by Zoe Chant
Roy glanced around the room quickly, before his eyes fell on Dante where he sat.
“Ah, yes,” he said. He was speaking to Mercy, but his eyes didn’t leave Dante’s face. “Now I remember – you did say you had company.”
“Yes, I do,” Mercy said smoothly. “If you’ll take a seat, we can get started on the proposals.”
“Yes, I’d like that,” Roy said. “I don’t have a lot of time. But before we get started, Mercy, I think there’s something you should know. And it concerns your... company.”
“My company?” Mercy blinked. “You mean Dante?”
Dante narrowed his eyes. Roy was looking at him again, his expression cold and calculating. “Yes, that’s right. I’d leave it, but I don’t think this can wait.”
I do not like him.
Dante’s dragon spoke up, smoke curling around its mouth. It had been quiet for most of the morning – content after the night Dante and Mercy had spent together. But now, it was back, its green eyes narrowed, teeth bared.
“If it concerns me, then no, I’d rather not wait either,” Dante said, standing and crossing the room. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders tensing, regardless of the fact he knew he should stay calm.
Just what the hell is up here?
“I’d hoped to talk to Mercy about this alone, but...” Roy glanced at Mercy, as if to ascertain that she wanted Dante to stay.
Mercy was frowning, but she shook her head. “Roy, if you have something to say either to or about Dante, then you can say it to his face. I’m not having any games here.”
“Of course.” Roy seemed unruffled. “Well. Maybe it’s for the best anyway. I’d hate to accuse a man of something while he’s not here to defend himself, or to make an accusation of something sinister that actually has a harmless explanation.”
Dante felt his pulse pick up. He opened his mouth to ask Roy what he meant, but he had a feeling he knew already. And in any case, Mercy beat him to the punch.
“Roy, I said I didn’t want any games here,” she said, her voice low and warning. “Say plainly what you mean. Just what are you accusing Dante of?”
“Perhaps ‘accuse’ was the wrong word,” Roy replied. “Perhaps I’m merely seeking an explanation.”
“Well, tell me what you need an explanation for, and I’ll see if I have one,” Dante said.
He already knew what Roy was going to say – what he’d been hinting at ever since he walked in through the door.
My criminal record.
That was the only thing it could be. Clearly, Roy had been suspicious enough of him after their first meeting to go and dig up his arrest records. It couldn’t have been easy considering that he had no birth certificate, no identification. Nothing by which the police had been able to verify who he was, so he’d been entered in the system as a John Doe. But Dante had no doubt that with enough motivation, someone could dig up the records.
Dante also knew that if he tried to cover up what Roy was about to say or attempted to force him to leave so he could talk to Mercy on his own, it would only make things worse. Mercy would be right to be suspicious of what he was trying to avoid talking about.
He had tried to tell her this morning over breakfast about his past – he had wanted to be frank with her immediately now that they had spent the night together. But then the phone had rung, and he had decided it could wait. Mercy didn’t need the distraction of an emotional conversation right before her important meeting with Roy.
I should have told her last night.
Well, he couldn’t change that. He could only face up to things now, and hope that Mercy trusted him enough – knew him enough – to see that he’d changed. They were connected in their souls, after all. That’s what the mated bond was.
Even if she needed time, he’d give it to her.
Roy quirked an eyebrow at him as if surprised, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out several folded pieces of paper.
“I always like to know who I’m dealing with,” he said. “I don’t do business with people I haven’t thoroughly vetted first. That’s the kind of guy I am – everything done above board, everything done honestly. So you can see why I’d be concerned. Not just for my sake, but for Mercy’s. I want her to know exactly who she’s dealing with as well.”
He laid the papers out on the table in front of them.
They weren’t anything Dante hadn’t seen before. His mugshot, still clearly him even though it had obviously been run through a fax machine, followed by the record of his arrest and what crimes he’d been charged with. But despite the fact he knew it all like the back of his hand, looking at it now still felt like cold concrete being poured into his belly.
It was a reminder of the man he’d once been. Of the man he’d been forced to be by the manticores. Of the crimes he’d been made to commit. Of the life he’d led before Darklis and Liev had rescued him, and given him another chance.
He’d done his time for the crimes he’d committed, but he still hadn’t been able to leave that life. The manticores had been waiting for him once he’d gotten out, and he’d had nowhere else to go. If Darklis hadn’t shown up when she had, Dante had no doubt he would have been sucked back into the same life of crime as before he’d been in prison.
Mercy picked up the paper, her hand trembling, her eyes staring down at Dante’s photograph.
“This... this doesn’t have your name on it,” she said, her voice shaking. She looked up at Roy, her eyes wide. “It looks like Dante, but that doesn’t mean it’s –”
“It’s me, Mercy.”
It did not even cross Dante’s mind to deny it – that would have made him no different from the man he’d once been. It was impossible for him to be anything other than honest about it now.
As he should have been from the start, he realized. He had been concerned that Mercy wouldn’t accept his help if she knew about where he’d come from, and that he wouldn’t be able to protect her. As he’d gotten to know her, he’d begun to understand that Mercy wasn’t that kind of woman. She wouldn’t judge him for a past he’d left behind and was struggling to make up for.
