Sheila caught her pacing by halfway through the night. “Are you trying to make ten thousand steps or something?”
“Why?” Andi asked innocently, holding empty suction canisters.
“Because it’s either that, or you’re on uppers.” Sheila cocked an eyebrow at her; she had seen Andi earlier, looking disheveled outside. Andi didn’t want her charge nurse thinking she’d been getting high on something before coming onto her shift.
“No,” Andi quickly lied. “I went to Jones and Shah before our shift and had a Vietnamese coffee.”
“It’s three a.m.”
“I had the biggest size.”
“That stuff is rocket fuel.” Sheila snorted. Vietnamese coffee was treated like the gold foil it was wrapped in was real gold come three a.m., but few nurses were brave—or stupid—enough to drink a whole cup on their own if they ever wanted to sleep again. “You should know better.”
“Look, just because I’m the most awesome nurse you have here doesn’t mean I’m immune from having made bad decisions.” Andi grinned at her.
Her charge nurse considered her again for a long moment and then laughed. “Well, cut it out. You’re making the rest of us look bad.”
“Fine, Mom,” Andi said in a particularly teenaged voice, which made Sheila laugh even more and let her pass.
* * *
It wasn’t until she’d taken a rinse-off shower the next morning, with her hair safely up to save her blue streak until she could get Sammy’s help to freshen it up again, that she got into bed to text Damian. The only thing she held off on was taking an Ambien. She’d made a couple impulse purchases on eBay before while drifting off to sleep before on the drug, so she knew how powerful it was. If she was on it, she wouldn’t trust herself not to tell him secrets.
Home. Safe. In bed.
If she’d been smarter, she would’ve just set her phone face down instantly, pounded the Ambien, and closed her eyes, nightmares be damned. But she wasn’t. She hesitated for a crucial moment, and he texted her back.
Ryana’s up.
And now she was glad she hadn’t taken the Ambien, as she sat higher in bed. Is she okay?
She will be now that she’s here.
So did she tell you what happened back home?
The usual, he quipped. And that place isn’t home anymore, he corrected her.
Sorry…“the place that you hate where you came from” takes too long to type.
My only home is at your side.
Andi rubbed a hand over her face and swallowed. When he said things like that, it didn’t even matter if he’d had her followed. Which, maybe he hadn’t? It’d have been unlike him to not confess after being outed, she thought. Then again, maybe that strange woman hadn’t reported her failure to do whatever to him.
But suddenly, she was glad she hadn’t sent the text in her drafts—because if the woman had been freelancing as an attacker/asshole somehow, there was no way Damian wouldn’t be over right now, laying atop her as she slept—for her own safety—and possibly other things.
And there’d definitely be no way he’d let her out of his sight long enough to go meet with her uncle tonight.
Normally I would have things to say about that, Damian…but I had a long shift. I’m going to go to bed now. I’ll text you when I’m up again, though.
Good night, princess. See you at the stroke of midnight.
When he put it like that, it made her feel like a reverse Cinderella. Like she was the normal girl right now, and then in a few short hours, the clock would strike, and her princess-like nature would be revealed.
G’night, dragon, she texted back, with an emoji blowing a kiss.
* * *
Her nightmares were standard issue at this point. Was it wrong to be jaded by things that happened in your sleep? If that were a thing, how come those kids in that Freddy Krueger movie couldn’t manage it? Blah-blah-blah-chasing, terrorizing, the sensation of falling, the feeling of being rendered limb from limb by some sort of skinless demon-dog. There was really only so much of it a girl could take. So, when Andi woke up and still felt exhausted—that was just something to slap coffee on, like a liquid bandage—she dabbed foundation underneath the dark circles around her eyes.
She wouldn’t want to disappoint her family now, would she?
Up, she texted Damian simply. See you in a few short hours.
See you in a few long-seeming ones, he texted her back, and she set her phone down. From here on out, she needed her wits about her, and Damian was too distracting.
Andi looked at herself in her mirror, praying that Damian was good to his word and not looking back, because if he saw her, he’d instantly know something was up. She was wearing all black for the occasion—black flats, black slacks, and a black silk blouse. It was one of the nicest shirts she owned, a great irony seeing as she’d never wear it again if she could help it because the last thing she’d worn it to was her mother’s funeral. She fanned her hair out over her shoulders, gave her makeup another once-over, and went out to sit on her brand-new couch to wait for the driver that would surely come.
* * *
Andi didn’t recognize the man who knocked on the door or the car that was waiting. Just as well, because if her uncle had sent Elsa and the car she’d tagged previously Damian might’ve known what was up. But her uncle had probably guessed as much, and he’d known Andi wouldn’t pepper some random man with questions.
Instead, she sat silently in the back of the car, biting on her lower lip, trying to figure out what she’d ask. It was hard. There were so many things, and each question could lead to others, unfolding in her mind like reverse origami as she tried to prepare herself for all possible scenarios—until the car stopped.
They were there.
Wherever there was.
