He’d given in and helped them, along with two males being held by Felix as well, escape. His actions had led to the death of a fellow PSI Operative and Shadow Agent—Caesar.
Ezra would have to live with that on his conscience forever.
Had he remained true to the mission, he would have been close to bringing down the trafficking ring, and Caesar would probably still be alive. Instead, Ezra was more than likely going to end up a casualty of the very fucking ring he’d worked so hard to gather intel on.
The irony wasn’t lost on him.
If he did go up for auction, he’d fetch Felix a pretty penny. Dragon-shifters were rare commodities among the supernatural world. Not nearly as common as, say, wolf-shifters. Felix would have to control his thirst for revenge if he wanted to make a profit, though. Something that Felix struggled with often.
Ezra surveyed his surroundings, wondering what had jolted him awake. He’d only just managed to drift off, despite the pain he was in, but something had caused him to wake suddenly. What was the threat? And more to the point, what was with the swirl of emotions?
The container was empty except for him and the maggots. They were having a field day in the food brought for him. His nostrils flared and he did his best to steady his stomach. Still disorientated from the strange mix of emotions that had jolted him awake, Ezra tried to make sense of what had brought them on. He wasn’t one who was predisposed to nightmares, and it hadn’t felt like a dream.
The emotions had felt real and raw, yet removed from himself in some fashion. As he thought harder upon it all, another wave hit him. It took him a moment for his mind to catch up with the feeling of danger sweeping over him, rooting deep. The more he focused on it, the more he realized that the sense of danger wasn’t for himself.
It was for someone else.
Newt, I could really use your help right about now.
The words struck him as if they were his own. And again, his thoughts drifted back to the little girl—the girl who didn’t burn. He’d had a similar feeling before he’d happened upon the home she’d been in—though, Ezra had failed to recognize the feeling for what it was all those years ago—a warning.
This time he knew better.
He yanked at the chains holding him in place, the fierce need to break free more than it had been since he’d been taken prisoner. It was even greater than when he’d been kept as a pet for nearly a hundred years. The stirrings of danger were unrelenting deep in him, his mind continuing to pull forth images of the night he’d found the little girl in the burning home.
Why was he suddenly thinking of her so much? Why was she consuming his thoughts?
Because she’s in danger again.
The thought hit him hard, making him recoil, the manacles digging into his skin painfully. Fresh blood seeped from his wounds, dripping freely down his body. He didn’t care. His only concern was for the little girl. He remembered the haunted look in her big brown eyes, the way his heart had broken seeing her doused in gasoline, and the way she’d been so certain she deserved to burn for being bad—for being a demon.
The same rage he’d felt that night returned to him tenfold. He wanted to kill something, destroy anything and anyone who had ever harmed her. If only he knew where she was. And was she really in danger? Or had his mind snapped?
He’d kept his mental faculties intact throughout his time of being held as a pet for nearly a century. It seemed odd that after a short period of being Felix’s prisoner, Ezra’s mind would bend and break so easily, and so soon. That wasn’t like him. He was made of tougher mettle.
You’re not crazy. She needs you.
It was impossible to shake the feeling that danger had befallen the girl. If he didn’t get free, she’d not live for long. The feeling seeped through him, reinforcing his need for freedom. He had to help the girl.
She’s no longer a little girl, he reminded himself.
She would now be a woman. And she needed him.
Ezra yanked harder at the restraints holding him. Desperation controlled his every movement. He had to break free. There was no choice. He was needed, and deep down he knew if he didn’t get to the girl, she wouldn’t survive.
Why me?
As quickly as the thought entered his mind, it vanished. The reason wasn’t important. What did matter was that she needed him. He closed his eyes, trying to center his concentration, and still his body. The drugs they’d administered to him were meant to keep him locked between forms, neither fully human nor fully dragon.
They were very effective.
By his calculation, it would be hours before the effects of the current dosage began to wane. By that point, they’d give him more. They’d never risk him gaining the upper hand. He couldn’t permit them to give him more. He had to fight off the effects now, and he had to get free. Time was of the essence.
Slowing his breathing, he tried to regulate his heart rate. He had done a lot of soul-searching in his long life, and had even spent time with monks in the East at one point. Funny enough, he’d run into several other supernaturals there, doing the same thing—trying to find balance. The monks had worked with him on the arts of meditation and Eastern healing techniques. He embraced all forms of healing, and always thought of himself as being open to new ideas and experiences.
Somehow he’d managed to come up empty-handed during his time with the monks. He hadn’t felt any more connected with himself than he had prior to starting his training with them. If anything, Ezra still felt lost. As if he’d been blowing in the wind for centuries, just waiting for something, someone, to catch his interest and hold him in one place. The little girl who didn’t burn had done that—but he’d failed her, too.
She’d been only a child when he first met her. He wasn’t sure why he was still fixating on her, and he wasn’t sure he liked some of the implications. He wasn’t the type of man to find children interesting in that light. He’d killed men in the past for daring to touch children. The world was better off without the scumbags. He’d also killed child abusers. He wasn’t ashamed to say so.
