by Leela Ash
Intuition and knowledge both bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. Without thinking, she shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet, preparing to dodge. Her right hand dropped to her side, seeking a weapon – a sword? a gun? – that wasn’t there.
As her hulking opponent stepped forward, Tess let her body do its thing.
An enormous, beefy hand swatted at her. She ducked beneath it easily and came up fast, already twirling into a ferocious side-kick. The tip of her boot hit the big man solidly just above his belt. Direct kidney hit!
Arnage grunted, looked puzzled, then said, “Huh. I felt that.”
Wonderful. That’s what they’ll put on your tombstone: ‘No, seriously, the dude felt it!’
Her right hand twitched again. It really, really wanted a weapon to equalize this fight. The Bear was bigger than her, stronger…
…and this room would not stop tilting. Tess danced away from his next swing but slipped on a beer can and nearly went sprawling.
Arnage waded in, fists flying. She dodged a haymaker, got clipped by a quick left jab, and reeled backward. Now her shoulder hurt as much as her head did.
That silent, half-forgotten Tess (the one that knew how to fight) declared this battle a lost cause. Unprepared, cornered, and still hung over, she didn’t stand a chance.
Time to run. She knew the Indian trails out of here. Time to see how well she could sprint in this condition.
Crouching, she waited for the Bear’s next assault. As he lumbered forward, trying to box her into a corner, she dropped low and kicked his ankle, hard.
She still wasn’t sure he even felt that, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. With a quick prayer for luck, Tess sprinted for the doorway.
Up until now, the Rat-woman had watched silently, hands in her pocket. Clearly, there was a hierarchy to the Fangs. Bruisers bruised. Commanders commanded. As Tess charged toward freedom, however, the scrawny woman moved with snake-like speed.
Dimly, Tess saw something in the other woman’s hand. A gun? A remote control? Couldn’t tell – couldn’t stop to find out. She shied away, only a step away from the outdoors…
…then a needle jabbed into her neck and a terrible, agonizing pain filled her body. Every muscle tightened, froze, and she plummeted to the ground, unmoving. Somewhere, she heard the ‘tick tick tick’ of a taser.
Move! Tess screamed silently at herself. Crawl! Get out of here!
Nothing happened. Caught in that agonizing moment, she could do nothing except suffer.
“Arnage?”
“Got her. Sorry, ma’am,” the Bear answered.
Something slammed into Tess’ head, a solid blow that would leave a goose egg in the morning. The world faded and, mercifully, the pain disappeared with it.
Chapter 13
Somewhere in a strip hotel in southern Connecticut, Darian tried to focus on the future.
Safely back in civilization, Ethan was happily gorging himself on all the treats he’d missed in the Maine woods. Pizza, the Disney Channel, and toilets that flushed topped his list. Yet even the sight of his delighted son couldn’t rouse Darian from the cloud of gloom that had settled over him when he woke to find Tess’ note.
They were Mates. He had Claimed her, and she him. How could she suddenly change her mind? What happened to ‘now and forever’?
“Daddy?”
Ethan was staring at him, worry clouding his small face. “What is it, sport?”
“Don’t you want your food?” He pointed at the untouched McDonald’s bag that sat on the bed next to his father.
“Sure. In a little bit.”
“But it’s cold now. You didn’t eat when it was hot.”
“It’s fine.”
“No. Cold fries suck.”
Why couldn’t the boy let this drop? A dull, weak anger stirred in his heart, until he realized what was happening.
Ethan was worried about him. He might be a child, but he could tell when his dad was miserable.
“Do you want to play with my Legos?”
Even now, when he ought to be dazzled by the return of television and crap food, his son tried to cheer him up. How could he stay annoyed at that kind of love?
Darian made himself smile. “No thanks. And I’m fine. Even with cold fries.”
Ethan wasn’t buying the excuse, or the smile. Frowning, eyes troubled, the boy bit his lip.
His father’s first urge was to say something, anything, to cheer him up. But the usual empty excuses died on his tongue. Instead, he chose an honest answer. “I’m okay. I’m just sad because Tess isn’t here. I thought she’d come with us.”
