by Zoe Chant
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 foots
teps 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 powerless. 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.
“Fucking asshole – should have been enough in him to put down three dragons. Jesus.”
Dante’s vision was going dim, and he stumbled, his head feeling light. He knew he was losing consciousness.
I can’t let his happen. I have to... have to fight... for Mercy...
It was the last thought he had before everything went black.
Chapter Eight
Mercy
Dante.
Mercy lifted her head from where it was slumped over the table, staring down at Dante’s mugshot.
She couldn’t explain why, but a sudden fear shot through her heart, making it beat wildly. She pulled in a deep breath, preparing herself for an impending panic attack... but this felt different, somehow. Blinking, Mercy shook her head, the momentary feeling dissipating.
She looked back down at the mugshot, biting her lip. Even if Dante hadn’t straight-up told her that it was him, there would have been no way for her to deny it. The photo was in black and white, and grainy from having come through a fax machine, but it was him. Somehow, his eyes, even indistinct as they were, seemed to see her, as if looking into her very soul.
Swallowing, Mercy turned to the next page, reading through the charges. Affray. Possession of illegal firearms. Menacing. Intimidation.
She understood the words, but she couldn’t see how they connected to the gentle, protective man she’d been getting to know. The man who’d come to her defense when Garrick’s men had tried to threaten her. The man who’d told her he’d protect her no matter what. The man who’d sat and read to Jessa’s reading circle children. The man who’d soothed and comforted her through her panic attack, and made her feel safer and more loved than she had in years – maybe more than she’d ever felt before in her life.
It didn’t seem possible, but the proof was right in front of her.
But he said... he said he wasn’t that man anymore. That that was in the past, and he’s left that life behind...
Mercy squeezed her eyes shut, her head pounding.
Can I really believe that?
She didn’t know right now. But she did know that if Dante’s talk of trying to make up for what he’d done and trying to find a second chance was real, then she had to at least listen to him and hear him out.
Swallowing, Mercy stood up, suddenly regretting that she’d told Dante to leave. More than anything, she wanted to talk to him, to find out more about who he’d been in the past – and who he was now.
I have to find him. I have to know.
Standing, Mercy raced to the kitchen door. It had only been a couple of minutes – Dante couldn’t have gotten too far. She ran through the kitchen and burst out into the alleyway behind the restaurant.
“Dante!”
There was no one there. Mercy didn’t realize just how much she’d been expecting to see his imposing, muscular form until she came out in the alley only to find it empty.
Her heart pounding, Mercy dashed up the alleyway and out into the street, her eyes searching for Dante’s figure among the few people out and about in the morning.
Nothing.
“Dante!” She didn’t care about the quizzical stares she attracted as she raced up the street, frantically calling Dante’s name. She pushed between people in the more crowded areas, searching for him.
But it was as if he’d disappeared into thin air.
Stopping, Mercy stood panting, looking around her – but it was hopeless.
She had no idea where he’d gone or what direction he might have headed in. Running through the streets calling for him all day wasn’t an option.
Guilt and pain twisted in her gut.
I should have talked to him.
Mercy shook her head – no, she hadn’t been wrong to ask for a moment to think, she told herself. She had gotten a shock, and she’d needed the time. She might regret it now, but she’d been well within her rights to ask him to leave.
She just had to
hope that Dante had meant what he said, and that he wasn’t gone for good. He’d told her he’d be there for her if she ever needed him – that all she had to do was ask, and he’d be by her side once more.
I’ll find him again. If I have to scour every inch of Hainesville, I’ll find him.
Setting her mouth in a determined line, Mercy headed back to the restaurant. The morning was progressing, and she needed to start now if she wanted to have things ready in time to open for lunch. Tai would be arriving soon, and Mercy knew she’d need to be on the ball if she was going to get through the shift ahead of her.
Life didn’t just stop because she was having a personal crisis. It was something she’d learned the hard way.
Back at the restaurant, Mercy kept herself busy – not that that was difficult – in order to keep her mind off the cold, churning feeling in her stomach. Something within her felt that something was wrong. It felt somehow larger than the confrontation she’d had with Roy and Dante this morning, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.
That has to be it though, right? Mercy thought to herself as she pulled out a box of chicken from the fridge, getting ready to dice it. She didn’t know what to make of Roy’s motives in telling her about Dante’s past. Roy couldn’t possibly have known how close she and Dante had gotten, and, reluctantly, she had to conclude he had perfectly good reasons for investigating the people close to someone he might be about to donate a large amount of money to.
Might.
Mercy swallowed.
Had she blown the whole deal when she’d told Roy to get out of her restaurant this morning? She wasn’t sure how she’d face Jessa and Jimmy if she had.
She looked up, yanked out of her own swirling thoughts at the sound of Tai’s motorbike pulling up outside. A moment later, Tai herself, dressed in her riding leathers, strode through the door, her helmet dangling from one hand.