by Lili Zander
“You don’t. But if I want you dead, wolf, there’s not a single person in this bar that can save you. It’s far easier to take me at face value. Shall we go?”
He inclines his head in acknowledgment and slides off his barstool. According to Tomas, he’s been at the bar all evening long, but he’s remarkably steady on his feet. “Where are we going?”
I can’t take him back to the penthouse; that’ll interfere with Bastian’s plan. Luckily, I have a better idea. I just need to find a tall building to launch from.
Less than an hour later, we’re in my small beach house in Montauk. “Drink?” I ask the wolf-shifter.
“After that flight? Hell yes.”
I pour him a scotch, and he gulps it back in one sip. “You might have warned me you were going to shift,” he says accusingly.
“Sorry.” I refill his drink. “I didn’t realize you don’t like heights.”
He nods in thanks. “So,” he says. “You’re a friend of Aria.”
Fuck. This is awkward. “About that. We found out tonight that Aria is our mate.”
“We?” Got to give Archer credit, he isn’t stupid. He immediately hones in on that one crucial word. “We who?”
“The five dragon princes.” I’m the one that has to tell her father that all five of us are Aria’s mates? Bastian, Casius, Mateo, and Rhys better buy me a fucking case of Scotch. I show Silas Archer the mark on my wrist. “Aria has one of these marks too. Five points, entwined with a circle. We’ve been searching for Aria for a very long time, Mr. Archer. She’s our mate.”
“Call me Silas.”
Hang on. He’s too calm. “You’re not threatening me with a shotgun.”
He takes a deep breath. “I always thought there was something special about Aria,” he says. “And that’s not just parental pride talking. She smells Norm. She looks Norm, but her abilities are far beyond any Norm I’ve ever met.”
“Abilities?”
“She can sense people,” he says. “Not just people. She can sense magic. I’ve never met a Norm who can do that.”
He’s right. What had she said when we’d appeared in Bastian’s study? The protective magic seemed to like me. It almost called to me.
“Who is she? Who are her parents?”
“I don’t know,” Silas replies. “I looked, of course. Her records say that a woman surrendered Aria to CPS when she was two, but that’s all there is. No further information. No names, no next-of-kin.” He stares at me. “Those records have been wiped. I’m willing to stake my life on it.”
Vallin had said she bounced around several foster homes. “The first family that took her in, they might know something. Do you know who they are?”
“I wrote it down,” he replies. “It’s in my diary. It’s at my friend Pete’s place.”
“Your diary?”
He chuckles sheepishly. “I got the idea from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” he says. “You know how Sean Connery has a grail diary in that movie? I had an Aria book. I kept it at Pete’s place so she wouldn’t accidentally stumble on it.” His lips twist. “She had a hard time in high school. She seemed Norm, but she lived with a shifter, and she was quite behind in her work. The kids weren’t kind to her. She already felt different. I didn’t want to make it worse.”
He sips his drink, and the silence lengthens. “Tell me something,” he says at last. “You say Aria is your mate.”
“That she is.”
“Then why aren’t you with her now?”
Because I cannot get my heart broken again. Because I’m not strong enough. “It’s complicated.”
“How old are you, Erik?”
“Older than you,” I retort.
He scoffs. “Not in the ways that count.” He pours himself another drink, and I weep for his liver. “My pack was slaughtered when I was fifteen,” he says. “A stupid fight over territory. One bloody night of war and everyone dear to me was ripped away.”
“I can understand your pain.”
“You can sense my pain,” he corrects me. “But you don’t understand. The ones that fell, they do not feel anything, because they are gone. Pain is a gift because it reminds us that we are alive.”
“Did you steal this platitude from a fortune cookie?” I snarl.
He’s unfazed. “I live life to the fullest, every single day. It is my way of thanking the universe for the gift it has given me, and a way of honoring my dead, who would want nothing more than for me to live a long and happy life.”
I have no answer for him. No sarcasm. No words of biting anger. I have nothing left in me. I am a shell of a man.
