He no sooner lost his mind at her disappearance than Remiel tried to climb the shaft. Halfway up, snarling and roaring with rage—letting them know he came to eat them—a piece of paper fluttered down.

For some reason, he caught it. Read it. The words on the note burned in his brain.

Samael has your hoard. It included an address. Easy to memorize. As for the hint? Look for a river. It proved to be his ticket out of the cave network without bloodshed. But he’d be back. He had some scores to settle.

With rage driving his actions, much of what happened during his escape proved a blur. Remiel had only one focus. Finding his angel.

And taking care of Samael once and for all.

When he emerged into freedom, he took a deep breath and uttered a challenge to the sky. The world. To any and all listening.

The king has returned.

He didn’t get a reply.

The mighty flapping of his wings pulled him through the sky, and he coasted along the air currents, letting them propel him along. He knew his geography, knew so many things, the facts he’d memorized once useless… No more.

He moved quickly. Swiftly. Unseen.

Deadly.

He couldn’t delay. Not while his brother had his angel. If he or that red witch harmed a single hair on her head…the world would burn.

His destination proved closer than he could have hoped for. The tall tower housing the luxury hotel appeared as a lit beacon in the night sky. But he only had eyes for one floor. The top floor. A top floor with a bank of windows, one with a hole in it.

A face peered through the broken pane, a face he saw in the mirror every day.

There you are, brother.

Samael didn’t see him. Remiel, on the other hand, saw Anastasia move behind his brother and lift her head to toss him a wink before shoving Samael out the opening.

Ha. Served him right.

Remiel ignored his falling brother to trumpet a challenge. If it could have been translated, it would have sounded something like, For the crime of taking my hoard from me, I mark thee for death.

The priestess heard him and lifted her head. She smirked and mouthed something. “What hoard? You’re too late. The woman is gone.”

Gone? That quickly, his gaze veered downward, and he noted the cluster of people on the ground, grouped around something. Something on the sidewalk.

He arrowed toward them, his mighty shape casting a pall that even the night sky couldn’t mask.

The humans scattered before his mightiness. Some of them bleating. One pissing himself. He’d seen sheep with more decorum. They left behind their object of curiosity.

A scrap of fabric. Gold. Silken. The scent so clearly that of his angel.

But no angel wearing it.

There was also no blood and no guts, which he took as a good sign. But he did have a problem.

Where had she gone? Craning his head left and right, seeking with all his senses, didn’t give him a scent to trace. But he did feel a tug that a—

“Did you know ssshe has wings now?” lisped Samael, interrupting his concentration. Wearing only pants and no shirt to accommodate his massive wings, his brother stood blocking his view with his hybrid shape.

You. Remiel might have thought the word, but his sibling heard and his gaze narrowed.

“Get out of my head.”

You took Sue-Ellen.

“I did, and she liked it.”

Liar.

He blew at his brother, a hot golden mist that pushed his sibling back on his heels but didn’t dissolve his skin as hoped.

“No lies. I took your woman and made her mine. And I’ll take her again as soon as—”

Pop. Pop. Pop. The crack of gunfire peppered the air, most of the shots going astray and digging into the sidewalk, sending cement chips flying. Blood splattered when a bullet tore through Samael’s wing.

Before the same could happen to Remiel, he took a moment to pull his scales hard, tightening them into a bulletproof shield. It would repel most missiles. However, it took effort to hold, especially against unknown numbers. There was more than one gun firing. They’d been ambushed.

A dragon knew when to fight and when to fly so he could regroup and return to win the day.

With a mighty pounce, Remiel took to the sky, losing track of Samael—as if he cared what happened to his errant sibling.

His mighty wings pulled, grabbing the very air itself and molding it for his use, bringing him aloft, high enough the bullets couldn’t reach him. Only then did he loosen his scales.

He took stock of the situation below. The occasional cracks let him count the various opponents. Five. At opposite ends firing. Someone had planned this. Someone who knew he, or Samael, would be there.

A setup. But who orchestrated it? Who dared to try and kill the Golden king?

I should find out.

And kill them.

A shape shimmered into existence beside him, a gold and green hybrid and, dangling from his clawed hands, a human with wide eyes.

What are you doing? he trilled the question.

Samael shook his prize. “Asssking thisss human why he was shooting at usss.”

“The monsters must die!” the human gleefully yelled, suddenly coming to life. He flailed his hands at Samael’s face while swinging his legs to push off his abdomen. A strange foam erupted from his mouth, and the body quivered.

Samael loosened his grip, and the human fell. Fell to the ground below with a final thump. Samael then looked at Remiel. “Looks like the pitchforks are coming out.”

Probably the only true and smart thing Samael had ever said. If the humans firing weren’t some kind of fluke group, then it might be the start of something bigger—and more violent.

Excellent. War is coming. What part would he play?

