“You’re going to what?” Sue-Ellen screeched, not for the first time. She’d done lots of screeching since her brother had plucked her from the chaos of breaking glass and shooting bullets. He’d tucked her under an arm, along with his wife, who insisted, “We should stay for the fight.”

“That’s not a fight,” Brandon replied. “It’s a diversion. And we’re going to take advantage of it.” Her brother then proceeded to take Sue-Ellen to an armored Hummer parked in the garage and sped out of there with squealing tires, with Aimi behind the wheel. Bats in Hell had nothing on her new sister-in-law. Apparently, speed limits were for peasants.

“I said I am going to declare myself king.” Brandon paced the living room of the condo he and Aimi had borrowed. Aunt Waida was apparently still out of town. “Don’t you see? It makes the most sense.”

“No, I don’t see. You aren’t a king. You’re not even royalty. You used to run around the bayou diaperless when you were young because Ma couldn’t afford to buy any butt covers.”

“And you used to eat caterpillars. That didn’t stop Remiel from making you part of his hoard.”

“How did you hear about that?”

Brandon rolled his eyes. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Your information is a little off. I am not simply part of his treasure; I am his one and only treasure.” Because he loved her. Through the bond tying them together, she could feel his worry—and annoyance.

It won’t be long now before he comes to find me.

The thought filled her with warmth, but her brother tried to douse it.

“You’re his one and only treasure?” He sounded aghast. “Does he know you’re the girl who won the burping alphabet contest three years in a row?”

Those were the types of things a girl didn’t put on a resume—and she’d kill Brandon if he ever told Remiel about it.

Speaking of whom… “Are you sure Remiel is safe?” Because in the commotion, she couldn’t be sure. Being tossed upside down over an overprotective brother’s shoulder tended to do that. The tie linking them didn’t radiate any pain, but Remiel, being a man, wouldn’t necessarily make it obvious.

“I don’t think your beau needs any help,” Brandon grumbled.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m pretty sure he just landed on the rooftop across from us.”

She ran to the window for a peek.

A Golden dragon was definitely perched across the way. But it wasn’t pure gold, and nothing tugged at her. Not in that direction. “That’s not Remiel.”

“Is it the other pretender? I’ve been wanting to talk to him, too. Nice of him to put himself within reach.” Brandon cracked his knuckles.

“You will not kill him.”

“I heard what he did. The guy is a psycho.”

“He is, but…” She bit her lip. Samael also remained Remiel’s brother. A man who’d spent his life manipulated. Could anyone really blame him for what had happened?

She hesitated too long.

Sliding the patio door open, Brandon launched himself out of the opening, changing midleap.

Sue-Ellen turned an astonished face on Aimi. “Aren’t you going to stop him?”

“Why would I do that? He wants to be all big and macho, then let him. He is part Gold. Asserting dominance is in their blood. You have to admit Brand would make a good choice for king.”

The throne is rightfully Remiel’s. The words almost passed her lips, but she stopped them.

What was happening? How had the dragons gone from no kings to too many? And why were they fighting for the throne?

Because he who rules the Septs is all-powerful.

If only she had that power. Having it meant no one telling her what to do anymore. No one trying to hurt Remiel. No one ever doing anything to their children—because, yes, they would eventually have children, and those children would have to be protected.

They will be my treasure. For a moment, she saw the world in shades of green and gold. Then she blinked and the sensation was gone.

A knock at the door saw her whirling, especially since it was a precursor to the door being blown off its hinges by a powerful strike.

Over the debris he’d created stepped Remiel. He brushed at the dust trying to cling and strode directly toward her, his laser stare intent. He looked dangerous and strong.

Mine.

“Angel.”

She smiled. “Took you long enough.” She’d felt his approach but didn’t dare let Brandon know.

“I was making some deals with the Silver matriarch.” He stopped a few paces from her.

“What kind of deals?” Because her understanding was the Silver Sept was looking for male dragons of breeding age. Males like Remiel.

“Let’s just say that Samael is going to be a little too busy to bother you for the next while, given I’ve decided to let him live.”

Her brows rose. “Does this mean you reconciled?”

“Never.” His eyes flared gold. “But if he’s fighting off dragonesses who want to be princesses, then he’ll be too busy to harass you.”

“Until someone nails him down.” Deka came to mind. “And then he might come after your throne again.”

“Then I’ll deal with him.”

“Deal how?”

“We’ll discuss it later. Let’s leave before your brother comes back.”

“My brother is kind of busy wrestling yours.” She pointed to the window just as a pair of dragons swooped past.

“And winning,” Aimi added from her spot peeking out.

“Time for us to leave.” He held out his hand. A hand that, if taken, would mean giving up her newfound freedom and becoming a part of the chaos life with Remiel would entail.

It didn’t require any real thought. Sue-Ellen had made her choice years ago.

Her fingers curled around his. “Where are we going?”

“To rule the world.”

With that declaration, they both vanished from sight, leaving behind an exclaiming Aimi as they ran from the condo.

“Since when can you become invisible?” she asked, thinking the words and pushing them at the thread that bound them.

“Since I watched how my brother did it. It is but one of the feats a Gold can do.”

It proved helpful in getting them to the stairwell unnoticed and past the gawkers peeking from the other condos on that level. They went up instead of down, Remiel choosing the rooftop to make their escape.

Only the rooftop wasn’t empty. Not by a long shot.

“Stay hidden.”

Remiel shimmered into view, and yet, somehow, Sue-Ellen remained invisible. He released her hand and took a step forward, partially covering her invisible body.

The rigid lines of his frame went with the firm emotion emanating from him. Caution.

