The Dragon Shifter’s Duty

by Roth, Mandy M.

Though it wasn’t as it used to be. He no longer served a country or government. He worked for a private firm. One owned and operated by supernaturals. For a while, they’d only hired on other supernaturals, but they’d found that sometimes they had need of a human.

  They’d only recently started working with them. Since all the men were already good at hiding what they really were, it wasn’t an issue. Except for the few times the humans pissed off a supernatural male. Donnan had already had to keep the newest human assigned to his team, Joey, away from the other men. Joey had no business being in the field and Donnan still wasn’t sure how he’d even been assigned to him.

  The kid was barely into his twenties, had never seen any real action, and thought working in the Middle East meant he could be a modern-day cowboy. He also felt the need to try to poke fun at the bigger guys—mostly shifter males. But he’d also managed to piss off Russell, who was a full-blooded Fae, and not one to take lightly.

  That meant Donnan spent most of his free time trying to talk the rest of his team out of eating the human.

  He lowered his head, his thoughts drifting back to the last time he’d seen Joey. The kid had been close to the first blast. He knew he’d been hurt, but he wasn’t sure how bad. All of his team had been, at the very least, banged up badly during the explosions.

  Donnan’s primary objective had been to get Holland to safety. The rest of his team was highly trained and very capable. That didn’t mean they were bulletproof or bomb proof.

  “Answer me!” shouted the human with the electric prodding club.

  Donnan spat a mouthful of blood to the side and sniggered. “I didn’t even hear the question, but my answer is suck my dick.”

  The man reached up and grabbed Donnan’s chin forcefully. “We’ve got some buyers already lined up for the others. Not to mention people willing to pay a lot for the bitch we’re holding—the heat-resistant one who came in with you.”

  Donnan’s relaxed façade nearly cracked. The men had seen Holland remain untouched by the flames? He’d hoped he’d been fast enough to get her away from the explosion, and that the few men who had seen, didn’t believe their eyes. But he had a sneaking suspicion the guys who had attacked them worked with the assholes he was currently dealing with—at least, in some form or manner. It would make sense. Holland had been digging into human trafficking. It was big business and she’d pissed off the wrong people.

  People that high up were bound to know a thing or two about the trafficking of supernaturals. Stood to reason they’d have ways of reaching out in the underground with relative ease.

  The man with the electric club jerked harder on Donnan’s chin. “That got your attention. I can see it in your eyes. You’re worried about her. We’re going to have some fun with her, and then she’s getting sold.”

  Holland wasn’t annoying like most reporters he knew. He found her to be quite pleasant, not to mention very beautiful. Her reasons for digging into the trafficking ring had seemed pure and legit.

  She wanted to make a difference.

  Donnan wasn’t about to let some two-bit thug threaten her. He glanced at the shifters in the room and grinned, preparing to teach the human a lesson he’d not soon forget. The supernaturals shared a look and then made a move to rush him, no doubt sensing what he was about to do.

  They weren’t fast enough.

  Before they made it across the room, Donnan had allowed his mouth to shift into that of his wolf and snapped at the human’s hand, catching it fully and biting down hard.

  The man screamed as Donnan bit through muscle and then bone, his teeth connecting. The hand came off easy enough and the guard lurched back, holding his stump to his chest as blood arced from the wound.

  The other men reacted, going for the human first, trying to assist.

  Donnan spat the hand out. It echoed as it hit the floor with a sickening thump. Grinning, Donnan stared at the guards, blood dripping freely down his chin. He let his mouth reform into that of a human but kept grinning, knowing he looked insane. There were days he often felt he hung onto sanity by a thread, so it was fitting.

  “Motherfucker,” yelled one of the supernatural guards a second before he delivered a blow that caused darkness to swarm the edges of Donnan’s vision. Within seconds, he had succumbed to the black abyss.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ezra walked through the streets of one of the oldest cities in the world. There was no denying its beauty. Buildings made of brick and the color sienna surrounded him. Architectural details that were hard to find anywhere else could be found in abundance within the city. The buildings were crowded in, each with many stories. Sadly, civil unrest and extremists had made the area unstable, and not exactly friendly to all travelers.

