Page 13 of Love, Rekindled

“Rescuedyou,” he corrected. Jayla eyed him, stubbornly waiting for him to answer her question. “I was convinced no one could steal the sword, but there was always the possibility of it becoming lost. A few centuries ago, I paid a witch to place a locating spell on it.”

“So, you did take some precautions,” she said in dry tones. “Do you know where it is?”

“A remote cave in the Ural Mountains.”

She paused as if waiting for him to continue. “So why didn’t you get the sword back?” she finally demanded.

“Because the cave is currently being used by a female dragon who is hatching her egg.”

Jayla widened her eyes in shock. “A dragon? In this world?”

Azrael grimaced. She wasn’t any more astonished than he’d been when he, at last, tracked down the sword, only to realize that it was in the one place in the entire world he didn’t dare enter. As powerful as he might be, he was no match for a female dragon protecting her young.

Especially not when his strength was rapidly draining.

“Like the Sylvermyst, they have returned in small numbers,” he told his companion. “And usually only for brief visits.”

She slowly nodded, clearly still trying to absorb the knowledge that both Sylvermyst and dragons were back in this world.

“Does that mean the dragon will leave once her egg has hatched?” she asked.

“Possibly.”

She lifted her hands. “Then wait until then.”

“It could be centuries before the baby dragon hatches out of its shell.”

“And?”

“And I will be dead.”

She jerked as if his words had caused her physical distress. “Dead-dead?”

He studied her pale face. She seemed genuinely concerned. Did the thought of losing him again trouble her? Or was it a figment of his imagination? He desperately wanted her to…what? Care. Yes. He wanted her to care.

“Dead-dead.”

She turned away, her shoulders set at rigid angles. “How long do you have?”

It was a question that plagued him. “Each night, that I’m separated from my sword I’m a little weaker,” he told her. “I would guess I have less than a week. Time is ticking. I either face the dragon or wait to die.” He felt a fierce stab of fury. “What better revenge for the Sylvermyst who cursed me?”

“Or ask me to stop time soIcan retrieve the sword,” she added in a soft voice.

“Exactly.” He hesitated. The next few seconds were the most important of his very long life. “Will you help?”

She turned. Slowly, so slowly. Then, meeting his gaze, she nodded.

“Yes. I’ll help.”

* * *

Levet bent toward the ground,following the luscious scent of lotus from Chiron’s hotel down the narrow street.

“Do this, Levet,” he muttered. “Do that, Levet. Save the world.” He clicked his tongue, his demon essence easily allowing him to maneuver through the throng of humans. It wasn’t that he was invisible. It was that the mortal mind wasencouragednot to notice him. “And do I ever get any thanks?” he continued his complaints.

“Do you?” a female asked, her voice light and faintly accented. French?

Coming to an abrupt halt in the shadows of a towering skyrise, Levet turned to regard his unwelcomed companion. She was taller than him but still smaller than most creatures, with a delicate body. She wore a sparkling white cocktail dress and high heels. Her hair was a shade of pale gold and fell in wild spirals to her shoulders. Her eyes were a misty gray, and her skin as pale as frosted snow. She appeared human, but when Levet caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, he saw the faintest outline of ephemeral wings.

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