Dragon's Rebel (Wild Dragons Book 2)

by Anastasia Wilde

  She didn’t say anything, but he could read her surface thoughts. What’s he yelling at me for? I couldn’t hear him talking to me. I didn’t know where he was. He could have been off having that cow snack for all I knew.

  Pain stabbed through his chest. Probably from the bullets he’d taken. Certainly not from her thoughts.

  But… she really hadn’t believed he would be up there watching out for her every minute? When she was risking everything trying to get a serum to help him regain his ability to shift?

  No, of course she hadn’t. She didn’t count on him. She didn’t count on anyone. Rebel Smith worked alone.

  How the hell were they ever going to be mates? She didn’t have to love him; he wasn’t expecting that. But she did have to trust him.

  And Rebel Smith trusted no one.

  Rebel sat in Thorne’s grasp, breathing slowly and deeply to calm herself down. She’d brushed it off to Thorne, but that had been close. Too close.

  She could still see the ground rushing up at her, still feel death coming for her.

  Now that the adrenalin high and the rush of being rescued were fading, she was starting to feel a little sick.

  Don’t think about it, she told herself. Ever. She shoved it into the back of her mind, into the box where she kept all her “Oh, fuck” memories that would paralyze her if she thought about them too hard.

  She wished Thorne would talk to her. She was getting uncomfortable.

  Not physically uncomfortable. The skin on Thorne’s forepaws and chest was made of tiny scales and was surprisingly soft. His body was warm, and his dragon hand was cupped to make a comfortable seat, if she ignored the fact that he was essentially groping her butt.

  She had protein bars in her vest, so she could replenish her energy with a snack. And she wasn’t injured—just a little bruised.

  It was the brooding silence that was uncomfortable. He was furiously angry with her—she could feel it somehow, like a dark cloud surrounding them. And underneath that was something else.

  He was afraid, she realized. Like a mother whose child had run out into traffic and nearly been killed, who snatched them up in her arms and hugged them tight, all the while yelling at them about what the hell they were thinking.

  Did he really care about her?

  With Thorne, it was so hard to tell. Especially because she wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted him to.

  She kept falling for bad boys in bad situations. And she kept getting burned, but somehow she couldn’t stop herself from trying to rescue them and take care of them. Like helping Thorne. Not just with computer searches, but everything else. Like those times when they finished work for the day, and he was all by himself down in the control room, too big to go upstairs to the mansion.

  He’d seemed lonely and depressed, so she’d made Tyr and Zane move couches into the Batcave and hook up a TV, and she’d started spending her downtime there so he wouldn’t be alone. She’d cruised Netflix, catching him watching some of her shows out of the corner of his soccer-ball-sized eye while he was working on his computers.

  She’d learned that he and his dragon had separate personalities.

  Thorne liked action movies. His dragon liked fantasy, with knights and castles and—no surprise here—dragons. They both liked to watch things go up in flames.

  And, surprisingly, they were both suckers for happy endings.

  The happy endings always bugged Rebel. They were so fake—life never worked out like that for real.

  Take her and Thorne, for instance. Him all dutiful and rule-following, and her a thief, following no rules except her own. The ‘rules’ had screwed her and Tempest, put them in the system and kept them in hellholes that no kid should be in. She hadn’t followed a rule since she was fourteen and ditched her last foster home for the streets.

  In a movie, everything would magically work out and their differences would be adorable. In real life, they’d just make each other miserable, even if Thorne turned human.

  Especially if he turned human.

  Not that man-Thorne wasn’t hot as fuck. She’d only seen him once, for about five minutes, but she’d never been able to get the image out of her head.

  The muscles. And the abs. The midnight-blue eyes and the broody scowl and the dark brown hair that tumbled over his forehead, making her want to reach up and push it back, running her fingers through the silky strands. She wanted to smooth that scowl from his face and see him smile.

  Okay, the real truth was, she wanted to shove him down on the bed and ride him until the only word he could think of was her name, until she was so high on his touch and his kisses and his hot shaft she’d do anything to have more.

