Whatever tomorrow brings, we’ll face it together. And if anyone tries to take my mate, they’ll learn what happens when a dragon’s fire meets a trickster’s spark.
They’ll burn in all nine hells for the rest of eternity…
Chapter 3
Gamble
I wake to the smell of cedar smoke and something sweeter, honey rolls, maybe, and the low, steady thump of a dragon’s heart under my ear. For one brief heartbeat I think I’m still dreaming…
Then the thump shifts, and a massive hand settles on the small of my back, warm as Asterian sun-kissed stone.
“Morning, little thief,” Sarak rumbles. His voice is morning-rough, deliciously so, and it curls straight into my belly.
I blink up at him.
We’re inhisbed, tangled in wool blankets that smell of him.
My tunic is gone. So is the fire stone. I’m wearing one of his shirts, sleeves rolled to my elbows, hem brushing my thighs. The fabric is soft from years of wash and wear, and it smells like forge smoke and pine. I burrow deeper into it like a greedy cat.
“Morning,Daddy,” I mumble into his chest. The word slips out easy now, like it’s always belonged there. His answering growl vibrates through me, half warning, half pleasure.
Sarak shifts, propping himself on an elbow. The movement makes the cot creak. “How’s the side? It should feel better after your rest.”
I wiggle experimentally. The slice across my ribs is a dull ache, nothing more. “Mybe. It could be your salve’s magic,” I say. “Or perhaps you just kiss better than any healer.”
Sarak’s dark brow arches. “Flattery will get you spanked, brat.”
I don’t know where I summon the courage—or perhaps the foolishness—but I poke my tongue out of my mouth and arch my eyebrow in Sarak’s direction.
“The dragon doesn’t scare me,” I say, sticking my tongue out once more and wiggling it provocatively. “In fact, I think I’d be more afraid of being spanked by a Mount Elan squirrel!”
With that, Sarak takes me in his arms and promptly carries me over toward the large oak chair opposite. I gasp as Sarak hikes up the shirt to reveal my bare bottom.
“Now this is what happens when a naughty elf crosses the line,” Sarak growls, bringing his hand down on my buttocks and making them wobble in the warm light.
“Owwww!” I holler, the shock of the sharp pain hitting me. “That hurts!”
“Good, it’s supposed to,” Sarak bellows, his voice full of relish as he brings down four more spanks in rapid succession, each one landing with precision and making me whimper and cry. “And two more for good luck!”
“Owwwww!” I squeal. “Yooooowwwww!”
“Ah, the little elf’s ears are dampened,” Sarak chuckles, noting how my ears have indeed turned down, a sure sign that my red-bottom bottom is in sufficient pain. “Well with that lesson well and truly learned, I think it’s time for a little cuddle. How does that sound?”
I giggle as Sarak holds me close and runs his hands through my hair and gently strokes my ears until they are back to their usual selves. But my smile falters when I catch sight of the anvil across the room. The lead cloth is gone. The fire stone sits in its place, cracked but pulsing faintly, crimson veins sluggish, like a heart that forgot how to beat properly.
“It’s… quieter,” I say, my heartrate rising and my bottom still throbbing from the punishment.
“For now.” Sarak follows my gaze. “Our little trick bought us hours, not days. Revaster will feel the tether fray. He’ll send worse than Night Hounds and mercenaries.”
The nameRevasterlands like a stone in my gut. I sit up, clutching the blanket to my chest.
“I have to move,” I say. “There’s a mage in the Emberfall Glades, Elowen, old blood, older debts. If anyone can break the curse?—”
“You’re not goinganywhere.” Sarak’s hand cups my nape, thumb stroking the hollow beneath my ear. “Not alone. And not until I tend to that rear end of yours. I’ll fetch some Milk of Lido, that will do the trick. But, to repeat… you’re not goinganywherealone.”
I open my mouth to argue,I’ve been alone for weeks, I’m fast, I’m clever, but the look in his eyes stops me. It’s not just protective. It’sterrified. The big, bad dragon is scared. For me.
My heart skips a beat, “Sarak…”
