by Alisa Woods
Fuck. “Kiss me, and there will be blood. Not mine, either.”
The crazy on his face is blasted away by a smile. A bright shining smile that, fuck me, is beautiful on this insane, gorgeous man. He’s got me pinned to the floor, grinning like a lunatic, his hair mussed from the throw, with a shine of excitement in his eyes… and I’m thinking about how hot he is? Did I take a knock to the head? But suddenly, I’m not afraid of him. Like I should be. I really should be. He’s probably going to lock me up and kiss me. Or worse. Much worse. But he’s got this goofy, disarming look on his face now like he’s a little kid who just unlocked a hidden treasure box and discovered a pile of gold.
He eases off me and brings me with him, his iron grip on my wrist as he stands—as if I’m some rag doll he can haul around without thinking. I’ve never met someone with that kind of muscle—just raw, pure strength. The kind you get from lifting… something. Not weights. More like boulders. I don’t know where he carries it, either. His body seems muscular, but not body-builder territory. Besides, those guys are weak compared to the very surprising and totally unexpected, in many ways, Nikolais Lord.
“I thought you might say that,” he says, and I’ve almost forgotten what I said.
Oh, right—I threatened to bloody him. Smart.
He’s still got a lock on my wrist. “What’s your name?” He’s asking like we’ve just met at a coffee bar.
“Excuse me?” I’m uncertain where this is going.
He tilts his head and gives me a chastising look. “I’ll find out. This will just make it easier.”
On him? Or on me? Unclear. But we’re negotiating. Maybe. “Ember Dubois.” I hesitate, but since he’ll just look me up… “Reporter for World News. I’ve won a few awards. Pretty big deal, actually. People will notice if I disappear. They’ll come looking.”
The goofiness on his face slowly evaporates with my words. A dark scowl settles in.
Someone comes to the door behind me. The woman is back, and she’s brought a man with her—it’s the hot rich guy from downstairs who noticed my nametag. “What’s going on, Niko?”
“Take her to the dungeon.”
The fuck? I whip a look back to him.
He holds out his hand for the flash drive. I press my lips together and drop it in his palm. His friend suddenly looms behind me. He gives Lord a pinched look like he’s not quite sure of this plan, but when Lord finally releases my wrist, his goon just gestures me toward the door. I follow his unspoken command.
What the hell was I thinking, doing this on my own? I don’t have backup. No one will come looking for me. Well, my editor might miss me… a couple weeks from now. By then, I’ll be decomposing. Or trafficked. Which means I’ll be dead because I know me—I’ll fight my way out of that as long as I’m drawing breath.
I fucked this up so bad.
Two
Niko
“Are you sure it’s the mark?” Aleksandr asks.
“No, I’m not sure.” I scowl at him. “How could I be sure? Have you ever seen a mark in real life?”
“No.” Because of course, he hasn’t. It’s insanely rare.
I run both hands through my hair and glare at the door to the dungeon. It’s in the basement—a very well-lit and modern basement—and one of the few places in the lair where we actually can lock people up. The doors of the castle only lock from the inside—for privacy. Ms. Ember Dubois is in the kind of “restraint” you get out of with a safe word, but I’m not sure what’s really “safe” with a woman like her. It’s possible I’ve already screwed this up by handcuffing her to the wall—the panic in her beautiful amber-green eyes clawed at me the whole march down here and especially when she saw the room—but the less explanation, the better. At least until Aleks and I get a handle on this. And without her way-too-intelligent mind reading between the lines.
Because I’m lost in this. Failing once again as the leader I’m supposed to be.
Aleks is flipping through the pages of the Μύθος του Δράκου. The Mýthos tou Drákou is the only thing I rescued from the fire that consumed our home lair outside Athens two hundred years ago. Dragons are impervious to fire, but the fire that consumed our family and friends was no ordinary flame. By the time we returned, almost everyone was dead. We had little time to save anything and could only take what we could carry—my friends desolately searched for personal items, but I went straight for the book. The original text is ancient, far older than any dragon living even then, but this translation had modern Greek mixed with the original. Which was good because we were just kids then, barely twenty. None of us knew a damn thing, and we’d all slacked off when learning the lore. I was the only one who’d taken my Dragon Tongue studies seriously. The book is all we’ve had—all I’ve had—to guide an entire people. What’s left of one, anyway.
