugged at his lips, drawing her gaze to them. He blew out a breath and she caught a glimpse of even white teeth.

What would it be like to kiss such lips? Would they be as soft as they looked? Or, would they be firm, demanding that she yield?

A wry expression crossed his face when he caught her looking.

"The treaty's language is archaic and it implies a situation that is nonexistent. The Amber Aerie Guard only accepts women who want to be there. Believe me, no coercion or trading is necessary. It is a misinformation your father feeds to the people in order to gain support for his motives."

"Except in my case. Kidnapping does not support your argument very well."

"You are not being kidnapped, you are being protected. Whoever paid to have you taken from your father's house will do so again."

It was Tharissa's turn to frown. He was making himself sound honorable, and like father was doing something wrong, like _humans_ were wrong.

"I'm Morkuth," he told her. "That," he nodded toward the younger Dragon Lord, "is Dynarys."

Despite being frustrated with her circumstances, the oddity of the situation peaked her humor. Of all the introductions she had been forced to endure during her social training, and luncheons and suppers with various city delegates, this was, by far, the strangest. Stranded in the middle of the forest, in her soaked nightdress and surrounded by naked warrior-bred men. What a time to fall back on formality, especially since she knew what his...extremities looked like before he offered his name.

"Now it is your turn."

She flinched, caught looking, again, at his cock. She really couldn't help it, such girth attracted attention. Her experience with sex had prepared her for smaller dimensions. And were those ridges on his manhood?

He drew in a sharp breath. "They are Lady Bax. Why? Does that interest you?"

_Great Six had she spoken aloud_? Forget the mild warmth her face had been feeling, it was hotter now than the fire she woke up beside. It must be some lasting effect from the drug, loosening her speech. The excuse did little to comfort her from mortification.

The corner of Morkuth's mouth lifted with a hint of amusement.

Tharissa did not find this funny at all. She scowled at him to let him know so, but she bit her tongue. Obviously she could not trust her traitorous thoughts to stay put, so there would be no more speaking for her. And to be safe she should probably stop looking at him, too.

Shame.

But she could be practical. She would not fight this travel, there might be a way to resolve the situation once at the aerie, to use her status as a noble woman to work a bargain for her safe return to father. Besides, there were many things she might learn with even a brief visit to the fortress. Many questions that might be answered.

After failing to draw her out in conversation, Morkuth fell silent, seemingly content to walk next to her and keep a close eye on her movements.

Dynarys ranged ahead, spreading his time between the road and the forest at the side. For a warrior, he was amazingly easy to lose track of. Several times she lost him just to have him reappear at their side and whisper something to Morkuth. Then he would slip away and, if she wasn't watching carefully, in the next few moments, he was gone again. It was more than a little unnerving and she found herself grateful that Morkuth didn't slither around quite so much, even if he kept annoyingly close. Nothing changed along the road, so far as she could tell. The same Gods forsaken mud and rain and wet trees. Ferns sagged, dejected with moisture, their fronds imposing over the double ruts. Thousands of raindrops dripped, making little splats and tinks and conjoining to form an underlying hiss muting the forest activity.

The Shifters were the first to react. One moment she was relatively alone with the Dragon Lord, the next furred bodies pressed toward her. It was startling to have them so close, where she could judge how truly large they were. Shoulders well above her head, they crowded her, blocking any view of her surroundings.

Morkuth stiffened and strode from the protective circle. She wanted to call out for him to wait, but everything had fallen so silent that speaking almost felt forbidden.

He reappeared a moment later, frowning.

"Humans, a mile up the trail."

"Merchants?" she didn't understand the concern.

"Warriors, they lie in wait with a multitude of weapons, as if we wouldn't sense them."

Ah, bandits then. "But we did sense them, right? So what's the problem?"

He looked at her, meeting her eyes. "Your father is among them."

## CHAPTER 4

Tharissa rubbed at her arms, trying to work some warmth back into her skin. They had stopped moving and the chill had caught up with her now that her body had stilled.

"What would father be doing out here?"

It made no sense to her. If he was tracking her, following her, then he should be _behind_. To get ahead on the trail he would have to know where she would be, and with whom. She supposed he might have guessed that the Lords would succeed in her rescue, if he knew that's what they were up to. And he might travel the long distance from the city to intercept them and bring her home. But then why the weapons?

"A set up." Dynarys confirmed her suspicions, stepping into the circle. "They've been informed the kidnappers would come this way. We were meant to find her with the rogues."

Morkuth turned his amber gaze to her, assessing. She met his eyes. Did he think that she had something to do with this? That would make even less sense. What good would being kidnapped do for her?

Morkuth must have decided the same thing for he turned to the forest, watching the rain drip down thoughtfully.

"I don't understand," Tharissa announced. "The only ones who have a good reason to kidnap me is you. What would anyone else stand to gain?"

Dynarys frowned at her.

"This isn't about you," Morkuth murmured. "It is about the Dragon Lords. We were at the house when you were taken, so, of course, it fell to us to track you down. Except, now the humans will find you in our possession. We are meant to look guilty."

A set up. She was meant to be kidnapped and she was meant to be found. Used, in order for someone to get their way.

"So what do we do now?" he asked, turning back to Dynarys.

He wasn't asking her, but that didn't stop her from offering an opinion. The problem was, she didn't know what to do next. Morkuth was right, obviously the setup had nothing to do with her at all and, while she intended to take steps to ensure she wasn't used in such a way again, the easiest way to resolve her current situation was to be released.

"You could let me go. I'm sure they'll leave as soon as I am returned. Then we can all get home." And warm and dry.

"Return you to the man who lost you in the first place? If we are right, then he was set up, too. Someone is manipulating this interaction and they don't care who is lost in the process. Those rogues that took you might just as easily have killed you, or worse. A rogue Shifter is never to be trusted. No," he rubbed a hand over his face, "we need another plan."

Tharissa opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it. She hadn't expected the truth. She was often lied to, or manipulated. Rarely were father or the other nobles direct with her, but Morkuth's candidness struck her as such. She hadn't agreed to his custody, but other than being wet and miserable, he had not harmed her. In fact, at this juncture, releasing her would most definitely be easier for him. She studied the wolves. He was spending a great deal of effort on her personal safety.

"Interacting with them could be dangerous. They appear to be reasonably trained with their weapons, it is possible they might score a fatal strike," Dynarys informed him.

"And then there would be retaliation. This could start a war, and nothing good will come from that, for either side."

"What if I approach them?" Both men frowned at her. "To negotiate. If I tell father that I wish to remain in your protection until the culprit is found...I am a grown woman, he will be furious, but there will be witnesses that I am not with you against my will."

Dynarys's frown deepened and his eyes narrowed at her. "You would say you are willingly here? Not moments ago you were arguing for your release."

"That's true, but I am not stupid. Your assumption of a setup makes sense. Someone is behind this and they want my father to see me with you, presumably against my will, kidnapped. I am being used as a pawn in this game and I don't like it. If I can defuse the situation by drawing the blame to myself, we disrupt the game, we might even draw out whoever set it up."

Morkuth blinked, but it was Dynarys who spoke.

"We could just as easily avoid the humans altogether, disappear back the way we came and enter the aerie through another route. They do not have the senses to determine that we ever approached."

"Lady Bax is right. If we confront them, or bypass them, the assumption will be we hold her against her will. It might just as easily start a war. Kidnapping is strictly against the treaty." Dynarys's face darkened. "If she disputes that, there is no legal course of action the humans can take."

" _If_ she disputes that."

Morkuth hesitated. "You can sense as well as I that she is not lying."

"She wouldn't be the first to hide the fact from us. The Shifters hide their intentions all the time. I try not to trust my senses, especially when logic tells me otherwise."

"She is not a Shifter, and she hasn't had enough experience with Dragon Lords to have learned to hide her emotions on her own. We have little choice but to trust her, the alternative does not bode well."

Tharissa could not read the younger Lord's face, they might as well have been discussing daisies rather than preventing battle.

"Very well," he agreed, though she suspected he was not happy about it.

She nodded. Now that she had made a decision to take a hand in her own fate, a certain determination came over her. She was a little surprised to find herself not filled with dread, but excitement. A noble woman came with a list of social rules and expectations...stifling rules and expectations. What would it be like to cast those aside for a time? What sort of things might she learn, given the freedom to explore? What new things might she experience?

She eyed Morkuth speculatively. One of the expectations placed on her was purity, and while she had flouted that for some time, she had never experienced a desire or attraction worth her effort. And Six gods did she want to experience desire. Experience _life_.

Was there such a thing as true passion, the kind that the poets wrote about?

Morkuth turned his attention to her, and she watched the shadows play across his jaw. There could be, here. She was sure of it. But as soon as the thought struck her, she shied away from it, something like fear dimming her fervor.

That would be wrong, a betrayal of all she was supposed to be. She shook herself internally, prying her thoughts away.

Dynarys was watching her, eyes narrowed. He had made it clear he didn't trust her, but she got the feeling he didn't like her, either. A sprig of her own suspicion formed. He had no reason to make such judgments of her...unless it was _his_ plan she was ruining. But why would he want the Dragon Lords to look bad?

"Let's go." She stepped forward, but the wolf circle did not move with her.

"Hold," Morkuth raised a finger. "We cannot just stroll along the road assuming the humans will think to stop and negotiate rather than loosing arrows at us blindly."

"They will if you let me go first."

Dynarys growled. It was a little intimidating, knowing she was the focus of such a noise, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she growled back, surprising an eyebrow twitch out of him.

"We cannot guarantee that," Morkuth argued, addressing her and stepping between the two, a look of consternation on his face.

"Are you suggesting my own father would put me in danger?"

He hesitated. "No," there was an odd hint to his words that suggested he _might_ think that. "But I have witnessed enough humans attack without thought."

She frowned. Father certainly wasn't the affectionate type. And the times she was welcome at gatherings and social events it always put him at a better advantage. But that was politics, it didn't mean her father would see her harmed. No doubt he was frantically worried for her safety. Or at least concerned enough to make the trip to the aerie to collect her himself.

Except they weren't at the aerie. They were in the middle of this torrent soaked forest, who knew how many miles and turns to the stronghold itself. Whoever had set up the meeting knew exactly where she and the Lords would be. Her gaze flickered to Dynarys. What if they also told her father to expect an attack? Father _would_ strike preemptively then, and that would start the war the Lords had spoken of earlier. That, she could do something about.

"Fine," she conceded tearing her eyes from the younger Lord. "How do you propose I speak to them?"

## CHAPTER 5

Dragon flight was the most terrifying and, at the same time, the most thrilling thing Tharissa had ever experienced. Even the rain faded into the background as the blood red beast lifted her, claws grasped around her ribs, high above the canopy. The world dangled beneath her toes, the trees nothing but lumps of green.

Her breath came quick and shallow. It felt as though she would fall through the sky at any moment. If she were able, she would scream, though with fear or excitement she wasn't sure. When Morkuth had transformed, he warned her that, unlike Shifters, dragons were separate creatures than the Lords, one that he could cajole into doing what he wished, but that might be startled by a squealing woman in its claws. So she remained silent, and flung her arms outward, the better to embrace the freedom.

So this is what flying felt like. Every beat of the beast's wings pumped them up and down, like big heavy breaths over the world.

Leaves blurred beneath her feet, far enough below that they looked like one undulating field of green fading into gray mist in the distance. Rain pelted at them, trickling along her skin and dripping from her feet. Her curls were nothing but soaked strings plastered against her head and back.

The dragon turned, banking, and worked his way above the rutted trail. She could see twists and turns all the way to a rectangular form in the distance, the aerie no doubt.

Her father and his men should have been between the spot they had left and the building, but there was no sign of them. Hiding, as Dynarys had assured. They were well out of arrow range, and though the height was enough to suck her breath away, she was suddenly glad for it. Father surely wouldn't aim at her directly, but she could easily be caught in the cross if they decided the dragon was a threat.

The dragon banked again, his long neck turning downward, wide rectangular snout coming into her view. She widened her arms, imagining the freedom of soaring wherever one pleased. Where would she go? Past the western mountains? To the southern sea? She had never even traveled beyond the farmland that surrounded the city. To be up here, beyond reproach...she wished it would never end.

Opening her eyes, she fixated on the dragon's snout a moment, and the white blade-sharp teeth that protruded a tad.

Was that what it was like for him? She knew the beast was separate from Morkuth, but could it feel the pleasure of what it was doing?

The big head turned, craning at an almost impossible angle. Wide, intelligent amber eyes met hers. Father's claim that they were vacant killers dashed in an instant. She grinned at him.

"More!" she commanded.

The beast might not be Morkuth, but she got the sense of its amusement, none the less. It banked again, the opposite way this time, diving.

