by Starla Night
“It’s in the shop. The brakes should be fixed by my next shift.”
Although, Dr. Richard was a little right about needing to clear her head. Laura couldn’t afford another distracted shift like three days ago. She sucked in a breath and let it out, striving to release the fears and focus on the job.
She’d been backing out of her spot slowly like always when the brakes had failed. Her sedan had rolled at the terrifying pace of one mile per hour backward until it had gently bumped her neighbor’s trash cans and dinged the paint.
The tow truck driver later asked why she hadn’t shifted back to Drive or, at that speed, Park.
Duh.
It had been the stupidest mistake ever, all because she’d lost her cool and been unable to deal with the emergency, and now it was going on her insurance.
Kyan wouldn’t have made a mistake like that. Neither would the other doctors and nurses. Capable people didn’t make dumb errors. Why did she think she could be a nurse?
Galina asked her outright. “You neglected the brakes?”
“Last week there was a little squeak, but I swear it didn’t feel spongy.”
“Are you okay today?”
Honestly, she didn’t know. “Sure.”
“Then let’s go.”
Laura tried to stow her distraction and concentrate on her patients.
Ever since Kyan had rejected her and the Director had yelled, things had gone wrong.
That first morning, kids had thrown a bottle rocket through her window. Whitney had chased the car but even a semi-pro athlete couldn’t catch it once it got on the main street, and Tyler had given them both a hard time for missing the license plate.
The next day, still a little paranoid from the bottle rocket, she’d felt like shady people were following her around taking her picture. The apartment had been unusually quiet with everyone at work, so she’d visited her parents. They always had guests. She’d spent the day with out-of-town cousins and a German foreign exchange student and returned feeling a million times better.
But when she’d gotten home, Neve was washing graffiti and rotten eggs from their front door.
“I sprang a pop quiz on my upper 200 class.” Neve wiped her face. The rotten sulfur smell clung. “You’d think college sophomores would be above this behavior.”
Then came the incident with her brakes. And Dr. Richard, like an angel of irritation, practically pushing his way inside the women’s locker room to make his point.
Laura rubbed her temples.
Today, she just needed to get through her shift. Not overstep. Not treat someone she wasn’t supposed to treat. Not come on to any of patients.
Not that she ever did. Her patients arrived at the ER during their worst nightmares. They didn’t feel sexy and neither did she.
Kyan was just…
…another regret.
And she needed to stop thinking about him during lulls. This busy—
“Laura!”
She jolted. Please do not let her have spaced anything important. “Yes!”
Galina glared. “I asked if you were done with that patient summary yet.”
She looked down at the clipboard in her hands. Flu patient complaining of kidney pains that went away with rehydration. “Yes. Almost. What is it?”
“A patient in Room 2 is asking for you.”
Her heart throbbed. That was the room where she’d treated Kyan. Where he’d saved her life.
Galina wrecked her fantasies. “We think it’s a psych eval.”
Great. A patient with psychiatric problems was asking for her? By name?
“Why me?”
“Who knows?” Galina checked her watch. “Serge will observe.”
Serge was another RN. Room 2 was his tonight, and since Laura was the expendable nursing student, he’d make the final call about treatment.
Her stomach growled.
No time to eat.
She nodded to Serge as she entered Room 2.
Their patient, a scruffy young male, looked twitchy. And unfamiliar. She’d treated a lot of patients, but couldn’t have forgotten one like this.
“Can I help you?”
He twitched. “You’re Laura?”
Maybe he’d meant to call for someone else. “Yes?”
“Laura Jamison?”
Less of a coincidence. “Yes?”
He reached under his coat and shook something loose, scratching like he had a bad itch. “Betr—mhph.”
She glanced at Serge. The RN was frowning.
“I’m sorry?” she said.
“Betrayer,” the nameless patient enunciated, and swung a knife.
The blade arced in front of her face, missing her by a good foot.
She jerked back and screamed.
Serge beat her into the hallway. “Security!”
The twitchy man lunged at her again. The knife missed her by several feet.
She scrambled down the hall after Serge. Men and women ran to her aid.
“He has a knife!” she gasped.
Striding down the hall, deadly calm, trench coat flying, was Kyan.
He was coming to save her.
Guards and other nurses swarmed the hall. Pushing through them, she stumbled to Kyan.
His gaze flicked beyond her to the psych patient.
Oh.
Kyan was not coming to save her. He’d probably happened upon this scene on his way elsewhere. Subduing a maniac was easy for him and nothing to do with her…
His protective arms closed around her.
She hit his chest. It was like a solid wall.
Rescue.
The rejection, the confusion, and her doubts evaporated. Kyan offered his protection. She sheltered in his arms.
The twitchy man threw off the guards with the unnatural strength of the truly insane. He screamed and lunged. His blade arced for her chest.
Kyan lifted his arm.
