Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(33)

Feeling like a rare specimen under a microscope, she immediately looked away and scanned the room, instead. Like the outside of the structure, the Sapphire Lair was a stunning work of construction. The front room, presumably a great room, was arched by huge cathedral ceilings, which were crisscrossed by thick, wooden beams. There were floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere, showcasing some of the most magnificent views Jordan had ever seen. And the detailing—the iron-work, the ornate wooden trim, the massive perpendicular fireplace which separated the great room from the hall—was made of those same odd blue-and-white stones set into the outside pillars. The effect was positively splendid.

At the back of the room, there was an enormous pool table and a bar—definitely a bachelor pad of sorts—and off to the right of the game area was an enormous foyer flanked by dual rounded staircases trimmed in intricate iron and wood. There appeared to be a gourmet kitchen off to the right, on the other side of the staircase foyer, but Jordan couldn’t quite get a glimpse—the only thing showing was a portion of a huge granite bar. If it was the kitchen, she surmised, then it spanned the entire length of the house on the opposite side of the hall.

Her attention was drawn back to the great room as two…dragyri…stood straighter beside the pool table, and angled their intimidating bodies toward hers.

The first male, about six-feet-two, sinewy, but strong, locked his gaze on hers, and his warm sea-green pupils nearly burst with light. “Jacepheros Saphyrius,” he said, “but you can call me Jace.”

Jordan nodded. She was about to force another smile, but gave up—the joy just wasn’t there. “Hi, Jace,” she mumbled, sounding more like a child than a grown, accomplished woman.

His smile made up for both of them. It was breathtaking and kind, and talk about your perfect, immaculate teeth. Odd thing to observe, she thought.

The second male actually raised his hand, not so much in a wave, but in a flick of his wrist. “Leviathon Saphyrius,” he said in a pure, melodic voice. “Levi for short.” His smile spoke volumes, as did his sapphire-and-indigo eyes. This one had a deep reservoir of calm beneath him, as well as an endless pool of mirth; and both insights were at odds with his powerful, almost brutish-looking hands.

Jordan shook her head, quickly dismissing the thoughts. “Nice to meet you, Levi,” she said. And the Stockholm Syndrome had just been cemented. Holy mother of mercy, what was she doing? Where was she standing? How was any of this real?

The third male in the great room had been lounging on a plush leather couch, the color of copper in autumn leaves, and he rose from his perch, took five generous strides forward, and actually extended his hand. “Welcome to the Sapphire Lair,” he said softly, although his voice was as masculine as the rest.

Jordan took his hand, more gingerly than usual, and shook it lightly, noticing that he had light-brown pupils within his sapphire irises, and a small, strange, archaic tattoo over his otherwise smooth left temple: something that looked like a winged cross etched inside a flowing circle. She tried not to stare too hard. “And you are?”

He released her hand and clutched his amulet, and that’s when she made the obvious connection: Each and every male, when he spoke his given name, unwittingly clutched his sapphire amulet. Was this on purpose? By design? Or just some unconscious habit? “Nakaitheros Saphyrius,” he said.

She stumbled over the ten-gallon word. So, he didn’t use a shortened version? “Na…kai…ther…os.” She tried it on her tongue.

“Nakai,” he supplied, letting the name linger before he turned his attention to Zane. “Brother, you got a missive from the Seven. It’s on the—”

“The two of you are brothers?” Jordan interrupted, immediately cringing at how rude that was. Holy hell, she was just so nervous! Defensively, she thought, Well, shit, what do they expect? I’m here against my will!

Zane tightened his hand against her waist, and then he slowly rotated her body until she was facing him.

Why did he do things like that? she thought.

Take such casual liberties with her body?

Did he want his lair-mates to think the two of them were intimate?

They weren’t!

“We are brothers of the lair,” Zane replied, seeming indifferent to the rudeness of her interruption—or the content of her thoughts.

Jordan swallowed her angst and continued with her original line of questioning; at least it was a distraction. “But not by blood?” she asked.

Zane tilted his head back and forth in a measured gesture. “Well…sort of.” He looked off into the distance as if searching for just the right words. “I am a Genesis Son, so Lord Saphyrius is my maker—my father.” He immediately amended the word. “But my brothers were consecrated to his lair when they turned eighteen, so they also share his spiritual essence.”

“We’re brothers in the only sense that matters, here in Dragons Domain,” Nakai supplied.

Jordan blinked her eyes. Okay, so she sort of got it: Axe, Jace, Levi, and Nakai all had different biological fathers—probably males who had found their dragyras—but they had been more or less adopted by Lord Saphyrius and ushered into a common lair…into his service.

“Exactly,” Zane said aloud.

Jordan huffed. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Zane asked.