Bound to the Dragon

by Zoe Chant

  But as fast as he was, he still wasn’t fast enough.

  No human could be, when fighting a dragon.

  Dante dropped low, swinging his leg out and sweeping the second man’s feet out from under him. He came down hard on his shoulder, his head cracking against the asphalt. He groaned, rolling over slightly, but it was clear he was stunned.

  Just one left, Dante thought, as he rose to his feet once more – before a sudden, piercing pain shot through his side, making him gasp.

  “Fucking prick – just who the hell are you?”

  Even before he felt the knife slide out of him and the blood begin to course down his side, Dante knew he’d been stabbed. He’d felt this pain before – not that that made it any nicer.

  His dragon reared up in anger, fury blazing in its eyes.

  How dare this human hurt us?

  Gritting his teeth against the pain as he moved back, putting some distance between himself and the knife-wielding heavy, Dante pushed the dragon back down. Even wounded, he was still a match for any human. He couldn’t let the dragon’s rage and fury take him over.

  Quickly, he let the dragon’s senses run over his body to assess the damage.

  If he’d been human, he’d be in deep trouble right now – the knife had gone deep into his side, and clearly, the heavy had known just where to put it. He could already feel the burn of his accelerated healing kicking in, so his life wasn’t in any danger. But still, this was far from good.

  Shit.

  Clearly, these guys meant business. But two of them were already down – all he had to do was take this last one out, threaten them and tell them to stay away from Mercy’s Kitchen, and then he could limp off to sleep and heal.

  “What the fuck.”

  Dante took a sharp breath at the sound of the voice. He watched in disbelief as the first man he’d taken down staggered to his feet, shaking his head.

  The blow he’d given him should have put him down for the count, Dante thought. He’d done it dozens of times before, and it’d never failed. It’d been the way he could always be sure of taking someone out of action without causing them any permanent harm. But this guy had shaken it off as if he’d done nothing more than slap him.

  Are these guys really human?

  Dante stared at them as all three of them glowered at him, faces distorted and furious in the low light of the alley.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, Batman or something?” one of them growled. “You think you’re some kind of vigilante superhero?”

  The man who’d stabbed him brandished his knife. “I got him a good one. Check it out – he’s bleeding.”

  Dante knew it was true – the blood from the wound in his side was beginning to drip down onto the asphalt now.

  He’d need to finish this fast.

  Growling, he squared his shoulders, allowing his dragon to come forward. He’d need its strength, its fury, to take these men down.

  “Fuck him up,” the lead heavy said. “Maybe he’s not a vigilante – maybe the bitch hired him as protection. We better make it clear that that’s not fucking on.”

  The men crouched, hands in front of them. They were clearly waiting for him to bleed out – and then, they were going to pounce.

  Well, he’d surprise them, Dante decided. They thought it was nothing but a waiting game. Little did they know –

  “Just what the hell is going on out here?”

  Dante jerked in surprise as the side door of Mercy’s Kitchen was suddenly flung open, and a strong female voice rang out through the close confines of the alley.

  Light flooded out of the restaurant, and for a moment, it was all Dante could see – the light, and the silhouette of the woman who stood in the doorway.

  He’d fucked this up – he’d hoped he could get this taken care of without disturbing or frightening her.

  Protect her! She’s in danger! his dragon roared, its wings widening as it fought to rise to the surface of his mind.

  Forcefully, Dante pushed it back down – if he shifted now, as useful as it would be in fighting the heavies, he’d also most likely scare the woman half to death.

  But now that she was here, Dante used her presence and his need to protect her to put more fire into his belly and strengthen himself for the fight.

  Power surged through him. The dragon’s strength was immense, and with it he was able to ignore the pain of the stab wound in his side.

  I just have to get rid of them. Then I can escape and heal.

  Roaring, he charged forward, clearly catching the men who thought he’d be too injured to fight well off their guard.

  The knife was his first priority. He knew how to disarm a man – gently and not-gently. In this case, he opted for the not. There was too much at stake for him to risk it. Reaching past the knife, he grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting, and felt the bones crunch beneath his fingers. The man let out a howl of pain as the knife clattered to the ground at his feet. Dante let him go before raising his foot to kick him in the knee, and the man tumbled over, before beginning to crawl away.

  One down.

  Dante didn’t pause. He swung his fist into the next man’s jaw, hearing the crack as it connected. The man staggered back, clearly stunned, before tripping over his friend lying on the ground beside him.

  “Fuck this shit – I thought this was supposed to be an easy job,” the third man muttered, eyeing Dante warily. His fists were still raised, but he clearly didn’t want to end up like his friends. Daring to take his eyes off Dante – if only for a moment – he glanced down at the two groaning men on the ground.

  “Situation’s changed,” he barked. “This isn’t the job we signed up for. We’re getting out of here.”

  “That’s right – you’d better run, you pieces of shit!”

  Again, the strong female voice rang out. Dante glanced over at her in surprise – she didn’t sound frightened in the least. Still, he couldn’t have her putting herself in danger like this.

  “Stay back –” he started to say, but he didn’t get far.

