Eschewing an appointment—those were for people with news of lesser importance—Deka sailed into her Aunt Zahra’s office.

“Samael is missing,” Deka announced to the Silvergrace matriarch before flopping into the club chair in front of the desk.

“Is that really the news you’re using to justify barging in?” An arctic gaze pinned her.

“Well, yeah, it’s important news. Samael is missing.” The travesty. The horror. The where the hell is the future father of my babies? It was a big freaking chunk of news. “You’re welcome.” Now, Auntie could act to find him.

“I already knew he was gone. Remiel told me.”

No surprise Zahra knew. As Sept matriarch, not much evaded her steely-eyed gaze.

“So when are we assembling the Sept to find him?” With Deka at the head of the posse, ready to save the day. Then he could thank her with a great big—

“We aren’t assembling anything.”

Say what? Hadn’t she marshaled the Sept, mobilized their forces?

The reason why became clear. “I get it. You haven’t launched a search party on account of Remiel wanting to find his brother himself.” The love of a sibling, so cute—unless they tried to hone in on your dessert. Then you stabbed them with a fork.

“Actually, Remiel would prefer Samael never show his face again. He’s still got some deep-seated issues.”

Samael might have had a hand in keeping his brother locked in a pit with his memories wiped. But surely Remiel wouldn’t hold a grudge forever?

Deka swung a leg over the arm of the chair and twirled a strand of hair. “Given the king is all happy now and ruling us all, surely he wouldn’t mind Samael coming back. Maybe letting his little bro hook up with someone in the family.” Ahem. Me.

“No,” Auntie replied, not bothering to peek up from her stack of paperwork.

The abrupt reply didn’t deter Deka. Auntie probably needed help in understanding the importance of finding Samael.

“Aren’t you curious at all as to where he’s gone?” Deka certainly couldn’t handle not knowing. She’d been watching his house—the mansion vacant and up for sale since Remiel took over—and hadn’t seen a single sign of Samael.

Rifling through his closet showed he hadn’t packed a bag or taken his passport and that he didn’t like to wear briefs. At least she didn’t find any.

Just like me. Going commando meant less laundry, and Deka was all about keeping things simple for their staff.

With his house being a bust, she’d had to rely on electronic means to monitor him. As yet, she’d seen no activity on Samael’s bank accounts, credit card, Netflix, or his favorite porn website. Nor had he placed any orders at his favorite restaurant for an extra large, double pepperoni, mushroom, olive, bacon, extra cheese with chipotle sauce smearing the base. Deka had left a few hundred in cash with the owner, along with orders to contact her if Samael called.

Extreme? Not really. Deka simply took her stalking seriously.

How else am I supposed to find my man?

“I really don’t care if he’s disappeared from public sight. More than likely, he’s gone into hiding. Between his unholy union with that Crimson pretender and his treatment of our king, he’s probably worried someone will assassinate him.”

Over my dead body. I’ll protect you, muffin.

“He’s too valuable to kill.” Even with his list of crimes, Golden blood coursed through Samael’s veins—and he also had super sperm wearing glittery capes sleeping in his balls, waiting to shoot from his cannon dick. And, yes, she giggled each time she thought of the little bullet-headed fellows firing off into her vagina.

Genetics gave him, if not a free pass, at least a chance to live a long life—probably in captivity as a breeding bull.

Unless I save him. Once he became her mate, she’d keep him safe. Male dragons were rather rare and precious. Kind of like unicorns—which no one liked to admit had been eaten into extinction by dragons.

Shhh.

“Why this continued interest in him?” Zahra lifted her head and stared at Deka, the directness of her gaze unnerving. However, Deka had been the object of many stern gazes in her life and simply shrugged.

“It just seems like we should be paying more attention. What if the wrong sorts got their hands on him?”

In other words, what if some hussy with designs on his body dug in her claws. Then Deka would have to murder her, and that might start a war, which would be fun but messy, especially since the humans now knew that dragons existed. She’d heard there’d been a rise in demand for giant crossbows that fired harpoon-sized arrows.

It meant the training all dragons went through had been amped up a notch. They weren’t being complacent about their safety and survival. Ever since they’d been almost wiped out, they’d learned how to survive.

And fight.

“I really don’t care if another Sept snatches him.” The matriarch arched a brow. “Don’t tell me you haven’t gotten over your obsession with that man.”

