by Olivia Ash
His jaw tenses, and I notice his shoulders square off. Oh, man. He was almost too easy to rile up.
Instead of answering, his eyes narrow slightly. I see the glint of intention, of calculated planning, and I have to confess I don’t like that one bit.
Perhaps there’s a bit more to Jett Darrington than I anticipated.
“The last time we met, I got away with it,” the Darrington Boss points out, carefully sidestepping an outright confession of his involvement in the dojo invasion. “What makes you think this will be any different? I get what I want when I want it, and I want you to behave.”
“What’s next, then?” I shrug, as if he’s boring me. “If you try anything, five armies will be at your throat in an instant. How much longer do you think you can hang out in here with me and not get caught?”
To his credit, Jett chuckles. “I have to admit, kid, I like you. In another life, you would have made an excellent daughter-in-law.”
I catch the subtle reference to Drew, and the implication is clear. I am not an equal, not to his man, and he doesn’t condone what Drew and I have. Since Jett has every intention of dragging Drew back to him, he will do whatever it takes to destroy Drew’s affection for me.
Now, I’m more curious than ever to find out what he wants with me. If he doesn’t want to parade me around, what does he want?
Behind them, Drew’s door creaks open. The towering Darrington shifter walks through the cluster of men, each of the faceless soldiers cowering away from him as he strides confidently through their ranks.
Jett merely watches his son cut through his midst, while Milo looks on with a furious scowl. His disdain for Drew is obvious, and it makes me wonder why Drew would take the blame for Jace’s brother’s death when it was all Milo’s fault.
This coward hardly deserves that kindness.
Drew walks calmly. Confidently. Eventually, he stands resolutely in front of me and crosses his arms. Chin raised in defiance, he stares down his father, and the unspoken ultimatum is delivered. Without so much as a word spoken, he makes it clear what side he’s on.
Mine.
Jett frowns, his eye twitching with anger, and opens his mouth to speak—only to be interrupted as the front door swings violently open. It slams against the wall. Jace storms into the cottage, his body brimming with barely contained fury as he glares at the Darringtons across from us. Electricity crackles over his arms, and I can tell it’s requiring all of his self-control not to let loose on them right this moment.
“Get the fuck out,” Jace demands.
For a moment, no one moves. I wonder what will happen—if this cottage will end up in flames, perhaps, as a war begins right here.
Eventually, Jett smirks and nods politely toward me. “We’ll continue our conversation later, young lady.”
Oh, I’m suddenly not a little girl anymore. I’m a young lady. How adorable.
I’m tempted to let loose a colorful string of all the things I want to call him, but I abstain. Consider that self-restraint my contribution to diplomacy. It’s about as much as anyone will ever get from me.
Jett Darrington and his soldiers walk casually out the front door, and Jace seems to barely refrain from punching them all in the face as they leave.
When the front door finally shuts behind them, Drew lets out a slow breath. “I hate how brazen that man is.”
Jace points an accusatory finger at Drew. “It won’t be long until the world loses its patience with your family’s bullshit.” He pauses, his gaze shifting instantly to me. “Harper told me you know about Drew?”
I nod.
“Of course you do,” Jace says, shaking his head in disappointment I don’t fully understand.
I cross my arms, staring after the Darringtons and wondering what else was up that man’s sleeve. As if sensing my thoughts, Drew sets a hand possessively on the back of my neck, squeezing it lightly to comfort me.
Jace scowls at our silent exchange. “I’m going to check on Levi and then have a little talk with Greaves.” Jace’s biceps flex in his anger. “The fact that the Darringtons got in is inexcusable.”
“I’ll join you,” I say. “I want to make sure Levi’s okay and figure out how Jett—”
“Don’t.” Jace shakes his head. “Just—just stay here.” With that, he storms out the back door, sliding it closed with almost enough force to break it. I’m astonished the glass doesn’t shatter.
“That was kind of rude.” I set my hands on my hips. “Even for him.”
