Day of the Dragon--Two full books for the price of one

by Katie MacAlister

  Declan released a soft grumble and stepped forward, his head and shoulders in front of her. He held her captive once again, standing between her and any perceived threat.

  “I’m fine.” She stroked the uneasy wolf and spoke to him. “I’m fine, but tired. Let’s go, Declan.”

  The tablet, the compound, Pike…could all be handled by someone else.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Declan’s mouth remained flooded with saliva, the need for flesh still riding him hard. He wanted to tear into his enemies and bathe in their blood. He wanted to show them all that they shouldn’t touch what belonged to him.

  Abby was his. Her small hand knotted in his fur, her weight firm against his side. Grant led them through the halls, gun in hand and body tense. Humans littered the ground—some shot, others torn by claws.

  Pride and joy twined inside him. His team had done that—his pack even if they weren’t all wolves. Not just his pack…the closest thing he had to family now that he knew about him.

  The wolf’s feral mind pulled on him, wrenching him away from thoughts of his brother and what he’d done.

  Abby gave him more and more of her weight with every step, her slow strides gradually turning into shuffles. He turned his head and gave her a low bark. He swept his gaze over her, seeing the blood and bruises.

  Fury—scorching hot and lightning fast—overtook him in that instant. More adrenaline flooded his four-legged form, and the craving for blood—retribution—doubled. He’d calmed with Abby’s presence, but the reminder of what she’d endured snatched away that hint of peace.

  Her fist eased, and she ran her fingers through his fur. “Shh…I’m fine.”

  She wasn’t fine. She limped. Some of her skin was purple. She bled.

  He ached to go back and finish what he’d started in that room.

  “Declan?” Grant called out. He flicked one ear toward his teammate while his gaze remained on Abby. “Helo’s landing. Let’s move.”

  Declan grumbled and closed his eyes for a moment. His wolf resisted when he fought for calm.

  “Declan! Move your furry ass.”

  He’d show Grant a furry ass, the asshole.

  As they finally exited the building, the echoing thump, thump, thump of the helo’s propeller reached them, overwhelming any other sounds that crept into the space.

  Which was why they—he—didn’t see their attacker until it was too late. Because one moment Abby clung to him and the next…the next she was wrenched away and into another man’s arms.

  Declan spun with a snarl, muscles tense and lips pulled back to expose his fangs. He growled long and low, the sound escaping before he even recognized who he faced.

  Eric Foster held a gun to Abby’s head.

  He’d kill him. Slowly. Painfully.

  “Back off!” Eric’s voice wavered. The man’s eyes were wide and filled with terror. The muzzle of his gun shook the tiniest bit. In this other hand, he held Abby’s tablet.

  “Let her go.” Grant’s rumble rose above the sounds from outside.

  “I’m leaving and you’re going to let me.” A tremble of fear still lingered in Eric’s words.

  Declan wanted nothing more than to leap onto the human and rip out his throat.

  Grant snorted. “Not happening.”

  Definitely not.

  Eric pressed the muzzle tighter to Abby’s head. “I’ll kill her.”

  Declan flexed his claws and sank lower, muscles tense and ready to roar into action. One leap. One bite.

  “And you’ll die before she hits the ground.” The slow drawl was followed by the familiar racking of a gun’s slide. Movement behind Eric signaled another team member’s presence.

  “Fucking furries…You think you can just kill me?”

  Declan watched the man’s eyes, his gaze unwavering. He could almost read Eric’s mind as his options flickered through his head. In truth, there wasn’t anything he could do to get out of this situation alive. Not. A. Thing.

  Declan moved his attention to the gun Eric clutched in his right hand. It let him see the minute tensing of muscles and slight movement of joints. The shot was coming, the human was a split second from putting a bullet in Abby’s head.

  Declan leaped. Mouth wide and fangs bared, he sliced through the air with his gaze intent on his target. He craved blood—Eric’s blood—and wouldn’t stop until it flowed down his throat.

  Screams. Shouts. Pain. Snap. Pop. Tear.

