She was his heart and his soul.
The wind began to whip up around him. He roared, the booming sound ripping through the woods like thunder.
When he reached the cabin, Valeriya was lying on the ground, and there was a trail of blood behind her. Over her stood Matthew Riggs.
“You’re not Varkas.” He seemed surprised by that.
“No, I’m not.” He took a step forward but stopped when Riggs lowered his gun and pointed it at Valeriya’s head. She was wounded and hurt, but she was still alive. He could hear the low beating of her heart.
“One step closer, and I’ll shoot her.”
“Shoot her, and you’re dead.”
“I’m the one with the gun,” Riggs pointed out. He touched the communication device on his ear. “Where are you?” he demanded of his men.
Tarrant crossed his arms casually over his chest when what he really wanted to do was rush at Riggs and tear him limb from limb. But Riggs was too close to Valeriya. If he shot her at such close range, he wouldn’t miss.
“I don’t think you’ll be getting any help from that quarter.”
Riggs sneered. “So her job was to distract me while you took care of my men. Who are you? Do you work for Varkas?”
He shook his head. “Why are you all so interested in Darius?” He paused and smiled. “When I’m right here in front of you.”
Tarrant shifted. His clothing ripped as his dragon leaped forward. Familiar plate-like armor raced down his arms and legs. His body expanded and his limbs changed shape and size. His jaw lengthened and his head flattened. But it was his tail he needed, and he employed it like the deadly whip it was. He snapped it out and hit Riggs’s body, driving the man twenty feet in the air. He’d held back because he wanted him incapacitated, not dead. Not yet.
Riggs yelled as he flew through the air. He smashed into the trunk of a large oak tree. The crack of bones was loud and satisfying.
Tarrant stalked toward his prey. He might have miscalculated slightly. Riggs’s chest was caved in and his breathing was labored. Blood bubbled around his lips and ran from his nose. This was Tarrant’s one chance to find out what had really happened to Father Simon.
Then Valeriya’s breathing changed, becoming shallower. Tarrant forgot all about Riggs, no longer caring if the man lived or died, and hurried to her side. He shifted as he went, and was back in his human form when he fell to his knees beside her. She was bleeding from her upper right shoulder and her right calf.
The bastard had shot her twice.
“Valeriya.” He put his hands down to move her, but was almost afraid to touch her. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than she already was.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she frowned. “Get away.”
Pain struck him like a sledgehammer. Had she seen him attack Riggs? Was she afraid of him now? It didn’t matter. She’d just have to get over her fear. After this incident, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.
She licked her lips, her expression one of fear and worry. “Not safe.” She pushed at his arm. “Go.”
If he’d thought his heart had broken when he’d believed she’d betrayed him, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. She was trying to protect him. She was human, a female, and injured, and she was protecting him, a male drakon.
He split the leg of her jeans and sighed with relief when he discovered the calf injury was only a flesh wound. He ripped off a piece of the garment so he could wrap a makeshift bandage around her leg. Then he went to work on the more serious wound in her shoulder.
He worked quickly and methodically to make padding from the thicker hoodie material and then bound it with the thinner fabric from her shirt. It got more difficult to see what he was doing as he worked. Something wet flowed down his cheek and landed on her chest.
He ignored the distraction and kept going until the wound was covered. It would do until he got her inside.
“It’s safe,” he promised her as he finished. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.” He brushed the hair out of her face. “I’ve bound your wounds, but I need to get you inside.”
She nodded. “Okay.” She blinked and looked beyond him to where Riggs was lying. “Is he—” She swallowed and didn’t finish.
“He’s not dead. Not yet. The men who came with him are.” Tarrant refused to lie to her. This was war, and people would die. It was the choice the Knights had made when they started hunting his kind.
She frowned as she reached up and touched his face. “You’re crying.”
“I’m not.” He’d never cried. Not once in his entire existence. It was ridiculous to be starting now. Valeriya was injured, but he’d take care of her and make her well.
Drakon tears were too rare and precious to shed indiscriminately. Each type of dragon was unique. The tears of an earth drakon became the most perfect diamonds. For fire drakons it was rubies, and for water drakons it was sapphires. But as an air dragon, his tears turned to the most exquisite emeralds.
And a drakon cried for only one reason—his heart was breaking.
To distract her, he lifted the precious green gems from her chest and held them in his hand. “These are for you.”
Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the glittering stones. “Are those emeralds?” She went to reach for one and gasped again, closing her eyes as pain rocked her.
Tarrant had to heal her, but he couldn’t leave Riggs alive. He wasn’t about to take any chances. “I’ll be right back,” he promised.
He strode over to Riggs. The man was still clinging to life. His eyes were wide open, but there was no fear there, only regret. “You’re—” he managed to gasp.
“A drakon,” Tarrant finished for him. “Yes, I am.” He crouched beside the man. “We left you alone for centuries, but you wouldn’t leave us in peace. This time we’re fighting back.”
He glanced over at Valeriya, who was watching and listening to every word.
“What happened with Father Simon?”
Riggs’s gaze widened. “You know.” The words were faint gasps.
