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

  Each time, Ash had regained the reins of their body and pulled it back home. But the beast's determination wasn't fading. If he wasn't careful, the pissed off dragon would take over, and then where would they both be?

  Unhinged. Unsalvageable. Feral.

  In many ways, his anger, short temper, and threatening growls had helped him since his return. No one was foolish enough to attempt to get on his nerves.

  No one but Damion.

  He found his rider tied in his dungeon after returning to his keep. Ash only laughed at him a couple of times before unbinding him.

  Damion had, as expected, attempted to gather his warriors to come to his aid, after feeling that Ash was wounded, but instead, he'd only succeeded in making everyone decide to attempt a power grab. Gragnar had to use the help of another ten mages to restrain him, but they'd managed.

  "If it makes you feel better, I also spent the best part of today in chains," Ash had said, smiling as he thought of Demelza.

  His dragon hadn't been smiling, however. Not then, and not any day since. The beast was still pissed.

  Damion was the only person bold enough to say anything that he didn't want to hear these days.

  "Anything else?" Ash asked somewhat threateningly toward the end of his privy council meeting.

  Everyone shook their head, looking away. Damion said, "Yes, actually. When you came back, a month ago now, you talked about finally picking wives. Or husbands. Someone. We're not fussy. But because you're unapproachable as fuck, they're bugging me about their candidates, so when, exactly, do you plan on announcing your choices?"

  Ash glared, wishing he could intimidate his rider, for once.

  To be truthful, he'd looked at the list of candidates proposed by all four races. Plenty of women—and men, as Damion had mentioned—were appealing enough. Some he knew, some, he'd already fucked in the past. But every time he so much as considered any option somewhat seriously, the beast inside him had roared in protest. There was only one woman it wanted, and none other would do.

  "Soon."

  "Soon?" Damion repeated irritably.

  "As soon as you write to your sisters," Ash challenged somewhat nastily.

  He'd shared all the details of his day in Farden with the rider, and Damion had carefully avoided talking about anything even remotely related to his sisters since.

  And yet, Damion cheerfully replied, "Done. Someone bring me a pen and paper. Let's get going. And bring him a list of potential spouses."

  Now, Ash growled. He'd underestimated how much the dragons, wolves, and bears were bugging Damion, apparently.

  The council dissolved, and soon he and his rider were left alone, a stack of paper in front of Damion, a thick folder with portraits, names, and resumes in front of Ash.

  Both men sighed as deeply and tragically as if they were about to enter an arena to fight to the death, and got to work.

  "You're supposed to wed and bed three of the most attractive people in the realm, why the hell do you act like it's a punishment?"

  Ash countered with, "You have loving sisters who can't wait to hear about you. Why the hell do you act like a spoiled brat?"

  For a moment, Damion was silent. Then, he said, "They'll have questions. I'm not sure I have answers. I could have written at any time. I just didn't. I've taken the easy road for too long..."

  Ash laughed. "Trust me, they don't care. You should have seen them. They just want to know their brother is fine."

  Damion hesitated, and finally, started writing.

  After a time, Ash said, "That woman. Demelza. She's my mate."

  Damion nodded. "I guessed as much."

  Ash lifted a brow.

  "I'm linked to you, remember? It would have been hard to miss it. I was waiting for you to actually tell me."

  Typical of his rider.

  "That's why this," he said, pointing to the folders, "feels wrong. And why my dragon isn't interested in any of it."

  Damion tilted his head. "She's your mate," he repeated. "Chosen by fate. Whatever wolf and bear you may pick, there is only one dragon for you."

  Ash snorted.

  "She will not accept a union that involves two other spouses. It is not in our nature. A human might have trouble with it, a wolf might hate it, a bear might revolt against it, but a dragon? We claim our treasures. And we do not share them."

