by Lisa Daniels
He swept her mouth up in his, fingers now dancing across her back, and their breaths mingled. He dug his fingers into her clothes, heart thumping in his throat. “No,” he managed to croak, though he hated himself for even uttering those words. His grip loosened. “We—we need to cool it down.”
She ignored him, now grinding her body against his, letting out soft gasps. “No we don't,” she murmured, now reaching for his pants, unbuttoning them.
“You're drunk! No!” He seized her by the wrists, and she stared at him, slightly betrayed, the lust burning her skin. “Mia, I'm not going to take advantage of you.” Burning coal trains, those words hurt him to say. “I don't know what's going on with you right now, but I'm not going to be the bad guy here.”
“You got it wrong,” Mia said, and Zaine saw, to his horror and arousal at the same time, that her topaz began to glow, and her skin temperature dropped. “I'm the one taking advantage of you.”
Maybe from her point of view, she thought she had once more pinned Zaine's arms to the door, because he'd given into her words.
Truthfully, it was because all the strength had drained out of him in the emergence of her powers. Everything inside him buzzed with energy, and the heat siphoned away. His dragon roared inside, all hunger, wanting her.
“I have to know,” she said. “What it'll feel like with you. Before...”
He never found out what came after the “before,” because she once again kissed him, brimming with power. He let out a groan, barely able to stop himself coming. “Mia...”
Her lips found his right ear. “You don't have to worry about wearing protection,” she whispered. “I won't get pregnant like this.”
Reason dissolved. Strength clawed from the depths of Zaine's body, even as she finally undid his pants and pulled down his underwear, revealing his erection. Throbbing for contact. He should stop. He needed to stop. But the animal part of his brain made his hands grasp her roughly about the shoulders, turn her around, and force Mia onto her knees.
His fingers continued to fly over her, tugging off the tunic so he could see her faintly scarred back, those fine, rippling muscles in her shoulder blades.
“Do it,” she growled, the hunger swallowed by lust. Her fingers spread upon the wooden floor, and it would be so easy, so easy to just give in.
Again, Zaine punched through his brain, emerging on the other side. With an awful, growling whimper, he wrenched himself away, opened the door, and slammed it shut on her. He leant against it in the corridor outside, his head throbbing, part of him burning in disappointment.
How easy it would have been. She wanted it. She was asking for it. He hated himself right now, but moved away from the door before she might open it.
Ragged breathing came from inside the room. Then he heard a “Why? Why did you stop?”
Closing his eyes, Zaine regained a little more control of each limb. “It's not happening for the right reason,” he said. How lame did that sound, coming out his lips? Not happening for the right reason. How laughable. “You're definitely drunk, and we're only going to hurt each other like this.” No matter how sweet it may feel to be buried inside you, to hear your moans, watch you shudder underneath me...
Fists pounded the door. “Fuck you,” she hissed, vocal chords distorted by the denied lust inside her. “Just fuck you.”
“Talk to me again later, Mia. If you're still up for it then... maybe we can discuss something.”
This had to be the right choice. He couldn't... he couldn't do this. Sure, his blood practically screamed at him to just open the door, dive back into that indulgence of flesh, taste, scent and sound, feast his eyes upon her, even as her magic weakened him, left him vulnerable.
But not in a seedy little tavern. Not to risk his deal with an iceblood. “I'm sorry, Mia. But it's not right. I don't... if I did have you, I'd want it in better circumstances.”
Idiot, idiot, idiot! It took everything to have him step away from the door, and eventually saunter outside, under the intent gaze of the tavern keeper, no longer displaying the arousal that almost consumed him moments ago. He did lean against a gaslight post, taking heavy exhales. The iceblood likely cursed him from the bedroom.
Probably going to massively regret this decision. She had to be lying about something, though. Something that tipped her over the edge. She'd likely have gone to Gorchev, found something out that caused her to react as such.
I want to know what it feels like. Before...
Zaine hesitated. The words loitered in his consciousness, sending a kind of terrified thrill within.
Had she been tasked to kill him?
