by Carter, Mina
“You’ve been holding out on me.” Sellers demanded, rising from his throne and throwing the goblet down to shatter on the floor. As he strode forward, an enterprising Red Cap mopped up the traces of blood that had spilled on the floor. “Haven’t you…Rat?”
Confusion swamped the pixie’s face an instant before he was swamped by Red Caps. The enchantment holding Chase in place loosened off and she shouted a warning just in time for him to duck and avoid decapitation by pike. Unable to move, she shifted her throat long enough to roast the three trying to gut him. Their dying screams were overlaid by the jaunty jingle that announced their deaths.
But this was no fight in the alley against a few. Sellers had hordes of Red Caps at his command. She raced to Rat’s side, grabbing a few and hauling them off him into the wall behind them. They hit with a sickening crunch, sliding down the wall to land in crumbled heaps that moaned pitifully.
“Enough!” Sellers roared and waved his hand.
Chase found herself locked down again, her arm raised in a blow that didn’t reach its target. The Red Cap snickered and made a foul gesture, then stuck its tongue out at her. She memorized its face, so she could track it down and rip that fucking tongue right out its head later.
“Leave them alone,” the Dragos ordered, walking down the steps from his throne toward them. With surprise she realized that Rat was immobile as well. At least she did when he was carried by a group of Red Caps in front of her, body frozen in mid-step. What the hell? Rat was demon…there was no way Sellers should be able to freeze him like that.
Sellers appeared in front of her, stepping right in to look directly into her eyes. She couldn’t do anything, couldn’t even take a step back to get away from his halitosis.
“Honor isn’t the only dragon-mate, is she, Chase?”
He knew. A chill ran down her spine but she was too old at this game to give anything away. There was no way she was giving Duke up. Even if they had mated, which they hadn’t, no dragon would give their sole reason for living over to someone like Sellers to be used as a sacrifice. Instead she gave him her best blank face. It was a good one, no one had ever been able to beat her at runes back in the barracks. Besides, she couldn’t answer when he had her locked out with magic.
Sellers’ eyes shifted, and he snorted in frustration. A wave of his hand and the pressure eased up on her throat so she could talk. “I don’t know what you’re going on about.”
“Oh, come now, my dear.” He stroked the side of her cheek, his face so close that she could see the tiny broken veins under the skin of his nose. His skin there was ruddy, the effect of too much alcohol if she didn’t miss her guess. Typical of the sort of man who would use a Dragos charm.
He grabbed her jaw, strong fingers biting deep, snarling so close to her face that spittle splattered across her skin. “We both know that there’s more going on behind that pretty face than the dumb blonde act you’re trying to feed me. So fucking stop it.”
He shoved her away, knocking her off balance. Wincing internally, she waited to hit the ground, but it didn’t happen. Twenty small hands grabbed her, supporting her body. The Red Caps. Instead of letting her fall, they hefted her up.
“Get her over there next to him,” Sellers ordered, motioning them ahead of him. She tried to struggle, to find some away to break Sellers’ control but it was just as futile as it always was. Her magic was still locked away, so close that she could feel it, but whenever she tried to touch it, it was like an invisible door was in the way. She raged and pushed against it, trying to loop what little power she could glean from her dragon back and over on itself.
The Red Caps giggled to themselves, racing with her across the room to bundle her onto a high altar. She sucked in a hard breath when her back hit the cold stone, a vicious shove from several hands turning her on her side.
Rat lay opposite on an identical altar, his big body relaxed as if in sleep. No, not in sleep. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, then broke away to roll down his skin. He was fighting the enchantment. She held her breath, ignoring Sellers and his evil little minions moving around in the background. Rat was fighting the enchantment and winning. As she watched, his head began to turn toward her, his lips moving hesitantly at first, then with more assurance.
Their gazes locked. His lips moved again and she felt the pressure over her body beginning to lift. Only a tiny amount, but she could feel it. Elation flooded her. Whatever Rat was doing, the doorway between her and her magic had begun to weaken.
