by Donna Grant
She couldn’t stop smiling as he helped her into her coat and opened the door for her. As she took the stairs down, Darius found another way out.
When Sophie exited the building, she saw Ulrik’s men, but she wasn’t frightened. Because Darius was there. And she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
Her first patient was just a short walk away. Sophie buttoned her coat and turned to the right. She glanced at the sky to see that the sun was sinking rapidly and clouds were moving in. The snow that was predicted would likely fall that night.
She wanted to be back in her flat before then and curled in Darius’s arms.
* * *
Darius jumped from the roof silently. He waited until two of Ulrik’s men followed Sophie before he trailed them. One stayed behind to watch the building, but he never saw Darius.
Sophie disappeared around the corner, and Ulrik’s men were quick to keep up. Darius hated that Sophie was involved in his war.
That’s not what kept him returning to her though. That was all Sophie from her soft skin and heady kisses to her husky laugh and inquisitive eyes.
He found himself wanting to tell her who he was as soon as she opened the door. After his talk with Ulrik, Darius knew things were only going to get worse. His hope that if he kept his distance from Sophie that it would turn Ulrik’s attention away was gone.
Ulrik made his own conclusions, and he was now after Sophie with everything he had. Darius wished he was walking beside her. Even keeping her in sight didn’t halt the thread of fear that wound tighter and tighter about his chest.
What would Sophie’s reaction be if he told her the truth? Darius wanted to trust Sophie, and he did. Yet he reminded himself that his entire race was on the line. Not from extinction, because that wouldn’t happen, but from discovery by the humans.
The video leak of the battle on Dreagan with the Dark Fae was bad enough. From what Thorn told him, helicopters and planes were flying over Dreagan day and night where there used to be a no-fly zone.
Darius didn’t know how much longer the Kings could keep their secret from the rest of the world, but he knew that once it was revealed, there would be some mortals who didn’t care one way or another.
Some would want to befriend the Kings.
Some would want to hunt them.
Some would want to experiment on them.
Some would want to cage them.
And some would want to annihilate them.
Which group would Sophie fall into? She was a practical person. By her reaction to his tattoo, she wasn’t too fond of anything fantastical or paranormal.
He was the epitome of fantastical and paranormal.
And immortal.
Darius peered over the side of a building when he saw her enter a residence. She had her black bag so she was probably making house calls.
But what if she wasn’t?
Chapter Twenty-one
Sophie felt better after she visited her fourth and last patient. She kept wanting to look behind her for Darius, but she managed to stop herself.
Despite the chill, or perhaps because of it, she opted to walk home. She paid no attention to the two men following her. It felt so good to trust someone again as she did Darius. How she’d missed it.
The streets of Edinburgh were much different than they had been weeks before. A visitor might look and think everything was normal, but the unexplained deaths, the attacks, and the fighting had affected the residents deeply.
The scars were there for those who knew how to look, and with a city that had seen much war, the wounds were new and still festered.
People were frightened. They still walked the streets, but everyone was more wary and watchful than before. Occasionally she’d pass a group of college-aged kids who were too drunk to realize there were still dangers out there.
Sophie didn’t know how she knew that the threat still lurked. It was a feeling she had. As if those responsible for the deaths and destruction had merely hidden for a time. But they would be back.
She held back a shiver as best she could, wishing Darius was beside her. Edinburgh hadn’t been prepared for the monsters the first time. Would they be the next?
There were weeks where everyone had red eyes. Sophie thought they were evil looking. Who wanted red eyes? She’d done a search on how to get red contacts, and though she found some, none were as vibrant red as what she saw in the city. It made her almost believe those red eyes were real.
Almost.
Then she reminded herself that she didn’t believe in that sort of thing. Red eyes weren’t a natural occurrence in humans. There were all sorts of enhancements that a person could get, but so many with red eyes? It had to be contacts.
Thank goodness they were no longer wearing them. Those red eyes gave her the creeps. Like she used to feel as a child when she thought there was a monster beneath her bed.
Sophie felt sorry for those poor people who actually believed in the paranormal. The legends throughout the British Isles were extensive, and it was easy to make them part of daily life. Fortunately, Sophie had never fallen for any sort of fairy tales.
Or she hadn’t for long.
Her heels clicked on the sidewalk. Her coat was buttoned tight and her purse was on her shoulder. The black bag in her hand grew heavier as her fingers got colder.
She was a block from her flat when the first flakes of snow began to fall. They were scattered at first, but in a matter of seconds they were coming down so thick and fast they clung to her eyelashes.
Sophie knew the men were still following her, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to get inside her flat and warm up in bed. With Darius.
All she could think about was Darius. It made her want to laugh and dance in the snow. How free she felt!
She quickened her steps and hurried up to her place. Sophie slammed the door behind her and locked it. Then she set down her keys, purse, and bag and fumbled with numb fingers unbuttoning her coat.
No sooner had she hung up her coat than strong arms came around her. She leaned back against Darius. This she could get used to.
“Thank you,” she said.
He turned her around and smiled. “My pleasure, lass.”
She shivered and moved closer to him.
“You’re frozen,” he said with a frown.
