Deadly Protector (Federal Paranormal Unit Book 4)

by Milly Taiden

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, Brock? The kid got pictures of you fucking a goat? He knows you wear lady’s silky skivvies? Stop protecting the piece of shit.”

  “I’m gonna let that one go,” Brock growled. “I know you’re freaked the hell out and ready to go scaly on me, but never forget, piss me off and I’ll drop you where you sit.”

  Refusing to admit the boss was right even as the scales of his dragon covered the back of his hands and climbed his arms, Hunter stared out the windshield. The evidence was right there. Sway was dirty. He’d taken Kat. Brock may be the boss and have seriously funky magic that could most likely turn him and his dragon inside out, but that fucking bastard pretty boy was gonna pay for laying a finger on his mate.

  Listening as Brock called in backup, wondering if that was for Sway’s benefit or Kat’s, Hunter grabbed the door handle and sprang from the car at the exact second the boss slowed at the turn into the lane to the greenhouse.

  “Cross! Cross? You stupid mother fucker! You’re gonna get her killed!”

  The boss’s rage was a living, breathing entity that Hunter had no doubt would strike him dead. Ducking into the overgrown vacant lot adjacent to Sway’s hothouse, the dragon sprinted along the property line. Winding around stacks of rusted barrels, piles of rotting pallets, and mountains of black plastic pots, he used everything he could for cover.

  Wrapping himself in the cover of his dragon’s magic to avoid signaling Sway that he was near, Hunter stopped at the far side of the last remaining greenhouse when the scent of Kat’s blood punched him in the face.

  Experience battled with instinct. His dragon roared, “GO SAVE KAT!” Everything he’d learned as an agent argued, “Get a better look or you’ll be the reason she dies.”

  Ramming his dragon behind a heavy wall of willpower and mysticism, Hunter inched closer. Pushing his preternatural senses farther with every step, he let out the breath he’d been holding when his heart sped forward, stuttered, stopped and then fell into perfect sync with the healthy beat of Kat’s. She was alive and almost as pissed off as he was which meant they had a better than good chance of making it out alive. Mad trumped scared all day, every day.

  Searching the rest of the building, he found ten other steady heartbeats forty yards away. Thankfully, the rest of the girls who’d been abducted were still alive, bleeding, but alive.

  Still looking for Sway, he was just about to give up, go after his mate, and deal with whatever he found when several things became glaringly clear. Not one, but two shifters were in that fucking deathtrap greenhouse. One was standing. One was on the floor and barely breathing. Both were people Hunter knew.

  16

  Definitely tired of being drugged. Sick of being treated like a Stretch Armstrong doll. So over waking up in the dark with her hair matted to her face, Kat gave up being scared or trying to figure out where she was and growled, “Look, I don’t give a shit what you look like, but if you don’t get this fucking hair outta my face, I’m going to suffocate.”

  Hurried footfalls raced across the room right before a heavy hand she knew all too well wrapped around her hair and ripped it from her face. Stopping only when her neck was pulled back as far as it could possibly go and she was staring at…well, she had no idea, did the asshole snarl, “Now, shut the fuck up, bitch.”

  “D-do as he-he s-says, Kat.” The words had barely been stuttered before once again the person sounded as if he was going to cough up a lung.

  Ignoring the pain slicing through her neck and shoulders, slashing down her spine and setting off a fiery relay of twinges and pinches in her ass, Kat’s eyes followed the gagging. Gasping when she saw a bloody, beaten, and literally gray-skinned Sway, she gulped, “Sway. Oh, my God, what have they—” SLAP!

  Backhanded before she could finish her sentence, she disregarded the burning agony in her cheek and whipped her head to the side. Finding a masked man wearing a black hoodie and faded jeans, something within her snapped.

  Laughing out loud, she guffawed, “Holy shit! I’ve been kidnapped by a wannabe thug!”

  Dropping her chin, she felt a whoosh of air from her captor’s fist as it flew past her ear. Throwing her head backward, she outsmarted the asshole again this time taunting, “Dude, you suck at this game.”

