The damn fae were clever. Instead of fighting him brute strength to brute strength, they simply eliminated his best weapon. He’d let loose a thin stream of scorching smoke when they converged on him, only to have his guess confirmed; the bubble was designed to reflect any attack he made back at him. He gritted his teeth, absorbing the fire, and the beating. Dragons were no more immune to flame and heat as any other creature; he had to accept the burn on his flesh to put the fire out. What else could he do, spit on it?

The cell they’d tossed him in was four smooth metal walls, a remnant from the pre-War days, and a low ceiling, a square the size of a walk in closet, just big enough for two men to stretch out their arms side-by-side. The single lamp flickered with enough oil to emit a soft glow—so as not to torture him with sensory deprivation unless it was on purpose—and when he tried to touch it, his fingers slid right off. Amnan sighed, irritated. It had to be a spell. The glass would have been useful as a weapon. His bubble kept his magic in but he could still put his hands on a foe, the good old-fashioned way.

He sprawled on the cold cement floor, head propped on his elbow. He was certain he was being watched and wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of witnessing the depth of his agitation. He was beneath ground, muzzled, while Serephone was above and without allies. He wouldn’t be surprised if his father was in town by now, but Maddugh would have no way of knowing where Amnan was, even if he followed their trail to Dawnthorne.

The windowless steel door opened and the Lord walked in. Amnan suppressed a sneer. Why the men insisted on wearing their hair in pretty capes to their butts he didn’t know. Self-respecting dragons cut theirs off when it reached a decent length—long enough to satisfy a woman’s aesthetic, and no more.

“The penalty for trespassing is traditionally death,” Dawnthorne said, voice shorn of the social courtesy of their first meeting. Serephone wasn’t here now, Dawnthorne didn’t have to pretend to be anything but what he was. A dangerous snake. But then, he really shouldn’t insult snakes.

“I’m still alive,” Amnan replied, rolling onto his back with a sigh. “The entertainment in my accommodations could use improvement.”

The Lord ignored him. “There are extenuating circumstances, and you are kin to my kin of a fashion, no matter how distasteful it is. So, I must extend you some form of courtesy.”

The thing about the fae was that they loved to hear themselves talk, and crafted elaborate sentences, extended in length, with multiple clauses, when a few words would usually work just as well. And they’d rather die than admit to being discourteous.

“Serephone is mine; she is of my Line, and the laws of my people dictate I may not let her go.”

Dawnthorne smiled thinly as Amnan sat up, abandoning the bored pose. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It is not. It is fact. She seems to have some attachment to you, and I would not deprive a potential asset of allies that may, in the future, prove to benefit my interests.”

Stone and Skies, all the talking would give him a headache. His lip curled over a fang, a defense against the constant words. He appreciated, suddenly and deeply, Serephone’s terseness. Amnan was by nature a quiet, reflective person. If she’d shown a tendency toward incessant chatter, he’d never would have found himself attracted to her.

Never.

“Therefore, you will bind yourself to my Line, in the same method she will so do, and my interests will become your interests. And you will be allowed to live, and even to enjoy your life off these grounds—at some point in the future, when you have proven you are loyal.”

“Get stuffed.”

“As foolish as the girl.” Dawnthorne stepped forward, hand rising. “I’ve a mind to punish you both for your intractability, but one must be patient with children. Especially the beast-natured children. It takes you many more years to learn a modicum of civility.”

The two-legged bastard. He would show him civility. “I am no threat to you and yours. I have no interest in you and yours.” Amnan watched the raised hand, unblinking. “I want to collect my woman, and go.”

Dawnthorne’s brow rose. “Your woman? Interesting. She has not claimed you, as you claim her.”

He wasn’t going to respond to that—it was none of Dawnthorne’s damn business. Tension embraced him. The fae was up to something, a glyph coming to light on his palm. Amnan glanced at the sorcerer, a stupid mistake, his gaze caught. Dawnthorne’s eyes glowed, light filling the whites.

