While they were quarrelling a robed servant had arrived to lead her to another cavern that had been shrouded in satin curtains and finely woven rugs. “I was taken to his harem and I decided that I didn’t particularly care for the role of concubine.” She shrugged. “So I left.”
Levet made a sound of disbelief. “You…left? And the dragon just let you?”
She wrinkled her nose. She’d been in a mindless daze when she’d been urged through curtains and into the vast room that was filled with beautiful fountains and even more beautiful women. But the second she’d realized exactly where she was, and what would be expected of her, she’d panicked.
“I didn’t ask for his permission.”
“Sacrebleu,” Levet breathed. “That’s impossible. No one can escape from a dragon lair.”
“I was lucky. I happen to have a talent for creating portals.” She licked her dry lips. Had she heard something downstairs? Was Baine already in the house? “I kept on the move for years, and then when I decided to open this teahouse I had it wrapped in disguise spells that should have kept me hidden.”
A strange expression seemed to ripple over Levet’s bumpy little face.
“Oui.” He cleared his throat. “As to that.”
She frowned. “As to what?”
“Do you recall that we discussed using my magical services to discover your perfect love-match?”
“I recall telling you that I have no desire for any love-match,” she said with a sharp impatience. “What does that have to do with the disguise spells?”
“It is vaguely possible that I—”
“Imp.” The powerful sound of Baine’s voice echoed through the air. “Enough games. Present yourself to me.”
That toxic mixture of fear and excitement thundered through Tayla, draining the color from her face.
“Oh…hell,” she muttered.
“I am sorry, ma belle,” Levet told her, his wings fluttering as he moved around her to head down the hallway. “I will make him go away.”
She reached to grab his shoulder. “Are you nuts?” she hissed. “You can’t confront a full-blooded dragon.”
“This is my fault. I must fix it.”
His fault? Tayla had no idea what he meant. Levet hadn’t known that she was being hunted by a pissed-off dragon.
Before she could demand an explanation, however, he was slipping from her grasp and heading toward the stairs at a surprising speed.
“Levet,” she muttered, her hands clenching in frustration. Dammit.
The foolish gargoyle was going to get himself killed.
She was torn between dashing after the retreating demon to try and halt his idiotic burst of heroism, and leaping out the window so she could lead the dragon away, but the decision was taken out of her hands.
“Hello, imp.” The dark, enticingly accented voice wrapped around her like a caress.
Or maybe a noose.
Stiffening, she sucked in the intoxicating scent of exotic spices and sheer male power.
She hadn’t sensed him entering the house, but Baine had the sort of magic that allowed him to disguise his presence. Which meant he’d deliberately allowed her to feel his heat from the gardens. Dammit.
Now her every nerve ending screamed in response to his sudden appearance.
Accepting it was too late to flee, she slowly forced herself to turn and face the male who stood in the center of the hallway.
The breath was jerked from her body as she reacted to his sculpted beauty that really should have been illegal.
He was the most powerful creature to ever walk the earth. Why the heck did he also have to have a face that looked like it’d been carved by the hands of an angel? Or sleek black hair that had a satiny sheen as it brushed against his broad shoulders? Or eyes that burned with an amber fire?
And that body…
God almighty. Even now she found herself mesmerized by the exquisite tattoos that were crawling over his lean, sculpted torso.
Is that why he never wore more than a pair of loose pants?
Because he knew it made poor, hapless females wonder what it would feel like to run their hands over those strange markings? And kiss a path over his smooth chest and down the flat planes of his stomach? And tumble him onto the floor so she could climb on top of him and…
Slamming the mental door on her vivid fantasies, Tayla fiercely reminded herself that she was in trouble.
Ass-deep-potential-death kind of trouble.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded.
He shrugged, taking a slow, thorough survey of her. Tayla shivered. There was a smoldering intensity in his gaze that seemed to singe her skin. She didn’t know what was going on behind those painfully gorgeous features, but she sensed it was raw and needy and possessive as hell.
Christ. It was true.
Dragons truly did lust over their hoard.
“The fey are not the only ones who can create portals,” he warned, his eyes at last lifting to meet her wary glare. “Give me your name.”
“It’s none of your—” Baine’s power thundered through the air, cutting off any urge to be a smartass. “Tayla,” she choked out. “My name is Tayla.”
“Tayla.” He said it slow. Like he was testing it on his tongue. Then he gave a slow nod. “Yes.”
“Did…” She was forced to halt and clear her throat. “Did your father send you?”
He seemed surprised by her question. “Why would you think Synge would send me?”
“The trolls—”
“My father has no claim on you,” he interrupted in fierce tones. “I paid for you. Now you belong to me.”
“What do you mean, you paid for me?”
“The usual.” He shrugged. “He demanded a small fortune, and I gave it to him. Let’s hope you’re worth it.”
“No,” she breathed, her heart thundering at the mere thought of belonging to this intensely beautiful creature.
