Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(35)
Blaise Amarkyus was the fourth, after Zane, and he was consecrated to the Amethyst Lair. The most one could say about Lord Amarkyus was that at least the dragon was fair—he wasn’t dark, and he wasn’t light. He was somewhere in the middle, and Blaise walked that same tempered edge.
Nuri Onyhanzian was a son of the Onyx Lair, and his maker was honorable, but too eager to punish those who crossed him. Consequently, the dragyri could be ruthless, with very little cause. One did not cross Nuri Onyhanzian if one had any sense. Still, with his golden-blond hair, his onyx-and-midnight blue eyes, and his classical good looks, the male was the first to crack a joke or play a prank on another warrior. He was decent, loyal, and a prime choice for backup in a fight.
Brastonian Cytarius and Tiberius Topenzi—Brass and Ty—were the final two Genesis Sons, belonging, respectively, to the Citrine and Topaz Lairs. As the sixth and seventh dragon gods of The Pantheon, Lord Cytarius was generous and kind, and Lord Topenzi was downright noble: wise, righteous, and just. He was the kind of god a warrior would gladly bend a knee to and seek out for guidance or counsel. Needless to say, both Brass and Ty were fairly easy to get along with, just so long as one didn’t get it twisted—make no mistake, a dragyri of any shade was a primordial, savage beast at heart, all instinct, dominance, and untamed heat. All the males gave each other a healthy dose of respect and a wide berth when it was called for, and no one went out of their way to provoke another Dragyr.
They tried to live in harmony, brother to brother, lair to lair.
Zane rounded the last of the remaining mountain peaks, angled due south toward the entrance to the temple, and began to make his descent. After all these years, he didn’t give much thought to where he stood in the whole pantheon hierarchy, as the son of Lord Saphyrius. The dragon was the third god of The Pantheon, and that placed him two steps above Lord Dragos and one step above Lord Ethyron in terms of his immortal soul. Lord Saphyrius could be harsh, without question. He could be both kind and unforgiving; however, he had one thing in his favor, something he never let Zane forget: Lord Saphyrius loved his dragyri children—all of them—and that was evident to the entire Sapphire Lair.
If nothing else, Zane could reason with his master, petition him for leniency, on the basis of nothing more than his love. After all, he was the dragon who sought at least a small semblance of justice for Caleb by loaning Zane out to Lord Ethyron to extinguish the gangsters.
Zane only hoped that this meeting had nothing to do with that night.
He had done the gods’ bidding, and the matter was closed.
Now, as he approached the awesome white-marble staircase that led to the font of the temple, flanked by seven enormous, opulent pillars, he took a deep, cleansing breath, tried to bank his inner fire, and drew upon a healthy dose of humility.
He needed to cleanse his hands in the sacred fountain before he entered the sanctuary, and he needed to remember to avert his eyes in the presence of his lords. The difference between breathing—and burning—was often a matter of degree, reverence versus even the slightest hint of disrespect.
He retrieved the summons from his front hip-pocket and glanced at the missive one last time: Yep, it was just about twilight. The native sun was ebbing, the horizon was darkening, and the dragon moon was rising in the glorious crystal skies.
Zane was right on time.
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Jordan’s eyes darted nervously around the enormous suite—Zane’s room—as she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and tried to come to grips with her situation.
She was alone…at last.
Granted, she was in a strange room, in a strange home, in a strange and distant land, one she had entered through an enigmatic portal. So yeah, there was that. But the air wafting through the open windows was crisp, cool, and refreshing; and the ambient sound in the background—the glorious waterfall behind the lair, flowing into a rushing river that winded beneath the lair—was as enchanting as it was beautiful to look at. And she and Zane had a direct view from the bedroom windows.
She and Zane…
Had she lost her mind?
There was no she and Zane!
And she needed to keep her focus.
Surveying the structure and contents of the suite once more—the enormous iron-and-wood bed that sat on a center platform and frankly made her shiver; the unobtrusive kitchenette against the rear, northeast wall that also sported a stocked mini-refrigerator and bar; and the plush but comfortable seating area in the northwest corner that housed a large flat-screen TV, mounted on a 360-degree swivel arm so it could face the sofa or the bed—she wondered at the luxury, technology, and obvious wealth possessed by these…dragons. After all, weren’t dragons supposed to be an ancient, barbaric species?
She rolled her eyes at her own inner discourse—she had truly lost her mind. Dragons weren’t supposed to exist. They were myths, fairy-tale creatures, the stuff made of nightmares and fantasy. She stared at the dual French doors that led to the wraparound-deck, followed the wall of thick glass windows that snaked along the porch, and tuned into the soothing sounds of the river below, forcing herself to readjust her thinking…
No, Jordan; dragons are real.
This is real.
Brushing her arms to stave off a chill, she stiffened her spine and strolled quietly to the corner desk, opposite the kitchenette, on the other side of the room. She had already made note of a yellow legal pad of paper and a container of expensive blue ink pens. And what she was thinking about doing—what she knew she had to do—was as dangerous as it was seditious.