by A. C. Arthur
It made her frown and use most of her effort not to kick Aiken under the table. He was doing this to her. He’d pushed her in that car, telling her to focus on his voice and what she was feeling. He knew exactly what he was doing, what part of her he was trying to awaken. The bastard.
“After Temptra’s appearance and Enes’s bombshell about my heritage, I started tracking a couple members of my grandmother’s coven and they’re more than eager to help. There’re many stories about the Rebirth in all regions of Africa.” Ravyn spoke evenly.
Ziva drummed her fingers on the table. “Temptra was from the Congo region. That’s where Enes said she planned to take Ravyn with the dagger.”
“I’ve heard of that. My great-grandmother used to talk about it along with other myths of our land,” Shola continued. “The Rebirth of their ancient. Warrick tried it when he wanted to marry me to get control over my homeland of Mobo to raise an army of vampires. Then, remember Enes told us about Temptra wanting Ravyn and the cursed dagger to raise the Royal Guild, the most powerful of the buried ancient vampires, and the only group that could, once raised, bring back all of the ancients that had been buried over the centuries?” She waited a beat but was satisfied enough to continue when Theo nodded. “If the Royal Guild can be raised, they’ll outpower any of the vamps walking among us now. They’ll kill and ravage until there’s nothing left on any realm besides their kind. It’s what they tried to do once before, but were unsuccessful once the witches stopped them. Enes mentioned they were in an area called Lava Lake in the Congo region, but up to this point, I haven’t been able to locate the burial ground.”
That’s where Shola’s accent came from. She was from the African region, and so were Magnum and Steele, because they sounded like her. Ravyn, on the other hand, had no accent and yet was talking about her heritage and possibly having some type of power over a dagger. Mel was actively trying to piece all this information together while dealing with Aiken and the part of her she desperately needed to keep at bay. Her temples began to throb under the pressure.
“How apropos it’ll be when I come up with the spell to stop them.” Her gaze fell on Ravyn once more and this time she stared closely at her. Out of the three women, not including herself, in this room, Ravyn was the only one not wearing sunglasses, and not carrying a pair with her.
Ziva hadn’t removed hers when she entered the room. Shola didn’t have any on, but Mel could see the outline of a pair in the side pocket of the vest she wore. Mel guessed the Drakon wore them to hide their eyes from the humans. So, if Ravyn didn’t have any, she wasn’t a Drakon.
“She’s a witch.” Ziva answered Mel’s unspoken question, sending a pithy glance her way.
“Half witch,” Ravyn said with a nod. “On my mother’s side.”
“Shola and Ravyn will work on narrowing down the location of the burial ground and coming up with a way that we can possibly kill the ancients in the ground.” Theo spoke louder, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Steele, you and Reese stay on the streets, monitor any and all movement of the vamps. These nights full of grabbing humans to convert or kill them must be stopped. Mag, you and I will juggle the Legion clients, doubling security in high traffic areas.”
He was handing out assignments and she hated that she already knew which one was coming her way.
“Aiken, you and Mel stay on Duncan. You two seem to have a knack for drawing him out. Whatever that is do it again, but this time catch the bastard and bring him to me.” It wasn’t a request, but a command that brokered no argument from anyone in the room.
If Theo’s soul identifier powers could see into her mind to the way she was cursing him and the oppressive authority he’d been given just by being born, he might’ve changed his mind about keeping her around.
“We’re on it,” Aiken replied and stood so fast she didn’t have a second to think of a comeback.
That was probably for the best, but the moment he clasped a hand over her wrist she knew the rest of their night was only going to get worse. Deciding she’d rather not make a scene, Mel rose from her seat and let Aiken lead her out of the room. But the moment that door closed behind them, she snatched away from his grasp.
“You don’t own me,” she snapped.
He ran a hand down his face and huffed out a breath. “Not tonight, Mel. We’ve had a very long and eventful day and I’m damned tired of searching for a psycho vampire hell-bent on raising more psycho vampires while battling with you and the beast you think you can control. All I want to do right now is get a hot shower and go to bed.”
For the first time since things had gone haywire in the truck, she noticed his clothes were a mess. Something black had splattered all over the front of his shirt and his jacket was torn at the shoulder. Her body jerked involuntarily and she stepped closer to him. “You’re bleeding.”
The acidic stench of blood stung her nostrils and pricked her skin with an awareness she wasn’t accustomed to.
Of course, he shrugged as if it was no big deal. “It’s healing.”
He’d been hurt tonight? How had she not known? Where had she been when it happened? Too many questions and she felt dizzy and slightly overwhelmed beneath his intent gaze. “I’m not showering with you,” she snapped, and forced herself to let the previous thoughts rest.
He’d already started walking away. “I didn’t ask you to. But if you’d rather go back in the room with the others, go right ahead. I’m sure Theo would love to hear why you despise him and his clans so vehemently. Or perhaps you’d rather spend the rest of the night with Shola and Ravyn, who’ll no doubt talk all of your secrets out of you in a couple hours, tops. And then there’s Mag’s smoldering attitude and Reese’s goofy come-ons. Take your pick.”
