What a bummer. Not only had Samael yet to mark her, but their emergence into the real world proved free of fanfare.

Deka planted her hands on her hips and glared at the empty field. “Where is my welcoming committee?”

“Don’t you mean, where’s mine? The prodigal Golden prince returns. That merits at least an emissary.” Samael did look rather regal in his ancient garb of tight blue velvet britches, ivory shirt edged with tattered lace, and supple black boots.

She, on the other hand, wore a modified princess gown, the skirt shortened and the cleavage hacked. “Those lowdown heifers. They’re jealous, stud. Jealous I tell you.”

His chin took on an arrogant tilt that she wanted to nibble. “Of course, they are, because you get to be with me. You’re welcome.”

“Excuse me? I chose to be with you,” she said, managing an even more imperial cant of her head. “You should thank me for coming to find you. After all, it was my brilliant plan that brought me to that dungeon to save your sweet ass.”

“I could have saved myself,” he grumbled.

“Sure, you could have.” Smirk. “So which way do we go now, muffin?” She turned to look at him over her shoulder and thus missed the box camouflaged in the high grass, which tripped her.

Lightning-fast reflexes meant he caught her before she landed on her face.

“Aha, I just saved you. You’re welcome. Now we’re even.”

She cast him a glare through the hair in her face. “I wouldn’t call this even.”

“You’re right. I’m probably slightly ahead. You can thank me with head later.”

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t bite you.”

The leer and his husky, “What if I want you to bite me?” almost sent her swooning face first again.

Releasing her slowly—to her utter disappointment because, hello, they could have been fucking in the farm field—he dropped to his haunches to study the weather-tight box.

“What do you think’s inside?” he asked.

“The heifer’s idea of an emergency pack,” she muttered. But where was her family? Last time she’d peeked into the field there was a tripod set up with a camera. Now…nothing but a strip of charred grass east of them, the smell of old smoke tickling her nose, and the more putrid stench of rotting flesh.

A battle had happened here. Who’d won?

She stood rather than open the box and peeked around. There was something eerily quiet about this spot.

The flat field had nowhere to hide. No rocks to mask an ambush. No trees for people to spring from behind. The grass, for the most part, appeared undisturbed and untrampled, and there was nothing to indicate anything belowground.

Yet…she could see the wasteland, a dark scar amidst the lush green. A burnt swath.

Of the camera she’d waved at before, not a sign. Nothing but the box.

“There’s no one around for miles,” he stated.

“How can you tell?”

“Because I can feel it.”

“But say that person was shielding themselves? Like in a lead box? Or a blind?”

“We’re alone.”

“But—”

“How about you don’t question? I know because it’s a weird skill Anastasia had me cultivate.”

“Along with the invisibility thing.”

“Among other things.”

“You’ll have to show me those other things.” And yes, there was innuendo in those words.

She dropped back down to the grass and slapped his hands when he would have undone the hasp on the box.

“Don’t. It could be rigged.” Rarely did a dragon leave treasure out in plain sight without at least something to scare off the unworthy.

She ran her hands over the box lightly, feeling for any vibrations—she still remembered the bee incident in the cookie jar. Damned Aunt Yolanda’s way of catching the cookie thief.

She waited to see if her hands would tingle from electricity—battery-operated traps always had a hint. She leaned closer to smell, although not all drugs could be scented that way.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s a goddamned box.” He tore at the latch and threw open the lid. A smart dragoness—with a pretty face—she threw herself behind him.

“Did you really just use me as a shield?”

“If the width fits…”

“What happened to me being a Golden heir? Shouldn’t you be jumping in front of me?”

“That only applies to women not sleeping with you.”

“Since when do we sleep?”

“Good point.”

Together, they peered into the disappointing box. In a Ziploc bag on top, a note in elegant script.

About time you’re done with your little vacation. The Septs are at war. Mostly with the being calling herself Voadicia. No last name, which is utterly pretentious. Probably a peasant. We have been by the field sporadically to clear out welcoming committees. You’re welcome. I’ll expect you to check in the moment you arrive. There’s a phone at the bottom. Your loving mother, X.

“I just got the warm and fuzzies,” he exclaimed.

She cast him a side-eye.

“Not.” He smirked. “Better call your mommy.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Kind of hard not to considering its size.”

Again, good point. Under the bag, she found two more, one with a cell phone, the other with a set of car keys.

“Nice of them to leave us some wheels,” he remarked.

“They could have left me some lipgloss, too.” All that kissing was leaving her chapped.

As they began to walk toward the road and the shadow parked on the shoulder of it, she couldn’t help but stare at the sky. A cloudless, blue sky.

She distrusted it. It just seemed too easy.

Way too easy.