But it was too late now. The only thing he could do now was explain his reasons to Mercy honestly, and hope that she understood.
“I wanted to tell you,” he said. “I was about to tell you this morning when you got the phone call from Roy. I never intended to hide it from you – but I was concerned that you may not accept my protection if you knew right away.”
Mercy was staring up at him, her eyes wide. She blinked as if she couldn’t comprehend the words he was saying. “But – I –”
She broke off, looking down at his mugshot again.
Dante swallowed. He truly looked like a dangerous man in the photograph – his eyes were cold, his mouth set in a firm, grim line. He couldn’t remember what he’d been thinking at the time, but he could remember what he’d thought when he’d been sentenced: Thank God.
He knew prison was hardly going to be a picnic, but he knew it’d be a time when he didn’t have to deal with the manticores. He was used to doing what he was told and keeping his head down, so that part of prison wasn’t a problem for him. He’d defended himself when needed and looked out for some of the weaker prisoners who’d been getting picked on, and other than that, had kept himself to himself.
“I did my time, Mercy, and I decided I didn’t want to be that person anymore,” Dante said. “I’ve left that life behind. That’s part of the reason I came to Hainesville in the first place – to try to make up for the things I’ve done.”
“How touching.”
Roy’s smooth, cynical voice made Dante’s shoulders tense up – and inside him, he could feel his dragon’s hackles rise. Roy’s mouth was quirked into a half-smile, but his eyes were cold.
“Nonetheless, you see my dilemma here. I do my business by the book, and I need to know that the people I’m dealing with are... honest.”
Dante felt anger rising within him, but at the
same time, he grudgingly had to admit that Roy had a point. No one was obligated to give him a second chance or to believe he’d changed. Roy didn’t know him from any other guy on the street. He had no way of knowing that Dante was sincere in his desire to reform.
“When did you find this out, Roy?”
Mercy’s voice was small and strained. Everything in Dante wanted to reach for her, his dragon shifting restlessly at the idea that his mate could be hurting. But he knew he couldn’t do that – not until he’d made sure the air between them was clear.
“I got this emailed to me this morning,” Roy said. “Just before I came over here. I asked my people to do some checks. They’re fast.”
No kidding, Dante thought.
“And you couldn’t wait to come racing over here to show me.” Mercy’s voice was flat, her eyes downcast. Her lips were set in a grim line.
Her words apparently weren’t what Roy was expecting to hear, since he raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Mercy, I thought you’d want to know, since –”
“I need some space.” Mercy cut him off, her voice still flat. “You need to leave.”
The stab of pain through Dante’s heart was intense. His dragon reared up, claws flaying the air. Leave? We cannot leave! Our mate needs us!
Right now, what our mate needs is space, Dante told it. That’s what she needs.
“I can give you some time to think, Mercy,” he said, his voice quiet, though the pain throbbing through it was obvious even to his own ears. “I should have told you sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t. But know that I’ll be here for you, always. You only need to call to me, and I’ll be there. Remember that.”
Mercy’s dark eyes darted up to his, before she looked away once more, squeezing them shut. For a moment, Dante imagined he could feel the beat of her heart alongside his own, feel the pain that squeezed it.
She didn’t answer him.
More than anything, Dante wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he knew that wasn’t what she needed right now. She needed time to think, to sort through her feelings. He knew he had to give it to her, and trust that she could feel their bond inside her.
“You’ve made the right choice, Mercy,” Roy said. “Let me know if you want me to get him out of he—”
“Both of you need to leave.” Mercy cut him off once more. “I want to be by myself. I said I need to think.”
Again, this didn’t seem to be the answer Roy had been expecting. His brows knitted together, his face darkening before he got his expression under control.
“I understand, Mercy,” he said. “This is a shock. It’s always a shock when people don’t turn out to be who we think they are.” His eyes swung to Dante’s face, hovering there for a long moment. “I’ve become hardened to it, after working in this business for so long. I don’t expect people to be honest. But I know you’re not like that – and I hope you know my offer still stands. It wasn’t your fault you were tricked.”
He took a business card from his jacket pocket, placing it down on the table next to Dante’s mugshot.
“Come by when you’re ready. But take all the time you need.”
Mercy didn’t answer him. She simply sat down heavily in the booth, looking down at the table in front of her.
Dante knew he should leave – that was what Mercy had said she wanted, and he was bound to obey his mate. But he couldn’t go before Roy had left. Something in him wouldn’t allow it. He might have understood Roy’s reasoning, but that didn’t mean he trusted him.
As if reading his mind, Roy smirked slightly, shaking his head. He turned away, going to the door of the restaurant and opening it, sparing Dante one final glance before he exited.
Swallowing, Dante looked down at Mercy once more. His dragon, not understanding, roared at him to comfort her, to take her in his arms and tell her that he would always be here for her – that he would protect her from anything and everything that might cause her harm. That he would always be here to wipe away her tears and whisper to her until her fears were calmed.
