The Mating Destiny: Werewolves of Montana Book 7 (13 page)

He had none, not where Em was concerned. “She’s in trouble.”

“I know.” Drust’s black-bearded face remained cold and impartial, but his ice blue gaze sympathetic. “But it’s not your place to rescue her.”

“Then who?” He waved a hand at the palace. “Her people don’t care!”

“Sabrina does.”

Alex blinked. “You know about her.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t marry and mate with Sabrina, Pops. I don’t love her.”

“I know, son. But you can’t go racing after Emma. There is a reason for what happens and you cannot interfere with her fate.”

“If it means she’s suffering, the hell I can’t!”

Drust rubbed a hand over his chest, as if scrubbing his long, elegant fingers against his blue velvet tunic. “Did you not learn anything in the Shadow Lands when Tristan advised you? First you went after the dragons you thought attacked Emma. You would have been killed had I not pulled you into the realm of the dead. And then Tristan told you to listen to your heart. You didn’t listen.”

“You’re my judge now, not Tristan.”

“And you’re not listening to me any more than Tristan.” Drust tilted his head, as if hearing something from afar. “Truly? Very well.”

“Truly what?”

The Coldfire Wizard glanced at him. “I was not talking to you. I was receiving guidance from Tristan. He is my mentor.”

“Tristan is your mentor? Poor you.”

“I am a new wizard. Even I require guidance.”

Drust’s gaze turned a brilliant silver-blue, as if his eyes were glowing coals. “Emma is being held prisoner at the Dark Wing brothel outside of Las Vegas near the town of Emerald. It is well guarded. She is being put up for auction to the highest OtherWorlder bidder in two hours.”

Alex felt all the blood drain from his head. “No.”

The Dark Wing was a well-known pleasure palace amongst OtherWorlders. Rumor had it they did very nasty things there to their prostitutes, and even held auctions to sell off sex slaves.

“It once was a place of pleasure, and has now turned evil.” Drust’s gaze flickered even brighter and his silver-blue aura pulsed with power.

“Shut it down. You’re a wizard.”

He shook his head and then stepped back. “It is not for me to close that den of vipers. I will store a sack of gold for you near the brothel. It will be buried beneath the black rock near the wooden electrical pole closest to the highway.”

Sharp talons grew from his fingers. Alex flexed his hands. “I won’t need gold to break her out. I’m a silver warrior dragon, Pops.”

The Coldfire Wizard looked amused. “One inflated with your own sense of arrogance, son. I know whose side you get that from.”

Then Drust sombered. “You are of my bloodline, Alexander. Take care. Do what you must, but beware the consequences. For if you do not curb that hot temper of yours, and your impulsiveness, you could lose her.”

His expression turned dark and his eyes glowed fiercely. “Forever.”

Chapter 3

The Dark Wing Gentlemen’s Club sat on a stretch of dirt road off Emerald Road, a two-lane highway leading out of Sin City. To Skins who might stumble upon the club, it looked like a rundown barn.

All glamor. The club was run by a notorious Fae, who used magick to disguise the club’s purpose from Skins, and even certain Others who might have disapproved.

He knew of this place only because Vincente, his best friend, wanted to have his bachelor party here. Alex sent Derek to check it out and his bodyguard returned with a full report of sinister tales.

Alex had been nagging his father to tell Tristan about the Dark Wing, to shut it down, but his father insisted it wasn’t “our affair” because the club was under control of a Fae, and therefore it came under the jurisdiction of Gideon, the Crimson Wizard and judge of Fae. Politics.

Maybe now that Drust was the judge of dragons, Drust could shut down the club. But Drust didn’t seem likely to take action soon. Not soon enough to save Em, anyway.

Blue-gray jagged mountains flanked the valley as he winged toward the dirt road leading to the brothel. The tawny landscape of arid desert was broken here and there by bright green patches of scrub and brush. He followed the highway to Emerald Road, and then winged a right, tracking Fulbright Street.

A small community of Skins lived here in the village of Emerald. He flew over the village market, where a wood sign hung out front reading SHERIFF.

Clusters of adobe homes with well-watered green lawns stretched out over a mile. He spied an elementary school with children in the playground and his blood boiled. Smoke poured out of his nostrils. How dare an Other operate a brothel so close to innocents?

But he knew the Skins were blissfully unaware of the evil beneath their noses. For their sake, he hoped so.

A warning tingle rushed down his spine as he passed the elementary school to reach a stretch of empty land just beyond the main road. Power lines passed nearby and he felt the crackle and hum of energy singing in the air.

Bastard Fae was pulling power off the Skins’ electrical grid.

Set back in the field, across the street from a two-story wood house with several pieces of rusting farm equipment in the yard, the brothel was hidden from view by several tall trees. But he could clearly see the black iron rooftop. Iron was painful to most Fae. Whoever ran this club must possess tremendous magick.

As he tried to land on the rooftop, something repelled him with the force of a large hand. He tried to push past it, but could not.

Alex landed in the field next to the club and looked around, folding his wings back. More Dark Fae magick. If he couldn’t break into the club as dragon, he’d have to get inside another way.

He flew off, landing near the black rock where Drust said he’d hidden the gold. Alex dug at the dirt with one claw and uncovered a shoebox. He shifted back to Skin and lifted the lid of the box. A blue velvet bag the size of his fist lay inside. He conjured khaki trousers, a navy blue polo shirt and polished loafers. Might as well act the part.

Stuffing the bag of gold into his pocket, he headed back for the brothel.

On the street, he studied the black wrought iron fence ringing the property and then touched it, wincing at the magick tingling his fingertips. To Skins the fence looked rusty and disused, guarding only a few dead trees and dry brush set into the dusty earth.

