Prince of Dragons (17 page)

“Well, she’s lucid,” he said. “This is good. Very good. She’ll wake a little longer next time.”

Slyde sat, holding her hand, stroking the soft skin of her inner wrist with his thumb. He gazed bleakly at her sleeping face.

Yes, she would wake again. And then they would have to talk.

Sirena woke with a jerk, her breath catching in her throat. She lay there for a moment, her eyes darting wildly around her, searching for the slithering evil that had threatened to envelop her.

No, she was safe in the
Orion
’s infirmary, wrapped in warm, cozy blankets, floating in the comfort of an airbed. And beside her, sprawled in a chair, snoring, was the male she had just seen attacked by a nightmare apparition that had dragged him down and devoured him in blackness.

She closed her eyes against the hot tears that threatened, shuddering with a silent sob. Ah, she was as weak and fearful as a babe. This was not her, weeping in terror of losing a man. She was stronger than that.

She drew a deep breath, then another, forcing the tears back with the strength of her will. She was Sirena Blaze, commander of the elite forces of the Serpentian guard, the envy of many and servant of none. She did not weep for maudlin emotions.

She turned her head, though, just to look at him again and found his eyes open, gleaming like amber jewels in the soft light. He smiled drowsily, creases appearing in his cheeks.

“Hello, siren. Welcome back.”

He looked so delicious, part of her wanted to lie there and just drink him in, lap him up like a big fruit drink. She scowled at such syrupy sentiment.

“I’m thirsty.”

He rose, stretching, although she noticed he winced as he did so.

“I’ll get you a drink.”

He brought her a packaged gremel juice and tipped the straw into her mouth so she could drink. It was sweet and refreshing, nectar to her parched mouth.

She gazed up at him while she drank, her eyes widening as she remembered everything that had happened to bring her here.

“You,” she accused as soon as the straw left her mouth. “You … are the dragon.”

“Yes,” he said calmly. His eyes met hers.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a shifter?”

“I wanted you to accept me as Slyde Stone, not because I’m a Dragolin.”

“A Dragolin?” She blinked at him. “Huh. I wondered…but Stone—that’s not your name.”

He shrugged. “My family uses the name of Stone in our public lives. We have business interests. It’s convenient to be simply Serpentian most of the time.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “If you’re a Dragolin, you’re wealthy,” she accused. “What are you doing working on a cruise ship?”

His cheeks reddened slightly. “Having an adventure. Searching for…what I want out of life.”

She snickered. “You certainly found adventure, didn’t you? Was it everything you’d hoped?”

He looked at her under his brows. “Parts of it have been.”

For the first time in years, she blushed. To cover it, she frowned at him.

“Those quarking serpents bit you too. Why are you not forced to lie here like a swaddling babe?”

He grinned, showing his teeth. “Because, unlike a mere slip of a female, there is a great deal of me. It requires more than a couple of snakes to take me down.”

Even though she knew she was being played, she went for it.

“Hah. Not my fault I can’t grow scales and breathe fire.”

He stuck the straw back in her mouth and, though she glared at him, she sucked thirstily.

“I don’t know,” he mused, his gaze caressing her face. “You may not have scales, but you can certainly ignite fire, siren.”

As weak as she was, desire curled through her at his intimate murmur.

“And don’t forget it, you big beast. I can take you down any time.”

He took the empty drink container away and brushed a tender kiss across her lips.

“You already have,” he whispered.

She was smiling as she slipped back into sleep.

Chapter Twenty-seven

By the next day, resting had lost much of its allure. Sirena wanted out of the bed and out of the infirmary. Tentaclar disagreed, and Captain Craig backed up his physician.

When Slyde sided with them, she pouted. “I’m a grown woman, and I’ve been in charge of myself for a long time. I know when I’m well enough to get out of this bed.”

“You are an impatient, headstrong warrior,” Slyde told her calmly, “who thinks she can inveigle me into countering her physician and her captain’s direct orders. Orders given, I might add, because they care about you.”

She sighed. “Oh, play the guilt card,” she said. “You don’t fight fairly.”

He chuckled and took her hand in his, playing with her fingers. “Anyone who fights fairly with you is destined to be ground under your lovely heel. Now be a good patient, and I will play holo-dice with you.”

