by T. S. Joyce
She was asking for help. For him to act as a buffer. He gave a glance to the door and sighed. He should’ve run sooner. “If I say yes, it’s just because I like to fight and your dinner sounds like maximum drama.”
“The maxim…est.”
“And also free food.”
“Fancy free food. The special on the menu is sea bass this week.”
“It’s not because I like you, or care at all, or give a shit about protecting you,” he lied.
Nevada nodded, and her eyes got round like twin moons. “Okay.”
“I want more cookies as payment.”
“Deal.”
“And a BJ.”
Nevada’s cheeks went cherry red, and she tucked her chin to her chest.
Time for another lie. “That was a joke.”
“Oh. Right,” she said with a forced laugh. “I knew that.”
Spending more time with her was a bad idea. Unfortunately, Nox was a super-fan of bad ideas. “When is the dinner?”
“Tomorrow night. H-here-here’s the address,” she stammered as she rifled through her little purse. With shaking hands, she held out a business card.
Nox strode back toward her and yanked it out of her fingers as rudely as he could so she wouldn’t fall in love with him. “Foxburg Country Club,” he read aloud. He laughed. “A country club? Woman, have you seen this?” He circled a finger around his bearded face and then pulled up the shoulder of his favorite plaid shirt. “This fine specimen of a man was not made for country clubs.”
“You’ll be the most interesting person there.” Nevada’s eyes were on the ground again, and goddamn, he wished he could have seen her face better when she’d uttered that.
“Okay. What time?”
“Really?” she said too loud. “I mean…six o’clock. Wear whatever you want.”
Nox snorted. “Okay, I’ll probably be wearing this for the third day in a row.” She didn’t look nearly disturbed enough so he threw in, “And also cut-off short shorts. I’m not shaving my legs either. You’re welcome.”
“Great. Great, that’s great. I’ll wear something to match you.”
Well, that was a surprising answer. “Matching is for losers.”
She parted her lips to say more, but Nox turned away and left the building before she could say anything else or see the smile on his lips because how fucking cute was it that she wanted to match a monster like him? They were the worst match in the history of ever. This was going to be a disaster. An epically fun disaster.
A country club with a classy lady in matching outfits.
Dad was going to shit himself laughing.
Chapter Five
Fuck off, the sign read.
Nox was definitely getting warmer. The chain that stretched across the creek was rusted and old, but the sign hanging from it looked new and had been painted in Torren’s handwriting. The winding dirt road continued on the other side of the rushing water, and as Nox eased his truck into the rapids, he realized there was some kind of paved road here, hidden by the waves. His tires only submerged about six inches, and then he coasted across the little channel smoothly.
His truck creaked and bounced up the washed-out road as he wound through the trees. There were evergreens and scraggly brush that had lost all their leaves, leaving this place looking half haunted, half like a fuckin’ Christmas card Mom used to send everyone in the trailer parks back home. She hadn’t even gotten mad at Nox and Dad with their tradition of drawing hidden dicks in the scenery pics like a perverted version of Where’s Waldo. Dad had called it Where’s Dildo. Mom was used to them misbehaving, and Dad used to say that everyone looked forward to the Fuller Family Christmas cards for the challenge of trying to find the hidden sausage and meatballs.
Another five minutes of driving, and Nox came to a stop at the entrance of a fancy-as-fuck black asphalt circle drive. There was a scorch mark right in front of his tires that stretched through the woods as far as he could see. He would bet his favorite nut hair that the dragon had eaten ashes in a perfect circle around this place because monsters couldn’t curb their instincts to lay claim to territory.
The house in the center of the clearing was an utter shock. This was no trailer park. Vyr was holed up in a gol-dern mansion. God, what a prick. Highfalutin fire breather, just like his dad. Of course he wasn’t hiding in a trailer. Snob.
The house was two stories, complete with balconies and candles in each window. In the back, there was a massive pond and was that…was that a swan? It was too cold for swans. Nox was definitely going to eat Vyr’s pet. Swans probably tasted like chicken.
