by Julia Mills
Giving her mate a quick kiss, Olive turned and grabbed Kellan’s huge dark blue robe. Walking towards the door, she called over her shoulder, “I’m gonna go down and get my clothes from the girls since someone,” she paused for just a second for effect then continued, “made rags of mine.”
The low satisfied chuckle that followed was all the answer she needed and well worth the loss of some clothes. Kellan was coming out of his shell. He had a long way to go but together, she had no doubt she and her dragon could conquer anything. Jogging down the steps, Olive had to laugh at her cousins’ discussion.
“Another one bites the dust,” Karleigh giggled.
“Yeah, but Olive was a goner from the moment that big lug walked into the room,” Gabby laughed. “And Heavens knows if anyone can help with whatever ails him, it’s our girl.”
“You know it,” Tilly agreed. “The Universe knows what She’s doing. Kellan’s a damned lucky dragon.”
“Any of the rest of you get that loving feelin?” Ettie snorted. “Seems like Claire started a trend.”
A chorus of “Nope!” “Not me!” “No way!” quickly followed Ettie’s question.
There was something weird about the tone of the eagle’s voice. It was distant, without its usual confidence. If Olive wasn’t mistaken, and she rarely was where her cousins were concerned, Ettie was hiding something. Come to think of it, they all sounded a little off.
Well, well, well, I will put that in the things to look into file...
Stepping onto the ground floor, Olive announced her arrival. “Good morning, goofballs. Is that coffee I smell?”
“You hadn’t started it yet, so I did,” Delilah answered, walking out of the kitchen and handing Olive a cup with cream and sugar.
“Thank you, love.” Taking a quick sip, the little dove sighed at the wonderful, warm taste of her favorite drink and added, “Just the way I like it. You are an absolute doll, Dell.”
The little hawk smiled and took a seat in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. Olive turned to Ettie and held out her hands. “Clothes, please.”
With an obnoxious glint her eye, the eagle snickered. “But the robe is such a fashion statement.”
The girls all chittered with laughter as Olive caught the small red duffle Ettie tossed her way. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny. Now, would y’all please gather up all those maps and papers while I get dressed? Brannoc asked Kell to bring them to the Grand Hall.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Karleigh jumped to her feet, stood at attention, and mocked a salute which of course, had them all laughing again.
Shaking her head, Olive turned towards the steps and muttered, “You ladies are a mess.”
“And you wouldn’t have us any other way,” Tilly teased.
“You know it. Love you guys. Be right back.”
Olive ascended the stairs as her cousins hollered, “Love you more, silly woman.”
Kellan was pulling on his boots and chuckling when she entered his room. Handing him her cup of coffee, she walked into the closet to hang up his robe when he started sputtering and spitting like something horrible was killing him. Rushing back, she yelled, “What’s wrong?”
The sight before her was the exact opposite of what she’d expected to find and made the little dove wish for her cell phone to snap a picture of her mate in the throes of an attack of silliness of unprecedented proportions. Olive couldn’t stop the laughter that flew from her lips when she saw Kellan’s tongue hanging out of his mouth and the look of absolute disgust on his face.
Holding the mug in the air like it contained the plague, he choked, “Cream and sugar? Really, Olive? Are you trying to kill me?”
Shaking her head while laughing so hard she had to hold onto the door for support, the little dove watched her mate grab a towel from the bed and wipe his tongue before carefully setting the mug on the corner of the dresser and headed into the bathroom. She’d almost gotten her giggles under control when the sound of Kellan brushing his teeth for the second time renewed her hilarity.
Her dragon reappeared, trying to look repulsed but failing to disguise the twinkle in his eye, making Olive muster a straight face and ask, “So you take your coffee black?”
Moving almost faster than she could track, Kellan swooped in, scooped the little dove off her feet, and kissed her soundly before setting her back on her feet and stepping away with a satisfied smile on his face. “Yes, mo chroi’, I like my coffee black.” His smile turned cheeky as he added, “And my women sweet as a dove.”