  “And you tell your shitty boss that no means no, do you hear me?” The woman had come out into the alley now, gesturing wildly as she shouted. She was holding something in her hand – A big hammer? Dante thought, mystified, from the glimpse of it he caught from the corner of his eye.

  The last remaining heavy sneered, his eyes glinting in the low light. “Don’t count on it, Mercy,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “You’ll fall into line, or you’ll see what happens. Just who do you think you’re fucking with? You think hiring some muscle is going to stop us?”

  “I don’t need hired muscle to stop you,” the woman yelled, brandishing her hammer-thing again. “Get the fuck out of here, I mean it – and don’t let me catch you here again, understand?”

  The man glowered at her a moment longer, lips pulled into an ugly sneer, but then he crouched, lifting his friend’s arm and slinging it over his shoulder, pulling him to his feet. The third man staggered up, massaging his jaw where Dante had hit him.

  “Don’t think we’ll forget this, Mercy,” he growled as he backed away down the alley. He turned his hard gaze on Dante. “And you, whoever the fuck you are – don’t think we’ll forget you either. You better pray you never see us again.”

  Dante stood, bristling, until the men had backed away down the alley and disappeared from sight. He wanted to go after them and finish the job he’d started, but he felt rooted to the spot. The woman still stood at his side, her shoulders tense, jaw set. He could practically sense the tension that radiated from her body – and, now that the crisis was over, the fear.

  He owed her an apology, he supposed. He’d hoped to dispose of the men without her knowing, but he’d failed. Clearly, she and the men had history. She might be able to give him some useful information about them, but that could come later.

  “I –” he started to say.

  “And just who the hell do you think you are?” the woman said, r
ounding on him. “Do you think I can’t sort out my own problems? I didn’t ask for your help – I don’t need anyone else getting involved in this. Understand?”

  Dante blinked as he looked down at her. She was over a foot shorter than him and barely cleared his chest, but something about the fiery energy in her eyes took him aback. She stood in front of him, her hands on her curvaceous hips. Even in the low light of the alley, he could see her eyes were large and brown, ringed by thick, dark lashes, and the scowl on her lips couldn’t disguise their soft fullness. Her dark, ringleted hair was falling out of its bun, framing her heart-shaped face, with its wide cheeks and pointed, determined chin.

  She’s beautiful, Dante thought, the realization striking him hard enough to leave him feeling stunned.

  Or maybe that was the blood loss.

  Suddenly remembering the wound in his side, he lifted his hand to it, trying to compress it. Pain lanced through him and he sucked in a short, quick breath, grimacing.

  “I’m sorry,” he managed to get out. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble – really. I just saw them and thought you might need some help.” He pulled his hand away from his side, his fingers sticky with blood. It hurt, but he’d be all right in a couple of hours – less, if he could sleep through the healing process. “I’ll get out of your –”

  “Is that blood? Holy shit – you need to get to a hospital!”

  The woman’s tone was strident, but Dante when looked up at her face he saw her eyes were wide with shock.

  He shook his head. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said. “I don’t need a hospital, I promise you. He just nicked me a little.”

  It didn’t feel good to lie, but if he went to a hospital they’d see how quickly the wound was healing, and then the jig would be up, and they’d know there was something weird about him. The manticores who had raised him had always told him that if he ever went to the cops or any other human for help, they’d think he was a freak and lock him up to do experiments on him. As a kid, it had been enough to scare him off the idea for good.

  “That amount of blood does not come out of a nick,” the woman said, advancing on him.

  Dante took a step back. “Really, I’ve caused you enough trouble for one night –”

  “Oh, so you think I’m just going to let you bleed to death outside my restaurant? Don’t be so stupid. I have enough problems without giving the cops a reason to sniff around – especially since they’re all in Garrick’s back pocket. Now get inside, and try not to drip blood on my floor – I just mopped. I’m calling you an ambulance whether you like it or not.”

  Dante swallowed. He couldn’t go inside with this woman, and he couldn’t let her call an ambulance. But there was something about her voice that made him feel compelled to do what she said – something within him that burned to please her. His dragon, which would usually take umbrage at being ordered around in this way, was silent within him, its head lowered, wings folded.

  What’s happening here? Dante wondered, feeling dazed. He had vowed he’d never let anyone order him around ever again – he’d decide for himself what was wrong and right now.

  “Come on now,” the woman said, her voice softening considerably. “I don’t like to yell at an injured man – and I don’t take no for an answer, not when it comes to something like this. So don’t argue, just come inside.”

  She reached out to him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, presumably to urge him inside. She said something else, her voice coaxing, but Dante could barely hear her.

  His ears were suddenly filled by the sound of his dragon’s roar as it reared up inside him, suddenly rampant once more.

  Our mate. She is our mate!

  Dante blinked, wondering if the blood loss was getting to him after all.

  This beautiful, brave, fiery woman? She was his mate?

  It didn’t seem possible.

  “Come on, big guy,” she said, and now, her voice was soft as silk. “Let’s get you inside, and look at that cut.”

  She’s my mate.

  Dante knew it was true. There was no point in questioning it or trying to deny it. He knew it with all of his soul. This woman was his mate.

