Trent strode down the hallway. His mind focused upon the disquieting luncheon in Bath. He sighed. As usual, Lady Lichfield had spent the past twenty-four hours invoking the mystical cadence of a loon. It had done nothing but infuriate Simone. Her emotions were now in full charge. They’d returned from Bath, her feelings locked tightly away from his reach.

She insisted on spending time alone in her room. He decided to come clean about the entire prophecy, even the areas he was guessing at. If nothing else, it would ease her mind about his safety. The gray-uglies weren’t after him. There was nothing in any of the books regarding that.

Bath affected her. He didn’t understand what she felt, but he was certain it bordered the realm of terrifying. The need to dig beneath her skin and expose whatever it was that frightened her was driving him mad. He wasn’t thrilled that fate appeared to be in control at the moment, but he’d do whatever was required to keep Simone safe.

Knocking gently on the mahogany door, he waited impatiently for her to answer. He leaned against the jamb, crossing his arms, and tapping his foot. After what felt like an interminable amount of time, he knocked again.

“Bloody hell,” he swore at the offending barricade. He knocked one final time, and when it went unanswered, he was unable to prevent himself from trying the knob. It turned easily, and he pushed the door inward.

“Simone?” he whispered into the darkened space.

A quick scan confirmed the room was empty. A sudden blast of cold air slammed the door shut behind him. He walked over to a pair of French doors that stood open, their pale, sheer curtains blowing gently in the wind. Walking into the brisk night, he glanced around.

His step faltered and a rush of emotions held his breath at bay.

Simone was below.

She wore a silken nightgown that shimmered gold over every curve of her body. Within the inner gardens, her feet rested lightly upon thick grass. The scent of roses in full bloom tickled his nose.

Her arms rose to the stars, weaving a magical dance to her own silent song. She twirled beneath the moon, the image of a dragon floated around her, wrapping ethereal wings protectively about and mirroring Simone’s dance.

She was radiant beneath the emerald glow of the massive beast.

It was breathtaking.

It scared the hell out of him.

Goaded by fear, he raced down the steps and into the garden. She turned to face him.

“I can’t stop it,” she cried.

The transparent dragon stood behind, challenging him to interfere. It bellowed silently, whipping the air into a frenzied dust storm with the beat of its translucent wings.

Simone locked eyes with him.

Solid gold spheres flashed across the distance, piercing his heart.

He sucked in sharply as another pair of gold orbs forced themselves within his line of vision. The ghostly dragon radiated power. Her luster growing stronger with each step he took forward.

“Simone,” he bellowed against the din of the wind.

“Mine,” a hiss escaped the dragon spirit.

“Simone,” he raged. “Lock her away.”

“How? How do I do that?” She was fading into the mists as the dragon took form.

The vision wavering before him lay in blatant testimony to the existence of the powerful legend. This was his destiny. His heart lurched as he realized what needed to be done, what fate demanded.

“Simone,” he said. Her name stolen from his lips by the wind.

He was her soul mate, the one man that could balance the power of the dragon.

It was his legacy to temper the essence of the beast by claiming Simone as his own. Branding her heart with his love, forcing the spirit back to its lair. It was why he was born.

To protect her.

To protect the power.

A stab of regret pierced his heart. In sudden clarity, Trent realized why he had denied himself full understanding of his destiny. This woman had woven herself into his heart, empowering his love. But it was nothing more than fate’s hand at work. She wasn’t truly his.

The dragon lay like a shadow within Simone, waiting…counting the seconds until her vulnerability fed life to its force. How foolish he’d been to ignore all the facts, ignore the path that led him here tonight. If he’d bothered to gaze as deeply into her eyes as she had his, Trent would have known.

He would have seen the inevitable, recognized the futility of honest love. His fortune had been cast more than a thousand years before.

“Trent,” Simone called. “I can’t fight her.”

“Don’t fight, love.” He stepped before her and gathered her within his arms. The power of the ethereal spirit burned his soul. “You need to accept her. We need to accept her.”

The dragon faded slightly, rising above them, and spreading her wings in an emerald umbrella. She bent her neck around and speared him with one golden eye. He ignored her, focusing on Simone.

She was resplendent in the light of her dragon, her eyes flashing gold, reflecting the luster of her gown. He smiled softly.

Trent didn’t know what the future held, or what he could offer her. But he swore silently to the creature above, he’d show Simone what his heart felt–even if it was only what destiny decreed. He’d love her until her mind was dizzy and her heart beat for him, and him alone.

Lowering his head, his lips claimed what his soul desired. She trembled beneath his touch. He held her close, and whispered in her ear.

“You are mine.”