“Erik Valder,” he orders softly. “Show me your mark again.”
A dragon does not obey a wolf.
I extend my wrist to him. “Five points,” he says. “And a circle that runs through all of them. If this is meant to be, if the fates intervene in our mortal lives, then I believe one thing. Aria needs all five dragons. Each and every one of you.”
6
Aria
Eventually, the despair passes, and I start thinking again.
There’s only one way out of this. Only one way to ensure that Silas is safe.
Deliver the contents of the safe to Drakkar Raedwulf.
But is that enough to save Silas’ life? I’m not sure. If Nygaard was telling the truth and there are five panthers following Silas…
I shake my head before panic takes hold of me once again.
One problem at a time. First, I have to get to that safe and empty it. Then, I have to escape the penthouse and make my way, unobserved, to Central Park.
The sheer impossibility of the task is enough to crush my will. How the hell am I supposed to get away from five powerful dragon shifters, one of whom is a magic user?
It’s not just your life on the line, Aria.
I don’t care what happens to me. Silas saved me from the streets. Took me in and gave me my first real home. Showered me with love and unconditional acceptance. He never once sneered at me because I was Norm and he was magical. He taught me everything he knew.
Silas’ life is far more valuable than mine. I’m going to make this right for him even if it kills me.
I force myself to eat the now-cold tray of food. Hunger is a distraction that I don’t need. Then, with the same ruthless determination, I slide between the cotton sheets and shut my eyes. It’s midnight. The men are still awake. I can hear the low murmur of their voices through the closed door, and a sliver of light shines through the bottom of the doorway.
I have to wait for them to fall asleep before I can make my move.
The rendezvous with Drakkar Raedwulf is at five. I set my alarm to four o’clock—vibrate only, and I stuff it under the pillow to further muffle the noise—and will myself to fall asleep.
The pillowcase smells like Rhys, a mixture of woodsy and citrus. I hug it close and let the scent of him wash over me. My stomach clenches with regret as I remember the expression of hurt in his eyes.
He lied to you, Aria.
Sure, he did. But Rhys certainly doesn’t have a monopoly on lying. I should have told the dragons about working for Drakkar Raedwulf, but I didn’t. What will their reactions be when they find out? Erik will be furious. Of course, he already doesn’t like me.
But the others… My heart sinks.
The way Bastian Jaeger had looked at me earlier, his eyes filled with a feverish hope… When he lifted my cut to his lips, heat had filled my body. When he ran his fingers along my wrist, tracing the outline of my mark with his fingertips, my core had clenched, and my skin had erupted into goosebumps…
And I’m working for Raedwulf, a man Bastian Jaeger is searching for.
He’s going to hate me when he finds out. They all will.
My phone vibrates, and I sit up, fully awake.
The penthouse is silent. It seems everyone has finally gone to bed. I tiptoe to the door, pressing my ear to the wood, holding my breath as I listen.
Silence.
I let out a sigh of relief and twist the doorknob slowly, a millimeter at a time until the latch releases and the door swings open on quiet hinges. I pause in the doorway, listening again.
More silence.
So far, so good. I was afraid that I’d be locked in my room.
They told you that you weren’t a prisoner, Aria. Remember?
On quiet feet, I make my way back to Bastian’s study, sending a little prayer of thanks for the training Silas gave me. I might be Norm, but I’m almost as light-footed as a shifter. My heart squeezes in my chest when I recall the countless lessons Silas gave me. Being silent on my feet hadn’t come easily, and Silas had worked with me, hour upon hour, patiently training me to move as stealthily as a shadow. “I’m a ninja now,” I’d crowed to him the first time I snuck up on the wolf-shifter. He’d been distracted, and I’d been lucky, but he’d laughed uproariously and agreed that I was indeed as stealthy as he was.
I snap myself out of the past. I need to focus. I have to get into the safe and get the hell out of here before the dragon princes notice I’m gone.
