Page 44 of Burned

“He’s very much alive,” Baelix says. “But before I tell you what I know, I require payment.”

Digby, now on his feet, steps forward, stopping just outside the shield Baelix has up. “What kind of payment?”

“I am of the fae folk,” Baelix explains. “I discovered your brother in the Scottish wilderness, but he was not alone.”

“How…” Digby screws up his face like he’s trying to do a complicated math problem. “He’s a captive, isn’t he?”

Baelix smiles wider, revealing sharp uneven teeth, aware of his advantage. “As I said, I require payment for the information.”

Viggo nods. “Name your price.”

Baelix lights up. “Dragon hunters must have some unique treasures. I need jewels and trinkets. If I am pleased with your offering, I will provide the information you need to find your brother. No strings.”

“What the hell is going on out here?” Njord Havaror, the father, stomps out of his home, stopping short when he sees Baelix. He’s an angry man with red hair and equally red cheeks that match his fiery demeanor. “Who are you?”

“A messenger. I bring news of your son.”

Njord gasps. “Alrick?”

“He lives, Dad,” Viggo says.

“He’s a prisoner,” Digby says next.

Njord scowls. “Dishonor. Let him live as the disgrace he is.”

“Dad, we have to save him if we can,” Viggo implores. “It’s not his fault.”

“As much as it pains me, Viggo is right,” Digby says, then turns to Baelix. “Is he with a dragon?”

Baelix blinks slowly. “Payment first.” He says the words as if he’s speaking to a very stupid child.

Digby huffs. “Fine.” He stomps off as the other two men guard Baelix.

Baelix glances around the compound, curious about why it looks like a military base from the second great war era with its barracks-like buildings and lack of decor and warmth. What are these hunters so fearful of? Dragons who want nothing to do with them? Perhaps Baelix is out of touch and war between the two species is brewing once again. It’s been hundreds of years since hunters sought out dragons to kill in Scotland. Odd that there’s a family still dedicated to the practice when, to Baelix’s knowledge, most dragons live a civilized, nearly human existence.

Digby returns carrying a large leather satchel. He drops it at Baelix’s feet, opening it to reveal many shiny trinkets of gold and silver, gemstones of emerald, sapphire, and ruby, and several pieces of jewelry. Baelix even spots a goblet of gold. This will do just fine.

“Find the Drake Clan and you will find your lost brother,” Baelix says, scooping up the pouch. He knows he could offer the extra information that the brother is most willingly in the company of the dragon, but somehow it seems moreentertaining to let the hunters learn this information on their own.

“Dragons?” Viggo asks, his tone filled with concern.

“Indeed,” Baelix says. “Thank you for your payment. I’ll see myself out.”

Baelix turns to leave as the brothers scramble to retrieve weapons for their hunt. Baelix grins with mischief, aware that he’s set off a chain of events that only fate knows the ending to. Perhaps Baelix can amuse himself by watching it unfold, but he has a mission to complete back at home.

If history has taught Baelix anything, it’s that the hunters will prevail if they have magic on their side. Sad. Baelix would much rather the dragons be the winners. As far as the lovers go, Baelix hopes they’re ready for the hellfire about to rain down on both their lives.

Chapter

Fifteen

LORD

Aduality exists inside most, if not all dragons, and I don’t mean man versus beast. Although, maybe that’s part of it. There’s a deep, yearning part of me that longs for the quiet of the forest, the cool solitude of the mountains, and a peaceful nap on a sunny rock miles and miles from civilization. But there’s an equally large craving inside of me for luxury, the feeling of expensive fabric against my skin, the echoing sound of my shoes against a marble floor, all things that sparkle and shimmer in the light. After days in the wilderness feeding that more animalistic need for nature, a ripple of pleasure runs through me as I lead Alrick into the most expensive suite available in the City of Lights.

“Wow,” he whispers, as if it would be rude to speak too loudly in such a nicely decorated, expensive room.

I chuckle, the sound echoing off the high ceilings, and drop my backpack onto the uncomfortable looking sofa. Through the large windows, we have the perfect view of not only the Eiffel Tower, but the sprawling city around us. I stride over to thewindow to get a better look, breathing in deeply and letting the bone-deep sense ofhomesettle into me.

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