Dragon Fate (21 page)

BOOK: Dragon Fate

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“Leave,” Bale snarled. “And don’t come back.”

He knew her human eyes couldn’t pierce the shadows, but his voice must have been awful enough. Her already pale skin turned ashen at his words. Though Rave dragged her toward the elevator, her head swiveled to keep her focus toward the threat.

Him.

The dragon yearned toward her, straining as if it could leave his body. Scales split from skin, weeping his blackened ichor. He dropped to his knees, bone slamming against stone, just as the elevator door opened, flooding the cavern with harsh white light. And this time he couldn’t stop himself.

He howled.

Rave hustled Esme into the box, whisking her away, and the last glimpse Bale had of her, she fell into his brother’s arms.

***

Esme swallowed back the scream clogging her throat, an echo to the horrible cry that even the closing of the heavy steel doors couldn’t silence.

“Dark,” she murmured. “Everything’s so dark.”

The man holding her upright put his hand under her chin and tilted her head upward to the ceiling light. He frowned down at her. “Pupils equal and reactive,” he muttered. “Maybe more damage from the link from Ashcraft—”

“Not Lars,” she rasped. “Not me. Him. Black and cold.”

His frown deepened. “My brother’s cavern was the only place to hide you from Ashcraft. The warlock’s magic couldn’t reach you there, not with Bale in the way.”

She wavered on her feet, her mind whirling.

For so long, the whirling had been like murk going down a drain, but now the swirl was reversed, a jumble of disjointed memories puking up from her half-sleep. The man beside her was Rave Dorado. A dragon shapeshifter who was mated to her college housemate Piper Ramirez. Their third housemate Anjali Herne had been tasked with trapping and killing a dragon-shifter, using Esme as bait. The warlock Lars Ashcraft had been the mastermind behind the plot, foiled by Anjali and her dragonmate Torch Dorado who had also helped break the alchemical/voodoo curse in the engagement ring Lars had given Esme.

Quite the unbelievable adventure.

And she’d slept through most of it.

She jerked her chin out of Rave’s hand and almost knocked herself over.

“Watch it.” He shifted the hand to her elbow and steadied her. “We’ve been blocking the worst of Ashcraft’s alchemy, but we don’t know how much it affected you.”

She stiffened. “You said I might die.”

Rather than look chagrined, which most people did when she called them out, he tilted his head. “You heard that? Faking it, were you?”

“No.” A flush of annoyance warmed her a little, enough to shake loose his grasp. “I wasn’t asleep. But I…wasn’t awake either. I was…” She gazed past him, catching a hazy glimpse of herself in the brushed steel of the elevator doors. The simple white shift dress was something she might’ve chosen for herself—she never had to worry about the message a white shift dress sent; people could write whatever intention they wanted on such a blank canvas—but the silky fabric hung on her like the lining of a very nice coffin.

“A ghost,” she finished after a moment.

“Not a ghost yet,” Rave said briskly. “With Ashcraft defeated, you can work on regaining your strength. Piper will be glad to see you…more yourself.”

Esme dragged her gaze back to him, sorting through her returning memories. “She’ll be the only one. Anjali is still ashamed of bringing me to Lars’ attention. And you. You think I’m a threat to your brother.”

“Not just him,” Rave clarified. “To all the Nox Incendi.”

She touched her temple. The snarls in her hair were as tangled as her impressions. “I like being thought of as a threat.”

He flashed a toothy grin at her. “Well, there’s something to you after all.”

She closed her eyes.

He might be the only one to ever think that.

Despite his unkind words, his grip on her arm was gentle when the elevator stopped and he led her through a twisting corridor to the double doors of a luxurious suite. She remembered all this, more or less, although in her mind’s eye, she was floating through most of it and a whispering voice had been telling her she was worthless and weak and the only way for her to save herself was to steal someone else’s power to live.

But she’d never wanted to be powerful.

That voice had belonged to Lars, when he’d held her helpless and touched her all over while reciting the places he would carve the dragon. Or maybe it was her grandmother’s voice. Grand-mère had never said anything about shapeshifters, but the company she’d taken over from her philandering, forgetful husband had carved up and swallowed other companies with the same lust Lars had reserved for dragons.

Esme wrapped her arms around herself as Rave guided her under the amber chandelier in the hallway toward the living area. As fabulous as the Keep was, it still felt to her like all the other posh, expensive hotels and resorts she’d ever stayed in: shiny as the finest crystal goblet, and every bit as brittle and hollow.

The cavern—dark and cold though it had been—pulsed with something she couldn’t name, couldn’t even see.

But she wanted it.

She wanted—

“Ezzie!” Piper jumped off the couch aligned near the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a view of the Vegas skyline. Her high ponytail bounced with her enthusiasm.

They only called her Ezzie back in college when they were threatening to take her to the emergency room after another bad night. Most of the time, she’d been able to talk them out of it, but she must look pretty bad now to have Piper defaulting to the childish version of her already short name.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shocked at the sharp ends of her own bones. She’d gotten so good at covering those up…

Warmth enveloped her, and she snapped herself out of her drifting to catch the edges of the blanket Piper was tucking around her. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“Bale wouldn’t let me cover you,” Piper said fretfully. “He said the cold slowed the negative reactions in your body.”

“Maybe.” She sort of remembered that conversation. Esme gave Rave a thankful smile when he handed her a cup of tea. Steam curled up, wafting the delicate scent of jasmine to her nose. “I feel more awake than I have since…” She looked down into her cup, distracted by the reflection of the amber chandelier in the water, like the sun drowning in the sea.

“Since Lars gave you the engagement ring?” Piper suggested. “The hallucinogens seeping out of the ring must’ve been affecting you from the very start.”

Esme straightened. Ugh, that giant “diamond” engagement ring had actually been full of alchemically altered psychedelic spores. There’d been a time when the weirdest thing she’d ever encountered was at a charity event where all three ex-wives of a local business man had been wearing the same dress. Now she was surrounded by dragons and warlocks and magic mushroom rings.

When she shook her head, the movement seemed to knock more things into place, so she did it more vigorously. “Even before that. I think… I think I’ve been floating for a long time.”

Piper touched her hand through the blanket, compassion softening her dark brown eyes. “You’re coming down now. And we’re here to catch you.”

But coming down to what? The engagement of socialite heiress Esme Montenegro to industry scion Lars Ashcraft had been front page of the living and business sections in the Salt Lake City newspapers and websites. Now Ashcraft Antiquities was being investigated by federal watchdog groups, and she was technically missing.

Maybe she could just keeping sinking, until she was entirely out of sight.

No one would actually miss her.