“Me too.” Ethan scrambled up onto the bed. “Why did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought she liked us.”
“I thought she liked us too.” His heart ached to admit that. But it was the truth, and he needed to face it. For three days, he’d brooded in this hotel. All of the plans he needed to make – how to get his money safely, where to go, how to protect his son – had been neglected. As much as this hurt… as hard as it was to consider a future without his Mate… he had to do this. For Ethan, at the very least.
Somber, quiet, his son prodded the bag of cold food. “Did Tess leave because of me?”
“No!” A chill ran through him at the question. Why did his son keep blaming himself for the things that went wrong? Was it a child’s innocent narcissism? Or – a more terrifying thought – was this his doing? Had he somehow given Ethan the impression that he resented him? That he’d be happier without him?
“Should I not have woke her up?”
“No, Ethan, this had nothing to do with you. Tess just…”
Danger!
Rage filled him. Not the crazed, maddened anger of a man out of control. No, this was a Dragon’s fury. Cold. Focused. Spelling doom for anyone who raised their hand in evil. Darian staggered as anger and alarm flooded through him.
Danger! Someone has hurt our Mate!
Since Tess left him, his Dragon had been quiet. So silent, in fact, that it made Darian wonder if his Shifter soul knew something he didn’t. Now, it sprang to life with a passion he had never felt. The rune on his chest, the prison that kept his Dragon penned, burned. Pain raced along it as if the great serpent had turned its fiery breath on its magical chains.
“Daddy!” Wide-eyed with fear, Ethan clutched his forgotten McDonald’s bag. “What’s wrong?”
“Tess is in danger!”
His son never questioned that statement. “We gotta help her!”
But how? He didn’t even know where she’d gone.
Maine. Back to her shack. Back to the place where this began.
How could he know that? Shaking his head, Darian rose to his feet, hands balled into fists. Sure, there were stories about how a Dragon always knew when his Mate was threatened. But those were fairy tales, weren’t they? Love didn’t give people magical powers.
His cell phone, laying on the bedside table, caught his eye. There was one person who knew the answer to that question. One Dragon who had a true Mate.
Shame welled up, seeking to drown his righteous fury. He couldn’t call his Alpha. Not after what he’d done.
“Daddy? We gotta help Tess!”
How? Without his Dragon, he was just a man. No Flight beside him, no Shifter soul… he’d destroyed himself, quite thoroughly. What could he do against the Fangs of Apophis?
Time slowed to a crawl as he hesitated, caught between two irreconcilable truths. He couldn’t abandon Tess. He couldn’t save her, either.
“Daddy!”
Ethan stared at him. Insistent. Uncompromising. Sure that somehow, some way, his father could make everything all right.
That was love, Darian realized. It didn’t bend. It didn’t make excuses. It didn’t fail.
Love made whatever sacrifices were necessary.
In a flash, he understood what he needed to do.
Would he die for Tess? Yes.
Then why wouldn’t he eat crow for her?
“Ethan, pack. We’re going to be leaving soon.” He snatched up the phone.
“We’re saving Tess?”
“We are.”
The joy and pride that lit his son’s eyes gave him the strength to dial the number. To take the first step on the long, painful road back to himself.
On the third rang, a man answered. “Mr. Morland. I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”
Brandon Lorde. His Alpha. The First of his Flight.
The man he’d betrayed.
There were a thousand things he ought to say. Apologies, excuses, explanations.
He didn’t have time for any of that. Instead, he cut straight to the problem. “The Fangs have my Mate.”
And in one second, as quickly as that, a year of betrayal was swept aside. “Your Flight defends you,” Lorde said. “What do you need from us?”
Relief washed over Darian, leaving him breathless. Was it truly so simple?
No, he realized. There would be explanations and atonement in the future. Lots of it. Now, however, was not the time.
This is how a Dragon behaves. Nothing stops him from defending those he loves. He would never demand that another Dragon humble himself, grovel, before he offered aid in such a blessed cause.