  Damion didn't protest again, shrugging as he returned to his letter, but Ash could tell he disagreed. Despite their link, Damion was human. Made immortal, and more powerful than most mages of human flesh, but human nonetheless. He simply didn't understand some facts about dragons.

  Ash didn't know how many hours passed, but by the time a knock interrupted them outside of the council chamber, it was dark out. He noted that he'd dismissed about two hundred folders, leaving him with a manageable stack of ten. A considerable progress.

  Surprisingly, Archer had made the cut to the last ten.

  The leader of each clan immediately was included in the list of prospective spouses, if they were single. Ash had no intention of having a child with a wolf, if it could be helped. It had earned his father a knife to the chest, and his sister had been raised in exile because of it. Learning from history, he had every intention of making sure his heir wasn't of wolf blood. A male spouse would certainly help in that respect.

  He was glad of the interruption when he heard the knock.

  "Come in."

  Archer walked in along with one of his guards. "Apologies if I'm interrupting."

  "None necessary." Ash lifted a folder. "I didn't expect to see you in that list."

  Archer shrugged. "It is customary."

  Certainly, but no one forced men to sign up, if they were straight. Ash pushed. "And if I do pick you, would you be displeased?"

  Archer chuckled. "If that were the case, you would not have found my name among these. Now may not be the best time to discuss this, however. I came to alert your guard that my wolves have scented a stranger traveling from the south, at high speed. We've attempted to track her, but my fastest wolves were found knocked out. She seemed to be headed here."

  "She?" Damion repeated.

  Archer inclined his head. "I scented a female."

  None rivaled wolves when it came to their noses.

  Ash's guard said, "I've doubled the watch for tonight and I'll call in reinforcements to your personal guard."

  "No need," Ash stated.

  The guard was understandable confused. "Sir?"

  "Well, for one, we wouldn't want to find more unconscious people around the keep. That'd be embarrassing to our kingdom. And secondly, if you were to actually hurt her, I'd have to kill you all. Let her come to me."

  There was only one woman who would be foolish enough to enter Absolia, knock out wolves under royal protection on her way, and head toward his keep.

  Ash smiled.

  Talk

  Demelza had always been one to stand by what she believed; a nice way to say stubborn as hell. And she believed that she was going to get better. That Ash Dracul had no meaning whatsoever. He was just a hot stranger who hadn't been that into her, nothing more. In a few hours, a few days, a few weeks, she'd forget all about him. She'd said it to Sass. She'd told the same thing to Xandrie. And every night before sleep, she'd also told herself that, refusing to acknowledge any other option.

  She had not given up. By midday, after a long day delivering a healthy babe to a grateful mother who lived through it, she'd simply had enough. Usually, succeeding in a delivery of a dragon was enough to make her ecstatic for days, or even weeks. Today, she hadn't even cared.

  So, she simply decided that she'd get over her little crush on Ash after murdering him. Or pinning him between her legs, she hadn't decided which yet. It entirely depended on her mood when she reached him.

  After all, he'd turned up in their kingdom without notice or invitation. It was past time someone retaliated.

  She left at mid-day and flew southwest, avoiding the coast so as no
t to frighten the mortals of the Lakelands or the Sands, staying away from the walls erected around their oceans. The flight against the wind was surprisingly pleasant; Demelza loved the sea air and the unfamiliar landscapes. She knew that Absolia was on the west coast, and so she flew blindly, following the land until she'd reached it. She knew the moment she entered the kingdom, although there was no wall to speak of.

  In the Sands, there had been plenty of villages, and in the distance, she'd seen thousands of mortals going about their mundane affairs. Absolia was emptied, or so it would seem at first glance from the sky. If there were settlements, they were hidden from view. For thousands of miles, she saw not a soul on two legs; animals and birds, yes, but no humans or shifters, and certainly no dragons.

  Until she'd felt them, following her trail.

  Demelza looked down to the forest and her keen eyes managed to distinguish the wolves on her tail. They were good. Very good. Following, leaping from one ravine to the next, using the cover of trees and stones to take her by surprise. She let them think they did, until they tried to corner her when she flew low, leaping at each of her wings.