Recalling where they were in the fortress now, she caught up with him and elbowed him out of her way as she took the lead. “You can stop being an ass now.”
“Sure. Just as soon as you stop being a tease.”
Chapter Seven
He hadn’t meant to call her that, because he’d known how combative she was already feeling. But hell, this situation with her was driving him nuts. She’d been right there with him, feeling every beat of arousal just as acutely as he had. More importantly, her beast had been there too. He’d felt the joined pressure of both beasts, reaching out to each other to claim their peace, and he knew she’d felt it too. But she hadn’t wanted to feel it. She was still conflicted and he needed to respect that.
The problem was he wanted her too desperately and it was fucking with his sanity. Frustration had him constantly getting into spats with her when he was normally the easygoing Drakon, the calm, decisive one.
Entering his room, he went straight to his closet, where he stripped off the ruined jacket, shirt and pants, tossing them all in the trash. It never mattered what clothes he wore to work—even though the others often had comments about his flair for style over sensibility—because losing a battle wasn’t an option. Tonight, however, he’d been off his game. Not only had the vampires snuck up on him, but some idiot bastard had shot him. Normally his reflexes would’ve been quicker—with his heightened senses the arrow coming at him would’ve been detected and he’d have used his power to aim it in another direction before it could make contact. He was losing it, there was no simple way to put it.
After removing the rest of his clothes and his boots, he walked out of the closet naked and continued to the bathroom. Once there, he opened the glass doors to the shower stall and stepped inside. He turned the water to hot and waited while it warmed before stepping under the spray.
He would’ve fucked her right there in the front seat of the truck. That had been the plan. His beast was ready and so was he. All he’d had to do was unzip his pants, free his dick and enter her. A weight so heavy he’d almost buckled under the pressure rested on his shoulders and Aiken dropped his head before sighing.
He was ready
to be what they’d once been and that fact was slowly killing him. But who was he kidding? What they once were couldn’t simply be defined by sex. Those two years they were together, the physical attraction had been just the tip of the iceberg. Their emotional connection had been much stronger, until for a time they’d actually seemed as one. It had taken him a long time to realize that may’ve been Mel’s biggest problem with them as a couple.
Why couldn’t he just let her go, to be what she wanted to be? The simple answer was because what Mel wanted to be didn’t include him, not in the way he needed it to. He could understand her need to prove she could take care of herself; she’d had to do so all her life. It was also understandable that she continue to maintain her place in protecting humans in the way she’d become accustomed to doing. If she accepted her beast, none of those things needed to change. Aiken’s only issue was, she believed that to do all these things she had to deny the most basic part of her being—the Drakon. It was frustrating and demeaning to still feel this way about her and for an instant he wished he could carve the beast that had selected her out of his human body. To put that bastard on the side of the road and keep on riding. That thought had him clenching his fists because there’d never been a time in all his years that Aiken hadn’t wanted to be a Drakon.
“I’m sorry.”
It was a whisper, yet he’d heard it as if she’d yelled directly in his ear. Turning his head slowly, he saw her standing on the other side of the glass door, still fully dressed, staring at him with eyes that he could’ve sworn flashed from one color to another. But that wasn’t possible. He’d never seen Mel’s Drakon eyes. She’d never revealed them to him or to anyone else.
When he didn’t speak, she touched her fingertips to the door. “I never meant to come back and open these wounds again. I’d never intentionally do that to you.”
She didn’t speak the other words but he knew she was thinking that she’d never intentionally do that to herself either. Because, just as he’d told her, this torture worked both ways.
“I just really need to complete this job.” She paused again, this time looking away from him momentarily before returning her gaze to his. “I really need this money, Aiken. If that means I have to endure all the pain I’ve caused by walking away from you all those years ago, then I will. But you have to believe it’s not intentional. I would’ve stayed away from you for eternity to spare you this.”
All he could do was stare at her because everything else caused horrific discomfort. Trying to breathe while she talked, with the pain she was experiencing etched all over her face, was like swallowing glass. His eyelids felt like bricks as he tried to blink to clear his thoughts. At his sides the fingers that had clenched while he’d tried to contain the roiling conflict of emotions inside flexed and just as he lifted a hand to touch the glass where her fingers were, she walked away.
The curse that came next was quick and vicious and he closed his eyes instead of watching her leave again. No amount of hot water or brutal scrubbing could rid him of the searing pain that occupied every part of his body, human and dragon. She was everywhere, and not there, at the same time and when he finally walked out of the bathroom, it was with the weary thought that this was his life. Forevermore, he would carry this feeling with him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
She’d already set herself up on the couch and he didn’t have the strength to argue with her, not again tonight. So, he stayed in the bedroom, falling onto his bed and begging for sleep to come next. But life was just a bitch that insisted on raining all her power on him, and he only tossed and turned for longer than he cared to admit, before finally sitting up in bed to stare at the wall. There were many paintings and portraits in the Office, most of which had been selected by Theo or Bleu. It was mainly their space, after all. But when Aiken came on board with the clan, he’d been given his choice of empty suites in the space and he’d chosen this one, on the far east side of the mountain. Windows hadn’t been a big thing for him because there was nothing in the outside world he’d needed to see. All he’d had to do was close his eyes and Mel’s face would appear.
