by Lisa Oliver
Petrov and Ice shared looks. Petrov mouthed, “I told you so.”
“Five years.” Ice put as much charm and seduction into his tone as he could. “Petrov did let me know just hours before you were kidnapped actually, that you’d caught sight of me some ten years ago, but I only became aware of what you were to me, during a brief visit with my brother five years ago. I would have made myself known to you sooner, but…” Surely, his mate didn’t expect him to go into long-winded explanations while there was still a wall of steel between them.
“But…?”
Hmm. It seemed Byron did expect an explanation after all. “I’m a very busy person,” Ice said, keeping his seductive tone. “I travel constantly with my work and…”
“Killing people.” Ice covered his ears as the steel wobbled under Byron’s blows again. “Spend my time… Hiring private investigators… mooning over someone… far too fucking busy for me… thinks he can just swan in and out as he feels like it… hey, I’m out. I did it. I can get out.”
Sure enough, while Ice had been trying to make sense of what Byron was trying to say in between the banging noises, Byron had widened the hole in the steel enough to climb through. There was that surge again as both sides of Ice’s nature pushed forward, eager for their long-denied claim. But Byron’s raised hand and the snarl on his face stopped them.
“Don’t you dare come near me.”
Byron rocking his bad boy tones had Ice’s cock hardening. “Byron. Mate.” Ice tried to smile. “You’ve had a trying few days. This all must have been very difficult for you. The moment Petrov told me you were missing…”
“What?” Ooh, Byron rocked that cocky look too. “You suddenly dropped your hectic schedule full of killing people and dashed over to help? How do I know you’re not the reason I was taken in the first place?”
“Ah, yes, well…” Ice wasn’t sure what to say, but Byron didn’t seem to have similar issues. And he was a quick thinker, putting two and two together.
“Fucking brilliant. I get stalked and then kidnapped by someone with a grudge against my mate that up until this moment I haven’t even met yet. How many more times should I expect this to happen? Do you know what your friends did to me? They locked me in a fucking glass coffin barely big enough for my body to fit in. Canned laughter blasted out every single time I made a sound. If it hadn’t of been for Dancer, I wouldn’t have made it out of the fucking coffin, let alone the box it was in. And, you’re telling me this is all your fault?”
Who the heck is Dancer? Did he name his dragon? “It’s the fault of the people after me.” Ice felt this sudden urge to justify his existence. “I didn’t ask for any of this to happen.”
“Well, neither did I.” Byron ripped off his shirt, letting Ice know his initial assumptions about Byron being a meek pencil pusher may have been wrong. Shoving his trousers down his legs, and kicking off his shoes, Ice was also pleasantly surprised by the size and girth of his mate’s sexual organs. Somehow, in his mind, he’d thought they’d be smaller. Standing naked, his hair and scruff a mess, his body sheened with sweat and dust, Byron looked like a warrior of old. So taken with admiring his mate’s fantastic build, Ice almost flinched when Byron spoke again.
“Like what you see?” Byron opened out his arms and twirled right around. “Then take a damn picture because this is the last time you get to see my body. To think, I spent ten years pining over the memory of you and now, when we finally meet in the flesh, you tell me you’ve known about me for half that time, but you were too busy to meet up with me? Too busy killing people. Well, here’s a tip for you, asshole. How about hunting down and killing the man responsible for making my last week a living hell? Or do I have to go through some special agency to get you to do a job for me.”
“Byron, I…”
“Shut the fuck up!” Ice realized Byron looked magnificent when he was angry. “Kill him. Don’t kill him. I don’t care. I’ve been looking after myself for a fucking long time and it seems, thanks to you being a complete asshole, I’ll have to do it for a lot longer. But if you do see the bastard responsible for this, tell him the rosebud etched on the glass coffin was one sick touch too far. I’m not anybody’s Snow fucking White.”