  Too stunned to argue with her anymore, Dante let himself be led inside.

  Chapter Two

  Mercy

  “This is the thing you were telling me was no big deal? This gaping stab wound in your side??”

  Putting the meat tenderizer she’d grabbed aside, Mercy Reynolds urged the injured man to lie down on the row of plastic chairs that were in a corner of her restaurant’s kitchen.

  At least the guy had the decency to give Mercy a sheepish look over his shoulder as she pulled up his shirt. She’d expected to have to drag him in, but he’d been surprisingly steady on his feet for someone who’d just had a knife stuck in him.

  “It’s not as bad as it –”

  Mercy shook her head, cutting him off. “I don’t want to hear it!”

  And it was true – she didn’t. She’d heard enough stupidity from men trying to act tough when they were moments away from bleeding to death. After all, before she’d opened up her restaurant she’d worked as a nurse for ten years, in a town where most people’s definition of a good Friday night was getting drunk and getting into a fight. Ten years, and then she couldn’t stand it anymore, seeing the same men and boys coming in week after week, with stab and gunshot wounds and drug overdoses. Usually it was guys she’d known since elementary school. She’d been so angry at them for throwing their lives away by being so stupid – but then, this was Hainesville, and for those who didn’t get out, there was no reason to think they could expect anything better.

  There’d been only so much her heart could take.

  Mercy swallowed down the sudden sick feeling that rose up in her throat.

  No, I’ve seen this too many times. I won’t see it again.

  “I’m calling 911, like it or not,” she said.

  Reaching across the bench, she grabbed a pair of the disposable gloves she used for food, snapping them on with practiced ease before grabbing a clean towel from the shelf and pressing it against his wound, applying pressure to limit the bleeding. She narrowed her eyes as she took in what he was wearing: old t-shirt, ragged jeans. He didn’t look like the type who’d have insurance.

  Which isn’t my problem, Mercy told herself resolutely. I’m not getting involved again.

  “I swear, I don’t need an ambulance,” the man said again, and this time, Mercy could hear something that bordered on desperation in his voice. “And I swear, I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

  Mercy shook her head again. “You’ll cause me a lot more trouble if you don’t let me get you to a hospital,” she said. She frowned, already knowing she’d regret her next words. “If you don’t want an ambulance, then let me drive you. Just let me get this bleeding stopped.”

  The guy grimaced. He still seemed reluctant – and Mercy thought she knew why.

  “If you’re worried that Garrick’s men will find you there, you should’ve thought of that before you started throwing your fists around,” she said. She felt sick saying it, but what else could she do? She hadn’t asked this guy to come charging in like a knight in shining armor! He’d made that choice on his own.

  You could look at the wound yourself, a little voice inside her said. You’re a trained nurse.

  No, no, no, she immediately argued back with herself. What did I just get done saying about not getting involved?

  But maybe... just a quick look, the voice said, all calmness and practicality. He hasn’t passed out yet, and there’s a lot less blood than you’d expect. Maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe he really doesn’t need a hospital.

  I’ve heard that before, Mercy’s inner skeptic snorted, but she already knew she was fighting a losing battle. It’d be pointless for me to drive him all the way out there if he really doesn’t need it, though. Not like I don’t have better things to do with my time.

>   That was what did it. As long as she could tell herself she was just saving herself a wasted trip, Mercy could deal with spending five minutes looking this big lunk over.

  She exhaled, shaking her head. “Fine, fine. Stay where you are. Let me have a look at you.”

  He blinked at her in surprise, his eyes wide.

  Gosh, he’s got pretty eyes.

  The thought popped into her head without her conscious will – and, while she realized that thinking it about an injured man who she’d just caught fighting in an alleyway outside her restaurant wasn’t the smartest choice, she had to admit it was true.

  They were green – deep ocean green, with flecks of copper. His dark eyelashes made the color seem even more vibrant.

  Or maybe that’s just the way he’s looking at you.

  She pushed both thoughts – both about his pretty eyes and the way he was looking at her – out of her head as quickly as they’d come.

  She didn’t need that.

  Really, she didn’t need any of this.

  “And I’m checking you for other injuries too,” she said. “I’m going to keep pressing on your wound here, but I’m going to move your shirt up, okay?”

  It was strange how quickly these things came back to her – the calm, matter-of-fact way of speaking, the clear, simple way she told the patient what she was doing and why.

  In the moment, she’d always been able to do her job without hesitation. It had only been later that she’d found her hands starting to shake, her breath coming in gasps, and her dreams... her dreams...

  Well, the less said about her dreams, the better. They had been terrifying and blood-soaked, and filled with the cries of people dying in pain. She didn’t need to think about them at a time like this.

  Swallowing, Mercy pushed the thought aside. Right now, the only thought she needed in her head was how to look after this guy. Steeling herself, she pulled up his shirt.

  Well. Goodness me.

  Mercy blinked, unable to stop herself from staring. The guy was built, that was for sure – his abs were a tight grid, his pecs hard and broad. His biceps and shoulder muscles bunched impressively as he pulled his ratty old shirt over his head.