Dragon: The Clan Legacy Series

by J. S. Striker

  Charlie made a move to touch her elbow.

  The reaction was instantaneous. Francesca jumped, whirled on him in a motion of attack. Calmly, he blocked her hand from striking and noticed it was cold.

  “You're not okay,” he intoned.

  “I'm fine,” she insisted. When her hand kept trembling, he took it in his, and felt something warm as they connected. Charlie ignored the warmth and focused on the matter at hand.

  “I haven't had dinner yet. Perhaps we should find a restaurant and eat before we go home.”

  Silence.

  Then Francesca nodded her head a little too enthusiastically for his liking.

  “That is a splendid idea!”

  *****

  It wasn't until they were in the middle of dinner—some Chinese pasta this time—that Charlie noticed the smoke curling at the edge of his vision, saw the glint of a figure before it disappeared.

  But not before he caught a glimpse of red eyes.

  He tried to act nonchalant, as if he hadn't seen anything. He kept up with her nervous conversation, even though his focus was on the greater demon who had apparently been trailing them the whole time. It was no wonder she'd been charged with a nervous energy the whole time—she knew she was being followed and was trying to act as normal as possible.

  More smoke curled, almost as if the demon was playing with them. Charlie caught a flash of the demon's face and he realized exactly who it was: Mico, the bargain demon. His friend Finn had a run-in with said demon before, and apparently the demon had some sort of hold on Mya.

  If he was trailing Francesca, that meant she had some sort of connection with the witch.

  This was getting complicated.

  Charlie's mind furiously worked as he tried to think of the next plan. Mico wasn't going to stop anytime soon, and Charlie couldn't exactly release Francesca now that she was in danger. If Mico was anything like his predecessor, Belvar, then things were about to get worse. They needed to regroup.

  He tried his best to keep up with the conversation until she finished her meal. Once she did, Charlie paid the bill and tried out a small smile.

  “Want to come back to my place and hang out?”

  Francesca stared at him, one brow raised. A wisp of curl fell on her forehead, a mix of brown and gold that suited her. Eyes the color of dark coffee met his, and he realized it was the first time she'd looked him in the eye today.

  They were the eyes of an adult.

  “I would love that,” she replied softly.

  He had to remind himself she wasn't an adult, and he needed to stop thinking about getting lost in that all-too-pretty gaze.

  *****

  The ward on his apartment held, and he didn't feel any stirring of danger once they were inside. Francesca relaxed a bit, obviously aware of it too, even though he wasn't sure she realized it. She started to smile easier now, thanking him for accompanying her to dinner and flirting with a warmth that he wasn't entirely too comfortable with.

  To distract her, he offered juice.

  “I'd rather have brandy, if you have it,” she said boldly.

  “Aren't you a little too young for that?” he warned, not wanting to give anything away.

  “Old enough to be alone with a man,” she said meaningfully.

  She was too fresh and forward for his liking, and had he been her father, he'd have spanked her already for taking too much liberty with a male adult. Then the image of himself spanking her entered his mind, and it jarred him enough to excuse himself and get a grip.

  He was acting out of accord, and he needed to stop.

  He realized in the bathroom that something was wrong when his vision began to slightly blur, and images of Francesca filled his head and made his cock stiffen. Curse words filled his head—another bizarre thing, because he never cursed.

  Ever.

  Quickly, Charlie pulled out his phone and called the one person who might have the answers.

  “Chuck, what's up?” Robbie's rough voice filled the line.

  “May I ask for an audience with your wife, please?”

  “Jesus. Speak English. It’s not the damn early century.”

  “Language,” Charlie couldn’t help saying—a reminder that was met with more curses.

  “Call her, not my line,” Robbie growled before the line went silent. Charlie thought he might have been hung up on—rudely at that—and was about to redial when a female voice came.

  “Hi, Charlie,” Sophia said warmly, whispering a quiet reprimand beside her. No doubt, that was for her temperamental husband. Robbie growled and was shushed. Charlie politely waited until the witch got back on the line. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need an antidote for a possible poison,” he said calmly.

  “What kind of poison?”

  His mind worked overtime, trying to cut through the gray haze. “Vision is blurry, not acting myself, saying words and thinking things I shouldn’t be saying and thinking. Might have gotten it from a drink a few hours ago.”

  Or the Chinese food.

  “Or food,” he added.

  The line went quiet and he thought he might have gotten disconnected again. Then…

  “Are you in trouble?” Sophia asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” Charlie said.

  The line beeped, and suddenly Robbie was on the line, too. “Damn it, Chuck. You are in trouble.”

  “I’m fine,” Charlie replied. “Tell me about the antidote. I need to get back to the mission.”

  Sophia said something about rest and water, and Robbie said some more words. Charlie thanked them and hung up right away, their words already jumbling in his head even as he tried to make sense of them. He took a step towards the bathroom door, found himself swaying.

  A scream sounded in the living room.

  He tried to make a run for it and ended up getting swallowed by dizziness and darkness.

  *****

  When Charlie woke up, he was still on the bathroom floor, and the words from the phone earlier suddenly started making sense.