The forest rushed toward her and her heart climbed into her throat. She sucked in a breath and opened herself, her body, as well as her emotions. Embracing every instant, not wanting to miss any opportunity.

The claws around her ribs tightened, not a painful grip but secure, and the dragon spread his wings, catching the air and driving them upwards, climbing higher and higher.

Tharissa watched the world fade below. Never had she been so alive.

The dragon reached the peak of its climb, looking down at her again, some form of silent communication. Then its mouth opened in a reptilian grin. Was it showing off? She got the feeling the creature might be enjoying itself as much as she was.

Where was Morkuth during all of this? He had been so controlled, his warnings about the dragon almost like dire predictions. Yet this creature was not what she had expected, it certainly wasn't about to drop her.

Even as she thought it, the dragon firmed its grip again, a reassurance.

"Go," she mouthed, nodding.

Immediately, the dragon swung its head upward and then dove again, this time reaching a dizzying speed. On the way down, it twisted, rolling lazily until it was upside down and holding her above it.

She couldn't help it, she squealed with delight, her stomach floating and her nerves vibrating. A roar emitted from the dragon's throat, startling her for a moment before she realized that it was expressing the same emotions. It flipped back over and then banked immediately, turning in a sharp circle the force of gravity pulling at her.

A shout from below drew its attention back to the forest. A serious air fell over it and it ceased its play. It banked again, circling what Tharissa recognized as the trail, though she was still disoriented from the aerobatics. She could see no one, but the dragon turned, slowly descending, giving anything below ample time to realize he was getting closer and that Tharissa was dangling from his grip.

Sure enough, a form appeared from beneath the green cover of the canopy. They were still a fair distance up, but even from so far away she recognized father's gait. The dragon sank lower and two more figures appeared. These carried bows clutched in their hands and held firmly at their sides, not aimed up toward them. Tharissa took that as a good sign.

The three stood, weapons down, as they neared. Closer and closer, but never within reach.

"Tharissa," father's voice carried toward her at last. She had to strain to hear him over the wing-beats of the dragon. He looked different from the air, older somehow. His dark brown hair had slowly faded until it was more white than chocolate, and when had he started to stoop? The powerful, well-dressed man that sat behind the table in his study, that was what she was used to. Here, in the pouring rain, dressed in travelers gear, he seemed...less somehow.

His voice did _not_ sound distraught and panicked. She couldn't place his tone really, concern? He obviously wasn't surprised to see her alive.

"Tharissa, tell the beast to release you to us at once and no harm will come to it."

The dragon huffed, the equivalent of a human snort. Tharissa had to agree, father was hardly in the position to make demands. From this distance, he was no threat to a butterfly, let alone a creature of the dragon's stature.

"This Dragon Lord rescued me from my kidnappers, father. He does not deserve your threats."

Father hesitated.

"It is distressing to watch you dangle like that, could you please have him set you down?"

Tharissa shook her head, and then, realizing they wouldn't see such a thing from that distance, she spoke.

"No, I can't do that. I've hired the Lords as my protectors until the person behind my abduction is found."

Father stiffened. "Hired how, Tharissa? The Lords only accept one form of payment."

Figures he would focus on that and not the fact that whoever threatened her life was still out there. The dragon turned again, circling, forcing her father and the two others to turn, as well. He must have had more men still hiding in the bushes, he was not stupid enough to face a dragon with only two.

"We haven't settled on payment yet. I've been more concerned with being kidnapped in the first place."

"I've already acquired extra security. _Human_ security. You know how I feel about the Lords."

A low rumble sounded in the dragon's belly. She tried to tell herself that the beast wouldn't drop her simply because father insulted it, not after what they just experienced.

"Yet the Lords are the ones who found me."

Father sighed, his lips pressed so tightly together she could make out the twitching of his left cheek. "This Lord and an....acquaintance were already in the city, to oppose the new law being placed." She tried to stem her guilt. She already knew that. In fact, if she hadn't been trying to catch a glimpse of them, she might not have run into her kidnappers at all. Or maybe that wasn't true. They were after her from the beginning.

"I have no reason to believe that this is not one of their delay tactics," father continued. "That by keeping you, they hope to intimidate me into complacency."

The dragon's growl grew, loud enough that the men on the ground must have heard it. Father's voice trailed off, then he shook his head.

"If it is not true, Dragon, then release her to me."

Claws tightened around her, the dragon's grip firming. It felt ridiculous being fought over, as if she had no choice in the matter. Well, she was an adult wasn't she?

"No," she looked down at father. His eyes widened, and she imagined the familiar wrinkles pulling across his jaw as he frowned. It was odd, defying him like this. Another pull of guilt tingled in her gut.

This was her father, she owed him her loyalty as family, if nothing else. She had defied him many times in life, but always for small points of freedom. Like refusing suitors, or asking passing delegates questions about the forest or the other cities littered within it. Things that mildly irritated him, but did not interfere with his career. _This_ was different, and yet, it was important, too. If father's law was passed, then it should be passed because it was something the people of the city believed in, not because of some manipulation involving her. Besides, the longer she spent with the Lords the more curious she became. What better time to learn more about them? They would be obligated to keep her safe and untouched, or face the war they were obviously trying to avoid.

Maybe, in the end, she might even learn something that would help father in his goals.

Oddly, that thought set off another twinge of guilt. She didn't want to betray the Lords outright, either; an emotion she would need time and space to examine farther.

"No," she repeated, "I've made my decision. It was Shifters who took me. I believe the Dragon Lords are the best equipped if there was to be another attempt. I will return when it is safe to do so, when the law is through."

The dragon stiffened. No doubt because that was an eventuality the Lords were also trying to avoid. Well, _that_ wasn't her problem. She might not want a war between their people, but she could not support using women as a form of payment.

"If the law goes through, you will be unable to return," father's voice turned grim.

Tharissa blinked down at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"It is the consequence of breaking the law. If a woman leaves the city to go to the Lords, she will be unable to return."

She swallowed heavily. _That_ was an aspect she had not been made aware of. She had a feeling it had been kept from her intentionally, too. It wasn't exactly a sentiment she could support. She thought the law was about keeping women from being used against their will, not punishing them for being used against their will...or making a stupid decision in the case of those who thought to go willingly.

But father was still staring up at her with a stubborn anger on his face. He meant to hold her accountable for this.

Suddenly, the consequences of her actions were far more immediate than she had anticipated. She drew in a ragged breath. She had two choices: risk her life returning home, and trusting that father could keep her safe; or risk losing her home altogether.

## CHAPTER 6

The aerie was not what Tharissa expected. The fortress that had, from a distance, looked gray and sad in the rain was actually a graceful structure composed of white buildings and towers, encompassed in a wall of the same pale stone. It shot up from the forest, gleaming in the rain's downfall.

They entered through a set of gates, heavy metal bars too wide to span her hands around, and the spaces between too narrow to enter. Four men guarded the entrance, armored in leather vests and serious scowls. Probably a result of having to stand outside in a deluge that had no sign of ending. They carried a variety of weapons, as well, she counted at least five hilts within sight, and she would bet on several that were hidden. They opened the gates as the group approached, avoiding looking toward them. The entrance led into a large, but functional, courtyard. Fitted squares of stone paved the ground, the same white that built the outer wall, and, from what Tharissa could see by peering down the streets heading away from her, what constructed the other buildings, as well.

An empty carriage perched in the courtyard's center, alone and without any beast of burden attached. The ornate, but dark, wood a stark contrast to the surrounding brightness, the empty harness lent a feeling of abandonment to it. More men lingered nearby, Shifters, too, like the gate guards, if she was reading the signals correctly. These, though, were not armored, they were as naked as her own set of guards.

No wonder the reputation of the men here was one of insatiable sexual desires; her exposure to the nudity of fit male specimens was nearly overwhelming. And she had barely entered the fortress.

The regiment of Shifters accompanying them broke off once the gates were closed, heading toward the left and places unknown. She was waved to follow the Dragon Lords as they turned right, down a wide street and toward the center of the aerie.

She followed, a little subdued by the events of the day and the enormity of the aerie itself. The giddy emotions from the flight had left her. Everything felt out of her control, a spiral of chaos she grasped by the tail and was left trailing along, skidding and tripping trying to keep up.

A group of men passed, each with the amber eyes of the Lords, they turned their heads as they walked, staring. One would think the naked men at her side would be the cause, but instinct told her that they were staring at _her._ Appraising her.

Morkuth pressed a little closer, but Dynarys quickened his pace, his stride purposeful and determined, his posture foreboding. She frowned at his back, worried that he might be up to something nefarious. Yet if Morkuth was comfortable letting him go, then she had little choice.

They passed a raised garden that caught her attention. Flowers spilled forth from the base, but behind them more practical plants grew. Several vines laden with gourds and fruits, and toward the back, along a trellis, she recognized the long pods of a pole bean. The mixture of beauty and function was curious, as was the smoothly carved statue that stood next to it, the bust of some historical figure, no doubt. She quickly found that such things were frequent there. The gardens seemed to fill any empty space they could, down every alley and street she peeked. Where the gardens weren't present, potted trees, citrus and apple and some she didn't recognize, popped up. They were well tended, too, not a droopy leaf or dead branch among them.

It lent a natural beauty to the aerie that was reserved for only the gardens of the wealthy within the city walls.

She frowned at the reminder of home, trying to force down the feeling of despair that tried to claw its way from her gut.

Morkuth watched her, she could feel his gaze, like a weight on her skin.

"Why did you do it?" he asked at last.

Tharissa turned to him. A furrow had formed between his brows, as if he were truly curious about the answer, as if the answer mattered.

Unfortunately, there was no clever reason, no intelligent trick up her sleeve. She was still reeling from the idea that her choice might be irrevocable.

"I said I would," she shrugged. And she had decided long ago that she would be different from the fickle nobles that surrounded her, that her promises would mean something.

He was silent for a long moment, his head turned as he studied the street that they walked.

She turned back to her surroundings. Had she made the wrong choice? Even if she made the _right_ choice, what was she going to do now? For the moment, she was safe and protected, the Lords _had_ to provide for her. But once father put his law through...it stood to reason that she would not be welcome at this aerie any longer. And what then?

She resisted the urge to rub her face. She was wasting her time worrying about these things she couldn't control.

She _hated_ feeling powerless.

Well, maybe she wasn't completely powerless. She had her wit. If she couldn't decide where she was going to spend her time, she could decide what she would do with it. Gathering information was the best use of her talents. With enough clues from the Dragon Lords, she might come up with a plan for her future that didn't involve being banished to the forest.

"What do you do with your women?" she asked Morkuth. She hadn't seen a single woman so far. In the entrance courtyard, that was maybe understandable, but even in the streets. It might be a function of the rain, but rain had never stopped the bustle of the city.

Morkuth looked at her with that slow, sexy grin he had turned on her before, his eyes flashing. It took her a moment to realize her question had been misinterpreted.

"I meant, where are the women? Do they not tend to the gardens, or market? I haven't seen a woman since we got here." Maybe they didn't keep the women the treaty allowed them. Maybe they got rid of them when they were finished.

"It is raining," Morkuth reminded, as if she had forgotten the fact, soaked as she was. Their stroll through the forest had warmed her blood enough that she wasn't chilled, but the feeling of her hair and nightdress plastered against her was constant, and uncomfortable.

"They must still do something when it rains."

"They do." He grinned at her again, his expression indicating exactly _what_ it was they did while it rained.

She opened her mouth to argue—they couldn't _all_ be having sex—but then she closed it again. Given the impressive stature of the men around here, she wasn't confident that they _weren't._

"Curious?" Morkuth's grin widened. "I'd be happy to allay any curiosities you might have."

"I'm not curious."

"No?" Morkuth's eyes crinkled at the corners. Her brain blanked out for a breath. The most attractive man she'd ever met was offering to...

"No." She shook her head. Partly to affirm her words and partly to convince herself. Her body certainly didn't believe her. She could feel moisture growing between her legs and all he had done was smile at her.

"I can sense when you lie, Lady Bax." Morkuth stopped, forcing her to stop, as well, since she didn't know where they were going. They had turned off of the wider street and were on a narrow path between buildings. Another road lay beyond, and she assumed that road was their goal.

Morkuth stepped closer, crowding her with his large, naked presence. It was difficult to determine the right course of action when one's body rebelled. Her stomach flipped, somehow adding a heightened tingling feeling to her awareness. The nearness of him had her nipples tightening, so that every movement of her nightdress sent an aching pull through them. She drew in a shaky breath, he was closing the space between them. What would he do, then? But he stopped, just short of touching her. An inch of air between their bodies.

"I'm not lying," she gasped, "I'm deciding."

"Deciding not to be curious?"

"About that? Yes."

"Does that ever work?"

Something in her expression must have given her away, for he chuckled. An attractive, deep sound.

