Chapter 6
She forced herself to meet the green glow of Nathaniel’s gaze. “If you or Deryk are going to kill me, then you should do it now. It’s cruel to give me false hope by keeping me alive.”
“What the hell is this obsession you have with dying?” Nathaniel snapped.
“Deryk said—”
His mouth tightened. “Deryk is no longer here.”
She blinked. “He isn’t?”
“No. But I advise you not to start plotting ways in which you might persuade me to let you go,” he added harshly. “Because it isn’t going to happen.”
Damn, that was exactly what Chloe had been doing. Something she had believed might be possible now that the dangerous Deryk was no longer in the picture. Nathaniel was scary, and that kiss had been…earth-shattering, if she was honest, but he had also been kinder than his brother.
Nathaniel reached up to peel Chloe’s arms from about his neck, doing the same with her legs before his hands grasped her about the waist and he placed her back on her feet in front of him. She looked very young and very vulnerable.
Because she is very young and vulnerable, he chastised himself impatiently. Chloe was probably only aged in her mid-twenties at most, and he was over fifteen hundred years old. Chloe was a prisoner, and, much as he hated it, he was her jailer. That imbalance needed to be rectified.
He drew in a deep, controlling breath. “You and I need to talk.”
“About why you have no choice but to kill me?”
“I swear to the Goddess!” Nathaniel broke off to run an agitated hand through the darkness of his hair. “I am not going to kill you.” His impatience was barely held in check as he glared at her. “I— There’s a possibility— Deryk believes— You could be my fated mate,” he burst out.
Not surprisingly, Chloe looked confused by the statement. “Your what?”
How was he supposed to even start to explain who and what he was?
What she might be to him…
One thing was certain, his conscience would not allow him to make love to Chloe without her knowing the risks involved. And being with her again, touching her again, was enough for Nathaniel to know it was going to happen, sooner rather than later. It was taking every effort of will to stop himself from taking her right now.
Mine.
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened at that now-familiar wild clamoring inside him. “What do you know about Arthur Pendragon?”
Chloe stared blankly at Nathaniel. Being locked in a dungeon made this situation surreal enough already, without his wandering off into the realm of fairy tale—drug-induced land? “Camelot? Merlin? Lancelot and Queen Guinevere? Knights of the Round Table? That Arthur Pendragon?”
His mouth twisted. “Most of that was the fanciful imaginings of poets and storytellers. There was no Camelot or Merlin. Or Guinevere, for that matter. Arthur never married—and he didn’t sing either,” he added with a disgusted reference to one of the movies he had seen featuring Arthur. “And the table he and his knights sat at while discussing war strategy was rectangular.”
Chloe took a wary step back. She had thought Deryk was scary enough with his obsession of wanting to “fuck or kill her,” or both. But Nathaniel’s behavior now seemed to indicate he was high on one of the drugs he sold, and that made him as unpredictable and dangerous as his brother. But it would also go a long way toward explaining those over-bright green eyes.
“Arthur was my brother.”
Yep, definitely high on his drug of choice.
“Most historians agree Arthur Pendragon didn’t really exist,” Chloe explained as carefully and evenly as she could, not wanting to antagonize him at the same time as her nerves were too tightly strung to humor him either.
Nathaniel snorted. “I assure you he did.”
“And he was your brother?”
“Yes.”
“That would make you how old?”
“Fifteen hundred and twenty-five.”
“Right.”
Green eyes narrowed. “My father was Uther Pendragon, and Arthur was my brother,” he repeated firmly.
“And the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus used to come to tea on Sundays, along with the Tooth Fairy,” she scorned. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to antagonize someone who was high on drugs, but Nathaniel’s fantasy was becoming ridiculous.
Nathaniel frowned. Easter Bunny and Santa Claus? The Tooth Fairy? What the hell?
Chloe obviously didn’t believe a fucking word he was saying!
His nostrils flared. “You would do well to listen and take me seriously, little girl.”
Chloe’s eyes widened as Nathaniel used that deep voice that seemed to reverberate off the walls and inside her head. “And you—and Deryk—would do well to stop calling me little girl.” She inwardly admitted the voice was a neat trick, though. Even if this man and his brother were obviously living in a drug-induced la-la-land most of the time.
Arthur. Uther Pendragon. Knights of the Rectangular Table.
No, that really didn’t work as well as the Round Table. Yay for fairy tales and Hollywood.
