Which meant he wasn’t a servant of Synge’s when Char had been in the lair.
Bolt moved to stand at Blayze’s side. Char clenched his teeth. No punching the dragon, he silently reminded himself.
“Flynn?” Bolt demanded.
Char glanced toward the dragon. “You know him?”
Bolt arched a brow—a silent reminder that he was a pureblood and above rubbing elbows with the riffraff.
“I know that he is one of the servants Synge uses to collect his tithes from the orcs,” he said.
Char glanced back at Flynn. The male possessed the arrogant expression of all vampires, but it was the sneer on his thin lips and the way that he held himself aloof from the others that revealed he thought he was far too good to be a servant.
“Not a high position,” Char murmured. Many demons petitioned dragons for favors, and in return they were asked to pay a tithe. They rarely realized that they would be paying for the rest of eternity. Those servants most favored were sent to collect the tithes from the fey or harpies. The least favored were stuck with orcs and trolls. “Perhaps Magma promised a more prestigious place in his lair.”
“Possible,” Bolt agreed.
Blayze ignored both of them. Her attention was focused like a laser on the vampire.
“I’m going to kill him,” she rasped, taking a step forward.
Char reached out to grasp her upper arm, bringing her to a sharp halt. “Hold on, Xena, Warrior Princess. You can’t just charge in there,” he warned.
She turned her head to glare at him. “Why not?”
He brushed his hand lightly over her cheek, hoping his touch would help to ease her fury. He sympathized with her urge to destroy the vampire. He was feeling his own share of bloodlust.
But they needed to think clearly.
They were too close to risk failure now.
“If he has the vessel containing the curse on him, he’ll cast it to protect himself,” he said, as much to remind himself not to do something stupid as to keep her at his side. “Which means all of this will be for nothing.”
She scowled. “Then what do you suggest?”
He’d already considered the best way to approach the servant if they managed to track him down.
“I’ll go in and lure him out,” he said. “No one will question my presence.”
Her scowl remained. “How will you lure him?”
Without warning, Bolt stepped forward. “I will do it.”
Char sent him a frustrated glare. Was the male trying to play the hero in front of Blayze? Or was he one of those dragons who always had to be in charge?
“We just established that a pureblood would cause too much chaos,” Char reminded him, an edge in his voice.
Bolt tilted back his head so he could peer down the length of his nose. “I am soon to become a member of Synge’s clan,” he drawled. “Flynn would have no choice but to agree to follow me if I said that Synge had need of him in the throne room.”
Char hissed at the reminder that Bolt was about to become formally betrothed to Blayze. Then, with a valiant effort, he forced himself to ignore the deliberate provocation.
He couldn’t afford distractions until the vampire was dead.
After that he would worry about how he was going to deal with his dragon’s determination to claim Blayze as his own.
He offered a stiff nod of his head. Bolt was right. The vampire would have no choice but to follow him if Bolt told him that Synge had need of his services.
“Give us time to set up an ambush,” he commanded.
Bolt waved a dismissive hand. “I do not need your assistance to kill a vampire.”
Char’s lips parted, but before he could speak, Blayze was moving to stand directly in front of the dragon.
“Bolt, he is holding a powerful curse that destroyed my family,” she softly murmured, laying her hand on his arm. “You would have no protection if he cast it in your direction. We must catch him off guard.”
Bolt’s jaw jutted forward, but he had no defense against Blayze’s pleading gaze. He finally conceded defeat. “If you insist.”
“I do,” she said.
Char moved, placing a possessive arm around her shoulders. At the same time, he tugged her away from the dragon. He was trying to remain focused on the danger, but there was no need for any touching between the two dragons.
“Give us time to find the best place for an attack,” he warned.
Bolt glanced toward Blayze before offering a grudging nod.
Char clenched his teeth and urged her to head back out the way they came. Acting like an adult was proving to be harder than he expected.
Almost as if determined to rub salt in his open wounds, Blayze glanced over her shoulder. “I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid,” she whispered.
Char felt his stomach clench, his dragon sulking at her concerned expression. “You’re worried about him.”
Obviously sensing his annoyance, she sent him a chiding glance. “I certainly don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”
“I see.”
She heaved a small sigh. “Char—”
“We need to hurry,” he interrupted, pausing to make sure there was no one in the corridor before they stepped out of the guardroom.
They moved at a quick pace, a growing sense of urgency tingling through Char.
“Bolt has no more interest in being my mate than I have in being his,” she abruptly said, easily keeping up with his long strides.
He tried to concentrate on his surroundings. Just because the vampire was behind them, that didn’t mean there wasn’t some potential danger lurking just ahead.
In fact, it was almost guaranteed.
But there was no way he could resist a quick glance at Blayze’s delicate profile.
There was only so much adulting a poor half-dragon could do.
“He told you that?”
“He didn’t have to,” she assured him. “I could sense he’s already given his heart to another.”
His gaze snapped back to the shadows ahead of them, his lips thinning.
