Chapter Two
“If I don’t belong here, will you take me back home?” Georgiana’s eyes were soft and green as dew-soaked grass, big eyes that sparkled as she pleaded to be returned to the arms of her betrothed. Dark, velvet lashes enhanced their appeal. A riot of golden curls as vibrant as a summer sun tumbled over her slender shoulders. “Will you, Lord Bloodaxe?”
She tore at his soul, the very one he was certain had been lost for all eternity.
“I don’t know. Stop asking me questions,” he grumbled, uncertain whether his anger stemmed from finding her in his bed or from knowing that he somehow had to deliver her back to Wethersby Hall untouched. Untouched. She stirred the fires of his dragon lust and that was a dangerous thing.
Her green eyes widened and he noted a spark of fear in the emerald gaze she’d fixed on him. “Who should I ask if not you?”
“By the Stone of Draloch! Will you not give me a moment’s peace?” The urge to stop her mouth with his was overwhelming. The urge to kiss her and take her into his arms, to feel her soft, sweet body pressed against his, had his own body shaking. He wanted to couple with her and feel the beat of her heart hammering against his chest, hear her breathy moans of ecstasy against his ear as he pleasured her.
She’s an innocent.
Indeed, he had to deliver her back to her family soon. It was the only way to protect her, especially from him. He’d last seen Georgiana when he was a mere boy of ten and she was an infant, a baby girl too young to remember him. But he was a man now, and his body was responding as any man would to the beautiful woman who stood before him.
He turned away to finish dressing. She had regained consciousness shortly after his return from Brihann’s royal hall, and he’d just gotten out of his bath. He always washed after an audience with the High King because he needed to scrub the pervasive stench of that foul demon off his skin.
Now that she was awake, he didn’t know what to do with her. He’d been forbidden to return her to her own realm, yet he dared not leave her to roam free in the Underworld. He needed to come up with a plan to protect her. But who was the greater danger to her? Him or Brihann?
He made the mistake of glancing at her and saw her beautiful green eyes staring back at him. “My father is a man of means and I’m his only child. My betrothed is wealthy, too.”
“Do not speak to me of your betrothed.” Georgiana roused not only his dragon lust, but his possessive nature as well. A roaring heat now coursed through his veins and spread through his body like a wildfire out of control. It would take nothing for him to slip through a portal and turn her bridegroom to ashes with one blast of his dragon fire. She’s mine. No one else can have her.
He turned away once more in a futile attempt to calm himself down.
But he heard her soft footsteps as she approached him. He ought to have kept her tethered so that she could not move around his chamber at will. “Am I forbidden to speak at all? You said not to ask you questions, so I didn’t. I’m merely trying to make conversation.”
The scent of wildflowers filled his nostrils. This was her fragrance, wild and delicate as the sweep of flowers across a summer meadow. She stood so close, he ached to touch her. He knew her skin would be soft as a rose petal. He yearned to kiss her as well, for she would taste as sweet as the wild strawberries that flourished in those summer meadows.
“Must we speak at all?” He pointed to his bureau. “I need a shirt to wear. May I dress in peace?” He arched a dark eyebrow. “Unless you prefer me as I am.”
“As you are?” Her cheeks turned pink and she began to stammer, a sign that she indeed liked what she saw of his body. Dragons were not celibate creatures until they found their life mate. Till then, they indulged in carnal pleasures. He was well aware of the signs of desire in a woman, and Georgiana was exhibiting all of them. “Indeed, not! By all means, Lord Bloodaxe, cover yourself. I merely thought… I didn’t…”
It pleased him that Georgiana desired him, no matter that she denied it.
She tipped her chin up in defiance when he grinned knowingly at her. “I forbid you to smirk at me.”
“Forbid?” He slipped the shirt over his head. “This is my fortress. You are in my Underworld kingdom.”
Now she was furiously nibbling her fleshy lower lip in dismay. “Yes, but you claim I’m not your captive.”
“You’re not.” He slammed the bureau door shut, knowing the sound must have startled her. “Neither am I your servant. Do not ever issue orders to me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a contrite whisper, the gentleness of her voice like a punch to his heart. “If I appear flustered, it is merely because I’m scared. Please don’t walk out and leave me behind.”
He raked a hand through his still damp hair. “I have no intention of leaving you, Georgiana. You are under my protection now.”
