Alpha's Second Chance_Shifter Nation_Werebears Of The Everglades

by Meg Ripley

  “And how does it feel when we’re home and you can’t change? Do you miss it? Does it feel like you’ve lost something?”

  “I don’t often think about it, but it does feel good to stretch my wings when I can.”

  “Do we have to go back soon?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “But I like it here.”

  “Yes, for the first time in a long, long while, I like it here, too.”

  April nuzzled in closer to his chest and took a deep breath, filling her head with his scent. She could lay there in his arms for hours and do nothing but listen to the sound of his heartbeat and consider the texture of his skin. She imagined living in this great fortress by herself, wandering from hall to hall, room to room with no companion.

  “You must have been incredibly lonely.”

  “I was.” She heard no emotion in his answer, just a straight-forward declaration.

  “Did you ever think that I might be out there? Or that you were waiting for your mate?”

  “I had long ago given up on any hope of that. With so few dragons left, it never seemed likely.”

  April frowned. “But I’m not a dragon. I’m just a normal girl.”

  “You’re not just anything, mein Schatz.”

  “Okay, but how does this work?”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “I don’t know. Are you?”

  “Never.”

  April closed her eyes and let her mind relax, focusing all of her senses on the man who held her. She wished she could say the same, telling him that she was never afraid. But there was always a current of anxiety running through her life, tinging each day with its darkness. Nothing was free of its influence, not even her feelings for Mads, which grew like a lush plant, a vine winding taller every day. If she told him, he’d only assure her that she had nothing to fear, and she understood that on an intellectual level. But that understanding wasn’t enough to stop the current anxiety.

  “One day, you’ll no longer feel that fear,” he said softly. “You’ll wake and it will simply be gone.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know everything.”

  She chuckled. “Oh really?”

  “Yes. I’ve been around for a very long time.”

  “Well, then, I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

  When she fell asleep that night, she dreamed of flying.

  45

  There were very few people in the world Savannah Maelstrom hated as much as Mads Durkheim. Before they were Savannah and Mads, they were known as Cecilia and Carl, and she hated him then, too. Before that, they were Marie and Edgar, Lisle and Hans, Anne and Jurgen, and before all of that, they had no human names, they were simply Dazenth and Rugarth, squatting in caves and claiming the skies. She had a long, long memory, but no matter how far she stretched through the years, she could not remember a time she did not despise him.

  As they aged and their respective clans began to disappear around them, her hatred shifted but it never mellowed. She understood it was in her best interest for Mads to be alive. There were so few dragons left in the world that the loss of any one caused a deep sense of sadness. Her Chester had been one of the last dragons born to the world and had been her last hope in continuing not only her clan, but their species. Now Chester was gone and Savannah had nothing to keep her alive—except her desire to see Mads destroyed.

  She ate only to keep her strength up and slept only to keep her mind sharp. Charles mourned the loss of their son, but his chief priority was always gold, so he returned to work and left the suffering to Savannah, who agonized enough for the both of them. She suspected Charles blamed her for Chester’s death. He never came right out and said it, but he knew she’d developed the blackmail plan with Chester, and they both knew she should have never allowed it to backfire so tragically.

  But there was still a chance to fix everything. True, she could never bring Chester back, but she could give Charles another heir. It might take years to do so, but once she had Mads out of the way, she would have nothing but time to provide reparations for her terrible mistake. It wouldn’t be easy to remove him, but he had a weakness now—a weakness Savannah would have never anticipated, but one that she was grateful for all the same.

  Who would have thought that the ancient and powerful Rugarth would find himself bound to a humble, pitiable human? A human girl who could be so easily tracked, found, and plucked from her insignificant life. A human girl who didn’t even put up a fight when Savannah roared through the clouds a few weeks later, swooping down to grasp the girl by the shoulders and lift her into the heavens. She did struggle once they were in the air, but a quick blow to the head knocked her unconscious.

  When the girl woke again, they were safely ensconced in Savannah’s secret lair—a ranch in the middle of the Wyoming Badlands, several hundred miles from the street where Savannah had found her little treat. She jerked into a seated position when she saw Savannah, immediately wincing and holding her head.

  “I wouldn’t move around too much if I were you,” Savannah said in a sing-song voice. “You have a nasty bump.”

  “Where are we?” The girl demanded, her words laced with pain.

  “Nowhere you’d recognize.”

  “Mads will come for me.”

  “Of course he will, my dear. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

  April’s eyes widened and then narrowed into pained slits. “This is a trap.”

  “It is indeed. But don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. Much.” Savannah grinned a toothy, dragon grin. “Just enough to get his attention.”

  “Why don’t I just call him?”

  “Call him?” Savannah pretended to pout. “Now where’s the fun in that? I think that’s what I hate most about this century. Everything’s so damned convenient, nobody is willing to go the extra mile. Not for work or for a good time. But I’m still willing to do what it takes.”

  “Look, I know you miss your son—”

  “You know nothing,” Savannah growled. “What do you know about a mother’s pain?”

