Pia Saves the Day (Elder Races #6.6)(11)

Moving to the spring, she washed her face and arms in the icy water then drank as much as she could hold. Afterward, she forced herself to choke down a couple of vegan protein bars, and she wrapped up the gold bricks and jewels and stuffed them back into her pack.

The heat of the afternoon was fading, and the shadows from the trees lengthened. Even though it was high summer, it got cold in the mountains at night. She pulled one of the last treasures from her pack, a sturdy, flannel-lined jacket. Wrapping it around her torso, she curled into a tight ball against the trunk of the tree and fell into an uneasy doze.

Come back. Please come back to me.

* * *

The rush of gigantic wings roused her.

Scrambling to her feet, she watched as the dragon wheeled overhead. Inside, relief and tension grappled for supremacy, but in the end relief won out.

He had returned, and he didn’t have to. He could have just as easily left. He had no stake in this location. He came back because she was here, and he wanted those answers.

While she had dozed, afternoon had turned to early evening, and the sky overhead had turned vivid, framing the dragon’s bronze body with jewel tones. Light and graceful as a cat, despite his massive size, he landed on the ledge.

His muzzle was coated with bright, fresh blood. She could smell it from where she stood. It was cow’s blood. Somewhere nearby, a farmer was missing some cattle. If we survive this, she thought with grim gallows humor, someone is going to have to hunt that farmer down and pay him for his trouble.

Ignoring her as if she didn’t exist, Dragos strode to the spring to rinse his muzzle and forepaws, sleek muscle flowing under his bronze hide.

She studied him thoughtfully. He seemed to be moving better, with more ease and surety. The jagged wound at his brow looked partially healed, but she didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried about that.

All she knew was that she wasn’t buying his act. He might pretend to ignore her but he knew very well, probably to a fraction of an inch, where she was standing.

Still without looking at her, Dragos said, “Where’s my treasure?”

His treasure. She cocked her head, resting her hands on her hips. If the situation hadn’t been so serious she might have smiled. Even now, amidst all his suspicions, the dragon remained as possessive as ever.

“I apologize for what happened earlier,” she said, keeping her voice as soft and even as she had before. Nonaggressive, nonthreatening. “I understand that you have cause to be suspicious of anyone who approaches you as I did, but I meant no insult by offering the gifts, nor was I baiting any kind of trap. I was only hoping to strike a bargain with you.”

“Ah, yes,” he replied, glancing cynically over his shoulder. “Because I’m the only one who can help you find your mate.”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

He finished washing, circled and stretched out on the rough, stony ledge with all the arrogance of an emperor assuming his throne. Only then did he look directly at her, the expression in his great, gold eyes confrontational and cold.

The impact was almost overwhelming. She had seen him give his enemies just such a look before, but he had never looked that way at her until now.

He said, “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Tucking in her chin, she leveled her gaze at him. While he might have chosen to return, the decision seemed to have put him in a pissy mood. “What difference does it make? You clearly didn’t want it.”

The dragon narrowed his eyes. “I’ve changed my mind. You will bring it to me.”

Normally, her impulse would be to back talk to all that monumental arrogance, but she curbed it. Now wasn’t the time to sass him. There was no hint of indulgence in his current demeanor, or softness. This was all about establishing dominance. His entire attitude demanded that she prove herself.

Bowing her head, she knelt to open her pack and pull out the packets of gold and jewels. Gathering them in her arms, she walked toward him. About fifteen feet away, she slowed to a stop. When she made as if to kneel, Dragos said, “Bring it closer.”

Obediently, she took a few steps closer. The force of his personality pressed against her skin. His Power boiled around his physical form like an invisible corona, and despite the gravity of the situation, the desperate animal inside of her drew comfort from his closeness and calmed.

“Closer,” the dragon said again, watching her intently.

He was lethally unpredictable, easily the most dangerous creature she had ever known or met, and at the moment, he did not remember he loved her.

She was supposed to stay wary of him, but it was too hard to maintain when she was so tired and it went against every one of her instincts. With a sigh, she approached until she could set the packets on the ground between his outstretched forelegs.

When she straightened, he lowered his head until the large curve of his nostrils stopped a few inches from her hair. They stood like that for some time, breathing quietly. As she looked up into one immense, molten eye, she wanted very badly to stroke his muzzle, or to take out her small penknife, slice the palm of her hand and lay it against that terrible, half-healed wound on his brow.

That wound had taken everything from her. No matter how suspiciously or aggressively Dragos treated her at the moment, she never forgot—that wound was the real enemy.

But she didn’t dare go quite that far, not without his express permission. If she made a mistake and pushed him too far, he could lash out at her again, and they would both lose everything.