Heart Of The Dragon

The fantasy caused his desire to intermingle with tenderness, each sensation sparking off the other as they raced through him.

Desire he could tolerate. Tenderness he could not.

For years he’d tried to suppress his physical needs, but he’d learned that was impossible. So he’d begun to allow himself the occasional woman, taking them hard and fast, then leaving them quickly afterward. He didn’t kiss, didn’t savor. Just took them with utter detachment, an easily forgettable coupling.

He needed that same detachment now, which meant he needed to ignore Grace’s appeal. With that firmly rooted in his mind, he hurriedly unhooked the chain’s clasp from around her neck, though he was careful not to bruise her.

“Give that back,” she demanded, pulling against his hold. “It’s mine.”

“No. It is mine.”

Her expression turned venomous.

Without removing his gaze from her, Darius secured the medallion around his own neck, causing it to clang against the other Ra-Dracus. “I have many questions for you, and I expect you to answer every one,” he told her. “If you utter a single untruth, you will regret it. Is that clear?”

A strangled breath slipped past her lips.

“Do you understand?” he reiterated.

Wide-eyed, she nodded slowly.

“Then we will begin. You told me you want to give the medallion back to your brother. Why? What does he plan to do with it?”

“I—I don’t know.”

Did she lie? The angelic cast of her features suggested no untruth had ever passed from her lips. Thinking of her lips brought his gaze to them. They were plump lips. Lips made for a man’s pleasure. He ran his hand down his face, unsure what to believe, but knowing he should not imagine those lips slipping up and down his shaft, her red hair spilling over his thighs.

“Where did he acquire it?” Darius ground out.

“I don’t know,” she said hollowly.

“From who did he acquire it?”

“His boss.”

His boss…Darius’s jaw ticked. That meant there were more surface dwellers involved. “How long has the chain been in your possession?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, silently counting the days. “A little over a week.”

“Do you know what it is? Or what it does?”

“It does nothing,” she said, her brow furrowed. “It’s just a necklace. A piece of jewelry.”

He regarded her intently, studying, gauging. “How, then, did you find the mist?”

She pushed out a breath. “I don’t know, okay. I was walking around that damn jungle. I was hot and tired and hungry. I discovered an underground spring, stumbled upon the cave and crawled inside.”

“Did anyone enter the cave with you?”

“No.”

“Are you certain?”

She glared up at him, daring him to do what he would. “Yes, damn it. I’m certain. I was alone out there.”

“If you have lied…” He allowed his threat to hang in the air unsaid.

“I told you the truth,” she snapped.

Had she? He honestly didn’t know. He only knew that he wanted to believe every word she uttered. He was too captivated by her beauty. Too entranced by her scent. He should kill her here and now, finally, but still he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her. Not yet. Not until he’d had time and distance to put her in proper perspective.

I’m a fool, he thought. Darius grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. She began kicking immediately, and her nails raked down his back.

“Put me down, you Neanderthalic bastard!” Her shrieks echoed in his ears. “I answered your questions. You have to let me go.”

“Perhaps a little time in my chamber will make those answers of yours improve. Surely you can do better than ‘I don’t know.’”

“Improve? Improve! If I’d given you different answers, I would have been lying.”

“We shall see.”

He strode up the cave stairs and into the palace above. She continued to squirm and kick, and he continued to hold her firmly with his arms. He was careful to avoid his men as he carried her to his chamber. Once there, he tossed her atop the velvet covered mattress and tied her flailing arms and legs to the posts. Seeing her splayed on his bed made him sweat and ache. Made him rock-hard. Gods, he couldn’t deal with her now, not when she looked so…eatable. Without another glance in her direction, he turned and strode into the hall. The door closed behind him of its own accord.

Sooner or later, the woman would have to die…by his own hand.

Chapter Four

ALONE IN THE ROOM, Grace tugged and squirmed until she freed her wrists. She untied the knots at her ankles and jerked upright. Alex had tied her up many times when they’d been children, so escaping seemed like child’s play. Besides that, her captor had not tied the knots that tight. As if he’d been afraid to hurt her. She dragged in a shaky breath as her gaze darted throughout the spacious interior, taking in every detail. Other than the gloriously soft bed she sprawled upon, a tiered ivory chest was the only other furnishing. Colors…so many colors glistened from the jagged walls like rainbow shards trapped in onyx. There was a cream and marble hearth, unlit and pristine. The only exit was a door with no handle.

Where the hell am I? she wondered, panic rising.

Fear and adrenaline pounded furiously through her blood. A man who could afford this type of luxury could afford an impregnable security system. She fisted her hands on the sapphire velvet coverlet as another thought invaded her mind. A man who could afford this type of luxury could afford to kidnap and torture an innocent woman with no consequences.

Shooting to her feet, she tried to fight past her fear. I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. She just needed to find a way out of here. Before he returned. She raced to the door, clawing at the tiny seam. When that didn’t work, she pushed, trying to force the doors to split down the middle. The thick ivory remained firmly in place, refusing to budge even a little. She expelled a frustrated screech. She should have expected no different. Like he’d make escape that easy.

What was she going to do?

There were no windows to crawl through. And the ceiling…she glanced upward and gasped. The ceiling was comprised of layered crystal prisms, the source of the room’s light. A thin crack stretched across the middle from one end to the other, giving way to a spectacular view of swirling, turquoise liquid. Yet the liquid didn’t drip through. Fish and other sea creatures—those were not mermaids, she assured herself—swam playfully through the water.

I’m underwater. Underwater! She banged her fists against the door. “Let me out of here, damn you!”

No response was forthcoming.

“This is illegal. If you don’t let me out, you’ll be arrested. I swear you will. You’ll go to prison and be forced to have intimate relations with a man named Butch. Let. Me. Out.”

Again, no response. Her punches slowed, then stopped altogether. She rested her cheek against the coolness of the door. Where the hell am I? she wondered once more.

Something tugged at her memory…something she had read. A book or a magazine, or…Alex’s journal! she realized. The bottom dropped from her stomach, and she squeezed her eyes shut as the full implication hit her. Her brother had written about a doorway from earth to Atlantis, a portal surrounded by mist. Her mouth formed an O as a section of his text invaded her mind, clicking in place like the piece of a puzzle. Atlantis was not the home of an extraordinary race of people, but of horrible creatures found only in nightmares, a place the gods had hidden their greatest mistakes.