To Tame a Rogue (Age of Gold Book 3) Read online

  No one had ever tied a Dracul and today would not be the day that changed.

  His wave of dominance would have made many cower and all bow before him. It was in his blood, in his soul, and in his dragon's.

  Only three could possibly resist such an order from him.

  The first one was Rhey Vasili, his equal in his own realm. The second was Damion Astria, his rider, his dragonlord. Dragons were darkness and the dragonlords, their Aether, their light. When Damion had forged a bond with him, he'd become part of him, sharing all of his strength.

  The last was his mate. The man, or woman, fate had designed for him would not fear him.

  So Ash expected to see her shiver and lower her eyes. Obey his every word. Strong as she was, although she wasn't his subject, he had no doubt that she would respond to a dragon king's compelling.

  The woman snorted and shrugged.

  "On your feet, Rogue. I'll take you to Rhey and then you can plead your case."

  Bound

  The rogue was pissed that she'd bested him, that much was clear. Demelza knew men like him; always so very shocked that a lady such as her could be so sneaky and underhanded. Whatever. It got shit done. She needed him to follow her, for various reasons.

  The first was that a firelord such as him should never be left alone. The second was the fact that these lands were dangerous and his strength didn't matter right now: he was still hurt and wandering could be dangerous. The lands of Farden were full of shifters who didn’t like strangers, and feral beasts who liked no one at all. Since the attack on the gates of Norda, they had to be even more cautious. He was Demelza's responsibility now.

  The rogue didn't seem to see things her way.

  "Get this bond off me, woman!"

  She had to laugh. It had been a while since she'd met a man brave enough—or more than likely, stupid enough—to talk to her that way. "Woman, is it? Maybe if you'd asked nicely. Then again, maybe not."

  "You don't understand who you're toying with."

  She rolled her eyes. "A random stranger who'd be dead right now if not for me."

  That reminder seemed to alleviate his anger, just a bit. The stranger still glared, but his tone was a little less threatening when he said, "I need to go on."

  She sighed. "All right. You tell me what you're doing here, and maybe, if your answer is satisfactory, I'll think about letting you go."

  Probably not, but knowing his intentions would be helpful.

  The man thought it out for a moment, before replying cautiously, visibly curating his answer. "A long time ago, my older sister was taken from my family. Rumors have caught my ear that suggest she may roam in these lands."

  Ah. That certainly did deserve attention. It was probably one of the only answers he could have given that made her an asshole for detaining him. If he was telling the truth.

  Demelza frowned. "Taken," she repeated.

  The rogue nodded without offering further explanation.

  "As in, without her consent; she didn't run away."

  "She was very young at the time."

  Demelza titled her head. "Then, how would you know she's here?"

  The rogue remained silent. It either meant that he was lying, or that it wasn't any of her business. Elza wouldn't have gambled on it, but she was fairly certain that it was option two. He didn't have any false looks, twitchy eye or anything. And a liar would have crafted a complicated story rather than refusing to add more.

  She sighed.

  "We had a firelord in my lands, some fifty years ago. He was a loner, refused to come present himself to the king, and at the time, I thought, what's the big deal? It's his life. If he wants to spend the rest of it working his fields, why should it matter? And so, I didn't tell my parents. A few years later, he'd gone truly mad. Kidnapped girls, forced them to stay, did unspeakable things to them. When they weren't of use anymore, he'd let them run, and then chased them down, before eating them. Being a powerful dragon means that our beast, our shadow selves, is prominent. It takes more than a strong mind to counter that. It takes a pack. A leader."

  The stranger snorted. "He wasn't a cannibalistic rapist because his darkness was great. He was weak, foolish, and bestial. I'm none of those things. And I do have a pack, woman. Hence why I have no intention to join yours."

  She frowned. There weren't any known conglomerations of dragons except for the two kingdoms; Faren and Absolia. He certainly wasn't Absolian; for one, none of them were crazy enough to trespass on their land. That could lead to war. Secondly, they were known to be brutal, cruel, and sadistic. This guy certainly didn't fit the bill.

