by Donna Grant
Ryder linked his hands behind his head. “Nothing good, I imagine. There is no list of workers, but I was able to go through all of the companies owned by Kyvor and found a link that showed me there are over three hundred people working at this facility.”
Fallon whistled softly as he faced Ryder. “That’s a lot of employees.”
“That’s no’ even counting the ex-military they have patrolling the grounds.”
Con frowned, hearing this for the first time. “How many?”
“Over a hundred,” Ryder replied.
Fallon asked, “How did you find them?”
“By chance. A company such as Kyvor that goes to this much trouble to hide their employees and whatever is going on at the facility would want armed protection. So I went looking. It didna take me long to find some of the best from militaries all over the world vanishing from record.”
Con put his hands in his pant’s pockets. “I’m no’ worried about the humans with their guns.”
“What if they’re waiting for us?” Fallon asked.
Ryder sat up, and instantly, a translucent display of 3D holograms appeared before him. Con watched as Ryder swiped, pinched, and pulled at the display to access the data.
Fallon said, “They could be working with the Dark.”
“The Dark doona share their magic,” Con reminded them.
Ryder halted his movements and looked up. “And until Ulrik, they’d never joined forces with a Dragon King.”
Con clenched his teeth. “Let’s focus on getting Devon out of there before Anson loses his control.”
“That’s probably exactly what they want,” Fallon said.
Ryder blew out a breath. “Another video capturing a man shifting into a dragon. We doona need that.”
“At least it wouldna be on Dreagan,” Fallon pointed out.
Con turned the golden dragon head cufflink on his left wrist. Whether the video was shot on Dreagan or not wouldn’t matter. It would be another item they had to deal with.
And if Devon were Anson’s mate, then nothing would stop him from saving her. Nothing.
And that meant Anson would do whatever it took—even if it meant shifting in front of the entire world.
“Then I need to get in there,” Fallon said into the silence.
Con gave him a nod. “I’m going with you.”
“Ah,” Ryder hedged. “I’m no’ sure that’s a good idea.”
“It’s no’ up for debate,” Con stated. “I’m going.”
Fallon’s nod of agreement was all he needed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Anson had expected some kind of assault. In fact, he’d been waiting for it. And he wasn’t surprised that it had come from the Dark. What he hadn’t predicted was the Fae going after Devon so quickly.
Up until then, the Dark’s focus had been trained upon him. What had changed so suddenly?
And then he knew. The Druid.
He was going to kill her with his bare hands. Rip her limb from limb. Then scorch her with dragon fire.
Twice.
He didn’t care that she was human. It wouldn’t matter how much she begged—because she would, they all did—he was going to take great joy in making her hurt.
Because she was causing Devon pain.
“Get off me you useless, bumbling fuckwit,” Devon ground out.
Anson tried to tell her to stop talking, to stop fighting them. The more she fought, the more enjoyment they got out of bringing her to heel.
But when he opened his mouth, the Dark above him—a fucktard of epic proportions with long, black and silver hair and a penchant for silk shirts—threw two large bubbles of magic into his chest.
Anson ground his teeth together as the magic went through his lungs. Even though his immortality and magic began the healing process immediately, there were seemingly endless seconds where his lungs stopped working.
The Dark grinned maliciously. “Does that hurt, dragon?”
Anson tried to jerk one of his arms off the ground, but the Fae holding his limbs was using magic to keep him still and pinned. Which wouldn’t normally be an issue, but that was before his entire abdomen had been obliterated by Dark magic.
The Fae above him pressed one of his knees down on Anson’s chest and glanced at Devon. “She’s quite pretty. Not something I normally say about a mortal. I can’t wait to give her a try.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Anson stated.
The Dark merely grinned, his red eyes filled with evil. “One of your kind told me that before. As you can see, I’m still here. He isn’t.”
No! Anson didn’t want to think about what the Fae meant, but his mind had already made the connection.
