by Abigail Owen
She took another step.
He shook his head slowly. “I can’t let you do that.”
“I won’t go with you. So one of us is fucked here.” Another slow step back.
He lunged at her…
…just as the Hemi Cuda skidded to a halt between them, Brand at the wheel.
How’d he get away from the other two?
“Get in!”
She reached for the handle, and again missed as the car suddenly jumped forward. Military dude on the other side ran at her, and Brand hit the gas, opening his door to hit the guy and tossing him a good twenty feet away with the force of impact.
“Kasia!” he yelled as he slammed his door shut.
She ran for the car, and this time she managed to get in. The second her butt hit the seat, he gunned it.
“Fucktastic,” he muttered as he glanced in the rearview mirror.
She whipped around and gasped at the sight that greeted her. Three wolves sprinted after them at full speed. And, unless she was seeing things, the gleam of several other pairs of eyes reflected in the darkness behind them. Brand hit the gas, opening up the engine, and they flew down the narrow country roads at speeds she didn’t want to contemplate.
A few minutes later the wolves gave up the chase. Damn, they were fast. Kasia lapsed into silence, too tired to talk anyway, letting him focus, letting him do his thing, as they blasted down the deserted back roads of the French countryside. She didn’t miss the fact that he constantly scanned the area around them or checked the mirror to see if they were being followed using eyesight a hundred times more powerful than most other earthly creatures. A handy ability she had to admit to envying.
“Is that what you saw before they attacked?” he asked again, finally. “Wolf shifters?”
“Yes and no.” Kasia told him of the images, of the men crashing into their room, dragging her away as he tried to fight them off.
“Men, not wolves?” he asked. “Or dragons?”
“I didn’t see any dragons, but everything was from inside the room. I’m guessing most dragons can’t control the shift like you can?”
He tossed her an inscrutable look. “Anything else?”
Kasia closed her eyes, trying to force the memories to be clearer, to move slower through them so she could take in the details. “Yes.”
“What?”
“I did see one wolf. Dark gray, I think, though it was hard to tell because he was in shadow. He didn’t join the fight, just watched from the other side of the road.”
Brand’s shoulders stiffened a hair. “But no dragons?” he asked again.
“No. No dragons.”
He let out a low breath. “I thought I scented wolves when we crossed the Pyrenees.” He shook his head, talking more to himself now. “Fucking wolf shifters. They won’t be able to keep up with me if I take to the air. That’s something at least.”
“But if they get to you as a pack, they could overpower you, kill you even.” She couldn’t keep the worry from her voice.
He cast her one of those sideways glances that took in way too much. “Is that what you saw?”
“You fought hard…”
When she didn’t go on, his glance turned annoyed, eyes narrowed. “Don’t treat me like I’m glass, princess. I’m far from it.”
“I’m not a princess.” The protest popped out automatically. Kasia had been born and raised poor, among common hardworking people. She’d be damned if she ever claimed royalty on purpose, no matter her bloodline or future prospects.
“Might as well be,” he taunted.
Little did he know… Kasia faced forward. “I’m not the princess type.”
“Better get used to it, because a phoenix will always become a queen.”
Kasia slid him a sideways glance, as the tone more than the words struck her as off. Why did he sound bitter about that?
Time for a shift in subject, because she suspected neither of them would agree about what her future held. “So we’re going to fly?”
“No.”
“No?” She tried to keep the relief from her voice. Flying wasn’t her thing, and crossing the Atlantic in an airplane had been more than enough.
“Dragon shifters from other clans would be worse than wolves if they found us. I can fight off wolves—even a pack. At least one that small.”
She ignored his subtle jab about the pack. Harder to ignore how his mouth kicked up at the corner in a barely-there smile. Did he think he’d just won a point?
Silly dragon.
“Well…if they do catch up to us, take out the red one first,” she advised. “At least, that’s what I’d recommend from what I saw in the vision.”
That arrogant smile disappeared. Ha! Score one for the princess.
Brand continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “We need to stay off the grid, and that means out of the sky as much as possible, despite the wolves.”
Good. Avoiding flying via dragon shifter was high on her priority list. “What do we do, then? I assume you have a plan?”
Brand kept his gaze forward, his expression unreadable. “You’re not running anymore?”
She shook her head. “Not from you, at least.” If he could track her, and wolf shifters could track her, then her existence was more widely known than what she could handle on her own. Apparently, thanks to the doctor, her cover was completely blown. She doubted she’d ever be safe on her own again.
Her words came back to haunt her. Better the devil she knew than the one she didn’t. There was a reason previous phoenixes had mated dragons.
Protection.
After all, her grandmother had mated one. So had her mother, once. Not that she’d talked much about their father. She’d claimed to love him so much that she couldn’t talk about him without it hurting.
Kasia had always tried to balance the lifelong, soul-deep love that her mother held on to even centuries after losing her mate with her mother’s equally dogged hatred of the shifters who destroyed him. She’d built dragons up as terrible beasts out to use them, fuck them, and control them.
