Fire Magic: MC Dragon Shifter Warriors

by Naomi Sparks

  If that was true, and I wasn't misremembering things that never happened, had my grandfather gas lit me into believing I didn't have any power?

  Anger touches me, and I squeeze the picture frame and stare at my parents. I don't like it—I don't like the idea of being manipulated at all. But I have to admit that I also understand it. Grandfather was… Old school. He must've been trying to protect me. Protect himself and Dez as well.

  Carefully, I set the picture back on my nightstand. I need to figure out how to control this power. I have to. Because if I have awoken something inside of myself and it isn't under my control, eventually — sooner than later, probably—I am going to mess up and my secret will be anything but.

  Faris. He might be my best chance of understanding what I can and can't do. How I might begin to control this thing.

  I'll have to seek him out. Talk to him tomorrow. There's just no getting away from that dragon and all the crazy feelings that come with him—not yet, at least.

  A plan finally firmly in place in my mind, I close my eyes and sleep.

  9

  Faris

  I wake up early. The sun is still low in the sky, and the morning is still young. It's far earlier than I normally like to wake. The sleeping bag I’m lying on top of is cool and empty.

  Kyra.

  Her absence fully rouses me from my slumber. I crawl out of my tent stride a few steps, taking in a deep breath of the cool morning air as I move. I let out the deep breath in an angry sigh.

  Sure enough, my motorcycle is gone. That's even worse than Kyra taking off.

  Yeah, right. Even I don’t buy that, not for a second.

  The idea of never seeing Kyra again is fucking with my head far more than the idea of losing my custom motorcycle. But I doubt she has taken off anywhere far with it. No doubt she has driven the bike back to her apartment in Juniper.

  And I can’t really blame her for it, either.

  Worry touches me. The idea of Kyra sharing our secret is a real concern. But, I really don't think that she would do that. Or, at least, I don't want to think she would. I just hope she's cooling off. Taking time to think. Last night was incredible. Surely, it has affected her like it has me.

  I can only hope.

  I tap lightly on the outside of Bren’s tent, and a couple seconds later, he peeks his head out. My comrade looks far more awake than I feel, although he's not much of an early riser either.

  "Can you give me a lift into town?" I growl.

  Bren grins. And then he glances around before his lips widen into a pleased smile. "She took your bike, didn't she?"

  I cross my arms and stare at him, but he just laughs, and says, "Sure thing. Just give me a minute."

  Less than a minute later, Bren exits his tent. But as we are heading toward his bike, a ruckus from Lex’s tent draws our attention. Bren and I halt in our tracks, as Lex suddenly ducks out of his tent, carrying Hannah. She looks even sicker than before, her skin pale with a bluish tint. Lex himself looks more worried than I've ever seen him.

  Fear tightens my chest. Lex never shows much emotion, and I can count on one hand with fingers leftover how many times I’ve seen him show worry in more than a century.

  "She's bleeding," Lex says, without preamble. "Have to get her to an emergency room. “Now.”

  I nod, concern about my bike and Kyra pushed to the back of my brain. Kyra is upset, no doubt. But I can get her back after Hannah is taken care of—I know she won’t go far.

  The others, hearing Lex, appear from their tents, too.

  "I'll stay here and watch things," I offer. I could ride with one of the other guys, but it would be prudent for someone to stay behind. Besides, if Kyra comes back I don't want her to see an empty camp.

  Lex nods. Then he and the rest of our MC head out to the hospital, the grave mood hangs over the camp even after they leave.

  What a fucked up day.

  I find myself pacing camp less than an hour later. No telepathic word from Bren, yet. And no Kyra. I itch to do something. But I'm not a doctor. There's no way for me to help Hannah. And outside of walking to Juniper, there's no way for me to contact Kyra. Thus far, she's ignored my phone calls and texts.

  Besides, I can’t abandon my post. Not when my crew might need me and Kyra is likely just blowing off steam.

  But I don’t like it.