  Blood. Eric’s blood. But there was something else. A metallic tang that reminded him of his own scent.

  Declan’s blood.

  He opened his mouth and let Eric’s flesh fall from his jaw to land on the once living and breathing human. The body beneath him twitched and jerked—death throes creeping in. Declan swung his head to his right, to eyes landing on Abby slumped to the ground—crying but alive. A quick glance revealed that she wasn’t injured. At least, not any more than she had been already.

  Tears flowed down her cheeks and he whined. His mate shouldn’t cry. He’d killed the man who wanted to hurt her. She should smile.

  He stepped over Eric’s downed body, intent on getting to her. He’d nuzzle and nip her, show her everything was okay and…

  And he found himself flopping onto the ground. Had he tripped over Eric? Sloppy of him. He normally…

  Was it harder to breathe? A little. That was odd.

  Abby sobbed, her body shaking with the harsh sound, and he lifted his head. He released a soft chuff and mentally growled at the wolf. They could calm their mate better if he had lips instead of wolf’s jaws.

  Wait, had that chuff come out as a pained whine? No. He wasn’t hurt. He’d killed Eric and…

  And suddenly there were hands on him. Not just Abby’s, but others as well. A firm grip that held him steady when he fought against their hold. It hurt.

  “Don’t die on me,” Abby pleaded with him.

  Why would he die? He…

  “Please, Declan. Don’t die.”

  She was being ridiculous, and he’d shift and tell her so. Women were a pain in the ass. Though he also liked her ass a whole lot. He snorted—maybe. He definitely nudged his wolf to retreat so his skin could overtake the fur. But nothing happened. Or rather, something happened, but not what he expected.

  The world—his world—went black.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  They hadn’t made it to the base in North Carolina. Hell, Abby wasn’t sure they’d managed to cross state lines. Bullets. Blood. Death.

  She shuddered, and a tear—one of many—slid its way down her cheek. She’d experienced physical pain and heartbreaking loss in her life. It was nothing compared to the agony consuming her now.

  Declan had died more than once during the mad flight to…wherever the hell they were. Some kind of medical center—obviously SHOC or shifter friendly. A regular human hospital was too dangerous, their shifter blood too different from humans.

  And they’d managed to keep Declan alive.

  Abby hadn’t taken her attention off Declan from the moment they’d wheeled him out of surgery. Even now she kept her eyes on his chest, watching the rise and fall with his every breath. He’d stopped breathing more than once—first on the helicopter and again before they’d gotten him through the doors to surgery. She was sure it’d happened while he remained under the knife as well.

  But he’d survived. He’d rescued her, protected her with his body, and survived. His skin was pale from blood loss. At least that was what the SHOC doctors told her. She wasn’t sure what to believe—or who she could trust. Not really.

  Not after Pike—Declan’s brother—had…Her stomach churned, twisting and knotting with a mixture of anxiety and rage.

  She drew in a deep breath, tasting Declan’s scent on her tongue, and released it slowly. She pushed some of her worry out of her body with every exhale. It had no place in the room. She had to remain strong. She could shatter into a jumble of sobbing pieces once Declan woke.

 
And he would wake.

  Abby gently slid her hand beneath Declan’s. The heat of his palm contrasted with the cool sheets against the back of her hand. If he was warm, he was alive. She had to remember that fact.

  She leaned forward and rested her head on the soft mattress. She adjusted her position until she could see his chest—count his breaths.

  In. Out. He’s alive. In. Out. He didn’t die. In. Out.

  Fear still gripped her though. The terror that if she didn’t keep her eyes on him, he’d succumb to his injuries.

  Yet twenty-four hours of watching and waiting, twenty-four hours of dread, took its toll. The moment she let herself relax was the moment she lost herself to what could have been.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, darkness enveloping her in a midnight blanket. When she opened them once more, they had her.

  A roar shook the air, the bellow sinking past her flesh and into her bones. Rage accompanied the sound, the scent of fire burning her nose. Beneath that aroma was another—one she identified with ease—Declan.