“Yes,” the Dark said with a laugh. “We took two Dragon Kings. I thought I’d have at least a millennium to play with them, but you dragons aren’t as strong as you like to think. They went coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs much quicker than I anticipated. I wonder if you will?”
Anson bared his teeth and managed to get one arm free. He wrapped his fingers around the Dark’s neck and squeezed. For that small amount of time, the fucker’s smile disappeared. But all too soon, the two Fae had Anson’s arm pinned once more.
The Dark above him rubbed his neck, a look of utter contempt on his face. “I wonder which of the Kings will kill you? Will it be Con? Or Kellan? They were the two who stepped up during the Fae Wars.”
Anson thought he’d known what true hate felt like, but he’d only gotten a brief taste of it with the humans. It was nothing compared to the rush of loathing, of hostility and rancor that engulfed him now.
The Dark put more weight on the knee on Anson’s chest, pressing right into the large wound. Then the Fae leaned close. “She’s going to watch you. I’m going to keep her alive for however long it takes. She’s going to see every second of you going insane.
“And you’re going to watch me bring her pleasure again and again. I’ve waited thousands of years for just such an opportunity again. I’m dying to get started.”
Anson headbutted the Fae. He grinned when the Dark grabbed his forehead and fell sideways. “I’m going to kill you,” he promised.
The Fae responded with several more blasts of magic into Anson’s chest as he yelled his fury.
Through all of it, while desperately trying to stay conscious, Anson heard Devon’s voice shouting his name. He tried to turn his head her way, to look at her. It cost him much to execute that small movement, only to find something blocking his view.
“Hear her scream, dragon,” the Dark whispered in his ear. “She’ll be moaning for me soon.”
The only thing that could kill a Dragon King was another Dragon King. The Dark had tried many times in numerous ways to slay them, but had never succeeded. The pain of the Dark’s magic was excruciating as it wound its way agonizingly through Anson’s body. But he wouldn’t die from it. That was both a blessing and a curse.
A blessing because he would recover to save Devon.
A curse because the Fae knew just what Dark magic did to a King, and they could keep him in a weakened state for however long they wished.
“Con,” Anson called through their mental link.
He waited for an answer, but minutes ticked by slowly. Anson called for each of the Dragon Kings. No one answered. His eyes slid shut with frustration because he knew the Druid was somehow responsible.
“Leave me alone.”
Devon’s voice reached him through his haze of pain. Her words were laced with anger, revulsion, and a wobble of fear. Anson opened his eyes to see the Dark who had been talking to him standing before her.
Two more Fae held her from the outside of the cell, making sure she couldn’t move. The Dark touched her face, and she jerked her head away.
Her blue eyes met his. Anson had to help her. She was waiting for him, silently begging him to do something. Right then, at that very instant, he recognized what he’d known from the moment he first kissed Devon—she was his mate.
> And she was counting on him. He wasn’t about to let her down. Not now. Not ever.
He released the hold he had on his anger. Then he gathered his magic and pushed his power into the bodies of the Dark holding him. Maybe it was because he was so livid. Perhaps it was because the Dark were preoccupied and not expecting anything. But it was almost too easy to gain control of them.
Once there, he made all four attack each other. Without so much as a sound, they did just that.
In the next heartbeat, Anson shifted. There was a moment of pain from the Dark magic, but it passed. He let out a roar that shook the building and had the remaining three Dark turning his way. The two holding Devon loosened their holds enough that she was able to break free.
She dashed around the Fae standing before her and out the cell door. As she made her way to the exit, Anson let loose dragon fire.
The lead Fae teleported before he got burned, but the other two weren’t so lucky. Their screams died quickly. Too quickly to soothe Anson’s wrath.
At the door, Devon stopped and turned to him. She began slowly walking back to him before running his way. He held out his claw for her to climb on so he could fly them out.