  Then she evaded them by folding her wings at the last moment, and grabbed one with her talons, while taking the second in her mouth. She could have killed them both so effortlessly, but Elza chucked them back down to the ground, letting their bodies crash from a twenty-foot drop. They'd certainly feel it when they woke up from that landing.

  Elza kept going north, eyes scouring the horizon until she saw it. A great beast of a city, hidden behind high walls and nestled on an imposing mountain. The dark rusty fencing couldn't have been less welcoming, but the real eyesore was the high castle, so tall its towers topped the mountains.

  She snorted. Whoever had designed that phallic monstrosity had size issues.

  A wiser dragoness might have landed at the entrance of the city and announced herself, but she headed right for the castle. She'd spotted many guards, armed to the teeth, and there was no saying how many dragons resided in this gigantic fortified city. If they intended to shoot her down, they would have done so already.

  Elza's red beast gripped at the large climbing stones visibly designed for dragons at the side of the castle walls. She had to admit, that was smart thinking. Perhaps she could talk Rhey into getting a wall like that done. The beast started going up, glancing through the windows each time she reached a new floor. First, there were great halls and formal dining rooms, art rooms, music rooms, and training rooms, but toward the top of the tower, she reached living quarters, smaller around the thirtieth floor, grander and more luxurious as she went up.

  Elza jumped on the balcony of the last floor and looked down to find a completely unsurprised man sipping wine, sitting on a high back chair.

  If she'd met that man, she would not have mistaken him for a rogue. Instead of a worn gray cape, he wore cream clothes, spotless and lined with silver and purple. There was a simple white gold ringlet around his messy dark hair and his every movement bespoke arrogance.

  She wanted to rip his head off. Especially when he lifted his hand, without any fear, caressing the head of her dragon.

  And the beast lowered it, allowing it.

  Elza was furious. What the hell? Dragons weren't kittens, dammit! Her beast never welcomed touch; anyone's, except Xandrie, her rider.

  She took the reins of their body back, bones cracking as they shrunk, until she was standing in one of her skindresses, a green frock spelled to never tear as she shifted.

  "What an ugly castle," were her first words.

  Ash laughed. "I'll give you that. It would withstand a siege, however. Unlike yours."

  "And the security sucks."

  "We let you through."

  "And," she added, "you're a dick."

  He tilted his head. "All right, guilty. We should have talked things through before I left."

  She blinked. Talk? No amount of talking was going to help the state of her nipples and panties. She wanted him, dammit. Like she'd never wanted anyone. So much it was making her grumpy, and incoherent, and so crazy she'd travelled through an entire continent out of the blue.

  Seeing her confusion, he smiled. "Ah. You haven't worked it out yet."

  "Worked what out?"

  He made no reply. Instead, the heathen lowered his head to reach hers, and pressed his lips on hers, so very briefly, fleetingly.

  She gasped the moment he stepped back. It wasn't so much feeling him there, but losing his lips made her feel like someone had torn a limb from her, stealing something she needed, something that belonged to her.

  Ash was hers. The thing children were told about but no one truly found. Except people did. Rhey and Xandrie had found it. So had Talia and Vincent. And now, her. He was her mate.

  She slapped him in the face. "How could you!"

  How could he leave, knowing that?

  Ash froze and his eyes flared. "Do not challenge me, Demelza. The last thing you want is for my beast to get involved right now. We will talk, like civilized people. And then, you will return home and never think on this again."

  The likelihood of that was the same as Ertia being flat, the oceans being dry, and the sun rising in the west.

  "Let me get you a drink."

  The king of Absolia opened the doors leading to his apartment and went through. She took a deep breath before following him inside.

