Ryker kissed her, only Draquonir law keeping him from baring his soul and admitting that he was not entirely human. That she would be revered and respected by Draquonir all over the world, and hunted by others.
That when he made her fully his, the black dragonfire would engulf them both and change her body chemistry. Magically tie her life force to his. Make her more than human.
Desire burned through him as she sighed, her hands exploring beneath his suit jacket, fingers tugging at his body as if she would never get enough.
“My king!” Vector slid into the hallway, the words a shout on his lips. “There is trouble. You must come at once.”
Slowly, with a reverence he knew he would feel with no other, he lifted his head, never breaking eye contact with his mate. “Stay here? Wait for me? We have much to discuss.”
She nodded, her gaze darting to Vector.
Ryker straightened, his attention zeroing in on Vector. Only something truly serious would faze him. Vector was clearly enraged, his hands clenched into fists, dragon magic lit the back of his eyes.
Mist and Fury appeared behind him, grim expressions on both of their faces.
“Who has dared disturb us this night?” Ryker had made it known to all the Draquonir, his clan and all the others spread across the continents, that he had found his mate and would present her to his people tonight. He had invited the elder elves and high-ranking members of his allied Draquonir clans. Only a rival would be foolish enough to cause trouble on such a sacred night.
Or someone who wished to start a war.
“They wear no clan colors,” Mist offered.
“Drifters, then.” The Drifters were those without loyalty or allegiance. Exiles and troublemakers. Thieves and mercenaries. And very, very dangerous.
Facing Katy, he lowered his forehead and pressed it to hers. Their gazes locked. “I am in love with you, Katy Toure. Not your sister. You. Please, stay here and wait for me while I deal with this.”
He nearly lost control when she placed a small hand on his cheek, leaned in, and whispered into his ear. “Go, then. I’ll be here when you get back. And I’ll expect you to tell me everything.”
Turning his head, he placed a kiss in the center of her palm and tore himself away from her. He hated leaving her behind. Hated walking away from her. His dragon screamed in rage, cried out for blood, demanded justice for the Drifters who dared threaten their mate.
“You two, do not leave her side. Protect your queen with your lives. Understand?”
“Of course.” Mist and Fury spoke in unison.
Satisfied that Katy would be protected, Ryker followed Vector to the tallest rooftop on the estate, and they shifted, one black dragon and one red, surveying the chaos below as his people, some in dragon form, some still appearing human, engaged with the Drifters and protected their queen.
His roar was answered by his clan, and he took to the air, eager to be done with this and return to his mate.
* * *
Katy was sure her sigh could be heard through the entire palazzo. She turned to Mist, whom she knew and trusted. Fury was fine, no doubt, or Ryker would not have left him behind. But Katy didn’t know him that well, whereas Mist was familiar. A friend. “What is a Drifter? And what is he talking about? I don’t understand any of this.”
Mist tilted her head to the side, her look sympathetic, but gave nothing away. “He will explain everything to you later, Katy. Why don’t we get you somewhere more secure than this hallway?”
Fury scowled. “Too late. Someone comes.”
Mist crouched into a fighting stance. Balanced. Ready. “Friend?”
“No.” Fury’s face turned grim. “We cannot shift here.”
“No. We cannot.”
He sighed and pulled two daggers from leather sheaths strapped to his back, well concealed beneath his dinner jacket. “The hard way then.”
Mist reached between her breasts and pulled out a bodice dagger with a two-and-a-half-inch blade of heat-purpled steel, the leather sheath sewn into the bodice for concealment. Bending down, she used one of the blades to cut off most of her skirt as Fury watched with a grin.
“Not one word, Fury.”
“I didn’t say anything.” He did glance down at her shoes. “You’re leaving the heels on?”