The Warrior King (Inferno Rising) by Owen, Abigail (reading a book txt) 📕

though worried the black dragon shifter would rip it away from her and kick the thing out. “There I know you’re wrong. He protects them. Skylar told me.”

Samael swung his gaze to the man, watching with narrowed eyes. Rune gave a lazy shrug, basically saying they could believe it or not. He didn’t care.

“Why are you here?” Rune drawled, clearly having run out of patience with the conversation.

Meira visibly paused at the question, then turned to Samael as though he’d been the one to ask it. “I guess I was thinking of safe places my mother sent us. Maul’s no longer in Alaska, and the wolves are with Angelika in Ben Nevis. But my uncle is…”

Realization parted her lips in a silent gasp before she jerked her gaze to Rune. “Is my uncle here? Can I see him?”

The traitor who apparently might not be a traitor glanced between them, then shook his head. “Why me?” he said, more to himself. Then turned and walked away. “Follow me.”

Hell. They had no choice.

Meira raised her eyebrows in question to Samael, who waved her ahead. They followed Rune down a long, dark corridor. Everywhere around him was the sound of water, a constant drip, drip, drip, like the snow and ice on the towering peaks outside seeped inside the mountains to melt and weep through the walls.

Apparently here they used old-fashioned torches set into sconces to light the main corridors. They passed several corridors that weren’t lit, the scents of darkness, decay and fallen rock telling Samael that those sections hadn’t been used in a long time and were no longer safe, prone to cave-ins.

Which was Samael’s first clue as to which mountain they’d landed in.

No one, not even Gorgon, had known where the mate stealer hid himself and the women he took. Though, to be honest, the king had been focused on problems closer to home. Maybe they should have been giving the colonies a little more attention. If they had, perhaps the answer to Rune Abaddon’s location would’ve been more obvious.

The Andes.

Clearly, the man had taken over the old, abandoned enforcer base deep in the Andes Mountains in Argentina, one of several that had been located on the South American continent at one time. Thanks to a treaty with other shifters in this region of the world, the previous High King Hanyu—Meira’s grandfather, in fact—had agreed to abandon South America and leave it for the indigenous supernaturals in exchange for their help identifying dragon mates in the region and sending them to the clans.

Pytheios apparently hadn’t seen any reason to break that treaty. Or had been too busy keeping his crown. Either way, it had been smart of Rune to hide here. Samael wondered how he’d located the place but didn’t ask.

After several twists and turns, Rune led them past a large room full of monitors, one similar to a room in Ararat, used for monitoring the mountain security along with any indications of dragon shifters in the region.

They didn’t stop there, though. Instead they continued on to a dragon-steel door, which stood slightly open.

Samael grabbed Meira by the wrist, pulling her slightly behind him. “No way in the seven hells am I letting her walk into dungeons.”

Rune turned slowly, eyebrow raised. “These aren’t dungeons.”

“Meira?”

She jerked against Samael’s grasp as an older man appeared in the doorway. Tall and lanky, he wore his stark white hair cut short in a flat-top, military style. White eyes gazed out from a wizened face. A gaze that zeroed in on the woman at Samael’s side.

“Uncle Tyrek?” No mistaking the curious hope in her voice.

The man walked forward and took Meira’s face in his hands. A growl slipped from Samael’s lips, which earned him a sideways glance of warning, only to then be ignored. Not exactly what he was used to. As captain of the king’s guard, people tended to get the fuck out of his way.

“Skylar looked like your phoenix grandmother, with her black hair, but I see your father and your grandfather in you,” the man said to Meira.

She smiled softly and flipped a curl. “I’m the mutt.”

Samael had to swallow another growl at the derogatory word. He didn’t like anyone disparaging Meira. Not even Meira.

“The red dragon genes come through a bit,” she said. “Mama always said I was Dad but with the mix of all our bloodlines. Kasia’s a true redhead with our grandfather’s blood in her veins. Angelika is all Dad, white dragon with white hair. But I’m a mix.”

“Holy shit,” Rune muttered to himself. “Four of you?”

“Maybe,” Meira answered vaguely. And Samael found himself choking back an unexpected laugh.

Rune’s jaw clenched. Tyrek didn’t appear surprised in the least.

Comparing Meira to the man who was supposedly Zilant Amon’s brother, Samael had to admit to the resemblance. Meira was a softer version, her high cheekbones less angular, jaw not as sharp, but the same winged eyebrows, same catlike shape to her eyes.

Speaking of her sisters, however, reminded him. This wasn’t a family reunion.

Samael cleared his throat. “Angelika and Skylar will be frantic.”

Meira gasped. “Oh heavens.” She turned to her uncle. “Is there someone who might take this little girl?” She held out the kitten, who’d stayed still and quiet this entire time. “And I need a mirror. One positioned so that it will not hint as to where I am.”

No doubt to protect Tyrek and the people shielding him—traitors or not—more than herself. More strays to take in like the cat her uncle was eyeing with concern. Terrific.

Without a quibble, Tyrek looked to Rune. The two men silently debated, possibly shifting a small part of their bodies so they could telepathically discuss. Then Rune grunted, took the kitten, and handed it to one of his men. “Take it to the common room.” He shot a look at Samael and Meira. “This way.”

He led them back through the twisting maze of the mountain home and down another endless corridor until it dead-ended. He reached for the last door on the left. “No