Legends Mate

by Jennifer W Smith

  Luna searched the depths of his eyes. In them, she saw intelligence, kindness, and there was the look—the one Selena promised she’d see—like she was the most important person in the world to him. This man loved her and accepted her for who she was.

  “Nate, I love you, too. I feel healed of my hatred and sadness. It’s in the past, and, now, I look forward to building our future together.” She brushed a strand of waving hair from his brow and placed her hands on the soft hair of his jaw. “I feel completely content. I’m ready for a lifetime of happiness with you.”

  She’d gone to the Wiccan Haus a stranger, a sort of refugee searching for healing and enlightenment. Not only was she healed of her heartache, but the sense of belonging to the right someone completed her.

  The island disappeared from sight. On the other side of the magical wall of fog, she would start her new journey with Nate.

  Two legends.

  Siren and Sasquatch.

  Together.

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  Prologue

  An ominous hue shrouded the sliver of red sunset at the western horizon. Dark-gray thunderheads raced across the sky. The rolling clouds and brisk winds against Drake’s cheeks promised the arrival of a wicked thunderstorm.

  Drake and Levi rode their motorcycles side by side down the highway until they reached the turnoff to the remote industrial area they hadn’t visited in years. They rolled up to the parking lot of the decrepit old gym. Drake’s palms vibrated from gripping the handlebars for the two-hour drive. He backed up his Triumph and parked alongside his sergeant of arms. They shut down the engines. He pulled his helmet off and hung it on his handlebars then tousled his hair in a bid to loosen it from the dampness against his neck. The stiffness of road lag had settled in his joints. He swung his leg over the seat and stood up to stretch. The ride from Newark to Queens had never been his favorite. Tonight, he’d dreaded it more than ever.

  Drake shook his head with a grin. “Old place hasn’t changed a bit.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” Levi climbed off his Harley. “It’s even more run-down than the last time we were here. Is there any part of this tin shack that isn’t rusted?” Thunder rumbled in the distance. “I don’t imagine we’ll stay any drier inside.”

  A sudden cascade of icy rain pattered over his leather jacket, drenched his hair, and dripped down his face. Once upon a time, thunderstorms had brought him the greatest pleasure. This one amplified the endless gloom shrouding him.

  “Brother….” His best friend grabbed his arm as he reached for the door handle. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

  Torment churned in his gut. “It’s not a choice. Sai needs to know.”

  Levi patted his shoulder. “Might be easier for me to do it.”

  He squared his shoulders. “Thanks, buddy. But I’m the VP. I have to own up to this.”

  “Hey, this is not your fault.” Thick strands of soaked black hair dangled from under Levi’s red bandana and clung to his face.

  Tightness clenched Drake’s chest. “Isn’t it?” Three hours ago, his guilt intensified after the arrival of the gruesome gift-wrapped box accompanied by a note at the front door. “Sai’s gonna have questions for me.”

  “It’s been five years. I don’t think there’s gonna be a warm welcome party. We’re gonna get our asses handed to us.”

  “Especially after I explain why we’re here.”

  Thunder rolled long and hard throughout the air. Soft cracks of lightning lit up the night sky.

  “Let’s get this over with.” He gripped the cold metal handle and yanked the steel door open. “But keep your eyes open, it’s not over by a long shot. I think it’s just begun.”

  The pungent whoosh of residual sweat crept up his nose, and familiar bluesy riffs filled his ears. “Jeff Healey. Smells and sounds the same, too.”

  Despite the sudden invisible tug in his chest insisting he head to the back office, he resisted. After all this time, a happy reunion would be the last thing to happen tonight. Drake strolled toward the worn and scuffed ring in the center of the mediocre warehouse. The ring he’d spent endless training hours in over years past. The tug alerted him of his target’s presence on the premises. It had been ages since he stood here, even longer since he had been welcome to enter the gym uninvited.

  Off to Drake’s left, weight-lifting sets were lined up alongside the treadmill and boxing bags. Sai’s professional days as of late in the mixed martial arts world didn’t taint the authenticity of the gym. He glanced up to the cracked black paint of the welcome banner: Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked. Their gym motto.

  The drooping red leather ropes had cracked and faded. Brown splatters of dried blood stained the aged canvas floor, and an inverted milk crate served as a makeshift step into the ring.

  “Can I help you?” a distant voice called out. “Unless you’re booked in, we’re closed, guys. Scheduled sparring only, tonight.”

  “We’re not here to fight,” Levi called.

  A massive bald guy with dark eyes, light-brown skin, and bulging biceps headed toward to them. He draped a white towel around his thick neck, his gray T-shirt and sweat pants dark with sweat. He sported some impressive bruising and a few gashes on his cheek. No doubt from a gripping champ’s training day.

  “Oh? How can I help you?”

  “We’re here to talk to Sai,” Drake asserted. “Personal business.”

  The guy knitted his brows for a moment. “Oh, you mean Viper, right? I’m Hortese, club manager, and you would be?”

  “I’m Drake. This here is Levi. We’re”—he glanced at his buddy—“family.”

