by Dianna Love
She’d been a survivor her entire life. She’d lived on scraps as a child while passed around from one poor family to the next in Amazon villages of barefoot children.
But she’d felt her life turn around when she learned at eighteen she was special. A Belador.
Pain streaked up her legs and into her chest.
Her body wanted to curl in on itself, but ... she couldn’t move her limbs. Those hideous yellow things that snatched her from Atlanta had stretched her vertically in four directions.
What about poor Devon? Had they killed him?
A grotesque body she’d seen the first time she’d opened her eyes here had terrified her. She’d been sick at the thought it might be Devon, but the vacant gaze staring back at her had held blue eyes. Not brown like his.
Like Roberto’s.
How many more Beladors had these monsters captured?
How could they stand to smell themselves?
Her nose should be accustomed to the disgusting sulfuric odor by now, but no. Every breath pulled in that miserable rotten egg stench. The taste lingered in her dry mouth.
Water. Just a sip.
She’d lick it off the floor if they’d let her.
Her head pounded nonstop.
Pain had become her only companion.
That and constant replays of Devon’s body yanked over that railing in downtown Atlanta. One minute, he’d been there. Then the next, his body had flown out of sight. She hoped he’d had a fast death. At least he was not suffering—
Energy charged through her as if she stood in a raging storm and grabbed a live electrical wire.
She arched, every muscle tight, straining against the manacles.
Bright yellow flooded her vision behind closed eyelids.
She hated the color.
Whatever these monsters were doing to her continued to build inside her body every minute. For the first time ever, she wished to not be a strong Belador.
She wished for death.
She wished to say goodbye to Roberto.
She wished ...
Darkness sucked her down a black hole.
Time floated, twisted, reshaped, and grew again. Voices rumbled, threatening noises, then quiet.
Silence stretched until one voice stood out. A man’s? Maybe.
“This may not work.”
She’d lost the ability to shut down her curiosity once she’d seen so much. Renata barely parted her eyelashes to close quickly if she couldn’t handle what she saw.
As her eyes focused, she could see nothing in the darkness. This room or whatever place this was felt big and airy. She moved her head in tiny increments, terrified to draw attention.
Light caught at the edge of her vision.
She squinted.
That master, the one Daegan had fought on the Ferris wheel, came into focus. She hadn’t been able to understand much of what he and Daegan discussed. The master, as he’d ordered her to call him, had hurt Daegan.
Had hurt a dragon shifter old as time.
A distorted voice said, “It will work. You will be free soon, Timmon.”
Was Timmon another name for the master?
Who spoke to him?
Renata sorted the words and couldn’t decide if the second voice belonged to a man or woman. It was as if the being was not present. She peeked more. A blurry image wobbled in front of the master ... Timmon.
“I take all the risk here and now you want me to stick my neck out farther?” Timmon moved around, lifting his arms from his body that glowed less than last time. She could see skin sagging in places.
“Your risk is no greater than mine. I have given you an opportunity to finally be free. To rule alongside me.”
Timmon raked his head with nails curved into claws. He shouted, “I hate this body. You tricked me.”
“You owed me.”
“Not this. How could I owe you this?”
“I saved you from a worse fate. Stop complaining. When this is done, I will return you to your former body. All will be well and we will enjoy the spoils of our victory.”
Squatting down and cupping his hands over his bleeding head, Timmon whined, “We have to do it soon. The Imortik trying to take over my body is killing me.”
“You are stronger, which is why I made you master. Your discomfort is nothing compared to the Imortiks feasting on Beladors.” The distorted voice laughed louder and louder until the sound coated her skin.
That’s what she had inside her? An Imortik?
Tears burned her eyes.
She swallowed down a sob. Never cry. Not for these monsters.
“Discomfort? This is hideous.” Standing up, Timmon jerked and flinched, then calmed down. “I can’t keep waiting. What is the next step?”
“Attack VIPER. Destroy the alliance. Put the Beladors on the run, then we turn to the humans.” More booming laughter.
Renata clamped her lips shut to stop the scream.
She could save none of her people. Or Roberto.
Chapter 23
After launching the boat Luigsech had hidden near the bank, Daegan took one of the paddles and powered the small boat back upstream.
He had to give her credit.
She’d fought Imortiks and faced off with him and Quinn without knowing just how dangerous they were. Then she’d allowed Quinn to enter her mind.
If he’d heard that told by someone else when he had not been present, he’d have said Luigsech was a fool.
That would have been unfair. She was no fool.
She was loyal to a fault.
Now that he knew who had Tristan, he could breathe a little easier. They would find Cathbad, but only because of this woman.
Daegan could not deny his admiration. Opening a mind to Quinn would be terrifying for anyone. She’d forced her fear down for those she loved. Dark auburn tresses blew around the smooth skin of her face. Blue eyes he’d seen glow almost a lavender color last night and today took in everything then landed on him again.
He felt her intensity as if it were a living thing.
