Chapter 33
Flying back to the lair, all Blaze could think about was going back to bed. She should have been starting to recover from the magical power drain last night, but if anything she felt worse than she had this morning.
She felt a sudden surge of dark anger. Why wasn’t Zane taking care of her, like he’d promised? Her stomach was churning, she hadn’t eaten anything today except cake, and she’d almost been flamed by a hysterical dragon. She hadn’t even had time to take a shower before they’d rushed off after Thorne.
Zane wasn’t even speaking to her, like this was somehow all her fault. He’d talked to her last night when they flew, hadn’t he? Her head was aching so badly she could barely remember. Why was he sulking now?
She could feel the tension in his arms and body, unlike the gentle, caring way he’d carried her last night.
Was he somehow pissed at her that she hadn’t managed to talk Rebel into accepting the dragons’ story and flying up to the lair to help them? Why hadn’t he done something? Why was it all her responsibility?
They were approaching the lair, but Zane didn’t go up to the roof. He hovered by a small balcony off his bedroom and deposited her on it, still grim and silent.
Instead of flying away, he gripped the stone balustrade with his talons and Changed. He ended up in human form, hanging by his hands from the balustrade, and pulled himself over onto the balcony.
His biceps and shoulders rippled, but Blaze didn’t even care. She just walked straight into the room, stumbling with weariness.
In a moment Zane was beside her, his arm reaching for her waist.
“Let me help you,” he said, his tone peremptory.
For some reason that made her angrier. “I’m fine,” she said, shaking off his arm. “I’m not two hundred and eighty-seven years old, for heaven’s sake. You’ll be getting me a walker next.”
Zane flinched as though she’d slapped him. His tone was calm, but with the tight patience of a person trying very hard not to be annoyed. “You seem upset,” he said. “Why don’t you get into a nice hot bath? While you’re soaking in it I’ll get the zefirs to fix you some food.’”
He sat her on a chair and hustled into the connecting bathroom, putting out towels and a fluffy blue robe. Blaze fumed. Dimly she knew she was being ridiculous, but everything grated on her. She suddenly felt a suffocating sensation, like she couldn’t breathe.
It was this damn necklace. It was choking her. Zane was suffocating her, with his fussing over her and carrying her around and insisting that she was some kind of princess mate.
She should never have listened to him. Suspicion rose up inside her. Maybe Rebel was right. Maybe he was using magic on her, to make her love him.
It was the necklace. She had to get this necklace off. She’d do it in the bathroom where he couldn’t see.
When he was done fussing she went in the bathroom, closing the door firmly in his concerned face.
He was faking all that concern. He was a liar. They were all liars. She felt consumed by that certainty. She had to fool Zane until she got some food and a shower and clothes, and then she’d figure out how to get away. But she felt so sick, and she was so tired.
If only she could think. Somehow she couldn’t think.
The bathroom was palatial—a huge expanse the size of a normal bedroom, with a massive mahogany-encased tub and a huge glassed-in shower, plus a marble-topped vanity with two sinks and ornate gold spigots in the shape of mermaids. And an actual golden toilet.
It disgusted her. Dragons, living on this ridge looking down on everyone else, hoarding their wealth and power.
Zane had started the water running in the bathtub, which had two more golden mermaid spigots. Annoyed that he was telling her what to do, Blaze turned them off and let the water drain.
Who was he to decide she wanted a bath? She’d have a shower. She took off the necklace and dumped it on the marble vanity. Immediately, she felt like she could breathe more easily.
As soon as she got in the shower, though, her knees buckled. She felt sick. Food. She needed food. She’d just wash herself and then she’d get food, and then she’d get away.
But it took all her strength to soap herself down and wash her hair, and she had to sit and rest on the vanity bench before she toweled herself off.
She finally dragged the robe on and stood before the bathroom door, her wet hair dripping down on her shoulders. She could feel Zane out there, pacing around, just waiting to grab her and make her do what he wanted.
His scent was on the robe, overwhelming her, like his presence.
She breathed deeply, gathering her strength. She could do this.
Zane paced back and forth in front of the bathroom door, running his fingers repeatedly through his hair.
Blaze was angry. He could feel it in the air, see it in the lines of her body. She’d turned off the bath water and taken a shower. For some reason that made him angry too.
He was trying to take care of her, and she was shoving him away at every turn.
That’s not the way a mate should behave.