  The muscle-bound Spanish Inquisition cocked his head to the side and cracked a grin. “Right, the bikers.” He eyed up and down their leather jackets. “Mind if I take a look at your patch?”

  Drake nodded. “Sure. Levi?”

  Levi turned away, showing the colors on the back of his jacket.

  “Mythic Iron. Epic artwork. Love the dragons.”

  “Thanks.” He faced forward again.

  Drake covered his mouth to muffle a snicker. “Couldn’t help but notice your fresh battle wounds.” He pointed to Hortese’s face. “Sai’s putting you through blindfold training now?”

  The club manager flashed a one-sided grin. “You got it. You’ve done it, too?”

  “We’ve done our share. Two concussions and a cracked sternum for me.”

  “Hell yeah,” Levi chimed in. “Three broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder.”

  “So, you’re saying I got off easy?” Hortese chuckled.

  “For now.” Drake pressed his lips tight. “Sai’s a ballbuster. You’ll get worse, I’m sure, but the champ is convinced it will save your life one day—at least that’s what Sai told us after every injury.”

  “Good to know.” The manager shook his hand. “We haven’t done any sparring yet. You guys might wanna hang back a bit and let the pent-up aggression deplete before you try and talk to Viper.”

  Levi curled his lip and snarled, “We’ll take our chances. It can’t wait. It’s important.”

  Hortese shrugged. “Suit yourselves, it’s your funeral.” He called out, “Hey, boss, some guys are here to see you.”

  The grubby office door in the far corner opened with a soft squeak. He stared at the skin-tight, white tank top and baggy nylon Adidas pants. Long black hair, slicked back into a tight ponytail, Sai walked toward them. A scowl contorted her heart-shaped face, her curves still as voluptuous as he remembered. As she approached, she tugged the neckline of her tank top up to hide the vibrant purple dragon’s tear marks over her heart.

  “I warned you two, if you ever tried to bring me back again, I’d kill you—”

  The reminder sent a sharp pain to his scarred shoulder. “Sai,” he interrupted her with a stern voice. “That’s not why we’re here.”

&n
bsp; The glow of her silver irises darkened as she stepped closer, glaring at him.

  She had always been able to see right through his hardened exterior.

  “No….” She widened her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Babe, please, you have to listen—” Levi asserted.

  “I said no!” she hissed. “Hortese, who’s scheduled for a bout tonight?” She spun around and jogged over to the banged-up lockers and grabbed a roll of tape.

  Levi moved to follow her, but Drake gripped his shoulder. “Don’t.”

  “There are a few new people tonight. Didn’t recognize their names, but they haven’t arrived yet,” Hortese told Sai.

  “Yes we have,” a low voice boomed from the doorway.

  Drake twisted around to find six, gargantuan men in dark pants and T-shirts, sauntering in. The epitome of bad news with stone-cold expressions, domineering stances, and muscular physiques. Their presence shot pangs of caution through his stomach.

  “Brother.”

  His sergeant of arms mumbled back, “What do you want me to do, take ’em out?”

  “Not yet. We don’t know why they’re here. See how she handles it. We’ve got her back if anything happens.” If only he believed his own words. They had no way to know if these were the same guys who ransacked their clubhouse last night, but he’d bet his patch they were.

  “Who’s first?” she called out in her raspy, venomous tone.

  Drake glanced over to find her narrow her eyes and slowly slither the tip of her tongue across her upper lip. She was pissed, but now she was on guard, too. Sai pounded at the old CD player until the tune “Mortal Combat” blared throughout the gym. Her serpent sense of smell alone would have alerted her to something about the new arrivals he’d already suspected. Her traditional kick-ass tune was the tell. Shit was about to get real.

  He moved toward the ring, scanning between her and the encroaching threat. Sai wrapped white tape around her knuckles and hands, tore the end off with her teeth, and tossed the roll on the floor beside her. Her darkened cheeks and narrowed silver eyes revealing her hostility, she hopped up into the ring.

  “Hortese, you’re done for the night. Go home to your wife. I’ve got this,” she commanded.

  “No way.” He bolted toward the ring and stopped in front of Drake.

  “I said get outta here, now,” she seethed.

  “Come on, brother, let me,” Levi prompted.

  “Wait.”

  “Boss….” Hortese hesitated.

  “It’s okay. We’ll stay,” Drake said. “Listen to her. Go home.” He let his eyes glow, a small bit of shifting while still controlling the dragon. “We’ve got this.”

  Hortese nodded and bolted out of the emergency exit behind the ring.

  The familiar internal combustion of heat flared through his veins as his protective mode kicked in.

  The six thugs joined them at ringside.

  “You guys gonna fight tonight?” the one with a scruffy beard goaded.

  “Not if we can help it,” Drake offered coolly.

  “Sweet, then I’m first, gorgeous.” He climbed up into the ring, set one foot forward, and raised his clenched fists. “I’ve read all about you, lady. Let’s dance.”

  “You’re not my type.” She held her hands up near her face and braced her bare feet shoulder-width apart. “Bring it.”

  “Now?” Levi murmured.

  “Don’t make the first move.” In the event of any aggressive movement, Drake was ready to pounce.