Samael didn’t peek once. He just walked all la-di-da, not a care in the world.

“Why isn’t Suzie here?” she asked. Surely, the crazy cow had to know Deka would arrive to vanquish her.

“Probably because she’s off enjoying her Armageddon.”

“She should have left something behind, though. It can’t be this easy. I’m kind of insulted.” She peeked over her shoulder to see the grass unmoving, no sign of the portal. Which begged the question, how did it open from this side?

“There’s a special word.”

Having gotten used to him reading her thoughts, she wasn’t too surprised. “What word?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to fuck me into cross-eyed bliss to find out.”

“You’re on.”

Halfway across the field, she could better see the vehicle left behind for them parked on the side of the road. A Range Rover. Nice wheels. Probably bulletproof.

But the real question? Was it flame retardant? Because that nagging suspicion turned into an aha moment as the charred ground burst open, the ashy dirt releasing several full-grown dragons and a few wyvern hybrids.

“Told you it was too easy.”

Ditching his fancy jacket, Samael grinned, his eyes wild with green fire and a red glow. “Still is. See if you can keep up, princess. Or are you going to hide behind me again?” With that, he burst out of his clothes, the fabric shredding from his frame, his body expanding, stretching, and becoming immense, the smooth skin she knew every inch of turning scaly. The golden scales were duller than Remiel’s with hints of another color, one she couldn’t describe.

Of more interest, the budding horns on his forehead. The ones that seemed to grow a little more each time he shifted.

He was an impressive beast. Massive in size. His fangs the longest she’d ever seen. And he was fearless.

The cowering man she’d first come across in the dungeon, a man beaten physically and battered even more mentally, had recovered his mojo. Charging at their enemies with a trumpeting dare—hinting at darkness.

“Show them no mercy, muffin!” she yelled.

Aren’t you going to help? was his query.

“You got this, stud. I have faith in you.” And just in case he needed incentive… “I’m pretty sure that big red dragon is Jeremy. He tried to kiss me once.”

The truth, in this case, didn’t matter, just the result as Samael let out a huge blart of sound. He threw himself into the air, his body somehow twisting to avoid the stream of liquid fire aimed his way.

Most Reds tended to be rather bland with their powers. Fire for the most part. Boring!

But put several of them together, and things could get hot.

Samael didn’t cower in the face of their attack, and seating herself on his jacket, which he had so kindly left behind as a blanket, Deka watched.

“Oooh, nice move.”

Thanks.

Called out encouragement, too. “Rip open his underbelly.” Messy but effective.

Anything else, princess?

“You’re doing fine on your own.”

Gee, thanks. No mistaking the dry retort.

She smiled. Who knew having a real dragon boyfriend would be so fun?

Who says I’m your boyfriend?

You did, remember?

He ducked under a stream of fire and rose up to club the other dragon in the face and then grab hold of the enemy’s wing to tear it.

The ground didn’t shudder despite the massive beast that hit it. Big didn’t always mean heavy.

Boyfriend sounds so juvenile, he finally said, casting her a quick glance.

“I’m sorry, is the correct term fiancé?” He’d yet to ask her, but who needed to say words when it was unspoken?

You assume a lot, princess. What if I’m already promised? He grappled midair with a pair of wyverns who’d darted in to grab at his arms. A dragon rose from below.

It probably wasn’t the time to distract him.

“Promised to whom?” she snorted. “We’ve been exclusive for more than two weeks. You’ve been missing for months.”

Well, there were those other girls.

Her gaze narrowed—and not because the combined attack of the wyverns and remaining dragon managed to drag him to the ground. “What girls?”

But he didn’t reply. He pretended to be fighting for his life, tearing, rending with his claws. Ducking blows. Grunting at others.

He shimmered for a moment and then disappeared from sight.

“You can’t hide forever,” she shouted. “You will tell me.” So she could hunt those women down and make sure they understood he belonged to her.

Kind of busy. Busy dancing among those that dared to stand against them, an invisible shape that slashed and killed until only bodies remained, wyverns and dragons who resumed their human guise upon death. Until there was only a Red left. Samael appeared suddenly, his golden claws tipped in black, gripping it around the throat.

The clarion of his question, Where is your mistress? Replied with a hiss.

He squeezed, and the other dragon thrashed, trying to grab the claws that held him, but Samael had longer arms than a normal dragon, stranger wings, too. And his horns…she’d have to tell him at one point about those.

The Crimson traitor died, its mouth opening on one last exhalation. One last jet stream of fire, which, of course, ignited the fucking Range Rover.

“Seriously?” Deka exclaimed, jumping to her feet. She’d been looking forward to air-conditioned comfort and seeing who’d hit the top one hundred while she was gone.

