by Olivia Ash
“Fine,” Drew says, his deep voice booming. “Well, since the buzzkill needs you, I’ll go for a run.” The fire dragon brushes past me. Though he doesn’t touch me, he still somehow manages to set my body ablaze with desire as he comes close. He briefly looks down at me as he leaves, and that playful smirk of his tells me everything I need to know.
He knows exactly what he does to me. To my body. He knows how he makes me sizzle with need.
Ass.
Tucker winks at me and jogs off toward the castle without another word. He knows I’ll be sleeping in his bed tonight, and that’s apparently enough for him to not make a scene in front of Jace.
I chuckle. These men are ridiculous. Possessive. Dominating. A little grumpy.
I love it.
When it’s just me and Jace in the field, his frown disappears. He watches me for a moment, his arms crossed, his face impossible to read as he looks me over.
“Yes?” I ask, a little exasperated by his reserved expression.
“Nothing,” he says softly. “Let’s get started.” With that, he walks toward the embassy, no doubt expecting me to simply follow.
I sigh. Obviously, he still isn’t okay with the fact that I grew up as a Spectre, raised from birth to kill dragons like him. It’s not like I had a choice, but the hatred most dragons feel for Spectres is too strong to ignore.
I get it. I see why he’s having trouble with this, even if I’m different. Even if I defied my mentor—the Ghost—to keep him alive.
And I suspect if it weren’t for the mate-bond connection between us, he might not ignore his hatred.
Though I’m not sure where Jace and I stand, I have to admit I respect him, both as a man and a fighter. He and Drew came for me, both of them risking so much more than their lives to keep me safe—their titles, their reputations, the respect of their peers.
They attacked fellow dragons for me, after all. Even though the dragons we fought were the Vaer—the most hated dragon family in the world—there are still strict dragon laws to protect them.
It doesn’t matter if the Vaer technically lured me into a trap. There are still more protections for them than for me.
Or anyone who helps me.
As I trudge through the forest, I sigh and stick my hands in my pockets. A happy little sliver of delight snakes through me at the thought of the rescue, of how all four of my men rode into battle at my side.
These guys are making me soft, yeah, but I kind of like it. I would raze cities to protect them.
My team. My family.
My men.
Chapter Two
In an isolated patch of the embassy’s forest, Jace sits on a boulder as he watches me practice.
He lounges like an emperor, an elbow propped on one knee as he watches in silence, observing my every move, no doubt piecing together clues he’s picked up in our time together now that he knows what I am.
What I was born to be.
An assassin, through and through.
I try to ignore him. To tune him out. To focus on the brilliant nature around us, on the mist rising out of the ravine barely twenty feet away.
The location he chose overlooks the cliffs surrounding the embassy, with just enough tree cover to mask any magical mishaps as I learn to control the wild power within me.
Well, most mishaps, anyway.
In the distance, visible through gaps in the canopy, the towering black spires of the dojo cut through the clouds. Thankfully, it’s far enough away in the very real chance things go awry during our training.
After all, the first time we trained together, I destroyed half the wall of his regular training facility.
“Focus,” Jace demands, his voice tense and deep.
I glare at him, annoyed. “I’m trying.”
Perhaps I should have simply nodded and played along, but he’s pissing me off. He’s not really helping, just shouting obscure commands.
Frankly, I expected more direction from one of the best magical masters of our time.
In response to my curt little reply, I expect anger. Aggravation. Terse banter, maybe.
Instead, he softens, his shoulders relaxing as he looks me over. “I know, but you need to try harder.”
I frown.
“Here.” He stands and walks behind me, and small sparks of energy blister across my skin as he nears.
This connection we have—I’ll never understand it. The way my body aches for him, longs to be near him, craves him completely. Sparks of energy and light fizzle within me at the thought of being near him, and my thoughts always trail to the idea of laying on my back, wrapping my legs around him as he—
Rory, damn it, I chide myself. Focus.
As he stands behind me, my traitorous body reactively leans into his hard chest, and a blister of desire bubbles through me at his touch.
Tenderly, he sets his hands on my arms. With his mouth at my ear, he leans his head against mine, and it’s all I can do not to melt into him.
Damn it all, I’m a fierce warrior, not a schoolgirl.
This mate-bond of ours makes me putty in his hands, and I hate it. I hate not having control.
I tense, ready to break away, to ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing.
“Trust me,” he says quietly, as if anticipating my irritation. “Just try this.”
I groan in frustration, furious with my treasonous body and the inability to control myself around him.
“Listen for the pulse of your magic,” he says quietly, in a voice that’s almost hypnotic. “Reach for it. Touch it.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Just close your eyes,” he says, a little annoyed this time. “Try, damn it.”
With a huff, I indulge him and press my eyes shut, waiting for any indication that he’s not just blowing hot air out his ass.
At first, there’s nothing but the howl of the wind as it kicks up the mist in the ravine. The clatter of leaves in the trees above me. His breath as it tickles my neck. The warmth of his arms pressed against mine.
The way he envelops me, the way my spine curves toward him instinctively, as if he’s my home.