She looked around. The car was parked in front of a warehouse on a block of warehouses that all looked abandoned. The kind of place she knew from watching TV with Sammy, you could wrap a body tight with a tarp, and no one would find it until it was flyblown.
I’ve already worn this blouse to one funeral, what’s another? she thought, and got out of the car.
The man lead her silently into the warehouse they were parked in front of, through doors and down ill-lit halls until they reached a door that he gestured she should open. She wiped sweaty palms on her thighs, and then pressed in.
“My dearest Andrea,” her uncle said, as her eyes adjusted to the low lighting.
“Uncle,” she acknowledged him, allowing herself a quick look around. He was surrounded by a series of low tables which had designs carved upon them underneath glass tops, and many more chairs, but they were the only people in the room so far.
He walked over to her, equal to her in height, and stood close enough that she could’ve touched him if she wanted to—but she didn’t. Not anymore. No more hugs, no more closeness, just answers.
“You came alone as promised.”
“I did.” She felt foolish for admitting it at the moment, but it was too late now. “Because you said that there were things that you could tell me. About Mom.”
“Yes. So many things. Did you finally look at the gift Danny gave you?” The photo album didn’t feel like a gift to her. She nodded, and he continued. “Then you must be burning with questions if I know you.”
“Not questions,” she denied him. “Just one.”
He laughed. “Well, then, this will be a short trip. Ask.”
“Did she enjoy lying to me as much as you do?”
Uncle Lee looked like she’d punched him. Her whole life she’d been smaller than everyone else, pocket-sized, bite-sized, whatever you wanted to call it. She couldn’t fight him with her hands, but she could with her tongue, and it was so satisfying to see her land a blow on him.
“Your mother loved you, Andi,” Uncle Lee said, sounding affronted on her mother’s behalf.
“Such an odd way she had of showing it. By hiding all of her past from me, especially the part wh
ere she apparently lived for over a century and used to hunt down creatures that could talk.”
“It was a different time,” her uncle said, as he folded his hands together sagely. “And it was over a century. Many centuries, actually.”
Andi blinked.
“Go ahead,” her uncle said and gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit.”
Reluctantly, Andi sat down.
Chapter 14
Damian stared at the last text from Andi on his phone. There was so much more he wanted to say to her, but typing it didn’t make sense when all he had to do was wait until midnight to get to speak to her in person. He got up, showered, and had Grim summon everyone shortly for a meeting in their conference room to introduce Ryana, which would be a damn sight more comfortable than their meeting in the library the prior night.
Mills entered first, looking smug, walking around the table to his side. “I did it,” she crowed, holding her hands clasped in front of her. “And, if I may say so myself, it came out very nicely.” She opened her hands to show him what they held.
Nestled in the center of her palm was a smooth, smoky gemstone that looked like it had a live coal trapped inside. It was wound with what looked like platinum wire and on a simple silver chain. He picked it up, and the coal glowed brighter like it was reflecting the fire inside his dragon back at him.
“She’ll love it.” He could already imagine Andi wearing it, the warm stone sitting at the notch of her throat.
“It’s the most magical object I’ve ever made, Damian. Utterly one of a kind.”
“I should hope so,” he said, giving her a smile, as everyone else filed in.
* * *
Austin and Ryana were almost last, having some shared conversation in which he made her laugh. She made a grand entrance with her injured wings, and Austin winced on her behalf as she carefully cleared the door. She’d worn a sparklingly beaded cream-colored gown and makeup that covered most of her bruises if not the swelling, and she’d clipped her auburn hair to all be the same length, falling just below her chin. Lyka summoned a backless chair for her, as Austin chose to sit nearby. Damian was not a fool. It was easy to see how Austin was putting himself in her proximity. He rather wished he could warn the werewolf about her temper and how incompatible they’d be, but suspected Austin would take that as a challenge. In any case, if he kept puppy-dogging around Ryana, he’d learn soon enough.
“All right, everyone,” he said, with the necklace for Andi still safe in his hand. “As some of you may have noticed, my sister is awake now.”
Ryana arched her neck gracefully and looked around the room. “I look forward to making all of your acquaintances. But—”
“Ryana!” Max burst into the room with an armful of magenta amaranth flowers draped over his arm. Joy flooded Ryana’s face at seeing him there.
“You remembered!” She clapped her hands as he came to present the flowers to her.
“I remember you making the entire convoy stop to pick them for you until your carriage was full enough to sleep on them.” He grinned at her. “These are probably a different kind than those were, but they look very much the same.”
“The servants were picking purple petals out of the carriage for weeks,” Ryana said with a laugh. “Mother was so upset!”
Damian took a stealthy glance at Austin, who seemed mystified. I don’t need to warn him about a thing. He’ll learn soon enough.
Max hovered for an ingrained moment and then lunged forward to sweep her into a hug. Ryana’s wings flexed and battered at him, and her arms flailed before finally finding awkward purchase around him, the same as he had her.
“Max, I’m a princess!” she protested, but she was laughing.
“I know, but this is how we do welcomes on Earth.” The weapons master pulled back. “I want to hear all about home. What happened at the end? And all the gossip before that. Is General Eshever still in charge—”
“In due time,” Damian cut in. “In addition to Max, these are…the rest of my generals.”