  “He tried to kill me!”

  “No great loss there,” she snickered.

  “Well, obviously Mads disagreed.”

  “Mads is an idiot. He always has been. He thinks he’s smarter and better than everybody just because he’s the oldest, but he’s done nothing for us. He won’t even mate with another dragon to ensure our species’ survival! Now, we need to get started. I don’t want to rush things, but I do have a full schedule this week.”

  “Savannah, please. Please don’t do this. It’s not too late to just...turn things around. You haven’t done anything yet. Just take me home and Mads never has to know.”

  “That speech started great but the ending was very weak.” She grabbed April’s small hand and squeezed her fingers, bending her wrist backwards nearly to the point of snapping. She could tell the girl wanted to keep her mouth shut and hold onto some scrap of pride, but April’s silence broke before her wrist did, howling with pain.

  “Aww… what was that, dear?”

  “Please,” April panted. “Please, stop.”

  “Better. That was much better. But I already told you, I can’t stop. We have work to do.” She shifted her hold, applying pressure to April’s index finger until it did snap, like a branch breaking in a cold November wind. The girl’s scream of pain was like music to her ears—a concert she did not want to end anytime soon.

  “It is a shame that Chester never got to eat you,” Savannah said, almost conversationally. “You look like such a delicious, tender morsel. I’ll simply have to do the honors for him.”

  April’s middle finger snapped then and oh the girl’s agony was exquisite. If Mads didn’t feel her earlier pain, he definitely felt this one. “We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s see what else we can break before he tries to save you.”

  46

  Mads had perfect control over himself. The dragon never emerged unless he willed it—a requ
irement to live in the world of men, especially after mankind developed the technology to blow his head off—but a sudden scream of pain brought the beast right to the surface. He even felt the bones in his face begin to shift before he could force the fire back down to his belly. He pushed the intercom button with a trembling finger.

  “April? Are you here yet?”

  No response.

  His feeling of disquiet intensified and another wave of pain washed through him. It definitely was not his; something was wrong with April. She was hurt somewhere, and she needed him. He abandoned his desk and considered divesting himself of all distractions—permanently. Nothing he’d acquired, developed, or grew mattered to him at all anymore; they only served to keep him from the one thing that did matter in his life, and now she was gone. Hurt somewhere. Crying out for him.

  His instincts shouted at him to take the stairs to the roof and use that as a launching pad. What did he care if the whole world saw him winging over the city? That was such a small concern when faced with April’s great fear and even greater agony. But he forced himself to take the elevator to the parking garage, walking with contained purpose, remaining calm as he turned the key and drove the car into the blinding sunlight.

  Mads wanted to speed to the outskirts of the city, where he could abandon the car and shed his human skin, but there were cops everywhere. The speeding ticket would mean nothing to him but a delay, and he knew there wasn’t a second to spare. He concentrated on the task at hand, even when spikes of red-hot pain shot through his arms and behind on his eyes. He would do anything to make it stop, but he welcomed it at the same time. As long as he felt that, he knew April was alive. And every second of torture only fed the flames of fury already roaring through him.

  He followed the highway blindly, driving until all the buildings and crowds were behind him. He pulled off at an empty rest stop and was barely out of the car before his wings emerged. He took off with a giant flap of his great wings, pushing the air beneath him and rising higher and higher, until he was no more than tiny red spot against the blue sky. In his true form, it was easier to sense April’s distress, and he used it as a homing signal, winging through the clouds to find her. Distance meant nothing to him and miles might as well have been inches.

  In the back of his mind, he understood what was happening: he knew he was rushing towards a trap, and he knew who set it for him. April had tried to tell him. She’d been trying since Florence, but he’d been arrogant, certain that Savannah’s own sense of self-preservation would stop her from lashing out. But maybe her life didn’t matter to her at all anymore. Maybe grief had robbed her existence of meaning, and now she was determined to take the meaning from his life as well.

  He wouldn’t allow that to happen. She no doubt expected him to be blind with rage, too furious to think clearly or to be any danger to her. But he always had his wits, even when his heart beat a tattoo of terror against his ribcage. He would save April and he would take down Savannah, once and for all. By the time the sun set, the world would be rid of one dragon, and April would know that she could always count on him to find her, to save her.

  When Mads finally reached the ranch house that acted as April’s prison, he bellowed his invitation to Savannah. The sound echoed for miles, the vibrations of the roar strong enough to trigger equipment meant to detect earthquakes. He bellowed again and fire erupted from his throat, singeing the air.

  “I’m here,” he roared in his ancient tongue. “Come and greet me if you are not a coward.”

  Savannah’s answering roar told him the message had been received. April’s distress instantly abated, but she was still in pain. He pulled his lips back over long teeth and braced himself for the fight. He was going to take great pleasure in stealing the fire from Savannah’s throat and the life from her chest. He roared his sacred vow to the sky: After this day, the great Dazenth will fly no more.

  “You are the coward,” Dazenth hissed as she rose to the sky. “How long did you think you could run from me?”

