by Elle Thorne
Salvatore stood back, watching him. “You—or perhaps it is your dragon—are too impatient.”
Matteo was not interested in a lecture. “Are we going to do nothing? They’ve been gone too long already. What does she want Jolie for?”
That’s a question for Samara,” Griz said.
“That’s not your concern.” Samara stepped through the opening, followed by Jolie.
Matteo found himself exhaling in relief to see the sorceress unharmed. She gave him a tense smile, and he wondered about the expression behind that smile. What had happened between the two of them?
“Are you ready for the reversal?” Samara asked, cloak draped over an arm, the ferrets now wolves again, standing sentinel by her side.
He found himself less preoccupied with what happened in Samara’s place and more invested in seeing his shifting status set back to normal. “Very ready.” Beyond ready, really.
“I’ll need a sample of your blood.” She reached forward with a tiny ceremonial dagger and a miniature stone mortar bowl, complete with matching pestle.
Griz growled, though he said nothing. Samara did not spare him a glance. She flicked the blade against Matteo’s outstretched hand. Blood pooled in his cupped hand. Tucking the dagger into a sheath attached to her outer thigh, she grasped his hand and closed it into a fist over the mortar. Blood filled the vessel. When she’d collected enough, she pushed his hand away.
“You’re just going to do it right here? In the open?” Salvatore asked.
“Yes. This happened in the open. So why not reverse it in the open?”
“And after?” Griz pressed. “You go your merry way and we go ours?”
Sam’s laugh was low and husky. “You’d like that. Never seeing me again, wouldn’t you?” She turned away from him, not waiting for an answer, and poured the blood in a circle around Matteo, chanting low beneath her breath. The words she used were foreign to him.
The blood on the ground began to emit smoke, much more smoke than one would have thought a small amount of blood would produce. If blood were to produce smoke, that is. And yet, the smoke grew more voluminous, blocking all the others from his view, including Sam. Higher and higher the smoke rose, until he was certain he was obscured from view.
The smoke changed colors, shifting from white to red then green. It started to writhe and close in on him. It felt like tiny fingers trailing over his body. He wasn’t sure what was happening or if it was working, so he peeled of the sweater and the T-shirt beneath it and studied his torso and arms. As the smoke tendrils touched his flesh, the scales began to disappear, fading away, leaving his own skin behind.
Chapter Nineteen
Jolie realized she’d been twisting her hands. She stopped and kept her gaze transfixed on the smoke column which had enveloped Matteo. The colors changed, ranging from red to a deep green that brought to mind his dragon’s scales.
Samara walked in slow circles around the perimeter of the smoke column, chanting. Her mysterious eyes closed as she picked her way over the pine needles and ground imperfections without missing a beat, as though her eyes were open. The two massive wolves stayed by her side, taking long strides and keeping up with her, their eyes glowing preternaturally. Every so often, they’d look at Jolie and she’d find herself suppressing a shudder at their otherworldliness.
Abruptly, Samara froze, then opened her eyes and pronounced, “It is done.”
The smoke slowly dissipated, and before them stood a shirtless Matteo, holding his sweater and a T-shirt in his hand. His skin was no longer that of a dragon or a hybrid, but rather was the beautiful—though scar-bearing—chest of a man. A very muscular man with abs and wide shoulders.
Jolie sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of those muscles, the thick chest and pecs that seemed carved of marble.
Matteo’s gaze locked with hers, leaving her in a state of confusion. The sight of him caused a flurry of emotions she didn’t understand. That she shouldn’t have. She hardly knew him. Except she did know he’d risked his life for hers. And that there was something—
He broke off the stare with his words. “Better?”
She nodded, still unsure she could talk after the sudden onrush of emotions.
“Thank you,” Salvatore told Samara.
“Yes, thank you,” Matteo reiterated.
Griz merely nodded.
Jolie stared, unmoving, until Samara turned her black gaze on her. “You will uphold your end,” she whispered so low Jolie was certain no one else had heard.
Matteo pulled his T-shirt on but left the turtleneck dangling over one shoulder.
“We need to get back,” Griz announced. “We need to talk to Cross and Lance. Find out what’s going on and who the interlopers are.”
The ride back was one that gave Jolie a lot to think about. Sitting on the bench seat next to Matteo, she felt an energy between them. One she hadn’t felt before. What happened? Why had that changed?
Matteo glanced at her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
How could she begin to explain to him the turmoil roiling through her mind at this attraction she felt toward him. Honestly, much more than mere attraction. She felt a passion for this dragon shifter. It reminded her of what Oiddras had once said to her. How he’d told her that she did everything with passion. With a particular sense of joie de vivre.
“Oh, my,” she uttered before she realized it.
Matteo raised a brow in question.
It was just that moment she realized Oiddras had said something to her then. She wrangled with memories long forgotten. She’d only been a child. He’d mentioned a mother. Had he known her mother? Why had she no memories of family. Or discussions of family. Why had that never been a matter of curiosity for her as she’d been growing up?
Matteo was still watching her. His full lips pursed as he waited for her to clarify, a question in his dark eyes.
