Dragon's Lair (Silhouette Nocturne (Numbered)) Read online

  “It’s too dangerous for me here.”

  “Dangerous? What are you talking about? You’re safer here than…” Braeden’s words trailed off as he tipped his head and leaned closer.

  She could nearly see the thoughts whirling behind his eyes. It wouldn’t take him too long to figure out what she meant. Alexia knew Braeden was so attuned to her that it took only a look for him to know what she was thinking or feeling.

  A seductive half smile curved his mouth. “Does this have anything to do with the challenge you issued? The one about not sharing my bed?”

  “It wasn’t meant as a challenge.” It was meant to keep her heart safe. And now that she’d unintentionally reminded him, her heart might already be forfeited.

  Braeden turned her face toward his. With his lips brushing against hers, he whispered, “Tell me to go away, tell me you don’t want me and I’ll leave, Alexia.”

  Books by Denise Lynn

  Silhouette Nocturne

  Dragon’s Lair #58

  DENISE LYNN

  Award-winning author Denise Lynn lives in Northwest Ohio with her real-life hero, their son and a slew of four-legged “kids.” Between the pages of books, she has traveled to lands and times filled with brave heroes, courageous heroines, never-ending love and the occasional otherworldly element. Now she can share with others her dream of telling tales of adventure and romance in lands filled with knights of old, or characters of the imagination. You can write to her at P.O. Box 17, Monclova, Ohio 43542, U.S.A., or visit her Web site, www.denise-lynn.com.

  DENISE LYNN

  DRAGON’S Lair

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for deciding to spend a few hours at Dragon’s Lair. I hope you find Braeden and Alexia’s story enjoyable.

  If anything seems remotely familiar, you aren’t imagining things. Uncle Aelthed, the dragon pendants and Mirabilus first appeared in my Harlequin Historical story Falcon’s Honor.

  Their journey into the twenty-first century was fraught with danger at every turn. Of course, the danger follows them and lands at Dragon’s Lair.

  Enjoy your visit. Just remember to be wary of the wizards, steer clear of the dragons and watch out—the swords are real and very sharp.

  Take care,

  Denise Lynn

  To my editor, Sally, with overwhelming gratitude.

  This book wouldn’t exist without her keen eye or

  patience. And to Tom, with love always.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Prologue

  Mirabilus Keep, Isle of Mirabilus, 1172

  A young girl from the village struggled with her basket of food in the storm brewing outside Mirabilus Keep. The wind increased, forcing her to bow her head while fighting to stay on her path home.

  Suddenly the storm’s strength intensified. Darkness fell upon her village, blotting out the sun’s light. Never in all her seven years had this happened.

  Her eyes widened with fear at what she perceived as impending doom. The girl ran for shelter, but the wind blew her long hair into her eyes, leaving her unable to see clearly.

  She stumbled, dropping her basket in her haste. Fear of hunger surpassed her fear of the storm and she stepped back to retrieve the basket.

  An aged woman cried out from a doorway, “Hurry, child!” The girl quickly did as she was bid because the storm had come to life, taking on the form of a dragon.

  All at once the wind’s fury overtook her. Dust and sand stirred up by the whirlwind stung her face and eyes. She trembled with the knowledge that the storm swirling around her contained something close to human intelligence and was not mere nature.

  The hag squinted against the blinding storm, her efforts to find the child fruitless. When the basket whipped across the threshold of the cottage, she slammed the door shut with a heartbroken cry.

  Like the other villagers, she bowed her head in prayer, yet the heavenly appeals were unfounded, for the storm sought no more of the common folk. It had needed the life of only one innocent to complete its devilish task.

  The wind howled over the dwellings, continuing its lethal path across the open field to the curtain walls surrounding the bailey. The men stationed in the twin gate towers and on the walls clung to rough-hewn beams or railings. But they were unable to stand against the blood-thirsty force.

  On a near scream, the gale-strength wind hammered its way through the barred wooden shutters of the main bedchamber. Small benches, herb-strewn rushes, iron sconces and pots of medicines exploded across the floor. The heavy tapestries surrounding the bed heaved as the wind’s rage came to a whirling stop.

  As quickly as it had begun, the swirling wind lessened to nothing more than a misty shadow. The shadow wavered, contracting and expanding before finally it took human form at the bedside of an elderly dying man.

  Nathan the Learned swallowed a gag as the thick, cloying scents of burnt thyme and coming death invaded his nostrils. He leaned over the old man, only to be greeted with a sneer.

  “You think to frighten me with mere elements?”

  The wizened man’s lips never moved, but Nathan easily heard his thoughts. Death drew nigh and precious time could not be wasted with banter. Nathan demanded, “Give me the manuscript, old man, and find your peace.”

  “Your journey is fruitless. Fire consumed the ancient book of spells decades ago.”

