Scorched by Darkness (11 page)

He nodded. “Yes. It was a portal that brought us here.”

“How?” Her frown deepened. “It doesn’t smell of you.”

“No.” He shrugged. “It was formed by an unknown enemy who has been kidnapping frost sprites along with a Shinto female.” She continued to frown and he was struck by a sudden thought. “Oh, and it was kept open by a miniature gargoyle.”

The dragon looked at him as if he was some sort of whackadoodle.

“A miniature gargoyle?”

Torque grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Have you taken a blow to the head?” she demanded.

“It does sound…” Torque struggled for the right word. “Unlikely.”

The dragon tilted her head to the side, and Torque was hit by a sudden suspicion. Was she listening to voices he couldn’t hear?

Time passed, but Torque wisely bit his tongue. She’d speak when she was ready.

At last she focused her full attention on him.

“You said frost sprites have been brought to this place.”

“We believe so,” he said. “We were searching for them when we were sucked through the portal. Of course, we haven’t actually seen them.”

She gave a click of her tongue, her luminous beauty marred by an expression of irritation.

“Such an annoyance,” she announced.

It was a hell of a lot more than annoying. Still, Torque was careful to keep his expression bland. Until he knew more about this female he was going to treat her with excessive courtesy.

Dragons were oddly OCD about good manners.

“Excuse me, but are you trapped here as well?” he asked.

She considered for a long moment. “In a manner of speaking.”

He was assuming that meant ‘yes.’

“Then perhaps we can work together to find a way out,” he suggested.

The scent of warm cinnamon filled the air, the female’s brilliant hair floating on an unseen breeze.

It was eerie as hell. Torque felt his skin prickle with unease.

“I can’t leave,” she told him.

“Why not?”

“I don’t remember,” she said, her tone puzzled rather than angered.

Torque paused. His first instinct was right. This dragon was clearly unstable. The question was if it was a natural phenomenon or if someone had caused her muddled confusion.

“Can you tell me who trapped you here?”

“I…” Her words trailed away as she gave a shake of her head.

He swallowed a sigh, trying a new approach. Maybe he could lead her slowly to how she’d become a prisoner in the ice.

“You haven’t told me your name,” he reminded her with a small sigh.

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Did I have one?”

“I assume you did.”

“It disappeared.”

Torque grudgingly accepted defeat.

Whoever or whatever had managed to capture a dragon had also destroyed her ability to remember what had happened.

All he could hope for was her cooperation in getting them out of there.

“Please let me help you,” he murmured, taking a step toward her.

She instantly moved away, the scent of cinnamon almost choking him.

“You can’t,” she rasped. “No one can.”

“Together it’s possible,” he said. “If the three of us combine our fire we could surely melt through our prison and—”

She abruptly interrupted his words, a shimmer of magic surrounding her. “I must go.”

“Wait.” He held out a pleading hand. To hell with pride. “Please.”

The shimmers thickened, but she didn’t disappear as he’d feared.

“You mustn’t leave this lair,” she commanded.

“Why not?”

The pale eyes narrowed. “Madness waits for you out there.”

“Madness? From what?”

There was a silence, and Torque suddenly wondered if he’d gone too far. Offending a dragon was remarkably easy. Especially one who wasn’t thinking clearly.

At last she heaved a rueful sigh. “I had forgotten how very persistent males can be.”

He realized a silent sigh of relief. At least she hadn’t turned him into a charred pile of ash.

“I don’t mean to be persistent, but we can’t stay here forever,” he said, his voice gentle.

“Why not? You have to be someplace.” A sly expression touched her beautiful features. “And with someone. This is as good a place as any.”

Torque felt a jolt of shock. Had she sensed his increasingly tangled bond with Rya? Or had she read his secret fantasy of having his lovely betrothed locked in his bedroom for the next few centuries?

“Our families will be searching for us,” he forced himself to say.

“They will eventually forget you.” A sad, melancholy smile touched her lips. “They always do.”

The corridor seemed to darken, as if her mood had dimmed the soft glow.

Torque resisted the urge to reach out and touch the ruby-red hair. Trying to comfort a dragon was a risky proposition.

“I won’t deny it’s a temptation,” he reluctantly admitted. “But we can’t stay.”

When he had Rya in his bed it would be because she wanted to be there. Not because they were trapped.

“It’s too dangerous to leave now,” she said in unexpectedly firm tones. “I will return when it’s safe.”

“But—”

She lifted a silencing hand. “Patience.”

The shimmers whirled around her before she disappeared, leaving behind a small puff of smoke.

Patience.

Torque rolled his eyes. He’d just used the same word with Rya. No wonder she’d looked like she wanted to kick him in the nuts.

“Just perfect.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Finn was furious as he felt himself being yanked through the portal to land in a small, icy cave. Glaring at the tiny female in front of him, he allowed his powers to fill the air with a white mist.

“What the hell did you do?” he hissed between clenched teeth.

With a brief glance toward the dagger he still held in his hand, she met him glare for glare.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Adair snapped.

He leaned down until they were nose to nose. “I’m trying to rescue my people.”

The platinum eyes darkened, but she refused to back down. “By getting caught?” she challenged. “Do you think the sprites aren’t being constantly guarded? The moment you stepped on the ledge you would have set off the magical alarms.”

Slowly Finn straightened. He wanted to continue yelling at her. How else could he release his bubbling frustration?

Well, he could always press the exquisite little Sylvermyst against the frozen wall and claim her mouth with a kiss that would melt…

No, no, no.

There might be a temptation to believe that she was an innocent victim of her family, but he didn’t allow himself to think with that particular body part.

