Chapter Four

 

A loud guffaw behind Dane jerked him out of a self-induced stupor. As Ketera and Dane waited for his contact to arrive at the tavern, they drank ale and didn’t talk. After that last kiss, Dane didn’t know what to say to her. His body and mind hadn’t been this confused in a long damned time. She sat next to him on a bench, her elbows on the wood table, her hands wrapped around a half-full tankard. She stared into the drink, her eyes haunted, her mouth sullen.

Pipe smoke drifted from one corner of the room and assaulted his nose. He sneezed. He drew his tankard up to his mouth and took a healthy swallow. Not a good time, if he was honest with himself, to become a raving sot. But it would take far more than one tankard to souse him. He decided to relax, hoping the place would drain off the heady lust still singing through his veins for the woman next to him. The tavern nestled into one side of the castle, its crude stone construction an afterthought in design. Loud and boisterous, at least it served its purpose. Utter distraction.

Men milled about the congested tavern, doing what they did every day and night there, talking, drinking and whoring. Someone played a Stigian hornpipe and another a Bodgian drum. An ancient love melody spilled from their instruments. He recognized the song as one his mother used to play on her hornpipe. A deep pang touched his soul. Mother, if only you were here now. You could tell me what to do with Ketera.

By the god, he knew what do with her body, and he still ached with need to sink his cock deep inside her hot cunny. If he had his way, if she’d only surrender to his desires, he’d show her so much pleasure she’d be dazed for hours.

When he’d kissed her after battling the dragon, he’d recognized the blood fever upon him…and the natural lust. The one that said she was his prize and therefore his to take to bed. When he’d held her naked in his arms, he hadn’t wanted to stop. With her inexperience, he deduced he would have succeeded in bedding her, but it would have been wrong. She was an innocent, reluctant, and besides that, guilt racked Dane. He understood her searing pain at losing a loved one, and he knew if he didn’t try to rescue her father, she would attempt another foolhardy escape in her desperation. If she left his protection, she would die. Plain and simple.

The problem was he didn’t know if he could rescue her father.

Not when his physical need to possess her pounded in his skull, in his heart and in his gut. He drew in a deep breath. Ketera aroused him with an almost overwhelming pull that frightened him to the core. Whether he would admit it aloud or not, kissing her for the entire castle to see declared more than a ravenous need to slake desire. He’d staked a claim.

No honorable man who’d seen the kiss would dare touch her, and he’d see to that or die trying.

Now that he’d tasted her intimately and brought her knowledge of a woman’s true desires, he couldn’t release her. The other night he had almost thrown away personal integrity to seduce her into lying with him. He’d wanted to thrust his cock in her so far she would never forget him. To the deepest hells, he would never forget Ketera’s sweet taste as she had spilled her pleasure over his tongue. He’d wanted to take her up against the wall, to fuck her until he poured his lust deep inside her in a final claiming she would never wish to escape.

He put his head in his hands and groaned. His father had described the mating lust to him when Dane was a boy.

“You will know, son.”

“How, Father?”

“The lust will seize you more strongly than anything you’ve known.”

“More strongly than battle lust?”

“Much more. You will want the woman now. But without restraint you’ll be nothing more than an animal wishing to breed. Remember that when the time comes and you find the woman who is the one.”

About that time Dragonian numbers had started to dwindle, and yet it had taken a generation to understand the true impact. His lust to breed grew hotter at the thought, a need to populate their continent stronger with each driving day. Yet he couldn’t do it with any woman, and he knew that.

His father’s words hadn’t made much sense to him then, and in the intervening years he’d almost wondered if the mating lust could be a myth. Most every man he knew, especially Daryk Ones, wanted sex when they wanted it and the drive could be pretty extreme. Yet he’d seen other Daryk Ones and more ordinary men succumb to the mating lust for one woman. It must be true. He’d just never imagined it for himself.

But this…oh this. He’d never wanted a woman as violently as he wanted Ketera. His drive to keep her safe had slammed into him from the moment he’d seen her lying on the sand with the ruins of a great sailing ship piled around her.

He looked around the room at the comely women who would comply in a heartbeat if he tossed them coins, took them to a back room and lifted their skirts to take them. Not one of the women tempted him. Wenches strode along with platters of food and drink, some of them wearing low-neck blouses designed to show all they had to sell. One young woman of around twenty-five years came his way. She’d served him drink before. Like most women, her clothing was simple, either tunics or long skirts or filmy pants that flowed along their legs.

“Can I be of service, Daryk One?” the woman asked.

