Page 77 of Dragon’s Rogue

Flying back to the lair, all Blaze could think about was going back to bed. She should have been starting to recover from the magical power drain last night, but if anything she felt worse than she had this morning.

She felt a sudden surge of dark anger. Why wasn’t Zane taking care of her, like he’d promised? Her stomach was churning, she hadn’t eaten anything today except cake, and she’d almost been flamed by a hysterical dragon. She hadn’t even had time to take a shower before they’d rushed off after Thorne.

Zane wasn’t even speaking to her, like this was somehow all her fault. He’d talked to her last night when they flew, hadn’t he? Her head was aching so badly she could barely remember. Why was he sulking now?

She could feel the tension in his arms and body, unlike the gentle, caring way he’d carried her last night.

Was he somehow pissed at her that she hadn’t managed to talk Rebel into accepting the dragons’ story and flying up to the lair to help them? Why hadn’t he done something? Why was it all her responsibility?

They were approaching the lair, but Zane didn’t go up to the roof. He hovered by a small balcony off his bedroom and deposited her on it, still grim and silent.

Instead of flying away, he gripped the stone balustrade with his talons and Changed. He ended up in human form, hanging by his hands from the balustrade, and pulled himself over onto the balcony.

His biceps and shoulders rippled, but Blaze didn’t even care. She just walked straight into the room, stumbling with weariness.

In a moment Zane was beside her, his arm reaching for her waist.

“Let me help you,” he said, his tone peremptory.

For some reason that made her angrier. “I’m fine,” she said, shaking off his arm. “I’m not two hundred and eighty-seven years old, for heaven’s sake. You’ll be getting me a walker next.”

Zane flinched as though she’d slapped him. His tone was calm, but with the tight patience of a person trying very hard not to be annoyed. “You seem upset,” he said. “Why don’t you get into a nice hot bath? While you’re soaking in it I’ll get the zefirs to fix you some food.’”

He sat her on a chair and hustled into the connecting bathroom, putting out towels and a fluffy blue robe. Blaze fumed. Dimly she knew she was being ridiculous, but everything grated on her. She suddenly felt a suffocating sensation, like she couldn’t breathe.

It was this damn necklace. It was choking her. Zane was suffocating her, with his fussing over her and carrying her around and insisting that she was some kind of princess mate.

She should never have listened to him. Suspicion rose up inside her. Maybe Rebel was right. Maybe he was using magic on her, to make her love him.

It was the necklace. She had to get this necklace off. She’d do it in the bathroom where he couldn’t see.

When he was done fussing she went in the bathroom, closing the door firmly in his concerned face.

He was faking all that concern. He was a liar. They were all liars. She felt consumed by that certainty. She had to fool Zane until she got some food and a shower and clothes, and then she’d figure out how to get away. But she felt so sick, and she was so tired.

If only she could think. Somehow she couldn’t think.

The bathroom was palatial—a huge expanse the size of a normal bedroom, with a massive mahogany-encased tub and a huge glassed-in shower, plus a marble-topped vanity with two sinks and ornate gold spigots in the shape of mermaids. And an actual golden toilet.

It disgusted her. Dragons, living on this ridge looking down on everyone else, hoarding their wealth and power.

Zane had started the water running in the bathtub, which had two more golden mermaid spigots. Annoyed that he was telling her what to do, Blaze turned them off and let the water drain.

Who was he to decide she wanted a bath? She’d have a shower. She took off the necklace and dumped it on the marble vanity. Immediately, she felt like she could breathe more easily.

As soon as she got in the shower, though, her knees buckled. She felt sick. Food. She needed food. She’d just wash herself and then she’d get food, and then she’d get away.

But it took all her strength to soap herself down and wash her hair, and she had to sit and rest on the vanity bench before she toweled herself off.

She finally dragged the robe on and stood before the bathroom door, her wet hair dripping down on her shoulders. She could feel Zane out there, pacing around, just waiting to grab her and make her do what he wanted.

His scent was on the robe, overwhelming her, like his presence.

She breathed deeply, gathering her strength. She could do this.

Zane paced back and forth in front of the bathroom door, running his fingers repeatedly through his hair.

Blaze was angry. He could feel it in the air, see it in the lines of her body. She’d turned off the bath water and taken a shower. For some reason that made him angry too.