Page 4 of Dragon’s Rebel

Chapter 2

Thorne stared at Rebel. Or he would have, if he could have turned his head far enough in this cramped space.

What are you talking about?

She glanced over at the others, wrangling over how much gold Tyr had stolen from Blaze’s stack while she and Zane were kissing.

She shook her head. We need to talk alone.

It was still strange, hearing her voice in his mind. Thorne had only ever conversed with other dragons in mind-speech, though he could make himself heard by anyone, even humans. Which was a lucky thing, considering his current state.

It was bad enough being unable to vent his frustrations by yelling at people. Trying to coordinate their research without being able to talk to anyone would have made this whole thing even more of a nightmare than it already was.

But he couldn’t hear the other women reply. Only her.

He loved Rebel’s mind-voice. Dark and husky, like her speaking voice, but with a velvety richness that soothed his battered soul.

Her presence made his dragon happy. He didn’t quite know how that had happened. The first time he’d seen her he’d simply been intrigued.

The second time he’d been furious—in the throes of treasure fever, obsessed with the desire to make her tell him where the second Seal was.

And also to carry her back to his lair and ravish her until she told him.

The force of his dragon’s feelings had taken him by surprise. Sometimes it still did. Especially when she was treating them with the casual friendliness she’d adopted since he’d become stuck in dragon form.

Friendliness tinged with pity, for a dragon shifter who couldn’t even shift.

But she was up to something now, quivering with suppressed excitement. Curious, he said, We’ll go to my lair.

He began to make his way out of the control room, a slow and complicated maneuver that involved a lot of twisting and backing up. He gritted his teeth against the wild desire to just go bonkers and destroy everything out of sheer frustration.

It would feel so good.

“Where you going, big guy?” Zane called out.

What business was it of his? Everyone hovered over him now that he was afflicted, like he was going to implode at any moment.

I have to pee, Thorne snapped.

He heard Rebel’s faint giggle.

Tyr called out, “Why’s Rebel going? Are you guys going to make out? Or do you need her to hold your dick for you?”

“Hell, no,” Rebel yelled back. “That thing’s as big as a fire hydrant. He’s on his own.”

Tyr started laughing, almost snorting his beer through his nose. “Hydrant Dick,” he said, when he stopped coughing. “New nickname. I like it.”

Don’t make me go down to your lair and flame your hoard into a puddle of golden slag, Thorne said.

The sound of laughter still followed him out the door. Assholes.

Thorne breathed a sigh of relief when he made it out to the atrium—a huge vaulted space where several stone corridors came together. It had been built to hold a large number of dragons, so he finally didn’t feel confined.

They walked down the hallway toward his lair. Several full Draken, larger even than Thorne, could have walked side by side.

Improbably, he was instead accompanied by a human thief, a lithe and slender woman with dark, unruly hair and eyes that told him she’d seen too much, and had carried too much responsibility for too long.

Just like him.