Well aware that Ketera watched closely, he stated the truth. “Nothing for me, Samhala.”

The young woman’s gaze traveled to Ketera. The woman frowned and strutted away.

One of Ketera’s brows rose and she pursed her lips before she spoke. “What did she want?”

“Samhala is mated and doesn’t tempt me. Don’t worry about it.” He smirked and then took a big swallow of ale.

She sniffed and pushed her hair back from her face. Her eyes sparkled with something that almost appeared like jealousy. Good. He wanted her jealous.

“As if I cared who you copulate with.”

He chuckled.

To his surprise, her frown grew deeper. Good. He liked the way her eyes sparked when he made her angry.

“Have you had…relations with her before she was mated?” she asked.

Satisfaction flowed through him. She was jealous. The slightly petulant turn to her mouth and the glitter in her eyes gave her away. “Why does it concern you, Ketera?”

“Because I—” She cut herself off then her lips tightened. “I’m curious about this place. There are so many men and women playing with each other I wasn’t sure what was expected here.”

Playing? He glanced around and realized she meant flirting. Somewhat more than flirting, if he paid attention. One wench sat on a man’s lap, her bottom planted firmly, the man’s arms around her waist. From the woman’s heavy-lidded expression and the man’s slack-jawed, glazed expression, Dane figured a lot more was going on under the woman’s skirt than anyone could see. The tavern didn’t have rules against public sex. Suddenly the woman on the man’s lap gasped, her body coming up then slamming down on the man. The man surged upward and growled like a beast from the jungle. The woman’s expression held pure ecstasy.

“This is a normal tavern,” he said. “Nothing more or less.”

She wrinkled her nose as she stared at the copulating couple. “Disgusting.”

He smiled. “Why? Because men and women are free to express their desires? Or because you find the place exciting? Perhaps you want to express your desires in the same way? Do you hate this place because it makes you feel something you don’t want to feel?” He leaned toward her, drawing in her clean scent. “Perhaps you’d like me to show you how it can feel to express your needs with an audience?”

She tilted her small nose upward and speared him with a glower both queenly and annoyed. “Never.”

That’s it, sprite. Keep telling yourself that.

Truth be told, he didn’t want their first time together to be in front of any audience. He wanted her all for his own. A softening occurred inside him he didn’t understand. When it came to her, he felt off balance, possessive. In the grip of a longing both staggering and gentle. He should have warned her that he would try to seduce her at every turn. Perhaps not. She’d already rejected his declaration that she was his.

Mine, the feral call kept echoing in his head. She’s mine.

He leaned nearer, lowering his voice to a whisper, staring directly into her eyes. “All right, you want the truth? I’ll give it to you. There is a fierce, almost unstoppable need within me to take you to my bed.”

Her mouth dropped open and the indignation on her face spread into a full-scale glare of a woman filled with scorn. She shook her index finger at him. “You, sir, are the last man I would ever consider giving my body. You couldn’t seduce me.”

He drew in a deep breath, staring her down, daring her to say anything that might break his shaky control. He wanted to kiss her again, the desire acute and almost painful. “I see. My fingers and tongue inside you does not count as giving me your body? If you think that is not sex, you have a lot to learn. I could take you in the next room and fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to stand.”

He could see the fire rising inside her, knew his words made her angry and aroused at the same time. A flush glowed in her cheeks, making the delicate lines of her face unbearably delightful to him.

“I know what constitutes sex you…you boorish…” she sputtered, her frustration obviously blunting her ability to speak.

“You know my name.” He smiled, enjoying the heat that seemed to flow between them even when they argued. His voice lowered to a rasp. “And I’d like to hear you scream it when you come around my cock.”

She gasped and looked around, apparently afraid their conversation would be overheard. “You bastard.”

A huge hand came down on his shoulder, and Dane jerked a dagger from his waist holster. He came around with a growl.

“Whoa! Whoa there, old friend! It is I, Minilos.” The shaggy-haired man standing over Dane smiled down with an amused and genial expression, his grin half hidden by a gold and red thick beard and mustache.

Minilos Willburi’s generous waistline spoke of indulgence in establishments such as this. His curly and unruly hair, had long ago earned him the nickname of “lion”.

“Fuck you, Minilos.”

The hearty man burst out in laughter, throwing his head back and roaring to the low ceiling. Everyone ignored Minilos, used to his boisterous personality.

“Good to know I’m still your friend, Dane. For a minute I thought you’d skewer me on your dirk.”

