Drakon's Past

by N. J. Walters

  He flapped one of his wings hard, driving three men at once hard against the wall. None of them got back up.

  In a deadly dance, he methodically killed each man, blocking their way when they tried to run, ignoring their screams and their pleas for mercy. They’d showed him none.

  Footsteps echoed, getting fainter. Someone was getting away. He spun around and narrowed his gaze, tracking his prey. It was Dent and the mercenary who’d given the orders.

  He couldn’t allow them to escape.

  He took one step toward them but couldn’t move. He wasn’t trapped by the statues any longer, but something even more powerful chained him.

  Love.

  He couldn’t leave Constance, not when she was hurt. The sense of betrayal burned like a bonfire in his gut, but he couldn’t make himself leave her. Not even to capture his most hated enemies, even knowing if he let them go he’d be on the Knight’s watch list for the rest of his days.

  Nic roared and allowed himself to shift back to his human form. He staggered naked to Constance’s side and crouched next to her. She was unconscious. He didn’t know whether it was from the injury or her head had hit the hard floor when she fell.

  He ripped her shirt open. The bullet had done quite a bit of damage. He used the already torn garment to create a makeshift bandage. It would have to do. They needed to move and fast. He had no idea whether Dent had more men in the city. Nic thought he’d destroyed the ones outside earlier, but his memories were still fuzzy.

  Damn statues. And speaking of statues. He rose and stared around the room. He saw her purse and sweater in the shadows and retrieved them. There was a phone sitting on the floor, but he left it there. He recognized it as the one Dent had left for her.

  He scanned the area and found the crystal statue broken into two large pieces. He tossed both into her bag. Then he added the onyx and the teak one. The bronze statue was missing.

  Dent or his man must have grabbed it as they fled. One of those damn statues was still out there. Most likely it would be useless without the other ones, but Nic didn’t want to take any chances.

  Constance still hadn’t roused, so he wrapped her sweater around her for warmth and lifted her into his arms. She was light as a feather to him. He frowned as he left the scene of his incarceration behind.

  Common sense kicked in when he was a few feet away. He couldn’t leave the dead bodies behind. That would lead to questions. What he was about to do was incredibly dangerous but had to be done. He assumed there were no outside video cameras around, only those operating from inside the building. The Knights wouldn’t want anyone to know their business. That was about to work in his favor.

  Nic carefully set Constance down on the ground and placed the bag beside her. First, he went around the yard looking for the bodies of the men he’d killed earlier, but they’d already been retrieved. He assumed they were either inside the warehouse or already gone. If they were gone, there was nothing he could do about it, but he wasn’t worried. The Knights would handle the mess themselves. If they were inside, they wouldn’t be around much longer.

  He stood in front of the wooden and metal structure and let the fire of his anger build inside him. His dragon wanted out, so Nic set that side of himself free. His entire body and awareness expanded. He grew to massive proportions, and the familiar scales covered him.

  The building was metal and wood and concrete, but nothing—except that damn force field—could withstand drakon fire. And Nic was a fire drakon, so his fire was even more powerful. It sang in his blood, and he released the song.

  Fire spewed from deep in his belly, up his long throat, and out through his mouth. Red flames a color as deep as blood hit the entrance and raced around the entire building like embracing arms. Then the flames squeezed tightly, and the building imploded.

  Nic watched, mesmerized as the fire danced, happily consuming everything in its path. The flames turned from blood red to almost violet, with tinges of yellow and orange. It was a beautiful sight to behold. It was a masterpiece.

  As much as he was enjoying the fire, something nagged at him, something that needed to be done. He heard a gasp behind him. Constance was awake. She was watching him, seeing what he could do.

  He absently wondered whether she was afraid. She should be. She’d betrayed him. He shook his head, thinking that was wrong, but only anger remained.

  He couldn’t stay here. Instinct kicked in, warning him it wasn’t safe. He hated to bring the fire to an end but began to rein it in. It didn’t fight him, immediately doing his bidding. It collapsed on itself, eating everything it encountered. By the time the last spark flickered out a few seconds later, nothing remained, not even the concrete slab the building had sat on. All that was left was the bare dirt ground. Even the ashes were gone.

  He huffed out a deep breath. Smoke billowed from his mouth as the flames inside him cooled. Nic embraced his human side, grateful to his dragon for being able to handle this problem quickly and easily. Less than a minute had passed, and the structure was gone. With it, the bodies of the dead Knights and any DNA evidence from him, Constance, and her sister.

  He turned and faced his betrayer.

  …

  Constance blinked. She didn’t think she was hallucinating. The building was gone. Vanished. Consumed by flames of such exquisite colors they’d brought tears to her eyes. Nic was magnificent as a human man. As a dragon, he was spectacular and frightening. The power he held inside him was both destructive and beautiful.

  There was nothing left. Not a nail, not a board, nothing. All of it had been consumed before the flames had devoured themselves.

  Nic was more powerful than an atomic bomb. He could destroy with a precision that was staggering. A few tufts of grass grew off to the side, and they were totally unharmed, not the least bit scorched.