Anastasia stood at the head of a group of wyverns. Regal and arrogant, just like her words. “Remiel D’Ore, will you come to your senses? Will you honor the pledge made in your name to bind yourself to the Crimson Sept and make a princess into a queen?”

Remiel sneered. “Don’t you mean false princess? We all know that, while the Crimson matriarch might have stylized herself as queen, her blood has no claim to royalty.”

“Her ranking matters not. The blood of the Crimson Sept heir is pure. Any children born of that union would be—”

“Half-breeds.” Remiel cocked his head. “Because she is just a Red.”

“Just?” Anastasia’s lips tightened. “The Crimson is the most powerful of the Septs.”

“Yeah, I’d kind of have to disagree with that.” Aimi sauntered into view, her silver hair streaming past her shoulders, her eyes flashing with green fire. “The Silvers have always been second in line to the throne.”

“Your Sept has grown weak,” Anastasia snapped.

“And you’re deluded,” Remiel interjected. “I am already mated, and to one greater than any of the Septs can offer.”

“The girl is an abomination.” The words spat from Anastasia, and Sue-Ellen—still hidden—had to hold in a gasp as the priestess’s eyes flashed. Not green. Nor even the gold she’d seen Remiel sport.

But red. A malevolent ring of fire.

“What have you done?” Remiel spoke the words softly.

“Done?” Anastasia laughed and took a step forward, her crimson gown undulating. Unnaturally.

Where did that extra ripple come from?

“Your scent is wrong.”

“Ah, yes. The animals and their sense of smell.” A slender hand waved, and the sleeve fell, revealing the thin wrist and the swirling tattoos crawling up the forearm. Tattoos Sue-Ellen didn’t recognize. Had Anastasia been covering them all this time?

“You are not the priestess,” Remiel stated. “Who are you? Show your true self.”

“Clever little Golden dragon. You have found me out.” She clasped a hand to her breast, a breast that shimmered and went from a voluptuous woman in red silk to something tall, shrouded in a cloak.

A shadow overhead made a thump as it landed. Another soon followed. Samael and Brandon had taken note of the confrontation and now stood at their back. Sue-Ellen should have taken comfort in them, especially given how fierce they were wearing a dragon suited for fighting.

But…the confidence of the cloaked one proved unnerving.

And the red eyes… What did they mean? Who was it?

Samael raised a claw and pointed before uttering a high trill. The wyverns clustered around the figure stiffened. They hesitated, but only for a moment. In the absence of their mistress, they could not deny the command of a Gold.

They might as well have thrown meat at a moving scythe. The fluid grace and blurring quickness of the cloaked figure meant the wyverns never stood a chance. A pair of long blades emerged from voluminous sleeves.

The dull surfaces didn’t reflect as they sliced and diced, leaving the poorly equipped squadron of beasts in pieces on the tarred and pebbled surface.

As soon as it began, it ended. The blades suddenly retreated into the billowing material, and the cloaked one folded arms in front. “I do hope that wasn’t your best shot.”

Bodies suddenly flowed forward, several of them. Remiel, who pulled at his dragon, the golden scales rippling past his fleshy skin. Brandon dashed, wings tucked tight to his back. Even Aimi soared past, silver gleaming scales catching the light.

All of them, even Samael, caught midflight, froze with a wave of a hand. All them formed a silent mannequin challenge, frozen in place. No one breathing, blinking, or flexing a muscle.

“Before you attack, perhaps I should show you something. I have a gift for the new king and his future queen.”

“What gift?” Remiel spoke through stiff lips, even if he couldn’t move.

“The gift of a smooth transition. Behold, your greatest enemy.” Dangling from a fist, the hand gripping red locks, her expression frozen in surprise, was Anastasia. Or at least part of her.

“You killed the priestess of the Gold and the acting head of the Crimson Sept,” Remiel stated.

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“And yet it is my gift to you.”

“What do you want?”

“Want?” The words emerged on a streaming flute of notes, the pitch lilting up and down, feminine yet gruff. “I want nothing more than to congratulate the couple on their nuptials. But you seem rudely determined to refuse my gift.” The gloved fingers holding the red hair of the priestess released the head, and it fell with a meaty thunk. Still, no one moved. Not a single muscle. Even Sue-Ellen, in her invisible blind, didn’t dare twitch. She remained hidden and held her breath because she felt the coldness radiating from the figure. The evil.

“Mark this day.” The words emerged from the dark shroud, soft and yet so powerful, neither truly male nor female. “On this day, the end of everything begins. The prophecy of the Gold enters its second phase. Humanity’s time, dragons’ mortality…all is now measured only by grains of sand sifting through the hourglass of time.”

There was probably some real deep message in there, some kind of reasoning to the craziness that popped out of nowhere.

Sue-Ellen didn’t care. In that robed figure, she saw danger, not just to herself but to everyone she loved.

Running on stealthy feet, she made not a sound, and yet the person in the cloak still heard her and stared right at Sue-Ellen. Eyes ringed in red fire peered from the depths of the cowl. One single upraised hand was all it took.

Whump. The blast to Sue-Ellen’s chest swept her off her feet. Right over the edge of the building.

Did she mention there was no net?

No Remiel or Deka to swoop in and save her.

Still no freaking parachute.

I don’t need no stinking parachute. I have wings. The coldness in her begged, “Let me out.”

The wildness in her pulsed. It promised power. Would grant her strength. Would keep her from splattering her guts onto the pavement.

She took it.

Her skin rippled. Stretched. Ohmygod, did it stretch. Her body became lighter, bigger, and lighter still. Everything in her crackled, but the pain proved fleeting and euphoric.

When it was done…she was a bloody dragon and, despite her wings, still falling!