She’d given up paddling when her efforts worked against his powerful strokes and sent them off course. Since then, she’d crossed her arms and pushed herself toward the bow, as far from him as she could get.
“What exactly are you plannin’ to do with the grimoire if I find a volume for you, Drake?”
“If?” He paddled along smoothly.
“If.” Her mouth flattened in a grim expression.
“When ya find a volume, I must take it quickly to save my people in another land.” He scooped another deep stroke down one side then the other, propelling them along quicker than a human could.
“Who would you give it to?” she persisted.
“I never said I would give it to anyone.”
She sat forward, elbows on knees. “Then how do you plan to use it to save anyone?”
“I have not worked that out yet, but I will. I must save my people and keep the volume safe. I need as many volumes as we can find.”
“We might not find any. Then what?” Her fingers clawed at her throat in an unconscious motion.
Daegan didn’t like seeing her distressed, especially not to the point of scarring her skin. “Do not do that.”
She stopped. “Do what?”
“Scratch your neck that way. Your fingernails leave red marks as if an animal clawed ya.”
His words held her momentarily silent, then she rolled her eyes. “And that bothers you why?”
“I do not wish to see any woman harmed.” He caught her gaze and would not release it as he kept the boat moving. The way she stared at him with distrust shouldn’t matter, but it bothered him. He had always championed the innocent and vulnerable.
She showed no sign of believing anything he said.
He owed nothing to her beyond helping save her friend, but the defensive words still came out. “I am not the monster ya chase.”
Another stretch of water passed before she spoke.
> “You have no idea what monster I chase and don’t ask. That’s a question I won’t answer.” She twisted to her left and pointed. “There’s the landin’. You got us here in record time.”
He angled the boat to the spot she’d indicated and dug deeper strokes, sending the flat bottom boat up on the bank.
She leaped out and grabbed a rope she’d hooked to a cleat and pulled.
The boat would not move.
Shaking his head, he jumped out, gripped one corner and dragged the boat past her. He pushed it into a flattened area the same size as the boat. With it firmly tucked into the hole, he backed away as she made fast work of covering the boat with old branches. She carefully pulled vines back into place where they would naturally fall into the water.
Pink flowers grew along the vines. His father’s cook always had those flowers floating in a bowl of water. Seemed odd to him at the time, but he’d like to thank her for the memory now.
Lifting her arms and stretching her back, she said, “We have to hike back to the centre.”
“To the front door or your secret entrance?”
That shut down all conversation again.
He wished to exchange places with Quinn, who had shown an endless supply of patience for this woman. “I know of your secret tunnels.”
“How can you know anythin’ of the sort?” she replied, dodging his comment.
“We brought a woman here who has remote viewing. She sat in a spot on the floor of the ancestral centre and saw how ya opened a secret door in the bookcase on the back wall. Then ya followed the tunnel for a long stretch until you climbed out of it ... into a tree. ’Tis interestin’. How old is that tree?”
Of all the things he’d said to her, that stole her ability to speak.
She’d gone back to eyeing him as a terror.
Why? “Do not worry about your treehouse. I care nothin’ for that or your secret tunnels. I only care what ya can find in your books.”
She waved off his comment. “There be nothin’ special about any of the tunnels. They were built three hundred years ago for women and children to escape during battle. I take those exits sometimes just to be sure the passages are still in good shape. I had actually intended to send Fenella out that way if she had shown up before Cavan. Cathbad.”
Had he finally said the right thing to relax her?
Quite a speech coming from her for something of little significance, but he saw no reason to threaten her escape path. “Sounds too small for one of my size.”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes. Much too small. The idea had been for the men to fight off an enemy while his family escaped, but if he fell then the tunnel would slow down someone followin’ his wife and kids.” She almost smiled in relief.
He’d like to see her smile. A real smile.
Ruadh made that low rumbling again as he would do after a day of flying just to relax.
Daegan smiled at whatever had his dragon content for the moment.
Tristan would like this woman’s spirit and would tease her. He enjoyed poking at Adrianna and Evalle.
Daegan missed Tristan’s humor.
Luigsech’s forehead creased with a new concern. What bothered her now?
She asked, “Can you do the cloakin’ Quinn did?”
He thought he could do it again, but he had some doubts about his powers such as teleporting a great distance. He’d spoken to Quinn telepathically once his Maistir had left to hunt Fenella. He had Quinn contact Brina for her help returning to Atlanta.
His niece would be delivering her twins soon. Daegan had to get this venom out of his system and return before her birthing. He would not have her dealing with teleporting others, which could take a toll on her energy once her time came closer.
“Drake? The cloakin’?”
“How long?”
She clamped her hand on her forehead. “Would complete sentences be askin’ too much?”
Mouthy wench. “How long would ya be needin’ the cloakin’? Give me a distance.”
“Ah, you can only go for a short time, huh?”
He heard the taunt in her words and countered, “Not to tout my ability, but I can go longer than the best.”
Her cheeks reddened. “Well then it shouldn’t matter how long, should it?”
