Dragon Heat (12 page)

entrance stood two razbian guards who were wearing heavy rain coats

and hats, probably on a feeble attempt to disguise their green complexion.

In the past hour he had been watching the house, he spotted fifteen

more razbians guarding the area, all heavily armed. Some stood still, well,

as still as their fidgety nature allowed, and others were making rounds.

Tardieh could distinguish some movement inside the house. It was

difficult to identify what was happening, though or how many people

were in there because the windows were kept tightly shut.

Joel found out that the farm had been owned by a middle-aged

widow, who'd died in a car accident just over two years before. A few

weeks after the unfortunate accident, the house was successfully sold for

almost twice its market value to a private company whose proprietors’

names were nowhere to be found. Tardieh checked his watch. Eleven

thirty. Fifteen minutes had passed since he last checked.
Where was she?

She had told him to meet her at midnight, but he knew she would try and

get there before that. She would have wanted to survey the area for

possible unexpected inconveniences to her plan—that is, if she was

coming at all and if that was not a trap to assassinate him.

He opened his senses to try and feel if she was nearby. Nothing.

Damned female.
Because of her, he had not had a restful day; in fact, he had

barely had a few hours of fidgety dormancy. Every time he closed his eyes

images of her hypnotic golden eyes flooded his mind. What a

predicament.
The Soartas had really fucked him up this time
, Tardieh thought

with a half smile. They must be having a full day on his account. He, the

cold, calculating, rational vampire king, was losing his mind over a

draconian female. And not any draconian. She was a demigoddess who

had most likely orchestrated his father’s assassination. Great. What would

his father say if he were alive? With a bitter snort, he remembered the

countless times his father had reproached his actions.
“Tardieh, you are the

vampire prince
.
You cannot mingle with any vampire, let alone sujhas from other

races!”
His father’s deep voice rang in his ears.
“Beware of eager females, son.

They are only after your kingdom.”

Tardieh knew that well. The several female vampires who had been

presented to him as consorts—Apa Dobrý only knew how much his

senate wanted to see him settled down—were a feeble excuse for wedlock

material, desperate to add the queen’s crown to their extravagant hair

accessories collection. But Zoricah had seemed to be different. Back on

that fateful night when she rescued him and left him there standing in the

dark alley, he had almost gone after her and begged her to stay, like a

fucking puppy. She had been the first female to actually leave him. When

he arrived at his father’s castle and saw the leftovers of the dragon’s

carnage, he understood why.

‚Damned female,‛ Tardieh cursed under his breath. He could not

get rid of that stupid blue mist scent of hers which still lingered. Even

now, he could feel it. Actually, he noted, it had got stronger.

Finally realizing that the scent was the product of his cock-driven

imagination, Tardieh stood up sharply and positioned himself upwind.

His blood had started to boil, a sign that the donor was close by. After just

a couple of seconds, he heard flapping sounds and saw the shadow of a

winged creature approaching. She was flying low, dancing between the

tall alpine trees like a hawk who had just found its prey. She lowered

herself evenly and landed gracefully a few feet from him.

Tardieh could not stop himself from taking in every detail, every

curve, every movement she made. She hadn’t completely shifted. Large

golden wings on a stunning female body; she looked like a dark angel

from those human legends. She was wearing a similar outfit as the night

before: black tight trousers, knee-high black boots, and a tank top that

hugged her stunning body like a second skin. Her hair was tied up in a

long plait that brought out her stunning eyes and her exotic features

perfectly. The only difference was that this time she was carrying a shit

load of guns and knives. At the sight of her, Tardieh knew he was

doomed.

Zoricah had been looking for Tardieh for the past half hour. She

had flown in early to check the status of the razbian activities in the

farmhouse and inspect the area for any inconveniences to her plan as any

respectable military leader would have. One of those inconveniences was

bound to be Tardieh and his lot.

She had mulled over the events of the previous night and had

decided that if he was not going to cooperate, she would not let him get in

her way, either. She knew he would meet her—she had successfully

awakened his curiosity—but she was expecting a full vampire barricade

with spikes and barbwire. A minor obstacle that she was planning to

dispose of fairly quickly.

She walked toward him trying to ignore the way he was looking at

her, like she was a true goddess worthy of the most sumptuous of temples

and lavish offerings. He was probably doing that on purpose, trying to

divert her focus the same way he had done the previous night. Arrogant

despot! It was not going to work, not this time. She was a fast learner and

did not need a second time around to imprint a lesson into her brain,

which was momentarily having difficulties sending that particular

message down to her heart.

‚So you’ve finally decided to get your royal arse off the cozy throne

and check what the evil strategist was up to.‛ Her voice sounded as

cynical as she had intended it to. A human once said that sarcasm is the

lowest form of wit, but Zoricah didn’t give a damn. The best defense is a

good offense after all.

Tardieh raised an eyebrow at her. ‚I thought you said you needed

my help.‛

‚I thought you said I couldn’t be trusted.‛

‚I never said that.‛

‚Oh, give me a break, Tardieh. I have no time for political games.‛

Zoricah walked past him and crouched by one of the trees. The farmhouse

down the hill was only lit by the full moon. Two razbians guarded the

front door. Zoricah quickly scanned the area around it. The other razbians

were still covering the same positions they had the last time she watched

the house.