  Declan in pain. Declan filled with fury. Declan…calling to her with every howl and snarl. Other sounds joined—rattling chains, the drip, drip, drip of liquid striking tile, and the squelch of cut flesh.

  A dim light flickered, blink, blink, blinking until the glow turned steady and illuminated the room.

  Yes, she’d been right. They had her. No, they had them. Her and Declan both. They were in that tiled room—Abby secured to that chair once more while Declan hung from chains.

  “Declan,” she whispered, and she blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. Not tears from her own pain, but from his.

  He’d come for her again, except this time he’d been captured. Now she was forced to watch Pike sink his claws into Declan’s flesh and—

  He screamed. Or did she? She wasn’t sure. The shout echoed through the room, consuming the air and surrounding her in the unending cry. She jolted and jerked against the chains, fighting to be free, and…came awake with a harsh gasp.

  She sucked air into her lungs, breathing deep, and her cougar sorted through the flavors. The air wasn’t filled with the coppery tang of blood but the stinging stench of the hospital.

  And Declan. His scent was not quite right—he remained tainted by the poison, but his true flavors persisted. The fabric beneath her cheek was cool while his hand on hers was warm. She drew in more of his aroma, savoring the intricate fragrance.

  His chest still moved. Heat still bathed her skin. Abby called to her cat and the beast altered her hearing so she could listen to the rhythmic thud of his heart.

  Declan lived.

  She drew air in through her nose and held the breath while she begged her racing pulse to ease. Except that inhale brought her hints of someone else’s presence. Snake—black mamba. Strong and yet somehow weak at the same time. Fury mixed with joy and a hint of…something.

  Abby tore her attention from Declan and sought the source of that scent. She turned her head and found her stare captured by a stranger’s. He stood on the other side of Declan’s hospital bed, an immaculately pressed suit covering his towering frame. Midnight hair and nearly black eyes coupled with deeply tanned skin gave her a sense of…wrongness. No, it wasn’t his coloring so much as it was his smell—the combination of both.

  His eyes darkened further until she couldn’t even see the difference between his iris and pupil. She felt as if she stared at the devil himself.

  Then he smiled and shifted his weight, a dark lock of hair falling forward to curl above his brow. A seductive devil anyway.

  “Miss Carter.” He tipped his head. “I’m Harmon Quade, the director of Shifter Operations Command.”

  She should be at ease in his company, right? Because he was the director of SHOC and SHOC had helped her and…

  “Mr. Quade.”

  “Director,” he corrected.

  “Director Quade,” she whispered, and swallowed hard. Okay, Declan’s team had helped her. For some reason, she felt as if this guy would have gladly left her for dead.

  “Miss Carter, I—”

  The room’s door swung inward on silent hinges and the hallway’s glow slipped into the room. The light cast the newcomer in a deep shadow, leaving only the newcomer’s outline visible. He took one step and then two into the room, his steps heavy and solid on the aged linoleum floor.

  She couldn’t see his face, but his scent…She knew who’d come to her rescue. Again? Crisp forest, fresh rain, and newly turned earth. They weren’t flavors that appealed to Abby’s cougar, but the cat trilled with his presence anyway.

  Better the devil she knew. “Cole.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Cole

  Unfortunately, Cole couldn’t kill the director for scaring Abby. He didn’t think Birch would let him maim the snake either, so he settled for glaring at the other male. He slowly made his way across the sterile room toward the woman huddled on the right side of Declan’s bed.

  Abby wasn’t theirs, but she belonged to Declan, which meant that—in some way—she belonged to the team. Cole was part of the team, so…

  So, he was trying like hell to justify his feelings toward the she-cat. The tiger rumbled a warning in his mind.

  “Hey, Abby. How are you feeling?” he asked, not stopping his approach until he stood at her side. He eased close enough for his thigh to brush her shoulder in silent support.

  “Tired.”

  “Agent Turner, your presence isn’t required.” Quade bit off those few words, and Abby stiffened.

  A wisp of fear teased his nose, joining the other tendrils of terror and anxiety that clouded the room.