  “You never should have involved her.”

  “You should not have killed your own kind for her!”

  They moved at the same time, their roars lost in the wind from their furious wings. They clashed midair, their long talons and tails entwining, tearing at any flesh they could reach while Dazenth spewed fire so hot, the flames were blue. Rugarth withstood the heat easily, his talons grappling for greater purchase. He landed a hard blow in the soft part of her stomach and she wheeled away, flying in a great circle around him, gathering momentum and speed. He flapped his wings, hovering in place until the last second of her plunge, when he deftly angled away. Unable to stop, she plummeted into the hard Wyoming dirt.

  He descended immediately, driving his talons into her back. He was aiming for the cords of muscle that controlled her wings, but she dodged away just in time, her head whipping around to catch his side with her teeth. The sharp incisors ripped through his scales, reaching flesh, and though he managed to wound her, she was the one who spilled first blood. He quickly flapped his wings, pulling himself into the air and out of her reach. From high above, he blew a wall of fire down, pinning her in place. She danced away from the flames as deftly as she could, spinning around to battle fire with fire.

  The dry grass around them caught like tinder and fire spread like a living thing, racing towards the house and surrounding them in an ever-growing wall. Dazenth caught an updraft and returned to the air, charging towards Mads once again with a terrible scream. He matched her roar and prepared to meet her once again.

  47

  Mads had come for her, as she knew he would. When Savannah left to meet him, she didn’t bother securing April to the chair—a fact that April didn’t even notice at first. Her hand throbbed with excruciating intensity, three of her five fingers bent at odd angles. Every twitch caused new agony to tear through her, and even if she remained perfectly still, she couldn’t make the pain abate. There was heat in her side, just below her ribs, and heavy drops of blood flowed over her hip.

  But adrenaline took the edge off her pain, allowing her to shuffle to the door and try the handle. It turned in her hand, much to her surprise, and as long as she heard the two dragons overhead, she could keep moving. She kept hoping for the final roar of the deathblow—it never occurred to her that Mads wouldn’t win. She’d not only seen him fight before, but now she knew the dragon intimately; knew his size, his strength, his speed, his age. He’d killed Chester with hardly any effort at all.

  But the fight went on and on and on. The earth itself shook with the force of their brutality, windows and frames rattling with every roar. When she peeped through window at the end of the hall, the world had turned into a merry hell of dancing flames. At that moment, the dragons were so far above her that they were nothing but tiny specks, but soon they were plummeting back to earth. At first, she thought Mads was driving Savannah down from the clouds, but as they got closer, she realized it was Savannah with the upper-hand.

  Mads slammed down, wings outspread, his tail going limp as soon as he landed. April forgot about the ceaseless throbbing in her hand, the free-flowing blood on her side. She forgot about everything except her need to be at his side. It didn’t even occur to her that Savannah might dart down from the sky and pluck her up like an eagle capturing a rabbit. Her place was at his side, and regardless of their fate, they would meet it together.

  The late summer day might have been comfortable if not for the fire zipping around the yard. The flames were already licking at the corners of the house and it wouldn’t be long before it went up like a dry tinder box. April ignored it all and raced for her dragon, still lying immobile where he landed. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. The fall had stunned him. Had knocked him unconscious but it certainly hadn’t been enough to kill him.

  The closer she got to his immobile form, the more her conviction faltered. He’d landed so hard, he’d made a crater, and his great chest didn’t rise and fall. No smoke twirle
d from his nostrils, and even the vibrant red of his scales had dimmed to something almost black. Like burnt cherrywood.

  She felt something gathering deep in her stomach. A cry without words. A prayer for a missing god. It built on itself, growing stronger by the second, pushing up from the core of her body to her chest, bubbling and fomenting into her throat. Heat stung the back of her eyes, but there were no tears. She moved towards him like she was walking under water, but she covered the distance in mere seconds, unmindful of the dragon hovering above her.

  When she finally reached his side, there was no heat radiating from his body. She touched his dear face, but there was no response; no flicker of his eyes, or air filling his lungs. The dark feeling inside of her continued to grow. It felt like a hot stone in the base of her throat and she opened her mouth wide, like she could disgorge herself of that pressure.

  “Now you will die at his side. And you will both BUUUUURN.”

  The sounds coming from Savannah’s mouth were not words—at least, they weren’t English words. But somehow, April understood every single syllable. How dare she. How dare she?

  All of her life, April preferred to take the path of least resistance. If somebody angered or upset her, she walked away instead of confronting the culprit. If somebody stole from her, she shrugged it off and simply replaced the item. She even did her best to keep people at a distance, avoiding making new friends because then she would never have to work at having a relationship. She had never considered herself a coward, but it was simply easier to live like one—without confrontation, without struggle, without a fight.

  But now April had something she wanted to fight for. She had anger that couldn’t be contained. She had lost something that nobody had the right to take from her; something that could not be replaced. She pushed herself to her feet and dragged herself up the wall that was Mads’ ribcage, climbing onto his stomach, spreading her blood across his scales.