In Deep Shift: The Protectors Unlimited Book Three

by Blackwood, Keira

  It called to me, the sound of it drowning out everything else. Thrumming filled my ears, and I walked, down the stone steps, down the narrow path.

  Pulsing, beating like a drum.

  Down the steps and forward over the stone walkway, I pushed forward. I had to reach it. I was meant to have it, to hold it.

  Pulsing, beating.

  Golden white radiance overtook all shadow, every inch of darkness. There was only the light.

  Pulsing, beating.

  So close, I could almost reach it, almost touch it. Just a little farther.

  Pulsing, beating.

  Heat radiated from the light, pleasant warmth on my hand, my face.

  Pulsing, beating.

  No, not just gentle warmth, hotter.

  I stepped forward, but something stopped me—my arm, it was stuck. I turned.

  Emerald eyes pleaded. Mia.

  Her hands were wrapped around my wrist as she pulled me, or at least she tried.

  Pulsing, beating.

  Her forehead was lined with concern as her mouth moved. She was yelling, soundlessly trying to tell me something, something important.

  I forced my attention to her lips to decipher her words.

  Don’t. Fire.

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  Pulsing, beating.

  White-hot searing pain radiated through my hand, up my arm.

  I turned and found the cube in my palm, the device that had led us here. It was consumed in light. My entire arm was consumed in light.

  White burst into red and orange, a familiar friend—fire. It licked up my wrist, up my arm. It spread through the air around me.

  Mia—there was no time, she was too close. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I couldn’t allow her to be here. I had to protect her. “Run!”

  Flames engulfed everything, tore through the air and covered my skin. I couldn’t see, blinded by the crimson haze. But I could feel.

  Her hands, Mia’s hands, they didn’t let go. She wouldn’t let go.

  I pulled her in and held her tight.

  My arm was fire. Everything was fire.

  I forced open my wings and tucked them in close, shielded Mia as well as I could as my flesh burned. She had to be okay. Only Mia mattered.

  Red and orange flared, but the sound—the sound had stopped.

  Like a gust of wind in still air, the fire blinded, consumed. The world shook, daggers of rock falling from the cavern ceiling. Stone crashed to the dark waters below.

  The ground beneath us quaked, and I held her tight.

  I could protect her. Even if I was destroyed, Mia would be okay--she had to be.

  And then it was over.

  Everything was black, and then it wasn’t.

  I blinked and found daylight. We were standing above ground in a familiar room. The curtains were open, the carpet was gray, and the bedspread had a fancy embroidered pattern. I looked to the corner of the room to the desk. On top was a bag—my bag. This was my hotel room.

  We were back where we’d started. The room appeared the same, even though it shouldn’t. Something should have been different, something that showed what had happened was real.

  My arms remained locked around Mia, my wings a cocoon.

  Part of me was afraid to look, to see what had happened to Mia. What I had done to her by allowing her close to me. There had been so much fire.

  She was still against my chest, and I could feel her heartbeat—she was alive. I could feel the rise and fall of her breasts against me—she was breathing.

  I curled my wings back gently, willing them to return to their place in my back.

  Hidden in the crook of my arm was a mess of blond hair, seared and shortened. Mia tilted her chin up, and the softness in her green eyes disarmed me. They were gentle like rolling hills on a spring day. She was alive.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  “It looks like we’re back.”

  “It does.” I held her close, afraid to let go. Her cheeks were red from the heat, but not burned. She didn’t appear to be injured at all. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Are you?”

  I sighed in relief.

  Her eyes cast down, and she took my hand in hers. Only it wasn’t my hand.

  A thick layer of plating covered my right arm. It appeared as if it should be heavy—shining silver twice as thick as my arm was meant to be.

  I tried to wiggle my fingers. The metal glove moved. The flex was delayed, but it moved. It should have felt cold, or hard, or something. But it didn’t feel like anything. I couldn’t feel my right arm at all.

  “Is this it?” Mia asked. “Is this the weapon?”

  She traced her fingers up over intricate engravings. There were swirls of runes, trails of tiny markings that meant nothing to me.

  “I think it is,” I said.

  She pulled her hands back. “I guess we shouldn’t touch it then, huh? Wouldn’t want to accidently annihilate dragonkind.”

  She grimaced and took a step back. I understood her hesitation, the gravity of the situation. She’d touched the cube and we’d been transported. Likely it was a coincidence, but even if it wasn’t, this was different.

  “I don’t think it works like that.”

  “Are you sure?” She took another step back. “How can you be sure?”

  She looked at me like I was dangerous, a bomb just waiting to go off.

  I could still feel the ghost of her touch, the lingering feel of her against my side. Her hair was burned, her clothes tattered, seared from the fire. She’d been in danger because of me, and all that I was.

  “I can’t,” I admitted.

  “So what are we supposed to do with it now?”

  “First, I take it off.”

  I grasped the glove above my elbow. There was nothing to grab onto, no top of the metal to hold onto. There was only metal and skin, as if one fused into the other. There seemed to be no distinction between where one ended and the other began. That couldn’t be right.

  I grabbed where I could and I pulled.

  Nothing. It didn’t even budge.

