After another vigorous bout of lovemaking, Rosalie slept dreamlessly, Trey spooning her from behind. Around two in the morning she woke and gently extricated herself from his grasp, sliding out of the bed and visiting the bathroom. She was thirsty and a bit hungry so she padded into the kitchen on bare feet and got a glass of water. Considering whether to have more tiramisu or the pasta, she stood in the dark, gazing out at the patio.
There was someone out there, crossing her line of vision in a crouched position, plainly carrying a weapon.
She gasped, hand to her heart, wanting to scream but paralyzed by fear. Move, you have to move. You have to warn Trey. Pulse pounding, sick to her stomach she took a step and then another until she was running into the bedroom. Crawling on the bed, she shook his shoulder. “There’s an armed man lurking outside,” she whispered.
He came awake instantly, sitting up and reaching for the nightstand where his handheld sat. “Dead,” he said. Touching the back of his head behind his ear, he added, “Subaural com is down too. We’re under a localized coms blackout. Whoever this is, they’re not here to play.”
“What—what do we do?”
Trey left the bed, yanking on his sweatpants, which had been on the chair. He got a box out of the nightstand and keyed it open with his palm, revealing a blaster. He flicked off the safety. “Put clothes on, hurry. We have to get out of here.” As she fled to her room, scarcely able to breathe, Trey prowled into the living room, staying close to the wall and exercising the utmost caution.
Her hands were trembling and she was afraid she was going to faint and she stared at her bedroom with unseeing eyes. There was one thing she could do, useless as it might be. Deep in the fine print of the agreement about her stay on Resort Planet there’d been a small item about each bungalow having a panic button. She supposed IDA didn’t want to create alarm in their clients when it came to safety but for some reason they’d seen fit to equip the dwellings with this added feature. She’d been bored one day at home and had nothing else to read so of course she’d gone through the whole document. Now she racked her brain trying to remember where the damn button was.
Now she knew—it was in the headboard of the bed, cleverly worked into the ornamentation. She didn’t dare turn on the light so she searched for it by feel, until part of the façade gave slightly under her fingers. Pressing the button for all she was worth, she was rewarded by a tiny green glow, which then blinked off. There was nothing else to do, she scrambled off the mattress, snatched up a sundress and yanked it over her head. Shoving her feet into a pair of sandals she ran, colliding with Trey in the hall.
He steadied her. “There’s a crawlspace above the ceiling,” he said, “Which gives access to the roof. We’ve got to try for it.”
“Why haven’t they broken in yet?” she whispered as he tugged her to his bedroom and then to the closet. He handed her his blaster, which made her glad she’d had basic training on the weapon years ago, and dragged the chair over.
“Maybe all elements of their plan aren’t in place yet,” he said as he felt the ceiling tiles, seeking the access panel. “They think we’re asleep, remember.”
“There was a creepy handyman poking around the bungalow the first day,” Rosalie said, having only just remembered the incident. “I refused to let him in and eventually he left. I should have told you but it didn’t seem important.”
“Can’t be helped now.” He shoved the panel aside. “We had a decoy prince set up in the hotel penthouse with a female agent masquerading as his date, to draw attention away from me, but obviously the stratagem failed. We’re running out of time. Come on, I’ll give you a boost.” He held out his hand but before she could clasp it, there was a crash from the living room as intruders broke in through the glass door to the patio and others breached the front door.
With a curse Trey jumped from the chair, took his weapon from her and stalked to the door, taking care to remain concealed. “Get in the closet and don’t make a sound.”
She did as ordered, although she figured they both knew it was futile. Whoever was attacking them knew she was here with Trey. She wished there was something she could do. She should have at least grabbed a knife from the kitchen but she’d been so consumed by terror the idea hadn’t occurred to her.
Now Trey was exchanging fire with multiple people. Rosalie heard a scream from the living room which left her grimly satisfied to know he must have at least wounded one of the attackers.
“We want you alive,” a voice called from the living room. “A dead prince does us no good. But your girlfriend doesn’t matter to us. Surrender and we’ll let her live.”
“No, don’t believe them,” she said. “You can’t give up because of me.”
“The house is surrounded,” the voice continued. “Thanks for choosing the most isolated bungalow, your highness. The location works for us. I’m going to count to ten and then we’re coming in through the windows and the roof. You can’t kill all of us.”
Trey shot her a glance and then tossed his blaster out the door.
“No, don’t do this,” she cried. ”You have to protect yourself till help comes.”
“No one is coming, sweetheart,” the voice said derisively from the doorway. The masked terrorist standing there gestured at the prince. “On your knees, hands behind your head, now.”
As Trey complied, two more men rushed in, one pausing to train his weapon on Trey as the spokesman was yanking his hands behind his back and applying force cuffs. The second man and a fourth one stalked Rosalie as she instinctively retreated, even though there was nowhere to go. They grabbed her and she screamed, struggling in their grasp.
“I like a woman with fight in her,” the man on her left whispered, his grip tight on her arm. “More fun to break.”
“You swore she’d be unharmed,” Trey said, attempting to get to his feet. “Let her go.”
“I said we’d let her live,” the ringleader replied with a grin. “Didn’t say in what condition. Ravneb, why don’t you show our prince what kind of hospitality we’re going to offer his girlfriend?”
“My pleasure.” The man dragged her toward the bed, while the other conspirator pawed at her dress, ripping the seam. Rosalie fought hard, kicking and biting, until one of the men punched her on the cheek, making her see stars and nearly black out from pain.
“Take your hands off my mate,” Trey roared. His voice echoed oddly in the room and Rosalie stared as he got to his feet and kept rising, growing taller until his head touched the ceiling. But it wasn’t his head anymore, it was the head of a creature from a legend or a myth, scaled, purple, red eyes blazing, golden horns tearing into the ceiling tiles with their sharp points. Trey was nowhere to be seen anymore as the dragon filled the room. He threw back his head and roared and flames emerged from his lips, crisping the ringleader who’d been standing the closest. The two men attempting to molest Rosalie dropped her to the floor. One tried to flee past Trey-the-dragon but he speared the man in the center of his body with the spiked end of his tail and flung him through the wall. The other was firing his blaster in a steady barrage but the searing energy beam did no damage. Trey’s scales soaked the power up. His entire body glowed with power and fury. He stomped closer to the enemy, shaking the room with his power, grabbed the man in one clawed fist and threw him out the broken patio door, crisping him in midair with another jet of flame.
Careful not to step on Rosalie, Trey pivoted. As she watched from her position on the floor, Trey broke through the front door, shedding chunks of the wall as he went, chasing the now fleeing gang. She heard sirens in the distance and hoped either her use of the panic button or perhaps the noise of the battle had finally alerted Resort Planet authorities to the problem. The room was in flames around her and she knew she had to get out but her head was spinning and the smoke-filled air clogged her chest. Determined not to die here, she tried to crawl toward where the door used to be but then the dragon was back, scooping her from the floor as if he was plucking a flower and carried her outside into the fresh air.
The scales were smooth against her cheek as he cradled her and Rosalie heard the voice of Maxxil, Trey’s best friend, speaking calmly, asking the prince to put her down so the first responders could check out her injuries. Trey nuzzled her with his whole head and she felt herself being placed on the grass and after that she drifted into peaceful darkness.