The blade sliced through his trench coat and slammed into blue scales. It bent as though striking rock.
The man lifted the warped blade to stab again.
Guards grappled him once more. The knife twisted out of his hand. He landed face-down. The guards and nurses subdued him.
Thank goodness.
Kyan’s blue-scaled arm protected her. His solid chest warmed her back and held her up.
She leaned against him.
Everything would be al—
He pulled away.
Oh!
“Excuse me.” She straightened, flushing hot. How many times would she assume too much and drive him away?
He curled one powerful hand around her wrist. “Come with me.”
She followed him down the hall, away from the incident, to the elevator.
The sliced sleeve of his trench coat flapped.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
The elevator opened and more security guards ran out.
He pulled her into the now empty elevator, released her wrist, and swiped her badge across the controls. He pressed the button for the roof. “Yes.”
She parted the slit fabric of his sleeve. Scales glittered like blue glass. They receded under his human skin. Unblemished male with a dusting of dark hair the same color as on his head greeted her exploratory fingertips.
“You’re not hurt.”
The razors had cut deeply into his dragon scales and shifted to human had exacerbated the damage.
“The flechette grenade was a dragon weapon,” he said, as though reading her thoughts. “This knife was human.”
Suddenly, her heart thumped double-time in her chest. Her hands felt like ice and she couldn’t get her breath. She shuddered. The elevator swam before her fuzzing vision.
Shock. Ordinary, non-lethal, sympathetic shock.
She would not faint.
But she might like to sit down.
“First my car,” she gasped. “Before that, my apartment window. Now, a stabbing. This has been a terrible week.”
The elevato
r doors opened onto the roof. Wind howled across the blinking helicopter pad. She wove after Kyan across the rough concrete and stumbled.
He pulled her against his firm chest.
That was exactly what she needed.
She buried her face in his male-scented undershirt.
Everything was fine. Her reaction was normal.
Laura wasn’t the first nurse to be attacked by a psych eval and she wouldn’t be the last. Not every hospital had metal detectors. Patients could turn violent with a number 2 pencil.
Violence was rare.
Kyan was here.
She was fine.
He drew his trench coat around her for warmth.
“Thank you.”
“Hold on.” He rocketed them into the night.
Her heart rate rocketed at the same acceleration. She shrieked. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you somewhere safe.”
Well, if she was flying across Portland, then she was definitely not at risk of another stabbing. So that was a relief.
Her tennis shoes dangled over the twinkling city. Without a parachute or any sort of safety harness. And she still had to file an incident report.
They floated so very, very high.
Fear sliced her shaky calm to ribbons.
She whimpered. “Please be careful.”
He pressed her head to his broad shoulder. “Close your eyes.”
She obeyed.
With her eyes closed she could concentrate on the sensations of being held safe in his arms.
His iron quadriceps heated her trembling thighs. His pectorals hardened beneath her swelling breasts. His arm snugged her close, pressing her throbbing female center intimately against his tapered male waist. She knew exactly where the belt ended and his hard muscle began.
As her heart rate slowed, new awareness slivered into her with hot arousal.
She should really return to work.
But she didn’t want to.
Nestling in his arms after her shock felt even better than three days ago. Even better than her hot shower fantasies. She’d never been so safe and protected.
Oh well. No fantasy lasted forever.
Laura opened her eyes.
Endless white snow shimmered below.
She was not in Portland anymore.
They flew over a vast wilderness. In the distance, a majestic mountain posed against a pale sky as though they’d passed time zones and reached one going into dawn.
Laura clutched Kyan. “Where are we?”
“Somewhere safe.”
He zoomed to the mountain. Off one of the side peaks, deep in a blue crevasse, a stone fortress emerged. He aimed for the roof.
A tiny slot opened in one crenelated tower. He sped rocket-fast and the slot grew in size like the rest of the fortress. It was a trap door wide enough for several of him.
They whooshed in, descending past blinking-on lights illuminating mysterious electronics. It was like falling into Batman’s cavern.
Overhead, the slot closed.
Kyan came to a rest on the stone floor and released her. She rocked on her tennis shoes.
He strode to a door. A small light flashed across his retinas. The door opened.
Glacial chill made her shiver.
She hugged her elbows and hurried after the burning hot dragon who had apparently been warming her like a yummy personal heater.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
He strode inside.
The stone carried on throughout multiple floors and unfurnished rooms. As he crossed each corridor, lights blinked on. In a main room, a huge fire sprang to life in the fireplace, throwing heat across the cold stones like a flamethrower.
“Hey.” She caught Kyan’s elbow.
He looked down at her hand, then finally at her face. “You are in danger. Here, you will be safe.”
“In danger?”
“An anti-dragon cult outed you for assisting us. Some cult members harassed you. Tonight, one sought your death.”
The strange accidents of the past week — the bottle rocket thrown through her window, Neve’s “disgruntled student” graffiti, and the failure of the brakes in her car — returned with new, sinister meaning.
