by JD Monroe
“She is my responsibility,” Tarek said, his tone sharpening as he turned to face her. He was close enough that he had to look down to hold her gaze. “And I do not need your permission to take her.”
His imperious tone struck an oft-abused nerve in Gabby. She squared her shoulders and glared up at him. “You’re in my hospital, buddy. Maybe this hurts your whole ‘look at me, I’m the alpha male persona,’ but you absolutely need my permission to take her out of here, and you’re not getting it. And if it was your responsibility to protect her, then I wouldn’t trust you with my houseplants.”
His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened. But it wasn’t anger that shadowed his features; it was something more like guilt or fear. The sudden shift made her feel strangely guilty. What soft place had she struck? Finally, he took a deep breath through gritted teeth and held it for several seconds before he spoke again. “This does not concern you. I appreciate your devotion to her care, but I will be taking her now.”
“Over my dead body.”
He paused. “Do not say such things. One might see them happen.”
A chill of fear ran down her spine, but a rush of anger was close behind, like a spark igniting a trail of gasoline. “Did you really just threaten me?”
Tarek ignored her and walked to the other side of the bed. After inspecting the monitors briefly, he examined Jane Doe. Then he calmly unhooked one of the IV bags and laid it on the bed. Then the second.
“Stop! You don’t know what you’re doing,” Gabby said. She hurried to stop him, but his hand closed around her wrist and held it easily away from the pole. When she tried to grab for his other hand, he caught her other wrist, pinning both wrists easily. He was crazy strong. He glared down at her.
“You are a most difficult person,” he said. Like it was nothing, he grasped both of her wrists in one hand. She wasn’t a petite thing, but her wrists were like twigs in his large hand.
“Imagine that, when you’re trying to steal a critically injured patient,” she spat. His hotness—which was considerable—didn’t outweigh his psycho factor. She craned her neck to see the door, which was still closed thanks to Tarek’s dreamy whammy on Suzanne. “Help! Anyone!” she shouted.
Tarek spun her around, pressing her to his chest as he covered her mouth with one hand, holding her wrists to her chest with the other. “Shh,” he hissed, his lips brushing her ear.
Part of Gabby’s rotations had been in a rough part of town, and her boyfriend at the time had insisted on self-defense classes. Fortunately, she’d always been a fast learner.
She threw her hips back, throwing Tarek into the plastic railing. Then she stomped down on his foot as hard as she could. He grunted, losing his hold on her long enough to let her wrench free. His hand tangled in the back of her coat, but she managed to lunge for the door and yank it open.
She stuck her head out and yelled, “Help!”
But the sight that awaited her was every bit as strange as the visions she’d had. Suzanne and Carla were sitting at the nurse’s station with their heads slumped over folded arms, like they’d laid down for a nap right on top of their charts. Further down the narrow corridor, Dr. Martin lay on his back in the middle of the hallway, mouth open as he snored. Alarms blared from rooms on all sides, but there was no movement, no one responding.
What the hell?
On the opposite side of the square counter stood two strangers, seemingly the only conscious people on the floor. One was a woman with hair so pale it was nearly white, hanging in a long ponytail down her back. Her partner was a tall, broad-shouldered man with reddish-blonde hair pulled into a short ponytail. And they were both staring at her.
“There,” the woman said pointing in her direction. Gabby’s heart stopped dead in her chest as the white-haired woman lunged around the counter for her.
Something yanked her back by the collar. Her heart pounded as Tarek spun her around and kicked the door shut. Bending so that he was on eye level, he gripped her shoulders. “We don’t have time for any more silliness,” he said. “You must trust me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Adrenaline surged through Tarek’s veins. The spark of magic in his core crackled and burned as the dragon within stirred. There was a phantom twitch across his back, as if his wings were already bursting through the skin.
The two newcomers across the hall had to be Kadirai dragon-shifters like him. Their magic permeated the air, thick and electric.
