by Anna Lowe
Must find out who that is, his dragon cried, more agitated than ever.
Silas told himself it didn’t matter, but the itch remained.
It’s important, his dragon insisted.
He kept his eyes firmly ahead. Nothing was more important than the Spirit Stone. He raised his hand.
“Two-point-six million dollars,” the auctioneer crowed.
Silas sucked in a slow breath. Bidding against a billionaire might be a losing battle, but he would push Drax as high as he could go. And meanwhile, he’d think of a Plan B.
But he couldn’t think, somehow. Not with that magnetic force drawing him toward the back of the room. He turned his head slowly, wondering who or what it was.
There were a dozen rows of chairs behind Silas, all filled, and beyond that, a packed standing-room-only section at least five deep. For all the faces in that crowd — the business types watching proceedings with eagle eyes, the painted beauties seeking to make eye contact, the curious reporters — his eyes landed right on the woman with the chestnut hair.
Her arms were still crossed, her face furious. She tapped her foot while her eyes threw daggers at a man in a brown suit slowly making his way to the podium. Why did she seem so important? She was a stranger to him.
We’ve never met, but she’s not a stranger, his dragon said in a choked voice.
Her eyes darted over the crowd and stopped right on him. Silas’s breath caught in his throat, and his blood rushed.
“Two-point-seven million dollars,” the auctioneer announced.
Drax was bidding. Kai was nudging his elbow, and Tessa was whispering something. But all Silas could see, hear, or sense was the stranger at the back of the room. Everything became muted and fuzzy except her, and time slowed until he could feel each thump of his heart, each heavy rush of blood through his veins. They stared at each other through what seemed like a long tunnel of light in an otherwise dark and dreary world. When she tilted her head, her hair swung in a slow wave, mesmerizing him. He nearly reached out a hand as if she were right behind him and not several yards away.
“Silas,” Kai hissed, elbowing him hard.
“Going twice—” the auctioneer said.
Silas blinked as Kai pushed his hand up to bid. Whoa. What had just happened?
“Two-point-eight million dollars.”
“Damn it, man. Keep your head in the game,” Kai muttered.
A bead of sweat ran down Silas’s brow. It doesn’t matter who she is, he berated his dragon.
She does matter, his dragon insisted. Can’t you see?
He kept his eyes firmly forward, trying to focus on the diamond. But with the tunnel vision gone, he saw Drax and Moira too. Moira tossed her head, making the light glint off her hair in a forced effect that made him want to turn around and point to the woman at the back of the room.
That’s beauty, he wanted to tell Moira. Natural beauty, because it comes from the inside. From confidence, and from the instinct to fight for what’s right.
A second later, he shook his head, trying to clear those crazy thoughts. He didn’t know that mystery woman or what drove her. Was he losing his mind?
Not losing, his dragon murmured. Finding.
He didn’t have time to ask, Finding what? because a movement caught his attention. The man in the brown suit was still making his way forward — the one the mystery woman had been watching so intently. He edged past a long table of champagne flutes then leaned in to whisper to a security guard.
“What’s that about?” Kai murmured, studying the same man.
Moira arched an eye at Silas as if wondering why he would pay attention to anyone but her.
I don’t love you, he wanted to say. I don’t care any more.
“Two-point-nine million dollars.” The auctioneer pointed at Drax.
Shit, Kai said.
Shit was right. Three million was Silas’s hard limit, and he still didn’t have a Plan B — other than cornering Drax on the way out of the auction house and wrestling the Spirit Stone from him.
One of two linebacker types standing by the doors cracked his meaty knuckles and scowled as if reading Silas’s mind. Those two were just the most obvious members of Drax’s security force — a wolf and a boar shifter, if Silas’s nose was right. Drax would have more bodyguards outside, of course.
I can take them, his dragon huffed.
Silas kept perfectly still. Yes, he could take on any one of them. Hell, he could take them on in pairs or in threes, but not a whole gang at the same time. He had his own backup in Kai and Tessa, but there had to be a better option than fighting.
Sooner or later, we have to fight Drax. We have to kill him, his dragon roared.
Silas knew that. He even looked forward to it, in a way. But if he were to succeed, he’d have to use his brain. New York was Drax’s home turf — not the place or time for that fight.
When, then? his dragon demanded.
He wished he knew, but destiny never revealed her plans, and fate loved springing surprises on a man.
Moira’s eyes glittered at his, suggesting something.
He furrowed his brow. What the hell was that about? He could feel Moira’s mind tapping at his, demanding to be let in. The woman could worm her way into a man’s soul if he didn’t watch out — a lesson he’d learned the hard way.
He blocked her out and raised his hand.
“Three million dollars,” the auctioneer noted.
Silas’s stomach sank, because the woman at the back of the room was glaring at him. And somehow, that hurt. He didn’t want her to hate him. He wanted…
He scratched his chin. What did he want?
Her, his dragon murmured. Want her.
He might as well have been sucker-punched in the stomach, he was so surprised. So caught off guard by his dragon showing an interest in anyone. Genuine interest, not a passing little burst of lust.
Lust too. His dragon grinned. Want her every way. Want her to want me too.
