Scorched by Darkness (2 page)

“You were in a vision?” Char gave a slow blink. “Nice.”

Torque snorted. “Not really.”

“So what’s the treasure?”

“Synge refuses to say. But clearly he’s convinced it’s worth binding us together.”

There were a few minutes of silence as they neared the towering double doors made of ebony and inlaid with gold.

“At least she’s beautiful,” Char at last murmured.

An odd flare of annoyance sizzled through Torque. His betrothed wasn’t beautiful, she was hauntingly exquisite. Long, satin black hair that she wore in a complicated braid down her back. A perfect oval face. Skin the color of dark honey. Almond-shaped eyes that glowed with the same amber power as Baine. And a tall, slender body that moved with a mesmerizing grace.

But while he’d naturally had a brief meeting during their formal betrothal ceremony fifty years ago, and even placed his personal mark on her back, no other male was supposed to be appreciating her attractions.

Wasn’t that the whole point of a harem?

“You’ve met her?”

Char’s lips twitched as if aware of Torque’s bizarre reaction.

“I’ve seen her from afar. She’s—”

Mine
.

The word whispered through the back of Torque’s mind even as he interrupted his friend.

“She’s suitably attractive,” he muttered, deliberately adding an edge of reluctance in his voice.

“But?” Char prompted.

“But I’m a trained soldier, not a treasure hunter,” Torque answered, back on familiar ground. He didn’t want to think about the nights the image of Rya had crept into his dreams. No, he far preferred to dwell on his brooding sense of injustice. “Not to mention the fact that I prefer to choose my own women.”

“Have faith, my friend,” Char murmured. “The universe brings us happiness when we least expect it.”

Torque glanced toward his companion. “When did you become a philosopher?”

Char flashed his smile. “I’m a dragon of many talents.”

“And an ego to match.”

“Hey, if I don’t appreciate my many fine qualities, who will?” Char reached out to lightly grab Torque’s shoulder. “Torque, take care. And if you have need of me, you only have to reach out.”

Torque dipped his head in acknowledgement of the genuine offer. The two males might be complete opposites, but they’d formed an unbreakable bond over the past hundred years.

Waiting for Char to turn away, Torque pushed open one of the doors and stepped into the throne room.

It was just as opulent as might be expected for the formal reception area of a dragon. Nearly three hundred feet long, it had ivory walls inset with mirrors. Overhead the ceiling was painted with a whimsical mural of Aladdin, and in the center, a priceless Venetian chandelier spread a pool of light over the glossy wooden floor.

At the far end a pair of gilded thrones were set on a raised dais where Baine and his mate, Tayla, were waiting for him.

The full-blooded dragon had straight black hair that framed a narrow face, and almond-shaped eyes that smoldered with an amber fire. As usual Baine was wearing a loose pair of dojo pants that revealed the tattoos that crawled over his skin with a metallic shimmer. The markings were more than just decorative. They represented the enormous amount of knowledge the dragon had managed to accumulate over the long centuries.

He was as much a scholar as a warrior.

The female imp next to him had dark gold hair with hints of fire in the silken strands. Her face was pale and dominated by a pair of light green eyes with fissures of jade.

Her beauty was obvious, but everyone in the lair knew it was her gentle soul and boundless capacity to love that had captured Baine’s wary heart.

Waiting for Baine to give a small flick of his fingers, Torque walked up the narrow crimson carpet. With every step forward the pulse of the male’s power grew more pronounced. The dragon might be sprawled on his throne like an indolent pasha, but only a fool would miss his magic that thundered in the air.

Falling to his knees at the edge of the dais, Torque bent his head in respect.

“Master.”

There was a sigh from the tiny woman at Baine’s side. “You really have to do something about that.”

Baine glanced toward his lovely mate. “What?”

“Master.” Tayla rolled her eyes.

“It’s my title.” Baine shrugged. “At least I don’t make my servants crawl on their knees.”

“Do other dragons do that?” the imp demanded.

Baine shrugged. “Of course.”