“Oh, I see.” She rubbed her hands along the sides of her wedding gown. Wedding. To another. He had to get that odious garment off her before he did something foolish such as fly off and torch her betrothed. “Well, thank you for that. I… you must…” she said, continuing to stammer. Her eyes followed his every movement. “I’m sorry that I’m a nuisance to you. Are you in mourning?”
“No.” He always dressed in black, for this was his dragon color. He took his time donning his battle leather, preferring the taut, tanned animal hides that clung lightly to his body and allowed him to easily wield his axe. The chain mail favored by many in the demon armies was too cumbersome.
He also found that he particularly enjoyed dressing in front of Georgiana. She could not hide her curiosity and blushed whenever he caught her gaping at him. The innocent. He was struggling mightily to keep her that way. “I’ll have my servants bring clothes for you. Your wedding gown looks uncomfortable to wear.”
“It is.” She gasped. “I mean… the beading is very delicate… the laces are a little tight.”
He’d noticed, for her bosom was pushed up so that the swells of her breasts were on tempting display. But her words signified more than a gown that was pulled too tight. He sensed that her wedding ceremony was an uncomfortable thing for her. No doubt she felt the same about the marriage itself. She did not love the man she was about to take as her husband. “I could loosen them for you.”
She shook her head furiously. “No! It isn’t necessary.”
“You don’t trust me yet.” Or herself, he suspected, for the emerald glow in her eyes and the flush to her cheeks were unmistakable signs of passion. She was afraid of what might happen if he touched her.
So was he.
There was no telling what the demon part of him would do if he did not keep an iron control over himself. He was struggling already, his skin beginning to form dragon scales and his throat beginning to burn. She had ignited his dragon fire. “Remain in this chamber. Bolt the door behind me and allow no one in but me.”
“You just said you wouldn’t leave me.” Her eyes grew wide with fright. “Where are you going?”
“To scout my borders.” But that was not his only reason for escaping his chamber. He needed to shift into his dragon form and roar and spew flames until his dragon lust was spent. “I’ll be back in a moment. Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”
“Very.” She glanced at her stomach and nodded.
“I thought so. I’ll bring us some food to share. I dare not take you into my dining hall just yet. We’ll dine in my chamber this evening. You’ll sleep here as well. It isn’t safe for you to be anywhere else.”
She grew deathly still at the mention of sleeping arrangements.
They’d discuss it when he returned.
He instructed his dogs to protect Georgiana while he attended to the true purpose for his departure, a purpose that had nothing to do with food, although he would remember to bring some back for them. The dragon fire now consumed his body. He had nymphs to take care of that need, but they no longer interested him.
He could have no other woman while Georgiana remained in his fortress. “By the Stone of Draloch, what’s happening to me?” But he knew, for this was the curse of dragons. Georgiana was meant to be his mate. He’d known it even in childhood, felt that tug when he’d peered into her crib and first set eyes on her. She had been swaddled in blankets and had gurgled at him when he’d bent forward to kiss her on her drooling lips to seal their betrothal.
Their marriage had been arranged in that long-ago time when he was a boy in England and eldest son and heir to the Duke of Draloch.
None of it mattered any more.
Arik Blakefield no longer existed. He was Lord Bloodaxe now and his soul was beyond redemption. But he understood why Brihann had brought her to him. Brihann was the black dragon who ruled the Underworld, but as his power waned, so grew his fear. Especially fear of him, for he was Bloodaxe, the one who would take Brihann’s place as High King. He was the next black dragon in the line of succession, the one who would eventually grow strong enough to depose the cruel and bitter king that was Brihann.
For some time now, Brihann had been plotting to weaken him. What better way to accomplish it than to deliver his dragon mate to him? “Georgiana,” he whispered her name with an agonized groan. She was meant to be his. She was his weakness. Brihann would use her to destroy him.
Bloodaxe climbed to the parapets, shoving open the heavy door and allowing the tension to flow from his body as the hot wind blew on his neck. He removed his battle leather and clothing, the very garments he’d made a great show of donning in front of Georgiana because he’d enjoyed shocking her and thrilling her. Mostly, he enjoyed the feeling it brought to his heart, for that organ had lain dormant for so many years.
He felt his wings begin to form along his back. His body began to writhe and twist as he grew black scales and a black snout. His black tail was long and spiked and flicked through the air like the crack of a whip. He was no longer Bloodaxe or Arik, but an ancient terror who soared above his fortress and flew across the fertile lands and blue lakes that were within his realm.