  Insanity

  All things considered, he should have met her in a public hall, with plenty of witnesses, not inside his apartment, just a room away from his bed. Ash had been incredibly restrained until now, even when she'd slapped him. Slapped him, pushing him, testing his dominance instinctively. He'd seen the blow coming, and he'd wanted to stop her hand, capture her wrists, secure them on top of her head and lick every part of her, teasing her until she begged him to stop. So, he'd let her. He would not, could not, afford to respond.

  He took his time to top up his glass of wine.

  "I have all kinds of spirits. Any preference?"

  "Wine will do."

  He served her a glass, using one of his tall, engraved crystal cups. The king's cutlery, silverware, and glassware always differed from that of everyone else. The only other person who drank from Ash's cups was Damion.

  "Come, sit."

  She crossed her arms in front of her, making her intention to stubbornly remain where she was obvious.

  "Suit yourself."

  He walked to his desk, retrieving the stack of folders he'd been working on, before heading to his armchair.

  "What do you know of this kingdom?" he asked her.

  She seemed surprised by the direction of the conversation. After a beat, Elza shrugged. "Not much. You stay private. If you ask mortals, all dragons are baby-eating, vile barbaric monsters, anyway. But they do fear those from the west more than us. They say you also abduct pretty girls and eat them."

  "Only every other Sunday," he joked, making her roll her eyes. "Right, so you know nothing. After the Rift, when we separated, we'd taken these lands from bear and wolf shifters; two races at war. We settled right between wolf territory and bear territory and demanded that both races answer to us. In exchange, we gave them protection and saw that they needed for nothing through the harsh winters."

  She nodded. "We have a similar agreement with the bears who occupied our lands before."

  "I doubt that," Ash replied with a snort. He explained, "One of the facets of our agreement is that the dragon ruler has to wed all tribes. One wolf, one bear and one dragon. I mentioned my great-great grandfather started the tradition when we arrived in these lands. Well, to this day, it is required of the ruler. So everyone is satisfied, all is well in the land, and no one slits my throat in my sleep."

  She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then asked, "What?"

  "I'm to get married with three spouses. I've picked one, if you'd like to know about him. A handsome lad. Powerful, too. And before you ask, yes, the marriages have to be consummated, repet
itively, unless I want an actual civil war on my hands. You're my mate, and I want you more than anyone, more than anything. But I am king of Absolia, the only king this kingdom has, given that my sister refuses to take the throne. If I was to walk away, all three tribes would go to war. If I was to declare that I want nothing more than my mate, a dragoness—a foreign dragoness, at that—the bears, wolves, and probably the dragons, would all start planning my demise. I was gone for a day last month, and the biggest tribe of wolves already tried a takeover."

  Elza held both of her hands up, saying, "Hang on a second. You're telling me that you have to get married to three people. Some dude, and two others, right?"

  He nodded.

  "And," she added, "that you decided to walk away from me, without even telling me you're my mate, because of that."

  Ash paused, wondering where she was going. Elza rolled her eyes. "Men are so fucking stupid. Seriously. I swear you'd literally go to war rather than communicate openly with people."

  He opened his mouth to object, but the fact that he'd run as fast as he could rather than have this conversation in Farden made any protest die on his lips.

  "Your big issue is that you can't have me, your mate, without another couple of people, right? And you've picked some guy. Well, let me pick a woman I want to play with, and then we can call it even."

  Ash looked up to her, eyes wide. He blinked, as if to make sure she was still there when his eyes opened. Then he asked, "You're joking?"

  He had no other theory. Dragons did not...share. Not easily.

  "How do I put this...I like men and women, equally. Always have. In fact, I tend to favor women, as they have a better understanding of women's anatomy, if you must know. I'm two-hundred-years old, and I've had at least as many proposals. I'm only unattached because I have no interest in submitting myself to a lifetime of dick. Or pussy. Now, if I can have both..." She trailed off.

  In the meantime, Ash had somehow regained some of his senses. Enough to say, "You'd take me with this. With two other spouses."