  Most of the day passes before I finally get a mental message from Bren.

  Hannah's okay.

  Relief hits me hard enough that I lean against a tree for a moment. I hadn’t realized how deeply Hannah had wriggled her way into our little family until now, but she is in all our hearts now.

  They’re going to keep her overnight for observation. We’re in Colson, the next town over. The doctor here thinks that her body's just having a hard time adjusting to the pregnancy. There was some other mumbo-jumbo in medical terms, but that's the gist.

  Good, I send back to Bren. I sit on one of the large tree stumps we've been using for a chair and put my head in my hands. Hannah is going to be okay. That is the most important thing right now.

  I can sense Bren still in my head—on the other line, so to speak. What is it?

  Jerrick called Bo to ask how human women are doing as broodmares for the dragons.

  Damn. That Jerrick reached out to The Clutch’s archivist for information showed how worried everyone had been.

  When Bren doesn’t say anything else, I push. And?

  It’s not great, brother. Both said that some of the women haven't survived. They lost some offspring. But...they've been having a high enough success rate that there continuing the program.

  Anger makes my stomach twist and my hands fist at my sides. And rising even faster than anger, fear. What if I’d accidentally impregnated Kyra? Given her a death sentence? Hell, I haven’t even given her all the information she needs to know.

  Thanks for letting me know. I send back to Bren, then I cut off the conversation. Guarding the camp has suddenly become a low priority. I only have one option. I have to walk back to Juniper and try to find my motorcycle. Because where I find it, I'll find Kyra.

  I have to talk to her. Now.

  For the first time in a long time, I wish I had another dragon’s power. Lex has the ability to camouflage himself, make his dragon invisible, for long periods of time. My power is more centered on controlling my size. There's no way a small dragon is going to make good time, even flying through the open country. And a large dragon flying around in broad daylight would be a huge risk. One I can't take.

  The sun begins to set around the time I reach the main road. I move quickly, more a jog than a real walk. Juniper is still far enough away that an outright run isn't wise. I'll make better time and be in better condition at a slower pace.

  I'm still debating my pace when I hear cars approaching behind me. But I only bother to glance back when I hear them slow. And then I halt in my tracks.

  The cars slam to a stop, and half a dozen humans pile out. Dez again has a sneer on his face, leading the group. Besides him is a man with a hand wrapped up in a white bandage—the same no-neck thug whose hand I crushed last time we met, Sherman. He’s holding a metal pipe in his uninjured hand.

  Impatience tears at me. If only I didn't have to deal with them, I’d make better time. But it's obvious that Dez is going to force a confrontation. If it doesn't happen now it'll happen later. And if I take off into the forest Dez will actually think I'm afraid, and for a man like him that will only encourage him later. And later, I might have Kyra with me.

  No. I won’t risk her. Finding Kyra will have to wait a few minutes.

  I roll my shoulders, loose already from my run.

  "Well what do we have here?" Dez asks, his voice a drawl. “I thought you were dead.”

  I arch a brow at him. "Can we get this over with already? I have somewhere to be."

  Dez's face reddens, and spittle flies from his mouth when he speaks. "Where you got to be, terrorist piece of shit? More date
s with my sister?"

  I merely wait. I don't want to reveal my secret to them, because I still don't want to kill Kyra’s brother. But engaging in Dez's idiot banter will only delay this further. So I take a fighting stance, and I wait. The first two go down in a blink of an eye, but I hear another car approaching behind me. I focus on the other three Dez brought with him, and especially Dez himself. The man shot me before. There's no reason to assume he doesn't have a gun now.

  But as I'm distracted by the three in front of me, more come from behind. I dodge the first swing, but the second catches me off guard. Right in the temple. Someone behind me kicks my legs out from under me and I fall to the pavement. Before I can get back to my feet, I feel Sherman’s iron pipe smack hard over the back of my head.

  Everything goes dark.

