by Donna Grant
Rhi stepped back, numb. There were few who knew that symbol. The Kings didn’t even know it. She looked up and saw the dragons flying through the clouds instead of above them. Whatever was going on had been set up by the Kings, but it had gone horribly wrong.
Rhi returned to Rhys to see his skin turning gray. “Rhys?”
His hand twitched, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Lily?”
“I’m sorry.” She ducked her head, hating to fail in any way, but especially to a friend. “They’ve blocked me from the cottage. I can’t get in.”
Rhys struggled to open his eye. His breathing was labored as he fought to stay alive. He wasn’t going to give up so easily. His mate was in trouble.
“Where’s Con?” Rhi asked as she looked around. “Call to him, Rhys. Get him here to save you.”
Rhys dug his fingers in the grass. It took too many words for him to tell Rhi that Con was protecting the weapon. “Nay.”
“Then I’ll get him.”
Rhys said Rhi’s name again, but she didn’t answer. He bellowed in frustration, but the sound didn’t make it past his lips. He couldn’t die, not when Lily was still in danger.
The Kings allowed themselves to become too confident that the humans couldn’t hurt them. Rhys wouldn’t die from this wound, but the injury—with just enough dragon magic in it to cause problems—was preventing him from healing properly.
Hatred grew within Rhys. Ulrik was responsible yet again. He’d targeted Rhys for a reason, and Rhys was going to ensure that he repaid Ulrik in kind.
But first there was Lily.
The fact Rhi couldn’t get into the cottage was surprising. What had the humans used to keep her out? As far as he knew, nothing short of magic could prevent a Fae from going wherever they wanted.
Rhys rose up on an elbow even as his body spit out the bullet. The damage was already done since the magic was around the slug itself. His magic was battling against another’s inside him.
He looked at the cottage and smiled as he heard Kyle’s yells as they searched the place. It infuriated him that the Dragon Kings had fallen neatly into the trap Dennis and Kyle had laid for them. Had they taken a little more time and investigated Kyle, they might have learned he wasn’t the innocent Lily thought him to be.
Lily. Rhys’s chest ached for what she was going through. He would never forget the sight of her face crumpling with disbelief and shock when she learned her brother was in league with Dennis. After the initial blow, Lily turned to her anger. Rhys loved the way her dark eyes sparkled when she was furious.
He managed to get to his hands and knees. It was time Kyle and Dennis learned what they had walked into.
A whoosh of air went by him. Rhys looked up in time to see amber scales. “No’ yet, Tristan. Lily is still in there.”
The door to the cottage was flung open. Kyle filled the entrance. A flicker of unease passed across his face when he saw Rhys. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“We’re hard to kill.”
“Where is it? Where’s the weapon?” he demanded.
Rhys smiled. “What? You can no’ find it?”
“Don’t fuck with me!” Kyle yelled and pointed the gun at Rhys again.
Rhys sat back on his haunches, his hands resting on his thighs. “Shoot me again.”
“Oh, I won’t shoot you.” Kyle’s hand reached out and yanked Lily to him. “I don’t like being played the fool.”
The cold edge of fear sliced through Rhys. He was reminded—yet again—of humans’ fragility. If he and Lily were mated, she couldn’t be killed. But they weren’t, which meant she could die. By the look of malice and evil in Kyle’s eyes, he had no problem committing murder, even on his own sister.
Dread filled Rhys, along with anxiety and worry. All for Lily. “Doona do anything you’ll regret.”
“You mean like this?” Kyle asked and aimed the gun at Lily’s stomach a second before he pulled the trigger.
Rhys was stunned, his heart stopping when he saw the dark stain of blood spread through Lily’s shirt. She looked from Rhys down to her stomach, her eyes wide with shock. Her fingers touched the blood. She looked skeptically at the red on her fingertips, then to Rhys.
Something fell into her hand from her sleeve. She palmed the knife and jammed it into Kyle’s leg. He bellowed from the pain, but Rhys couldn’t take his eyes off Lily. Everything had happened so quickly, and he was taken unawares.