‚There are seventeen guards in total.‛ Tardieh’s deep voice came

from behind her. ‚Two at the front door, three covering the back—‛

‚Two on the roof, two more in the shed, and eight hidden in the

woods,‛ she said, finishing his sentence. Not turning around to face

him—he was dangerously too close—she asked, ‚Has there been any

activity inside the house?‛

‚Some,‛ Tardieh answered, crouching beside her. ‚But it’s hard to

make out exactly what. The windows have been shut the entire time I’ve

been here.‛

‚They are always shut,‛ Zoricah agreed.

After a short pause, when Zoricah felt like a fish in a tank being

watched by the hungry cat, he asked, ‚Where are your girls?‛

‚They are not ‘my girls,’‛ she replied with an edge. ‚They are

trained fighters, just like your lot.‛

Tardieh raised his eyebrows in response to her sharp tones. ‚All

right, where are your
fierce warriors
?‛ he asked again, cynicism dripping

out of every word.

Zoricah decided not to return the sarcastic blow. ‚They are where

they are supposed to be,‛ she said, then calmly went back to surveying the

farmhouse. Damn, he was really, really close. She could feel his powerful

energy pulling at her even though they were not touching.

He took a deep breath, probably to stop from raising his voice at

her. ‚Zoricah, you said you had no time for games. Well, me neither. Tell

me where your fighters are and what exactly is happening in that house.‛

Zoricah chose to ignore his commanding tones for the moment and

pushed him to close the deal. ‚Does that mean you are backing us up?‛

He looked at her with hard eyes and gravely said, ‚I will not

commit to an attack without knowing what and who is in that house. It is

not illegal to have razbians guarding your property, nor is it illegal to

keep your windows shut.‛

May Apa Dobrý damn him, but he had a point. She had no proof of

what was happening in there, no evidence that females were being

heavily drugged and inseminated. All she had was the testimonies of the

deceased themselves, and she could not disclose that to him. Her talent

had been her secret for over four centuries; only her closest friends and

her father knew about it. Telling Tardieh how and where she got her

information from was simply not an option.

She looked straight into his eyes and let him see her truth. ‚I don’t

have any proof, just like I didn’t have proof of what Vrajitor was doing to

you back in that cell two hundred years ago.‛ She knew it was a low blow,

but she was running out of time.

His eyes flashed red, and he said in a low dark voice, ‚That is

precisely why I am asking you. You always seem to know more than the

most skilled spies in my kingdom. I know from experience that usually

means one is either part of or leading the whole operation.‛ He leaned

forward and narrowed his eyes. ‚So, which one are you, Zoricah?‛

There he was again, blaming her for what had happened to his

father. Couldn’t he see she was only one fighter and she had been busy

saving his royal arse? Zoricah held her ground; she didn’t recoil or looked

away. ‚I could not have prevented what happened to your father,

Tardieh. Even if I hadn’t been busy trying to get you out of captivity, I

would not have been able to stop the attack.‛

‚Of course you wouldn’t,‛ Tardieh replied with a snort. ‚It would

have ruined your whole plan, wouldn’t it?‛

The coin dropped. Utterly astonished, Zoricah realized he was not

blaming her for failing to come to his father’s aid; he was accusing her of

organizing the whole attack on his father’s castle.

What the fuck?

Zoricah fought to keep her voice down. ‚By Apa Dobrý! Do you

really believe I orchestrated that massacre?‛

Tardieh just looked at her; he didn’t have to say anything else. His

cold accusing, fully red stare was enough. Her heart sank.

Zoricah leaned back on the tree trunk behind her, horrified. She

had made a few mistakes in her long life, but nothing like that, nothing

like the slaughtering of innocent beings, even if they had been an enemy

race. All of her assignments had met their fate in battle or a clean attack.

To think Tardieh believed she was capable of such a bloody massacre

was simply deplorable.

Rarely did she explain herself to anyone or apologize for her acts.

But this time, she felt the urge to clean her name, to make him believe that

she would never have the coldness to carry out such a bloody act, to get

that thick skull of his and bang it five times against a concrete wall.

Then she saw something change. His dark, accusing eyes had

turned doubtful, had lost a little of the cruel hardness they had carried an

instant before. It was a minimal change, almost imperceptible but enough

for Zoricah to realize that The Soartas hadn’t put her at that crossroad of

life by mistake.

She narrowed her eyes and gravely said, ‚If you were so certain

that I was the mastermind behind the attack, why didn’t you come after

me?‛

Tardieh was very still, like a cornered lion. ‚Because you had

disappeared by the time I realized what had really happened.‛

‚Disappeared, hmm?‛ Zoricah straightened away from the tree

trunk and leaned forward. ‚What about now, Tardieh? Why haven’t you

struck? Or why didn’t you kill me last night when you had the chance?‛

Tardieh narrowed his eyes but before he had the chance to reply,

Zoricah carried on. ‚I’ll tell you why, because you are
not
sure. You don’t

think I was really the one behind the attack. You needed a scapegoat to get

on with life and gain political favor with your precious vampire council

and you used me to get it.‛

It was his turn to look flabbergasted. ‚Nonsense. I don’t need

scapegoats. I find the truth and deal with it.‛

‚Oh, do you now?‛

‚Yes, I do. And if you are such an innocent lass, why are you