There was only one role suited for him. He just needed to ensure that no one tried to take it. As Remiel flapped his wings alongside his brother, he debated the merits of tearing his head off now and saving himself the trouble later.

Death was so final, though. Kill Samael, and he’d lose the joy of torturing not only his mortal enemy but also his only sibling.

A teeny tiny part of him didn’t want to kill the only true relative he had.

Before he could fully decide what to do with his brother, the whup-whup-whup of ‘copter blades cut through the whistling wind.

“That can’t be good. Another time, brother.” With a salute, Samael departed, and since Remiel had better things to do than play with mechanical toys, he took flight in a different direction.

Leaving behind the sound of helicopters, he returned to his original dilemma. Where was Sue-Ellen? How should he decide which way to go? The world was a very strange place. Also a big place for a dragon used to a tiny sphere of his own.

Feel for her.

Wasn’t most of his problem the fact that he felt too much?

Use that to find her.

How? he asked, and yet, at the same time, he took a peek within, searched for that tiny tendril, the one that had linked him to his angel since the first time they touched.

There it was, a weak pulse in… He banked and captured a new air current in a slightly altered direction. He wound that tiny tendril around a fist and pulled himself toward it. Closer. Closer.

It abruptly disappeared, and for a moment, he froze in the air and coasted.

What did it mean? Was she dead? No. Not dead. He refused to believe it. He’d know if she’d died. No hole suddenly gaped in his heart. She lived but was hidden from him.

Not too many people could do that—but dragons could. He banked his wings and studied the lay of the land below. The evening sky meant only the barest shadow ghosted on the ground to betray his passage.

He needed to think. Where would Sue-Ellen go now that she’d escaped? Where would she feel safe?

There was only one place he’d wager. Her brother.

If Remiel remembered his politics class at all, taught by Anastasia and a ruler—lined sharply as a blade—then Brandon, the false Gold, had married a Silvergrace girl. But how to contact them?

This was where his knowledge and memory came in handy. Anastasia had spent as much time teaching Remiel as she did having him studied. As a result, he knew all the family names. Their domains. He could have traced on a map the places considered held by certain Septs. She’d trained him and Samael to one day be king. Funny how they’d forgotten to question how they could both rule when the prophecy called for only one.

Knowing what Remiel did meant he knew where to go in every major city to get some information. First, however, he needed pants.

Remiel outfitted himself before he paid a visit to the Silvergrace offices the following day. Although offices was a misnomer, given it acted more like an embassy to the Silvers in this neutral zone.

A few major cities around the world were ruled by other cryptozoid sects. Here in Las Vegas, the Djinn had a strong foothold but loved to do business with dragons. No surprise, the Silver Sept owned a sprawling silver-hued hotel and casino resort. Someone in their expansive offices would have the information Remiel needed.

Despite a lack of Americanized identification, Remiel strolled right in and didn’t worry about making an appointment.

People would bow to his will and thank him for taking time out of his busy day to visit. They couldn’t move fast enough once they realized who they dealt with. It took only a flash of his eyes, a golden flare, to have people scurrying to do his bidding.

In no time at all, he was ushered to the top floor and placed in the presence of an older woman. Dressed bohemian style, she sat in the corner of a large and lavish room. A room with no windows and only one door. A steel door for a fancy prison?

Not again.

When the young female who escorted him would have shut them in, Remiel stopped the door from closing. “This stays open.”

“But the soundproofing—”

The older woman held up a hand. “It’s all right, Babette. I think the boy needs reassurance he won’t come to any harm.”

“You think I fear you?” He almost snorted in disbelief.

“What should I think? You won’t allow us to be alone in a room together. Or are you going to claim you’re keeping the door open that we might preserve my virtue because, I can assure you, that ship sailed a long time ago.”

He wouldn’t be bested by this woman.

Instead of replying, he slammed the door shut. He then took a seat and stared.

Stared for a while.

Stared until the woman frowned. “You aren’t Samael D’Ore.”

He shook his head and smiled.

“Another Gold dragon. I’ll be damned,” the woman murmured.

“Shouldn’t you be curtsying instead?”

At that, her lips twitched. “Such arrogance. What is your name?”

“My title is your highness, but my birth name as inscribed on my shell is Remiel D’Ore. I am the last Golden king.”

A king who got no respect, as the old woman giggled. “This is getting to be absolutely entertaining. And here I am being rude not introducing myself. I am Waida Silvergrace Montague. Sister to—”

“The matriarch of the Silver Sept. Yes, I know. I had my share of history lessons, and I don’t really care right now about your lineage. I am here for another reason. I’m looking for someone. A girl.”

“Sue-Ellen Mercer.”

He bolted from his seat and, in a blink of an eye, stood in front of the gray-haired woman, hands braced on the armrest of her chair, looming. “You know her. Where is she?”