Tayla gave a click of her tongue. “Really, we need to have a training seminar to educate your people on how to treat servants. It’s not nice to go around terrifying your loyal staff. And don’t even get me started on the breathing fire thing.”

Baine’s lips twitched. “You didn’t mind me breathing fire last night.”

The imp flushed, even as her eyes twinkled with remembered pleasure. “That was different.”

“Did you call for me?” Torque intruded into the teasing banter.

He deeply respected his master, and the entire lair adored the sweet imp he’d taken as his mate, but Torque’s nerves were at the point of snapping.

Now that his destiny had arrived, he just wanted to get it over with.

“I did,” Baine said, his rare smile vanishing.

The noose tightened around Torque’s throat.

“I’m prepared for my fate,” he managed to say.

“Actually, there’s been a small detour in your fate.”

Torque lifted his head, studying Baine in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“My father contacted me this morning to inform me that your future consort is missing.”

Torque slowly rose to his feet. He’d been expecting to be led directly to the portal that would transport him to Synge’s lair.

Now he frowned, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

“Missing? I don’t understand,” he muttered.

“She can’t be found.”

“But…” Torque gave a shake of his head. “I thought she was in the harem?”

Baine shrugged. “That’s what everyone thought.”

“Has she been taken by force?”

“No.”

Torque’s frown deepened, his stab of fear fading as a hint of anger sparked in the pit of his stomach.

“Then what happened?” he demanded.

“From what has been discovered, she slipped away unnoticed.”

Slipped away? Meaning she snuck away from the harem like a thief in the night?

“How is that possible?”

“She has fey blood,” Baine said. “Like you.”

Torque frowned. He never talked about his mother. Primarily because there was nothing to say. He knew nothing about her beyond the fact she was fey. And that she’d abandoned him only minutes after giving birth.

Not exactly the sort of mother anyone would want to brag about.

“And?” he prompted.

“And she was capable of creating a portal to leave her home without alerting anyone to her disappearance.”

Torque’s hands clenched at his side as his anger spread.

Which meant his female had not only walked away, but she’d deliberately tried to fool her father into believing she was still there.

His chin tilted, his pride rubbed raw by the betrayal.

Wasn’t it enough that he’d been commanded to place his mark upon her? Now she had to publicly humiliate him by walking away when they were due to formalize their union?

“Does anyone know how long she’s been gone?”

Baine shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. She was residing in the family harem, which meant the guards were only there for her protection. She was free to come and go as she pleased, so they didn’t monitor her daily activities,” he said. “She could have been gone for hours, or weeks before Synge noticed she was missing.”

Torque turned to the side, unwilling to allow his master to see the fierce emotions that scoured through him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was whispering that he should be relieved. If the female had disappeared then there was no fear he would have to take her as a consort.

But it wasn’t relief that was scouring through his body. Instead it was a toxic combination of anger and betrayal.

“Why would she leave?”

Baine cleared his throat. “That’s what my father wants you to find out.”

Torque turned back to meet Baine’s smoldering amber gaze.

“He knows where she is?”

“That’s your task.”

Torque tilted his chin, trying to pretend an indifference he was far from feeling.

“If she left before completing our mating then our contract is at an end.”

Baine tapped his slender fingers on the arm of his massive throne. “I did mention that to Synge.”

“And?”

“And he’s fully convinced that it’s your duty to track her down and return her to the harem,” Baine answered.

Torque pressed his lips together. Of course the older dragon would put the responsibility on him.

“What if I refuse?”

Baine grimaced. “You can spend your service as an ambassador to the trolls.”

It was the shit-job of the dragon world. No one, not even the most hardened warrior, wanted to be stuck dealing with the smelly, thick-skulled trolls who lived like barbarians in the most remote mountains.

“I don’t even know where to begin searching for her,” he muttered, still pretending he was reluctant to perform his duty. Inside, however, his beast was stirring with a sharp-edged urgency to be on the hunt. “Her dragon blood will ensure she can cloak her presence.”

“Ah.” There was the sound of claws scrapping against the wooden floor.