  I tried again, this time grabbing around the wrist. I pulled as I hard as I could.

  My shoulder tugged with the metal as if flesh and metal were one.

  Frustration flared, and I tore at the metal. My heart raced as I tried with everything I had to rip the glove from my arm. My breathing grew ragged and I growled as I pulled.

  “Hey.” Mia cupped my face in her hands. Her touch was gentle, her gaze warm. “Down here, big guy.”

  I looked at her, and it was okay. When I looked in her eyes, I took in a deep breath, accepting that somehow everything was okay.

  Just like that, I let go. I let go of the glove, and I let go of my anger.

  “We’ll figure it out.” She leaned her forehead on mine and closed her eyes.

  I brushed my lips over hers, accepting our partnership, giving in to Mia.

  She kissed me back, firm and insistent. Desire flooded through me, as her sweet cinnamon scent filled my lungs. One kiss and I was hers.

  She was more than I’d ever hoped for, more than I’d dreamed. I’d given up everything for this life, any chance of finding a mate, finding happiness. But with Mia—

  With a crash, glass shattered to the left—the window. A metal can hit the floor and rolled.

  “Blink,” Mia said. There was distress in her tone.

  A stream of white gas rose up from the floor with a hiss. A thud sounded from the other direction, another and the door began to splinter.

  I watched as the room clouded, confused, caught in a haze.

  Mia shook my shoulders, her eyes wide spheres of emerald. “Zane. Blink, dammit!”

  Chapter Ten

  Mia

  If ever there was a time for magical dragon teleportation, this sure as hell was it.

  With a bang, the door shattered at the jam. Hurried footsteps followed as white smo
ke filled the room.

  “I can’t,” Zane said. “I can’t blink.”

  Fuck.

  I dropped to the floor and pulled his arm, so he’d do the same. Instead, he just stood there wide-eyed.

  “Mia, I can’t blink.”

  “Get down.” I didn’t wait to see if he listened. One of us had to do something or we were both going to end up dead or unconscious. I didn’t much care for either of those possibilities.

  Skittering across the floor on hands and knees, I went for the canister. The smoke smelled stale and laced with chemicals.

  Heavy coughing came from behind me. Zane hadn’t done as I’d said—he was still standing. I shook my head. There wasn’t time to yell at him for not listening. That would have to come later.

  With my nose shielded in the crook of my elbow, I grabbed the smoke grenade and threw it back out the broken window it had come from.

  The bed was the only cover nearby, so I knelt behind it and hazarded a glance back toward the door.

  I expected to find leather-clad dudes in paper masks standing over an unconscious Zane, guns trained as they searched the room. I expected to have to save his ass from the bikers we’d had to deal with since this whole mission had started.

  But none of that was what happened.

  The men that had broken into Zane’s hotel room weren’t dressed like bikers. They wore crisp black uniforms and sported riot gear—plastic shields and cow prods. It was almost like...like they were with the Tribunal.

  Zane wasn’t on the floor. Instead, he was on his feet, plowing down one intruder to the next.

  As the men in black stabbed their sticks against Zane, each zapping sound made me cringe. I hurt for him, but Zane didn’t show any sign of slowing or any sign of pain, only anger.

  His fists flew into the helmet of one shifter, then another.

  My feet were moving before I could think.

  Midway across the room, Zane turned. The weapons assaulted him, leaving red welts in their wake on his neck and arms. He ignored them, his attention set on me.

  His blue eyes blazed.

  “Mia,” he said. “Run.”

  I froze.

  What the fuck was he thinking? That I’d just leave him here to die? Hell no.

  He should have known better than that. We’d been through fire and back. He should have known I wouldn’t just let him go.

  A shield slammed into his shoulder, pushing him forward, another into his knees. He buckled, fell to the floor.

  I took a step forward.

  “Run, Mia. Please…”

  More men in black entered the room, carrying chains.

  Snapping and cracking filled my ears. Wings burst forth from Zane’s shoulder blades in a beautiful sapphire expanse. Everything but Zane fell away as I watched his clothes stretch and tear. His face grew long and his smooth skin hardened into shimmering scales. I’d seen his wings, but this was something else altogether, something even more spectacular.

  In a violent thrash, his wings shot open, knocking back the men that surrounded him. They refused to relent, rushing in to latch chains to his legs, while others threw them over his shoulders. But the dragon grew.

  “Run.” One last word, meant for me.

  The dragon grew, and grew, the ceiling splintering as his back crashed through the plaster. Screaming echoed down the halls and from the floor above. A bed crashed through the ceiling and landed on the floor beside me.

  I took a step back, then another, and another.

  That’s when I understood. He didn’t want me to run from the men that attacked him. He wanted me to run from him.

  Zane turned, his long tail whipping against the side of the bed. The mattress flipped up on its side and the walls crashed outward as he filled the space. There wasn’t room for anyone inside with the dragon. Hell, there wasn’t enough space for the dragon.

  I bashed the broken glass with my elbow and peeked out the window. No matter what was out there, a ladder or a four-story fall, I was going. Turned out it was scaffolding, a narrow metal staircase.

  Nice.

