by Kimber White
Grace put a hand on her hip. “Don’t mind Baxter. He’s temperamental.”
“Right,” I said.
Grace disappeared into the first archway left of the foyer. I followed her into the kitchen. It had black and white tiled floors and stainless steel appliances. Grace set her keys on the white quartz countertops and grabbed a clean cloth from under the sink. She ran it under cold water and motioned to me.
I took a tentative step toward her, realizing her mission. In another few heartbeats, she’d see. I could have pushed her away. Made some excuse and walked right out for the front door. It’s what my mother and brothers would want me to do. It made the most sense. The safest path. But, when Grace turned and reached for me, I felt rooted to the spot.
She took my right hand, flipping the wrist up. She pressed the cool, wet cloth to my palm and carefully wiped the blood away.
“I’m really sorry about this,” she said. “It’s just...you startled me. What were you doing out there anyway? Have you been following me, Mr. Brandhart?”
My heart skipped. She knew my name. God. I’d been all kinds of careless when it came to this girl. She had me dumbstruck. It was dangerous. It had to be the sickness. I was losing my damn mind.
“So you know who I am,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
“Of course,” she said, dabbing what she thought was a wound. There had been plenty of blood, at least. She lifted the cloth and turned my hand over, her eyes widening.
“You’re not…this is…” She dropped my hand and took a step back. “I saw that blade cut into your flesh. There’s nothing there now.”
I leaned against the opposite counter. “Are you going to tell me you haven’t seen this before? Let’s not pretend you don’t know a thing or two about shifters.”
She drew her thick, dark brows together. She was a little bit angry and it made her nose crinkle in a way I liked. “But that’s not...that was…”
Ah. So she did know what that blade was. Now, I just had to get her to tell me where it came from. There was plenty of dragonsteel on the black magic market. The idea that this girl was anywhere near something like that made my fire rage.
She pulled the blade out of the little pouch she had around her waist and turned the blade in the light. Dragonsteel had a sheen to it like nothing else. It cast a prism on the wall as it caught the light. She put it carefully on the counter beside her and backed away from me.
“Why did you follow me?” she asked.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“I thought...if I’d…” Her eyes narrowed again and she caught her breath. “Stop answering my questions with questions. You were the one following me. And that wasn’t the first time. You’ve been in the bagel shop more than once. You’ve been watching me. Why?”
Her lips formed a hard line and the urge to kiss her flared through me. Weight pressed against my chest. I’d been gone longer than I meant. Soon enough, Finn and Loch would come looking for me. I could cloak myself even from them unless I lost control of my dragon.
I owed her an answer. I just couldn’t tell her the truth. She wasn’t supposed to know dragons existed. It would be bad enough if she figured it out. But, this girl was connected to a pack of wolves. There could be no doubt. Again, rage thundered through me and a single word erupted in my brain.
Mine!
I coughed, trying to get control. She couldn’t see my eyes. She wouldn’t understand the fire.
“This,” I said, reaching around her. She took a sharp breath as I grabbed the knife off the counter and flicked the blade back open. “I want to know about this. Where did you get it? Do you know what it is? What it’s for?”
“You first,” she said. “You’re supposed to tell me what the hell it is you want from me.”
“I just did,” I said. It was the truth. We’d seen enough evidence that wolves in Chicago were dealing with dragon artifacts. Now, I had proof. “It’s your turn, Grace. Where did you get this knife?”
She let out a sigh. I knew she struggled with the same dilemma as I did. What could she say that wouldn’t betray the people she was trying to protect? In my case, it was my brothers and my mother. In her case, it appeared to be a damn wolf pack.
“My father gave it to me,” she blurted.
“He’s a shifter, then.”
She nodded. “I’m surprised you haven’t worked all of that out already. You’re a shifter too. But, not a wolf. Are all the Brandharts?”
I stifled a growl. She was getting too damn close to the truth.
“Your father’s a wolf. An Alpha, I’d wager. I wasn’t aware of any strong packs in the area. When did he move in?”
“It’s uh...a little hard to explain. He’s an Alpha, yes…”
“And that’s his pack out there chasing after you?” Again that predatory anger rolled through me. The thought of any of those wolves so much as touching Grace turned my dragon.
“My brother, my cousins, and my uncle. Yes. They’re not exactly a pack in the traditional sense. They’re just...uh...family.”
“Family. What’s your name?”
“Grace Call,” she said, hesitating just a beat before saying her last name. I had the sense she’d just told me more than her father would have liked. It seemed we’d both taken a leap of faith with each other.
“So tell me,” she said, recovering some of her composure. “What’s Gideon Brandhart doing slumming in Wicker Park? I’ve seen your family name on a bunch of buildings downtown. Are you looking to buy up property in the neighborhood?”
“Yes.” I blurted the answer, kicking myself for not just saying that in the first place. It wasn’t true, of course, but it could be. I was so far off my game with this girl. She turned me inside out.
Her shoulders dropped with relief when I gave her an answer that made sense to her. Everything in me told me she was just on the edge of figuring out what I was. It was ludicrous. Impossible. So she’d grown up around wolf shifters. She had a dragonsteel blade in her hand. Still, the idea that a living, breathing dragon was standing in front of her would likely blow her mind.
