“What the fuck is going on here?” Calan demanded, turning in an instant and using his bigger body to conceal the slender form of his lover from their unwanted guests. His expression grew grimmer as he recognized the young man and his companion.

Heath Reed was a cousin on his mother’s side, a couple of times removed but still family, and not yet eighteen, which meant Calan was responsible for the lad. His gaze flicked to the woman at Heath’s side, one of the Blaise daughters. It also meant he was responsible for stopping the utter fuckup Heath was about to make of his life.

“Same thing as you going by the looks of it, Cal,” the youth sniggered, obviously full of drink and bravado as he tried to sneak a glance at the woman behind Calan. The woman in his arms, her dress almost split to her waist, giggled and pressed the breasts almost falling out of the thing into Heath’s arm. “Love really is in the air tonight, Heathy-baby. Let’s leave these two to it and find somewhere more… private.”

“That’s Your Grace to you,” Calan snarled, knowing he was being an asshole and not caring. They were family, yes, but not that closely related. “And you’re not going anywhere, especially somewhere more private.”

He switched his attention to the Blaise woman. “Are you aware he’s under the age of majority?” he asked, his voice hard and stern. “So you tempting him off somewhere like this is actually a criminal offense.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. I’m eighteen next week!” The lad argued as Calan hustled them both out the door. When he reached it, he looked over his shoulder at his princess. She stood in the shadows, gown in place and a flush on her cheeks. Her hair was mussed, her lips bruised from his kisses, and he felt a sense of pride and triumph that he’d been the one to put that sultry look on her face. For a second, her eyes blazed, the violet—verging on lilac—taking his breath away. Like males, a she-dragon’s eyes often reflected their color, but he didn’t know of any lilacs at court. Who was she?

“Wait for me,” he mouthed, before shoving the two miscreants out of the room.

“Underage? Really? I had no idea. I promise!” The Blaise daughter looked shocked, but he easily saw through her act.

There was no way either she or her family hadn’t known who Heath was and exactly how old he was. But he knew the type. That was their MO all over… seduction, followed by a pregnancy announcement and a shotgun wedding. Then, most probably “lose” the baby, if there ever had been one in the first place.

No way was that happening. He wasn’t allowing any of his family, even extended family, to get trapped by these harpies—not on his watch. The whole Blaise family was corrupt as far as he was concerned. The only interesting member among their number was the tiny mouse he’d seen the other day… the one who had aroused all his protective instincts despite the strangeness with the dragon that was barely there. Odd, definitely something he’d have to check out, but not tonight.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m sure you didn’t,” he growled as they approached the main ballroom, the doors ahead open enough to allow the sound of music and a room full of people talking to spill out. “I suggest you keep your distance in future while I deliver Heath here to his father. I do not expect to see you two together again. Do I make myself clear?” he asked, letting his dragon stare out of his eyes down at the pushy little female.

“Yes, Your Grace,” she squeaked and dropped into a low curtsy before scuttling away, disappearing into the crowded room within seconds. Calan sighed and looked down at his cousin, who had a look of mulish rebellion on his face. Great, just what he needed, a sulky teen to deal with when all he wanted to do was get back to his princess.

In the end, it took him ten minutes to find the lad’s father, Lord Cromer, and a further two to explain what had nearly happened. As he laid it all out, that Heath had almost gone and gotten himself seduced and presumably leg-shackled, Quentin’s expression grew darker and darker with fury. By the time Calan left the ballroom, Quentin had hauled his son away, berating him loudly with Lady Cromer trailing behind them, wringing her hands. It wasn’t quite the way Calan would have handled it, not in public anyway, but who was he to argue with the way another man ran his household? Not when he had his princess to find and claim…

His long strides ate up the distance between the ballroom and his study, his blood heating with each step. He’d had to exert iron control over himself in the ballroom, so the state of his body didn’t give him away. But now he was alone, the mere thought of the delicate beauty who awaited him had his cock hard as iron and ready for action.

Erotic thoughts swirled through his mind of her softness beneath him. Of spreading her slender thighs and tasting the slick, wet pussy between them. Of covering her as he slid his cock deep inside her, the first man… the only man who would ever do so. And he would be the only one. In taking her virginity, he was also making a promise, that his princess was his… his wife, his mate.

A small smile played over his lips as he turned the corner and spied his study door finally. After all, his cousin had ordered him to find a bride at the ball, hadn’t she? While his princess hadn’t been one of the women Cadeyra had been throwing at him, she had been at the ball. So his cousin couldn’t argue, could she?

“Now, where were we?” he asked, pushing open the door with a smile.

To find an empty room.

“Princess?” He’d taken three steps without noticing, looking into the corners thinking she must have heard the sound of steps and hidden somewhere, not knowing who it was. Then his dragon kicked him in the ass, and he took a deep breath. Nothing. She wasn’t in here and her scent was fading fast.

“Fuck!” he hissed, turning and barreling out of the door to bellow, “GUARDS!”

Several of the palace guards came running at his shout, their ceremonial sabers rattling and their eyes wide as they realized who was calling. “A small woman in a purple dress, dark hair, about this height…” He gestured to around the middle of his chest. “She can’t have gotten far. Find her NOW!”

“Yessir!”

The chorus from the guards was lost under the sound of their running feet as they hastened to do his bidding, Calan himself at their heels. The scent trail was fading fast but still one they could follow through the twisting and turning corridors of the palace. His heart thundered in triumph as the scent turned and disappeared into the blue galleries at the south of the palace. There was no way out the other end… so his quarry was trapped.