His dragon eyes scanned along his borderlands searching for signs of Brihann’s demon scouts. He peered over the mountain peaks, looking for signs of Brihann’s armies on the march. All was quiet, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long.
While Brihann meant him to be the next High King, he also feared his growing power and intended to keep him subdued until the very last.
But Bloodaxe felt his own power growing, and he was not one of Brihann’s mindless toadies who would always bend to his will.
He raised his dragon neck and roared. He flapped his dragon wings and soared toward the clouds.
He blew fire across the water until his lungs ached.
Only when spent of his lust did he return to the parapet and quickly shift back into his human form. He picked up the clothes he’d neatly stacked upon the stones and put them back on. How long had he been gone? Perhaps half an hour at most.
He hurried downstairs to his vast kitchen. Cooks and scullery maids were bustling about to ensure food was always available to feed his own demon armies. He gathered bread, cheese, and a flask of wine. “I’ll dine in my quarters this evening, Thomas. Bring me enough food for two.”
“Aye, m’lord,” his steward replied, casting him a knowing grin. “Only entertaining one nymph tonight?”
He winked back. “Bring up breakfast as well.”
His demon minions were as trustworthy as any demon could be, which meant that most were not trustworthy at all. Thomas and a handful of others had his confidence, but within limits. The fewer who knew of Georgiana’s existence, the better. He left the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time, eager to return to his chamber.
He hoped Georgiana had obeyed his instructions to keep the door bolted.
He trusted Charon and Styx to keep her close.
But as he approached his tower bedchamber, he saw the door flung wide open and heard his dogs barking fiercely.
Where was Georgiana?
Was that a pool of her blood on his stone floor?
*
Georgiana knew she’d made a terrible mistake the moment she opened the door, but the woman who’d spoken to her through it had said she’d brought food at Lord Bloodaxe’s instruction. She’d sounded sincere, and the dogs hadn’t barked a warning. Of course, that did not excuse her mistake in disobeying a simple command to keep the door bolted.
Three women pushed their way in the moment she’d thrown the bolt. “Witch!” the first one cried and spat in her face. Charon and Styx growled and immediately moved between Georgiana and these women.
“Good dogs,” she muttered, taking advantage of the barrier they provided with their sheer size. She turned away and search for a weapon with which to defend herself. A candlestick or fire iron, anything to use in order to hold off her assailants, assuming any of them could get past the beasts who were determined to protect her.
But her assailants had come prepared. One of the women threw something into the eyes of Charon and Styx, a sparkling dust that suddenly blinded them. Instead of guarding her, they were suddenly howling and spinning in circles, useless to defend her from the attack these three had obviously planned.
Georgiana grabbed an ash shovel that hung from a hook beside the fireplace and used it as a makeshift sword. She began to swing it with all her might. “Who are you? Go away. You’ll be punished if I’m harmed.”
They shouted back at her, but their words were mostly unintelligible and they wailed whenever they glanced at Lord Bloodaxe’s bed. Georgiana had never experienced a man’s touch in that way, but she wasn’t an ignorant dolt. These women considered her a rival for their lord’s affection. Mother in heaven. If only she could make them understand. “You can have him. He isn’t mine!”
Lord Bloodaxe would not care what happened to her, but he certainly would be unforgiving for the harm they did to his dogs. What had these women thrown in their faces? She needed to flush out their eyes as soon as possible. “Charon, Styx, are you all right?”
She couldn’t tend to them while these three love-starved lunatics were lunging at her. Indeed, even while in a frenzied rage and maniacally distraught, they were the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. How could they be jealous of her? “Nymph,” one said amid more shrieks and wails and lunges.
“You are his nymphs?” Georgiana had only read about these exquisite creatures in mythical tales, but these beauties standing before her also had bad tempers and were obviously prone to jealous rages. They wouldn’t stop shrieking or clawing at her gown.
“Oh, dear heaven! You think I’m going to marry him?” Finding her in a wedding gown in their lord’s chamber might have led them to that conclusion. “Lord Bloodaxe isn’t my husband! You can have him. He doesn’t belong to me. Can’t any of you understand me?”