  “Perhaps.” Nathan leaned further over the bed and placed his palm on the dying man’s cold, withered forehead. “However, dear, dear Uncle Aelthed, all know you have spent these last years recreating the grimoire. I will have the secrets now. They are my birthright.”

  “They are well protected from the likes of you. The secrets go to the grave and beyond with me.”

  Nathan’s blood ran cold. He’d not studied and worked so diligently for more than two decades only to be thwarted by death once again.

  “Nigh on thirty years ago you killed my father for trying to save the original grimoire. You murdered him, your own brother, because you saw fit to claim him wicked.”

  The dying wizard dug his withered fingers into the bedclothes.

  “I was only five years old, but I still remember the dishonor and shame inflicted on my father’s dead body.” He shook with growing rage. “You denied him the funeral pyre that would have permitted his soul to find peace. Instead, you placed him in cold, lifeless earth with a cross to mark his grave.”

  Aelthed’s raspy breathing hitched. Unable to move or escape the wrath he so richly deserved, he tried to sink down into the mattress.

  Nathan curled his lip in a sneer. “Even after I remained true to the magic coursing through my veins by studying the old ways and learning the lessons set before me, you denied me the position of power that was rightfully mine.”

  With one knee on the edge of the bed, he bent over until his face was a mere hairbreadth from his uncle’s. “You chose an uninitiated mortal to rule over the Isle of Mirabilus. I am the true Dragon of Mirabilus. The Dragon’s blood runs in my veins, not his. This Norman knight bears the name only by your public decree.”

  Aelthed’s fear swirled cold and icy about the chamber. Nathan could t
aste the sweetness of it on his lips. “You turned your back on the old ways and the magic of our line. By doing so, you lessened the worth of Mirabilus. ’Tis no longer enough to rule a magicless kingdom. I will have more.”

  The rise and fall of the old man’s chest faltered. “Nay, Uncle.” Nathan pressed his fingertips into Aelthed’s temples, seeking to forestall the inevitable. “I’ll not let you go until the book is in my hands.”

  Aelthed closed his eyes and trembled beneath the hold. He then shuddered, and after taking a gasping breath, hoarsely whispered, “Evidence of my perfidy be gone forever.”

  Once-dwindling powers surged forth, nearly singeing Nathan’s fingertips. He stared down at Aelthed in horror as he realized the defiant wizard had wiped all memory of the book and its whereabouts from his mind.

  With a single swipe, Nathan tore the bed curtains from the frame and threw them to the floor. “No!” He gritted his teeth, then tightened his grasp on Aelthed and stared into the man’s paling, watery gaze.

  Again he shouted, “No!” Then pressed his fingertips even harder into the older man’s temples. “I’ll not let you escape so easily.”

  He searched the chamber, his gaze landing on a small wooden box next to the bed. Nathan willed the box to come to him. But rage weakened his concentration and he was unable to bring the object to his hand.

  He closed his eyes and filled his lungs with a deep, soothing breath. This time, with the power of only his thoughts, he moved the box from the table to his hand. The little cube rested on his palm. “Perfect.”

  He tossed the wooden cube up and down, testing its weight, then smiled and met Aelthed’s wide-eyed stare. “’Tis a hollow puzzle box, is it not?”

  Nathan knew by the dying wizard’s silence that he’d guessed correctly. He focused on the box, finding the combination to the sliding panels with his mind. He forced his will past the magical lock, sliding one panel free, in turn releasing another, and then another, until the box opened. “Behold your new abode, Aelthed. You’ll not find release in death.”

  Nathan tossed the cube into the air and set it spinning above Aelthed’s chest, just over the wizard’s heart. “Nay, powerless to escape, your soul will rot within these tiny walls. Just like my father, you shall never find peace.” He laughed at the thought of the revenge he would gain. “An excellent curse, do you not agree? A fitting end for one who seeks to continually thwart me. You see, dearest uncle, I will find your ancient spells and secrets without your help.”

  Defiance flickered behind the old man’s frightened gaze. That brief reminder of the power this High Druid once possessed gave Nathan a moment’s pause. He hesitated only a heartbeat before shaking off the seed of doubt.

  “No. I will not be just the Dragon of Mirabilus.” He leaned down and whispered in Aelthed’s ear, “In the end, your deceit will make me the Hierophant. Supreme power over all will be mine.”

  Thunder crashed, jolting the stone keep on its foundation. A small pun-sai dragon tree in the corner shivered. Bottles and jars crashed to the floor, shattering into countless glimmering shards.

  Aelthed moaned. His last mortal thoughts sped across the short distance to Nathan. “You waste your time. The secrets are bound by threads of love. Only the love shared between the true Dragon and his mate will set them free. You know nothing of love, or nurturing, and will never possess the power you seek.”

  Lightning streaked across the sky and seemingly raced through Nathan’s spine. The time was here. Aelthed’s vow meant nothing. Vows were readily broken. Threads easily snapped.