  Americans, specifically.

  When he traveled, many assumed he was American. While Ezra far predated America, he’d called it home since the 1800s. He, unlike some immortals he knew, had worked to lose his accent. A lot of his family hadn’t bothered and still took issue with him doing so.

  Not that he gave a shit.

  He’d been to the city countless times in his long life, seeing it at different stages, always enjoying it. Seeing some of the aftermath of the conflicts saddened him. But he didn’t have time to focus his energies on cityscapes or wars. He had his own battle to fight. Every fiber in his body told him Holland was here. That she was close.

  And he’d find her.

  It had taken him longer than he wanted to reach the city, and then he’d had no choice but to stop to eat and drink something. He’d managed a quick shower, and had secured clothing that fit him properly. It wasn’t hard to reach out to the contacts he had in the area to obtain additional weapons and the proper paperwork, should he be stopped on the streets by anyone official.

  What had taken him longer than he’d wanted was tracking down information regarding Holland. When he’d caught wind of explosions that had rocked a section of the city two nights prior, his gut had told him to dig deeper. He knew it was related to her in some manner.

  The little girl who didn’t burn had grown up into the woman who apparently still found herself associated with fire.

  As a dragon-shifter, he could relate.

  Several of Ezra’s leads had sent him in the direction of a contact he’d used in the past. Alim was good for information, forging fake paperwork, and securing hard-to-find items.

  Tracking Alim down had been another matter. When Ezra learned where he was, he wasted no time. Ezra glanced around the city block, and in a matter of seconds found his target. Alim was standing with a group of men, looking as if he was bartering. No surprise there. The guy was all about making a deal.

  The moment Alim spotted Ezra, he turned and bolted. Another sign that the man knew exactly why Ezra was there.

  Alim was also supernatural, if one could call him that. He was a were-mongoose. Ezra had always thought of him as a spineless weasel. But the weasel was fast. Ezra pursued, running through the city, artfully dodging the crowds on the streets. Alim jerked a vendor cart onto the path and Ezra leapt it in one bound.

  It didn’t take him long to catch up to Alim. When he did, Ezra grabbed the man by his thobe and yanked him down an alleyway between two buildings.

  Alim threw his hands in the air. “I know nothing.”

  The man’s English was perfect as Alim had spent a large portion of time in America in the past. His lying wasn’t nearly as great.

  Ezra lowered his sunglasses and peered down the end of his nose at the man. “You know exactly why I’m here. Spill it. Where is the woman who was part of the explosions?”

  Alim shook his head. “No. I have no idea. Really. Would I lie to you?”

  Ezra snorted. “Yes. In a heartbeat, if you thought you could get away with it.”

  The man had the decency to appear ashamed of the truth. “I can’t help you.”

  Having wasted too much time as it was, Ezra lifted the man into the air, pressing him against the building. He allo
wed his mouth to do a partial change and flicked his dragon tongue out, knowing it was snake-like. He licked his sharp teeth and then allowed his mouth to reshape to human. “It’s like you’re begging to be a meal. Think you can take me, mongoose?”

  Alim’s eyes widened and the smell of fear filtered up from him. “Maybe we can make a deal.”

  “Listen, Alim,” said Ezra, holding the man off the ground by one hand. “I don’t really care what you want to barter for. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll kill you. Kind of hard to make a deal when you’re dead.”

  Ezra had known Alim for a few hundred years. The last run-in he’d had with him, Alim had assisted in getting him false papers and a passport to get out of the country. Ezra’s previous papers had met with a rather fiery demise and he’d needed a way out.

  Alim had come through for him, but only because Ezra paid well. Now he needed information, and Alim either had it or he could get it. Very little happened in or around the city without Alim knowing about it.