“Hah. A game for children.”

“Nonsense. It is played in all the worst dives on Serpentia. The night we met, I watched a man at the bar wager his custom glider on a game.”

“The fool.” She shook her head as he took out the small flat board patterned with colored squares. The holo-display hummed to life, the dice spinning slowly above the board. “I can think of much more interesting wagers, none of which involve financial considerations.”

He looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “I’m sure you can,” he said. “But what if I win?”

“Oh, we both win, either way,” she assured him.

He gestured at the game board. “Then let us begin.”

They’d just begun their game when one of the techs stuck her head into Sirena’s cubicle. Her face was pink with excitement. “Commander Blaze,” she whispered. “It’s the prince. May I tell him to come in?”

Sirena nodded, and the tech disappeared. Wordlessly, Slyde moved their game board to the side. He rose as Azuran swept in, filling the cubicle with a blaze of silver and gems. He wore state robes, ready for travel. Two of his men hovered outside the door.

“Commander Blaze, Dragolin,” he greeted them. Amusement lurked in the look he gave Slyde. “Why am I not surprised to see you at her side?” he murmured.

Slyde bowed. “Azuran.”

He didn’t respond to the jest, and Azuran turned to Sirena, who smiled up at him. He smiled back and bowed as he handed her a small jeweled container.

“A small token of my boundless admiration and esteem,” he said. “Not only was it my pleasure to meet you, you saved my life. For that I thank you.”

“I am glad to have met you, also,” she said. “And as for the rest, you are most welcome, Your Highness.”

He bowed again. “I leave you now. If either of you are ever on Aquarius, you must visit me, yes?”

“Indeed,” Sirena promised.

Slyde nodded, and the prince swept out.

Slyde sank into his chair again. He looked at Sirena. “Aren’t you going to look at his gift?”

“Hmm? Oh, I suppose.” She opened the little box, then blinked. An enormous jewel gleamed up at her, the blue-green of an Aquarian ocean swirling in its depths. She had heard of Aquarian sea-stone, but she had never thought to own one. She admired it for a moment, then closed the box, setting it aside. She would no doubt enjoy it far more when she felt better.

“I thought we were going to play holo-dice,” she said.

Without a word, Slyde pulled the board back into place.

After an hour of playing, Sirena grabbed the game board and hurled it into the corner. Her head ached, her arm throbbed, and she had just lost eleven games out of twelve, a resounding defeat. She was sick of lying still, sick of inactivity, she mistrusted the gleam in her opponent’s golden eyes and she wanted to smack the smug smile playing about his gorgeous mouth.

“All right,” she said pettishly. “You’ve won. What do you want?”

“For you to take an analgesic,” he said calmly. “You are hurting.”

“I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted her. As if on cue, the hatch hissed open and one of the med techs came in. Sirena glared at Slyde, but held still as the med tech pressed a small capsule into the crook of her elbow, and held it for a moment. She felt a small jolt as the analgesic entered her system and then the pain melted slowly away.

“Do you need anything else, Commander?” asked the tech.

“No,” Sirena said. Then, as Slyde eyed her steadily, she added, “Thank you.”

The tech glided out, and Sirena scowled at Slyde. “You haven’t said what you wish from me for your winnings.”

He watched her broodingly for a moment. “What would you ask, were you the winner?”

She grinned at him with deliberate naughtiness. “A night of you doing my bidding. I would work you very, very hard.”

He picked up her hand and held it in his palm, studying the difference between her slender, capable hand and his own huge, sinewy one.

“Is that all you would wish for?” He looked at her, and she saw sadness in the golden depths of his eyes.

“That will do,” she said haughtily, lifting her chin. For some reason, she felt as if she’d failed a test of some sort. Why must he push and push? She felt deeply uneasy, nearly frightened, panic hissing softly in her ear. “What will you have from me?”

He hesitated, then closed his hand around hers, leaning over her. He cupped her face in his hand, his gaze burning into hers. She saw it again, that yearning that had so intrigued and called to her since the night they met. But now it was deeper.

