“And what is that?”
“They’re more powerful than any human. How can the Knights capture them?”
“Potions and magic,” he muttered.
“What?” Valeriya asked.
Tarrant wasn’t about to talk about the Knights. That just drove his temper sky-high. He focused on the one fact that seemed most important to her. “So you want to see a drakon, do you?”
“Oh, yes.” She breathed the words, sounding much like she had when they’d made love. He didn’t like the idea of her mooning after some unknown drakon. Or even worse, a known one, like Darius.
“What if I could give you that?” How far would she go to get what she wanted?
“You know a drakon?” She was practically vibrating with excitement. Then her enthusiasm dimmed. “Best not to tell me anything. If my sister ever finds me, I can’t tell her what I don’t know.”
Tarrant was stunned. He’d offered her the one thing she wanted, and she’d turned it down. All to protect someone she’d never met. She didn’t know he was a drakon.
Even if she did know about the tattoos they all had, he’d been wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a high neckline the entire time he’d been with her, and they’d made love in the dark. She’d never seen his markings. And in this day and age, a lot of men had tattoos all over their bodies. It wasn’t such a distinguishing mark anymore.
Tarrant stood and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
Valeriya slid off the sofa and slipped her much smaller hand into his. Almost immediately, his anger dimmed. She really did soothe the savage beast.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer as he led her down the hallway. He stopped in front of a large steel door. Once he did this, there was no going back. For either of them. If he did this, he could never let her go. His dragon coveted her. The man wanted her.
Tarrant shoved the door open and pulled her onto the metal landing.
…
Luther Henderson evaded the men trailing him before he made his way to Gervais Rames’s bookstore. He’d exchanged his trademark tailored suit for jeans and a black leather jacket, allowing him to blend more easily with the general population. He had no idea if they were Temple’s men or if they worked for another one of the Knights of the Dragon. This was a dangerous and risky business. No one trusted anyone.
That’s what had led to this mess in the first place. Temple’s son had taken Rames into his confidence, and the man had stolen a very valuable book from his boss’s library. Now both Christian Temple and Gervais Rames were dead, and the book was still missing. Luther didn’t think it would be here in the shop, and neither did Temple. But his boss wanted to make sure that if there were any other books of interest, he got them before the other Knights.
There was definitely little honor in this brotherhood, even among Temple’s own men.
Look at Riggs. The men had been talking, and Luther had been listening. Seems their leader was sleeping with Karina Azarov. He’d even taken off to the West Coast on some errand for her. Luther knew that Temple wasn’t happy with either Riggs or Karina. Riggs was playing a very dangerous game, one he couldn’t hope to win.
The Knights of the Dragon took betrayal very seriously. They were also a suspicious and paranoid bunch, always posturing and jockeying for position within the organization. It had taken Luther two long years to work his way to where he was now. And he knew he was damn good at what he did. He was also cautious.
Luther stopped outside the back door of the old building and listened. He was a big man, but he knew how to walk silently, how to blend. He’d been doing it his entire life. When he was sure he was alone, he jimmied the lock. He’d disabled the security system when he’d found it earlier. The shop was a dark, dingy place.
He prowled through the narrow aisle toward the front of the store. The ambient light coming in through the large glass window was more than enough to allow him to see.
It was like walking through a tunnel. The small storefront was jammed with books. They were stacked everywhere—on the bookshelves, the floors, and the counter. A light layer of dust covered the desk that acted as both a workspace and a checkout area—a testament to the fact the owner hadn’t been around for a while. Neither had anyone else.
There was no way of knowing how long the situation would last. Eventually someone would realize the shop wasn’t opening again when the rent wasn’t paid. The owners of the building might confiscate the contents or sell them outright. Then any chance of discovering anything would be gone.
There was little chance of finding anything interesting up front. Gervais Rames hadn’t been a stupid man. He’d gotten a member of the Knights of the Dragon to share secrets and then had stolen a valuable artifact. Had Rames had a buyer for the book? That was the most likely scenario.
Luther wasn’t fond of the most likely scenario. He wondered if Rames hadn’t been playing a deeper game. Was he a friend of the drakons? He hadn’t been a drakon. That much was obvious. He wouldn’t have been so easy to kill. Nor would the older Temple have allowed him to be killed if that had been the case. He was desperate for a new supply of blood.
He made his way to the office and peered around. Too obvious. Still, he closed the door, turned on the small desk light, and made himself search. Sometimes men were stupid when it came to hiding secrets.
After an hour, he was convinced there wasn’t anything there to find.
He stepped outside the office door and studied the small shop. It wasn’t easy to get an idea of the layout with the high shelves and books stacked everywhere. He pulled up his mental files on the building. Luther was fortunate enough to have an eidetic memory. He could recall anything after seeing it only once. He never wrote things down. Ever. Unlike most people, he guarded his secrets.
The dimensions of the room were off.
He stayed in the shadows, in case a passerby glanced in the window, and paced off the space. The room was definitely shorter than the blueprints showed.
