Heart of the Dragon Read Online Free

first man to make Darius lose his temper, wins.”
    “I do not—” Darius began, but Madox spoke over him, his rough voice laden with excitement.
    “And just what does the winner gain?”
    “The satisfaction of besting us all,” Brand replied. “And a beating from Darius, I’m sure.” He offered them a languid shrug and leaned back in the velvet cushions of his chair. He propped his ankles on the tabletop. “But I swear by the gods every bruise will be worth it.”
    Eight sets of eyes swung in Darius’s direction and locked on him with unnerving interest. Weighing options. Speculating. “I do not—” he began again, but just like before he was silenced.
    “I like the sound of this,” Tagart interjected. “Count me in.”
    “Me, too.”
    “And me, as well.”
    Before another man could so easily ignore him, Darius uttered one word. Simple, but effective. “No.” He swallowed a tasteless bite of fowl, then continued with the rest of his meal. “Now, tell me more of the vampires’ doings.”
    “What about making him smile?” Facing Brand, Madox shoved eagerly to his feet and leaned over the table. “Does that count? It’s a show of emotion and as rare as his temper.”
    “Absolutely.” Brand nodded. “But there must be a witness to the deed, or no winner can be declared.”
    One by one, each man uttered, “Agreed.”
    “I will hear no more talk of this.” When had he lost control of this conversation? Of his men? “I—”Darius snapped his mouth closed. His blood was quickening with darkness and danger, and the hairs at the base of his neck were rising.
    The mist prepared for a traveler.
    Resignation rushed through him and on the heels of that was cold determination. He eased up, his chair skidding slightly behind him.
    Every voice tapered to silence. Every expression became curious.
    “I must go,” he said, the words flat, hollow. “We will discuss a tournament of sword skill when I return.”
    He attempted to stride from the room, but Tagart leapt up and over the table and swiveled in front of him. “Does the mist call you?” the warrior asked, casually leaning one arm against the door frame and blocking the only exit.
    Darius gave him no outward reaction. But then, when did he ever? “Step out of my way.”
    Tagart arched an insolent brow. “Make me.”
    Someone snickered behind him.
    With or without his approval, it seemed the game had already begun. This wasn’t like his men. They must be more bored than he’d thought.
    Darius easily lifted Tagart by his shoulders and tossed the stunned man aside, slamming him into the far wall. He thudded to the floor in a gasping heap. Without facing the others, Darius asked, “Anyone else?”
    “Me,” came an unhesitant and unrepentant reply. A blur of black leather and silver knives, Madoxrushed to stand at his side, watching him intently, gauging his reaction. “I want to stop you. Does that make you angry? Make you want to scream and rail at me?”
    An unholy light entered Tagart’s eyes as he scrambled to his feet. He curled his fingers around the hilt of a nearby sword and stalked to Darius, his motions slow and deliberate. Never once pausing to consider the stupidity of his actions, he pointed the razor-sharp tip of the blade at Darius’s neck.
    “Would you show fear if I vowed to kill you?” the infuriated man spat.
    “That’s taking things too far,” Brand growled, joining the growing group around him.
    A drop of blood slithered down Darius’s throat. The nick should have stung, but he felt nothing, not a single sensation. Only that ever-present detachment.
    No one realized his intentions. One moment Darius stood still, seemingly accepting of Tagart’s assault, but the next he had his own sword unsheathed and directed at Tagart’s neck. The man’s eyes widened.
    “Put your weapon away,” Darius told him, “or I will kill you where you stand. I care not whether I live or die, but you, I think, care greatly for your own