The air shimmered and a huge dark blue dragon appeared, with sad eyes. Shaking his giant head just once, the dragon opened his wings and took to the skies. Ice fell to his knees, fighting the change both his dragon and wolf were pushing for. Every single cell of his existence wanted to follow the blue dragon, hold him close, mate with him in the sky if that was possible, just so he wouldn’t hear any more of Byron’s angry tones before he did it.
Rejected. I’ve been rejected again and this time it’s all my own fault. Ice had spent a very long life time protecting his heart, showing no feelings to anyone ever. If he had a coin for every time someone called him heartless his fortune would be doubled. But he’d known, from the moment he could talk, that to show any signs of weakness could result in his death. He coped with his mom cursing his existence once she realized his father would never accept a half breed child. He’d learned to deaden his feelings with the painful beatings his stepfather – his mom’s true mate – had doled out, which happened any time Petrov skinned his knee or fell over growing up. He’d met his biological father, and endured his insults too, with a mask like face and a hardened heart.
And now it had all come back to bite his ass. His mate had looked him in the face and rejected him… and for good reason. Ice couldn’t forget that. He might never say or show it, but he accepted his personal shortcomings.
But chasing after an angry dragon wasn’t an option anyway. He couldn’t leave Petrov, and even if he could, he still had a scene to process, clues to find, some measure of proof so he could take Nikita and her cronies down. That was the only way to ensure that Byron wouldn’t be taken again. But Petrov didn’t seem to think any of that was important as was evidenced by the slap to his shoulder.
“Get after him, you damn fool.”
“I can’t. You heard how angry he is with me right now.” Ice slowly got to his feet, any minute expecting his skin to break out in dragon form. Or wolf. Or some half-version of both. Nothing would surprise Ice at the moment.
“He’s got every right to be pissed at you and his situation.” Swiping his shirt off the ground where he’d dropped it, Petrov put it back on. “What? Did you think he was going to understand your lame-ass explanation of being busy?”
“No.” Ice tracked the sky. Byron’s dragon was nothing more than a speck on the horizon. “But he should have felt the mating pull, surely.”
“He felt it,” Petrov scoffed. “That giant cock of his certainly knew who you were.”
“He left me.” Ice didn’t want to think about why he wanted to gouge out Petrov’s eyes for even noticing. He looked over at the mangled steel crate to try and divert his thoughts. It would have taken some serious transport to get that in the middle of a field, or some heavy lifting magic.
“You’re never going to see him again, if you don’t go after him now.” Petrov stepped into his field of vision, dominating it. “That dragon is hurting bad. I didn’t hear much of his rant when he was saving himself from that damn prison your associates put him in. But think about it. He saved himself. He didn’t give up. What does that tell you about him?”
“He’s a damn sight stronger than I gave him credit for.” Ice wasn’t going to even think about what that said about him personally and the way he judged a person’s character. Another fault he could examine when he was alone.
“He’s a hell of a lot stronger, which means if you ever want to have anything to do with that amazing man you just let fly away, then you need to get your head out of your ass, and fly after him.”
“I can’t leave you here.” Ice wanted to go with every fiber of his being, but Byron’s rejection was still new and hurting. However, he was also clutching at straws and he wasn’t a hundred percent sure why.
“I can run ten miles back
to the city in my sleep. Ice, go on.” Petrov gave him a push. “You need to go before you lose track of him again. Fuck. Think man. He’s had no food, no water, he’s left his clothes here. He’s tired, possibly hurt from the drugs they injected him with. He’s out there, naked, helpless and alone…”
Ice’s body shifted in an explosion of atoms. Ice might not have known what he should do next, stunned as he was by Byron’s dismissal of him, but his animal sides listened to their instincts and ran with them. Before, he’d had time to think of a coherent response, his dragon was in the air, speeding through the clouds like a bullet, his wolfen side urging him on. All Ice could do was hang on for the ride, and hope like hell, he knew what he could say to Byron when they caught up with him. Talking down an angry mate was well out of his realm of experiences.
Chapter Thirteen
The gall of that arrogant, ice-hearted half breed. Dancer was flying, enjoying the speed and rush of the wind under his wings, but he was furious. Letting the other dragons guide his direction, he was heading for the Hollingsworth mansion in Germany.