No. Impossible. Or was it? Did Gorchev know who was petitioning to have his factories shut down? Zaine bit his lip.
Perhaps he needed to be more careful. Not go by himself to visit the rougher edges of the city, since even with dressing down, a beady-eyed spy might spot and vanquish him.
A pang of regret went through him at the notion of cutting off the iceblood. No help for it. If she'd been put to assassinate him, then she'd have to decide too early where her loyalties lay.
And as it always was for people like her, loyalty lay with the money.
He flagged down a carriage, paying the driver to take him back to Center Street. The driver gave a soft cluck of his tongue at the implication of how wealthy Zaine was, before setting them off.
Honestly, Zaine hated having to take the human method of travel, longing instead to just spread his wings and fly. Wings of freedom. Breath of the sky.
Would Mia's heart crust up in humiliation from his choice? Someone like her, strong, independent—likely used to getting her own way. He'd seen people kill for less.
I'd need to warn the other hybrids. My operation may be compromised. It's not enough that the king and queen know about the factory issues. They need to do it legally with parliament. No vigilante justice. No dragon interference.
And if they just killed off the prominent members who were part of the case... then goodbye, Zaine. Hello, abuse, and hello, future war. All for the sake of greed.
The trads wanted war. They hated humans. One more excuse. One more affront against their name.
Being a diplomat sure sucked the fun out of everything. If only he'd been first or second prince, the family would consider him too important to leave the nest. But no. He had to be sixth prince. Part of an unusually prosperous brood hatch.
Peering outside the carriage, he examined the factories with their poisonous smog streaming out of the tops, and the steam locomotives trundling along their tracks, fuelled by coal. Humans still preferred horse-drawn carriages—but in the distance, he saw something under construction. A huge hot air balloon. Designed to carry hundreds. Soon the humans would be part of the air. Not just in speckled balloons that drifted lazily across the tops. Flooding it until there was no more room for the dragons.
They continued rolling through the boroughs, and the scenery gradually shifted from grubby-faced workers to neatly dressed merchants, fat on the wealth of their customers. Noblemen and women thronged through the crowd, eating at fine restaurants, acting like their city wasn't ringed by industrial clangs and smog.
The carriage took a right turn, veering through a shortcut. Unbidden, Mia returned to his mind. So fresh, so close.
Ah, well. Maybe next time...
Thump.
The carriage rattled. A muffled gasp followed. Instantly, without bothering to call out, Zaine smashed his palm on the handle, vaulting himself out. The driver lay crumpled on the floor, a bright blue hole shimmering through his body.
Mouth dry, Zaine came face to face with two pairs of eyes. Thirsting for his death.
“Well, this was easy,” Jason said, cackling as he held up his staff, charging energy. Ready for the kill. Sanders closed in from the other side as the carriage rolled off, the horse cantering in terror. The sound of the carriage crashing into the wall carried back. “Thought there was something funny about Mia's fuckbag. Told the boss he c
ouldn't trust her no more.”
Sanders nodded eagerly, staff glowing at the tip.
Zaine closed his eyes. One glimmer of ice from death.
Chapter Nine – Mia
Mia stared at the door, lost for words. The blood throbbed in her lips, where she still tasted him. His retreating footsteps told her that she wouldn't be finding him ready outside. Burning with humiliation and rage, she fought to get her clothes back in order, before icing her blood, freezing away the intoxication. Stone cold sober, she rubbed at her face, before shouldering her way through the door.
She sincerely doubted that she'd be the only one entrusted with Zaine's death. Likely Gorchev had set Zaine as a bounty with that kind of money. He'd done something like that before. She... Mia had intended to pin him down, then whisper afterwards what she'd been told to do.
Instead, she'd allowed her emotions to run away like a steaming freight train. I was supposed to be in control. Get him safe with me, tell him when I was sure no one was listening... but she had allowed her emotions to run away with her. Too consumed with the conviction that Zaine most certainly had the cloak of death hanging above him. Didn't matter if she switched to his side. Every single thug and hireling under Gorchev's command now wanted him dead.
