Drakon's Knight (Blood of the Drakon)

by N. J. Walters

  It was up to him to do it.

  Birch reached the women and glanced over at Jericho, their gazes meeting. He saw sorrow and guilt in the man’s dark eyes. When Birch reached down, it wasn’t Karina he grabbed, but Svetlana.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “What I should have done years ago.” Before he could kill Svetlana, she dropped Karina and dragged the knife across Birch’s throat. He stumbled back, grabbing at his neck.

  “No,” Karina cried as she fell. But it was too late. Birch crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from the fatal wound.

  Jericho leaped forward, putting himself between the two women.

  “You think you’ll finish me, do you, dragon?” He noticed she used dragon and not drakon. Her way of reminding him that in her eyes he was no more than an animal.

  “Yes.” He could not, would not allow her to walk out of this yard alive.

  Svetlana’s voice rose as she chanted once again. The tattoos on his arms heated but nothing happened. The protection they’d inked on years ago held. “Waiting for something to happen, old woman?” he taunted. “You’re not as powerful as you think. You’ll tell me everything I want to know before I’m done with you.”

  She read the truth in his eyes, heard it in his tone. “I think not.” Before anyone could move, she’d turned the knife on herself, plunging it into her own heart. She dropped to her knees before tumbling forward.

  The cold bitch had things her own way right to the bitter end.

  It was over.

  When Karina released a heartbreaking sob, he turned his back on the bodies and went to her. “You’ll be okay,” he promised. No thanks to him or his brothers. They could have stopped this before it began, but hadn’t.

  “I’m cold.” She was shivering now, having lost quite a bit of blood.

  “I’ve got you.” He lifted her into his arms and carried her inside. “Clean up the mess. Burn the bodies, the vehicles, everything,” he ordered.

  He took the stairs three at a time and carefully laid her on the bed. Before he could release her, she gripped his arms with surprising strength. “I’m sorry.”

  Shocked, he reared back. “For what?”

  “For what I said. I didn’t mean any of it. My tattoo burned, but I stayed strong and didn’t let her inside my head. Not this time.”

  She shamed him. He should be on his knees begging her forgiveness. “I’ll be right back.” Difficult as it was, he left her lying there and went into the bathroom. A glass sat on the counter.

  He manifested a claw and dragged it over his forearm. The edges started healing almost immediately, but he captured as much blood as he could. Then he cut himself again until he had the glass about a quarter full. He didn’t want to give her too much, but she needed to heal.

  He couldn’t let her die.

  Karina was lying on the covers, her breathing shallow and harsh, when he hurried back into the bedroom. Blood seeped from the wound in her side and trickled from the gash on her neck. He sat beside her, careful not to jar her too much as he lifted her head. “Drink.”

  He feared she might object, but she closed her eyes and drank when he pressed the rim of the glass to her lips. After she’d swallowed it all, he set the glass aside and waited.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead. Then she moaned and writhed in pain. He ripped her shirt, exposing the wound. It was deep. The amount of blood loss meant the knife had nicked a major organ. When she started shaking, he lay down beside her and held her against his chest, trying to force his heat into her.

  Her soft whimpers flayed him like a razor-studded whip. She should never have been hurt.

  He’d failed her. Deliberately. Pretending to be unconscious to see what she’d say, what she’d do. And when she’d started to play her grandmother, he’d believed her, doubting her even as she risked herself to save him.

  He didn’t deserve her. Wasn’t worthy of the priceless gift he’d been given.

  “I’ve got you,” he promised. He’d failed her once, but he wouldn’t again. He would spend the rest of his life protecting her. But first he’d tell her the truth about his actions outside. She deserved that much. He doubted she’d want to stay with him after that.

  Heart breaking with relentless sorrow, he held her as her breathing settled and she drifted off to sleep. Something trickled down his cheek. He caught the drakon tear before it hit her. Drakons only shed tears for love and at times of deep emotion. His weren’t the normal ruby of a fire drakon, but an exquisite and rare star ruby. When held to the light, a star glinted in its center. He closed his finger around the gemstone, fisting it in his hand.

  She would sleep for a while, and he needed to talk with the others. They had to clean up the mess and make plans. It was time to move on.

  Chapter Twenty

  Karina remembered everything when she woke. She was mentally sharper and physically stronger than ever before and knew it was due to Jericho’s blood pumping through her veins.

  It was still light outside. How long she’d slept, she had no idea, but sensed it hadn’t been more than an hour or so. She rested her forearm over her eyes, not quite wanting to face the world yet.

  Her grandmother was truly dead this time. There was no coming back from a knife to the heart. Birch was gone, too. Killed by his own mother. He’d been her uncle, and she’d never known.

  Her life just kept getting more tragic by the second.

  The Knights of the Dragon were still out there. That couldn’t be allowed to stand.

  She lowered her arm and pushed upright, half expecting to find Jericho either in bed beside her or perched on the single chair in the room. But there was no sign of him.

  Had he left her?