Tarek was woefully underprepared. Teeth and claws were the only weapons he’d brought with him, and unless he transformed right here, he didn’t even have that. He would definitely have the advantage of strength in his dragon form, but he’d be also be penned in with the low ceilings and narrow corridors. And that was assuming he survived the transformation without one of the newcomers taking advantage of his vulnerability while in transition.
No, he’d have to be clever and quick.
Tarek looked back at Gabrielle. She was frozen, staring at him with wide eyes. He could smell the fear on her. Guilt gripped him as he scanned her. He had no intention of saying so, but he’d sacrifice her in a second to rescue Ashariah. But the thought of seeing her come to harm twisted his guts into a knot. There was a warrior’s soul in her, and he would not see her die if he could help it.
“Gabrielle,” he said evenly as he backed up against the door to brace himself. She jumped at the sound of his voice. “Those people are here to hurt her. Probably to finish what they began. Do you want that to happen?”
She shook her head rapidly. “Of course not. Did they…” she took a shuddering breath. “Did they kill everyone?”
“I don’t think so,” Tarek said. “But they will kill her if they get in here. So I need you to unhook those things and help me get her out of here.” The door shook at his back as something pounded against it. The jolt ran up his spine. The burning spark flared brighter as the dragon stirred, eager for the fight.
“I can’t…we have to…she needs this,” Gabrielle stammered. She made a sweeping gesture toward the machinery.
“Can she breathe on her own?”
Gabrielle looked at the machine. “It’s only providing pressure support, but I’m not sure what will happen if we—”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” Tarek said. “She’s not like you. She’ll heal fast. And I trust you to take care of her.” He’d intended to inspire confidence, but judging by the way her golden skin went ashen, it hadn’t had the desired effect. “Get the bare essentials and be ready to move.”
As he stood with his back to the door, it occurred to him that he did have a cell phone. He could call Shazakh and order him to come for backup, but even if the younger dragon flew at breakneck speed, it would take hours to get here.
The door jolted again. This time Tarek spun away from it. It had been years since he had worn the mantle of the Adamant Guard, but time had not dulled his instincts. His affection for Ashariah and his fleeting lust for the human woman evaporated like smoke in the face of cold, calculating duty. He yanked the door open to find the white-haired woman on the other side. Tarek snapped his elbow up and into her face. As she reeled, he planted his foot in her belly and sent her stumbling backward into the nurse’s station.
Blood roared in his ears as he assessed the situation. Half a dozen humans lay prone, but he didn’t smell death. The Ironflight intruders must have used an enchantment to lull them to sleep.
Someone seized Tarek’s arm, planted a hand in his back, and hurled him bodily into the wall. As his face smashed painfully into the drywall, he squinted over his locked shoulder to see the red-haired man.
Tarek twisted against the arm bar, turning the joints in his arm nearly to a snapping point, and managed to grab the man’s throat with his free hand. With Tarek’s fingers digging into his delicate windpipe, the other man made an urk sound. His grip on Tarek’s arm loosened.
Rage bubbled in Tarek’s gut as he tackled the other man, wrapping his arms around his neck. Wi
th his hand tangled in the man’s hair and pushing his head forward, he only had to apply enough force to snap the other man’s neck. His primal instincts were clear. Kill or be killed. Remove the threat. He repositioned himself so he had more leverage to break through the spine.
Over the Ironflight male’s shoulder, Tarek saw the white-haired woman finally regain her footing. Blood streamed from her nose, over her full lips and onto the white blouse she wore. Her hand came up with a gun. It wasn’t like in the movies, though. She didn’t demand her companion’s release or make a pithy comment. She simply aimed and pulled the trigger. Thunder cracked, and white-hot pain ripped through his leg. There was another crack, and another lance of searing pain in his side.
Tarek grunted, his muscles seizing involuntarily at the pain. The other man shook him off and reached into his jacket. With no weapons and no room to transform, Tarek couldn’t face off against two gun-wielding attackers. He was a warrior, but he wasn’t bulletproof.