I wanted her to know. God help me. My need for her to see me as I truly was burned through me along with a more powerful desire than I’d ever known. I was well and truly losing it. And I knew damn well what my brothers would say. I should get the hell out of here. Fast.
“Wow,” she said. “If you were trying to keep a low profile, you’re really bad at it. You know if any of the property owners on West North know that a Brandhart is looking, you can forget about getting a bargain.”
“Maybe I’m not looking for a bargain,” I said.
“So, what are you looking for?” She got brave. She pushed herself off the counter and took a step toward me.
She was tall for a human woman. Five nine, maybe. It made sense if her father was a wolf shifter. Most of their female offspring were born human due to an ancient witch’s curse. I only knew of a handful of female wolf shifters in the world. Still, there was enough latent shifter DNA in Grace to give her height and strength. She wore a tight-fitting tank top that just covered her ample breasts. I had equal urges to touch them and cover them. Both stirred me to distraction.
“Right now, I’m looking to know more about that knife you’re carrying. Tell me, Grace, what is your father so afraid of that he thinks his daughter should carry a weapon like that around town?”
A beat passed between us. I took a step toward her so we were standing no more than a foot apart. Even with her height, Grace still had to crane her neck to meet my eyes.
“He’s just overprotective,” she said. “Maybe he’s afraid some mysterious shifter might try to follow me home and he wants me to be prepared.”
“I think maybe your father and I should have a talk someday, then,” I said. She was studying me. I held absolutely still, afraid to even breathe in case she could sense my fire.
“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you,” she said, tilting her head a little to t
he side. She dropped her gaze and looked at my hand.
This was risky. Grace wasn’t what I thought she was at first. Human, yes. But, with her family ties she had more shifter knowledge than most. I really did want to know what beast her father thought she might encounter that would warrant a dragonsteel blade. If her father was an Alpha, even if she was human, surely every wolf shifter in town knew to steer clear of her. It made me not want to leave her side. If that kind of danger swirled around Grace Call, no one could protect her the way that I could.
She reached for my hand and I turned it, letting her see my palm. There was no trace of the cut anymore. As she ran her fingers over the deep lines at the base of my thumb, her breath caught. Thank God she was no longer looking in my eyes. My vision went pure gold as my dragon eyes flared.
“Gideon Brandhart,” she whispered my name. “And here you are standing in the middle of my kitchen. Well...it’s not really my kitchen. I’m housesitting for a friend.”
“I should go,” I said, though it was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. I’d been too long already. We had a pact, my brothers and me. If we didn’t check in with each other every couple of hours, the rest would come looking. It was a necessary precaution. Xander was safe now; he’d found his fated mate. For Finn, Loch, Kian, and me, the sickness still loomed. Someday soon, we would lose control of our dragons for good.
Unless…
“You really should,” she said, looking up at me. Grace hadn’t yet let go of my hand. I felt her pulse beating so strong. Her touch settled mine. A moment ago, the rage of fire made my vision swirl. Now, I felt cooler, more calm. It was as if my pulse had slowed to match hers.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said. “And I’m sorry if it seemed like I was stalking you. That wasn’t my intent.”
She looked up at me. I held my breath, trying desperately to control my eyes. Not here. Not now. If I shifted in front of her, I didn’t think I’d be able to cloak it in time. If she saw...if she even suspected...the risk to my brothers and me was far too great. Grace Call may not have been a shifter, but her ties to the wolf pack were strong. She had to be off limits. Wolves and dragons don’t mix, even if she was mostly human.
“It’s okay,” she smiled. “I really can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t mind. There’s something about you, Gideon. Isn’t there? I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Look harder! That was my dragon talking. He had his own ideas about how to handle Grace.
“And you still haven’t answered my questions about that knife.”
She picked it up again. “Why do I get the idea that you know exactly what this is?”
“Do you?”
She ran her fingers along the blade. I went still as stone, afraid to startle her. She was playing with fire in more ways than one. A cut from that blade in just the right place could kill a shifter. I honestly had no idea what it would do to a human. I wanted to take it from her, but part of me was on her mysterious father’s side. A woman like her couldn’t be too careful.
There was a knock at the door. Grace jumped. The blade clanged to the floor.
“Grace!” A deep baritone shouted from the other side of the door and jiggled the knob.
“You can’t be here,” she said. I bent down and picked up the knife. It warmed in my hand, my fire calling to the magic inside of it. I put it back on the counter.
“Is that your father?” I asked.
She gave me a quick nod and then pulled on my sleeve. “Go out the back door,” she said. “Be right there, Papa!”
She led me through the kitchen to a sliding back door. There was no yard, but a tiny courtyard surrounded by a high privacy fence. I looked back at her. “You expect me to climb that?”
She cocked her head in annoyance. “Are you really going to stand there and pretend you can’t? And you still haven’t told me what kind of shifter you are.”
“Guess,” I whispered, enjoying the game, even though I skirted danger with her once again.