She’s no longer a child, he reminded himself yet again. She’s a woman. Stop forgetting that.
It was difficult to wrap his mind around twenty years having passed since he last saw the girl. He’d met more people in his life than he could dare hope to remember or count. Yet this girl had stuck with him. And she’d seemed to call out to him on that night long ago when she’d needed his help.
Was she calling out to him now? Was it real?
It was impossible to deny that somehow her fear appeared to be reaching out to him, finding him in the dark cargo container, and tearing at his gut. He had to find his focus. He had to overcome the drugs in his system. With all of his medical training, he knew it was impossible. Yet the odds didn’t matter. He’d do it. Somehow, he’d manage the impossible.
With measured breaths, he found his center and drew upon the skills the monks tried hard to impart on him. It took a bit for him to reach a full meditative state. Everything on him hurt, he was exhausted, thirsty, and hungry. When he did finally push past it all, he began to visualize himself shifting fully into a dragon, and then returning to human form.
He repeated the action, again and again, remaining calm, remaining centered, allowing the soft sounds of the ocean to be his backdrop. Soon, in his mind, he was no longer being held prisoner on the ship. He was flying free above the ocean. Soaring high, dipping a wing into the water and skimming the surface.
The slight tingling sensation he got just before a shift began in his extremities. It was working. He didn’t dare break his concentration. He had to make this happen. There wasn’t time to gloat or get excited. She needed him. He continued to envision himself in full dragon form, free and flying.
And then it happened. His body morphed, taking the shape of his dragon, breaking the chains binding him as if they were nothing more than tissue paper.
As a dragon, Ezra barely fit within the container cargo. The top
of his head pushed up hard against the ceiling, while his wings were pinned tight against his body. He had about two seconds of gleeful bliss in his full dragon form before he had to resume human shape. When he did, he fell to the floor and shook. The magiks of his line weren’t strong enough to clothe him this time around—he needed more strength to be able to do so. He was left naked, battered, bruised, and bleeding upon the floor.
But he was free from the shackles.
It took all of Ezra’s remaining strength to be able to push to his feet and stand. He had to put a hand out to steady himself against the wall of the container. A few minutes had passed before he felt confident enough to release the wall. When he did, he stormed toward the door. It was bolted from the other side. No surprise there. At full-strength, he’d stood a chance at bursting free with sheer force. He was anything but full strength.
While he couldn’t muscle his way through the door, he could lie in wait for the next guard who came to check up on him. They would expect him to be chained, still suffering the effects of the copious amounts of drugs they’d been administering to him. They wouldn’t take extra steps to secure the door when they opened it, and he’d make his move then.
Another wave of fear and dread hit him hard. He sensed danger again, this time in greater force than before. He staggered and found himself leaning on the door with his head bent. Images that made little sense flashed before his eyes. Someone was running and holding the hand of a large male who was armed. For a few seconds, it was as if he was looking out of the eyes of the person running.
Not just any person, he thought. It was her. It was the girl who didn’t burn. She was terrified. His mind blurred the image he was seeing, and then just like that—it was clear.
Holland.
He was seeing her in his mind. She was running, holding the hand of a man he didn’t know. She was being chased, her life on the line. And she was reaching out to him, just as the little girl who didn’t burn had once.
He gasped, thinking harder on it all. His thoughts went right to the little girl’s big brown eyes. The eyes were just like Holland’s. Just like those of the woman he’d lost control with—the very woman his dick had started working for after it had been broken for years.
Not just years, he thought. It had been broken since he’d first met the little girl.
Stories of old came back to him. Of what happened to a supernatural male who met his mate before she was of age to claim—their sex drives often went dormant, and they were incredibly protective of their mates as children.
Just as he had been.
He remembered the words Holland had said to him only seconds before he’d have claimed her, making her his wife for the rest of their lives.
Please, Ezra, you’ve had forever. I’ve only had twenty-one years. I’m not ready to be a wife yet.
How could he have dismissed them away? How could he have thought for a second she wasn’t his mate? The only thing that had stopped him from cementing their bond was her plea for more time. How could he have been so blind? So stupid?
Simple, he mused. Alpha males have a longstanding history of being dumbasses when it comes to their women.
Was Holland really the little girl who didn’t burn?
Instinct kicked in, answering him with a force that made him stumble slightly.
Yes.
She was the little girl who didn’t burn, she was his mate, and she was in grave danger.
Run, Sweet Pea!
He thought the words instead of speaking them, even though his mouth had returned to human form like the rest of him. He couldn’t risk any of the guards with supernatural hearing picking up on him talking. They would realize he’d overcome the drugs. They’d show up in numbers greater than he could handle in his current state.
As he kept his forehead to the door of the container, he thought harder of the little girl who didn’t burn, and the woman she’d become. Additional images flashed in his mind.
Get to safety, he pushed with his mind, hoping the words would find her. I’m coming. Stay safe until I get there.
