Page 18 of Dragon Revealed (Dragon Kings 1)
Chapter Ten
The uncertainty and turmoil on Jeyra’s face gave Varek pause. He’d intended to push her for the answers she couldn’t give him. Now, he wondered if he had gone too far. The fire he’d seen in her eyes—and in her very being—was dimmed. And he didn’t like it.
They sat in silence for almost an hour. Varek let her be while his thoughts rushed through his mind. Just a little while ago, he’d been anxious for her to leave so he could call Death and the Reapers to free him. Then, Varek decided to wait and find out what she discovered because he wanted to know the answers, too. Especially why bairns continued showing up in this realm.
It was possible the dragons knew. Varek could barely contain his excitement at the prospect of finding the other dragons. He had a feeling they might be the descendants of the very dragons they had sent over the dragon bridge from Earth. Which meant Con and Rhi’s twins led them—or so Erith had said. Varek wanted to find out for himself.
His gaze moved to Jeyra. But he also wanted to solve the issues here with her. No doubt Merrill would laugh his arse off if Varek ever told him that. Merrill would tell him that Jeyra would sooner skewer him than help, so why should Varek help her? It was a valid question, and one Varek could only answer with: Because I want to.
She had been his only contact since waking in this new realm. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was the man who had brought him the stool and bucket of water. The male had said nothing to Varek, which meant his only communication had been with Jeyra. What she lacked in interviewing skills, she more than made up for in her passion for justice for herself and her people.
His gaze lingered on her red hair. He wondered what it would look like in the sunlight. No doubt he’d see strands of burnished gold mixed with the various crimson hues. Just as he knew he’d see flecks of gold in her eyes if he got close enough.
But getting near her would tempt him to taste her lips, to bring her supple body against his. To bury himself deep inside her.
She was an exquisite warrior who stirred him like no one before. He could sense her anguish and confusion. The need to reach his hand through the bars and touch her arm was great. They already sat so closely their shoulders would brush if it weren’t for the metal bars separating them. Would she jerk away in disgust? Or would she seek more of his touch?
The need that rushed through him like molten fire startled Varek. He was well acquainted with lust. This was something deeper, something…more. If they had met in different circumstances, he would’ve pursued her. Varek would’ve used every ounce of charm to seduce and woo her because the attraction that drew him was voracious, the craving ravenous.
Varek pushed through the fog of his body’s hunger lest he do something foolish. As he stared at Jeyra, he began to wonder why the council, as she’d called them, had ordered her in particular to interrogate him. Was it because they wanted her to use her feminine wiles? No, he didn’t think that was the case. Jeyra was a warrior. And while she could use seduction, she didn’t seem the type to do that. So, why her?
Before he could ask, she got to her feet and walked away without a word. Varek followed her with his eyes until she was out of sight. Now was the time for him to try and call Death or any of the Reapers. And yet, he didn’t.
If Merrill were there, he would’ve punched Varek in the arm and asked him if he was daft. Maybe he was, but Varek wanted to stick around long enough to see if Jeyra found out anything.
“If she even tells me,” he murmured.
Then there was the fact that Erith might not be able to hear him. Did he really want to wait until the last moment to discover that? He had latched on to the idea of Reapers helping him, but if they couldn’t, then he would have to come up with another plan.
Varek released a long breath. “Erith,” he said.
He had never called to the goddess before. For all he knew, whatever was being done to hinder his magic or the ability to shift might also affect his call going out through the cosmos to reach Death.
“Bloody hell,” he said and bent his knees as he dropped his head back against the bars.
The hours dragged on. He dozed when he could, but for the most part, he remained awake, going through the pieces of the puzzle that lay before him, waiting to be put in order. If he could stand, he would’ve paced. Varek hated that he was confined to such a prison that didn’t allow him much movement unless he was on his knees. That was done on purpose, of course, but it made him hate it all the more.
Boredom was the hardest thing to handle. He couldn’t go into dragon sleep to speed up time. All he could do was think, watch, and wait. If he had to fight his way out without any magic, he could do it. He knew how to battle without magic. And he would, without hesitation.
The minute he heard the door to the dungeon open, he listened for Jeyra’s footsteps. It wasn’t long before she appeared with more food in hand. She sat near the bars and placed the breakfast through them to his side. Varek made his way to her. They ate without speaking.
Only when they finished did she say, “The council is expecting me. I need to give them something about you.”
He was shocked that she would tell him such a thing. Was it a ruse? He wasn’t sure, and until he knew, he wouldn’t give her anything that could hurt him. There was, however, much he could tell her. “Dragons mate for life.”
“Really?” she asked, surprise in her gaze. “How do you know you’ve chosen the right one? Or that the right one chose you?”
“For a dragon, we know. Here,” he said and touched his chest. “From what my friends have told me, it’s as insistent as when the magic tells us we’re to be the next Dragon King.”
She didn’t ask for more. Jeyra gave him a nod and stood before walking out. He hated that she had to leave, but he knew she would return. Sure enough, a few hours later, she was back. But she didn’t ask about him. Instead, she talked aloud about her theories on how and why someone would take the pages from the archive, who might want whatever was said that day to go away, and where else she might look.
He listened and interjected when he had something to add. He posed questions of his own, turning her onto thought paths she hadn’t imagined yet. She sat, she paced, she leaned against the bars, but it seemed she was becoming accustomed to being near him. No longer did she hold herself so stiff. Now, more often than not, she was near the bars, which meant she was near him.
And he liked that. A lot.
Their day always ended with her sitting in silence, deep in thought. Then she would rise and leave, only for all of it to start over again the next day. It continued for eight days while she uncovered more pieces of the puzzle—and he put his together.
Varek was acutely aware that Erith had yet to respond to his call, but during that time, he learned more about Jeyra and Orgate. Namely that she had no one she could trust. Which made him wonder once more why she was the one questioning him. That was the most significant missing piece of his puzzle, but he was close to figuring it out.
On the ninth day, when the dungeon door opened, it wasn’t Jeyra’s footsteps he heard, but that of the man who had visited before. Varek didn’t move from his position as the man approached without looking in his direction.
The jingle of the dungeon’s keys in the male’s hand sounded. Varek briefly considered rushing him. Tackling the man so Varek could escape. But he knew that precautions had no doubt been put in place for just such an endeavor. He didn’t mind letting them think he was beaten and wouldn’t fight. That way, when the time came for him to flee, it would be a surprise.
The man blew out a loud breath, his gray eyes swinging to Varek before lifting a brow. “Come,” he said gruffly.
Varek hesitated before crawling toward the door that now stood open. When he reached it, he was able to get to his feet when the man took a step back to give him room to duck beneath the metal arch. Then, to Varek’s utter astonishment, the man unlocked the manacles around his wrists. The thick chains dropped to the ground, but the male didn’t pick them up. He did toss Varek a shirt before he shoved him backwards into the cell and then slammed the door.
Varek hit the low ceiling as he stumbled back. He dropped to his knees to stop the momentum and looked at the brown shirt. It was sleeveless, had a V-neck collar, and was made of a simple material that had seen better days.
Varek slipped his arms through the openings and pulled it over his head. It was too snug in the chest, the seams stretching precariously. He shrugged and dusted his hands on his jeans, and immediately tried his magic. He clenched his teeth when nothing happened, but he wasn’t giving up.