“’Twas only clarifyin’ so my answer would be accurate.”
She made a sound that reminded him of a small beasty growling. She admitted, “I don’t want to be seen enterin’ the buildin’. I can get us close, then you’ll have to cloak us for maybe fifty or sixty feet.”
“I can do such.”
“Good.” She grabbed her backpack and walked off. “Let’s go.”
He would not walk emptyhanded as a woman carried a loaded pack, not even one as annoying as Luigsech. He caught up to her quickly and snatched the backpack away before she could stab her second arm through the strap.
She spun around and lunged for it, but he lifted the pack high above her hands. He started to explain he would carry the load so they could make better time and not because he was trying to touch her sword.
Her momentum sent her flying into his chest.
He caught her to him.
His heart rate tripled and his body reacted to her even faster. Daegan froze, unwilling to move with the bulge pressing his normally comfortable jeans.
Fingers clutched his shirt as her foot slid in the mud.
He wrapped an arm around her waist.
Everything stopped.
Daegan could swear the world slowed and the wind lay down as he stared into her searing blue gaze. Her breathing quickened and her heart thumped wildly against his chest.
Had touching him affected her as much as it did him?
Fire blazed in her gaze as realization of her position became clear. She curled her lips back and shoved away from him. “Give me my damn backpack.”
“No.”
“You can’t take my property.”
He pushed out a sigh that sounded as if his dragon grumbled. “Why do ya always think the worst of me?”
“You make it so easy.” She crossed her arms. An errant lock of the rich auburn hair fell across her forehead.
Would she attack him if he brushed it away?
Why would he do that? Daegan scowled, more at himself than her. “I merely lifted the pack to lighten your load as we walk. Your possessions do not interest me.”
She visibly struggled to accept his explanation. Then she smiled, but it had a mean glint. “Liar. Last night at my cottage, ya asked me about my sword as if it did not belong to me.”
Lowering the pack to loop one strap across his shoulder, he admitted, “I was surprised to find that sword in this current day. ’Tis very old. Do ya know who once carried it?”
“Yes.” She started walking backwards.
He followed her, tempted to smile at the way she used his one word answer to frustrate him.
But this was no time to smile.
Or to be thinking of this woman in any way other than an opponent. Certainly not a sexual liaison.
Surely, it had been too long since he’d had a woman to have those thoughts at this moment. “Ya will not tell me the original owner?”
“Nope.” She stopped and shifted her stance, clearly willing to wait him out.
“Very well. Lead the way and I will cloak us when need be.”
She stretched out her hand. “The backpack.”
Hardheaded woman. He slid it off his shoulder and held it with the straps open so she could hook each arm.
Once she had everything latched to suit her, she muttered an angry, “Thank you.”
She may not care for his company, but her anger would not allow her to overlook her manners. Such a funny woman.
After walking a short distance, they stopped at her cottage, which was on the way.
Luigsech walked in and stared at the destruction. She swallowed hard. “What happened to the Imortik things I beheaded?”
“Before leavin’ to hunt for ya
last night, I moved them outside and burned their bodies.” Daegan grimaced at her sadness over the destruction inside her pretty cottage.
She wrinkled her nose. “Still smell them.”
“The smell will go away.” He had not wanted this to happen to her home, but he bore the guilt for it. Imortiks had come for him, drawn by the venom in his body.
He couldn’t use majik to fix this mess for two reasons. One was she did not need to know what he could do, and additionally, he had no idea of the limits to his energy right now. He had to be careful not to tap his power when unnecessary.
“We cannot stay long, lass.”
She seemed to catch herself. “Right. I need a quick shower and food.”
He took in her soiled shirt and ripped pants, then her exhaustion. “Have your shower and I will find food.”
She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What will you cook?”
“Whatever I find. Go on with your cleanup. We only have a few minutes to spend.” He waved a hand to brush her away.
Grumbling under her breath, she went to her bedroom. A minute later, he heard water running.
Daegan deemed cleaning up the mess a necessary use of kinetics. Once he had it reasonably clean and the broken furniture stacked in a pile, he searched the kitchen. She had a large bowl of stew in her cooling box. Refrigerator. He mentally thanked Tristan for constantly introducing him to modern elements.
Where was Tristan? His second-in-command had to know Daegan would come for him as soon as he had a location.
Daegan found a pot and dumped the stew in it, then pointed his finger to light a fire beneath the pot. He found two bowls and spoons. The smell lifting from the stew had his stomach growling.
Would Cathbad take care with Tristan to avoid being turned to ashes by Daegan’s dragon? Or would the druid think he’d outwitted Daegan and do as he pleased, believing Daegan would never find out?
Daegan’s fist tightened and his hand turned bright red from the heat building. Something dripped on his boot.
He opened his hand.
He’d melted her spoons into a silver blob. Hell.
The list of things he’d have to replace in this cottage kept adding up. Opening his hand, he dumped the misshapen spoons into the garbage and found two new ones. He placed those next to the bowls on the small table that had survived the battle.