“He was my friend. I think you killed Christian Temple and Father Simon.”
Riggs struggled for breath and then exhaled one final time. Tarrant knew the answers he needed had just died with the man.
Anger and regret tore through him. He clenched his hands and blew out a deep breath. He had to let it go. It had to be enough that Father Simon’s murderer had been brought to justice. Whether it was Christian Temple or Riggs who had killed him, both men were dead now. That had to be justice enough. It was all he was going to get.
He left Riggs lying in the dirt and went back to Valeriya. He calmly collected the large gems scattered around her and held them out. “Here, take them, they’re yours.”
She held out her left hand and he poured the dozen perfect emeralds into her palm. She looked at them and blinked. “Where did they come from?”
Tarrant carefully slipped his hands beneath Valeriya and lifted her off the ground. He carried her up the stairs and into the cabin. He didn’t speak as he activated the staircase and walked down. His gaze widened when he noted her bra was jammed between the door and the frame to keep it from closing.
He kicked it aside and the door slammed shut behind him. He carried Valeriya into his bedroom and laid her on his bed. Her fingers were clenched tightly around the gemstones he’d given her.
He manually turned on the bedside lamp to supplement the dim glow coming from the baseboard lighting. He captured her hand and slowly uncurled her fingers to display the fortune in emeralds she held there.
He sighed and bowed his head. “Those are drakon tears. They’re rare and precious and they belong to you.” He removed them and placed them on the nightstand.
He leaned down and kissed her sweet lips. “We have a lot to talk about. First and foremost, about how and why you left the safety of the bunker.”
When she glanced guiltily away, he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and
turned her face back to him. “I’ll take care of your injuries first. Then I need to go back outside and take care of the evidence. I can’t afford to have anyone discover the bodies or their vehicle.”
Valeriya nodded. Her eyes closed and she sighed. He was an idiot. She had to be in a lot of pain, even if she wasn’t saying so. She’d also lost a significant amount of blood. Not enough to be life threatening, but more than enough to weaken her substantially.
He could take the old-fashioned route and clean and stitch her wounds. Or he could take a drastic measure that would signify another step forward in their relationship.
He rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom. There was a glass sitting on the vanity next to the sink. He retrieved it and went back to the bedroom.
Valeriya’s eyes were closed. It was just as well. She probably didn’t need to see this part. Exercising great control, he allowed one claw to emerge and raked it over his forearm. When blood began to flow, he held it over the glass until it was less than a quarter full. She wouldn’t need much.
The wound was already healing, so he licked the excess blood from his arm.
“Valeriya.” He gently pushed one arm beneath her back and raised her up. Her eyelids fluttered open. Her eyes were more unfocused than they’d been, and that worried him. “I have some medicine for you to drink.” He was more certain than ever that this was the right way to heal her.
He held the glass to her lips and tilted it up. She parted her mouth and his blood flowed into her. When she’d swallowed it all, he gently pressed his lips to hers.
Then he waited.
Chapter Sixteen
Valeriya was exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. In spite of growing up in a family steeped in the work of the Knights, she’d never been subjected to such violence. Riggs might have killed her. And if he hadn’t, her sister probably would have when he’d finally taken her in.
Then there was Tarrant. He’d swooped in like a hero and rescued her. She didn’t like being the damsel in distress, but she didn’t mind her drakon stepping in to help. He’d been magnificent. A brutally efficient fighting machine.
And who was Father Simon? Obviously, Tarrant believed Riggs was somehow responsible for the man’s death. There was so much she didn’t know about Tarrant. So many secrets.
The medicine he’d given her tasted slightly sweet, and his lips were warm. She sighed and felt herself drifting off again.
Her eyes flew open as a blast of heat shot through her. It felt as though her internal organs were on fire, as though she were burning from the inside out. “What’s happening to me?” She cried out as the pain grew deeper and harder to bear.
Tarrant stretched out on the bed and dragged her into his arms, holding her immobile. “I’ve got you,” he promised. “Everything will be fine.”
But she wasn’t so sure. She could barely feel his arms around her. Fire blazed through her limbs and into her core. It snaked through her body, consuming everything in its path.
Had the bullets hit something vital? Was she having some kind of allergic reaction to whatever medicine Tarrant had given her? Sweat coated her skin, and breathing was becoming almost impossible.
She was dying. There was no way she could live through this, whatever it was. After everything they’d been through together, she couldn’t die without telling him the truth. He deserved it. They both did.
“Love you,” she whispered.
Then she was lost to the fires raging within her. This was what hell must feel like. The thought came and went in a heartbeat. The flames roared through her. Just when it seemed they would consume her, the fire went cold.
She sucked air into her starving lungs. Her fingers hurt. She looked down at them only to discover they were gripping Tarrant’s hands so hard they were stark white. She had to be hurting him. She made herself ease her grip, when all she really wanted to do was hold on.
He hadn’t replied to her confession. Had she even said it out loud? She honestly didn’t know if she’d managed to speak or if she’d only thought the words.
Exhaustion ate at her. Valeriya was more tired than she’d ever been. She had no idea what was happening to her, but she no longer felt in danger of burning to a crisp.
