by Juniper Hart
13
It took Bryn longer than she would have liked to calm Damon down, but he was riled up, looking out the blinds of his living room as if he expected police cars to come screaming down the driveway any second.
“What if they—?”
“Damon,” Bryn said, trying to keep her voice patient despite the fact that her patience was running exceedingly low. “You don’t need to worry about anything. If they had ratted us out, we would have heard about it by now. They are taking the blame alone for some reason.”
“Why?” Damon cried uncomprehendingly, and Bryn wished she’d planned on something better to tell him. With everything else happening, all she could do now was console him. Eventually, after hours of placation, Damon finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Bryn waited around to ensure he was out before gathering her things and heading back home, her mind less on Damon than on Keppler. She wondered how he was faring with his brothers, but she dared not text him.
He’ll let me know how things went when he’s done, she assured herself, though the nagging doubt in the back of her mind couldn’t help questioning just how willing he’d be to sell out his own flesh. Then there was the matter of what came next.
Before Keppler, there had been a gradual plan of infiltrating the palace. That was an impossibility now, given the eyes that were upon her.
I won’t be able to sneak back into the Hollows undetected, she thought mournfully. Forget about the palace. Wilder seems to be as paranoid as Damon, from what I know. If he already thinks he’s under attack…
There was nothing Bryn could do except go home and hash out another plan, one that would satisfy her brothers’ need for vengeance and her duty as the wronged daughter.
It was well after midnight when she saw headlights steer their way up the small driveway in front of her house, parking behind the Miata. Bryn knew instinctively it was Keppler, even though he hadn’t called or texted. She hurried to the front door to let him in, a smile on her face.
“Hey!” she called, inordinately happy to see him. As he neared, however, she could read the stress on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Keppler replied as he met her at the threshold. He smiled to prove his point, but his cobalt eyes spoke otherwise. “Sorry I didn’t call. Things got crowded at the palace.”
The mention of the palace made Bryn bristle slightly, but she couldn’t say why. She barely remembered what it was like to live in the walls of the place after the years she’d spent at the isolated barracks of Greenland, yet the mere word “palace” seemed lyrical in her luxury-starved ears.
“Come inside,” she urged, stepping aside. Before she could move, Keppler swept her into his arms and placed an unexpected kiss on her lips. Bryn returned his embrace, reaching up to encircle her long fingers into his hair. Drawing him closer, their tongues met, and a now-familiar explosion erupted in the pit of her stomach, causing her heart to dance.
Suddenly, nothing mattered but the feeling of them melding together, their bodies warming against one another as Keppler danced her backward across the threshold in a clumsy tango. Bryn’s back thudded against the wall, and he casually lifted his foot to close the door, leaving them kissing in the hallway.
“I missed you,” he told her, and the words were filled with such sincerity, Bryn’s heart stopped if just for a minute.
“I missed you, too,” she said, and she realized she meant it. Yes, she had been listening for word from him, but at the back of her mind, lingering there like a heavy cloud, she had genuinely longed to hear his mellifluous voice in her ear.
Keppler’s lips moved along the lines of her neck, locking onto her earlobe to suck gently, and Bryn sighed, shivering with delight. Her fingers curled into his neck, her nails falling onto his skin as his hands grabbed the hem of her skirt, pulling it up to reveal her long, toned legs. Bryn arched her back toward him, allowing her thigh to fall into his palm and be drawn up toward his waist. She let out a long breath, tickled and aroused as Keppler’s hips made small circles, pressing his hardness against her for her to feel.
I can’t believe how easy it is for him to get me going! Bryn thought as his mouth moved across her throat, sampling the skin over her breastbone. His fingers slipped her panties to the side, exposing her for the taking, and this time, Bryn was prepared for the sheer size of his unit. Even so, she let out a gasp of pleasure, her eyes widening to catch him reach in for another sweet, deep kiss.
Slowly, Keppler rhythmically pressed her against the wall, his thrusts full and calculated, rubbing her in precisely the right spot. Bryn’s cries escalated as his movements quickened, and though she felt that she was still tender from their earlier tryst, that did not stop her from wanting it more.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, feeling her climax building in the pit of her stomach. Keppler grunted in response, a drop of sweat sliding off his face to trickle against her burning skin. Again, her nails contacted his flesh, her moans becoming screams, and she finally let go, feeling a heady rush of dizziness overcome her. Within seconds, he followed suit, his breaths jagged and rough as he filled her like no one had ever done.
They clung to each other as if suspended on an art pedestal, afraid to let go and lose the moment.
“I really did not stop thinking about you,” Keppler murmured, his breath teasing her ear, and Bryn giggled at the sensation.
“You need more to do at work,” she quipped back.
“I called you my girlfriend.”
Bryn tensed instantly. “To whom?” she asked, alarmed.
The moment was over, and she disentangled herself from him. The second she did, she longed to have him back inside her.
“Does it matter?” Keppler replied lightly.
“You didn’t say that to your brothers, obviously.”
“One day, I’ll have to tell them about us,” he said. Bryn wondered if he was trying to give her a hard time.
