by Olivia Ash
Drew stops midstride, jaw clenched, hands balled into fists. He’s practically bubbling with anger, and the only thing holding him at bay is the fact that Jace is the Grand Master. The army of warriors here would die for him in a heartbeat, and I don’t want to test their loyalty.
Tucker, Drew, and I—right now, none of us has a say in what happens next.
Jace leans over me, and though I expect anger on his face, all I see is calm concern. As he nears, my treasonous body aches for him, leaning in to him, urging me to give him what he wants.
Like hell.
Stupid mate-bond.
He’s sexy and overbearing and controlling and protective, and I fiercely want to both screw his brains out and break his nose, all at once.
It’s maddening.
“Do you agree to my terms?” he asks quietly. Tenderly. “Will you stop fighting me for once and just listen? You came here to train—and now it’s time to begin.” He pauses, his hard eyes softening a little. “Let me help you.”
“If you just wanted to help me, you wouldn’t dangle my sister’s life in front of my face.” I lean in to him, ignoring the urge to glance down at his tantalizing lips, ignoring the way his strong grip smolders against the skin of my arms. “If you just wanted to help me, you wouldn’t make ultimatums. You would listen. You would trust me and my training. You would give me some damn credit.”
In one fluid motion, I swipe out his legs and knock the Fairfax Grand Master to the floor.
He groans in surprise, leaning up on his elbows, looking for all the world like he’s going to jump up and tackle me to the ground.
“That’s for pinning me,” I snap. “And as for your offer, I’ll think about it—and get back to you when I don’t want to punch you in the face anymore.”
With that, I charge through the doors and slam them shut behind me. The walls shake, but I don’t care. Right now, I’m so furious that my veins practically smolder. I want to erupt in fire and singe the world around me, tear it to the ground, let the flames burn through my fury until I can think clearly again.
I walk absently through the hallways, wondering what on Earth I’m going to do.
For all his overbearing and controlling tendencies, Jace is right about one thing—my magic is becoming infinitely more powerful, and I’m only beginning to learn how to rein it in.
But I’m not some helpless child. I fought Mason and won, all without an episode. I saved them from Zurie. It’s not as though I’m some ticking time bomb, and he freaking knows that.
To give into his ultimatum—to hand over control to him—I just refuse to do it. My power is too strong, too limitless, too incredible to allow someone to hold me back like that.
Even if that someone is one of the most powerful thunderbirds alive.
Zurie made me write a blank check—anything she ever asked of me, I had to comply.
Now that I’ve tasted freedom, I will never allow anyone to chain me again.
Not even Jace.
Chapter Ten
I sit alone on the roof of my spire, staring out into the beautiful forest around me. Deep down, I want to appreciate the vibrant greenery, the way the wind ripples through the canopy like waves, but I can’t.
I’m still too damn angry.
I came here to cool off and calm down, but so far nothing has helped. My skin buzzes with energy as I press my fingers against the roof, the magic churning within me, but my anger overrides even that.
As I stew in my anger, a shadow bolts into the sky from the courtyard below, nothing but a dark blur through the air.
A dragon.
Whoever this is, he moves dazzlingly fast, so fast that I don’t recognize him yet.
I squint after him, a little grateful for the distraction, and I stand as I watch him soar above me. He banks to the left, circling back toward the castle—and, more specifically, toward my spire.
Seconds later, he dives.
It’s like watching a bullet race toward me, and I wonder if I should wait for him to land or duck through the window and into the embassy before he has the chance to reach me.
Ultimately, I decide to wait, wondering if whoever this is will attack. Considering how angry I am, it would be kind of nice to have an excuse to blow someone’s head off and burn some energy.
You know, in self-defense.
He swoops low, and as he nears, stretches his wings to slow down. Instantly, I recognize the threads of glowing blue light that contrasts with his otherwise pitch-black wings. The radiant blue veins climb up his spine and along his neck.
Jace.
The stunningly beautiful black dragon lands on a nearby spire, giving me space. I square my shoulders as I prepare for a face-off.
He hesitates, about fifty feet from me, his massive body tense and stiff as we study each other, waiting for the other to move first.
I cross my arms. I can wait all damn day.
He sighs and jumps the distance between us effortlessly. The shingles beneath me tremble as he lands, but I maintain my balance.
Jace takes a few slow steps closer, giving me the first real view I’ve had of his dragon’s face. His midnight scales are sleek and striking, a sharp contrast to the bright glow of the blue fire burning in his throat. A few thin lines of blue light run along his jaw, and the two horns on his face glint like cold black metal in the sun.
Slowly, cautiously, he walks closer, his glowing blue eyes trained on me as he nears.
I’m not sure what to expect, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he grabbed me in his claws and flew off with me.
It seems like the sort of thing he would do, just to piss me off.
To my surprise, he reaches his head toward me, stopping just inches away, silently urging me to place my hand on his forehead.
To talk.
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, wondering if I have the patience for him right now.
He gently nudges my elbow, and I look over to find his head a little closer. Those beautiful eyes stare into my soul, intense and focused.