Glancing over his shoulder, Torque shuddered at the sight of the three-foot gargoyle sashaying his way up the red carpet. Levet was a friend of Tayla’s, and was a frequent visitor to the lair.

“If you are in need of a tracker, then you are very fortunate that I have chosen to visit my BFF, Baine.”

Baine scowled. It was a testament to his love for his mate that the miniature gargoyle hadn’t been turned into a charred pile of rubble.

“BFF?” the dragon demanded.

Levet spread his wings that were not only as delicate as a dew fairy, but shimmered in shades of blue and crimson and gold.

“Best friends forever,” he told the mind-bogglingly powerful dragon.

Baine looked momentarily horrified. “We are not friends.”

“Of course we are.” Levet reached up to scratch one of his stunted horns, his ugly snout curled in confusion. “Why else would you give me private rooms in your lair?”

Tendrils of smoke curled from Baine’s flared nostrils. “Private rooms?”

“We’ll discuss it later,” Tayla murmured, reaching out to stroke her hand lightly down Baine’s bare arm. He instantly relaxed, as if she had some magical ability to soothe his inner beast. Once assured the male wasn’t going to bathe the room in fire, she turned her attention to the gargoyle. “Can you track down Rya?”

“But of course.” Levet’s tail curled around his feet, his chest puffing out. “I am the pistachio of locating beautiful females.”

“Pistachio?” Baine snapped.

Tayla made a choked sound, clearly trying not to laugh. “I think he means Picasso.”

Baine hissed with annoyance. “That still doesn’t make any sense.”

Levet gave a flap of his fairy wings. “I am a master of my craft.”

Torque took a step to the side, assuming Baine was about to rid them of the aggravating pest. Instead, the cunning creature allowed a slow smile to curve his cruel lips.

“It couldn’t hurt to take him with you,” he told Torque.

“No. Absolutely not.” The refusal burst past Torque’s lips before he could call it back.

The mere thought of being stuck with the miniature pain in the ass was enough to make his blood run cold.

A hell of a feat, considering he was half dragon.

Baine lifted his brows. “Do you want to spend the next few centuries with the trolls?”

This time Torque managed to bite back his words. He was well aware the dragon was simply trying to rid himself of the annoying gargoyle, but unless he wanted to be stuck with dozens of smelly trolls in a dark hole…

“Fine,” he ground out.

Like he could say anything else.

Levet held out a clawed hand, his gray eyes sparkling with smug satisfaction.

“I will need an object that has a connection to the female,” he commanded.

Acutely aware of Baine’s warning gaze, Torque reluctantly pulled the pewter ring from his finger. It’d been handcrafted by Rya and held a portion of her magic.

“This was her betrothal gift,” he said, dropping it into Levet’s outstretched hand.

There was a tiny burst of magic and the ring disappeared.

Torque felt an odd flare of panic. Not that he was attached to the ring, he hastily assured himself. It was just… Hell, he didn’t know what it was. All he understood was that he was going to rip off the gargoyle’s wings if he lost the betrothal gift.

“Come.” Levet abruptly turned to waddle toward the door. “We need to find a witch.”

Torque forced himself to follow. “What do you need with a witch?”

Levet continued to waddle toward the door. “Like any great artist I must make use of tools. Do you ask why Renoir needs a brush?”

Torque glanced over his shoulder, meeting his master’s amused gaze.

“How long would I have to stay with the trolls?”

Baine pointed a finger toward the door. “Go.”

Torque stomped forward, wondering if he’d even make it out of the lair before he torched the tiny demon.

They’d almost reached the door leading out of the throne room when the sound of Tayla’s voice floated softly through the air.

“Torque.”

Once again he glanced back. “Yes?”

“Be gentle when you find her.”

He scowled. The female had publicly humiliated him.

“Gentle?”

Tayla offered a sympathetic smile. “You don’t know why she left.”

Torque snorted, heading out of the throne room.

He didn’t give a shit why she’d left. He only knew that when he found her…

Well, he didn’t actually have a plan. But once he got his hands on her, he intended to make damned sure she didn’t escape again.

CHAPTER TWO