“Well, let’s hope you’re something with wings. There’s a good chance my brother or cousins were told to head to the back door.”
“Grace!”
I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t want her to take away her touch. But she dropped my hand and gave me a pleading look as she shoved me toward the door.
Her father had already come inside. A few blocks over, I heard the distinct howling of two other wolves. Time to go.
As soon as Grace turned her back, I stepped into the courtyard and called to my fire. Had she turned she would have seen exactly what kind of shifter I was. She didn’t though. I let my wings out. They scraped against the wood fence just before I took flight.
Chapter Four
Grace
It had been five days, and Gideon Brandhart hadn’t come back into the restaurant. Every time the little bell clanged on the front door, my heart stopped. But, I didn’t even need to turn and look to know it wasn’t him. The truth was, I could feel it when he was in the room. It made no sense. Maybe I was just losing my damn mind. I had let the man into my house! My instincts had gone haywire around this guy. That right there should have been the biggest warning sign of all.
Tuesday early evening, and it was my turn to close. I finished wiping down the counters and said goodbye to Lisa, the other waitress working with me today. When the door chimed again, I could feel a different presence.
“Hey, Papa,” I said, tossing the towel into the laundry hamper near the back door.
“You ready to go?” he asked in his short, clipped baritone. When my father emigrated nineteen years ago, he hadn’t known a world of English. He learned quickly and picked up French and Spanish along the way.
“Just about,” I said. Ever since the day Gideon ran into Father Dmitriev, the men in my family had taken to walking me home from work. I knew they meant well, but it was starting to grate on my nerves.
“You know you don’t have to do this,” I said. I grabbed my purse from a hook on the wall. Its heavy weight knocked against my hip. The knife was in there.
I engaged the lock and held the front door open to let my father out. On his way, he bent down and kissed me on the cheek. His rough stubble grazed my skin.
My father was a handsome man with thick silver hair that formed a natural part on the side. His skin was tanned dark from the time he spent outside working construction. His deep-set blue eyes darted over me, and his nostrils flared just slightly as he took in my scent. It was a wolf thing.
“Good business today?” he asked.
“Steady,” I answered. My father was actually part owner of the Bagel Bureau. He’d invested a few years ago when Nico, the original owner, overextended himself. Nico emigrated from Ukraine just a few years ago. When he could, my father would always help those trying to come over. Unfortunately, Nico wasn’t very good at helping himself. He was drunk these days more often than he wasn’t. It was becoming a problem, and soon I knew I’d have to find a way to broach the subject with Papa.
For now, I had a different topic to broach. Papa had been gone for days finishing a remodel on the south side. Now, I had his undivided attention. We turned on N. Oakley and I drew the knife out of my purse.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. My father knew me all too well. I figured my brother had already given him an earful about his suspicions of Gideon. Luckily, neither he nor the others had brought it up with me since.
“You never told me where you got this?” I asked, holding the closed knife flat in my palm. Papa took it from me and extended it. The metal gleamed with every color of the rainbow. It really was a beautiful piece. Damascus steel with swirling lines throughout the blade.
“It’s been in our family for a very long time,” he said. “My own father gave it to me.”
His voice faltered a little. I knew how hard it was for him to talk about those he’d left behind. My father left Russia in exile, banished from his pack. He’d gone against his Alpha to be with m
y mother.
“You’re sure it’s strong enough to kill a shifter?”
He stopped walking and raised one great bushy brow. “Why do you ask me that? You know the answer.”
“Right. Dragonsteel. You said it was forged with a dragon’s fire. I always just figured that was apocryphal.”
His smile dropped. He closed the blade and handed it back to me. “And you know me well enough to know I don’t tell lies. I expect the same of you. What’s going on with you? You’ve been quiet. Distant. Has someone approached you?”
“No.” And there I was, lying.
“And you know what to do if they ever do. You take that knife and you use it. Because yes, it is powerful enough to bring down a shifter. Any shifter.”
In my mind, I saw Gideon grab the blade with his bare hand. I saw it cut through him and then heal perfectly.
“Any shifter,” I repeated.
My father found his smile again. We were already at the front gate of the brownstone on North Oakley.
“Any shifter but a dragon,” he answered. “But you don’t have to worry about them anymore. There is just one thing though.”
I turned to him, resting one hand on the finial of the gate. “Tell me.”
“I’ve told you this before. That knife is rare. You can’t get them anymore. Not without some...well...never mind. It’s best you don’t ever take it out unless you have to. If the wrong people knew you had it, it wouldn’t be good for us.”
I went up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. A quiet growl went through him. He wrapped his arms around me and enveloped me in a hug. I loved this man so much.
“I know. And you have told me all of that before. I’ll remember.”
“You sure you won’t come home?” he asked. He hated me staying at the Petrovs’ place. He liked it better when I was under his roof.
“Mr. and Mrs. Petrov will be back in a few more weeks,” I said. “We can talk about this again then. For now, I’m just tired. I’ve been on my feet all day.”
“Go rest. But you’re coming home for dinner tomorrow night. No excuses.”
