Fury of Seduction (Dragonfury Series #3) (43 page)

Goddamn Rodin and his sick games.

Revulsion made Nian reach for the soap again. As the slivered bar slid into his palm, a soft voice called, “My lord?”

Opening his eyes, Nian pushed away from the wall. Obscured by steam, a dark shadow stood on the other side of the shower door. Lapier. As usual, the Numbai’s timing was impeccable. Plugged into every aspect of Nian’s life, the
male never missed a beat, was always Johnny-on-the-spot, his thumb firmly pressed to the pulse of his master’s mood.

Tonight was no exception.

Steeling himself for what lay ahead, Nian flipped the faucet off with his mind. The steady stream of water lessened to a trickle. He palmed the handle and opened the door, accepting the towel Lapier handed him. After drying off, he straightened and stepped out of the shower. The Numbai’s raptor-sharp gaze met his. The paternal look struck deep, hitting a nerve. The pang of conscience arrived next. Nian ignored it and, looking away, headed for the other side of the room. Smooth-faced mosaic set in intricate patterns brushing the soles of his feet, he passed beneath the Arabic-inspired archway. Vaulted ceiling soaring overhead, he stopped in front of a long vanity and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

Appearing behind him, Lapier held out a comb.

Nian used his hands instead, raking the jet-black hair away from his face. “Is she awake yet?”

“Just, my lord,” the Numbai said, accepting the damp towel Nian unwrapped from his waist. Folding the terry cloth length in half, Lapier hung it over a gilded wall rack, then smoothed it out with long-fingered hands. “I have acquired what you requested. The sum of its entirety is on the hall table outside your bedchamber.”

Nian nodded, his mind straying to the list he’d written hours ago.

“My lord.” Consternation sparked in Lapier’s pale eyes. His hands fluttered. Light arced, bouncing off the rows of golden rings he wore on each finger to wink across the tiled walls. “Are you certain—?”

“I am.” With a frown, Nian conjured a pair of pajama pants and a short brocade robe. Knotting the belt, he pulled it tight and went over his plan again. “I have considered all the possibilities, my friend. Until I lead the Archguard, there is no other way. I must play for keeps or not at all.”

Bowing his head, Lapier murmured in agreement.

Turning away, Nian left the bathroom and crossed into the wide central corridor of his home. Or rather, his home away from home. Although he owned it now, he never slept inside his sire’s mansion on the edge of Prague. Too many memories lived there, not many of them good. And so he stayed in more humble accommodations. Built by a duke over a century ago, the house boasted the best of Arab architecture: extraordinary ironwork, amazing tile work, domed entrances, and curved doorways. But the absolute best part? Nestled into the mountainside, it perched on the edge of a sheer cliff face, high above the verdant valley below...halfway between heaven and earth.

Close to God. Far from his old life. Perfect in every way but one.

It hadn’t been built as a prison. And if he didn’t hurry? His captive would take a wrong turn and a dangerous tumble.

Even from thirty feet away and through the thick walls, he could hear her fiddling with the window locks, checking all the doors, searching for a way out. Another antique knob jiggled. A muttered curse followed. Nian’s lips tipped up at the corners. Persistent little she-devil, wasn’t she?

Not a bad thing, considering what was to come.

Turkish rugs beneath his feet, Nian approached the round table in the middle of the hallway. A tidy black duffel sat atop it, waiting for him to grab hold. He didn’t
hesitate, swinging the bag from its resting place and over his shoulder. As he turned toward his chamber door, a laminated card winked in the low light, drawing his attention. He paused and, sliding the document toward him, flipped it open.

A driver’s license complete with picture.

Nian’s heart sank as he ran the pad of his thumb over the typewritten text.
Grace.
The blonde’s name was Grace von Ziger. Not that it mattered. After tonight, she would no longer need it.

Drawing a deep breath, Nian took a moment to center himself and then strode toward his bedroom door. He stared at its worn face a moment, the pale wood at once familiar yet somehow different. Nian felt different too, as though he stood at a crossroads. Go one way and save the world. Go the other to save himself. And despite everything—his misgivings, the self-loathing, and disgust—it wasn’t a difficult choice.