When Drew wants to talk in his dragon form, he just presses himself against me, opening the connection without asking. Honestly, I kind of expected Jace to do the same—but he’s being polite.
Well, his version of it.
Reluctantly, I set my hand on his forehead.
As much as I hate to admit it, the sensation is heavenly. Light and airy, it sparks a flurry of joy through me to touch him, to be near him, and something about his dragon form is so different—such an odd combination of raw power and unrestrained devotion that I can barely hold on to the dissolving threads of my anger.
After all, even in his dragon form, Jace is still in control.
Rory, his voice echoes through my mind, and for a moment, I simply lose myself in the beauty of the sound. His thoughts are melodic. Tender. Doting. Raw. A dragon’s thoughts don’t sound like his human voice, and though I find Jace’s voice sexy as hell, the tenor and chime of his thoughts are even more alluring.
He adjusts his body, tucking his tail around himself, his wings stretching as he gets comfortable on the sloping rooftop. I briefly admire the blue veins in the leathery wings, studying the way they splinter through the skin and glow with all the fire of a sun.
You’re angry with me, he says through the connection, watching me with those glowing eyes.
“No shit,” I mutter.
He snorts impatiently, the quick rush of hot air blowing past me like steam. You shouldn’t be.
I roll my eyes. “If you came here to make me angrier, it’s working.”
I—ugh, damn it, Rory. He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls away. The movement breaks the connection, and he shakes his head in irritation.
With him goes the beautiful sensation of his scales against my skin, as well as the enchanting buzz of magic that burns through us both.
It’s a reminder, for me, that neither of us chose this odd connection we share. His dragon chose me, and it seems as though the growing
magic within me chose him.
Neither of us really has a say in the matter.
He sighs and presses his forehead against my chest, much like Levi does. It reopens the connection, and with that delightful surge of energy, I’m able to forget a bit of my anger once more.
You deserve to know the truth, he says with a hint of disappointment. All of it, especially after what Drew said about the mate-bond.
“Yeah, right,” I say with a chuckle. “Like you would ever tell me the whole truth about anything.”
To his credit, he laughs. A few huffs of air escape him, and he leans a little harder into me, like he just wants to be as close as possible. That’s fair.
“So?” I ask, curious. “Tell me.”
Yes, many mates are—well, let’s just say they’re fiercely protected. Mated thunderbirds usually end up in the capital with our Boss, protected by the full weight of the Fairfax army.
“So, you really do lock them away,” I say with disappointment, staring off at the forest. I can’t look at him, not after an admission like that.
Yes and no, he says urgently. There’s more to it than that.
His wing possessively wraps around me, drawing me near, pressing me harder against his forehead. Instinctively, I weave my fingers along his jaw, and he growls with pleasure at the sensation. The sound ripples through me, consuming me, igniting a possessive pleasure deep within my core.
Not every thunderbird finds a mate, but those who do are watched by the Boss—not just the women, but the men as well.
I lift a confused eyebrow, but otherwise remain silent. I don’t want him to stop, not now that he’s finally sharing something with me.
Rory, if a thunderbird dragon loses his mate, he goes feral. Instantly. There’s no recovery, no chance for redemption. His mind fractures, and he’s gone. Jace adjusts his weight, those glowing blue eyes catching my attention, and the severity of what he’s saying slowly begins to dawn on me.
He’s not just protecting me—he’s protecting himself. If he lost me, if I died, he would literally lose his mind. As one of the most powerful dragons in existence, his feral self could decimate whole cities, kill hundreds of thousands of people, and even start a war with the humans.
Over me.
You understand, he says quietly, studying my face. The reason they’re moved to the Capital is because the Boss needs to ensure no thunderbird goes feral. We can’t let a powerful but fractured dragon start a war.
“Why didn’t you just tell me all of this?” I ask, frustrated. “Instead of making demands and ultimatums and all that bullshit?”
Because I don’t—ugh. His sharp claws dig into the shingles, cracking several as he uncomfortably shifts through his emotions. Because I’m not used to feeling, Rory! To—to love, or whatever this is you and I have. War, blood, battle—that’s all I know! I’m not used to caring at all except for my soldiers and my dojo. To have a mate—to have someone with that power over me— He squeezes his eyes shut and groans. None of this was ever my destiny. None of this was ever supposed to happen to me. He pauses, shifting his attention to me, glancing me up and down before continuing. But then you came along, and everything changed. I’ve never had…
“Never had what?” I scan his face, but he shakes his head and looks away.
He won’t finish the sentence, but it’s not hard for me to imagine what he was about to say.
Jace Goodwin has never had a weakness. A chink in his armor. It doesn’t matter how great a fighter he is—if anyone ever killed me, they would destroy him, too.
My heart pangs at the realization, and it’s as devastating as a betrayal.
Just like that, he proves what I’ve suspected thus far—he doesn’t see me as capable. As an equal fighter. As someone who can take care of herself.
After everything I’ve endured, his lack of confidence in me is utterly baffling.
“What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m not some damsel to trap in a tower?”