  Her stomach clutched, and her heart squeezed at the mere thought of never seeing him again. But why would he stay? Bitterness coated her thoughts. Her family had tried to kill him. She’d been partially responsible for the death of some of his kind. Not that she’d been in control of her actions at the time, but that really didn’t matter when the results were the same—death for drakons.

  Had he believed Svetlana’s magic had worked on her, or had he assumed she’d been lying to him all along? Either was likely, given the circumstances.

  Even then, he’d saved her life.

  There was a chance for her to redeem herself, if only a little. Dismantling the Knights and destroying any records, books, or items that could harm a drakon was a good start. But not before she combed through those records, culling out all information about drakons dead or in captivity.

  She could give them that much. She could give Jericho that much.

  It didn’t take her long to shower and pull on the last of her clean clothes. It was eerily quiet when she made her way downstairs. There was no one in the kitchen, and even the coffeepot was empty. She thought about starting some but went outside instead.

  A crow cawed and lifted off from a nearby tree. Karina inhaled the fresh air, needing it to clear the taint of the past. Other than the scorched earth, there were no signs of the battle. No blood. No remains.

  They’d burned everything with drakon fire.

  She still had no idea what element Jericho or the other three connected to. It hadn’t been important up to now. Not that it mattered in the scheme of things, but it was a reminder of how much of his life was still a mystery to her.

  “You’re up.”

  She whirled around and came face-to-face with Jericho. He was dressed in his uniform of faded jeans, biker boots, and a T-shirt that looked as though it had been painted onto his torso. Just looking at him made her ache with longing for what she’d lost, what she’d never really had.

  He appeared hale and hearty after being dosed with the tranquilizer. For that, she was thankful.

  “I’m up.” They both stood staring at one another, the conversation stilted. She cleared her throat. “You cleaned up the mess.”

  He inclined his head.

  This was even more awkwar
d than she’d imagined. Once again, he had retreated behind an impenetrable wall. It hurt to know they’d never be close again. There was chemistry between them, and maybe biology or fate had intended for them to be together, but they were still people who lived and made choices. And the decisions she’d made were ones he probably couldn’t live with.

  “Did you find out where Svetlana has been staying?” There would be records there, detailed accounts of everything the old woman had been involved in.

  “Yes.” Jericho stared at her, his dark eyes examining her from head to foot. “One of her men confessed before he died. It was that so-called spa you’d visit several times a year. Apparently, the trips there were used as an opportunity to magically reinforce the tattoo, to make sure it was still blocking your gift.”

  “I see.” And that explained Birch’s insistence that she always keep those trips. She tried to push aside all thoughts of her bodyguard, her uncle, unable to deal with that now. Maybe at some point in the future she’d be able to forgive him for his betrayal.

  After all, he’d been caught in Svetlana’s web much as she’d been. She couldn’t condemn him for that. In the end, he’d tried to do the right thing.

  “Any residual affects?” Jericho asked. He pointed to where she’d been injured.

  “No, I’m fine.” His blood had seen to that. Physically, she was probably in better shape than she’d ever been. Emotionally, she was a wreck, but she held it together.

  “The others will escort you back to New York.”

  Her mouth went dry, and her stomach lurched. This sounded way too much like goodbye. “That’s good. That’s—” She broke off, not knowing what else to say.

  He walked toward her, each step measured, until she had to tilt her head back to see his face. He lifted his hand. It hovered in the air without touching her before he dropped it down by his side. Bitter disappointment shot through her.

  Taking the initiative, she placed her hand on his face. His skin was warm and the muscles in his jaw clenched beneath her fingers. “Where will you be?” She didn’t care if it was weak and needy to ask. She wanted to know.

  “I’ll finish cleaning up here and then join them.”

  Them. Not her.

  She got it. They were finished. They’d been enemies from the beginning. And while they were no longer adversaries, there was obviously too much history between them for him to get past. And she couldn’t find it in her heart to hold that against him.

  “When do we leave?”

  “Now.”

  She flinched but immediately nodded. “Fine.” Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, she went up on her toes and dragged his head down. When he was close enough, she pressed a kiss to his lips. It was brief and tender and made her soul ache.

  She released him, spun on her heel, and went back inside to pack. The quicker they were away from here, the better. Her main concern was holding herself together until she was away from him. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her cry, both for her sake and for his. She didn’t want to appear weak, nor did she want him to feel any guilt or sense of responsibility.

  In under five minutes, she was ready and back on the front step. Jericho was nowhere to be seen, but Enoch was waiting for her. The door to the SUV was open and the trailer was already attached. Jericho’s motorcycle was still parked at the end of the driveway. The rest were loaded and ready to go.

  This was truly it.

  She didn’t hold out any hope she’d see him later. There’d been finality in his words and actions. A death knell for any possible future between them. “I’m ready,” she told Enoch.

  Hating the pity she saw reflected in his eyes, she straightened her shoulders, tilted her chin up, and walked to the vehicle. Sadiq and Khalil were already in the front seat. No one spoke as she climbed inside and put on her seat belt. Once Enoch had joined them, Khalil put the vehicle in gear and pulled away. She didn’t look back. It was time to look forward.