She bounded down the stairs, just in time to see the tavern keeper hurry back inside to the bar. Suspicion dawned. She cut him off before he retreated behind the counter, and said, “I'm one of Gorchev's. The target didn't fall for the trap. Where did he go?”
The tavern keeper squinted at her. “Really?”
Mia tapped her necklace. “I don't wear this because it's pretty.”
The tavern keeper nodded. “He's gone and got himself a carriage to Center Street.”
“Who else knows?”
The tavern keeper's weak brown eyes narrowed, considering her. No one expected a woman to be an assassin. Shame, because they'd make the most effective, with the way people underestimated them. “I told those two icebloods. But they told me not to tell you...”
“Course they didn't. They want the reward for themselves.” Mia smiled at the keeper. Part of her wanted to kill him. Stick a knife in his belly, watch him die. But she couldn't waste the precious seconds remaining—and he did cook delicious food.
“Thanks.” Didn't have time to get her staff. Had to make do with Helga's necklace. Gathering energy, Mia threw caution to the wolves, and began to slick herself along the street outside, drawing shouts.
Center Street. Jason and Sanders would set up an ambush.
You really, really shouldn't have left me, Zaine... Mia gritted her teeth, skating up a building, leaping to the next. She shouldn't be willing to defend this man. Gorchev was right. No one wanted a dragon sympathizer. The Iron Reach coped better without people like Zaine muddying the waters. Without him allowing vicious brutes like the one that burned her hometown down to roam free.
Yet, he'd directed her to the dragon she hunted. Wind whipped her face and cloak, ruffled her hair as she soared onto the next big building. Spending more energy than wise to get a view of the streets from above.
Some humans kill. Some humans save. Her eyes flitted across a small alley market, where someone barreled through crates, clutching a loaf of bread. Another scene—a grandfather holding the hand of a grandson. People streaming to work, people leaving it, exhausted and drunk. People getting onto the train—a hot air balloon drifting down, the man in it staring at her in amazement as she arced high, high above the buildings, draining her energy at a frightening rate, the air frosted around her.
Carriage—where was the damn carriage? Energy crackled in her necklace as she charged for the shot. There. Jason and Sanders, slicking across the rooftops below, honing in on a small black carriage that carelessly trotted through a common shortcut to Center Street. More fingers pointed at her—hard not to notice a woman skating through air—and she attached her gravity to the ground, hurtling to the alley at a dizzying rate.
Sander's back faced her—she shifted her descent, aiming for his spine. Jason barked a warning—Zaine, lunging towards Jason, didn't waste time with distraction. Good.
Sander's skin frosted over as Mia slammed into him. The ice armor cracked, and he smashed into the ground, the breath knocked out of him. She almost lost balance herself, readjusting her gravity to slick instead along the wall, aiming a bolt to Jason.
His grizzled face twisted into an ugly sneer, and he was forced to refocus his energy into a shield as Mia blasted him.
Drat. She'd spent almost all her energy with the ascent through the sky. Should have stuck to the rooftops. Should have...
Sanders staggered up, even as Mia tried getting close to Jason, intending to use her knife.
“Oh no, you don't,” Jason snarled, slithering backwards across the alley, gathering momentum. “You're not going to get away with this, you bitch.”
Mia fixed her gravity at some point above her, allowing her leap to carry farther than normal. Jason, taken by surprise, found himself knocked off the wall by her impact. Instantly, the two icebloods wrestled one another, fighting to get out of the grip, to seize an advantage—
Adrenaline roared in Mia's ears, along with a kind of breathless fear. Gorchev would never let her back. Never ever—all his assassins would surely seek her out as well...
Jason managed two punches to her jaw, unable to keep his focus for his power. His staff lay discarded to the side. He scrabbled for her necklace, and small crackles of unfocused energy left his fingertips, grazing her skin. Jason's mad eyes stared into hers, even as her fist punched into his stomach.
The iceblood stiffened, and his mouth opened in outrage, shock. Mia pulled her hand out, along with the knife it held, now glistening with blood.