That hadn’t stopped him from buying the picture she’d seen one day when they were working in France. Some unknown artist had painted the wind and he’d thought it was ridiculous. She’d thought it was beautiful and he’d bought it, intending to give it to her as an anniversary gift, but the breakup had come first. Looking at it now, he wondered if she’d seen it last night when she’d slept in here. Even if she’d seen it, what would it have made her feel?
Likely nothing.
Throwing back the sheets he eased off the bed and walked into the front room, stopping when he saw her laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling in the same way he’d just been staring at his wall.
“I don’t want you to give me the money.”
She said that again as if she’d known he would offer it to her. The thought had crossed his mind. The way she said she needed it so desperately made him want to just go to his bank account filled with money from his numerous investments and the portion of his salary from the Legion Security Company he didn’t spend on clothes, and just give it to her. That’s what Steele had done when Ravyn had wanted to sell that cursed dagger she’d stolen. He’d bought it from her to save her life, not realizing that there was so much more to the dream that had brought his mate to him.
Unlike Steele, Aiken didn’t have dreams about Mel dying. He only dreamed of the good times they’d had. The long walks and deep, intimate conversations they’d shared which had brought them closer than he’d ever been to anyone before.
“Why do you need it so badly? Are you in trouble?” If she was, he would help. Heartache aside, he cared about her and would battle on any realm to keep her safe.
“No. But she is.”
“Who?”
“Rosilda. She needs surgery and will require around the clock care during rehabilitation and probably afterwards as well. I can’t be there all the time with her, but I want to make sure she’s taken care of. I owe her that much.”
Rosilda Thomas was the closest to a mother Mel ever had. She’d rescued Mel from the human foster care system when Mel was six years old, two years after Mel’s Drakon parents had left her on the Human Realm and were subsequently killed. Born of a jaguar shape-shifter father and human mother, Rosilda had the long life span of a preternatural but the ailments of a human, which he figured caused a few questions in giving her medical history to human doctors. Crossing his arms over his bare chest, he leaned back against the wall.
“I could bring her here. Get her set up in one of the apartment buildings I own, make sure the surgery is scheduled and that she has the care she needs.” He’d do that and so much more for her if she’d just stop running from him. No. He’d do it even if she wasn’t with him.
Shifting her gaze to him, she shook her head. “I don’t want you to do it for me, Aiken. She took care of me when no one else was there. I have to do this for her. I have to repay her for everything, and this is the only way I know how.”
This was the woman he loved. The woman who loved her foster mother enough to hunt down a killer in order to earn the money to save her life. In this moment his heart swelled with emotion for Mel. Even though he thought she was wrong in one aspect of this situation. If Rosilda had given Mel all the love of a parent, then that’s likely all the woman wanted from Mel in return. But this insane belief system Mel had created about being worthy of love and showing gratitude when love was given had been ingrained in her mind since her parents’ death. To Mel’s way of thinking, her birth parents hadn’t thought she was worthy of being a Drakon and so they hadn’t taught her all she needed to know about the race of dragon shifters and hadn’t left her with anyone who could. That had broken her heart and led her to the decision that her only option was to break Aiken’s heart in the process.
“We’ll find him and you’ll
get your payment.” He’d make sure of that, and the money would come from the Collectors because Aiken respected her far too much to go behind her back and make the arrangements for Rosilda on his own.
“And we’ll become collateral damage in the process.” She sighed with that admission and he tried like hell not to agree with her.
“We’re too old for games, Mel. We both know where we stand. There’s no reason we can’t get through this and come out on the other side.” Except that their beasts were going to put up one hell of a fight along the way.
“I don’t doubt we’ll come out of this. My concern is what condition you’ll be in after this is done.” She was concerned about him, not herself. That was typical. No matter what he said or how he’d proven her beast had a stake in this thing between them, as well, Mel was hell-bent on standing her ground. She wasn’t going to claim being a Drakon and if she didn’t claim it, she didn’t have to accept any of the truths about their kind—including the Selection process.
He pushed away from the wall and went to stand next to where her head lay on the couch. Kneeling down so they were face-to-face, he reached over and brushed a few curly strands of hair from her forehead. “Don’t worry about me, baby. I’ve been here before and I survived. I’ll do it again.”
“I will too.” Bravado should’ve been Mel’s middle name. She’d carry that act to her grave. He both admired and cursed that part of her.
* * *
Mel hated lifting weights. She despised the treadmill, the elliptical and every other piece of exercise equipment ever created. They were all demonic and designed to evoke pain and misery. Muscles, toned bodies and strength all may seem like the rewards of using the torture traps, but she knew better. And still, when Bleu told her they had a full gym, complete with a five-mile track and a hot tub to assuage her aching bones, she’d immediately sought out the space.