“Now, now, my dearies…you’re going to help me sort this little mate problem I have.” Sellers laughed as he walked between them, beginning to chant as he did so.
Chase frowned, trying to make the words out but his pronunciation was off. As though he’d only ever read the words in a book and never heard them spoken. The magic around him seemed equally confused, the witching flaring to life one moment only to flicker the next, like a candle about to go out.
The words were familiar, but it wasn’t a branch of magic she’d paid much attention to. More hedge-witchery than anything. She followed the words, working out the correct pronunciation and the spell came to her.
Her eyes snapped open. Hegra’s tits, it was a bloody love spell. The control collar’s hold weakened enough for her to slam her head back against the stone. Whether she broke it or not made no difference though if he completed that incantation. Even without knowing the correct pronunciation, the witching had begun to respond to him, forming the sigils of the spell in the air. Arcane sigils formed from magic itself, wrapping around two others, symbols that represented both her and Rat.
“No!” The pixie bellowed, still fighting the immobility spell. He’d managed to get his shoulders and chest free, and thrashed on the stone, but his arms and legs were still frozen. “You god-damned idiot. You’re playing with forces you have no clue about!”
Sellers laughed, the sound ringing with arrogance. “Yes, yes, my dear. And I’m sure you’re going to roast my intestines as well, just like our dear Miss Nightborne. Really, these threats are getting rather boring.”
He finished the incantation, the last word ringing in the air like a death knell. Chase squeezed her eyes shut as the magic wrapped around her. Settled into her bones. Caged her heart. Quickly she wrapped up her memories and feelings for Duke and locked them down tight, so deep that they were nearly with her dragon. She needed to preserve them, protect them, because the next time she opened her eyes, the magic would convince her that she was in love with someone else.
Chapter Eight
They were at one of Sellers’ clubs. Oh, not his official ‘day job’ clubs. The gentlemen’s clubs where the alcohol was almost as old as she was and discreet encounters in one of the upstairs rooms could be arranged with a quick nod of the head. Places that reeked of class, with the wood paneling to match.
This place reeked all right, but not of class. Instead it reeked of desperation and blood. Of tears and pain, hopelessness and despair. And there was no getting out.
Poured into a dress that exposed far too much of everything for her liking, and heels that would break her ankles before the night was out, Chase staggered, and bumped into Rat. He wrapped an arm around her, saving her from falling gracelessly to the floor and she couldn’t help but shoot him a grateful look. He smiled back, and, as if on instinct, his hand swept down her back, lingering in the curve of her waist.
She stiffened but then her body took over, the love potion Sellers had fed to them both over-ruling her need to get away from a man not her mate. Her struggle was reflected in Rat’s face, the darkness in his eyes flaring for a second only to be snuffed out and frustration replace it.
“Got it?” he asked, sweat beading on his brow as he forced himself to release her.
She nodded, quickly stepping away from him to save them both the temptation. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”
Behind them, Sellers chuckled. “Fight it all you like, my dears. It won’t make a blind bit of difference.�
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Rat flipped him the bird, saving Chase the need to and she walked on ahead into the club. She’d been here before, of course. Unlike the upmarket elegance of Sellers’ other clubs, which she’d been too rarely, the only paneling here was the wood covering the concrete floor.
The club was dimly lit, and tables surrounded a pit in the floor. Mostly male, the patrons were dressed expensively and she knew the champagne filling the glasses would be the good stuff. It always was. Despite the rough surroundings, tickets to this club and others like it over the city, were highly sought after. They were also very costly, for one reason. The higher the price, the higher the stakes. No one who’d spent a king’s ransom to be here and view the ‘delights’ on offer would risk it all by selling Sellers out to the authorities.
And they all made her sick. This wasn’t a normal club, not at all. This was the sort of club where not all those in attendance were human, or even there of their own volition. Which was what these leeches paid top dollar for.