It had been a long time since Darian truly was a Dragon. But those memories, that soul-deep purpose, came rushing back.
“I need a Witch Hare. A good one. I bound my Dragon and I…” He choked but forced the words out. “I need to free it.”
He wouldn’t have been surprised if that confession horrified Lorde, or if his Alpha had condemned him. He deserved it.
Lorde gave no hint that he’d even heard him. “Where are you?”
“Connecticut.”
“Good. You remember my place in NYC? Go there. My housekeeper is a gifted witch.”
On the edge of Central Park. He could be there within an hour. “Thank you.”
But his Alpha didn’t stop there. “I’m in California right now. I will call the rest of the Flight and head back myself.”
They would follow him into battle? Even after he had deserted them and the newfound Wellspring? Their honor shamed him, but he welcomed that bitter draught. It meant he would have allies, if he needed them. “I will leave as soon as I can, but…”
“Of course. But if this is a trap, know that your Flight flies behind you.”
“Thank you.” Some part of him wanted to repeat that word, over and over. Yet he was already moving, grabbing his backpack, dodging around Ethan to snatch up their toiletries. Gratitude, like contrition, would have to wait for another day.
One thing did slip out, before he could stop it. “I’m not Fallen. I want you to know that. My Dragon is furious with me, but… but it’s still a Dragon.”
“I know,” Lorde assured him. “Dragons have Mates; Worms don’t. I don’t know who your woman is, but her love sanctifies you. For her – and for your Dragon – I’ll give you aid and a chance to explain your actions.”
In the end, that was all Darian could hope for.
Chapter 14
“Mr. Morland. Young Master Morland. How good to see you.”
Amarie, Lorde’s housekeeper, possessed the mismatched blue and green eyes common amongst Witch Hares. At the sight of them, Ethan slunk closer to his father. Yet the old woman greeted them warmly, with a smile that held not the least bit of condemnation for Darian’s past betrayal. She whisked them inside, plucked their packs from them, and immediately trotted off toward a bedroom. From the way she behaved, Darian might have been here only yesterday. Not a year – and a lifetime’s worth of mistakes – ago.
He and his son lagged a bit behind her as the boy dragged his feet. “Daddy? Why are her eyes funny?”
“Because she’s a witch.”
The boy’s jaw dropped. Wide-eyed, he searched Darian’s face for any sign of laughter. But his father simply shrugged. If he was going to reclaim his Dragon, he couldn’t keep shielding his son from the truth. “The world is stranger than I ever let you know, Ethan. I’m not going to lie to you about that anymore.”
“So witches are real?” His son cringed slightly.
“Yes. Witches are real. And Dragons. And other things that we’ll talk about, later.”
“Not to worry!” Amarie chirped back over her shoulder. “I’m a good witch!”
Ethan absorbed that in silence as they climbed the stairs. “But Santa Claus isn’t real, right?”
“Right.”
The child seemed relieved to have gotten at least one thing correct.
Once their scant belongings were deposited in their bedroom, Amarie folded her hands in front of her. “Now, Master Morland,” she said to Ethan, “your father and I have urgent business.”
“Business?” The boy gave him a nervous glance.
“Magic,” the housekeeper clarified.
That didn’t reassure his son at all. “To help Tess,” Darian added, which made the boy nod.
“You’re free to wander as you will. Though you might want to start your explorations downstairs, in the kitchen. I just baked a batch of cookies in honor of your arrival.”
“Have as many as you like, sport.” Darian hated bribing his son, but every moment he delayed was a moment Tess spent in the clutches of the Fangs of Apophis. If they hurt her…
No, he couldn’t think about that. It would drive him, and his Dragon, mad.
Once Ethan scampered off, the Witch Hare closed the door. “Now, could you show me the spell, sir?”
Darian liked her. No small talk, all business. He pulled his shirt off at once, revealing his tattoo and the rune that marred it.