“Would that be before or after you get exiled and I get killed?” she demanded. Keppler didn’t seem to like her response, his eyes clouding to a near black.
“Nothing is going to happen to either of us,” he told her. “We will find a way out of this, so we all win, okay?”
Bryn gently tugged her skirt down and stared up at him, reluctant to ask the question weighing so heavily on her mind, but she knew she wouldn’t rest until she did.
“Did you find out anything tonight?” she asked gently, not wanting to seem overeager. “About who was responsible for what happened?”
Keppler looked away from her, clearly uncomfortable with the change in the mood. Bryn wished this conversation had not come after such a tender moment between them.
We’re still learning about one another, she thought with some regret. I don’t want him to think I’m hellbent on revenge when, sincerely, I don’t want to focus on anything but what I feel for him. But how can I go back to my brothers and tell them—?
“Not exactly,” Keppler answered.
Why is he being evasive? Bryn thought, bothered by his words. It’s a simple enough question. She tried not to regard him with suspicion, but his refusal to meet her eyes was weighing on her slightly.
“Keppler?” she demanded when he didn’t elaborate immediately. “What do you mean?”
He sighed and leveled his eyes to hers. “There is a firm denial that any of them have anything to do with it.”
She blinked, processing the information.
“All of them denied it?” she repeated. “Even Wilder?” It was silly to echo what he’d already said, but she was thinking aloud more than expecting confirmation. It didn’t make sense. They had no reason to pretend they weren’t responsible. They had nothing to lose, the action hardly a secret, and certainly not when it pertained to affairs of the Hollows.
Unless Keppler was lying to her. Would he lie to her?
Keppler seemed to read her skepticism. He pressed his thumb under her chin and cocked her face toward him. Bryn hadn’t rea
lized she’d looked away.
“I am just as surprised as you are,” he told her gruffly. “I was expecting a blatant confession, but I don’t think they’re lying. I don’t think any of them were responsible for your parents’ death or your exile.”
“Yeah,” she replied sarcastically. “Because someone else benefitted from that.”
“I agree,” Keppler said. “It seems unlikely, but I’m telling you, they didn’t have any reason to hide it.”
No, they don’t, Bryn thought quietly. But he does. Would he really sell out his brothers, no matter what he claims?
A feeling of betrayal stabbed her, and she wondered if she’d blindly trusted this man. For all she knew, he could have been the one she was looking for all along, the one who had ruined her life and the life of her brothers. Her logical side fought with her heart, but Keppler did not break his stare, willing her to listen to her emotions.
He can’t stare at me like that and be deceiving me, she wanted to believe. Either his brothers have conspired to keep him in the dark, or they really aren’t responsible. And if that’s the case, who is? Who else would have done such a horrible thing? And why?
“I’m just as confused by this as you are,” Keppler continued, “but it was a long time ago—”
“I’m not letting this go,” Bryn insisted. “I don’t care how much time has passed.”
“I wasn’t going to suggest you do,” he assured her. “I don’t think I would be able to if I was in your position, either.”
“Okay,” she said, slightly surprised by his concession. She waited for him to go on, albeit warily.
“My point is that we are going to need to go back to figure out what happened that night. You are the key to remembering it.”
Bryn gaped at him in shock. “How can you expect me to recall that time?” she choked. “I was a child!”
“Yes,” Keppler sighed. “And to be honest, I don’t remember it at all. I couldn’t tell you who was in the palace, who was alive and who was yet to be born. It was ancient times, so if we are going to get to the bottom of this, we need your mind. If not…” He didn’t need to finish, the outcome implied.
Bryn shot her eyes downward, her mind whirling. She had never imagined that finding the truth would be so difficult. The story was clear: her parents had been killed at the hands of the greedy princes, unwilling to share their throne.
“Do you know what I’m saying?” Keppler pressed, ensuring that she was aware of what needed to happen. “We need to visit Asuncion.”
Fear shot through Bryn, and she quickly shook her head in denial.
“Not yet!” she protested, stepping out of his reach to pace the front hall. “Not her, not yet.”
“What choice do we have? There is no other way to recall history without her.”
Bryn paused and exhaled, looking at him with wide eyes.
“There is one more thing we can try before we go down that route.” Keppler waited for her solution, and Bryn gnawed on her lower lip. “I have to bring my brothers back from exile.”
14
Technically, Keppler thought to himself as he stood at the gates to American Airlines flight 403 from Newfoundland. They weren’t in exile anymore. They could have come here anytime. They didn’t need to stay in Greenland, even if Bryn did move them from the barracks and into Nuuk.
None of it made him feel comfortable as he paced about, waiting to lay eyes on the trio of brothers and Bryn, who had returned to Greenland for them. They had stopped in Canada and then taken a direct flight across to San Francisco, but when the gate opened and the passengers started to shuffle through, Keppler’s anxiety began rising.
The dragon brothers were far too weakened to fly across the North Atlantic themselves. Bryn had explained that several times.
“It’s why they sent me to you,” she told him. “They can’t even shift anymore. Their blood is not the same anymore.”