Nox scanned the yard, but everything was still. Too still. The hair rising on the back of his neck, he inched forward slowly and parked just before he got to the sprawling portico. There were gargoyles carved into the corners. The urge to vandalize this place was overwhelming. All he needed was about two dozen cans of red spray paint, and he would get this place looking homey in no time. He would draw stupid cartoon dragons everywhere with big googly eyes and tiny sky-lizard dicks. God, he hated dragons. Torren had the worst taste in friends.
Nox pulled the Glock from his shoulder holster, checked that the clip was full, and replaced it with a metal-on-metal click. When he had his jacket settled over the weapon, he shoved the truck door open and got out, eyes scanning the clearing, all his senses open. The hair wouldn’t lower on the back of his neck, and alarms were ringing. There weren’t any sounds here. No little animals in the woods, no late season birds. Even the swan was sitting still in the water, staring at him like that feather-skank knew something he didn’t.
A soft sound prickled right on the edge of his senses, and he reacted on instinct, ducked to the side. Pain blasted through his left bicep, and he pulled his gun in one smooth motion. Gritting his teeth against the agony of the arrow sticking out of his arm, he jerked his attention to the direction the arrow was shot. Torren was reloading a crossbow on the roof. Fucker.
He lifted his weapon, aimed to not-kill, unlike that prick gorilla, and fired off two rounds. Torren yelled out, tumbled down the roof, and landed hard on the other side of the house.
“Fuck,” Nox muttered, yanking the arrow from his arm. Warmth trickled down his bicep. His jacket was going to hurt his range of motion, so he shrugged out of it as he tossed the arrow to the ground. “A fucking crossbow? You could’ve killed me!” he yelled, his booming voice echoing against the mountains.
“That was the point, asshole!” Torren yelled right before the telltale smattering of pops that signaled Torren was going silverback. Double shit.
In a rush, Nox struggled out of his holster. Torren charged around the corner of the house. Nox was in serious trouble because that enormous gorilla’s bright green eyes were full of rage and promised death. Shhhheeeyit!
Nox closed his eyes and let the beast grizzly rip out of him. Before the pain of the Change had even subsided, he was charging toward Torren, because there was no backing down. He knew this game. How many times had he fought Torren? How many times had he fought all the dominant males in Damon’s Mountains? He needed to if he wanted his animal to stay steady. This was just another fight, and at least Torren was limping on a front arm as he bolted toward Nox on his knuckles.
Neither slowed down, and the force with which they collided nearly knocked the wind out of Nox. Torren slammed a fist against his back just as Nox sank his teeth into the gorilla’s shoulder right above the collarbone. Nox was going to kill him this time, or die trying. Fucking Torren, always choosing that asshole dragon over everyone else. Over him! He clawed and ripped with his teeth, ignoring Torren’s fists. The gorilla opened up his massive jaws, exposing razor sharp canines just before he sank his teeth into the side of Nox’s neck. Who would bleed out first, hmm? That was the question. Nox bit down harder and ripped his head backward, shredding Torren’s shoulder.
“Stop.” The word had been spoken softly, but it had an awful effect on Nox.
A force he didn’t understa
nd ripped him off Torren and slammed him to the ground. And from Torren’s collision with the earth, he must’ve felt it, too.
Nox scrabbled, raking his curved, six-inch claws through the manicured grass and deep into the dirt in an effort to get back to Torren and finish this. His focus was complete, and so was Torren’s since the silverback was dragging his body toward Nox, too.
Someone stepped between them casually. Fancy loafers, dress pants, a collared shirt, and a bloody arrow twirling between his fingers, Vyr looked down his nose at Nox like he was a bug.
“I said stop,” he said coolly, his eyes churning silver. The pupils there were elongated like a snake’s. Snake, snake, snake, Vyr was a fucking snake for pretending to be Nox’s alpha. Fight, Bear! Fight everything!
But that second order had frozen Nox into place like a statue in the fancy winter rose garden that surrounded the house. He could barely breathe, and every muscle was seizing in his effort to break Vyr’s spell on his beast.
Vyr knelt down between them, snake eyes never leaving Nox. “Change back,” he murmured.