Dane snorted and took another drink. “You’re not my type.”

Another booming laugh left Minilos’ throat. “How long has it been since we’ve seen you around here? A good month? What have you been doing? Wenching in the Tarrian region? I hear there are ripe women there. Strong and capable who escaped their men long ago.”

“If there are, I haven’t seen any. Besides, we’re in the Tarrian region. I don’t have to go anywhere to wench with ripe women.”

Minilos sat down on the bench across from Dane, his too-full tankard sloshing drink onto the large man’s hand. “Too true. It’s boring around here lately. So calm.” The man eyeballed Ketera. “Then again, I see you already have a wench. My apologies, good friend.”

Ketera’s lips went tight, her eyes hard. “I am not a wench.”

Dane smiled. “This is Ketera Aldrancos. Ketera, Minilos.”

“Charmed.” Minilos held out his meaty hand. He captured Ketera’s small fingers and brought them to his lips for a smacking kiss. “Charmed indeed.”

She jerked her hand back but didn’t reply to Minilos’ overwrought statement. “He can help us?”

Minilos grinned. “I can help you with anything you need. I stake my golden reputation on it.”

Her ire chilled but her eyes held suspicion. She glanced around. “We can’t talk about this here. What if someone hears us?”

Dane grunted. “Not likely. We’ll keep our voices low. The very fact we’re in a tavern like this takes away any suspicion.”

“Why do we need him?” Ketera asked.

Dane’s smile became brittle. “Because he is an old friend with expertise.” He turned his attention back to the robust man. “Besides. He probably hasn’t had enough murder and mayhem to suit an old Daryk One, eh?”

Dane realized in an instant he shouldn’t have mentioned Minilos’ age. He was too damn sensitive about it.

The older man grimaced. “Just because I don’t patrol with you feckless young ones anymore doesn’t mean I can’t pound sense into a cretin.”

Shaking his head, Dane said, “I can see you have your hands full here. Leave the battles outside of Grimnald Castle to me.”

Minilos nodded, apparently placated. “So tell me, what goes on outside the castle walls these days? I burn for news.”

“The other castles are still making up their minds which side they’re on. Armen’s side or Drakus’ side.”

“How many castles are on this continent,” Ketera asked.

Dane counted them off on one hand. “Grimnald, Austos, which is in the Ithaycan desert, Leadios, which is in the glacier lands of Imekland, and Bardannia, which is also in Imekland. I think most of the castles will maintain their honor and see that stealing women from another country is not the way to do this.”

Minilos snorted. “Perhaps we can convince Armen we need to send an emissary to Magonia to talk sense into them. That we need to mix our lands and people to survive. But I doubt it will work. Magonians have no sense.”

“I beg your pardon?” Ketera asked with undeniable rancor.

Dane smiled. “Ketera is from Magonia.”

Minilos looked bashful for a second then his gaze took in Ketera with a whole new light. “Really? My apologies, my dear.”

Dane threw her a teasing glance. “She’s very sensitive, Minilos. Watch your tongue.”

Minilos winked. “Have you been watching yours?”

Dane laughed softly as Ketera’s cheeks went red.

Minilos sipped delicately from his own tankard in direct contrast to his usual copious consumption. “Forgive my rough ways, little lady. I’ve had a lot of work to do lately with this tavern. Fights almost every night. Drunken bastards wrecking my property. It’s hell, I tell you. Hell.”

Dane grinned. “Which one?”

The hairy man groaned. “All of them. Perhaps the deepest level. Seventeen, I think.”

“Right. And when are you going to find a real job?”

Minilos possessed a good sense of humor, thank Draconus. He glared at Dane with mock seriousness. “Running this tavern is the best occupation I’ve ever had. Keeps me out of trouble.”

“Uh-huh. If you call drunken brawls every night peace and quiet.”

Minilos quirked one eyebrow. “And that’s only the Daryk Ones who come in here every night to find drink and a woman. I swear I don’t remember feeling the need to fight as you young ones do. Is it something new?”

Dane rolled his gaze to the ceiling in mock disgust then looked at Ketera. “New he says. That is a lie and you know it. There is nothing new in Dragonia.”

Minilos looked morose as he stared into his tankard. “Are the rumors true, Dane?” He lowered his voice to a whisper that Dane could barely discern. “Are rogue Daryk Ones threatening this castle?”

“Keep your voice down.”

Minilos lowered his voice even more. “Tell me. Is it true?”

