Drakon's Knight

by N. J. Walters

  “It’s a legitimate drug, but it’s also used for less than legitimate reasons. When breathed in or ingested in a certain quantity it makes people susceptible to suggestion.”

  “Mind control?” The horror in her voice made Jericho ache for her.

  “Given in a big enough dose, it makes people lose free will. They’ll do basically whatever they’re told and then lose the memory of having done it. At least, that’s the belief.” Enoch spun the mug on the table. “In this case, the amount is too tiny to have that kind of effect. But in combination with the tattoo, it’s suspicious.”

  “If someone was around when I took the pain medication, I’d be more likely to listen to whatever they wanted to say?” she asked.

  “If someone close to you made a suggestion of some kind after you’d taken the drug, you might—and I have to stress might—be more susceptible to agreeing with it,” Enoch continued. “We just don’t know for sure.”

  “Who would be around me the most?”

  They all looked at Jericho. He shrugged and gave her the truth. “Your bodyguard. He’s been with you since you were a teenager.”

  “Then there’s the painkillers themselves,” Enoch continued. “The mixture you were given would likely affect certain centers of the brain, possibly suppressing certain emotions. That’s according to some research I’ve read. It’s not definitive.”

  “And the tattoo?” Jericho asked, wanting this done.

  “Nothing definite on the content of the ink. But the mark is old.”

  “How old?” she asked.

  “Likely done when you were a teenager. Some of the ink has faded slightly at the edges,” Enoch continued. “That might have some effect, whatever the original intent was.”

  “I can’t see myself getting a tattoo.” She honestly seemed bewildered. Maybe it was all an act, but he didn’t think so.

  “You said you’d stopped taking the pills.” Jericho was trying to piece together exactly what had been done to Karina.

  She hesitated. “Yes. I didn’t trust them anymore.”

  “Why?” he prodded, needing to understand.

  “I don’t know,” she yelled. Exploding off the chair, she knocked it to the floor. Hands fisted at her sides, body stiff, anger flowed off of her in waves. “I don’t know who I am or why someone would do this to me.” Her green eyes flashed; her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath she took.

  Neither of them might be prepared for her to know the entire truth, but they were past the point where that mattered. She looked ready to shatter under the growing pressure.

  He glanced at the others in turn. Enoch shrugged, Khalil nodded, and Sadiq simply stared at him. They knew what he planned to do. They might not all support him wholeheartedly, but they would back him.

  “What if I told you there was medicine I could give you that might jolt you enough to kickstart your memory.” It was a risk, a big one. If she reverted to Karina Azarov, leader of the Knights of the Dragon, he’d have to end her, even though it would destroy him. He might not care about himself, but he couldn’t allow her to hurt his family, or his blood brothers.

  The tension slowly bled out of her, like air released from a tire. “I’d say let’s do it, but why haven’t you tried it before?”

  “I’m not sure I want you to get your memories back.” Best to be brutally honest.

  She flinched but slowly nodded. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

  Her intelligence had never been in doubt. “Yeah, I am,” he answered.

  “It’s worth the risk. I can’t go on like this.”

  There were two choices. One was to lock her up and simply keep her, letting her memory come back or not. She’d come to hate him if he did that. Or, he could give her some of his blood, which would heal her completely, at least physically. Whether that would bring her memory back was unknown.

  “There’s no guarantee,” he warned, wanting her to understand that going in. “And it won’t be pleasant.” He’d never given anyone his blood before, but he’d heard rumors of drakons who had willingly donated. It was said to be difficult for the human.

  Even if the end result would be total healing, he hated the idea of hurting her.

  “I’m willing.”

  And that was the bottom line. He needed her to get her memory back. But the question was: With the head injury healed and the drugs out of her system—his blood would take care of any remaining trace—who would she be?

  Would she want to take him to bed, or try to find a way to trap him? It was a risk either way.

  “Best to do this in the living room. You go ahead. I’ll get the medicine.”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip and tugged at the hem of her sweater, seemingly nervous. Not that he blamed her. He was asking her to trust him enough to take some unknown substance, and she was desperate enough to do just that.

  “Yes. Okay.” Then she spun around and hurried from the kitchen.

  The living room wasn’t far, so Sadiq moved closer so she wouldn’t overhear. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “No. It has to be done. We can’t afford to just sit and wait.” Not only because Karina’s people would be looking for her—might even now be closing in on them, which put them all in danger—but because he couldn’t allow himself to get more deeply involved with her. Not until she remembered, not until the past and present were integrated and they both knew where they stood.

  He was trying to be realistic, but realism sucked. He went to the cupboard and took down a black mug. The dark interior would help disguise what was actually in it.

  Enoch and Khalil watched silently as he manifested a claw and cut his arm. Sadiq swore and went to stare out the kitchen window. Jericho quickly held the open wound over the mug before the cut healed. He had to do it twice more before he had the vessel about a quarter full. He hoped it would be enough. On the flip side, there was danger in giving someone too much.

  Drakon blood was potent and powerful stuff. He wished there was someone he could confer with, but he was on his own with this.

