Marked By Fire (Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society Book 2)

by Meg Ripley

  “Alright. There’s nobody here to see you but us. Show us what you can do.” Mr. Cross stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels like he was waiting for a car salesman to convince him to buy that new Jaguar.

  It was now or never. They would either see that he was like them and let him into their fold immediately, allowing him to finally be with his own kind once again, or they would have the authorities haul him away to be tested.

  It was a relief to let the dragon energy flood his body without restrictions. Lance threw his head back as his dark hair morphed into a scalp full of scales with several rows of spikes that curled toward his back. His arms and legs lengthened with powerful muscles. All of his nails were now claws, and a thick tail shot out from his lower back. Curling his shoulders forward, he unfurled his wings and felt the wind fill them like sails.

  Lance rolled his shoulders and elongated his neck, thrilled to be back in his glorious body once again. It had been so long. Taking on dragon form was like standing up and stretching after sitting still for too long. It hurt a little, but it felt so good, it didn’t matter.

  He turned to look at Mr. Cross, who watched him passively. “Alright. That will be enough, thank you.”

  With regret, Lance melted back down to his human appearance. His scales flipped under to reveal smooth, pale skin. His long snout was nothing more than a soft nose in the middle of his face, and his teeth were disappointingly dull. “Now do you believe me?”

  Mr. Cross didn’t answer. He flicked his fingers at Bruno, who snagged Lance’s head in the old tie like a noose and slid it up over his eyes once again. He handled him more roughly this time as he shoved him out of the garden. The air changed as they passed through a gate or doorway, and the sound of the city crashed down around Lance’s ears once again.

  Bruno shoved him out onto the sidewalk. “We’ll be in touch with you if we feel the need to. Don’t come back,” he ordered.

  Disoriented from so much quick shifting, Lance pulled up the blindfold just in time to see the door slam in his face. He was once again out on the sidewalk, but he seemed to be standing in front of a completely different building than the one the cab had dropped him off at. It was brick, its numerous windows with flower boxes indicating it was an old apartment building. But the door that led into it was exactly the same as the one he had seen before, dark and heavy with a small black dragon next to it. He might not have even been able to see it if he hadn’t known to look for it.

  With a sigh, Lance trod off into the night.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It was impossible not to think about The Club and the Darkblood Secret Society as he readied himself for work the next day. As he combed his hair in the mirror, Lance realized just how much he fit in with the humans. He wore their fine suits, adapting easily to the exquisite material and the way it made him look when he wore this body. With his blue eyes and aquiline nose, he was rugged and handsome in a way that he couldn’t quite appreciate. He did his job and kept what social engagements seemed necessary.

  Yes, he was far too human.

  As he brushed his teeth, he wondered if Mr. Cross would get in touch with him after all. Lance had taken the risk of shifting fully, possibly exposing himself to hunters. He flicked off the bathroom light, and the silhouette of his reflection cast him back once again to those days in Illinois.

  “You never can tell which humans are hunters,” Uncle Bill said as he blew a stream of smoke from his nostrils. “It’s not like they wear a badge on their clothes or anything. You have to watch out for all humans, Lance. There’s not a single one of them that isn’t a danger to us.” He swooped over the bean field behind the barn and headed for the woods.

  Lance, a young and impetuous dragon, scowled to himself. “That’s silly. They can’t all be bad. And in the movies, the bad guys are always dressed in black or something. You can always tell who the bad guys are.”

  Uncle Bill didn’t answer for a long time as he led them out over the trees. They followed the creek that ran down behind the property, turning back toward the barn just before they reached the wildlife preserve that abutted their land. “Sometimes it’s obvious,” he finally agreed. “Not everyone is good at hiding their true intentions. But then there are others. They know how to keep it under wraps, and you’ll never know they’re the enemies until it’s too late.”

  “Is that what happened to Mama and Papa?” Lance blinked away the tears that came to his eyes, secretly blaming the wind.