There was a long, nerve-racking silence as he did another slow, ruthless survey of her tense body, as if satisfying himself that his prize hadn’t been damaged or tarnished over the years. Then, without warning, he reached out to grasp her wrist in a grip that sent shockwaves of heated pleasure through her.
“Time to go home.”
She barely managed to gasp before the world melted to black.
###
Baine deliberately chose to return to his home through the portal that opened just outside his lair. He still didn’t know how she’d escaped his father’s harem, but he could only assume that someone had been foolish enough to leave a gateway open.
This portal was constantly guarded, which meant she couldn’t use it to sneak away.
Still holding her arm, he stepped through the opening, waving aside the uniformed guards who snapped to attention.
“Welcome home, my lord,” one of the soldiers murmured, his gaze running an appreciative inventory over the lovely imp at Baine’s side.
Baine narrowed his eyes, acutely aware that Tayla was wearing nothing more than a tiny scrap of clothing that did nothing to hide her beauty. His power abruptly vibrated through the air. He was a dragon. Which meant nobody was allowed to covet his treasures.
Especially not this one.
“Open the door,” he snapped.
There was a flurry of movement as his servant scurried to obey his command and within seconds Baine was tugging Tayla into his lair. Even then, he continued through the long hallway, not halting until they’d entered the empty throne room.
Alone at last.
His gaze swept down her body with a compulsive fascination he couldn’t seem to halt. It was pissing him off. He’d already assured himself she was undamaged. And that she wasn’t carrying any weapons. Not that there was anything she could possess that would hurt him. But she might try to harm his guards, or even herself.
There was no need to keep inspecting her as if he’d been starving for the sight of her. Or for his hand to twitch with the need to re
ach out and assure himself that she was real. Or suck in deep breaths just so he could savor her tart, lemony scent.
It’d been the same way the first time he’d caught sight of her.
He’d been summoned to his father’s lair to explain once again why he wasn’t out pillaging and looting to fill the family coffers like his brothers. The last thing he’d expected was to be sucker-punched by the sight of a half-naked imp standing in the middle of the dank cavern.
But that was exactly what’d happened.
In that moment, the world had faded until nothing was left but the beautiful creature with a cloud of dark gold hair and wide green eyes that seemed to hold a captivating innocence.
He should have walked away. There were millions of beautiful women. All of them capable of stirring his cock without making him feel as if he suddenly discovered the reason his heart was supposed to beat.
Instead he’d walked forward and blatantly claimed her.
Of course his father, Synge, hadn’t been happy. The imp had been protection payment from the trolls. Synge didn’t share. Not with anyone.
By the time he’d managed to barter for the female, she’d been led away by a servant and managed to disappear.
He’d still had to pay his father three chests of gold and a priceless emerald.
Which was why he’d been so ruthlessly determined to find the elusive imp. He’d bought her fair and square. She belonged to him.
At least, that’s what he’d told himself.
Now he sensed that it was far more complicated. Or maybe it was exquisitely simple. He wanted this imp more than he’d ever wanted another female in all his long, long life.
And she wanted him.
He could catch the luscious scent of her arousal the instant he’d touched her cheek, but for some odd reason she refused to accept that she belonged to him.
Even now he could sense her inner struggle to ignore the heat that smoldered between them.
“I see you’re still a bully,” she muttered.
“Bully?”
“Tyrant. Tormentor. Intimidator,” she clarified.
He cocked a brow, his hand lifting to brush down the bare line of her shoulder, his fingers tingling at the feel of her soft, satin skin.
“If I were a bully you would already be beaten black and blue,” he pointed out, his fingers drifting down to trace the plunging neckline of her nightgown. His inner fires flamed with a hunger he intended to sate very, very soon. “Instead, that pale, perfect skin doesn’t have a mark on it.”
She shivered as he lightly caressed the upper curves of her breasts, the jade in her eyes shimmering in the torchlight.
“You intruded into my home and kidnapped me,” she said, her voice breathy. “Only a bully would do that to an innocent woman.”
Baine barely listened to her foolish accusations. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted…her.
Every golden, satin inch of her.
In his bed. Against the wall. In his treasure room, surrounded by precious gems.
“But you’re not an innocent woman, are you, Tayla?” he murmured in absent tones. He was far more interested in the hardening nubs of her nipples he could see beneath the eyelet material of her gown.
He felt her tense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I bought you from my father. That means you’re my property,” he bluntly reminded her.
She shook her head, her heart thundering loud enough he could hear the frantic beats.
“People can’t be property.”
“Do you deny that your father bartered you to pay his debts?”
She jerked as if he’d actually struck her. “What did you say?”
He stilled, sensing that she wasn’t faking her shock. “Your father made a contract with the trolls.”
Her face drained of color, leaving it a strange shade of ash.
“My…father?” she rasped, knocking aside his hand. “What are you talking about?”
Baine scowled. He wanted to touch her.
