Hunter’s frustration within her turned icy. What the hell was happening with him?
Blondie jabbed at her. She stumbled back. The fire was there. She could feel it, just out of reach.
Goatee pinned Grey’s arms.
Magical power shimmered behind her but it wasn’t of her creation. It belonged to someone else.
Anaea
jerked around. Jade stepped through a black vortex and grabbed the back of
Anaea’s
sweater.
Blondie raised his blade.
Anaea
twisted in Jade’s grasp.
Grey roared and the sword plunged toward him.
The world snapped into darkness, twisting with Jade’s gate, while the heat of magic fire tingled,
unmanifested
, under
Anaea’s
skin.
Anaea
squirmed in Jade’s grasp. She had to get back to Grey, had to save him, somehow. He couldn’t die. Not another one on her hands. Not Hunter’s best friend.
The black vortex of Jade’s gate whirled around them,
then
jerked to a halt. Jade shoved
Anaea
and she tumbled onto the stone floor of Court’s
gateroom
, scraping the palms of her hands. The gate closed with a whoosh and Jade grabbed the back of
Anaea’s
neck, keeping her from standing.
An insane giggle filled the corridor, sending shivers racing over
Anaea
.
“You don’t look like Nero.
No, no, not at all.”
The Jester,
Giacomo
, stood a few feet away, dressed in his ridiculous harlequin costume. “But this is a pleasant surprise.”
“I have business with the King.” Jade grasped
Anaea’s
arm and wrenched her to her feet.
Giacomo
giggled. “The king is incapacitated.”
“You mean indisposed.”
“No.”
Giacomo’s
expression flashed to serious. “No, I’m pretty sure I mean incapacitated.” He wrapped his ruined hands around his neck, stuck out his tongue, and gurgled as if he were being strangled.
Jade rolled her eyes.
“Out of my way.”
She shoved
Anaea
forward but
Giacomo
seized the front of
Anaea’s
shirt and pulled her down.
Anaea
struggled against him, but his grip was unexpectedly strong for a man of his stature.
“I don’t have time for games,” Jade said, her voice low.
Anaea
didn’t want any of this, either. Please let Grey be safe. Even Hunter’s presence seemed muted within her.
“But this is so interesting.”
Giacomo
wiggled his eyebrows. “And I know you’ve seen it, oh Green One.”
“And it needs to be discussed with Regis.” She reached for
Anaea
but
Giacomo
snatched Jade’s wrist, yanked her around, and slammed her against the wall. Faster than
Anaea
thought possible, he smashed Jade’s head on the granite with a sickening crack and spray of blood. Glassy-eyed, she sagged to the floor, somehow managing to stay conscious.
“But you wanted to talk with the King.”
Giacomo
straightened and wiped the blood from his face. “Regis is a different story. I don’t like Regis.”
Anaea
scrambled back, but
Giacomo
grabbed her pant legs and jerked her to him. He grabbed her chin again, crushing her cheeks with his thumb and forefinger. “Not until I get a better look at you.” He peered at her, just as he had the first time he’d examined her in the King’s chamber.
“The lights are on.” He snorted and giggled. “But no dragons are home.”
Ice raced through her.
“Perfect.” The gleam in his eye darkened.
Jade moaned. “Mother of All, you’re a—”
In that heartbeat
Anaea
could see it around
Giacomo
, the wavering, muted orange aura of a drake, barely perceptible unless she concentrated. The Jester wasn’t just some crazy human misused by a dragon and kept for kicks by the Dragon King, but a dragon spirit trapped in a ruined vessel.
And a drake looking for a new home.
Anaea
squirmed.
Giacomo’s
grip threatened to crush her skull. God, she was not going to be taken. He could not have her body. She wouldn’t let him.
But he wrenched her forward, mashing his fleshy lips against hers. His teeth cut her skin. He dug his thumbs into the hollows of her cheeks, forcing her jaw open, and rammed his tongue into her mouth.
Her stomach roiled. This was not happening.
Hot energy lanced into her mouth and burned down her throat.
The Jester’s soul oozed into her, slimy, dark, and manic.
He bubbled through her, like burning tar that stuck to, and seared, her soul.
She heaved against him, willed him out and back, but he surrounded her, boxed her in like Hunter had when he’d first taken her body. She shoved against the confines. There had to be a weakness, something, a way to break free. She shied away from him, but her body didn’t respond to her commands. She thought harder about moving, focused her intent.
Nothing.
Oh, Hunter was a fool to leave this.
Jester’s voice boomed through her and the prison around her soul contracted.
Get out.
Jester laughed. Her body cackled and Jade twitched, eyes wide, but not healed enough to do anything.
“You’re exactly what I thought you’d be, little human sorcerer.
A true one, not like Jade here.”
Energy ignited within her, a powerful force she’d never experienced before. It surged through every cell in her body, collecting at her hands until flame leapt across her palms.
Jester placed a finger on Jade’s cheek. Fire licked her skin and she screamed. A blackened fingerprint marred her cheek, the flesh around it red and oozing.
“Oh, goodie.”
Jester giggled, the same manic giggle, except now it sounded like
Anaea
.
No. Please no. She rammed against her prison. Black thoughts of revenge and torture and pleasure slid through her. They would pay. They would all pay. He would kill them all, slowly, and bathe in their blood.
Fire leapt down her forearms. Jester caressed Jade’s face, drawing another scream and another. Flames devoured skin and hair and still
Jade
screamed. Her body writhed and Jester laughed.