I almost break away. It’s too much. My impulse is to push away from the controlling thunderbird. To never indulge him, to never give in, to never let him know what he does to me. He wants to lock me away in a tower, hoard me like a treasure and never let me live for fear I might die.
But then, soft as a whisper, I feel it.
A trembling little pulse.
Weak.
Quiet.
But it’s there.
It hums in my core, in the center of my body, a dull echo of my heartbeat. It flickers in and out, stronger and weaker, totally inconsistent and out of control.
I feel it.
“Good,” Jace says, somehow picking up on my new clarity. “Focus on that and nothing else.”
That’s a little tough when his lips are virtually pressed against my ear, but fine. I’ll try.
I frown, brow furrowed as I focus, listening to the little blip of energy deep within me. “What is this?”
“Focus,” he says without answering.
Good lord, he’s almost as infuriating as Drew.
With my surging annoyance, the pulse grows stronger. It flickers and burns, filling me, and the telltale signs of an episode begin to spark and fizzle along my fingers.
“Wait, no—” I drop my focus, worried now about the magic burning through my blood, but Jace never moves a muscle.
“It’s okay,” he calmly says. His voice is soothing. He runs his hands up my arms, holding my shoulders tight, pressing me against his body.
It works.
The magic begins to fade. As he soothes my worry, the sparks retreat.
“How did you…” I stare at my hands, losing my train of thought.
He presses his jaw against the side of my head, tender and sweet. “You’re more powerful than a thunderbird, but our magic is similar.”
Before
I can help myself, I smile, grateful for his knowledge. Even though I hate to admit it, I’ve been too hard on him. He mastered thunderbird magic—if there’s one person alive who can help me master my own powers, it’s Jace.
I don’t really know whether or not to be grateful for that, though. He’s handsome, strong, and an amazing fighter, but he’s still an infuriating control freak.
“Try again,” he commands, the tenderness dissolving from his voice.
Ah, there’s the Jace I know.
I indulge him yet again, and as I tap into the pulse once more, it grows. This time, it’s a slower build, and though I feel it burn along my fingers again, it doesn’t feel out of control this time.
I open my eyes to find white light dancing over my hands and up my arms. It sings and shimmers, beautiful and blinding.
As the tension builds in my arms, I think about all the weapons I’ve had, about how much easier a knife is to wield—and how much more power this light possesses.
Briefly, the light takes the shape of a knife. It’s fleeting, gone in a flash, but I know without a doubt what I saw.
And it makes me wonder just what this power can do. What my limits really are.
It seems like, perhaps, there might not be any. Or if there are, they far exceed anything I could possibly conceive of.
“Your magic is tied to your emotions,” Jace says, interrupting my thoughts. “To control it, you must first control yourself.”
“Thanks, sensei.” I roll my eyes.
Jesus. Talk about a cliché.
“I mean it,” he says with a soft chuckle. “Your power surges in moments of need, when you have no other options. You let it control you. It’s because you don’t consider your magic a weapon—not really. You haven’t been able to control it, so you don’t consider it until you have no other option.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“So,” he interrupts, “you need to practice with it, touch it every moment you can, any time you can. Make it a habit to check in with it, to be mindful of it, to be aware of what it’s doing at any given moment. Connect with it, cherish it, breathe into it.”
“You want me to build a relationship with my magic?” I ask dryly. “Like it’s a person?”
“You can say that, sure.” He shrugs and runs his hands down my arms, wrapping his fingers around my wrists.
“But—”
“It wants what you want, and vice versa.” He nuzzles the side of my head in an uncharacteristically tender motion. “You fuel each other.”
As his warm body contours to the curve of my back, I can’t help but wonder if he’s still talking about the magic—or about us.
“Think about what makes you happy,” he says, his voice low and gravely.
I close my eyes, and that’s easy. Before I found this magic, it would have been hard to say what gave me joy. The vague idea of freedom, maybe. Time alone. My sister Irena—and that’s about it.
But now, I have Tucker. Drew. Levi. Even Jace. They make my heart sing, filling me with joy I sometimes doubt I deserve.
True happiness.
I’m beginning to trust them, to trust someone other than my mentor. Though that ignites a flicker of doubt within me, it’s easy to squash.
They’ve proven themselves to me time and time again.
As I think about my men, my magic gets stronger. I smile as I connect with it, feeling solid, feeling unstoppable, feeling like nothing in the world could hurt me—not when I have a light like this within me.
My thoughts turn to Mason, to killing him, to ending the fight with a man who tried to kill me repeatedly. Of feeling the rush of victory as his body fell to the ground. Of knowing he’s gone—forever.
With that, the light within me gets even stronger.
“Good,” Jace says in my ear. “Keep going.”
My thoughts turn to Irena, to the childhood we made the most of, to the bond we share.
It’s not long, however, before those thoughts turn sour. Before I remember she’s locked away in some Vaer stronghold, getting sicker by the day.
I frown, and the light within me weakens.