  Hell, she actually had sex dreams about him. Hot, wild dreams that made her sorry to wake up.

  Not that she’d admit that to anyone. Man-Thorne was also arrogant as hell.

  Finally, she couldn’t stand the silence. “Hey, Lizard,” she said. “You going to sulk all the way back to Portland?”

  I’m seriously considering it.

  Okay, still pissed off. Although to be fair, he probably had a right to be. He had taken a bunch of bullets for her. “I really didn’t know you were there until you landed. I was already off the roof.”

  You nearly died.

  “You aren’t going to let that go, are you?” She was perfectly well aware how close she’d come to buying it on this one. She didn’t need him to keep reminding her of it until she got traumatized. She shoved that shit out of her mind into oblivion again, where it belonged.

  Otherwise she’d never be able to do another wire job again.

  You nearly died.

  “Please stop saying that. I’m not dead, and I’m not going to be, unless you annoy me so much I jump off this ride and fall screaming into the night.”

  He gave a low rumble. You just can’t stop yourself from being flippant and sarcastic, can you?

  Probably not. The more scared she was, the more sarcastic she got. She’d learned that on the streets. Never show fear. Never let them see you sweat.

  Out loud she said, “I don’t think so. It’s how I roll.”

  Someone should teach you better manners.

  Hah. Better men than him had tried and failed. She laughed. “So now you think it’s your ‘duty’ to teach me manners, too? What are you going to do? Spank me until I promise to be good?”

  Don’t tempt me.

  From nowhere, a vision sprang into her head. Her, naked, lying across Thorne’s lap with her butt in the air. Him, also naked, his hard, muscular thigh pressing up between her legs as he smacked her bare ass.

  Not hard enough to hurt. Just hard enough to make her writhe against him, his hot shaft hard against her side, his thigh rubbing against her most sensitive spot. It was so vivid she could feel the sensations, feel her nipples pucker and her skin tingle, wanting him to put an end to her delicious misery by coming inside her and making her scream with ecstasy.

  Whoa. Okay. She’d never really had spanking fantasies, but that was kind of hot.

  Abruptly, the vision changed. Thorne’s arms around her waist, him entering her slow and deep from behind. His face buried in her hair, his lips moving slowly, sensuously up her neck.

  Him moving inside her, every thrust feeling like it touched her deeper than just her body, piercing her soul, letting a burst of light in.

  And then somehow she could feel his sensations—the thunder of blood in his veins, the tightness in his groin, the heat of her sheathing his cock, the slow, exquisite build, and the wild, almost uncontrollable pleasure spreading through them both.

  More pleasure than she’d never experienced before. She felt the tension building inside her and he held her close in his arms, thrusting deeper, making a safe place for her to let go. They came together, in a blinding surge of joy.

  Rebel opened her eyes, panting, wet and wanting. God. Where had that come from? Was it her fantasy, or his?

  If the real thing was only half that hot, she wan
ted it.

  Thorne? she ventured.

  He didn’t answer. There was nothing but silence, and the beat of dragon wings.

  Chapter 10

  Rebel finally drifted off to sleep. She woke just as they were circling over downtown Portland, nestled between the Willamette River and the forests of Vista Ridge. The sun was just barely up, and there were traffic helicopters in the sky.

  Rebel hoped Thorne had remembered to cloak himself, or they were going to be on the morning news.

  Thorne climbed high in a wide curve, coming around to face the ridge. Rebel just managed to pick out the cliff where the mansion was concealed before Thorne folded his wings and dove. Wind rushed past her ears as she peered out between his claws.

  Just when it looked as though he was going to dive straight into the cliff below the house, he half-unfurled his wings, tilting them to cut their downward speed.

  The brush-laden cliffside rushed at them, still too fast, and Rebel fought the urge to shut her eyes. At the last second Thorne folded his wings again, and they plunged into what looked like a solid rock wall.

  The magical illusion melted away, and they were through the cave mouth and into the underground tunnel that led into the lair. Thorne extended his back legs, running awkwardly down the tunnel until the momentum ran down.