The nymphs were too busy tearing at her gown and attempting to gouge out her eyes to listen. Georgiana had no choice but to hold her own and continue to swing the ash shovel, cringing each time she struck one of them. But they wouldn’t stop their onslaught and her life depended on holding strong until help arrived.
How long could she keep up her battle? She panicked as her arms began to ache and her breaths became labored. Her fingers were growing numb from the death grip she had on the shovel and every frantic swipe she took now caused shooting pains to run straight from her fingers to her shoulders and up into her throbbing temples.
Her strength was fading. She couldn’t hold out much longer.
One of the nymphs caught her by the arm and sank her long nails into Georgiana’s skin. She yelped in pain as those claw-like fingers broke through her flesh and drew blood. The shovel fell from her grasp and clattered to the floor.
“Die! Die!” the nymphs shrieked in victory.
Georgiana shrank back and covered her ears, for they now had her trapped against the wall and there was no escape.
She closed her eyes and waited for the killing blow.
Miraculously, it never came.
As though in answer to her prayers, Charon and Styx regained their sight and leaped between her and the nymphs. Their big jaws opened wide to expose the sharp teeth that would put fear into any being about to become their next meal. At the same time, Lord Bloodaxe stepped through the door and bellowed.
Georgiana cried out in relief and fell back, bloodied and exhausted. Her heart was pounding wildly and her entire body shivered so badly, she could no longer hold herself up. She sank to her knees in tears. His nymphs had done her some physical harm, but what were a few scratches on her arms and shoulders when her injuries could have been far worse?
“By the Stone of Draloch!” Lord Bloodaxe hurriedly set aside the food and wine he’d brought up and rushed to her side, sparing not a single glance at his nymphs. But they had to know that he was furious. What would he do to them? “Let me have a look at you, Georgiana. How badly are you injured?”
The nymphs ran off wailing and shrieking and leaving a trail of blood across the floor. She had done them little damage. Charon and Styx must have gotten their teeth into them and bitten down hard. Indeed, there was blood everywhere. Was some of it hers? “See to your dogs, I think they’re hurt worse.” She drew back when he reached out to gather her into his arms. “Don’t touch me.”
“Georgiana,” he said gently, but she slapped his hand away.
She knew was on the verge of hysteria, but couldn’t stop herself from tipping over the edge. Would he punish her for striking him? “What manner of world is this?” she cried between sobs and gasps and hiccups. “Your nymphs attacked me.” His bed mates. “I tried to explain that I was nothing to you but they wouldn’t believe me.”
He frowned. “You opened the door. I warned you not to do it.” But he sounded angrier with himself than he was with her. “The Underworld is a dangerous place. You won’t survive an hour unless you do exactly as I say. Don’t disobey me again.”
He reached out once more to lift her into his arms and this time she did not resist. Charon and Styx came to his side as he carried her to his bed and eased her down so that she was now seated in the center of it. “Don’t move.” Although he was still frowning, his manner was surprisingly restrained. “Let me see what they’ve done to you.”
She nodded, as yet unable to speak. Her heart was still madly beating a hole through her chest and she had several deep scratches along her forearms. Indeed, her arms had taken the worst of the damage. His nymphs had caught her by the arms and buried their sharp nails into her, but she’d also managed to break free and raise them in order to shield her face when they’d started to claw at her. “Let me go home. Please.”
His dogs approached, whimpering. They began to lick her sore hands.
“Big babies,” she muttered and patted them on the head.
Lord Bloodaxe arched a dark eyebrow in surprise. “They like you. I left them here to watch over you, but it seems you were the one who protected them.”
She nodded. “Your nymphs threw something into their eyes. Thank goodness it was only meant to momentarily stun them. They seem recovered now. But I think we ought to flush their eyes with water, just to be sure.”
“You care more for my hounds than you do for yourself.” He seemed surprised by her concern, but she had never been able to walk away from any injured creature. She watched as he took a moment to make certain they were well. “Go,” he said in a whisper to each one and they immediately ran out of his bedchamber, their paws skittering on the stone steps as they tore downstairs.
He crossed the room to shut the door so that she was now left alone with him. “Where are they going?”
He returned to her side and stared down at her.
Although his eyes were the color of blue ice, there was nothing cool or detached in his gaze. The fire in his glance simply melted her bones.
She swallowed hard, for nothing stood between them but warm air and the remnants of her tattered gown. The beads that had been painstakingly sewn on by a team of seamstresses were strewn across the floor. “Um, why did you send your dogs out?”