But now Kasia’s choices had narrowed.
“I guess you’d better get me to your king,” she said to Brand.
“Right.” Brand grunted the word, but she didn’t have time to analyze whatever emotion laced that one syllable.
She had her own concerns to worry over, because she’d just changed the entire course of her future with one impossible choice.
Could she trust Ladon, the dragon Brand was so loyal to that he’d risk his life to get her there? She’d just have to pray to every god, fate, and being she’d ever heard of that Ladon Ormarr proved to be a better man than she feared, better than Pytheios at least, and ignore the queasy pit in her stomach that told her mating the King of the Blue Clan wasn’t a path she should follow.
No other paths appeared to her now.
With a deep sigh, Kasia dropped her head back against the seat. The adrenaline of their preemptive escape was dissipating, and the lethargy that typically followed her fight with her visions started to permeate her limbs once more, weighing them down like sandbags.
“We need to find a place to hide for the night,” Brand said, the words reaching through the sleepy fog overtaking her.
“How exactly are we supposed to do that?” They were in the middle of nowhere, essentially stranded.
“As soon as we’ve gone far enough, I’ll pull off, then fly low for a couple miles. See if I can find a place from the air that’s harder to access by ground where we can sleep.”
Kasia forced herself to focus through the blur of exhaustion taking over her body, to think about the important part of what he’d said. Right. Scrounge up a hard-to-access place between here and the Chunnel?
“Easy-peasy,” she murmured. Then she scooted across the bench seat and
snuggled into him, which suddenly seemed much comfier than the headrest or the side of the door.
Brand tensed under her touch, cast her a sharp glance, and swore.
What? Did she slur her last words? Kasia barely processed his reaction. She was too warm and cozy right where she was. Sleep was overtaking her too quickly.
Her eyes drifted closed, and she thought she heard him sigh.
“Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” Brand’s words found their way to her down a long tunnel.
“I know you will,” she mumbled. Then she let oblivion take over, as the darkness enfolded her into its soft warmth, and she let go.
…
Being a dragon came in handy sometimes. The roaring fire he started in the old, but functional, fireplace with just a puff of breath had warded off the chill of the seaside air throughout the night. Not that he needed it, and likely Kasia didn’t, either, but he wasn’t risking her health.
A glance over his shoulder showed her to still be dead to the world, but at least she wasn’t as off-color as earlier. Those visions…holy shit.
Why he felt the pain, too, or the fact that his touch took it away, for both of them, was nothing but bad news. Would another dragon have the same effect on her? Or did it have to be him?
Brand scrubbed a hand over his face. That was a dangerous line of thinking. He needed to get her to his king and get the hell out. Instead he was stuck here, waiting for daylight.
After several hours of driving, he’d taken to the air—pushing aside the pit of anxiety in his stomach at leaving her alone and defenseless, asleep in the car when wolves were on their tail. He’d located a remote house along the beach, a bit rough with sparse furniture that’d seen better days. The building had gone unused in the last year or two, if he had to hazard a guess. Perfect for their needs.
He’d hidden the Hemi Cuda on the side of the road among the trees and lifted a sleeping Kasia out. Her red hair spilled over his arm in a waterfall of flame, and he gazed down at her face, long lashes fanned out over pale cheeks, kissable lips relaxed in repose. A spark of need ignited deep in his chest.
The woman trusted too easily. No one ever just expected him to do the right thing. He was a fucking mercenary, after all—he’d do any job for the right price, the right connections. People of all sorts paid him to do what they couldn’t do themselves, and that set the expectations. Even then, trust was never a part of the deal. He watched his back. His clients watched their backs.
But Kasia?
She expected his help as though he were a decent person who would give it without hope or thought of reciprocity or a separate agenda. Even when she was well aware he had a separate agenda, though he hadn’t shared specifics with her.
He shook his head, still staring down into that arresting face.
If she insisted on believing in him, she was in for disappointment. Kasia was meant for a king, something Brand could never be—not as a rogue dragon. Something he didn’t want to be, either way.
As soon as he took her to Ladon and got credit for bringing the king a phoenix, she was no longer his concern, just like he’d told her.
Clutching her in his talons, he’d flown them both to the beach house he’d found and settled in for the rest of the night. Him standing guard through the long hours. Her on a rickety twin bed with a lumpy old mattress, rusty springs that creaked with every twitch, and no sheets or blankets, but still more comfortable than the hard ground or the seat of the car.
Now, fingers of light reached over the house, reflecting against the ocean water as the sun did its best to wake the greens and browns and grays of the French seaside around him.
Brand ran a weary hand over his eyes and finally dialed Ladon’s number into the satellite phone. He hadn’t wanted to risk contact while darkness prevailed. Daylight meant that vampires, at least, among a few others, were removed from the equation. It made it harder for dragons as well.
A deep male voice answered on the second ring. “I expected a call earlier.”
