Dragonsteel

by Rebecca Baelfire

  My jaw hung open. Another roar, and the wolf went into a low crouch, teeth bared and glistening.

  Back. Off. Demon. The voice thundered in my head, rich and giant and full of malice. The dragon’s voice. Helena, run!

  It knew my name. How? I couldn’t move. Magic hammered off the dragon from its mind, unnatural and too big to be contained. Everything about the dragon felt familiar, but that didn’t make sense. Dragons didn’t exist. Dad told me, even Suvia Kyans hadn’t been able to shift in centuries.

  The wolf lunged up at the dragon as the dragon swooped. Fur and scales collided. Teeth snapped, claws flew. They rolled, the dragon crashing into the trees and sending them flat with thunderous snaps.

  You will not have her, Demon.

  Demon?

  The wolf bit at the dragon, but he rolled and threw the wolf off. Stood and got between me and the wolf, a huge wall of scales and teeth.

  Protective, but with something more.

  I said run. The command went all the way to my toes, but also frightened me with the sheer expectation of obedience. When I still didn’t move, it whipped around, capturing my arm in its giant mouth.

  “Fuck!” I screamed, expecting my arm to be torn off. Instead, its teeth gripped my arm with just enough force to hold it firm without cutting flesh. He took off, carrying me toward the sky. A moment later, his mouth opened, and I spilled into the icy water of the river with a splash.

  “Hey!” I snapped. The water felt like ice and robbed me of motion for an instant.

  Just stay there. Irritation buzzed along my thoughts from his.

  When the dragon took off back toward the forest floor, I saw the wolf stalk to the river’s edge, only to back off again. It was afraid of the water; that understanding filled my mind clear as day.

  The dragon swooped toward the ground, and the wolf lunged again. This time, the dragon caught him in his jaws. He shook his scaled head. The wolf whimpered, and the dragon dropped him to the forest floor.

  Once the wolf lay unmoving, the dragon turned its huge body to me. Instead of lifting me out of the water, he flew up into the air. Up into the darkness until I could hardly see him.

  Stay out of trouble, girl. His voice filled my head, protective but annoyed. And something else I couldn’t place. My gaze snapped down to the forest floor where the wolf lay.

  He was gone. What the fuck? I glanced around, but saw no sign of him. Still, the wolf’s presence seemed to wrap around me, there and yet not, dark and foreboding.

  I jerked awake in bed, my breathing harsh. It was just a dream. It had to have been, because dragons weren’t real anymore. I shivered and that made me look down.

  I lay in bed on wet sheets. My nightgown, my hair, my skin, all were soaked.

  What in the…

  Three things hit me then, each one undeniable. One, the boy I had a crush on was a werewolf my dad would have no problem dealing with if he found out. Two, an evil not-werewolf wanted something dangerous from me and unequivocally hated said boy. And three, a dragon that wasn’t supposed to exist saw himself as my protector and would destroy anything that meant to harm me.

  When the hell did my life get so complicated?

  Chapter 8

  Rebellion

  Present day…

  When consciousness found me again, that same confusion clouded my mind. Pain rushed through my veins like fire, making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. Sweat slicked every inch of me, and when I opened my eyes, all I saw were blurred shadows.

  Then I registered the steel around my wrists and ankles, the solid wood wall of the containment cabin against my back.

  I glanced to either side of me. The shackles around my wrists glinted the red of dragonsteel.

  “Hunter….?”

  Across the room, beyond the bars of the cage, I could just make out Hunter sitting on a couch, flipping through a thick book on his knee. In his other hand, he held my ring, twirling it between his fingers, causing the blue stones to flash in the room’s low light. His head was down, eyes focused on the pages of the book, yet I got the feeling he never took his focus completely off me.

  Smart. If I tried to kill him, he wouldn’t be caught unawares.

  An open can of beef ravioli stood on the small coffee table in front of him, taken from my dad’s food stores, I gathered. Hardly good enough food for a hungry half-werewolf who preferred blood-rare steak, but then he couldn’t leave me there unwatched.

