Page 19 of Dragon’s Rogue

Zane sighed, feeling himself sag against the tabletop. He really didn’t want to sit through another argument between his brothers about the Prophecy of the Seals. Tyr believed in it; Thorne didn’t. Zane didn’t know what he believed.

Thorne said, “Even if it wasn’t pure fiction, that story was about the Draken Guardians. Who are all dead, in case you haven’t noticed. We’re Wild Dragons. We’re not in the prophecies. We’re not in the stories. We’re just trying to hold this little corner of the world together with spit and duct tape. There aren’t going to be any destined mates who save the day by conveniently handing us the Seals, and then falling in love with us and whatever other romantic shit the story says.”

“Become the treasures of our hearts, worth more than caves of gold,” Tyr said quietly.

Thorne snorted. “Grow up, Tyr, and get your head out of the fairy-tale books. This,” he waved his hand at the computer screens, “is reality. Two million people consumed by a Draken Lord, unless we do something. Soon.”

Thorne sounded bitter, and for good reason. He’d lost everything when the Guardians died, and was left with nothing but responsibility he wasn’t prepared for. None of them were. But Zane wasn’t so sure about destined mates being only for full-blooded Draken. Because he’d been dreaming about the same woman for a hundred years, and—

His stomach lurched. And tonight, on a quest for the Dragonfly Seal, he’d met her. He’d tried to rob her house, and all hell had broken loose.

“Maybe Tyr’s right,” he said slowly. “Because there we were with the best lead on a Seal we’ve ever had, and we tried to steal it. And of the two hundred things that could have gone wrong tonight, approximately two hundred and ten of them did. So maybe trying to steal it really did bring bad luck.”

Something pinged on one of Thorne’s computers, and he turned to check it. He tapped a couple of keys, muttered another curse, and then turned back around.

“You don’t seriously think things went south because of Tyr’s fairy tale.” His tone was flat and disbelieving.

“Well, what are the odds of two people breaking into the same house at the exact same time?” Zane asked. “Whoever the other burglar was, she wasn’t even after the Seal.”

Thorne frowned. “What was she after?”

Zane tried to move his hand to his pocket, but it felt like it was moving through molasses. Don’t show them, the little voice said. This is all for you. You alone. They’ll try to take me from you…

He shook his head, clearing it. The velvet bag was in his hand, but he couldn’t remember pulling it out of his pocket. Had he heard something? He couldn’t remember.

“She was after this.”

Zane opened the bag and unwrapped the idol. It was the first time he’d gotten a close look at it. It was about four inches high, solid gold and heavy in his hand. He flicked it with his fingernail, and listened to the singing that only a dragon could hear.

Twenty-four carats. Pure gold.

He saw Thorne’s eyebrows go up, and Tyr gave a silent whistle. Nothing was as delicious to dragons as pure gold. Zane wanted to rub his cheek against it like a cat and purr.

Of course he didn’t. That would be embarrassing. Plus, it was still evil. Instead, he turned it over and examined it. The others came over and surrounded him, looking at it with him.

It was an elongated face with an elaborate headdress, reminiscent of some types of African art but… not quite. Mayan? Or maybe a bit of Easter Island.

The face had a small smile, mysterious and somehow alluring. It had an appeal he couldn’t quite put his finger on, even though the proportions of the face weren’t human.

The eyes were rubies, deep red translucent gems that almost glowed under the fluorescent light. To his dragon sight, they looked flawless.

Thorne held out his hand. “May I?”

Zane handed over the idol. Thorne examined it closely, especially the eyes. He was their resident gem expert. He could tell the type and purity of a gemstone just by tasting it, as well as what part of the world it came from—or if it had come from another world entirely.

Thorne brought the idol to his mouth, and Zane instinctively reached out a hand to stop him. Tyr said, “I wouldn’t do that, bro.”

Thorne stopped, the statue inches from his tongue. “Why not?”

“You’re probably going to get a mouthful of evil.” Tyr described the black fog that had reached out for Blaze during her spell.

Thorne gave them a sharp glance. “She’s a dark sorceress?”

Zane shrugged one shoulder. “Apparently.” He still didn’t say anything about the part of the spell Tyr had missed, though. The part with him in it.

Thorne weighed the statue in his hand. “It’s definitely magical. And old.”

Zane would have said ancient. Several thousand years, maybe. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. He couldn’t imagine how valuable it was it human terms. Blaze McKenna dealt in artifacts, but he was surprised she had the capital to acquire anything like this.