"I find _myself_ more and more curious, Lady Bax." Amber eyes latched onto hers and she had the impression that he could see far more than her appearance. "Honorable enough to stand for your word, to stand up to your father. And spirited enough to charm my dragon into acrobatics. I sense a passion beneath your ladylike exterior, the front you've been trained to be, a thirst for life. A woman like you will never be satisfied living behind the rules and limitations human men place on their mates. Take this conversation, for example. You respond to the slightest suggestion of passion like a woman starved of it."

Well, that much was the truth. The few men she had snuck from the mansion to lay with could hardly be considered passionate lovers. She had satisfied her inquisitiveness about sex, but it left her wanting something more. Something her body was telling her this man might be able to give her.

What if he could? Would she regret not taking his offer?

He waited, gaze riveted to her face. Something about that act, that he waited for her decision, sealed her choice. He was not looking to push too far, wasn't forcing himself on her.

Before she could think about it too hard, or talk herself out of it, she pressed into him, allowing their skin to touch, and raising her arms to his neck. Heat crawled against her anywhere their skin touched. Beneath her, he stiffened, as if holding himself in check. She slowly raised her lips to his, but uncertainty set in at the last moment. It wasn't as if she really knew what she was doing. She brushed her tongue tentatively against his bottom lip, tingles from the contact shooting straight to her core.

Then, with lightning movement, he was holding her back, crushing her to him. His mouth crashed into hers, no more hesitant, light movements, this was passion. He nipped her bottom lip and she opened for him, allowing him to plunge inside. A hand curled into her hair, cradling, cupping her closer and a moan of pleasure escaped him. He pressed against her stomach, unashamed. A heat of her own rose within her as she realized he had grown erect, and since he was still naked, his cock rose up between them, eagerly vying for attention.

Once more she felt alive, almost the same feeling as she got when she was flying. She didn't want this to end, either, she wanted to push farther. She was on the edge of something amazing, she was certain.

She pushed past her hesitation and reached down and grasped him. The satiny skin was as hot as the rest of him, and she found her fingers toying with the ridges along the top. A curious feature.

Morkuth pulled his lips away, going very still.

"You tempt a fate you do not understand, Lady Bax."

"Tharissa," she muttered. "I think it's appropriate you call me by name now."

"Tharissa," he moaned. "Either you stop what you are doing, or you risk making your father's predictions come true. Your thirst for passion will lead us both to trouble. I only have so much control."

She blinked, the rules and walls of proper society slamming around her like the iron bars on the aerie's gate. What _was_ she doing? Standing in the alley of a strange fortress, surrounded by strangers. Not only strangers, but Dragon Lords, and here she was eagerly kissing and holding his member. She couldn't even blame the drug this time.

A blush crept up her neck and she released him, trying to step back, to take some space.

He held her tight, however, and took a few deep breaths. Not letting her pull from him, just holding very still. The furrow between his brows returned, but that hardly held her attention. Instead, she was drawn to the glowing of his eyes. An intense burning amber, like the coals of a fire.

"Your tendency toward impulse is a little unnerving," he muttered. "I want nothing more than to take you, right here." His eyes flashed, lending a seriousness to his words.

Concern fluttered in her chest. She wasn't sure she was ready for that. She had only wanted a simple kiss, to know if passion really existed. Well, she had her proof, and it was almost more than she could handle. She shook her head, trying to clear it.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not," he traced a finger along her lips, "not a bit, and I plan to continue this, once you've had time to think about it. To make a decision that you won't regret."

Lust was still raging through her, and his words did nothing to lessen it. What sort of woman-demeaning mercenary gave the woman, their alleged bounty, a choice? Especially after her willing display. She knew plenty of human men that weren't as honorable.

For the first time, she considered that father's law might be completely wrong. Not the trading women part, that part was spot on, but there was more to the Dragon Lords than insatiable use of females. This aerie was not the lurid bed of indecency that she'd been led to believe. If women _wanted_ to be here...well, there shouldn't be a law against that right? She needed more information, like why the Lords bartered for women in the first place. They were definitely attractive, from what she had seen—and she was seeing a good portion—they were fit and intelligent, surely their own women were easy to seduce.

But if human women were just a bonus, a payment for a job, why would someone care enough to kidnap her and blame the Lords so father's law had more to stand on. And why would the Lords care? Wouldn't it be easier to give up on human women?

Morkuth was right. She was too curious to be settled behind laws and rules. She _needed_ answers. And she was going to get them.

## CHAPTER 7

"What do you mean the Archon is not available? I am here to report on _his_ orders," Morkuth growled at the blond Dragon Lord in front of him. It didn't seem to move the man, a middle-aged warrior with thick bands of silver at his temples. He lounged against the doors, barring entrance. His clothes, Tharissa noticed, were fine, even finer than those of the nobles that often attended father's dinners.

"Exactly what it sounds like. He isn't seeing anyone," the Lord glanced at Tharissa, and then back to Morkuth, the expression on his face unimpressed, "for any reason. There has been a challenge, he prepares for it."

Morkuth stilled. "What challenge? There have been no contenders for Archon since Thirsac."

The older Lord watched Morkuth for a moment, and Tharissa wished she could read the man's thoughts. There was some clue in the way that he hesitated, but what it indicated, either a disrespect for Morkuth, or the hiding of a secret, she couldn't tell. Then he shrugged.

"Ocran has gained enough support for the challenge."

"Ocran? He is a fool."

"Not everyone wants to roll over for the humans like a dog before its master. The aerie needs a leader that will do more than send representatives to debate these supposed _laws_. Someone who will remind the humans why the treaty stands to begin with, and put to death those that oppose us."

Tharissa did an admirable job of keeping her emotions in check. This man just threatened her father, and the other councilors of the city. She no longer knew what to believe about father's law, but killing leaders that opposed the Dragon Lords was tyrannical and she was certain she didn't like that. She had grown comfortable with Morkuth, but it was as much of a mistake to think that all the Lords had honor as it was to believe they were all ruthless.

Morkuth did not react, either. Tharissa might have met him less than a day ago, but in that time she felt as though she had a good idea of the man. Coupled with her knowledge of political maneuvering, she knew his neutrality in front of this Lord meant something. She wondered if it had something to do with a difference in their stations...if Dragon Lords even had stations, as the humans of the city did.

"When?" Morkuth demanded at last, casting a glance to the sky. The clouds had darkened considerably, it would be night soon.

"One hour."

From the older man's smirk, there was something significant about the time line. Or maybe it was simply that it was such a short time that nothing could be done about it.

"Come, Tharissa," Morkuth murmured. "We will see you settled. I believe your dilemma is going to have to wait."

Tharissa sighed. She was tired of being wet and cold. She matched his footsteps away from the tower and back the direction they had come.

"You don't seem happy," she looked up at his scowling face.

"A challenge of the Archon is not a happy event."

"I assume the Archon is your leader. What will happen? Will there be a vote?"

"That is not exactly how it works here."

Morkuth's answers were short, and purposely vague. Polite manners would demand she pry no farther.

"What makes leadership here? How is your Archon chosen? And what good is a challenge?" Each question popped from her mouth in quick succession, and each led to Morkuth's eyebrows raising a hair farther.

"I come to understand why your father was threatening to give you a room in the cellar, with bars, when he found you gone."

Tharissa stiffened. "I was kidnapped by Shifters, if you remember."

"I remember a frantic maid describing how you crawled out a third story window."

Poor Rei. Tharissa mourned the trouble her friend would have faced, and after she promised to be there to protect her. Except...

"You can't possibly know that. Father would never let you in that door. That's why we were sneaking out to begin with."

"I do know that. Our Shifter partners have exceptional hearing, and your father was anything but quiet while he bellowed his threats. That's how we tracked you so fast. We knew of your disappearance as soon as your father did, and we left before he could convince the council to ban us from the chase."

"He tried to ban you from saving me?"

The corner of Morkuth's mouth twitched upward. "He yelled vainly from the doorstep."

Morkuth might have found humor in vexing father, but Tharissa couldn't help the twinge of anger that worked its way through her. Father's ideology, his hatred of the Lords went beyond logic, and if circumstances were different, it might have gotten her killed. Perhaps it was time to find independence from the man. Unfortunately, she had no skills that were useful for independence. What would she do? Hold dinners and dances to support herself? The only way for her to get out of father's house was to marry into another.

"Tharissa?"

Tharissa blinked, realizing Morkuth had been talking to her.

"Sorry, I missed what you said."

"You snuck out to see me? That's why you climbed out a window?"

"Well, not you, specifically. Dragon Lords. Father is so against them...you. But I've always had this urge to learn more, despite all that he says."

Morkuth made a sound of agreement, and then looked at her speculatively.

"Where are we going?"

They had made their way a distance from the tower, past several buildings and walkways, and even some covered courtyards. Tharissa glanced at one longingly. It felt as though she had been wet for weeks.

"I thought you might like to warm up in the baths, then I will find you somewhere sheltered until I can speak to the Archon about your presence." He paused. "Until then, it might be wise to avoid the other Dragon Lords, no one is very happy with your father at the moment."

A frown crossed her face. "Why? Why does anyone here care about the law...about human women at all? Unless you are worried about losing out on sex? Why not just stick with your own kind?"

She didn't like the way that thought made her feel, that Morkuth wanted access to women as much as the other Lords. It didn't help when he rolled his eyes at her, either.

"Your father really does have the masses fooled, doesn't he?"

Tharissa's brows crashed together. It was like he was implying that she was foolish, and that hurt her pride a little. But she had to admit, she knew precious little about the other races in the forest.

"Then tell me," she demanded. "What am I fooled about?"

"There are no women of our kind. There never has been. That is why we need the arrangement with the city. The right to...seek a mate from among the human women, in exchange for the city's protection."

"So you _do_ trade for women," Tharissa studied the rain beneath her feet. Fine. She understood now why they traded for women, but she was disappointed. She was forming her own opinions of the Lords, separate from her father's views, but she could never support women being treated like items for sale.

A hand grasped her upper arm and pulled her to a stop, and then a strong finger traced her jaw and settled beneath her chin, lifting her face.

"Not so," Morkuth met her eyes. "The Amber Aerie Guard only accepts women willing to be here. The problem is that, thanks to continually stricter laws, willing women are increasingly hard to come by, and not for a lack of attention on the Lord's part. The laws have become too harsh. Women refuse to come here, even if they have desired to do so. There are too many regulations and punishments involved. We are becoming desperate, Tharissa. Dragon Lord sons are very rare. We cannot afford to pander to the whims of a race that breeds faster than rodents."

Tharissa gaped at him. "I feel like there's an insult for me in there..."

"Never," Morkuth whispered. "Only frustration on my part. I cannot watch my kind die out. But a woman who becomes a dragon's mate is far from insulted. Here, we honor our women, honor _all_ women. Likely because we have none of our own. Our dragon's allow nothing less. It has always been so. Even if, in the old days, the dragon would choose his mate indiscriminately, the women often came to love and enjoy being mated."

A little thrill of desire raced through her. Having Morkuth this close to her discussing mating did that.

"But surely there have been enough women come through the aerie for each of you to at least pick a mate? I know the merchant class frequents here, or at least they did..." Tharissa paused, her thoughts racing. "Or is it that you have more than one woman?"

Maybe the dragon's _were_ greedy, as the rogue had said. Maybe Morkuth already had a mate and she interested him as a second, or just a moment of fun. She might have initiated the kiss...and the fondling, but she was looking for passion, something more than what she had experienced or witnessed in her admittedly sheltered life. Being one of many didn't fit her ideals, even if he did honor her.

She must have been easy to read, for Morkuth chuckled softly and tugged her along so that they were walking once more.

"There is only one mate, Tharissa, but many Lords seek for her for their entire lives. It is not as simple as dividing the women who do travel here amongst us, though at times I would it were so."

She looked at him. He faced forward now, a wistful expression on his face, a longing for something.

"The Lord does not choose his mate. Things would be much simpler if he did, and perhaps our numbers would not be falling so much. It is the dragon that chooses, and often the Lord has little idea until he has coupled that he found his mate."

"...Oh," her voice was small and thoughtful. That was both relieving and distressing at once. What would it be like depending on something like your symbiont beast to choose a mate for you? To not have any say in the matter? Would it be any different from father choosing her suitors? Maybe Morkuth was just as trapped in his life circumstances as she was.

"And the dragons? They just pick at random? Or is there some criteria that they follow?"

He huffed a little. "If there is, I haven't found it. It is a delicate balance, keeping the beast in check at the best of times. Deciphering what it wishes in a mate is...fruitless." He eyed her. "Although, perhaps a woman that amused the creature, one that encouraged aerial acrobatics while dangling from its clutches..."

