helped for years.”
“My mom’s into the herbal stuff. You wouldn’t believe the concoctions she used to give us as kids.”
My ears pricked up. “Us?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Me and my sister, Mercy.”
“So she’s a draman, like you?”
“Yes, but not kin to Egan. Her father is one of the lesser males.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Lesser males?”
He nodded. “Air dragons have a hierarchy system that’s based on both color and bloodline. The strong color lines—like blacks, reds, and golds—tend to raise more kings than the browns and the blues.” He shrugged. “There are some bloodlines that have never raised a king, and are considered ‘lesser’ families.”
“Much like British royalty.” I paused, and opened up a packet of chips. “What about the ring? You said it’s the king’s ring, but I get the feeling that it’s more than a bit of fancy jewelry.”
“It’s basically the succession ring. Without it, a new leader cannot be chosen.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I wouldn’t have thought that would be a problem. I mean, assholes like your father generally don’t want to lose the top job.”
His smile was grim. “Perhaps not. But without the power of the ring behind him, my father has become weaker and weaker, and will eventually die.”
“What? Why?”
He shrugged, yet the glimmer in his eyes hinted at malicious pleasure. The thief was enjoying his father’s predicament. “Apparently, the life of the king dragon is tied into the stone. Don’t ask me how, because I don’t know.”
“So by taking the ring, Egan found a way to kill your dad without actually getting his hands bloody?”
“Egan would never have won a fight with my father. Not only is our father older and cannier when it comes to fighting but, thanks to the ring, he’s all but invincible.”
“The ring is magic?”
“Only in the hands of the rightful king.”
How cool. And it also explained why the thing always felt cold and icy—certain magics could never hold warmth or life, according to my dad. Though how he got
“As far as I know, yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m gathering sea dragons don’t?”
“Not that I know of. We don’t even live in groups like you lot do.”
“That’s probably a good thing, trust me.” He hesitated. “So where precisely is this research center? Loch Ness is a fairly big place from what I recall.”
Obviously, he was through talking about his family, hence the sudden change of topic. “Where else would it be? Drumnadrochit.”
He blinked. “Where?”
“Drumnadrochit. The home of Nessie and the Loch Ness Monster industry.”
He smiled. “So there really is a Loch Ness Monster?”
“Hell, yeah. Only she’s generations of sexy, slinky sea dragons, not that god-awful dinosaur-looking thing you see in so many pictures.”
The laptop beeped as he started it up. He glanced down at it, quickly typed something in, then looked up again. “So why do you think that Marsten’s mother will have these plans?”
“Because the mother supports the son.”
“Ah. The supplier of money.”
“Yes. We learned a few months ago that Marsten’s mother was a major investor, and that Marsten often uses her house as an office when he’s here in the States. We figured that maybe he’d have a set of backup plans there.” I shrugged. “We thought it might be safer coming here than to try and get into his quarters in Scotland.”
Trae considered me for a moment, then said, “So you went to San Lucas, a place they supposedly didn’t know about, and yet they were waiting. And then they found us today.”
I met his gaze steadily. Saw the wariness sharpening into suspicion. “What are you implying?”
But even as I asked the question, I knew. It was the only logical explanation for them constantly finding us.
“You probably have a bug in you somewhere,” he said, saying aloud what was going through my brain. “Do you have any odd scars on your body? Scars you have no memory of getting?”
“Everywhere. They used to knock us out and take little—or not so little—samples.”
“Bastards.” He shook his head, and anger swirled around me, heating my skin as sharply as flame. “Is there any particular scar that strikes you as odd?”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know—slightly darker, more raised than others.” He shrugged. “Anything like that could be a clue to location.”
“I haven’t noticed anything, but then, we’ve pretty much been on the run since we escaped. There hasn’t been much time to scratch, let alone notice, strange scars.” I ate some chips, then said, “Trackers are a reasonable size, aren’t they? Why wouldn’t I be feeling one if I have it in my body?”
He grinned. “Micro- and nanotechnology are now the in-thing. It could be something the size of a pin-head, and you’d never guess it was there.”
“Then how are we going to find it?”
“Simple. We look.” He hesitated, and the grin that split his lips went way beyond sexy. “Which means, of course, that you have to strip.”
“I’m only wearing a T-shirt, so that’s hardly a hassle.” I grabbed the thing and pulled it over my head. My shoulder twinged, a sharp reminder that it wasn’t as healed as I thought it was. “Now what?”
“You really don’t have a modesty problem, do you?” he said, his grin stretching as his gaze skated down my body.
“No, because we were all kept naked at the foundation, and modesty tends to die after a while.” I raised an eyebrow, amusement teasing my lips. “Is the lack of it a problem for you?”
“I don’t think it could be a problem for
I grabbed a few more chips, then walked across to the kitchen counter. Trae took my left arm, moving it into the light as his fingers gently probed and caressed my flesh. My skin tingled in response, and heat flushed through my body. If he noticed my reaction, he didn’t respond, his gaze narrowed and concentration almost fierce. He dropped my left arm, then grabbed my right and repeated the process. I closed my eyes, delighting in the soft sensation of his touch, enjoying his closeness and the warm spicy scent emanating from him.
“Nothing there,” he said, after a while. “Turn around and I’ll check your back.”
I did, and he did, his soft caress inching over my shoulders then down my spine, the warmth of his fingers searing past the leathery skin of my dragon stain and sending little waves of pleasure racing through the rest of me.
“Still nothing,” he said, his voice sounding completely normal. Like he was watching some totally boring TV program rather than standing in front of the naked woman he professed to desire.
Either the man had abnormal control over his hormones, or he was all talk and no action.
“Lift a foot, so I can check it.”
“My feet?” I held up one hoof for inspection. “Wouldn’t I feel something imbedded in my feet?”
“Not if it’s tiny.” His fingers began to probe my heel and arch. “Man, you were right about the thickness of your feet. I gather they didn’t give you shoes, either.”
“It was all part of their keeping us cold and uncomfortable philosophy.”
His fingers had stopped roaming, and he was pinching a small section of flesh in the center of my arch.
I twisted around to look at him. His face was a picture of concentration, and part of me was disappointed. I mean, the man could at least look a little distracted, for heaven’s sake. “You found something?”
