by Anna Lowe
Natalie recognized Tristan’s voice, and boy, did he sound mad. But she must have squeaked, because one of the vampires spun and squinted into the niche.
“Wait a minute…”
Her stomach folded in on itself, and she scuttled back.
Too late. A moment later, the vampire dragged her out into the circle of his accomplices. She barely managed to slip the dagger up her sleeve before they wrestled her hands to her sides.
Jacqueline turned up her nose. “What a fitting hiding place you found.”
A fitting place for you to die, Natalie wanted to say. But the same could apply to her, so she kept her mouth shut.
Another burst of fire ripped through the tunnel, and everyone jumped.
“Natalie!” Tristan boomed. “Run!”
Natalie spun, breaking free. Running sounded like a great plan.
But a few steps later, she pulled up short. Running from the vampires in the alley had saved her life, but it had nearly cost Tristan his. And that had been against fewer enemies than they faced now. How could she leave him?
“Not so fast.” Olivier grabbed her in that moment of hesitation and yanked her to his side.
Close as she was to panic, Natalie forced herself to think. She had the dagger and the element of surprise. But she would have to use both if she had any hope of escaping the catacombs alive.
“Arrêtez, ou je lui tords le cou,” Olivier yelled to Tristan. Stop, or I’ll wring her neck.
Natalie jabbed an elbow into his ribs.
“Don’t, you fool,” one of the others said. “We need her blood fresh from the vein.”
Olivier hissed for him to be quiet, and Natalie parked that information away. The thought made her gag, but it did provide a glimmer of hope. The vampires couldn’t kill her on the run — they had to keep her alive to feed off her.
Tristan sprinted into view, then halted in his tracks and breathed, “Natalie.”
If Natalie had any nagging little doubts about Tristan, mates, or destiny, they all vanished at the sight of him. His face was a mask of determination, his jaw set hard. The furious red glow of his eyes softened at the sight of her, and he whispered her name again. “Natalie.”
Warming all over, she smiled. That was all she managed to do, because words fled her, lost in the rush of emotion inside.
Love, she realized. That wasn’t just relief, heating her up from the inside. It was love.
Tristan, I love you. She bundled up the thought and did her best to push it into his mind, as she’d read shifters could do. Then she looked around at her grim reality and managed a joke.
“We have to stop meeting like this.”
Tristan’s lips curled slightly, and he shook his head. “Any way I get to be with you is fine.”
Natalie beamed. Olivier rolled his eyes. Jacqueline huffed.
“Aren’t they adorable.” Then she snapped her fingers, motioning the vampires toward Tristan. “Kill him.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tristan took a deep breath, trying to settle his inner dragon. Thank goodness he’d made it in time. He’d been halfway to Alaric’s mansion before a sinking feeling crept into his soul. When he’d reached his mind toward Natalie’s, he’d sensed her panic and immediately rushed home. Her trail had led to the catacombs, and he’d feared the worst. But, no. She was alive and unharmed — so far.
But why isn’t she listening? his dragon demanded. Why didn’t she run when she had the chance?
He smiled faintly. Because she’s brave. Because she loves us. Because she truly is a Fire Maiden.
He could have stood admiring her courage all day. But there were five vampires and a traitorous she-dragon to deal with first, so he turned his attention to Jacqueline. How he’d ever been tempted by her warped charms, he had no idea.
“Showing your true colors, Jacqueline?”
“Doing what needs to be done, you fool.”
He squinted. “Which is?”
Jacqueline scoffed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
They both spoke in cutting, rapid-fire French, and he could see Natalie concentrating hard, trying to follow along.
Tristan prowled closer. Seeing Natalie had abated his fury, but it flooded back with a vengeance now. His whole body burned with malice, and the vampires shrank back.
“No, I do not understand. Alaric ordered us to protect her. Do you dare disobey his orders? The city needs her.”
“The city needs me,” Jacqueline hissed so forcefully, two of the vampires cringed. “A born leader.”
“Pity you weren’t born with the right blood,” Tristan said, knowing that would cut deep.
But Jacqueline didn’t glare. She smiled. Not a good sign.