“I can’t find the part about the mark.” The frustration is making Aleks, my cousin who is really more of a brother to me, tear at the pages with uncharacteristic impatience.
It makes me flinch, so I just recite it. “The Dragon Spirited bear no outward sign, no mark or visage or color. You shall know them by their hearts when they open. Once in a hundred years, a Dragon Spirit of special destiny will bear the mark of the broken soul that lies within.”
Aleks stops and stares. “You memorized it?”
“Of course, I fucking memorized it.” I relieve him of the book and quickly turn to the page with the illustration. I give it back, but it’s clear to see—the same jagged half-circle, the mark of the broken soul, that Ember Dubois was apparently born with. “She has to be a Dragon Spirit.”
He’s still staring at the ancient illustration as if that will make it change into something else. He looks up. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”
“Really?” I sigh and rub my hand across my face, wiping away the urge to snarl. “You didn’t see her take me down. Or try to.” I could feel the dragon spirit inside her. But I don’t say this. It’s just a gut reaction, nothing real.
Aleks’s eyebrows hike up. “Did you kiss her?”
I glare at him. “She was fighting me.”
Then he dashes a look to the door. “Maybe I could—”
A growl surges up from deep in my chest. “Don’t even think about it.”
He looks at me like I’m insane. “You don’t know who she’s meant for. Or if she’s even Dragon Spirited at all.”
“She is.” It comes out harsh. I suck in a breath. “Aleks. My brother. We’ve got a situation here, and I need you to keep it in your pants long enough to help me.”
His expression scrunches up like he’s offended. No… hurt. “I’m trying, Niko.”
It stabs me through the heart. Because Aleks has had my back for two hundred years, through countless women, countless false hopes, and now one beautiful fiery spirit tangles with me in the den, and I’m biting his head off? He deserves better than that.
I shake my head and drop my gaze. “Sorry.”
“You like this one.” He’s back to the gentle spirit I’ve known all my life.
I give him a guilty sideways glance. I shouldn’t—that’s the unspoken rule of the lair. Every dragon gets a chance at a possible mate before me. Not because it matters—there’s only one match, one broken soul in all the universe that’s a dragon’s perfect other half—but it would be embarrassing to have your mate be the reject of the Lord of the Lair. It’s an old tradition, meant to soothe the egos of vain male dragons and keep the peace, but we’ve clung to the old traditions. Or rather I have—because it was all we had when everything else was taken from us.
Aleks lifts an eyebrow. “You’re fond of a woman who’s possibly stealing from us.”
“Now you’re back on point.” I rub my temple and shove away the guilt and the protocol. We’re in new territory here. “She’s a reporter for World News. And a good one.” It took all of ten seconds to verify her story. Pulitzer-prize-winning investigative journalist. Known for hard-hitting pieces out of war-
torn countries. “She’ll expose us. And you know we can’t afford that.” We’re barely hanging on as it is. More of us are dying every day.
“But if she’s a Dragon Spirit…” The hope is back in his eyes. And I can’t help but share it. “We haven’t had a new mating in twenty years. The men are losing hope. Even the young ones.”
“I know.” I rub my face with both hands again. “But if we bring her in—if we tell her everything—that could be the end of us.”
“You haven’t failed us yet, Niko.” He claps his hand on my shoulder. I know he means it. I know he believes it. But the truth is I’ve been failing them all from the beginning.
I pull in a breath and keep that to myself. No sense in shattering Aleks’s faith, even if it’s misplaced. “So… we’re agreed. We’ve got to tell her.”
“It’s got to be you.” His expression falls serious. “Fuck protocol. There’s no dragon in this lair I trust to romance a human more than you. And there’s too much riding on this.”