She was just two steps away, a smile on her face, when the Dark Fae appeared behind her. Anson had no way to warn her. He quickly grabbed her, moving her as far from the Fae as he could. Because there was no way the Dark was getting ahold of her.
It wasn’t until he faced the arse again and saw the Dark’s cold smile that Anson realized he’d mistaken who the Dark wanted. The Fae had gone after several women the Kings had shown interest in, so Anson had naturally assumed it would be the same this time.
It wasn’t.
He released a blast of dragon fire the same time the Dark sent the spell that shifted Anson back to human form. Anson jumped to his feet and charged the Fae but didn’t get far before he was hit with a peculiar magic that knocked him unconscious.
* * *
Devon was still standing, staring wide-eyed at the last place she’d seen Anson when the door burst open and Upton walked in. By the smile on his face, he wasn’t at all surprised by anything that had just occurred.
How she wished she had magic, because she’d dearly love to level some at the smug tosspot. She wanted to see him on his knees, begging for his life. More than anything, she wanted that smile gone from his narrow face.
She stormed toward him, her hands clenched into fists. “Where is he? Tell me right now or I swear I’ll—”
“What?” Upton interrupted her. “Continue to hurl words at me? You can’t do anything else.”
Devon blinked when two men appeared behind Upton. Both were tall and gorgeous, but one wore a pair of jeans and a beige tee, while the other had on black slacks and a white dress shirt with dragon head cufflinks.
Her gaze lingered on the second man with his blonde hair and pitch-black eyes. He was glaring at Upton with such contempt that she wondered how Stanley was still on his feet.
“I can do something to you,” said the man in the jeans.
It was then that she noticed the gold torc around his neck. He spoke with a Scottish brogue that immediately made her heart hurt with longing for Anson.
Upton whirled around to face the men. The dark-haired one vanished, leaving Stanley with the golden-haired god that looked ready to level every brick of the structure.
Stanley must have recognized the man, because he stumbled back a few steps, his eyes wide with panic. “Devon,” he called, glancing her way. “Help me.”
“Help you?” she repeated and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why should I? I can’t do anything, remember?”
“I-I can tell you where Anson is,” Upton stuttered.
The golden god peeled back his lips in a snarl. “I already know where he is. I doona need you for anything, mortal.”
Stanley promptly fell to his knees. “I can—”
“Shut your mouth,” the blond said angrily.
Devon’s arms fell to her sides. Upton hadn’t shown this kind of fear to Anson, which meant that whoever this man was, Stanley was terrified of him.
That could only mean the golden god was none other than Constantine, King of Dragon Kings.
She looked to Con to find his gaze on her. They’d come for Anson, but it was too late.
“You’ll get to decide his fate,” Con told her of Upton.
Stanley looked at her, then turned on his knees to cower before her. “Please, Devon. I want to live.”
“Didn’t you think others felt the same?” she demanded.
“What I did, I did for the world.”
She recoiled from his words. “That’s a lie. You did it because you stupidly thought you had some power over the Dragon Kings. You were wrong. And you’re going to live to regret it.”
“I have the perfect place for him,” Con said with a smile that didn’t hold any mirth.
Upton began to cry, snot falling from his nose. Devon couldn’t even stand to look at him. But she wasn’t sure what to do. Did she leave? Did she stay?
She lifted her chin and walked to stand before Con. “I want to find Anson. I need to find him.”
“I ken, lass,” he said softly. “You’ll come with me.”
Tears of relief filled her eyes, but she hastily blinked them away. She’d kept her composure through everything else. She wouldn’t break now.
Con held out his arm to her. She hooked her arm through his, but they didn’t leave. They remained for several more minutes as Upton continued to cry.
“What are we waiting for?” she finally asked Con.
He blew out a breath. “Fallon is taking care of a … few things.”
“You mean the others here.”
“Aye.
“And Fallon is?”
Con’s smile was kind. “A Warrior. Fallon MacLeod leads the others with primeval gods inside them.”