She avoided his gaze, and what he was suggesting. Would she want that? The Lords, or the idea of them, had always fascinated her, but was that enough to keep her? Or would it simply be another elaborate cage, like father's house? One that stifled life with rules and regulations?

They had come to a building, or a set of walls, at least. The roof was open to the night, and steam rose into the sky. Morkuth opened a door, pausing to allow Tharissa through, a wry and slightly sad smile on his lips as he watched her expressions.

"The women's baths," He announced. "I will set guards beyond the walls if you need anything."

She looked at him then. "Where are you going?"

"I will find you something dry to wear, and shelter until the challenge is finished and the Archon will see you."

A flash of concern passed through his eyes and she wondered if he was worrying which Archon she would be seeing.

"It won't take long will it?" suddenly she was a little nervous about facing any part of the aerie alone. "The voting or whatever, it will be quick right?"

Morkuth met her eyes doubtfully. "It is not a vote, it is a battle of dragons...to the death. And I doubt it will be quick."

## CHAPTER 8

"Wait here," Morkuth instructed.

_Here_ was a garden, open to the surroundings, but with a roof that sat upon fat pillars and enough shrubbery to block any moisture from getting in. Benches littered the stone walkways and someone had thoughtfully lit fires throughout to spread a little warmth.

Night had fallen and the benches looked welcoming to her exhausted mind. She had bathed, scrubbing off the mud and rain in the bathhouse, alone except for a very pregnant woman tended to devotedly by a middle aged man with amber eyes. A Dragon Lord.

It should have been awkward to have him on the woman's side of the baths, but he was so riveted on his wife he hardly noticed she was there. The genuine care he took with her was nothing short of worship, and it left Tharissa with thoughts to ponder.

By the time that Morkuth called out from the change area that he had secured dry clothes for her, she was smitten with the pair.

Now though, clean and dry, in a dress obviously made for someone with slightly smaller...assets, she found herself simply tired. Too tired to think overmuch on her situation. In fact, that bench next to the fire was beginning to look awfully cozy.

She didn't argue with Morkuth. He had to be present at the challenge, and there was no room yet prepared for her. All she could do was wait. Since she wasn't capable of much more in her state, she sat on the bench, tucking her legs beneath her. It was close enough to the fire that warmth spread through her, reminding her of the touch of Morkuth's skin.

"I wish I could do better for you," he sighed, taking in their surroundings. Personally, she found nothing wrong with them, it was dry and warm. The only thing better would have been a bed, and since there were no rooms prepared, it made sense to her. "I considered leaving you indoors, in one of the public areas for the Dragon Mates, but given the contention about who you are...or rather, who your father is..."

"This is fine," she assured.

He nodded, but stood uncertainly for a moment, as if wishing to say something more.

"I will return shortly," he turned away at last. "I have arranged for as much privacy as I can give you, but there are guards along the paths and at the garden entrances."

He looked back to her pointedly. She wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure her, or warn her against stupid actions. It didn't matter, she didn't plan on moving at all. The longer she stayed awake, the more drained she felt. She leaned against the curved bench back, molded and smoothed just right for comfort, despite being made of solid wood. Her head thunked against it, creating a satisfying thud.

Something like sympathy passed through Morkuth's gaze.

"You can rest soon, Tharissa, I promise."

Without wasting more words, he strode from the garden. Tharissa watched his broad back until he disappeared from the paved path. A shadowy figure moved from his way. One of the aforementioned guards. The world dimmed, and she fought to keep her eyes open. But with the lulling sound of the rain, and the heat from the fire, she found herself slowly fading into sleep.

***

Something woke her. She startled, nearly falling from the bench. Oddly, nothing had changed, every aspect remained the same as when she had dozed. The normal muddy confusion that accompanied waking was gone and she held very still, trying to decipher why.

She took a deep breath and focused. There, a movement nearby, beyond the shrubs behind her, ominous. There was a meaty thud, followed by a horrifying gurgle.

Nervous tension settled upon her, her body froze, instinctually. All thought fled from her except for one.

Someone had died.

"Then what good are you to me?" a cold voice muttered.

Fear slammed into her, the smell of blood twisted her insides. She straightened, searching the darkness beyond the fire, filled with a cold certainty that her life was in danger.

"I scent you woman," a man announced, "looks like I'll be doing the hard work."

Tharissa leapt off the bench, for no real reason that she could discern except that panic had flooded her. She raced down the path Morkuth had taken. A half a second later a blade ripped through the foliage behind the bench, tearing apart the tangles and snapping vines as though they were the finest of parchment.

An inhuman snarl, a _Shifter_ snarl, followed, but she was too busy scrambling along the path to see what the man looked like. The only thing she could think was that she had to get back to the garden entrance, to the guards Morkuth had set.

She ran as fast as her feet would move, flying along the stones—until she sprawled over a lump in the path. The obstacle gave slightly beneath her foot, but it didn't stop her from hitting the ground. Hard. Her ribs cracked upon impact and the air rushed from her lungs. Clothing brushed her legs as she curled her feet beneath her, attempting to stand once more.

A body. She had tripped over a body.

She whimpered, the only sound she was capable of, and crossed her right arm beneath her ribs. The instant of shock passed and she could breathe once more. It hurt like fire prods stabbing into her lungs, but she could breathe. She stumbled forward just in time to be wrenched around by a firm grip.

"The chase isn't even fun with a human," the man noted, "I expect fucking will be even less exciting."

"Help," she cried, desperate for the guards—or anyone—to hear, to stop what she knew was coming.

"Pathetic," he grabbed her forearm, pulling her close. The smell of sweat and blood scrambled her thoughts. He was a large man, heavy with muscle. Well-tended black hair stood short upon his head, gleaming in what little firelight reached them. His eyes, though, were what scared her; dark and determined, they did not look at her, but through her.

"I'm the one who's pathetic?" Tharissa fumbled, anything to keep him talking and not using his blade. "Attacking a woman in the night? Where's your honor?"

"My mother and half-breed brother took care of honor. But don't worry, I still have the strength for my task. Poor little noble, what chance did you have against the strength and brutality of the Lords? It will be so devastating when I report your rape and death." He leaned closer, his foul breath in her face. "When I'm through, your people will do more than support your father's law, they will kill the Lords on sight."

His fingers crushed her skin where he held her arm, digging...bruising, until at last a sharp pain shot through her, accompanied by the sound of bone snapping.

The scream was all that she could manage. Pain flared along her arm, dancing among her fingers and climbing all the way to her neck. She tried to pull free, but every hint of movement made it worse, she had no choice but to still.

The world around her spun. The man had no sympathy for her plight. He shook her arm, a grin spreading along his face when she whimpered.

Why was no one responding? Where were all her guards? Where was Morkuth?

"Still think I'm pathetic?" the man taunted.

"Worse than pathetic, you're disgusting."

Tharissa was not only surprised by her words—she obviously hadn't thought them through very well—but also the fact that he let her finish speaking. A corner of his lips raised in a snarl, but his focus was no longer on her, it was on the surrounding garden. Night had fallen, the darkness obscuring all but the brightest of spots, yet something had grabbed his attention.

There wasn't much she could do with the distraction, even the slightest of movements shot pain through her arm. She couldn't bring herself to pull on it, so, instead, she pushed the rest of her body closer, and swung her knee toward his groin.

It didn't connect, and she hadn't really expected it to. He turned so that her knee slammed into his thigh instead. He didn't even flinch. He _did_ jerk with surprise, unfortunately, though, not as a result of anything she had done. She expected punishment for her action, but still he stared into the distance.

She glanced over her shoulder, still unable to determine what had caught his attention. His tension promised something, or someone, was there.

"Help!" she cried...Gods she did sound pathetic.

Her plea brought a grunt of surprise, and a shifting of the shadows down the path. She could make out the stone walkway, slightly brighter than the shrubbery surrounding it. A figure appeared on it, glowing amber eyes flashed toward them. At first she thought it was Morkuth, returned for her at last, but this shadow wasn't broad enough.

"Can't you ever be where you're supposed to? I arranged for a suitable distraction," the man who held her growled.

"Yes, a challenge of the Archon. The one thing every Dragon Lord must be present for."

Dynarys.

"And, as always, you feel exempt from the rules. Always overly suspicious of others."

Dynarys tilted his head in acknowledgment, the movement shifting his eyes sideways slightly.

"Oddly enough, it wasn't you I was suspicious of."

Tharissa never thought she'd be glad to be found untrustworthy, but Dynarys's suspicion of her might just save her life.

"You're a traitor, Kurath," Dynarys announced.

The man—Kurath—snorted. "I owe no loyalty to the Dragon Lords."

"I wasn't talking about the Dragon Lords. You've betrayed the pack."

"I am saving the pack! Freeing them from their pitiful service of a race beneath us."

Dynarys swung an arm toward the body. "I doubt _he_ saw it that way, or any of the other guards you've slain."

Sweat trickled down her neck. Had he killed them _all_? No wonder no one came when she called, and it meant he would have no trouble killing her, either. Desperation was making her panicky. As much as she wanted to understand what was going on between the two men, she had to get away from him. Because she _didn't_ want to die.

Tharissa grit her teeth together, preparing. She was never one to endure pain well, she tended to avoid all aspects of it strenuously, so what she was about to do went firmly against her nature. She blinked twice at Dynarys. It felt foolish. Her eyes weren't the ones that glowed. He probably couldn't see them, but if there was even a chance he could, she wanted to give him a warning so that he could act on her stupidity. Then, before she could think overlong and change her mind, she pulled at Kurath's grip, twisting herself to minimize the damage, and rolled to the ground.

His hand tightened at the first sign of movement, but he wasn't prepared for the direction she fell. Spots danced before her eyes as her arm first twisted unnaturally and then slipped from his grip. She made sure to tangle her legs with his on her way down, the result being that she was dragged forward sharply when the heavy force hit him.

She screamed once more, she couldn't help it, when he was ripped from her. If she survived this night, tomorrow was not going to be a pleasant morning. She rolled gingerly away from the fight. Dynarys was a hard man to spot, even in close quarters. His black attire absorbed the little ambient light available, and though she could hear the immediate clash of metal, she couldn't see the swords, either.

A new sound, heavy footsteps, clomped down the stone walkway, two sets of legs coming into view against the white stone. Tharissa staggered to her feet, maybe some of the guards had survived and they were here, at last, to stop this insanity.

The figures hesitated, giving the impression that they could see more of their surroundings than she could. The grunts and clashes behind her continued, but these two were not in a hurry to interfere.

She could _feel_ their eyes when their focus shifted to her. Worse than that, her instincts screamed that it was not friendly focus.

Involuntarily, she stepped backward, her desire for life, and fear of more pain, controlling more of her action than rational thought. As she suspected, the men followed her movement with their own, stalking forward like the predators that they were.

Dynarys roared, flinging outward with a sudden movement and sending Kurath sprawling down the path. He stepped between her and the men.

"Touch her and forfeit your life, as Kurath already has."

"You cannot kill him," one of the newcomers announced.

"I will not have to. His trial will bring his death."

" _My_ trial? I clearly saw you brutalize and kill the lady. A halfbreed gone savage, just like your father. Not particularly surprising, though. I doubt the humans will see it as forgivable," Kurath goaded.

"That lie will be difficult to prove when Lady Bax testifies against you."

"Sadly, Lady Bax was already dead when we discovered you," he chuckled, "you know, I think this is going to work out better than I had hoped. I never thought I might implicate you in all of this."

The Shifters moved forward all at once, some hidden signal allowing them to synchronize their movement.

Dynarys turned to her.

"Stay against me," he commanded, then he dropped his sword.

"What?"

He didn't answer her directly, his skin and body undulated, wings and scales bursting forth.

"I guess that's a sufficient answer."

The transformation was fast, giving the Shifters no chance to charge in while he was vulnerable. _Her_ response was a little slower, and it almost cost her life, as the Shifter on the right charged her with his blade.

She dodged in to the dragon's side, just in time to avoid being swatted with his whip-like tail. The Shifter was not so lucky; he flew several feet down the path when the appendage hit. His grunt promised he was not too injured to recover. She didn't have any of the advantages that the men had, so she kept her good arm plastered to the dragon's side, trying to sense what movements came next, where she might be the safest.

The snapping of a massive jaw had her flinching closer. She definitely did not want to be in the wrong place.

Shadows moved on her left, but the dragon was moving, too, turning and herding her around with it, away from them. There wasn't much room for the maneuver, talons as long as her hand scraped at the stone and his wings lay flattened against his back, impaired by the garden roof. There was a hint of movement behind her, something moved on the dragon's other side closing in fast.

"By your tail!"

Without hesitation the dragon whipped its head around, careful not to displace her. Something crunched and she spent the next moments of silence trying to erase the sound from her memory. The dragon's skin vibrated as he emitted a low growl.

