layers caught the flames and blushed like her skin.
Giving away a piece of his treasure? He closed his fist around the sphere. And he held it tight, not because he wanted jealously to keep it but because he longed so fiercely to give her every single glowing facet in the place.
Suddenly, the orbs seemed like eyeballs, staring at him accusingly.
Giving her his treasure would bind her to him, but she hadn’t asked for it. She’d asked for nothing. Most humans couldn’t survive the sight of an ancient dragon treasure. Usually because the dragon killed them outright, but also the ravenousness for gold and jewels was almost as ferocious in humans as it was in dragons. Humans, though, weren’t built to withstand that hunger. Avarice and the craving for more, more, more ate them from the inside.
The petralys might be turning him to stone, but he didn’t want to see the gold greed change Esme.
Still, one semi-large pearl wouldn’t break her.
And he couldn’t look at it again without thinking of her.
The thick stone that had kept out a warlock’s dark alchemy also fucked with cell phone reception, so Bale had to stalk another circuit looking for a spot where the signal might sneak through. The walk loosened his muscles and made him realize he didn’t want to talk to his brother or his cousin.
Torch might not ask what had happened the night before, but his eyebrows would be arched in that annoying way. And better to see all the stars explode than find out his cousin had told Rave that he’d sent the Reyex of the Nox Incendi on a booty call.
Rave would probably die if he found out his liege and older brother even knew what a booty call was.
So instead, Bale dug through the armoire he’d barely remembered and found another set of clothes from who knew how long ago. Thankfully he still had the archaic cape, although he suspected it would raise more eyebrows than Torch’s if he was seen.
He made his way through the back corridors of the Keep, a warren of twisting passageways that felt deeply at home to the dragon though a human would be hopelessly lost. Even in this upright shape, he felt turned around.
Or maybe that was because he’d locked himself away for so long.
But in any shape, a dragon-shifter could always find his clan treasure.
The Nox Incendi treasure room was deep in the Keep, where no drunk and no thief could ever find it. If someone did, whether accidentally or on purpose, the dragon standing guard would make sure that someone was never found.
When the dragon caught sight of him, it stiffened in shock, its wings flaring with a whisper of sound. Yes, too many years had passed since he’d made these rounds.
He nodded as he strode past, careful to keep his gait steady though the long walk had tired him.
The treasure room was even more vast than his private hoard. Before the petralys struck, the Nox Incendi had been a small but thriving clan. Now, they were fewer than ever, which made their treasure richer by comparison. But he would’ve willingly traded every coin and gem for the rare cereus flowers to treat the dragonkin.
Or to find the even more rare solarys to cure them all forever.
He strode between the towering, arched columns, every footfall muted by the distances. And by the drifts of gold and jewels, tumbling like frozen waves of rainbows and molten sunlight.
It was a bit of a cliché, but what a joy to his dragon.
“Smith,” he called. “Your liege needs you.”
“Who?”
The voice was cranky and distracted, but the rumpled male who stepped out from between the columns was younger than Rave and only a little older than Torch.
Bale sighed. “The one who rules you?” Pharos Smith had always been peculiarly gem-struck, even for dragonkin. That served him well in his task as smith, but made him provoking the rest of the time.
Pharos peered at him. “Bale? Shit, man. I haven’t seen you for…” The other male scratched his chin as he lost the trail of the thought.
Well, it
Giving away a piece of his treasure? He closed his fist around the sphere. And he held it tight, not because he wanted jealously to keep it but because he longed so fiercely to give her every single glowing facet in the place.
Suddenly, the orbs seemed like eyeballs, staring at him accusingly.
Giving her his treasure would bind her to him, but she hadn’t asked for it. She’d asked for nothing. Most humans couldn’t survive the sight of an ancient dragon treasure. Usually because the dragon killed them outright, but also the ravenousness for gold and jewels was almost as ferocious in humans as it was in dragons. Humans, though, weren’t built to withstand that hunger. Avarice and the craving for more, more, more ate them from the inside.
The petralys might be turning him to stone, but he didn’t want to see the gold greed change Esme.
Still, one semi-large pearl wouldn’t break her.
And he couldn’t look at it again without thinking of her.
The thick stone that had kept out a warlock’s dark alchemy also fucked with cell phone reception, so Bale had to stalk another circuit looking for a spot where the signal might sneak through. The walk loosened his muscles and made him realize he didn’t want to talk to his brother or his cousin.
Torch might not ask what had happened the night before, but his eyebrows would be arched in that annoying way. And better to see all the stars explode than find out his cousin had told Rave that he’d sent the Reyex of the Nox Incendi on a booty call.
Rave would probably die if he found out his liege and older brother even knew what a booty call was.
So instead, Bale dug through the armoire he’d barely remembered and found another set of clothes from who knew how long ago. Thankfully he still had the archaic cape, although he suspected it would raise more eyebrows than Torch’s if he was seen.
He made his way through the back corridors of the Keep, a warren of twisting passageways that felt deeply at home to the dragon though a human would be hopelessly lost. Even in this upright shape, he felt turned around.
Or maybe that was because he’d locked himself away for so long.
But in any shape, a dragon-shifter could always find his clan treasure.
The Nox Incendi treasure room was deep in the Keep, where no drunk and no thief could ever find it. If someone did, whether accidentally or on purpose, the dragon standing guard would make sure that someone was never found.
When the dragon caught sight of him, it stiffened in shock, its wings flaring with a whisper of sound. Yes, too many years had passed since he’d made these rounds.
He nodded as he strode past, careful to keep his gait steady though the long walk had tired him.
The treasure room was even more vast than his private hoard. Before the petralys struck, the Nox Incendi had been a small but thriving clan. Now, they were fewer than ever, which made their treasure richer by comparison. But he would’ve willingly traded every coin and gem for the rare cereus flowers to treat the dragonkin.
Or to find the even more rare solarys to cure them all forever.
He strode between the towering, arched columns, every footfall muted by the distances. And by the drifts of gold and jewels, tumbling like frozen waves of rainbows and molten sunlight.
It was a bit of a cliché, but what a joy to his dragon.
“Smith,” he called. “Your liege needs you.”
“Who?”
The voice was cranky and distracted, but the rumpled male who stepped out from between the columns was younger than Rave and only a little older than Torch.
Bale sighed. “The one who rules you?” Pharos Smith had always been peculiarly gem-struck, even for dragonkin. That served him well in his task as smith, but made him provoking the rest of the time.
Pharos peered at him. “Bale? Shit, man. I haven’t seen you for…” The other male scratched his chin as he lost the trail of the thought.
Well, it
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