by Zoe Chant
Dante bristled.
Hired muscle? his dragon cried indignantly. Show him that we aren’t here for money – we are here only to protect our mate!
Shifting subtly, Dante put himself between Garrick’s line of sight and Mercy.
“I’m not here because she’s paying me,” he growled, letting the dragon come forward, letting it fill his voice. “I’m here to take you down.”
Dante balled his fists, tensing his shoulders. He was ready to fight. He’d wanted Mercy to be inside, but the men were standing too close to the doorway.
Get in the car and drive if things take a turn for the worse, Dante tried to send to her, unsure of how strong their psychic bond would be before he had had the chance to claim her. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.
Dante risked a quick glance over his shoulder, and saw Mercy frowning in concentration, as if trying to hear something from very far away.
She heard us. She knows. His dragon seemed very sure of this, but in any case, Dante didn’t have the time to ask questions.
Garrick let out a short, low bark of laughter. “Take me down, you say? Lots of people have said that to me – and yet, here I am, still standing. Trust me when I say you don’t want to try this. Whatever she’s paying you, it’s not worth it.” He lowered his head, glowering. “Walk away. You don’t have to have anything else to do with this. I’ll let the attack on my men slide – if you walk away now. But this offer’s only good for the next thirty seconds. After that, all bets are off.”
He’s scared, Dante’s dragon said, scenting the air. He doesn’t want to fight us. He’s hoping to scare you away – he doesn’t know we’re here to protect our mate.
There was no reason why he should, Dante knew. Humans didn’t know about mated bonds, and about what lengths shifters would go to in order to protect their mates. Dante was no more capable of walking away now than he was of cutting off his own head.
“I don’t need your thirty seconds,” he growled. “I’m going nowhere. And if you want to get to Mercy, you’ll have to go through me – and trust me, you won’t get through me.”
Dante spoke with confidence. Not only was he a dragon facing off against a human, but he’d been fighting all his life. He was hardened to it, much as he didn’t like to do it, and he knew he was good at it.
Garrick shook his head. “Shame. Well, I gave you the chance. Too bad you didn’t take it.”
“I’m hearing a lot of words,” Dante snarled. “You gonna back them up with anything?”
He could feel the fire of his dragon in his blood. The threat this man had made against his mate had made it furious – a fury beyond anything any human could imagine.
If we had not been here to stop him, this man would have hurt our mate, his dragon screeched, unfurling its wings and breathing a stream of fire.
He was ready for the first man when he charged forward, swinging one beefy fist at Dante’s head. Dante ducked it easily, moving to the side and burying his own fist in the man’s stomach. He heard his breath leave him with an oof as he doubled over, winded. Dante didn’t hesitate, following up his punch with a kick to the man’s knees, bringing him down. The man, despite his bulk – or perhaps because of it – crumpled to the ground, a cry of pain leaving him as he fell.
One down.
Somehow, the fight didn’t seem so bad right now – it was easier than it had been the other night. The dragon’s fury lent him strength, directed his movements, and honed his instincts. He could almost see his opponents’ next moves before they made them, sensing them from the way their muscles tensed, the small changes to their stance.
They are no match for us.
His dragon was triumphant as Dante took down yet another man, bringing his elbow down on the back of his neck to make sure he stayed down.
The men were bigger than him, but they weren’t shifters. They were still tougher than average – a little too tough, a persistent voice at the back of Dante’s mind said – but they couldn’t match him.
Soon, there were none left – all of them lay sprawled on the ground, groaning, and not one of them had managed to lay a finger on Dante.
Now there’s only Garrick left.
The leader had hung back, watching Dante closely, and Dante had watched him back only so far as to make sure he wasn’t joining the fray. He surged toward him now, his dragon’s senses taking in everything: his hands were empty. He didn’t have a knife or a gun. His shoulders were tense. His mouth was set in a threatening snarl –
But there, in his eyes – that’s fear.
It was well-placed fear, Dante thought. He had just torn through his men – tough, muscular bruisers, all of them – as if they were nothing more than tissue paper.
And we will do the same to this man – no, this germ – who has dared to threaten our mate, his dragon thought.
“Wait!”
Garrick’s voice cut through Dante’s rage as he advanced, his fists already bunched, ready to block any attack he might launch.
To his surprise, however, Garrick was holding his hands up as if in surrender, his meaty fingers spread to protect his face.
Dante hesitated. He had not expected this at all. Sure, men like Garrick were often cowards, who sent others to do their dirty work for them. But he had never known a man who refused to fight when the chips were down. A man like that would find it difficult to maintain control over any gang he led. Dante knew from experience that it was often only the threat of violence that kept thugs like the ones he’d just taken down in check. If Garrick was too scared to fight, then how had he not been taken out long before now – and how had he kept all the people of Hainesville so scared?
Reluctant to hit a man who was offering his surrender – no matter how much he may otherwise have deserved it – Dante pulled back, snarling.
“What?” he asked. All his senses were still on high alert.
This could still be a trap, his instincts warned him.