Sellers strode past them, snagging a microphone from one of the hovering suited-up lackeys. She ignored them. Sellers’ gophers in the human world, they weren’t worth bothering about.
“Gentlemen!” Sellers made his way to the opposite side of the pit, spotlighted while the gaping yaw of darkness opened in front of him. It was empty at the moment, but the guests all tried to peer into it anyway. She snorted. As if they’d have been able to see anything anyway, what with their weak human vision.
“So good of you to join me this evening. And let me tell you, we have some treats in store for you tonight!”
She turned away, letting Sellers’ voice fall into the background, and made her way to the table at the back of the room. It was set away from the rest and, typically for her egomaniac ‘master’, raised on a small dais. She turned, automatically scanning the layout of the room and its occupants. Open-plan with little cover, it wouldn’t be an easy place to defend.
Another abandoned building, this time what looked like a warehouse, the ceiling was high and dark beyond the pendant lighting that had been installed as part of the ‘club refit’. Too high. Too dark. Anyone could be watching from up there, the old windows were barely proof against the elements, let alone a determined intruder. But then, the only people likely to attack were the authorities…or her mate, so she didn’t plan on defending anything. Certainly not Sellers’ worthless ass.
“He’s got detection spells rigged all over the place.”
Rat followed her gaze for a moment, then dropped to sprawl effortlessly over the low, padded seating that ran around the table in a semi-circle. Unbidden, her gaze followed him, noting the way he moved. Admiring the hard, muscular body under the suit Sellers had picked out for him, just like he’d picked out her outfit; a skimpy shift dress that exposed most of her arms and legs.
“Fucking spell.” She tore her gaze away, breathing hard. It was getting harder and harder to stay away from the half-pixie, when everything within her wanted to curl around him like a cat.
“Don’t look at me,” he advised in a soft voice, and when she looked at him, he was looking up at the ceiling. It was easier to pull away and look up when their gazes weren’t connected. Idly flicking her vision over to that of her dragon, she picked out the runes of the spells Sellers had in place. She frowned as, one by one, the runes went dark.
“Are you doing that?” she asked Rat, and when he didn’t answer, turned to look at him.
He was right there, almost nose to nose with her, his blue eyes darker with lust and whatever it was demon’s thought about.
“No….” He picked up a strand of her hair and tugged gently, bringing her closer. “My sole contribution to our escape was a phone call.”
“Phone call?” Her lips phrased the question but her mind had gone blank the closer he got. Heat and need shivered through her, her entire body aching for the touch of his lips on hers. Within her, her dragon recoiled, but even that didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was the man who pulled her into his arms, and laid his lips over hers.
***
“This Sellers bastard is taking the piss now,” Jared Stone, one of the team with Duke, grumbled as they climbed the ancient fire escapes to get to the roof of the building their anonymous tip had said the next illegal fight would be. Not only that, but the tip-off had also confirmed that Sellers was supposed to be in attendance. After a day of chasing his tail, terrified for his mate, Duke was ready to go to war on less. “This is way too close to the last location.”
Duke ignored the chatter behind him, leading the way across the walkways. His vision was half and half, the dragon half giving him an overlay of where all Sellers’ spells were. The runes danced and pulsed in the corners of his eyes, not there when he looked directly at them, so he had to turn and use his peripheral vision to lock them down.
He reached the largest concentration and squatted down next to a window, motioning to the others to spread out. After the tip off, Iliona had assembled a task-force. Pretty much every operative who wasn’t out on assignment was in the darkness somewhere around him. They had werewolves, gargoyles…hell, even the Dyrad, Destiny, was with them tonight, although Duke wasn’t sure what help she’d be in a building constructed of concrete and steel.
“Way, way too close.” Jared continued to grumble, leaning against a support pillar two down from Duke. “Does he think we’re stupid or something?”