  His uncle curled his great head over his shoulder to eye his nephew. “Something like that, buddy. Something like that.”

  The night before, Lance hadn’t wanted his own car to be seen outside The Club, just in case anybody else knew what the place was really all about. But in the morning, it was nice to slide into the leather seat and feel the familiarity of the console around him. In a strange city and a new apartment, the car felt like an extension of himself.

  The clerk in the lobby of Carlton and Corbin jumped up to greet him as soon as he came through the glass doors. “Good morning, sir! I’m Tina. They told me you’d be in this morning, and I was told to direct you to the twenty-fifth floor. That’s where your office is, and everyone is waiting for you.” She beamed at him with her wide crimson lips, obviously eager to please.

  Lance only gave her a curt nod. “Thank you.” He crossed the marble floor of the lobby toward the elevators.

  When the doors opened, they revealed yet another lobby. It was sleek and modern, with elegant furniture and massive windows. A slim man in a three-piece suit jumped up from one of the couches and strode forward with his hand extended. With his skinny pants, pointy shoes, and tiny glasses, he was every bit the corporate hipster.

  “You must be Lance Rockland. I’m Chuck Burrell, assistant to the CEO. He said he’s already met with you via video conference, but I have to tell you the rest of us have been eager to see what Illinois had to offer us. There’s a rumor you used to be a farmer, and some of the guys were making bets on whether or not you’d show up in overalls and a straw hat.” He laughed nervously.

  Lance forced a smile. It was a human joke; not a particularly funny one, but undoubtedly human. “I grew up on a farm; that much is true. But I haven’t lived there in quite some time. I’d appreciate it if you’d show me to my office.” He was ready to get to work and have something to focus on other than The Club.

  “Not a problem at all. But, um, if you don’t mind, I thought I would take you around the floor and introduce you to everyone who’ll be working directly beneath you. I know it’s a big company and there’s a lot of work to do, but we like to stay friendly around here.” Chuck smiled and fidgeted with his suit jacket as he gestured to a desk at the other end of the room. “This is Wendy, the receptionist for our floor. She fields phone calls and visitors, and she’s the girl to talk to if you want a certain kind of coffee or doughnuts in the break room.”

  Wendy, a girl with wild red hair and a green dress that was far too bright for the corporate world, trembled as she shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  Lance gave her a quick nod. He doubted he would hardly speak to this human girl again; he preferred to spend his time locked away in his office without being bothered, and he would be bringing his own coffee machine to put behind his desk as soon as it was possible.

  At Chuck’s insistence, they toured through several more offices, where Lance was introduced to senior managers, accountants, and their secretaries and assistants. It wasn’t until they went to the marketing department that Lance found someone worth paying attention to.

  “This is Max McLaughlin, senior marketing director. He could sell a glass of water to a drowning man in the blink of an eye,” he laughed. “He used to work for a food corporation I’m not allowed to name, but I’d guarantee you could sing all the jingles to their commercials.”

  “You brag about me far too much, Chuck,” Max replied. He was a tall man with broad shoulders, dark eyes and a mischie
vous grin that brought Lance to attention. There was something about him, an air of superiority that the marketing director wore like a cloak. He felt important, and he really didn’t care about meeting the new CFO of the company any more than Lance wanted to meet him. Still, he put out one meaty hand while slicking the other one back over his jet-black hair. “You just come see me if there’s anything you need, Rockland. I know a lot about this place.”

  Lance’s jaw tightened as he shook his hand. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he picked up on a certain energy from this man that he couldn’t ignore.

  Yes, Max McLaughlin would be someone to watch.

  Once he’d met the rest of the marketing department, which consisted of even more people he really didn’t care about, Lance was finally guided to his own office. “It’s a great suite,” Chuck explained as he led the way. “It’s on the corner opposite from where I work, so there’s a great view. You have your own private bathroom, and anyone who wants to see you has to go through your assistant’s office first.”