  Voices filled the cabin, filtering through his smartphone sitting on the table. Police jargon, reporting codes, dispatch calling squad cars.

  I tried to say his name, but my throat was so dry, nothing came out.

  How long had I been unconscious? I looked over at the window above the bed to my left. It had been early morning when we’d arrived here, weak sunlight filtering in, but now outside was dark.

  Slowly, my vision began to clear, but my head pounded like a bitch. The illumination from the bulb dangling outside the cage, murky though it was, wasn’t helping my headache.

  The cabin was exactly as it had always been. Cans and packages of non-perishables stacked the shelves that lined the walls. My father always kept this place stocked, in case he ended up having to stay here and watch over a creature for an extended time. There was a small washroom off to the side of the main room, a hot plate, and even a TV on a small stand against one wall. No cable and no internet out here, obviously, and if I remembered right, the TV in this cabin was busted anyway. Nonetheless, this place, like every one of its kind, had everything you’d need so that you could go up to two weeks here without leaving a prisoner unattended.

  I turned my attention back to Hunter. He still didn’t look up from his book, but there was a new tension to his big shoulders that said he knew I was awake. The ring twirled slower between his fingers. I couldn’t believe he’d kept it the whole time. My chest tightened with love, but also guilt.

  He needed to let me go. He deserved better than me.

  Beside his phone, a pile of books stood, stacked six high. My father’s books, memoirs that contained all his notes and research on the monsters he fought, to be passed down to me and then my children. It looked like Hunter was reading the red-bound volume, the one I knew had Rakar in it.

  Or what little we knew of him.

  I finally worked enough moisture into my mouth to croak out a word. “Hunter.”

  His head lifted. “Helena. How are you feeling?” He made no move toward me and that stung. Why would I hurt him? Had I hurt him? Fuck, this confusion was maddening.

  “Like my head is going to split in two. You shouldn’t be here. I still might change.”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  He sounded so confident. Nearly as much as my dad.

  “Get out of here, Hunter. I don’t want to tear your head off.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You’re being stupid.”

  But he didn’t move. I swallowed. My throat was so dry it felt raw. From screaming. I’d been screaming before. When? Everything blended together, my memories like soup.

  “Hunter, I need to ask you something.”

  “Yeah.” He sat back, watching me. The ring stopped spinning. I hated the closed off look in his eyes. The suspicion and worry mixed with the protectiveness I loved.

  “Did you say you loved me before? Before I passed out last time, I mean?”

  When he spoke, his voice was husky, and he met my eyes with a steady gaze. “I did.”

  “Did you mean it?”

  His eyes didn’t leave mine, but he said nothing. He slipped the chain back around his neck, leaving the ring to hang between his bare pecs. Loss tugged at me hard.

  I didn’t know if I wanted him to have meant it or not. If he’d only said he loved me out of fear he’d lose me, or worse, out of pity, then everything that had happened when we were kids would have meant nothing. The thought shredded me up inside. If he did mean it, it would mean he carried a torch for someone who could never give
him more than the occasional warm night, a hot fuck in the dark, whispers of what could have been. Anything more might get him killed, especially when the Dragonwatch found out he was a were. I wouldn’t do that to him, which meant he was off limits. Still, an ache formed in my chest at the thought that he didn’t feel for me the way I did for him.

  Prickles of heat popped up on my skin, as if the rush of blood carried the poison through me faster. My stomach roiled.

  “I need a drink of water, Hunter.” My voice was suddenly a snarl.

  He scowled. “Sorry, not yet. Not until that fever breaks.”

  His answer made sense, it was the correct response to someone in my condition, but when I tried to think of why, the rationale wouldn’t form.

  I jerked my wrists in the cuffs. The chains clanked, but didn’t come free of the wall. I tried again, twisting my wrists, but without being able to touch the cuffs, I couldn’t open them. Not that I could have anyway with whatever magic held them closed. Nothing broke through dragonsteel.

  Instinctively, I reached inside me for my magic. Still gone. Damn it! Desperation yanked hard on me, overriding sense. My skin flared as though I was tied to a witch’s stake and someone had lit it ablaze. My vision blurred. Had to escape.

