by Donna Grant
“I returned yesterday.” Rhys fought against looking back into the pub at Lily. She called to his soul, and he was powerless to ignore her. “I … I…” He couldn’t think of a single excuse to explain his presence.
Then Rhys looked around the corner at Lily. She was smiling at something Denae said, her head nodding. Lily tucked her hair behind her ear, the action bringing attention to her long neck that he yearned to trail kisses down.
Rhys faced Laith and shrugged. “I just wanted a look around.”
Laith’s lips flattened. “You doona have to lie to me. I know your affinity for women. Is it the redhead that’s caught your interest?”
“No’ this time.” Rhys only had eyes for Lily. Sure, he had tried to carry on with his ways at first. He thought Lily was just a passing interest that would quickly fade, but the truth was, he compared every woman to her.
And they all came up short.
The ache within Rhys intensified. He regretted so many of his decisions now, because he couldn’t face Lily. She knew him, knew his ways.
Laith’s look sharpened. “Are you all right? You look…”
“Lost?” Rhys supplied.
Laith shook his head, his frown deepening. “I was going to say vulnerable.”
Ah, but Rhys was vulnerable all because of one black-haired, black-eyed woman who kissed sinfully and touched him like a siren. He saw—and felt—the passion within her longing to break free. What he wouldn’t give to be the one to bring it out in her.
Rhys cleared his throat. “Any word on Henry?”
“Nay,” Laith said, though his gaze didn’t waver. “Do you still have any pain?”
“It stopped with Rhi’s help when I was in dragon form.”
Laith stepped to the side and peered into the pub. His gaze slid back to Rhys. “You shifted to human form when Lily went missing.”
It wasn’t a question, and Rhys didn’t take it as one. “She’s part of Dreagan.”
“Aye. And she’s important to you.”
Rhys opened his mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. “Laith—”
“I willna speak of it to anyone,” Laith interrupted. “Now I know why you finally returned.”
He took a step closer to Laith. “Forget we had this conversation.”
“Why? Why no’ go to her? See where this goes?”
“Because I am this,” Rhys said tightly and motioned at himself with his hands. “I’m no’ worthy of her.”
“Because you can no’ shift?”
Rhys laughed, the sound devoid of humor. “Because she deserves better than someone who hops from one woman to another.”
“You doona give yourself enough credit. I know Kiril would tell you the same thing, my friend. You doona only deserve her, but you deserve happiness.”
Rhys was shaking his head before Laith finished. “My duty is to watch over Lily and ensure she’s no’ touched by the shite we’re arse deep in. Other than that, it goes no further.”
Laith made a sound at the back of his throat. “You’ve looked at her three times since we’ve been talking.”
“I’ve no’,” Rhys argued and found himself about to look again. He stopped and clenched his jaw.
“Keep pretending you can watch over her and no’ give in to the desire,” Laith said with a sardonic smile. “Especially when you realize Lily wants you just as badly. We’ve all seen how she looks at you. Her feelings are there. You’ve already gotten too close to back away now.”
Was Laith right? Damn. Rhys sidestepped Laith and walked out the back of the kitchen. He had to get away from Lily for a bit and clear his head. She would never leave his thoughts, but he had to get away from Laith and all that he’d said.
Rhys turned the corner of the pub not looking where he was going until he saw a flash of black hair. He looked up a heartbeat before he ran into Lily. Instantly he reached out to grab her. The moment his hands touched her, he was lost.
He found himself tumbling, falling into her black eyes. “Lily,” he whispered.
Her lips parted as she looked up at him. Then her eyes crinkled in the corners as a small smile played about her tempting lips. “I didn’t know you’d returned. I … I mean we, we’ve been so worried about you.”
The warmth of her hand on his chest seeping through his shirt scalded him just as the desire rushing through his blood. He breathed in, loving her fresh, clean scent with just a hint of roses. His dragon magic rose within him, the shadows rising to close around them so he could have Lily all to himself.
It was movement out of the corner of his eye that made him realize they weren’t alone. He spotted Laith standing with Denae watching them. Rhys dropped his arms and called his shadows away, but he couldn’t take the step back no matter how hard he tried.
Lily’s eyes dropped to his chest where her hand was. Slowly, she let it fall. He had to fist his hands not to put her hand back.
“Are you well?” he asked.
Her smile, which slipped, returned. “I’m … getting by. And you?”
To his surprise, he found one side of his lips turning up at the corner. “Getting by.”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” she asked, glancing at the ground.
“That we are, lass.”
She licked her lips nervously. “It’s really good to see you, Rhys.”
He watched her walk away, waiting until she was in the SUV with Denae before he said, “My day isna complete until I see you, Lily.”
* * *
Lily was still thinking about her run-in with Rhys at the end of the day. She drove from Dreagan, and just before she pulled out of the parking lot, she looked in her rearview mirror. It was a habit that began after the first day she was hired. All the way to the village where her flat was, she thought about her new life.
Anticipation charged through her at the prospect of shopping with Denae. Nestled inside her wallet between receipts was her credit card that accessed the bank account her parents had given her at eighteen.