“Swear your fealty.”

A pressure on his mind, skirting around the edges like a blanket attempting to settle. Or a vise. But Serephone was there, and their bond, such as it was. He used it as a shield, one fae against another, and the compulsion in Dawnthorne’s eyes faded.

“I see,” he said, lowering his hand. “My kinswoman is even more interesting than I supposed. I am pleased I did not kill you both.”

Dawnthorne turned and left.

Amnan’s lips pulled back over teeth. He leaped, hands shifting to claws, and swiped at the fae’s back. Dawnthorne whirled away at the last second, grace and speed indicating a lack of surprise. He spoke, a single sharp word, and the hidden door in Amnan’s cell opened.

The instant mechanical whir accompanied by a pungent scent of iron and earth accompanied the automaton as it stepped into the room.

Amnan swore. “You’re an ugly beast.”

The metal wrapped troll roared, raising hands made of metal claws, and moved forward, each step a heavy, clacking nightmare.

“Never let it be said I have no care for my guests’ amusement,” Dawnthorne said, and stepped out of the cell. “If you survive for ten minutes, he will return to his cage.”

Amnan hated the fae and their games. Ten minutes was either long, or short, depending on the enemy. Fighting in close quarters with a half-living, half-mechanical creature a half-length taller, a half-width broader, and with whirling saw blades attached to his body as he swiped at his prey? Ten minutes might be a feat, indeed.

Its round face and blunt snout was half covered by a helmet, but yellowed fangs protruded clearly. The troll swiped at him, arm slow but powerful, the air singing with the force of his attempted blow. Amnan dodged, not bothering to engage.

The troll’s attacks sped up, as if over time the parts began to warm and loosen, a spark of life returning to flat, dead eyes. It roared and tried to rush Amnan into the corner. He dived, its claws missing him by a fraction. The trolls swung around and Amnan delivered a roundhouse kick, his entire weight behind the blow. The troll grunted, stumbling back a single step.

Fuck.

“You’re a sturdy made little fucker, aren’t you? No one will be asking for their gold back with you.” Creatures like this were also illegal, but Amnan didn’t think Dawnthorne gave a hoot about human laws. It also made clear why Dawnthorne would want Serephone so badly. This was the work of a skilled animage.

It roared again, and the scent of rancid oil and rotten food assaulted Amnan’s nose. “Stone and Skies, that stench is enough to make me surrender. No toothbrush?”

It swung both arms, apparently trying to take off his head. He blocked it, having nowhere to go this time, the shock of the troll’s strength reverberating through Amnan’s forearms. He grit his teeth, stifling another curse because that would take too much energy.

And then the whirring blades stopped, and the troll stepped back, the fiery light of hell in its eyes fading to flat black again. It turned and shuffled away, Amnan watching with a raised brow.

“What the hell?”

* * *

“They wouldn’t have arrested you if you hadn’t threatened to burn the building down,” Kailigh said.

“I’d think my wife would show a bit more sympathy to my mistreatment.”

Maddugh crossed his arms, slouching on the bench with a scowl. She stared at him. A centuries old man, in his prime according to dragons, and a father of three grown men—pouting.

It was unbecoming.

“I know they do business with that sneaky bastard,” her husband muttered.

“Your son? Amnan?”

“I know his name.” Maddugh’s eyes narrowed, lip curling in a sneer. “Did they really think they could keep me locked up in a prison made of wood? They’re insane.”

“They had a fae on staff,” Kailigh said, unimpressed with Lord Maddugh’s behavior. She reached into her reticule, buttery brown leather with delicate amber and copper beads–a little gift from Maddugh–and pulled out a set of papers she’d folded into a neat square. “So, they could have done a well enough job of keeping you locked up.”

“What are those?”

She handed him the papers. “While you were languishing, dear, I was procuring Serephone’s employment permit.”

