Kiss of Embers (The Dragon Lairds #5)

Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

ZARA

W ind howled outside. If not for the strengthening spell Drute had placed around the tent, the gusts would have probably brought the canvas down around my ears.

Even so, I struggled to concentrate as I flipped through the History of the Firstborn Games . The book’s author, an earth witch with an unusually avid interest in the macabre, took great delight in describing prior contestants’ injuries and untimely deaths.

But the book’s content was only half the problem. The full moon approached. Even with the tent blocking its light, it tugged at me, urging me to shift and hunt. My scalp tingled, and my skin felt all wrong, like it was stretched too tightly over my bones.

Turning the page, I scanned a passage about a Games that took place around the time the Visigoths were sacking Rome.

During the second challenge, two contestants became trapped in the Sarcophagus of Redes, where they were devoured by flesh-eating gallspawn.

Shuddering, I skipped down a few paragraphs.

Because gallspawn secrete a healing agent as they feed, victims can survive for months as the gallspawn feast ? —

I slammed the book shut.

“Find anything interesting in there?”

Drute crossed the tent with two steaming mugs in his hands. He placed one at my elbow before sitting in the chair to my right.

Grimacing, I pushed the book away from me. “Not unless you’re into reading about the most gruesome deaths imaginable.” The scent of chamomile drifted from my mug. I curled my hands around the ceramic, letting the heat seep into my skin. “Thanks for this,” I told Drute.

He smiled as he blew on his own tea. “I spiked it with rum. If I thought I could get away with it, I would have added a sleeping potion.” He glanced at the book. “You need rest, not anecdotes about Games that happened centuries ago.”

Frustration rose. “I thought if I studied enough, I might find a pattern among the challenges.” Every Games was different, and that variety was a big part of what made the competition difficult. The challenges came in all kinds of unpredictable shapes and sizes. I shook my head. “I have no idea if I’m going to end up swimming across a crocodile-infested bog or fighting my way through a legion of zombies on a battlefield.”

Drute set his mug down. His dark eyes reflected the light of the lanterns positioned around the tent. “We should discuss what happens if the Rules Committee decides you can’t compete.”

Fresh anger fired in my veins. “I still can’t believe Brader showed up. His spies must be more deeply embedded in the pack than I thought.” My anger flared higher as I shuffled through a mental list of likely contenders. “I bet it was Alix. He probably caught up with Brader after the funeral.”

Drute cleared his throat. “In my opinion, the dragons pose the bigger threat.”

Wariness—and something else I didn’t want to examine too closely—stole through me. “What do you mean?”

“Inessa was right to warn you about them. If the dragons truly believe you’re their female, they won’t rest until they claim you. But this could just as easily be a ruse on their part.”

“A ruse?”

Drute nodded. “Even now, the other competitors are likely petitioning Bolveg to remove you from the Games. If the dragons want to win badly enough, they’ll take Brader’s claim of an unfair advantage and run with it, petitioning for the Rules Committee to grant Brader’s request.”

I gripped my mug more tightly. “But the Committee would throw them out too.”

“Not if the dragons convince Bolveg to let them stay. The dragons have a history of allying themselves with various demon kingdoms. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn they’re visiting Bolveg tonight. Anything to narrow the field.” Drute nodded toward the book. “If you’ve read about the Games, you already know that backstabbing and underhanded tactics are part of the strategy.”

I sat back in my chair, the tea’s warmth forgotten. “What can I do? Should I seek out Bolveg?” I wasn’t certain where the demon had pitched his tent—or if he even had one.

“Maybe,” Drute said. “Or perhaps you should speak with Brader.”

I knew my shock showed on my face. “Have you forgotten that Brader followed me to the Games and then tried to get me thrown out?”

“He also stood up for you in front of the Council. I believe he can be reasoned with.”

“Yes, because he’s been so reasonable lately.”

Drute gave me a patient look. “I’m not defending Ashcroft. His pride is wounded, Zara. And before you tear into me, understand that I’m not saying you should accept his marriage proposal to spare his feelings.” Drute lowered his gaze to his tea, and he seemed to collect his thoughts before he spoke again. “I’ve served three alphas now, and I’ve interacted with countless others.” He met my gaze. “Diplomacy is about manipulation as much as it is compromise. You have something Brader wants. If it helps the pack to use that to your advantage, you should at least consider it. You should talk to anyone willing to help you. Your father would have.”

Pain filled my chest. My father’s death was like a bruise that never healed—maybe because I never had time to mourn him properly. It was hard to grieve when I was busy hunting packmates-turned-monsters.