  “Let’s do this.” Grabbing the mug off the counter, he headed to the living room with the others right behind him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Karina sat on the couch with her arms wrapped around her waist and tried not to shiver. Anger, adrenaline, and fear all coursed through her veins. What could Jericho give her that might bring back her memories? And why hadn’t he done it before now?

  She pressed her legs together to help still the trembling. It didn’t stop it completely, but it wasn’t as noticeable.

  The heavy thud of boots on the hardwood floor announced their arrival. Jericho was in the lead with a cup in his hand. It seemed something so normal, so ordinary, to hold something so powerful. She’d been expecting pills not liquid. Or maybe it was nothing more than water to chase down whatever drug he was going to give her.

  Was she crazy to be taking it?

  And if she chose not to, if she declined, they could make her. There were four of them and only one of her. An icy shiver trickled down her spine.

  Jericho stood in front of her, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Perversely, now that he was hesitant, she wanted to go forward. “Yes, I do.”

  The other men, all big and dangerous, ranged around the room, shrinking it in size with their mere presence. It was odd that they were the only familiar people in her world. They were normally people she would never have associated with.

  Not a memory, but a sense of knowing.

  Jericho perched on the coffee table across from her. It creaked with his weight but held. He seemed grim, even for him, as he handed her the mug. There was some kind of dark liquid inside. Since the interior was black, she couldn’t quite make out the color.

  “All at once,” he told her. “Don’t hesitate. Drink it down.”

  The worry in his dark eyes gave her pause, but there was no going back. Her hand shook. She used the other one to steady it
so the contents didn’t end up all over her. “Bottoms up.” She closed her eyes, held her breath, and swallowed.

  It was thicker than she’d thought, but not unpleasant. Strangely enough, it reminded her of an expensive red wine with a hint of chocolate. Not medicinal at all.

  When she’d ingested the last of it, she licked her lips. “What now?”

  His gaze solemn, he took the mug and gave it to Khalil. “Now, we wait.”

  That wasn’t encouraging. They were all staring at her, watching her intently.

  “What are you waiting for?” Her mind began to conjure all sorts of scary possibilities—seizures, heart failure, or maybe death.

  “I’m not sure.” He leaned forward and placed his hands on her thighs.

  “You’re not sure?” she repeated. Had she heard him correctly? “You gave me whatever that was, and you don’t know what it’s supposed to do?”

  His fingers tightened briefly around her legs before he released her and sat back. “I know what it will do, just not how you’ll react to it.”

  “Oh.” Heat speared out from her stomach and traveled to all parts of her body. It kept on growing until she wanted to start yanking off her clothing.

  Then the excruciating pain struck.

  Her entire body went rigid, and all semblance of self-discipline went out the window. Moaning, she fell back on the sofa. “What have you done?”

  They’ve poisoned me.

  Anything healing wouldn’t hurt this much.

  Sweat wept from her pores. Her internal organs were engulfed in some inner blaze. Agony had her clutching her arms around her midsection. Silent tears trailed down her face. Every cell in her body burned until the pain utterly consumed her.

  “Let me help you.” When Jericho reached for her, she scrambled back, or tried to. Totally incapacitated, she was at their mercy.

  “No!”

  Ignoring her ineffective struggles, he sat on the couch and dragged her into his arms. His dark brows were low, and twin flames lit his eyes. This time she knew she wasn’t seeing things. This was the dragon inside him. His jaw tightened, and his lips were pulled flat.

  “What’s happening to me?” she cried.

  “I’m sorry it hurts.” He rocked her slightly, as though wanting to soothe her. Instead of trying to get away, she curled into him. “It will pass.”

  She clung to that bit of knowledge and prayed he was telling her the truth. Karina lost all sense of time. There was only the relentless pain pummeling her, and Jericho’s strong arms around her. When her body convulsed, his hold on her was the only thing that kept her from tumbling to the floor.

  Finally, the shakes subsided, and a cooling balm spread over her limbs and insides. Able to breathe more freely, she gave a sigh of relief. When she went to brush several loose strands of her hair back from her face, she accidentally hit the injury on her temple, only it didn’t hurt. She poked at the area with her fingers, but the cut was simply gone.

  Her body no longer ached where she’d been bruised in the crash. She shoved the neckline of her sweater away and ripped off the bandage on her shoulder. Her fingers encountered nothing but smooth skin.

  “Impossible,” she whispered.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  She stared at Jericho, unable to imagine where to begin.

  Unbearable pain wrapped around her skull like a vise. She yelled and grabbed her head, rocking back and forth.

  “I guess the body heals faster than the mind,” Sadiq said.

  It was as though someone was ripping her brain apart and putting it back together. Something trickled from her nose.

  Jericho swore and wiped blood away from her face. “Fuck. That’s not supposed to happen.” He turned her so she was facing him. “Look at me, Karina. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

  Was he trying to convince her or himself? Either way, she believed him. She had to. No matter what the outcome, it was obvious he hadn’t expected this kind of reaction. He looked furious, but there was also fear in his eyes.

  She was good at reading people.

  Like a computer that had been unplugged and plugged back in again, her brain came back online with the glitches gone and all systems powered up.