  For the third time, his ham-fisted fingers dug into her hair, jerking her head back with such force that the bones in her neck snapped and she couldn’t catch her breath. Manically laughing as he punched her face over and over, Kat was just about to pass out when Sway’s horrified roar cut through her delirium.

  “She said you could not kill Kat until Cross was here.”

  Time stood still. Opening one eye because the other refused to budge, she saw a meaty fist hovering inches from her nose. The ragged breathing of her attacker let her know he was deep in an internal debate. The little voice in the back of her head was telling her to keep her mouth shut, but Kat was over all the bullshit.

  “Go ahead,” she lisped through broken and missing teeth. “Beat my brains out. You know you want to.” Sucking air past her bloody, swollen lips, she rasped, “Show that bitch who’s boss.”

  Letting go of her hair with such vehemence that her head bounced against the chair she was tied to, the masked man stomped away. A fist hitting something wooden proceeded the slamming of a door before she heard the hard soles of shoes crunching over gravel.

  Head listing to the side, she caught a glimpse of Sway. Bad didn’t begin to describe how he looked. Not only was his skin the color of gunmetal but upon her closer, one-eyed inspection, she saw thin black lines snaking their way across his face and down his arms.

  “You okay, Sway?” Sure, it was a stupid thing to ask but it was all her scrambled brains could come up with, and it worked.

  The sick sound of a watery, snickering cough bubbled up and out of the agent’s dry and cracked lips before he croaked, “Just peachy.” More coughing and gagging then a stuttered “Y-you?”

  “Never better.” Dots of bright white light chased bigger blobs of black and gray across her vision. “I think I’m gonna pass out though.”

  “Stay a-awake, Kat,” Sway stammered. “You have t-to st-stay awake.”

  Fighting a wave of nausea, Kat rolled her head to the side and promptly threw up down her own arm. Spitting the bile as best she could with her lips swelling more with every beat of her heart, she rasped, “I think my arm’s broken.”

  “Dislocated,” Sway hacked.

  “Both?” Trying to get her head, now heavier than a bowling ball and pounding like a jackhammer, to roll to the other side, she gave up and asked, “Are they both dislocated?”

  When no answer came, Kat doubled her efforts to get her head to move. Completely numb, only the throbbing of her face and the thumping in her head reminding her that she was still alive, she had to know how bad it was. It was the only hope she had of escaping.

  Counting down in her head, preparing for what she was sure was going to be the most excruciating pain she’d ever experienced, Kat never got to make a move. Stopped before she got started by the mocking sound of a slow clap and the unmistakable click of stiletto heels on concrete, she did the only thing she could think of…she was a smart ass.

  “Lookie there, Sway. We’ve got an audience.”

  17

  The blaring of sirens was getting closer and Brock was bearing down on him. In minutes, the entire place would be a mass of agents, officers, and SWAT teams, all with rules, regulations and protocols he had no fucking time for. Kat was in that building. Her life was in danger. There was only one choice he could make. Hunter had to save his mate.

  Sprinting to the opposite side of the building, his heart stopped dead as the sound of fist thrashing flesh reached his ears. Tearing around the corner, the renewed scent of Kat’s blood had his dragon shredding Hunter’s mental containment and thrashing against the underside of his skin.

  Dashing through a huge hole in the concrete wall, he raced toward the beat of his m
ate’s heart…then he heard her voice. Strength filled every syllable. Forté that rivaled his own simply refused to be beaten. She was a warrior, absolutely no doubt about it.

  He could scent her fear, but she refused to let it win. Katrina Mejia was resilient. She was smarter than a whip. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. And fuck it all, she was his.

  Running headlong into the room, eyes on his mate, Cross slid to stop when an old and haunting voice purred, “I thought they were lying, but it seems they were right. This waste of skin and bones really is your mate. Oh, Hunter, darling, a measly human blood bag? How could fate be so cruel? Good thing I’m here to save you.”

  Staring at Kat, cataloging her injuries and knowing she wouldn’t last long, he poured the unyielding healing magic of his dragon through the bond rapidly forming from his soul to hers. Shocked at how natural it felt, not wanting to admit to himself that he was becoming truly whole for the first time in his incredibly long life, Hunter promised her with his eyes to bring an end to her suffering. Slowly shifting his entire body toward an abomination from his past, he focused on defeating an old nemesis.