Instead of going after either of them, Tarek shoved the red-haired man into his partner and darted back into the hospital room. Gabrielle was standing over Ashariah, carefully laying the fluid-filled bags on the princess’s chest. Her hands trembled as she disconnected a wire from a beeping monitor. “Shut up!” she told it. “I hear you, dammit.”
“Is she ready?” Tarek said. The pain of the two bullets was catching up to him, throbbing in time with his racing heart. Wet heat streamed down his side. He shouldn’t have hesitated when he saw the gun. He should have snapped the bastard’s neck when he had the chance. Stupid.
“I guess. I mean, what the hell is happening?”
“No time,” Tarek said. He limped past her, grabbed the metal pole with the beeping monitors, and swung it like a club into the plate glass window. The glass splintered away from the blow in a spiderweb pattern. Gabrielle shrieked in surprise, but she instinctively shielded Ashariah, spreading herself out and covering the princess’s face. Tarek swung it again, and the glass exploded outward. Thank the Skymother that the emergency room was on the first floor. He dove outside onto the glass-littered sidewalk and released the tension that had been building, allowing the dragon to take over.
Finally.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Until now, Gabby had never understood the fainting response in movies. Things had gotten progressively weirder, but she’d been able to process it until just now. Weird hallucinations, gun-toting attackers, fine. Hell, watching Tarek shatter the safety glass and jump out hadn’t even fazed her. But when he threw his head back, his amber eyes burning with their own internal flame, and began to…change? That was about as much as she could take.
Her head pounded, and she felt like the ground dropped out from under her. It was only sheer stubbornness that kept her on her feet as she watched him transform.
Bluish-white light swirled around him. His handsome face seemed to split open as his skull elongated into the huge horned head of a dragon. His clothing ripped apart across his broadening frame, falling to the ground in shreds of leather and denim. He went from standing upright to crouching on all fours. Bone snapped and swelled. Through the veil of light, she could see his face contorted with agony. If she’d asked him about his pain level with her handy little chart, he’d be at a ten, no doubt. There was a sound like fabric snapping in the wind as broad wings unfurled from his back.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What had she stumbled into?
“Here,” Tarek said. His voice was a deep growl, a rich sound like a lion purring into a pipe organ. He was absolutely beautiful, like a sculpture come to life. His whole body was covered in jewel-like blue scales. Where his strong hands had been, there were now broad, razor-sharp claws at the end of muscular, scaled limbs. Running from the top of his head to the end of a long, swishing tail were spiked ridges.
Her gaze fell on his back left leg, which was punctured and oozing red. His blood was bright against the blue scales.
“Huh?”
“To me!” Tarek bellowed. His voice shook the remaining fragments of glass from the window frame. They fell tinkling to the ground.
The door to the hospital room flew open, revealing their two attackers. The woman was bloody-faced, and the man looked furious. The woman shouted something in a harsh language. Tarek roared back in response. The thunderous sound left Gabby’s ears ringing.
The white-haired woman’s eyes went wide as she took in the sight of the dragon at the window. Clearly, she hadn’t been prepared for the whole dragon thing, either.
Tarek bellowed something else, but the words were buried in the rumbling growl. He reached one limb through the window and planted his claws on her shoulder. Her knees buckled under the weight. Her eyes widened at the sight of the sharp, black talon pressing hard into the white canvas of her coat. She started to protest, but as she looked up, his head poked through the window. His eyes glowed blue, and an icy wind whipped around her. Glass shattered, and thunder roared as machinery went flying. She squeezed her eyes shut as shards of glass from the broken window flew around her like jagged hail.
When the wind died down, Tarek set her back on her feet. She opened her eyes to see the room looking as if a tornado had blown through. But there was no sign of the white-haired woman or her companion. She turned to Tarek, who was making a strangely human come here gesture with one curved claw. He growled, then closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was still loud and deep, but clear. “Bring her.”