Chloe had never thought she would say or think this, but the weirdness of this conversation was making her seriously wish the bloodthirsty and sex-crazed Deryk hadn’t left her alone with his even more demented brother.
She was totally screwed, Chloe realized heavily.
Left alone here at the mercy of a man who believed he was over fifteen hundred years old and the brother of King Arthur of Camelot. Except Nathaniel assured her Camelot hadn’t existed. Or Merlin. Now that just wasn’t acceptable. Merlin had always been her favorite character in the legend of Arthur.
And if Merlin didn’t exist, then Chloe had news for Nathaniel—neither had Arthur Pendragon!
“Are you married?”
She blinked at the next abrupt change of subject. Although why she should be surprised after Nathaniel’s previous remarks, she had no idea. “What?” she delayed.
“Are you married?” he repeated tensely. “Do you have any children?”
If she said yes to one or both those questions, would that make him more eager to kill her or less so?
Damn it, he was right; since Deryk first mentioned it, she had become obsessed with the idea of one of these men killing her.
Hello, I’m being kept a prisoner in a dungeon beneath an ancient castle by two men who are obviously drug smugglers!
Not just any castle, but Pendragon Castle…
Chloe’s brow cleared as she realized the name of the castle could be the reason Nathaniel might have manifested the belief, in his drug-fogged mind, he was Arthur Pendragon’s brother. It was still total nonsense, of course, but as hallucinations went, maybe not quite so off-the-wall as she had originally thought.
She reached out and patted his arm soothingly, doing her best to ignore that now-familiar tingle that made her nipples harden and between her thighs damp. Now was not the time for her to become sexually aroused. Even if Nathaniel was the hottest man she had ever met, and he kissed her like he wanted to draw her very soul from her body. Because he was also a little too fond of sampling the illegal drugs he brought into the country.
“I’m not married, nor do I have children,” she answered him lightly.
His brows cleared. “Thank the Goddess.”
Chloe quirked her brows. “Which goddess would that be?”
“My mother, Arianrhod, is the goddess of air, reincarnation, full moons, Karma and retribution,” he supplied. “But there are others.” He shrugged.
“Your mother was a goddess and your father was Uther Pendragon?” Chloe was having a little trouble keeping up as the fairy tale became wilder with each of Nathaniel’s statements. She hoped he wasn’t going to ask her questions later on, because no way was she going to be able to keep all this inside her head! Why waste the brain power when it was the ramblings of a drug addict?
He gave a rueful smile. “My mother is still alive, and so still a goddess.”
“Arianrhod.”
“Yes.”
“So she’s over fifteen hundred years old too?”
He smiled. “Much, much older.”
“Where is she now?”
“She resides in the Otherworld on the Isle of Annwn.”
“Which is where?”
“It’s an island off the coast of Wales, but it’s only visible to the fae who live there.”
Of course it was. Silly her. “Does your mother being a goddess make you a god?”
Nathaniel shook his head. “It makes me a dragon shifter.”
It had been a while since Chloe had eaten breakfast or had anything to drink, neither of which was helping her cope with Nathaniel’s delusions. Although this fairy tale about mythical people was probably preferable to him seeing spiders crawling up the walls or snakes slithering across the floor. Chloe hated spiders and snakes, and might have had trouble dismissing them as easily as this fairy tale, imaginary or otherwise.
She released Nathaniel’s arm. “Could I have the food and water you brought down with you, do you think?”
“Oh.” His expression became rueful. “Of course.”
Chloe took the opportunity to lean weakly against the wall while Nathaniel went back into the hallway to pick up the tray. She felt as if she was being sucked down a dark tunnel—or maybe it was more apt to call it a rabbit hole—and into Nathaniel’s delusion. One where King Arthur had really existed, and he had a brother called Nathaniel—and consequently another one called Deryk?—who was over fifteen hundred years old and could turn into a dragon.
The tension, as well as the fear she was trying so hard to hide, was making her feel light-headed and a little nauseous.
She ignored the food on the tray but eagerly drank down the whole of the bottle of water. It didn’t make Nathaniel’s fantastical tale any more believable, but at least she was no longer thirsty.
“So.” She placed the empty bottle back on the tray. “You and your brother Deryk were Arthur’s brothers?”
He nodded. “There were ten of us, but now there are only eight of us remaining.”
Eight of them?
