Surprisingly, Reece grimaced. “That might be difficult.”
“Why?”
“She doesn’t live alone.”
“Another imp?”
“No, a gargoyle.”
Craven blinked. He’d heard of the gargoyles, of course. But like any demon with a functioning brain, he did everything in his power to avoid them.
“What interest does the Guild have in the female?”
Reece gave a lift of his hands. “Impossible to say. There was also the smell of a dragon in the house.”
“Dammit.” Annoyance transformed into fear. Surely fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to dangle the treasure in front of his eyes and then snatch it away at the last second? “Does he have the female?”
“No Synge,” the troll grunted. “Baine.”
“Baine?” Craven gave a frustrated shake of his head. “What the hell is he bleating about?”
“Skragg claims that Synge is the dragon who first owned the imp, and that Baine is his son,” Reece explained.
Craven scowled. Like that was supposed to be better?
“Are they be working together?”
Skragg made a slashing motion with his hand. “No like.”
Craven shook his head. He might have troll blood, but he’d spent the majority of his life trying to kill the bastards, not communicate with them.
It was Reece who once again translated.
“Skragg is convinced that the father and son aren’t exactly friendly,” the fairy said.
“So he intends to use the imp to betray his father?”
Reece shrugged. “Or to barter for a portion of his treasure.”
Craven abruptly slammed his fist against the heavy wooden bannister, indifferent to the dust that drifted down from the open-beamed ceiling.
“We need to find her,” he snarled.
Reece gave a sharp laugh. “If I could open a portal into a dragon’s lair we wouldn’t need the imp.”
“Then we have to find a way to lure the dragon out of his lair,” Craven announced, his tone warning he wasn’t going to tolerate failure. “I want that imp and nothing is going to stop me.”
CHAPTER SIX
Baine carried the sleeping Tayla into a room at the side of the cottage and settled her in the middle of the bed. Then, tugging the quilt over her slender body, he simply stood there and studied her delicate features.
There was no reason to linger.
She was in a place where she could be protected. And it would be several hours before she would waken so she could offer him the pleasure he’d waited so long to enjoy.
It was clearly an irrational waste of time to watch as her silky golden hair spread over the pillows. And her lush lips parted as she released a small sigh.
But even as he urged his feet to carry him out of the cottage¸ he found himself unable to resist the desire to simply savor the sight of her lying in his bed.
How many nights had he fantasized about this moment?
More than he wanted to admit.
A raw jolt of satisfaction raced through him.
She was where she belonged.
At last.
He remained standing beside the bed for several more minutes before he at last forced himself to head out of the cottage so he could open a portal to his lair. Standing at the entrance, he called for Char to join him.
It took less than five minutes for the younger male to step out of the portal and glance around his surroundings with a lift of his brows.
“This is…” His lips twitched as he glanced toward the small cottage and picket fence. “Quaint.”
Baine ignored his companion’s humor. If the cottage pleased Tayla then that was all that mattered.
“I want you to stand guard.”
Char returned his attention to Baine. “You think the imp will try to escape?”
Did he?
Baine hesitated before giving a sharp shake of his head. Unlike his private lair, this temporary bubble between dimensions wasn’t magically protected to prevent portals. But while Tayla had the magic to leave if she wanted, he trusted that she wouldn’t try to escape.
Unlike her spineless father, Tayla had a sense of honor.
She wouldn’t flee until he released her from her debt.
Something he had no intention of doing for the next several centuries.
Perhaps never…
“No, she won’t try to leave,” he said. “But I won’t allow her to be unprotected.”
Char instinctively glanced around the empty meadows. “She’s in danger?”
“She’s being hunted and I want to know why.”
The gray eyes narrowed. Char possessed a shrewd intelligence that was one of many reasons he was Baine’s closest companion.
“Does this have anything to do with your father’s visit?”
“He demanded that I give him Tayla,” Baine admitted, an ugly anger twisting his gut. Just saying the words made him want to release his flames and destroy anything that might be a threat to his female. Suddenly he understood his ancient ancestors’ habit of causing massive destruction. “In fact, he warned me that he would stop at nothing to get his hands on her.”
Char frowned. “Did he say why?”
“No.” Baine planted his fists on his hips, tiny tendrils of smoke swirling around him as he struggled to leash his fierce anger. “But I suspect it’s the same reason the trolls want her.”
“Trolls?” Char gave a choked cough. “Is that a joke?”
Baine cocked a brow. “Do I ever joke?”
“Ah…” Char cleared his throat. “No.”
“Keep her safe.”
With his warning delivered, Baine turned toward the portal only to come to a halt as Char laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.
“Wait, Baine,” he commanded. “You aren’t going to confront your father, are you?”
“Not yet.” Fire danced over his skin, hot enough to make Char take a hasty step backward. “First I have a traitor to uncover.”
Continuing through the portal, Baine entered his lair and headed directly toward his throne room. Along the way he sent out a mental command for his servants to join him.