But Drute had a point. I wasn’t just Zara Rockford anymore. I was the alpha. Maybe there was a way to rally Brader to my side. If I made him believe I was interested in becoming Mrs. Ashcroft, he might withdraw his objections to me competing in the Games. Even better, he might do whatever he could to ensure I won.

“This is going to suck,” I muttered.

Drute smiled, displaying white, blocky teeth and blunt fangs. “It’s all part of—” He jerked his head toward the tent’s entrance. A second later, a shuffling sound reached my ears.

I shot to my feet, my hand going to the hilt of the sword I’d strapped to my hip the moment I returned from the clearing. Drute stood with me, and his nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. My wolf roared to the surface. The shift tugged at me as my beast readied to defend us.

“Zara Rockford?” a familiar, lilting voice called through the canvas. “It’s Finn MacAlasdair and Struan MacLure.”

Drute and I looked at each other. Inessa’s warning ran through my head. “If you think banning dragons will keep them away from you, I have vexing news.”

I fixed my gaze on the tent’s opening, which was warded against wind, rain, and intruders. But the dragons were no ordinary immortals. If they wanted inside, I wasn’t sure Drute and I could stop them. And Drute was still mortal. If something happened to him just before he crossed into his home plane, I’d never forgive myself.

“Struan and I came to talk,” Finn said. “And to offer our assistance.”

Assistance? I turned my attention back to Drute, who frowned as he met my stare. Slowly, he shook his head.

This is a bad idea , he mouthed.

But hadn’t he just said I should talk to anyone willing to help me? If Brader could be persuaded to stand up for me, weren’t two powerful, probably ancient dragons even better? If I couldn’t hide from them, I might as well face them.

I lifted my chin. “Come in,” I called.

My ears popped as Drute’s ward fell. A second later, the dragons ducked inside the tent, bringing a gust of wind with them.

Drute stepped away from the table, and he angled his body so he faced them head-on. I stayed put, my hand on my sword. My heart sped up as the dragons straightened.

They’d looked large in the clearing. Under the tent’s low ceiling, they were enormous . Raindrops dotted their shoulders, which were broad enough to take out a door frame. Struan was slightly larger, his build more muscular. At first glance, he appeared more dangerous.

But my gaze returned again and again to Finn, some primitive instinct whispering that the gray-eyed dragon was the deadlier opponent.

As if he’d read my mind, he glanced at my sword. “We’re no threat to you, Zara.”

Abruptly, the memory of him channeling across the clearing flashed through my brain.

“You’re part vampire,” I said. That explained the menace that hovered around him. Vampires were an insular species. They preferred their castles in the mountains, where they worshipped power and held blood sacred. Fortunately, they were usually too busy backstabbing each other to make trouble with other immortals.

Finn kept his eyes on me as he inclined his head. “Aye. My mother was the daughter of the Prince of Vostrova.”

“Can you read minds?”

“No, lass. I didn’t inherit that gift. Your thoughts are safe. I give you my word.”

Awareness lifted the fine hairs on my body. Although, maybe it was just the way he said lass , his accent turning the word into a kind of caress. In my mind, my wolf hesitated. Confusion drifted through our bond. The beast couldn’t speak—at least not in actual words. But she could make her emotions known. And right now, she couldn’t decide if Finn was lying or laying a new kind of trap.

“We came to apologize,” Struan said, pulling my attention to him. His eyes were an even deeper blue in the lantern light. “We didn’t mean to jeopardize your chances of competing in the Games. We came to make amends.”

“We know you’re trying to save your pack,” Finn said, drawing my gaze back to him.

“Which is what any fine alpha would do,” Struan added, approval thick in his voice.

I put up a forestalling hand before I got dizzy from trying to follow their ping-ponging conversation. “Wait. What do you know about my pack?”

“Moon sickness,” Struan said bluntly. “Word has it your people have been hit hard.”

Drute made a negative sound. “Gossip,” he said gruffly. “Nothing more.”

Struan turned to Drute, and the polite smile he offered didn’t reach his eyes. “Our sources are sound. Are you in service to the Rockford Pack or Zara herself?”

“None of your business,” Drute said.

Struan slid an assessing look in my direction, and I tensed under his scrutiny. That he knew how gargoyles operated didn’t surprise me. They weren’t exactly abundant on the earth plane, but there were enough of them around for most people to understand their ways and the rules that bound them. Even the humans had vague ideas of gargoyle guardianship.

“He serves the pack,” Finn said. “Otherwise, Zara wouldn’t dream of competing. A gargoyle in personal service doesn’t leave his master’s side. Zara would be disqualified for cheating.”

Drute’s growl echoed around the tent. He stepped toward the dragons, his dark wings unfurling with a silky whisper. “The gargoyle has a name. And neither of you is welcome here.”

