Chapter 12 #2
In reflex, I slapped my palm over the raised scar, hiding the brand. “Saw that, did you?”
“At the lake.”
That long ago? And unlike the Puritans, he hadn’t burned me at the stake, fearful it was the mark of evil or some nonsense like that. Trusting that I was safe from his flames, I lowered my hand.
“The symbol emerged on my last birthday. Given how cautious the Puritans are about things that are odd or unnatural, I haven’t shown it to anyone.”
“And you’ve no idea why it appeared.” Again, the unnerving tension entered his words.
“Nope,” I said, popping my p. “But I recognize the shape. It’s Goddess Hathor’s sigil.” I picked up a molded disk of herbal soap, running it over my arms.
“And it’s the only symbol you’ve noted?”
Other than the red sacris flowers, which I had no intention of discussing. “All I know is that so far, nothing good has come of it.” I propped my foot on a stone, soaping up my leg. “I’m just glad it wasn’t more visible, or the high ruler would have seen it and had me burned.”
After scrubbing my body, I rinsed again before heading to the entrance of the pool. “Eyes on the wall, mister.” Once Alaric obliged, I waded out.
“There are few people who would dare to give me orders,” he grumbled.
I glanced at my filthy clothes on the floor, the chill in the room making goosebumps rise on my skin. “What are the odds there are towels stashed in here somewhere?” My teeth started to chatter, and Alaric cast me a glance over his shoulder.
“Hey!” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I forgot mortals need things like towels,” he huffed, sounding annoyed, but more with himself than me for once. “Sit on the rock with your back to me.”
I frowned at the request but did as he said. My bare ass had barely hit the stone when a gentle gust of hot air rushed over my skin.
“What the…” I glanced at the dragon to find light beneath his scales once again glowing, only this time the light was faint. “You’re not planning to roast me, are you?” He did say nobody ordered him around.
“I’m merely ensuring you do not catch a chill and become ill.” He exhaled a long, slow breath, the hot air drying my goosebump-covered flesh.
Okay, perhaps he was a gentleman. After all, I’d never been so pampered. Despite the strangeness of the situation—bathing in an underground chamber with a dragon as my attendant—I was rather relaxed.
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“There’s no reason for us to be enemies when we can be friends.”
“Friends, huh?” The dragon was up to something. First, the bath, then his interest in my life, and now the offer of friendship. I’d go along with it until I figured out what he truly wanted. Maybe once he got it, he’d let me go, like all the others.
“Do you think we can try?”
“Sure,” I muttered in a less-than-enthusiastic tone, not bothering to remind him of the whole master and captive situation.
“Is this what the pair of you do when I’m not here?
” Thorne’s voice echoed from the entrance of the cave, sharp and mocking.
“Sit around braiding each other’s hair?” I whipped my head about to find him leaning against the wall, an antagonistic expression on his face.
His heated gaze slid over me where I perched on my rock, taking in every naked curve.
“Ack!” I squawked, cheeks blazing. “Thorne, get out of here!” I covered my breasts, lurching to my feet. Despite my sad attempt at modesty, those damn sky-blue eyes of his turned heated, sending a shiver running down my spine.
Heart pounding, I bolted for Alaric, racing around to his opposite side. Without my needing to ask, he dipped the tip of his wing down to shield my nudity. Luckily, it was his uninjured side.
“Don’t let me interrupt.” Thorne stormed into the room, stopping in front of the dragon.
“Alaric, don’t move.” I peeked out from beneath his wing to find Thorne still glaring at me—clean, dry, and dressed for once. The sight only made my temper flare hotter. “Well, don’t just stand there. Give me your shirt.”
“Why?” He folded his arms, appearing furious for some reason I could not fathom. “Before I arrived, you were quite comfortable strutting around naked in front of Alaric.”
“That’s different.”
“Different how?”
I stomped my bare foot and immediately regretted it, pain spiking in my calf. “Because Alaric is a dragon, and you’re you.”
A muscle ticked in Thorne’s jaw, those damned blue eyes locking on me as though he’d cornered prey. “Because I am a man, and he is a beast. Is that why?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean...” My cheeks blazed. Why was Thorne behaving as if I’d slighted him in some way? “Just give me your shirt.”
With hard, jerky movements, he whipped off his shirt and tossed it to me. In seconds, I’d pulled it on, then stepped clear of Alaric’s wing.