He wasn’t a cruel master. Unlike most dragons, he was firm but fair with his staff. He found that offering respect to his people earned him far greater devotion and loyalty than trying to intimidate them with fear.
Now it pissed him off to realize he’d been betrayed.
Settling on the throne, Baine watched in silence as the various servants crowded into the long room. There were half-breed dragons, along with Weres who made up his personal guards. Then there were the flighty fey who were his household servants, and the dozen vampires who tracked down demons who owed him payment for services rendered.
Bloodsuckers were the ultimate debt collectors.
Waiting until they were all on their knees with their heads bowed, he at last spoke.
“One among you has betrayed me.”
Shock reverberated through the room like a mini earthquake.
Baine filled the air with the heavy weight of his power, not halting until he heard the distressed whimpers from the fey.
“Confess and I will make your death swift.” Baine deliberately paused, carefully watching the various demons as they kneeled before him. “Make me waste my time to discover the truth and I will destroy you so slowly you will plead for death.”
There was a long, fear-drenched silence before one of his soldiers grimly rose to his feet.
Baine felt a stab of shock as he realized that it was Fist, one of his favorite guards. Damn. It was bad enough to be betrayed without it being someone he actually liked.
“M-my lord—”
“Stop,” Baine growled, halting the stumbling words as he waved a hand toward the rest of his servants. “Out.”
Waiting until the crowd had hastened out of the room, Baine used his magic to block the door before he turned his attention back to Fist.
“Now,
speak.”
The half-breed dragon lowered his head that had been shaved bald, his large body trembling.
“I plead for a quick end,” he rasped.
“Look at me.” Baine didn’t try to stifle the fire that continued to flicker over his skin or the curls of smoke that wrapped around his feet.
Fist swayed, his face paling to a pasty white as he forced himself to lift his head and meet Baine’s furious glare.
“My lord.”
“Tell me why,” Baine snarled.
“Your father holds my mate captive.”
The simple words slammed into Baine with unexpected force.
Just a few days ago he might have dismissed the explanation as a meaningless excuse. How could a mate be more important than a male’s pledge to his master?
Now, he had the sudden thought of what he would do if someone were holding Tayla hostage.
The answer came without hesitation.
He would destroy the world.
Several worlds.
Not that she was his mate… Of course not.
He gave a shake of his head, forcing away the inane thoughts. Right now all that mattered was discovering why the hell his father would have planted a spy among his servants.
“How long?”
“Twenty-five years.”
Baine surged to his feet. He knew it.
All of this came back to Tayla.
“Tell me exactly what my father wanted from you.”
“He said you were searching for a female imp,” Fist admitted, flinching as Baine’s fury blasted through the air, shattering the chandeliers. “I was commanded to let him know when you located her.”
Baine stepped off the dais, moving to stand directly in front of Fist.
“Why?”
Fist lifted an unconscious hand to wipe the sweat that was dripping from his brow.
“He claimed that she had information he wanted.”
Baine paused, sorting through his memories of the night Tayla had been offered to his father.
He’d sensed his father’s lust for the beautiful imp. What male wouldn’t want to bed her? But the older dragon hadn’t revealed an interest in anything more than adding her to his large harem. Hell, he’d readily agreed to hand her over to Baine once he’d bartered for an outrageous price.
If she had information he needed, why not hide her away in his dungeons where he could force her to talk?
“Did he say what information?” he demanded of Fist, not surprised when the soldier gave a shake of his head.
“No.”
Of course he hadn’t. Synge might be a brute, but he wasn’t stupid.
Still, Baine sensed that Fist had noticed something. “No, but…?”
Fist grimaced. “I had the feeling he was worried.”
“About the imp?”
“About the information she possesses.”
Baine turned to blindly stare at the statues that lined the walls. A greedy Synge was dangerous.
A frightened Synge was lethal.
“Damn,” he muttered. What the hell was going on?
Absently he paced from one end of the room to the other.
What information could Tayla possess that was a threat to Synge?
Did it have something to do with her father? Or had she heard something or seen something while she was in his lair?
Lost in his dark thoughts, it took a moment for him to hear Fist’s soft plea.
“My lord.”
He turned to study his companion with an impatient frown. “What?”
“I know I don’t deserve your mercy, but I fear what your father might do to my mate if he discovers that I confessed I am the traitor,” Fist admitted, his voice raw with a fear that came from his very soul. “Could you make my death appear to be an accident?”
“You aren’t going to die,” Baine snapped. The male would have to pay for his betrayal, but Baine wasn’t a mindless savage. He understood that destruction wasn’t always the best solution. Fist might very well be of use in the future. “At least not today.”
Fist was intelligent enough to realize there was a reason he wasn’t already burnt to a tiny cinder.
“What do you want from me?” he demanded.
“I want you to contact my father.”
“Why?”
Baine considered for a long moment. Synge hadn’t survived for thousands of years by being lazy. There was no way he was going to simply give up if he truly wanted Tayla.