  10

  Kyra

  I call in sick to work, something I never do, and then spend the rest of the day pacing my apartment. I slept late, but still found myself with far too much time on my hands once I awoke.

  Searching my brain for a way that I don't have to face this has proved fruitless. I don’t want to face Faris after stealing his bike and taking off after experiencing the most passionate moment of my life. But the idea of not seeing him again is somehow worse than the idea of confronting him, even after stealing his bike.

  And I'm pretty sure that members of motorcycle clubs really don't like it when people steal their rides.

  Not to mention the fact that he's a dragon.

  For the first time, hysterical laughter and or wheezing doesn't commence when I think about what Faris truly is. Is it possible I'm getting used to the idea? Somehow, that's almost worse.

  The daylight is pretty much gone by the time I summon the courage to head back downstairs to where I left his bike—hidden in an alley so my brother and his spies wouldn’t see it.

  Thankfully, it doesn’t look disturbed. I get on and almost smile at the clean roar that greets me when I start the engine.

  I head back toward the campground where I left Faris sleeping. I'm a little surprised that he hasn't come to my apartment looking for me—Juniper isn't big. With his bike right outside of the building, it wouldn't have taken him long to find me. Sure, it had been hidden, but not well-enough he wouldn’t have found it. The only conclusion I can come to is that he actually decided to give me some time to think. That he trusted me with what had to be his most favored material possession.

  The fact that I'd even gotten away with from him with so little effort also seemed to suggest that kidnapping me hadn't really been something he'd wanted to do.

  I shake off the thoughts and focus on the road. I’ve driven motorcycles before, but I don’t trust my skills enough to go on autopilot while thinking of other things.

  By the time I get within a few miles of the campground, full darkness has fallen. Headlights from stopped vehicles in the distance catch my eye, and some deep instinct inside of me twists my chest. Panic grips me, and I pull off to the side of the road and turn off the bike, quickly turning off the headlight, too. Then I pushed the motorcycle farther off the side of the road, between some bushes. For a long moment, I wait.

  When no one approaches, I feel a little stupid and begin to creep closer to where I saw the headlights. They are far from me, but I still feel like a weirdo stalking around in the dark. It's probably just some other campers. But something inside of me says that those lights don’t belong to any tourists.

  I get closer, my eyes adjusting as I move. My chest tightens as the scene becomes clear. There are men, shouting in anger. Surrounding another man. And it doesn't take long before my eyes adjust just enough to see that they have Faris on the ground.

  Dez. My freaking brother and his dumbass goons.

  I'm tempted to continue my approach. To go and yell at my brother to leave Faris alone. But the tiny bit of confidence I still had in my brother is gone now. And I have to wonder if he wouldn't just order me to be shot along with Faris if I reveal myself.

  I ball my fists at my side and stay well-hidden in the dark forest. But every muscle in my body wants me to burst forward. To get Faris as far away from them as possible.

  I'm surprised when they load Faris into one of the cars instead of shooting him again and leaving him for dead. That doesn't seem like Dez. Not the Dez I’m beginning to understand and loathe more and more each day.

  I'm itching to help Faris. But there's nothing I can do against nearly a dozen men. Especially since they’re probably armed. So I force myself to wait in the bushes until they pass in their car, hating myself a little for letting them cart Faris away, no matter how stupid interceding would have been. Then I rush back the short distance to the bike and hop on.

  I follow a short distance behind the cars, but not close enough to be noticed, and curse my lack of light. The moon is out, which helps. Still, it's dangerous as hell to be riding a motorcycle without a headlight on these dark roads. But I can't risk letting them know that I'm behind them.

  It gets easier to see in Juniper, so I lag a little further behind them, worried they might notice me in their rearview mirrors. Besides, I think I know where they're heading.

  Sure enough, a few short minutes later, they’re turning down a road that leads to a spread of land Dez owns outside of town. I should've known they'd bring him here. The acres Dez owns are covered with a lot of prefab buildings and trailers, all a good distance from the road and prying eyes. This is where Dez heads his operations.

