“What do you mean the jewels are gone?”

Conrad Sinclair stared at Barty Winston from across the expansive mahogany desk in his office. The wood had been so finely polished that he could see his own ghostly reflection if he leaned close enough to the surface.

“There was a burglary.” Barty shifted uncomfortably in the chair opposite Conrad’s desk. “Someone came in through the kitchen door that connects to the museum from the mews.”

Conrad frowned, his temper roiling like magma beneath his skin.

“But the auction house has security cameras and alarm systems. The jewels were in a safe.” He’d been working with Barty to acquire the information needed to make his own heist possible, but it seemed someone had beaten him to it.

“It was an inside job. The security cameras were put on a loop. The kitchen alarm was disabled with the correct code. Oddly enough, they left a small amount of the gems behind. But…” Barty nudged his thick glasses up his nose with his index finger. “There was, however, one camera that they missed. I believe the thieves forgot about it.”

“Thieves? More than one?” Conrad didn’t like the idea of chasing down two people. The odds they would separate and break up the hoard of jewels were high. That made his job of recovering them much harder.

“Yes.” Barty scowled. “Piper Linwood, the gemologist you wished to acquire, seems to be involved. The lone camera that wasn’t hacked shows her and a man carrying the jewels out to a vehicle parked in the mews and driving away. Her role in the burglary seemed to be voluntary.”

Barty dug through his pockets and his coat until he found what he was looking for, a small thumb drive. He held it out to Conrad over the desk.

Conrad made no move to take it. “What is that?”

“The recording of the security video. I have a friend at Scotland Yard who owed me a favor. I thought you might want to see it.”

Only then did Conrad accept the drive. He inserted it into his computer and pulled up the video file.

It was dark by the mews, but he could see Piper clearly as she exited the kitchen door carrying a box of jewels. A man followed her, his arms also laden with boxes. The man was dark-haired and tall, and he moved with a grace that was unnatural for humans. The man moved like a dragon. Conrad paused the video and zoomed in on the man’s face.

“You have no idea who this man is?” he asked Barty.

“No. Scotland Yard is currently running him through facial recognition, but they won’t have any results for another couple of days.”

Conrad studied the blurry face of the mystery man, and then it hit him—a flash of memory, centuries old. A man he had seen only once, as they’d passed by each other in a darkened cell. The memory was brief, faded around the edges, but Conrad was sure it was the same man. Mikhail Barinov…the Russian dragon he’d convinced Queen Elizabeth I had been there to betray and use her. She’d thrown Barinov into prison only to later change her mind and throw Conrad in as well as punishment against all dragons.

“Thank you, Mr. Winston.” Conrad removed the drive from his computer and handed it back to Barty. “I will handle everything from here on. I no longer require your services.”

Barty gulped. “And my fee?” Each word shook as he spoke, and Conrad couldn’t resist scaring the sniveling little mortal. He stood up and placed his hands on the desk as he leaned over to stare at the man.

“And what, exactly, do you think I owe you? You were unable to fulfill your end of the bargain.”

“But—”

“But nothing. You are fortunate I am letting you leave here with your life.”

“My life?”

Conrad let his dragon start to claw its way to the surface. His dark eyes turned to bright gold, and he lifted one hand from his desk, his fingers suddenly wreathed in flames.

Barty let out a terrified screech and fell flat on his back as his chair tipped over. Conrad watched the pathetic human scramble away on his hands and knees out the door. Well, there was one less vote for him come the general election.

When Conrad was alone, he sat back down at his desk, thinking. Mikhail Barinov had only one set of allies that he knew of in England, the Belishaws, which meant he could use that connection to find him.

The one problem was that the Belishaw family was still considered the current ruling family of the dragons in England. He would be putting himself at great risk if he forced his hand early.

Conrad snorted at the irony. Once again, Mikhail Barinov had inadvertently forced his hand, made him have to move ahead of schedule. But he needed those gems for an alliance of his own, for the final pieces of his plan to fall into place. Then the coming election would be all but guaranteed.

And then the fun would begin.

Conrad smiled and leaned back in his chair. There was a knock at his door, and his smile faded.

“Mr. Sinclair?” His assistant, Brenda, a small mousy woman, appeared in the doorway, smiling hesitantly.

“Yes?” he asked, watching her intently. He did so love to make her squirm.

“The prime minister is in the conference room. I believe she is a tad early for your meeting.” Brenda glanced at her smartphone, no doubt checking their shared calendar.

“Tell the prime minister that I will see her in fifteen minutes,” Conrad announced. He wondered if she was having doubts about stepping down. Well, it wouldn’t take much to remind her it was the right thing to do. For the good of the country.

After Brenda closed the door, he laughed for a good long while. Even in five hundred years, he had not lost his ability to control humans. After the prime minister stepped down and called for a new election, things would move very fast indeed. A fiery campaign, preying on the fears and prejudices of the population, convincing them he would be their salvation. It had worked before, and those politicians didn’t even have a dragon’s charisma.

And then, when the country put their trust in him, he would watch it all burn.

Oh, Elizabeth, I swore to you that I would destroy your precious nation for what you did to me. I just never said when.

