What the fuck is happening? Samael listened to Deka—a petite and curvy woman with sex appeal so great he still had a hard-on despite the interruption—threaten to rip out the intestines of the suzerain and wrap her in a bow.

Talk about bat-fucking-shit crazy.

And violent.

And so fucking cute it hurt.

She was unlike anyone he’d ever met, and he couldn’t help but want to toss her over a shoulder to take her somewhere he’d never shared with anyone.

But he would with her.

If they made it out alive.

Perhaps the suzerain was having an off day, or perhaps Samael had finally opened his eyes. Whatever the reason, Suzie didn’t look as powerful as he recalled. The cloak, however, did have some major cool mojo.

Want it.

Take it.

The voice was Deka’s, and her advice agreed with his desires. He took a step forward, only to have Suzie narrow her gaze and snap, “Don’t move.” She gripped a pouch with a drawstring by her side.

I recognize that bag. The same one the Jabbas used. Inside, glittering sand that, when inhaled, turned him into a pathetic prisoner.

You can’t escape. It’s impossible. You know what will happen if you do.

He remembered. Remembered the agony as he sagged in chains.

You don’t want to do this. You know the pain you’ll suffer. Is it worth this small moment of rebellion?

Rebellion would hurt, and hurt for a long time.

Better to behave. Give yourself up. Convince the girl to give herself up, too.

The very idea of handing her over had him cocking his head, and he couldn’t help but mentally blast, Like fuck am I giving Deka to anyone.

His silver-haired princess angled her head and replied as if she heard him. “Of course, you’re not giving me away. You’re gonna keep me exclusively as yours forever and ever. Aren’t you, muffin?” She batted her lashes at him. “And if you don’t kill what’s keeping us apart”—Deka cracked her knuckles, the perfect manicure at the tips of her fingers a nice touch—“then I will.”

Suzie’s red gaze turned to her. “You will come quietly, Silver, or I will have him take you and show you just how unimportant you truly are. My pet knows who his master is.”

The Silver is a troublemaker. You should help get her back to her cell before she causes you more pain.

The Silver?

He would never call Deka, that fiery-hot woman, something so generic and tame.

But Suzie would.

And in that moment of recognition, the suzerain lost her power.

He glared. “Get out of my head.”

“You need to listen to me, or I will hurt you.” She raised a hand.

A very small and pale hand.

It could inflict a lot of agony if it chose.

So could he.

He lunged and tried to grab the suzerain; however, the smoky cloak passed like mist through his hand.

“How dare you.” The magic hit him and threw him across the throne room as if a giant fist of air had grabbed him. He hit the pillar hard enough to hear it crack.

“Don’t you touch my muffin.” Deka flowed forward, and while the suzerain formed balls of light that she flung, Deka dodged and ducked, a primal sound—was it laughter?—coming from her lips.

As he stood, he couldn’t help but watch as Deka’s forward rush forced Suzie to trip backwards.

“Freeze.” The word flowed out of the suzerain and hit Deka, who shivered and slowed for only a half-second.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Deka began to glow. She wasn’t hampered by the side effects of any drugs.

She could change at will, and the suzerain realized it too late. Something blasted from her hand, but that didn’t halt Deka’s transformation, her figure expanding, her scraps of clothes shredding.

He could feel the metamorphous charging the air, the lightening of pressure as her body expanded, the shape of her filling out, becoming buoyant. The inside as if a hollowed drum. The distributed weight was part of how their wings worked with their size.

But in that lightness there was strength. A transformed Deka, her silver scales edged in hints of blue, chased after the suzerain, who dodged behind pillars, lobbing magic.

Whereas he, he gripped the collar around his neck, the fabric coating on it enough to keep him from burning but not enough to prevent the magic from impeding his own ability to become.

I can become in my cell. The collar didn’t stop him then.

When angry. But right now, he wasn’t the one who was pissed. That was Deka. She trumpeted as she chased the suzerain out of the throne room via a small door behind the throne. The move momentarily foiled Deka, whose wider dragon body got caught in the slim arch.

A smart man, he knew mentioning it would only result in his certain death.

He risked it anyhow. “Gonna have to wiggle that ass of yours a little bit more if you want to fit.”

He was pretty sure she gave him a mental finger.

“Need a shove?”

Yeah, that whack on his mind was definitely a tap from her.

He grinned.

“Maybe you should try another door. A wider one.”

He clearly heard her mutter like hell that time.

Watch and learn, muffin.

One moment, she was solidly jammed; and the next, she became liquid silver. The shape of her turning slightly amorphous then flowing like a river of mercury through the doorway.

Fucking cool. He’d never seen the likes of it. It meant, though, that she popped out of sight.

He jogged to catch up, entering the hallway to see Deka sliding around a corner.

He ran and almost made it before the crackling sound started.