Dark anger rose up inside him. First at himself, for not being able to take care of a mate properly. Then at her, for not appreciating anything he was doing.
A zefir brought in a tray of food, and he indicated the table behind him, not thanking it as he usually did.
Why bother? It was just an elemental, and he had other things on his mind. The zefir unloaded the dishes of food, and then the tray hesitated for a few moments just inside the door. When he didn’t say anything, the zefir took it away and shut the door.
Zane heard the shower turn off, and thought about going into the bathroom to get Blaze. What was she doing in there for so long? He needed to have this out with her. Tell her how a good mate was supposed to act.
His dragon moved restlessly inside him. Mate wants to leave, he said. Treasure. Can’t leave. Hold her. Make her stay!
No, Zane thought dimly. That wasn’t right. Yes. Make her stay. Lock the doors, keep treasure safe. He heard a growl come out of his throat.
That’s right. Keep treasure safe.
She came out of the bathroom, looking small and vulnerable in his oversized robe, her damp hair curling over her shoulders.
She smelled wonderful. Clean and warm and sweet, and he wanted to hold her close and lock her in his lair and keep her safe forever.
He went to gather her up in his arms, and she stepped back, looking at him warily. Anger radiated off her, and sickness. Like there was something wrong with her.
Fear and anger stabbed through him. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. He saw her bare neck. “Where’s the necklace?”
“I took it off. It was suffocating me.”
The words cut him to the heart. It was a treasured part of his hoard, given to her in love. And she was throwing it back in his face.
She refused our gift, his dragon said. Fire rumbled in him. She wants to leave us. She doesn’t love us. She must love us.
Zane felt sick with the need to make her love him. But he had to be cunning.
“I got you food.” He made his voice gentle.
“I hope it’s more than cake.” Her voice was sharp. She walked over to the table, but he could see she looked unsteady.
Help her!
She won’t let me.
She lifted the silver cover on one of the dishes, a delicious plate of roast chicken. She turned pale and put it down again.
She’d rejected his gift of gold. Now she was rejecting his food.
The anger in Zane grew hotter. “You have to eat,” he said. “And then you have to rest. You can stay here in my chamber. We can even bring things from your house. Or buy new ones. Silk sheets. Gold adornments.”
What did women of this era like? He couldn’t remember anymore. Everything was jumbled in his mind; all he knew was he needed to give her things and make her love him. Now.
She was staring at him. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. Her eyes were hard, not soft and loving like they were supposed to be. “I can’t stay here. I have to get home and straighten out my workroom. Get the doors repaired. For God’s sake, I haven’t even fed my cat! But you don’t care about that, do you? You just want to use me.”
His anger turned to rage. “Use you? I saved you last night. I took care of you! I fed you and comforted you and held you in the night—”
“I didn’t say you could do that! You can’t keep me here!”
“I can!” His dragon’s voice thundered through him. An old, buried Draken instinct rose up in him. “I will keep you in my lair until you give me the respect due me as your mate!”
She backed up, fury snapping in her eyes. “I’m not your mate!”
“You are!”
He grabbed her by the shoulders, his mouth coming down on hers in a punishing kiss. She pushed him away with her hands and her magic. He stumbled back two steps, and they stared at each other, shocked.
She’d bitten his lip; Zane could taste blood in his mouth.
Hurt fury rose up inside him. He would force her to do his bidding. He growled, and wisps of gray, foul-tasting smoke came from his mouth.
Zane reached for her, but she cast a spell at him, the stasis spell she’d used on Thorne. He shoved it away, advancing on her once more.
She tried to cast another spell, eyes glittering with anger. A deep voice emanated from her mouth. “You dare to defy me, Draken?”
She swayed on her feet, and her knees buckled. Zane lunged forward and caught her before her head hit the edge of the table.
What the hell was he doing? He’d threatened Blaze. But the urge to lock her in his lair still raged in him.
She was limp in his hands now, but her skin was hot, as if she were burning up with fever. Gray fog drifted out of her nose and mouth.
Shock washed over Zane like a bucket of icy water, clearing his head.
The idol. Somehow, the idol had gotten a grip on Blaze.
And on him. He could still feel the irrational anger eating him away inside, the sense of injustice and entitlement.
Thorne! He cried out in his mind, hoping his brother had come back to the lair and was thinking clearly again. Thorne! Tyr! I need your help. Now!