by Black, C. I.
She didn’t want to reach out, didn’t want to acknowledge any of it, particularly the love. Loving him wasn’t right.
Images of the sexy dream with Hunter flashed through her mind, and sudden arousal burned through her.
God! Loving Hunter wasn’t right either.
He shifted from one foot to the other, the anger dissolving into hurt. “You, uh...”
“I’m good.” Boy, she had no right reentering his life, dredging up old emotions. It wasn’t good for either of them. But she needed time to figure out what was wrong with Hunter.
“Okay.” He clenched his jaw, but made no move to leave.
Her heart contracted. Please don’t let him confess his love. Let him rage, shout, make demands. But that was never his style.
“I—”
“I can sleep on the couch instead,” she said.
He blinked. “What?”
“You don’t have to give up your bed. I can just as easily sleep on the couch.”
He opened his mouth then closed it.
She had no idea what he was thinking now but she could tell he was struggling with something.
“Anaea.”
Her gut churned even more.
He sighed and gave a slight nod. “You’re welcome.” Then he closed the door, leaving her alone in the dark.
Her eyes burned and she sniffed. Thank God Hunter hadn’t been awake to witness that. And yet, if he had, it wouldn’t have happened. Or, more likely, he’d have something acerbic to say that would make her realize exactly how she felt.
Tears blurred her vision. She wished Hunter were here. Then she wouldn’t feel so alone. But it was more than that. Dream or no dream, Hunter’s presence made her feel worthy. She couldn’t explain it, other than no matter what he said, she knew he respected her, took pride in her, maybe even more.
But that ‘even more’ had to be fantasy. The desires of a lonely, broken heart.
She sniffed and wiped her eyes. She’d take a page from Mark’s book and handle her situation with grace. She didn’t have to like it, but she could at least make it easier on herself and Hunter.
CHAPTER 21
Hunter floated in a white nimbus without form or sensation or thought. A great, encompassing, timeless nothing. There was no pain, no struggle, no politics, no settling, and no Anaea.
Blue lightning zinged through him.
There had to be Anaea. She needed him.
No, she didn’t. Not really. Whether she admitted it or not there was nothing she couldn’t face. Even those desperately hard, life-and-death decisions.
In truth, it was Hunter who needed her. She gave him purpose. And not just the ‘save her life’ purpose.
Raw and exposed, surrounded by nothing, he couldn’t avoid the truth. She was his inamorata. Humans would call it true love. Grey would say twitterpated. Every primal instinct Hunter had screamed that he belonged to her. She could renounce him and he would never pick another. All the sky in the world paled in comparison to his desire for her. To hold her, feel her nuzzle against him, be enveloped in her scent.
More lightning shot through him.
He needed a body. One separate from her.
His heart pounded.
No. It didn’t. It couldn’t. He was a spirit.
The lightning crackled, flashing this way and that, revealing a latticework of energy.
Anaea?
The lattice billowed then shrunk.
Anaea?
No answer.
He concentrated on her. She was there. She had to be. He was stuck within her.
A narrow black tunnel formed on the other side of his cage, like the one she’d squeezed him down into during the wasu tahazu.
Memory flooded him. They’d been in the Handmaiden’s chamber and had been attacked. They were after Anaea.
The lightning snapped, showering him in sparks.
He couldn’t see anything at the end of the tunnel.
Anaea. Please answer. She had to be okay. His spirit would heal her. It had to.
He grabbed the lattice. Fire lanced through him. White agony swept over him and the tunnel was consumed by the nimbus.
* * *
Anaea woke to a light and persistent knocking. For a moment she didn’t know where she was, only that she was warm and comfortable.
“Hey, Anaea.”
She jerked up. That was Mark’s voice. She was in Mark’s sweats and his bed and...
The events of the past day rushed into her head. Hunter. Hunter was—
The door cracked open and Mark poked his head into the room. “I’ve got to go out.”
“Uh... yeah.”
“I need clean clothes.” He pointed to the dresser.
“Sure.”
He padded across the room. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need, you know.”
“I know.” She searched in her head for Hunter’s presence. He was still there and still distant. Her heart skipped a beat but she managed to suck back her panic.
“I’m just at the gallery on 6th Ave.” He fished out shirt, jeans, and socks. “The number’s on the fridge door.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be back before lunch.”
She nodded.
“And, Anaea—”
She met his dark gaze.
“That asshole can’t touch you anymore. We’ll get through this.” He left before she could respond, which was good since she didn’t know what to say. Mark thought John was abusing her, she finally left him, and turned to Mark for help. A year ago he would have been closer to the truth, but now… now it was an entirely new problem that he couldn’t help her with. She needed Hunter.
She nudged Hunter’s presence. It felt weak, insubstantial.
Hunter?
She nudged again. Harder.
Still no response.
Her gut churned. He felt far away, encased in something, but she couldn’t get a handle on what it was or how to fix it.
Come on, Hunter. She needed him. God, what if she’d killed him? Was that even possible?
Please.