Drew rubs his eyes unenthusiastically. “As much as I hate to make excuses for that jackass, he hasn’t slept since we got here. No one’s sleeping well.”
A few thundering snores escape Tucker’s room, and I just point in the vague direction of our resident weapons master.
As the former Knight continues snoring, Drew just chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Well, most of us.”
Chapter Twelve
In the brilliant sunshine of the next morning, I grimace and run my fingers along the silk frills of the royal blue gown currently weighing on my shoulders. With a sidelong glare at Jace, I point to the lace-covered bodice. “But it’s a dress.”
He grins, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. “You’re very observant, Rory.”
“Why do I have to wear a dress?” I tug at the bodice, trying to breathe in this damned thing. “It’s itchy.”
The sliding glass door along the back of the living room sits open. Levi’s great blue head rests at the entrance as he growls softly in approval.
“Oh, don’t you start with me,” I chide, even though I’m unable to hide my flattered smile.
Drew and Tucker sit on the cloud-soft couch nearby, their eyes drifting time and again to my gown’s plunging neckline, while Jace leans against the wall nearby. All of them watch me as I fuss with the frills, none of my men able to hide their smiles.
To my surprise, Drew’s grin is the broadest of everyone’s. His eyes rove the bodice and land on my ass, and I figure his imagination is getting the better of him right now.
I glare at the Darrington man in our midst. “You wouldn’t be laughing if it was you in a dress.”
“I would,” Tucker says with a resolute nod. “Hands down, no question.”
Levi and Drew chuckle, and even Jace lets out a short laugh as he watches me fiddle with the ball gown. “Have you really never worn a dress, Rory?”
I stare at him incredulously and point to myself. “How many times a day do you forget how I was raised? It’s not like we had formal mixers during assassin training.”
In answer, Jace just laughs. “Touché, woman. Touché.”
“You look hot, babe,” Tucker says, reclining against the couch and tucking his hands behind his head. “Seriously, total stunner.”
I set my hands on my waist and study his wide grin, trying to fight the flattered smile slowly dawning on my lips. “Really?”
“Twelve out of ten.” He nods toward the full-length mirror in the corner. “Go look.”
I indulge him and float toward the mirror—which is really the best explanation I can offer for the odd way this dress makes me move—and I’m astonished to see a proper lady in my reflection. She’s regal, her skin glowing like it was gently kissed by the sun, the royal blue fabric practically radiant in contrast to her dark hair that curls around her face.
And that cleavage. Wow. This bodice is so tight and restricting, but it’s incredibly becoming.
“Whoa,” I mutter, tilting my body as I examine the dress from a new angle.
“Told you,” Tucker says.
Levi growls appreciatively, and this time, I shoot him a flirty little smile.
As I study my reflection, my initial instinct is to rip the damn thing off. I mean—yes, it’s beautiful. The fabric cascades over my body like a river. The folds of the dress gently flutter with each of my movements, and I have to confess I feel like a princess.
But I’m a battle-hardened assassin raised in blood, pain, and w
ar. I’m not supposed to like frilly things.
Still, I can’t help but look at the gown lovingly as I sway gently back and forth at the mirror.
“All right, men, let’s move out.” Jace claps his hands together and ushers Drew and Tucker off the couch. “You two know what to do.”
“Aye, Captain.” Tucker feigns a mock salute and jogs toward the open doors, giving me a quick peck on the cheek on his way out.
Drew follows suit, his hand gently weaving around my waist as he leaves. He winks as he exits through the backdoor, that dashing grin of his on his face. It’s like he knows his touch left fluttery goosebumps along my skin.
A soft rumble in Levi’s throat catches my attention, and he leans his head into the room. Gently, he brushes his nose against my hand before taking off into the sky.
With the rest of them gone, Jace walks up behind me and sets his hands on my shoulders. His head rests against the back of mine as a gentle, electric current buzzes along my skin from his touch. He presses his lips against my cheek.