“Rumors say Drakus is planning to move in on our position here and destroy us.” He shrugged. “I’m not concerned. He will raid and we will repel. Nothing penetrates our walls, remember? Not even a siege engine, and I doubt he has one of those.” When he saw the doubt in his old friend’s eyes, he continued with, “He owns a ragtag army of miscreants who never should have been allowed into the Daryk Ones in the first place. If he tries to attack the castle, Armen will be forced to see that he must fight Drakus head-on and take him down.”

Minilos peered at him. Drink hadn’t clouded the serious expression in his eyes. “It pains you to think of any Daryk Ones willing to harm another Daryk One and hurt women?”

“How can you ask that? Of course it does.”

Minilos sighed. “It does cut deep. But it was to be expected. With our diversity of beliefs and peoples, the extremes will always try to win out. You understand as well as I do. I’m surprised we’ve gone this long without worse happening.”

As much as Dane wanted to pretend that their continent didn’t verge on fragmenting into more warring factions, he couldn’t. Dane closed his eyes and wished the topic would dissolve, but he couldn’t bury it. “Peace would be wonderful.”

His friend tilted his head to the side. “Peace you say? Are you insane? Peace has never been and never will be. It’s in Dragonian blood to fight.”

Dane sighed. “I’ve been a warrior most of my life. My blood is tired.”

“Really? I hear your blood is actually up. The way you attacked that dragon will be a legend for much time to come, no doubt.”

Dane grunted.

Minilos laughed and then swallowed a mighty gulp of drink. He grimaced as the liquid went down his throat. He wiped his mouth with his tunic arm. “Are you saying you want to quit being a Daryk One? The heat is too high for you?”

Minilos sounded scandalized, but Dane saw the humor lurking in his eyes. “Never.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What other occupation would give me a chance to kill dragons?”

Minilos slapped the table. “Exactly. Now, before this drink overwhelms me, tell me what sort of wretched plan you’ve involved this beautiful young lady in. And by the by, you really should keep your kissing to yourself. Everyone in the castle saw you snogging her after the dragon fight. They assume you’ve shagged her.”

Dane wanted to pop his friend in the jaw. “By the god, I could rip your loose tongue out by the roots.”

Minilos laughed and clapped Dane on the back. “Perhaps you should go home and screw her blind. That’ll cure what ails you both.”

Ketera stood up, her face pink. “Excuse me. Is there a facility for ladies? I’ll return in a moment.”

Minilos pointed it out, and she strode away. Dane kept an eye on her as she wended her way through the crowd of boisterous tavern goers. She made it to the back room safely.

 

Ketera left the bathing room with one hand over her stomach. She didn’t really feel that steady. Maybe the meat pies she’d eaten earlier hadn’t agreed with her. The tavern was stuffy and she needed a bit of fresh air. Anything to get away from the noisy, smoky, crowded interior for one moment.

An open door down the hall to the left allowed a cooler breeze to waft inside the building. Night sounds echoed from the jungle. Just a moment or two to compose herself and she’d go back inside and face Dane and Minilos.

She stepped outside and drank in the clean air. A bench beckoned outside the doorway and she sat down. This was better.

For one moment, as she’d left Dane and Minilos, she’d considered running. She’d find her own way. She wasn’t stupid and her guts would go far. She knew her way around people, despite every effort her society made to keep her in place. As much as she would miss bantering and fighting with Dane, she wanted to find a quicker way off this Magon-forsaken continent and back to her own country.

Oh Dane. Yes, she would miss the passion he’d inspired in her. But surely if she returned to Magonia she could forget his touch. His kisses. And the maddening and forbidden pleasure he’d created within her.

Still, she knew she couldn’t do it.

Dane was right about one thing at least. This was a dangerous country and she was unfamiliar with it. She needed his help.

She sighed and gazed through the semidarkness.

The small township stood but a few hundred yards outside Grimnald Castle in a clearing surrounded by jungle. Night had fallen, but two huge Croan red moons dwarfed the treetops at the horizon. Torches lit the area, probably as much to discourage animals as to prevent any other crime. Crime. The very word intimidated.

Her mind spun with what she’d witnessed in the tavern. Men and women copulating, women’s breasts hanging out for all to see, vice of every imaginable kind save robbery, murder and—well, she supposed those might go on there as well. Yet Minilos had seemed like a nice enough man at the core, even if his crass demeanor spoke of broken former glory. And Dane. Well, Dane had stolen her breath when he’d suggested she might want to try public sex with him. Oh lord Magon. Her face heated even in the coolness.

