Second Chance with the Dragon King

Chapter Eight

ELIZABETH'S POV

When I woke, I was alone. There was no sleep induced fuzziness; I knew exactly where I was and I remembered everything that had transpired the night before.The memory made my insides tighten. The soft sheets on my naked skin only enhanced the memory, as did his smell.

Rígan's honey-cedar scent was everywhere here. There was still that other thing, lingering. It wasn't fruity or floral or even musky. I lay there with my face turned into the pillow, breathing it in and trying to identify it unsuccessfully. Whatever it was, it was amazing. Unique, and him. I could stay here forever and be content, I thought. But eventually, it was time to get up. I stretched and stood. Paused.

"Oh, crap."

My clothes were strewn across the floor. Or what used to be my clothes. My boots were the only things still wearable. Hmm. . . I didn't remember taking those off. Had he done all that with me wearing nothing but footwear? The thought made me blush. I shook my head, my fingers tapping against my thigh, deliberating. It wasn't as if I could walk through the castle, naked, to find something to wear. And I sure wasn't going to walk out of this room covered in nothing but a blanket. Then I spotted my bag on a chair at the end of the bed. Quickly, I pulled out a set of clothes and got dressed. A glance at the clock that hung on the wall told me it was early. But I'd been waking up at five every morning for years.

I guess even dying and coming back to life can't change certain habits. My hair was a mess, so I pulled it into a messy bun. Then I grabbed my bag and left the room, only to realize the other problem—I had no idea how to get, well, anywhere. I could be on the other side of the castle for all I knew. My feet shuffled forward anyway. My gaze wandered, taking in everything I hadn't been able to focus on last night. The white walls were high, decorated with portriats of important looking people along with a few beautiful landscape oil-paintings. The hall was long, lit by crystal chandeliers that hung from the cieling on gold chains. The light shimmered on the polsished floors, the wooden doors and their gold handles. The windows were thin and tall, made from thick glass. Some had intricate pictures of stained glass that threw rainbows with the morning light. Wealth leaked from every stone of this place. By the time I finally found my way to the bottom floor, I was more than a little overwhelmed. The smell of food was coming from somewhere. I wandered a little, following my nose when I heard them.

"Who do you think you are?" Rígan snapped.

Automatically, I froze. For half a second, I was sure he was talking to me, though his voice came from around the corner. But another voice answered him, and when she did, I started to shake uncontrollably.

"Me? How can you say something like that after what you did last night?"

No. No. No, no, no! I knew that voice. Knew every inflection, every giggle, every snarl, sneer, whine. . . and every moan. . . every cry of pleasure. I could hear it all as clearly as if I were standing outside Liam's door, listening to another women scream my mate's name while my heart shattered in my chest. I knew when it was genuine and when it was almost absurdly fake. My eyes scrunched shut tightly as I desperatedly fought the memories that were threatening to bring me to my knees.

"I didn't do anything last night that shoud offend you," Rígan said.

Slowly, I re-opened my eyes. Took a deep breath. He sounds. . . almost angry, I realized.

Allie laughed once. It was more of a bark than a laugh. "Oh, no? Then would you care to explain what I heard through your bedroom door? Because it sounded an awful lot like fucking."

Unable to help myself, I carefully peeked around the corner. Laying eyes on the Allie again sent a physical jolt through my body. I was surprised that most of what I felt was not fear, but a deep seated anger that burned from my stomach all the way up my throat. I wanted nothing more than to tear her apart where she stood. If only I could. The majority of my attention, though, was riveted by the expression on Rígan's face. His golden eyes were hard, sparking like flint on steel and his jaw was clenched so tightly, I wondered if it was hurting him. He seemed even bigger than he had last night, his very aura consuming everything around until it was just him, towering over Allie like a lightning bolt about to strike.

How many times had I hoped and prayed that Liam would look at her like that? How many times had I suffered by watching them share the intimate smile of lovers, or caught him gazing at her across the room? As if she were the very moon hung from the sky. The way he used to look at me. I'd watched, and waited, all for nothing. Now, the most powerful man in every land was doing what my own mate had not.

But is he angry on behalf of me? Or is he angry because of me?

"What were you doing outside my room?" Rígan's deep voice was low, smooth and dangerous. It sent a thrill through me.

Allie flipped her long hair over her shoulder. I could only imagine what expression she wore. "After the show you put on? Of course I wanted to know what was going on."

"Show?"

"Don't act like you have no idea what I'm talking about!"

Rígan lifted one brow at her. "There was no show. She's important to me."

It shouldn't have, but his proclomation sent a warm sensation flooding through my chest. I almost smiled.

But Allie scoffed. "Her? Really? She's human! She's not worth anything."

Suddenly, he was standing over her, moving so fast that I missed it. Allie flinched back with a sharp gasp.

"She is worth more than you'll ever know. You will not disrespect Elizabeth, do you understand me? And you are never to come to my private quarters again. That's an order."

"B-but—"

He let out a growl that effectively cut off her protest. And then he spun and walked away, leaving her to stare after him, frozen. I backed away quietly, re-tracing my steps. Rígan's words echoed in my ears. 'She's worth more than you'll ever know.'

Who was I to the Dragon King?