  He sat back on his haunches, setting her gently on her feet and making sure she was steady before he let her go.

  Come on, he said. We should wake the others up and let them know we got the serum.

  He still sounded grumpy. Not that that was anything new; pissed off was pretty much business as usual for Thorne.

  Which was fine. Rebel wasn’t exactly the poster child for Little Mary Sunshine. The world was a hard place, people in it were assholes, and you were pretty much on your own to survive.

  And if you were strong, and not an asshole, you usually ended up being responsible for somebody weaker than you.

  With Rebel, it was Tempest. Not that Rebel wouldn’t do anything for her sister. Tempest was the only person she loved without reservation, and she’d cheerfully kill anyone who tried to hurt her.

  But it was still a lot of responsibility. Thorne had a whole city to worry about. That was a crap-ton of responsibility.

  Somebody should appreciate it.

  Rebel put her hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” she said. Thorne stopped. “Thanks for saving my life.” She took a deep breath, then let it out. She could do this. “Don’t tell anybody, but for a few seconds there, I was pretty fucking scared.” Okay. That hadn’t been so hard.

  He turned his head to look at her, his huge electric-blue eyes glowing in the dim cavern. There was a long pause. Finally he said, So was I.

  Wow. Okay. Having a moment. They both stared at each other, not knowing what to do.

  Deflect, Rebel. Deflect.

  “Of course you were,” she said. “You wouldn’t want a Keeper of the Seals going splat on your watch. Very embarrassing. Especially when she still doesn’t even know where the Seal is.”

  Exactly, Thorne said, beginning to walk down the corridor. He kept his pace slow, so she could keep up. The others would never let me hear the end of it.

  That was better. Snark and sarcasm.

  She kept her hand on his shoulder as they walked. After a minute, she heard his mental voice again—but not directed at her.

  Talking to his brothers? That was weird. She’d never been able to overhear their conversations before.

  Give it a rest, Thorne said. She does not think our tail is sexy.

 

  Holy hell, it was the dragon talking back. The two halves of him were separate enough to have conversations. Who knew?

  And they were talking about her.

  I said, give it a rest, Thorne answered. She’s not going to fall in love with us. Especially our dragon parts.

  Rebel smothered a gasp. Was it possible that crusty, overbearing, dutiful Thorne really did have feelings for her? Were those his fantasies that she’d seen?

  She remembered the feeling of being held safe in his arms, the heat and the joy, and the intensity of his kisses. Was that really possible?

  Then another voice broke in. Thorne? You’re back! This one sounded like Tyr. The relief in his voice was palpable.

  Wow. She hadn’t expected him to be that worried about her. And how come she could suddenly hear everybody?

  Yes, Thorne replied. We’re heading towards the Batcave now. Come down and—

  Already here, Tyr said. All of us. We had a—

  Rebel unconsciously removed her hand from Thorne’s shoulder, and Tyr’s voice suddenly cut off.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Security breach while we were gone. Corwyn.

  “What?” Rebel and Thorne looked at each other for one shocked second. Then they began to run.

  Thorne strode through the atrium and shoved the control room door open with his snout. Zane and Blaze were cuddled up on one of the sofas, Blaze sleeping with her head on Zane’s shoulder. At the sound of the door opening, she raised her head and looked up blearily, pushing her hair back.

  Tyr sat on the other sofa, looking as serious as Thorne had ever seen him. Tempest was asleep with her head on a pillow in Tyr’s lap, and his hand rested possessively on her shoulder.

  Thorne was so surprised to see them looking like mates that it took him a second to realize Tempest had half a dozen bandages on her, including a big one right under Tyr’s hand.

  What the hell happened? Was Tempest hurt?

  “She got a little banged up,” Tyr said wearily. He’d clearly been up all night watching over her while she slept. “The rest of us are okay, but—”

  Rebel slammed into the room and pushed past Thorne. “What happened? Is Tempest okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Tempest, now awake, sat up and stretched, then winced. Clearly at least one of her wounds was still hurting her. Humans healed so slowly, it was a wonder any of them survived at all.