  She turned to Enoch. “Tell me everything you learned.”

  …

  It had been two whole weeks. Fourteen dark, eternal days and even longer nights since he’d seen Karina, touched her smooth skin, tasted her sweet lips, heard her familiar voice.

  It didn’t help that it was his decision. He missed her like he would any essential part of himself. It had only taken him a matter of hours to handle the details of their rental home in Northern California. He’d called in a cleaning crew and had every trace of their time there erased, paid the rental broker, and headed out.

  Enoch had given him a phone number that would connect him with one of his blood brothers. He’d thought about calling, but making contact with them no longer seemed to be as urgent.

  Darius Varkas, Tarrant Cooper, Ezra Easton, and Nicodemus Wilde—he’d gathered every crumb of knowledge about them, hoarding it, devouring it until he knew as much about them as possible, which still wasn’t much. Drakons were good at keeping secrets.

  Once the driving force in his life, a meeting with them now held little interest.

  His dragon was furious with him, confused and upset that he’d let their mate walk out the door and left her protection to others. He wasn’t sleeping. His appetite was nonexistent, but he forced himself to eat enough to sustain him. Food was tasteless, something he needed but didn’t really enjoy.

  All the color had been leached from his life and everything now existed in endless shades of gray.

  Even speeding down the highway on his Harley, with the invigorating scent of gas and oil in his nostrils and the open road ahead, didn’t excite him. He’d deliberately taken his time, snaking down back roads on the long drive to the other side of the country.

  He knew Karina was doing well. One of the others called him daily with an update. Usually Enoch, as the two of them were spending a lot of hours together combing through records and quietly going about setting things in motion to bring down the Knights.

  Jealousy ate away at his insides until they were raw. He wanted to be the one beside her, helping her, protecting her, but he’d sent her away.

  What else could he have done? He didn’t deserve her, hadn’t trusted her when it mattered. And it was that mistrust that had kept him silent instead of rushing to her defense like he should have. She’d been hurt. Could have been killed. And for what? Because he needed more proof that she was genuinely his mate? That she wouldn’t turn on him when the opportunity arose?

  The traffic thinned as he turned onto the road that led to Karina. The wind whipped through his hair and cooled his skin. The rumble of the powerful engine purred beneath him as he effortlessly maneuvered the heavy machine through several sharp turns.

  He still wasn’t sure if he was going to speak to her when he reached his destination, but he had to see her.

  They’d been staying at Svetlana’s hideaway. According to Sadiq, Karina had walked in like she owned the place, which, surprisingly enough, she did. Svetlana had purchased it in her granddaughter’s name. There hadn’t been much staff, but they’d resisted fiercely and been killed in a quick and bloody battle.

  It didn’t help to know that his friends had protected her. That was his duty and privilege. He wasn’t exactly doing a bang-up job.

  It was close to midnight when he finally turned up the driveway. He cut the engine and simply sat there for several long minutes listening to the familiar nocturnal sounds before kicking down the stand and dismounting. He left his gear where it was and walked toward the large home.

  It was secluded on several acres of land with few neighbors around. The lawns were manicured with a dense swath of forest surrounding them, which added to the privacy.

  Jericho stopped at the tree line and stared at the house. It was two stories of grandeur. The white paint and black shutters gave it a classic, timeless air. There were two pillars on the porch and a stone walkway leading up to it.

  Lights gleamed from several of the rooms.

  He strode across the lawn, his steps ea
ting up the distance, but didn’t go to the front door. Instead, he went to one of the lighted windows on the ground floor. It was a library, and seated at the ornate wooden desk in the very center was the woman he loved.

  Starved for even a glimpse, he drank in the sight of her, hands pressed firmly against the wooden siding to keep from jumping through the window. Her head was bent, a glossy black braid falling over one shoulder and curving over her breast.

  As though sensing someone’s presence, her head suddenly jerked up. He pulled back into the shadows where he knew she couldn’t see him. Karina looked thinner than before, and she’d already been far too slender. She appeared tired, too.

  As he watched, she rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. He hated that she seemed weighed down. She was carrying so much responsibility on her narrow shoulders.

  “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

  He’d known Sadiq was there, but didn’t turn toward him, unable to tear his gaze away from Karina. “How is she doing?”

  When his friend didn’t answer, he was forced to look away. As he turned, Sadiq’s fist crashed into his jaw, rocking him back a step.

  “What the hell was that for?” He wiggled his jaw, which had already healed.

  “That’s for leaving her safety up to us. I thought she was your mate.”

  “She is.” He blocked another fist, knocking it out of the way before it connected. “What the fuck?” He’d known Sadiq wouldn’t like babysitting Karina but hadn’t expected him to object this much.

  “What the fuck? I’ll tell you what the fuck.” Sadiq grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him against the house, slamming him into the siding and rattling the very foundation of the building. “The fates blessed you with a mate, and you abandoned her.”

  Overwhelming remorse and guilt flooded him. “I almost got her killed.” The thought haunted him every minute of the day and night. “I don’t deserve her. I wasn’t as incapacitated by the drug as I pretended to be.”