For now she was the enemy.

End of story.

“Is this a devious plan to distract me so your family can slip away with my people?”

Her eyes widened. “No, I’m trying to help.”

“Right.” His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “The fey of this world aren’t all weak, useless fools. And we’re not stupid.”

“Oh.” Her face heated with a delightful color as he repeated Lila’s claim.

Finn ground his teeth together. The urge to reach out and discover if her skin was as soft as it looked was nearly overwhelming.

With an effort he forced himself to concentrate on the brief glimpse he’d had of his tribe. He couldn’t be sure, but he’d thought he had caught sight of chains around their ankles.

“Tell me the truth,” he snarled.

She took a small step backward as his angry mist swirled around her.

“The truth about what?”

“Did you deliberately keep me from my people?”

“No.” She lifted her hand, almost as if she intended to touch him, only to abruptly let it drop.

Finn grimaced, telling himself that he wasn’t disappointed. Nope. Not at all.

“I was saving you,” she insisted. “If you’d tried to get down to your tribe you would have been captured. Or worse.”

He scowled. He actually didn’t doubt her claim. His people would have escaped if they weren’t being magically guarded. That didn’t, however, ease his seething fury at being whisked away from them.

“Why would you try to save me?”

“I…” She paused, licking her lusciously full lips. “I don’t know.”

Finn’s cock went on full alert. Dammit. He was supposed to be rescuing his people, not being distracted by his uncomfortable, unquenchable hunger for this female.

“Adair,” he said on a low growl. “Talk to me.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist, her expression troubled.

“You must return to your cell.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

She shivered, her eyes darkening. “If my family find you…”

She allowed her words to trail away. Finn didn’t need her to be more specific.

He didn’t doubt for a second that they would kill him.

At the moment, however, he wasn’t concerned with himself. He needed to figure out a way to rescue his people.

“Adair.” He stepped toward her, the scent of rosemary settling somewhere deep inside him. “Tell me.”

She shook her head. “Stubborn.”

He held her wary gaze. “More stubborn than you could ever imagine.”

For a painful second he feared she might shut him out. Or worse, turn him over to her family.

Then, heaving a deep sigh, she turned away. “Come with me,” she muttered.

Finn’s lips parted to protest. He wanted answers. And he wanted them now. But before he could speak, there was crack of ice as a narrow crevice appeared.

Adair darted through the opening, ignoring Finn’s command to stop.

Left alone, Finn briefly considered using his powers to try and return to the cavern. After all, Adair had just warned him that he would never be able to reach his people without tripping the alarms.

If he took the proper precautions, there was no saying he couldn’t rescue them.

Then, with a muttered curse, he was moving through the crevice.

He might not fully trust the pretty Sylvermyst, but he did accept that he was going to need more information if he intended get his tribe out of this icy prison alive.

Stepping out of the opening, Finn came to a sharp halt. His eyes widened, his senses on full alert.

He glanced around, trying to adjust to the abrupt change of scenery. Gone was the endless ice and muted glow that was the only light. And in its place was a rolling meadow dappled with wildflowers. Daffodils, daisies and tulips were clustered in splashes of color. Nearby, a narrow stream danced over flat rocks, the gurgles of swirling water mixing with the cry of sparrows as the only sounds to break the silence.

Overhead was a bright blue sky with tiny puffs of clouds that moved on a lazy breeze.

It had to be an illusion. Right? Still, it felt remarkably real.

“What is this place?” he breathed, cautiously crossing the grass that was spongy beneath his feet.

“I’m not entirely sure.”

Adair tilted her head back, allowing the sunshine to bathe her delicate face in golden warmth. She was still wearing her white robe, and her glorious copper hair was left free to spill down her back.

His heart seized in his chest.

She was as rare and mysterious as a frost flower.

Seeming to sense his intense scrutiny, she lowered her head to meet his fierce gaze.

“It appeared after I claimed the cave as my private lair,” she explained. “As far as I know it’s the only place like it in the labyrinth.”

“Labyrinth?” he demanded.

She waved a hand. “That’s what I call it. If it has a real name, I don’t know what it is.”

Hmm. Labyrinth seemed to fit.

“Is it magic?”

She shivered. “Dreams.”

He frowned. “You said that before. Dragon dreams,” he reminded her. “What does it mean?”

“I’m not sure.” Genuine fear darkened her eyes. “The words whisper in my head when I sleep.”

Finn gave a slow shake of his head. This was a place that could give anyone nightmares. Even a frost sprite who lived in dark, icy tunnels. At least in his homeland he knew that the walls wouldn’t be appearing and disappearing. And that his magic could free him from any potential danger.

He gave a shake of his head. Now was not the time to worry about the hows and whys of their surroundings. Instead he needed to focus on the larger picture.

“Start at the beginning,” he demanded.

She absently moved to perch on a rock that overlooked the narrow stream. At the same time Finn stepped into the shade of a towering oak tree. The pocket of summer was a pleasant relief from the crushing sense of menace in the ice prison, but he would never be a sun-lover.

“You know that we’re Sylvermyst,” she murmured softly, her gaze locked on the sparkling water.

“Yes.” He pretended he didn’t feel a childish resentment because she wasn’t looking at him.
Yeesh.
“And that you worshipped the Dark Lord.”

She released a short, humorless laugh. “It’s not like we had much choice.”

“Everyone has a choice in who they worship,” he corrected.

“Not us,” she insisted. “My family were slaves who did whatever was necessary to survive.”

He bit back the urge to argue. He didn’t really care if they’d been disciples of the Dark Lord or slaves.