Nox roared at the pain of his animal breaking into a million pieces. Stars dotted his vision as his bellow turned into a man’s scream. It hurt so bad. So bad. Nox curled in on himself and shook like a leaf in the fall, trying to wrap his head around pain like that and wishing it would subside, but Vyr was doing something awful to his insides. Nox was on fire. Every cell was screaming with the burn.
Torren was up and walking away like he didn’t hurt at all, but Nox was dying.
“Let me guess. My father sent you,” Vyr said in a low voice. “But why?”
Nox wanted to stay quiet so badly. He wanted to just get through the burn in silence, but in a blur, Vyr slammed the arrow back into Nox’s arm, into the hole that hadn’t even healed yet.
Clenching his teeth, Nox grunted at the new wave of pain. “Because you’ve been sentenced to shifter prison.”
Sweat dripped in Nox’s eyes as he looked up at the Red Dragon’s furious face. “You’re going to the cage for burning that town, asshole. And I’m here to put you in it.”
“Hmm,” Vyr said nonchalantly. Pretend he didn’t care all he wanted, but his eyes narrowed to dangerous little slits and red crept up his neck. “And my father only sent you. To die alone. Why?”
That part had bothered Nox, too. Because he was expendable, that’s why. He wouldn’t ever say that out loud to the Red Dragon though, so he ripped his gaze away and focused on that stupid swan in the pond. God, he wished Vyr would pull the arrow from him or kill him now. Dragons liked to play with their food.
Torren returned with Nox’s Glock, smoothly aimed it down at Nox’s face, and gritted his teeth. Blood streamed down his tattooed chest from where Nox had shredded his shoulder. Sweat dripped down his face, and his black hair was sticking up everywhere. Nox laughed. “You look so fucked up right now.”
“Yet you’re the one about to die!” Torren yelled, steadying the gun and resting his finger on the trigger.
“No,” Vyr said in a bored voice.
“But he shot me! Twice!”
“You shot me first!” Nox yelled.
“Oh, my God,” Vyr muttered, yanking the arrow from Nox’s arm.
“Fuck,” Nox uttered, gripping his arm to staunch the pain and the bleeding. “I hate you both so much. Like…I hate everyone, but I hate you two the very most.”
“Ooooh my God, how will I ever get over this,” Torren said in a stupid, mimicking voice, as he waved the Glock around.
“Give me my gun back.”
“Or what?” Torren asked. “Look around, you sniveling drop of chode sweat. You’re on the ground, Vyr could literally snap your neck and eat your carcass, and in under thirty seconds, there would be no proof you’ve even been here. Even if he wasn’t here? I have a mostly full clip and, again, you’re on the fuckin’ ground.” Torren winced and gripped his bleeding shoulder, jumped up and down a few times, and yelled, “Shit!” to the woods. “Do you have to fight to kill every time, Nox? Really?”
“Again! You shot me with a bow and arrow, you stupid dick archer.”
Vyr snorted. “Dick archer sounds funny. Torren, that’s your new nickname.”
“Fuck you, Vyr.”
A deep rumble sounded from the Red Dragon, and he flicked his silver-eyed attention to Torren. “Careful, Monkey.”
Torren’s jet-black eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Monkey? You be careful, Lizard. I’m here risking shifter prison, helping your fire-breathin’ ass hide from your fate. You think Damon’s gonna stop with Nox? No! This is the first wave. I mean, sure, he sent in the fuckin’ D-Team—”
“Hey,” Nox complained, sitting up. He was at least C-Team.
“But next time it’ll be more. Maybe he’ll send Beaston to track us. Maybe he’ll send a whole goddamn crew! Maybe he’ll come himself, and then what are we gonna do? You’ll go to war with your dad in the sky, and what can I do to protect you? Not a thing. Eat Nox, and let’s get onto the next war. Drag out our freedom as long as we can.”
“I would taste horrible, just so you know,” Nox said. “I’m all gristle, and plus you would choke on my big dick.”
“God,” Vyr muttered, looking nauseous. But fuck him and fuck Torren, too.
“You gonna run forever? Because Torren’s right, you cigar-smoking, wine-drinking, money-monger mother fucker. You aren’t any different from anybody else. Money won’t get you out of paying for what you did in Covington! You nearly burned that place to the ground, and the humans need to make an example of you. Should’ve been more careful, Red. Now you have to pay the consequences, same as every other tom, dick, and harry nutsack who screws up an entire town.”
