“Promise me you’ll get away. Promise you’ll run far and fast,” Marian said.
She gulped and nodded. Understanding hit her in the gut. She always wondered why someone with Marian’s intelligence and empathy would willingly work for Father and thought maybe she assessed the giant’s heart incorrectly. But she was wrong to doubt her intuition. The position wasn’t exactly an elective—refusal resulted in death—and Marian had spent his time trying to make positive changes from the inside. He tempered some of Father’s more brutal plans, much like Mom had when she’d been alive. Marian walked a dangerous path. “What about you?”
They approached the group. They’d have to end their conversation soon.
“I…I don’t know,” he said.
At least he didn’t try to feed her some bullshit like she had Hank.
“But we can’t go on like this and I won’t allow another culling,” he said.
She winced. She loved some of her people and a lot of them had no idea of the inner mechanisms of the ispolini warriors or the battle plans carried out by her father. But the culling of dragon-born children marked a dark and terrible truth of their past. She wasn’t even born when the last one happened, but she wasn’t proud of her people’s actions. Of her father’s.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Marian squeezed her arm and they closed the final distance to her father. She curled her fist around the key to hide it.
Numerous crows circled silently overhead like carrion birds waiting for the slaughter. Normally, she found comfort in their constant presence, but not today.
Father grabbed her arm and yanked her from Marian’s grip. She stumbled forward and clenched her teeth. When she gained her footing and looked up, Louis glared at her and Nana wouldn’t meet her gaze. Instead, the old woman pursed her lips and studied the grass beneath her feet. Was her face swollen, too?
Misha’s stomach sunk. Father had struck his own mother. Was it because of Misha? Had Nana come to her defence? Did the bitter old woman speak out against Louis’ plans?
“Don’t do this, Father. Please,” she begged.
He ignored her and hauled her to the front of the gathering. Her shoes dragged in the grass.
“I’m your daughter.”
“You’re my failure,” Father said. “But if I can make you, I can make another.”
Misha winced.
“And if luck’s on my side, the next one won’t be so defective.” He turned her so she faced the ispolini. They glared at her with their hate and bigotry. Not so long ago she was one of them, standing beside them, talking with them, commiserating. Now she faced the ispolini as if she were on trial. There’d be no day in court for her, though. They’d already found her guilty. Knowing Father, they wouldn’t know any of the important details, either. He probably told them she’d conspired with the dragons or fornicated with one willingly. He’d never tell them Hank was her true mate. He wouldn’t risk the power of the zmei legend being more powerful than his control over the group.
Sweat pooled in her palm around the handcuff key. This would be her only chance. She needed to work the lock while they couldn’t see her hands. What would she do and how would she escape once she got free? Those were separate problems. One thing at a time. Hopefully, the solution to the other issues would magically appear.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dragons dropped from the sky. Birds squawked and screeched and flew out of the way. Fire scorched a path in the meadow toward Misha, while ice shot from the clouds. Cries and screams erupted. Misha fumbled with the key. Come on! Come on. Her fingers slipped on the metal surface and the key fell to the ground behind her. God damn it!
Too sweaty. She splayed her hands on the back of her dirty jeans and wiped them as best she could. Her heart pounded—any minute now it would rip from her body and tear through her cotton shirt. She crouched down and patted the grass behind her while Father and Marian drew their weapons and barked orders.
Her hand landed on warm metal. Relief flashed through her body, eaten up with anxiety within seconds. She moved the key into the keyhole and turned. The lock engaged and the handcuffs clicked open. She twisted her wrists out and the cuffs fell to the grass at her feet.
“Run!” Marian hissed.
She looked up. Albert and the other warriors ran toward her. Metal flashed under the bright sun overhead. Men engulfed in flames danced and writhed and screamed in the clearing. Smoke rose from the tall grass. Some ispolini took a knee embracing the change while others roared in challenge and thundered out of the forest toward the field.
Father had soldiers waiting. In case she ran. And in case the dragons attacked. If the majority of their artillery hadn’t gone up in flames during the last battle, this ambush would’ve incurred more dragon casualties.
She shuddered.
The dragons screeched in response and drew up in the air to circle around and attack again. The pop of guns ricocheted through the field. Bullets bounced off the icy armor coating the vulnerable underbellies of the dragons.
Marian stepped in front of his two comrades and lifted his sword.
“Run,” he yelled at her again, this time over his shoulder.
Where to? They were surrounded by dragons and giants.
“Out of the way, Marian,” Albert yelled.
“This isn’t the way,” Marian said.
“She brought them to us.” The other warrior circled to Marian’s right. “If we kill her, we hurt them.”
“We brought them to us when we kidnapped the dragon,” Marian said. “Killing her won’t stop the bloodshed.”
“No, but at least one of them will get what they deserve,” Albert said.
They lunged in unison. Marian dodged one attack while deflecting the other.
The battle waged all around Misha. Blood, fire, pain and death. The energy flowed around her, thick and suffocating, like molasses. Metal chimed and clanked as Marian continued to fight off her would-be murderers.
