As his private elevator slid smoothly down to the lower levels, Tyran met his own gaze in the mirrored walls. The anger that was boiling below the surface manifested in his face as a tightened jaw and hard eyes. Well, he was fucking pissed. And why shouldn’t he be? Someone had tried to steal from him. And not just anyone: a pair of humans.

He shook his head, a grim smile playing on his lips. He would enjoy dealing with this personally. No one steals from a dragon, least of all from him: the King of the Sands. The last human Tyran had caught trying to rip off his casino was currently rotting in prison, but not before he’d suffered a mysterious fall. Repeatedly. Down several flights of stairs.

Accidents happen.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Tyran was startled to see his mother standing in the hallway, looking immaculate in a white sheath dress and tan stilettos. She greeted him with a soft smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hello, Tyran.”

“Mother. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out getting your hair done?”

She gazed up at him, unruffled by his jab. “I heard there was a security breach and I thought I would offer my assistance.”

“Offer declined, but thank you all the same.” The last thing he needed was her hanging around second-guessing him. He stepped around her and headed down the hall to the security offices. Behind him, the click of high heels sounded on the marble floor. She was following him.

Dammit, he didn’t have time for this. He ignored her and pushed open the door. “Good evening, Magda.”

“Sire.” His Chief of Security was a striking redhead, one of the lesser dragon Clan members in his service. Amazon-tall and with a cold beauty, she never failed him. “The male and female human are in holding cells B and C.” Magda gestured to the panel of screens. “We’ve IDed them as Rachel Pixton and Bailey Kerridge. Both human, half-siblings.” She glanced down at her laptop, which was full of notes. “Parents deceased, no other family. Last known residence was San Diego, California. Finding data on them took some doing,” she added. “Apparently these two have lived off the grid for quite some time.”

Drifters. Well, that worked in his favor. Nobody would come looking for them. Tyran stepped up to get his first look at the pair who had dared to try their luck.

The female human was in her late thirties. She had a dark, shoulder-length tangle of curls and the shrewd searching gaze of someone accustomed to finding the weak spot and turning it to her advantage. Even in the cell, she was constantly in motion: pacing, examining the walls, staring at the cameras. Hard and smart, this one. Likely a career criminal. You’d think she would have known better than to go up against the biggest casino on the Strip.

“Any prior charges?” he asked, rubbing his chin.

Magda nodded and tapped a few keys. “Under various aliases: fraud, larceny, impersonation of a police officer, resisting arrest. Tsk. Someone’s been a naughty girl. No records on the male, though.”

At the mention of the other prisoner, Tyran glanced over to the next screen. His inner dragon immediately stirred and snapped to attention, though Tyran carefully kept his facial expression neutral.

He hadn’t expected the male to be so beautiful. Far prettier than his sister, in fact: short dark hair that contrasted with his fair skin, full lips, long lashes. Bailey. Hmm.

The human’s eyes held an unusual openness, nothing like the guarded gaze of the female. Not a lifelong criminal like her, Tyran decided. Just the accomplice. She’s the brains, he’s the distraction. Or the bait. The male huddled in the corner like a lost puppy, his arms wrapped protectively around his legs. Even through the security monitor, Tyran could see him shaking. Weak. An easy target. Perhaps he could use the brother to get some more dirt on the sister.

His vulnerability stirred Tyran’s inner dragon further. Tasty little morsel, that one. Too bad he was a human. Although his dragon had never reacted to a human before. Why now?

“You’re going to execute them both, of course.” His mother’s soft voice cut through his thoughts, making him glance over his shoulder. She gazed steadily at the monitors, her head tipped to one side, as if considering the best way to do it.

Tyran sighed, annoyed at the interruption. “While it is tempting, this isn’t the good old days, Mother. The human police these days tend to frown on outright murder. I will make sure that they learn their lesson before I turn them over to their own kind.”

“Times aren’t what they used to be,” his mother replied. “And neither are Kings, it seems.”

A flash of anger made him scowl. “This decision does not concern you, Mother,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “When I require your counsel, I will ask for it.”

Behind her, Tyran could see Magda focused on watching the monitors, her elegant face carefully blank of any emotions. She had perfected the art of ignoring uncomfortable situations. One had to, to serve the Sunfire family.

“Speaking of counsel,” his mother continued, as if he hadn’t just silenced her, “that reminds me. The Council of Claws has called for an investigation into our Clan.”

All thoughts of prisoners were temporarily forgotten. Tyran stared at her. “What? Why?”

“There hasn’t been a child, much less an Heir, born to the Sunfire Clan in almost fifty years, while the lesser Clans breed like rabbits. There are whispers that the males of the Sunfire line are infertile and thus unfit to rule.”

Tyran slammed his fist on the desk, making both Magda and his mother jump. “That is absurd. Maxon and Corinth cannot mate until I choose to, and I simply haven’t chosen to. That does not mean we are incapable of doing so.”

His mother lifted her delicate shoulders, the perfect picture of helplessness. “I am only passing on what I have heard, Tyran. As I understand it, the Councillor could arrive any day.”

“And you just now thought to inform me?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

She smiled sweetly up at him. “Why Tyran, I had intended to tell you earlier, but our phone call got suddenly cut off.” She put a hand on his arm. “Why don’t you let me tend to these prisoners? You can focus your efforts on finding a mate.”

He smiled. “Nice try. But no. I’ll deal with them now.”

His mother shrugged and sank down into Magda’s chair, crossing her legs primly at the ankles. “Very well. I look forward to seeing your work.”

As Tyran strode from the security office and toward the prison cells, he had one thought: how to get back at his mother. That scheming dragoness wouldn’t rest until Tyran was tied down, shackled and mated to some dull female who he would be expected to dutifully plow until she popped out as many babies as possible. Tyran shuddered at the thought.

Well, he would deal with her later. For now, he had some humans to terrify.