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  As the dragon was lost from view, he grew aware of Lyra pressed close to him, her hands on his backpack, gripping it fiercely.

  She was afraid.

  And she had moved closer to him, trusting he would protect her.

  Her hair tickled his left arm, her breath warm on his skin.

  That ache started deep in his chest again, the one that demanded he turn and gather her into his arms, and kiss her this time, as she wanted to be kissed.

  By him.

  He slowly turned towards her and she lifted her head, her faintly glowing blue eyes meeting his, sending a shiver through him that chased away the chill and warmed his bones, and almost made him forget the reasons why he couldn’t bend his head and capture those lips that called to him so sweetly.

  She tipped her head up in an invitation.

  The ground shook behind him, a gust of wind blasting fragments of black rock against him, and he swiftly pulled Lyra into his arms, shielding her from the sharp shards. She gasped and for a sickening heartbeat, a dreadful moment, he feared he had terrified her by touching her and she would lash out at him.

  He stilled.

  Rather than pushing out of his arms and attacking him for daring to touch her against her will, she burrowed deeper into his embrace, her cheek pressing against his bare chest and her hands trembling against his sides.

  She didn’t fear him.

  She feared what had just landed behind him.

  The dragon snarled and Grey growled right back at it, didn’t give a shit if it was ten times his height and one hundred times more powerful than him.

  He wouldn’t let it near Lyra.

  He looked over his shoulder at the huge black beast and pinned it with a glare he hoped conveyed every ounce of the fury pouring through his veins, a fire that commanded him to fight.

  To protect Lyra.

  The black dragon shook its head, long horns almost catching the muscled arch of its wings as it settled all four enormous black paws onto the dark ground. Huge talons dug into the earth, cleaving long grooves in it, and obsidian eyes dropped to him, a flare of gold and violet around its narrowed elliptical pupils.

  “Fuck off,” Grey snarled and gathered Lyra closer.

  The immense beast cocked its head.

  Lyra lifted hers and bit out something in a language he didn’t know.

  This time, the dragon growled, flashing fangs that were each the length of Grey’s arms.

  She moved backwards, out of his embrace, and held her arms up, showing them to the dragon. The beast huffed, and Grey wanted to cover her eyes when it transformed into a rugged black-haired male with midnight eyes, and scars littering his honed body. A black pair of leathers appeared on his lower half together with boots as the male strode towards them.

  “Slavers?” The male looked over the silver cuffs but kept his distance.

  A wise move since Grey was finding it hard to refrain from growling at the male already, the need to protect Lyra rousing his hellcat instincts and blending them into one dangerous desire to fight.

  And kill.

  Lyra nodded. “We thought your kind might be able to remove them.”

  The male rolled a thickly-muscled shoulder. “It should not prove a problem. Come… my chief will want to speak with you.”

  Grey didn’t want to follow the male, but Lyra was moving before he could say a word, trailing behind the male but keeping her distance. He didn’t trust the dragon shifter. The black-haired male looked like a warrior, and one who enjoyed fighting judging by the thick scars on his stomach and side that were still fresh and healing.

  Lyra said something in the strange tongue again, the words melodic and almost magical sounding. The male grunted and pointed off to his right, across the valley to the other side.

  “What are you asking?” Grey wanted to know, because as far as he knew, the Devil’s domain was in that direction.

  The thought of her going anywhere near such a dangerous place turned his stomach.

  “Where the nearest portal is.” She didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes fixed on the dragon.

  On his bare back.

  Grey growled at that.

  The black need to shove past her and attack the male, to prove himself the male more worthy of her, rose swift and fast, almost overpowering him. He growled again and clenched his teeth, curled his hands into fists and fought himself instead, struggling to tamp that need down and bring it back under control.

  She was doing it on purpose, punishing him for rejecting her.

  It was sheer torture.

  He wrestled with his darker instincts as they trekked around the edges of a mountain and then followed a broad well-trodden path over one and into another valley. As they crested a hill on the descent, a village came into view. It was larger than he had expected.

  Round stone huts filled most of the space in the valley floor, with a large clearing off to the left where dragons of all different colours milled around, some taking off and some landing. To the north of the village, an arena hugged the side of the mountain. In the centre of the village was another wide clearing, with a large building at one end of it.

  A red dragon flew overhead, followed by a violet one.

  Lyra bared her fangs at both of them, and a trickle of her fear ran through him, made him ache with a need to gather her back into his arms and hold her until that fear went away.

  “None will hurt you… although some might fight for you.” The dragon cast an emotionless, empty glance over his shoulder at her.

  Grey growled at the male, making it clear that no one was going to be fighting to have Lyra as their female.

  She belonged to no one.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and that need to hold her grew stronger, drove him to narrow the gap between them so she would feel that he was there for her, and he wouldn’t allow any dragon to attempt to stake a claim on her.

  No one would own her ever again.

  She was free now.

  When they reached the village outskirts, it became clear that the males weren’t the only ones who liked to wear only leather trousers. Females moved around the black stone huts, their colourful hair matching that of their tight leathers, their breasts unfettered and bouncing with each step they took.