His words surge emotion through my chest. Excitement. Possessiveness. Because I already knew I couldn’t let any other dragon get close to her. That was clear the moment I had her underneath me in my den, sassy and outraged. But to hear the approval in Aleks’s voice relieves the guilt nipping at that sudden need to make her mine. She’s beautiful, strong, smart as hell—is that it? Because there’s no way to know if she’s my other half, not yet. Not without the kiss. Am I just being an asshole dragon who wants to hoard the most alluring treasure that’s walked through our doors in a decade? Probably.
I shove aside the doubts—no time for those. “Let’s do this.” I push open the door to the dungeon and stride in… only to nearly stumble over my own damn feet. Ember has somehow climbed to the top of the St. Andrew’s Cross that I’ve handcuffed her to—I only cuffed one hand, my obvious mistake—and she’s trying to break the cross by bracing her feet to the wall and prying the wooden cross free.
“Holy shit,” Aleks whispers, but it catches her attention.
She grimaces then gives one last, desperate shove with her bare feet—her flat shoes are lying on the floor—but the cross remains stubbornly attached. Then she swings down, and I see the pain flash across her face as her wrist contorts in the cuff. It’s leather, and the red marks on her skin show how much she’s abusing her body, trying to get free.
Fuck. I practically fly across the room, nearly shifting out wings, my need to reach her is so urgent. I vault over the edging bench and its various restraints and pin her cuffed hand to the wall. “What the hell are you doing?” I grab the chain that binds the cuff to the cross and rip it straight out of the wood.
Her eyes go wide as I step back. She cradles her injured wrist to her chest.
I want to go to her, comfort her, but I just grind out, “Aleks, the key.”
He hustles forward in a flash. She flinches away from him, so he just hands it over. She tries, but the damn lock is built to require two hands. Part of the kink, I guess. I’m not into the dungeon, and it’s strictly for play, but I’ve heard the devices can be a challenge. She makes a small sound of frustration, and I’m drawn forward like it’s a physical compulsion. She eyes me warily.
“Let me help.” I keep my voice soft. What was I thinking, leaving her like this? Without explanation? I’m worse than an asshole. That’s bordering on monstrous. All because I was indecisive. Another failure of leadership to add to the pile.
She tries the key again, then grimaces and offers up her wrist and the cuff. I make quick work and fling the offending hardware away. Her skin is red and raw.
“I didn’t mean for…” I wince. “Are you okay?”
“Fuck you and your little boy fantasies.” She’s pissed—and has every right to be—but I can hear the tremor of fear in those words she’s throwing at me.
Shame heats my face. “This is not my fantasy.” I flick a look at the broken wood, then back to her. “And I assure you I’m not a little boy in any sense.” Although I’m clearly a fool. “Please accept my apology for detaining you in this way. It was… thoughtless.” I grind my teeth with how accurate that is.
Her expression is wary again. “So, I’m free to go then.” She flicks a look at Aleks, who’s retreated halfway to the door.
“The question is, why were you here in the first place?”
She rubs her wrist and glares at me. Because I’m obviously not releasing her yet. The birthmark on her other wrist draws my attention. “I don’t know what you expected to find on my computer, but whatever it was…” I drag my gaze up to meet hers. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. But then I need your help.”
Her beautiful eyes light up, curiosity dousing the anger. “Help for what?”
“You first.” Somehow, I have to fix this mess. And I can start by giving her whatever she was seeking. Because it wasn’t to indulge in the weekly parties we throw, trying to bring in as many potential mates as we can.
Uncertainty clouds her face again.
“You’re a reporter.” I gesture for her to come sit with me on the edging bench. She’s having none of that, so I stay standing. “You were after something. A story. To be honest, looking at your credentials, I wouldn’t have figured you for covering high society social events. And I don’t know what dirt you expected to find on my hard drive.”
She narrows her eyes. “I was looking for my sister.”
My eyebrows lift. “On my computer?”
“She’s disappeared. Her planner said she was coming here.”
What? Could she have come through? Gotten recruited and passed on to one of the other lairs? I frown and twist to Aleks. He shrugs. I swing back to Ember. “Do you have a picture? We could check if anyone’s seen her.”