“To save the Red Havoc Crew and to save Torren’s sister,” Vyr said in a calm tone. His snake eyes looked crazy right now, though.
“Oh, please. You pulled out your fire and ate all those gorillas and lions because you don’t have any control. You like war too much. One year in shifter prison and then start over.” Nox struggled to his feet, not even bothering to cover his dick, because why would he? It was huge and he was proud. He should show it to Nevada. She would fall in love with him and have like a dozen little fox babies that looked like him.
Vyr narrowed his eyes and looked slightly terrifying. “What was that?”
“What was what, you weirdo?”
A slow, feral smile curved Vyr’s lips, and he ran a hand through his red hair. “You gotta girl, Ob-Nox-ious?”
“Don’t call me that,” he muttered. “And no.”
Vyr canted his head and leveled Nox with those mercury-colored reptile eyes. “Fox.”
Nox’s heart hammered against his sternum. He hadn’t mentioned Nevada. Not out loud, and now there was a headache building right behind his eyes. Something was happening. His skull felt like it was burning with that same awful sensation from earlier when Vyr had forced his Change.
“What are you?” Nox asked, leaning back on his folded legs, as far away from Vyr as possible.
Vyr’s smile dipped from his face, and his voice went hard as a stone. “I’m a lot of things.”
Nox flicked his gaze to Torren, but the silverback shifter didn’t look surprised at all by Vyr’s terrifying admission. Okay, Clara, Vyr’s mother, was a witch. Or something. She could read tarot cards and see things she shouldn’t see. Apparently, Clara and Damon had made an out-of-control dragon son who had at least some of Clara’s power. Everyone had always been afraid of the quiet Red Dragon because he was a monster when he shifted, but this new information made the blood drain from Nox’s face. Everyone thought Dark Kane, the Black Dragon, was the End of Days. Nope. The fuckin’ apocalypse was kneeling in front of Nox.
“You’ve always been a thorn, Nox,” Vyr said. “Since we were kids, you picked at people. You acted out. You were a carbon copy of your fucked-up father.” Vyr smiled brightly. “I got fun genetics, too. I’m gonna let you live for a while. I’m not even going to threaten to char you to
a crisp and eat you if you betray me and turn me into my father, or human law enforcement. No. If you tell a soul where I am, I’m gonna go after…Texas…” He frowned at Nox, and the burning ramped up behind his eyes. The dragon was digging in his head.
Nox squeezed his eyes closed. Don’t think about Nevada.
“Nevada,” Vyr murmured in a silky, rumbling tone.
“She isn’t my girl. I barely know her.”
“Okay,” Vyr said with a shrug and an empty smile. “Out me then, and don’t worry about what I do to her.”
“I really hate you,” Nox murmured with venom in his voice.
“Flattery will get you nowhere with me.” Vyr stood and tossed the bloody arrow onto the grass in front of Nox’s knees. “A souvenir.”
“You mean a reminder?”
“Yep. You want a beer before you leave my mountains?”
“Your mountains? I didn’t see any record of you buying land. I checked three months back.”
“Poor detective work, Ob-Nox-ious. I bought this place years ago. Beer?”
Nox spat on the ground at Vyr’s feet. Fuck no, he wasn’t going to drink a beer with the monster who just threatened Nevada.
As he meandered toward the house, Vyr said over his shoulder, “Have a safe trip back to my father’s mountains.”
“I can’t go back without you, and you know it. Your father will burn me.”
“Not our problem,” Torren called as he followed the dragon and tossed the Glock onto the grass. “Have a nice life and death.”
Chest heaving, body aching, blood running down his chest and arm, Nox watched the twin assholes leave him in the yard.
If he returned without the Red Dragon, Damon would punish him, and Nox knew down to his bones that he was unimportant. Expendable. But if he gave up Vyr, Nevada would pay, and she wasn’t expendable. She was good, nice, and pure.
He couldn’t go back to Damon’s Mountains, but he didn’t like Nevada’s name on Vyr’s death list.