She shoved at him, but his essence wavered, becoming less substantial than before. She was making it worse. She had no idea what to do. Hunter was completely disconnected from her. She hadn’t even had any dreams of him last night.
She needed someone who had a clue. Another dragon. But the only one she could think of trusting was Grey and she had no idea how to contact him…
But maybe Hunter did. Maybe it was somewhere in those memories he’d shared with her. With them constantly slipping into her consciousness against Hunter’s will, she was sure to have access to them even if she couldn’t reach Hunter.
She sucked in a quick breath. Please let there be something.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on Hunter, who and what he was. He was feral. A dragon. She could feel the hint of his essence sliding along the edges of her thought. Dark, primal, and powerful. A deep yearning to be as powerful as him washed through her. She’d been powerless for the last year, longer if she wanted to include the years of her marriage.
She dragged herself back to her purpose. Contacting Grey. She searched her thoughts for him. He’d grabbed her after the wasu tahazu, looked at her with a mixture of uncertainty at the dinner, and a bit of lust before that.
No. She needed to go back, further, into Hunter’s memories. Not hers. They’d been Crusaders together. Images of Grey, in armor covered with mud and gore, flashed into her mind’s eye.
Good. Disgusting, but good. She needed more.
“Come out with me, man.”
She shook her head.
No, Hunter had. He wanted to be alone. Empty and alone.
“But they’ve added sound. It’s incredible.”
“You’ve seen that movie five times already.”
Grey offered a lopsided grin. “Yeah. And it’s still amazing.”
The image in her head jumped. Darkness, screams, roars. A face wavered into sight: broke
n, bloody, swollen.
Hot rage burned through her.
It was Grey. He clung to his neck, blood bubbling over his fingers, and he gasped each breath.
“I swear, Grey—” They were going to pay for what they’d done. Hunter would make them pay. All of them.
The ruined face gave a weak laugh. “Not any worse than the Seventh Crusade.”
A growl seethed within her. She jerked back from the memory, panting with fury and fear. Hunter’s loyalty was terrifying and exhilarating. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to protect his own.
Her chest burned with regret and envy. What she wouldn’t give to have someone care about her so deeply. But she was broken. Even before the cancer it had been made clear she wasn’t worthy, wasn’t a woman any man would want. Hunter was only being polite and not mentioning it because he was trapped in her body.
Damn it. Pity parties weren’t going to help Hunter. She had to suck it up like she always did. Now concentrate. Did Grey have a phone? Did dragons even need phones?
Yes and yes.
The answers popped into her head. Of course they needed to communicate and neither Hunter nor Grey had anything like telepathy.
She snorted at the thought. Never in a million years would she have thought about telepathy, and yet she’d spent the last day and a half talking with the spirit of a dragon in her head.
Well, if she just knew he had a phone, maybe she also just knew his number.
She scrambled from the bed, grabbed the phone, and before she could second-guess herself, typed in a number.
It rang once... twice...
Please oh please let it be Grey and let him know how to help.
“Hello?” Gray’s voice was rough on the other end.
“Grey?”
“Who is this?”
“Anaea.”
“Mother of All. Where’s Hunter? Are you two all right?”
She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I’m okay, but something’s wrong with Hunter.”
“What do you mean, wrong?” Grey asked, his voice darkening.
“I can sense him, but he’s unconscious, or far away, or something.” Her throat constricted and she sniffed.
“Hey. It’s all right. We’ll just—” He groaned. “Mother be damned, Hunter, you are so going to owe me,” he said, suddenly sounding pained. “Okay. Remember Jade’s shop, where you gated into Court?”
“The antique store?”
“Yeah. Can you get there?”
“It’ll take me half an hour.”
“Okay, good. Don’t go inside. That’s too dangerous, and hang tight.”
* * *
Grey snapped his phone shut. He had no idea what he was going to do. If something was really wrong with Hunter he’d need the Handmaiden’s help. But she was gone now and Hunter might be, too. That human, Anaea, had sounded so concerned. It was almost a shame dragon law demanded her death. The only way to find out what was wrong with Hunter was to meet her as promised.
Shit.
Maybe he could send Cole. But that would bring another drake into this mess and while Cole was discreet he wasn’t above using the information for his own gain.
Which meant Grey had to enter the human world.
He stood and paced his private theatre, his heart suddenly pounding. Ten paces to the large screen, ten to the plush recliner. Ten back to the screen.
Sweat beaded on his palms and down his back.
Hunter needed him.
This was crazy. Irrational. All he had to do was open a gate and walk through. Besides, the Handmaiden had eased his memories yesterday. They shouldn’t incapacitate or even bother him for weeks, months if he was careful. But going into the humans’ realm wasn’t being careful.
No, it was just stress, that was all. The stress of keeping the Handmaiden’s grimoire safe. It certainly didn’t feel safe, hidden in a secret compartment in his wardrobe.
His breath wheezed between teeth he hadn’t realized he’d clenched.
Having the grimoire was too much responsibility. There were too many power-hungry drakes who could use the magic within it to control all dragons. Regis was bad enough.