  "Where are you from?" she asked.

  Again, her question was met by silence. She sighed.

  "Look, how about we go to the palace and you talk to Rhey? He'll probably even help you find that sister of yours, if she's here."

  Now, the man was laughing. "Rhey Vasili? Listen to the likes of me? Unlikely."

  And perhaps it might have seemed a little out there, for a simple rogue.

  "He will if I ask him," she told him.

  Now, the stranger was observing her closely.

  "Who are you?" he asked, for the second time.

  It was her turn to snort. "You evade all my questions and I'm supposed to reply to yours?"

  The rogue smiled, entirely unexpectedly. It made him look even more handsome, which wasn't fair.

  "I answered one."

  He had, and fair was fair. "All right. I'm vaguely related to Rhey; his first cousin's cousin. But, I was raised with him and I have his ear. Besides, I'm also councilwoman to the new queen."

  Ash frowned. "Farden has a queen?"

  "We do now."

  If he didn't know that, he truly didn't live here. News of Rhey's wedding had been sent from one corner of the realm to the next. Demelza pondered her next course of action. If he wasn't causing trouble in Farden, then perhaps it was better to let him go; he'd look for his sister and be on his way when his quest was over.

  Somehow, she didn't know why exactly, but she didn't like the thought of that. No, she wouldn't have minded seeing more of this stranger.

  He was mouthwatering, for one. Tanned, defined muscles were visibly honed and sculpted. An ax wouldn't have looked wrong in his hands. Maybe a sword. And secondly, he wasn't intimidated by her. Hell, he'd even tried to shove his dominance in her face, and for a split second, it had almost worked. That made him the first man, unrelated to her, who could boast of being able to go toe to toe with her.

  She wanted him on his back, under her, with bonds around his hands as she rode him. How long had it been since she'd wanted a man like this? A long, long time. Not since she'd discovered she had a clit, no doubt. Demelza had only taken a few years to learn that men weren't all that gifted at finding it. She played with women, more often than not. But him...yes. She wouldn't mind showing him how to make a woman happy.

  Just as soon as he was done glowering, growling, and muttering about "damn women."

  "It's Demelza, by the way," she said.

  The man lifted a brow. "My name. Elza for short."

  He watched her for a minute, as if to decide whether she was worthy of hearing his.

  "Ash," he said finally. "My name is Ash."

  Mate

  He needed to get out of these chains. Shit. He'd never been in chains before. It sucked. Right now, he seriously wished he'd bothered to learn some sort of disenchantment, but what does a king with a sorcerer and three mages at his beck and call need with spellbooks?

  Realizing how dependent he was on his rank and title was a blow. Ash would have thought he was stronger than that.

  He certainly could have been caught by a worse jailor, at least. His mate was nice to look at, for one, but more importantly, each time he started to feel down, she seemed to instinctively know it and she gave him a potion that helped his limbs and mind, and healed his dragon. He'd be at full strength soon enough.

  "What is she like? Your sister."

&n
bsp; Ash was so startled by the unexpected question, he answered it truthfully before he thought better of it.

  "I don't know. I never knew her. She was taken when I was a baby. We're but a few years apart. My father had her with a lover; soon after, he met my mother, his mate."

  Demelza lifted a brow. "Two children? A rare blessing."

  It would have been a blessing if his sister had been raised with them, in any case.

  "So, what makes you think she could be here?"

  He had to be more careful. Mate or not—and there was a slight chance that he could have got that wrong. Right?—the female was still a member of the Farden court. He couldn't trust her. If she was still alive, somehow, he couldn't put his sister's safety at risk; not for anything or anyone.

  "It's a dull story I don't care to share today. What about you, Elza? Do you often wander the lands, coming to the rescue of strangers?"

