“Back to the diner,” Raf ordered. “Now.”
Lara placed a hand on his arm. “What is it?”
“Hank.” He relayed his order telepathically to the rest of the team in the other cars.
Lara gulped and they sat in silence while Rowen conducted an illegal U-turn and sped through the streets of Victor. Buildings whipped by, a seamless streak of gray with flashes of sunlight. Raf pulled out his phone and dialed his Secundo. No answer. He shook his head at Lara. She pulled out her phone and mirrored his actions. No answer. What the hell?
“I’ll try Misha.” She dialed her phone again. Nothing.
Hank, Raf sent to his friend. With the blood bond, they could communicate telepathically over great distances.
No answer.
Ice ran along Raf’s skin and threatened to erupt. What the hell was going on? He’d feel Hank’s death and the bond between them would disintegrate, so that hadn’t happened. Yet. But why wasn’t Hank answering? The only possible answer twisted his gut.
“Hold on.” Rowen cranked the wheel and they spun. The momentum slammed Raf into the door and threw Lara against him before her seatbelt caught. The car screeched to a halt in front of the diner.
Lara pulled herself upright and turned to him. “Don’t you dare tell me to stay in the car.” Without waiting for a response, she released the seatbelt and reached for the door handle.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Raf reached for his own door handle. “Go with Rowen and check out the diner. Find out whatever you can from the staff.”
She nodded, pushed the door open and leapt out of the car.
Raf caught Rowen’s attention in the rear-view mirror again. His warrior nodded. No words needed to be exchanged. His man would protect Lara with his life.
Raf stepped from the car to find the rest of his men who’d travelled in the other vehicles waiting for instructions. He reached for the bond tying him to his Secundo. Still there…but fuzzy. As if something hampered the magic connecting them.
“Hank is missing. He’s not responding to his phone or telepathic communication. This is his last known location. Find him.”
They didn’t grunt or nod or ask questions. They dispersed in quick, calculating efficiency. They’d track his phone. They’d scour social media. They’d check his bank accounts. And they’d protect Raf while he tracked Hank. They’d put forth every ounce of effort they had to find their missing brother.
Raf stepped onto the sidewalk. The late afternoon sun waned, lacking the heat of summer now that fall had arrived. Raf closed his eyes and let the scents lifting off the pavement mull around him.
There.
Hank. Lara. Misha.
He’d only met Lara’s friend once, but he recognized her spicy floral scent. They all entered the diner, so they’d leave a scent trail outside. The challenge lay in discerning the coming from the going. Narrowing his focus on Hank’s scent, he ignored the trail leading up the stairs and to the edge of the sidewalk where they’d dropped him off. Raf pulled his power and focused harder. There. Another trail.
As he moved, his men followed to form a protective shield at his back. The trail led around the block, another familiar scent weaving along with it.
“Raf.” Lara sprinted down the sidewalk with Rowen trailing behind her. “He left the diner.”
“With Misha,” Raf added.
“That’s some nose you got there,” she said.
Raf nodded. “My mother was from the Emerald Dragon Clan.”
Lara smiled briefly and glared at the sidewalk as if she could death-stare answers from the concrete.
They walked together, following the path around the corner to a quiet side street where the scent abruptly ended. Just like that. Gone.
Rowen stopped beside him. “Vehicle?”
Raf nodded and turned to Lara. “Hank’s trail ends here with Misha’s.” Another familiar scent drifted in the air along with others, but he couldn’t place it.
Lara’s eyes widened and she sniffed the air. She dug her hand in her pocket and pulled out her phone. With a few flicks of her finger, she dialed her friend once again. The call went straight to voicemail, Raf’s dragon hearing picking up the sultry voice at a distance. His team waited and listened.
Lara hung up and slid the phone back into her pocket. Her mouth pressed into a grim line and she balled her hands into fists. Without her saying a word, he knew she wished she had her weapons with her. His mate found comfort in gripping the hilts of her twin katana swords. He gathered her in his arms and rested his chin on her head, dreading what he had to ask.
“Could Misha be involved?” he asked.
She stiffened in his arms and tried to push away.
He held her in place, refusing to let her go. “Shhhh. I have to ask.”
Lara’s shoulders sagged and she drooped into his body. “I don’t think so,” she mumbled against his chest. “If she was involved, she would’ve taken me.”
Raf nodded and ran his hand down her back. He reached inward and tugged on the intact bond to his second in command. Hank still lived and Raf planned to use the bond to track him. It didn’t work like a mate bond and something foreign interfered with the connection, but at least he could do something. They’d head in the right direction and, hopefully, by the time they drew closer to Hank’s location, Hank would find some way to reach out to them. The only way the enemy could keep him from his Secundo and completely block his bond tracking was if they had anti-shifting shackles.
“Let me come,” Lara said, her voice a bit muffled against his chest. “Let me use my magic and my skills.”
Everything in his body screamed at him to say no—to lock her up and place every spare guard around her room to keep her safe.
“He’s my brother,” she said.
Raf nodded and ignored the wail of his dragon. He wouldn’t keep his mate from helping, not when they could use her skills and not when it was family.