He walked back toward the office. Beside it was a large bookshelf that extended about five feet. The wall angled off after that, which meant there was a space five feet wide and about seven feet deep behind that shelf.
Luther studied the shelf. It had to open in a way that no one would accidently discover. He noticed a stool not far from the shelf. He retrieved it and stepped up. His height allowed him to see everything. He ran his fingers along the top and found a small indentation on one end. He pressed down, and the shelf began to slide.
He climbed down off the stool and entered the tiny room. It was a tight fit for a man his size. Unlike the store, this room was ruthlessly organized. A tiny table and chair took up one corner. Beside it sat a rather large safe.
Luther turned on the lamp on the table, lowered himself to the floor, and went to work on the lock. It was surprisingly easy to open, as it wasn’t secured.
Why wasn’t it locked? Had Rames been confident his secret room was secure enough? On closer inspection, he noticed the lock was broken. Had the safe always been like that or had someone been here ahead of him?
Frowning, he pulled open the door and found the safe was filled with books. He removed the first one. It was a first edition of Oliver Twist. This was Rames’s stash of very rare books.
He pulled them out one at a time and studied them. He opened covers to make sure they matched what was outside and weren’t a ruse to hide something more interesting.
There was a wooden box in the back corner of the safe. Luther pulled it out. It practically hummed with energy. Unlike most people, he knew there were things in the world that most people thought were myth. He also knew some artifacts, including books, had great power.
He set the box on the table and slowly opened it. There was a small book inside. The binding was leather. It was old and worn from being handled many times. He hesitated and then lifted the cover. It was written in Latin, but that was no problem for him. He’d taught himself many languages as a
child. He had a talent for it. Having a photographic memory had allowed him to add even more languages to his repertoire as an adult.
When people didn’t think you could understand them, they talked more freely. He’d picked up some very interesting information that way. Not even Temple knew he spoke more than English, and certainly nothing as obscure as Latin. He’d never have sent him to the bookstore otherwise.
“Secrets of the Dragon,” he read. He carefully turned several of the yellowed and brittle pages. The little volume was filled with information about dragons. There was even the promise of a potion to control them. It gave their strengths and weaknesses. This was an extremely valuable book.
Luther closed the leather cover and then the lid of the wooden box. He finished his search, determining there were no more books pertaining to dragons or the Knights. There was, however, a small notebook containing business transactions—a list of buyers and books purchased and for how much. He tucked it in his pocket to examine more closely later.
He was just about to leave when another book caught his eye. It was about three hundred years old and was a treatise about mythological creatures. He glanced through it and found a section on dragons. He tucked the book in his pocket. He’d give this one to Temple. No need to give him the other one.
He returned everything to the safe just the way he’d found it. He turned off the light and stepped out of the small room. The shelf pushed easily back into place, clicking when it was secure.
Luther left the same way he’d entered. Using stealth and skill, he made his way to a basement apartment in a not-so-good area of the Bronx and deposited the box and the notebook in a secret floor safe. Then he made his way back to Manhattan with the book he’d taken to give to Temple. He only hoped it was enough to convince his boss there’d been nothing else there of use. And if he sent someone else to look…well, Luther had already removed the most interesting book.
He wanted time to think and to examine what he’d found before he deciding if he would hand it over to Temple. It was risky to put his boss off, but it was a chance he was willing to take.
He picked up a new tail before he was back to his Manhattan apartment. Now that was interesting. He recognized one of the men before he could duck out of sight. Seems that Karina Azarov herself was interested in his comings and goings. Which meant that there was an internal war brewing among the Knights.
Chapter Twelve
Valeriya followed Tarrant down the winding metal staircase. She had no idea where they were going or what he wanted to show her. Her mood was all over the place. He’d taken her because he thought she might have information, and if she didn’t, he might be able to use her for leverage.
Even though she’d known that in her heart, it still depressed her.
Did she want him to keep her, as he seemed determined to do? And what did he really mean by that, anyway? He was attracted to her. That much was obvious. But at times he seemed angry with her as well.
Their relationship, or association, or whatever it was, wasn’t off to any kind of healthy start. A therapist would tell her she was making a huge mistake to even consider trying to have any kind of relationship with him. Not that they had a real relationship. It was more of a mutual need. She needed to help protect the innocent from her sister and the other Knights. As for Tarrant… Well, she wasn’t quite sure what he wanted, other than to destroy the Knights and sleep with her.
“Where are we going?” Better to focus on the here and now. The staircase was well lit and went down, down, down.
“Almost there.” His fingers were big and warm wrapped around hers. She took a deep breath and watched her footing until they reached the bottom.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a huge, empty room. It was more like an underground warehouse. It had to be at least four stories high and was the length of several football fields.
“What is this place?” There was nothing stored here. It was just a big, empty space. The walls were rock, as though it was a natural cave.
“It’s somewhere I come when I want to be alone.” He released her hand and walked several feet away from her.
Valeriya’s heart began to race, and goose bumps ran down her arms. She had no idea what was about to happen, but she knew it was going to be big. Tarrant was deadly serious about whatever he was about to reveal.
