Chapter 36
Blaze woke up to her cat Bucephalus standing on her chest, kneading her boobs and meowing. “It’s not time to get up yet,” she muttered, trying to bury her head in her pillow. “Go eat a mouse or something.”
Bucephalus licked her face, purring.
“All right already. I’m up. Evil cat.” She opened her eyes.
She was not at home, and she was not in her own bed. Above her was a blue velvet canopy. Vague memories and sensations flooded back to her, like a dream.
Men’s voices. Hot, excruciating pain, pain that made her scream until her throat was raw. Zane’s hands: tucking her into bed and giving her cool water; holding her up and spooning soup into her mouth; stroking her hair and soothing the nightmares away. Zane’s voice, murmuring words of comfort, and the faint song of gold.
She put her hand to her chest, and Bucephalus batted at it with his paw. She was wearing Zane’s necklace. She thought she remembered being angry and taking it off, but now she felt relieved knowing it was still there.
It meant she was safe. Cared for.
It meant she was Zane’s.
She wanted to be Zane’s, she realized with a certainty that flowed through her whole body. Somehow, while she was asleep, her mind had figured out what her body already knew.
They belonged together.
But where was he? The fact that he wasn’t here made her anxious. Something was wrong.
She sat up, shoving her tangled hair out of her eyes, looking for her mate. She was still in his room, but instead of Zane she saw Thorne sitting on Zane’s leather couch, booted feet propped on the coffee table, working on a laptop. He had headphones on.
He must have seen her move out of the corner of his eye, because he took off the headphones and glanced over at her.
“You’re awake,” he said. The treasure fever seemed to be gone; he looked and sounded normal—calmer than he usually did, to be truthful. And Zane wouldn’t leave him there with her if it wasn’t safe.
But his being there made her more worried about Zane. She’d been sick—she could feel it—and Zane would never have left her alone while she was sick. “Where’s Zane?” she asked.
“He asked me to sit with you,” Thorne said, not answering her question. “How are you feeling?”
“My head hurts, I’m hungry, and I have to pee,” she said. “What happened?”
Thorne almost smiled, she could swear it. Luckily he stopped himself just in time, so his face didn’t crack. “It’s kind of a long story,” he said. “You’ll probably want to pee first.”
Rude. But he was right. Blaze got out of bed, happy to learn she was wearing comfortable pajama bottoms and a camisole. Perfectly adequate to wear in front of Thorne. She went into the bathroom and peed in the golden toilet, which was something she never thought she’d say, even in her head.
When she came back out, she grabbed a water from the mini-fridge next to the TV and sat down in the comfortable easy chair that sat catty-corner to the couch. There was a plate of sandwiches on the table near Thorne, which he shoved in her direction. She grabbed a roast beef and brie on ciabatta and took a bite.
“How long was I out?” she asked him, mumbling a bit through wolfing down the sandwich. Like all the other food she’d had here, it was amazing.
“Two days.”
She swallowed, just barely keeping from choking.
“Two days? What the hell?”
Thorne put his laptop aside. “What do you remember?” he asked.
Blaze thought back. “We came back from St. Johns. I felt like roadkill. I took a shower, and… Zane and I got into a fight.” She put her hand to her chest. She had taken off his necklace. She remembered now. Why had she been so angry? She shook her head. “It’s all jumbled in my mind.”
Thorne nodded. “You were under the influence of the idol. Both of you were. It seems that it connected with you during the battle at your house.”
What. The. Fuck. Then Blaze remembered those shadows coming out of her and Zane and connecting to the idol, even as they’d tried to fight it off. The way it had pulled at all the darkness in her soul, trying to draw her in. Apparently, it had almost succeeded. She shivered.
“Zane’s okay, isn’t he?” she said. “I remember him taking care of me.”
“He’s fine. Tyr and I were able to cleanse him.”
His eyes darted away from her, though. There was something he didn’t want to tell her.
She asked slowly, “Am I okay? That evil-ass sorcerer isn’t inside me now, is he?”
Thorne still didn’t answer directly. “You’re being protected by the Seal.”
Say what? She stared at him. “I am? You found it?”
He grimaced. “In a manner of speaking. It’s your tattoo.”
“My…” Her hand went reflexively to her back. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Thorne shook his head. “I wish I were,” he said. “It reacted to the idol’s influence, or we probably still wouldn’t have realized what it was.”
“I had it the whole time,” she murmured. She rubbed the tattoo, feeling its slightly raised surface. “But… how do we get it from me to the tomb?”