Why does that seem so familiar?

Didn’t he recall the smell of cow manure and fresh soil on a night with thunder and lightning?

Hitting the bend, he slowed, only enough to pivot, then keep bolting, seeing massive portals ahead that opened onto the nightmarish landscape.

A way out.

Mauve lightning, with hints of blue, crackled down from the sky. Jagged forces of electricity that hit the ground and bounced. One after another, they struck.

Going out would mean avoiding them. He would have rolled up his sleeves if he had any because he was about to play the ultimate game. A game of dodge the electrocution.

Rushing to the door, Samael didn’t notice the body until it hurled itself into his side.

The momentum took him into the wall, and air whooshed out of him.

For a second, he sucked hard to get it back. He shoved the heavier body off him, revolted by the stink, utterly repelled by this thing. One of the Jabbas, surely a native of this place.

But it didn’t explain the eyes.

Why do I feel like I know those eyes?

“Get off me, lardo. Or I will wring your fat neck.”

He could have, he wasn’t powerless, not anymore, and yet he didn’t. And before anyone called him sentimental—I should spare my jailor because he never technically hurt me but took care of me in his rough and gruff way—yeah, that thought never entered his mind.

He kept Jabba alive because it was practical. He might need someone with answers about this place. Flipping his jailor onto his back, he pinned him, hand pushing against a throat. The clammy skin had a rough quality to it. It squished as he pushed, and Jabba stopped struggling.

“Do it. Kill me.” An odd request.

Instead, he relieved some of the pressure. “Why do you persist in working for her?”

“Because we have no choice.”

“There is always a choice.” He would know. He usually went with the wrong one.

“For a long time, she was the only choice. And now, she is too powerful to gainsay.”

“Unless you side with someone to take her down.”

“Someone like you.” Jabba chuckled, a rusty, rotten sound. “I’m not stupid enough to ally myself with you. With all the essence the suzerain has imbibed, she’ll be too strong to beat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Her power. It keeps growing the more she feeds. It heals her. Makes her strong. Immortal.”

“No one is immortal.”

“Because the cost of drinking another’s soul is too high for most people.”

“She’s a vampire?”

“She is much more than that. She is dragonkind’s worst nightmare.”

“The same could be said of you.” He pressed down, and Jabba’s face turned a shade of purple. The stubby arms flailed, and the body under his began to go limp before he eased up. “How do we get out of here?”

“Through the stone portals in the courtyard. But you’re too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“To save your friend. Why do you think she had me waylay you?”

The truth hit him hard. Jabba was a distraction. The suzerain had split them up on purpose in order to go after Deka.

A trumpeting clarion drew his attention. Deka’s battle call.

“Deka will be fine.” The violence in her matched his. Yet, would it be enough to win? “She’s strong enough to handle it. I managed to survive.”

“If you think the suzerain will be content to sip from her, then you are mistaken. She sipped from you in order to preserve you and keep feeding on you. A feeding to the death is the way to madness. But, in your friend’s case, I don’t think the suzerain will care. She’s already gone mad.”

The very thought of someone killing Deka by taking her soul didn’t bear contemplation. No. He wouldn’t allow it to happen. But he had to know one thing before he ran off to save her and then bask in her thanks.

“What is the suzerain? And what are you for that matter?” he asked.

Why the familiarity?

Of course, when Jabba finally told him, it made so much sense. But Deka didn’t know. He had to tell her.

He punched out the Jabba and leaped to his feet. He ran outside, only to skid to a stop on the stone dais. The lightning crackled faintly in the distance.

There was no carnage to see. No dead bodies, but rather a very alive Deka standing in front of a shrinking portal, waving.

Alone.

Also very naked, which meant his dick began waving.

He dropped his hands as he approached and asked, “What happened to the suzerain?”

“Suzie escaped,” Deka exclaimed as she whirled and planted her hands on her hips. “About time you showed up. You missed all my great moves.”

“Not so great given you let her get away.”

“Let her?” Her chin angled. “I fought hard, and valiantly.”

“Says you. When I showed up, you were waving.”

“You mean gesturing rudely because I’d just finished telling her what I would do when I caught up with her.” Deka blinked her lashes—that’s right, muffin, I told her what was what—and he frowned.

“How did she escape? What is that thing?”

He strode toward the stone circle, held upright on a huge dais of rock, the surface smoothed, and yet the lines in it carved deep, inlaid with a burgundy color. Counting, he noted thirteen hoops spread around. The stone felt warm under his touch.

“I don’t know what it is exactly,” Deka explained, “But it worked like some kind of portal.”

“Out of here?” he asked sharply.

“That’s what it looked like. Alas, it closed. Which means, we’re stuck here. All alone. Just the two of us. Whatever shall we do?”

Finish what we started. Duh.

He couldn’t have said if the thought was his or hers. Did it matter?