Calla stood at the door to her room, her prison, and touched the wood again. The spells woven into the frame rebuffed her. They were almost gentle in their insistence. It infuriated her. She'd been stuck here for a week. The Delphina had been without her for a week. There were plenty of dragons in the court to support her, but Calla had been at her side for decades, she was relied on. How long would it be before her sovereign questioned that Calla had been there at all? Her madness was unpredictable, sometimes volatile, but Calla had always been a rock in that storm.

She fisted her hand and turned away from the door. Mateo sat at a small table, dwarfing the game of chess they were playing. They'd settled into a half uneasy stalemate. He refused to discuss releasing her—but he continued to seek her company. Proved he was as inexplicably drawn to her as she to him.

Mateo concentrated on his next move, oblivious to her turmoil. He took her pawn with his bishop and sat back with a little nod. Her queen was under threat. Calla growled and knocked the bishop over with one of her knights. The piece would be taken by the rook in the next move, but her queen could then dominate the board without fear, as queens should. The sacrifice of a knight in one battle was worth winning the war.

Mateo studied the board then looked up, expression neutral. She made a dismissive noise and paced the room. Her dragon rolled under her skin, too confined in this bedroom and too riled to be patient. Patience wasn't a dragon's forte. She'd been trapped in a small corner of the building for a week and she was losing her composure. That Mateo visited her daily, fed her hearty meals, made intelligent and witty conversation didn't dull the edge of her capture. She was a knight and the rook was coming to take her.

She spun at the edge of the room to pace back and stopped abruptly. Mateo was there in her space, all shoulders and biceps, a look of genuine concern on his face that just drove Calla mad.

"You distress yourself needlessly," he said.

"If you care so much, take these bracers off me!"

It was a useless demand, and not the first time she'd asked. He'd made his stance clear. He served others, not just himself. Calla could admire that, even when it ensured her imprisonment.

"I can double what this client is paying. Triple it." She placed her palm gently on his chest and softened her voice. Wasn't that how the game was played? "What do you want, Mateo?"

His eyes hardened and he began to turn away. Calla grabbed his arm, dragged him back around. "Don't turn away from me," she snapped, then stopped, inhaled.

Calm. Anger wouldn't sway him—her bursts of temper had always shut him down, caused him to revert to a chilly courtesy she couldn't pierce until he was good and ready again. Damn the man.

He lifted a finger to her cheek, trailed it along the line of her jaw. "You keep trying to tempt me to betray my sire. It won't work, Calla."

"And why not? What does he give you? I know vampyrs—a cognate is nothing but one fight for dominance after another until you die."

His brow rose, eyes lidded. "And you offer me something different?" The light scorn in his voice stung. "Sex will make it all better, Calla?"

Sex? What was she offering? He wouldn't be seduced into letting her go for a quick lay or blow job. So, what could she give him to make him turn away from his cognate? Because that was what had to happen. In order to gain him as an ally, she had to give him something they couldn't. Mere pussy wasn't it.

"I can give you a cause to fight for. A real cause. People who will respect your talents and not ask you to trade your soul for money or family loyalty."

"I'm not a traitor."

"Then be a traitor for once," she growled. "Be a traitor for the right reason. You don't get points for being loyal to evil."

His hand lashed out, grabbing her wrist. "Estophen isn't evil. My siblings—" he paused. "They are no more evil than anyone else."

"Why do you think you were paid to kidnap me? Am I a monster? Do I take others' territory, harm children, wage war unnecessarily? Insist that the flightless races should be servants of dragons?"

"You tell me, First General."

"Do you know why my people are at war, Mateo?"

He jerked a shoulder, arrogant, moody. "It's not my concern."

She snorted. "You're a mercenary, don't bullshit me. The Delphina…" Calla paused, reflecting. "She understands our nature. We're more or less confined to the islands for a reason. You can't let dragons loose on the world willy nilly—our natures are volatile. We're creatures of flame, of flight."

Her eyes closed and she inhaled, struggling. The dragon wanted out. Her exile from flame and sky wore her down, driving her mad. If she didn't convince him soon, she didn't think her mind could take the confinement. She'd been trained to deal with all kinds of torture… but the reality was far worse than any of her training.

Calla opened her eyes and focused, grim. "I've seen men and women—career soldiers, socialites, criminals—who've come to a crux in their lives and made the wrong choice. A choice that ultimately not only destroyed them, but damaged those around them. You think you're being loyal? If you aren't meant to be here, then eventually your presence will unravel what you want to protect."

She watched him in silence for several minutes, giving her words time. Push too hard and he would rebel. Had it occurred to him yet that there was an additional danger if he let her go? She could now deduce, from his public persona, the public identities of his cognate. They'd been a minor thorn in the sides of many of the court's allies across the world. Contract killers and spies were tolerated because their services were necessary, but at a certain point overusing any tool made the necessity of putting the tool away—permanently—a reality. And after this, the Dragon Court would turn its full attention to eliminating these vampyrs so they couldn't be used to harm the court again.