From the darkness, the sounds of a call to prayer warbled in the night. She’d read in the texts her father had found that Dragonian townships had a center of worship, a chapel to the god Draconus. Every eight hours a call to prayer would wail above the township and remind those most faithful to stop and reflect on the goodness of Draconus. She’d yet to see what this god was supposed to look like. Perhaps they didn’t allow the deity to have a form, just as Magonians refused to depict their god.

Curious to get a slightly better angle so she could see the huge moons better, she stepped around the corner of the building.

A dark figure sprang at her. An arm grabbed her about the waist, slinging her into an alleyway. With crushing force, the man jammed her against a wall. Her breath caught, seized by the pressure of the man’s body against hers and pain spearing through her ribs. At first she thought the hard grip might be Dane, but the man’s nasty breath instantly proved it wasn’t, and the brutal grip on her arms hurt. Fear sliced like a knife through her.

Instinct brought her knee up into the man’s groin. The man yowled and ducked into a ball of pain. She poured on the strength and tore away from her attacker. With a growl the man reached for her, caught the sleeve of her tunic. It ripped but held, and his other arm corralled her waist. He slapped her across the face, and a cry escaped her as her ears rang and pain sliced her cheek as if a beener bug had stabbed her. Crude words spilled from his lips that she didn’t understand.

“Bitch! Don’t defy me!” His raspy voice growled in her ear.

She tried to knee him again, her hands coming up to gouge his eyes. He jerked his head back. A second later her head thunked against the wall behind her and a flash of white penetrated her skull like a needle. Pain staggered her. By the god, he had to have split her skull. Regret came too late. Perhaps she shouldn’t have left Dane. Weakness made pudding of her limbs, and as her knees buckled, the man tossed her over his shoulder. She tried pounding on his back but couldn’t muster strength to do more than gurgle in outrage.

“Let me go,” she managed to cry out. “You milksop!”

He slapped her ass, a guttural laugh echoing in the knight. “Be still, bitch. Your eagerness is encouraging, but we have all night.”

She wriggled, but the pain in her head sent her into a twilight where only voices penetrated her mind.

“What you go there, Bantu?” A man’s raspy voice echoed nearby. “Can I get me some?”

“Back off, Tweed. She’s not your kind. Got me a rare find.”

As the man called Bantu ran with her into the night, Tweed ran alongside. “Truly? Can I have a bit of her?”

“She’s going to be my bitch. At least until I get tired of her.” He laughed, and the rough sound swam through her head as she bounced along on his shoulder.

She wanted to scream for help, cry out for Dane. But her throat wouldn’t work. Breed for the disgusting man? She would die first.

Her last thought before darkness ate her up was, Magon save me. What have I done?

* * * * *

Minilos grinned widely. “She is a fiery one, no? They say she looked as timid and cool as a virgin when you kissed her. But the way she faced the dragon, she must be hot and tasty.” Minilos rubbed his hands together.

Searing jealousy screamed through Dane’s mind, and he growled, “Don’t ever speak of her in that way again.” Heated anger spilled through Dane. He pointed at Minilos. “She’s mine.”

Minilos’ stunned expression turned to understanding. “Ah, I get it now. Sorry, my friend. She’s to be your mate for real, isn’t she?”

Trembling inside with a bizarre rage, Dane slammed back the rest of his drink and didn’t answer the question.

“Be careful, Dane. You’ll scare the poor girl with that look. You can’t have her for your mate if she refuses you sexually.”

Once more Dane gave his friend a hostile look. “Thank you. I know that.”

If it had been any other woman they talked about, Dane easily could have spilled to his friend the details of the seduction. He wouldn’t have felt embarrassed to tell Minilos how Ketera had screamed in orgasm when he’d tasted her sweet pussy with his tongue or used his fingers to fuck her tight channel.

Telling his old friend how beautiful she’d been while ecstasy rushed through her body—

No.

It did not feel right.

“If you don’t mate with her within a few days, she’ll refuse you forever.”

“I know that,” Dane gritted out between his teeth.

“But you can’t frighten her into doing it—”

“I know, damn it.” He leaned over until he was in Minilos’ face. “You think I’d even dream of hurting her in any way?” Dane jammed one hand through his hair. “Maybe she isn’t really my mate. Perhaps it’s just been too long since I had a woman.”

Minilos’ eyes appeared calm and his gaze solid with understanding. “A Daryk One isn’t like everyone else in Dragonia. You’ve trained all your life to recognize evil, brigands and other outlaws. To sense when you’re needed. You can scent your mate, but more than that, you can feel her in your soul.”