  Body wound tightly, his muscles vibrated with the need to exact revenge. Hate festered and boiled, feeding his desire to rip the woman apart… the thing standing before him limb from limb.

  “Greta,” he forced the words through gritted teeth. “I might have known.”

  “But you didn’t, did you?” Crossing her arms across her chest and leaning to the left while throwing her other long, shapely leg to the right, the dhampyre he’d unfortunately left alive a hundred years ago arched an eyebrow as she tsked. “I admit, it disappoints me that I had to go to such lengths to get your attention.”

  “Well, you did. I’m here. Let Kat go.”

  Throwing back her head and laughing, her long ebony hair flowing down her back like the ashen waterfall to Hell, Greta’s black eyes glowed with malice when she looked back and countered, “But we’re just getting to know each other, your little Katrina and me.”

  “Fuck that,” Kat slurred, his heart heavy knowing the pain she must be in as he shoved even more of his innate curative powers into her. “Kill her, Cross. Fucking kill her.”

  Remembering how very much Greta liked to play games, Hunter made himself relax. He wouldn’t save Kat if he acted rashly or let his rage get the best of him.

  Spreading his feet shoulder-width apart and letting his hands fall to his side, he shushed his mate, hoped she knew he was playing a part and nodded to the dhampyre, “And how’s that going?”

  Holding his breath, barely keeping his dragon from bursting forth, he watched as Greta made a show of approaching his mate and stroking her snarled hair. Wiping her index finger along the gaping wound dissecting Kat’s cheek, she flirtatiously slid the digit into her mouth.

  Moaning and sucking, rolling her eyes, and slowly moving it in and out across her lips, she sighed in mock ecstasy, “Yes, Hunter, darling, I see why you like her. She’s tastes heavenly. Should we share her?”

  Spiraling close to the edge, knowing time was almost up as he listened to an entire horde of law enforcement officers descending on the greenhouse, Cross roared, “Stop the fucking game. What do you want?”

  Moving so fast, he could barely track her, Hunter was forced to stand helpless as Greta seized Kat from the chair, stripping away the restraints. Her back to the dhampyre’s chest, his mate’s battered body shook in pain where Greta’s arm was wrapped tightly around her bosom.

  Jerking Kat’s head to the side, the dhampyre ran the sharp tips of her fangs along his mate’s hammering jugular as she hissed, “To kill the one you love.”

  In the blink of an eye everything in Hunter’s world switched to slow motion. Kat was the center of his universe. He could see Brock leading a team toward the building. His gaze was captured by the single drop of bright red blood flowing down his mate’s porcelain neck. Then he saw the murderous look on Greta’s face.

  Releasing the iron grip he had on his dragon, Hunter breathed into the instantaneous transformation from man to beast. Trusting in the intuition they shared, he knew his dragon would control the form they took. Moving while his body grew in height and width, he took hold of the massive influx of magic and adrenalin, letting it energize every cell.

  Reveling in the feel of silver scales cascading over his elongated limbs, covering his chest, and spilling down his back, he roared in exultation at the raw, unbridled power infusing every fiber of his being. Basking in the sensation of the bulge and flex of his enlarged muscles, the shift into his nine-foot battle dragon ended as quickly as it had begun.

  Tossing Kat to the side, she threw her arms open wide. Thankful that a seriously injured Sway had been there to catch his mate, Cross gave a single nod to the furious dhampyre before him.

  Fangs extended out of her mouth so far that the tips pushed against the outer line of her bottom lip. Her nails, now long, jagged talons, he knew were imbued with caustic acid that over time would corrode even his scales. She was the picture of her mother, Lorna. Memories of the vicious battle with the dhampyre leader and her coven swirled through his mind, ending as always with him swinging his sword and beheading her for her crimes.

  “A century of waiting,” she hissed. “Planning, plotting, keeping track of your whereabouts, knowing your every move before you even made it, and finally revenge shall be mine.”