“A memory,” she murmured. “Nothing worth mentioning.”
He nodded slowly. “For something not worth mentioning, it did elicit a response. Your pulse raced.”
Damned shifters and their perceptive skills. He knew it had affected her. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her, one that made her turn her face toward the window as a warmth crept over her face. He could have heard, smelled, sensed her attraction to him. Did he? She cringed inwardly, feeling like a schoolgirl. Forbaskede! Damn!
Slight pressure on her thigh, just above her knee had her turning her head toward him.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”
“Shifters have senses,” she mentioned unnecessarily. “They pick up on things…” She locked eyes with him. She wasn’t going to say what things. She wasn’t about to clarify. That would be like putting a bead on her emotions. And she wasn’t one to put her cards on the table. Plus, who had the time for emotions? She had to find Blaise. That was a priority. Then getting the hell out of this place called Bear Canyon Valley, with its dragon shifters, blood elves, and underground places that held sorceress captive.
More than sorceresses, she reminded herself. When she’d escaped, she’d gone down a wing that looked much like a hospital wing. There had been closed door with thin, long, rectangular windows in them. She’d glanced through one of the windows. Seen a woman who appeared to be in a coma. Then she’d peeked in another one. A man, also in a coma, it seemed, but held to the hospital bed with restraints.
She pushed the memory aside. The place she’d been was so much more than the cavern she and the other sorceresses had been held in. It had other floors. Floors with technology. She’d been lucky no one had seen her escape and was happy the lights had been dimmed for the night.
She reflected on her escape and realized—
She hadn’t been all that lucky! She’d been surrounded by an aura. She hadn’t paid attention to it that night, but it was very similar to the aura that had encircled her when she’d buck
led time—as Samara called it. Had she buckled time during her escape? Was that why no one had been moving around the floors? Why no one had seen her?
Matteo’s lips had been moving, and he ended with, “Thought.”
“What?” She shook herself out of the memory of her escape. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“You were deep in thought.”
“It’s been a trying few days,” she said, saying nothing at all with that one sentence. She flipped the topic and drew closer to him, then lowered her voice. “I know some might regard this as heresy, but there was something about that blood elf.”
“Yeah?” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Do tell?”
She glanced at Griz and Salvatore in the front seat. “I liked her. Though that doesn’t seem to be the popular sentiment these days.”
The vehicle took an abrupt curve, throwing Jolie into Matteo. Under normal circumstances, the move would have been punishing, but she couldn’t regard being close to him as such. She did, however, glance at Griz, who was watching her in the rearview mirror. He’d heard her, of that she was certain.
“Oops,” she murmured to Matteo, who wore the slightest hint of a smile and had a twinkle of merriment in his eyes.
“I was thinking of a picnic,” he told her, his voice loud. “When we get back, let’s put together a basket and a walk.”
Away from prying ears, Jolie thought. She could definitely go for that.
Chapter Twenty
Matteo carried the basket Mae had assembled for them. She’d winked at him conspiratorially as he’d closed the door behind him. He didn’t care for the implication behind that wink. He wasn’t taking her on a walk so they could do the nasty in the forest. Not that it was something he was dead set against. It simply wasn’t on the agenda.
His agenda, plain and simple, was to get to know this woman better. To find about her. What she was doing out in the woods. Where she was from. What the hell that bubble was about. If a kiss happened, well, that was just fine by him. And his dragon! But that wasn’t the ultimatum.
“I’d rather not go too far from the inn,” Jolie said.
“Not a problem. There’s a clearing, almost within sight of the bed-and-breakfast—if there weren’t trees blocking the view. Sound good?” He wondered why she had an aversion to leaving the inn when she clearly didn’t even know the people housed within. Another question to get an answer to.
“Why’d you agree to the picnic? His dragon had voiced the very same thing when she’d said yes. And though Matteo’s pride wanted to say she accepted because she liked him, the dragon wasn’t appeased with that reason.
She kicked at a pinecone then stooped to pick up a different one and tossed it underhand through a crook in a tree branch. She picked another one up and repeated the gesture. Clearly, she was stalling.
“It’s not because of my good looks,” he teased, trying to get her to look his way.
She did, giving him a sideways glance, platinum hair swinging with each step. He sensed her pulse picking up. Picked up the aroma of her attraction to him. The pheromones thick in the air.
“No, it’s not just that.”
“Ah, so it’s that, partially?” he prodded.
Her lips tipped upward with a tiny smile. “I was thinking I could recruit you.”
“Are you building an army?” They arrived at a picnic table under a large maple he’d noticed on prior explorations. “This good?”
She nodded. “It’s fine. Only if you consider a party of three to be an army.”
He cocked his head, curiosity burning. “Party of three? Who’s the third?”
“I was thinking Samara.”
“Before I enlist,” he said as he began to unpack the meal Mae’d had assembled by the kitchen staff, “I’d like to know what I’m signing up for.”
She blew her hair out of her face. “I guess asking you to come along, sight unseen, wouldn’t be fair. Especially when it could be dangerous.”
This was getting good. She was coming closer to confiding… something.