The sadness in her voice pierced Keppler’s heart, but he reminded himself that it was a blessing that the Castillo dragons were out of commission as a threat. At the same time, he couldn’t help feeling apprehensive while he waited at the gate, as if he were about to be met by something unexpected.
Finally, he saw Bryn, her face tight with worry as she slowly made her way toward him through the sliding glass doors. She was alone.
“Where are they?” Keppler demanded, craning his neck to look past her for signs of the other three Castillos.
“Detained at customs,” Bryn muttered, shaking her head.
“Their paperwork is in order,” Keppler insisted. “I had my best guy on the Sunside take care of it. No one from the Hollows knows they’re here.”
Bryn grimaced. “It’s not the passports; it’s Gregor’s attitude. He’s being a dick.”
Keppler ground his teeth together to keep from commenting. “What happened?”
“It’s fine,” Bryn grunted and waved her hand dismissively. “He’ll be out soon. The others are waiting for him. Keppler…” She stopped herself.
“What?” he prompted.
“They are even worse than how I left them a decade ago,” she said. “I couldn’t believe they’ve deteriorated so much in ten years. It took thousands for them to become like this.”
“How are they worse if Gregor is picking fights?”
“You’ll see.” Bryn turned away to wait for her brothers, and Keppler could tell that he would not get any further explanation.
It was another half hour before he saw the first scruffy face ambling toward them, whom Bryn told him was Artemis. Behind the prehistoric-looking man was another one, taller, with a mass, wiry beard, and intense black eyes. Keppler would have recognized Jace anywhere, and when their eyes met, Bryn’s brother bared his teeth at him.
“What is he doing here?” Jace spat, and Keppler looked at Bryn in surprise. Hadn’t she told them that he was meeting them here, that he was on their side? The look on Bryn’s face told him that she had not, but before any explanations could be given, Gregor stumbled forward.
He and Jace were something straight off a cave drawing save for their ill-fitting clothes, which Keppler assumed Bryn had gotten for them specifically for their trip to the States.
“You should have shaved them,” he muttered. “No wonder they got detained.”
“I thought they would have done it themselves,” Bryn whispered back. “I forget the time warp between us.” It was too late now. Keppler just wanted to get the Castillos out of the San Francisco International Airport.
“You!” Jace snarled, his face inches from Keppler’s. “You and your family—” He burst into a spasm of hacking coughs, phlegm flying about Keppler’s face as he failed to cover his mouth. Keppler felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for the man.
“Come on,” he urged, spinning toward the doors. He didn’t want to bring any more attention to them than necessary. The last thing anyone needed was to be recognized by a resident of the Hollows. Even if the Castillos hadn’t been around in years, someone might remember them, and Keppler could not afford to be seen with them.
“Where is he taking us?” Jace called, his voice gravelly. “How could you walk us into a trap?”
“It’s not a trap, Jace, and lower your damned voice!” Bryn snapped, already annoyed with her brother. It had undoubtedly been a long flight, and Keppler could only imagine what had transpired on the journey. He heard Jace grumbling as they all walked toward the parking lot where he’d left his Jeep.
He would bring the Castillos to the Saltwater Inn and let them settle in and get acquainted with the modern world. Nuuk had not provided them with any real sense of what was happening outside of their environment. San Francisco had to be a culture and time shock to their core. He and Bryn would have to be patient, waiting for them to adapt before questioning them about what had happened.
Moreover, Keppler was going to need to gain their trust in some way or another, and he knew it wouldn’t be easy.
“What is the me
aning of this?” Artemis demanded when they piled into the Jeep, Bryn seated next to Keppler in the passenger seat while he drove.
“You need to settle down back there,” Bryn sighed. “And listen.” They muttered something among themselves, and Keppler remained silent, steering their way out of the hectic morning traffic of the airport.
“We sent you here to avenge our parents, and now you’ve joined forces with the devil himself!”
“Keppler had nothing to do with it,” Bryn assured him.
“Keppler?” her three brothers echoed in shock.
“You speak of the prince so casually…”
“Is she under duress?”
“What is the meaning of this?”
Their questions were jumbled, and Keppler rolled his eyes, realizing it was going to take longer than he thought to train these men on the new ways of the world.
“Things aren’t how they used to be,” Bryn told them, her head still craned to study their faces. Through the rear-view mirror, Keppler could see them all uncomfortably squished in together, and for a moment, he wondered what it would have been like to have grown up with the Castillo dragons as they were meant to do.
A weyr of eleven powerful, fearsome dragons, he thought. If the truce had remained in place and we had continued to live together in peace, what would have changed? What would be different?
It was a difficult game of “what if”, one he had no way of guessing correctly. How could he? They had all been very different at the time. Was it too late for them to reunite?
The question took him by surprise. Keppler hadn’t contemplated such a thing until right then. It was strange that it had crossed his mind at all, given the impossibility of the scenario: the Castillos were far too weak, and Wilder and the others would think them untrustworthy, just as they had thought of Raemyr.
“I do not like this,” one of Bryn’s brothers muttered, but Keppler did not bother to look and see who it was.