“Women?” Olive teased, raising one eyebrow for effect. “That better be woman there, dragon man. As in one, singular, me and only me.”
Throwing back his head, Kellan barked with laughter before agreeing, “Absolutely, without a doubt, you are the only one for me, Olive Featherstone.” Closing the distance between them, he took her in his arms and kissed the tip of her nose. “Now, get dressed or I’m gonna have to make love to you again. Then we’ll be even later and they will send Rory to fetch us and I’ll have to kill him for bothering us and...”
“All right, all right.” She swatted at his chest and gave him a tiny push. “Unhand me, you beast,” she chuckled. “Go get your black coffee. I’ll be right down.”
Kellan growled and kissed her neck, pretending to be eating her alive, which actually sounded like a good idea, before backing away and leaving the room. While pulling on her jeans, it dawned on Olive that Kellan wasn’t hiding his scars any more. He had his hair pulled back, was holding his head high, and his shoulders were back. She thought about having a little happy dance but settled for a fist pump as she pulled her favorite red T-shirt over her head.
He’s feeling better...We can beat this. I know we can.
A quick check of her face and hair in the mirror, the decision that it was as good as it was gonna get, had Olive all but skipping out of the room and down the stairs, collecting her entourage as she headed out the door.
Walking through the enormous, solid walnut doors of the Blue Thunder Clan Grand Hall, the looks of horror and the rage radiating from everyone gathered around the huge, antique wooden table hit the group of newcomers like a ton of bricks.
The little dove’s good mood completely evaporated when Claire’s voice sounded in her head, “This shit is bad, Olive. Really, really bad. Get ready.”
Kellan’s grip on her hand tightened as she watched her loving, caring dragon change into the warrior she knew he could be. Gone was the grin. Gone were the dimples she loved so much. Gone was the twinkle in his eyes. Her mate had his game face on and was ready to do what had to be done...with one marked difference from the first time she’d met him...some of the guilt and self-loathing was miraculously absent and he wasn’t shutting her out. In its place was a fierce determination to right the wrongs of the past and bring the man responsible to justice. The darkness was threatening his newfound resolve, but her dragon was trying with all his might to hold them at bay and for that, she couldn’t be more proud of him.
“I love you, Kellan Aherne, with all that I am, and I believe in you.” Olive spoke directly into his mind then pulled him down and kissed his cheek right before they reached the table where their friends and family stood waiting.
“I love you too, mo bheannacht. Without you I would be lost.”
Olive’s heart skipped a beat as Kellan called her his blessing. It was so meaningful because it had been said by the one man in all the world meant to be hers. Looking across the table, the little dove saw the goofy grins on everyone’s faces and chuckled. Their happy feeling for the couple rose above what lie ahead, the evidence of which was right in front of them.
Unfortunately, the group’s respite from the heinous photos was cut short. Taking a deep breath, the little dove let Kellan lead her to the table and immediately contemplated running away to throw up. Strewn across the table were stacks and stacks of the most horrifying and unbearable photos Olive could’ve ever imagined.
Shifters of all varieties and species, in eve
ry stage of transformation, frozen in terror while being subjected to what could only be described as inhumane and hideous torture. There was no denying it; the proof was right there before them. Someone, an absolute monster, was capturing and torturing her people, the magical beings of the world. And if that wasn’t enough, each picture contained a hypothesis; the tests the subject was subjected to and the outcome written in the margin.
Some had been electrocuted, some poisoned, others drained of all but the last drop of their blood. Still others had been starved to near death then made to fight to the death for rancid scraps. Disembowelments, amputations, organ removal, even lobotomies were among the vast arrays of atrocities put upon the helpless creatures who’d undoubtedly been lured to their untimely deaths.
