She strode through the city, dodging horses and carriages on her way to the outskirts where the dungeon was. With every step, she tried to figure out how to start with the Dragon King when being around him made her want to physically hurt him for all the damage his kind had caused. She wasn’t at all thrilled about having to talk to him. Jeyra had expected Rankin to back her up and say that an interrogator should have a go at the King. But he hadn’t. And she needed to realize that Rankin might never come to her defense again.
That hurt more than she cared to admit.
By the time Jeyra reached the dungeon, she had more questions than answers. She paused at the entrance and looked up at the hefty gate and high walls. Someone shouted down to her from the guard tower.
Her lips parted to announce her name when the gate opened, and three guards in red tunics and black uniform pants stood there. One motioned her in. “We’ve been expecting you,” he said and turned.
She hurried to catch up. He said nothing more as he guided her into the dungeon, and she didn’t talk since she had nothing to say. Deeper into the mountain and lower into the earth he led her, twisting and turning through the maze of tunnels until he pointed to where the Dragon King had been deposited two days earlier. As if she hadn’t been here herself.
Jeyra was so intent on the prisoner, she barely registered that the guard had walked away. The King sat with his back to her, leaning against the iron bars. His pristine white shirt looked tan now from the dirt. His blond hair was rumpled as if he’d run his fingers through it multiple times. She hadn’t paid much attention to it earlier. Now, she took in its thickness, the way the top layers, longer than the sides and back, fell from the part. His shoulders lifted as he drew in a deep breath and released it. She steeled herself, thinking he would turn to face her, but he didn’t move.
The last time she had looked into his eyes, it had been right before she pulled him to this realm. He had been smiling, and it had been…appealing. Charming, inviting. Enchanting, even. But it was all a ruse. Everything about the Dragon Kings was a deception. It had taken her people a long time to discover that, but once they had, they had done what was needed to protect themselves.
“I doona suppose you brought food?”
His deep, throaty voice made chills race over her skin. She’d never heard such an accent. It was mesmerizing. Along with the unique and utterly luring cadence of his voice, the combination made her want to hear more. But Jeyra reminded herself just who she was dealing with.
“No.”
His head lifted in response to her word, but still, he didn’t turn to face her. “Hmm.”
She frowned, wondering what that was supposed to mean. Instead of asking, she was grateful that he’d kept his back to her. Maybe if he stayed that way, he wouldn’t remember that she had apprehended him. If she were in his position and saw the person responsible for her imprisonment, she wouldn’t talk to them.
“I can get you food.”
At this, he cocked his head. “Why?”
“Why?” she repeated before she thought better of it.
“Well, lass, either I’m to be tortured and eventually killed, in which case food wouldna be given. You’d want me weak. Or, the other option is you’re seeking ransom. Personally, I’m going with the latter.”
Damn. Did his voice have to be so…amazing? Jeyra looked at the ground as she kicked the toe of her boot against it.
“Silence. That’s telling,” the Dragon King replied.
To her shock, she heard a hint of a smile in his voice. She couldn’t imagine what would make him grin unless he knew that he would get free and bring the other Kings to the city to destroy it. Jeyra wouldn’t let that happen. As long as the chains stayed on his wrists, and he remained in the dungeon, they would all be fine.
“If you give me some information, I’ll get you food,” she told him, happy that she had found a way to get him to talk.
Chapter Four
Varek waffled between anger, frustration, and alarm as the minutes turned into hours after he’d found himself locked away. The dungeon—because that’s exactly where he had been put—only had minimal lighting from torches. Actual fire torches. Shallow bowls held by the same type of metal as his prison, housed whatever liquid they used to keep the torches lit continuously.
He didn’t see any natural light, so he couldn’t tell if it was day or night. Not that it mattered. He was too wrapped up in the fact that he couldn’t get free. Varek had tried to use the mental link all dragons had, but no one answered. That wouldn’t happen unless the other Dragon Kings were incapacitated.
Or they couldn’t hear him.
Coupled with that was the fact that he couldn’t shift. It had been the last thing Varek had attempted because he’d feared the exact outcome that had happened. Nothing. For the first time, he had to consider that he might very well be trapped in his human form, never able to shift or do magic again.
He’d been surprised to hear two people coming toward him. One left, leaving the other. He recognized the tread of the female who had been there when his captors dumped him into the cell. He wanted to turn and look at her, but decided it might be better if he didn’t show much interest. The longer she stood without talking, the more curious he became.
When he asked if she’d brought food, he wasn’t surprised by her answer. But he was intrigued by the throaty sound of her voice. One word wasn’t enough for him. He wanted—needed—to hear more to try and decipher her origins.
When she finally spoke again, he found himself entranced by her sultry voice. He was so captivated by it that it took him a moment to comprehend the words she had spoken, and that he still couldn’t place her accent.
Her offer of food in exchange for information fascinated him. He wasn’t fool enough to trust anything she said, but he might be able to use her to his advantage. If for nothing more than to get free. Varek could charm anyone when he set his mind to it, and his very life depended on it now. There was no question that he would succeed.
He rose to his knees, careful to keep his head ducked so he didn’t whack it on the low-hanging ceiling. Only after he had shifted positions and sat back down to face the woman did he let his gaze move to her. The moment his eyes landed on her, all the air was sucked out of his lungs. He was transfixed, completely enraptured by the magnificent creature before him.
Varek had seen beauty before, but something about this female was decidedly different. It looked as if dragon fire had touched her hair. It burned bright red, even pulled away from her face in several small braids that merged into one thick plait. What he couldn’t tell was how long it was since the braid was wound into a bun. The need to sink his hand into her fiery mane and feel the weight of it as the strands ran through his fingers was…overwhelming.
Arresting amber eyes studied him with a mixture of aversion and curiosity. She had an oval face, a slim neck, and a mouth made for sinful, decadent things. While she might be of average height, there was nothing ordinary about her. She stood with her back straight, her legs braced slightly apart, her arms hanging at her sides, fingers loose—a warrior’s stance.
Varek took in the golden-brown sleeveless tunic that showed off the toned sinew of her arms. His gaze moved along the plunging neckline to the outline of her full breasts. The top fit her like a second skin and stopped an inch short of meeting the deep brown breeches that encased her slim legs and were tucked into tall, leather boots. His gaze moved back up her calves and thighs and over the flare of her hips to her small waist and the well-defined abdominal muscles he was able to glimpse. She wore no jewelry but thick, silver armbands around each arm.