  He stalked toward her, his eyes flat and angry. This was not the man who’d promised to protect her, who’d made love to her with such passion. Yet it was. He’d protected her, taken her from the building before he’d destroyed it. But something was wrong.

  “Nic?” She licked her dry lips, wishing she had some water. Pure agony raced through her shoulder and down her arm, making it hard to talk, hard to think. She’d never been in this much pain before.

  He leaned down, grabbed her tote bag, and lifted her into his arms. He still hadn’t said anything.

  “Are they all dead?” She didn’t care how bad a person it made her, she wanted all the Knights gone. That was the only way Abigail would ever be safe again.

  “No.” He began to walk toward the broken gate.

  She waited a few seconds and realized that was all he was going to say. “Where are we going?” Still no answer. “I have the van parked over there.” She started to raise her arm and then cried out. She got hot and then cold. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her stomach churned. She swallowed and prayed she wouldn’t throw up.

  “I see it.” He carried her to the van and deposited her in the passenger’s seat, placing her bag beside her. The slight jolt sent another hot blast of pain through her. Something wet rolled down her arm. She peered down and watched as the dark bead of blood dripped off the tip of her finger.

  Nic went around to the driver’s side and climbed in. He dug through her purse, found the keys, and started the engine.

  “Where—” She broke off when he reached across her and dragged her seat belt into place. His nearness, the sheer size of him was overwhelming. He smelled like the hot, arid desert wind. His face was close enough for her to kiss, but she didn’t dare. Not with him in his current mood.

  She might never kiss him again, and that made her sad.

  He put the van in gear. Then they were cruising down the road, leaving the empty warehouse yard behind.

  Her thoughts were getting loopy. Why else would she be concerned about kissing Nic. They were both alive. That was all that mattered.

  She shifted position, and something dug into her hip. The phone. She had N
ic’s phone in her purse. She fished it out with her good hand and held it out to him. Her hand was shaking, but she was curiously detached from it.

  “Your phone.”

  He glanced over and took it from her. “Where did you get it?”

  The world whizzed by outside the window. The lights of the city seemed to blend until it was one long continuous line of light. She was hot. Sweating. Why didn’t he turn on the air conditioning?

  “Constance?”

  She blinked and tried to focus on Nic. There were two of him now. Cool.

  “Constance, the phone? How did you get it?”

  She licked her lips and concentrated. “Took it. When I got Abigail out.” She remembered the man she’d talked to. “Called.”

  “Who did you call?” His voice was hard and unforgiving. Tears filled her eyes. He would never forgive her for what had happened, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d traded his life for her sister’s. Didn’t matter that they’d all made it out alive.

  “Constance?” Her name sounded more like a growl.

  What was the question? Oh yeah, the phone. “Man on the other end.” She was inordinately proud for being able to answer.

  Nic sighed. “What man?”

  She frowned. Didn’t he know? It was his friend, wasn’t it? “Don’t you know?” Had she somehow betrayed him again? But, no, the man had been angry. “Promised to kill me.”

  Nic’s scowl became a smile. She drank in the sight of him. The passing lights flashed off the strong features of his face. He really was beautiful.

  “That would be Tarrant. You called him?”

  She nodded. Was it getting darker? There were fewer and fewer lights. Were they leaving the city? “Abigail.”

  “Is she safe?”

  Was her sister safe? Fear had her bolting upright and then crying out as pain wracked her entire body. That drove back the fog threatening to envelop her. Of course her sister was safe. She wouldn’t have left her otherwise.

  “With neighbor.”

  “Your neighbor?”

  Constance nodded and let her eyes close. “Mrs. Karsh.” It was getting too hard to focus, and it was making her even more stomach sick when added to the motion of the van. “Where—” She broke off and breathed through a burst of pain, sucking in short, quick breaths.

  “Where are we going?”

  She nodded, knowing he’d see her even though it was dark.

  “Home. We’re going home.”

  She frowned. Home wasn’t in this direction. He was going the wrong way. The swaying of the vehicle, the pain in her arm and her head, was getting to be too much to handle. It was becoming more and more difficult to focus. Did he mean they were going to his home?

  It didn’t matter anyway. She was in no shape to do anything. “Abigail,” she managed to get that one word out.

  “She’s safe.”

  Safe. Her sister was safe. Constance gave up trying to stay alert and let the darkness take her.

  …

  Nic knew the second she lost consciousness. Even though he was angry at her, even though he didn’t trust her, he was worried about her.

  How stupid did that make him?

  He glanced over at her. She looked far too pale. The vibrancy that surrounded her when she was awake, the determination, the sheer force of her personality were missing. And he could smell blood. That wasn’t good.

  He forced himself to keep his attention on the road. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over with a wounded woman in the vehicle and him stark naked. He’d never killed an innocent person before, but if a cop stopped him, he’d be forced to do just that in order to protect himself and Constance.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He realized he was still holding the phone she’d given him and hit the speed dial.

  “Did you get him?” The force of his brother’s anger made him smile.

  “I’m here.”

  “Thank fuck. What happened?”

  What had happened? It was all a bit hazy.

  “Nic?”