He sat up, skimming the documents. “How did you get these? That toad swore—”

She sniffed. “I’m much prettier than you.”

Maddugh’s eyes flashed, pupils narrowing to slits. “I’ll murder him if he flirted with you.”

Kailigh rolled her eyes. “Mature. I wonder what Lady Nahasha will say when she learns you almost started a cross species incident in her territory.”

Maddugh knocked on the wall separating the driver’s compartment form the passenger’s. The narrow window slid open.

“Yes, sir?” the driver asked politely.

“Take us to the Black Pearl.”

“You don’t want to go to her apartment?” Kailigh asked.

“She probably has it booby trapped.”

True.

“Fine, but we need to return to our accommodations first. I’m not dressed for a club and neither are you. We’ll be conspicuous.”

He opened his mouth, probably to protest, then smiled, a gleam in his eyes. “You do want to look the part, don’t you?”

She eyed him, wondering what trashy, flesh baring getup he thought he’d be talking her into, and shrugged.

* * *

The getup was a tasteful corseted gown in black with a choker of diamonds and pearls on a velvet band. Tasteful if she ignored the amount of cleavage spilling from the top, or the flash of thigh by the carefully constructed slits. She draped a sheer, beaded scarf over her shoulders.

“Shame,” Maddugh said. “I figured we could earn some extra coin while we were here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his exaggerated leer, before sobering on the thought that what he joked about Serephone might actually be doing.

“You don’t think Sere….”

His eyebrows shot up. “Not. At. All. Besides, it’s probably good for the girl. She’s a bit sheltered, and a little too uptight. A little raunch won’t hurt her.”

The conveyance pulled up outside the club. Kailigh stared at Maddugh. “Are you telling me that you think my daughter needs to work in an establishment that sexually exploits female bodies in order to loosen up a bit?”

He paused, ran his tongue around his teeth, and eyed his wife. “Well, what I meant was—” he paused. “Are you saying sex work isn’t a legitimate, honorable occupation?”

“Don’t you flip the tables on me. Hide your sexism behind—”

“You look so sexy when you’re mad.”

“You just proved my point with that asinine comment.”

Maddugh leaned forward and opened the door, stepping out. He reached in and grabbed Kailigh’s hand. “I’m a pig, my love, it’s just that I have wings. But you married me anyway.”

“I married you because you’re rich.”

He grinned at her acerbic tone. “Such a liar. You just wanted permanent access to this thick, hard—”

She strode past him, cheeks a bit pinker than the moment before. He hadn’t lowered his voice one iota, and this side of him was new. Not that he wasn’t adventurous, and lusty, in bed. But in public he tended to cap his roguishness off at a certain point. All the talk of gentlemen’s clubs was bringing out a new-to-her side of him.

An arm slid around her waist, her husband catching up with her as they reached the entrance. “I’ll make my poor behavior up to you inside,” he crooned in her ear, opening the black-stained door. Inlaid with what looked like black mother-of-pearl, Kailigh was impressed by building security—at home the precious bits never would have been safe from a passing thief. “I hear tell they have dark, semi-private booths. Would you like me to lick your pussy in public, dear?”

Her body clenched, breath catching violently. The rake. They were here to hunt down their errant children, not to make out like…newlyweds.

“Pity,” he said straightening when the hostess approached them.

“Sir, Madam,” the woman said with an elegant smile. Kailigh glanced at her husband, who watched the woman with interest. She couldn’t fault him. Tall, ebony skin and red lips, her chest spilled out of a white gown, waist nipped impossibly small. “You are new to our establishment.”

“We heard of your reputation for fine wine and entertainment,” Kailigh said, cutting off Maddugh before he could speak.

The woman’s brow rose and her smile changed, just a bit, edged with mischief. “We have delights for you both. Our membership fee….”

They spent a handful of minutes haggling over the entrance fee, Kailigh well aware they were being assessed for their wealth and social connections. When they settled on a short term introductory rate, Kailigh nudged Maddugh, who signed a discreetly presented slip, and they were escorted into the main room.

