Lilly Belle released it and scanned the room like she expected an enemy cavalry.
Lucy examined her hand. There was a dirt smudge in the corner of the “L” of her index finger and thumb. She rubbed it, surprised that anything had survived the scrub down yesterday. It didn’t budge. She brought it closer to her face. It was a colorful circular figure…a phoenix?
No—a dragon—with its wings and tail spread in an arc. It wasn’t a tattoo. She would have noticed that, even with massage brain.
“Did someone stamp me yesterday while I was asleep?”
“No.” Lilly Belle’s voice was emphatic.
“What is it, then?”
“You’ll have to ask Mr. Gerald.” Lilly Belle paced the atrium with long, aggressive strides. “We need to go.”
“Okay.” Lucy sensed her urgency. “Is the nail woman going to finish this hand?”
“No.”
“All righty then.” Lucy got down carefully from the mani pedi throne.
Lilly Belle led her back into the private locker room. “Jane brought you new clothes. They’re on the bench. The shower is through there.” She pointed through an arched doorway.
“Are we in a hurry?” Lucy had no concept of how much time had passed. There were no clocks in the Cathedral Spa—it could have been 9 a.m. or noon.
Lilly Belle gave her a peculiar expression. “You could say that.” She pointed toward the shower. “Take your shower. I’ll figure out what we’re doing next.”
Lucy flip-flopped into the private shower. Like the rest of the spa, it was elegantly tiled, and music played in the background. The vanity counter was outfitted with more beauty products than she had in her own home.
She stepped out of her fluffy robe and took an efficient shower, being careful with her one polished hand. She scrubbed the dragon mark with a scratchy loofah sponge, but the mark still didn’t change. Surely it would come off with rubbing alcohol or something?
When she was done, she went to the mirror in her towel. When she wiped off the steam, she saw herself —plain old Lucy De Luca—staring back. The familiar routine of blow-drying her heavy red hair re-engaged her brain. What was going on with the Viking’s weird behavior, and why had the nail tech run out of the room?
She flipped her wrist and stared at the circular dragon mark. Very strange. Her mind picked back through the events of the previous day, trying to remember if anyone had come close to her hand. It had to have happened when she was asleep.
But why would Lilly Belle tell her to talk to Alec about it?
Was it some kind of sex stamp Alec used to let everyone know who he was sleeping with? She’d heard of being a notch on someone’s bedpost, but this was a step beyond. Did all the women he romanced have marks?
Whoa, back up.
Things were getting weird. Lucy turned off the dryer and joined Lilly Belle in the changing area.
“That was fast,” Lilly Belle said from her post near the door.
“I can normally get ready in less than fifteen minutes.” She was kind of proud of the fact, and had on more than one occasion set a timer.
“Impressive.” But Lilly Belle did not seem impressed. She seemed concerned.
Lucy went around the corner to the bench and pulled on sexy new lingerie, brown wool slacks, and a soft cashmere sweater. New leather flats waited inside a box. The clothes were understated elegance and felt like the softest feathers against her skin.
“I love these clothes,” she called out to Lilly Belle. “But wool in Vegas?”
“Ask Jane.”
“I guess no one plans for me to go outside, leave the casino?”
“No.”
“I’m starting to get a little creeped out by all this.” Lucy walked to the Viking. “I feel like I’m a prisoner.” Lucy said the words like they were ridiculous, gave a little laugh, and waited for Lilly Belle to disagree.
Lilly Belle shook her head. “I’m sorry, Lucy, but you can’t leave now. You’re in danger.”
Whatever Zen remained from her evening with Alec narrowed to tight pinpricks of alarm. She couldn’t convince Joey to leave with her if she was a freakin’ prisoner.
She had to escape.
Chapter Thirteen
Alec met Leo and Tyren near the elevator. “Let’s go.”
The three stepped into a private elevator that whisked them upward, past the regular hotel rooms for humans to the secure living quarters of the dragons. Alec appreciated that his lieutenants didn’t question his strategy—he wasn’t sure himself how he was going to handle the disgruntled Siberians and their new leader.
They stepped off the elevator into the dragons’ communal area. The space was even more elaborate than the main casino. Dragons from around the world had been encouraged to send tribute gifts for their new home. Over the two years it had taken to build the casino, the human construction crew had learned not to ask questions when amazing raw materials just showed up on the job site.
In the communal area, gold and semi-precious jewels glittered from the walls. Mosaic Italian tile lined the floor, old world limestone—not concrete-made to appear like limestone—provided the supports. To a dragon, the sanctuary had a pleasant vibration, akin to the happy humming of a favorite song. It was a haven for them from the chaos of the casino and the world beyond.
“Where are they?” Alec asked Leo.
“Still in the tower.”
Alec walked outside and across the patio roof to the locked door of the unfinished tower. The glass tower stretched thirty stories to the sky without dividing floors. Inside, raw sheetrock and metal girders gaped with all the welcome of cold, creaking steel.
“Siberians!” Alec yelled into the cavernous space, his voice echoing. “Show yourselves.”
Blue dragons with white flames in their eyes and white markings on their tails and wing tips soared from beams like supernatural vultures. Blunted horns grew from their heads. When they roared, sheets of ice spread through the air. The ice fell to the ground and shattered in chunks on the concrete floor.
A large brown dragon coasted among the Siberians. This warrior sported the red markings of a fire dragon. Alec recognized him immediately—his old enemy.
“Ambrogino!” Alec’s dragon blood pumped through his system.
The blue dragons descended in a circle and changed to their clothed human forms. Ambrogino also landed, shifted, and stalked forward. He looked unwashed, which was unusual. He was vain, and in the past, he had always prided himself on his good looks. But now, with his black hair long and grimy and gold hoops in his ears, he looked like a barbarous Treasure Island pirate.
“Why do you stay in your human form? Are you afraid of me?” Ambrogino taunted Alec. “Or have you already lost your wings?” He laughed, and the mangy looking Siberians joined in.
Alec’s dragon roared under his skin, reacting to the insult with bestial instinct. “You think to finally make a stand against me with the support of the northern dragons?”
“North, south, east, west—they will all be
“The ceremony is only one night away.” Alec clenched his fists. “Many will suffer if the ceremony cannot commence. Despite our history, I’ll allow you to participate, if you’ll drop your challenge and swear your loyalty to me.”
“Never!” His enemy stepped forward until they stood nose to nose. He smelled of stale cigarettes. “I’ve seen your mate. Your very, very succulent
Tyren stiffened at his side. How would Ambrogino already know about Lucy? The threat to her made fire flash in his eyes and his wings throb at his back.
