“I’ve made many mistakes, Liana—mistakes that will haunt me for the rest of my immortal life. Quite possibly even follow me through the gates of the underworld when the time comes. I meant it when I said second chances are hard to come by, and I feel that in my desire to not let mine slip from my grasp, I held on to it so tightly it shattered.” His fingers caressed my cheek. “Nobody has ever made me feel like you do, piccola. And I should have never deceived you.”
I trailed the palm of my hand up his arms, then cupped his face, the ghost of a light inside me coming to life and piercing the inky dark.
“I don’t care about your past, Santino,” I whispered. “You should have known that I wouldn’t. Not with what’s lurking in mine. But the present—I want it all. Not just snippets you believe are appropriate. I want you. Even the shadows you’re fighting to keep at bay.”
“Cara, if you knew—”
His voice cut off as he looked to the sky, my hand slipping down to his neck. I followed his gaze, peering at the slivers of blue beyond the widespread branches—and saw nothing. Then again, with my human limitation, it wasn’t exactly a surprise. So I studied the hard planes of his face instead, noting the somewhat stiffer posture.
Whatever it was that he was sensing, he wasn’t pleased.
“We need to get back to the house,” he said after seconds of silence dragged by, and caught a tear with the tip of his finger. “Caz is coming. And he sounds pissed.”
17
As much as I tried to prepare myself, anxiety still gripped my insides as I watched the brush of emerald green and black scales against the backdrop of the sky. Strong, leathery wings casted shadows across the lake, and the air smelled faintly of ancient power. Angry power. But not directed at us.
Instinctively, I gripped Santino’s hand as I stood immobile, aware of how little skin the shirt he had snagged for me from the patio in those few seconds we had to spare covered. He, on the other hand, had no qualms waiting for his friend in the nude. Santino’s presence was just as demanding as if he were dressed in the most expensive suit.
With the way he carried himself, the way the sunlight illuminated his honed body so beautifully, it was solely because of the persistent fear wringing my insides that I hadn’t succumbed to blunt admiration.
That, and the aching gashes of his betrayal that had yet to heal.
But waiting here, shivering with each bat of Caz’s majestic wings, I understood even better why Santino had lied. It didn’t make up for it, nor did it excuse his secrecy, but at least I knew where his reluctance had come from. Even though the Perelesnyk descending towards us was friendly, my instincts were adamant to wreak havoc on my mind and body alike—something Santino and his heightened senses undoubtedly picked up.
His fingers tightened around mine as if in promise he wouldn’t let anything hurt me, but his gaze remained on the emerald-and-black dragon who gracefully landed on the only space wide enough to accommodate his form. The lake.
Water sloshed as his legs broke the surface, his massive body only briefly entering the water before a haze swirled around him. The pulse of magic emanating from the lake was strong enough to make me feel its presence even in this form.
I sucked in a breath, watching the obscuring mist shrink and drive towards the shore, coming ever closer to our perch on the pebbled beach.
“Haven’t done a water landing in a while,” Caz said the moment the magic pulled back and revealed a handsome, dark-haired man, his muscular body just as naked as Santino’s.
My cheeks heated. No wonder Santino hadn’t bothered to cover up. And if the slightly territorial tightening of his grip was any indication, it was as much a display of testosterone between them as it was the easy attitude towards nudity the majority of the shifters seemed to share. Although Caz wasn’t really projecting anything towards me. He just was.
Under any other circumstances, I would have found it infuriating—the possessiveness, not the nudity—yet something warm uncurled deep inside me at the thought that Santino considered me his. We still needed to talk, extensively at that, but it appeared my emotions didn’t receive the notice, the hurt receding in favor of something kinder.
“Caz,” the dark-haired Perelesnyk said, swooping me from my thoughts as he extended his hand.
A little to my surprise, I accepted it without hesitation, although a low, warning growl did slip from Santino’s lips.
“Liana,” I said as our skin touched, hoping my voice masked Santino’s rude rumble.
Briefly, Caz’s gaze flickered to his former partner, the dash of mirth sparkling in its amber depths making it clear my attempt had failed. But when he focused on me again, the amusement was already gone.
“I wish we could have met under better circumstances,” he said with staggering sincerity. “I hope that after all this is over, Santino will stop his rumbling for long enough to let me properly meet his mate. And, perhaps, allow me to introduce mine to you.”
Mate.
I glanced up at the silver Perelesnyk standing on my left, wondering when the last time he’d spoken with Caz was. Unless the incubus dragon could see something I didn’t, some mystical bond or tendril of magic, then Santino must have shared his affection for me before anything had actually happened between us.
The thought was unsettling yet oddly reassuring at the same time.
I didn’t know all that much about what it meant for a Perelesnyk to claim someone as his mate—at least I didn’t think it was the whole fated-and-bound thing some other species had going on—but I knew enough to recognize the term as a sign of deep commitment.
Sadly, it was just one more thing on the list of many Santino had failed to disclose.
I fought the urge to shake my head and focused on Caz instead. “Thank you. For all that you’ve done already.”
His expression was tight beneath the smile. “I only wish I could have done more.”