The he watched her collapse and lie unmoving.
A new kind of rage built within him. He’d been provoked, riled to the point of no return. He became maddened, incensed.
Enraged.
The dragon inside him thundered for retribution, bellowed for justice at having his mate torn from him.
And he was going to exact his brand of reckoning.
The ground shook as dragon after dragon landed around him, but Rhys only saw the humans, the two mortal men who dared to take something so precious, so treasured from the world.
Lily. She was the only thing he’d had to hold onto, the only one who’d found a way into his soul. Without even knowing she did it, the mere thought of her had pulled him from the darkness when Ulrik cursed him. She alone had brought him back.
Rhys shook, not from his wound, but from his wrath. He climbed to his feet while Dennis and Kyle looked for an escape. But there was no escape.
Not now.
Not ever.
Rhys flung out his arms, his heart shattered beyond repair, and threw back his head as he roared. He started running toward the cottage, not realizing until he busted through the door and stood protectively over Lily’s body that he was in dragon form.
His brethren fanned out, encircling the cottage on the ground and in the air, blocking the two mortals. Rhys looked down at Lily. She had a hand on his front leg, touching his yellow scales.
Their gazes met as the last breath left her body.
Something inside Rhys snapped. He recognized the anguish and grief, but it didn’t touch him. How could it when he was now dead inside?
Rhys briefly thought about roasting Kyle and Dennis alive. There was nothing hotter, nothing that killed as quickly as dragon fire, but it would be too swift. He wanted something that lasted, something that would torture them as long as he wanted.
He spread his wings, knocking the rest of the cottage to the ground. Then he called the shadows.
Dennis and Kyle glanced around in panic when they heard the first whispers of the shadows approaching. Dennis, the fool, tried to run when he caught sight of the black mass, but the shadows ensnared him quickly enough.
Rhys didn’t look away until the screams of both men echoed around them. Then Rhys lowered his head to gaze upon Lily once more. His attention was pulled when he heard someone walking through the rubble. Somehow he wasn’t surprised to see Rhi. The Light Fae’s horrified expression showed what he didn’t dare.
She walked beneath him to kneel beside Lily. After Rhi touched Lily’s neck she looked up at Rhys. “I’m sorry. She’s gone.”
Rhys knew it, but hearing it spoken aloud broke his heart all over again. He needed to hold her, to bury his face in her hair. Uncaring if he lived or died, Rhys shifted back into human form.
He snorted. Fate always mocked him. When he didn’t want to die, he was on the brink. Now that he didn’t care, the curse was broken. And he lived.
“How fucking marvelous,” he muttered contemptuously.
Rhi backed away, stumbling over debris. “Rhys? I didn’t think you could shift.”
He ignored her and gently, tenderly lifted Lily in his arms. Rhys was going to carry her away from the screams of her brother and ex-lover, but as soon as he had her in his arms, he fell to his knees.
Rhys rocked her, the pain of losing her so thick and overwhelming he couldn’t breathe. He clutched her tightly. “You can no’ be gone,” he whispered. “Lily, wake up. I need you. I love you. Come back to me.”
“She’s gone, Rhys.”
He sti
lled at the sound of Con’s voice. Rhys lifted his face, uncaring that he had tears falling down his cheek and neck.
Con shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry I wasna here to save her.”
Rhys wearily got to his feet and adjusted Lily in his arms. “It was my duty to protect her. I let her down.”
“You couldna have known her brother would shoot her.” Con blew out a breath and looked beyond Rhys’s shoulder. “How long are you going to make them suffer?”
“It’s only been a few minutes.”
Con’s gaze softened when he looked at Lily. “It’s been hours, Rhys. We’ve been waiting.”
“We?” For the first time Rhys took notice of his surroundings. All of his brethren on the ground and in the sky remained in dragon form holding vigil.
Only Con was in human form, and since he was as naked as Rhys, he’d flown there as a dragon. Then Rhys’s gaze landed on Rhi. She stood off to the side silently waiting.