A round buzzer with an intercom and was beneath the sign that read No Solicitors. That includes ogres, dragons, Lupines, sprites and especially trolls. A security camera sat on the fencepost.

Alex pressed the buzzer.

“State your purpose,” a deep voice growled.

“I’m here for the auction.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Damn. He didn’t think of that. Alex removed the pouch from his pocket, took out a coin and held it up to the camera.

“Do I need one?”

The gate buzzed open. Greed worked every time.

As he cleared the gate, it closed behind him with an ominous bang. He felt the power surge to his bones and shuddered.

Emma, in this formidable place. Gods, she must be so scared.

The building was two stories, the size of a 4,000 square foot house. It even looked like a house, painted a pale cream color, with green shutters. The walkway was concrete.

The front door was solid oak, with an intricate carving of runes he recognized as Fae.

Alex shoved his hands into his pockets and strode toward the front entrance, feeling the magick in the air pulse. He had to get her out of here. Not sure how, but he’d find a way.

Because he’d be damned if he let another male touch her.

No one was going to touch her, ever.

Mine.

The thought startled him. Where the hell did that come from? Emma wasn’t his.

But as he stood outside and pressed the buzzer next to the door, he couldn’t erase the deep longing for her.

Not as a friend, but as a lover…

No. He would never dishonor her.

The door opened and a tall, lanky man dressed in a major domo uniform stood before him. “Show me the gold.”

Detecting the scent of Fae, he suppressed his rage. Alex removed the pouch and opened it. As the Fae started to reach for it, Alex yanked it away.

“You saw my gold. Now, show me the goods.”

Dear dragon’s breath, calling his sweet Emma goods…

“First, the rules. No magick. And because we must ensure this…” The Fae dangled an iron bracelet. “Restraining bolt. It goes on your left wrist. When you leave here, it will be removed.”

Expecting as much, he held out his left wrist, wincing as the magick-laced iron touched his skin.

Opulent furnishings greeted him as he was escorted inside. Jewel-toned Persian carpets laid upon the marbled floors and the tall ceilings featured corniced moldings. The receiving area resembled a sheikh’s palace.

He willed away his rage as he stared at the crowd. Perhaps four green ogres, dressed in leather jerkins and leather trousers. Four or five Lupines, all looking seedy and panting with lust, restlessly pacing the reception room.

And a dozen Fae, recognizable by their long white-blond hair, pale faces and intense blue eyes.

No other dragons.

The Fae sat on red cushions on the floor with straight-back pillows resting against the wall, or they milled about, sampling fruit in the jeweled bowls set around the room. Alex’s nostrils twitched as he recognized the scent of a powerful aphrodisiac.

When the potential buyers were escorted into the adjacent room by the tall Fae, he tightened his resolve. Nothing could prepare him for the agony of seeing who was on the raised dais. Wide blue eyes, golden hair—she was beautiful as the night and thousands of stars sparkling overhead. Lovelier than a dragon in flight.

Scarlet skirts clutched in one clenched fist, her chin upright and defiant, Emma stared out into the sea of men. Lust in their eyes, they made crude remarks. Instinct demanded Alex yank her off the platform, gather her into his sheltering arms and flee. Protecting her was in his warrior nature. He had to save her.

Alex locked his gaze on Emma’s face. He summoned all the discipline he had learned as a silver warrior dragon, not as a prince to his people. He quelled the desire always burning deep inside him when he was near her, when he had wanted nothing more than to tumble Emma down and thrust deeply into the softness of her lush body and whisper words of passion in her delicate, shell-like ear. When he would have sold his soul for them to be lovers, and for him to abdicate duties pressed upon him by bloodlines.

Mine, mine, mine. The possessive chant filled him as he glared at the other men. The same craving was reflected in their greedy faces, as if Emma were a tasty dish to be consumed.

But he had never thought of her as something to be used and discarded. These men did not know her, could not appreciate her. Alex looked at Emma and silently sent a message, wishing she somehow could hear.

I love you. I will not let another man use you for his lust and violate your honor. You are not goods to be bought and sold. You deserve love, a man who will cherish you as the treasure you are. You are more precious to me than all the gold in my kingdom. I would give up all the riches I own to hold you in my arms for one single night. I would sacrifice all my tomorrows for one night of your true love.

A short, squat troll dressed in a black silk suit, looking totally incongruous, came out into the room and introduced himself as Simon, the auction master.

All this would be quite absurd if not for the dragon on the dais, who thrust her chin into the air as if she weren’t being sold like a sheep.

And he knew what dragons did to sheep…

The auction master lifted the gown, leering as he did so, to show off what awaited Emma’s buyer in bed. Alex swore silently, restrained by the restraining bolt ringing his wrist. No magick. He had only his wits to drive him on.

Alex glanced around at the men crowding the platform. Sensing her terror, he willed a message to Emma.

Do not fear. I will not let them have you.

She had never been so scared, nor so determined. Upon waking up after the four dragons shoved a rag filled with chloroform into her face, she found herself lying on the floor of a basement, only a slit of window showing sunshine in the room. She peered out the window and saw a vast desert.

Her captors had outfitted her with a black bracelet fashioned with a restraining bolt that suppressed all her magick. Except they were dull-witted for they didn’t know her little secret.

The other girls imprisoned with her were half-bloods as well, but they were not Fae. They sat in the sofas and chairs scattered around the basement. There were thick carpets scattered over the floor, even a small kitchen, but it was clearly a prison.

Of all the girls, she alone possessed Fae magick. Just before they shoved the rag into her face, she glamoured herself to be much fatter than she actually was.

Now she sat on one of the overstuffed chairs, tugging at the bracelet. It was tight, but eventually would come off. And then she could access her powers.