I grin. “Since when are you cuddly?”
“Since I’ve gotten two hours of sleep in the last three days.” His grip tightens on my shoulders, and he sighs heavily. “You smell like roses. Is that a new perfume?”
“Oh, so we’re friends again?” I tilt my head back to look at him, not willing to let him off the hook so easily after his little episode last night.
He sighs and buries his face in my hair. “It’s just hard to see you and Drew so—close.”
And there he is—the possessive shifter who wants me to choose just one of them, to go against my culture and belong to only one man. I’ve been over this before with him, and I suspect we’ll go over it again.
I sigh, not willing to push these buttons right now.
“I had a talk with Greaves,” Jace continues, running his finger absently along the back of my hand, swirling up all the desire and affection I feel for him despite me being angry.
In the end, his adorable, sleep-deprived demeanor wins me over.
“What did Reggie say?” I ask.
“It looks like the front door codes were hacked. One of his people sold the code to the Darringtons.” In my periphery, Jace grimaces, the full fury of his rage burning briefly in his eyes. “Suffice to say, I was not pleased with that news.”
I pause. “Did—did you kill Reggie?”
“No,” he says with an exasperated sigh. “We talked Rory.”
I hesitate. “Does your version of ‘talking’ involve blood, or—”
“No, damn it! I didn’t kill him,” Jace snaps.
“Okay,” I say with a resigned wave of my hands. “Because I like that bald little dude.”
Jace chuckles. “When he doesn’t screw up, I like him, too. I’ve checked the house and removed the four bugs the Darringtons managed to plant before you found them.”
“Good move,” I admit.
Jace nods in thanks. “Greaves tried to give us some money back, but I told him all I care about is security. He’s spent all that he was going to refund us on extra hired guards, designed specifically to protect you.”
“Good man.” I’ll admit, even if they’re just humans, extra guns on my side won’t hurt.
Jace kisses my neck, the buzzing sensation getting stronger as he explores my skin. “I had a present built into your gown. Tucker helped,” Jace adds with an exasperated sigh and an eye roll. “He wanted assurances that I would tell you he was involved.”
I chuckle. “What is it?”
“A few surprises,” Jace answers cryptically. His hands slide along my back and to my waist, his fingers brushing the smooth silk of the bodice along the way.
Even though I’m slightly annoyed with him, his touch makes my heart sing. As our intense connection burns between us, my imagination begins to run away with me.
I imagine him throwing me on the nearest bed and hoisting up the four layers of skirts on this thing. I dream of him running his hand up my thigh as the petticoat scratches my skin. I can almost feel the warmth of his fingers as they slide past my panties and toy with my entrance, aching to enter and fill me.
My face flushes with need, and I take a few deep breaths to clear my racing thoughts.
It doesn’t work.
Jace gently nibbles my ear as his fingers brush one of the folds of the skirt. “There’s a gun hidden here. Fully loaded. Twelve rounds.”
I grin. “You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl, Jace.”
He chuckles, and his other hand slowly weaves down the skirts on the opposite side. “A dagger here.” His strong hand shifts a few inches to the left. “And another here.”
Jace sets his strong hand against the skirt, gripping my thigh through the fabric. The hard outline of a dagger presses against my skin, sandwiched between his palm and my leg.
Heat rushes through the space between my thighs, and I don’t even know any more what’s the mate-bond and what’s our raw attraction to each other.
I reach my hand over my shoulder, cupping his neck with my fingers. A low growl escapes him, rough and almost feral, and he gently bites my jaw in response.
“Trust me, Rory.” His voice is gravelly and coarse, thick with lust. “I want nothing more than to throw you on the couch and rip off the dress it took you an hour to get into. I want to ride you until you scream my name.”
Oh gods. He’s such a tease.
“But when I finally take you,” he continues, “I want it to be because you chose it.” He pauses, brushing his mouth against the back of my head as if it’s taking all his willpower to say this. “I don’t want it to be because we got lost in the moment.”