I’m not looking forward to using a flashlight or turning on a light, but thankfully for me, the study is lit by a dim lamp. I might have Jedi senses and ninja stealth, but you can’t teach someone how to have night vision. Unfortunately.
Crossing the room quickly, I reach the painting. This time, I don’t stop to admire Van Gogh’s brush strokes—there’s no time. I unhook Bastian’s copy of ‘Bedroom in Arles,’ and lean it against the wall.
Something’s different. The powerful magic that surrounded the safe no longer pulses and pulls at me. I have a niggling moment of worry that it won’t open again. Casius has seen my tattoo and knows I have his blood inside me. The safe opened the first time because it recognized Casius’ blood, but what if he’s plugged that loophole? I’ve got tools in my backpack, but this safe is unlike anything I’ve seen before. My picks might as well be paperclips and glue sticks for all the good they’ll do me. I’m not McGyver.
Absentmindedly, I rub my wrist. Ever since the dragon princes popped into the penthouse, the mark on my wrist has been a constant irritant. It’s not itchy, and it doesn’t burn, but I’m very aware of it. Any other time, I’d be intensely curious about the Celtic knot and what it represents. The dragons seem to think it’s significant, its appearance on my skin somehow connected to a prophecy.
It all sounds unbelievable, to be honest. Like a fairy tale.
But it’s after midnight now. Handsome princes and ancient prophecies can wait. Cinderella has other things going on. She’s going to steal from the dragons and save her father.
I could cut my finger again on Endellion, but something warns me that would be a bad idea. There’s too much magic in that sword.
Wincing, I pick the scab from my healing cut and bring my finger to the safe. Please, please, please. This has to work.
At first, nothing happens. Last time I did this, I sensed the threads of magic part for me, allowing me entry. This time, I can’t sense anything. Sweat trickles down my spine. Open, damn it. I reach out and grab the handle, giving it a frustrated tug. My hand tingles at the contact and the safe swings open.
Holy crap in a bucket. It actually worked.
How much noise did I make? Are the dragons still asleep? Before I empty the safe, I open up my senses. Nothing. My luck appears to be holding.
There’s a wooden box inside the safe, about the size of a box of Kleenex. I pull it out carefully and open the lid, biting back my gasp of disbelief. Gemstones twinkle back at me, shining brightly even in the dim light of the study. There’s an emerald that’s as big as my fist. A diamond that’s only slightly smaller than an egg. A trio of rubies, each one the size of a golf ball. And those are just the big stones. The wooden box is packed to the brim with dozens and dozens of smaller gemstones, filling every little bit of space.
There are millions of dollars in jewels here. Raedwulf’s threat against Silas makes sense now. The lure of wealth is too great. Had Silas’ life not been at risk, I’d have been tempted to take the gems and make a run for it. I wouldn’t have done it—I prefer not to make shifter enemies—but I’d have been seriously tempted.
I stick the wooden box in my backpack, wrapping my red ballgown around it to muffle any sounds the gems might make.
There are also two manila folders in the safe. I don’t even look at the papers before I shove them into my bag. Once I have everything, I close the safe and replace the painting. With any luck, I’ll be long gone by the time the dragons wake up.
I silently make my way back to the staff entrance and curse when I realize I can’t possibly take the elevator down. Dragons have shifter hearing; they’ll definitely hear me.
Shit. There has to be a door around here somewhere. In case of a fire, dragons can shift and take flight, but the rest of us need stairs.
Aha!
There is a little alcove to the left of the elevator, cleverly hidden by a tapestry that looks very out-of-place in the middle of the sleekly modern decor. I almost collapse in relief when I see the door is set up to the same security system as the elevator. As long as they haven’t disabled my borrowed key card… I pull it from my pocket, thankful that the dragon princes didn’t think to search me before putting me in Rhys’ bedroom.
You know why they didn’t search you, Aria? Because they’re choosing to trust you.
I can’t feel guilty now, not when Silas is in Raedwulf’s crosshairs. I wave the card in front of the reader and hold my breath in anticipation. The red light flashes off. A second later, the green light shines like a beacon of hope.