Over the curling red hair on the top of his mate’s head, he met the gazes of his waiting men. “Prepare the team.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Many generations ago…
Ilana paced in the marketplace and adjusted the shawl around her hair for the fifth time. Though she rarely frequented this town, so far from the fortress, the last thing she needed was a peasant recognizing her, or some unknown enemy. The ispolini generally kept to themselves nowadays, but Father never let her leave the compound without an armed guard.
Father could never find out about this.
After she exchanged kind pleasantries and platitudes with Lord Romano, she’d retired to her room. No doubt, her parents and Romano assumed her overcome with emotion—too happy with her changed circumstance—to ever guess her true motive. She found her cousin Gregory and begged him to deliver a message in secret. She had enough knowledge of Gregory’s past activities that he owed her a favour and his silence.
“Make haste,” she’d told him.
Not knowing when Edgar would receive the message, or if he’d show at her suggested meeting place, her heart churned until it threatened to tear into pieces. What if he didn’t come? What if Romano intercepted the message? What if Edgar deferred to his brother’s and Father’s wishes instead of acknowledging the true mate bond. She circled the marketplace, biting her lip and trying not to drown in overwhelming doubts. Her own parents were unlikely to break the agreement without Dragoi approval. They valued their word too heavily for that.
A large hand shot out from an alleyway, latched onto her arm and hauled her into the shadows.
“Eeep!” Ilana squeaked before another large hand covered her mouth. Her heart pounded and her breath lodged in her throat. Father was going to kill her.
The man pulled her into the heat of his body. “Shhhh. It’s me.”
Relief swept through her body. Edgar. She’d recognize his low rumbling voice against her hair and ear anywhere.
Once the tension fled from her limbs, Edgar released her, and she spun
around. He’d also opted for peasant clothing, but the tattered pants with a drawstring waist and tunic did little to hide his formidable build made for crushing opponents instead of hauling hay.
“You came.” She wanted to fling her arms around his neck and hold his body to hers.
“Of course I came,” he said. “Your message was most intriguing.”
Heat spread along her neck and cheeks. She’d only expressed the utmost importance of meeting her promptly and telling no one. “Please tell me you feel this, too.”
A slow smile spread across his face and he closer to her. His warm breath fanned her hair and his hypnotic gaze enraptured her. “Feel what?”
She waved her hand between their bodies, not a foot apart.
“My brother thinks you’re just another infatuation,” Edgar said.
She stiffened at the mention of Romano. “What else did he say?”
Edgar shrugged. “He sent me away before speaking with your parents. He had not returned to our retinue before I left with your message. I can only imagine how displeased he will be to learn I have disappeared.”
She sighed in relief, but his previous words hit her. “Am I another infatuation?” Of course, she knew he was more to her and she should be more to him, that didn’t mean he saw it the same way. Mates could be so difficult sometimes, at least how Mother told it.
He cocked his head at her, much like Peach would. “What do you think?”
She straightened and lifted her chin. “You’re my mate.”
“Is that so? That’s what you think?”
“That’s what I know.”
He raised a brow.
“The Great Mother told me so. I saw our truth in the scrying water.” She held her breath. Her happiness depended on his reaction.
Acceptance between true mates wasn’t guaranteed. Sometimes, one person was already in a committed relationship or had already entered into a formal contract they couldn’t break. Sometimes, one found the difference in class, position or power distasteful…or disgraceful. Edgar could dismiss her. He could laugh at her. He could use her and cast her away not realizing what he truly had if he refused to bond.
Edgar reached out and gripped her arms, his large hands giant heaters against the slight chill in the air. Without a word, he pulled her into his body, leaned down and kissed her. Power rippled over her skin and vibrated against her soul. Their energies entwined, singing and dancing along with the rhythm of his mouth on hers. She’d never been kissed before. When his tongue touched hers, she gasped. She’d never felt anything like this. Heat raced through her body and she wanted more. She pulled back to catch her breath, it came in and out in pants against Edgars full lips. He breathed hard as well.
“I believe you,” he whispered. “My mate.”
His words slipped over her shoulders and wound around her in an invisible hug. He was her mate. He acknowledged it. They would be together as long as...oh no. She hadn’t told him everything. Her breath hitched. How could she let him kiss her before she told him about Romano? She went about this all wrong.
“What is it?” he asked, pulling back farther to look at her face.
“I’m betrothed to your brother,” she said.
Edgar stiffened. “What?”
“My parents came to an agreement with him the other night. He’s heading back to your father with the news as we speak.” She gripped his tunic and pulled him close. “We can’t let this happen. I can’t marry him.”
“Shhhh.” Edgar cradled her face. “Once they learn we’re true mates, they won’t deny our union. I will go home and discuss this with my father. You will travel back to the fortress, inform your parents and await my word.”
“What if they won’t listen? My father is a man of his word. He won’t break a signed agreement.”
Edgar frowned. “He will if it’s a matter of true mates. Neither of our people can afford the ill-omen of denying a true bond.”
“But what if?”