“Ah, yes. Luckily, I have a way around that.” She held out a vial. “Liviana’s spell is stirred by the blood of a Fire Maiden? Well, fine. I’ll get myself some. They can have the rest.”
She gestured, and five pairs of vampire eyes glittered in the darkness.
Tristan’s stomach turned as the extent of Jacqueline’s betrayal became clear. She’d made some kind of deal with the vampires — something along the lines of handing Natalie over in exchange for support in her bid for power. Did she really think a vial of blood would be enough to reinvigorate the spell over Paris?
It was crazy. But times were such that anything was possible. Evil was everywhere, waiting for its chance. As Jacqueline had been, he realized.
“Listen to yourself, Jacqueline. You’ve gone mad.”
“Have I?” she half screamed. “Alaric’s power is slipping. You know that as well as I do. At first, I thought you might be the one to help me topple him.”
Tristan’s jaw dropped. Is that why she’d attempted to seduce him when he’d first arrived in Paris?
Jacqueline scowled. “But I quickly realized that you, with your misplaced sense of honor, were of no use.”
It ought to have felt like a compliment, but all Tristan felt was anger. Had Jacqueline really thought him capable of turning on Alaric? The alpha had his faults, but his heart beat for justice and peace.
“So I was forced to bide my time,” Jacqueline growled, then smiled. “And voilà — along came our dear, innocent mademoiselle, rewarding me for my patience. We need to reinvigorate the spell if we are to maintain power.”
Tristan held up his hand. He didn’t want anything to do with that we. But Jacqueline rushed on, gesturing wildly.
“The city needs a strong leader, and that is me. Besides, I deserve to rule. I’m the one who has devoted her life to this city, not this foreigner.”
Tristan snorted. “You’ve devoted your life to parties and fashion shows.” He pointed at Natalie. “She’s been in soup kitchens and out in the streets.”
Jacqueline huffed. “We don’t need to concern ourselves with that rabble. Only with preserving our power.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. “Power comes from honoring the Guardian vow to protect the city — for the good of all, not just ourselves.”
Jacqueline shrugged. “It’s called trickle-down. The wealth and power we accumulate will eventually help the poor with their own sorry lives — if they’re capable of such a thing. We create jobs and keep the economy running. The rest is up to them. But I don’t suppose you’d know much about that.” She sniffed. “You’re a warrior, Tristan, not an economist.”
“And you are?”
Jacqueline tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’ve gone to the best schools. I have the best contacts. Whatever I don’t know, I’ll get the top advisers to help me.”
“What advisers? Who will work for a traitor like you?”
Jacqueline grinned proudly. “As I said, I have contacts.” She leaned closer, whispering as if he were in on her conspiracy. “The Lombardis. They shall be my lieutenants, and I shall be their queen.”
Tristan’s jaw dropped. He knew that power-hungry dragon clan was back in Europe after an unsuccessful bid to grab power in North America. They’d even sent
Alaric a nasty message after the fire at Notre Dame, threatening to inflict similar damage on other monuments if Alaric didn’t cede power. So far, Alaric had held the Lombardis at bay, but Jacqueline could open a back door to that unscrupulous clan.
“Just as you betray Alaric, the Lombardis will betray you,” he warned.
Jacqueline laughed. “They wouldn’t dare.”
Tristan shook his head. It was madness, all of it.
But it got worse, because Jacqueline leaned closer and whispered, “Last chance.”
He frowned. Last chance to what? Run? Save Natalie? Kill Jacqueline?
“Last chance to come out on the winning side.” Jacqueline’s eyes glowed with greed. “You could be the man at my side. My personal bodyguard.”
Her eyes swept over his body with a look that revealed exactly how personal that could be.
“Forget it, Jacqueline. I’m no traitor.”
He looked at Natalie. She was the woman he had sworn to protect. The one he would sacrifice his life for.
In the corner of his eye, something flashed, and Natalie screamed, “Watch out!”
Jacqueline spat a ball of fire that flew across the chamber, barely an inch over his head.
“I said, last chance,” she screamed.