There were eight battered suits of armor in the entrance hall, along with eight swords fixed to the wall behind them…
Chloe winced as she realized she was mentally enabling this rubbish. “What happened to the other two?”
His expression turned grim. “They were killed, one in the battle against Mordred, the other by dragon hunters.”
“So Mordred existed too?”
“Yes.”
“Dragon hunters…?”
He shrugged those impressively broad shoulders. “It became fashionable to hunt vampires and dragons during Victoria’s reign.”
“So all ten of you were—are, dragon shifters?”
He straightened. “Mostly we remain as men, but when necessary, we became Arthur’s dragon army. We were born for the sole purpose of protecting him.”
“And did Arianrhod have all of you at the same time or separately?”
“There were ten different goddesses, but we were all born within the same week.”
Chloe gave a shake of her head. “And Uther was father to all of them?”
“Yes.”
“Busy man.”
Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed at her derisive tone. “It was sorcery of a kind.”
Of the magic mushroom kind, as far as Chloe was concerned. “What was he like?”
“Uther?”
“Arthur.”
Nathaniel’s smile was full of pride as well as affection. “As brave and chivalrous as the poets said he was.”
“If he had all of you protecting him, how did he die?”
A frown appeared between Nathaniel’s eyes. “As it was foretold that he would, in the Battle of Camlann.”
“So you were only keeping him alive long enough to die?”
“When it was foretold he would die.” He scowled darkly. “Arthur was too important to Welsh history to die before his time.”
“Academics—”
“Have no idea what they’re talking about,” he dismissed scornfully. “Arthur existed and was the ancestor of Owain Gwynedd, the grandfather of Llewelyn the Great.”
“I thought you said he didn’t marry?”
Nathaniel eyed her mocking. “But I didn’t say he didn’t have any children.”
“Ah.” Chloe nodded, deciding she had heard quite enough of the mythical Arthur. “What’s a fated mate?”
“The other half of my soul. The woman who completes me. The one who will bear my offspring.”
Her brows rose. “Dragon babies?”
Nathaniel looked troubled. “We were all born human, but as none of us have met our fated mate yet, we’re not really sure what our own offspring will be.”
Whereas Chloe was one hundred percent sure this man was certifiable.
Hot. Sexy as sin. A great kisser. And completely fucking cuckoo.
Forget the story she had intended writing about the goings-on at Pendragon Castle, her main priority now was just to get out of here alive. She could inform the authorities of the drug smuggling once she was safely back in London. Far away from Nathaniel and his equally weird family.
Preferably before Nathaniel had another delusion in which he decided to make her a ritual sacrifice to his goddess mother, Arianrhod. After which Chloe would no doubt go to the invisible island of Annwn and meet up with Arthur and his Knights of the Rectangular Table. Except, no, Nathaniel had said she had to be fae to be allowed on Annwn.
If she could keep her hysteria to a manageable level, then she would probably laugh about all this one day!
If she managed to get away from here alive.
She eyed Nathaniel skeptically. “So, you can become a dragon whenever you feel like it?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
He glanced up at the low ceiling before shaking his head. “It isn’t a big enough space.”
Of course it wasn’t. Because the poor, deluded man couldn’t really turn into a bloody dragon. It was only the drugs he’d taken that were making him think he could.
Maybe it was time for a little sweet-talking. “If I come upstairs with you now, then we could go outside and you could change for me there.” And she could run like hell the very first moment Nathaniel became in the least distracted.
“It’s called shifting.”
Again, silly her.
Nathaniel grimaced. “And it’s still daylight.”
“You can’t shift in daylight? Like vampires can’t go out in the sun?” Humoring Nathaniel was starting to make her feel as crazy as he was.
Because there was no such thing as vampires either!
It didn’t help that he was now eyeing her as if she was the one talking hysterical nonsense. “Shifting in daylight runs more of a risk of us being seen by humans,” he explained patiently.
Humans? As if he wasn’t one himself?
“Remember the helicopters you said people had reported seeing at night?” He waited for her nod. “That was us, not helicopters.”
Maybe it would be better if she encouraged Nathaniel to go back upstairs on his own. She could think about her own escape later. Right now, he seriously needed to sleep off the effects of the substance currently running through his veins.
“Chloe—”
“What the hell is that?” Chloe jumped back with a gasp as Nathaniel reached for her.
Not with his hand.
But with a shimmering silver-green and scaly claw.