He paused, obviously thinking over the possibilities and options. He nodded to himself and slid his hand down the side of her face as if committing it to memory. “If they will not listen to reason, I will send word for you.”
“No. Don’t send word. If either my parents or your family is against this, there are too many ways a message can be lost.” The idea sent her stomach twisting. “Especially, if they become aware of our intention to be together.”
He nodded. “You’re right. If you don’t hear positive news from me in a sennight, meet me at the grove by the chapel on the river. Do you know the one? We passed it on the way to your fortress.”
“I know the one.”
Edgar studied her face, trailing the flat of his thumb along her bottom lip as if committing it to memory. “Until we meet again, Lady Ilana.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Present Day…
Misha stood in the damp basement between Marian and Father and shifted her weight from foot to foot. They’d chained Hank up in a kneeling position against the wall in the last pair of anti-shifter chains. His head hung forward and his mop of red hair covered his slack face. They’d also chained his ankles to the floor for good measure, but the magic humming in the anti-shifter chains made the anklets overkill. Hank’s ripped shirt clung to his body, bulging around his shoulders which rotated at an awkward angle to support his limp body. They’d thrown his expensive suit jacket away. The whole room smelled of sweat and anticipation.
With nothing better to do, they stood here for the last hour waiting for the drugs to wear off. Her brethren had hit Hank with enough tranquilizer to down a pack of rhinoceroses and the whole time he’d worried about her safety.
Misha gulped.
First, he’d shielded her from the new threat, then he stood in front of her as a pin cushion while he yelled at her to run.
She hadn’t run. She hadn’t helped, either. No. Misha was a coward. Too shocked and unsure of what to do, she stood by and let the ispolini men fell her mighty mate like a giant oak tree.
Why couldn’t this concreate floor swallow her up? Why couldn’t she think of a good excuse to run from the room? From the complex? Anywhere so she wouldn’t be here when he woke and realized the depth of her betrayal.
He’d been right not to trust her. She wasn’t worthy of his trust. Or his sacrifice. And her only fault placing her in this position was existing in the world.
“How did you know where to find me?” she asked.
Louis smirked. How could this man be her father? How could such a cruel person be related to her? She hadn’t seen it growing up, too desperate for his approval. But she saw it now. So bright and glaring it spoke more of her willful blindness than his depravity. She saw his depravity and she hated it.
“You didn’t answer your phone,” he said.
That, of course, told her nothing. “I was in the middle of a conversation with two dragons. I couldn’t risk them overhearing your voice and potentially recognizing it.” Maybe if she had, Hank wouldn’t be in chains right now. Maybe if she had sucked it up and revealed the truth, her friends would be safe.
Her mate would be safe.
She gulped.
“We used the ‘Find my Phone’ feature to locate your position,” Marian answered. “Your father was confident you’d be with them, especially when you wouldn’t pick up our call.” His normally stiff expression softened when he turned to answer her, but his gaze also held a question.
A question Misha had no idea how to answer.
A low groan rumbled from across the room.
“Finally.” Louis stepped forward.
Marian flashed her a sympathetic smile and followed Louis.
Misha tiptoed backward, glancing side to side. No one watched her anymore. She eased her way toward the door while everyone surrounded the defenceless dragon. She couldn’t watch this. She was so spineless she couldn’t bear to witness what Hank would endure because of her.
“Nice of you to finally join us,” her father
’s crooning voice bounced off the concrete.
God, did he have any idea how much he sounded like a villain from a C-list movie?
“I don’t recall…getting an invite.” Hank rolled his head side to side before raising it enough to meet Louis’ cold gaze.
The exit loomed within her reach. Three steps and she’d be out of here. She could slap her hands over her ears and pretend this reality didn’t exist. So why did she remain frozen like a spectator on the sidelines? Instead of running, she watched the showdown between her father and her mate.
Her mate.
Misha cringed. Was she really so weak-willed, she’d stand by and let them hurt her mate?
“Even if we had sent an invite, you’d be too dumb to figure out the directions,” Louis continued, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil. “You didn’t even know a giant when one stood beside you.”
Hank stiffened. He whipped his head up and scanned the crowd. His fiery gaze landed on her.
Misha’s heart sunk. Why couldn’t she sink into the floor or disappear? Her stomach twisted, tighter and tighter, pushing her stomach contents up her throat.
“Come here, dearest.” Louis waved his hand at her.
Misha swallowed and somehow found a way to put one numb foot in front of the other. With the exception of her shoes hitting the cement, silence descended on the room. The men watched her stilted progress, saying nothing, expecting nothing. She was the leader’s talentless daughter. She held no value except her connection to Louis—a pretty prize to claim, an association to be made.
Hank glared at her, his gaze burning her skin.
“What do you think we should do with the Astarot’s second in command?” Louis asked her when she stood by his side.
“Let’s get this over with and kill him,” Marian said, voice flat. “If they manage to track him, we’ll need to move our base.”
Misha stiffened. Looking over at Marian would be a mistake right now. He was too perceptive, and everyone watched her. Had he suggested killing Hank to shock her and gauge her reaction?
Dangerous Decisions (Obsidian Flame Book 3) Page 8