"Forget him," Kurath spoke, his voice on her right. He wasn't the one crunched then...too bad. "We are not strong enough to take a dragon alone, just kill her."

Tharissa wondered if he knew he had lost one of his men. It didn't sound like he cared.

Oddly, the dragon's scales gleamed, and she realized something had changed. Heat blasted against her...it hadn't been a simple growl but a burst of fire. White hot flames reflected off the stone, the intensity caused the few shrubs near its path to explode into infernos themselves. She was too distracted by the fact the dragon had spit fire to use the advantage of the extra light at first. A flicker of movement, highlighted by one of the burning plants, spurred her motivation. Kurath skulked there, at the edge of the flame. He was slipping through the shadows to the dragon's far side, she would lose sight of him in a moment. Despite his command to forget Dynarys, he focused on nothing else, hate spiking little glittering spots in his eyes. The man was almost more inimical in the light, which was saying something, because she found him pretty terrifying in the dark.

He shifted his shoulders, pulling something forward. With smooth movements born of years of practice, he adjusted himself, quickly pulling a second item from behind his shoulder.

A bow.

Tharissa patted the dragon's side, he _had_ to see that right? Could a bow even damage a dragon? The smooth solidity of the scales promised some protection, but it was definitely the beast Kurath was aiming for. The dragon grunted, an animal-like sound, a pained sound. She blinked, she was watching Kurath intently, his movements were slow and deliberate, as if he was trying to avoid detection. He hadn't yet knocked the arrow. Whatever had hurt the dragon was behind him, and he was focused on that.

Tharissa's breath left her. She wasn't sure what damage could be done, or if the dragon even understood her frantic patting, father always said the beast form was just that, a beast. There was no time to try and recover its attention, or even to think. She dropped toward the ground, crouching and trying to make herself as unnoticeable as possible. Fortunately, Kurath had moved enough that the dragon's body blocked her mostly from sight. She scampered toward the shadows first, and then made her way around to the flames. Kurath's position against the shrubbery hadn't changed, but he had set the arrow and drawn back. Fear shot energy through her, she had no time. She gave up on stealth and ran, as fast as her bruised ribs and aching arm allowed.

The shrub was charred beyond recognition, but some of the tips had gone out. She latched onto one, the heat blistering her palm, and yanked. The piece that broke loose was not as large as she had hoped, but she lobbed it toward Kurath anyway. It didn't make it to the man, but landed before him, the flames sputtering angrily.

He blinked down at it.

The dragon, too, noticed the movement, whipping its great head from its rear, where a long hilt protruded from between two scales on his back.

Apparently, neither of the Shifters were going to give up the chance to fight Dynarys, or perhaps the command to kill her had been a ruse.

Kurath's eyes widened, his arm jerked upward, compensating for the loss of focus she had caused. He didn't have time to re-aim, the dragon surged forward, snapping its jaws. Kurath leapt back behind some of the shrubs that were still intact, bow forgotten.

She thought the dragon would charge after him, but the beast did not. It turned back into the flattened area they—or he rather—had created, amber gaze alert and suspicious. His eyes latched on to her, another growl growing in his throat.

No. Not her, she realized. She spun, a little dizzy from the speed of the movement, but it was too late. A blade gleamed above her, already on its way down toward her neck. She didn't even have time to scream.

Then, without warning, it was gone, a heavy smack and a grunt the only clue to what happened. Two forms wrestled on the stones, the bigger, broader form easily gaining the upper position. A sickening crack filled the air and the bottom form fell still.

Tharissa shuddered, standing impeccably still as tremors worked their way through her body. She had almost died. One more second and it would have been her laying on the stones, never to move again.

It was Morkuth who rose from the Shifter's prone form. The dragon was gone, and there was no trace of Dynarys, either. Had he gone after Kurath? She hoped so. Morkuth turned to her, fury blazing amber in his eyes.

"Tharissa..." he whispered, a bitter note in his voice.

"I think I might be sick," she announced, before, mortified, she discovered she was collapsing.

## CHAPTER 9

Tharissa stood at the doors of the tower, the very one they had been denied entrance to three days before. It glowed, festively lit in the dark evening. Above it, a dragon flew, his dark form gliding lazily. A sight that, weeks ago, would have awed her, and now it was commonplace. So much so that, to her, the black form looked familiar, and lonely. She owed Dynarys her life, but one would never claim he was affectionate or particularly social at all.

Inside, the sound of music and voices rose and fell with the natural cadence of a gathering of happy people. She clutched her broken arm against the midnight blue silk of her dress. Her wounds were healing remarkably quickly, the aerie's medic applying salves and tinctures that were far advanced to those of the city. But though her ribs and the blisters on her palm had healed a great deal, her arm still ached.

This dress fit perfectly. She had found it on her bed after returning from the aerie's medic, and though the cryptic note with it had only said it was for her and to attend this banquet, she knew Morkuth had sent it. In fact, it was a little odd that he hadn't been there when she received it, the man had hardly left her side since the incident in the garden. A more attentive protector she had never seen, but she sensed he held a great deal of guilt for what happened. It wasn't his fault, of course; no one could have guessed that Kurath, the very Shifter who aimed to lead the aerie's pack, would have been behind such atrocities. It was too bad the coward had run. She didn't consider herself vindictive, but being banished forever from the aerie, with death the result if he returned, was a little mild for what he had done, and planned to do.

One of the many Shifter guards that now followed her everywhere turned her direction, as if sensing her thoughts. She did her best to hide a shudder. She knew better than to label them all by the actions of one, unfortunately her instincts did not.

Just relax.

She forced her breathing to continue on rhythmically, and avoided looking at the man.

She scanned her surroundings again. The note had been very clear, she was not to go inside without Morkuth, but she wasn't sure how seriously to take it. She did have her guard. As she was learning, the women in the aerie never went _anywhere_ without some form of escort. It was a hard place to be lonely.

"Lady Bax," Morkuth's voice as he exited a nearby alley was enough to send small flutters alight in her stomach. His appearance when he neared the building's glow had even more impact. He was dressed in a deep blue formal robe that complimented her own dress, simple and yet the intricacy of the designs proved it wasn't inexpensive. She had never questioned who had sent the garment, but this confirmed the intent. They looked like a matched pair. Amber eyes assessed her, the corner's crinkling with good humor, and she found herself smiling back at him stupidly.

"Shall we go in? This banquet _is_ a celebration of your victory against the traitor."

She blinked up at him, her heart dropping a little. "It is?"

He winked at her. "Only partially, it is also a celebration of the Archon defeating his challenger, of an important progress with the treaty between us and the city, and the passing of a week's long rain. Dragon Lords _like_ to celebrate."

Tharissa relaxed a little, "I see. What progress is made with the treaty?" Had they defeated father's law? She was surprised to find that she didn't think that a bad thing any longer. She had seen enough of the Dragon Lords to know that the treaty's agreement had been misunderstood by the council, or at the least, her father.

"A hold on the decision, until your case is resolved," Morkuth offered her a wary smile, "so that you may return home without interference."

A mix of emotions ran through her. Relief, mostly. She could go home. The Dragon Lords, or maybe it had just been Morkuth, had taken care of her needs once more. As relieved as she was to know that she wouldn't yet be banished to the forest for her decision, a hint of regret seeped into her festive state. Going home meant returning to her father's house. It meant settling for any suitor that would have her, for she couldn't remain unmarried forever. A choice that now, more than ever, sat poorly with her.

Morkuth watched her face intently, and she had the feeling he was looking for something. After a moment, he smiled again, sadly, and held out his left arm so that she might take it with her good hand, but there was something more in his stance, he hadn't told her everything.

She stopped just short of joining with him, "What is it?"

He grinned this time exuding all his charm, his eyes flashing. "Banquets are a good place to assuage your curiosity about ridges."

Tharissa frowned. She had been to many banquets, as well as suppers and balls. What she knew of them wasn't conducive to the type of curiosity Morkuth was hinting at.

"Come," he encouraged, his voice a little rougher than before, "You will see."

It took one step into the hall that formed the lower level of the tower to learn that this was not a banquet. Not by any imaginative stretch. The location was right, an opulent room with high arched ceilings held up with decorative pillars. The ceiling was spotted with various shades of blue and green, created by forcing lantern light through colorful crystals that hung tastefully hidden in corners and nooks. There were other lanterns, of course, closer to the floor to highlight...activities and conversations one would expect from such a gathering. Well, she expected conversations, she did _not_ expect these particular activities.

Six realms it was like walking into a house of pleasure. The atmosphere writhed with carnal intentions. Dragon Lords scattered across the floor, most easily identifiable by the wings spreading from their backs, and the ones without wings at the ready regarded the scene behind amber eyes. In fact, so far as she could see, the men were _all_ Dragon Lords.

"No Shifters at your...banquet?" she asked, trying to appear casual.

Morkuth crowded close to her, his arm snaked around her waist instead of between them.

"Most Shifters are vastly uncomfortable with such gatherings, they prefer to guard the tower from outside. Even if the banquet appealed to them, I think they would choose to celebrate on their own, they are rather a private people."

Huh. She couldn't help but find herself a little relieved.

They still stood at the entrance, Morkuth allowing her time to adjust to the scene. Another Dragon Lord broke away from a group of men and human women conversing nearby. He was a younger man, with skin like the black sap of the night crocus. He wore no shirt, his azure wings stretched out behind him. His eyes crinkled with welcome and good humor as he grinned at Tharissa, white teeth flashing.

Morkuth's arm tightened a little, a sound, almost a growl emitted from his throat. Whatever it was, it was enough to change the other Lord's course, though he didn't seem too put out about it. He smiled at the next woman walking through the door, instead, this time receiving a happier response.

"Stay close," Morkuth grunted. "Not always, but generally, if you've agreed to attend one of these you are looking to take a Dragon Lord as a bed partner. Some Lords are...very persistent."

"Are you going to be persistent? I haven't agreed to anything, by the way," she turned to him.

Morkuth quirked a brow, raising heat to her cheeks. What in the Six Realms was wrong with her?

"Sorry, things keep coming out of my mouth without much thought."

Morkuth chuckled. "Do not apologize, I find that part of you vastly interesting," he leaned down to her ear, "and arousing."

Heat flared up her neck that had nothing to do with embarrassment. She was still tender from her encounter two days ago, but the medic's pain medication removed most of her discomfort, and it had left her mind free to dwell on other things. Having Morkuth nearly constantly by her side, fetching things and seeing to her comfort, had almost been more than her poor senses could take. Every brush of his hand sent her stomach fluttering, and her dreams at night had played through the various possibilities. She wanted this man, and she most definitely didn't want to return to the city, and her father's plans for her, without experiencing what she knew he could give her. Without at least trying.

Morkuth's hand on her back propelled her forward, into the midst, where she had to pay attention to the activities she had been pushing to the edge of her mind. All around, Dragon Lords and women were in various states of sex. Some merely kissing passionately, but others going farther...much farther. They seemed oblivious, or uncaring of the fact that this was a public venue. Especially in the fountains, where naked couples seemed to be enjoying themselves quite thoroughly. Tharissa watched with fascination. It felt wrong, yet no one else around her was repulsed. Many simply ignored what was happening. Others smiled, or watched with interest. As if such things were natural.

Mixed with the erotic scenes were perfectly formal ones, groups conversing with honey colored drinks, acting as though the scene around them was not uncommon.

"Is it usual for your people to...ah...couple in public?" she had to admit the idea had a taboo quality to it that was slightly...interesting. The entire banquet was an odd combination of relaxed atmosphere and sexuality that she wasn't used to.

Morkuth tilted his head. "Humans tend to be much touchier about sex than the Lords. I suppose we are more liberal in our attitude toward it. As for your question, if the woman wishes, then they will couple in public. Lords are always willing to fulfill a woman's desires. Many find it thrilling to come together in public, those that do not will seek a private room."

As he spoke, a man and woman that had been kissing passionately broke from their contact. The Lord's eyes flared and he lifted her easily, tossing her over his shoulder and striding past them to the door. Her attempts to cup his bottom from her position told Tharissa she didn't mind the assumption.

Tharissa glanced back to the fountains. Such a freedom of expression, and those around the pairs seemed to enjoy the coupling as much as the fountain's occupants. Her own body reacted, a wave of desire shuddering through her. The curious, and somewhat amused, glances of the Lords nearby feeding the intensity of her awareness. A dampness at the top of her thighs proved just how appealing the idea was.

But it was wrong, wasn't it? Shouldn't sex be individual? Hidden away from all but the ones participating?

And yet...what if it wasn't? What if it was just another aspect of life with arbitrary rules and regulations, a forced perspective she was expected to follow? If part of her found the fountains appealing, was that part...bad?