  Head first, I dove onto the platform. The hot metal clanged as I tumbled. I turned back.

  Blue scales flashed beneath a gust of flames. The heat of it made me flinch. Emergency sprinklers rained water down over the fire, but the fire grew and an alarm sounded.

  I rose to my feet.

  Zane. Crazy brave, crazy stupid, crazy hot.

  Leonard was right—I was drawn to danger, attracted to trouble. Life didn’t get any wilder than it did with a dragon.

  The brick wall shifted, bending like the damned thing was made of rubber. Mortar cracked and the metal platform beneath my feet shook, creaked, and warped.

  I raced down the staircase as fast as my feet could carry me, taking two, four, at a time.

  The metal whined and snapped.

  When I reached the last story, I jumped for it.

  There was a large patio below, cafe tables with umbrellas overlooking the river.

  Whispers and gasps met me as I landed on the hotel’s back patio. Human men and women looked up to the top of the building. I rose to my feet and brushed off my pants.

  “Nothing to see here,” I said with my most reassuring smile.

  Bricks fell to the ground beside me and the metal stairs cracked and crumbled to the ground. I turned and backed a few steps farther from the building.

  People ran screaming, which honestly, was a reasonable reaction to the crumbling roof and the collapse of the upper floors of the building.

  I watched, jittery while I waited for a glimpse of the dragon. Zane had to be fine—he was a fucking dragon.

  Fire licked up the side of the building, but no one came out the window.

  I waited, expecting his majestic dragon form to burst from the brick at any moment. It didn’t.

  Sirens wailed in the distance, quickly approaching.

  I waited.

  Nothing.

  Standing here wasn’t helping. I made my way around to the front of the building, past a crowd of annoyed and scared people who were fleeing the sprinklers and the fire.

  “Everyone has to evacuate.” A man touched my arm. “Don’t you hear the alarm?”

  I kept my eyes on the door, waiting for Zane. He had to be okay.

  “Lady, you can’t go in there.”

  I didn’t turn to look at the man; instead, I kept my attention on the door. “I’m looking for someone, someone who’s still inside.”

  He let go. I walked through the automatic doors and headed for the elevator. What if I was wrong, what if he hadn’t gotten away? What if he was still up there, in the fire, in chains?

  I pushed down everything but purpose. If he was up there, I would help him.

  I jabbed the close button until the elevator doors finally began to obey.

  Then I saw him.

  I threw my hand out between the closing doors and they opened again.

  A white t-shirt, short dirty-blond hair, wide shoulders, fine ass—that was Zane, all right. And he’d managed not only to survive the fight, but to put on some fresh clothes after.

  “Hey!”

  He turned. His steely gaze took my breath away. A smear of black crossed from his forehead down over the stubble on this jaw. That was it—the only evidence he’d been attacked by eight shifters with weapons, the only evidence he’d been in a fire, the only evidence it had been him that had caused half the hotel to fall apart.

  People ran down the steps, out of elevators, screaming. The man at the desk was on the phone squealing something about fire. All of it was a blur of noise and confusion.

  But there was Zane, unscathed.

  I hurried out of the elevator and through the commotion and ran to Zane.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.” His face was lined with concern.

  “You okay?”

  He looked at his arm, the one with the glove. It wasn’t just up to the elbow. It reached an inch above. �
�Did that—”

  “It’s nothing.” he rubbed the place where the metal met skin.

  “It’s not nothing,” I said. “Let’s go outside. We can figure this out.”

  I touched his arm, but he flinched.

  We walked out of the building side by side, but something was off. Something was wrong, and not just the fact that a dragon-killing glove was attached to Zane or that an attack squad had just assaulted him. It was something more.

  The air outside felt hotter than it had been—dry, heavy, and suffocating.

  I followed Zane’s lead as he walked toward the parking lot, waiting until there were no prying ears nearby before saying anything else.

  When we were alone, I asked, “What happened up there? Who do you think—”

  “The Tribunal.” His response was short. Curt. Cold.

  “I thought it was the wolf biker guys that wanted that thing on your arm,” I said. “How can you be sure—”

  “I just know.”

  He climbed on his bike and started the engine.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “I’ll call Drexel. Even if it’s true that someone at the Tribunal sent a squad out, even if someone there is after you, after dragons, it’s not everyone. They’re not all bad people, Zane. I can reach out and—”

  “Don’t fool yourself, Mia,” he said. “The Therion Tribunal will do anything they can to get their hands on this weapon. They don’t care what damage they cause, who they hurt…”

  My chest tightened. The way he looked at me, I knew he meant me, that I was one of them. After everything that had happened between us, he was going to lump me in with everyone else he perceived as his enemy. He was going to push me away.

  “Don’t do this.” My eyes burned, tears filling the corners. I took a step forward, unwilling to give up on him, on us.

  “It’s for the best.” Zane didn’t even look at me when he spoke. “Stay away from me, Mia.”

  The motor roared as he took off.

  Leaving me.

  Alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zane

  My eyes burned as I drove away. It could have been the sting of the wind, but it wasn’t.

  Deep down I knew I was leaving behind the first person I’d ever met who understood me. I was giving up my chance at happiness, whatever that was.