If
Anaea
had a stomach under her control, she’d be sick. God, she wanted to be sick. She couldn’t close her eyes, couldn’t turn away or stop it. Twisted erotic pleasure made her skin tingle. Heat blossomed between her legs.
Giacomo
was turned on.
Jade shuddered and collapsed, her head a charred, ruined mess that shattered into ash as it hit the stone.
Come, my dear.
Giacomo
clapped his hands.
We have a prince to kill.
* * *
Blood oozed from the gash above Hunter’s forehead and down his temple. A drop hung from his jaw, trembling, making him itchy. If his hands weren’t tied to the back of his chair, he’d wipe it away. As it was, he was forced to either catch the irritation with his shoulder or endure it.
He chose the latter.
Besides, he was pretty sure he had a few broken ribs and didn’t want to move too much before he healed. He had a feeling he was going to need everything he had to get out of this, even when Grey showed up to help in five minutes. Nero had the medallion and Hunter had no doubt that the drake would use it.
Ponytail Woman leaned against the wall on the other side of the office, between an 18th century settee and the closed door. Her arms were crossed and her gaze locked on him. The young dragon was going to be a terror when she gained a little more maturity. Her earth magic was already strong enough to hurl him around, but from the look in her eye she still didn’t trust herself to keep him under control.
If all of the people he’d seen in the ‘magic class’ had half of Ponytail’s ability, Nero was definitely a coterie doyen to be wary of. In a few decades his coterie might be powerful enough for a coup... if he wasn’t caught and executed for making human sorcerers first.
But if the mages were still green, why try to eliminate Hunter now? Why not wait until his army was ready? Unless, of course, Hunter had stumbled too close to Nero’s plans—although he had no clue how he had—and only the inexperienced mages had been left at the mansion.
Deep within him,
Anaea’s
emotions billowed, but stayed muted behind the wall he’d put between them. Mother of All, he wanted to know how she was doing. Even shoved to the recesses of his mind he could tell she was upset, but not why. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it right now.
He swallowed back a growl as the door opened. Nero strode in dressed in a tuxedo, his bowtie hanging, untied, around his neck. It was, after all, the last night of feasts of the
pahar
. Every dragon who was anyone would be there, dressed to his or her finest.
“I see you’ve traded up to a more suitable vessel, Hunter.”
The blood fell from Hunter’s chin and hit his thigh with a plop.
Nero tilted his head and drew close. “Or was the last body too crowded?”
Hunter’s heart skipped a beat. As soon as he resolved this mess he was moving
Anaea
as far from
Newgate
as possible. Although with Nero’s collection of human mages, perhaps the dragon might be more receptive to
Anaea
than any other, if he could be trusted.
“You have some powerful human sorcerers under your roof.” Hunter slid his gaze to Ponytail, who uncrossed her arms and straightened.
“Mages, not sorcerers,” Nero said.
Hunter snorted, feigning disgust. Interesting that Nero should make the distinction. This was not a conversation he thought he’d have with any drake, let alone Nero.
“Mages.
Sorcerers.
Whatever.
Still, your humans are powerful.”
“But none who can call fire.”
Hunter shrugged. “Fire is rare.”
“You would know, fire drake.” Nero called a hint of wind. It swirled around him, a thin whip-like band that lashed out inches from Hunter’s leg.
Hunter ground his teeth. He would not flinch, now or ever.
The chair beside him slid around and Nero perched on the edge. “Sorcerers are also rare. So are those humans, those mages, who have a naturally awakened connection to the earth’s magic.”
What a load of shit. No human had naturally developed magic for two thousand years. They had to body-share with a dragon. But Nero looked serious, no hint that he was toying with Hunter. What if a rare percentage of humans did develop magic, significant magic, not just seeing auras or holding séances? Wouldn’t other humans know about that? But history was full of humans professing to have—and being accused of having—extraordinary abilities. If the
Asar
Nergal
knew of them, wouldn’t they be killed just like those mages created unnaturally through body-sharing?
“How many in your house are natural?” He rolled ‘natural’ out with a hint of disdain, to determine where Nero’s loyalties really lay. Ponytail pushed away from the wall and took a step forward.
Interesting.
She was protective of the humans. Nero held up a hand and she stopped.
“Funny how so much power can be contained in such a simple object.” Nero reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the medallion.
Damn. It looked like that was the end of the small talk and he still had four more minutes to kill.
Hunter twisted his hands, testing the binding.
Tight.
No getting out that way.
“The power over life and death,” Nero said.
Right, well. This wasn’t going to be Hunter’s death. Not when he’d finally found someone worth living for.
“Tell me, Hunter. Where does your allegiance lie?”
Hunter stilled and raised an eyebrow at that. Did Nero think he could be bought? Hunter supposed he could be. There was no love between him and Regis, nor the King. They were the most powerful coterie only because the Handmaiden had chosen them two thousand years ago and hadn’t changed her mind yet. They controlled the last free medallion, and a dragon without a coterie didn’t last long. But the thought of selling out to save his life put a bad taste in his mouth.
“I can’t be bought.”
“I didn’t think you could. And as much as you are the Prince’s Assassin, you’ve never taken a soul out of spite or for personal reasons. It’s all about the job for you.”
“You’re so sure about that?” It was true, but he couldn’t have Nero thinking that made him weak.
“I’m sure other drakes have gotten in the way.
Collateral damage and all that.
But you’ve had the medallion for over a thousand years. You could have taken the throne any time you wished.”