The screams of Kyle and Dennis increased. Rhys glanced at them over his shoulders. “I wanted Dennis to feel as much pain as he put Lily through. I wanted Kyle to know what it meant to have everything stripped from him.”
“Then we’ll see it done,” Con said in a low tone.
Rhys nodded and called back the shadows. Dennis and Kyle had had their clothes ripped, flesh shredded. They were lying on the ground, barely moving. But they were alive.
In the next instant, Con leapt into the air, shifting into a gold dragon. Rhys didn’t wait to see what the Kings would do to the mortals. It was enough that they would die.
He started walking when Rhi fell into step beside him. As he left, the terror-filled screams of Dennis and Kyle reached him.
The smile on Rhys’s face held not a shred of happiness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ulrik swirled the whisky in his glass as he sat on the sofa in his uncle’s office. Ulrik had no illusions that this was Mikkel’s only home. His uncle was too cautious to show Ulrik where he lived.
The light reflected off the amber liquid in the crystal cup. Mikkel poured it from a decanter, but after one taste, Ulrik knew it was Dreagan. He wondered if his uncle would admit he bought Dreagan whisky.
“Do you intend to continue to make the whisky once you take over?” Ulrik asked.
Mikkel looked up from his papers. “Of course not. There won’t be humans to drink it, and we’ll be in dragon form. Why do you care?”
“It’s fine whisky,” Ulrik said before taking a drink.
Mikkel studied Ulrik for a moment. “Whisky is whisky.”
“Is that what you tell yourself when you pour Dreagan out of the bottle into your decanter? Hate them or no’, the Kings know how to make excellent Scotch.”
Mikkel tossed down his pen as one of his phones rang. “I demand the best of everything. I have no idea what my staff buys.”
“Liar,” Ulrik whispered and took another swallow.
He watched as Mikkel chose one of the six mobile phones lined up neatly on his desk. Six. Why six? What was the need for so many?
The few hours Ulrik had been with Mikkel, each of those phones had rung at least once. Mikkel wasn’t keen on Ulrik hearing any of the conversations, so he would walk out onto his patio to take the call.
As if that stopped Ulrik from hearing. Mikkel might have been a Dragon King for all of a few minutes, but even he should know the heightened senses it gave them in human form. Then again, Mikkel was entirely too confident of his abilities.
Ulrik finished his whisky and rose to pour himself more. He waited until Mikkel ended the call and was once more seated at his desk before he said, “I’d consider the fact your two men failed in retrieving the weapon from Dreagan a great disappointment.”
Mikkel’s gold eyes narrowed into slits. “Eavesdropping now?”
“If you didna want me to hear the conversations, then you shouldna have asked me to remain.” It would take more than a pane of glass to prevent Ulrik from hearing, but his uncle didn’t need to know that.
Mikkel leaned back in his chair and slowly replaced the mobile phone with the others. “I was going to tell you anyway.”
“Were you?” Ulrik put the stopper in the decanter and picked up his glass. “So your big move was to go after the weapon. You thought two humans on sixty thousand acres could find it when the Dark couldna? I also doona think the Dark Ones will be happy when they find out you made a play for the weapon yourself.”
Mikkel waved away his words. “I’ve already explained to them why I was going after it. They believe me.”
“Ah. But does Balladyn?”
“That cretin?” Mikkel asked, scorn lacing his words. “I don’t know what Taraeth sees in him.”
“Balladyn is a great warrior. You shouldna provoke him.”
“He provokes me.”
Ulrik sat back down and lay one arm along the back of the sofa. “Balladyn will rule after Taraeth. You might want to consider that.”
“So. Abby was right,” Mikkel said with a smile. “You are watching the Dark Fae.”
He was doing much more than watching. “I observe everyone.”
“Except me.” Mikkel chuckled, his smug look directed at Ulrik. “With all your watching of the players, you missed me. If you missed me, what else have you overlooked?”