“We have private viewing lounges upstairs,” the hostess said. “Each lounge is attended by your own Pearl.”

“We’ll enjoy the ambience of a booth tonight,” Kailigh said. “I’m in the mood for the company of others.”

“A private booth, my love?” Maddugh asked.

“We’re here to work, Maddugh.”

“No reason not to mix business with pleasure.”

* * *

Persia prowled the castle. Serephone was gone, damn her for a sneaky witch. Mother and Maddugh were off after Amnan, leaving strict orders for Persia and Cin to stay put. As if. What did they expect her to do here all day? Serephone could take care of herself, but she was reckless. Everyone thought her twin was cool, calm, collected…what a crock. Serephone had a temper like a lightning strike and was irrational when threatened. No telling what she was up to in Seattle.

She supposed she should be keeping an eye on Cinvarra, but she wasn’t mother and Sere—Cin could take care of herself, and the girl should be left alone to have some fun, anyway. Babysitting an almost grown woman wasn’t Persia’s idea of productive occupation.

She could get a job. She didn’t need one, and since Mother had one of the townswomen tending the garden at the cottage, there wasn’t even that to do. Not that she’d do it anyway. Digging in dirt was Cin’s idea of a soothing past time.

Damn it. She needed something to do.

“I can hear your footsteps on the other side of the castle, dear sister,” a voice called out. “You sound like an elephant.”

Persia stiffened, turning around. Hrutha liked to taunt her. One of these days she was going to haul off and sock him, and see if he was all talk or if he really would be useful in a bar brawl. “Cut the shit. You’ve never even seen an elephant.”

He strolled across the room, a swagger to his hips she couldn’t decide was natural or a deliberate affectation because he liked fucking with people. She couldn’t imagine Maddugh had raised any idiots for sons, so she erred on the side of affectation. Whatever. If it amused him, she couldn’t blame him.

“And how would you know what I have, and have not, seen? I’ve seen all kinds of things when no one thought I was looking.”

He wasn’t so blatant as to ogle her while she was watching, but the curve of his lips and tangled blond hair spoke of a male, who liked to project a fresh out of bed image. And whether her mother liked it or not, she was familiar enough with how that looked.

Persia stared at him. She didn’t like him. She wasn’t even sure he was intelligent. But…he was pretty. And she was bored. And there were no parents here to bleat about them being siblings, when they really weren’t.

“I don’t really like you,” she said. “But I’m bored. Why don’t you come to my room?”

He halted, eyes fully open now, a clear, hard blue, the pupils narrowed to slits. “What?” he asked, flat.

“You heard me. What, women can’t ask for sex?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You prance around like you’re a dilettante, so I’m taking you up on all the hype. I’m bored, you’re not married—”

“So, let’s just fuck?” he demanded.

“You don’t have to talk. Just look pretty and do your thing.”

He stared at her. “How many men have taken you up on this offer?”

“Who the hell cares?”

“I care. I don’t share my toys.”

“Yes or no? I wouldn’t have thought you’d be all squeamish about an honest offer for an afternoon snack. I don’t have any diseases, if you’re worried about that. And it’s the wrong time for me to get pregnant.” And she knew that shifter males didn’t carry diseases the way human males did. She’d thought long and hard about that over the last few weeks. She’d had a romp or two in the past, but never a steady lover. But a dragon male might be safe, as long as he didn’t get possessive.

“One time?” he asked. “An afternoon fuck and then we walk away?”

She bared her teeth in a smile. “I just need a distraction while I’m waiting on my tea.”

Hrutha smiled. “I don’t think I have any appointments scheduled. Why not? Lead on, dear sister.”

“That’s really gross. Don’t call me that.”

He moaned theatrically as she passed him. “Dear sister, I’m cumming, I’m cumming…oh oh…”

She really hoped he didn’t talk the whole damn time.