Her hands trembled.
She sucked in a deep breath and struggled to keep her voice even. “Somebody wants to hurt me? For doing my job?”
“Treating dragons is not your job.”
“Bob said the same thing.”
“The Director?”
“I wasn’t supposed to treat you or Chrysoberyl. But how would I know? I’ve never denied a treatment.”
His eyes narrowed.
“And now somebody else feels the same way.” She hugged her elbows, cold despite the warmth of the crackling fire. “What should I do?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you are safe.”
Sure, at this exact moment, she was safe. She didn’t know where she was so how could her stalkers?
Kyan crossed the barren rooms.
She wandered after him, gazing over the elaborate stone work. “What is this place?”
“My lair.”
It was spare and harsh. Just like his soul.
She rubbed one elbow. “Kind of empty.”
He waved a scarred palm across an empty counter. The counter flipped over, again like something out of Batman’s cave, to reveal a pantry and a faucet.
“Whoah,” she said.
“There is food. Water.”
He strode to the next room. A large bed faced a smoldering fireplace.
“Shelter.”
She landed in the doorway just as he brushed past her, leaving again.
The bed was huge and inviting. Perfect for lying together, watching the fire crackle, and sharing a sweet kiss.
Need twisted in her feminine center.
How intimate, to be carried off across the world by a powerful dragon shifter.
Laura turned. “Kyan...”
He’d returned to the external door and now leaned into the eye scanner. The door opened. He strode out.
She raised her voice. “Hey, where are you going?”
“You are safe.” His voice faded as though he were striding — or flying — quickly away.
Wait a minute.
She started after him. “Are you leaving?”
The door closed on his answer.
Assuming he even gave one.
She raced to the closed door. There was no handle to unlock or open it, and the eye-scan thing didn’t shine in her eyes.
She pounded a palm on the cold stone. “You can’t leave me here. I still have half a shift!”
But in the eerie silence of the crackling fire, alone in a stone fortress on the side of a glacier, she knew the answer.
The dragon had brought her to his lair.
And now she was his prisoner.
Chapter Nine
Kyan forced himself to leave Laura.
It ripped his soul in half.
This was the only way to keep her safe. Not only from the evil bent on her destruction but also from the dark desires raging in his black heart.
In his secure operations center at the top of the highest tower, he reviewed the hospital security footage.
Nothing conclusive.
He communicated with his police and FBI contacts, dissected and analyzed threats, and sent orders to his employees.
On one small screen, he watched her.
At first, she crept around the floors below him, quiet and cautious. But soon she grew bold, slapping her palm on counter tops and walls, sidestepping the appliances she revealed. Her surprised or thoughtful noises punctuated his activities, drawing his eye continually from his current task to her small screen.
Once, something made her laugh.
The sound curled strangely in his chest.
She dozed on the bed fully clothed, woke hours later, and ate breakfast. Then, she inspected
his wall screens and attempted to operate his computer to contact her housemates. The networks were separated so the messages bounced. She crossed her arms and muttered.
Another full day passed. Once more, she lay atop his bed and fell into a deep sleep.
He wanted to join her as she rubbed her scent all over his lair and claimed it for her own.
Kyan crushed the urge.
Laura was not here as his mate. She was here for protection. She did not mean to claim his lair or any piece of him. She was a human who could not fathom the significance of being carried into his most intimate space.
He finally reached a stopping point in his investigations. Now, he required information from his contacts and employees to proceed.
Kyan stretched out on the small military cot he sometimes used when operations were too intense to leave.
He did not think about how Laura was sleeping in his bed just a flight of steps below.
Nor did he think about the softness of her curves pressed against him, the way her fingers had clutched at his shirt, the way he could almost feel her right now…
He jolted awake with Laura’s piercing scream.
Laura clenched her fists in her frizzy hair and screamed.
She had not seen nor spoken to another living being in two days.
Two days.
Those lakeside-cottage-in-the-woods fantasies she sometimes had? After a hard day at the hospital, escaping into the wilderness where she never had to speak with another disgruntled patient had seemed like a good thing. But in actual fact?
It was torture.
Her shriek hissed. She sucked in another huge lungful, screamed, and pounded the door where Kyan had last disappeared.
He wasn’t here. He had left her.
Getting her blood moving invigorated her spirit and released some frustration.
“Let me out!” she screamed and pounded. “Let me out! Let me—”
“Stop,” his gruff voice commanded.
She choked. “Y-you’re here?”
Silence.
Had she imagined his voice? After two days she was clearly going crazy.
She renewed her pounding. Harder now, more desperate. “Kyan? You can’t make me a prisoner like this. I didn’t do anything wrong. Kyan? Kyan!”
The stone fortress echoed with her cries.
She had to stop and catch her breath. Sweat pooled above her lips and forehead. She wiped it away.