“Yeah. Well,” Rhod Claus, looked up and grinned. “With you, he’d be right.”
“Screw you, Santa.”
“Hey!” Rhod looked down through the window again, but continued the banter. “No dissing the big man. Or you get coal this year.”
Another operative a little way down the roof popped his head up. Cole, Rhod’s brother, and another Santa elf. “What’s that? Who gets me?”
Rhod sighed. “Not you, dipshit. Coal, coal. Real coal.”
“Well, you should’ve said!” Cole opened his mouth to deliver another salvo, but Duke had had enough.
“Shut it! This is a serious operation, not an episode of The Three fucking Stooges!”
Cole nodded, but flipped his brother the bird anyway. “Suits me. Have you seen the peep show going on down there? Dudes need to get a room, like seriously.”
Duke reached out a tendril of shadow, sliding it through a broken corner of the glass like an octopus’ tentacle to snuff out the runes nearest to them. He worked out, giving them an area to work with, but not one large enough that would trigger alarm. Hopefully, Sellers would just think some pigeon had flown through the rune and disturbed it. To facilitate that line of thought, he slid the tendril behind a group of roosting birds and knocked them all off their perches. Flapping and feathers ensued, giving him chance to crack the window open and peer through the gap.
What he saw stopped him dead. There, below them, was Chase, wrapped up in some guy’s arms. Kissing him. Not just kissing him. He had her under him on the plush seating, her blonde hair spread around her like a bright halo. Rage hit him as he froze in place, red filtering over his vision. She was his mate. His.
“Hey…Duke. Mate, you need to calm it down.” Jared’s worried tones filtered through the roaring in his ears and he blinked, the red mist sliding away until he could look up at the werewolf. Jared’s eyes were maxed out with his wolf, but the concerned expression was all human. His gaze flicked down to Duke’s hand, then back up again.
Duke followed the look. His hand was wrapped around a steel girder. Or what was left of it anyway. He’d crushed the thing in his rage. Releasing his grip and moving his hand revealed a perfect imprint.
“Thought you were gonna scale out on us there, big man.” Jared joked, but his tone was too serious. “And this roof just won’t take all of us and your big, scaly ass, you know? So keep it together man, at least until we get in there?”
Sucking in a hard breath, Duke nodded. Ris had given him the low down on the collar Chase wore. An ancient magic, it controlled her and her magic. Wh
atever she did, whatever atrocities she’d committed in the past while wearing the collar, was all down to Sellers. She wasn’t responsible for and couldn’t control her own actions.
He had to hold onto that thought or he’d go mad. Madder, because he was pretty fucking mad right now.
“The other teams are already in position,” Rhod confirmed, his voice business-like now as everyone looked toward Duke. Since he was the lead on this investigation, it was his operation and his call. “Just waiting on your say-so, boss-man.”
He nodded, and a slow, dangerous grin spread over his face.
“Let’s burn this fucking place down.”
***
Kissing Rat was, in a word, amazing. For a moment, everything around them—the club, the chatter of the clientele, the sound of Sellers’ voice as he announced the first of the fights—fell away. Rat’s lips were warm and firm and for an evil villain’s lackey he sure as hell knew how to kiss.
With how rough and tough he looked, she didn’t anticipate the soft brush of his mouth over hers, nor the skilful way he used his lips and tongue to seduce her. She murmured in the back of her throat and let him ease her back onto the seat behind. His hands were gentle but firm. She frowned as he teased the corner of her lips, tempting her to open up for him.
It shouldn’t be this way. The way he looked, he should be pawing and groping at her…something, anything that would make it easy for her to push him away. But he didn’t. Instead, he treated her with such tenderness that she wanted—no, needed—to relax into his arms.
He groaned when she parted her lips, and tilted his head to deepen the kiss, the low sound echoed by her softer moan. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, the fire in her blood settling low in her stomach. She wanted this. Needed it…. Didn’t she?