Leaning forward to make sure she wasn’t imagining what she saw, the little dove’s stomach rolled as one specific shot caught her eye. It was of a tiny wereleopard, no more than twenty or thirty years old, stuck in the middle of her shift, still part human but also part leopard, strapped to a table while men in surgical robes and masks dissected her like a frog in science class. Whoever the photographer had been had snapped the picture right as the little one was blinking. It was more than Olive could bear to think that the poor leopard had been awake, coherent, and feeling, while those vile bastards had taken her apart...piece by piece.
Thankfully, Max’s voice drew her attention from the carnage. Unfortunately, her relief was short lived. “This,” the King pointed to a smiling man shaking hands with three other smiling men standing mere feet from a gutted, full-grown black bear laying lifeless on a gurney, “is Tariq O’Baoill, the sorriest son of a bitch to ever take a breath.” The picture shook as Max literally vibrated with rage at the blatant disregard for life that was commemorated for all time.
Kellan tensed as the need to retaliate, to fight, to rip Tariq O’Baoill limb from limb exploded within him. He attempted to drop Olive’s hand, to pull away from her, to spare her his feelings of hatred for the man who’d irrevocably changed his life all those years ago, but she was having none of it. The little dove held tight to her dragon’s hand, refusing to be pushed away.
“Don’t do that, Kellan. Don’t you dare shut me out. We can handle anything as long as we handle it together.”
“If you’re sure,” he answered with a fair bit of skepticism.
“You know I am,” she answered, pushing confidence, love, and calm that she didn’t even feel herself through their mating bond.
“It appears the bastard has hired a team of scientists,” Max spat out the word like it scalded his tongue to even liken those monsters to a usually well-respected profession, and his disdain didn’t stop there. “My scouts have discovered these tests were conducted in the search for a way to harness our power, our magic, the very thing that makes us who we are, with the hopes of creating a synthetic form of that essence.” He scoffed. “Stupid bastards.” He stopped and took a deep breath, still so angry his speech was an odd mixture of Spanish and English. “They then plan to take this, let’s call it a drug because I literally cannot think of a word atrocious enough to describe it, and create super soldiers. The plan is to use those soldiers to exterminate all magical and paranormal creatures, as well as anyone else who dares to rise against them.”
The panther with whom Max shared his soul showed his own vehemence by appearing in the Leo’s typically tranquil green eyes. His usually circular shaped pupils surrounded by a splendid emerald green morphed to the horizontal slits of his beast’s, highlighted by a highly agitated mixture of yellow and green. His usually suave Spanish accent was thick and harsh, rage tainting every word.
“Let’s hear it for the megalomaniac narcissists of the world,” Rory growled.
“I have seen them come and go but this tops the charts.” Maddox paced on the far side of the room, talking more to himself than anyone else. Thankfully, his thick brogue hadn’t kicked in yet so Olive could make out pretty much everything he said.
Looking at the faces around the room, she saw the same expression of wrath and retribution she felt reflected in their glowing eyes.
“Is this the only facility they have?” Lennox asked, still looking at the photos with a shocked expression on his usually smiling face.
“Yes, from all the files we were able to get our hands on, this is the only one. But it is massive. At least a square mile of underground barracks with a labyrinth of tunnels and hidey holes where they are keeping shifters of all breeds. It was built during WWII to be a bomb shelter for the families of the allied forces.” Juan Carlos spoke with a sadness that brought tears to Olive’s eyes. It was then she realized he had been one of the scouts and had witnessed these atrocities first hand.
“Then let’s just go grab Tariq, beat the shit out of him, and leave him for dead in some hole in the middle of nowhere. That’s what he’s done to countless shifters. I call it justice,” Lennox snarled.
“While I agree with you, I think we have other considerations. O’Baoill is not doing this on his own; he may be leading the charge but he has funding and partners. If we simply take him out, another snake will slither in and take his place.” Rian paused and looked around the room before adding, “No, we have to completely eradicate Tariq and all that are loyal to him.”
From the far corner of the room, where he’d been pouring over a large black three-ring binder since they’d walked in, Brannoc said, “First and foremost, we have to get the survivors out.”
“Agreed,” Max and Rian agreed in unison while everyone else nodded.