  It’s your regular sleeping spell, Sophia had said. You just need rest and lots of water to get rid of it.

  More grumbling from Robbie, of course.

  The scream from earlier entered his mind, and without wasting time, Charlie bolted out of the bathroom door, wondering if the spell had hit Francesca, too. His living room came into view, and he froze.

  Francesca was awake. She was also tied up in a chair, her brown eyes wide with alarm.

  Beside her, the demon Mico sat on the couch, reading a newspaper and looking as casual as any regular man. The demon looked up at Charlie’s entrance, and red eyes lit up.

  “Ah, you’re awake. Good.”

  Charlie said nothing, his eyes going back to Francesca. Mico followed the movement, shrugging.

  “She was trying to escape,” the demon explained. “I had to.”

  “You were freaking me out,” Francesca cut in, glaring at Mico. “You and your cronies.”

  The cronies must have been the lesser demons, and the cause of her scream. Obviously, they weren’t there anymore. Charlie opened his mouth to speak up, but she cut him off.

  “Look, man,” she started, gaze now fixed on Mico. “I already told you, I don’t know where she is. Can you release me now? And him, please.”

  Mico remained silent.

  “He’s not involved in any of this,” Francesca explained, a hint of impatience in her tone. She squirmed, but the ropes didn’t budge. “He’s innocent. I was trying to get him in bed until you barged in. Let him go, please?”

  Mico now looked amused. Quietly, Charlie walked a few steps closer, stopping just a few inches in front of them. The demon didn’t move a muscle.

  “You’re a friend of Lucinda, aren’t you?” Mico asked him.

  Charlie looked at Francesca again, whose eyes flashed in surprise at the name. He turned back to the demon and shook his head.

  “The vampire leader is not my actual frie
nd,” Charlie explained. “She is the mate of my friend, Finn Jackles. I believe you’ve met him.”

  Mico nodded in delight. “Oh, yes. Splendid shifter. I do have to say, you’re more refined.”

  Considering Finn had been tortured along with Lucinda by Mico’s predecessor, refined was probably the last thing Charlie would be, too. He opted not to point it out, focusing on the matter at hand.

  “Our clan wants the same thing that you do,” Charlie said. “Justice for what Mya has done.”

  “Oh,” Mico responded, standing up. “I want a different thing for our special witch, believe me. Not your kind of fair justice.”

  “Nevertheless, we don’t know where she is. We also don’t know her personally.”

  Mico glanced back at Francesca. “On the contrary, she does.” The demon made a move to touch her, and Charlie tensed, prepared to fight if need be. Instead of harming, Mico merely snapped his fingers.

  Like smoke, the ropes binding her disappeared. Francesca’s gaze remained on Charlie, and there was anger in there.

  “Nevertheless, it looks like you two still need to settle some things,” Mico murmured. “And I happen to believe that you really don’t know where Mya is…at the moment.”

  Silence.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Mico announced, as if they were friends. Then he disappeared in a puff.

  Another bout of silence filled the room.

  Charlie looked at Francesca, and she stared back.

  Then, like lightning, she shot out of her seat and made a dash for the door.

  He was faster. Charlie tried to block her—

  Pain sliced his cheek as she punched him. Then she jumped him, and the impact made them both fall on the floor. His head went first, and explosive stars filled his senses as he heard a loud thud. Francesca straddled him, yelling something about him betraying her. She made a move to punch again, and would have hit him had he not rolled over.

  Now she was the one at the bottom, and her eyes flashed with fury.

  Francesca drew a breath, as if to scream. No can do. Regretfully, Charlie placed his fingers on the pulse on her neck, hitting her pressure point in one push. No scream came out as her eyes rolled up and her body went limp. Blood racing, Charlie stood up and checked all entry points of the apartment right away. The ward was gone, obviously disabled by the powerful demon. But Mico was gone, completely gone.

  And they needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

  He looked at Francesca motionless on the floor, wondered exactly what mess she’d gotten herself into. Despite the demon being gone, he had a feeling things were about to get worse.

  Much, much worse.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Francesca woke up sore all over her body and wondering what kind of activity she did last night to render such a feeling.

  She remembered the botched job yesterday, as well as the displeased look on Mya’s face because of it. Yikes. She needed to make up for that, pronto. Her mind began to remind her as well of the demon who’d visited them, and Mya’s quick escape, abandoning her to deal with the demon all on her own.

  Bitch.

  Her brain supplied some more—bumping into her hot new neighbor, Alex, who was such a gentleman that she felt guilty for flirting with him like she did other guys. He was a decent guy, giving her the privacy she needed by not prying, but inviting her out and distracting her enough to forget her own problems and actually enjoy his company. He wasn’t the chatty type, but he listened with an intensity that made her feel safe—at the same time, made her feel things. He was so polite, even when he invited her to his apartment to hang out.

  For some reason, she wanted all that politeness out the window, to see who he really was beneath.

  Things were sort of blank after the invitation back to his place. Why couldn’t she remember anything?

  Deciding it was just going to give her a headache if she tried to keep recalling, Francesca made a move to stretch.

