Part 11 (2/2)

”Could you recognize the magic of the maze?” she demanded.

He continued to glare at her, no doubt anxious to continue with his sermon. She was reckless, she was foolish, she was...yadda, yadda, yadda. Then, no doubt sensing he was wasting his breath, he leashed his desire to lash out and forced himself to concentrate on her question.

”It smells of dragon-magic,” he said grimly.

She blinked in surprise. ”Dragon?”

”Yes, but it's strange.”

”Everything about this place is strange,” she said in dry tones.

”True.”

She glanced toward thick ice walls, a shudder racing through her. It would be a long time before she forgot the terrifying sensation of being trapped in the frozen barrier. ”How are we going to get out of here?”

He shrugged. ”For now, we remain patient.”

She grimaced. ”I'm not very good at that.”

His humorless laugh echoed through the small s.p.a.ce. ”Yeah, I've noticed.”

”Hey,” she protested. ”Anything is better than just waiting around.”

He studied her flushed face for a long, unnerving moment.

”I could offer a distraction,” he finally murmured, the heat in the air notching up several degrees.

A strange, electric jolt of antic.i.p.ation arrowed down her spine.

”What sort of distraction?” she demanded.

He lowered his head without warning, stealing her protest with a kiss that sent pleasure searing through her body. She made a sound deep in her throat, her toes curling.

Intoxicating excitement bubbled through her blood, making her lightheaded.

That was the only reason her fingers were curling into the fabric of his T-s.h.i.+rt to pull him closer to her trembling body. Right?

Of course, that didn't explain why her lips were parting as his tongue stroked into her mouth. Or why she was arching upward in a silent invitation.

But at the moment, she couldn't make herself care.

Not when he was tugging on her hair to tilt back her head. And his roaming lips were taking advantage of her exposed neck to plant dozens of kisses down to the pulse that thundered at the base of her throat.

Oh...lord.

She s.h.i.+vered as his heat danced over her skin. She could smell his dragon in the air. Taste him lingering on her tongue.

Such raw, ruthless power.

It was enough to make any female melt into a puddle of gooey need.

As she wrapped her arms around his neck, Rya's lashes were fluttering downward when she caught sight of a gathering darkness out of the corner of her mind.

She stiffened, turning her head as the darkness spread, heading toward them at a frightening speed.

”Torque,” she cried in warning.

His arms tightened around her. ”I've got you,” he muttered, cloaking them both in the power of his dragon.

Rya released her own inner dragon. It wasn't as strong as Torque's, but the two easily melded together, creating a blaze of magic as the darkness washed over them.

CHAPTER SIX.

Torque held Rya in his arms, protecting her with his larger body as the blackness swept over them. There was the sensation of being whisked through dimensions. Not a portal.

Just pure magic.

Heat p.r.i.c.kled over his skin. It didn't feel like a threat. It was more a brush of curiosity. Then slowly the darkness receded and a soft glow of light revealed a large room that looked like it'd been carved out of stone.

With a muttered curse, he set Rya on her feet and stepped back. He didn't want to let go of her, but he needed s.p.a.ce to fight.

Spinning in a circle, he searched for a hidden enemy, flames dancing over his skin.

When nothing leaped out of the shadows, he returned his attention to his companion even as his senses remained on high alert. Nothing would be allowed to sneak up on them.

”Are you okay?”

”I'm fine.” She pushed her hair from her face, her own power thick in the air. As fragile as she might look, she was still a dragon-s.h.i.+fter. She was far from helpless. ”What happened?”

”I...” His words faltered as he allowed himself to truly take in their surroundings. ”s.h.i.+t,” he breathed.

”Torque?” Rya murmured in confusion.

He shook his head, studying the familiar black leather couch and matching chair that was set near a large, stone fireplace.

”It's not possible,” he muttered, crossing the barren floor to touch the leather-bound books that filled the wooden shelves on one wall.

”What's not possible?”

He pivoted back to meet Rya's worried gaze.

”These are my private quarters,” he told her. ”Or at least the illusion of my lair.”

Widening her eyes, she glanced around with blatant curiosity.

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