Er… Dancer? I didn’t think dragons ever got angry at their mates. I thought you’d be pleased to see him. Tucked away in his dragon’s subconscious, Byron was trying to come to terms with what happened back in the field.
He’s an asshole. Dancer seemed most determined about that. Just because he’s half dragon, doesn’t mean I have to fall all over him the moment he turns up. We have our pride.
I totally agree, and Byron did. He wasn’t sure about his mate’s killing occupation either, but he didn’t mention that, especially when Dancer was so upset.
I mean, who does he think he is? Dancer was working himself up a huge head of steam. He’s known about us for five years and he didn’t even send a card?
He said he was busy. Byron thought it was a pretty shitty thing for any paranormal to do as well.
Oh no. Busy doesn’t cut it, my friend. Dancer made a huge swoop in the sky and headed out towards the mountains in the distance. No one should be too busy for a mate. No one is better than another in a mating. No one has the gall, the sheer gall of that man, to turn up as if to save the day and expect us to be happy about it. Well, we showed him and his iceberg dragon.
We did. Byron had never known Dancer to be upset. What did you mean, him acting like he was better than us? He never said that. He just said he was busy.
What person puts his needs above those of a mate, aye? You tell me one paranormal who thinks his killing business is more important than wooing and treating a mate right?
Byron had to think. It wasn’t as though he knew many true mated couples. Sammy’s Raoul always seems too busy for him.
Ooh… see that just goes to prove my point. Dancer fumed. Raoul was just the same – thinking Sammy was weak, and so, wanting to protect him by not claiming him even though Sammy’s heart was broken.
Byron lost track of the point Dancer was making. Sammy wasn’t happy when I saw him, he sent back. Raoul was busy, always seemed to be too busy to make time for Sammy, and that hurt my brother too.
They made up. Dancer flexed his wings and the air rushed past them faster. Sammy’s over the moon happy about their young, and Raoul made a point of changing his ways the night Sammy went out with Rastin and Leonard and didn’t tell his mate. Raoul’s buying them a house, away from the coven, so they can have a family life together.
I’m glad Sammy’s finally happy. When it came down to it, that’s all Byron ever wanted for his younger brother. So, you think our mate thinks I’m weak?
Not just you – us! He’s selfish and rude, and where does he get off thinking he has the right to make decisions for us?
That was a mean thing for him to do. Byron thought for a moment and then asked, Aren’t you at all sad we might not ever see him again?
Oh, we’ll see him again, Dancer huffed as he swooped around the castle Hollingsworth. The damn icebox has finally got off his ass and is following us.
Ah. Byron had an epiphany. Is that why you’ve been doing all these fancy swirls and turns? Can his dragon hear you when you’re both in this form?
He can’t hear me, but he can sense my emotions. Why do you think I’m projecting my anger so hard? Dancer landed on the tower roof with a graceful plop. And as for fancy flying, I don’t know what you mean. I’m just damn glad to be out of that crate.
I couldn’t have done it without you, Byron sent as warmly as he could. Now, do you think I could have my body back? I want clean clothes on and food before I think about confronting our mate again.
Don’t you dare give in to him too easily, Dancer warned as Byron felt his dragon’s form shimmering. Make him work for it or he’ll always think he’s better than us.
So much for thinking all dragons thought their mates could do no wrong, Byron thought as his human body formed, kneeling and trembling on the stones. Dancer didn’t respond. He was probably headed off to the dream realm for a well-earned rest and a mudslide. Whereas Byron… he looked down at his dirty body and grimaced.
“Byron, you made it.” Jon came running over, blanket in hand. Byron’s mother didn’t believe in spare clothes chests like Jon and Dirk had at their place. She felt the concept of putting on clothes that someone else might have worn previously beneath her. “Are you all right? You must be starving. Dirk’s still dealing with your mother, but gods, he’ll be so glad to see you.”