  Standing perfectly still, waiting and watching, Hunter unhurriedly raised his arm. Spreading his thick powerful fingers as wide as they would go, he smiled when his talons grew to twice their normal size and the fire of his dragon flared in his veins.

  Then a tiny sting on his thigh set his dragon screaming—and then nothing. His animal body deflated into his human form. There was complete silence in his head. What the fuck happened to his dragon?

  As he lay on the concrete floor, he reached for something attached to his upper leg. He pulled out a dart.

  “What the fuck have you done, Greta?”

  She released a heinous laugh. “Testing a new serum,” she replied.

  His arm felt heavy and it dropped onto the floor. He hated to play her game, but something was happening to him. “What kind of serum, Greta? Tell me.”

  She gave him a coy look and sashayed toward him. “Oh, you know, something that’s been in the works for a long time. Something that takes away your animal and knocks out the human host.”

  The toe of her high-heel shoe pushed at his arm. She glanced over his naked body, stopping midway down. “I always wondered if dragons were bigger in size everywhere. I got my answer. Very nice.” She strolled around him. Not even his little finger followed the command his brain gave to move.

  An unfamiliar growl came from his mate’s way. “Get away from him, bitch,” his Kat said. If he didn’t know her better, he would’ve thought she had a shifter in her.

  Greta stomped toward Kat and Sway, both weak and stumbling to stand. When close enough, Greta kicked his mate’s side, flipping her onto her back.

  “Stay out of this. You’ll die in a minute,” she glanced at him, “after he’s placed in the perfect place to watch you slowly suffer.”

  Rapid gun fire blasted outside. Seemed the good guys and the bad guys had met in a shootout. Question was who would come out on top. Greta hurried to a window and looked out.

  Sway lay in a fetal position between Hunter and Kat. His lips mumbled, and Hunter strained to hear his words. Was his dragon really gone?

  “She’s your mate. Stop being an ass and accept what fate has gifted you, dumbass,” Sway said. “Give your power to her.”

  Of course. Hunter recalled what Sway was talking about. Dragon mates could share certain things through their bond. But he hadn’t claimed her, said he didn’t want a mate.

  Sway was right; he was a dumbass. Having a mate wasn’t a prison, a mate was freedom. He’d been so afraid of losing himself, that he’d closed himself to everyone. No one was going to change him, make him do wh
at he didn’t want.

  Seeing Kat sprawled, unconscious, his heart ached to hold her, to make her better. Only his dragon’s magic could heal. Could it help his mate? Maybe, if he got over himself and accepted her.

  After taking a deep breath, he opened his heart and let the mate connection sink in. She snapped into his link, now, their link. Her pain was his pain. He ached everywhere.

  Even though his animal was supposedly gone, he hoped the magic remained. No human created serum could take away magic. Only magic could fight magic.

  Focusing his mind on his mate, he sent her his magic along the bond. They hadn’t mated fully, but they were intertwined in spirit. After a moment, he saw her hand twitch. She was letting him into her heart and soul, no questions asked. He was truly humbled. The magic was working its. . .magic. Great. Now he was losing his mind on stupid jokes.

  Greta’s shoes clicked, coming toward him. Shit. There hadn’t been enough time. Kat wouldn’t be well enough to run.

  His shoulders lifted, head falling back, eyes staring into pure evil. Greta gave him an air kiss. “Time for the show to begin, lovey.”

  The gun battle outside had calmed. He suspected they were in a hostage situation with her men hunkered down inside, waiting for orders.

  She dropped him sitting up against a steel support beam facing where Kat and Sway lay. Only his eyes moved. Greta squatted close to his head and ran her tongue along his lips. Her teeth bit, stinging as she licked his blood.

  Her hand slid down his leg and grabbed his exposed cock. “Tell me, Hunter, what is the best way to get most of your blood in one place for a delicious meal?” Her hand fisted around his dick and stroked. With a growl, he realized he had no control over his body. Not even able to keep his erection down.

  He felt his blood rushing to the center of his groin in reaction to the unwanted stimulus. She flicked her elongated teeth with her tongue. “This will be so tasty.” She leaned forward onto her knees, bending over, mouth open. He closed his eyes. If he could throw up, he would.