Even now, the cunning old brute was no doubt plotting a way to steal her from Baine.
Clearly, Baine would have to find some way to keep the older male distracted until he could figure out what information Tayla supposedly possessed.
“Tell him you overheard me setting up an auction for the female, with the trolls,” he at last commanded.
Fist widened his eyes. “Trolls?”
“Yes.” Baine gave a nod, abruptly heading toward the door. He was suddenly anxious to be back with Tayla. Just the thought of some male wanting to take her away from him… Fuck. “Tell my father that I intend to start negotiations after I’ve tired of her sweet charms.”
That should keep his father distracted. At least long enough for Baine to find the trolls and discover why everyone was so interested in his female.
“And that’s all?”
Baine ignored his companion’s confusion. “For now.”
“Very well.”
Baine hesitated at the door, turning to glance over his shoulder.
“Fist.”
The younger male tensed. “Yes?”
“After you contact my father you will remain locked in the dungeons until I decide your fate.”
The soldier gave a deep bow. “Yes, my lord.”
Unwilling to waste any more time on the traitor, Baine left the throne room. He would send one of his guards to escort the male to the dungeons.
He had a more important task that needed his personal attention.
The sooner it was done, the sooner he could return to Tayla.
###
Levet knew that most people thought that he was as flighty and unpredictable as a dew fairy. It didn’t bother him. Who wanted to be a boring old demon who was obsessed with responsibility?
Life was meant to be fun.
But there were occasions when he could be as tenacious as a pure-blooded Were on the hunt.
Which was why he’d devoted the past four nights to searching every seedy safe house that catered to demons who preferred to remain off the radar.
Tonight he was in a dark, miserably damp street in London. This particular establishment tended to cater to vampires, but he was running out of places to search. And worse, the wood sprite he’d hired to create portals for his travels was becoming increasingly drunk on the nectar that Levet had offered as payment for his services. If the idiot passed out, Levet needed to be someplace where he could spend the day in a secure location.
Thankfully, he was BFFs with the current vampire clan chief of London. He was certain Victor would be happy to have him as a guest.
Okay, maybe not happy, he grudgingly conceded. But Victor’s beautiful mate, Juliet, would insist he be allowed into their lair.
Leaving the drunken sprite seated beneath a lamppost, Levet headed down the steps that led to the cellar beneath the silent pub. Then, stepping into the large room with wood plank floors and a low, open-beamed ceiling, he glanced toward the shadowed booths that lined the walls.
He barely noticed the pathetic humans who were hidden in the shadows, their eyes glazed with drugs and their thin bodies stripped down to reveal whatever unmarred skin they still possessed. If they wanted to be a midnight snack for a vampire, that was their business.
He waddled toward the back of the room, where a male imp was wiping down the long bar. Then, with a flap of his wings, he lifted himself off the ground to perch on one of the empty stools.
Glancing in Levet’s direction, the imp twisted his handsome features i
nto a predictable sneer. With his long golden hair pulled from his narrow face and his slender body encased in skin-tight leather, he was as beautiful as most fey, but there was a nasty glint in his green eyes.
“Whadda you want?”
Levet leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “I’m searching for an imp.”
“No imps, but I have a fairy who will rock your world.” The man nodded toward a narrow door carved into the paneling. “Two hundred bucks plus tips.”
Levet quivered with outrage. “Do I appear to need to purchase my females?”
“Hell yeah.” The green eyes flicked over him with blatant disgust, a sudden greed glinting in the emerald depths. “In fact, I’m gonna have to charge you double.”
The imp was clearly demented, Levet decided. That was the only explanation for his inability to see that he was a chicken magnet. Or was it chick magnet?
Whatever.
“Mon dieu,” Levet muttered, forced to point out the obvious. “I am the world-famous Levet. Women adore me.”
“Yeah, right,” the imp mocked. “Sunny will adore you for four hundred dollars plus tips.”
Levet made a sound of annoyance. Arguing with the idiot was clearly a waste of his time.
“The imp I seek is a male.”
“Ah, why didn’t you say so?” the barkeep shrugged. “I have that flavor as well.”
“Fah.” Enough was enough. With a flap of his wings, Levet was leaping off the stool and making his way toward the arched doorway that led into the private rooms.
“Hey.” The imp was in immediate pursuit. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I need to search your fine establishment,” Levet informed him.
“You can’t do that.” Moving to stand directly in Levet’s path, the imp released a shrill scream when Levet gave a wave of his hand and set the buffoon’s hair on fire. “Holy shit,” he wailed, rushing toward the sink behind the bar to douse his smoldering curls.
“Do you wish to have another taste of my mighty magic?” Levet demanded when the imp at last straightened to glare at him.
He paled, flinching as Levet raised his hand, sparks dancing off his claws.
“No.”
“A wise choice.”
Strolling out of the room, Levet waited until he was in a narrow hallway before he hastily scurried forward. The imp wouldn’t be intimidated for long. In fact, he was probably already calling for backup.