Burned by Darkness - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,13

shimmering with hidden hints of golden fire in the sunlight that streamed through the dome. Her eyes were the color of the purest emeralds with shards of jade. And her slender body was visible beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown.

“What?”

“How long am I to remain your prisoner?”

He scowled. Aggravating imp.

For centuries he’d enjoyed females who eagerly competed to enter his bed. A few had killed for the privilege. So why did this imp pretend it was a punishment to be his lover?

“You’re my courtesan, not my prisoner,” he informed her. “And you’ll stay with me until I say you may leave.”

Her lips thinned. “In other words, I’m your prisoner.”

“You’re very stubborn.”

“Not stubborn, merely weary of having my life screwed up by males who think they own me.”

Baine made a sound of impatience, resuming his exit out of the courtyard.

“Prepare for my return,” he ordered in tones that left no room for argument.

He was heading up the stairs when he heard the sound of shattering glass. Tayla had just destroyed one of his priceless urns. Without warning, his lips twitched. Then he tilted back his head to laugh with rich enjoyment.

He hoped it was the orange one with gaudy opals that he’d received as a gift from an ancient aunt.

He hated that thing.

Refusing to dwell on his strange, unpredictable responses to the female, he instead focused on the slender male standing on the top step.

“Char,” he murmured, coming to a halt directly in front of his servant. “Maybe I didn’t make it clear I had no desire to be interrupted.”

The male grimaced, his eyes darkened to smoke. “You made it clear, but we have a problem.”

Baine was on instant alert. “Tell me.”

“Your father.”

“What about him?”

“He just arrived.”

What the hell? Baine momentarily froze. He couldn’t have been more shocked if Char had told him that the tooth fairy had magically appeared.

Then, with a shake of his head, he was heading toward his throne room, his long strides eating up the distance.

“Did he give a reason for his visit?”

Char hurried to keep pace, his expression grim. “No, but he brought gifts.”

“Damn.” Baine’s initial shock was quickly replaced with suspicion as he sent his companion a warning glance. “Put the guards on alert.”

Char instinctively reached to touch his dagger with the diamond blade that he had strapped beneath his shirt.

“You expect trouble?”

Baine clenched his teeth. “When my father arrives bearing gifts, he intends to try and bribe me into doing something I don’t want to do. Or…”

“Or?” Char prompted.

“It’s a declaration of war.”

Shoving open the door, Baine stepped into the throne room. Heat immediately blasted around him. Even braced for his father’s power it made him flinch.

Synge was a large, cruel, lethally clever predator. Currently he’d chosen a human form with dark hair that he kept cut short and eyes the color of polished silver. Striding up and down the length of the room, he was dressed in leather pants and a black T-shirt that looked as if it’d been painted on his broad chest.

He had tattoos similar to Baine’s, although not nearly as many and they didn’t swirl. Instead they faded in and out, sometimes disappearing for days.

Synge preferred brute strength to intelligence. He’d never been a collector of knowledge.

Remaining close to the door, Baine waited for his father to halt his pacing and turn to face him before he performed a small bow.

“Sire.”

The older man moved toward him, his broad, roughly carved face impossible to read.

“Baine.”

“To what do I owe the honor?”

Halting a few feet away, Synge cocked a dark brow. “Can’t a father visit his son?”

Baine gave a sharp laugh. His father had kicked him out of the family lair the second he was old enough to be considered a threat. Synge didn’t share. Not his harem, not his power, and certainly not his hoard.

And while the older male had occasionally commanded Baine to return home so he could inform Baine of his severe disappointment in his eldest son, Synge had never once stepped foot in Baine’s lair.

“He could, but in five hundred years you’ve never bothered to visit before, so you will understand my surprise,” Baine drawled.

Synge folded his arms over his chest, a nasty smile curving his lips.

“And you claim I have no manners.”

Baine shrugged. He didn’t know why his father was there, and frankly he didn’t give a shit. His only interest was returning to the female who he’d waited twenty-five years to bed.

“I’m too busy for games,” he said in cold tones.

“So I’ve heard,” his father