Moments later, silence reigned until a big-assed Golden dragon landed in front of her.

She jabbed him in the plated armor of his chest. “So, about those women…”

He shifted back, compacting all that lovely airy strength into one tight and sexy body.

“What about them? You weren’t the first chick in that cage. Suzie brought in plenty. Not all of them dragons either. The suzerain enjoyed fresh meat. Apparently, she’d seduce them earthside then bring them through the portal. They never lasted long.”

“Did you fuck them?” Deka might have kind of grabbed him around the throat and squeezed. Might as well try to get water from a rock. He kept talking, despite the fact that she dangled from his neck.

“I’m not a whore. I do have some standards. Sniveling females tend to not make the cut.”

“I don’t snivel.”

“No, you don’t. You are rather magnificent in action.”

“Thank you.”

“But I’m better when it comes to action,” he boasted.

“Are not.”

“I’d argue, but it’s pointless when you obviously know the truth. Why else would you resort to the meek flinging of words?”

“I’ll show you meek,” she growled, and she meant to show him how tough she really was, but then he swung her into his arms, princess style.

Yeah, she kind of melted at that.

“Nothing wrong with being delicate. You now have a big man to protect you.”

She mentally hoarded it because it pleased her greatly. However, she had to reply. “What a ridiculously sexist thing to say.”

“I know.”

“I guess we’re going to have to walk since someone”—she didn’t attempt to hide the accusing glare—“didn’t protect our ride.”

“Maybe if someone had gotten off her lazy princess butt instead of cowering…”

“I was not cowering. I was applauding your valiant skills.”

“Still looked like cowering.”

“Says the man who let me chase after Suzie alone.”

“Men know better than to get involved in a girl fight.”

“What if she’d turned into a boy?”

His eyes lit with triumph. “Are you saying boys are better than girls?”

“Oh, that was twisty, muffin. Well done. But you still haven’t answered the question of how we’re going to get to the closest Silver Sept safe house.”

“We’ll fly.”

“In broad daylight?” she screeched.

“The world knows we exist now.”

“That doesn’t mean you should put yourself out in the open for everyone to see. And I might note the whole purpose of a safe house is to ensure you can hide without anyone knowing. Hardly hiding if we both fly to it and land with the whole world watching.”

“First off, you’re not flying. I’ll be carrying you. It’s the only way to make you invisible.”

“Invisible?” Her eyes widened. “Oooh.” She clapped her hands. “Can we take a picture?” She pulled out the phone she’d used to Snapchat the fight.

“You do realize invisible means no one will see us?”

Her cheeks might have heated. “Shut up.”

He chuckled, the deep, masculine sound transitioning to a shivery fluting as he shifted to his dragon form. He held her cradled against his impressive chest and used his back legs to spring them into the air, and in a few pushes of his wings, they were airborne. And invisible, which was kind of cool, given she could feel her hands groping her boobs but couldn’t see them.

“This is epic!” she declared.

Glad you like it.

“Do you know what would be cool? We should role-play. I’ll be the innocent woman sleeping in a haunted house, and you’ll be the naughty ghost who seduces me.”

Does your mind ever stop?

“Nope.” And she proceeded to regale him with other things an invisible man could do, from dropping condom-filled balloons on people in wide-open spaces, to sneaking food off people’s plates, and of course, making love in the middle of a crowded room.

After a while, she did notice something. “Where are you going?” Because he wasn’t following her directions to the safe house she’d mentioned. The long stint over the ocean made that very clear.

I know a place.

“If you know it, then chances are it’s compromised because of the time Suzie spent impersonating Anastasia.”

This place is a secret. You’ll like it.

He wanted to show her a secret place? Another panty-wetting moment—if she wore panties. Which she didn’t. Ha.

Of course, his idea of secret and hers differed apparently.

Their arrival proved less than exciting.

He landed after hours of flight, a portion of which she spent napping in his arms, in a field of golden wheat.

“You do realize if I were gluten allergic, you’d have killed me,” she declared as she followed his naked butt through the waving fronds.

“I’ve seen the way you devour pasta.”

“I’m a growing girl. I need my carbs.

He snorted. They left the field for a scraggy front yard, the grass losing the fight against the weeds. A sad-looking tree with half the branches bare and dead didn’t encourage her to try the tire swing hanging out of it.

“Why are we stopping here?” she asked as she stood in front of the clapboard farmhouse, its paint—more gray now than white—peeling, the windows’ wooden sashes split and, she’d wager, drafty.

“This is the place.”

“This is your secret?” She could see why he didn’t tell anyone. It underwhelmed.

“This, princess, is more than a secret.” He turned around to face her, pride on his face. “This is my home.”

She might have pulled something laughing.