She didn’t know if she should be flattered or scared to death.
Then he grabbed the hem of his long-sleeved shirt and pulled it up and off. She was momentarily distracted by the breadth of his chest and the ripple of his abs. She’d felt him, and seen him in shadows, but it was nothing compared to viewing him in full light.
His body was a sculpted masterpiece.
Then she noticed the tattoos. They bisected his body perfectly, covering the left side of his body from neck to waist. They also trailed down his arm all the way to his wrist.
It couldn’t be. Her gaze flew to his, but he wasn’t looking at her. He’d already removed his sneakers and was busy pulling his jeans down his legs. He wasn’t wearing underwear and was quickly naked.
The tattoos continued down his torso. Beautiful swirls and patterns in a rich silver color. And all of them were outlined in the same blue color as his eyes.
She continued to look lower. His legs also carried the strange, hypnotic pattern. That tattoo ended at his ankles.
Her knees turned to jelly, and Valeriya sat down hard on the steps. She didn’t think Tarrant had stripped because he wanted to have sex, even though his shaft was fully erect.
No, this was about his tattoos and what they meant. Lots of men had tattoos, but very few had ones that perfectly bisected their body, including the genitals.
“You—” She broke off and shook her head, unable to believe what he was showing her. “You’re a drakon.” Her voice was weak. It was difficult to breathe. It was as though he’d sucked all the air out of the cavernous room.
Tarrant simply raised his arms in the air. Thick, plate-like armor raced down his arms and legs and over his chest. It shimmered silver and bright, but each scale was outlined in blue. His head changed, growing larger and wedge-shaped, and flattening on top. His jaw was elongated, and his eyes seemed to glow.
God, his huge body was around fifteen feet or so, and his tail was just as long. Eight-inch claws tipped both his hands and feet.
And then he spread his wings. They had to span at least thirty feet.
He was perfect. Exactly what she’d imagined a drakon to be. He flapped his wings and the breeze made the tendrils of her hair fly away from her face.
Then something occurred to her. “Are you really Darius Varkas?” Had he lied to her?
He threw back his head and roared. Valeriya slapped her hands over her ears and lowered her head to her lap. The sound was deafening and hurt her eardrums.
She’d take that as a no.
Something nudged her head. She slowly raised it to find a scaly muzzle right next to her. She took a deep breath and reached out, but stopped a few inches from his face. “Is it okay?” She didn’t want to do anything that might anger him.
He could devour her as a snack.
He lowered his large, wedge-shaped head. Taking that as permission, she placed her hand on his muzzle. He was warmer than she’d thought he’d be. Much warmer. The scales appeared icy cold, but he was hot.
“You’re magnificent. Just as I’d imagined.”
He inclined his head in agreement before moving away. When he was a good distance from her, he spread his wings again. Then he took flight.
“Holy shit.” He was fast. And she had a feeling he wasn’t even exerting himself. He also had amazing agility. He dipped and spun, taking the corners at an enormous speed. She closed her eyes, expecting him to crash, only to feel the backwash of air as he zoomed by her.
She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. It was all so wonderful. She jumped to her feet and clapped, feeling like a child who’d just been giv
en the most perfect present. Drakons were real, and she was looking at one. No matter what else happened in her life, she’d have this one special memory.
Then reality came crashing back down.
Tarrant was still winging around the room. She stepped away from the staircase and waved her arms at him. “Hey.” He didn’t seem to notice her, lost in the wonder of flight. She couldn’t blame him, but they needed to talk. Now.
“Hey, Tarrant.” He turned when she called his name. He rocketed toward her, coming to a halt with just inches to spare. She’d jumped back onto the staircase, not sure just how agile he was when it came to landing.
He heaved a sigh and a slight plume of smoke trailed out of his nostrils. She bet he could breathe fire, too. As much as she wanted to see that feat, she wasn’t about to ask him to show her.
“Did the Knights see you when you took me from the cabin?” The last thing she wanted was for Tarrant to get on the radar of the Knights of the Dragon. “You took a huge risk. You shouldn’t have done that.”
His forehead rose, and he tilted his head to one side. He seemed surprised she was so upset. The air around him began to shimmer. The dragon faded, leaving only the man behind. He was just as impressive, if not more so.
He grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, but didn’t button them. Was there anything sexier than a guy wearing nothing but jeans? Especially a sexy, tattooed guy?
Valeriya shook herself. This was not the time to be thinking about sex.
He strode toward her and cupped her chin in his hand. “Worried about me, sweetheart?”
She ignored the fluttering low in her belly at the endearment. He probably didn’t mean anything by it. “Of course, I’m worried. Do you have any idea how much power the Knights have?” When he continued to look more bored than worried, she pressed on. “They have people in governments around the world, in law enforcement, in banking. Everywhere.”
He sat on one of the steps, taking up so much space she was shoved against the railing. Before she could be totally squashed, she angled her body toward him.
Drakon's Prey (Blood of the Drakon) Page 12