  “Funny how I don’t care.” Cole curled the corner of his mouth up into a small smirk. Just enough to annoy the director. He wanted the asshole’s attention on him—not the little cougar.

  “Maybe you don’t understand. I don’t want you here.” Quade’s eyes darkened, his snake coming out to play.

  “Uh-huh. Why are you here, Quade?” Cole balanced his weight on the balls of his feet, body ready to spring into motion in an instant. It was never a good idea to relax in the presence of another predator. If he faced off against someone like himself, brute force would get the job done. A snake shifter? He had to be quick or he’d end up with the poison of a black mamba coursing through his veins.

  “I’m taking Abby—”

  “Miss Carter.” Cole spoke over the other man. The team could call her Abby—no one else.

  Quade’s expression darkened. Yeah, they were having a pissing contest, but he didn’t care. The director would attack any perceived weakness. “I’m taking Miss Carter, as well as the tablet recovered at the scene, to the southern field office.”

  Abby tensed, and Cole reached for her, giving her shoulder a firm squeeze. “Abby remains with her mate.”

  “She doesn’t have a mating mark.”

  “The lack of a mark doesn’t change her status. She’s Declan’s mate.” He gestured at the unconscious werewolf. “Declan’s a little indisposed right now, but I can pry his mouth open and force him to take a hunk out of her if you’d like.” Cole lifted a single brow in question.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Quade spoke through gritted teeth, the s long and drawn out. “I can wait for the debrief. For now I’ll take the tablet and speak with Declan and Miss Carter at another time.”

  “Funny thing about that tablet.” Cole scratched the back of his head, playing the good old boy just to annoy the director. “It didn’t exactly make it through the op.”

  Dark scales rippled over Quade’s skin, tanned flesh disappearing beneath the black of his snake for a flash before he regained control over his beast. “Excuse me?”

  “The tablet was fucked during evac.”

  “Then Miss Carter will accompany me now. I need to know everything she knows about FosCo and Unified Humanity.”

  “See, the thing about it is…” Cole shook his head. “That’s not happening.”

  “
Agent Turner—”

  “Harmon.” A wave of dominance rolled into the room, the newcomer’s strength as overwhelming as it was gentle. Birch wasn’t a flashy alpha. He didn’t beat anyone with his alpha strength unless necessary. He let his mere presence do the talking. “Is there a reason you’re bothering my team?”

  “Nah, he’s not bothering us, Birch.” Cole let himself relax—just a little—and was gratified to sense Abby’s tension easing. “He’s just checking on Declan here. He thought about taking Abby to the field office…”

  “But he knows mates don’t get separated when one of them is injured. Of course, he offered to wait until Declan is fully healed.” Birch took over. His tone was light, but a core of steel lingered in his words. “Though I’m not sure why you want to waste time questioning her. The tablet was destroyed, and her only knowledge is that FosCo wired money to Unified Humanity. There’s nothing more she could tell you.”

  He could mention what they’d downloaded from the Ogilve, Piers, and Patterson servers, but the team wasn’t ready for the director to have access to that information just yet. Possibly never.

  “I see,” Quade murmured.

  “I am glad you decided to visit Declan during his time of need, though. It saves me having to e-mail you later.” Birch played the good old boy just as well as Cole. “Since you’d decided to suspend us, the team is going to take some time off. Declan needs to recover, and the rest of the team needs a little breather. Plus there’s the matter of Pike, as we discussed.”

  Quade shook his head. “Pike requires further discussion. Right now you need to focus on finding someone to replace Declan. He’ll be punished for—”

  Abby whimpered, and Cole growled, his tiger taking control of his voice. “Excuse me?”

  Birch shot him a dark look—a silent order to shut the fuck up—and then spoke to the director. “Why?”

  “He went rogue and absconded with a prisoner. A clear violation of SHOC orders.”

  The tension in the room doubled, the air thick with the growing need for violence. Birch locked gazes with Quade, the two men staring each other down. Abby cowered, leaning into Cole when yesterday she would have put as much distance between them as possible.