“They’ll be back soon.” Which begged the question. Where had he sent them? Another shiver ran up her spine as she realized the order Bloodaxe must have silently issued to them. They were to find the nymphs. And do what to them?
Bloodaxe’s gaze intensified as he probed her thoughts. “This isn’t England. There is only my justice here, Georgiana.”
She stifled a sob, uncertain why she should care about his nymphs when they had meant to kill her. This Underworld was a brutal place. She knew he wasn’t going to be kind or forgiving. He confirmed it with his next words. “They knew the punishment they faced for breaking into my chamber and attacking you and my dogs. They’ll die swiftly, that is the mercy I shall show them. But they must die.”
“Is there no other way?” She couldn’t remain silent and allow them to be put to death because of her.
“Imprisonment is an even crueler fate. It is a long, slow end to their miserable lives. Why do you care about them? They meant to kill you.” He crossed to his table where an ewer filled with water and a basin stood. He poured water onto a cloth and lightly wrung out the excess moisture before returning to her side and settling on the bed beside her.
“Come here.” He drew her onto his lap and began to carefully wipe the blood from her torn skin. “Let me know if I’m hurting you.”
There was a darkly irresistible quality about him. He had a ruggedly handsome face and a magnificent warrior’s body anchored to muscled arms as firm as granite that would make any woman sigh. His hard exterior was so at odds with the tender manner in which he treated her. “Why do you handle me with such care?”
He shrugged and paused a moment in his ministrations. “You were brought here for a purpose. I will protect you until I understand what that purpose is.”
“And if I turn out to be useless to you, what then?” She dreaded the answer, but had to ask.
“I’ll take you back to your home.”
“England? Wethersby Hall?” But she dared not trust his response, for he might have said he would do so only to keep her calm. At the moment, she didn’t care. She liked being in his arms and liked the touch of his rough, calloused hand on her waist as he held her close. She felt the warmth and strength of his body against hers and began to lean into him.
She quickly stopped herself.
He was a demon lord and not to be trusted… certainly not as completely as she wished to trust him. Although he’d denied it, he could have been the one to abduct her and bring her to his fortress. He could tell her anything and she’d have no way of proving it true or false.
“Yes, Wethersby Hall. I will return you to your father. Unharmed.” He took her hands in his and carefully pressed the moist cloth against the scratches that ran along the length of each arm. He started with the one most badly injured, and after carefully clearing away the blood from that arm, he moved on to the other. “Your cuts are deep and must be properly cleansed. Whiskey ought to do the trick.”
She shook her head, confused. “Am I to drink it?”
His lips turned upward in the hint of a smile. “If you wish, but it’s better poured on the wounds. It will burn, but keep those cuts from getting infected.”
He looked quite handsome when he smiled. She hadn’t realized demons were capable of it. Nor had she realized demons could be so handsome. But he was proving her beliefs wrong. She returned his smile with a hesitant one of her own.
He lifted her off his lap and set her down in the center of his bed, the gesture so sudden, she almost lost her balance and fell flat against the mattress. She scooted closer to the footboard as he rose to his majestic height. His shoulders had felt big and solid when she was nestled against them, but appeared even bigger now.
“Um…” She tucked her feet under herself and began to nervously smooth her gown. “Oh, dear.” She slid her hand along the fabric and felt nothing but rips everywhere. “It’s ruined beyond repair.”
He crossed to his table and returned with two goblets and the bottle of whiskey. The heady scent of spirits filled the air as he uncorked the bottle. “I’ll help you take off the gown once I’ve finished cleansing your wounds. You can wear one of my shirts for now.”
He stood looming over her once again as though waiting for her consent. He was a Dragon Lord, ruler of this nightmarish realm. Why would he show her any courtesy? “But you will find me suitable clothes to wear soon, won’t you? I can’t walk around in a shirt… your shirt. It will swallow me up and I’ll look ridiculous in it.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll also need shoes and stockings. Do the women in your realm wear underclothing? Your nymphs didn’t.”
“Nymphs never do. They prefer to wear no clothes at all.”
“Oh.” Even while fighting for her life she’d noticed the delicately beautiful gowns they were wearing, the fabric ethereal and draping over their bodies in diaphanous waves. What a silly thing to notice. She hoped it didn’t speak of her own shallowness in character to be thinking of clothes while struggling to save herself from death. “But surely you don’t permit them to traipse around wearing nothing at all.”