  “Sorry, I’m thinking. That force field or whatever the hell it was makes it difficult to concentrate, to remember.”

  “Do you have the statues?”

  That he did know. “All but one. Dent and one of his men got away. They must have taken it with them when they ran.”

  Tarrant swore under his breath. “I lost satellite imaging. Not even I can stop gravitational rotation, and there wasn’t another one close enough for me to use.”

  “Wait, are you saying there’s something you can’t do? I should alert Darius and Ezra.”

  “Shut up, you bastard.” There was a wealth of affection in his voice. “I’m setting up some new searches, tapping into the video cameras in the area. I’ll find them.”

  Nic had no doubt his brother would eventually do just that, no matter how long it took. The open highway was before him. He wanted to get home. He was glad he’d sent Darius and Sarah away. That way he’d have the place to himself. He looked over at Constance. They’d have the place to themselves.

  “Darius and Sarah are okay?” He needed to know.

  “Yes. So are Ezra and Sam.”

  As long as his family was safe, that was all he cared about. All he cared about. The words echoed in his head. That’s what Constance had been doing. Making sure the only member of her family was safe. Could he be angry at her for doing the same thing he would have done?

  He growled and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. There weren’t many other cars on the road at this time of night, but it didn’t pay to get careless.

  “Nic, tell me what you remember.”

  He didn’t want to think about it but knew he had to. “The statues created a shield, but it wasn’t one I could see. I could only feel it.” He shuddered. “It was cold and oppressive.” And for a fire drakon, being cold was not natural.

  “That’s what Constance said, too.”

  “What did she tell you?” He had to admit he was curious. He was actually amazed she’d not only had the presence of mind to grab his phone, but she’d actually used it.

  “She told me where you were and what was happening. She also told me she was on her way back to try to save you now that she had her sister safe.” Tarrant went silent for a long moment. “As angry as I am with her, I get it. She was trying to save her sister.”

  Both of them fell silent, the dark ribbon of highway flying by as the turning wheels took him closer to home.

  “She could have run, could have hidden,” Tarrant pointed out. “But she went back. Knowing what she was facing, knowing it would most likely mean her death, she went back. She’s human, not drakon. She was one unarmed woman against a group of mercenaries.”

  His brother was right. “I remember the clank of metal. I think she threw something to distract them.” He tried to remember. “I roused. I’d fallen into a stupor and was losing energy. I think they were planning on drugging me as soon as they deemed it was safe to approach me.”

  Tarrant swore and then fell silent. Nic heard a female voice whispering to his brother and knew Valeriya was with him. That was good. She would help calm Tarrant. Only she was able to tame the beast that lived inside his brother.

  Nic’s memories were getting sharper. Not all of them, but some of them. “She burst out of the shadows with a metal pipe in her hands.” It unfolded in his mind much like a motion picture. “She smashed the crystal dragon into two pieces. Then…” He shook his head when the memories seemed to scramble. Damn those statues.

  “What happened then?”

  What had happened? “One of them shot her.” That’s what had roused him. “They shot her. I was free and attacked.”

  “But Dent escaped?”

  “Yes. He and his head mercenary. I couldn’t go after them, couldn’t leave Constance there hurt.” Nic concentrated on the memory of his incarceration. “Oscar. Dent called him Oscar. Don’t know if that’s a first or last name.”

  “I’ll fi
nd out,” Tarrant promised. “The building?”

  “Ah, I was a little angry.”

  “What did you do?” His brother sounded wary now.

  “It’s gone. I destroyed it all. The building, the bodies, any evidence. There’s nothing left.”

  Tarrant blew out a breath. “Okay. I’m going to make sure any video footage of you in the area is scrambled or gone.”

  “Nic.” Valeriya’s soft voice came over the device. “What happened to Constance? You said she was shot.”

  “She’s in the van with me. I’m taking her home.” Dread punched him in the gut. Constance had been shot while trying to rescue him. He’d put a makeshift bandage on her and left her lying in the dirt while he destroyed the building. He’d shown little regard to the pain she had to be in.

  She was human. She couldn’t handle pain like he could. She could bleed to death. She could die.

  “I’ll call later.” He ended the call and checked traffic before pulling off the road. “Constance?” She didn’t answer, and he hadn’t really expected her to. She’d been unconscious for miles now.

  He shook himself, and his muted senses seemed to come back online all at once. Her faint heartbeat echoed in his ears, along with her soft breathing. The smell of her blood, which had been light only seconds before, was now quite pungent.

  “Fuck.” He pushed aside the sweater he’d wrapped around her. The bandage he’d fashioned was loose, and blood was seeping from the angry wound. Her arm was tucked against her body, the angle slightly unnatural, telling him the bullet had most certainly hit bone.

  He shredded the sweater to make another bandage and used it to rewrap the wound. She didn’t move, didn’t flinch. But it was the best he could do out here on the road. It wasn’t safe to stay here, not with highway patrol always driving up and down between the border of the two states.

  He pulled back out on the road and kept his ears attuned to any changes in her breathing. It didn’t escape him that the longer he was away from the trap he’d been caught in, the more worried he was about Constance.