Survival of the fittest...self-preservation always won out in the end.

With singular purpose and a magic-driven thought, Nian flipped the lock and swung the door wide. Startled by his sudden appearance, the female spun away from the window. Surprise flared in her eyes a second before fury sparked in their depths. Demonic rage fueled by fear took hold. She raised the fire poker she held in her hands like a samurai sword, warning him to stay away without words.

“Easy,
talmina
,” he said, his tone soft, hoping to soothe her. With a flick, he closed the door behind him, blocking her avenue of escape. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Where am I?” The demand carried weight, her accent, a hint of Austria. White-knuckling her weapon, she shifted left, putting a low couch between them. “Who are you?”

“Nian. The male who saved your life.”

Each breath harried, her chest rose and fell, rasping in her throat. Her hands trembled, forcing her to readjust her grip on the poker. “What h-happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“The last thing?” The whispered question smacked of bewilderment. Her brows snapped together, and Nian saw her focus shift as she thought back. “Three guys grabbed me in the marketplace. I’m always so careful, but...I didn’t see them coming. All of a sudden they were just
there
, forcing that awful drink down my throat and...” Tears filled her eyes. “No one helped. I screamed and screamed, but no one helped me!”

No surprise there. None of the humans had been able to hear her cries for help. The ability to cloak—to go dark and silent in any situation—was one of Dragonkind’s specialties, a defense mechanism used to keep their race hidden in a world where humans outnumbered them thousands to one. Using the skill while kidnapping a female, however, broke every rule in the book, all the laws set down to govern their kind.

Any female would be defenseless in the face of such power. Grace was no exception, and as he watched her struggle to understand, he bled for her. It shouldn’t have happened, not to her or anyone else. The reality, though—the one he couldn’t ignore any longer—was that it was happening. On a regular basis to women in Prague and, perhaps, all over the world.

The thought tightened his throat. He cleared it, banishing messy emotion before he felt too much. “Do you remember what happened after?”

She shook her head. And Nian thanked God. Grace didn’t need to know that she’d been stripped bare and put on display in front of a room full of strange males.

Holding her gaze, he strode past the end of his bed and into the room. When she shied, he stopped, setting the duffel down on the coffee table. The metal buttons protecting the underside of the bag clinked against glass, a sharp echo in a quiet space. “I want you to listen very carefully to me,
talmina
. That’s over now. You’re safe here.”

“You really won’t hurt me?”

“I promise not to touch you,” he said. “But we need to talk about what happens next.”

She sidestepped around an armchair. He followed her progress, watching her move toward the fireplace. Cold from disuse, the grate sat empty but for a pile of gray ash. The hem of her robe brushed over the hearthstone, then fluttered around her feet, parting to reveal one shapely thigh. Molten attraction blindsided him. Nian swallowed and clamped down on his reaction, fighting the sudden surge of lust. Not good. Oh so not good. He didn’t need the complication. Was in too deep as it was, but, umm, she was something. So sweet and curvy and—

Holy God. What was his problem? Desire never got the best of him. But looking at Grace revved sexual longing into overdrive. Which didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t high-energy, so he shouldn’t be fixating on her like—

Her energy flared, then exploded. The corresponding blaze filled out her aura. Nian flinched as the effervescent light expanded around her. The tip of the fire poker dipped
an instant before she came out of her fighting stance, relaxing, daring to trust his word and...

Strike that last thought. Not high-energy, his ass.

The more relaxed she became, the brighter her connection to the Meridian burned. Which meant...improbable as it seemed...she was the rarest of the rare. A
zinmera
, a female able to alter her energy stream the same way chameleons changed colors, blending into the surrounding terrain, instinct urging her to camouflage herself as a low-energy female in the presence of his kind to avoid detection. Nian knew females of her caliber existed. He’d seen one as a boy, in his sire’s harem, but...

Nian shivered, fighting the prickle of sensation ghosting over his skin. No wonder he’d wanted her the second he saw her at the auction house. Without knowing it, his skill at illusion had sensed hers, making it impossible for him to ignore her, never mind leave her for another male to claim.