  And this is where my brother makes most of his meth.

  I park a ways away from the entrance, and do my best to hide the bike off the road. Then I creep onto the property, keeping an eye out for other people or cameras. Dez always has a bunch of creeps hanging around his land. Guarding his stuff, I suppose, when they aren’t testing the product themselves.

  I expect cameras, too. But if there are any, I can't see them, so I hope there's not. Or at least, that no one is watching the feed right now. Otherwise I'm screwed.

  A few guys carrying assault rifles come out of the building where I know my brother keeps his office as the two cars unload. Several men go to the trunk and drag Faris out. I grind my teeth at the sight. Even still a distance away, I can see how lifeless he looks. It’s painful to see.

  He’s a dragon. They couldn’t have killed him, I remind myself. God, I hope it’s true.

  The thugs all seem to be focused on Faris, which I try to think of as a positive thing. It'll help me get closer, even though I hate to see them dragging him.

  And drag him they do, by his arms, at least. His head stays above the dirt, but I wouldn’t wish the shoulder pain he was going to wake up on anyone. Well, maybe on Dez.

  They take him to a shed that is not too far away from where they parked, the heels of his boots carving a trail in the dirt and grass as they pull him along.

  The last man to enter leaves the door open as they tie Faris to a metal chair, so even in the shadows of another building, I'm able to see what they're doing. Only a couple of the men other than the ones dragging Dez enter the room while the others peer in from the outside, partially blocking my view. But I can still see most of what is happening.

  I almost wish I couldn’t.

  Dez barks orders, and all but two of his men leave the shed. Faris remains with Sherman and another man. I duck down low next to the building across from the shed. If anyone approaches, I'm totally screwed. But the men seem to have their orders and go about their business. I'm fortunate that Dez keeps his property overgrown. Yet another defense against prying eyes, I'm sure, but the large bushes and weeds and trees and everything else makes it easier for me to stay hidden.

  Movement catches my eye. Faris’s head jerks, and almost more quickly than I can process he is coolly surveying the men around him. The man went from unconscious to seemingly unperturbed in less than two seconds.

  Hope almost chokes me.

  "...Shot you in the stomach—” Dez says. But I can't make out much more. He seems t
o be questioning Faris, and his words make it clear to me what he's asking.

  Faris just tilts his head, ever so slightly, looking at Dez as though he’s looking at an annoying insect.

  Dez hits Faris across the face with the butt of a gun, and I flinch. I hadn’t even noticed it in his hand. Fear grips me once again, but Faris merely spits blood to the side, and then stares calmly back at my brother.

  Dez must want to know how Faris survived the gut shot he'd given him. That's the only explanation for why he is still alive. And the bits and pieces of Dez's questions that I'm able to make out over the distance seem to support that theory.

  Methodically, Dez continues to ask Faris questions. Between them, his men take turns hitting Faris on Dez’s command. After what feels like forever, but is probably been less than ten minutes, Sherman grabs Faris’s finger and snaps it. I can hear the crunch even over the distance.

  Faris doesn't flinch.

  Sherman belts out a disgusting laugh and says, “Only four more and we’ll be even, asshole.”

  I swallow down bile and breathe deeply, doing my best not to allow myself to throw up. Vomiting out here will no doubt get me caught. And then I'll be of no use to Faris.

  I want, more than anything, to interfere. Burst into that room and scream at my brother until he lets Faris go. But there's no way Dez will release him now, and I'm not stupid enough, naïve enough anymore, to think there's a snowball's chance in hell that he'll do a damn thing for my sake. But I can't look away while Faris is being hurt. Not know not while knowing that he was targeted because of me—at least partially. Looking away feels cowardly, so I force myself to watch and to breathe.

  It's the hardest thing I've ever done.

  I'm certain that it's even harder to endure. But no matter what the men do, Faris never even lets out the slightest noise. His handsome face begins to swell and bleed, and yet the barest of smiles always touches his lips.