The Mating Destiny: Werewolves of Montana Book 7 (14 page)

Ever since she awoke from her kidnapping, rage filled her.

Not at her fate, but the fate of the girls with her. All of them untouched as Emma was, and of a dragon bloodline. The other girls were younger than Emma’s 25 years. Most were 22, and had already experienced their first shift into dragon, but one was as young as 16. They all shared one thing in common—they were terrified.

“They say we’re to be sold as sex slaves,” the youngest dragon said, clutching at Emma’s arm. “I’ve never been with a man. I’m so scared.”

Emma had hugged her, wishing she had her magick. She could only hold the glamor for a few hours. She’d tear this place apart and then scatter the innards of the men waiting to purchase them. And then she’d feast on those running this place, and spit them out over the desert for the crows to pick apart.

She tried to reassure the girls by telling them stories Alex had told her, of magical dragons who roamed the earth and ate their enemies, and rescued fairy princesses.

The girls looked a little reassured.

Until the tall, lanky major domo entered the basement a few minutes ago and announced Emma would be the first girl auctioned today. The rest would follow in two days.

Two days! She had two days to rescue these captives.

She did not protest as the Fae led her upstairs to a large room, and onto a dais. She didn’t even budge when he adjusted her gown to show more cleavage.

Inside she trembled with fury, but kept her thoughts secret and guarded.

Emma stared into the faceless crowd gathered to buy her as a sex slave.

Minutes passed in agonizing slowness. Emma bit hard on her lower lip as the troll, the auction master, raised her gown to mid-thigh. She tried to slap his hand, but the restraining bolt around her wrist zinged her.

“Look at this lovely dragon. Have you ever seen such a treasure? Surely this one will bring you to paradise when you take her to bed. Dragons are well-versed in the arts of sensual delight.”

Oh yeah? How would you like me to demonstrate how well-versed I am in the arts of snapping your neck? Remove this bracelet and I will.

Murmurs filled the air, cackling noises that splintered her self-possession. If they saw her fear, they would frenzy. Emma steeled her spine and tried to quiet her heart rate.
You are not a spectacle. You will not let these bastards intimidate you.

She needed a focus, a peaceful place of serenity that would shut out the leering men and their ribald remarks.

Alex’s image filled her mind, pushing aside the fear. His startling blue eyes, his fierce warrior’s might, his polish and urbane charm as crown prince. He was a man of honor. A man of might. A dragon who could slay these bastards with one sweep of his tail, one breath of fire.

What would Alex say to defray her fears?

He would wink and say, “Look at them. Don’t be afraid. Imagine them naked and impotent. The sagging paunches, the dimples in their overweight bottoms, their tiny little…”

She thought of Alex scrutinizing the grinning ogre in the front row. “Look at old green nose. Do you think he has a tiny green dick? I mean, who would want to screw him? He has to pay to get a lover. No one would want him but the Jolly Green Giant.”

Oh Alex
, she thought silently, wishing with all her heart to see him.
You make me laugh. You always made me feel safe. Even now, when you are far away, I am surrounded by your memories and can survive.

Resolve filled her to stand upright and throw back her shoulders. Smiling, Emma kept the image of Alex in mind, his friendly grin and breezy self-assurance, his tender concern and remarkable courage.

Alex was always on stage like this, stared at and studied by his peers, his family. The insight startled her. Had Alex felt as naked as she did? Yet he seemed to handle the role of prince well, only dropping the formalities around her.

The bidding began. She glared at the customers.

“This lovely lady is available to one man, exclusively, for five hours. The bidding opens at five hundred dollars.”

Fingers flicked, heads nodded, and the bids climbed higher and higher. Panic tightened her chest. It was worse than she’d thought. The bidding rose to one thousand dollars. Two thousand. Emma thought of Alex’s reassuring smile, his tender manner. She must not panic.

The Fae casting the last bid stood toward the front. His face was lean and hollow-cheeked. He had a cruel smile. Emma could not prevent a shudder from racing down her spine, nor the icy fingers of fear wrapping about her heart.

“Two dozen pieces of gold,” a quiet voice said, and it held an air of arrogant assurance.

All heads swerved toward the back, toward the commanding voice that had softly dominated the airless, musty room. It sounded like Alex’s voice, but Emma could not be sure. She craned her neck to see, but the man in back stood in the shadows.

No other offers followed. The room remained draped in awed silence.

The auction master barked, “Sold! Please retreat to the reception room to make arrangements to pay.”

Emma was hustled off before she glimpsed the tall, dark-garbed stranger. She could only pray with all her heart that her new master’s manner with her did not match the tempered steel in that deep voice.

The building featured a large inner courtyard and dark wooded latticework windows overlooking lush gardens. Inside, a high ceiling and elaborate tile work decorated the private apartment where she had been imprisoned. Divans and heavy cushions were scattered about the room. Set into a small alcove was an obscenely large bed. Silk pillows sat atop a richly embroidered coverlet.

Two grim Fae guarded the door, granting no one but her new master access and barring her escape. Rubbing her arms, Emma paced, fighting her razor-sharp fear.
You can do this
. Think of the others whose fate you share.

A full-length brass-edged mirror mounted on a wall caught her attention. Emma wandered over to examine her appearance. Large blue eyes stared back at her. A gauze gown of crimson with white flounces covered her body. She wore saffron-colored slippers of soft kid leather, edged with red piping and embroidered with tiny red-and-white flowers. Emma touched the mirror.

“I look like an escapee from a bad B movie,” she muttered.

Walking the length of the room, she analyzed every wall and each painting of erotic art. In the painting of a centaur raping a woman, she found exactly what she’d suspected, and feared.

A camera. Emma placed her hand over it, and her senses felt no current of electricity.