“I presume that tone has something to do with the reason you’re here?” Santino cut in.
Caz winced. Whatever it was, it was clearly news he wished he wouldn’t have to share.
He glanced around the gentle incline leading from the lake into the woods, his gaze lingering on the myriad of bodies Santino and I had yet to dispose of. His mouth was flattened into a thin line when he faced us again, and the sigh that left his lips was heavy enough to make me go still with unpleasant anticipation.
“An informant heard Kauer’s men were headed for Italy on some job. It didn’t take much to put two and two together.” He looked around again, then met my gaze. “That’s your work, isn’t it?”
He motioned to the drowned men lying on shore, and, somewhat tensely, I nodded.
“Impressive.”
“Caz,” Santino warned. The scent of fire undulating from him grew stronger with each second the honest admiration continued to soften Caz’s features.
“I thought I’d be fast enough to warn you before they got here,” he said, “but it seems the bastards beat me to it.”
Every muscle in Santino’s body tensed. “You could have called, you know.”
“I went to my informant in dragon form.”
Neither Caz nor Santino said anything further, and it took me a moment to piece together that, obviously, they couldn’t stash a cell phone anywhere while shifting shape. It must have been the shock of everything that had happened lately settling in, because for a second there, I almost burst out laughing as the image of a dragon-proof fanny pack they could trot around with them flashed in my mind. Santino glanced at me, more than likely noting the sudden shift in my mood.
I shook my head, hoping it was enough to convince him I wasn’t about to break down. Not in front of Caz, at least.
“I trust there’s more…” Santino lifted an eyebrow.
Caz’s features turned graver. “As you probably noticed, Kauer isn’t among the fallen. The bastard stayed in Slovenia, running the operation from the shadows, as he prefers. If his previous record is anyth
ing to go by, he’ll be waiting for his men to check in after they’re done here. And if they don’t…”
“He’ll retaliate with more force,” Santino finished through gritted teeth. “Cazzo. How much time do we have?”
“Rusalkas still communicate only in person, right?” Caz asked, and I needed a second to realize he was addressing me.
“Right,” I said, a sneaking suspicion of where all of this was going churning my insides. “If he wants their approval before he lashes out, he’ll have to go to the morass personally…”
“Which buys us at least twenty-four hours,” Santino added.
I stiffened, my gaze meeting the unyielding hardness of his. “I never told you where the morass is, Santino.”
Caz’s eyes flickered between us, something I felt rather than saw, and if the low breath that whizzed from his lungs was any indication, he knew something I didn’t.
“You really did plan to go after them alone, didn’t you?” I asked, not bothering to hide the hurt in my voice.
I’d been so certain that I could withhold the information until he agreed to take me along, but it seemed Santino had been a step ahead of me this entire time. Frustration surged, but I clamped down on it hard and turned to Caz instead.
“So we have to attack the morass before Kauer gets there,” I said bitterly.
“It’s your only chance. After the men you killed, neither he, nor the Rusalkas will be willing to take any more risks.” He ran a hand through his curly, thick hair, amber eyes dark with anger. “In all the years I’ve been hunting the bastard, I never managed to get a full scope on his associates, but it goes without saying that he has more than skilled humans on the payroll, despite what you’ve seen so far. Eventually, not even you will be enough.”
That last part was directed at Santino.
He swore, his fingers almost crushing mine. “I’ll fry the stronzo.”
“No, my friend.” Caz smiled, and there was nothing warm in the expression. “That pleasure is mine.”
18
“Grab what you need,” Santino said once we were inside the cozy cabin again.
It had taken a few exchanges, but eventually Caz had given in to Santino’s demand that he should stay behind. Caz had sworn to the gods that he would fry Santino’s scales if Kauer showed up at the morass and he wasn’t there to kill him himself, but even I could tell there was a fair chance the PI would remain behind, running the show from whatever dump he was hiding in. Besides, I wasn’t entirely convinced Kauer was under the spell. I hadn’t sensed anything on him back in Piran. But if he was still a free man, then why was he doing the Rusalkas’ bidding? Because they ensnared his men?
I kept my thoughts to myself while the two Perelesnyks argued, catching bits of their conversation. It seemed Santino was adamant not to draw the Rusalkas’ attention any more than he already would, and two dragons, while effective, just might cause irreparable damage when it came to stealth.
Grumbling, but in agreement, Caz had taken off a few moments earlier, the wide span of his wings cracking those branches that reached just a little too far out onto the shore. A part of me was still terrified of his massive form, the glint of his scales even more vivid than nature after a refreshing spring storm.
I shook away the memory and focused on Santino’s words, miserably failing at the task. “Huh?”
“We can’t be sure if the twenty-four hour deadline will hold,” he repeated. “The cottage isn’t secure enough to withstand such an attack.”
I watched him stock up with a few more handguns from the small safe hidden in the wall, the dark duffel bag now almost perfectly full. “And we’ll go…?”
“Underground.” There was a hint of a smile lining his words, even if the hard set of his gaze that lingered on me remained the same. “After all, every dragon has his lair.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came.
Of course he had a lair. It was only logical.