“Don’t do it,” Garrick said. “I was warned you were more like a beast than a man, but I didn’t believe it until I saw it.”
Dante frowned. He was a fighter, that much was true. But surely Garrick had been in more fights than this?
I don’t like it.
This was... too easy. There was no way a man like Garrick would be giving up like this. The protection money he collected from the people here had to be a lucrative source of income for him. Dante didn’t believe for a moment he’d let it go without significantly more of a fight than this.
It has to be a trap.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he snarled, his shoulders tense.
“I want to call a truce,” Garrick said. “For now. We can work something out. What’s she paying you? I can double it.”
Red misted Dante’s vision once again.
What’s this fucker not getting?
“She’s not paying me anything,” he growled. “I’m doing this because people like you need to be gotten rid of. And I won’t stop until you’re gone.”
Garrick hesitated. His eyes traveled from Dante’s face to the men sprawled behind him. Some of them were only just now beginning to stagger to their feet, rubbing their heads and groaning. His lip twitched, eyes narrowing.
“You just went through my men like they weren’t even there,” Garrick said. “You think I’m a fucking idiot or something? I don’t start fights I don’t intend to win. Or if I do, I don’t continue ’em.”
“Not good enough,” Dante spat out. “You already started this. I’m not going to just let you walk away now.”
Garrick shook his head. “Maybe not. But I guess that gives you a choice – you can either follow me now, or you can go look after your lady friend.”
Dante’s blood ran cold.
Mercy?
He swung around. He was certain that none of Garrick’s men had laid a finger on her – he would have sensed it at once if she was in danger, and turned to protect her. None of them could have got anywhere nea
r her without their bond telling him at once that his mate needed him.
And – no, Mercy was still there, standing by the car. But her eyes were wide, her face ashen. Dante could see the way she was trembling, even at this distance.
Clearly, she was in a huge amount of distress, standing as if frozen, her breath shallow and fast.
All at once, his dragon rose up within him, roaring.
Our mate! She needs us!
All thoughts of Garrick were immediately erased from his mind, as Mercy’s hammering pulse rose in his ears. He could hear it as if it was his own, beating next to his own heart.
“Mercy!”
He dashed toward her, ignoring the men around him.
Mercy turned her wild eyes toward him, her mouth dropping open. She blinked, holding her hands up as if to ward him off, and Dante stopped, pain searing through his chest.
“Mercy?”
At the edge of his senses, he could feel Garrick’s men beginning to make their escape, but he couldn’t care less about that right now. Everything in him was focused entirely on Mercy.
Take her in your arms, his dragon insisted. Comfort our mate.
His dragon’s instincts were still strong in his mind, and Dante found he could not resist them. His mate needed him.
Dante began to move toward her again, holding his arms out – but to his shock, Mercy took a step away from him, shaking her head.
“I – I –” she stuttered, her voice hoarse. “I need to –”
Dante only stared at her as his dragon roared within him – and then, without a word, Mercy turned and dashed to the door of the restaurant, throwing it open and disappearing inside.
Chapter Six
Mercy
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Mercy repeated the mantra to herself as she sat on the floor of her bedroom, her hands clasped at the nape of her neck, her head between her drawn-up knees.
Shit.
Her gut felt like it was twisting itself into origami shapes, her heart hammering in her chest. She knew what was happening – she’d had enough panic attacks by now to identify them when they came on. And she’d grown better at dealing with them too, forcing herself to breathe, to observe the maelstrom inside her and know that it was only thoughts, and that thoughts couldn’t hurt her.
But it’s different this time. Those men. They came here. They attacked Dante. They –
Mercy squeezed her eyes shut. Dante had almost been hurt because of her. He had had to fight them. Guilt had her heart in a vise.
It’s your fault. If not for you, he wouldn’t have been stabbed the other night. And now... and now...
And now, after he’d protected her yet again, she’d left him standing in the parking lot while she ran inside without a word of explanation.
But she hadn’t wanted him to see her like this – to see how quickly and easily she could crumble. He’d told her in the car that he thought she was strong, brave, amazing – everything she knew she wasn’t.
He’d stop thinking all of those things if he could see you now, Mercy thought, tears welling in her eyes. He’d know you’re weak. That you couldn’t handle being a nurse. That you can’t handle anything.
She’d wanted to tell him in the car after he’d said those things to her that she wasn’t what he thought she was, but in the end, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to. So instead, she’d just smiled brighter, laughed louder, and turned the conversation to a different topic. Mercy wasn’t stupid, and she’d figured out that Dante was attracted to her – just as she was attracted to him. More attracted than she’d ever been to anyone. But would Dante still be interested in her if he knew what she was really like?
He was attracted to her because he thought she was something she wasn’t. Strong. Capable. Ready to take on the problems life threw at her. How could he still be interested in her when he found out that none of that was true?
He won’t be. And then the best thing that’s happened to you for years will slip away, just like everything else in your life.