Red flickered over Finn’s eyes. “Zara is the alpha. I think she can decide for herself who’s welcome.”

A charge filled the air. Lightning flashed outside, briefly throwing the men’s faces into stark relief.

“It’s all right, Drute,” I said. The last thing I needed was a brawl in my tent. For one thing, I wasn’t at all certain Drute could win against one dragon, let alone two. Especially not these two.

Drute spoke as if he hadn’t heard me. “I may not be bound to Zara personally, but rest assured I’ll protect her from anyone who thinks to force a claim without her consent.”

As one, Struan and Finn moved forward. The tension ratcheted higher as Finn bared his fangs. “Good news, gargoyle. Our goals are aligned.”

Drute snapped his wings out. One struck the edge of the dining table, sending the mugs of tea crashing to the floorboards. The dragons held steady as tea spread over the wood, filling the tent with the scent of chamomile and rum. Struan smiled, and his accent thickened as he spoke in a tone sharp enough to cut. “Och, gargoyle, it appears we’ve ruffled your wee feathers.”

Drute was moving before Struan finished his sentence. “Call me gargoyle again, and I’ll?—”

“Enough!” I shouted, putting on a burst of speed that had me between them before they could collide. Drute’s momentum knocked me into Struan, who caught my shoulders before I could fall. He turned me with gentle hands and put a warm, callused palm under my chin.

Deep blue eyes searched mine. “Are you all right?”

Electricity shot through me, the jolt stealing my breath. A rich, smoky scent invaded my lungs. It was both foreign and familiar, like something pleasant I’d smelled in the past and then rediscovered. Only half aware of what I was doing, I inhaled deeply.

Time slowed. More scent filled me, but it was stronger this time. Almost…intoxicating. Struan’s eyes glittered, something fierce dancing in the sapphire depths. My wolf receded.

In some corner of my mind, I knew I should be dismayed. I couldn’t shift without her. What if I needed to fight? As panic gathered, Struan feathered his thumb over my jaw. His skin was hot, almost searing.

“You’re warm,” I said stupidly.

His lips curved. “I’m a dragon.”

The boom of thunder startled me from my stupor. I took a swift step back, dislodging Struan’s grip. The world sped up again. Finn stood at Struan’s shoulder, his gray eyes fixed on me. Rain pounded the tent.

And Drute loomed nearby, his jaw tight and disapproval in his dark eyes.

I could hardly blame him. Gods, what was wrong with me? I’d gone from breaking up a fight to inhaling Struan like he was food at a buffet.

My face heated. The dragons were desperate for women. Or maybe they just wanted me to believe I was their fated mate. As Drute had pointed out, underhanded tactics were a tradition at the Firstborn Games. For all I knew, they’d charmed me to respond to them.

“It’s been a long day,” I said. “Assuming the demons allow the three of us to remain in the Games, we have a competition ahead of us tomorrow. We should all get some sleep.”

The men stayed put. Something dark and predatory moved through Finn’s eyes.

“That wolf tonight,” he said. “Ashcroft. What is he to you?”

My hackles rose at his proprietary tone. I gave him the look I’d seen my father use whenever he addressed an unruly pack member. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

The predatory glint in Finn’s eyes sharpened. “Everything about you is my business, Zara Rockford.”

A shiver raced down my spine. Drute’s warning growl warred with the sound of the wind gusting outside. The dragons stayed utterly still. Watchful. It was clear they weren’t budging until I gave them the information they sought. Part of me wanted to hold my ground. But Brader’s identity was hardly a secret. And if I had an opportunity to diffuse the tension, I’d be smart to take it. “Flex your mind before you swing your fists.”

I drew an even breath. “Brader Ashcroft is the alpha of a neighboring pack. I’ve known him since I was a child.”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “And yet he campaigned to get you thrown out of the Games.”

“Not very neighborly of him,” Struan said.

Drute moved closer to my side. “It’s time for both of you to leave.”

In a blink, the air shimmered with the promise of violence.

“It’s all right, Drute,” I said softly. As he eased back, I addressed Struan and Finn. “You asked what Brader is to me. I answered your question. He’s my neighbor. Nothing more.” I gestured to the tent’s entrance behind them. “Now, this conversation is over. Good night.”

Again, neither dragon moved. They stared, their eyes glowing with the intense possessiveness they displayed in the clearing.

At last, Finn spoke in a low voice. “You don’t have to worry about the demons throwing you out of the Games, lass. Struan and I won’t let that happen. That’s what we came here to tell you.”

Drute folded his arms. He kept quiet, but his skepticism was palpable.

“I don’t need help,” I said. “I entered the Games on my own terms, and I intend to win the same way.” The other competitors already believed Struan and Finn gave me an unfair advantage. If they intervened with Bolveg on my behalf, they might make my situation worse.

