Page 10 of Dragon’s Rogue

The other burglar had the same idea. She dropped the box and bolted for the door, slipping out the narrowing opening. Scooping the velvet pouch that held the idol off the toe of his boot and stuffing it into one of the pockets of his vest, Zane followed, closing his eyes against the blast of light and magic that escaped just before the vault door swung shut.

Even with his natural immunity to magic, he was glad he wasn’t locked inside the vault with whatever spell that was.

Another alarm split the night, clashing with the first one in an ear-splitting cacophony. He had to get out now. No time to look for the Seal.

The burglar was already on her way out of the gallery, dodging and weaving around the displays, still choking on the red dust.

Zane could feel another runespell on the gallery floor, its magic racing out to surround them and hold them in place until Blaze could get there. The burglar made it out the door just ahead of the spell.

Damn. That burglar was either an accomplished sorceress, had expensive magical protection, or was the luckiest sucker on the face of the planet.

A barred gate was descending in the gallery doorway. Zane dove, sliding under it at the last second. The hallway was crisscrossed with moving laser beams, but he paid them no attention. They’d already set off all the alarms; he was blown.

Zane rolled to his feet and raced for the exit, cloaking himself as he went.

Zane! He could hear Tyr’s voice in his head, and sense the what-the-hell-have-you-done-now thoughts underneath.

Go! Don’t wait for me.

He could feel Tyr’s hesitation, and then felt his presence receding back toward the workroom and the balcony.

There was no sign of the other thief. She’d disappeared, leaving Zane to take the blame for her stupidity. Why the hell had she opened the box? Didn’t it occur to her it could be booby-trapped?

Zane pounded down the hallway. Just as he approached the staircase, he saw a flutter of white fabric as Blaze descended from above. He’d never get back to the workroom without her seeing him; the laser beams would outline his figure, even cloaked.

He flung himself into the dark corner behind the curve of the staircase. The floor was thick with dust—she should complain to her cleaning service.

Maybe he’d send them a note.

He held his breath against a sneeze, waiting for her to run past him down the stairs and continue on to the gallery. But she stopped, freezing on the staircase only a few feet from where he crouched.

She held herself very still, as if sensing his presence and trying to pinpoint where he was. Zane pinched his nose to keep the sneeze in and concentrated on his magical cloaking power. You don’t see me. You don’t sense me. I’m not here.

He could sense her, though. The beat of her heart, the warmth of her blood, the scent of her skin. She took a tentative step downward, and Zane dared to exhale in relief.

Too soon.

A furry dark shadow launched itself off the stair rail with a yowl, right into Zane’s face. He gasped, breathed in a noseful of dust and cat hair, and let out an explosive sneeze.

The cat clung to his ski mask, its claws scrabbling against his skin. Zane heard Blaze reciting a spell, and felt the invisible cords of a magical net descending around him.

He yanked the cat off his face and tossed it to the ground, spitting and snarling. Brushing away the net spell, he vaulted over the stair rail and wrapped his arms around Blaze, pinning her arms so she couldn’t try anything nastier.

“Nice try, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear.

She struggled in his grasp, but he wasn’t human and she was no match for his strength, which seemed to infuriate her. She began another incantation, and he swung her around, gripped the back of her neck and pressed his mouth to hers, stifling her words.

The moment their lips touched, he forgot everything else. She tasted of lavender and honey, sweetness and sunshine. He drank her in heedlessly, desperately, like a man dying of thirst drinks cold, sparkling water.

She fizzed in his veins.

He felt her gasp, stealing his breath, and then her lips parted under his. A mass of sweet, hot memories tumbled through his mind—fragments of all the dreams he’d ever had about her. Candlelight and wild heat and warmth and love. Hands touching, lips caressing. Fields and wildflowers and flights under the stars.

Zane! It was Tyr’s mental voice, sounding anxious. Zane, what’s happening? I’m coming in!

Reality came crashing back. No! I’m coming out!

He released the witch and she stared at him from wide blue-green eyes, stunned. Before she could move or speak, he ran up two steps, leaped up onto the stair rail, and dove through the high vaulted window behind the stairway, shards of glass sparkling like falling stars as he fell through the darkness.