“He’s mine.” Of that, Deka had no doubt. From the moment she’d first seen the guy, his golden hair perfectly combed—in need of a ruffle—and the smirk—that totally said, “take off your clothes”—she’d wanted him.

But someone was telling Deka she couldn’t have him.

It’s not up to her to decide.

Zahra still blathered. “You do realize with the return of the Golden king we no longer need to enforce breeding protocols. You’re free to mate, or not, as you choose.”

“Then I choose him.”

A heavy sigh. “I would prefer, and I know your mother agrees with me, that you select someone else. He’s got bad blood.”

“Golden blood.”

“He’s tainted. You’ve read the reports we filched from Parker’s labs.”

Ah, yes, good old Parker, the wolf shifter who’d outed cryptozoids to the humans. Now, everyone suspected his or her neighbor of being some kind of enhanced being. The sale on silver and shotguns had shot through the roof. The zappers in the yard got bigger as folks tried to prevent any fairies from taking over their green space. And swords, along with armor, were making a comeback as wannabe heroes thought to go on quests to find dragon treasure.

As a side note, armor was the number one reason most quests ended abruptly. The most common of that being drowning.

Deka realized her aunt was staring and shrugged. “I know what the reports say.” She’d read every single medical one. Her mother surely meant for her to check them out, given she’d put them in her special safe. “Samael D’Ore is definitely the brother of one very majestic Remiel D’Ore. But he’s not a full-breed like the king. The maternal half he inherited makes him part of the Gold Sept.”

“It’s the other half that worries me,” admitted Zahra. “There is something about that boy…” She pursed her lips and pointed a manicured finger at Deka. “Forget Samael. Find yourself another man. You can even consort with a human”—no mistaking the sneer— “if you’d like. Your mother has been working with the other Septs’ scientists to figure out the serum to help transition the wyverns. A few have ascended into their true shape.”

“Which is awesome.”

It truly was. For centuries, the dragons had enforced brutal breeding programs to ensure their continuity. It led to a few cross-eyed cousins and blathering idiots. Male dragons were few and far between, and while humans tasted delicious—and not just in a basted-over-the-fire-with-rosemary-and-garlic kind of way as endorsed by Aunt Claudia—they couldn’t make real dragon babies. Progeny between a dragon and a human were known as wyverns, sterile hybrids that did nothing to continue the family bloodlines. Unless they got injected with a special dragon cocktail to force them to ascend.

Blah, blah, all kinds of science. The details didn’t apply to her because she planned to make babies with a dragon. A Golden dragon…

“Forget that tainted misfit.” Zahra still shook that finger. Deka’s tummy rumbled for French fries. “Or face the consequences. You know the king has said we are to leave his brother alone.”

Forbidden. Was there any tastier treasure?

“But—”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Zahra narrowed her gaze at Deka. “I know that look. You will stop that train of thought this instant. And I will ease one fear. Samael will not be touched. The Septs have been warned of what will happen should they capture Samael and try to use him to steal the throne. And that includes us.”

A ruthless king. And a handsome Gold one at that. It was enough to make a girl swoon, especially after Remiel’s first throne speech, broadcasted via Skype, to the Septs around the world. It was a great speech, short, to the point, and ended with, “Betray me and die.”

It got resounding applause. Who didn’t want a tough ruler who declared that any who disobeyed would find themselves crushed to a pulp? Remiel was arrogantly powerful like that, and Brand’s sister was super lucky to have him as her mate.

Deka was also green with envy. She wanted a man who could pulverize his enemies like a bug, too. Not that she wasn’t capable of smooshing them herself, but think of how much fun couples night would be. Smiting some foes, maybe getting some treasures for the hoard—you could never have too many Pokémon collectibles—grabbing a hoagie, and then sex.

Good sex. The kind that didn’t have a gal worrying she’d accidentally put her lover in traction.

Again.

Stupid Silvergrace family lawyer now had her make potential partners sign a waiver before she got wild with them. It tended to kill the mood.

“Why does this say I promise not to sue if, during the course of sexual intercourse, you break my bones or rupture my organs?”

“Just a precaution.”

“Is it a precaution to list side effects such as blood in my urine, paralysis, and death?”

Many walked at that point; some even ran. It meant her poor vibrator was going through a lot of batteries lately and would soon join her collection of plastic penises that couldn’t keep up with her appetite.

But I bet a big, strong Golden dragon could.

Now if only her matriarch would agree.

Deka amped up her argument. “What if it’s not one of the Septs who takes him but that freak-ass bitch who pretended to be Anastasia for a while?”

