by Starla Night
Kyan had.
He shouldered away from the espresso machine and assumed his seat as Mal called the meeting to order. “First order of business: The next product launch.”
On the wall screen at their subsidiary company, Pyro cleared his throat. “That’s not what my agenda says.”
“What?”
Cheryl slipped a piece of paper in front of her husband.
Mal glared down at the paper. “I am the CEO!”
“And the agenda is typically drawn by the vice president,” Pyro drawled on the screen.
When he’d been vice president of the Onyx Corporation, he’d missed most of the meetings partying or sleeping off a weekend’s excesses in jail, leaving Mal to sole control.
“Fine,” Mal growled. Cheryl drew his attention to the first line of business. “Today’s most important first topic is … Aristocratic Dragon Safety in a Non-Shifter, Human-Filled Office.”
“Yes.” Chrysoberyl cleared his throat imperiously and glared at Kyan. “What has been done about the attacks against my person?”
Kyan’s gaze flicked to Syenite. Standing behind Chrysoberyl like a silent sentry at the wall, the male’s shaded expression was impossible to read.
Was there a connection between the contraband medkits and Chrysoberyl’s attack? Had Kyan’s own office been penetrated by the lizard alien cult?
No.
The medkits had been sold off by a dragon family. Most likely, the Tourmalines.
The attacks on Chrysoberyl had utilized dragon military weapons. The Tourmaline family should not have access to weapons, much less dare to sell them without Palace approval. Therefore, Kyan’s security measures at the Onyx Corporation had not been breached by cultists.
They had been breached by another dragon.
Every hour, Syenite appeared more and more responsible. But his background did not disclose why.
“The investigation continues,” Kyan said shortly.
His siblings turned to their agendas, used to his short non-answers.
“What does that mean?” Chrysoberyl demanded. “Have you identified the perpetrator? Have you safe-guarded this building against the villains who wish to do me harm?”
“Yes.”
His mouth dropped open and closed. “Then … why haven’t the villains been brought to justice?”
Syenite’s gaze burned him like a laser.
“It’s under control.” He sipped his latte. The coffee’s tasty black gold flavor dissolved on his tongue.
The aristocrat looked deeply unhappy.
“Moving on,” Mal barked, finger on the next item but not reading it, “the product launch!”
Cheryl choked.
He stared at their faces, then actually looked at the agenda. “How is that not the second most important item of business today?”
A small smile curved her lips. “You would think that.”
The second order of business was the Empress’s marriage proposal. Mal chewed it in his mouth and spit it at Kyan. “Well? Have you scheduled a video conference with the Palace or found a suitable female to marry? You would fare no better than Pyro or I as the Empress’s consort.”
Chrysoberyl gasped. “Are you really so stupid as to turn down marriage from the Empress?”
The siblings ignored him.
Yes, the Empress was the most powerful female dragon in the entire Empire. She was also centuries old and, when her last consort had angered her, she’d chewed off his arm.
Kyan had no intention of accepting her proposal.
But he was also no fool.
His siblings did not need to know his plan. Not until long after he executed it. Possibly never.
“It is under control,” he said again.
The others regarded him silently.
Amber looked like she hoped rather than believed his words were true.
Mal looked down at the agenda, silently taking Cheryl’s hand in his own. On the screen, Pyro rubbed his bandaged chest. Both had avoided dismemberment by a furious, possibly senile female’s teeth.
Cheryl smiled up at Mal and spoke softly. “Now it’s the product launch.”
He gazed at her lovingly like she’d personally given him a gift. “Finally. Chrysoberyl! Where are your proposals?”
While the aristocrat sputtered and made excuses, Cheryl blushed a deep color and rested her free hand on her belly. Barely a month along, she already carried Mal’s dragonlet.
He linked their hands as he blasted the aristocrat.
Cheryl was the only one who never seemed to mind Mal’s rampages. She closed her eyes as if she found his barked orders restful.
Mal wouldn’t have lasted a day in the Palace. Too blunt, too direct, and he didn’t pull his punches for those who were “higher” than him. Cheryl’s attraction was a miracle.
One that Kyan would never experience.
Laura’s soft smile forced itself into his mind again, and the almost-uncontrollable pulse of longing crashed over him. He tightened his hands into fists and allowed his claws to extend, threatening to pierce his skin.
He had no right to Laura. He had no right to love, comfort, or his own family. Protecting his siblings was his only mission. Pleasure, anticipation for dragonlets, and the peace of having a lair filled with happiness were not rewards for a brutalized, blackened soul such as his.
As they neared the end of their meeting, a signal from Draconis arrived with primary importance. Kyan silently approved it and cut Mal off mid-sentence.
“Our mother is calling,” he announced.
“Now?” Mal frowned at the wall screen opposite Pyro’s.
It hissed and their mother’s face appeared.
Her long dragon snout dangled with gemstones and her scales shimmered in the red light of the Outer Rim. She focused on her adult dragonlets with a yawn.
“These time differences are so disagreeable.” Fuzz gargled her words. “Kyanite. The emissary from the Empress would like to know if you will require their transport to reach your engagement party.”