A giant red dragon barrelled toward her, his emerald gaze intense. His energy crashed against hers. Hank. Mate. The power vibrated against her skin. How could she doubt their connection before? She didn’t need her scrying mirror for confirmation.
A giant charged through the field, setting a thundering course to intercept Hank.
No! No more. No more bloodshed. No more death.
Marian dodged away from another lunging attack by the ispolini warrior. Albert stepped in and with an expert flick of the wrist, disarmed her defender. Marian’s sword went flying in the air, reflecting brilliant cascades of sunshine.
She reached out and found sources of magic—personal spells, enchantments—and drained them, pulling the energy into herself and rendering them useless. Not enough. She reached out again, greedy for more and found the ispolini and dragons, who were magic unto themselves. She pulled their power, too. Pulled and pulled. All the vibrating energy in the clearing swarmed her. Her heart pounded. She’d never done this before, but she was beyond caring.
The screams grew louder. She covered her ears and used her own body as a conduit, pulling and pulling and pulling until the power transferred from everyone in the field and drew into her bones. The world went silent around her.
The energy broiling inside her was too much and too potent to hold. Her awareness extended farther and found small bundles of energy sinkholes nearby, Misha pulled the last dregs of magic from the field and poured it into the nearby containers. Birds crowed. The power pushed against the very seams of her being.
Misha screamed and released the power. Her head flung back, her arms out, as the energy exploded from her body. The magic ripped from her like a detonating grenade had gone off inside and everything went black.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Misha’s eyes fluttered against whatever dirty film covered them. Cradled against a large warm rock, she looked up into Hank’s worried gaze. Her head pounded.
Wait.
Hank.
Dragons.
Giants.
Battle.
She jerked upright.
“Shhhh.” Hank’s grip around her tightened and he stood, still cradling her in his arms against his chest.
“You’re naked,” she said. Yes, naked ispolini were a common sight around the compound, and the clothing-free state must be natural for the dragons, too, but none of that took away from glorious sight of Hank’s body.
“We’re all naked,” His lips twitched. “Well, at least those of us who were in our shifted form. Your energy blast knocked all of us back to human.”
Oh no! The dragons! They would’ve fallen from the sky.
“Lara?” She craned her neck and looked around the clearing. She hadn’t seen a second red dragon but that didn’t mean her friend hadn’t been in the battle. She couldn’t imagine anything that could keep that fiery redhead from a fight.
“She’s not here.”
Oh. Maybe that “something” was finding out her best friend was a giant liar. Misha’s heart sank and she scanned the field again. Smoke continued to rise from the incinerated grass and weeds. Dragon and ispolini warriors alike groaned and slowly clambered to their feet. They hobbled in her direction. The birds were gone, chased off by the bigger beasts in the air. They’d be nearby, they always were. Understanding smacked her soul. Crows were the energy sinkholes. They’d taken the excess magic from her and kept her sane. What else could they do?
Nana sat off to the side, looking stunned, but otherwise okay. The bruising on her face from Father’s earlier abuse continued to darken.
“Misha!” Marian stepped forward.
Hank growled and turned her away from the approaching warrior, shielding her with his body.
“It’s okay,” she said.
Hank snarled. “Did he give you those bruises on your face?”
She rested her hand on his bare shoulder. Everything tingled down her arm from the touch. “He defended me.”
Hank grumbled and turned to face Marian.
Father’s general wore a guarded expression and kept his eyes on Hank, though he spoke to her. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“What was that?” he asked.
She hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“It felt like I got hit by lightning,” Hank muttered, he set her down on her feet and held her until she stopped wobbling. A giant warm hand remained on her lower back, as if he needed to reassure himself she stood beside him. Misha didn’t mind. She wanted the reminder, too.
Marian glanced at Hank. The other ispolini and dragon shifters stumbled closer.
“Like a blast of energy.” Marian nodded at Hank.
Misha licked her lips. “I pulled energy from everyone until it became too much.”
“And then blasted us with it.” Rafael Dragoi, leader of the dragon clans, peeled his large body from his point of impact and brushed the dirt from his naked body.
Oh my.
She stared at the sky. Fluffy white clouds mocked her and heat crept along her neck and cheeks. One solitary black bird circled above her and clicked. Misha frowned. The bundles of energy. She clucked her tongue and the bird tilted its head. She repeated the sound, ignoring the odd looks everyone gave her.
The bird clicked again, angled down and perched on her shoulder. The talons dug into her shoulder through her shirt but didn’t puncture her skin. This was new. She reached over and scratched behind the bird’s head. It stretched against her touch and closed its eyes halfway. Male. Somehow, she knew the bird was male. Okay, then.
Hank shifted his weight and raised his eyebrows.
She shrugged and the bird launched from her shoulder. He didn’t go far though, just flew in lazy circles above.
Her focus drew away from the bird and back to the current situation. Hank still stood beside her while ispolini and dragon warriors watched her with stunned expressions. A temporary and tentative truce settled over the field. Her gaze drifted down Hank’s body. Oh my.
“You need to stop looking at me like that.” Hank leaned down to whisper into her hair. “Or else our audience is going to get more of a show.”
