by Leela Ash
“Tess is a warrior?” Darian’s Mate wore biker leathers and tattoos, but surely a delicate woman like her wouldn’t truly fight?
“She’s an Adanai. It’s a strange Kind of Shifter. Long story for another day. Just think of her as a fairy.”
“A fairy.” A snicker slipped out before she could stop it.
“I know,” Michael admitted with a smile. “It sounds strange.”
“Sorry. Given how she dresses…well, now I have an image of ‘Biker Tinkerbell’ stuck in my head.”
He didn’t laugh. “The Adanai aren’t like that. They’re actually kind of nasty, if you ask me. Not Tess, though. She’s good people. Anyway, the reason I asked how you felt is that I’d like you to go with them, if you’re willing.”
“Where?”
“California. Near Jackson’s place. Where it’s safe.”
Jackson again. Dakota shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just pick up and leave.” Well, she could. But she wasn’t setting foot near that guy’s lair.
“Annie…”
Damn that name. Damn it to hell! How she longed to hear her own, true name on his lips, spoken with that love!
“You don’t understand how dangerous the Fangs are. People could die. You could die, and I couldn’t bear that!”
“I need some time to think about this.”
“You don’t trust me.” Michael looked away, pained.
“I just met you,” she reminded him. “And three hours later, you’re asking me to run away to the other side of the country with you.”
“You’re my Mate.” A hint of condemnation clung to that word.
“I’m not really sure what that means. Please.” She stroked his arm, reveling in the feel of his muscles beneath her hand. “Be patient.”
“I know I promised that, but this kills me. I won’t be here to protect you. I’m leaving in a half hour. I’m their chaperone.”
Alarm bells rang in her head. “Why isn’t Owen moving them? I mean, it’s his home, right?”
“It is. But he needs to stay here and try to liaise with the local Rats. He’s the only Dragon in this Flight who doesn’t scare them to death.”
Or the only one that was on the same side as the Rats?
The Fangs’ side?
“How long will you be gone?”
“Two days, probably.”
Enough time for her to reach a decision, and to find a way to atone for her mistake. If that was even possible.
“I’ll be fine. There are going to be, what? Three Dragons here?”
“And a family of Bears,” he admitted, “tending the animals.”
“They can keep me safe for two days.”
Especially since she (and her GPS tracker) were probably supposed to trigger the attack. As long as she didn’t activate it, nothing should happen.
Right?
“You’re my Mate.” Sadness, not blame, darkened that word now. Someday, she promised herself, she’d hear him say it in pride. “I should be the one protecting you.”
“It’s okay. Just help me home, please? And, um, did you get that water?”
“Shit! I dropped it when I saw the Rat.”
The guilt on his face made her burst out laughing. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Some ‘Protector’, huh?” he said as he helped her to her feet. “Can’t even be trusted to fetch water.”
Chapter 8
In Dakota’s dreams, Cally died a hundred times that night. Strangled by Owen Jackson. Torn apart and devoured by a blood-red Dragon. Drowning in garbage while she stood paralyzed, unable to help. Michael Farrell drifted in and out of these scenes too, throwing her treachery back in her face. Sometimes, he screamed at her. Once, he Shifted into his Dragon form and ripped her to pieces. The worst dream, though, was when he simply looked at her, eyes full of pain and betrayal, then flew away without a word.
Leaving her alone, forever.
The sound of wings threaded through all of these phantasms, whenever the noises of the dream died away. Feathered wings, not scaled ones. Flapping in the darkness overhead, unseen.
She woke as tired as when she went to bed. Four cups of coffee barely got her moving.
Despite all that, her head finally felt clear. She knew what she had to do: come clean and apologize.
Nothing that Hare said made sense. The First Flight wasn’t some clique of cannibal Dragons. They were the family she’d never had. Warm, loving, there for each other. And her Mate… Yes, she could call Michael that. Gladly. He was loving, honest, and strong. Everything she had ever dreamed a man could be. Blinded by her fears and the Fangs’ lies, she’d betrayed him. But she would win his trust back, his love. No matter how long it took.