  “Don’t play games with me. I’m not in the fucking mood. Nothing happens around here without you knowing,” said Ezra, lifting Alim higher off the ground.

  One of the man’s sandals fell to the ground as his eyes widened more. “Ezra, I’ve heard of no woman being taken captive and prepped for sale on the black market. You have my word.”

  “Your word is shit,” said Ezra, lowering his voice. “And I never said she was taken captive for the black market.”

  Gulping, Alim raised his hands. “Wait. Wait. Don’t hurt me. I might know something.”

  Glaring over the top of his sunglasses, Ezra waited for the man to say something that would help him find the woman he was after.

  Alim glanced around, appearing nervous that they may be seen. “There is talk of a woman that a high-priced buyer is interested in. She was associated with the explosions. They say there was a hit ordered on her, but she lived. She was taken then to be sold to high rollers. A special kind of circle, if you know what I mean.”

  He was talking about supernaturals.

  Ezra nodded. “Go on.”

  Alim did. “They say she is pleasing to the eye, an American journalist, and more importantly, she didn’t blow up in the explosions. The flames didn’t touch her or harm her. She didn’t—”

  “Burn,” Ezra said, finishing the man’s sentence for him. He released Alim, letting him stand on his own.

  The man stumbled slightly and adjusted his hat. “Yes. She didn’t burn.”

  “What are they saying happened to her? Do they know where she is? Or who, exactly, took her? Is she hurt at all?”

  Alim leaned in close and lowered his voice. No one was around, but that didn’t stop the man’s behavior. That meant he was scared of whoever took Holland. “They say she and another male were taken to the edges of the city. They’re being held there until they can be safely transported to the next auction. These aren’t people you want to take on, Ezra.”

  Jealousy sparked in Ezra. He’d seen Holland in his mind holding a man’s hand. Was he her lover? “Tell me the location now, or your children’s children will talk about how many pieces your body was found in.”

  Gulping, Alim nodded. “I can take you to where they’re being held.”

  “You’re smarter than you look, Alim.”

  “Thank you,” said the man. He paused. “There is much talk of an L.R.A.D. being there. A group of soldiers search for the location as we speak. One of theirs was taken as well. They haven’t been able to locate it, and they don’t share our brotherly bond, so I didn’t offer the information.”

  Ezra sighed. Of course there was an L.R.A.D. in play. He’d heard of long-range acoustical devices being modified to keep supernaturals and electrical equipment from being able to communicate in the vicinity surrounding them.

  Nothing was ever easy.

  He cast Alim a sideways glance. “Brotherly bond? Were you hoping that statement, as false as it is, would keep me from killing you?”

  “Yes.”

  He snorted. Alim was much smarter than he gave him credit for.

  Alim tipped his head. “Ezra, I know what you think of me, but we go way back. Walk away from this one. The people behind this orchestrated the bombing of the female. They knew about her prior to her arrival here. They wanted proof she was special—different.”

  Ezra’s jaw tightened. “Did you help them in any way?”

  He shook his head. “No. They steal away people I know as well and they sell them. I can’t stop them.”

  Ezra met Alim’s gaze. “I can.”

  “You will die.”

  “So be it.”

  Alim watched him for a moment. “She’s important to you?”

  “She is the most important woman in the world to me,” responded Ezra.

  “Your mate?” asked Alim with a gasp.

  “Yes.”

  “Then follow me. I’ll show you where they’re holding her.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Holland struggled against the men dragging her down the long hall of what she could only guess was an abandoned factory. They’d put a hood over her head when they’d thrown her into the back of an old van, so she’d not seen the exterior of the building upon her arrival. On the ride over, she’d tried to listen for any signs of where they were going, or even where she’d been held, but fear had made her pulse sound so loudly in her ears that she hadn’t made out much above it.