“Dragons don’t follow their hearts when it comes to their mate,” he reminded her.
Her fingers brushed down his back. “Some of us do.”
Oh, hell. His insides felt all gooey. As if she’d melted him with her dragon-fire.
The sensation should have been embarrassing. He was a sophisticated male who’d been a favorite among females for centuries, not a silly hatchling. Instead, he savored the warmth spreading through his body.
At least he was trying to savor it until an oppressive power began to spread through the air.
Instantly he was on full alert.
“Dragon,” he breathed, coming to an abrupt halt. He easily recognized the scent. “Magma.”
Blayze stood next to him, her eyes wide. “What’s he doing here?”
That was the million-dollar question.
Char recalled the conversation he’d overheard. Magma had been a leader who clearly depended on brute strength and treachery to remain in power. Which meant he would assume everyone was like him.
Untrustworthy and plotting to double-cross him.
“Perhaps he wants to make certain that Flynn understands the danger of not following through on his commitment to betray Synge,” he suggested. “Or maybe he saw Bolt following us from the throne room and became suspicious.”
Blayze squared her shoulders. “I have to get rid of him before he can warn the vampire.”
Once again Char was forced to reach out and grasp her arm before she could charge into a fight. “You are certainly Synge’s daughter.”
She sent him a wary frown. “What does that mean?”
He hesitated. Probably best not to share his opinion that she had a habit of choosing violence to solve every situation.
Instead, he grasped her shoulders and stared down at her upturned face. He didn’t have to be a prophet to know that things were going to escalate quickly unless they m
anaged to distract the approaching dragon.
“You need to prepare the ambush,” he told her.
She studied his face. Clearly she sensed he was hiding something from her.
“What are you going to do?” she demanded.
There was no time to think of a convincing lie. Already the air was sweltering with Magma’s power as he came closer and closer. Within a few seconds it would be too late for Blayze to escape unnoticed.
“I’m going to get rid of the dragon,” he said, giving her a firm push backward, straight through the doorway.
Her eyes widened. “Char, no.”
“Trust me,” he commanded, reaching out to grab the door and firmly close it. Then, with a twist of his hand, he crushed the knob until it was hopelessly jammed.
It wouldn’t hold her for long, but he only needed a couple of minutes to lure Magma away.
Hurrying down the corridor, he didn’t worry about the fact he was just about to confront a pureblood dragon who’d already proven he was willing to sink into the gutters to win. All that mattered was keeping Blayze safe.
Period. End of story.
He’d nearly returned to the public area of the lair when he rounded a corner to discover the large dragon with long black hair standing in the center of the corridor.
Magma.
The dragon was still wearing his gaudy crimson robe, and his expression remained arrogant, but Char caught a whiff of fear coming from the male. As if Magma was worrying about the success of his daring plan.
He should be worried.
Once Synge realized he’d been betrayed, he was going to go apeshit.
And when a pureblood dragon went apeshit, bad things happened. Earthquakes. Molten fire. End of the world.
Realizing that Char had stopped instead of scurrying away like a proper servant, the dragon sent him a warning frown. “Go about your business,” he snapped.
Char pressed his hands together, offering a small bow. “You are Magma?”
The dragon glowered with impatience. “I am.”
“Then this is a most fortunate meeting,” he murmured in the smarmy tones a servant was expected to use. “A vampire by the name of Flynn requested that I seek you out.”
Magma froze, abruptly centering his attention fully on Char. “Why?”
“He needs to meet with you,” Char told him.
Magma’s glower remained intact. “Where is he?”
“This way.” Char waved a hand toward a nearby fork in the corridor.
“Why did he send you?” Magma demanded, warily following Char as he headed into the side tunnel that led toward the less populated area of the lair. “If he wishes to speak with me he could have come himself.”
Char quickened his pace. Magma wouldn’t be fooled for long. The farther away from Blayze he could get, the better.
“He mentioned that he was in fear that your gift for Synge is in danger,” he told the dragon, sweat dripping down his spine. Even as a half-dragon he reacted to the heat that Magma was pumping into the air. Was it on purpose? Or just a symptom of the stress the dragon was under? “He is trying to protect it.”
“And who are you?”
“I owe Flynn a debt,” Char said, his gaze searching for a suitable spot to try and corner the dangerous beast. At least long enough for Blayze and Bolt to kill Flynn. After that…well, one problem at a time. He spotted an opening into what looked like an old torture chamber. Perfect. “One that is now paid,” he told the dragon, stepping aside to point into the dark room. “He’s in here.”
Magma tilted back his head, sniffing the air. “Why do I not sense him?”
“He is attempting to disguise his presence,” Char assured the large male.
Magma’s nose flared, his eyes smoldering with a crimson fire. “Liar,” he growled. “This is a trap.”
A shimmer of power swirled around Magma’s large body. A warning he was about to shift.
Char didn’t hesitate.