But his dragon couldn’t understand that sometimes humans were more complicated than that. Only his human side could deal with this situation. Gritting his teeth, Dante forced himself to turn away from Mercy, even as his dragon howled at him to stay.
The last thing he needed was to run into Roy outside – he wasn’t sure he could trust his fists not to slam themselves into his smug face if he saw him again – so he headed for the restaurant kitchen door, planning to leave via the back.
He paused momentarily when he reached the door, looking back over his shoulder. Mercy hadn’t looked up.
“I meant what I said, Mercy. Any time.” The words lefts his lips before he could stop them, though Mercy didn’t give any indication of having heard them.
Forcing himself to turn away once more, Dante left the dining area and found his way through the kitchen to the back door.
Out in the cool air, Dante took a deep breath. His dragon was restless within him, teeth bared, smoke rising from its jaws.
Why? Why have we left our mate when she needs us?
Please trust me on this, Dante told it. If she needs us, she’ll tell us. But for now, she needs to think.
What is there to think about? We’re mates. We should never be apart.
Despite everything, Dante hesitated. Was it possible his dragon was right? Last night, Mercy had told him she wanted to be alone, but he’d been able to sense that it was fear of looking weak that had made her say that, and not how she’d actually felt.
He hadn’t wanted to push her, of course, or ignore what she said, but he’d also known that he could comfort her in a way that only her mate could.
Was his dragon right after all?
Dante paused, on the verge of returning to the diner. He didn’t want to offer Mercy excuses for his past – there were none – but this wasn’t about him. This was about making sure Mercy had someone to care for her. He could still feel the pain and confusion in her heart as if it were his own.
His head was so filled with thoughts of Mercy that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late – or until the tip of the blade was digging into his side.
Dante’s dragon roared in fury. Who dares to keep us from our mate?
Snarling, Dante balled his fists, ready to swing around and bury them in the face of the man behind him. The man could shove the knife into his side before he could raise his hand, but Dante wasn’t concerned about being injured – he knew he could survive a stab wound. But to his surprise, his body felt sluggish, as if his muscles wouldn’t listen to his brain.
What – what is this –
“I wouldn’t try it, if I were you.”
The man’s voice was lazily cruel and somehow oddly familiar, though Dante found that he couldn’t focus enough to place it.
“I’ve only jabbed you with the tip of the knife, but believe me when I say things could get a lot worse for you if you kick up a fuss. Got it?”
His head swimming, Dante glanced down at where the knife pressed into his side. It was a long, serrated hunting blade, but there was something different about this one. The metal of the blade was black, but it had a strange, iridescent sheen, like nothing he’d ever seen before.
“Carbon steel, treated with dragonsbane,” came the voice from behind him, sounding smug. “Now that we know what you are, we know how to deal with you.”
Dragonsbane.
Dante knew what that was, of course. Even the manticores had seen fit to make sure he knew about it.
There were only two substances in the world that a dragon feared: manticore venom and dragonsbane.
Even a dragon’s fast healing couldn’t counter the powerful venom that dripped from a manticore’s scorpion tail, and a bad enough wound spelled death even for the most powerful dragon.
But dragonsbane was something else altogether. It wasn’t deadly on its own, but a dose of it would temporarily render a dragon power
less. Metal treated with dragonsbane had been used in the past to chain dragons and keep them from shifting or healing, or even to put them under the control of a human master.
Dante growled, allowing his dragon to come to the forefront of his mind.
Do they think this will stop us? his dragon roared out, spreading its wings, fury coursing through every sinew. They cannot stop us from protecting our mate!
Marshaling all of his strength, Dante forced himself to jerk away from the man with the knife, feeling the metal pierce his side even deeper. He ignored the pain that shot through him, willing his muscles to move through the sluggishness that gripped them.
“It’s too late,” the man barked, laughing. “The dragonsbane is in your blood now – and believe me, I made sure that knife was coated in it. You’ll be lucky if you last another thirty seconds before it’s lights out.”
No. No.
Dante reached into himself, trying to find his dragon. Right now, he didn’t care that shifting in an alleyway in the middle of town wasn’t the best idea – the only thing he cared about was Mercy and making sure she was safe.
But it seemed the more he searched for his dragon, the more elusive it became. He had had difficulty shifting before, when the manticores hadn’t let him have contact with his pendant. But this was different. This was as if his dragon was actively hiding from him, as if it didn’t want to be found.
“Asshole –” he managed to get out through his gritted teeth. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He didn’t need to shift to take this guy down.
Forcing himself to move, Dante charged forward, swinging his fist and feeling the satisfying impact against the man’s face. He heard the man grunt in pain as he staggered.
Keep going. Keep going.
Dante surged forward once again, his fists finding the man’s chest and face. He wouldn’t stop. He’d never stop. Not until Mercy was out of harm’s way.
“Hey you shitheads – don’t just stand there, help me with this asshole.”
The man’s voice rang out, calling to his friends.
Dante felt pain searing through him as the man lunged at him, burying the knife in his shoulder.