  She froze when nothing happened.

  She froze further when she realized that she was…moving. Moving, as in her whole body was vibrating softly.

  With a start, her eyes snapped open, vision blurring for a few seconds before finally supplying the reason why she couldn’t move a single muscle. Her hands and legs were tied by ropes—not too tight, but enough for her not to escape. She was in the back seat of a vehicle, moving along a landscape of what seemed like fields.

  In front of her, driving the car, was none other than her neighbor—not so hot anymore, considering their current situation.

  She stared for a few seconds as her memory started coming back in pieces. She had gone with him in his apartment, had flirted a little and asked for alcohol. Stupid move. Then there was a big dizzy moment, and when she had woken up, she was tied from shoulder to toe on a chair.

  By the demon.

  And then Alex was there, talking to the demon like they’d actually known each other and revealing casually that he was, in fact, not a normal human being.

  He was a shifter.

  And he had rendered her unconscious when she tried to escape.

  The hell.

  Francesca glared at his back, a feeling of resentment rising. She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her before she could.

  “Good morning, Francesca.”

  The announcement of her real name had her blinking, then staring again. Their eyes met in the rearview mirror, and she glared harder. His expression remained the same—calm, distant, polite.

  So damn polite.

  “So you’re a shifter,” she said accusingly.

  “That’s right.”

  “I bet your name’s not even Alex.”

  “Charlie Alexander Takeshi, Miss Alison.”

  The name didn’t ring a bell. She didn’t care.

  “I prefer jerk,” she said, matching his even tone.

  “You may call me whatever you want.”

  “Release me at once,” she demanded.

  Charlie shook his head.

  Starting to get annoyed at his non-reaction, Francesca glared again. “And why not?”

  In concise details, the shifter-slash-kidnapper informed her in a low, level tone that he had been spying on her for the last few days and had come to take her home. Apparently, he’d been on some mission to find her and get her back, as her father had gone and raised hell on the shifter clans if they didn’t find her.

  The mention of her father stopped her cold. The thought of her father, who never really cared for much except looking good in the eyes of those in power, squeezed her heart. Lance Alison never cared about his daughter’s scars—he only cared about hiding her at home, with explicit instructions to never let her out, so that no one could see her ugly face. The pain didn’t matter to him, so long as his powerful status remained.

  It was basically the same as being a prisoner.

  Francesca reminded herself she was free of that, and she needed to focus on what was happening now. She blocked it out of her mind and turned to Charlie.

  “What if I don’t want to go home?”

  “You have no choice on the matter,” Charlie said. “You’re in danger here for being acquainted with one of the most wanted witches in the world.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied automatically.

  For the first time, the shifter’s expression turned cold. “Mya had turned shifters and vampires against each other for her own benefit. How you’d align yourself with that is beyond me.”

  “She told me differently,” she muttered before realizing her mistake. The gaze Charlie leveled her with via the rearview mirror told her his exact opinion on the matter.

  She inwardly cursed herself and leaned back on the backseat.

  She needed Mya—needed her participation in finding the final cure. No one understood.

  “I’m adult enough to make my own decisions and not be dragged off, you know,” Francesca said, for the hell of it.

 
“You’re nineteen, and out of bounds,” he said. For the first time, she detected a hard edge in his voice. “You shouldn’t be anywhere but home.”

  “What do you know? You’ve only known me for a few days.”

  There was silence on his end. Angry at getting duped, Francesca quietly tried to struggle against the bonds again. Nothing happened for a few minutes except for her hands getting scraped, and pain lancing her wrists. With a sigh, she prepared to rail at him again.

  “Two years.”

  Francesca blinked. “What?”

  “I’ve been looking for you for almost two years, Miss Alison. I think it’s about time I took you home.”

  Two years.

  Huh.

  “Now please calm yourself for the road trip. We’ve got a long way to go,” he said.

  “But—”

  “Relax, Francesca.”

  Frustrated at his closed-off tone, she tried to kick his seat, to no avail. Her feet wouldn’t budge at all. It looked like she had no choice but to obey him…for now.

  He was crazy if he thought she was going to sit there and let him take her just like that.

  *****

  An hour into the drive and with nothing but silence between them, Francesca decided to change tactics completely. What was the point of arguing with him if he was going to be stubborn, anyway? She needed to be wily. Violence wasn’t the correct way of handling this.

  Charm was.

  If she could charm the socks off of hard core dealers and everyday tough guys, then this shifter kidnapper should be a cinch.

  She dozed off every now and then, and every time she woke up, the scenery changed. He was taking the shortcuts and the quiet roads, and not once did she see a person in sight for her to scream at and get the attention of.

  It didn’t help that he was nice to her.

  They stopped by a diner in the middle of nowhere, where he kept the tinted windows up and made a quick order of food for their lunch. He tried to feed her, a hushed intensity in him as he explained that she needed to eat to keep up her strength. When she refused to, he untied her hands, and gently, ever so gently, massaged the wrists that had been throbbing for a good while now.

  “You don’t need to do that,” she all but snapped, though she didn’t move an inch.