“Yeah. Thanks for the advice. When was the last time you even lay with a woman?” Dane asked.

Over the din of the hornpipe, Minilos’ eyes shined with memory. “Not since old Tessala left me. You know, I don’t understand this mate thing.”

“Join the crowd.”

“Then why did you say she is yours? No man says that unless—”

“Shut up and let us talk business.”

No, Minilos wouldn’t understand. There were a few Daryk Ones, like Minilos, who never found a woman they connected with on a level this profound. They had sex, they may even have sincere affection with a woman, but nothing as life-altering and gut-wrenching as the burn that seemed to eat away at Dane’s control. Maybe he did need to find a woman to slake his lust before he seduced pretty Ketera. Before he understood what to do with her. Suddenly, the thought of taking another woman…any woman other than Ketera felt repugnant. Almost nauseating.

Ah, hells.

Dane shoved away his troubled feelings and concentrated on the task at hand. Dane asked Minilos to stay mum, demanding the man speak of Ketera’s need to return to Magonia to no one. When Minilos asked why she would want to go into that forsaken desert land, Dane explained that her father had become a prisoner based on opposing beliefs. Minilos took his word and said he’d make the arrangements for them to sail in two days.

Dane’s eyes narrowed as he searched the crowd for Ketera, a crawling suspicion inside him. “Where is Ketera? It shouldn’t have taken her that long.”

He left the table without another word to Minilos, his heartbeat pounding, anger and worry mixed together. If the little wench dared leave without him—

She couldn’t have. A woman, once mated, would always feel a staggering pull toward her man. If she was young and hadn’t been bedded by her mate, the pull should be so harsh she couldn’t leave the building without him.

Unless, because she was Magonian, the pull wasn’t harsh. Wasn’t there at all.

What if he was the one ensnared?

He stormed toward the back area, pushing past a few patrons before he crashed through the opening to the ladies’ facility. “Ketera!”

No sign of her. Damn the little wench to the high seas and the hells.

Full-blown fury was matched only by the skewering loathing he had for himself for not realizing Ketera planned to run yet again. Draconus, he’d been a lust-filled fool. Somewhere inside another horrible feeling gathered. He longed for her still, he ached for her with a soul-binding desire that sealed his fate.

“Dane?” A commanding male voice alerted Dane someone was behind him. Again he whirled, dirk at hand.

Anger and caution flooded him as he recognized fellow Daryk One Rayder Tyrus. Rayder strode toward him. He hadn’t seen nor spoken to Rayder in the year the man had turned rogue. The same height as Dane, Rayder was lean but still powerful. His dark hair fell around his shoulders, always looking messy. A few days of beard lent a piratical appearance to his face. Dane’s defenses came up. Rayder had once been his friend. Now he was in league with Drakus and a slave trader himself. What the hells was he doing here? Dane kept his hand on his dagger, muscles tensed.

“Minilos says you’ve got trouble,” Rayder said. “Can I help?”

“Maybe I should just kill you now and have done with it.” Dane glared. “Are you here to spy for Drakus?”

Rayder grunted. “I’m not in Drakus’ camp for war but for money. I wouldn’t fight you.”

“You’re a fuckin’ traitor to your people. Never would have thought you could do it, Rayder.” Dane growled. “Bah, I don’t have time for this. I need to find my woman.”

Rayder’s dark brows went upward. “You got woman dilemmas again?”

“Yep. And this time she’s a handful.”

Rayder smiled, a hint of worry in his eyes. “Sounds like the best kind of trouble. Found some trouble of my own just the other day when I took the Beast to sea during the storm.” Before Dane could reply, Rayder continued. “Rescued a woman from the sea.”

Dane’s head snapped around as he gave his fellow warrior a hard stare. “Did she say she was from Magonia?”

Rayder’s mouth tightened to a hard line, his eyes as dark as the eyes of the deadly rarelian reptile. “How did—”

“Never mind. It’s a long story.” Dane’s mind whirled as he headed back to the main room, Rayder in tow.

Rayder jogged after him. “How did you know she was from Magonia?”

“Can’t talk now. It’s complicated.”

Rayder called out as Dane left the building. “It always is.”

Dane charged from the tavern into the night, dagger in hand and sword at his waist, his heart pounding with a fear he didn’t remember feeling before this night. Before he’d met his sprite.

Ketera was his mate, whether he liked it or not. He would find her, and she would be his.

Now Dane knew, without a doubt, he was in a world of trouble.