* * *

Piper woke slowly, her body stirring with a languid, relaxed feeling of bliss. She’d never known her body could be so limp. Heat radiated from behind her, and warm breath fanned against the back of her neck. A large masculine hand cupped her right breast, offering a slight squeeze as she stirred.

Mikhail.

She was in bed with a man who could shift into a dragon. And he’d made love to her. Her thighs quivered with the memory, as did the soreness deep inside her.

She’d done it. She’d finally had sex, and it had been scary, a bit painful, and then amazing. He’d been slow and gentle, and she’d felt herself come apart beneath him. The memories warmed her all over. She was going to be embarrassed when he woke up, but at least right now, while he was asleep, she could enjoy this. Jodie had been right. This was so worth it.

But as much as she wanted to stay right where she was, nature was calling. She gently pried Mikhail’s hand off her breast and slipped out of bed. He made a soft growl but didn’t open his eyes and rolled onto his back, still asleep.

The dressing gown with the dragons stitched into it lay beside the bed on the floor. She slipped it on and went into the bathroom.

Afterward, she stared hard at herself in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize the woman she saw. This woman had swollen lips, and her hair was in a wild tumble of waves, looking more golden than plain light brown. The red satin gown hugged her full figure in a sensual way that made her look like a lingerie model rather than a timid, curvaceous virgin scientist who knew almost nothing about sex. She couldn’t help but smile. If Jodie could see her now, she’d totally freak out.

Hello, sex kitten; goodbye, prude!

Piper pulled the robe tight around her as a chill slithered though the bathroom window. Struck with a sudden inspiration, she tiptoed back through Mikhail’s bedroom, pausing by the bed long enough to stroke her fingertips along his chest before she left. She had no idea what time it was, but it was still daylight out, and she was going to make them both something to eat.

She was almost to the kitchen when she noticed a door open at the end of the hall. It hadn’t been open before. Curious, she padded down the hall and peeked inside. It was a study, but from the look of it, no one had used it in a very long time. A layer of dust coated the gilt writing desk and the bookshelves against one wall. The fireplace here had amassed an army of dust bunnies, and the sunlight had faded the rich fabrics of the couch and chairs.

Piper approached the bookshelf and noticed that there were more than just books on it. A few small animal skulls, a framed set of pinned butterflies, large exotic seashells, and a collection of nautical compasses were tucked between heavy tomes with titles such as Exploration of India, The Classification of Mammals, and Scientific Discoveries with Plants in Medicine.

This must have been the study that belonged to Mikhail’s friend, the one who was a naturalist.

Ignoring a small flare of guilt, Piper approached the writing desk and sat down in the chair. She played at the desk’s edges until she found a small, oddly placed bit of wood. When she pressed on it, a hidden drawer popped out. Piper had seen desks like these before on Antiques Roadshow.

She opened the door farther and found it contained only one thing: a leather-bound sketchpad. She set it on the desk’s surface, ignoring the wave of dust it kicked up. Motes of dust caught and spun in the light streaming through the windows in a haunting dance. For a moment Piper thought she could see the ghostly form of a man pacing by the windows, but she blinked and the vision was gone, the dust drifting in gold waves as it settled.

The initials JM were pressed deep into the leather cover. She opened it carefully to the first page. A gasp escaped her. It was a sketch of Mikhail. He sat in a chair by the fire, brooding. His dark hair was long and slightly wavy as it was now, but in the sketch he wore breeches and a waistcoat with a white shirt. Written beneath were the words, “Heavy weighs the soul of a dragon who has lost his honor.” Then another line of words below. “December 25, 1820, Mikhail Barinov as I remember him.”

The drawings were full of emotion, as though the artist had been fascinated with his subject. She carefully turned the page. Next was a drawing of a beast, one she remembered only too well. It stalked a herd of sheep over a hill, its wings tucked back against its body as it tried to creep up on them. The artist had written another description. “Mikhail can’t resist Mr. Bailey’s sheep. One of these days the old farmer will realize who is eating them.” Piper could almost hear the laughter in the artist’s voice, as though he were in the room with her. It was an eerie but not unwelcome feeling.

She turned another page. This picture was not of people, but a place. And it was painted with watercolors rather than drawn. It was a valley with trees in a hundred fiery shades. Nestled in the valley were three small structures with onion domes painted with bright colors. The sight was breathtaking.

The artist had only written one word beneath this. “Home.” But it wasn’t the artist’s home. Perhaps it was Mikhail’s?

Piper turned one more page, and her heart clenched. Three men stood facing each other, smiles lighting their eyes. The familial resemblance was unmistakable. A name was written beneath each. “Grigori, Mikhail, Rurik. Brothers reunited after three centuries.”

A voice from the doorway behind her made her jump. “He was a very good artist.” She turned to see Mikhail watching her.

“I’m sorry! The door was open, and I…” Great, she got caught. She could only hope he wasn’t upset.

He only smiled. He wore only jeans as he leaned against the doorjamb. “Where did you find that? After James died, I searched for it everywhere.” He approached her, and she handed him the portfolio.