My body aches for him so badly, it’s hard to breathe. I close my eyes to settle my racing heart as he slowly—in such a tortured way—lets go of me. He takes a few steps back, and my body is suddenly cold.
The mate-bond seems to get more intense every day, and I wonder how much longer I can resist it… or if I even want to, anymore.
Chapter Thirteen
Roughly two hours after Jace and I had our little talk, I sit at the head of a table in one of the castle’s many rooms.
In the silence, all eyes are on me.
Six dragon shifters sit around the rectangular wooden table, three on either side of me. A dozen people line the walls behind them, and despite the sheer number of shifters in here, it’s still surprisingly spacious.
A row of windows draped with elegant red curtains line the wall to my left, while gilded doors to who-knows-where line the wall to my right.
There are a ton of exits, but no real way out—not considering how tightly monitored every square inch of this complex is. I peek at the camera blinking in the corner of the room, its little red light on as we wait in silence, and I wonder who’s watching.
Jace, Drew, and Tucker stand behind me, framed by a massive marble fireplace large enough for me to stand in, but I resist the impulse to look back at them.
After all, this is the moment of truth. The moment we’ve all been waiting for.
Quietly, I survey the six faces before me—six of the seven ruling Dragon Bosses. Only Kinsley Vaer is missing.
At the far end of the table, Harper’s expression is stony and calm. There’s not even a hint of her inherent humor or charm, and I figure this is the legendary Boss Mode she told me about. Her eyes narrow as she watches me with cold calculation, and I can’t help but wonder how much of this is show and how much is real. Two men stand behind her, likely her guard. I was surprised to see Jace stand behind me instead of her, and for the first time, I’m struck by the political implications of the Fairfax General having a mate-bond with the dragon vessel.
For him and his cousin both, it must feel like he’s picking sides.
Elizabeth Andusk sits beside Harper, her elegant head tilted toward me as she studies us all. I peg her as roughly thirty-five, and she seems to be aging well. Her eyes drift behind me, and I wonder what’s going through her brain as she sees that two
of the world’s most powerful dragon shifters have already sided with me.
Jett Darrington sits next to her, closest to me, and I’m honestly not surprised he weaseled this way into a nearby seat. I barely give him or Milo—who stands with his back to the wall—a passing glance.
Isaac Palarne sits on the other side of me, his elbows resting on the table as he leans his chin against his knuckles. Oddly enough, he looks younger than I expected him to—only about thirty. He watches me quizzically, though there’s no hint of calculation in his gaze. Two men I don’t recognize stand at attention behind him, their gazes locked on the wall ahead of them as if the rest of us don’t exist.
Aki Nabal sits beside Isaac, reclined in his chair. The forty-something-year-old ice dragon absently rubs his pointer finger and thumb together, his eyes narrowed in focus as he studies me. I wonder if he’s trying to dissect me from afar, to glean what he can from me without even a word spoken between us. I’m none too fond of the wickedly smart glean to his eye, and I’m instantly wary of him.
Victor Bane sits beside him, and I surprisingly can’t read his expression. He covers his mouth with one hand, his eyes only slightly narrowed as he studies me, and he’s not quite what I expected. I was ready for a crass man who made snide comments—not a silent shifter who simply observed the world around him. His sister Natasha rests her back against the wall of windows behind him, however, and she’s exactly what I expected. She props her heel against the windowpane, her bare knee slipping through a high slit in her dress. Unsurprisingly, her attention is focused on the men behind me, and a seductive smile plays at her red lips. My shoulders tense impulsively at the thought of her sizing up any one of my men as some kind of plaything.
The door to the hallway swings open, and Reggie enters with a broad smile on his face. “Welcome, welcome! I apologize for the delay. Let’s begin! My staff and I are so honored to have each of you here this fine day. Miss Quinn, I would like to introduce you to—”
