Nothing. My dragon wouldn’t budge.
Tavish folded his arms. “Not happening.”
“You can’t hold me prisoner.” I was outnumbered, yes, but I wasn’t some helpless female they could push around. “No cell will hold me. I’ll take shadow form and leave this place.”
He smirked. “Then why haven’t you done it?”
Dammit.
I lifted my chin. “I will.”
He raised a brow.
“Eventually,” I muttered.
Something old andverypossessive glinted in his blue eyes. “If you think you can evade us, go ahead and try.” He leaned forward, and a lock of black hair slid over one massive shoulder. His voice slipped into a low, menacing register. “We’ll catch you, and we’ll takegreatdelight in the chase.”
“Tavish…” Albie murmured, mild reproach in his tone.
I waited for my magic to surge—for heat to pump through my veins and rise under my skin so I could twist into smoke and fly out the window. But it didn’t come. Instead, a different kind of heat built low in my body. It pooled between my legs, making me press my thighs together in a bid to stop it. But it was no use. My nipples tightened, and the heat became an ache.
Tavish’s nostrils flared, satisfaction joining the possessiveness in his gaze. “Aye, you know you belong to us. Your body knows it.”
Humiliation scalded my face. I gripped the sill so I didn’t surge forward and punch him in his smirking mouth.
Albie cleared his throat. “You have nothing to fear from us, lass.”
“Never,” Tavish added. “Not from your mates.” He stressed the last word, the “T” sharp as a whip.
“You’re not my mates,” I said.
“Aye, we are.”
A growl rumbled in my throat. “The second I find a knife, I will?—”
“What’s your family name?” he demanded. “Why do you claim kinship to Niall Balfour?”
For a second, I considered lying. But they’d undoubtedly scent any falsehoods. Plus, I was stuck in the wrong time, and they were my only resources at the moment. If I had any hope of getting home, I had to accept all the help I could get.
I drew a deep breath and let the truth tumble out. “My name is Portia Balfour, and I’m from the year 2048. My fathers are King Cormac and Niall Balfour. My mother is Queen Isolde.”
The men stiffened.
“Queen?” Albie asked, a mix of surprise and disbelief in his voice.
Understanding dawned at once. In 1742, all the female dragons were dead, and my dad was consumed by madness.
Tavish frowned. “Maybe you hit your head when you fell.”
Anger and desperation flooded me. I pushed away from the sill. “I don’t have a concussion. I’m Cormac’s daughter. Hundreds of years from now, Niall will find my mother on the demon plane and claim her. Then she and Niall will pull my dad from the fire. The Curse is broken. The monarchy is restored.”I looked between the men, willing them to believe me. “My brother, Malcolm, is heir to the throne. And I’m…”
I stopped. Who was I? A dragon shifter who couldn’t control her beast? A burden my parents were desperate to see mated so I could save our species?
“I’m…” The word stuck in my throat.
“Ours,” Albie said softly.
I looked at him. His brown eyes were warm and steady behind his glasses. He didn’t look at me like I was crazy. He looked at me like I was exactly where I belonged.