“You always were bad at focusing without a staff,” Mia hissed, extracting herself from the man as he collapsed. No words left his lips. She turned to the commotion behind, and sped along the wall.
Sanders had lunged towards Zaine, who let out a primal, inhuman roar, blocking the blow with a glowing red, scaly arm. The scales continued to erupt over his form, before curling backwards from the ice magic that invaded his skin.
Mia slid over to him, wobbling slightly. Her neck felt wet, as did her arm. Stupid—probably sweat—and she spat a feeble bolt of energy into Sanders.
Enough to mess up his focus—and enough for Zaine to reach forward, and dig a scaly, clawed hand into Sander's chest. The second iceblood died on his knees.
“You!” Mia twisted in mid-travel over the wall, and slammed Zaine against the wall. “You! You're...!” Her eyes focused on his arm, and the fangs that now lined his jaw. The scales retracted, the fangs shortened into human teeth. “What is this?”
Zaine, blue eyes locked with her hazel, let out a gurgle before he said, “You know what it is.”
“No...” Mia's hand twitched. Zaine's energy had changed the moment the scales erupted over his body. Aligning with the presence Mia felt whenever she sensed a dragon nearby. Her head spun, and power drained from her limbs as the last of the magic left her. “You're a dragon?”
“Correct.”
“I...” Mia's brain felt dead. Wool coated her tongue. Her enemy stood in front of her. One bolt from death. If only... she had... energy...
“Mia, you're bleeding.” His words came from a distance, echoing through a cave.
Now Mia peered down, and saw the source of that sticky wetness. Ah. The energy that left Jason. Must have been... icicles. Piercing her neck. No wonder she'd been able to kill him. He spent it all on that last attack.
The words blocked themselves in her throat. She needed to say something. Accuse him, maybe.
His arms caught her as she slumped, and heated fingers touched her neck. The heat grew. Grew and grew until she wanted to scream.
Instead, oblivion met her.
Chapter Ten – Zaine
Lacing his fingers together, Zaine sat by the side of the queen-sized bed, where Mia lay with bandages around her throat
. The same throat he'd cauterized to stop the bleeding. Probably would have scarred her. The court doctors had said there was nothing else to do but wait. And guards stood outside Zaine's residence now, marginal protection against those who wanted him dead.
He didn't know when she'd wake up, but he wanted to make sure she saw him first. Otherwise she might take a hike before he'd even know what she intended.
Two days, though. Two days of waiting, and the time ticked, leading those factory-enslaved dragons further away from rescue. For all Zaine knew, Gorchev had already destroyed them all.
Did she intend to kill him? Zaine didn't know. She'd been ready to save him. Right until he used his powers to defend himself. He still felt the wall pressing into his back as she glared at him with wild eyes, accusing.
As he rubbed his eyelids, he heard a rasping sound from in front. “Did you really have to burn the wounds shut?”
Hazel eyes bored into his face. The image of her neck streaming with blood filled his vision. “You lost a lot, Mia. I thought maybe too much.”
Her pupils became agates. “You're a dragon.”
Zaine's heart sank at this, sloshing where that fluttering sensation had once resided. “Yes.” Well, he knew the dangers.
She grimaced, before saying in that harsh voice, “Show me.”
He quickly glanced around. Probably enough room to transform, though it might be a little cramped. A tiny spike of fear rippled through him, picturing for a second that she'd kill him the moment he transformed. “If you insist.” Or maybe he'd have enough of a response time to attack her. She didn't wear her necklace, and her staff had been missing.
Heat singed his veins. Human skin rippled into dragon scales, before expanding into his red dragon form. His head brushed the ceiling, and he needed to keep his wings furled up. He turned his head so he could fix her with one piercing eye.
His enhanced hearing caught her sharp intake of breath. He carefully lowered his head until the tip of his snout rested against the bed. Her hand quivered as if automatically reaching for her power, before she relaxed her tendons and reached up to his snout with her right set of fingers. Cold embraced hot, and a hissing noise escaped from the contact, along with a whoosh of steam.