Some mysterious figure with glowing red eyes had messed with dragon politics. They should be hunting her ass down. Instead, the Septs had retreated and closed ranks, fearful of getting into a fight. No one wanted to join the fate of the Crimson Sept, decimated in number and dropping from second most powerful to last.

Zahra slid a sheaf of papers aside in order to begin signing the next set. “We’ve no reason to believe that entity has any interest in us any longer.”

“No interest? She gave us a head.” Literally. They’d yet to come across the body.

“The head of our enemy. A fitting gift, if you ask me.”

Deka kind of agreed, still, all this no-you-can’t-go-find-the-hottest-thing-since-spicy-margarita-night-at-the-pub shit was ruining her fun.

A heavy sigh left Deka. “I don’t understand why you’re not more worried.”

Zahra braced her hands on her desk and leaned forward. “Dragons don’t worry. Especially not about other beings. Everyone knows there is none greater or more powerful than our kind. We are the top of the food chain, the true leaders of this world, and now that our king has returned, we shall take our rightful place.”

“Our rightful place better not mean wearing skirts and shit,” Deka mumbled.

“If you ask me, the day women shortened their skirts and started wearing pants was when things got messed up. Back in my day—”

“When they’d just learned to make fire.”

“—a lady did not chase after a man.”

“That’s not what I heard. I heard you tackled Uncle and told him you’d tell everyone he got beaten by a girl unless he took you to the debutante ball.”

Aunt Zahra glared. “I see your mother has been yapping again. She obviously remembers things differently. And it has no bearing on the here and now. When our king truly rules the world, you will curtsy and wear a dress.”

“I guess if it’s ankle-length, no one can bitch about my hairy legs.”

“There will be no hairy legs. You will shave.”

“You don’t have to shave in Europe,” Deka muttered. “Wish I lived there.”

“If you think it’s so wonderful, then perhaps you should plan a trip abroad.”

“I don’t want to go. I’ve got stuff to do here.” Deka crossed her arms and sulked.

“Things like hunting down a man who doesn’t want to be found and vexing me?” Auntie arched a perfectly manicured brow. “I say enough of that. You are going to Europe. It will do you some good to immerse yourself in a new culture and visit some of the other Silver Sept branches. The Belleargents in Paris come to mind.”

“Do I have to go to Paris?” Deka wrinkled her nose.

“Yes. That is an order.”

“If you say so, boss.” Deka bounced up from her chair and headed for the door.

“That’s it? You aren’t going to argue a little longer?” Auntie sounded puzzled.

“First, you’re giving me heck for not listening to you, and now that I am obeying promptly, you’re still getting annoyed.” Deka rolled her eyes. “I can’t ever do anything right. Maybe I should stay home.”

“Pack your bags! I am booking you on the first flight to France. Don’t you dare miss it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said quite somberly, at odds with the smile on her lips. Good thing she had her back to Aunt Zahra. She’d wonder why Deka was so excited about going to Europe, which coincidentally was where a certain crate, with a manifest bearing Anastasia’s name—dated after her death—had been shipped.

A box that she was pretty certain had a man inside.

My man.

And she was going to find him. Even better, she had permission. Of a sort.

Auntie says I have to go to Europe. Wouldn’t hurt to look up an old friend while visiting.

Bouncing out of the office and heading to her room to pack—more like zip up her duffel bag since she’d prepared it ahead of time; Auntie was so predictable—she ran into her cousin Babette.

“Why do you have the grin that says you ate Farmer Brown’s prized cow again?”

“Ew, what do you mean again?” Deka’s nose wrinkled. “I digested and pooped that thing out ages ago. Nothing left to eat.” And dragons were much too refined to eat rotting corpses, and that included zombies.

“Something’s got you excited. Spill.”

“Auntie is sending me to Europe.”

“Europe?” Babette’s voice rose. “Lucky heifer. How come I never get sent to cool places? Instead, it’s ‘Babette, ask Cameron to pick up my prescription.’ ‘Babette, make sure the staff detail my Bentley.’”

“Babette, stop talking about yourself in the third person.”

Her cousin and best friend wrinkled her nose. “Nope, because I am so great,” she sang.

“What’d you do?”

“I made Mother guzzle a bottle of wine last night.” Babette grinned with pride.

“That’s not a great accomplishment.”

“It was a two-liter bottle, and she wouldn’t share. She did, however, agree to let me dye her hair. I might have miscalculated the colors.”

