The Dragon Legion Collection(15)

She supposed a better person wouldn’t have been glad that Cetos suffered.

Katina didn’t see the dragon approach until she felt the heat of its presence. She glanced up just as it snatched at her. She struggled when its talons locked around her waist in a fearsome grip. She fought against its merciless hold, knowing it was futile to even try to match its strength, then cried out when it took flight.

With her securely in its grasp.

Katina looked down at her home, unable to make sense of what was happening. She’d been captured by a dragon. The dragon was flying through the air. Was it one of the gods, having taken this form? Or was it some strange beast, created by the gods to serve some whim? Where would it take her? And why?

She was still holding the cloak she had taken from Cetos’ shoulders. She stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. Then she glanced down at the village that was dropping away beneath her feet.

The courtyard of her home was filled with broken pottery and flames. She saw the slaves run to Cetos and pour a jug of water over him, then she couldn’t see him anymore. She saw the neighbors come from their homes to investigate the noise. Several looked up, and their jaws fell slack in surprise.

Then the dragon beat its wings hard, carrying her away from all she had known. Katina looked up at the darkening sky, out over the hills, then back down at the village below.

She was astonished to realize she was glad. She dropped Cetos’ cloak and let it flutter toward the earth, a part of her past and not her future. The sight of it falling pleased her so much that she removed Cetos’ gold ring and threw it after the cloak.

For the first time in years, Katina felt free.

She owed a debt to a dragon for that. She couldn’t help but look up at the impressive creature and wonder what price it would demand as his due.



* * *



Alexander could have gnashed his teeth and screamed in frustration.

Because he’d not only possessed Cetos’ wife, but he’d attacked the man in his own home. He’d burned Cetos with dragonfire and left him writhing on the ground.

Homes should be sanctuaries and not be filled with violence. There was no doubt that Cetos shouldn’t have struck Katina, but still Alexander had been wrong to take vengeance for that in the man’s own home.

What price would he be compelled to pay for his transgression? Alexander feared it might be more years of service. He could lose all the promise brought by the darkfire, because of this impulsive choice. All the same, he couldn’t have done anything differently. He couldn’t have stood back and watched Katina be beaten. He didn’t even regret that Cetos might die of his injuries.

But Alexander did regret that he would have to pay for his crime, for he feared it would cost him all that he had been poised to regain.

How could he leave Katina again?

How could he ever win her love and trust, if he couldn’t pledge to stay with her?

Why had he been sent back to this time, if not to be united with his mate?



* * *



Cetos could smell roasted meat with sickening clarity and only gradually realized that he was the meat. His body was consumed by pain, scorching hot pain that drove all thought from his mind. It was dark and he did not know how much time had passed. There was only pain. The slaves had drenched him in water, and now knelt beside him, but he couldn’t answer their questions.

“Step aside,” commanded a man, and Cetos nearly fainted at the accented voice.

The rich foreign merchant.

The one he had to disappoint.

Of course, the merchant had arrived as arranged, in order to collect the boy. Even though he couldn’t keep the bargain, Cetos didn’t want to return those gold coins.

He also didn’t want to tell the merchant the truth.

There was something terrifying about this foreigner, something Cetos had found easy to dismiss when the man had offered him so many coins. Now, he recalled the strange cold blue of the man’s eyes and the yellow gold of his very short hair. Such coloring was seldom seen in these parts, so seldom that it seemed unreal. The merchant had spoken in an odd way too, impatient and quick, and his choice of words had made him even harder to understand.

And there’d been something else. Something Cetos didn’t want to remember.

He kept his eyes closed and pretended to be oblivious to all around him. He heard the slaves move away and felt the attention of the merchant bent upon him. Yes, that was part of it. The stillness. The focus. The intensity—as if the stranger could read Cetos’ very thoughts. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t right. Men couldn’t be so still as this. Cetos could have sworn that the merchant knew he had a son before the question was even asked.

He wondered again if the merchant was a deity in disguise, a god come to walk amongst men for some purpose of his own.

To collect young boys, perhaps.

Why had he wanted to buy Lysander? It was too late to ask.

Cetos’ heart pounded as that man walked around him, the soles of his sandals very close, then bent over Cetos.

Cetos heard him sniff.

The sound so startled Cetos that he shuddered involuntarily. His eyelids flickered, too, revealing that he was conscious. He had time to hope that the merchant hadn’t noticed, then the visitor chuckled.

It was as terrifying a sound as Cetos recalled. It made him think the merchant enjoyed injuring others and took pleasure in their pain.