Ulrik wasn’t interested in talking about himself. “The Kings will be coming for me now that they think I’m running things.”
“Yes, they will.”
“I’ve taken care of them in the past. I’ll do it again.”
The slight frown on Mikkel’s face was the only hint Ulrik had that something was off before his uncle said, “Actually, I believe Rhys will come to kill you.”
“Con willna let him. Con wants that pleasure himself.”
“Ah, well there’s the rub of it.” Mikkel sat up and gave Ulrik an innocent look. “You see, one of my men killed Rhys’s mate.”
Ulrik paused with his glass at his lips. He lowered it slowly at the news. Rhys. With a mate? Now that was surprising. “If she’s Rhys’s mate, she can no’ die.”
“She can if they haven’t performed the ceremony.”
Ulrik knew what it felt like to have a mate killed. The Kings had killed his. Though they’d had their reasons, it didn’t make Ulrik’s suffering any easier.
There were few Dragon Kings who knew what it felt like to have their mates killed before the ceremony. Rhys would be crazed with the need for vengeance, just as Ulrik had been. And nothing would be able to stop him.
Ulrik leaned forward and set his drink on the glass coffee table. “You knew they would kill the woman.”
“Of course. Although I had no idea she was Rhys’s mate.”
“Did you know she was seeing someone at Dreagan?”
“That’s why I chose her.” Mikkel smiled and spun his pen on the desk. “One of my men was her ex-lover. The one who killed her is her brother.”
Ulrik stood and started toward the door. “I must go and prepare for Rhys’s arrival.”
“Not quite yet.”
The last time Ulrik had been so commanded he’d been just an adolescent dragon, and it had been his father. He hadn’t liked it then. He hated it now.
Ulrik slowly turned to face Mikkel. “And why no’?”
“Because I need your power.”
“For?”
His uncle rose and braced his hands on his desk. “The Kings killed my men. I want you to bring them back from the dead.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Ulrik said in a quiet voice belying his irritation. “You want me to waltz onto Dreagan and revive two men who were killed by the Kings for what they did to a mate?”
“That’s right. And I can get you to Dreagan.”
Ulrik had schemes of his own, and he wasn’t ready to give them up because Mikkel didn’t have the forethought to tell his men not to kill the woman. Ulrik wouldn’t stop until he had Con. In order to do that, he had to continue making his uncle think he w
as running things. But damn, it was difficult.
“All right, but not before you answer me something.”
“Fine,” Mikkel said. “What do you want to know?”
“How are you getting all this information about what’s happening on Dreagan?”
Mikkel’s secretive smile was in place as he walked around the desk. “I have someone there watching things.”
“You expect me to believe you turned a King?”
“No.”
Ulrik thought a moment. “Surely no’ a Dark using glamour.”
“Nope.”
Ulrik shook his head as he thought of the only option left. “A human.”
“Who else?” Mikkel said with a laugh.
Ulrik had never attempted to turn someone from Dreagan. Now that Mikkel had done it, Ulrik was going to get his own information from the informant.
Mikkel snapped his fingers and a Dark Fae appeared next to Ulrik. As soon as the Dark touched his arm, they were gone, appearing at the Dreagan border a millisecond later. Ulrik stepped away from the Dark and looked around to determine where he was.
“You have an hour. I’ll meet you back here,” the Dark said before he disappeared.
Ulrik walked out of the forest and saw the decimated cottage in the distance. The landscape was barren of any trees, which meant Ulrik would have to chance being seen. He started running to what was left of the cottage. When he finally reached it, he saw the two men. One was completely ripped apart, the savagery, vicious and brutal.
“He beat her.”
Ulrik jerked at the sound of Rhi’s voice. He sighed and turned his head to her. “How did you know I was here?”
“I knew someone would come for them. Are these your men?”
“Would you believe me if I said nay?”
She regarded him a moment before she shrugged. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see what happened. Tell me of the men.”
Rhi pointed to the dismembered one with red hair. “That’s Dennis. He physically abused Lily. Her scars are … substantial.”