  He opened the heavy door. The office inside was warm and inviting, with walls painted a deep mauve and fixtures in golden oak. Lance stopped when he saw the woman behind the desk; he could see her profile as she worked on her computer, a wave of her dark hair coming down to brush against her high cheek bone and angular jaw. She turned to them and smiled, and Lance got the full view of her beauty. Her wide green eyes tipped up at their corners, and her mouth was a constant curl of amusement.

  “Sabrina Holland, your assistant.”

  She stood, and Lance felt an electrical sensation run through his body. It was the same sort of feeling that took over him when he transformed, and he tensed his muscles to ensure he stayed human. Sabrina wore a deep blue dress that hugged her generous curves, and as she crossed the room to greet him, the scent of her perfume wrapped around Lance like a scarf.

  “A pleasure to meet you.” Her tone was business-like, but to Lance’s ears, it fell like a purr.

  He had never met a woman quite like this one before. Sure, he had been with human females when he felt a lust that he couldn’t satisfy any other way, but none of them had ever caught his attention like this. They’d been just like any other humans, including the ones who now worked under him at Carlton and Corbin: simply a part of the machine to help get the job done.

  But not Sabrina.

  Stunned, Lance tried to bring himself back to the moment as he let go of the soft skin of Sabrina’s hand. “You as well. I’ll try not to be too demanding.”

  “You can’t be any worse than the previous CFO,” she said out of the corner of her mouth with a wink. “Just don’t tell Chuck I said that. He’s a bit of a kiss-ass.” Her voice was like silk, the vowels smooth and the consonants crisp.

  “Hey!” Chuck looked hurt.

  Sabrina lifted her delicate shoulders, her hands in the air. “I don’t think my job description says anything about being polite. Come on. Let’s get you settled.” She led the way to a door in the back of her office.

  Lance would have been very happy at the size and luxury that his new office afforded, but his new assistant was more intriguing than the large, L-shaped desk, the expansive windows, the flat-screen television mounted on the wall, or the hardwood bookcases. He followed Sabrina inside but kept his eyes on her.

  “You’ve got your own coffee station,” she said, gesturing to an expensive machine with a chrome handle in the corner of the room. A set of glass carafes and an arrangement of mugs sat beside it, along with an array of sugar packets. “Take my advice and don’t drink any of the mud Wendy makes. Also, you can’t complain when I step in here for coffee myself. I would have it moved to my office, but there just isn’t room.”

  “That’s fine,” Lance assured her. This would save him from bringing in his own machine—and the thought of Sabrina poking her head into his office a few times a day to refill her mug made it all the more enticing.

  Chuck stood near the doorway, his arms folded across his chest and his thin lips turned down into a frown. Clearly, he wasn’t pleased about his job being taken over.

  “Thanks for your assistance, Chuck.” Lance shook his hand and nodded, dismissing him. He had been annoying since the start, and he wasn’t nearly as interesting as Sabrina. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I need anything else.”

  The thin man was eager to please. “Of course. I forgot to show you where my office is. It’s in the exact opposite corner from yours, just down this hallway. And my extension is 465. I’ll be here at least until six tonight—”

  “Thanks, Chuck,” Sabrina said firmly from her position near the coffee maker, and with that, he walked away in a huff.

  “Don’t mind him,” she advised as she handed Lance a steaming mug of coffee. “He means well, but he’s helpful to the point of being annoying. Don’t ever call him unless you have no other options, or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Lance accepted the mug and stirred in a packet of demerara sugar. “Sounds like you know the office dynamics pretty well around here.”

  Her dark hair had fallen forward as she prepared the drinks, and she shook it back over her shoulders. “I’ve been here for over seven years. I’ve seen executives and secretaries alike come and go. I do my best to mind my own business, but I find that an office is just like a small town. Everyone has their role, and they all like to gossip.”