  Some smiled as they spotted him and flicked their long hair over their shoulders to expose their firm breasts.

  An open invitation that he ignored.

  These females did nothing for him.

  They did something for Lyra though. She growled at every one that looked at him, and bared her fangs at those who dared to expose themselves to him in an attempt to lure him to them.

  As they entered the centre of the village, and the males grew more numerous, Grey began his own growling spree. He moved closer to Lyra, trying to make it clear that she was off limits, but it didn’t stop some of the males from eyeing her, an appreciative glint in their colourful gazes as they raked them over her curves, clearly imagining what they looked like beneath the baggy t-shirt and shorts.

  Their dragon escort said something, pulling Grey away from a particularly vicious series of growls aimed at a handsome son of a bitch who looked as if he might cross the line and try to speak with Lyra.

  The turquoise-haired male fell back and huffed as he returned his focus to the female who was fawning over him, pressing her bare breasts to his chest and swirling her fingers around his left nipple.

  The stories his mother had read to him as a cub had neglected to mention that dragons were this sexually charged.

  If he had known, he would have personally marched Lyra to the portal near the tavern and shoved her into it.

  He wasn’t sure how much more he could bear as they approached the gathering place in the village and males and females flowed out from the paths between the huts, filling the edges of the open circle.

  Shit got dangerously close to going south when someone barked something in the dragon tongue and the gathered fell silent, and Grey loo
ked at who had spoken.

  A male with bright golden hair sat on an obsidian throne in front of the largest of the thatched stone huts that stood on a platform at the other end of the square, cragged black mountains rising to spear the dimly glowing sky of Hell behind him. His large hands rested over the ornate ends of the arms of his throne, and bronze leathers hugged powerful legs that were spread wide apart.

  Beside him, a female with wavy amber hair that reached her waist knelt with her head bent, her palms resting on her deep orange leather trousers. She appeared relaxed, but a sense of melancholy rolled off her.

  Grey guessed from her subservient position that she belonged to the golden dragon and that it wasn’t by choice.

  “Brink, what cats have you dragged in with you?” the male said, a lazy drawl that made him sound calm and complacent, uncaring, when Grey’s senses said he was far from it.

  The male was alert, cautious, and ready to fight if needed.

  The black-haired dragon dipped his head as they halted in the centre of the square. “One who is born of this realm, and has been subjugated. She seeks freedom from her shackles.”

  The other male eyed Lyra, golden irises bright. “I suppose we could help with that… for a price.”

  Grey’s hackles rose.

  If he meant to make Lyra pay for her freedom in any sexual way, he was going to kill the bastard. It didn’t matter that he was clearly in charge of this entire clan of dragons. Grey would cleave the male’s head from his neck with his bare claws.

  “You have gold?”

  That need to fight instantly deflated.

  The way the leader’s eyes brightened when he said the word ‘gold’ was almost comical, a clichéd reaction and need that Grey wanted to laugh at because it seemed too ridiculous to be real.

  A dragon wanted gold?

  The male watched him closely and Grey didn’t even let a hint of a smile touch his lips.

  He had the feeling that if he dared to show his amusement, it would be the last thing he did.

  The dragon would crush him and eat him.

  “No gold?” The male huffed. “No freedom.”

  “I’ll get you a jewel bigger than your balls if you get me out of these shackles,” Lyra snarled and the male slowly smiled.

  His golden eyes twinkled at her. “I have big balls.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t doubt it. I have a big jewel. A sapphire. It was my mother’s. She stole it when she escaped my father. If you get these off me, I’ll go through the portal to my home and I’ll come back with it.”

  “Brink, Tanix and Eyrie will go with you.”

  The black-haired male obediently stepped forwards. A large male with pale blue hair tied in a thong at the nape of his neck and icy eyes broke from the guards on the left of the dais. From the ones on the right, an equally muscled male with forest-green short hair, jade eyes and a jagged scar that ran diagonally across his chest from his left shoulder to his right hip moved to meet with the blue-haired one in front of their alpha, and then marched forwards at his side to halt next to Brink.

  The trio were formidable.

  Lyra’s pulse beat a little quicker, and Grey edged towards her, wanting her to know that he was here with her.

  “Not a wise idea.” She kept her eyes on the male in charge as he pushed onto his feet. His handsome face darkened and his eyes glowed brighter. She held her hands up in front of her, palms facing him. Trying to calm him. “I live in the mortal realm.”

  The male looked from her to Grey.

  Grey shrugged. “Norway, apparently.”

  A murmur ran through the crowd gathered around them, and Lyra’s heartbeat ticked up, her fear returning as she looked at all the dragons.

  He moved another step closer to her, and she looked over her shoulder at him, that fear he had sensed in her shining in her blue eyes. He silently told her that she would be fine, he would get those shackles off her and get her away from the dragons, and he would see her home.

