by Keri Arthur
Part of me wanted to do a happy little dance, but I resisted the urge. “And now that you know I’m draman?”
He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “You being draman doesn’t alter the enjoyment of that kiss, however brief it might have been.”
“So you don’t regret the action?”
“No.”
“Then why keep bringing up the fact I’m draman like it’s some kind of problem?”
“It’s just that you’re constantly surprising me, Mercy.” He hesitated and raised a hand, his fingertips lightly touching my cheek. “My reaction has nothing to do with you personally.”
His caress sparked the fires deep inside and a shudder that was all pleasure ran through me. But I stepped away from him, even though it was the last thing I really wanted to do. I needed to make him understand. Needed him to see me. Not just the draman. Not just the woman. Me.
Why, I don’t really know. It wasn’t like we had the possibility of a future.
Maybe it was just some perverse idea that if a man who didn’t believe draman should exist could see me—the person rather than the draman—then maybe there was some hope of a better future for us all.
“But it does, Damon,” I said softly. “It makes me feel like I’m a second-class citizen. Like I’m never going to be good enough, no matter what I do.”
He frowned and clasped his hands together on the railing again. “Draman are not dragons, and that is something you’re never going to change.”
“No, but we can change the attitudes that go with it.” I waited until a young couple had walked past, then added, “Because what you’re saying now is that despite the fact that some of us can do exactly the same things as full-blood dragons, we don’t deserve an equal footing. That we indeed deserve the punishments and death.”
“I’m not saying that at all, but—”
“There are no buts here, Damon. We live and breathe fire just like you full-bloods, and we deserve the same sort of respect.”
“You’re never going to get that respect easily, Mercy. The old ones are too set in their ways.”
“But I’m not standing here talking to an old one, am I?”
He studied me for a moment, his dark eyes as unreadable as his expression, then he glanced away again.
I sighed. “If you can’t respect me, what’s the point of kissing me?”
Still he didn’t say anything.
Way to go, Mercy. Open your big mouth, make your point, and lose any chance of getting down and dirty with Mr. Dark and Dangerous. Maybe one of these days I’d learn to shut the above-mentioned mouth.
But then again, maybe not.
Because really, it needed to be said. I was sick to death of full-bloods thinking I was a quick and easy lay just because I was draman. Granted, I enjoyed sex as much as any other dragon—or draman, for that matter—but there had to be something there. And that something wasn’t disdain for what I was.
Unfortunately, full-bloods could be great deceivers, and sometimes not even those of us who had spent our whole lives around them could tell truth from lie. I wasn’t even sure they knew the difference, sometimes.
And I was fervently hoping Damon wasn’t one of those deceivers, because I had a feeling he could cause me a whole lot more heartbreak than any of the full-bloods in my past.
I dropped my gaze back to the sea lions, who were doing little more than lying on their blubbery bellies, soaking up the last few embers of sunlight.
As the last of dusk’s energy and music faded, I pushed away from the railing and said, “Let’s walk toward the boat, just in case he gets there early.” Anything was better than standing in that depressing silence.
“Do you know the mooring number?” he said, walking close enough that the heat of him washed over me, chasing away the growing chill of the night.
It was nice, sharing someone else’s heat, although it probably wouldn’t last too much longer, because he’d have to flame down once we got near the boats.
“I wasn’t given that information, but the boat’s name is the Heron. We should be able to walk along and find it.”
“I think it’ll be quicker and easier to ask.”
“So we’ll ask. It’s not like it’s a major problem.”
“Except if we ask the wrong person, and we end up notifying our kidnappers that we’re down here.”
I frowned. “But we know what our kidnappers look like.”
He glanced at me. “We may have beaten two of them, but there are more henchmen than that in this little gang, I assure you.”
I supposed he was right. The truth was, I hadn’t actually thought about it, even though I knew it must have taken more than the four men I was aware of to destroy the draman towns. “We’re not going to Angus’s boat, though, but his friend’s, so as long as we’re careful, we should be all right. After all, neither of us resembles our usual self.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is when you look like a kid wearing your much-older brother’s clothes.”
A smile touched his lips. “I think you look rather cute.”
“And I think you’re insane.”
“You wouldn’t be the first person to think that,” he mused. “I can see the Heron from here. She’s the white-and-blue motor yacht.”
I followed the line of his gaze and saw the boat he was talking about. It was large and long, and had at least three decks. It also looked damn expensive. But I saw something else, as well. Or rather, someone else.
Angus.
His sea-colored head was visible for only a few moments, before he ducked down into the lower decks, but I had no doubt it was him.
“Our quarry is on the boat,” I said softly.
“Good.” Damon flexed his arms, reminding me of a fighter getting ready for the next bout. “You go straight to the boat. I’ll board via the rear of the yacht in the next berth. Between the two of us, we should be able to prevent an escape.”
“He’s a sea dragon. He won’t need to escape. He can just call the sea and drown us.”
He gave me a cool, calm smile that sent a chill racing down my spine. Death had reentered the building.
“Even the canniest sea dragon isn’t faster than a bullet.”