The soft feel of her body beneath his fingertips was satisfying an ache that had plagued him for twenty-five years.
But he hadn’t missed the burst of confused fear that had darkened her eyes. This female was unaware of what her father had been willing to do to save his own skin.
The knowledge was…welcomed, he abruptly decided.
First off, it helped to soften a portion of the anger he harbored toward her. He didn’t like the thought that she was so lacking in integrity that she would run away from her obligation.
It also solved one of his nagging problems.
Baine might be enormously powerful, but he was also sly, and cunning, and quite capable of using his intelligence rather than brute strength to achieve his goals.
“You didn’t know?” he asked in smooth tones.
“There’s nothing to know.” She wrapped her arms around her waist in an unconsciously defensive motion. “I was working late one night in my father’s shop and the trolls burst in from the back door and kidnapped me.”
“Trolls don’t randomly enter public buildings to snatch females,” he pointed out. “They were there to collect the only thing of value that your father still possessed.”
“That’s a lie,” she hissed. “My father was a successful businessman who—”
“Your father was a compulsive gambler.” He overrode her fierce denial.
She winced. “In the past, but he stopped when he opened the store. He promised.”
“Promises from a gambler are worth about as much as gold from a goblin,” Baine retorted.
She grimaced. Everyone knew that goblins could make dross look like gold. Only a fool would accept a coin from the deceitful demons.
“How would you know?”
Baine wasn’t about to admit that he’d spent years discovering every possible thing about her. From the fact that her mother had died when she was just a child, to the fact that she loved to bake. He knew that she had once dreamed of owning her own business and that she started working when she was barely more than a child to support her worthless father.
Instead, he moved toward a table that was set beside the throne dais. Reaching out he tapped the top of a rosewood box inlaid with gold. A second later he flipped open the lid.
The box was magically connected to his vast library and was capable of transporting any book, manuscript, or item he might desire.
Sticking his hand into the box he grasped the scroll and turned back to Tayla. Then walking back, he halted directly in front of her and unrolled the fragile parchment.
“Is that your father’s signature?” He pointed toward the name scrawled at the bottom of the page.
Even in the torchlight it was obviously written in blood. Which meant it couldn’t be forged.
Tayla leaned forward, her brows drawn together in a baffled frown. “What is this?”
“The agreement made between your father and Skragg, the King of the Mojave Mountain Trolls.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, her angry denial slowly being replaced with something that might have been fear as she scanned the neat rows of numbers until she reached the total at the very bottom of the parchment.
“This can’t be right,” she at last muttered, ridiculously determined to deny what was staring her in the face. “Even if my father was gambling, there’s no way he could be in debt for over a hundred thousand dollars.”
Baine shrugged. “The trolls have a reputation for extorting outrageous interest rates from their victims. Which is why only the very stupid, or very desperate, would choose to borrow money from them.”
“Okay.” She licked her lips, her shoulders hunched. “If my father owed this Skragg money he could have used the gems from the store to pay him off.”
“He did,” Baine informed her, a strange sensation suddenly twisting his gut.
He didn’t like the way her eyes were darkening with hurt. Or how her body was trembling. But she needed to know the truth, didn’t s
he?
If she understood that she had no right to run from him then he wouldn’t have to keep her as his prisoner. His finger moved toward the number at the center of the page.
“This is the amount owed after he’d promised the contents of his store. When the gems were gone, he had nothing left of value to offer.” He captured and held her wary gaze. “Nothing except you.”
CHAPTER THREE
Tayla felt as if she’d been slammed headfirst into a brick wall.
It’d been horrible to think she’d been a random victim of the trolls. And that a ruthless dragon was hunting her.
But this…
This was so much worse.
Granted, imps tended to be flighty, self-indulgent creatures by nature, and if she was honest with herself, her father, Odel, took selfishness to a whole new level. Which no doubt explained why her older brothers had washed their hands of Odel when they were old enough to leave the nest.
But to offer her to slavers just to pay his gambling debts was inconceivable.
“I can’t believe this,” she breathed.
“Believe, my pretty imp. It’s all written in black and white.” He deliberately paused. “And blood.”
She dipped down her head, unable to meet the burning amber gaze. She didn’t want to accept she truly was this arrogant dragon’s property. And she most especially didn’t want him witnessing her increasing sense of humiliation.
“He promised,” she stupidly muttered.
Baine leaned forward, whispering directly in her ear. “Do you admit the contract is real?”
She trembled, that dangerous, melty sensation she’d never felt with anyone but this male flowing through her body.
“Do I have a choice?” she muttered.
His lips brushed an erotic spot just below her jaw. Or maybe the heat of his lips made every spot on her body an erotic spot.
Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous…
“And that the trolls in good faith gave you to my father, and that it was within my right to purchase you?”
“I never agreed to become your concubine,” she argued in husky tones.
“Fine.” His mouth seared a path down the curve of her neck. “Then the debt must be repaid.”