“Then warm me up.”
He lifted her in his arms and pivoted to walk to the bedroom. “I doona have to be told twice.”
In a flurry of hands and fingers, their clothes were removed and they fell into bed, mindless with passion. There was no foreplay, no teasing.
She needed him. As if sensing it, Darius leaned over her, entering her with one thrust.
Sophie sighed, her body eagerly accepting him. This is what she needed. Darius.
In every capacity.
* * *
Sophie woke to a grumbling stomach. Food had been the last thing on her mind when she’d returned home. She glanced at the clock beside her bed to see it was just after three in the morning.
She rolled out of bed and grabbed her robe, tying it around her. A glance at Darius showed him asleep, his hair mussed.
It made her smile. She wanted him around, and that terrified her to the very pits of her soul. There was nothing she could do though. He was already a part of her life—and she liked that.
On her way to the kitchen, Sophie looked at her flat. It was sparse. A spray of dried lavender hung near the entrance of the bathroom, but other than that, there were no personal touches to the room.
Granted, it was a bathroom, but she had been in the flat for five years. By now those personal touches should’ve made their way even into this room.
She walked to the kitchen. It was as impersonal and cold as the bathroom. Sophie turned and looked at the rest of the flat trying to find something that would make it a home and not just a place to live.
Other than the spray of lavender, her white comforter, and her choice of white couches, there was absolutely nothin
g.
That’s how her life had been. Sparse.
But not anymore. Darius brought in color and life. And it was refreshing and glorious.
Sophie paused when she saw an envelope that had been pushed from underneath the door. She picked up the envelope and saw her name written in black marker.
She glanced at the bedroom, but Darius still slept. So she opened the envelope.
To her shock, it was a dinner invitation from Ulrik for the next night. It said nothing more than where to meet and when.
She eyed the phone number at the end of the invitation.
“Sophie?”
She turned at the sound of Darius’s voice. His gaze immediately lowered to the envelope as he sat up in bed.
“From Ulrik?” he asked.
She nodded and walked to the bedroom where she handed him the envelope. He read it quickly, anger tightening his face.
“What do we do?” she asked.
Darius took her hand and kissed it. “He’s near. I need to follow him.”
“Go,” she urged.
He rose and dressed. Just before he left out her window, he paused and said, “I’ll be back soon.”
* * *
Darius saw Ulrik check his watch and give a nod to his men watching Sophie before getting into his ice silver McLaren 12C Spider and driving away. He managed to stay even with him moving from roof to roof.
It wasn’t until Ulrik’s route took him toward The Balmoral Hotel that Darius sent Con a shout through their mental link. Con didn’t respond. Darius tried again as Ulrik pulled up alongside the hotel and tossed the keys to a valet.
“Con!” Darius tried for a third time. “I’m following Ulrik. He’s at a hotel.”
When Con still didn’t respond, Darius jumped to the ground and strolled across the street to the hotel. He walked into the lobby and glanced around. Ulrik was making his way to the bar area.
He waited for Ulrik to sit at a table before Darius selected a position in the lobby so he could watch him. Darius wondered who could be meeting with Ulrik when a tall figure with blond hair walked straight to Ulrik.
“Con,” Darius whispered.
What the hell was going on?
Ulrik smirked at Con who took the chair opposite Ulrik and ordered a drink when a waitress walked up. Con’s typical emotionless expression stared back.
If Darius didn’t know him so well, he’d think Con didn’t feel anything. Except that Darius saw how straight and tense Con sat.
So this was a meeting—in public. Who wanted it, and who decided to meet here? Was it to keep Con in check? After what Ulrik said earlier about never stating he wanted to fight Con in front of mortals, Darius was having trouble discerning who wanted what.
It should be easy. Ulrik was the villain. Con was the one who kept the Dragon Kings together throughout all the countless centuries.
Good and bad. Bad and good.
Could either one be designated with such basic words? Sure, Con had done questionable things, but all in the name of keeping the Kings secret from the humans.
Ulrik had done detestable, heinous things. But he’d also brought Lily back from the dead for Rhys.
Con’s attempt to wreck some of the Kings and their mates caused friction at Dreagan. But Con had moved heaven and earth for them.
Ulrik wanted revenge for being banished. He’d used a Druid—Darcy—in order to do it, and tried to kill her after. It was only Con who managed to keep her alive and heal her.
Good and bad.
Bad and good.
The lines were blurring more each day. Darius feared that one day none of the Kings would be able to look at Con and still believe him to be the good guy. Con’s need to protect Dreagan and keep the Kings together while fighting the Dark, Ulrik, and now the mortals was backing him against the corner.
There was only one other time Con had been backed in such a way, and Ulrik’s banishment and the binding of his dragon magic had been a result.
What would happen this time?
Chapter Twenty-two
Con set his fingers on his glass of whisky and looked across the table at Ulrik. “You came.”
“As if I wouldna.”
Dozens of millennia had passed since he’d seen Ulrik in more than just pictures. But his old friend hadn’t changed. He still looked as roguish and clever as ever.
Con used to envy Ulrik his easygoing nature, but now all Con wanted was to put an end to Ulrik’s reign of terror.
