Page 11 of Dragon's Revenge

That was a great idea, actually. That way, he didn’t risk inadvertently hurting Delton again. “Do you think he’ll even want to listen to me again?”

Sivney slowly gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I don’t know, but if he doesn’t, you can only try so many times before it becomes harassment. Mates or not, he has the right to say no and not talk to you. The gods know he’s been hurt enough already.”

Never again. No matter what happened, Adar would make sure Delton would not get hurt again. He’d fucked up, but he vowed to do better. He’d prove himself to be worthy of Delton. And Oliver.

ChapterFive

Duff Bás was a strange man.

Rhene had now spent a week as a prisoner with the guy, and he still didn’t understand jack shit about him. Usually, he was good at sizing folks up, and while his skills at figuring out people’s motivations weren’t as stellar as his brother Palani’s, he wasn’t often wrong. But with this dude, he had no fucking clue. Seven days with the man, and he knew little more than what he had on that first day.

“Here,” Duff said, handing Rhene a steaming bowl of soup. “It’s no haute cuisine, but it’s pretty edible if I do say so myself.”

Rhene looked at the meat floating in the clear liquid. “What’s the meat?”

“Reindeer.”

Reindeer? He was eating Rudolph and his buddies? That would take some getting used to, but since beggars couldn’t be choosers and all that, he’d give it a try. So far, Duff hadn’t served anything inedible. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to treat Rhene well, which had been surprising. Not that Rhene had expected to be killed on the first day of being captured, but he sure as fuck hadn’t counted on good food and a warm, comfortable bed either. Not just that, but he’d even gotten hot showers, clean clothes, and access to books.

Not to his phone, of course. Everything he’d had on him had been confiscated by Duff, kept somewhere Rhene couldn’t see it. In his bedroom, probably, which was the only room Rhene couldn’t enter. Not for lack of trying. He’d made an attempt when Duff had been out hunting, and he’d run straight into some kind of magic shield, much like the one that had been around the Doyle castle. Only this time, invoking Lidon’s name hadn’t been enough to get through it.

That same magic kept Rhene in the cabin, even when Duff wasn’t there to keep an eye on him. Invisible but powerful barriers blocked all the doors and windows. Yes, he’d tried each and every one. Nothing had worked.

He took a tentative sip of the soup, then raised his eyebrows in surprise. “This is good. Really good.”

Duff chuckled. “Your surprise is almost offensive.”

“Sorry, but my expectations of reindeer weren’t that great. But it’s pretty tasty.”

“It can be if you know how to prepare it.”

“Which, apparently, you do. Are you from this area originally?”

“Ireland is my home, but I haven’t lived there in a while now.”

He didn’t have an Irish accent either. “But you were born there?”

He quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused by Rhene’s not-so-subtle questions. “What’s up with the interrogation? Why the sudden interest in me?”

Rhene shrugged as he chewed on a piece of reindeer meat. “It struck me that I’ve spent a week with you and still know next to nothing about you.”

“Ah, I see. Perhaps you were hoping for some villainy confession, like in the movies, right before the hero saves the day?”

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

Duff sighed as he tore off a piece of bread—the man baked it himself and it was delicious—and handed it to Rhene. “Alas, I fear there will be no hero to save you.”

“Maybe not, but you could still do the confession? I’m baffled by what your plan is here. You said you wanted to use me to bring down the dragons, but we’ve been here a week, and nothing has happened.”

“Nothing you know of or can see,” Duff corrected him sharply.

“Fair enough, but can you blame me for my curiosity?”

Duff was quiet for a long time, then let out a sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him. “When the dragons came to power back in the old country, my ancestors swore a sacred oath to kill them all. I descend from the great Duff Bás, the most legendary dragon slayer of them all. When he died, he had sixty-four kills to his name, more than anyone before or since.”

Rhene put down his bowl of soup, suddenly queasy. “Sixty-four dragons?”

“Yes.”

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