Free Dragon Fall: Masters of the Flame 3 (Mating Fever) by Elsa Jade

had been a long time. But the smith seemed to have forgotten too the proper address for a liege lord.
    Just as well Bale had other concerns today. He held out the enormous pearl.
    Pharos’ eyes opened almost that big. “The Moon of the Sea. There was a rumor Keats wrote a poem about it.” His gaze jerked to Bale. “Other rumor is, you ate Keats.”
    “No,” Bale said impatiently. “I ate the poem, not the poet. He died of a fever in the lungs, not dragonfire, and I claim all my kills.”
    Pharos tilted his head from one side to the other as he eyed the pearl without touching. “Why’d you bring it here? You owe the treasury nothing more than you’ve already given.”
    All the Nox Incendi dragonkin tithed to the clan treasure. Bale suspected he’d been missing in action long enough that he owed something. If only his presence.
    “The Moon was lost for a long time,” he said. “Think you can make something of it?”
    The dragonsmith grunted. “It’s perfect as it is.”
    “It has to be more than perfect. It needs to be…” A vision flickered in Bale’s memory of Esme, her head thrown back in the pleasure of her release. “The only one in existence.”
    Pharos took a square of cloth from his pocket and swiped the pearl from Bale’s palm. “Is that all? Well, why didn’t you say so?”
    “Let me know when it’s…” Bale pursed his lips as the other male strode off, holding the pearl ahead of him. “Done.”
    He received no answer.
    Yeah, he’d been gone too long.
    He wandered through the halls of the treasure room, resisting the urge to roll in the pools of coins. If he fell down, he might never get back up. Although being the centerpiece of the gleaming hoard wouldn’t be the worst way for a dragon to spend eternity.
    Except then he’d never see what the smith made of the pearl.
    Never see it on Esme.
    Breathing the old scents of metal and mineral and blood long turned to dust, Bale closed his eyes. Maybe he could find the strength to go on a little while longer.
    He left the treasury. Along the way, he encountered more of the dragonkin. All were in their upright forms, and all stepped aside unspeaking to let him pass, their eyes wide. Got a little weird, and he wondered if he had become a ghost haunting his own halls.
    He was almost relieved to retreat to his penthouse prison. At least there were no eyes—shocked, confused, worried, or subtly accusing—except for the still-glowing gemstones.
    And one pair of obsidian.
    Esme stood in the dark heart of his treasure.

Chapter 8
    There was no noise to warn her, but Esme sensed a presence behind her and twisted to face Bale. “It wasn’t like this before,” she said sharply.
    His gaze roamed the glimmering cavern before returning to settle on her. “You don’t like it? Is it not…beautiful to your eyes?”
    She swallowed and twisted her hands in the scalloped hem of her button-down white linen blouse. Did he sound hurt? But he was the one who’d left her passed out from pleasure in the big, empty bed. “No. It’s incredible.” She reclaimed her scowl. “You know that. But I already knew you were rich, since you’re—”
    “A dragon.” He looked away. The serpentine trail of gemstones embedded in the stone column glowed on the austere lines of his face.
    Making him even more damned amazing than the bedazzled cave.
    He was dressed in another outfit from some not-quite-right time with dark trousers and a loose shirt with laces across his chest. And that ridiculous yet valiant cape draped around his left shoulder. Like a cosplayer from a movie no one else had ever seen.
    That seemed…lonely to her, and her heart ached.
    She didn’t want to be bedazzled by him. She’d learned to be wary of everyone. Everyone wanted something, and since she had more than most—not of her own, but borrowed from others—people wanted more from her. She’d tried to give back, going to school for grant writing and volunteering at non-profits, but the well