  “I’ll stay while she gets the jewel.” He stepped past her, stealing the golden-haired male’s attention. “I have business in the dragon realm. I can look into it while she goes to retrieve the jewel. Your men can escort me.”

  The leader stared at him, and Grey could see his mind working, churning as he considered the offer, his golden eyes still glowing brightly.

  He really wanted that jewel.

  “Fine,” the male snapped, raised his hand and two females approached Lyra, a pretty blonde and one with lilac hair. “Take her to the smith.”

  Grey watched the females as they fell in beside Lyra and ushered her towards the right side of the village. When she looked back at him, he saw the need in her eyes and felt it echo in his heart, and he went to follow her as she wanted.

  “Male,” the leader barked, halting him in his tracks. He turned back towards him. “You have a name?”

  “Grey.” He looked from the male to Lyra, and had to pull down a slow breath to calm himself when she disappeared from view.

  Gods, he needed to find her.

  He needed to see her.

  This distance between them was too much.

  He had to know where she was, needed eyes on her at all times, needed to see she was alright and unharmed. Safe.

  “My name is Ren. You mentioned you have business here. This is my domain and I will know what business it is you have in it.” The male eased back down onto his throne. “Speak and tell me.”

  The one called Brink urged him forwards, and Grey resisted, stood his ground and continued to stare in the direction Lyra had gone.

  He did have business in the dragon realm, but that business was Lyra now. He didn’t care what Archangel were up to, and he wouldn’t, not until she was safe and far from this hellish land, and the male pursuing her.

  “Speak, or I will have the female brought back here and new shackles placed on her.”

  Grey snarled and bared his fangs at Ren. The male held his gaze, unflinching in the face of his fury, his golden eyes placid and betraying nothing.

  Brink shoved him hard in his back, forcing him to stumble forwards across the black dirt.

  Grey tore his eyes away from the path Lyra had taken and approached the platform where Ren sat, locking gazes with him. If it would stop the male from threatening Lyra, then he would do as the male bid and tell him why he had come to Hell.

  He stopped just short of the platform and looked up at Ren.

  “I’m hunting Archangel scouts.”

  Ren’s eyes darkened and his pupils narrowed, beginning to turn elliptical. He knew Archangel then, and he didn’t like them judging by the anger that laced his scent.

  A few of the people in the crowd lining the square began whispering to each other.

  Brink lowered one hand to his stomach and clutched it, his skin paling as he stared off into the distance. Had an Archangel hunter given him the wound behind the dark pink scar he held?

  Ren snarled and stood sharply and everyone fell silent again, some of them shrinking back, as if they feared him.

  Grey wouldn’t blame them if they did.

  The male cut an imposing figure as he stood on his dais, his golden hair catching the warm breeze and the fires of Hell glowing in his eyes, and every muscle of his near seven-foot frame tensed.

  Only the amber-haired female showed no outward sign of fear. She remained kneeling beside his throne, motionless and calm. Either she had balls of steel, or she had slipped away from the world in order to cope with what was happening to her.

  The sight of her stirred a dark and dangerous need in Grey’s blood, a deep desire to free her from her invisible shackles.

  If he dared to try, he wouldn’t survive, and she would no doubt be punished by Ren.

  Besides, one of the guards stationed at the left side of the dais, a male with bright silver hair and deep silver leathers, couldn’t keep his mercury-coloured eyes off her. Whenever Ren was distracted, whenever the alpha had an outbur
st that shook everyone but her, those mercury eyes slipped to her, watched her.

  Watched over her.

  It looked as if it was only a matter of time before she found her freedom.

  The male wore the same look Grey felt sure he did at times, a yearning he couldn’t contain and a need he fought a losing battle to deny. He wanted the female, and he would move Hell, Earth and Heaven to have her.

  “Mortals,” Ren spat and narrowed his eyes on Grey. “What know you of them? Fiends from this Archangel came to my lands recently and bewitched one of my warriors, stole the females my warriors had taken as their war prizes, and now another of my males has gone missing.”

  And Ren wanted war.

  Brink growled from beside Grey, “I have seen them… scouting parties as you said. There are many of them, with much strange technology.”

  “Where?” Grey turned to the black-haired male.

  Sparks of violet flickered in his midnight eyes.

  Ren loosed a low snarl. Brink turned to face him.

  “I returned to report this, and found these felines approaching our home.”

  Grey didn’t like the way Brink said that, because it sounded a lot like he was insinuating he and Lyra were involved with Archangel in some way, and were a threat to the dragons.

  “I need to know where they are. Research we uncovered when we broke into their building—” Grey started.

  “You have been in their home?” Ren interjected and took a step towards him. “Speak of it and what you know.”

  Brink stared at him.

  Hard.

  When Grey glanced at the male, his eyes were brighter, more purple than black, but they were unfocused, fixed on him but not seeing him.

  “They all smell the same,” he murmured, voice a bare whisper. “They all smell of…”

  “Brink!” Ren barked and the black-haired dragon snapped out of it and dazedly looked at his leader.

  He immediately lowered his head. “My apologies. I must have drifted away.”