Instead of letting me pass, Thorne stepped into my path. “What if I told you Alaric is as much a man as I am?”
Alaric’s head snapped toward him, green eyes narrowing. “Don’t.”
“No.” He splayed his arms, his defined biceps flexing. “If she truly is the one sent to you by the goddess, then she should know.”
The one? The one to what? Had Thorne seen Hathor’s brand as well?
“Thorne,” Alaric said in a low, heated growl.
“Come now, Alaric. You asked me to help you. Honesty is important in relationships,” he sneered, turning his full attention to me once more.
“So, tell me, slave.” At the word, I sucked a wounded breath, my chest tightening.
I couldn’t begin to count the number of times I’d been referred to as a slave.
None of them, not even Mortis, had made it sound so vile.
“While the two of you were cozied up in here sharing all your darkest secrets, did he tell you about his curse?”
“Damn you, Thorne,” Alaric growled, anger rumbling in the words.
I spun to face him, only he avoided meeting my eyes. “Cursed how?”
“You see, Alaric isn’t merely a dragon,” Thorne continued, not done with his game. “He’s a Draconis.”
Draconis? “What are you talking about?”
“Little did you know, while you pranced about naked before your dragon. Your captor is in fact a shifter, cursed to remain a beast.”
My laugh came out brittle. “Say what now?”
But the expression on Alaric’s face—fury laced with shame—stripped away any hope he’d deny it. With a thunderous growl, his wings snapped wide, a rush of wind scattering droplets from the pool.
“Thorne, you bastard. You’ll pay for this.” He turned, shoulders rigid, and stalked from the cavern.
“Alaric, wait,” I called with little effect—he was already gone. And there went my so-called friend, abandoning me to face Thorne alone. I spun to face the infuriating male, fists planted on my hips. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” He took a threatening step closer. As he did so, the scent of alcohol wafted from his lips. “Tell the truth?”
I was beginning to think intoxicated was Thorne’s natural state. Still, even drunk, I had no doubt he knew exactly what he was saying. Not even a full cask of Ambrosia could excuse his cruelty.
“Embarrass him and shame me,” I snapped.
Heat emanated from the dull glow at his center, warming the sliver of space between us. “Don’t you think it’s past time someone told the truth around here?”
“Are you accusing me of something?” I spat the question in his face.
“Admit it. You’re not some magicless Puritan,” he said, an inch from my nose.
“The royal family I served would disagree,” I said through gritted teeth.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Just tell me who you are.”
“What does it matter?” Sweat dampened my brow, my temperature rising with my anger. “You and Alaric haven’t been forthcoming yourselves. All this time, he’s actually been a man stuck in a dragon’s body.” By the goddess, he’d seen me naked.
“It matters because Alaric is dying—and not one of your ridiculous potions, enchanted herbs, or mysterious brands is going to save him.” Shadows cut through the rage glowing in his eyes.
No. I must have misheard. “He’s what?”
“Dying. And instead of searching for a solution, he’s wasting time here with you. He’s under some romantic notion that a mere slave with a useless birthmark could be the one to save him.”
The dragon… No scratch that. The shifter was dying. His curse was killing him.
Flark me. So many things made sense now.
Alaric must have seen the mark at the lake that night.
That was why he’d saved me. Why he’d insisted on my staying here.
The misguided fool. Questions raced through my mind so fast I couldn’t keep up with the flood.
Frustration welled inside me. The only target at my disposal—Thorne.
“Want to know what I think?” I spat.
“Not particularly.”
“I think you are an arrogant bastard who is unaccustomed to feeling helpless. You’ve taken an oath to serve the dragon and failed in that duty. You rail at me, projecting your shortcomings when it is you who you truly despise.”
Thorne’s eyes flashed. I braced for his hateful response when his palm nailed the center of my chest and shoved. One moment, I was snarling at him, and the next, water closed over my head.
THORNE
Serafina hit the water with a satisfying splash. I wasn’t completely cruel, making sure I’d tossed her into the deep end so she wouldn’t strike her head.
Me? Projecting shortcomings? It was absurd.
If anyone had shortcomings, it was the phony princess who was too ashamed of her position to confess she’d been a slave. As if I cared about such trivial things.
Curse the infernal woman in her mystifying ways. Alaric’s new toy had my thoughts spinning in so many directions I didn’t know which way was up.