  “Just get me a drink,” I purred. “Just a little water. I promise, I’ll make it worth it.”

  Oh, my god, why was I trying to seduce him? I sounded like that kid my father had helped exorcise once. Hours after the priest had gone through the rites and anointed him with holy water, he started spewing curses vile enough to curl your hair. When that didn’t earn him his freedom, he tried to tempt the priest with every manner of reward, including immortality.

  True, I’d made my voice far more sultry, nearly unrecognizable to me, and I was offering him something far more suitable for a hot shifter cop who had a thing for me, but the principle was the same. I’d even squirmed against the wall, trying to look sexy, though I probably looked like death warmed over. Disgust at my own behavior rolled over me. I jerked on the cuffs again but I could barely move them.

  Hunter’s eyes widened. I thought I saw him shift in his seat, but he didn’t get up from the couch. “Damn it, you aren’t yourself.”

  “Oh, come on, Hunter.” I felt a sweet smile stretch over my lips. “You know you’ve thought about having me like this. A little water, and it’s all yours.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. When had I become Queen of the Sluts?

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. His knuckles turned white. I swore the front of his jeans bulged. “That’s the poison talking. Go the fuck to sleep, Helena.”

  “What’s the matter, don’t you want me?” I meant that on some level. Why the hell was I cheapening what we had like this? Did we have anything? God, help me.

  “Fuck, yes. But not like this.”

  Irritation—no, anger, completely irrational anger—burned in my blood. A demon’s rage? Directed at him, over a glass of water? Fuck, was I already turning?

  I opened my mouth to speak, but something the voice over the phone said stopped me.

  “...the whole farm is torched, Dispatch. Just like the Weatherby’s. A woman here said she saw a black Blazer tear out of the area early this morning, but there’s no sign of it now.”

  A Blazer. The Weatherbys. Torched house. The words meant something, but when I tried to connect the dots, the answers flitted away like embers on a breeze. All I could remember were bodies burning. Kids screaming, and the smell of death. Death, and magic.

  My magic?

  “Hunter, did I hurt someone?” My voice shook.

  He tapped the phone off. “Don’t worry about that. Just focus on getting better.”

  I locked my gaze on him. I didn’t want the water anymore, I wanted out. Wanted to find someone who needed to die. Someone with red hair and a dragon inside him. Someone who knew where my father was. Desperation to save my dad took over, violent in its intensity.

  “Come to me, Hunter.” My voice went down a register. “Let us both have what we want.” Was that me talking? Shit, I sounded like Rakar now.

  He said nothing.

  My fists slammed the wall. I needed him to get close enough to unlock these cuffs. Once he did...

  “Hunter, if I don’t see water in front of me in thirty seconds, I’ll rip you to shreds. You know I can!” The words came out a horrible growl.

  He stared at me, shock registering on his gorgeous face.

  The implications of what I’d just said sank in. The image of me tearing out his throat gripped me in a stranglehold.

  “Oh, God.” I blinked, eyes watering. “Hunter, I didn’t mean it.”

  “I know.” His eyes softened. He stood from the sofa. Didn’t move toward me, but I could see it in his eyes, he wanted to.

  “What’s happening to me?” My voice broke.

  He took a step closer, but no more. “It’s going to be all right. Your father has a lot of books here about how to handle things like this. The fever will break, and then you’ll be yourself for a while. Then you can have a drink.”

  Sweat dripped down between my breasts, down my face. “Please, don’t leave me.” A chill stole over me, and suddenly I was shivering. My head felt light.

  “I won’t. I promise. Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  His words wrapped my fear in comfort, weakening it a little.

  Yet again, I closed my eyes and my mind slid into the past. Into the past, to the time before I’d learned enough to know the love I almost had back then was impossible.

  It wasn’t like I didn’t try to keep away from him.