Ryana rearranged herself on her chair and looked around, spotting Mills first. “And what is your name?” she imperiously demanded. Damian knew she wasn’t being unkind, just used to being obeyed.
“Millicent,” Mills said. “Although everyone calls me Mills. I’m a witch.”
“A witch general. Excellent!” Ryana said delightedly, scanning down the table. “You…general with the metal arm! What magic makes you work? Are you an automaton?” Jamison looked an appropriate combination of amused and horrified.
“That’s Jamison, and…Ryana…I was explaining things earlier, so they’d made sense, but in truth, these are my friends,” Damian said.
“Except for me,” Austin corrected him. “I am totally a general.”
“A general pain in my ass,” his brother Zach snickered.
“Are you both wolves?” Ryana guessed, looking between them. “Or are they chevoni?” she asked Damian and Max with a frown.
“No,” Max answered her quickly. Chevoni in the Realms were far worse—they were closer to hyenas than wolves, had a taste for blood, and had a strange type of group telepathic sentience.
“We’re just average, cuddly werewolves,” Zach said with a tease. Austin gave him a stern glance that said, Back off.
“Not average and not cuddly,” Austin clarified, pointing to himself.
“As long as you’ve got all your skin, I don’t really care,” Ryana said with a laugh that made everyone else around the table check out their neighbor to make sure they’d all heard the same thing.
Damian pinched the bridge of his nose, unwilling to explain her reference to Bruud. “In any case, I’m going to need all of your help acclimating Ryana to earth in the coming weeks. Where are we with your alternative plan, Mills?”
The witch’s lips pulled into a serious line. “Still working on it. I’ve got a rather extreme plan that requires a willing volunteer.”
Damian snorted. “I’m sure we can manage that.”
Mills tensed. “I’m not so—”
Then Jamison cocked his head to the side and announced, “Hold up.” His eyes got that far away look they did when communing with his electronics. “I think we’re going to get a location on that meeting, Damian. The car at the airport is moving.”
“Back to Andi’s?” Damian asked with concern.
“No. It circled around, presumably to pick someone up, and is now heading east.”
Mills reached under the table and hit a button so that the wood in front of her opened and revealed a terminal. “Let me know when they land, baby.”
“Zach, Austin, Max…gear up. Get the tour bus ready,” Damian commanded, and the men quickly filed out.
Ryana watched all of the excitement with glittering eyes.
“Triangulating coordinates…likely destination: warehouse row,” Jamison announced.
“Recently bought by Bright Star conglomerate, go figure,” Mills muttered, now working on her own terminal. “I’m uploading schematics for all the buildings on the block in case they move while inside, but no guarantees if they’re up to date. Evil empires don’t keep up to code.”
“Ready!” Austin’s voice echoed from outside, piped in from the SUV.
“Load up,” Damian announced. Mills slapped her terminal shut, and Jamison stood, both of them jogging for the door. Damian almost followed them, until his sister blocked him with a wing.
“Where are we going?” she said with excitement.
“We’re going to attack an assemblage of Hunters. You’re staying here.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” she protested, and Damian was hesitant to shove her injured wing aside. “I’m coming with you.”
It was a terrible idea, and he knew it, but maybe, if she saw who Hunters were and how “wars” worked on earth, it could be instructive. Just as long as his people could keep her safe.
“Fine,” he grumbled, and she folded her wing in with a grin.
* * *
&n
bsp; “Remember what I told you,” Damian said, running flat out for the SUV as she followed him. Her sparkling gown was entirely inappropriate because she thought she’d just be meeting his “generals” tonight, but he knew if he gave her a chance to change, the meeting would already be over.
To her credit, she hopped twice and pulled her delicate sandals off, finishing up the last of the run barefoot, and she’d already magicked away her wings by the time they jumped into the car.
Austin gawked at her as she sat down. How convenient that there was an empty seat beside him, again, Damian thought. “Where did they go?” the wolf asked her.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Ryana said with a laugh.
The second his door was slammed, Max pulled the SUV into drive and started gunning for the gates.
“Any new news, Jamison?” Damian asked.
“Nothing on my end other than an address.”
“And the tech in the building is so old I can’t connect to it,” Mills complained. Then she whispered, “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Damian pressed.
“Well, if it isn’t our old friend, the janitor,” Jamison said, giving Mills a look.
“He’s never going to let us hear the end of this, is he?” she asked him back, before glancing back to Damian. “The man you wanted tagged two days ago at the mall, who’s been as boring as wallpaper paste since, is on his way to our same location—with his cell phone in his pocket.” Mills rubbed her hands together in glee.
“Then, you’re right. I never am going to let you hear the end of it,” Damian said with a satisfied chuckle.
“It was a horrible risk,” Zach complained.
“A calculated risk,” Damian corrected him. “Not made in haste—nor in error, apparently.”
Dragon Fated: A Billionaire Dragon Shifter Romance (Prince of the Other Worlds) Page 23
