Home, she thought. Alex could very well be home. The concept was so welcome after everything she'd been through that she latched on to it with a vengeance. She turned to Patrick. 'I'm ready. Take me to the boat.'
CHAPTER 8
Once again seeing only black-and-white, Darius flattened his palms above his head, against the rocky cavern wall. He stared into the swirling mist. She'd escaped. Grace had actually escaped. Everything inside him urged him to vault into her world and hunt her down. Now . However, his reasons were not what they should have been. It was the beast inside him that craved her nearness-not the Guardian.
Teeth gnashing together, he remained in place. No matter his desires, entering the surface world was not an option. Not until he appointed a temporary Guardian. Darius uttered a brutal curse into the mist, hating that he must wait. Yet beneath his impatience was an undeniable pang of relief. Grace would live a while longer, and he would see her again, no matter where she went, no matter how far.
He dropped one of his hands and clasped his medallion from beneath his shirt. When he felt only one, he stilled. Frowning, he reached inside his pocket, encountering only the buttery soft glide of leather. His breath became as chilled and frosted as the mist, and dark fury pounded through him. Not only had Grace escaped him, and quite easily, too, but she had also stolen the Ra-Dracus. His hands fisted so tightly his bones threatened to grind to powder.
The woman had to be found. Soon.
With one last glance at the mist, he stole out of the doomed cave and up into the palace. Seven of his warriors were waiting for him in the dining hall.
They stood united, each of their arms crossed, each of their legs braced apart. The stance for war. In the center was Brand. His lips were thinned in displeasure, and his brow was stern. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes that didn't quite match the rest of his expression.
'Do you have something to tell us, Darius?' his first in command said.
Darius paused midstep, then he, too, assumed a pre-battle position. His men had never waylaid him like this, and he cursed himself for allowing their game. 'No,' he said. 'I have nothing to tell you.'
'Well, I have something to tell you ,' Zaeven growled.
Madox placed a warning hand on the young dragon's shoulder. 'That tone will get you nothing but a beating.'
Zaeven mashed his lips together in silence.
'I do not have time to play your silly game right now.'
'Game?' Renard said, exasperated. 'You think we're playing a game?'
'What else would you be doing here if not trying to win your wager? I told you to stay inside the practice arena for the rest of the day. That is where I expect you to be.' Darius pivoted and strode toward the hallway.
'We know about the woman,' Tagart called, stepping forward. A scowl marred the clean lines of his features.
Darius paused abruptly and spun to face them. He schooled his features to reveal only mild curiosity. 'Which woman is that?' he asked with false casualness.
'You mean there is more than one?' Zaeven jumped in front of Tagart. His features lost their steely edge.
'Shut up,' Brand told the boy. He refocused on Darius. His next words lashed out as sharply as a sword. 'I'll ask you again. Do you have anything to tell us?'
'No.' Darius's tone was absolute.
Tagart's scowl darkened with a flash of scales. 'How is it fair that you are allowed to have a woman here and we are not?'
Brittan leaned against the far wall. He crossed his feet at the ankles and grinned with wry humor. The infuriating man found amusement in every situation. 'I say we share the woman like the nice little fire lizards we are.'
'There is no woman,' Darius announced.
Their protests erupted immediately. 'We saw her, Darius.'
'Brand touched her.'
'We even fought over who would have her first.'
Silence. Thick, cold silence.
Very slowly, very evenly, Darius roamed his gaze over every man present. 'What do you mean Brand touched her?'
The question elicited different reactions. Brittan chuckled. The younger dragons paled, and Madox and Renard shook their heads. Tagart stormed from the room, muttering, 'I've had enough of this.'
Brand-the gods curse him-rolled his eyes.
'You're missing the point,' Brand said. 'For years we have followed your orders and your rules without dispute. You said women were not allowed, and so we have always forgone pleasures of the flesh while residing in the palace. For us to discover that you have a whore hidden in your chambers for your own personal use makes a mockery of your rules.'
'She is not a whore,' he growled. Instead of offering an explanation, he repeated his previous question. 'What did they mean you touched her?'
His friend pushed out an exasperated sigh and threw up his hands. 'That's it? That's all you have to say?'
'Did you touch her?'
'She backed into a table, and I helped right her. Now will you concentrate?'
Darius relaxed… until Madox muttered, 'Yes, but did you have to 'help' her for so long, Brand?'
With surprise his lips thinned.
With disbelief his jaw tightened.
With fury his nostrils heated with sparks of fire.
Darius recognized the emotions and did not even try to mute them. All three hammered through him, hot and hungry, nearly consuming him. He didn't want any man save himself touching Grace. Ever. He didn't stop to examine the absurdity of his possessiveness. He just knew it was there. He didn't like it, but it was there all the same.
'Did you hurt her?' he demanded.
'No,' Brand said, re-crossing his arms over his chest. 'Of course not. I'm insulted that you even have to ask.'
'You will not touch her again. Not any of you. Do you understand?' His piercing gaze circled the group.
Each man wore his own expression of shock during the ensuing silence. Then, as if a dam had broken, they hurdled rapid-fire questions at him.
'What is she to you? She wore your mark on her neck.'
'Where is she?'
'What's her name?'
'How long has she been here?'
'When can we see her again?'
He ground his teem together.
'You have to tell us something,' Madox snapped.
Or there will be a revolt , rang in the air unsaid.
Darius tilted his head to the left, felt me bones pop, men tilted his head to the right, felt the bones pop. Control. He needed control. 'She only just arrived,' he said, offering them a bit of information to pacify them. He liked and respected all of his men. They'd been together for over two hundred years, but right now they were nearly more than his precarious discipline could withstand. 'She has already left.'