Although, maybe that was their intention.

My wolf stirred, and I seized her attention, letting her feel my anxiety. She responded at once, her power rippling in my voice as I motioned toward the tent’s entrance a second time. “I want you to leave.”

Struan’s nostrils flared. But he didn’t bend or back down. Instead, little flames appeared to dance in his eyes.

Finn kept his gaze on me as he palmed Struan’s shoulder. “We’ll go, lass. But what I said before remains true. Struan and I won’t force our claim. We won’t need to. Fate chose you for us, and fate has brought us together. You can deny it, but you can’t outrun destiny.”

In another seemingly coordinated move, he and Struan turned and went to the entrance. Just before they ducked outside, Struan met my gaze over his shoulder. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Zara.”

He and Finn stepped into the night.

For a moment, the tent was still. Finally, Drute turned to me.

“You can’t trust them.”

“I don’t.” I looked at him. “Do you think they’re trying to trick me?” Self-consciousness heated my cheeks. “Or make me respond to them somehow?”

He ran a hand over one of his horns in an uncharacteristically weary gesture. “I can’t be certain.” His gaze was troubled as he lowered his hand. “The bigger question is, why do the dragons want the elixir?”

My breath caught. Because Drute was right. The dragons’ race was underpopulated, yet they were willing to risk their lives for the elixir. According to all the lore I’d read growing up, nothing mattered more to them than finding their mates.

Well, they’d found me. But they weren’t dropping out of the Games and focusing all their energy on claiming me. Why? What was so important that it compelled them to stay in the competition?

Absently, I brushed my fingers over the spot where Struan had held my chin. His touch lingered, as if he’d marked me. Branded me.

But, of course, he hadn’t. My mind was playing tricks. Or maybe the dragons were playing tricks. Hell, maybe it was just the tug of the moon. Even as the thought formed, restlessness gripped me.

“I need to run,” I said, the words leaping out before I could snatch them back. Except I didn’t really want to. Shifting would do me good, especially if the Rules Committee allowed me to stay in the Games. The moon’s call was too strong. I needed to slip my skin and let my wolf have her way for a few hours. My thoughts were always less complicated on four feet.

Drute glanced at the tent’s opening, a frown in his eyes. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“It’ll take the edge off,” I said, already moving to my bed. I unbuckled my sword and tossed it on the mattress. Drute was silent, but his disapproval floated in the air like a cloud.

I crossed the tent. At the opening, I paused and met Drute’s gaze. “I’ll be fine. You heard Bolveg. Maiming and murdering aren’t allowed.” I smiled. “Otherwise, I would have already murdered Brader.”

Drute sighed. “Please be careful.”

I blew him a kiss. Then I stepped into the night. The moon sparkled overhead. Its heat brushed my skin. Around the camp, laughter and music drifted from various tents. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but giant puddles formed mini ponds on the ground. Hopefully, the damp would keep the other competitors inside.

A different kind of music blared from the jungle. Insects. Wild animals. But I was more dangerous than the jaguars and caimans, and they gave me a wide berth as I shed my clothes and shifted.

Seconds later, I sprinted across the jungle on four feet. Soil flew under my claws. My night vision cast the world in shades of bright blue and green. Wind whipped through my fur as I pushed myself faster, leaping fallen trees and clumps of foliage. The moon’s music flowed through my veins, ferrying away cares about Brader’s schemes and the pack.

Then I caught a scent.

No, scents .

Forest and smoke. Traces of dark incense.

Dragons. Struan and Finn were nearby. As before, their scents drew me, the pull as powerful as the moon. I slowed, picking my way through the trees and low-hanging vines. My pulse quickened as a break in the foliage revealed a large tent bathed in moonlight. Low voices rumbled from a split in the canvas. Shadows moved within.

I drew closer, my ears pricked for sound.

And it came—the deep rhythms of male speech.

“Do you think there’s another way to save her?” Struan asked.

Her? Were they talking about me? I eased forward, careful not to make any noise.

“No,” Finn said. “It’s up to us.”

Overhead, a cloud drifted past the moon, allowing more light to spill over the jungle. Through the tent’s opening, Struan and Finn came into view. From what little I could see, their tent was far more luxurious than mine. Filigree lanterns hung from the ceiling, and an ornate carpet spread over the floor. Finn leaned a hip on a large, dark table, his posture relaxed. Struan stood in front of him with his back to me, his body angled just enough to let me see Finn’s troubled expression.

Why would I need saving? Were they worried about me coming down with moon sickness, or was there a new threat on the horizon? Was this yet another power play?

Clinging to the shadows, I settled down to find out.