Page 53 of Dragon’s Rogue

Zane shook his head, and Thorne’s lips tightened. “Dammit!”

“We have even bigger problems, bro,” Zane said. “Where’s Tyr?”

“Monitoring room,” Thorne said.

Zane sighed. “Then we better get down there,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Chapter 26

Without giving Blaze another glance Thorne turned and strode toward a staircase at the edge of the roof, still limping a bit.

Blaze looked around. “Well, I asked you to put me down on a rooftop,” she said. “Too bad there isn’t a bar.”

Zane was still standing close to her—too close. His warmth was comforting, but the intensity of his gaze was a little unnerving. “You definitely don’t need a bar,” he said. “After all the power you threw at that idol, you need food and rest. You’re tapped out. Come on.”

He wasn’t wrong—the kind of power she’d put into that protective circle had drained every ounce of energy from her body, and she felt slightly nauseated. But Zane hovering over her and deciding what she did and didn’t need was making her hackles rise.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Although I’d still like to drink about a half a bottle of whiskey and pass out.”

If only that would make her problems go away.

“Maybe later. Right now we need to figure out what the hell happened tonight. We’ll get some food for you down in the Batcave.”

“The what, now?”

Zane raised an eyebrow. “I told you I was taking you to our evil lair.”

Which they called the Batcave. That sounded half-cool and half-scary, and would probably be all scary except Blaze was so exhausted, and she had to go somewhere. What she really wanted was just to lie down and sleep for about a million years, whiskey or no.

Zane put his hand protectively on the small of her back. “Come on,” he said. “We better go down.”

She still didn’t want him ordering her around, but privately Blaze had to admit that she felt safer with Zane touching her. She didn’t want to think about what that meant. Not after what had happened in the gallery—before she knew what he was.

He guided her across the dark roof to the narrow, twisting wrought-iron staircase that led down to the balcony below, and in through the French doors Thorne had left open.

Despite her fatigue, Blaze found herself curious to get her first glimpse of a dragon’s lair.

There wasn’t much to see.

The top floor of the house was a huge, dusty ballroom that looked like it hadn’t been used in… well, maybe ever. It was hard to picture the Draken Guardians Zane had described throwing parties, anyway. Who would they invite?

Their steps echoed as they walked across the empty space, with its mahogany bar at one end and chandeliers done up in big cloth bundles to keep the dust off them. The only light came from a couple of dim Art Deco wall sconces.

Outside the ballroom was a grand staircase leading down to a foyer, with hallways branching off to the right and left. It was hushed and quiet, with no signs of life anywhere.

In contrast to the ballroom, this part of the house seemed perfectly kept up. There was an Oriental carpet in pristine condition on the gleaming hardwood floor, and the sconces on the walls gave a warm yellow light. Several expensive-looking antique tables stood against the walls—the kind that would normally hold a vase or sculpture. The tabletops were dustless and looked freshly polished, but there was nothing on them.

Strange, for a man—dragon—who collected art, like Thorne Greystone.

The only thing that could be called a decoration was a gorgeous chandelier. It was surprisingly modern in this old-fashioned space—it looked like an intricate machine turned into an abstract metal sculpture, with Edison bulbs hanging in an artfully random pattern.

Industrial, yet graceful and somehow delicate. Blaze loved it. She stopped to gaze at it while Zane headed for the paneled wall in front of them.

“That’s amazing,” she said, moving to see it from another angle.

“Thanks,” Zane said nonchalantly, touching a button hidden discreetly in the paneled wall. “I made it.”

She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him. “You made that?”