  She still wasn’t sure where she was. All she did know was that she was hungry, dirty, and pissed.

  The man on her left yanked so hard that she worried he’d pull her arm from the socket. They’d not been kind or gentle with her. She’d suffered more injuries being transported between locations than she’d gotten during the car accident.

  The man on her left stared down the front of her partially open blouse, his beady gaze locked on her cleavage. He’d spent the van ride trying to slink his hand up her cloth-covered thigh, and she’d spent equally as much time kicking him. They’d had her wrists bound in front of her for the ride over and had removed the tie when they’d arrived.

  That small moment had been all the window of opportunity Holland had needed. She’d gouged open the lecherous man’s cheek.

  Four long, bloody lines still remained, though they were closing over slowly before her very eyes.

  She was proud of those marks and sorry to see them fading.

  Failing to gain her footing, Holland continued to be dragged down the hall. She jerked harder, trying to break free, but with no reward. The man to her left laughed, as if her pathetic attempts to gain her freedom were the funniest thing he’d seen lately. She hoped to get a glimpse of his face when she finally let her darkness up, then she’d see if he was still laughing.

  But she had to wait until she had eyes on Donnie. She didn’t know where they’d taken him or what they’d done with him. They’d been separated. All she knew was that when she’d come to after they’d been taken from the car, Donnie hadn’t been there with her.

  The men who had taken her made a stop, opened the back of the van, yanked her hood off, and had other men gathered outside of the van to look at her. She’d felt like cattle at a market.

  The men had talked amongst themselves and one of them had the audacity to check her teeth, as if she were livestock. They’d then put the hood back on her, closed the doors to the van and drove for what felt like forever until they reached the first location she’d been held in. The room she’d been put in reminded her of a padded cell in a mental ward. Something she’d been in before, and she’d hated every second of it.

  She’d not seen any sign of Donnie since she’d last seen men pulling him from the wreckage. She could only hope he was still alive. They’d seemed interested in them both, so she needed to believe they wouldn’t have killed him. From the little bits she’d been able to pick up on with her limited familiarity with Arabic, the men holding her intended to sell her on the black market.

  The iron
y of now being swept up in exactly the same trafficking ring she was trying to bust and expose was not lost on her. But the men didn’t know who they were dealing with, or what she was capable of. And even if they did, she didn’t care. Once she knew where Donnie was, she’d unleash hell on them.

  Consequences be damned.

  She was a fighter. She’d come out of the other side of worse, and all the stronger for it. There was no way she was letting these thugs have the last laugh.

  The one she’d clawed made a move to grab her breast, getting a handful of it and squeezing hard.

  She winced and he laughed, drawing a snicker from the man on the right. Holland thrashed, attempting to break the man’s hold on her breast. It took some doing, but she finally managed. She glared at him before spitting in his face.

  “Asshole!” she shouted, hoping it translated well.

  In the middle of the ordeal, she suddenly thought of Newt. She thought back to when she’d been in the car with him as a child, and when she’d used the word “asshole.” He told her she couldn’t use that language. Yet, he had. It seemed wrong to laugh in the middle of a crisis, so she only smiled slightly, the memory helping to lighten her mood and ease some of her fear.

  The men tossed her into a room and slammed the door shut behind her. Holland slid across the floor and crashed into a wall. Her adrenaline was on overdrive, so she barely registered the impact. Instead, she pushed up and onto her feet before rushing the door. She pounded on it, trying to open it, but with no success.

  She turned in circles, taking in everything around her, looking for a way out, for something to use as a weapon. There wasn’t a lot to work with. The room was sparsely furnished. One chair sat in the corner, looking as if it might fall apart if touched. Several wooden pallets were propped against the left-hand side of the room. In the back corner sat large metal drums. The edges of the lids were rusted, and the paint on them was worn. She couldn’t read Arabic, so she had no clue what was painted on them. With her luck, her attackers had locked her in a room with toxic chemicals or nuclear waste.