When she told them she was leaving with Dennis, they threatened to cut off her money. Dennis hadn’t been happy about it, but he had assured her eventually her parents would come around. Lily adjusted to life with Dennis with a steady income working for some rich guy. Sometime in her first year of living with Dennis she had accidentally grabbed the credit card from her parents for the ATM and learned they hadn’t cut her off or withdrawn the money.
It was a secret she kept to herself. She’d hidden the card in her wallet in case she ever needed it. After she left Dennis, there had been a few times she almost had to use it, but she always managed to find a way out of those situations.
Not because she didn’t want to use the money, but because she wanted—needed—to do it on her own. The temptation of that money, however, was impossible to ignore now that she wanted to go shopping. She had some of her own money saved, and it wasn’t like she was going to buy an entire wardrobe.
Lily parked on the street near her flat and started to get out of the car. She was halfway out when she swore she saw Dennis turn the corner in front of her. Her heart accelerated, but she closed her eyes and focused on breathing regularly.
“It’s not him. It’s not him,” she repeated over and over to herself.
Dennis wasn’t anywhere near her, nor did he know where she was. He was intruding upon her new life, and she had to stop him.
When she opened her eyes, she was once more in control of things. Lily closed her car door and walked to her flat. She looked at the new door before she put her key in the lock. After the break-in, she had been more than a little paranoid.
A glance around showed her no one was paying her any mind. She turned the key, unlocking each of the three dead bolts while looking to the right and the corner where she thought she had seen Dennis. Then she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Lily hastily closed the door behind her, then locked all the dead bolts. She let out a breath, letting her shoulders sag. It wasn’t unt
il she was hanging her purse on the coatrack by the door that she realized she wasn’t alone.
With her hands still on the strap of her purse, she locked her eyes on the one face she’d prayed never to see again—Dennis.
“Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here,” he said with a smirk from her favorite chair.
* * *
Henry kept his eyes closed when he woke. He took quick stock of his body and realized he had at least two broken ribs, three broken fingers, a broken nose, and a deep cut on his lip and left cheek.
But his entire body felt as if he had been soundly thrashed.
Which he had.
How the hell had Ulrik found out? Henry had been more careful than on any of his other jobs. There’s no way Ulrik should’ve known. Hell, Henry hadn’t even told Banan. The only ones who knew were in MI5.
Anger simmered. Apparently there was more than the small faction of traitors in MI5. Since he was part of an elite task force to bring an end to the traitors, the group who knew his moves was small. It wouldn’t take too much to go through each of the ten and figure out which one had betrayed him.
If he lived.
Henry’s mouth was dry. He longed to swallow, but if he did they would know he was awake. They. He inwardly snorted. He wasn’t sure which “they” it was, but it was obvious he was being watched.
He doubted Ulrik or the Dark Fae would’ve allowed MI5 to take him, which meant he was either with the Dark Fae or with Ulrik. And neither scenario was good news.
Henry pushed such thoughts aside for the moment and concentrated on what was around him. He lay on a soft surface, the smooth feel of leather beneath his hands. A sofa. Not something he expected after being ratted out.
The quiet around him was only broken by the occasional pop of a fire. What the bloody blue blazes was going on? He wasn’t in the prison he imagined, or dead as he had fully expected.
Finally, Henry cracked open one eye and saw the lights dimmed around him. He moved his left arm across his abdomen and took as deep of a breath as he could manage without crying out in agony. Then he sat up. The room spun around him, and his breathing grew shallow from the swarms of pain that assaulted him.
“Not such a good move, agent.”
Henry recognized the voice. Ulrik. He put his wounded hand with his three broken fingers on the sofa to steady himself and looked to the doorway where Ulrik was standing.
The banished Dragon King wore a navy suit with white pinstripes and a white shirt beneath without a tie. His hands were in the pockets of his pants, pushing his suit jacket open.
“I bet you didn’t think you’d wake up here?”
Henry glanced at the dark wood paneling, the large stone fireplace, and the array of artwork hanging on the walls. “I admit I thought I’d be in a prison somewhere.”
“There’s no reason prisons can’t be … comfortable,” Ulrik said as he sat in a chair to the left of the sofa.
“Why am I not dead?”
Ulrik shrugged. “Oh, I’m sure you will be soon. I wanted to question you myself.”
“And you managed to get me away from MI5 and the Dark Fae? All by yourself?”
Ulrik’s smile grew, while his gold eyes glittered with humor. “There are those who think me inconsequential. Others don’t know what threat I am. Still others would disregard me. They’ll all learn soon enough.”
“Why tell me this?”
He shrugged. “Why not? I want people to know how powerful I am. What better way to spread the word than through you?”
“So that’s why you kept me alive?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that was the only reason.”
Henry refused to look at the tall crystal decanter filled with water on the coffee table in front of him. He leaned back carefully, biting his tongue in pain. “Why use the fake accent? I know you’re Scottish.”
Ulrik chuckled and rested his arms on the thick rolled arms of the chair. “You pretend to know me?”
“I don’t pretend. I know who you are.”
“Really?” he asked in mock surprise. “Then enlighten me. Who am I?”