Goose bumps joined the chill. “And just when does a dragon need a gun?”
“Since I became a muerte.” He shrugged, and it was a surprisingly eloquent movement. “Burning is not a pleasant way to die, and I’d rather a quick kill before I burn.”
“So Death does have a soft side?”
“There’s nothing soft about mercy.” He smiled suddenly, and it was like sunshine breaking through rain: brief but glorious. “Although, if we’re talking about you, I suspect you have lots of lovely soft spots.”
“Which you’re never going to uncover unless you work on that attitude of yours.”
His smile faded. “I can’t change the attitude of a lifetime in a matter of minutes, no matter how much I might want to kiss you again. You ready?”
I nodded, too struck by the knowledge that he did want to kiss me again to say anything intelligent. We walked on. That, at least, I could manage—although part of me wanted to dance.
There were locked gates between us and the boats, but it didn’t take much of an effort on Damon’s part to get past. We slipped inside and parted ways—he moving into the first slip area and me stepping on board the Heron.
The minute I set foot on the boat, Angus’s familiar voice said, “Is that you, Mikey?”
I saw Damon leap across to the stern, then said, “I’m afraid not, Angus.”
“Jesus, girl, what the fuck are you doing here?” He appeared in the main cabin area, then just as quickly disappeared as a black-haired blur grabbed him and pushed him back down.
I scrambled along the railing and into the upper cabin. Damon stood behind Angus, one arm wrapped around the sea dragon’s neck and holding a silver gun to his head with the other.
He glanced up as I entered, and with a slight movement of his head motioned me toward the plush leather couch that half wrapped around a teak coffee table. I slipped the backpack off, dumping it on the floor and out of the way before sitting down on the end of the couch, avoiding the large window.
Damon’s attention returned to Angus. “I’ll put a bullet in your brain the minute the sea does anything untoward.”
The other man held up his hands. “No trouble, I promise.”
Damon released his grip on Angus’s neck and pushed him unceremoniously onto the smaller couch opposite mine. Angus looked at me somewhat reproachfully. “There was no need for this, lass.”
I snorted softly. “I trusted you the first time, and ended up drugged and held captive by psychos. Why wouldn’t we show a little more caution this time around?”
“Because if I’d meant you any real harm, I would have ensured you got a full dose of the drug. You wouldn’t be free now if I’d done that.”
I couldn’t sense a lie in his words, and yet I couldn’t help retorting, “Why even dose me at all if you wanted to ensure I’d escape?”
“Because I needed you to be out of it when I carried you in. These boys aren’t fools, and neither am I. I’m not about to risk my neck needlessly.”
“And this is supposed to make me grateful? Those men burned down my apartment.”
“At least you weren’t in it, and you could have been. They don’t care who they hurt in order to protect themselves.” He hesitated, then glanced up at the man standing so watchfully behind him. “I saw what they did to you. I wanted no part of that when it came to the lass.”
“Then why get involved in Mercy’s kidnapping at all?” Damon asked, the tension emanating from his body reminding me of a rattlesnake ready to strike. “Why stay here, when you could so easily disappear into the sea and never be seen again?”
“Because they have Coral.” Angus’s voice was an odd mix of anger and defeat.
“Who is?”
“My mate. They’re holding her hostage against my good behavior.” He hesitated, glancing at me with a grimace. “And they’ll kill us all the moment they’re sure there’s no widespread interest in the cleansed towns.”
My sudden smile felt brittle. “So the real truth is that you eased up on the drug dosage to save your own skin rather than mine.”
“Well, yes. But I didn’t want anyone else to suffer the same fate as your friend, either.”
Something inside me went still. Cold. “So you did set us up that night.”
He hesitated. “I had no choice. Not with Coral being held hostage. But I did call the cops and report the accident as soon as I knew that’s what they intended.”
“Which would have been useless if they’d both been dead,” Damon pointed out, voice harsh.
“I know.” Angus glanced at me. “I’m sorry, lass.”
The apology was sincere enough, but something inside me remained cold. He’d basically signed Rainey’s death warrant by setting us up like that, and even if he had done it to save the life of his lover and himself, it was something I could never forgive.
“So why didn’t they just kill you both the minute they ran Rainey and me off the road?” I asked, voice sounding amazingly calm considering part of me really did want to jump up and hit him. Repeatedly. “And why the hell didn’t they check that we were both dead?”
“Have you any idea how far that car fell? You really shouldn’t have survived.” He studied me for a second, as if contemplating how the hell I actually had. “Of course, they realized a little later that they had no idea how many other people you might have told about the towns. Given they’d made me your original point of contact, they released me to see if any other fish would take the bait.”
“And that fish was me again.”
“Yeah. You should have just walked away when you had the chance.”
I flicked a somewhat dark glance Damon’s way. “People keep telling me that. So why didn’t they kill me the second time?”
“Oh, they intended to. They just decided to do it right this time, and question you first.”
Which is why he’d made such a point of saying when we’d met in the bar that these men weren’t going to be scared of one lone draman. If I’d answered any other way, if I’d mentioned there wasn’t anyone else, then I might now be a dead and lost soul, just like Rainey.