With his black suit jacket open to reveal a deep red shirt, and his black hair long and loose, Ulrik looked as devilish as Con knew him to be.
Ulrik chuckled and took a drink of whisky. He slowly set the glass down, a small smile playing about his mouth. “We can sit all night staring at each other, dreaming of what we’ll do when the time comes for us to battle. Or you can spit out whatever it is you want to say.”
“Leave Edinburgh.”
Ulrik’s black brows rose in his forehead. “No’ going to happen.”
“I can force you.”
“You actually think you can. How … cute.”
Every time Ulrik laughed, it felt like talons flaying Con’s back. He was King of Kings. Ulrik needed to be reminded of that. Now.
Just before Con stood and showed Ulrik who was in charge, a woman’s laugh from across the room broke into his cloud of fury, reminding him where he was. Muscle by muscle, Con relaxed.
“I bet that was difficult,” Ulrik said before taking another drink. “You’re the one who wanted a public place. I would’ve been happy to meet you out in a field somewhere.”
“Really?” It was Con’s turn to smirk. “I didna think it was good timing with your plans and all.”
“At this point, I figure what the hell. It’s going to happen one way or another.”
“Aye. It is.” Con fisted his left hand that was beneath the table. The urge to reach across and punch Ulrik was strong. Very strong.
“Am I late?”
Just when Con didn’t think the night could get any worse. He glared to his left where Rhi stood in a slinky burgundy dress that molded to her curves. Her black hair was pulled up in some kind of messy do that looked as if it had been carelessly thrown up. A few waves framed her face, giving her a sensual look that had every eye in the bar drawn to her.
Her silver Fae eyes cut to Con. “Thank you for healing my wound.”
“When did you wake?”
She feigned a bright smile and lowered her voice. “You’re welcome, Rhi. I was happy to help since you risked your own ass to help us yet again.”
“Rhi,” Ulrik interrupted as he stood and pulled out her chair.
Con didn’t miss the way Ulrik looked at her or how fidgety Rhi became under his gaze. He began to wonder if the two of them were lovers.
As much as Rhi knew about the goings-on at Dreagan, she could be the mole leaking information to Ulrik. Then again, it was Ulrik’s magic that had nearly killed her in the last battle.
There was a missing part here. Con could sense it, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He’d suspected it for some time, but now he had confirmation of it.
“You nearly killed Rhi,” Con said. “How can you smile at her now as if it never happened?”
Ulrik took his seat once more and waved over a waiter for Rhi’s drink order. “Do you really need to ask that?”
“I’m alive,” Rhi stated calmly before Con could say anything else. “I have one of you to thank for the wound, and another for the healing. Let’s move on.”
Con waited until the attendant set a French martini in front of Rhi before he asked, “What are you doing here, Rhi?”
“I called her,” Ulrik said. “I thought it only fair we have a mediator. Or at the verra least, someone who can attest to what is said tonight. I know how you … twist … things to suit you.”
Con was growing more irate as the minutes passed. “This was between the two of us.”
“No’ true. The Keeper of History h
as knowledge of this, even as we speak. Kellan writes the truth as it happens because he’s compelled to.”
“Kellan would never try to hide anything. And neither would I.”
Ulrik shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
Rhi rolled her eyes. “Both of you have tried to injure me. Both of you have tried to recruit me. I help who I want, when I want. Just think of me as Switzerland.”
“I can do that,” Ulrik stated.
Con bowed his head in agreement when Rhi looked his way.
“Great. Then get on with it,” she said as she leaned back in her chair with her drink.
Con and Ulrik stared at each other in silence for several minutes. Rhi’s gaze was either on her drink or looking around the room.
“Why did you want this meeting?” Ulrik asked again.
Con drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “You used to be honorable.”
“And you used to be a good guy.”
“You used to think of others.”
“You used to have my back,” Ulrik said. “We can do this all night.”
Con tried another tack. “You want to take out your vengeance on me. Then focus. On me.”
“Oh, I am focused. You’re usually much sharper than this. Is it the bad fortune that’s now hovering over Dreagan?”
“Leave the Kings and humans out of our war.”
Ulrik’s smile was cold and furious. “Did you leave them out when you killed her? Did you leave them out when you bound my magic and banished me?”
“You left me no choice.”
“You always had a choice,” Ulrik said with a sneer. “You made the wrong ones, and now you’ll pay for it. All of you.”
Whether Ulrik wanted to or not, he’d let a bit of his plan slip. “What’s your endgame? You want your revenge. Let’s say you get it and become King of Kings. Will you forgive the others? Or will you kill them as well?”
“Does it really matter? If I win, you’ll be dead and unable to do anything. If you win, I’ll be dead and nothing changes.”
“Leave the Kings alone.”
Ulrik sat forward in his chair to lean both forearms on the table. His was smiling, but there was no humor in his gaze. “I hurt them, and it in turn hurts you. Have you no’ figured it out yet, old friend? I’m going to rip your world apart bit by bit. I’m going to take away everything you hold dear and count on, everything you look to in order to get through each day until there is nothing left.”