But as it appeared, my mind was processing the information at a below average pace. I realized I still thought of Santino as a man—a human male. And they usually didn’t have dwellings hidden under the surface of the earth. At least not in times of peace.
I chewed on my bottom lip. Seeing Santino without the image of a dragon springing to life in my mind perhaps wasn’t such a bad thing, even if it made me forget about facts that should have been obvious. Maybe what we had—what we started to nurture between us—was still salvageable. A ghost of a smile touched my lips, and I drew on that imprint of warmth, savoring every heartbeat of strength it offered.
I walked over to the corner where my—much smaller—bag was still stashed away from that morning we fled from Piran, and heaved it across my shoulder. Perhaps for the last time. My views on murdering the entire morass hadn’t changed even in the light of Caz’s news, but now I was at least sure that—regardless of the outcome—my fugitive days were nearing their end.
Freedom or a grave.
But no more running.
And that was fine.
I headed towards the kitchen to pick up some supplies, but Santino stopped me before I even crossed the threshold. “The food is already downstairs. So is the coffee.”
I whirled around and leaned against the rustic doorframe. Santino was moving through the airy living room with liquid grace, all those honed muscles that adorned his naked form rippling in breathtaking harmony. I knew then. I truly knew.
Despite the sting of his lies—or, rather, the ugly omission of truth—the attraction I felt towards him was still very much alive. As was the affection.
What Santino had done for me, but even more so, all those moments we shared that had wrapped me in bliss I hadn’t believed existed… None of it could be erased.
In silence, I observed him gather the rest of the provisions, and before I could catch myself, my mind filled with thoughts—wondering just how all this magnificent strength would manifest in his dragon form. The good looks were an inherent part of every Perelesnyk, thanks to the incubus side of their nature. I knew as much from theory, and Caz had definitely proven it to be true. But there was something about Santino that made me believe it wasn’t merely the sexual power drawing me to him. Quite the contrary, actually.
I frowned. It wasn’t only my perception, some illusion I wanted to believe in…
The past Santino had spoken of, the confession that eerily resonated with my own, marked him as what he had fought so hard to make himself out to be. Human.
Human, with human flaws and skeletons that did not rest idly in his closet, but trailed behind him like shadows—a living, breathing part of him.
It was then I remembered that flash in Caz’s eyes—that brief glimpse when surprise, and not the good kind, had won over the composure and easygoing attitude he’d flown in with. Santino might have shared his secret, but it wasn’t the only one he fought to drown in his depths.
“How did you know of the morass’s location?” I asked, clutching the duffel bag so tightly my knuckles turned white.
He paused, the half-turned position of his body giving me a glimpse of his firm ass, as well as his sculpted chest. I blew out a thin breath as desire swept through me, but even the fire kindling in my core wasn’t enough to drive away the fear that crawled through my veins and wrapped its cold talons around my throat.
Something dark touched Santino’s eyes, but I sensed no malice in his demeanor. Only a kind of bitter resignation.
Which was worse, I couldn’t tell.
“Downstairs.”
I nodded weakly, then followed him through a narrow cellar door, all the while fighting the eerie premonition that this just might be the one truth we couldn’t survive.
Expectations can be funny things, sometimes. As a human, I’d always imagined that a dragon’s lair was some cavern tucked beneath a mountain and filled with the crunchy bones of their victims—not to mention overflowing with gleaming treasure the beasts had plundered from unsuspecting men. Naturally, that cha
nged when I became a Rusalka and gained more intimate insight into the many faces of the supernatural. I knew the bones and treasure were something belonging to myth, not reality, but the idea of a gloomy cavern stuck with me.
So when Santino led me through a secret door in the basement, then deeper and deeper underground, I was more than a little surprised to find that his lair was, in fact, a home. A bunker, actually, even if it didn’t have the typical claustrophobic feeling those types of explosion-proof boxes normally gave off. The walls were set wide apart, the furniture sparse, yet tasteful, and the ceiling—well, the ceiling was so high I had to crane my neck just to take it all in.
Designed to accommodate a dragon, I thought, noting that, indeed, every inch of the space was built to withstand a shift into a much, much larger form.
While Caz had been almost frightfully big, I couldn’t help but wonder if the proportions of the lair were just an architectural kink, or an indicator of Santino’s even grander form. Somehow, I was betting on the latter.
An involuntary shiver slid through me, but I firmly reminded myself of what I told him in the woods. Why all that anger had welled up inside me when the carefully constructed lies and omissions tumbled down.
I loved him.
I wasn’t a Rusalka, prey for the dragons, any longer. But even if I were, I doubted my feelings for him would have changed. Things would have been infinitely more complicated, but I was positive the core of it would stay the same.
I had asked Santino for honesty, and that was precisely what I needed to offer myself, as well. I couldn’t let some old fears control me just because it was hard. So I squared my shoulders and followed Santino through the wide chamber, my feet padding lightly against the concrete floor.
He took me all the way to the far corner, where bookshelves dominated the concrete walls. A rug was stretched across the bare ground with a love seat perched atop it, and a small club table positioned by its side. It appeared that even in his lair, Santino had stayed true to his tastes.
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