She had so many questions to ask Tarrant but was too darn tired to ask them.
He kissed her temple and gently released her. She immediately missed the heat from his body. The sheets were like ice against her skin, and she flinched. Then the shivering began. She’d been burning hot only moments before, and now she was chilled to the bone. It was like the worst flu she’d ever had, but times a thousand, maybe even a million. And that wasn’t an exaggeration.
Tarrant swore and tucked the blankets around her, then cradled her against his large body once again. She might not have known him for long, but it felt so right to be lying together like this. The heat he gave off seeped through the biting cold. She snuggled closer and buried her nose against his bare chest. The man was better than a furnace.
He stroked her face, gently pushing aside several strands of her hair. Her shoulder no longer hurt, and her calf had stopped throbbing. Strange, but she actually felt pretty good, especially for a woman who’d been shot twice. Whatever Tarrant had given her was potent stuff.
“Sleep.” His deep voice seemed to echo inside her. She closed her eyes and sighed. She’d rest for a bit, but they needed to talk.
…
Tarrant knew the second Valeriya fell into a deep sleep. The amount of blood he’d given her was just enough to heal her injuries, but she’d still need rest and food to replenish her blood loss. Maybe he should have given her more, but he hadn’t wanted to risk it. There was no telling how a person would react to drakon’s blood. It would help in the long run, but it could be brutal while it was working, especially if the person ingesting it had an injury or disease.
He’d hated having to put her through even more pain, but it was worth it. She was sleeping peacefully. He hadn’t removed the makeshift bandages he’d fashioned, but he knew her wounds would be healed.
He waited as long as he dared, not wanting to leave Valeriya alone.
She loved him.
The words echoed in his mind even as he warned himself not to take them to heart. She’d been hurt and out of her mind with pain when she’d uttered them.
It was a monumental task to make himself ease away from her. He wanted to stay by her side and protect her. He stood beside the bed and stared down at her small form huddled beneath the blankets. The emeralds glittered on the bedside table. He swore under his breath and turned off the lamp.
There was work to be done. She probably hadn’t meant what she’d said, anyway. It was just reaction to everything that had happened.
But oh, how her declaration made his heart soar.
Realizing he was still naked, he detoured to the closet long enough to grab a pair of jeans. He stepped outside the room, closed the door, and yanked on his pants. It took everything in him to walk away. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to stay. But the way to protect her best was to deal with the mess he’d left outside.
He strode down the hallway. He didn’t give himself time to think and went straight to work. His phone was outside. Not good.
This time, he made sure the access panel to the stairwell was closed behind him. He took the stairs two at a time and didn’t hesitate when he reached the top. Everyone outside was already dead. The secret door slid open and he stepped out into the cabin. The stove was still warm from the fire Riggs had started earlier. The shattered pieces of a chair littered the floor.
He didn’t want to think about what had happened. He’d have to ask Valeriya, since Riggs was dead. Or better yet, view the security footage so she didn’t have to relive the event.
He gathered the pieces of the broken chair and fed them into the stove. Better to burn them than to leave them lying around. If someone came looking, it would make them ask questions.
He walked around
the cabin, making sure everything else was in place. When he was satisfied all was as it should be, he stepped out onto the porch. The October air was chilly in the mountains. His feet and upper body were bare, but the cold didn’t bother him in the least.
He left Riggs where he was and made a circuit around the cabin, collecting one body at a time. No predators had approached them yet. They no doubt scented Tarrant and were wary about encroaching.
He carried each body back to the clearing in front of the cabin. He methodically searched each one but didn’t find anything to identify them, which wasn’t surprising. These men were pros.
Thankfully, they’d been careful and quiet while moving through the woods and had left little sign of their passage. That cut down on the amount of work Tarrant had to do, and it wasn’t long before what little trace there had been was erased.
Tarrant went in search of what remained of his clothing. He didn’t care about the garments, but he wanted the phone he’d tucked in the back pocket. He drew it out, turned it on, and smiled when it still worked. He strode back to the dead men and took pictures of them all. They might not have any identification on them, but he’d find out who they were.
He piled the bodies and the remains of his tattered clothing in a pile. Then he went over to Riggs. Searching him was a long shot. A man like Riggs didn’t make mistakes. Or at least, not many. He’d certainly made one in coming here, and it had been fatal. He was almost finished when he found a secret pocket in Riggs’s jacket. It contained a cell phone. Now that could be interesting. He quickly went through the contacts list and call history. Not surprisingly, it was sparse. There was only one number. He memorized it and then put the phone back where he’d found it.
He grabbed Riggs by the ankle and dragged him over to the pile. He couldn’t afford to leave any sign that the men had been here. That meant he couldn’t bury them. He had no choice but to burn them.
Tarrant removed his jeans and set them aside, making sure his phone was safely tucked inside the pocket. He could breathe fire in his human form, but it was much hotter and more effective as a dragon. Easier, too. He raised his arms and shifted. His dragon burst forth, more than happy to help with this part of the cleanup. These men had attacked Valeriya. For that, they deserved to burn.
Drakon's Prey (Blood of the Drakon) Page 16