She spied a decorative table with a bronze statue of a nude woman displaying her vulva and moved it over to block the camera.

Resigned, she walked over to the bed, testing it with one hand. Soft as a cloud. Knowing what would happen there shook her self-confidence. Emma sat, working on the bracelet again to try to tug it off her hand.

She thought of Alex, how gently he used to take her hand when they walked in the gardens near his home. How his fierce blue eyes had roved the park, ever-watchful for enemies.

Footsteps pounded down the corridor. Emma tensed. Damn. She thought she’d have more time to remove the bracelet. Her clammy fingers plucked at the gauze of her harem trousers as the iron door opened. She heard the hard, firm click of masculine heels walk inside. Quivering, Emma stared at the floor and saw approaching polished brown leather loafers.

She needed to pretend to be humble, and scared and submissive. Then she could beat the hell out of her would-be john, glamour herself as him and escape. That would still leave the girls in the basement. It killed her to leave them behind.

Speaking in a low voice, she bowed. “I am most willing to do whatever you wish of me. All I ask is—please, please, be gentle with me and do not hurt me.” The words came out in a trembling whisper.

Be gentle with me so I can kick your ass, you bastard.

The bed sank with her new captor’s weight. A hand caught her chin, lifted it up. Emma lifted her gaze. And found herself looking directly into a familiar pair of blue-green eyes.

“My dear Emma,” the Prince of Clan Drakon said softly. “As long as I draw breath, no one will ever hurt you.”

Chapter 4

Alex. Emma pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, or this was a nightmare. Because having the crown prince of all of Clan Drakon was a nightmare. If anyone found him here…

“What are you doing?!” she demanded.

Assuredness shone in his eyes. He spoke in a deep, husky whisper, “I’m sure there are eyes watching us. Keep your voice down.”

“There is one camera and it’s off. I already checked. Now, what the hell are you doing here, Alex?!”

“Rescuing you.”

“You can’t.”

“Getting you out is going to be a bit of a challenge, that’s all. A challenge.”

“Alex, don’t be so arrogant. The bars on the windows are pure iron and laced with magick. It’s too dangerous. You might break a claw and damage your manicure.”

He sputtered. “I have no manicure.”

Weary, she leaned back upon the bed. “You shouldn’t have come here. You’re the crown prince. And I can rescue myself. Why did you have to do this?”

“I’m your friend and I would not see them sell you like a fucking sheep!”

“Alex, you’re shouting. What did I warn you about losing your temper? Put a sock in it.”

His broad shoulders sagged. “I had to come here. Who else is going to spring you?”

“Me. I’m not helpless.”

The prince swept over her with his impervious gaze. “In that outfit?”

Emma plucked at the silk harem trousers and the gauze that barely covered her. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look amazing,” he murmured. Then he turned hastily. “Never mind how you look. Let’s break you free.”

“You can’t. I have a plan and it did not include you.”

But he seemed to ignore her statement. Alex went to the window. It was fashioned from latticework to look pretty, but thick iron bars blocked access.

“It’s enchanted. Don’t touch it,” she warned. “The guard who brought me here said it contains dark magick and burns your flesh, be you shifter or Fae.”

He touched one and winced. Emma folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “Hello? Listen much?”

“Bare skin to magick iron, not a good idea,” he muttered. Alex tugged the polo shirt over his head, leaving his chest bare.

As he sat at the window sill and wrapped the shirt around his hand, her jaw dropped. Dear goddess, he was gorgeous in clothing, even more gorgeous out of it. His shoulders were wide and strong, his chest was dusted with dark hair that stretched from one brown nipple to another, and his torso rippled with muscles.

A small blue-inked tat rode on his right shoulder. Squinting at it, she realized it was a dragon holding a spear.

“Seriously? You couldn’t get inked with something that wasn’t a cliché?”

He looked down to where she pointed. “Oh, that. I wanted my clan’s symbol. Other dragons from Clan Drakon are permitted to pierce their left ears, their nipples or get inked wherever they choose. But because I am crown prince, I must leave my body untouched and unmarked.”

Snorting, he turned back to the window.

“Where did you get it done?”

“Drunken night out with the guys, at an ink parlor in New Orleans. Not many know it’s there.”

Except his lovers. She found herself growing jealous. Emma halted that emotion. It served no purpose.

Alex tugged at the bars through his wrapped hand. Finally he growled with impatience. “Damn magick. Who owns this place?”

“Jaeden of the Elder Forest.” She had done a little probing about her captor. One of the guards had told her a lot after she’d shown him her bare breasts.

Emma figured showing a little flesh for his fantasy was a good exchange in return for knowing her enemy’s weakness.

Alex blinked hard. “Seriously? The Fae of the Elder Forest are peaceful and benign.”

“All but the one who was evicted due to his mixed parentage. Jaeden left the forest and came here to the desert to found this brothel.”

If the bastard wasn’t so cruel, she might empathize with him, for she knew how much it hurt to feel an outsider among one’s own people.

Alex dropped his hand and unwrapped the polo shirt. “How did he acquire so much power with mixed Fae bloodlines? Even dark magick has limits.”

“Unless your father is the King of the Dark Fae and your mother was a wizard.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “Damn. A real wizard? Only Mages can ascend to the title of wizard, unless they die and become immortal, like Tristan and Drust, my great-granddad.”

“Yes, that’s why he has tremendous power. He also has learned to tap into electrical lines, and reinforce his magick. So you might as well stop playing with those bars.”

Emma returned her attention to the bracelet, hating how she looked. She was dragon, and had fought every step of the way for what little she had. No parents to assist her, few friends within her own clan.

Only Sabrina, bless her, who understood her thirst for knowledge and desire to improve her status through reading.