He looked up to see a monster — half human, half dragon, the features twisted in a horrific mismatch.
Usually, shifting was a quick, smooth process. But Jacqueline couldn’t shift fully in the confines of the tunnel, and she hadn’t mastered the fine art of a partial shift. Her body kept morphing back and forth. For a split second, she was a human with a grotesque, protruding snout. Then she was a dragon with painfully small eyes and minuscule ears. A moment later, those ears extended wildly, but her face was all wrong again, with massive dragon nostrils on her human face.
The vampires scattered, and pandemonium broke out. Tristan rolled, and Jacqueline chased him into one of the niches with a long blast of fire. He jumped to his feet, took a deep breath, and leaped back into the open, spraying the chamber with flames.
One of the vampires screamed as his jacket caught fire. Two others beat the flames out, while another ducked behind Jacqueline, who spat more fire. When Tristan’s flames crashed against hers, both erupted outward, crackling and hissing as the heat sought an outlet.
Tristan roared as Olivier dragged Natalie backward into a tunnel.
“Natalie!”
But calling out stopped his stream of fire, and Jacqueline let loose with another fiery volley. Tristan spat a counter flame just in time, and again, they stood locked in a ferocious battle of fire against fire. Tristan huffed with all his might, driving Jacqueline back. But she countered when he gulped for breath, and the stalemate continued.
It was madness, and nothing like a proper dragon battle. Tristan kept raising his arms, intent on taking the fight to the sky in the time-honored dragon way. But when he bumped the sides of the tunnel, he remembered that wasn’t possible.
“Dammit…”
Jacqueline cackled, and it occurred to him that she had been counting on that all along. Keeping him in tight quarters worked to her advantage, where the vampires’ nails and fangs could slash at his human body.
One of the vampires rolled, screaming horribly as flames engulfed his clothes. He kicked and screamed, then went still and collapsed into a pile of ash. Two others leaped at Tristan from opposite directions. He punched one aside, but the other raked his arm with long, pointed fingernails, leaving a stinging trail of poison in his flesh. Not enough to bring him down, but hell. Another couple injuries like that would eventually take their toll.
Tristan squinted, trying to see past the flames. Where was Olivier taking Natalie? And, crap. How could he stop Jacqueline?
Punch through her fire, his dragon shouted. Throttle her with your bare hands, and save our mate. Hurry!
“Tristan!” Natalie cried, struggling against Olivier.
He lunged to help, but the vampires leaped at him, and it was all he could do to keep them at bay. They grinned fiendishly and eyed his neck, no doubt planning to overpower him and feast on his blood. Tristan let out his dragon claws and slashed back. But it was three against one — plus Jacqueline, ready to throw flames whenever the vampires faltered. No matter how fiercely Tristan battled, he couldn’t make any headway toward the woman he loved.
Everything was a blur, but he caught glimpses of Natalie amid the onslaught of nails and teeth. Olivier held her up against his chest, pinning her arms while he bared his fangs. At first, terror colored Natalie’s face. Then hope crept in, followed by despair.
Natalie! he wanted to yell. I’m trying!
But then he caught another glimpse of Natalie, and by then, her face was twisted in anger. Anger that intensified until her eyes glowed as red as a dragon’s. At the same time, another point of light glowed at her neck — the pendant, as bright as a bulb.
Yes, he wanted to cheer. Use that inner power. Harness it.
He didn’t know what that crystal did, but it looked as ferocious as Natalie.
One of the vampires jumped at Tristan from behind, and he spun to fend it off. The next time he caught sight of Natalie, she looked frighteningly calm and determined. Her arms were pinned, but she’d managed to work one hand to her side. As she wiggled, something thin and pointy appeared. A dagger.
Her eyes met his, and a dozen conflicting emotions blazed away. Anger. Fear. Desperation. And above all, horror at what she was about to do. Natalie was a kind, gentle soul. Violence didn’t come easily to her, not even in self-defense.
Do it, he yelled, willing the words into her mind. One, two, three. Like we practiced.