Byron stood up with difficulty. Now the danger had passed, his whole body felt as though it’d been hit by a truck. “Food would be lovely, thank you,” he said stiffly, wrapping the blanket Jon handed him around his body. “Did my dragon explain what happened?”
“Everything, including how you got yourself free.” Jon patted his arm as they walked towards the tower door. “Between you and me, I think that’s why Dirk is so pissed off. Because of your mother’s ranting and politicizing, he missed out on being the super hero, swooping in to save you.”
“The help would have been appreciated, if it had come sooner,” Byron agreed. Damn, this tower has got a lot of stairs. “Did Dancer tell you anything else?”
Jon looked at him side eyed. “No. Was there something else? Oh, I wanted to ask, was Petrov involved in taking you? No one can find him anywhere and certain junior members of the enforcer squad are claiming he took you because he’s lusted after you forever.”
What to say, that’s not a lie. Jon’s doggy shifter nose was really good at picking up deception. “Petrov didn’t have anything to do with my abduction. I still don’t know who did. But the reason Petrov couldn’t be found was because he was making a rescue effort of his own. He was upset by the accusations against him and figured the easiest way to prove he didn’t do anything, was to try and find me himself.”
“So, you’ve seen him?” Jon pushed open the huge door at the bottom of the stairs, which Byron knew led into what his mother called the Great Hall.
“He arrived just as I was climbing out of the crate,” Byron said. “I left him there, as I needed clothes and food.”
“I’ll make sure his suspension is lifted and he’s restored on full pay once we all get back to the office.” Jon nodded. “I didn’t think he’d be involved. Oh heck, haven’t they sorted all this shit out yet?”
The Great Hall was full of people, but the only ones who stood out for Byron was his mother whose eyes narrowed as Byron and Jon entered the room, and Dirk’s whose own eyes widened in surprise along with his smile.
“Byron, brother. Thank goodness you’re all right.” Dirk came running over and Byron felt himself enveloped in a huge hug. “I should’ve known you’d find a way to escape your abductors. But, fuck, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“I’m so glad you came to try and find me,” Byron said, patting his brother’s back awkwardly. “Even if you didn’t quite make it.” Straightening up, he looked over Dirk’s shoulder at his mother who hadn’t moved. “Aren’t you pleased to see me too, mother?”
“I’m glad I don’t have to at
tend another funeral, if that’s what you’re asking,” Mother said with a sniff. “But even so, your return makes no difference to my case that Dirk is not fit to run the Hollingsworth clan or the associated companies run by him.”
“Ma’am, from the looks of things, your son has been through a harrowing ordeal,” a tight faced man in a suit said quietly, touching mother’s shoulder lightly. “Your case, so to speak, might be better served by ordering food for your son, clean clothing, and asking him if he requires medical assistance.”
“Why should I care?” Byron’s heart ached with his childhood pain as his mother knocked the stranger’s hand off her shoulder. “You council members are here on my invite, to witness my challenge against my son Dirk. Byron’s got nothing to do with any of this.”
“Nonetheless, ma’am, the abduction of a dragon is a serious crime, one the council can’t just ignore because you feel it’s not important.”
“It’s all right.” Byron tightened the blanket around his shoulders. “Hold the challenge now. Go on mother, stop posturing and shift. I double dare you.”
“You impudent brat.” His own mother sneered at him. “I’ll shift in my own time, and it won’t be in front of a dozen strangers. I want the legalities of this challenge worked out before I do it.”
Byron laughed although it wasn’t a happy sound. Sure, his mother’s lack of caring hurt his very soul, but when compared to what his mate had done, it really didn’t compare. “You can’t do it. My sweet dragon, Dancer, has already told me your dragon chose to fade from life rather than fight your oldest son. You’re stalling, because you think Dirk hasn’t got the guts to fight his own flesh and blood. You figure, if you keep talking people around and around in circles long enough, Dirk will offer you a huge settlement and regular payments from the company just to shut you up. And that’s the only thing you care about – money, money, money.”
“I’m a senior member of this dragon clan.” Mother pulled herself up sharply as if affronted. “My horde is my life.”