Amarie tutted and peered at it. “I see, I see,” she muttered. Hard though it was, he resisted the urge to hurry her. This needed to be done, and it needed to be done right.
Minutes passed before the Witch Hare nodded. “Good. The magic is strong, but not skilled. Very fortunate that you didn’t find a more qualified witch, sir. This shouldn’t be difficult to remove.”
“Good to hear.” He took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“I’ll just get my tools. Might I suggest that sir prepares himself?”
“For what?” he asked. Darian didn’t care if the process was painful, but he was curious.
The old woman paused in the doorway. “Mr. Morland, you’ve muzzled your Dragon. If that creature is anything like my master’s Dragon, it’s going to be vexed.”
“Very vexed,” she added, as she slipped out the door.
Ah, hell. He hadn’t considered that.
Left alone in the still room, he tried to reason with his own soul.
I’m sorry. I was wrong to bind you.
Nothing. Either the Dragon couldn’t – or wouldn’t – speak to him.
You have every right to be angry with me.
Silence.
He sighed. Nothing to do but wait, then. Fortunately, it didn’t take long. The old Witch Hare returned with full hands. One held a bundle of quill pens, the other balanced a clay bowl full of water. Pale purple flower petals floated on its surface. A pouch dangled from her wrist; something inside it clattered.
“Let’s hope we don’t need them,” she chirped as she plunked the bag down on the bedside table. Darian refused to ask what ‘they’ were, though he was curious. But every second counted. Amarie squinted at the bundle of feathers then snatched up one and dipped it into the herb-infused water. “Hold very still, please. And, hard as it is, be patient. This will take time.”
“Tess may not have time,” he growled.
For once, a flash of annoyance lit the Witch Hare’s eyes. “Mistakes of this magnitude, sirrah, are not fixed with a snap of the fingers.”
Darian gritted his teeth and nodded. True. This delay was on him.
Amarie leaned forward. With her quill, she began to scratch at the great ‘X’ that marred his Dragon tattoo. Each stroke of its point scraped across his ski
n like a rat’s claw, leaving a burning sting in its wake.
Scritch, scritch, scritch, went the quill. His eyes narrowed. It wasn’t painful, but he was shocked he could even feel such a minor ‘injury.’ The muscles on his chest twitched, irritated by this nagging, nibbling itch.
After a dozen scratches, the old woman dipped her tool into the bowl. To Darian’s shock, colors flooded its waters. Black, as if she had indeed dug the tattoo itself off his body. Yet around that a dark, ugly yellow flowed, the color of pus and bruises. Where had that come from?
He didn’t ask. Questions would only slow the witch down – and leave Tess in danger longer. Darian watched that sick, toxic sheen swirl through the bowl’s bright petals. That was what he’d done to his soul.
He expected some response from his Dragon. As the bars of its prison weakened, would it tear at them? Would it rail at him, throwing his many sins into his face? Mock him for needing the aid of the creature he locked away?
Instead, he felt a stillness within himself. It wasn’t peace. His Dragon didn’t give him that grace. No, it was more like patience. The cold, endless endurance of a hunter who knew that soon – very soon – its prey would emerge from hiding.
Somehow, Darian suspected he was that prey.
Not a feeling he was used to. He tried to echo that patience, to pull it in and quiet his restless, anxious heart.
Without a clock in the room, he couldn’t say how much time passed. Hours, he assumed. Surely, no mere minutes could drag on so long? And in every second that crawled past, he felt her. Tess. In danger. Captured. Every moment, his heart screamed at him to leave. To abandon this useless, time-wasting ‘magic’ and just fly to the woman he loved.
Darian drove that feeling away, coldly. He was a Dragon. Or, rather, he was becoming one again. He was the master of himself. He would not endanger Tess’ life by rushing out to ‘rescue’ her without his full power.
And so he waited, impatiently. At some point, a loud ‘thump’ echoed up from downstairs. One of Amarie’s eyebrows arched, but she said nothing. The father in him longed to rush out and see what deviltry Ethan was getting into. Clearly, the cookies had all been devoured.