He spread a blanket and began to unpack. The breeze blew her hair about her face and she tucked it behind her ear. How tempted he’d been to do that for her.
She plucked a bottled water from the basket and twisted the lid. He watched as she tipped her head back, the lines of her neck graceful as the water made its way down, making her throat move up and down. The sheer sensuality of this woman made his pulse race. He was thankful she couldn’t sense how she affected him.
“I’m sorry,” she said after the final gulp.
“For?”
“Dragging you into this mess. Orkney. Your shift being all screwed up.” She twirled the half-empty bottle around on the rough tabletop.
“You didn’t do that to my shift. Hell, Sam did. And she didn’t even do it on purpose. It just happened.” He wanted to reach for her hand. He wanted to hold her close. To tell her that everything would be okay, but how could he tell her that when he didn’t even know what everything was. He had so many unanswered questions.
“It didn’t just happen. It happened because Orkney and his goons were after me.”
Good start. This was an opening he could definitely work with. “Can you tell me why they were after you?”
“Because…” She swallowed as though her throat were dry and then reached for the water.
“Jolie.” God, he loved saying her name. The way it rolled over his tongue. He put his hand on hers and was pleasantly surprised by the current that seemed to run between them. He wondered if she could feel it. “You know you can trust me, don’t you?”
She gave him a half-nod. “I haven’t been able to trust anyone—well, except for Blaise—for a long time.”
Blaise. A clue. Another opening into her life. “Who is Blaise?”
Her expression turned guarded once more.
He couldn’t keep pushing her, for fear he’d shut her down completely. “How about a piece of chicken?”
Mae’s help had put some fried chicken and potato salad—and finger wipes—in the basket. Such forethought. He wished he could plan things to the tiniest of minutiae.
She took the proffered plate—a piece of chicken and some potato salad he’d heaped on there—and looked at it as though the very thought of it was nauseating. Moving the pieces of potato around on the plate with a plastic fork, she kept her eyes downcast.
Fine, he’d volunteer if she wouldn’t. “I was born in Italy. I met Salvatore there, one day, long, long, long ago. Shifters live a long time, you know.”
She nodded. “Sorceresses are known for the longevity, so—” She clapped a hand over her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes. She turned away.
He’d been sitting across the picnic table, but now he rose and went to her side, straddling the bench. He put an arm around her. “Hey. What’s going on here?”
Her bottom lip trembled. “I’m not even a sorceress.” Tears silently passed over her cheeks.
“Could have fooled me. You sure act like one.”
“Samara was the second one to tell me.”
“Who was the first? And more importantly, what are you? Because you do spells. I’ve seen them.”
“The first person was… Nameless.” She raised her hands when she saw his expression, which he was sure looked like a what-the-eff face. “She wouldn’t tell us her name. All that time, chained next to her, and she never said her name.”
Che cazzo. What the fuck. “Chained?”
She recoiled from him, as though she wasn’t aware what she’d said, then, resignation evident on her face, she inclined her head, over and over, in a nearly catatonic way. “Chained.” Her voice was so low it took his shifter hearing to pick it up.
“Where were you chained?”
“In the forest. Not far from where you found me.”
He shoved his food away, appetite completely gone. “Is that what I saw? Is that why I came down? I didn’t see any chains or any people in chains.” She frowned, c
learly not understanding what he was talking about, so he elaborated. “I was flying, and I saw something on the ground. Something light, a flash, perhaps. It caught my attention, so I came down to investigate. That’s when I ran into the two bear shifters. And I killed one. But I didn’t see anyone in chains.”
“Those two were hunting me. I’d escaped. And no, you wouldn’t have seen the chains because the facility is mostly underground. And what part isn’t beneath the soil, well, I’m pretty sure that has enchantments hiding it from view. If they aren’t enchantments, they are something similar. There’s no way they can hide a hospital that big.”
“Hospital?” Matteo scratched at his chin. Could this be the Crossroads place that Griz had told them about. A place where research was done on shifters. Something that was supposedly near Bear Canyon Valley but no one had yet found. “How could they hide a whole hospital from sight?” He pushed up from the table. “Griz needs to know about this.”
Jolie jumped to her feet, grabbing his arm. “No. You can’t tell anyone.”
He studied her face, the worried look—panic, really. “Why not?”
“Blaise is being held there. If someone does something reckless, they might get rid of any evidence. That would include people.” She blanched at her own words.
“Che cazzo,” he grumbled.
She did a doubletake, and he realized he’d spoken out loud.
“Sorry.” He doubted she knew what he’d said, but still. “So, what do you think? Back to this army idea you mentioned…”
“Me, you, and Samara. Sneaking in to get Blaise.”
“She’s not the only captive, right?”
“Correct.” Realization dawned. “I can’t leave the others there. What was I thinking?” Now she began to cry in earnest. Sobbing. Pacing in frenzied circles around the picnic table. “How am I supposed to help a hospital full of sorceresses and who knows what else? I can’t use my time mage skills to—”
“Wait.” He caught her arm, forcing her to stop her frantic pacing. Her face was red and tear-streaked. “Hold on a second. What did you say? What time mage skills?”