  If so, he might have to lock her up in a tower until she became more sensible. She could have been hurt. It could have been a trap. The wilderness was full of perils.

  "Only when they're very handsome," she replied with a wink.

  Many women showered him with attention. Ash was used to flirting. It had been a long time since it had affected him. And here he was, feeling his skin flush.

  Flush, dammit! It was the sway of her hips. Or her lashes.

  Or just the fact that she was his, his mate. How else could she have resisted his order? And she was paying him a compliment. He craved more, and the dragon inside his skin concurred. Tired and hurt as he was, he wanted to jump out of him and show her how great and magnificent he was. Hear her call him handsome, too.

  Shit. Why had no one warned him that his mate would turn him into a complete idiot?

  Probably because no one had thought that he would—or wished that he would—find her.

  Most kings of Absolia didn’t, and it was better that way.

  There were three main races in their kingdom: werewolves in the south, bears in the northern woodlands, and dragons, mostly settled in and around their hills and mountains. Ash, like his father before him, and his father's mother before that, ruled over all, and with such responsibility, came a set of duties. One, in particular, was incompatible with a fated mate.

  Ash was to have three spouses; or one wife and consorts, if he so wished. It had long ago been decided that one representative from each clan should sleep in the king's bed. From what Ash knew of mates, she might have a thing or two to say against that.

  The former queens of Absolia had wedded a male from each clan and the king had taken three females, too. This was the law their nation had been built on. It wasn't perfect—squabbles between spouses were frequent and often ended with a dagger inside someone's heart. Hell, to this day, no one knew who'd killed his father the day of his birth. Some said his sister's mother, some said the third wife, Lauus, from the bear clan. Many accused his mother, who'd benefited above all. As she was the mother of the future king, she'd been left to rule the country as his regent for twenty-five years after that.

  Ash was too wise to dismiss any of those possibilities. Wedding three strong, ambitious females came at a cost, and his father had paid it. Queens generally lived longer than kings, as males seemed a little less inclined to resort to murdering their wives, but in the end, no such union had been known to be peaceful.

  But still, it worked. The bears and wolves were content that their interests would be looked after, the dragons were happy so long as their representative was called the "first spouse." Whatever quarrel might arise between the races, it hadn't broken into an all-out war since the beginning of the Three Weddings ceremony.

  Demelza was lucky she was of Farden. That way, he was far less tempted to claim her. Had she been a dragon of his court, he wouldn't have been able to resist the temptation to take her as his dragonwife. But she was subject to Rhey; worse yet, his kin. She was no match for Ash, fate be damned.

  "Trust me when I say, you don't want to tease me, Demelza. That wouldn't end well for you."

  She glanced back to his right wrist, somewhat smugly, as if to remind him that he was in no position to issue warnings. Aggravating, arrogant woman. The only reason he was still in this bond was because he had no inclination to rip off her pretty neck. Not intending to claim her didn't mean that he wanted to kill his mate.

  "You're very intense, you know. And grumpy, too. Stress isn't good for you, Ash. You should do something about it. Meditation, perhaps."

  "Untie my wrist and I'll show you how cheerful and laid back I can be."

  Lies. He couldn't manage either to save his life. She rolled her eyes, like she knew that. Like she knew him.

  He didn't like that at all.

  "I think not, but cheer up. We're not far now. Just behind that ridge."

  Kin

  Ash had long studied the kingdom of Farden, along with any other kingdom on the continent, as any monarch should. Know the enemy, said the wise, and thus he knew of their numbers, geography, typography, the main grain they could plant in their soil, the goods they imported from the rest of the continent. He knew that, like all dragons, they lacked no gold or fineries, but they had to get silks from the Sands and tea from the High Lands.

  Nothing in his studies had prepared him for Telenar.

  Ash blinked, blinded by the white dome trimmed with gold. The great monuments in front of his eyes were beautifully sculpted, and from the distance, he could hear laughter and merriments.