Yes, he truly was a Dragon. She could live with that.
Only one doubt remained, the Wellspring. If it truly was a place of peace and magic, she would know Mr. Alester and his secretary had deceived her. Dakota still distrusted Owen Jackson. Her suspicions could wait, though, if the rest of the Flight was clean.
A trip to the Wellspring, one quick glimpse…and then it would be time to eat crow.
Carefully, she set the lead cylinder on the counter. She was not going to take the Fangs’ GPS tracker with her. No doubt, they monitored it constantly.
Slipping on her jacket, she headed toward the door. Her plan, such as it was, involved cutting into the woods about a quarter of a mile before the Stiles’ farm. Then, well, blundering around looking for a trail. Not much of a plan, really, but…
But why was she standing in the kitchen?
Lost in her thoughts, she had apparently turned around and walked right back inside. And here she stood, staring expectantly at the microwave.
“Damn, I need more coffee,” she groaned. “And a nap.”
Shaking her head, she ventured out into the crisp spring air. Low grey clouds brooded overheard, heavy with the threat of rain. Dakota prayed they wouldn’t cut her search short.
Fifteen minutes later, she began to realize just how bad her plan really was. The woods behind the Stiles’ farm were not a park. They were, well, woods. Trees that went on and on in every direction. Up gentle hills and down. Through boggy patches, around large pools. There were no trails, no landmarks. Nothing except trees, trees, and more trees. Even the rare growl of traffic faded away, leaving her with nothing except the sound of her footsteps and her labored breathing.
And the trees.
After a half hour, she gave up. Wandering aimlessly did nothing. Time to turn around and head back the way she came.
Which was…back past that mossy log, right? Yes. Definitely. She had, most certainly, passed that log. Dakota stomped back toward it. From there, though, nothing looked familiar. A sea of trees spread on all sides, exactly the same.
Look on the bright side. If Dragons really can tell when their Mates are in danger, I can’t stay lost forever. Eventually, Michael will find me. Then I’ll get to die from embarrassment, not starvation…
Cursing her city-born childhood, Dakota trudged onward. Annoyance swelled to worry. But by the time those worries darkened to true fear, a glint of green caught her eye.
Ahead, along a small ridgeline, lay a grove of birches in full leaf. Winter’s chill lingered here and most of the trees were still only in bud. These ones, though, flourished as if they clustered close to something warm.
Or magical.
Why not head up there? After all, she couldn’t get any more lost.
As she scrambled up toward the green, a man in hunters’ camo slipped out from between the tree. Looming over her, he peered down. “Annie?”
Dakota peered at him. “It’s… Finn, right?”
“Yes. What are you doing here?” Yesterday, his friendly smile had won her heart. Today, he was a different man. Cool, cautious, those icy blue eyes offered no welcome.
Well, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to pile more lies on top of her list of sins. “I wanted to see the Wellspring. Is this it?”
/> “The Wellspring is a sacred place. You can’t just wander up and take a peek at it.” Anger rumbled at the edge of his words. “You need to go home now.”
Dakota bit her lip. “Please?”
“No.”
A useless end to a useless trip. “Okay,” she sighed. “Would you point me toward the farm, though? I’ve gotten completely turned around.”
“I’ll take you myself.”
“Okay.” Meekly, she ducked her head.
Finn stood unmoving. His nose twitched. Then he snorted. “I’m sorry.”
“About what? I’m the one who’s trespassing.”
“About being a suspicious bastard.” Now his broad grin did break free, dispelling the last of her doubt. “You surprised me and, well, I snapped at you.”
“It’s okay. I mean, I know there’s supposed to be an attack soon and all…”
“Yes, and I’ve met enough villains over the years to know that they don’t ask permission before they do something wrong. Come here.” He waved her up the slope. “You can have a look before you go.”
“Are you sure?” Honestly, the fact that he was willing to allow this told her everything she needed to know.
“Yeah, why not? Just stay here at the edge. Don’t go wandering over and, say, toss a penny in.”
“No pennies, I promise!”