Chapter Seven
Holland ran behind Donnie as he pulled her by the hand down the darkened street. He held his weapon in his other hand, and moved quickly, almost too fast for her to keep up. She managed. Barely.
Run, Sweet Pea!
“What?” she asked, her gaze on Donnie. She could have sworn he’d said something to her, but his voice had sounded different. Familiar, but different from what he normally sounded like.
She knew they were being pursued, and didn’t dare look behind her. She kept running, doing her best to keep from tripping while permitting Donnie to lead. He seemed as if he knew where he was going. He had no doubt scouted the area prior to allowing her to set up the meeting. She was thankful he was thorough.
He glanced back at her. His mouth moved, but what she heard in her head did not match the movements of his lips—nor did it sound like his voice.
Get to safety. I’m coming. Stay safe until I get there.
“W-what?” she asked, slowing, trying to make sense of it all.
Donnie tugged harder and she thought he might actually pull her arm out of its socket if she didn’t get a move on. “Are you okay?”
She blinked and then nodded. Normally, she outpaced everyone around her. She’d always been faster and more agile than anyone else she hung around, having to go to great lengths to appear that she wasn’t. But Donnie made her feel slow and grossly out of shape, when she was anything but.
He didn’t freak out about my eyes. And he didn’t die from the blast.
She stared at his back as he ran in front of her. He barely reacted at all from the secondary explosion, and had said nothing, showing no sign of surprise when he’d seen her eyes glow orange. Combining all of that with his speed and reaction times, Holland began to wonder if he was like her. If he was more than human.
Now wasn’t really the best time to ask. They were currently being pursued by what remained of the armed men. Holland didn’t need to be told the people behind them were dangerous. The whole bombing-and-guns bit tipped her off enough. Fear kept her moving, pushing her to try her best to maintain Donnie’s speed. It was hard, but her adrenaline was pumping, so that helped to some degree.
Donnie pointed at a parked vehicle and glanced back at her. “Get in.”
She didn’t question him. She did as instructed, going to the passenger side and entering, relieved the door was unlocked. She crossed her fingers that this car wasn’t rigged to blow, too, like the others had been.
Donnie took the driver’s seat, broke something near the steering column, and began messing with some wires. He looked like he knew what he was doing.
The engine kicked over once, and then stalled out. Donnie continued doing whatever was he was doing with the wires. The engine kicked over again, this time starting and staying on.
The back window exploded in around them. Donnie grabbed her, pushed her down, and shielded her body with his. Bits of glass rained down on them. Her hands began to burn with the need to release the darkness in her. She clung to her control, terrified to let it out again. There was no telling what damage she would do. For all she knew, the entire block they’d just left was now engulfed in flames, all because of her.
Hell, the city could be going up in flames. She didn’t know, and that scared her almost as much as being chased by people wanting to hurt her.
Donnie sat up, put the car into drive, and slammed his foot down on the accelerator. They sped away from the area as additional shots peppered the vehicle. Bullets whizzed past her, hitting the windshield, and blowing the glass out and onto the hood of the car. Donnie didn’t seem the least bit shaken by it all. Holland had to do everything she could not to scream.
She didn’t make a habit of dodging bullets. This was new to her. Other stories she’d traveled abroad for hadn’t left her being fired at or nearly killed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this turn of events. As much as the s
tory needed to be brought to light, she didn’t want to die doing it.
Holland looked behind them and noticed headlights in the distance. She didn’t need anyone telling her they were still being pursued. She was smart enough to figure that out on her own. Donnie kept driving, but not in the direction of where they’d been staying. He took the turns at such a high speed she wasn’t sure how he maintained control of the vehicle, but he did. He drove like a man who knew the city like the back of his hand and who spent his weekends moonlighting as a race car driver. Several long minutes ticked by before she noticed he didn’t have the headlights on.
“How can you see where we’re going?” she asked.
“How did you get your eyes to do that before?” he returned, never bothering to look at her. He kept driving, no lights on, seeming to have no issue with what he was doing. It made her instantly think of Newt and how he’d driven that night long ago without any lights on either.
She didn’t answer his question about her eyes. He didn’t answer about how he could see without lights. They just drove. Holland could barely see all the way to the front end of the car with as dark as it was. She had no idea how Donnie could drive at all, let alone at the speed he was going.
The gap between them and the car behind them continued to grow. Facing forward, she realized her hands were shaking. The adrenaline that had been pumping through her system was beginning to fade. Emotions sprang forth within her, and she had to fight back tears.
“What happened back there?” Holland asked.
Donnie didn’t look in her direction when he answered. “We were double-crossed.”
“The rest of the team?” she asked, worried if the remainder of the security detail had made it out alive or not.
Donnie tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t respond and she took that as a bad sign. He did glance behind them and then returned his focus to the road ahead. “Rest.”
“You want me to try to sleep after what we just went through?”
The Dragon Shifter’s Duty Page 8