  Rebel turned on Tyr. “For fuck’s sake, I left my sister with you for one night, and she’s all cut up. Weren’t you watching her?”

  Tyr opened his mouth to answer back, but Tempest got in first, frowning. “I don’t need a babysitter, Rebel. I’m a Keeper of the Seals, just like you. It’s just a couple of scrapes and bruises.”

  “Just? You’re covered in bandages!”

  Thorne could see Rebel’s shock, though. Tempest usually didn’t talk to her like that.

  Tempest raised her silver-gray eyes to Rebel’s. “It could have been a lot worse,” she said, sounding more like her normal, soft-spoken self. “And it’s all over. Nothing bad is going to happen now.” She glanced down at her sketchbook, which she’d been clutching even in her sleep.

  Rebel followed her gaze and her face went still. “Oh.” Her eyes searched Tempest’s face. “You sure?”

  She nodded.

  Thorne wondered what that was all about.

  Rebel sat down on the couch—more like collapsed, Thorne noted. It still amazed him to see this tough, cocky woman go all mother-hen when it came to her sister.

  Does someone want to tell me what actually happened? he said. Today would be nice.

  Tyr gave him a quick rundown of what had happened in the pump room. Tempest chimed in with her part of the story.

  “You fought Corwyn?” Rebel said. “With a gargoyle?”

  “I won, too.” Tempest sounded just the tiniest bit smug. “Well, Blaze helped,” she added. “Kind of a lot. But we still won.”

  “We did. You were awesome.” Tyr patted her knee, but Tempest had moved away from him again. So whatever had happened last night, it hadn’t changed the status of their relationship.

  Rebel had her head in her hands, muttering something about sorcerers and turning her back for one minute, and this was what happened.

  Thorne tried to keep
the discussion on track. So it was just Corwyn, by himself?

  “Him and his giant flying ostrich thing,” Tempest said.

  “A baraka,” Blaze put in. “Which means… well, giant flying ostrich thing.”

  “They’re supposed to be extinct,” Tyr said. “Where the hell did he get one?”

  Who cares? How did he even get in here? Thorne demanded. This place has been dragon-warded for hundreds of years. There’s no way a human sorcerer should be able to get in.

  “I know,” Zane said. “I checked all the wards, and so did Blaze. They don’t even seem to have been tampered with. I don’t know how he did it.”

  “Or why he did it,” Tyr said. “Why mess with the water supply? What was he trying to do?”

  “Poison us, obviously,” Rebel said.

  “But how?” Blaze asked. “I didn’t even know you could poison a dragon. They’re immune to practically everything.”

  Thorne suppressed a shiver. It was just luck that Tempest had caught him. There could have been poison in the water right now.

  “I don’t know,” Zane said thoughtfully. “Poison doesn’t really seem to be his style.”

  “Isn’t it?” Blaze said. “He hid inside a fucking idol for centuries, poisoning people’s minds and hearts. This isn’t that much different.”

  “Or maybe he doesn’t have the power to confront us directly,” Tyr added. “We did cut him off from Vyrkos. That was his major source of power.”

  Zane said, “Then why not try to get back in the tomb, connect back up with Vyrkos? Why go after us?”

  Thorne had no clue. He hated having no clue.

  Tempest said, “Maybe he doesn’t want Vyrkos to rise. After all, when he took Silas’s body, he could have tried to destroy the Dragonfly Seal. But he didn’t. He just left.”

  Thorne sighed in frustration, almost setting an office chair on fire. That makes no sense. If he doesn’t want to break Vyrkos out, what the fuck does he want?

  “Maybe he wants to take over the world himself,” Rebel said, raising her head from her hands. “Maybe he wants an impenetrable fortress of his very own, filled to the brim with gold and magical artifacts, with a bonus computer network that’s tapped into every government on this planet—and the dark net—for when he makes his way into the twenty-first century.”