Branches and leaves wove a curtain around the Wellspring, but they parted easily. Beyond lay a grassy clearing, circled by vibrant leaves. Dakota could almost believe it was just another woodland dell – except for the Wellspring.
A small pool edged with mossy stones lay at the heart of the glade. Its still waters sparkled with sunlight.
On a cloudy day.
As she watched, tiny motes of light rose from it, glittering bubbles that drifted into the air and faded away. Everywhere they passed, colors gleamed. The air was rich with the scent of leaves and rain, every breath filled with the soul of spring and rebirth.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” she whispered.
Finn beamed at the little pool. “Isn’t it? Probably makes it easier to believe all the weird things you’ve been told about Shifters and magic.”
“It does. And it’s less scary than Dragons. Sorry!” she blurted out, as she remembered what he was.
The big man didn’t take offense. “No worries. We’re oversized predators. Hell, I’d scare the crap out of me – if I wasn’t me.”
There. The path was clear. The last of her doubts had been slain. There was no evil here, either at the Wellspring or in the First Flight. Anyone who told her otherwise was, at best, a liar. At worst, a true villain. Time to go home and think about how she was going to save her relationship with Michael.
“So, which way is the farm?”
Finn pointed in some random direction. “Follow me. By the way, most Wellsprings aren’t as impressive. They just look like ponds. This one is the oldest and…”
Dakota turned to go – and found that her feet wouldn’t obey her. Trapped like a fly in amber, she couldn’t step through the ring of greenery that bounded the Wellspring. “Finn? You forgot to unlock the door.”
“Door?”
“Yeah, I can’t get out.”
“What’s stopping you?” In two bounds, he was back at her side.
“My feet just won’t move. Isn’t this normal?” Fear set her heart beating faster and a strange, bitter cold began to creep through her body.
“No. I’m going to try something. If this hurts, speak up at once.”
Large hands closed around her waist. Gently, he lifted her into the air. Then he took a step down the hill.
Or, he tried. Dakota’s body simply wouldn’t pass beyond the edge of the Wellspring. She felt no pressure, no pain, not even when the Dragon pulled hard enough to make the muscles on his neck stand out sharply.
She also didn’t move.
He set her down and pulled out his cell phone. “Can you move backwards? Toward the Wellspring? No!” he yelped as she raised a foot. “Stop. Nothing forcing you to approach the spring is likely to be good. Let me get the smart people here.”
The cold deepened, sending a dull ache coursing up and down her right side.
“Lorde? We’ve got a situation at the Wellspring. Annie Crane is here and for some reason, she can’t leave.” A pause. “She wanted to see the Wellspring.” An angry buzz. “Well, she said ‘please’. What was I supposed to do? I know, I know,” he grumbled, running a hand across his buzz-cut hair. “We can discuss my lack of brains later, all right? Just get up here.”
“Fine.” With a sigh, he tucked the phone away. “Okay. Help is on the way. Let me try one more thing.”
“I’ve gotten you in trouble, haven’t I?”
“Nah, I did it to myself.” He walked directly behind her. “Right. Escape from the Wellspring, Take Two. Again, let me know if this hurts.”
“Okay.” The entire right half of her body had gone numb now, and her heart beat so hard she felt its echoes in her throat.
Lights sparkled at the edge of her vision. There was a strange, loud shuffling noise, as if something enormous shifted its weight. And suddenly, a great shadow spread over her and spilled down the ridge line. Dakota glanced upward.
A white Dragon loomed over her. Scars and claw-marks criss-crossed its face, slicing deep into its creamy scales. The sight of its maw, filled with deadly fangs, made her stomach flip. Yet Finn’s grey-blue eyes burned in the Dragon’s face.
It lowered its head behind her. Dakota felt a scaled nose, as large as a desk, press against her back. Talons dug into the soft soil, the Dragon pushed, and…
With a crackle of frying bacon, the stench of burned skin filled the air. Snarling, the Dragon jerked away.
“Shit!” Shifting to his human form, Finn stepped in front of her. A thin welt burned across his nose and cheek, as if someone had smacked him with a red-hot branding iron.