“And I think I know how to do that.” He slowly walked towards the group, his nose still in the book. “As long as these plans are current.” Standing next to Juan Carlos so the panther could see the schematic, Brann asked, “Still look the same?”
After almost a full minute, Juan Carlos started to nod then added, “Yes, exactly the same.”
Flipping the page and pointing to a specific spot at the bottom corner of the page, the Guardsman asked, “Did you happen to see this door or go anywhere near this area?”
“I didn’t but I am sure Matías was there.” He tapped his finger on the page, almost toppling the binder to the floor while indicating a room to the left of where Brannoc had originally pointed. “That is where he hid while the guards made their security sweep.”
“Is he here?” Brann was getting excited as he waved for Lennox to come and look.
“He is on the way,” Juan Carlos answered, tapping his head to let them know he’d just called his pride mate.
“Yes! Thanks. Do you remember at what intervals security does their checks?” Brannoc asked as he moved between Rian and Max to what Olive guessed was the head of the round table and laid the binder down.
“But of course.” Juan Carlos grinned for the first time Olive could ever remember and said, “Every fifteen minutes in two-man teams.”
“Perfect,” the Guardsman answered the panther. Then to the group Brannoc said, “If we all go in here,” he pointed at what looked like a manhole cover on the blueprint then moved his finger along a passageway as he continued to explain. “Then move along here and break off two-by-two into these little cul-de-sacs that I’m sure contain the holding cells, we can evacuate the survivors the same way.”
Picking up where is brethren left off, Lennox talked so fast it took Olive a second to catch it all. “I’ll already have the place wired to blow with explosives at all the weight bearing supports. One flip of the switch and the walls will come tumbling down.” His evil smile reminded the dove why his nickname was ‘the mad bomber’ and that the man really loved to make things go boom.
Rian looked at Kellan. Olive could hear the buzz of their private mind-to-mind conversation. She could feel the tension building in her mate. Saw the Dragon Leader’s single nod a split second before Kellan spoke. “So we have fifteen minutes from the time they exit through this corridor to get in, get anyone still breathing, and get out. Is that about the size of it?”
; “That is precisely the size of it,” Max answered through gritted teeth. “And I suggest locking anyone who is not a shifter, anyone who took part in these experiments, in the very cages they have locked our brothers and sisters in and let them die where they stand.”
“Agreed!” was the war cry of dragon, feline, and fowl roared as one.
The creak of the ancient doors being forced open had them all turning to see who was invading their meeting. Olive smiled as the unease immediately left the room when Kayne said, “Okay, I give. What are we agreeing on?”
“It’s what I contacted you about earlier,” Rian answered.
“Oh goodie, we’re going to kill the killers. Just what I need to take the edge off after a lovely visit with Pops,” the demi god chuckled, taking his place to Olive’s left and whispering, “Congrats, kiddo.”
“Thanks,” she mouthed back, not wanting to interrupt Rian.
“Kellan will be taking the lead and will resume his Command of the Aherne Force as soon as he and Olive’s mating is official.”
Olive whipped her head around so fast that she almost lost her balance and stared at her mate. They had discussed him taking back command but Kellan had said it would be sometime in the future. There was no denying that the decision to give it to Rory all those years ago was another thing that haunted her dragon. It was just a shock that he decided to make the move so quickly. Untold pride and adoration filled her being and spilt over to Kellan.
“You are an amazing man, Kell,” Olive whispered through their unique link.
“Only because you are by my side, ‘mo chroi’.”
The next several hours were spent finessing their plan and preparing for every contingency. More than once Rory and Kellan suggested that Claire, Olive, and their cousins stay at the lair with Calysta, Kyra, and Audrey. After the third time, they recruited Max, who made it halfway through his list of reasons why the ladies should stay behind when Kayne stuck his head into the conversation and said, “You lot might as well give up. These are seven of the most independent, strong-willed, ass-kicking women in the world. I think we might find we need them on our side.”
