The Warrior King (Inferno Rising) by Owen, Abigail (online e book reading txt) 📗

to blend with its environment as it flowed across the ocean floor.

Then he lifted his head to gaze over her shoulder at the other black dragon shifter in the room. “I was.”

…

“Bullshit,” Rune snapped.

Heavy silence fell over the room, like the doldrums on a ship he’d once sailed on in the Mediterranean, when nothing moved. Not a whisper of wind, and the water didn’t even dare lap at the sides of the ship. As still as the world ever got.

That was the room now.

Sam shifted his gaze to Meira, searching her expression. Was she angry that he didn’t warn her? Not that she really ever got angry. But did she believe him?

“I will only ask you this once.”

At his side, Meira visibly jumped at the venom in Rune’s voice, and Sam tightened his grip on her hair compulsively. At a small sound from her, he eased up.

Rune’s words were edged with a poison that made no sense. Why was he angry?

“I am not the traitor in this room or to my clan,” Sam pointed out.

Meira winced, though the way she was positioned in front of him, only he could see it. She gave him a small shake of her head, and he got the message. Probably not a good idea to antagonize the people giving them shelter.

The silence from Rune wasn’t still anymore. Instead it pressed into him like a physical presence, strain expanding against his skin, and Sam used his hold on her locks to tug Meira closer to him, even as he drew his shoulders back.

“I believe you,” Rune finally said.

Meira took a breath, but Sam didn’t move. “I don’t give a fuck what you believe.”

Rune barked a sound that might have been a laugh. “You haven’t changed, Veles.”

“I could say the same about you, Abaddon.”

The tension in the other man snapped, turning to full-bodied anger.

“You come here,” Rune snarled softly. “With her, bringing danger down on me and my people.”

Sam felt the way Meira had to stop herself from flinching, no doubt blaming herself.

“Don’t you dare try to blame her,” Sam said, a dangerous edge to his soft voice. “Because of our kind, she’s been on the run all her life. We owe her. All dragon shifters owe her and her sisters our allegiance.”

Samael didn’t wait for Rune to respond, dropping his gaze to the woman he’d tied to himself, the silk of her hair wrapped around his finger.

As though she were his…

Meira had yet to say a word, though her eyes had done plenty of talking for her. Clear, pure white. As though she trusted everything he was. No one, other than maybe Gorgon, had done that for him before.

A more suspicious woman would’ve wondered if he’d taken out the king in order to claim her. She was smart enough to put things together the same way Rune had and ask herself if he wasn’t behind these deaths and the overthrow of the leadership of the Black Clan. The question had to be asked. The way Pytheios got to people, and given Sam’s history… No lowborn commoner in the history of the clan had every been named to the king’s Curia Regis, his private council. Especially not to the position that put that man in direct line to the throne.

“He informed me the day you…the day of the ceremony,” he told her.

“I have faith in you over every other dragon within the clan.” The memory of Gorgon’s words echoed through his mind now.

He’d earned his king’s confidence and friendship with years of loyalty and service and had always tried to be a true friend when the king had turned to him as a sort of sounding board. An occurrence that had happened more and more over time.

“You trust me?” he asked Meira softly.

She nodded without hesitation, and something unfurled in his gut—something warm and soft and, hell, mushy. All because she trusted him. Then, the next moment, he wished he hadn’t, because she smiled, dimples flashing, and every molecule of air remaining in him vanished with a whoosh.

“You thought I’d doubt you?” A silly question, if the small shake she gave her head was any indication.

“I’m not used to anyone except Gorgon trusting me like that.” A confession that cost him, given who was listening. Showing any weakness in front of other dragons was an idiotic thing to do, but Meira was…Meira.

“Your men,” she said, a hint of a question in the word.

He cocked his head, not keeping up with whatever turn her mind had made.

She waved a hand. “They follow you into battle. That must take trust.”

True. But would he find that solidarity still there when he saw them next? He’d need to find out eventually but couldn’t say he was certain. Too many smoking guns pointed his direction.

And that would only worsen if he claimed his mate. Which he wouldn’t do. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Fuck.

The only way to put any of this right was to find Gorgon and…what? Beg the king for permission to mate the biggest prize their kind could imagine? Treasure to be taken and claimed and hoarded. A political lightning bolt that could both electrify their kind or burn a hole through them.

No answers presented themselves to him yet, beyond knowing that she was his. A fact that caused a shit ton of problems and didn’t solve a damn thing.

“We won’t figure this out today.” Rune’s voice pulled Samael out of the spell Meira had cast over him, and he lifted his head to find his old captain watching him with narrowed eyes.

“I agree.” He unwound the lock of hair from his finger, forcing himself to step back from the woman who was supposed to be his queen and not anything else. “Meira must gather her strength to send me to Ararat alone.”

“What?” Meira squeaked the word, then shook her head hard, her curls tumbling about her face. “No. No way. Not unless I go, too.”

He put a hand to her face, and she stilled under his touch. Did she