“Oh my word, are you okay?”
“I’ll live.” He touched the burn gingerly and winced.
“What’s going on?” Panic welled up, threatening to overwhelm her. Oh, how she wished Michael was here!
“I have no idea. Say, you didn’t bring anything odd here, did you?”
“No. I didn’t even remember to bring water.”
“You’re sure? Whatever burned me seemed to be in your jacket pocket.”
Dakota jammed her hand in just to be sure – and her fingers brushed against something cold. Something thin and metallic.
Something she knew she’d left at home.
“Oh no. No, no, no…” The blood drained from her face.
“Talk to me.” Finn’s voice, grim but calm, penetrated the cloud of fear. “What’s in your pocket?”
“There were people,” she stammered. “I didn’t know it then, but now I think they were the Fangs of Apophis. They gave me a ‘GPS tracker.’ But I left it at the house, I swear! I didn’t bring it. I left it…”
On the counter. By the microwave.
Where she’d found herself standing after her ‘caffeine-deprived’ moment.
“So you left it home – and it’s in your pocket now?” Steady as a rock, Finn didn’t doubt her. “Okay. Can you throw it outside the trees? Away from the Wellspring?”
“I’m afraid to. I took this thing out of my pocket and it’s like it forced me to bring it. I know that sounds crazy…”
“Nope. Not crazy at all. I officially hate magic and Witch Hares. All of them. Except my Mate,” he added in a mutter.
“What if it makes me throw it at the Wellspring, not away?”
“Good thought.”
With a sigh, he put a hand on her elbow. “Look, I think I can stop you, physically, from chucking this thing into the Wellspring. But if I have to use force, I could hurt you.”
“Like…”
“Like a broken arm or wrist.”
Strangely, the threat of violence, of punishment, calmed her. “That’s okay. I deserve it.”
Still, he
wouldn’t condemn her. “You won’t be the first person the Fangs have tricked. Ready to give this a shot?”
Dakota nodded. With one hand on her elbow, the other ready to grab her wrist, Finn braced himself.
Nothing odd happened as she drew the cylinder out. Though, again, her hand wouldn’t move beyond the curtain of trees. “No good. I can’t…”
Shadowy spikes erupted from the lead rod, stabbing through her hand. They burned with cold, as if they were carved from dry ice. Everywhere they touched, her skin frosted white.
With a scream, she felt the tracker tumble from her fingers to the ground. Those black nails vanished as it fell.
Clutching her wounded hand, she clenched her fingers – and found no sign of injury. Just patches of white, like frost-bite, scattered across her fingers and palm.
“I’m sorry! Let me…” Quickly, she dropped to her knees and reached for it.
It was like dunking her hand into a vat of liquid nitrogen. The air above the tracker thickened. Searing cold enveloped her hand as it slowed. For one second, she threw her full weight down, trying to force herself to grab the tracker. Then, wailing in agony, she jerked back.
“I can’t! I’m sorry. It’s like it’s in a block of ice or something. I can’t even touch it.” Half of the skin on her right hand seemed dead now, and an aching pain shot all the way to her shoulder.
Finn said nothing. When she looked up, he was simply standing there, staring sadly at the lead rod.
“Kirsten,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Who the hell was Kirsten?
“Finn? Snap out of it!” Grabbing his arm, Dakota threw herself at the line of trees. The bedazzled man tripped, staggered – then seemed to hit the same invisible wall that had imprisoned her. She, on the other hand, went sprawling five feet down the hill.
It seemed she was free to go now. The cylinder had what it wanted.
A Dragon.
Wings overhead. Not the nasty, whispering feathers that had haunted her dreams. These were strong, steady beats, drawing near.
Three Dragons sailed into view: black, gold, and green. As they banked, Dakota spotted a woman riding on the shoulders of the gold Dragon. Tess, still dressed in her riding leathers, sailed past like the Queen of the Air. Even in the midst of her shame and fear, Dakota felt a pang of envy. So free, so powerful. What would it feel like to soar through the air like that?