He ordered the guards behind him with a wave of his hand and stepped through the door, trying to keep his body language as nonthreatening as possible. She’d probably had a shock when Heath and that awful woman had almost walked in on them, and with her being an innocent… that had to have panicked her.

“Princess?” he called out, turning into the room proper. “It’s okay. It’s only me. You can come out.”

But the room was empty. Halfway down, one of the windows was open to the night air, the gauze drapes billowing in the slight breeze. There, on the floor in front of it, was all that was left to prove his delicate princess had been real flesh and blood…

A single silver slipper.

* * *

“Nononono!”

Saskia moaned to herself as she neared her home only to realize that her stepmother and sisters had somehow arrived before she had. Fear froze her in the bushes at the bottom of the garden for a moment as she looked at the house, its windows all lit and movement within. A loud screech informed her that Goranka had discovered her absence.

She shivered and resisted the urge to curl up in a small ball and hide her face in her hands. There was no way she could get back into the house unseen, despite the fact she’d managed to escape the palace with all its guards and security. It was all a bit of a haze, so she wasn’t sure exactly how she’d managed that…

All she remembered was fleeing from the duke’s study when Floriana had come crashing in with the dragon-boy and lots of corridors and rooms before she found a window she could open. Then it was all darkness and the rushing of wind as she fell, losing one of her shoes in the process. Somehow she’d managed to not kill herself, landing outside the palace walls and then running through the night, desperate to get home before her family.

A small cry of despair escaped her as she looked at the house. But she hadn’t managed it. Somehow they’d all gotten home before she had. And there was no way Floriana hadn’t recognized her in the study. Calan had been more concerned about concealing her from the male but not from his female companion, so Floriana had managed to get a good look right at her.

Scales. Blindly, she looked back the way she’d come. Perhaps she could get back to the palace, find Calan and throw herself on his mercy. Misery washed up to overwhelm her as she looked down at herself. Her beautiful gown was muddy and torn, one of her shoes gone and her hair had long since tumbled down from its elegant updo. No, she couldn’t go back. Whatever the madness in his study had been, it had been one night only. There was no way he’d want her… a crazy woman with a dragon she couldn’t control.

In the end, she didn’t get chance to even look for a way back into the house. Almost as soon as she’d set foot beyond the shelter of the bushes, the French doors at the back of the house burst open, her family streaming out of them with Goranka in the lead.

“There she is!” Floriana announced in triumph, pointing at her. They still wore their ball finery but the mud splattering up the delicate fabrics as they stomped across the gardens wasn’t what drew Saskia’s gaze. Instead it was the glow in their eyes and the way smoke, evidence of their dragons’ anger, trailed from their nostrils as they stormed toward her.

“I told you the little bitch was there. The slut was giving it up to the duke… his hand up her skirts and everything.”

Goranka’s howl of fury split the air and Saskia didn’t even look around for a way to escape. There was no point. They were all full dragons. They’d be able to track her to the end of the earth if they wanted and there was no way she could escape them.

“You little bitch, how dare you!” Her stepmother reached her, hard hand snapping out to latch cruelly around Saskia’s upper arm. Goranka hauled her up until they were almost nose to nose to glare into her face. Her eyes glowed from within, her dragoness close to the surface as she spat. “All the time I spent getting the right connections to get the girls to that ball, hoping to catch the duke’s eyes and you steal the fucking prize. Oh no, you little bitch, I’m not having that!”

Saskia closed her eyes and braced herself for the blows she knew were coming. She’d been beaten black and blue for far less serious infringements. And the mood Goranka was in, the fury in her eyes, meant this would hurt. A lot. It didn’t matter what they did to her. They could beat her, lock her in her room for months with nothing but work to comfort her… it made no difference. She would always have the memory of those few, stolen moments in Calan’s arms. They couldn’t take that from her. Couldn’t take her memories.

But no fists fell. She opened her eyes in confusion just as Goranka turned and began to haul her by the arm across the lawn toward the house. Tears welled at the pain in her arm from the brutal pinch of her stepmother’s hold, but she knew better than to complain. If somehow she’d managed to avoid a beating, she wanted to keep it that way.

“Floriana,” Goranka bit out as they reached the doors, shoving them open so hard they crashed against the wall, almost breaking the glass. “Call Mr. Smith. He’s always looking for new girls. And a little slut like this will fit right into his establishment.”

“Yes mother, right away.”

Saskia’s heart stopped, lurched in her chest. Mr. Smith, obviously not his real name, was one of their shadier customers. The designs he wanted were way more revealing than anything either of her two stepsisters, not at all shy about revealing their bodies, were comfortable with, but that wasn’t what made Saskia feel sick. It was the size of the clothes he ordered. They weren’t made for adults… more like young teenagers.

“Please,” she begged, pulling on the arm Goranka held in an iron grip. “Don’t do this… don’t give me to him. He’s… he’s not right.”

“Give you to him?” Goranka laughed harshly. “I’m not going to give you to him.”

“Oh, scales, thank you,” Saskia breathed, relief flooding her entire body. But it was a moment too soon as a second later, Goranka hauled her eye to eye and smiled.

“No, I’m going to sell you to him. And a pretty penny you’ll fetch as well, considering he’s wanted to buy you for years.”