He eyed her speculatively. “Not outside of their private quarters. Or mine.”
“Yours? Oh, I see.” She cleared her throat again. “It’s quite warm in here. Is it like this all year round? I enjoy wearing clothes. I wear them all the time. Lots of them. With thick stockings and heavy boots. It’s winter at Penrith. I’d freeze if I were as scantily clad as your nymphs. You ought to purchase sturdier gowns for them. The slightest breeze will–”
“You may remain bound in your protective armor if you wish,” he said, referring to her own gown. “But your lacings are obviously too tight and the fabric is tattered and bloodied.” He handed her a silver goblet into which he’d poured a little of the whiskey. The goblet was finely crafted and there was a dragon etched into the cup. The design of the stem appeared to be a dragon’s tail.
The amber liquid glowed within the goblet.
She took a sip.
Curiously, the dragon etched in silver seemed to come to life.
Of course, Lord Bloodaxe had marked all his possessions with the Draloch dragon crest. How was he connected to the family? And he’d muttered something about a stone of Draloch when he’d walked in on his nymphs attacking her. What did that signify?
The Draloch family owned properties not far from Wethersby Hall, but she knew little about the members of that family. Curiously, her father had never extended an invitation to the present duke even though they were neighbors and certainly traveled in the same ton circle.
Was there a feud between the Blakefields and the Wethersbys that she was unaware of?
Lord Bloodaxe poured a little of the whiskey into another goblet for himself and raised it in a mocking toast. “Drink up, Georgiana.”
She toyed with the cup in her hands, twirling it lightly by the stem, but didn’t put it to her lips again. “I thought this was to be used for medicinal purposes.”
He gazed at her with an intensity that sent hot tingles shooting through her body. “Drink it. This is a medicinal use. You’re talking too much and shivering. I think you’re going into shock. This will warm you.”
“And shut me up as well?” She grinned and took a second sip. “Oh, goodness. That’s strong.” She coughed and her eyes began to water. “I always talk too much when I’m overset. Can you blame me?” She took another sip. And another. The liquid felt like fire flowing through her body. “May I have some more?”
She held out the cup, surprised that she’d drained its contents so quickly and rather liking its mildly numbing effect.
He took it from her hand and set it aside. “In a moment.” He drew her back onto his lap and began to run the cloth doused in whiskey on the hideous red welts and scratches running along the length of each of her arms.
She winced as ripples of pain surged through her. “It hurts.” She tried to draw away, but he wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he held her in a seemingly light embrace designed to keep her in place, but his arms were as hard and unyielding as the iron bars of a prison.
His words, however, were gentle. “Close your eyes and rest your head against my shoulder. It might help a little. I’m sorry, Georgiana, but I must do this or your pain will be a thousand times worse should infection set in.”
“I thought demons liked to inflict pain. Why are you so considerate of me?” He’d said that he would protect her until he understood her purpose for being here, but his behavior toward her was far more than merely accommodating. One might think he cared for her. He certainly seemed to be indulging her.
“Perhaps tomorrow I’ll show you a little of my lands. The Underworld realms are as different as the continents of your world.” His voice was deep and soothing as he purposely ignored her question. She caught the light scent of whiskey on his breath. The scent was on her breath as well and soaking through her pores so that she now reeked of it. She wasn’t used to drinking spirits of any sort and had imbibed too much all at once.
Her hiccups gave her away.
She alternated between sniffling, crying out “ouch” and hiccupping as he continued to treat her wounds. “I’m not being very brave, am I?”
“Your cuts are quite deep, Georgiana. You’re holding up as well as any soldier would. Few men could endure this pain without flinching.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise, for he appeared sincere and there was no hint of a sneer on his nicely formed lips. There was something in his gaze that tugged at her heart. He was one of those men who could endure incredible pain, and she knew by the darkness within the deep blue of his eyes that he had endured much. Yet, he was intent on shielding her from it. “Will you tell me more about your realm?”
It suddenly seemed important for her to learn as much about him as possible.
He gave a slight nod and resumed tending to her. “We have oceans and mountains and forests, such as you’ll find in your world. But unlike yours, we have two moons that shine constantly in our sky. We live by moonlight. Our sun died out long ago. Indeed, so long ago that there are no ancients alive who remember it blazing in our red sky.”
