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T’MAR PACED THE PAVILION, awaiting his father’s grand entrance. How typical! Only with the queen and the priestess did the king relax on ceremony. All others, including his sons, had to follow the protocol of requesting an audience and then were forced to bide their time until he deigned to show up. In this case, the king had summoned him, demanding an update on the Helena situation.
Most days he could tolerate his father’s arrogance and peccadillos, but this time he had no patience for them. Does he think I have nothing to do today?
You don’t have anything to do, the dragon said.
Unfortunately, that was true. He had too much time to think about Helena, and her crushed, deflated scent when he’d left her in the harem. He’d ordered her quarters to be outfitted with everything a female could want, had her furniture modified for her human anatomy, and had assigned B’kah to attend to her needs and ensure she got to see her friends. What else could he have done?
Visit her.
The urge to seek her out grew with every passing moment. He’d replayed their coupling over and over until he thought he’d go mad. If he could get her out of his system by having sex with her, he would—but an uncomfortable hunch hinted that the more he took her, the more he would crave. He could lose himself in her.
Fly! Fly! We must go! Our mate needs us!
The dragon’s sudden insistence to leave made controlling his desire all the more difficult, but even if he was inclined to give in to the temptation, no way he could leave before seeing his father.
Fly! Fly! We must fly! The dragon was getting very agitated.
We can’t leave now. The king will arrive any second. Or not. However, if and when he deigned to appear, if T’mar wasn’t here, he could end up in the dungeon.
His bones vibrated, signaling a shift was coming on. No! Not here! Are you crazy? Even the massive pavilion couldn’t accommodate a full-sized dragon. Pillars would topple. Mustering his willpower, T’mar fought the transformation.
Our mate needs us! Fly! Fly! the creature roared.
Why was he acting this way? Even for a temperamental dragon, this behavior was extreme. T’mar struggled to remain in demiforma. We’ll go see her after we meet with the king.
No! Now! She’s in danger!
Talons forced themselves out of his fingers. His spine lengthened. Bones broke.
Danger?
Yes. She is crying. She is calling for us.
I don’t hear anything.
You’re not listening!
Then let me! Stop fighting and let me hear!
The dragon’s anxiety continued to rise, but he fell silent.
“T’mar! Help! T’mar!”
Helena was in trouble!
The door to the king’s private chamber opened, and two livery-clad pages marched out. “Introducing His Majesty King K’rah—”
Go! Go! Go! T’mar ran from the pavilion.
As soon as he cleared the building, he leaped, shifting in midair, and took to the sky.
* * * *
THE MOMENT THE DRAGON landed in the harem courtyard, T’mar smelled human blood and fear and Draconian jealousy and anger. What if I’m too late?
The dragon bellowed and shifted into demiforma. Save our mate!
I will find our mate, and she who hurt her will pay, T’mar vowed. He could no longer hear Helena’s cries and didn’t dare contemplate what it might mean. Her scent led from A’riel’s area to her own. No one dared to trespass on another’s dragon’s territory. But she was human; she didn’t know. Why didn’t B’kah tell her? Why didn’t I?
He bolted for Helena’s section.
A’riel’s donatta ran to meet him. “Your Highness. Thank the sacred fyre you’re here. The physician is with her.”
“What happened? Where is she?”
“I put her in her sleeping chamber,” the donatta said.
Looking grim, the royal physician stood over Helena. A respirator mask partially concealed the wounds on her face, but it was bad. A deep gash had torn into her neck. Slashes marred her arms, indicating she’d thrown up her hands to protect herself. Blood soaked her clothing. Her lips were blue as were her chipped and broken fingernails. She looked dead. Only the fast, shallow rise and fall of her chest indicated she still lived.
Open your eyes! Open your eyes. Please.
“I’ve stopped the bleeding, but she has lost so much volume, she has gone into hypovolemic shock. She needs blood but can’t take ours. There is nothing more I can do for her. I am sorry, Your Highness, I’m afraid she won’t survive.”
“No! You have to do something!”
“I had her human friends brought over from the habitat for a possible transfusion—”
“Do it!” He knelt at her bedside and took her pale hand in his. Her skin was cool and clammy. A’riel would pay for this, but T’mar knew he carried most of the blame. He’d abandoned her. Not told her what she needed to know.
“Neither of them match her type.”
Princess Rhianna, the dragon said.
A long shot, but it was all they had. “Try Princess Rhianna!” he told the physician. Would Rhianna do it? Would K’ev allow it?
They would if they wanted to live.