She didn’t question it, just kicked the locking mechanisms free on Jane Doe’s bed and pushed her toward the window. Tarek moved his head, and then stuck in one big arm. He scooped Jane Doe off the bed, pressing her tight to his massive chest.
He backed away from the window. Gabrielle started to follow, but she realized he was unfurling his wings, ready to take to the sky. Without her.
She wasn’t sure why, but it stung. This was utterly insane, but apparently it wasn’t a fairytale. He wasn’t going to sweep her off her feet and carry her away to something exciting.
“Where will you go?” she called out the window.
He growled again in response. “Can you help?”
She nodded. She didn’t want trouble, but she wanted Jane Doe to be safe. And she sure didn’t want to be here to take the brunt of their attackers’ frustration when they recovered. And if she quit living in denial, then she could admit she wanted to see him again, if for no other reason than to find out what the hell was going on.
“I cannot carry you both,” Tarek said. “Meet me?”
“Call me,” Gabby said. How ridiculous was it to tell a dragon to call her? She leaned toward the window and gestured to him. He came closer, and she grabbed the edge of Jane Doe’s hospital gown. Taking a marker from her pocket, she scrawled her cell number on the hem of the gown. His head tilted as she wrote.
“You should leave,” Tarek said. “They will harm you to get to me.”
Gabby nodded. “Be careful.”
He bowed his head to her. Even in the dragon form, his huge eyes were still that dark honey shade. They bored into her as he spoke, sending a thrill of heat down her spine. “I am grateful.” There was something noble about him. Maybe it had been there all along, but she’d been distracted by the whole kidnapper vibe.
He turned in place, crouched, then launched himself into the sky with his powerful back legs. As he rose, his wings spread and caught the air. Then to her surprise, he faded, his form masked by a shimmering mirage. If she hadn’t seen him go up, she’d never have known he was there. Her eyes followed the shimmering silhouette for several seconds, until she realized what was happening.
As he disappeared from sight, the magic of the moment evaporated. She slammed back to reality, where alarms were shrieking and her heart was pounding.
She had to go.
Gabby hurried to the door and peeked out. Both of their attackers lay on the ground. Propping herself up on one shaking arm, the woman patted the man’s face, trying to wake him. Gabby took a tentative step o
ut the door, but the movement caught the woman’s eye. Her head snapped up, silver eyes narrowing as she got up to follow Gabby.
Oh hell. Her feet pounded on the linoleum, her ears ringing from the echoing alarms. Please don’t shoot me, she prayed as she ran for the double doors that connected the unit to the rest of the hospital. Just inside the doors was a familiar red box. She looked over her shoulder, then yanked the fire alarm to bring security running.
Her mind raced, her heart thumping as she froze at the double doors. Her mind screamed, run run run, but her feet were rooted to the grungy tile. Alarms blared all around, each one the sound of a patient who was in peril with all of the staff apparently knocked unconscious or worse.
Gabby stole a glance over her shoulder. Now the man was on his feet. The pair split, one coming around the nurse’s station from each direction. She bolted into the closest room. She yanked the door closed behind her, scanning the room with frantic eyes. The patient in the angled bed was a teenage girl named Laura who’d been in a three car collision. Her mother sat in a wooden chair, her head lolled back. Instinctively, Gabby ran to Laura’s side and inspected the monitors.
Over her years of taking care of her chronically ill baby sister and years of residency, she’d learned how to default to cold, calculated logic. Panic had never once helped her sister Anna during an episode, and it would never help Gabby take care of a patient. Assess, plan, and execute.
She watched the monitors. Laura had sustained a head injury, and had a drain in her skull to relieve the intracranial pressure. The pressure was climbing to dangerous levels, and her blood pressure with it. Respiration was rapid, but oxygen saturation was fine. Her heart rate was climbing too, bouncing erratically. Even unconscious, her body registered pain and reacted to it. Gabby turned on her heel, focusing on each step ahead.
Glove up.
Turn off the alarm to give her some quiet.
Holy shit there are dragons.
Not now.