Brand said nothing. He didn’t make excuses, nor did he apologize. Both showed weakness, and in his line of work, he couldn’t afford weakness.
“What did you find?” Irritation laced the king’s voice.
Brand ignored it. “Nothing of interest.” No way would he risk revealing exactly what he’d found, even over a sat phone. Too dangerous. Plus, Ladon and his warriors were too far away to ask for help quite yet.
“Was the woman there?” Ladon asked.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She was an Ifrit who couldn’t control her fire,” Brand lied for anyone listening in. “Her people will help her figure it out.”
“Dammit.” The sound of a fist hitting a table told Brand exactly how important this was to Ladon. Understandable, given the legend. If Ladon mated a phoenix, dragons worldwide would recognize him as the High King. The Red King might have an iron grip over the clans now, using the other kings like pawns in a game of chess, but if Ladon were the High King, dragon shifters would rise up.
That would throw a spanner in the works. Right now, though, he needed an excuse to see Ladon face-to-face, to bring Kasia to the king, hopefully without anyone knowing. “If you’re looking for a specific woman, we should discuss it. I can find her more easily if I know what I’m looking for.”
Silence greeted that offer. Ladon Ormarr leaned toward scary smart, and Brand had never requested a face-to-face before in all the centuries they’d known each other, long before Ladon took the throne. The request was the biggest hint he could throw. Did the other dragon catch it?
“When can you be here?” the king finally asked.
“I have another case to wrap up first. I’ll be traveling and out of touch.”
Another pause. “I understand,” Ladon said. “Shall I expect you in about a week?”
Brand mentally calculated the odds. He suspected at some point they might have to abandon the car and go on foot. “I think a day or two should do it.”
“I’ll see you then.” Irritation had left Ladon’s voice, replaced with a neutral tone that couldn’t quite hide the undercurrent of satisfaction.
Yeah. He knew.
“I’ll send a car for you when you arrive.” Which probably meant coming himself with a handful of warriors.
“Sounds good.”
Brand hung up and stared at the yellow and black device, unseeing for a long moment, then dropped it onto the splintered kitchen table. With a heavy sigh, he walked to the open window, leaned against the sill, and gazed out at the slowly stirring land beyond, the rhythmic sound of the surf soothing.
That was that. Kasia was the king’s now, assuming Brand could get her all the way to Scotland in one piece. That was a big fucking if.
Now an odd sort of discontent settled like an ache in his chest. Absently, he rubbed at the spot.
“A beach cabin? Guess that’s better than another cabin in the woods.”
Kasia’s soft voice floated across the chilly morning air. Brand didn’t startle. He’d already felt her stirring, as though his instincts were now tied to her, aware of her. He wondered at the comment, but didn’t answer.
“So it’s official? You’re going to hand me over to Ladon?” she asked.
He glanced over his shoulder to find her watching him with eyes gone distant. After crossing the room, he dropped to the bed, sitting at her feet, and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. Damn he was tired. “That’s the plan. You already knew that.”
“Then what?” she asked.
He turned his head, trailing his gaze over the perfect oval of her face, darkly lashed eyes only highlighting the rare coloring, those ripe cotton candy lips.
“Then what?” she repeated. “You leave?”
He steeled his reserve. “Then I serve the Blood King.”
“Blood King?” Kasia finally asked.
Brand grimaced. That had been a stupid slip. “His throne was hard won.”
“You mean many people died in taking it?”
Many didn’t begin to cover it. Not only had the fighting been rough—not that he’d been there; a rogue had no place in clan wars—he’d heard Ladon executed a good number of the people in power almost the second the fighting ended.
Brand didn’t blame him. After five centuries under Thanatos, Ladon would know who was loyal to the old king and who wasn’t, regardless of whether their brands changed or not. But how did he explain that to Kasia?
“So you’re going to dump me with a man called the Blood King. Nice.”
“No choice.”
“Why no choice?” she asked.
His tone should’ve cut short any further questions. However, Brand couldn’t say he was all that surprised when she pushed to sitting, her hair a sexy tangle about her face. She watched him with total expectation that he’d answer.
Brand crossed his arms. “I have my reasons.”
“Bullshit.”
He glowered at her and snapped his mouth shut so hard his teeth clacked. Only she didn’t act remotely cowed, tipping her chin up to return his glare.
“It’s not smart to piss off a dragon.”
She lifted a single eyebrow and snorted—a very dragon sound. “Like you’d hurt me.”
There went that trust thing again, like a quiver of arrows unloaded into his heart. Only now, it just pissed him off. “You don’t know that for sure.”
She rolled her eyes. “Remember all those visions? You always protecting me? I do know that for sure.”
Brand grunted. Her visions had, in all probability, saved his life last night, and hers. But, at this precise moment, he could do without those damn visions.
She continued to watch him from where she leaned against the headboard of the bed, expectation clear in the stubborn tilt of her chin and her unblinking stare.