The remaining vampires used the distraction to tackle Tristan from behind, and he wrestled madly. He dug his claws into their arms, but they didn’t give up, and he could feel one’s breath on his neck.
“And so the mighty dragon falls,” Olivier chuckled, glancing his way.
Tristan gritted his teeth. He had another few tricks up his sleeve, but Olivier seemed mesmerized by the idea of watching his friends sink their teeth into a dragon shifter’s neck to drink. So Tristan stalled as long as he dared. The vampires inched closer to his neck, and one murmured in glee.
“We’ll call this our appetizer.”
Now, Natalie, Tristan urged. Now or never.
Her chest rose in a deep breath, and she tightened her fingers around the dagger. Olivier didn’t notice, and neither did Jacqueline, who tut-tutted at Tristan.
“You should have joined me.”
He would rather die. And hell, he was getting awfully close.
But at exactly that moment, Natalie sprang into action. One. She snapped her hands up, gaining a little space. Two. She jabbed her elbows into Olivier’s ribs.
Hurry, his dragon yelled as the nearest vampire opened his jaws wide.
Three! Natalie whipped around, thrusting an elbow into Olivier’s face. He staggered back in surprise.
Now, run, Tristan wanted to yell.
But Natalie didn’t run. Her face hardened in determination, and she raised the dagger high.
Tristan gulped. Do it. Finish him.
Natalie’s hand trembled, but she plunged down with a vengeance, burying the dagger in Olivier’s chest.
Yes, Tristan nearly cheered.
At first, Olivier simply looked down, annoyed. Then his eyes widened in surprise at the black blood soaking his shirt, and he staggered.
“Tristan!” Natalie yelled.
He whirled, knocking away the vampire at his throat. Following up with a furious spurt of fire, he set his enemy ablaze. The vampire screamed and ran down one of the tunnels, trailing flames as he went.
The other two vampires jumped Tristan. In the whirlwind of action that followed, he caught sight of Olivier dropping to his knees. Jacqueline leaned over in surprise, then glared at Natalie. But Natalie was already leaping at the mummies suspended from the chamber wall, grabbing at…
The sword! The middle mu
mmy was a knight, or he had been, centuries before. But that sword still glinted in the light. Tristan would have cheered, but he was too busy clawing away a vampire.
“You wouldn’t,” Jacqueline dared Natalie.
Natalie braced her feet and swung the sword back, then hesitated.
Jacqueline laughed. “Afraid to use it?”
A lick of lingering dragon fire glinted off the sword, and Natalie yelled, “Stand back.”
Summoning his last reserves, Tristan pushed one vampire away and body-checked another against the tunnel wall. Then he extended his claws and moved in.
“Die,” he roared.
There weren’t many ways to kill a vampire, but slicing its head off was one. Gory, but effective. Moments after the vampire dropped, the body crumpled and turned to ash.
Tristan spun, blinking the sweat out of his eyes. There was one vampire left. Where?
A blur ran at him, screaming like a banshee. Acting on reflex, Tristan slashed at the vampire’s neck. He missed on the first try, but not on the second, and a moment later—
“No!” Jacqueline screamed as her last accomplice went down.
Tristan caught himself a heartbeat away from stumbling. Panting wildly, he leaned against the tunnel wall, willing his vision to clear. How many enemies left?
One, he decided, now that Olivier had dropped to the ground, dead. The last survivor looked around, then turned tail and fled, the coward. Other than his receding footsteps, the catacombs fell into eerie silence.
The silence was brief, though, because Jacqueline cackled. “Bravo, Tristan. Bravo.”
Tristan gritted his teeth, trying to straighten. The poison might not kill him, but it did cloud his mind. He swayed toward Natalie, who stood with the sword raised.
“Let me help you, darling,” Jacqueline purred, stepping toward him. Her eyes shone, and not in a good way. “There’s still time.”
Time? Tristan frowned. Time for what?
Then it hit him. Jacqueline didn’t need vampires to finish this off. She could still kill Natalie, collect some blood, and carry out her crazy plan to seize power.
Tristan growled, tempted to hurl her down one of the tunnels. But poison pooled in his midsection, and he doubled over in pain.
