"Enjoying the woman, are you?" a man asked, his voice familiar.
Alex fought past the fog webbing his brain and blinked up. Hazel eyes peered down at him, the same hazel eyes that belonged to his boss, Jason Graves. Jason wore an aura of self-importance that was almost palpable. He also wore a dragon medallion around his neck.
Alex's eyes narrowed. He'd never considered the man a friend, but he'd been a dependable employer for the four years he'd worked for him. Betrayal washed over Alex, bitter and biting, as he realized just what this meant.
He'd suspected this, but having actual evidence still managed to shock him. I never should have stolen the medallion , he thought.
"I'm nothing if not hospitable," Jason said. His eyes gleamed bright with smug superiority.
Shards of his fury renewed, sparking past the complacency of the drugs. If only his body had the strength to act. "What are you doing to Teira?" He shuddered at the answer that leapt into his mind, certain now that she wasn't working with anyone, but was merely trying to survive. Just as he was.
"Nothing she doesn't enjoy, I assure you."
"Bring her back," he growled. "Now."
"First, you and I are going to have a tête-à-tête."
The extent of his helplessness shone as brightly as a neon sign. He closed his eyes. "What is it exactly that you want from me, Jason?"
"Call me Master," his boss said. "Everyone here does." He claimed the chair that had been set in front of the table and removed the lid from the platter of food.
The scent of spicy meat and fresh fruits wafted in the air, making Alex's mouth water. This wasn't the bread and cheese he'd expected. But then, the meal wasn't for him. How long since he'd last eaten anything that smelled so divine? he wondered. Then he laughed. What did he care? "How about I call you Bastard instead?" he said.
"Do it and I will have you strangled with your own intestines," Jason said easily, almost happily. "Afterward, I'll have the same done to Teira."
"Master it is, then." Bastard . Wincing, he pulled himself to a sitting position and crossed his arms over his chest.
Jason swirled his fork in what looked to be pasta and said, "You have been stubborn, Alex, holding out on us."
A prickle of unease worked through him, and he fought to remain expressionless. "What do you mean?"
"Your sister, Grace." Casually Jason bit into his food. He closed his eyes and chewed slowly, savoring the taste. "The picture you have of her on your desk is of a ten-year-old girl."
Alex's unease quickly mutated into terror, and the cold air seeped all the way into his marrow. "So what," he said, striving for nonchalance.
"A voluptuous, very mature Grace was found looking for you in the jungle. She's pretty, your sister." Jason licked creamy white sauce from the fork.
Alex tried to spring up, tried to wrap his hands around Jason's neck. His body refused to cooperate, however, and in midair, he simply collapsed back into a heap on the floor. "Where is she?" he panted. "Did you hurt her? Did you do anything to her?"
"Of course not." Jason's tone actually held an element of affront. "What kind of man do you think I am?"
"You really don't want me to answer that, do you?" He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Where is she?"
"Don't worry. We let her fly back to New York. She's safe-for the moment. We left her an e-mail from you, saying you were okay, and for her sake, I hope she's content with that."
His jaw clenched. "Leave her the hell alone."
"That depends on you, doesn't it?" Jason placed his elbows on the table and leaned toward him. "Where's my medallion, Alex?" he asked, his voice growing harder, harsher.
"I told your men, I lost it. I don't know where it is."
"I think that's a lie," Jason said smoothly. He held a pineapple slice between his fingers and sunk his teeth into it, causing the juices to run down his chin. He dabbed at the wetness with his napkin, mimicking a proper Southern gentleman-the kind of man he'd often teased Alex of being.
"What do you want it for, anyway? You already have a new one."
"I want them all."
"Why? They aren't crafted from gold or silver. They're crafted from metal filigree. They're a worthless decoration, nothing more."
They both knew he lied.
Jason shrugged. "They offer the wearer power beyond comprehension, though we haven't yet learned how to harness that power. In time," he said with confidence. "In time. They also open every door in this palace, offering a banquet of riches. You could have been a part of this… I would have asked for your help eventually, but you chose to work against me."
"You think you can just blithely steal from these people and walk away unscathed?" He snorted. "They are children of the gods. I, at least, meant only to study them."
"No, you meant to expose them. Did you think that would have done them any good? Did you think the entire world could resist coming here and stealing the overabundance of treasures?" Now Jason was the one to snort. "To answer your question, no, I didn't think I could blithely steal from them. I knew I could. Quite easily, too."
Alex shook his head at such blatant arrogance. "I suppose you're going to tell me just how you did it. We can have ourselves a Bad Guy Confession Time."
A hard glint entered Jason's eyes, but his need to brag far surpassed his anger. "Before entering the portal in Florida, I tossed in enough fentanyl gas to put a legion of men to sleep. Then I sent in my troops. Most were killed, but casualties of war are expected. The Guardian of the Mist might have been strong, but he couldn't survive multiple rounds of firepower and he quickly bled out."
"What about his men? The Book of Ra-Dracus speaks of each Guardian possessing an army of dragons inside his palace."
"Ah, the Book of Ra-Dracus ." All arrogance, Jason lifted a jeweled goblet and sipped the contents. "Have I thanked you yet for the book's acquisition? It changed my life."
"You stole it from me," he accused, his eyes narrowed.
"Of course. Just like you stole from me. The irony is beautiful, isn't it?" Smiling smugly, Jason added, "You made the mistake of typing your notes into your computer. I keep tabs on all of my employees."
"You hack into their personal lives, you mean."
Jason shrugged "When I realized exactly what you possessed, I knew I had to have it. So I paid someone to 'acquire' it for me."
"I stole the medallion from you, yes, but I always intended to give it back. I didn't think you even knew what it was."
"Oh, I knew." A soft rumble of laughter escaped. "I'm slowly emptying this palace of every jewel, every piece of gold, every fine fabric and selling them on the surface. How else do you think I afforded those new buildings? My designer clothes?" He paused, tilted his chin. "And I'll do the same to the other dragon palace. But we digress. How did we kill the dragon army? The same way we found them. Ra-Dracus . We learned they are weakened by cold and bullets. Quick. Simple."
"You're a monster," Alex whispered, horrified by what Jason had done-and all he would do.
"A monster? Hardly. Those that dwell in Atlantis are the monsters. In fact, let me tell you a little about Teira, the sweet Teira you so wish to protect. She's a dragon. A changeling." He studied Alex's waning color and nodded with satisfaction. "I see you know what I am talking about."
"I read Ra-Dracus in its entirety."
"Then you know what happens when you infuriate a dragon? It transforms into a beast. A killer."
"If Teira is a dragon, why hasn't she changed? Why hasn't she freed herself?" He paused. "Why hasn't she killed you ?"
"She has seen what our guns did to her people, and she fears us. Fear will keep the fiercest of creatures submissive."