Morkuth's arm loosened temporarily, and she watched with great interest as he removed the top portion of his robes. His muscles flexed overmuch for the movement, trying to impress her? He didn't have to flex overlarge muscles for that. Of all the men she had known in her life, never had anyone made her feel so acutely aware...so alive.

One glance from his heated gaze and she was melting into a puddle of goo. Wings spread leisurely from his back, the deep red almost startling against his tanned skin.

"What's with the wings?"

"Passion, or strong emotion, stirs the dragon. It is easiest to give the beast a bit of freedom."

"Easiest?"

Morkuth paused. "The dragon is its own being, it dislikes being restricted for too long. If the Lord refuses it some freedoms, it can drive them both mad."

Huh. That explained the moments where the Dragon Lords seemed to be a combination of beast and man, she supposed. She observed the hall once more, such levels of arousal. It was no wonder she seemed charged by the energy here, like the flight with the dragon, teetering above the canopy, ready to fall, and yet safe somehow.

Suddenly, her life seemed to be culminating, building to this adventure, and she was ready for it.

She turned back to Morkuth, he was watching her intently, like a jungle cat stalking its prey. His wings visible behind his back and amber eyes narrowed into intense slits. For her. His passion, at least for the moment, was for her alone.

She smiled shyly at him. "Is there anything to drink here that isn't alcoholic? Alcohol loosens my tongue a little too much."

He snorted. "We wouldn't want that," breaking eye contact he focused on the room. "Whatever my lady wishes, I will ensure she gets." He straightened, perhaps spotting what he had been looking for. "Wait here," he commanded, eyes roving over her once more before making his way over to the crowd and slipping between the men and women there. They parted for him, a few greeting him as he passed. He nodded toward them briefly, but pushed on, a man focused on his mission.

Tharissa smiled to herself, a flutter of some unnamed feeling hopping around in her chest. She had found him, the man that stirred her beyond reason.

She turned to the fountain behind her. It was one of the few in the room that was unoccupied. She was certain, if she asked, Morkuth would take her back to her room, where full privacy could be found, but there was part of her, the part that craved excitement, adventure...and life, hells take it, that wanted this full experience. Wanted to accept that piece of herself that she always held in check, wanted to be with the man who seemed to already accept that part of her, before she understood that it existed.

And more, she wanted to know if it was her. Morkuth had only spoken of Dragon Mates once. Hinted at it. If his dragon would only choose one, would she be his mate? A bond so permanent and strong. Was that not love? Passion? Life? Wasn't that what she had sought all along? Could she return to what was, what she was, in the city without knowing?

A moment of doubt struck her, things could go the other way, as well. She might find out, irrevocably, that she was _not_ his mate. And despite what the man might want, if the dragon didn't accept her, he would have no choice but to see her go.

Even so, if she had to return, she wanted this. Wanted this experience with him.

Excitement thrummed through her, she blew out a shaky breath. By the Six, she was going to do it.

Careful of her broken arm, she reached to her side, where the buttons of her dress lay. It took several moments to loosen them with her clumsy fingers, but soon the blue silk was sliding from her shoulders and onto the floor.

She looked around nervously, but no one mentioned anything, or leered her way uncomfortably. Actually, no one noticed at all. The breast band was a little more of a struggle, but soon it joined the dress and she was naked, except for the bindings on her left arm. Her breaths quickened and every part of her _tingled_ with awareness.

She stepped into the fountain, the water struck her toes first, cool and refreshing. She pressed herself inward, closing her eyes and reveling in the delicious feel of droplets trickling against her naked skin, over her shoulders, and around her breasts. Her nipples tightened and tendrils of her carefully pinned hair slipped loose.

A sharp inhale of breath promised that Morkuth had returned. She cracked an eye open. He stood in the exact spot he had left her, a glass clutched in each hand, his knuckles so pale she wondered that the vessels hadn't shattered.

His gaze heated and his eyes flared, riveted on her and traveling along her form. Appreciation, and something more, something that made him hesitate crossed his features.

Longing pulled at her. Men had looked at her before with lust, or even just plain calculation, but never had a man looked at her like this. Like she was the answer to a year's long drought.

Slowly, every fraction of a move deliberate, Morkuth bent, placing the glasses of whatever non-alcoholic beverages he had found next to her discarded dress. Not once did he take his eyes from her, and the intensity of his gaze faded everything else in the hall.

She studied the fine ropes of muscles on his arms as they bunched and gathered. He worked the top fastening of his pants.

Her eyes riveted to his fingers, expectation firing alternate feelings of longing and excitement like flames into her core. She had spent plenty of time with his naked form, but now that she knew what was about to happen, everything seemed more intense.

His pants slid over his hips and she became aware of just _how_ affected he was by her. His erection sprung up, so tight she wondered if it was painful. It strained toward her, as if seeking her of its own accord.

Her heart jumped about in her chest. Gods he was beautiful, as he stood there. The stormy look on his face promised her something she couldn't name. Something she had been missing and desperately wanted.

He stalked forward. Muscles bunching with the movement. Everything deliberate, like he was on the edge of control.

"You are a man's fantasy come to life, Tharissa," he whispered, his voice cracking with need. "I want things from you I have no business wanting." He stepped into the pool at the fountain's base, not yet entering the falling stream where she stood, and not touching her. Leaving barely an inch between them. Her nipples poked toward him, begging for attention.

"Like what?" she asked, her own voice gone hoarse, as well. She licked her lips, wondering if he would kiss her, wondering what his skin might taste like.

He groaned, a soft sound, but one that told her of his struggle. "Things that would keep you in my bed for months, maybe longer to explore."

The idea of sexual exploration with Morkuth lasting a month nearly undid her.

"I didn't realize there was so much to it," she admitted.

He chuckled once more, but the sound wasn't humorous. "I would like to show you that there is."

"Then touch me, Morkuth, please."

He needed no more direction than that.

He reached out, trailing a finger over her cheek and to her jaw. Stroking gently. Then his touch lowered, following a path down her neck and tracing her collar bone. Heat seeped through her skin where he touched her, startling after the cool of the fountain, and when it passed, the water seemed colder still. Gently, he caressed the top of her cleavage, brushing with the back of his fingers, circling.

She reveled in the sensation, her breasts aching at his touch, his heat. Pleasure that pulled a chord deep within her, raising her arousal.

His touch was reverent. She knew her breasts were one of her finest assets, but Morkuth was more than enjoying them, he was worshiping.

Finally, he took one of the round lobes in his hand, kneading and pulling. Each time he reached her nipple, he pinched a little harder. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to send tingling spikes straight to the moisture growing in her folds. He lavished the movement on first one, then the other. Taking his time, uncaring that he was driving her wild and she began to squirm.

Finally, he moved closer, joining her in the falling droplets, his fingers still worked at her nipples while the other arm reached up behind her, cupping the base of her neck, tangling within her curls and keeping her head still so that, when he lowered his lips to hers, she was in the exact right place.

How a man's kiss could be so perfect, she wasn't sure. Their lips slid together as if formed that way, and then separated, only to be reunited. He pressed them together and then suckled the bottom, scraping his teeth and exploring that ledge between pleasure and pain once more. He rolled the nipple he had hold of between his forefinger and thumb.

She cried out, and would have tossed her head back, if he hadn't still been holding her. His tongue dove between her teeth, taking advantage, plundering. She kissed him back, desperately pressing her chest into his hand, silently begging for more.

His wings spread outward, blocking out the hall, and everything else. Great Six she'd been so intent she forgot the rest of the banquet. She had one glimpse of several sets of amber eyes. Appreciative amber eyes, before solid red wings blocked her view.

She shuddered a breath and looked at him, his brows furrowed with concentration, his face rigid with lust. He was keeping her to himself.

The move made her bolder. So far she had done nothing with her good hand except stroke his chest, but now, with his lips against hers and her breast in his hand she moved it. Mimicking his own actions she explored his jaw. A muscle twitched just there and she soothed it, wondering at the beginnings of stubble that she felt. His neck had flushed slightly, but it was the bulge of his pectorals that caught her attention. Firm muscle culminating in the tiny peaks of his own nipples. Would the sensation be the same for him?

She pinched slightly and he twitched away from her.

Interesting.

She tried again, lighter this time tracing the outer edge of the pink disk before rolling it in a more gentle fashion than he was hers.

He leaned inward, his breathing pushing his chest in heaves. She played for a bit, intent on tormenting him as he was her, but when he pressed himself against her hip, she found her hand lowering on its own accord.

When she reached his erection, she stroked it first, a single finger up the underside. Amazed at the silky smooth skin, and the heat, which seemed hotter there. He twitched at her touch, and she rubbed her thumb over the engorged tip and then back past each of the three ridges.

A sound of pleasure rumbled in his throat. He lifted his head from ravishing her lips, leaving them swollen and burning. He worked soft kisses and nibbles along her jaw and neck, rocking himself into her palm.

She clutched him, mimicking the movement, excited by his arousal, by his eagerness.

His hand left her breast and moved downward, following the stream of water over her ribs and then lower. He fondled her hip briefly before running his forefinger over the top of her curls. She tipped her head forward so it rested against the top of his. Gods he hadn't even touched her yet and the hollow ache was enough to swallow her whole.

He rubbed the top of her mound, almost, but not quite where she needed. Instinctively, she bucked a little, urging him to where she wanted. He did not respond by moving lower, however, he simply paused and then rubbed the top once more, with a little more pleasure.

She must have been doing something wrong, not communicating fully. She debated letting go of his cock to show him, but he still rocked against her hand and she did not want him to stop.

A single stroke downward, over the little nub in her folds and she ruptured, letting loose a broken cry. Not enough, but the shock of pleasure that burst through her promised more.

"So responsive," he whispered, "so eager."

Another flick and another quake, this one teetering on the brink of explosion.

She ground her teeth together, throwing her head back, exposing herself, everything, if he would just keep doing that. If he would keep the pressure where she needed it.

"You will never last for me," he whispered, his face against her neck once more. "We will have

to rectify that."

A finger slid down again, farther this time, past the nub and over the folds below. A combination of water and her own moisture easing their passage. Her heat both slick and ready.

"Gods, Tharissa," he cursed.

A finger slid inside, curling forward at the same time his thumb flicked over her nub once more. And that was it, her body clamped around him, bearing down. A wild cry ripped from her lips. Her eyes squeezed shut and pleasure wracked through her, from her core, up her back, and spreading everywhere. It was fortunate Morkuth had a strong hold because there was no way she was capable of holding herself up. She pushed against him and he did not deny her the presence of his fingers, pumping in and out until her orgasm subsided.

"Little minx," he purred. "And all that for me."

His wings still blocked them from the rest of the hall. She came back to herself slowly, taking her weight back upon her own shaky legs.

"I can take you somewhere more private now, if you want," he offered.

She looked at the expanse of his wings. They were beautiful, like the man himself, and she wanted to remember them like this, wrapped around them, protecting them. There was something different now. Her attraction to him remained the same, but something about this moment made her want more.

She drew in a shuddering breath, that had been the most amazing pleasure she had ever experienced, but she wanted all of him. She wanted every chance, and she couldn't wait.

"That is _not_ what I want," she declared.

His eyes flashed, and a small smile curled the corner of his lips. "I should have known. I have never met a woman like you, Tharissa..."

She reaffirmed her grasp on his cock, stopping his speech with a suddenness that might have made her chuckle in any other situation. She pulled and pushed, moving the skin over his ridges, tightening her fingers around the tip. Over and over she repeated, growing confident when he seemed unable to stop her. Using her thumb she rubbed circles beneath the swollen head, firming her touch a little.

He growled, responding viciously, his teeth grit together his eyes closed with the sensation. He let her continue for a few more strokes and then stopped, pulling himself from her grasp.

"You are certain, Tharissa? You want this?" he panted, almost begging.

Gods this man, one would think her desire was more than obvious, but there was a hint of something in his eyes when he looked at her, a bit of vulnerability.

"Try and stop me," she told him, pressing her mouth to his.

He kissed her back fervently, their tongues mashing together in mutual desire. Carefully, he lifted her right leg, placing it so that it balanced on his hip, and holding it there. Then he reached down, rubbing and flicking.

She was sensitive from their previous activity and whimpered, thrashing against his hold. He held her firmly though, she couldn't move and she couldn't stop him. A finger dove inward, drawing moisture out and reigniting the little fires that had burst so dramatically, pulling and soothing, working them back toward frenzy.

Then, he bent his head and took a nipple into his mouth, suckling hard.

She groaned, unsure how much more she could take.

Then, blessedly, he was positioned at her entrance, the tip of his cock slowly pressing inward.

She was ready. Gods was she ready. She rocked against him, taking more, slipping over the first delicious rib. His head dropped backward, like what she had just done drove him to the edge. So she did it again, pulled back and rocked farther, watching him with fascination.

Her body was eager now, each stroke building pressure once more.