Her expression pinches in. “You’re serious.”
“If your sister is missing, I’d be more than happy to help you find her.”
The pinched look is still there. “Unless you trafficked her out already.”
My mouth drops open, and I’m momentarily speechless. I snap it closed. “So that’s what you think,” I say tightly. But everything clicks into place. I know the rumors—it’s impossible to avoid them, as much as we try to keep a low profile. Some women, once they enter our world, don’t want to go back. And then there are the women we rescue. That’s a lot of unexplained traffic through the castle—but not the human trafficking that Ember Dubois is apparently investigating.
“Is that a denial?” Ember lifts her chin, but her voice is cool. She thinks the worst of us—of me.
I step back. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe my fervent desire for salvation for my people is making me see solutions where there are only problems. I glance at Aleks, and he’s looking uncertain. “I’ve never held a woman against her will in my life,” I say to her. “Except you, briefly. And that was a mistake. Notwithstanding the fact that you were breaking into my office.” I swing my arm wide to the door. “You’re free to go.”
Her expression opens, and she blinks. Looks at the door. Hesitates. “You really haven’t seen my sister?”
I grimace. “Like I said, if you have a picture, I can—”
“She looks like me.”
“Something maybe a little more specific—”
“Exactly like me.” She plants her hands on her hips, suddenly not going anywhere. “We’re twins.”
Everything in me stills. “What did you say?”
“Identical twins. If you haven’t seen me before, then…” She stops at the look on my face.
I turn, wide-eyed, to Aleks. “Two of them.”
He’s shaking his head, fast. “Just because one is, doesn’t mean the other…” He frowns at her. “Your sister—does she have the birthmark?”
Ember’s face scrunches up with a What the fuck? look. “Okay, yes… for what it’s worth…”
Holy shit. Aleks is struggling for words, but I know just what to say. I turn back to Ember. “We will find your sister.” It’s a bit too intense, judging by the frea
ked look on her face.
“On second thought…” She slowly backs toward the door. “Maybe I’ll just go.”
“Ember, wait!” I lurch toward her, then stop as she tenses. This is getting away from me. “Please, just… if I tell you what’s really happening here, will you stay? Let us help you find your sister? All I ask is that you keep it out of the news. You’ll understand why once I explain.”
Her pinched look is fierce. But she’s not moving toward the door anymore. “I can’t make any promises.”
I look to Aleks, but this is all on me. The risk. The lives of everyone in the lair. I face Ember and say, “We’re dragons. All of us.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” She thinks I’m crazy. Of course.
So I transform in front of her.
Three
Ember
I stumble back, fall on my ass, and… just stay down.
Because a fucking dragon looms over me.
He’s big—he has to bend to fit in the room—and his body is like a small tank. The sound of his long tail swishing slowly along the carpet, nearly hidden from view, sends a full-body shudder through me. His black scales glisten, and the claws on his hands and feet, now elongated and deadly-looking, are at least six inches and curved at the tip. My brain is completely on auto-pilot, just staring at him. His serpentine neck lowers his bony-ridged head to my feet, eyes closed, like he’s… bowing to me. Only then do I see the wings—tucked against his back, folded like a bat’s and covered with the same ebony scales, but then… feathers at the tips? They blend with the scales, all black as midnight, and rustle slightly. I can’t figure out why they’re moving until I hear the slow and steady breath in and out of the dragon’s giant lungs.
A fucking dragon. Right in front of me.
Just when I think I should be screaming or running, he turns human. So fast that, had I blinked, I would have missed it. He’s standing on two legs again, only now he’s naked—and sporting a massive erection. He didn’t lie about the not little part. His clothes are in a pile on the floor. Somehow, I missed those when he was a dragon taking up half the room. But now that he’s a man again, I can’t take my eyes off him, either. The beautiful face is just the icing on top of a stunning Olympic-level-hot beefcake. Under all those fancy clothes, he’s made of pure muscle. And endowed… holy shit, it’s making my mouth water, which is not an appropriate reaction to the situation. It’s the same as back in his office when the intense maleness of him lapped heat all over my body.