“It was in a hidden drawer.” She showed him the compartment. “I opened it by pressing this button. I recognized this style of desk and thought it might have a hidden compartment.” She showed him how she’d triggered the release.

“Clever man, James.” Mikhail moved to a couch and had her sit beside him. She shifted so she leaned back against him.

“Who was he?” she asked.

He curled an arm around her waist to set the portfolio between them. “An old friend. I was an outcast for a long time here in England, but he reminded me how good people could be. He took me into his home and offered me his friendship when I needed it most. He was my family in many ways, a brother of my heart but not by blood. Staying here with him was something I never regretted. And when he died, my dragon and I mourned him for decades.”

She turned back to the picture of the three men to show him. “He met your brothers?”

“Yes. There was a point in the midst of my exile when Grigori sent word to me that our parents were touring the world and would be gone for a year. Grigori begged me to return home. I knew I shouldn’t disobey my father’s orders, but I missed my home. And my family.” His voice was rough, and his hold on her tightened. Piper leaned into him, wanting to offer as much comfort as she could.

“So they let you come home? Your brothers, I mean?”

“They did. They never agreed with my exile, but I couldn’t disobey my father. Yet I did. I brought James with me as well. By then he knew what I was and was fascinated by us. My brothers and I swore him to secrecy, which he readily agreed to. He never breathed a word of what we were. Back then we would’ve been killed. Now…” He didn’t finish. But Piper had a sick feeling in her stomach.

“Now they’d probably turn you into a lab rat and do experiments on you.”

He nodded. “And it would reveal the other supernatural creatures that are living among them as well.”

Piper stared at him. “Wait—what other creatures?”

Mikhail’s lips hovered in a near smile. “Surely you didn’t think we were the only unusual creatures out there?”

“Well, I mean, I thought you were…” Piper really hadn’t thought about the possibility of other creatures. She was still stuck on the fact that dragons were real. But she supposed if one mythical species was real, then why not others?

“So…” She snuggled closer to him, loving that she could and he didn’t push her away. “What creatures are we talking about here?” She tried to play it off casually, like she wasn’t freaking out on the inside.

“Oh, let’s see. Vampires and werewolves, phoenixes and other kinds of shifters, and then there are ghosts…” He ticked them off one by one on his hand.

Piper stared at him. “Vampires and werewolves?” Holy shit.

“Yes, but I assure you the stories you’ve heard of both have been greatly exaggerated, except perhaps the fact that they don’t get along too well. I’m actually friends with a few members of the London Blood Society. They can be a bit too brooding and melancholy for my tastes, but I like vampires well enough.”

She ran over the rest of the species in her head. “What’s the difference between werewolves and shifters? I mean, are there wolf shifters or just werewolves?” She couldn’t believe she was having this discussion with him, but for the moment she was just trying to learn as much as she could.

Mikhail twined his fingers in her hair and bent his head to nuzzle her cheek.

“So many questions,” he purred against her ear. “I don’t think I’ve distracted you enough.”

She lay lengthwise on the couch with him, her body on top of his, her back to his chest. He took full advantage of the position and set the portfolio on the ground. Then he parted the satin dressing gown and cupped one of her breasts. Her nipple pebbled in the cold, and he played with it until wet heat pooled between her thighs.

“You’re the most wicked man I’ve ever met,” she moaned. He growled, and his erection hardened beneath her as she wriggled her hips.

“Teasing wenches get bitten and then bedded roughly,” he warned in a dangerous voice, but it only heightened the building erotic charge in the air around them.

“Wench?” She took his hand from her breast and slid it down between her thighs. She moaned as one of his fingers played with her, dipping into the wet heat. Mikhail knew just how to torture her to the brink of exploding.

“Yes, wench.” He chuckled and bit her earlobe. A zing of pleasure shot straight to her clit. “You forget how old I am. I was born in an age where a man took a woman when he wanted her.”

That shouldn’t have turned her on, dammit, but it did. His words, so delicious and forbidden, took her fantasies of dominant men to a whole new level. She wanted to pretend she was a medieval wench. Unable to resist, she leaped up from the couch, laughing as she spun to see a shocked expression on his face.

“This wench needs to be caught, m’lord.” She blew a kiss at him and ran from the room. Even though she was playing a game, her body responded wildly to the chase. Her heart pounded against her ears, and she could already imagine how it would feel to be captured by him, to be drawn back into that dark, erotic world he created when it was just the two of them, bodies pressed against each other. He knew what she needed, that edge of domination, that hint of fear without actually being afraid. It heightened everything, made it all too intense, too overpowering, and utterly, devastatingly perfect.

Her dressing gown flowed behind her as she rushed for the stairs. The sound of footsteps behind her warned that Mikhail was coming fast on her heels. She reached his room a few seconds ahead of him, but she couldn’t get the door shut because he shoved an arm through, catching the frame. She abandoned that plan and darted around the massive bed, keeping it between them. He stood on the other side, watching her with golden eyes. All trace of the bewitching green was gone. The honey-fired depths seemed to hypnotize her.

“Nowhere to run, little dove.”