Interestingly, scales shimmered into existence along his neck and collar, more of the dragon. Did that mean more passion? She wasn't sure, but she found the idea vastly exciting. She rocked once more, pulling back over a ridge and then moving herself so that she took him all.

A great noise emanated from his chest, a roar of sorts. Then he was rocking back, pumping rather, and she had little more to do but try to hang on. Her hips moved of their own accord, and with the help of his hand guiding them up and down his shaft. Each full stroke sent three sensations of pleasure up her spine. She was spiking fast.

When she cried out for the second time, every fiber of her being alight with fire, far more intense now that he was within her, filling her, his roar culminated. She thought the first orgasm was more than she had ever desired, but this, this was heaven. Pleasure unlike anything she had ever felt filled each muscle, even her toes curled and uncurled with it; so intense she wasn't sure she was going to survive. The waves crashed against her, again and again, and for a moment she actually feared they would never stop.

When at last they subsided, it was long, long moments before she felt like moving once more. She opened her eyes to find Morkuth staring at her with amazement, still joined inside of her.

"You are my mate," he told her.

"Sorry what?" She still felt a little fuzzy. Who knew such pleasure existed?

"My dragon, it mated you." He gave her a wary glance. He couldn't know she had hoped for this. "I...we are mated now, there is no going back."

She stared at him blankly, unable to comprehend his worry. How could any woman turn down such a thing?

He ran a hand over his face and looked at her again, his eyes filled with concern. "Say something, what are you thinking?"

"So, we're married?" she asked, drawing out his reaction a little longer.

He shook his head, frustrated. "Mating is far more intense than human marriage, far more _permanent_. There is only one mate for a dragon. You are mine, Tharissa."

"So we're permanently married?" Tharissa bit the inside of her cheek.

He sighed. "In essence, yes. I will do everything to make it so that is appealing to you, instead of...I hope you can accept me."

"That depends," she met his gaze smiling, unable to take his insecurity any longer, she let her pleasure flash across her face. "How soon can you do that again?"

## CHAPTER 10

In all her years as her father's daughter, Tharissa had never been invited to the main council chamber. It sat in the government building at the center of the city. Now she was there as an outsider, never again would she be looked at as simply a human woman. She was a Dragon Mate now, with all the clout and disapproval that came with it.

Morkuth, of course, stood by her right, impressively dwarfing the men of the council who all stared back at her with various mixtures of disgust and bitterness. On the other side, Dynarys joined them. Rumor spread that he had tried to refuse, but a command direct from the Archon had seen to his obedience. Why the Dragon Lord's leader cared about Dynarys one way or another she had not yet learned, but she had plans to investigate.

Father was at the center of the seating, directly across a wide black wood table furnished with a map of the city and the surrounding forest for some distance, including a little square block intended to represent the aerie. The lack of detail of the building made her suspect that none of the men had ever been to the aerie themselves, or known anyone who had.

She pulled her gaze from the marker back to the man who had raised her. Tension and exhaustion had aged him since her abduction, and though he must have always been that way, he seemed much older and sterner than she remembered. But she understood that it wasn't really him that had changed, it seemed her newfound freedom had changed _her._

The room was what one might expect for the seat of the government. The chairs the councilors occupied were carved into heavy designs and topped with plush cushions to seat important rears. Servants waited against the back wall, holding trays of steaming teas and other delicacies.

It still paled in comparison to the banquet hall of the Dragon Lords; there wasn't even a fountain to provide ambiance.

The memories of that trickling water, and what Morkuth had done to her beneath it, floated pleasantly to her mind before she had the wherewithal to realize she was daydreaming. Suddenly, the room felt a little too confined, and way too hot. How could she be thinking such arousing thoughts in front of her father?

As if he somehow read her mind, or maybe he had just noticed her furious blush, Morkuth nudged her. She was the one supposed to give the speech. More impact coming from their own, the Archon assumed. _Right,_ as if these men viewed her as their own any longer.

She would start out as diplomatically as she could, she decided.

"Father...members of the council. I am here with dual purpose. The first, in my new role as wife of Lord Morkuth Shadespire--"

"Dragon's Mate," Morkuth corrected. "Our connection is nowhere near as flimsy as human marriage."

Tharissa hesitated. So much for diplomacy. The glowers the council had formed definitely had an insulted hint to them.

"Dragon's Mate." she agreed, sighing inwardly. She was not there to please these councilors anyway. "In my new role, it is my duty to inform you that there has been a breech into your city boundaries. It was a band of rogue Shifters that took me from my home a week ago. The Dragon Lords have taken care of most of those directly involved..."

Her father snorted derisively. "By taken care of, you mean made fodder for the forest creatures. They took it upon themselves to execute the Shifters, no trial or even questioning."

"Our domain, our rules," Dynarys growled.

"Oh yes, how very advanced, certainly we should be allowing _all_ our daughters into your hands."

Tharissa frowned at her father, making a small gesture to Dynarys with her fingers. "Father, you're antagonizing on purpose."

"They have stolen my daughter! _They_ antagonized!" Father's face reddened, his teeth bared as he spoke, like an animal himself. Or a small child throwing a tantrum.

"It was _my_ choice," she reminded, but she wondered now if such things had ever mattered to him.

A second councilor, a younger man than father, with some blond still left in his hair, though his temples were well-silvered, spoke, "What do you mean _most_ of those involved?"

"One Shifter escaped. We believe he will attempt something again, possibly abduct another woman from the city, another noble."

The man's face fell grave, the corners of his lips sinking.

"A unit of Dragon Lords is prepared to take position within the city until he is caught. The amber aerie Archon offers you the use of his warriors as a show of good will."

"We will increase the _human_ guard," father blustered.

"Against Shifters? You are willing to risk the women in your lives out of stubborn idiocy?"

"Tharissa!"

"I am not yours to dictate to any longer father, such is the choice I have made. And now it's your turn. Here is my second announcement: the forest aside from that surrounding the aerie is no longer protected."

Surprise flashed across the council.

"It is their job to..."

"They are disinclined to hold up their end of the treaty." Tharissa leaned forward. "The public might not, but you and I both know your sanctions and laws are based on lies and false information. They do not steal women, they _need_ them. They have no other options. And still they have been more than patient with this nonsense. So it comes to this. If you will not allow _willing_ women to travel to them, the only way you can receive the Lord's protection at all is allowing them back in the city. Among _you_."

"And if we don't? They have not stopped protecting the borders yet, because as you pointed out, they need our women, letting females die for stupid reasons is pointless. And they will get women of our choosing."

Dynarys snorted. "The old and weak, or perhaps those with illnesses from which they will not recover. No, councilor, we will not leave our fate passively in your hands."

"Bax," an ancient looking man at the end of the row stood up in order to be seen above his comrades. Councilor Adlo. His hair was purely white, not a trace of whatever color it had once been. Even his eyebrows were white. Dark brown eyes gazed solemnly at her, with a spark of sympathy, and then to father. "This law has been a poor idea from the start. It is time to let go of your grudge. Let go of old hatred. Things should go back to the way they were, the merchant class and travelers that are aware of the Lords can come and go as they please."

She could almost feel Dynarys's scowl from behind her.

"I have worked fifteen years on this law," father growled, "ever since Alise, and I will not see it fall to the wayside because of a few blustering dragons and _men_ too weak to stand up for our rights, for _our_ women."

Tharissa frowned. What did her mother have to do with this? The woman had died of sudden illness when she was two, far before father got involved on the council. A dark feeling seeded in her mind, but she couldn't place the reason.

"What of a woman's rights?" she demanded. "We should have the right to choose, father,

He snarled at her, a hard light in his eyes. "You are just like your mother, choosing to pander to those creatures. I should have had the rogues kill you to start with."

Silence filled the chamber. Silence and a deep, desperate pit forming in her stomach. She was too shocked to respond.

" _You_ had her abducted," it was a statement Morkuth made, a threatening one, and it drove her to action. She placed a hand on his arm. He hadn't made a move yet, but she could sense his fury. It was the same as _her_ fury, but she needed time to process this. The problem was, it all fit, and it wasn't all that surprising.

Sadly, she had been a tool all along, a puppet for the man who claimed to be vying for her rights and safety. Instead, he had put her in the gravest danger for his political agenda; wished he had _killed_ her to save his political agenda. Bitter frustration threatened to overwhelm her, until a gentle hand lowered on her back. Morkuth.

His anger had quickly subsided, instead concern overtook his face as he studied her.

"I think it is clear that Councilor Bax has impaired his judgment, and ours, long enough. How can we trust a man who, by his own admission, would abduct and slay his own kin to gain his agenda?" Councilor Adlo spoke. He scowled at her father, who slumped in his seat. He hadn't meant to admit to his fault, his temper and his outburst culminating in his undoing. He glanced at Tharissa, a bitter hatred behind his gaze. Then snorted in disgust and looked away, not meeting her eyes again.

Betrayal pierced through her, and she fought to keep hold of her emotions before the men in front of her. Her entire life, rules, and punishments. All the effort she had taken to please father, until she had begun to realize he would never be happy with her. Until she started opposing him and seeking her own answers. She had always felt as though he had never accepted her, and it hurt to realize how right she had been.

"I propose a defeat of the women's law, and a return to honor of the old treaty," Adlo continued.

The blond councilor shook his head. "The old treaty calls for the Dragon's to visit the city, and for women...any woman, even those married or too young to make rational decisions, to be allowed to...attend to them. I cannot agree upon that."

Morkuth waved a hand. "We will accept a simple defeat of the law, affirmation that women of age are free to travel to the aerie, and leave to monitor the city for a short period, in case the culprit returns."

The remaining councilors shifted uncomfortably and looked from one to another.

"We will cast a vote," Adlo decided. "Please wait outside."

***

The carriage was silent as they traveled the day long route that would lead them back to the aerie. The Shifters that had accompanied them either pulled the conveyance, or ranged around it protectively, none willing to risk dishonor by failing now that they had something to prove to the Lords. That Kurath's betrayal was not their own.

Morkuth sat across from her, his face pensive. He hadn't stopped watching her since her father's uncouth announcement, and if she were honest with herself, she wished he would. It made it seem as though she should _feel_ something about it. Maybe break down sobbing at the betrayal. But after the initial shock, she had become numb. Such was a noblewoman's life, and, so far as she could tell, there was no gain in being angry by the fact. She was something else now, and for that she was relieved.

"I am sorry," Morkuth said at last. "I thought if you were to represent the aerie to the council it might be a way to stay in touch with your father, with what you had to give up for me. Of course, I hoped, too, that your opinion might sway the men more easily, if they could see..."

Tharissa looked at him incredulously. "It isn't you who owes me an apology."

"I wish to protect you from such unhappiness. It seems you might have had too much before we met."

His tenderness broke through the barrier she had forced around herself. Maybe she had always known the life of a noblewoman was one of rules and restrictions that benefited others, but she had hoped for more. She studied Morkuth's face, the lost expression was nearly heartbreaking. Had anyone ever wished for _her_ happiness with such fervor?

"You did nothing to displease me. The law was defeated, my father disbanded from the council. The circumstances are sad, yes, but they led me here, to you," she left her seat, kneeling on the floor before him.

His eyes crinkled, a gentle smile touching his lips. "You are a Dragon Lord's dream, Tharissa, my dream."

"And you, Dragon Lord, you are mine. Forevermore."

The End.

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# THE DRAGON'S SLAVE

# (Book 1 of the Amber Aerie Lords series)

# BY LACEY ST. SIN

# Copyright 2016 Lacey St.Sin

## CHAPTER 1

Gayriel smoothed the soft rumple of silk at her waist. The dress, both revealing and flattering, fit with perfection. Blood red silk strained across the bodice and tumbled over her hips, lined with deep black lace, all chosen to accent her olive skin and thick waves of charcoal hair. And it did its job. Of course it did. Everything in the choosing house was about perfection. Perfection and service and obedience.

The other girls in her section, those deemed ready for sale, were prepared, as well. They chattered all morning, glad to be free of the regular maintenance of the day. Foolish creatures. They, too, were dressed with a strict eye to their unique aspects.

Five women. Something for every man's taste, they said. And it was choosing day.

Freedom, just beyond her grasp, and this time she would be able to act upon it.

The last three choosing days, the managers had lined her up with the other girls, like rows of chattel, but she had been passed over. The situation flummoxed her and required a great deal of self-reflection. At last, she concluded that her indignation might have bled through her demeanor, which caused the buyers to pass her over for easier, passive slaves.

Today though, today would be different. She would choose a buyer: a soft, middle-aged man, with greedy eyes and a slow mind. For him, she would act the part, do whatever it took to be chosen. And then, once the buyer broke her free from the choosing house, she would make her escape.