Fat chance of that if she had already pegged him as an enemy.
“Mr. Drax?” the auctioneer asked.
Tessa gripped Kai’s hand. The whole crowd hushed as Drax made a show of deciding, torturing Silas by drawing out the process as long as possible. Finally, the gray-haired dragon raised a single finger with a look that said, A single finger is all I need to crush you, boy.
The auctioneer smiled broadly. “Three-point-one million dollars from Mr. Drax.” He turned back to Silas. “You, sir?”
The assistant tipped the velvet box his way, letting the diamond toss out one last ray of light. A hopeful, almost plaintive light, as if the stone knew exactly what was at stake.
Don’t let me go to that bastard. Don’t let him win.
Kai nudged him. Remember what Nina said.
Nina, one of the wolf shifters of Koa Point, had recently inherited fifty million dollars. She’d given half to cancer research and kept half — twenty-five million she’d offered to Silas to use for the greater good.
Silas’s fingers itched, begging to jump up and place a higher bid. Instead, he gave a curt shake of his head. No matter how high he bid, Drax would bid higher. It was time for Plan B or C. Time to go through every letter of the alphabet and figure out what the hell to do.
“No?” the auctioneer asked. “No more? Three-point-two?”
Silas shook his head, refusing to let any emotion show.
“I have three-point-one million dollars from Mr. Drax. Going once…” the auctioneer started.
Drax flashed a triumphant grin, letting the points of his fangs show. The Windstone is mine, and soon, I will find a way to rob you of the others.
Moira’s eyes flashed too. Tsk, tsk. You lost your chance.
There was something sneaky and disappointed in her gaze. Something Silas couldn’t pin down.
“Going twice…”
Kai bristled. Let that asshole have it. We have the other four stones, and those will keep us strong.
They would.
But five Spirit Stones would have made them nearly invincible, and Silas would have liked that buffer for the future. So far, Drax had left the shifters of Koa Point in relative peace. But who knew what he might attempt in his quest for supreme power?
The auctioneer raised his gavel, ready to close the sale. Silas could read the word forming on his lips. Gone. The diamond was gone.
But the man in the brown suit had been waved forward by the security guard, and he raced to the podium, halting the auctioneer before he could actually call the bidding to a close.
The crowd broke out in a hubbub as the frowning auctioneer leaned down, listening to the man’s urgent whispers.
“What’s going on?” Tessa asked.
Silas had no clue. Even Drax furrowed his brow as the two men at the front gestured and spoke in low tones. The man in the brown suit looked toward the back of the room — just once, and only briefly, but Silas whipped around.
The chestnut-haired beauty was there, staring at the front of the hall with her hands clasped as if praying for something.
Silas pursed his lips. What was that all about?
Quick, turn away, his dragon bellowed.
But he was too late. Drax had followed his gaze and spotted the woman. He frowned at her — a menacing frown that told the woman she’d better not mess with him, or else.
Her knees wobbled for a split second, but then she straightened and glared back.
No, Silas wanted to yell. You don’t know who you’re crossing! She was a mere human, and Drax was a ruthless dragon.
“Ladies and gentlemen, pardon the interruption,” the flustered auctioneer said. “But we have discovered an irregularity. I regret to announce that Lot 457 has been removed from sale.”
“Removed?” Drax jumped to his feet and shook a fist. “What do you mean, removed?”
The auctioneer shrank away. The attendant hurried offstage with the velvet box. The man in the brown suit and a security man shot pained looks at the woman at the back of the room.
Silas spun around, catching her flash a brief smile before slipping toward the door.
“What the hell is going on?” Kai muttered.
Silas stood quickly and headed for the exit, wondering the same thing.
Chapter Two
Cassandra smoothed her hands over her dress to keep them from trembling as she looked around the auction room. Everyone was chattering and gesturing — some of them at her. The man in the brown suit and the auctioneer had whispered just loudly enough to be overheard by guests in the front, who were spreading the news.
“‘The authorities have belatedly identified the true owner of the diamond’? What the hell does that mean?” someone demanded.
“Can you do that?” a woman asked as the news spread. “Just stop a sale?”
You bet your ass, I can, Cassandra wanted to say.
But it had been a damn close call, and crap — the last thing she needed was to be identified. Most of the gawking guests were harmless enough, but two men pinned her with killer stares. One was the silver-haired gent in the front row who’d nearly bought the diamond.
His withering look said, You don’t know who you’ve just tangled with.
Ah, but she did, and that’s what made her tremble. That was Drax, a dragon shifter. The mortal enemy her aunt had warned her of.
She took a step back and placed a hand against the wall for support. She wouldn’t turn and run — yet — no matter how tempted she was. But she needed the support badly. It was all she had.
You are the last of our line, her aunt Eloise had said in a hoarse, urgent voice, three weeks earlier. You are our last hope. No evil can be allowed to command the powers contained in the Windstone, the most powerful Spirit Stone.
And according to Eloise, dragons were the worst evil of all.