His siblings stared at him in horror.
Using the Empress’s transport had factored into his original plans, but because of the unsolved attacks on Pyro and Chrysoberyl, he now needed to stay on Earth longer. He had to finish his investigation and be certain there would be no further victims.
“I do not,” he said.
His siblings breathed a collective sigh.
They cared. He’d had difficulty accepting them in the beginning, when Mal had first approached and convinced him to stablish a business on a no-name little planet called “Earth.” But after five years of working together with his siblings, he knew their caring was real.
He would be sorry to give them up. But he had no choice. The harsh, solitary coldness of space waited.
His siblings would survive his loss. He had ensured they would remain safe even after he was long gone.
“Do you not need the Empress’s transport because you have found a human female to marry?” his mother asked.
He hedged. Saying yes would give him the extra time, but he hated to lie. “There are complications.”
“Complications? Such as?”
Under his breath, Chrysoberyl snorted. “His face.”
Two seats down from the aristocrat, Amber’s claws extended and dug into the thick conference table. Across from her, Alex and then Jasper also extended their claws in silent warning.
A show of loyalty.
Their protectiveness stuck Kyan with uncomfortable pins behind his chest. He looked away. Getting strafed by shadowed enemies hadn’t given him this kind of anxiety.
Actually, it would be a relief to escape from them all. Yeah. A relief.
Although his mother hadn’t heard, she focused on Kyan with clear-eyed belief. “Your scars do not make you unlovable.”
The pins burrowed deeper.
He sucked in a breath against the pain. Like when Laura had touched his scars, his mother’s gentleness made him vulnerable
in a way he couldn’t fight. The urge to flee boiled up, overwhelming. He gripped the conference table.
“You are very attractive. You are a beautiful human and an attractive dragon.”
This … he couldn’t …
“And I will tell that to your female also,” his mother continued, imperious, “and there will be no more complications. You will introduce her to me immediately.”
He somehow found his voice. “Yes.”
“Good. Then, my second reason for calling … You, there. You must be Chrysoberyl.” Their mother focused on the suddenly squirming aristocrat. “I heard from your aunt, my dear friend Ferocia Carnelian, that you are nearly as bright as little Sard.”
His cheek muscles twitched. “Little?”
Truly, only a female dragon would call Chrysoberyl’s older brother, the dominant heavyweight male Sard, “little.”
“We’re all expecting great accomplishments from you. Especially now you’ve partnered with my dragonlets.” She fanned herself. “You may know that I’m expecting to become a grand dragon any day now.”
“Con-congratulations,” he choked.
“Indeed. I will have so many grand dragonlets even Ferocia will turn red. The Empress herself has proposed to three of my dragonlets as you know. I’m certain you will become a credit to our families and earn a marriage proposal from a highly placed female as well. At least as high as the female marrying your brother.”
His teeth gritted. “At least.”
“So enjoy your play time in my dragonlet’s company. Ferocia and I look forward to your advancement. As I’m sure do your mother and dear little Sard.”
She ended the conversation.
The meeting wound to a close. Mal reviewed the agenda one last time.
“Then,” Mal declared, “if there are no further product proposals, we will conduct test audiences on the three outfits I have—”
“No.” Chrysoberyl gripped the table. His furious gaze nailed on Mal. “I will prepare my proposal for tomorrow.”
“You’ve already had—”
“Tomorrow,” he repeated, growling. “You will not be sorry.”
Mal’s brows slowly lifted with grudging respect. “Tomorrow.”
The aristocrat rose and stalked from the conference room. Syenite moved like a ghost after his shadow.
The others rose more slowly.
Finally, it appeared Chrysoberyl would stop focusing on the position he felt he deserved and instead focus on contributing to the company. Their mother had sorted him out.
Kyan followed his siblings from the conference room.
Alex fell into step beside Kyan. “When you have time, I would like to discuss something with you.”
“I have time.”
“At the moment, I do not.” Alex passed Chrysoberyl’s office. His two-tone gaze, lavender and turquoise, narrowed on Syenite. “It is only a hunch … at a later time, I would like to review the security footage of the explosion in the office.”
“Any time.”
“And of the emergency room attack.”
“I will acquire it.”
Alex glanced at him with a raised brow.
The Director refused to hand over the tapes from three days ago. Kyan therefore snuck his own security-bypassing collection mechanisms into place. He had the footage; he simply hadn’t collected it from the hospital yet.
The reason for his reluctance was something he did not want to analyze.
“What do you expect to see?” he asked.
Alex hesitated on the threshold of his office. “I am not certain.”
“But?”
“But if it was targeted, truly, at the aristocrat, the attempt was made by a poor assassin.”
Kyan had considered the placement of the flechette bomb after Chrysoberyl had left the room to be luck.
Underestimating his enemy was deadly.
The assassin could have expected Chrysoberyl to return. And the weapon used was deviously clever because it would have waited, hidden in plain sight, until another dragon had walked close enough to trigger its proximity field. And that other dragon could have been Chrysoberyl.