The line of women stood in the entrance hall, a grand room decorated with gauze drapes, soft cushions, and dim, suggestive nooks. Every aspect of the presentation was perfect, a grand effort for show and profit.

The managers stood, half-hidden along the rich wooden walls, beneath fine tapestries and gold-plated wrought iron creations. One for each slave sold, a multitude of various talents, developed with the same ardor as their other skills.

Gayriel cringed. Her own artistic ability disappointed the managers. Her art, three years in the making, was likely hung in the back, behind a large curtain. No, it was certain that her other talents would be toted first, should a buyer express interest.

Still, she searched for her piece—a wreckage of metalwork in a vague semblance of the dragon guardians that protected the city. Very vague. Searching kept her heart beating a slow manageable rhythm. It also held her stomach in its place, instead of up in her throat where it kept trying to climb.

She would only have one chance, and that knowledge drove her nerves into a tangled mess.

A rattling groan, interspersed with hollow cracking, signaled the start of ceremony. Heavy wooden doors swung inward, the carved panels depicting a variety of carnal pleasures. Two girls guided them, dressed with intent, as well. These were younger, not quite ready for purchase. Temptation, should a buyer not find their perfect fit that day.

Light flowed across the polished stone floor, landing at Gayriel's feet.

She blinked at the brightness, the sudden change in brilliance blinded her a moment. The rules dictated that she stand with her head lowered and eyes downcast anyway. Still, after a moment, she managed to peer upward through her thick lashes. One of these men would be both her potential master and enemy. She needed an indication of what she was dealing with.

A line of figures stepped inside, nothing but silhouettes at first. But their features sharpened as they moved deeper into the hall. The first three were middle-aged men, slightly soft with wealth and luxury, but neat and well kept. Each had several meek servants trailing them. They smiled at the managers, dressed in pristine white, who stepped out to greet them. One more followed, a younger lord. Servants trailed him as well, along with an aging man she guessed to be his adviser. She studied the young lord speculatively. He stood tall and straight, hardly sparing a glance to the gathering of servants. A haughty smirk graced his thin lips and a lustful gleam sparkled in his dark eyes as he looked over the line of girls.

He might do. He seemed young, no older than Gayriel herself, and inexperienced. She might trick him with general compliance until an opportunity to escape presented itself. But he would be eager, young as he was, to consummate, and that she was not keen upon.

"Greetings all," head manager Fothmar announced, smiling congenially. He was a pale, gray-haired man, thin in a way that reminded one more of control than hardship...but perhaps she knew him too well. "We are proud to serve you here at the choosing house on this day. You have been selected according to your generous deposits. It is our wish that you are pleased with what you see today."

"I should hope so. Three years to wait for my investment is a long time, Fothmar." The man who spoke strode in front of the others. He was a broad man, with a firm waistline. One who did more than attend the social gatherings of the elite and drink away his life. No, this man took care of his figure. He had light blond hair that silvered at the temples. It was oiled and smoothed back from his face. Gray eyes flashed around the chamber, noting details. His attractiveness had carried well past his youth. The girls would be as eager to gain his attention as the younger lord. But he exuded arrogance, and Gayriel sensed an underlying temper, a desire for control. With him, escape would be difficult, if not impossible. And if the way his servants watched him indicated anything, an attempt at escape might also be deadly.

"Three years for perfection, Lord Hreth. You will find our girls better trained and higher quality than any other service in the city."

Lord Hreth huffed, but waited for a wave from manager Fothmar to walk the line. His calculating gaze passed over every facet of each girl's appearance, as he might study a base market item, looking for the best bargain.

She looked away to hide her revulsion. No, he wouldn't do at all.

"Fothmar, it is a pleasure to do business with you once more." The second man to greet manager Fothmar was one she recognized. He had been present at the last choosing day, and had passed her by. Unfortunate, for she saw now that he might fit her purpose perfectly. He was heavier than Lord Hreth, but from the looks of his clothing, he was richer too. And he had a lazy air about him, like he had never worked in his life. And he probably hadn't. There was a possibility he might not even pursue her when he discovered her gone.

"Lord Bannath," manager Fothmar nodded.

Her eyes flicked to the third middle aged man, waiting patiently behind. He held a similar air, but much quieter. Dark hair lined his scalp, chopped short, disguising the beginnings of a bald spot at his crown. Wispy eyebrows swung upward in a perpetual expression of surprise. His skin was pale, as though he spent most of his time indoors, at paperwork, perhaps. He looked more in need of an assistant than a bedroom slave.

Appearances could be deceiving though. She should know. From her meek and humble position, she watched and plotted. At last, she decided on Lord Bannath, or the bookish man. They were her best chances.

Unfortunately, Lord Hreth stopped before her, blocking her view of the others.

"Face up girl," he commanded.

She obeyed, but ensured a slight hesitation. She did not wish Lord Hreth to find her pleasing. He noticed the defiance, she thought, a muscle jumped against his jaw and his eyes hardened.

It did not have the effect she intended. Instead of moving on, he lingered, circling her position. His eyes assessed her, almost a physical caress trailing over her skin. She shuddered, and a wave of disgusted anxiety ran through her. It was as if she stood naked before him, yet she wore more fabric that day than most of her existence in the choosing house.

"Show me your breasts," he came up in front of her again. His nose crinkled, lifting his upper lip into a sneer.

Her heart thudded, a hollow sensation in her chest. She did not expect this, had never seen such a thing at a ceremony before. She raised her fingers to her bodice, obeying as she always must if she did not wish to face severe punishment.

"My lord," a white dressed manager appeared from somewhere in the shadows. He waved a hand in a gesture of respect and apology. "We guarantee the perfection of form in each of the girls, but we do not allow such displays until they are paid for in full."

Hreth grunted unhappily, but relief pool through Gayriel. Disobedience interested Hreth. She would not repeat that mistake. When he finally moved on, she nearly sagged with the heavy weight that went with him.

"Gentlemen," Fothmar announced, clasping his hands together in a pleased manner. "The girls will be happy to‒"

He stopped suddenly, his voice rising in a strangled manner.

Gayriel looked up, unable to help herself. Three years at the choosing house and she had never once seen Fothmar flustered. The other girls remained with their heads bowed and eyes lowered, but she didn't care.

Stepping into the main hall was a man unlike any she had ever seen before. He stood with the proud dignity of the noble born, full of authority, but there was something about the way he moved. His stride was graceful, inhumanly so. His fit body stood out among the other men. Hells, his arms were at least twice the size of the younger nobleman's. He wore a fitted suit of all black, but not the clothes of the nobles, with frills and hanging decorations. His clothes looked functional...for war perhaps. Sheaths littered his body and from each the silver handle of some blade or another protruded.

He stopped, part way in the hall. Dark brows crashed together as he surveyed the scene before him. She noticed, with a breath of amazement, that his eyes were the most unusual color she had ever seen. Even from her distance, the bright amber was visible. Dark stubble lined his jaw and his full lips drew her gaze, even with the frown he wore.

"L..Lord...er...," manager Fothmar began.

"Firestriker." The man did not look toward Fothmar at all, and his voice was as deep and masculine as she imagined. His eyes landed on the women, lined up like so much chattel. Gayriel found herself ashamed to be presented among them.

That would not do at all. She had no reason to impress this man. Indeed, he seemed even more alert...and dangerous than Hreth.

For a moment, his eyes latched onto hers. She had the impossible sensation he was somehow looking into her, that he could see her soul, her intent.

She broke eye contact first, sucking in a deep breath.

"Lord Firestriker, we have never had the pleasure of doing business with one of your...with...," he coughed. "Can we earn your business, great lord?"

The room stood silent for long moments. Even the Lords, come for their choosing day, dared say nothing.

She wanted to look up, to see him again, what was he thinking? And would it affect her chances? Bannath and the bookish man had yet to approach her.

"That one."

Now she did look up. That one? What did he think he was doing? Choosing? You had to wait three years to choose, not just stride in and.....he was pointing at her.

Fothmar coughed, or maybe he choked on indignation. It was hard to tell with her focus still glued to 'Firestriker.' Something shifted in her periphery. Hreth, at the end of the line, his arm outstretched and grasping the chin of a blond, forcing her face upward for inspection. She stood, allowing his touch, eyes lowered.

Ire rose within Gayriel, that ever-present irritation with the passive nature of the other girls, with her own charade. Oh, to be free. Then she would never suffer a touch she did not desire.

What would she desire? Her gaze lingered on Firestriker's broad shoulders and trim waist. Her body betrayed her. A deep pull of longing twisted her abdomen and settled into a warm pool between her legs. Her cheeks flushed, but she prayed to the Six Gods that it was not noticeable.

Hreth dropped his hand, the gesture choppy and abrupt. His lips pulled downward, stretching his handsome features into a frown.

He was angry, Gayriel guessed, a man used to getting his own way, especially when it came to respect. But he did not react, only stood there glaring.

Intimidated? That didn't bode well for her, or her chances.

"My Lord Firestriker, that is not how this choosing house works. We first require a deposit, and they take three years to mature...," Fothmar's voice started out strong, but faded into nothing. Firestriker stared at him, unflinching.

"I offer three-hundred platinum quarry."

A long silence filled the chamber. Not even a rustle of silk in the breeze defied the quiet. Perhaps even the winds gave this Firestriker a large berth.

Gayriel's mind stumbled. He must be bluffing. She had never even seen one-hundred quarry altogether, and that was her purchase price. Three-hundred platinum quarry could buy...well, an awful lot.

"That is more than three times what she is worth, my Lord." Fothmar rubbed the cuff of his white robes, but he didn't say no outright.

Damn it. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She had plans. She was going home with Bannath or the bookish Lord, and that night she would be free.

Firestriker was serious, however, a muscle twitching in his shadowed jaw. The fine stubble there caught her eye, and she wondered if it would feel rough, like the tongue of a sand-cat.

Would he be discouraged by defiance? If she could meet his gaze she might show him her distaste. If he was looking for a willing bed-mate, he would do better choosing one of the others. But what if disobedience intrigued him as it did Hreth?

It didn't matter anyway. Since his first assessing study of her, he had not looked back.

"Then what is the problem?" he demanded, reminding her that, although Fothmar hadn't said no, he had not agreed...yet.

"Protocol—" Fothmar began.

"Bullshit. You and I both know I am entitled to anything in here, including the women. All of them, if I so choose. Instead, I offer you more than fair compensation for one. And if you wish to keep the entire Amber Guard from taking whatever they wish, as is their right, I suggest you release her to me...now."

Fothmar paled farther. His appearance, constructed as perfectly as everything else in the choosing house, took a turn for the worse. He ran his pale knobby fingers through gray hair, forgetting it was bound strictly at his nape. When he pulled away, several well-greased strands followed and remained sticking out.

The room seemed frozen, as her fate hung in the balance. Until, at last, Fothmar nodded, a tight, strained movement, his lips pressed firmly downward, either angry, or disappointed.

No. Her mind whispered, and, for a moment, she considered her range of options. She couldn't run, and she couldn't fight...all was lost.

Angry, she glanced at Firestriker. Why did he have to come along and ruin everything?

This time, he did turn, piercing her with his unique gaze. A black brow quirked, but he gave no other sign of being distressed by her attitude.

"Your request is granted, Lord Firestriker," Fothmar sighed. "Go and gather your clothes Gayriel," he commanded her.

"Don't bother," Firestriker interrupted, an amused gleam in his amber gaze. "She won't be needing them."

***

Dynarys Firestriker watched, with amusement, the look on the woman's face at his words. Her dark eyes flashed with alarm, perfectly contoured brows nearly reaching her hairline.

She was small, even for a woman, but Great Six but she was a vision in her red silk, edged with black lace, that led a man to fantasize about the naked skin beneath. Heavy lashes lowered, fluttering against her blushing cheeks, the flush creeping up her neck appealingly. Her dark hair flowed as if from a silken fountain and it was all he could do not to imagine running his hands through it.

It was the job of a choosing house, he knew, to present her thus, to tempt. But it had been the way she met his eyes, the defiance he saw there, that sparked his interest the most. The other slaves, lined up in their perfect, neat presentation, would likely have suited his purpose just as much. Perhaps even more. But something about this one, Gayriel, would not allow him to choose another. Nor would he leave her there to be molested by the disgusting excuse for men that stood waiting. To even consider her passion might be dominated, snuffed out by one of the humans, felt like a kick to the gut. A loathsome human habit, selling other humans, and especially women for sexual pleasure. He narrowed his eyes at the men.

Then, with greater satisfaction than he should have felt, he gestured to the woman, commanding that she follow.

Inside of him, something stirred, the beast was perking up.

Ruthlessly, he tamped it down. That was a complication he did not need. He might have bought her as a slave, but in the end, she was not for him.

He reinforced that thought in his mind and led her outside into the morning air.

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