It’s infuriating to simply sit and wait for Jace and Drew to work their contacts, to get information for me—but I have no other recourse. Short of breaking into Jace’s command center again, I’m out of options. Zurie and Diesel aren’t going to help me. None of the Knights or Spectres would dare give me intel, and none of the dragon families really like me all that much either.
I’m used to being on my own—but I’m also used to having a lead. And right now, I have nothing.
“Rory, stop,” Jace says, a twinge of concern in his voice. “Whatever you’re thinking about—”
But I can’t.
I can’t stop.
Zurie is after me, and she wants to reprogram this independence out of my head. She wants to load me up on hallucinogens and who knows what else, throw me in the dungeons below her home, and reset me. Fix me. Make me her obedient little slave again.
She’ll kill my men, kill Irena, kill everyone and everything I love if that’s what it takes.
And I won’t let her.
I refuse.
Deep within me, the magic boils. It pops and surges as I lose myself in my thoughts, bubbling over as I lose control.
Jace’s grip tightens on my forearms. “Rory, wait—”
But it’s too late.
A blast of white light rips from my hands, soaring into the ravine, carving a deep hole in the edge of the cliff as the rock takes the brunt of my magic.
I fall to my knees, and Jace is there in an instant. My vision blurs, but he holds me tight, holds me to him. His arm around my chest keeps me from falling to the dirt.
My world spins. I feel like I’m moving, but I don’t know what’s the sky and what’s the ground.
It takes a moment for me to regain my composure, and when I do, I look up to find Jace watching me with a worried expression on his face. I’m lying in his arms, my head against his chest as he leans against the boulder.
He runs his fingers through my hair, and as much as I hate to admit it, the soothing sensation of his touch feels amazing. Every stroke sends a flurry of delight through me, making me feel protected. Secure.
Safe.
“That was good,” he says with a smile.
I laugh. “That was shit.”
He chuckles. “I mean, it wasn’t great…”
“Thanks. Good pep talk.”
“You’re getting it.” He sits up, helping me do the same, and I groggily take in my surroundings.
I’m sitting on the dirt, the hole in the mountain behind me still smoking a little. It gives me a glimpse into the ravine below, like someone took a massive hole-punch to the edge of the rocky cliff.
“You know, you’ve got to stop destroying my embassy.” He grins. “You need to leave me something to lead, after all.”
I shake my head at the stupid joke, but I can’t suppress a smile. “Sorry.”
We sit in silence, and for a moment, everything between us is fine. Good, even. He manages to not piss me off for a solid five minutes, and I think that’s a record.
“Rory,” he says, his smile fading.
Ah, crap.
Here it comes.
“Yeah?”
“The mate-bond never lies.” He sighs, draping one arm over his propped knee as he stares off into the forest. “Whatever you were before we met, you aren’t evil.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say dryly.
“I see the way you look at Drew,” he adds, voice getting darker. He frowns, and he won’t look at me. “At Tucker.”
“And?” I lean back on my hands, daring him to finish that thought.
He really, really shouldn’t.
“A mated dragon never shares.” He glares at me, barely holding back his possessive anger, and I can practically see the sparks coming out of his ears. “Since we aren’t fully mated yet, I can’t control what you do, but—”
&nb
sp; “You will never control what I do,” I interrupt, giving him a cold glare.
Driving the point home.
He scowls.
“Get that through your thick skull,” I demand. It comes out a little harsher than I intended, but I’ve about had it with this guy. I’m drawn to him, my body betrays me every time we’re close, and yet I can’t stand his possessive nature.
It’s one thing to want to protect someone you care about. But Jace—damn it, he just takes it to the next level.
I maintain eye contact, never once breaking our gaze. He glares with the fury of a sun, and that withering scowl has probably sent more than one recruit scampering away in fear.
But he doesn’t scare me.
“Rory, the mate-bond is serious. It’s unbreakable. It’s a vow of—”
“Oh, shove it.” I stand, entirely done with this conversation. “I may not know the ins and outs of how the mate-bond works, Jace, but I know enough to get the gist. It’s not that you don’t share, it’s that you don’t want to. You want to control me, lock me away, keep me safe and other misguided nonsense.” I laugh at the very idea. “You don’t trust my ability to take care of myself. You know what I am, what I was trained to be, what I’ve done, and you still don’t think I’m capable of holding my own in a fight.” My nose wrinkles in exasperation as I sink into my anger. “I mean, the nerve.”
“It’s not—”
“And furthermore,” I say, interrupting whatever little tirade he was about to launch into. “You don’t seem to care about my ways. Have you stopped to think about that?”
“I—uh,” he stutters, entirely caught off guard.
“Shocker.” I roll my eyes. “You make all these infuriating demands of me, but have you ever paused to think about my culture? Even once? I’m not a one-man kind of girl. I may not be Zurie’s little puppet anymore, but that doesn’t change the fact I was raised with Spectres. That’s my normal. My culture. A Spectre doesn’t take just one partner.”
“Don’t say that here.” He looks around, clearly concerned of being overheard.
That’s cute and all, but I scoped this place out the second we got here, and except for my brief episode, I’ve been paying close attention. The nearest guard is a sky scout, and he loops around every twenty minutes. We’re in the clear.