There was no way in hell he could battle Magma once he was in his dragon-form. Not if he hoped to live through the encounter.
His hand started to reach for the diamond-knife tucked at his lower back, only to realize that he wasn’t going to have time to do the necessary damage.
So instead, he used the only advantage he possessed.
Lifting his hand, he released the fey magic that bubbled through his blood. Instantly a spiderweb of sparkling strands floated through the air.
Magma was still in the process of shifting when the threads of magic wrapped around him, slowing time and freezing him in place.
It was a temporary solution.
Char had expended a lot of energy over the past hours and he could already feel the strain of maintaining his spell. His only hope was that he could hold on long enough for Blayze to destroy the curse.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Blayze turned to discover that she was in the same room they’d arrived in. The room that would eventually become her nursery.
Her first instinct was to break down the door and rush to protect Char. For all of his courage, he was no match for a pureblood dragon.
But his last words continued to echo in her mind.
Trust me.
How often had she demanded that he offer her his trust? To insist that he believe in her ability to make her own decisions?
Now that the shoe was on the other foot, she discovered it wasn’t as easy as she assumed. In fact, it was taking every ounce of her willpower to accept that Char could handle the large dragon.
Closing her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. Any second, Bolt would be coming down the corridor with the vampire. She couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Almost as if to mock her grim determination to be prepared, there was a sudden tingle of power that crawled across her back. With a muffled gasp, she spun on her heel, her gaze searching the shadows that filled the room.
Nothing.
With a frown, she took a tentative step forward.
“Hello. Who’s there?” she called out softly. There was another prickle of power. There was definitely magic in the air. But where was it coming from? “Hello?”
She moved to press her hand against the wall. It was warm. Not that unusual in a dragon lair. But she sensed that this was different. And there was the scent of…stone?
Gargoyle?
That seemed unlikely. From what she could determine from her mother, dragons and gargoyles were natural enemies.
Of course, most demons were enemies to dragons.
Still trying to process what the strange tingles could mean, she was jerked back to attention as the smell of stone was abruptly replaced with the scorching power of Bolt along with the dry, raspy scent of a vampire.
They were coming.
Shaking off her unease, Blayze focused on her inner beast. Usually she was in a maddened state from her curse when she shifted. This time she allowed it happen in a slow, carefully controlled burst of power.
Heat and ecstasy flowed through her, an intoxicating brew of magic that made her feel giddy with pleasure. She shuddered, her body stretching and popping as her wings spread to a ten-foot span and her narrow head bumped into the ceiling.
At the same time her senses heightened to a near painful awareness.
She could feel the heavy stone of the lair that surrounded her. And the distant buzz of dragons in the throne room. More importantly, she could sense the precise moment that the vampire realized he was being led into an ambush.
It was in the spiked scent of adrenaline and the low curse that Flynn muttered just before Blayze smashed through the wall and surged forward.
Unfortunately, Blayze expected Flynn to try and bolt down the corridor. Which meant she’d missed destroying him with her dragon-fire when the vampire instead darted past her with a blinding speed, leaping through the opening she’d created and into the nursery.
***
Levet was counting each tick of the clock. Just a co
uple of hours to sunrise. And the looming possibility that his head would be mounted on a wall in Styx’s lair.
Not the most pleasant thought.
Perhaps he truly should consider an extended vacation in a remote locale.
Like Hades. Or Vegas.
His dark thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Vex surged to her feet.
“I sense her,” she announced.
Both Levet and Tayla rushed forward, nearly tripping over their feet in an effort to reach the succubus.
“She’s alive?” Tayla demanded.
Vex gave a small nod. “Yes.”
Levet breathed a sigh of relief even as Tayla pressed her hands to her heart.
“Where is she?” the imp asked.
Vex grimaced. “Not where. When.”
Levet’s wings twitched. Was she speaking in some sort of strange code?
“I do not understand,” he admitted.
Vex gave a lift of her hands, as if uncertain how to explain. “I don’t know how, but she’s traveled back in time.”
Levet’s eyes widened. “That is—” He swallowed the word “impossible.” Over the past few years he’d discovered that there was very little that wasn’t possible. “Can you contact her?” he asked instead.
She shoved her fingers through the short strands of her hair, suddenly appearing unbearably tired. “I’m going to try.”
Levet reached out to lightly touch her hand. “What can we do to help?”
“Make sure I’m not interrupted,” Vex said, once again perching on the edge of the bed.
Together Levet and Tayla returned to their position beside the door. Neither wanted to interfere with Vex’s attempt to latch on to Blayze.
Her success was too important to risk.
Levet pressed his back against the jamb while Tayla twisted her hands together in a nervous gesture.
“It must have been Char,” she abruptly said, her words so low that Levet could barely catch them.
Levet sent her a startled glance. He’d thought that Tayla was fond of Baine’s most trusted servant. “Why do you say that?”
She looked troubled, her face ashen from the strain of the past few hours. “He’s the only one who can manipulate time.”