  After the dream I had about the black wolf and the dragon, I’d fully intended never to speak to Hunter again. Between the wolf’s hatred for him, and what my dad would do to him, it was too dangerous to risk associating with him. The dream had to be that, just a trick of my imagination. It was the only explanation for the dragon. But then, why had I awakened soaking wet, as if I really had been dropped into a river?

  I’d resolved to ignore Hunter if he showed up at the shop, or find some excuse to be elsewhere. But for some reason, as soon as I saw him, all my rationale went out the window.

  God, I was weak. But then, it wasn’t just that he was gorgeous, or even that he smelled fantastic. I’d never let myself get close to anyone before. Being around him made me feel special. Wanted.

  Over the next week, Hunter came to the parlor whenever he could, usually showing up a little before noon. Each visit, he walked me over to the deli for lunch and back, or he hung out in the shop when he didn’t have school and wasn’t at the gym.

  How easy it was to justify being with him when he was either helping me down an icy street or sitting at my job, somewhere he had a perfect right to be. I wasn’t disobeying my father by talking to a customer or letting him keep me safe from a fall.

  Especially when I never told him my name, or anything that could be considered personal information.

  As for the dream, that’s all it could have been. I’d woken up, drenched, not in a pool of river water, but in sweat, not uncommon for me when that motel’s heat ran so high and hot.

  Three days after he’d started hanging at the shop, an eclipse blackened the sky. Hunter came in that afternoon looking strange. Wrap-around sunglasses hid his azure eyes from view. Dark leather gloves covered his hands. His voice sounded extra growled. And, until now, his face had been clean-shaven every day, but that day he had a five o’clock shadow.

  At noon.

  No matter what I said, he wouldn’t show me his eyes or his hands. A second presence pounded off him, filling my thoughts as though he had two minds in one head. That second presence burned with animal ferocity, primitive and nearly violent. Like I could sense the wolf wanting to escape him.

  Damn. He couldn’t shift, and again, how I knew that, I had no idea. Still, his body screamed to take on an animal form. The wolf’s spirit. It hammered at my head, every bit as powerful as magic.

  W
ould he obtain the power to shift someday? I’d heard that some weres didn’t have their first shift until they were in their early twenties. Sometimes, I swore I felt a longing in him, a potent need to be the wolf, to feel the grass under his paws, the wind in his fur. How he was so calm, I didn’t know. I could feel him wanting to tear the shop apart.

  I never used Hunter’s number, but I always kept it close. The paper often burned a hole in my pocket while dad and I ate dinner, or when I lay awake at night.

  For hours, Hunter and I talked about his life, his volatile, disapproving father, his life as an only child like I was, his drive to become a cop.

  The officer he’d ridden with that first day, Officer Tisdale, had apparently taken him under his wing, teaching him about police work when he could.

  A little over a month after we’d first met, Hunter walked me back to the parlor, his hand keeping mine toasty warm despite that neither of us wore gloves and it was two degrees below zero. He stopped me at the door before I could head inside. Maddie watched us from the door, making kissy faces. I blushed and flashed her the bird. She laughed.

  “Hey, I want to ask you something before you leave.” Hunter touched my cheek with one warm hand.

  “How the hell are your hands so warm?” I pressed his palm to my skin, unwilling to give up the heat he generated.

  “I’ve always been like that. Mom calls me The Human Furnace.” He took my hands, rubbing away the chill in them.

  It’s a shifter thing. They run warmer than humans.

  I stared at his hands holding mine. Hunter had gorgeous hands, strong, with long fingers. A dusting of fine golden hairs flecked his wrists, disappearing under his black winter hoodie sleeves.

  He tipped my chin up until my eyes met his. His gaze locked mine in place and my heart stopped at the tenderness there.

  “Tell me your name,” he said quietly.

  “Hunter.”

  “I know you think you can’t tell me. I don’t know why, but I promise you, you can trust me.”

  My heart threatened to burst with the need to give him something that, until now, had never been that important to me. It wasn’t fair that he’d opened up to me, been so patient with me, and I gave him nothing. It hit me hard right then, why it hurt to hold back. He wasn’t just a hot guy I was falling for. Other than Maddie, he was the first real friend I’d had in my life.