Fighting back my instinctive desire to throw open the door and run down the stairs like the hounds of Hell are chasing me, I force myself to move silently. The heavy steel door groans when I pull it open, and I cringe at the noise. Shit.
My heart hammering in my chest, so loud that I’m convinced the dragon princes can hear it. I wait for any sign of movement, any hint of noise that might suggest that Bastian or one of the others heard the sound.
Nothing. I step into the stairwell, shutting the door silently behind me.
It’s too easy.
Could it be another trap?
Mateo’s gaes didn’t work on me, but what if he wasn’t telling the truth about his other magic? He said he couldn’t use it against me. Can I trust him?
Yes. You know he wasn’t lying. You know he’ll never hurt you.
It’s the same voice that’s been whispering to me ever since Rhys told me I’m theirs. The same voice that thinks I should tell the dragons everything. It’s the same stupid voice that had me ready to lean into Rhys’ warmth and let him show me how much I am his—theirs. That same voice is telling me that I shouldn’t be leaving like this.
I can’t afford to listen to that voice. I can’t gamble with Silas’ life.
Mateo told me that they had powerful enemies. He told me I was infinitely precious to them. Tesoro, he called me. Treasure.
The dragons had wanted me to stay here, where they could protect me.
If only they knew. I’m heading right into enemy territory.
7
Bastian
The moment Aria’s blood touches the safe, I know.
I can hear Erik’s voice in my head. I told you she was going to sneak off.
No surprise. We knew she was going to try to leave. She’s overwhelmed and terrified, and she doesn’t trust easily. I don’t blame her. After the way she grew up, it’s a miracle that she still has the capacity to feel.
My phone vibrates on the bed. It’s a message from Casius. You want me to come with you?
No, I text back. I’ve got this.
Erik had stalked away earlier, his body language suggesting anger. His scent said something else entirely. Fear.
A perfectly understandable emotion after Gisele, after what he’s survived. Things are different this time though. This time, there are five of us.
What are you doi
ng, mausezähnchen?
I already know her end goal is the carousel at Central Park, but I’ve been following Aria for the last twenty minutes, and she’s made no effort to go that direction. She’s circled back toward the hotel twice. Cut through more than one dark alley, slipping silently into the shadows and back out onto the sidewalk.
She’s clever, our mate. As she walks past store windows, she looks at her reflection, checking to see if she’s being followed. It’s smooth and professional, and I have to admire her skill. If I were Norm or even a lesser shifter, she’d have realized she had a tail. But I’m a dragon, and we cannot be spotted if we don’t want to be.
If I were closer, she might be able to sense me, but I’m careful to stay back. I can scent her, and I can feel her presence like a bright, shining star.
The cold doesn’t bother me, but it’s obviously affecting her. A hat is pulled over her head, and her shoulders are hunched. I want to wrap my arms around her and warm her. When I touched her palm earlier, she’d shivered in response. When I brought my lips to her cut, she’d inhaled sharply, and I felt her desire as surely as my own.
Admit it, Bastian. All you really want to do now is take her back to your bed and pleasure her.
My cock grows uncomfortably hard at the images that dance through my head. Aria lying back on my bed, naked, soft, welcoming. Her lips parting for me, her legs falling open…
I suppress a silent groan. Stupid adult responsibilities.
Finally, Aria’s stride lengthens and becomes more purposeful. She cuts across W 59th Street and enters the park, following the path to the Carousel.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I’m suddenly filled with overwhelming fear. Not my fear. Aria’s.
My mate is terrified. It takes every bit of self-control I have to stay back and let her walk alone. My dragon roars inside my chest, furious and frustrated. Her fear is unacceptable, it snarls. She should never be afraid. We were put on this earth to protect her.
Though it was my idea to let Aria seek out the person who hired her, I move a little closer. I’m dragon-quick, but the woods are dark, and I don’t like the idea of Aria being here. New York is a much safer city than it was when I first moved here, but the park, in the dark, makes me uneasy.