Tears ran down her cheeks. She couldn’t help it. It didn’t seem fair. Dante was everything she had ever dreamed about: strong, protective, caring, compassionate. He’d immediately been supportive of her work in the community. She’d felt her heart melting as she’d watched him reading to the kids at the library – she’d been there for a good five minutes or so before he’d looked up and seen her, and it was clear that he was a natural with children, for all he’d protested that he didn’t know what he was doing.
And he was so hot that sometimes she didn’t know what she was doing when she looked at him. Her mouth watered when she looked at the bulge of his biceps beneath his t-shirt, the way his jeans hugged the thickness of his thighs.
And now, she’d fucked everything up before she’d even had a chance to start anything.
Shit. Shit.
Taking in a shaking breath, Mercy tried to talk sensibly to herself.
You’re having a panic attack. That’s it. You haven’t fucked anything up. Just go out there now and explain it to him. If he’s as good as he seems, he’ll understand. He will. Please. Just get up. Get up...
But try as she might, she couldn’t make her legs obey her. She felt frozen, her stomach filled with cold concrete, her knees too weak to lift her.
I can’t.
Mercy started at the sound of a soft knocking at her door.
“Mercy? Mercy, please let me in.”
Dante.
So he’d followed her up here after all. His voice was low and throbbing with concern. Somehow, Mercy thought that she could feel his worry for her in her own heart, wrapping it in warmth.
That didn’t make any sense – but nonetheless, Mercy could feel her racing heart beginning to slow, her breathing becoming deeper.
“I – I’m fine,” she called out, knowing that her voice was shaking. “Please, just – I’ll be fine. I just need a moment.”
Swallowing, Mercy roughly swiped at her cheeks with her hands, trying to wipe away the evidence that she’d been crying. Not that it would do any good – anyone would be able to tell at a glance that she’d been bawling like a baby. Her eyes were red and puffy, her breath hitching in her throat.
“Please, Mercy. I can help you. Let me in.”
Mercy closed her eyes. She wanted to, desperately. The thought of looking into Dante’s green eyes, of feeling his arms around her... she wanted it more than anything in the world. But she couldn’t let him see her like this.
She couldn’t show him how weak she was.
“Don’t come in,” she muttered, closing her eyes. “I just want to be alone.”
It wasn’t true. With ever fiber of her being, she wanted Dante to walk through the door and take her in his arms. But she’d never been able to let anyone see her when she got like this. If people knew, they wouldn’t think she was reliable anymore. She’d already lost being a nurse because of this. She refused to lose anything else.
“Mercy.” Dante’s voice was soft, but strong. “I’m going to come in in a moment. If you want me to go after that, I’ll go. But I need to make sure you’re all right.”
Mercy couldn’t bring herself to say anything in response. Her panic exploded through her stomach, making her feel like she was going to throw up. She wanted to curl in on herself until she disappeared – anything to take away this sick feeling inside her, the pain in her chest...
“Mercy.”
Dante’s voice saying her name was like a rope thrown into the ocean she was drowning in. It took her a moment to realize that he was saying it close to her ear, and not through her closed bedroom door – that the warmth on her face wasn’t only her tears, but also the softness of his breath. Mercy bit her lip. She wanted to uncurl herself and look him in the eye, but she couldn’t.
“You don’t have to do anything, Mercy. Just know that I’m here for you. If you want me to go, I’ll go. But if you want me to stay, I’ll sit here with you for as long as you need me
.”
The words juddered through Mercy’s chest like the beat of her heart. She felt fresh tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but this time, it wasn’t because panic had her heart in a vise.
No one had ever said anything like that to her before – never in her life.
But it’s because you won’t let them, she told herself a moment later, the part of her brain that was still functioning normally gently chiding her. You never let anyone know just how bad these things have gotten. You didn’t even want to let Dante see you just now.
It was true. She hadn’t even wanted to tell the therapist she’d briefly seen after quitting her job at the hospital how she felt.
Her fear of being seen as weak or unreliable had overtaken everything else. She had too many responsibilities for that. Tai and her other staff, Jessa, Jimmy, the kids – they all needed her. They all thought she had things together. What would they think if they could see her now?
“They’d want to help you. They’d want to know what they could do to take the pressure off you until you felt better.”
Mercy opened her eyes, raising her head in surprise.
Dante had answered her questions as if she’d spoken them aloud. Had she? She found she wasn’t sure.
“I – I just –” she stuttered, not sure how to explain herself. Looking into Dante’s green eyes, she felt a small measure of calm entering her heart. The deep breaths that had been eluding her came more easily now.
“I just don’t want them to think they can’t rely on me,” she finally managed to say, her voice small. “Some of the kids I look after... they don’t have a lot of adults they can look up to. What would they think – how could they –”
She cut herself off, not sure how to continue.
Dante was silent for a time, but his presence next to her, warm and solid, was a comfort nonetheless. Mercy allowed herself to drink it in, drawing comfort from his closeness, from the sheer size and masculinity of his form. Part of her yearned for him to hold her, but another part of her knew she wasn’t ready to be touched just yet.