He scoffs. Can you take on twenty shifted dragons at once?
I roll my eyes. “Can you?”
Yes. He narrows his eyes, and I frown at the unspoken implication he just made.
“So that’s what it’ll take? Me fighting twenty—”
Gods, woman, no. He sighs, and as frustrated as we both are, I’m surprised when he only holds me tighter. Like he’s afraid to let go.
“You and me—” I gesture between us. “—this isn’t going to happen unless we get on the same page. You don’t get to lock me away. You don’t get to make demands of me. I’m not one of your soldiers.”
I know, he says with a weary sigh. We don’t understand each other, can’t even go a day without arguing about something. Sometimes I don’t know why my dragon picked you.
“Thanks,” I mutter dryly.
You feel the same way, he says with a knowing and rather impatient snort.
Yeah. I have to give him that much.
“You see the danger here, right?” I ask softly. “For Irena? How little time she has left?”
I do, he admits.
“You know what she means to me?” My throat tightens. “The lengths that I would go for her? The things I would do for her?”
Yes, he says simply.
“And you realize I’m not going to let her die?”
A deeply frustrated sigh escapes him. I do, yes.
“So, help me find her.” I lean in to underscore my counteroffer to his earlier ultimatum. “Help me heal her, and you and I can train all day long. I’ll master my magic. I’ll give our training everything I have. But I won’t go to the Capital. I won’t stay in a tower. If anything happens between us, you’ll have to accept that I will never, ever let you stow me away. And you will never, ever command me.”
He watches me for a tense moment, not speaking, not wavering, that steely gaze studying me as though he can see clear through to my soul.
We shall see, he finally says. But for now, as far as the training and Irena, I can agree.
“And Irena? When can we—”
Very soon, he promises. We are at such a disadvantage, Rory. We have almost nothing to go on. I will see what I can do.
I frown, not satisfied with the answer.
Three days, he says with a little growl. Give me three days, and then we will discuss everything I’ve found. Together. And, he adds with a bit of an eye roll, I will not make you remain behind. Not with something as important as your sister.
“Thank you,” I say softly, admittedly impressed. “Three days it is, then.”
I watch him warily, not entirely sure if this was a victory. But for the moment, Jace and I have made a very tense, very fragile peace.
Hopefully neither of us pisses off the other enough to destroy it.
As the sun sets through my bedroom curtains, I step into the elaborate space and shut the door behind me, only to find a small pine box on my bed.
I stiffen.
It’s roughly the size of my hand, and a note lies on top. I snatch the paper, scanning the black ink. This handwriting is different than the other notes, clearly added after the fact.
Rory—
Jace wanted to hide this from you. I know you can handle it. I’m still trying to trace its origin and get some useful data, but there’s no sense in me holding onto it.
—Drew
My gaze flits to the small pine box, my curiosity piqued.
Lifting the lid, I find a small flip phone laying on a bed of straw. A charger sits next to it, wrapped neatly with a little plastic tie.
Cautiously, I flip open the phone and scroll through it. There’s only one contact—a Seattle number, by the looks of it, but I highly suspect this is a burner number I won’t be able to trace.
To my utter surprise, he actually named the contact.
Ian.
It could be a fake name, but it’ll do for now.
Beneath the phone is another note—this one in the familiar blue writing of our sadistic new friend.
Try not to break this one, it reads.
I study the phone, half-expecting it to ring at any moment.
No doubt he expects me to call him immediately, desperate and gasping for information on Irena.
I won’t.
I’ll wait.
Unlike Ian’s other opponents, I won’t play into his hands.
It seems my rival just upped the ante—he wants a way to contact me, but he has no idea who he’s messing with.
Or, apparently, the advantage he just gave me.
Chapter Eleven
As the morning sun burns low along the horizon, I sit on a stretch of cliff facing the distant mountains that surround the beautiful embassy and its lands.
There’s five days left to save Irena, and we still don’t have a plan.
Levi’s head lays in my lap, the ice dragon slowly growling with pleasure as I run my hand along the space between his eyes. It’s a soothing motion for me, and something about the sensation of his scales along my fingertips helps to quell my bubbling emotions.
Unease, since my training starts today.
Frustration, since Jace is a sexy ass that makes me want to both shake and kiss him.
Bone-chilling horror, since my sister could die at any moment.
You worry too much, Levi hums in my mind. Just be.
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “You don’t have crazy dragon magic that can blast holes through mountains if you sneeze too hard.”
He chuckles.
“Where do you go all day?” I ask, surveying the forest canopy above us.
Hunt. Through our connection, a swirling flurry of emotions bleeds from him into me. Adrenaline. Excitement. Victory. Hunger.
Mercifully, he spares me the visual details—I don’t have to watch a memory of him eating a deer, and for that, I’m thankful.
He chuckles again. Softie.
I playfully smack his ear, grinning. In retaliation, he smacks me in the back with his tail. Even though the force knocks me momentarily off balance, I laugh. It was a love tap, if anything. Barely enough to sting, much less injure anything.