“According to the phone call I got a few hours ago, she’s safe.”

“Safe where? What have you done with Sue-Ellen?” His fingers gripped the armrests tight and shook the chair a bit.

Waida arched a brow. “I’ve done nothing. No one is stupid enough to harm Brandon’s sister.”

“I want her brought to me.”

“I can’t do that.”

Can’t? What an ugly word. Also an utterly unacceptable one. “She’s mine.”

The older woman’s gaze narrowed. “Actually, given she’s unmated and fatherless, it falls on her brother to protect her.”

“Tell him I need her back. Sue-Ellen is mine.” All mine. His only treasure.

“Someone seems a touch possessive. Seems to me like the girl should be allowed to make that decision.”

“You’re right, she should.” Because he had no doubt she’d make the right choice. “Let me know where she is, and I will speak to her at once.”

“Aren’t you a demanding one? In many ways like your brother, and yet not.”

Nothing like him. Nothing… “You’ve dealt with Samael? What do you know of him?”

“Not as much as I’d like. Just that he paid our house a visit a while back. I thought him cocky and arrogant, but I see he was but a pale imitation of the real thing.”

“My brother had a spoiled childhood.”

“And what was yours like?”

“I am not going to divulge some sob-worthy tale of how I was stuck in a cage most of my life. Adversity makes me stronger, and as you can see, the cage couldn’t hold me.”

“Who held you captive? Parker?”

“Eventually, but I was first a prisoner to the Crimson priestess. She is the one who oversaw my upbringing, and when I wouldn’t bow to the red priestess’s heel, I was locked away.”

Waida’s lips pursed. “That woman is becoming a real problem.”

“Becoming? I’d say she’s well past that point.” But fear not, he had plans for her—he just needed to grab a few ingredients first and find the right kind of tree for burning.

“Hate her if you like, it doesn’t matter. She has put certain things in motion, and we now have no choice but to follow. A pity we didn’t know about you before. She’s already presented Samael as the Golden heir.”

“A false heir. I am the true Gold.”

“Are you? I can’t believe we’ve found yet another one.” Waida shook her head. “It’s interesting how a year ago we had no Goldens to unite the Septs, and now we have too many.”

“I am the only true Gold.”

“But are you the one foretold?” She leaned forward and fixed him with an intent gaze. “Do you have what it takes, Remiel D’Ore, to lead your people past the dark times coming? Your brother, Samael, with the help of the Crimson Sept, has amassed a large force. The Reds, Blues, and some of the Greens have thrown in their allegiance to him.”

“They will change their minds once they realize he is the imposter.”

“Will they? He’s promising them the world. What can you give them? By your own admission, you were a prisoner, which means you don’t even have treasure to buy an army.”

“Buy?” He arched a brow. “A king does not buy troops. They serve. And I do have a treasure. It’s just been misplaced, hence why I’m here.”

Waida quickly understood. “You’re speaking of the girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Where is she? Take me to her at once.”

“I can tell you, but you won’t be able to take her. Especially if her brother gets there first.”

“I’ve already told you this brother has no claim.”

“And I told you it would be her choice.”

“You disobey your king!” Once again, he loomed over the seated woman. “Tell me now.” The timbre of the demand reverberated in the room, filled with power.

The older woman licked her lips and shook her head. “Oh, you’re good. Strong, too. Almost strong enough to make me obey, but you’re also unschooled.”

“I could kill you with a twist of my wrist,” he growled, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her. He knew he was being irrational, but at the moment, all he could think of was this woman thought to stand between him and his treasure.

She is keeping me from my angel.

“Don’t make threats you won’t follow through with. First rule of kingship.”

“I don’t make idle threats.”

Snort. The old woman still had no respect. “You won’t kill me because kings don’t kill their subjects. And they most certainly don’t murder their advisors.”

“You’re not my advisor. I work alone.”

“Not anymore. A good thing you found me because if you’re going to rule, you can’t just rush in head first and command people.”

“I am king.”

“Yes, and if you want people to listen and respect you, you have to more than just announce it. We’ll talk more of that later.”

“You really think you’re going to advise me.” The idea seemed ludicrous, and yet the old woman seemed quite serious.

“A king can’t rule alone.”

“Which is why I need the girl.”

“If I tell you where she is, will you promise to listen?”

“Give me Sue-Ellen.”

“I can’t give her to you, only she can make that choice, but how about if you listen, I won’t just help you find your queen, I’ll show you how to give her the world.”

“Very well. I agree to your terms.” Because even Sue-Ellen would have to admit the world was a pretty damned good gift.

Which was how he found himself on a private jet that same night and then driven the next morning to a large compound behind several layers of security.

Dressed in a suit, he brought his confidence with him to win over Sue-Ellen.

What he should have brought instead was dragoness repellent.