  “Particularly Chuck?” he asked, taking a sip of the rich brew. He hadn’t missed her remark about watching what he said.

  “Definitely. The CEO knows everything that happens around here, thanks to his loyal assistant.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be telling me everything I need to know?” he challenged.

  She smiled as she walked to the desk. “Only enough to keep you out of trouble. And I’m not like Chuck at all in the fact that I leave promptly at five. If you want to stay late, then that’s your problem; I don’t pull all-nighters at the office.”

  The kind of all-nighter Lance would like to have with her probably wasn’t in the cards, either.

  “I took the liberty of gathering up all the reports for the last six months and loading them onto your computer for you. I figured you’d want to look them over. Is there anything else you need from me at the moment?”

  Sitting down in the plush chair, Lance got a whole new vantage point on his stunning aide. It was going to be difficult to remain professional during his time here. Sabrina wasn’t like all the other workers he had met; she was real, she was sassy, and she was so gorgeous, it was hard to believe she was human. The way she stood before him, with one slim eyebrow raised and her hips cocked, she looked like she could have been propositioning him just as easily as she was offering to find more reports.

  “I think that’s all for now, thank you.”

  “No problem.” She sashayed out of the office and closed the door behind her.

  Lance leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.

  CHAPTER THREE

  He’d been looking for a distraction from thoughts of the Darkblood Secret Society, and Sabrina had certainly provided that. When he returned to his apartment that night, his mind was trained solely on her. As he unboxed his books and placed them on the shelves, he imagined what it would feel like to run his hands down her ribs to her hips, to cup her tight buttocks, to press her against him, to feel her warm breath against his lips. He unpacked his clothes and hung them in the bedroom closet, picturing himself closing the office door behind her, flicking that lock he had noticed on the handle, bending her over his desk, and lifting the hem of her dress.

  His fantasies followed him to work the next day, haunting him as he tried to focus on reports and memos. He couldn’t ignore the way she smiled at him over her mug of coffee or the way her voice sounded when she told him he had a call on line one.

  “Aren’t you going out for lunch?” Sabrina asked when she stepped into his office around one o’clock to hand him his mail. “I think most everyone else ha
s gone and come back already.”

  “I took advantage of the mini fridge and brought my own,” he said, gesturing to the appliance next to the coffee station. “I have a lot of work to get done, so I figured I wouldn’t waste my time.”

  She set the stack of envelopes on the corner of his desk. “I see. You’re the kind to work yourself to death. Well, that’s up to you, but you should really check out the little café around the corner. I’ll go with you sometime and show you all the good stuff.”

  The idea of lunch with Sabrina—especially with her showing him “the good stuff”—lit Lance on fire. He tried to keep his focus on her face instead of her breasts as he pulled the pile of mail toward him. Her blouse fit tightly around her chest, and she had left just enough buttons undone to suggest what was underneath. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She crossed the room to the coffee machine and poured herself another cup. She had already been in there three times that day, and every time had been like torture. “Great. Don’t forget we have a staff meeting tomorrow morning. Nobody will expect much from you, since you’re new, but it’ll give you an idea of what we usually do. I’ll be there with you if you have any questions.” She twirled toward the door and was gone.

  Lance stared at the closed door, wondering how long he could carry on this way. Sabrina was able to create not just an interest within him, but an urge. He wanted her with a hunger that gnawed at him from the inside. Even when she had safely ensconced herself in her office, he still knew she was there on the other side of the door. It was as though he could read her heat signature right through the wall, but of course he couldn’t do that while he was human.

  Listlessly, Lance flicked through the mail. There were catalogs for office equipment addressed to his predecessor, advertisements from insurance companies, and a coupon for ten dollars off a haircut. Most of this he cast aside, but the last piece of mail made him sit up. The paper of the envelope looked like old parchment, a deep cream color that accented the dark red seal holding it shut. The image in the wax was a twisted dragon, the same logo he had seen outside The Club.