  Years of information flooded her consciousness, all of it vying for her attention at the same time.

  She knew exactly who she was—Karina Azarov. Her only family was a younger sister, who may or may not be dead. A ruthless businesswoman, she cared for little else but profit. She was the leader of the Knights of the Dragon and had ordered the deaths of several people.

  Afraid she was going to be sick, she slapped her hand over her mouth. Scrambling away from Jericho, she tried to make sense of all the memories bombarding her.

  “Oh my God. I’m a horrible person.” She dragged her fingers through her hair, tugging on it. The stinging in her scalp didn’t ground her at all.

  Her gaze darted from Jericho to Sadiq to Enoch and finally Khalil. They were all watching her with different emotions. Jericho seemed concerned. Sadiq looked as though he wanted to kill her now and get it over with. Enoch appeared to be studying her. And Khalil stared at her with something akin to pity.

  She swallowed heavily, her head spinning.

  “What do you remember?” Jericho asked her.

  “Everything.” But that wasn’t quite right. “Everything, but a lot of it doesn’t feel like me. Does that make any sense?” She desperately needed something to make sense.

  Sadiq took a step toward her, and she flung herself away, not ready to die just yet. He froze and raised his hands as though surrendering. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Before she could relax, he added, “At least not yet. But sit down before you fall.”

  Jericho had obviously had enough. He stalked forward, scooped her up, and deposited her back on the couch with him beside her. It didn’t escape her notice that he sat between her and the others. She tried not to read too much into that.

  “Tell me what you remember.” His voice was low and strong and helped to ground her.

  “Okay. Okay.” She smoothed her hand over her sweater, took a deep breath, and ordered her thoughts. “I remember my life, but it doesn’t feel like mine. It’s as though I’m reading a part in a play, like it’s not real.”

  Khalil stepped forward. “May I?”

  She wasn’t sure if he was asking her permission or if he was speaking with Jericho. Still, he waited until they both nodded.

  He checked her eyes, her temple, and her shoulder. “Your pupils are responding well, and your injuries are all healed. The blo—medicine”—he stumbled over the word—“healed everything, including whatever the medication might have done over the years.”

  Okay, that made sense. She could deal with that.

  “Think back,” Jericho encouraged. “What’s the first memory that pops into your head?”

  …

  He watched her carefully for any more signs of stress. When she’d cried out in pain, he’d wanted to destroy the world, starting with himself for causing it. She was pale as snow, her hands still trembling slightly, but there were signs of both the woman she was and the one she’d been. One thing that was innate was that she was one tough female.

  Most people who’d been through what she had would have crumbled long before now. Not Karina Azarov.

  Spine straight, she tilted her head in thought. What was going on in that brain of hers right now? Was she tricking them or telling the truth?

  “I wanted to play with Valeriya.” Her voice was so soft, almost a whisper. She sounded younger, too.

  “And did you play with her?” Jericho gave Enoch a glance. He went to the kitchen, returning seconds later with his laptop with a picture of Karina’s sister on the screen. “Is this Valeriya?” he asked her. He knew it was but wanted to see her reaction.

  Her fingertips traced over the screen. “Yes.” Sadness was etched on her face. “I don’t know if she’s dead or alive.” Her voice was toneless. “I wanted h
er brought in for questioning. I might even have killed her if I’d found her. Why? Why would I do that when I love her?”

  She took a deep breath and settled herself. “I wasn’t allowed to play with her when we were children. Do your lessons, Karina. You have weapons training, Karina. You must learn about the Knights, Karina.”

  A shiver raced down his spine at the childlike recitation. Obviously, someone had said those things to her many, many times.

  “I want to play, but I have to work.” She glanced around, seeming young and frightened. “They’ll hurt her if I don’t. She promised me that.”

  “Who? Who said they’d hurt Valeriya?”

  “Grandmother.”

  “And where is your grandmother?”

  “Dead. She and my grandfather are dead. My parents are, too. Everyone is dead but me.” Her eyes suddenly rolled back in her head, and she topped over on the sofa cushions before he could catch her.

  “What the hell just happened? What’s wrong with her?” he demanded of Khalil. “My blood was supposed to heal her.”

  His friend shrugged. “I’m not sure. I imagine trying to process all this is physically and mentally overwhelming. We probably should have given her some time to allow the memories to reintegrate before questioning her.”

  “She was speaking like a child.” Sadiq was watching her like a hawk.

  “Yes, she was.” That disturbed him on a visceral level. “It seems as though her grandmother controlled Karina when she was younger by threatening her sister.” He could easily see that working. “But what about later? What do we know about the deaths of her grandparents and parents?”

  Enoch’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “Not much. As you’d expect, details were scant. Maternal grandparents both died of carbon monoxide poisoning—deemed accidental.” He ignored Jericho’s snort of disbelief and continued. “The parents were killed in a car accident. Karina was in her early twenties and took control of the family businesses. Paternal grandparents died later, but they kept their distance from Karina, although they did seem close to her younger sister. All the bodies were cremated. We can’t access them to make sure they really are dead.”