He continued talking to distract her from the burning pain that seared through her body whenever he applied the whiskey to her arms. She dared not get too comfortable beside him and was not about to rest her head upon his shoulder, no matter how appealing the prospect or how desperately she wanted to. He was a demon. A dangerous Dragon Lord. Why did she feel such a bond with him?
Although she remained on his lap, she insisted on sitting upright and did not close her eyes.
He arched an eyebrow, the slight gesture conveying he understood why she was sitting straight as a post. She tipped her chin up and glanced away, but felt the shrug of his broad shoulders against her skin. How could she not feel his every movement while splendidly trapped in his arms? “Please tell me more, my lord.”
“Life here can be as peaceful or violent as in yours, Georgiana. But there are important differences.”
She nodded. “The creatures here are quite different. Your justice is brutal and swift.”
His expression hardened and his voice turned harsh, but she understood it was not aimed at her. “There is no system of justice in my world other than brute strength. If you anger someone, he will kill you. If you have allies, they will in turn kill your assailant. But tomorrow those same allies might decide you are now the enemy and turn on you.” Now finished cleansing her cuts and gashes, he shifted her off his lap and sat her on the mattress. Grabbing his own cup, he refilled it and crossed to the window to stare out of it.
She watched him as he took a hearty gulp and then set down his goblet on the table beside him. Only then did he turn back to her, crossing his arms over his massive chest. “Power and retribution are the rules by which we survive. But that mostly applies to those who remain in the Underworld. Many are just passing through, not yet lost souls, but simply crossing through this realm on their journey to another destination.”
Georgiana was enthralled. “To heaven?”
The mention of heaven must not have pleased him, for his expression once again turned quite forbidding. “Sometimes. Sometimes back to your world as a new soul.”
Georgiana was eager to know more. She decided to press on until she sensed he’d been pushed too far. “And sometimes their souls are too dark to move on so they remain here?”
He glanced toward the window and his realm that lay beyond it. “Aye, trapped here for a myriad of reasons and doomed to remain for eternity.”
“But they can die here as well. What happens to them then?”
He spoke without looking at her, his gaze still fixed on whatever lurked beyond these walls. “They no longer exist. They never return. They can never move on. They simply are no more.”
She rose and walked to stand beside him, wanting to touch him, for this Dragon Lord could not hide the ache of his misery from her. The need to place her hand on him and comfort him was overwhelming, but he moved away before she succumbed to the foolish urge to put her arms around him.
He wasn’t her friend.
He was merely her protector for the moment, and she wasn’t yet certain he was that. At the same time, she knew that he was someone important to her. “Lord Bloodaxe, I won’t deny that I’m desperate to return to my family. I’m terrified here and wish to go home.” She paused a moment to nibble her lip in thought. “Yet, I’m not terrified of you. I know I ought to be, but there’s something about you that is so familiar.”
He would not look at her and his features remained expressionless, but she knew he was troubled by her words. She’d asked him before about their connection. They were more than strangers. Why wouldn’t he tell her? She sensed something else was troubling him, was silently at war within him. “Lord Bloodaxe, are you afraid of me?”
He appeared startled for a moment, and then threw his head back and laughed heartily. “No, I’m not afraid of you. But an innocent does not belong in the Underworld. You were brought through a demon portal and should not have survived the journey, yet you are standing here beside me and very much alive. War will soon be upon us. Why are you here? Why were you given to me? What will happen to you if I take you back to your realm? I don’t know if it is even possible to take you back.”
“Why don’t we try it and see?” She held her breath, knowing he wasn’t likely to agree. But one could always hope. That was one of her strengths. She was always filled with hope. Indeed, she carried buckets full of it within her heart.
“Not tonight, Georgiana.” His laughter faded as he studied her, his sensual gaze causing her blood to turn hot with a new sensation she knew had to be desire. She’d never felt this tingling need for any man before, not even Oliver. Is it possible she desired this stranger? For pity’s sake, why? “But we will try soon.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “We will?”
“Yes.” He took a step toward her. “Dragon lords are as fickle as the dragons they shift into. There is no question that I must get you out of here, although I cannot tell you when that will be, only that it must be soon. I’m a dragon, Georgiana. Either I will take you as a bedmate, or… I will eat you for my supper.”