But Alex suggested a different conclusion. “You believe the target was someone else?”
His lips thinned. He had not come to any certain conclusions.
The only other person in the room had been Laura.
His blood pressure rose and darkness seeped into his field of vision.
No. Impossible.
He suddenly needed to know her exact location.
But he had not placed a tracker on her. Unlike the trackers secretly embedded in all his siblings — on all those he cared about — he had not placed one on her.
Pyro’s tracker had informed Kyan the instant Pyro disappeared from his sight, even though he hadn’t been close enough to stop the kidnapping or subsequent torture. But he’d known. As he would know if anything happened to any of them.
Except Laura.
Alex checked his gold wristwatch. “Excuse me. I have research and development.”
Which was code for wining and dining future suppliers.
Alex had first brought Darcy into their company. He was an expert at making connections but not at keeping them. Only Darcy had latched onto Pyro, Mal, and Jasper and become like one of their siblings.
Darcy had a tracker.
Kyan strode to the building’s tactical operations room. His first intention had been to review the footage of the office attack, but he’d seen it many times already.
Alex’s statements gnawed on his mind.
Was Laura a target?
His stomach acid burned.
Logically, she could not be a target. She did not have stellarium in her blood to activate the grenade.
And no one could wish a sunshine-filled, open-hearted, beautiful female such as Laura harm.
There is great evil in the universe.
No.
He was misled by his desires. His hunger to see her — to remove all their clothing, bare their bodies and souls, and mate her — had taken control of his brain in an insidious new way. It twisted his thinking.
Laura was not and would never be a target.
The only way she would ever be in danger was if he did put a tracker on her. Yielding to his desire to possess her — to claim her, to become one with her — that would be the true danger.
The scars on the outside only masked deeper ugliness inside. A dragon with a soul as black as his would poison her. Strangle her sunshine until she, too, descended into darkness.
He had to know her location. Now.
Kyan hacked into the hospital computers using the back door he’d long ago established. He reviewed her schedule, confirming what he’d already memorized. Her next shift started soon.
He’d collect his footage from the hospital tomorrow morning. After her shift ended and she’d left.
She was not a target.
He reviewed alerts he’d skipped while devoting himself entirely to the attacks.
This would be easier if he had a team. Even one other person he trusted could monitor his feeds, glimpse the total scope of his investigations, and smartly intervene.
But he trusted no one.
His own employees received assignments. Short, sweet. No one saw the full picture.
That was the only way to remain safe.
He tracked the movements of the lizard alien cultists, especially those most likely to move in the Portland/Vancouver area, and updated his database. Then, he visited their secret forums.
A post from two days ago stopped him cold.
“This is the new face of betrayal,” the post read. “In a hospital helping the lizard aliens take over our brains. Here’s her name, address, and work. Go get her!”
The picture of their newest victim was Laura.
Chapter Eight
Laura was having a hard time finding her morning sunshine.
Especially since it was nearly six in the evening, she’d had to
scramble for the bus and run across the hospital campus to reach her locker on time, and now all she wanted to do was catch her breath, wipe her sweat, and finish tying her shoe covers on before checking in with Sabrina and Galina for the night’s assignments.
“Carelessness is a trait a nurse absolutely cannot allow,” Dr. Richard said imperiously, standing way too close to the door of the women’s locker room for his lecture. “Neglecting the brakes on your car is how people die.”
She finished the tie, straightened, and jammed her hair under her cap, trying to count to ten without crying.
“Are you listening to me?” he demanded. “Or do I need to come in there?”
Laura did not need this lecture right now. If she didn’t get all the way to ten, there was a chance she might channel her brusque roommate, Whitney, and give Dr. Richard a real piece of her mind.
Luckily, he waited until she reached nine. “Laura?”
She bolted to her feet and stormed out. “You can’t come in here. This is the women’s locker room.”
“Like a woman’s body is nothing I’ve seen before,” he said, managing to sound suggestive and annoying in the same sentence. “Any time you need an exam, Laura, you know who to see.”
Gross.
She sucked in a breath.
Behind him, Galina strode down the hall. She subtly shook her head, both a warning to Laura not to lose her patience and a shot of empathy for having to deal with this thought-he-was-flirting-or-something doctor.
She gritted her teeth. “I’m perfectly satisfied with my primary care physician, thanks.”
“Obviously he’s not doing his job.” Dr. Richard grabbed her ungloved hands and held them up. “These are the careless hands that neglected basic car maintenance, crashed your car, and caused you to be late.”
She desperately searched for a clock. “I’m not—”
“And these shouldn’t touch patients until you clear your head.” He had the gall to appeal to her preceptor. “Right, Galina?”
Galina remained stone-faced. “Laura is needed in my rooms.”
He released her. “We’ll see how long she lasts.”
His doubt hurt. She wanted to swear at him as he walked away.
Galina looked at Laura without mercy. She wore her professional face and it was sometimes hard for her to switch modes, so Laura didn’t take it personally. “Your car broke down?”