  “This is gonna be more fun than taking down your old man, bitch,” the giant in the ring boasted.

  Drake’s stomach bottomed out. Sai glanced over to him. She tilted her head in question and he nodded and mouthed, yeah.

  Now she knew why they had shown up after five years, she glowered at her opponent. Her cheeks blazed red. “Don’t count on it—bitch.”

  The thug launched a fist toward her. She moved to the side and countered with a powerful snap kick to his windpipe. He stumbled forward and gasped, clutching his throat. Before he could tumble to the mat, she catapulted forward and pummeled the thug with rapid strikes to his jaw and nose and knocked him to the ground.

  “Get her,” he gurgled through bleeding lips.

  The guy with a buzz cut moved to climb up into the ring, but Levi booted the milk crate out from under him and pounced on him. A third guy tackled him from behind.

  The remaining three guys advanced on Drake. He swung a right hook and clocked the scruffy blond one in the jaw and knocked him down with a single shot. A dark-skinned guy stormed toward him. Drake spun as he crouched with a leg sweep and dropped the guy on his back. He jumped on top of him and bashed in his face until he stopped moving. The last guy tugged at Drake’s collar and tried to pull him off his attack. Drake launched a backward fist over his right shoulder, and a loud crack sounded on impact of his knuckles to the guy’s face.

  The attacker landed on his side, clutching his jaw, and hollered. Blood gushed from his mouth. Drake jumped up and slammed his foot into the attacker’s gut then his face. Three strikes and he dropped his arms, his latest attacker out cold.

  The first guy he’d knocked down had scrambled to his feet and climbed into the ring where Sai continued to pound on her assailant. A bright glimmer of metal caught the light. The bald guy dove onto her from behind, bowie knife held high. He sliced at her chest and arms with vicious swings. As Drake climbed under the rope, she thrashed about and shoved her attacker back then spun around. Her eyes ablaze with her dragon half, she jumped, landing her legs around his neck. As he continued to slash away at her, she twisted and dropped him to the mat headfirst and knocked him out.

  Drake ran to her side and found her skin smoking. “No, Sai, don’t do it—” It was too late to stop her. She opened her mouth, her fangs protruded, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream as fiery venom spurted from her teeth. The blazing liquid landed on the battered face of the second invader and set his head on fire.

  “Sai,” Drake hollered. The other two were out cold on the floor, and Levi was climbing into the ring.

  “It’s over.” Drake wrapped his arms around her from behind, his grip slippery from the blood seeping from her gaping wounds. Tingles radiated through his palms at the touch of her skin. He held on and talked into her ear. “Darlin, you’re safe now. I’ve got you. We’ve got you. Let the dragon go, please....” He shushed her and held her trembling body.

  She fell to her knees and howled, “They killed him. They killed my father….”

  Levi moved close and wrapped his arms around them both. “It’s okay, baby. We’re here now. Let it go, breathe.”

  Pools of crimson drenched the canvas. Sai went limp, eyes shut, her olive skin white. He pressed the pads of his fingers against the side of her throat. “Her pulse is weak. She’s lost a lot of blood.” He scooped her up into his arms, and Levi helped him get her out of the ring.

  Panic had taken hold, but, as she lay unconscious, an eerie calm washed over him. If they didn’t think fast and do something, she’d bleed to death. “Grab the first aid kit, on the wall over there,” he barked.

  Before the words finished leaving his mouth, his partner raced over and grabbed the rusted metal box. Lucky they kept it in the same place.

  “The bastard got her pretty good.” Levi set the box on the ground and held Sai up by the shoulders as Drake wrapped gauze around her chest and tied it off.

  Swift and precise, he secured the bandages and moved on to her arms and thighs. “We need to call for cleanup.” Six bodies lay on the floor. The guy whose jaw Drake had shattered started to groan and move.

  “I got this.” Levi stood up and let out a growl.

  “Don’t kill him until we get some answers,” he ordered.

  “Right.” Levi nodded. “Once I get him squared away, I’ll get the guys to bring Doc to patch her up…and a cleanup crew for the rest.”
>
  Levi bolted over to the target and slammed his foot into his gut before he hauled him up into the air by the collar.

  “I mean it, alive for answers,” Drake warned.

  Sai was unconscious and pale from blood loss, her tank top sliced open, along with her flesh. The gash ran six inches from her collarbone toward her heart, stopping short of her purple teardrops.

  “Doc will fix you up, good as new, darlin’.” He brushed her blood-soaked hair back from her face.

  A long-time member of the MC, Doc patched everyone up after fights and bike accidents. Hell, he’d stitched up Drake and Levi the night she stabbed them both.

  “Good as new….”

  Part of him didn’t believe his words, but he couldn’t lose her, not again, not like this. He pulled his leather jacket off and draped it over her battered body. Drake lifted his mate into his arms and rocked her. How could he fail again? First, Gin, her mother then Omar, her father and his MC President, and now he failed to protect her. He yanked his cell phone out of his coat pocket and speed-dialed thirty three.

  “Kane, it’s Drake. I need your help.”