Misha ignored her mate and turned to Raf. She pulled her shoulders back. “I’m sorry I blasted you with energy, but I’m not sorry I stopped the battle. This fighting needs to end. This feud needs to end, too.”
A slow smile spread across Raf’s chiseled face. Oh no. He had an idea and the way his gaze bounced between Hank and her, she wasn’t going to like it.
“Congratulations on finding your true mate, Misha,” Raf spoke loudly, his deep rumbling voice spilling over the field.
Ispolini fighters stiffened, a few glared. Most looked surprised. They hadn’t known. Of course, they hadn’t known. She’d been right. Father had kept the truth from them. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but, she was. Why did she keep trying to pin honour on a man who clearly didn’t deserve or want it? Had he ever?
“It is rare for an ispolin and a dragon to find a match in one another but not unheard of,” Raf continued. “The denial of such a pairing is what started this feud in the first place. I, for one, do not wish to repeat this history of bloodshed and compound an already deadly feud.”
“The zmei,” someone whispered.
A few warriors bobbed their heads, but the rest continued to watch the dragons closely.
“In the past, warring factions often sought unbreakable unions between the two groups to secure peace and end turmoil,” Raf continued. “I will gladly support an ispolin-dragon union to bind our two communities together and end this violence.”
There’s no way her father would agree to that. She scanned the clearing. Where was he? Did he…die? Or had he run? The tension in her shoulders and neck eased away. Relief. He wasn’t here to mess things up. He couldn’t instigate more violence and doom their people any more than he already had. She cringed. She was an awful daughter.
Marian snapped his head up and narrowed his eyes at Raf. “You would forget the past?” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that? You wouldn’t seek vengeance?”
Raf considered Father’s general and made a slow perusal of the clearing littered with the charred remains of ispolini fighters. “Most of you were too young to have carried out the atrocities almost thirty years ago and the rest…” Raf shook his head. “For a chance at peace and the possibility of our children not growing up with the fear of your people? Yes.” He paused. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Marian whispered.
“It can’t be a simple union, though. This pairing would have to lead us into this new age of peace. We don’t want to fall into old habits.” Raf smiled and turned back to where Misha stood beside Hank. Sometime during the exchange, Hank had reached for her. Now his giant hand engulfed hers.
Raf took two long strides toward them before lowering himself on one knee. “I, Rafael Dragoi, Astarot of the dragons and leader of the Obsidian Dragon Clan, pledge my allegiance to Hank O’Reilly and Misha Tilev. May their reign be long and prosperous.”
Misha’s grip on Hank’s hand tightened. Was this happening? Could this really work? If they led both groups with Marian as the head of the ispolini and Raf as the head of the dragons, could they bring about a truce? Could they unite their two races for their children and create a peaceful future?
Hank squeezed her hand back.
“I don’t know anything about ruling anyone,” she said. She was a sheep. She followed. And she’d been groomed to do it well.
Raf’s expression softened. “Hank does and with his support and ours, you’ll learn what you need to know.”
“But—”
“Do you want the feud to end?” Raf asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then you’ll find a way to make it work.” His tone brooked no argument.
Misha scanned the faces of their audience once again. Still no sign of her father. Where was he? Could he truly be dead? This moment was almost too perfect and civil. Nana caught her gaze and
smiled, a genuine smile that cracked her wrinkled face and showed all her uneven teeth.
Marian stepped forward and knelt beside Raf. “In the absence of Louis Granger, I, Marian Milov, assume leadership over the ispolini and pledge the allegiance of the ispolini to Misha Tilev Granger and Hank O’Reilly.” He glanced sideways at Raf. “May their reign be long and prosperous.”
Misha’s head grew light. This couldn’t be happening. Could it? This easy? What was she missing?
The ispolini warriors looked wary but not angry or disgusted as before. The dragon shifters wore almost identical expressions.
Maybe this could work.
A flash of movement behind Raf’s hulking body caught her attention, just as someone charged from a mass of fighters. Her father’s strangled cry cut through the clearing and the sunlight danced along his raised blade.
“Never!” Louis screamed.
As Father lunged at Raf’s exposed back, everything slowed down. Raf’s eyes widened and he turned toward the danger, still on one knee.
Hank released her hand and looked for a weapon. Marian’s mouth dropped open in a perfect O and his hand moved to where his sword hilt would be.
And out of the soft white clouds above, too high to fall victim to her energy blast, a red dragon screeched and dove full speed toward them. Lightning fast, Lara’s dragon form looked like a living flame expelled from the sun. Fueled with magic, fire streaked from her snout and travelled the distance with laser beam accuracy to its target.
Father writhed and screamed in the flame. His weapon thumped on the singed grass. Time resumed and everyone stood immobile from shock and watched the ispolini leader fall to the ground in a pile of ash.
She should feel something, right? Something sad? Something more than relief? But relief was all she had to give the demise of her biological father. What did that say about her? What kind of awful person was she?
The dragon spread her wings at the last moment and pulled up. A wall of hot air slammed into Misha seconds after Hank tackled her to the ground.
Dangerous Decisions (Obsidian Flame Book 3) Page 12