“What do you mean...
next
?” Back to being wary, her energy dimmed.

As her aura downgraded from brilliant to somber, relief arrived, unlocking his lungs, allowing Nian to take a deep breath. He fingered her driver’s license, then tossed it onto the tabletop beside the bag. “You can’t go home, Grace. The life you knew is over.”

“Wha—why?”

“The thugs who kidnapped you work for a lethal male. One who enjoys brutalizing females,” he said, deploying vicious honesty, leaving no room for doubt. “The moment you resurface...go back to work or your home...they will find and take you again. And the second time is never a charm,
talmina
. You will be used by multiple males, day
after day until your life force ebbs, after which your body will be disposed of like trash.”

As intended, his graphic description hit her where it counted, driving home her peril.

Fear spiked in her scent a second before it flared in Grace’s eyes.

Nian clenched his teeth. Unfair. For her, not him. He hated to scare her, but one fact remained indisputable. Her terror gave him the upper hand. And he needed every advantage to win the silent war he waged with Rodin. If that included frightening Grace, so be it. He wanted her gone, to ensure she left Prague and never came back. Her exile equaled his salvation. The Archguard would be watching, waiting for him to make a mistake. And freeing Grace—leaving her untouched and alive—would amount to a serious one.

The action jeopardized his position. Rodin would believe him a weak fool, and the rest of the Archguard would follow suit.

“What am I supposed to do?” Her already pale face grew ashen. “I don’t have any money or anywhere else to go. I—”

“You will take the new identity I have secured for you and leave Europe.” He flicked at the duffel’s handles. “Inside this bag is everything you need...clothes, an untraceable cell phone, information for the bank account I set up for you in America. My servant, Lapier, will drive you to the airport where you will board a plane under your assumed name and never come back.”

“But—”

“Never, Grace,” he growled, the aggression in his tone making her jump. “You get low and you stay there. Nothing
familiar. No calls to friends or family. No vacations that bring you home. Understood?”

“No.”

Well, at least she was honest. He couldn’t fault her for that.

“Do you wish to live, Grace?” When she whispered “yes” she nearly broke his heart. And all of a sudden, he wanted to keep her...to lock her away inside his mountain lair and make her his. The urge circled a moment, tempting him, stoking his imagination before Nian shoved it aside. He didn’t have time for nonsense. Or room in his life for a female.
Zinmera
or not, she needed to go...and do it now before he lost his head and decided to claim her in the way of his kind. “Then do as I say. Take the bag and go.”

She hesitated a second, then broke eye contact with him to set the poker down. A tremor in her hand, she leaned the makeshift weapon against the end of the couch and approached him on silent feet. Nian tensed, every nerve ending alive as Grace’s energy flared again, electrifying the air around him. Hunger dug a hole in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed, the movement compulsive, belying his thirst for the female he yearned to draw close even as he pushed her away.

Grace reached for the bag. The need to know made him reach for her. As he curled his hand around her wrist, pleasure zapped him. She gasped. He growled and, with a gentle tug, brought her close. The work of a moment, he cupped the back of her head and set his mouth to her temple. Connected at three points—wrist, nape, and temple—he tapped into the Meridian and drank deep, drawing the nourishment he needed through her. His knees went
weak as, drunk on sensation, she overloaded him with need, satisfying his hunger in ways he never imagined.

Invigorated. Captivated. Beyond denying his reaction, Nian drew more, increasing the powerful flow even as shame surfaced. He ignored it, glutting himself. Grace tensed and recoiled, fighting his hold. But it was too late. He’d already damned himself with the bounty of her taste. With the press of her lithe curves and the decadent scent of her skin.

Which forced him to let her go. In a hurry.

A mistake. He’d made a terrible miscalculation.

Grace didn’t belong to him. He didn’t want her to, either. His position—and the power play he was neck-deep in—demanded 100 percent of his attention. But the second she grabbed the bag and ran for the door, Nian mourned the loss of her warmth and raged against the emptiness it left inside him. A moment later he ridiculed himself for his reaction. Females were nothing but trouble, a pleasurable distraction meant to last a few hours, not a lifetime.

And he’d had enough for one night.