The Witch Thief (Harlequin Nocturne) Read Free Page A

sick that the chalice was missing, but we were too caught up trying to cure his illness, then with my son, find his killer. When all we needed to do was retrieve the chalice.” He paused. “Or you. All you need to do is retrieve the chalice.”
Of course.

Chapter 2
     
T he cavern was dark and cool. Joarr hadn’t bothered to bring a working light. He could see in the dark almost as well as in the day. He tucked the folded note into his pants pocket and held up the lantern. Amma had made no sound, given no sign she was inside, not since Rike had left. He wondered what she had heard, if she was rejoicing in the pain she had caused him, could cause him still.
Before leaving, the dragon lieutenant had reminded Joarr of his taxes and added a threat. If Joarr didn’t find the chalice and bring it back, the Ormar would take everything. Joarr’s home would be burned, his treasure taken and the entrance to his cavern sealed. He would be exiled.
Exiled dragons became wyrms, brainless bipedal creatures unable to shift to any other form, unable to do anything besides feed the hunger that blazed inside them. Greed for food, power and treasure consumed them.
The witch and her tricks had brought Joarr to this.
He moved to the back of the first room, past his treasure, which still lay in the pile as it had when he’d discovered Amma’s pilfery. The rounded grooves where her breasts had brushed over the gold were still visible. He could probably still smell her there, too, if he would allow himself to get that close. But he wouldn’t. The sight and scent last time had sent him into a rage. He wouldn’t fall victim to that again. No, this time he would deal with Amma and her treachery the same way she had dealt with him—with cold calculation.
In the back was a narrow passageway, barely wide enough for him in his human form. It led to a bigger room, one he rarely visited, one saved for only the things he truly treasured…didn’t just feel the dragon-obsession to own. The room was empty aside from a six-foot-long table and the cloth-covered form that lay on top of it.
Amma’s lantern held over his head as if the object were actually emitting light, he jerked the cloth from the table. A gasp sounded from the lantern. It began to vibrate.
Joarr smiled. Amma had seen a ghost…herself.
Her body. The new rulers of Alfheim—a hellhound and the elf princess whose body Amma had shared for a while—had sent him Amma’s form. She had been separated from it not long after she had stolen his chalice. She’d gone to Alfheim, apparently in search of family, but been turned away. According to stories, she became crazed and with the help of her sisters, attacked the elves. The elves had been unable to destroy her, but they had managed to separate her spirit from her body. Her body had been kept in Alfheim while her spirit had been locked in a vessel and sent to the in-between land of Gunngar.
Gunngar…where he had been trapped, too. He and Amma both had been prisoners there for one hundred years. She locked in a gemstone, he locked in his dragon form. He’d dreamed of the day he would see her again and seek his revenge, but now that the day was here, revenge was the least of his concerns.
He needed his chalice, and while Rike had provided him with the note, he knew simply following its directions would be foolhardy. He needed more information—like what Amma had done with the cup all those years ago.
He ran the backs of his fingers over the witch’s still, cool cheek and shook his head at the irony of her appearance. “You are a beauty. Deceptively innocent-looking with your golden hair and blue eyes. What color do they call that? Cornflower, I believe. Just a hint of purple if I remember correctly. And big…angelic, except in bed. Then they crackled with life…your true nature showing through. Wicked little thing that you are.” His hand hovered over her face, his thumb brushing over her lips.
“According to Rike and what I’ve