“So you’re the reason she looks like a rainbow barfed on her head.”

“Just helping her change up her style, but did I get any thanks?”

“No!” they shouted in unison then giggled.

“So why is Auntie sending you to Europe?” Babette asked as she followed Deka through the vast mansion they called home.

White and gray marble, painted walls, and gilded molding gave the halls they passed through a rich elegance.

The red crayon on a lower panel with the scribbled words, “Polly is a poopy head,” reminded Deka of when she and Babette had been young and raising hell.

Not that they weren’t still raising hell. They just did it more maturely now by writing messages in the sky or having it plastered on the Jumbotron at ball games.

“Aunt Zahra thinks I should immerse myself in the culture that is France since I’m already half-French, what with my unshaven pits and legs.”

“Did you explain it’s because you ran out of razors and keep forgetting to ask Cameron to put them on the list?”

“Details,” Deka replied with a lofty wave of her hand.

“I’m surprised you agreed to go. What happened to finding your mate? You know, the one who doesn’t even realize you’re alive?”

A scowl pulled Deka’s expression. “He was kind of busy at the time. I’m sure, had we enjoyed some proper time together”—naked and in her bed—“he’d have realized we were meant to be.”

“More like realized you needed to be committed. The man is bad news.”

“I know.” It was one of his more appealing qualities.

“So does this trip mean you’ve given up.”

“Of course, not.”

“So you’re going to try and get out of it.” Babette nodded her head.

“Nope. I am going to be on that plane for Paris.”

“Hold on a second.” Babette’s brow creased. “You shouldn’t be agreeable about this. Why aren’t you fighting?” A light bulb went off. “Holy shit, you’re still looking for him. In Europe!”

“Shush!” Deka hissed, her finger over her lips. “Don’t let Auntie hear you. She’ll forbid me from going.”

“And? Since when does that stop you?”

“It doesn’t.” Deka shrugged. Forbidding a dragoness was like putting a pie out to cool and telling hungry faces and grabby hands not to touch it. It was gone in under five minutes. “Going with permission, though, means all expenses paid.”

Babette’s gaze narrowed. “Take me with you.”

“Sorry, cuz. You know what they say. Two’s a couple. Three’s—”

“A ménage.”

A snicker escaped Deka. And this was why she loved Babette. Like a sister, not a sister wife. “Sorry, but I am not sharing this dick.”

“Ugh.” Babette gagged. “You know how I feel about sausage. It’s only good for breakfast and if served with bacon. But pie on the other hand…” Babette’s lips rounded in pleasure. “I love me some fresh pie.”

“Lots of flavors where I’m going,” Deka mused aloud. Having an extra set of eyes along might not hurt. After all, anything badass enough to kidnap a Golden dragon might be a soupçon difficult to deal with. Look at me, using French words already.

“How do we convince Auntie to send me with you? You know she says we’re troublemakers when we work together.”

“Because we are.” Way to state the obvious.

“I know. I don’t know why they think that’s a bad thing.” Babette smirked. “Remember the last time we went away together?”

“Don’t even think of it,” Deka hastened to say. “She’ll ban us both from going if you remind her of that incident.” The one that left her unable to enter Canada.

And, Deka might add, it took a lot to get banned by Canada. The terms of her banishment precluded her from speaking about it. Needless to say, she couldn’t look at poutine without giggling.

“Good times,” Babette said with a sigh.

“Yes, they were.” Deka turned thoughtful for a moment—it almost hurt. “Why not tell her you’re thinking of taking French as a second language.”

“Yeah, that won’t fly. I used that excuse when I told her to stock the pond with frogs.”

“I remember that. They were delicious.” Especially when battered and deep-fried.

“Maybe I should pretend to be a caring cousin and tell Auntie you shouldn’t be sent alone.”

At that, they both giggled.

In the end, Babette simply told Aunt Zahra that she thought the local police chief was in love with her, and as soon as she got rid of the husband, they planned to run away together and start a hippy commune in the desert dedicated to the spiritual pursuit of peyote smoking.

In short order, Babette was commanded to join Deka on a European vacation, first class—which meant they got to drive the suits sitting with them nuts—and were assigned a luxurious suite at the Four Seasons Hotel George V.

Only the best for Silvergrace daughters.

But Deka didn’t plan to use the hotel room for long because, if her plan worked, she’d soon be with Samael.

“Don’t worry, stud muffin. I’m coming for you.” And it was Babette who added the ominous laugh to her statement.