"You must think I'm very young," he said.

She rolled her eyes. He was younger than her by a few decades—but she wouldn't belabor the point, men and their delicate egos and all that. "No. I think you're sheltered."

"Excuse me?"

"You're sheltered." Her expression was stony. "It doesn't matter how well traveled, dissolute, dangerous you are. Have you ever existed outside the comfy confines of your sire's arms? I didn't think so."

Mateo's eyes narrowed. "You do think I'm a child. I'm almost tempted to prove otherwise, but that would solve nothing."

"You don't have anything to prove to me. That's the point. This is about you." She stepped forward. "What I sense in you. It's almost… draconic. If I didn't know better, I would think you were a male on the verge of his first mating."

He laughed. "And now this is about puberty!"

Calla sighed, aggravated. "It isn't the same as puberty. Dragon males don't reach sexual maturity until their twenties—it's the first true adult milestone. When they have to make a choice to bind themselves to a woman and her family, or fight through the heat. I've seen those who choose the fight. It's… excruciating." She suppressed a shudder, very glad she was female. The howls of agony—those sounds would haunt her forever. "But when a male is vulnerable like that the first time, he can be taken advantage of. You put almost any female in front of him and his will breaks, then he's mated for life, and she could be a ripe bitch. You wouldn't imagine the kind of political and business coups pulled off just because of… well, never mind."

"Have we gotten off the topic?"

She waved a hand. "Yes. But what I was saying, is you have that same energy around you right now. The energy of change. Take advantage, Mateo. I will help you. Whatever consequences you'll face—the weight of the Dragon Court will be behind you. That is no light offer."

Mateo sighed, and touched her cheek. "Calla, Calla. It all still boils down to one point… you want me to betray my family over a woman."

"At least I'm not just any woman."

The hand on her cheek slid to the back of her neck, gripped, as his eyes hardened. "Political asylum doesn't interest me, Calla."

"We could make use of your skills. Rank, compensation commensurate with—"

"You already said that." His hand tightened, a smile playing on his lips. The wicked, playful rock star smile, but this time tinged with a hint of cruelty. "You're putting together such a wonderful package for me, First General. But I want more than a handshake and an offer of gainful employment."

She had to breathe, because breath was required. The tension between them shifted. He deliberately changed the feeling between them from one of waiting to… one of taking. Calla hovered on the cusp of something she'd been considering for days. It would be a risk—not just to her body, but inexplicably, to her… heart? Not quite. She wasn't in love with Mateo, and she hadn't begun to unravel the skew of complicated feelings and thoughts and reactions he invoked. That this situation invoked. Hadn't begun to analyze why her rage seemed dampened. She should have been fighting him tooth and claw—even if only in human form—but instead, she was trying to convince him to… change? Come home with her? Was she so lonely she'd subconsciously decided to pick up a stray vampyr assassin? It made no sense.

But if she'd learned one thing over the years, it was that sometimes she just had to roll with the reality of things, rather than stand still in time, stalled, confused.

"What do you want, Mateo?" she asked.

"Don't play games with me, woman."

She pulled away from his grip, taking several steps backwards—in the direction of the bed. "What do you want?"

He lunged forward—God, he was fast—and whirled her around, backing her against the nearest wall with a possessive growl that vibrated straight to her core. He dragged his nose up her neck and cradled her cheek in one hand. Her heart galloped in her throat but she wasn't afraid. His voice was gravelly and low. "I want you."

Calla arched against him, a fiery need sweeping through her that she'd never felt before. This was just the edge. She knew if they let go, their meeting would be explosive. And she wanted it. Her dragon roared in her chest, the powyr sweeping around her like wind since the bracers kept it in check.

Calla ran her hand up Mateo's neck and tugged on his hair, pulling his face away from hers. His face was a snarl of need and she wanted to meet it.

"Let me go and I'll be yours," she said.

She wanted him to choose freedom. She was a warrior and only another could match her in every aspect. If he wasn't her enemy, Mateo could be that match.

He snarled and yanked himself away from her, putting as much distance between them as the small room would allow. Calla dropped her hand to the wall and willed her body to calm.

"Could you do it?" She met his eyes, voice steady. "When your client gives the order to kill me, will you be the one to take my life? We both know that's where this is heading if you don't change your fate." She held out her hand, cupped. "My fate is in your hands as well. How many men can say they have a chance to command the destiny of the First General of the Dragon Court? How do you want history to remember you, Mateo?" Her voice lowered. "Do you want my last memory to be of my death at your hands?"

He turned on his heels and strode out, slamming the door behind him.

Calla slumped, relieved and disappointed all at once. She didn't think she'd misread him, but perhaps his loyalty had been bought with a currency she couldn't match. She would have to continue biding her time.

She returned to the small table and the black rook and took her white knight. The white queen took the black rook. In two more moves, she gently pushed the black king over with one finger. Checkmate.