  There was no such city in Absolia. His castle was a black fortress with high walls, an arch tower, high city walls, moats. Weren't these dragons conscious of invasion? It'd take him under a week to conquer this city.

  "Well, what do you think?"

  Ash said the first thing that came to mind, again. It seemed natural with Demelza. "That you'd be screwed during a war."

  She laughed. "Yeah, right. Humans have tried to take our lands five times. They've been pushed back, five times. Wolves come every decade, and those who can run leave with their tails between their legs."

  "Absolians would be your doom," Ash stated.

  She didn't have the sense to seem afraid. "If they ever march against us, do yourself a favor, and save your money: you don't want to bet against us."

  Too confident. Was he missing something, or was she simply blinded by pride?

  "I hear you have no riders, no powerful mages to speak of, and your defenses are laughable."

  "Laugh all you will, Rogue," she retorted, without elaborating.

  She wouldn't tell him about their strengths. Smart. And frustrating. And so damn beautiful.

  Now he was here, he had to stick to a simple story, and get out as soon as possible. He could say he lived in another kingdom. Some loners did. The Plains, perhaps. As Absolia shared a border with them, it would not be hard to invent a life there. He had... a wolf mother, a few cousins, a rider, and a missing sister. That much, at least, was true. There was no point elaborating a complicated tale he might forget when nothing in these facts would give him away.

  Ash could feel himself tensing as they approach the ridiculous fortress of his enemy. Something felt odd. As vulnerable as the city seemed to be, he felt something underneath it all, a presence that made his jaw tighten somewhat anxiously.

  The paved avenue of the inner city was littered with dozens of street vendors, musicians, talents who drew or painted portraits right there in the open. Ash observed it all, somewhat resentfully. This place was too cheerful, innocent, and wondrous. In the streets of Lonefort, there were blades being sharpened, soldiers marching, and if there were any children, they were training their little arms so as to have the strength to hold a sword as soon as they could.

  Absolia was preparing for the inevitable: war. It might come from Farden, from another realm, from outside the walls surrounding and protecting the continent, but eventually there would be war. Absolia would not lose it.

  A long time ago, the mortal and immortal races separated during t
he Rift, and the world was divided in a way that satisfied absolutely no one. Most of the High Lands belonged to the elves, and the bulk of the natural resources of their continent came from there. As the elves did not place value in material things like mortals or dragons, they had little interest in trading most of it, rendering their riches worthless.

  Almost nothing grew in the Sands, and so the kingdom became the land of thieves and mercenaries. The strongest mortals, in the poorest kingdom. The Plains had once been several countries and forcing one rule over it all was madness. The system would implode eventually. The Northern Var was too cold, too snowy, to be of much relevance, and yet they harbored more mages than any other kingdom, and their lands were protected against evil. The Lakelands were rich, and so, naturally, they belonged to indolent old families that had long ago ceased to deserve anyone's fealty.

  Then there was Absolia and Farden. The two dragon kingdoms were on opposite coasts, Farden to the east and his home to the west. A two-week ride, one day as dragons fly; as far apart as any kingdoms could be in their lands.

  It was not enough. Occasionally, throughout the history of their kind, since the dragons had gone different ways, Farden had sneakily attacked Absolia in one way or another; Absolia had sent spies and drafted potential battle plans since the dawn of time.

  The world was ready for horrors.

  The child bumping against his leg as he ran, chasing a butterfly, didn't seem aware of that fact. The boy looked up, and up and up until his eyes found Ash's, and then he pointed to his face.

  "Flyman!"

  A werewolf, Ash guessed. Even at a young age, they always could smell the difference between shifters, would they be dragons, wolves, bears, or anything else.

  And against all logic, instead of feeling annoyed at the carefree child, Ash found himself smiling.

  "Yes, I can fly."

  "Is it fun?"

  Ash nodded. "It's the best feeling in the world. But I hear that running on all four legs comes close."