“I want you to come with me,” he said. “Away from here, to Serpentia. To the mountains. I want to show you my home. It’s wild and beautiful, like you. You’ll love it there, as much as I do.”

Her heart began to race, the strange panic hissing louder, slithering into her very heart. She tugged her hand from his, clutching at the covers. “Why do you care what I think of your home? It’s just a place. We can as easily go to a resort somewhere.”

“Because I want you to see it. I want you to come and live there with me. Siren—we could be happy, you and I.”

She interrupted him, the words bursting out of her, panic hidden under derision. “Oh, Slyde, you are such a boy. You saved my life, and you’ve given me much pleasure. That doesn’t mean you own me.”

He flinched as if she had slapped him, his face paling. She steeled herself against the naked pain in his golden eyes and against the hot curl of shame in her gut as resignation settled on his sculpted face.

“No,” he said very quietly. “I don’t own you. No one ever will, will they, siren? You’ll never allow anyone close enough to own even a part of you. Even if they only want…your heart.”

He closed his eyes, as if he could no longer bear to look at her. Then, without another word, he rose and walked away.

She watched him disappear. She shook her head slightly, her lips parting to call after him. No, that wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. He hadn’t even argued with her or tried to carry her off and make love to her until she changed her mind.

He hadn’t offered to slay the coiling fear that deviled her.

She lay back in the bed, gazing sightlessly at the empty hatchway. She had been a fool to expect anything else. Everyone left. Everyone.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Without giving himself time to think, Slyde strode down the passageway from the medical center and rode the elevator up to the command deck. He found Craig and Navos there, studying star charts.

“Commander,” the captain greeted him. His heavy, sandy brows shot together. “What is it?”

“Captain, Commander Navos,” Slyde said. “I regret to inform you that I am resigning my position as co-commander of the guard, effective immediately.”

Navos raised a dark, arching brow, but said nothing. Craig, however, shot out of his chair.

“Resigning?” he echoed. “Great God beyond, man. You’ve been through a harrowing experience, but surely a furlough—some R&R on your home planet will fix you up.”

Slyde looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry, Captain. This goes a little deeper than that. I…cannot continue to work onboard the
Orion
.”

“This is between you and Commander Blaze?” Navos put in quietly.

Slyde nodded shortly.

“Ah-hah,” Craig said, realization dawning on his face. “Well. Damn.”

“I am sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, Captain,” Slyde said. The words seemed to echo from a deep, howling fire growing inside him. “But I must get off of this ship.”

“Your cruiser can be readied in a docking bay in moments, Commander,” said Navos. “Until then, hold steady.”

Craig eyed him warily. “I trust you can make it off the
Orion
without shifting again?”

Slyde nodded with an effort, fighting the flames. “I can and will.”

Craig held out his hand. “Goodbye, then, and Godspeed.” The two men shook hands.

Navos rose and walked around the command table to him. He held out his hand and, as Slyde took it, a cool, soothing current flowed from the other man’s grasp, surrounding the flame of his brother Dragolin.

“Travel well,” Navos said, his dark blue eyes holding an ocean of calm as he looked into Slyde’s. “Time enough when you reach your home to let your other self free.”

Slyde nodded, embarrassed but also relieved by the Indigon’s calming. Shifting now would have been the final humiliation, even beyond admitting to these two men that he needed to get away from Sirena, couldn’t bear to be near her any longer, knowing that she placed no value on him other than a sexual partner. That he was just another callow youth who had fallen at the feet of the legendary siren.

“Goodbye, Commander,” Craig said. “Thank you again for what you’ve done for the
Orion
—for all of us. We’ll be in touch soon.”

Slyde nodded again, then turned and strode from the command deck.

In the
Orion
’s vehicle docking bay, he boarded his sleek cruiser, sliding into the pilot’s seat and taking the familiar controls with relief. Within moments, he had powered up and was gliding along the aisle to the release hatch.

“All set, Commander?” asked a voice. A small hovie with the Lodestar emblem on the side hovered alongside, a docking bay tech at the controls.

“All set.”

The tech saluted him and zipped away. The hatch doors sealed shut behind him and the outer doors slid open, nothing before him but limitless black space, spangled with stars.