  Nathan closed his eyes and stretched out his arms above the dying wizard. A shaft of light radiated from Aelthed’s chest, gathering into an undulating ball between Nathan’s open hands.

  Certain he held every last particle of being that had once been Aelthed, he thrust the shimmering mass into the wooden box, closed the panels, then sealed them with a spell.

  While clutching the cube to his chest, Nathan whispered with certainty, “Immortality is almost mine, you fool. I fear not this Dragon or his mate. I have all the time in the world to find your secrets and spells. The day of my full attainment will arrive.”

  Chapter 1

  Current Year

  Alexia Reve-Drake pressed her spine more tightly against the broad trunk of the tree, hoping that the tree and the darkness would hide her from the men seeking to harm her.

  She forced herself to breathe slowly, trying hard to listen over the rapid pounding of her heart. A light breeze shuffled fallen maple and oak leaves, rustling them across the museum’s parking lot. From a distance, the sound of traffic on the expressway hummed. It was long past rush hour, and no squeal of tires or blare of horns broke the steady whir of passing cars.

  “Where’d she go?”

  Alexia held the breath she’d just inhaled and fought the hysteria urging her to scream.

  While the entire day had been one confusing event after another, she hadn’t expected it to end like this.

  “Alexia.”

  She swallowed the terrified cry threatening to escape. This wasn’t the first time today she’d heard her name whispered.

  A hushed crooning that came from nowhere to beat against the inside of her head. Even though she had never mastered the skill of telepathy, she had learned how to protect her mind from others.

  But right now she couldn’t concentrate hard enough to call up even an iota of protection. She was too rattled by the men after her. And this intruder was stronger, his will more powerful than any she’d encountered before.

  Stronger and—not quite human. She sensed the raw, predatory power of a beast—a power that had touched her once before, sending her life into chaos. This intruder was a lethal enemy who could easily slip through her visualization of a wall closing off her thoughts to others.

  “I think we lost her.” Leaves crunched underfoot as the three men continued their search. She shivered, certain the masked trio would never give up their hunt.

  “Alexia.”

  Her shivers turned to tremors of fear. She took a chance and glanced around the tree. Overhead lights glared, casting eerie shadows onto the pavement of the museum’s nearly empty south-side parking lot. At this time of night only two cars remained—hers and a pale gray sedan.

  The night maintenance crew and security guard parked in the lot on the other side of the building. Maintenance wouldn’t reach her end of the museum for another three or four hours. And Bill, the young night security guard, would most likely be on his cell phone with his new wife.

  Unless some miracle occurred, nobody would be aware that she was still here, let alone in danger.

  “Alexia.”

  Unable to control her fear and suddenly growing anger, she silently screamed, “What? What do you want?”

  The intruder laughed. A harsh, evil sound that nearly sucked the breath from her. Finally he answered, “The grimoire.”

  Alexia briefly tightened her hold on the padded envelope clutched against her chest. She cringed, instantly relaxing her hold when the ancient vellum pages inside crinkled like old tissue paper.

  She hadn’t been forced into this type of silent conversation in years. Not only was this intruder evil incarnate, the mere act of conversing without speaking dredged up memories she’d prefer to keep locked away. Yet she wasn’t about to alert the men seeking her by speaking out loud. Instead, she thought, “Then take it.”

  In truth it wasn’t as if the pages were hers to begin with. Someone had delivered them to her office in the museum this morning before she’d arrived. It wasn’t until late in the day that she’d had time to inspect the contents of the envelope.

  At first, she’d been thrilled. It wasn’t every day that a medieval paleographer got a chance to research and translate dead languages. There was little she loved more than poring over words older than some civilizations—words and symbols that most members of her community had only heard or read about.

  But a paragraph into the translation
changed her excitement to horror. The opening of the first sentence hinted that the pages would contain secrets more powerful than the human mind could imagine.

  That was when she’d felt her intruder’s virtual touch. The need to physically translate the pages was unnecessary—she had only to form the words in her mind for him to have the spells.

  “You never should have sensed my presence.”

  “If you’re so damn clever, why didn’t you translate the work yourself?”

  His anger was hot—and swift. A wave of fire shot through her. She swayed slightly at his abrupt departure from her mind, then leaned even more against the tree for support.

  “He’ll have our heads if we don’t find her.”

  This speaker was human and nearby. She tamped down the urge to curse—her intruder could have taken his cronies along with him when he’d left in such a huff.

  She peered around the tree again. The men were still there. Somehow she had to get away.

  “Maybe she slipped back into the building.”

  At last she heard two sets of pounding footsteps heading back toward the museum. What was the third man doing? She attempted another glance—he was still there.

  Let him wait all he wanted. It wasn’t as if she’d move from the safety of her tree before he was gone.