Thorne sighed. “We were hoping you would have some ideas. The tomb integrity is holding steady for the moment, but…”
But that could change at any time. God. Finding the Seal should have been a happy thing, but it seemed like it was just one problem after another.
Bucephalus jumped up onto the couch and stomped across Thorne’s lap, kneading and purring.
Of course. Catlike, he always picked the grumpiest cat-haters to pretend to befriend, reveling in their discomfort.
To her surprise, Thorne stroked him, scratching the cat’s chin absently. “I already gave you half the roast beef out of my sandwich,” he said to Bucephalus. “What more do you want?”
Bucephalus put his front paws on Thorne’s shoulder and thrust his head under Thorne’s chin, still purring. Thorne gave a little huff and rolled his eyes, but he snuggled the cat into the curve of his arm and petted him with the other hand, scratching him behind the ears and making crooning noises.
Blaze realized her mouth was hanging open, and closed it.
Thorne was a cat person. The obsessive, perpetually pissed-off head dragon was showing affection for another living creature. Who’d’ve thunk it.
Wait a minute.
“How did Bucephalus even get here?” she said.
“Zane brought him.” Thorne rubbed the top of Bucephalus’ head, making him purr louder. “Once he was sure you would be okay, when he wasn’t spoon-feeding you or wallowing in guilt, he spent his time fixing your balcony doors and straightening up your workroom and flying half your belongings over here. Clothes, books, music boxes, cats—anything he could think of that you might want.”
He jerked his head over towards the far side of the room. There was a stack of boxes piled in the corner. A very, very large stack. A sudden burst of warmth hit her in the chest and she felt a sting at the back of her eyes at the thought of Zane flying back and forth from her house, carrying her things.
“He didn’t need to do that.”
Thorne sighed. “Did you not hear the part about wallowing in guilt?”
“But why? Because we had a fight?”
“Because he didn’t protect you,” Thorne said. “And, I gather, because the idol’s influence made him try to hurt you?”
Blaze put a hand to her mouth. She vaguely remembered a hard, painful kiss. “I bit him,” she said.
Thorne’s mouth quirked. “Good for you.”
Nice that somebody was happy about it. “But I tried to cast a spell at him, too. And I said awful things.” It was coming back to her now, the hurtful things she’d said to Zane, who’d tried so hard to be good to her. It made her feel sick. “It was both our faults. And the idol’s.”
“He doesn’t see it that way. Apparently, when a Wild Dragon mistreats his mate—no matter what the reason—the guilt is… painful.”
Thorne’s eyes grew distant, and his mouth tightened. He feels guilty for what he did to Rebel when he had treasure fever, she realized. Even though she wasn’t really hurt. The way Zane feels guilty for what he did to me.
Thorne went on, “And with Zane’s history, he feels that more than most.”
Blaze realized how little she really knew about Zane’s past. Two-hundred and eighty-seven years of past. “What do you mean? What history?”
Thorne looked uncomfortable. “You’ll have to ask him that,” he said. “Once he knew you were near waking up, it seems he felt unable to face you. Right now he’s in his lair, brooding. He’ll come out when he’s ready.”
Blaze stared at him. “So we just let him brood and be miserable? I don’t think so.” This was her mate they were talking about. “Where’s his lair? In those caverns by the Batcave?”
She got to her feet and looked at Thorne expectantly.
Thorne raised his eyebrows. “One does not simply burst into a dragon’s lair unannounced. It usually results in fiery death. One has to be invited.”
Blaze rolled her eyes. “And how often does that happen? I’m guessing never.” She waited some more. Thorne didn’t move.
“Fine,” she said. “You sure you want me wandering around down there by myself? Because I might end up in your lair by mistake. Rummaging through your gold. Borrowing pretty bits and pieces. Got anything with dragonflies on it? I love dragonflies.”
Thorne’s eyes narrowed. “Fiery death,” he repeated.
“My boyfriend will protect me. Apparently, it’s what he lives for.” She started walking towards the door. “Leaving now. I’ll say hello to your hoard for you.”
Thorne sighed. “Fine. I’ll take you.” He put down Bucephalus, who stalked away, sulking. “Don’t even pretend you care,” Thorne said to the cat as he got up. “You know perfectly well you’ll be eating the meat out of the rest of the sandwiches as soon as I turn my back.” Bucephalus flicked his tail and showed Thorne his butt.
Thorne made an irritated dragon noise. “No gratitude,” he muttered. Blaze wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or the cat.