“Ulrik, the banished Dragon King.” Henry’s announcement didn’t have the effect he expected. Ulrik didn’t bow his head in agreement or even sputter in outrage.
He simply smiled.
Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right at all.
“Trying to piece it all together?” Ulrik asked. “If you had forty lifetimes you wouldn’t be able to. See, Henry, I’ve been setting all of this up for thousands of years. I’ve been patient, I’ve bided my time, accumulated allies and assets, and amassed a fortune.”
Only one other time in his career as a spy had Henry felt as if he were thrown to the wolves. He’d nearly lost his life that first time, and he was certain he would this time. It wasn’t so much that he was going to die, but the fact that everything he knew—or thought he knew—wasn’t the whole story.
All he had to do was look into the gold eyes and know that Ulrik held all the cards in this particular game. No matter what the Dragon Kings did, no matter if MI5 got rid of all the traitors, no matter if the Dark Fae left Earth, Ulrik was going to win it all.
“You look a bit green,” Ulrik said as he sat forward. He took the decanter and a crystal glass and filled it with water before handing it to Henry. “You could probably use something stronger, but this will have to do for now.”
Henry took the glass with his good hand. As he brought the crystal to his lips, he briefly thought the water might be poisoned, and then he didn’t care. He was thirsty, and he was going to die. Did it really matter how it happened?
He downed the first glass quickly. As he set the crystal on the sofa, Ulrik refilled it. Henry drank two more glasses before he shook his head at Ulrik’s offer of another refill.
Ulrik put the decanter back in place and sat back in his chair once more. “I like you, Henry. You seem like a smart man. What would make you stand against me? You know I’m going to win.”
“Just because you’re going to win doesn’t mean the rest of us just move aside for you.”
Ulrik shook his head and propped his elbow on the arm of the chair before resting his head against his fist. “Isn’t it better to live in my world than die in yours?”
“No.”
“You say that without even knowing what my world is going to be.”
“I do know. If the Dark get this weapon of the Dragon Kings’, then the Kings will be wiped out. You’ll try to stand against the Dark, but you won’t be able to.”
Ulrik’s smile was gone as he carefully watched him. “The Dark will never get the upper hand on me. Oh, they’ll try, but they’ll fail. As for the Dragon Kings, what do you know of them?”
Bloody hell. Henry knew better than to talk so freely about the Kings. He was going to have to construct a good lie, not an easy thing when he was in such pain. “How do you think I knew about the group of traitors within MI5? How do you think I knew of the Dark or of you?”
“I’d like to know.”
The words were spoken calmly, softly, but Henry didn’t miss the menace that underlaid them. “I was asked to join the task force to find the traitors in MI5. When I agreed, my superiors informed me of just what I would be seeing.”
“Hmm,” Ulrik said. “That’s a very plausible explanation. I wonder though, did one of your superiors have any dealings with the Dragon Kings? Because any normal human would want any such magical beings eradicated from this realm posthaste.”
“I don’t know if he did or not. From the files I read how Dreagan Industries was being targeted. Once we learned those at Dreagan were really dragons, we realized they haven’t done any harm to us. It’s a human thing to stand up for the ones who are being picked on.”
Ulrik laughed and leaned forward so that his forearms rested on his knees. “Trust me when I say the Dragon Kings don’t need your help. Besides, Earth will be better off without them.”
“Why?”
&n
bsp; “Because I was meant to rule.”
Henry wished he had some way of getting all of this back to Banan. Thinking of his friend made him realize Banan would likely go looking for him when he didn’t check in.
He looked at Ulrik and twisted his lips in a sneer, ignoring the pain when he split open his lip again. “You belong in Bedlam.”
“I’m taking what was mine by right. You have a choice here, Henry. You can live or you can die.”
Henry snorted derisively. “I suspect it isn’t that easy of a decision.”
“You pledge yourself to me, then I let you live.”
“I could lie.”
Ulrik rose. “You could try, but the magic I use will ensure your promise to me is kept.”
“So you don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“Give me a reason to side with you, Ulrik.”
His face contorted with rage for a heartbeat, and then it was gone. “Doona ever call me that again.”
Henry didn’t comment on Ulrik’s slip into his brogue. There had to be a reason he didn’t want his name known or for others to know he was Scottish.
“As for why? Henry, I would think your life would be answer enough,” Ulrik said, appearing to collect himself, his English accent back in place. “You have until dawn to make your decision.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lily’s heart pounded, her blood turned to ice, and she was unable to move. Years of being terrorized by Dennis returned in an instant. She began to shake uncontrollably, hating herself for the fear that seized her.
“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Dennis asked with a wide grin. He pushed from the chair and stalked toward her with a knowing look in his eyes of just how much she feared him. “I should be angry at you for leaving the way you did.”
“You were the one who broke in and wrecked my flat,” she accused.
He held up his hands and winked. “Guilty. It’s been a lot of fun watching your eyes dart around when you’ve thought you saw or heard me.”
“So it was you.” Lily felt a little better knowing she wasn’t going insane, but it was negligible compared to having Dennis around again.