Yes, that was it. That and trying to figure out why she’d asked him to reread that particular journal. And her leaving. And Capri not caring for him. And having no purpose to his life. And—
And that was all a lie.
He shot his gaze about the room, desperate for something to keep the world from spinning. But there were only the chairs and the screen, no other furnishings. Nothing else to impede the joy of immersing himself in the stories captured on film.
He sucked in more air but his heart only pounded faster. He’d never returned after that night. At first he’d needed to heal and had holed up in his lair. But that first day had passed and Hunter was already tracking down the drakes who’d attacked him. Then a second and a third day had passed and it seemed easier to remain at Court. Then the nightmares had started.
The room whirled around him. His throat ached, his whole body throbbed. Damn it. The Handmaiden was supposed to have taken care of this.
He squeezed his eyes against the memory. It was a memory. Just a memory. He could do this. He had to do this. Hunter didn’t have anyone else. Well, Gig would probably be glad to help, but Grey didn’t trust him to keep the body-sharing thing a secret. In the very least Capri would find out and there was no telling what she’d do with the information.
He ground his teeth.
The drakes who’d attacked him all those years ago had been punished and reborn. They were no longer a threat. He didn’t even know why the thought of gating over made his heart race. It didn’t make sense. Newgate was perfectly safe. Even more so in the daylight. Be the Swoosh. Be like Nike. Just. Do. It.
Before he could doubt himself, he shoved his hand against the screen and yelled the word to power a gate. Earth magic erupted from his palm. Its black energy devoured the white rectangle.
His knees buckled and before he could fall, he staggered into the vortex. The magic of the gate pressed against his senses, filling his mouth and nose and ears for a terrifying moment. Then his hands and knees hit uneven ice-covered asphalt.
Hot and cold billowed through him, one radiating after the other over and over again. He tried to control his breathing but couldn’t stop panting. His pulse raced and black specks danced across his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn’t that bad. Really. He could do this. He was already here.
He clutched at the memory of the Handmaiden’s touch on his head and the tingle of her magic easing the sharp edges in his mind.
His racing heart slowed and the rushing in his ears melted away. A mix of low humming noises vibrated the air around him, like a faint bass from his stereo system. It reminded him of movies. The strangely soothing sounds of cars and machinery. Sounds he’d heard millions of times before on film. See, not bad at all.
He glanced up. The world spun and wavered.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Hunter needed him to do this.
He cracked open one eye. When the world didn’t whirl, he opened the other. He wasn’t outside of Jade’s shop as he’d intended. But given the stress of the situation it didn’t surprise him. Gating to locations without anchors required a lot of concentration, even for those few drakes who could do it. The fact that his gate had latched onto the anchor he thought the safest, Hunter’s private gate, didn’t surprise him. The alley was more or less as he remembered from the last time he and Hunter had gated there, back in the early 30s... back before that terrible night. Secure behind a warehouse that Hunter had given to Grey.
His throat started to ache and he drew in more slow breaths, shoving the memories back.
Dead stalks of grass and weeds broke through snow drifted against the building’s foundation, but the windows were new, even here at the back. Good, his human business manager was keeping up with maintenance as he’d instructed. And if he focuse
d on that, perhaps he wouldn’t lose his mind.
He forced himself to stand.
See, everything was fine. He could do it now. He was doing it. Hunter needed help and was depending on him.
Holding that thought close, he left the alley and raced to Jade’s shop.
CHAPTER 22
Anaea peered around the edge of the shop and glanced down the sidewalk. Grey still wasn’t in sight. Maybe he wouldn’t think to look for her in the narrow alley between the house and the office building, but it was the best place to hide. And he had told her not to go inside.
She had fished coins from a dish by the front door of Mark’s apartment and taken the bus across town to the antique shop. The old coat she’d found in his closet had done little to keep out the winter chill and she couldn’t help but fear that feeling the cold somehow meant Hunter’s situation was getting worse.
No. She was just oversensitive to the situation. Jumping at every little thing. Hunter was going to be fine. He was still within her. He couldn’t lose cohesion like he would if he didn’t have a vessel. Grey would know what was wrong. And everything was going to be all right.
“Wow, Hunter. I only bite if you ask,” a throaty feminine voice said behind her.
Anaea spun around. Jade stood, framed between the red brick house and the grey concrete office building at the far end of the alley.
“Or do you like skulking in alleys in the cold?”
Damn it. Where was Grey?
“The cold doesn’t bother me.” It seemed like a typical Hunter thing to say.
Jade raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Tell me another one, fire drake.”
Anaea pressed her lips tight, fighting the urge to argue. Please just make the woman go away.
“You know,” Jade said, lifting her long green coat, stepping over the low snowdrift, and sauntering to Anaea, “all of Court is looking for you.”
“So I hear.” Anaea’s stomach churned. She had no idea if Jade was the type to turn in an ex-lover. What was she thinking? Of course Jade was. She’d already tried sexual blackmail with their trip into the Dragon Court. Why not now?