This time, when she learned of a magical being, she didn’t even blink. Primeval gods, huh? “I see.”
“The gods allow the Warriors to have exceptional strength and powers. They shift by turning the color their god favors along with gaining fangs and claws.”
A woman with iridescent skin and eyes along with fangs and long claws walked into the room. She looked from Devon to Con. Devon thought she kept her shock to a minimum when the colored skin, claws, and fangs disappeared to reveal a woman of exceptional beauty with long, golden blond hair and smoky blue eyes.
“This is Larena,” Con explained. “She’s the only female Warrior.”
Larena smiled and stepped aside so that Fallon, now with black skin, eyes, and claws, could enter the room.
“The armed men are taken care of,” Fallon said.
Con gave a nod. “Come, Devon. It’s time you met some Druids.”
She kept in step beside Con, now completely comfortable with the turn her life had taken. Dragon Kings, Fae, Druids, and Warriors. What more could a girl want?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Dark Palace
Ireland
Thousands of years of preparation had finally gotten him exactly what he wanted. Amdir walked around the unconscious Dragon King who lay naked on his side. Thick manacles were locked around Anson’s wrists, the chains bolted to the wall of stone.
He’d waited centuries to have another King to torture. In that time, he’d dreamed of all the ways he’d break another of the legendary dragons.
A smile lifted his lips as he heard footsteps approaching. Few ever ventured to his lab, but it wouldn’t have taken long for word to reach Taraeth.
Amdir turned to face his king. Taraeth brushed past as he went to stand over Anson. But it was the Dark behind his king that rankled Amdir.
Balladyn.
Once a renowned warrior for the Light, Balladyn had somehow acquired the coveted position of the king’s right hand. And Amdir loathed him for it.
“You deviated from the plan,” Balladyn stated.
Amdir glared
at him. “I saw an opportunity and took it. We’re Dark. We do as we want.”
“That’s true enough,” Taraeth said before an all-out argument could ensue between the two. “However, that wasn’t the plan Mikkel and I agreed on.”
Amdir turned and stared at Taraeth in shock. “Mikkel is no one. He’s not even a Dragon King.”
“He plans on being the next King of Kings.”
Amdir fought not to roll his eyes. “With help. From a Druid. He’s not the rightful King.”
Balladyn issued a loud snort. “Now you’re an expert on the Dragon Kings?”
“No more so than you,” Amdir retorted. He then turned to Taraeth. “We have a chance of discovering what the weapon is. We came so close during the Fae Wars. I can get you the information this time.”
Balladyn crossed his arms over his chest with a look of aggravation. “We had Kellan, the Keeper of History, and couldn’t get him to tell us what it was. You’ll not get it from Anson.”
“I stake my life on the fact that I can,” Amdir stated, making sure to lace his words with conviction.
Taraeth kicked Anson’s arm. “I’m going to hold you to that, Amdir.” He slid his gaze to him. “I’ll handle Mikkel. You get to work on the dragon.”
Amdir didn’t hold back his smile as Taraeth walked out. Balladyn remained, their gazes locked in a battle of wills. Everyone knew how dangerous Balladyn was, but Amdir didn’t fear him.
Balladyn was self-righteous and had grown complacent. He wielded power like Taraeth, and it was time Balladyn lost his station—the position that had rightly been Amdir’s.
“You’re going to fail,” Balladyn stated.
“We’ll see.” No one needed to know that he was using more than Fae magic.
It didn’t matter how he got the results, as long as he got them. Soon enough, the weapon the Kings had hidden for untold eons would be used against them. Once the Dragon Kings were no more, Earth would be the new home of the Fae.
And it would all be because of him.
After that, his sights were set on an even bigger goal—the throne.
One step at a time. Amdir would break Anson and watch as Con had to behead another Dragon King. Then Amdir would find the weapon and use it on the Kings. As for Balladyn, he would die shortly after Anson.
