To Hell and Back by L.B. Gilbert

Chapter Eleven

Rhys was burning up—and not in the normal fire-breathing way.

He had been downstairs when he heard the shout. Part of him had been waiting for it. Aggie had a habit of intruding on his guests. Usually, she popped into existence next to them, eliciting a scream. That sort of thing tickled her.

But Agatha knew better than to interrupt them in the bathroom. That was why he’d run headlong into the room without thinking twice, only for the sight of Valeria in a towel to hit him like a brick to the head.

Her damp skin had glowed like a pearl under the gold-tinted lights Thomas had installed over the tub.

Was Rhys being tested? Because he was doing his best to be a considerate host. A potent temptation like this was the last thing he needed.

Before Rhys realized what he was doing, he was out the doors, striding down the mountain. Blinking in the bright sun, he took his bearings, gathered himself, and shifted, flying down to the lake. He hit the water a mere minute later, the splash rising at least ten feet in the air.

The ice-cold water ran over his scales in immediate soothing relief.

This was something very few in his clan did. Though they tolerated heat better than any other species, his kind was sensitive to the cold, more so in their winged form. They much preferred to bask in the sun after a flight, and only came to swim in the lake on the warmest of summer days.

But Rhys and his top lieutenants made a point of coming every few days in the winter when the lake wasn’t iced over. It was punishing, but swimming in the cold built endurance and honed discipline.

Once his head was clear, he was able to reflect on just how badly he had made an ass of himself.

Yes, Valeria was a beautiful girl, a dead ringer for the woman he remembered. But the fact remained he was being pushed off the rails by a stranger.

His painful memories of Gabrielle were not something he cared to revisit often. But that didn’t mean he didn’t recall every moment they’d spent together.

Rhys had met Gabrielle over two centuries ago. He had just woken from a long sleep, taking his turn as one of the clan members to rise and remain awake while the others slept. It was a system they had abandoned—with good reason—long ago, but, at the time, it had seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to propel their small clan through the seas of time.

Intent on keeping up with the latest innovations in human society, Rhys had spent most of the early eighteen hundreds traveling through Europe. He’d made his way across the continent, visiting intellectual salons and seeking out the inventors and innovators who would lay the groundwork for the industrial revolution.

He had hated every minute of it.

At the time, he had a very low opinion of human society, particularly the ruling class, self-appointed arbiters of taste and culture. He saw them as preening fops and useless philosophers. In truth, the most elite humans of that time had little to recommend them beyond the lucky circumstances of their birth. That and the money that came with it.

His task of monitoring human progress had been an obligation, but it was one he did not shirk. The clan needed to stay on top of the sometimes-subtle transformations in human civilization—a dull but necessary task.

Then he had met Gabrielle.

He had been attending a lecture at the University of Vienna. The topic—recent innovations on steam engines—had piqued his interest in a way few subjects had at the time. Such devices had never been a part of his world, not unless they were a part of a larger military machinery and, even then, in a limited sense. What use were cannons to a dragon? It was the enemy who employed such tactics.

So, he had gone to the lecture, taking copious notes for the report he would eventually make to his superior.

It was there that he’d overheard a pair of dandies gushing about the latest opera. Though some of his people played instruments on their homeworld, none of his clan sang. It was not part of their tradition. However, their vocal cords were structured for cries across very long distances. It sounded almost as if the humans had discovered their version of the ability and turned it into a form of entertainment.

He’d attended as part of his research, buying admission to the pit in case he wanted to make a quick exit. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been pulled into a human recreation only to beat a quick retreat after a few insufferable minutes.

However, Rhys hadn’t heard a single note of music that night. Not after he looked up into the boxes and saw Gabrielle, who had been escorted to the performance by a member of her family.

One glance and he’d been lost.

Dark-haired with eyes like polished jade goldstone, Gabrielle had been radiant, a jewel universally admired. She had recently made her debut into society, and she was being courted by every eligible man in Vienna. Rhys spent the rest of the performance staring at her.

Memories swirled around his head, but he ruthlessly shut down the flood. This was simply a trick of time. The woman in his guest suite was not Gabrielle. His lost mate had been a hothouse flower, delicate and sensitive. Yes, this Valeria had the same lustrous beauty as his former fiancé. But this woman was…hard…suspicious. And more guarded than Fort Knox.

That and Valeria appeared to have very strong magic.

His clan dealt with witches about as often as they dealt with other outsiders—as little as possible. Nevertheless, Rhys’ position meant that he’d met witches of all stripes over his long life, both light and dark. Gabrielle had been part of the light, a pure soul. He had no idea what Valeria was, but he strongly suspected her power was…not light.

Except witch talents were neither one nor the other, he reminded himself. It all depended on how they were used. There was also the fact that Valeria was being pursued by her own kind. Dark witches were monsters, cannibals who consumed anyone weaker than themselves. But she wasn’t weak, which either meant she was light or untrained.

Yes, untrained made sense. Valeria would have known how to defend herself had she devoted herself to the black arts. Rhys breathed a little easier about his decision to bring a stranger into their territory. Figuratively, anyway, because he was still underwater.

After a few more laps around the lake, Rhys was back in control. He left the water soon after. He would learn more about his mysterious guest tonight at dinner.

She had to eat, right? Once he knew her history, he’d make some plans regarding her security and possibly theirs… Because, unlike Gabrielle, Valeria appeared to be alone in the world.

He might be all she had.