“But how could you be so sure that I’d come out of the drug quickly enough to escape?” I asked. “I’m draman. A drug meant for dragons could do anything to us.”
“It was a human drug, and most of them don’t affect dragons. Draman are, of course, half human, so it does affect you, though to a lesser degree. But I still only gave you half a dose to be sure.”
“You couldn’t have been sure I’d escape the cell.”
“No, but I figured you’d wake the muerte, and that he’d work something out.” Angus glanced at the gun, still pointed in his direction. “They’re tricky bastards, these muerte.”
Damon’s smile was cold. “What makes you think those men are any different from me?”
“Oh, I have no illusions about the men I’m working with. It’s part of the reason I changed boats.”
“You’re still in the same general area. If they want to kill you, changing location won’t stop them.”
“No, but it’ll delay them a little. Right now, I just need time.”
“For what?” Damon asked, one eyebrow raised.
“I’ve called Coral’s family in to help, but it’ll take them a little while to get here. The sea never hurries herself, even for a message that’s urgent, and it’s a long way from here to where they’re currently vacationing.”
“Tell us about the men,” Damon said flatly.
Angus blew out a breath. “There’s not a whole lot to tell. I only got into this a few weeks ago, after I recognized one of the men from the attack on Whale Point.”
“Whale Point?” Damon raised an eyebrow. “You were in that town when it was destroyed?”
Angus’s smile was grim. “I was barely fifteen, but yes. I think it was one of the first.”
“So why did you lie about not recognizing the people behind it?” I asked.
“I’m hardly likely to admit to something that might get Coral killed, am I?” He scrubbed a hand across his face, and there was an edge of frustration in the sharp movement. “As it turned out, my memory played me for a fool. The man I attacked wasn’t one of the ones who destroyed Whale Point. He sounded just like him, but he’s far too young. But he was involved in the more recent cleansings.”
If he heard the voice of the Jamieson king, would he recognize it? Somehow, I suspected he might. And Seth did sound a whole lot like our king.
He also hated draman—and he’d take great pleasure in erasing us. But there had to be more behind it than just that.
There had to be.
“Why didn’t you just call the sea once you got into trouble?” Damon asked. “It’s not like we’re far from water in San Francisco.”
“You’re not the only one who knows holding a gun to someone’s head is a good way to prevent trouble,” Angus said wryly. “And they were holding it to Coral’s. If it had been just me, I might have tried anyway. Any form of revenge would have been worth the price, even if these bastards weren’t involved in the Whale Point massacre.”
“So who was involved?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Name the people you do know, Angus,” Damon said softly. “Stop avoiding it.”
He sighed. “I only know some. You met Evan—he owned and ran the bar you were both caught in. They killed him last night.”
“Do you know why?” Damon asked. “Seems a strange move, seeing as the place was proving useful.”
Angus shrugged. “Maybe he wanted more money. He was greedy like that.”
Damon didn’t look convinced, but all he said was “Keep going.”
“Albert and Jay were the men
you knocked out to escape. They’re just muscle. As are the four men who alternate minding Coral. They’re draman, though.”
“Draman shouldn’t be able to restrain a full-blood dragon, whether they’re of the sea or the air,” Damon said with a frown.
Angus snorted softly. “How out of touch are you? Many of the draman around here are more than capable of standing up to full-bloods, simply because many have the same capabilities.”
“Having them, and using them, are two entirely different things.”
“Draman aren’t dumb. It seems to me that you and your much vaunted council might be, though. Or at the very least, behind the times.” Angus sniffed disdainfully, and I couldn’t help smiling. It was nice to know that I wasn’t the only one who had a less-than-stellar opinion of the council. “But Coral’s also got one of those home-detention devices on her, and it’s combined with a boundary fence alarm set to a frequency that’ll just about fry her brain if she attempts to break it. She did try to push past the pain of the thing, but to no avail.”
“Which those men undoubtedly delighted in telling you about,” I murmured.
Anger flared in his eyes, deep and bright, and suddenly this sea dragon seemed a whole lot more dangerous. “Oh, Vincent and Harry delighted in telling me lots of things. And they will die for that alone, if I have my way.”
I believed him. You couldn’t look into his eyes and not believe it. And just for that brief second, he was every bit as scary as the man standing so vigilantly behind him. I licked my lips and said, “Who was the elegant-sounding man you were talking to in the van?”
Angus raised his eyebrows. “You heard that?”
“Some of it.”
“Then you’ve more dragon blood in you than I figured. I gave you enough to knock you out for a good hour or so.” He hesitated, then glanced up at Damon. “Can I get a drink? No tricks.”
“The moment I suspect anything untoward, you die.” Damon’s voice was flat and deadly, and left no one in any doubt that he meant what he said.
Angus’s answering smile was bitter, but he rose and walked over to the bar, pouring himself a bourbon without offering either of us one. Can’t say I really blamed him.
“Tell you what,” he said, turning around to face us again. “I’ll do a trade. The name of that man for your help in rescuing Coral.”