Cassandra tore her gaze away from Drax, only to have it land on the second man who was watching her closely. For a moment, her breath hitched, just as it had when she’d first laid eyes on him. She had hurried into the auction room late, intent solely on the diamond. But a second later, she’d only had eyes for the striking, younger man with dark, flashing eyes, sharply angled eyebrows, and wide shoulders. Who could blame her for having a second look?
Even now, she could barely keep her eyes off him, though she couldn’t understand why. Something beyond good looks or the strength that emanated so clearly from under the finely cut suit made her heart race. Something that made her stand in breathless silence, forgetting why she’d come to this place.
Then she shivered, spotting the red glow in his eyes.
Another dragon? She looked around the room, hugging herself. How many other shifters were lurking out there?
Suddenly, everyone looked suspicious — and, shit. There she stood, all alone, a woman who hadn’t known a thing about the supernatural world until three weeks ago.
You’re not just any woman, Eloise had insisted. You’re part witch, like me. It’s in your blood.
Cassandra forced herself to breathe evenly and focus on one thing at a time. The good news was, she’d succeeded in keeping the Spirit Stone out of enemy hands.
She gulped and peered around. The bad news was, those dragons still wanted the gem. Worse, she’d given herself away. Maybe it was time for a quick exit, after all.
She spun on her heel and forced herself to walk casually out the door as her mind revved into overdrive. How could she protect the gem?
Hide it. Conceal it. If you have no other choice, destroy it. Anything to prevent them from abusing its powers, Eloise had said. Generations ago, we witches created the Spirit Stones. We can destroy them too.
The problem was, we referred to trained, full-blooded witches. Cassandra was only one-eighth witch, and even after a few rushed lessons, she couldn’t conjure a single spell.
The empty corridor was an eerie contrast to the clamor of the auction room. With a sharp click of her heels, she headed to the women’s room. The wimp’s option, but hell, she needed to collect her nerves and formulate some kind of a plan. There was a diamond to claim, for starters. And shit, what would she do then? She was a novice, totally unprepared for the task that had been thrust upon her.
You, Eloise had said in that surprise meeting when she’d revealed the long-kept secret of Cassandra’s heritage. You are our last hope.
At first, she hadn’t taken Eloise seriously. But after witnessing a few spells — like a levitated chair and a candle that lit out of nowhere — Cassandra had progressed to sputtering in protest. Surely, if any member of her family were a witch, it would be her bitchy cousin, Rita. But Rita was from the all-human side of the family, Eloise explained, not the side with a tiny splash of witch’s blood.
There’s no one else. If you don’t rescue the gem, no one will. You, Cassandra. Everything rests in your hands.
Why not you? she’d retorted.
Believe me, I’m doing my part, the old woman had said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
And now, Cassandra really was the last one, because Eloise had been murdered just days after that impromptu meeting.
Cassandra swallowed hard, looking at her haggard reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were wide and bugged-out, and who could blame her? She washed her hands and took a couple of deep, steadying breaths. She had to figure out how to get the gem — and herself — out of here. Fast.
Her mind was anything but fast, though, drawing blank after blank when it came to an escape plan, so she leaned over the sink and splashed her face. She was still blinking the water out of her eyes when the door to the ladies’ room opened then closed with an ominous click. The space around her spiked with tension as if a storm system had just squeezed into the room.
Cassandra snapped her head up just in time to see a woman in a red dress scowl at her in the mirror. She spun to face the newcomer, reminding herself she was a badass New York bartender. She could handle anyone.
But, shit. It was the woman who’d been sitting beside Drax, and her eyes glowed
red. A dragon glow?
“So,” Red Dress said, looking Cassandra over slowly, dismissively. “You’re the one who halted the sale. Bad idea. Very bad idea.”
And holy shit, the points of the woman’s canines extended. She was a dragon, for sure.
Cassandra cursed Eloise under her breath. Couldn’t her aunt have offered a few pointers in handling angry dragons before sending her off on what seemed more and more like a suicide mission?
“What are you going to do now?” Red Dress hissed. “Do you really think you can just walk out of here with my diamond?”
It might as well have been Cassandra’s own subconscious posing the question. What the hell was she going to do?
The she-dragon was gorgeous in a too-thin, too-painted kind of way, with shiny black hair and scarlet lipstick the color of her dress. She was shorter than Cassandra by at least two inches, but the heels made up for that. Her appraising eyes were a haunting silver color, her lips turned down in a permanent scowl.
“I’ll do whatever I please with my diamond,” Cassandra retorted, telling herself she was dealing with a rowdy customer and not a shifter who could breathe fire.
The black-haired woman laughed. “Your diamond?” She stepped closer, dark as a cloud. “It will soon be mine.” A moment later, she laughed again. It was eerie, the way she flipped from one mood to another. “Silly human, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”
No, she didn’t. A magic spell would have been awfully handy, but, crap. The few lessons Eloise had rushed her through had all ended the same way: in abject failure.
So, all Cassandra could do was resort to her I-don’t-take-shit-from-anyone Brooklyn attitude.
“Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into,” she spat.
Moira tossed her head back and cackled, making her silky mane wave and bounce. “Ha. You’re bluffing. I want the Spirit Stone, and you will give it to me.”