The Dragon Shifter’s Duty

by Mandy M. Roth

  Great, maybe a radioactive material can get all over me. Then in addition to causing things to blow up, I could maybe get nifty superpowers like Donnie has and flick doors off vehicles with my pinky finger.

  She took a deep breath, and then shouted as loud as she could. “Donnie!”

  He didn’t answer. She shouted again several more times, needing confirmation he was alive. She would never forgive herself if her quest for information and burning need to blow the lid off the human trafficking story cost Donnie his life. Already the guilt that she’d possibly cost the rest of his security team their lives weighed heavily on her.

  She pushed at the door again. It didn’t budge. Feeling defeated, Holland closed her eyes and bent her head. As she relaxed, she heard something in the distance.

  When she realized what she was hearing, hope surged.

  It was Donnie—and he sounded pissed.

  If you hurt one hair on her, you’ll regret it, he said, snarling.

  He was greeted with laughs and taunts. Some were in English so Holland understood them. Others, she didn’t. None of that mattered. All that was important was that Donnie was alive. She’d found him.

  That meant she didn’t have to keep holding back on her darkness. She just had to pray whatever it was inside her didn’t burn Donnie to a crisp, too.

  She put her hands out, and thought about the way she’d been chased, shot at, manhandled, and then locked up. It didn’t take long for her ire to rise. Her eyes burned for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough for her to know they were no longer brown, they were now orange. Next, it felt as if her arms had fallen asleep. There was no feeling in them for a moment, but that was followed by the prickly sensation that occurred when a limb was waking.

  Anger churned in her stomach as she thought about the atrocities these men were associated with. There was no doubt in her mind that they were part of the trafficking ring. They made money off selling people.

  That was unacceptable to her.

  Holland held tight to her rage. She let it fester inside her. Let it grow to epic proportions. She then thought about the very guards who had dragged her into the building. She’d never before tried to focus her darkness on anyone or anything, and wasn’t even sure it was possible. She’d spent so long fearing what she could do that the very idea of trying to tame it had seemed outrageous. But that was what she was going to attempt to do.

  The bastards would not get away with hurting anyone else. Not if she could help it. Her thoughts went to Donnie, and she sent a silent prayer that whatever was about to happen didn’t harm him in the end.

  The door to the room she was in burst open, and the guard who had grabbed her breast stood there, raking his gaze over her in a lecherous manner. He reached down and adjusted himself. He then took a step in her direction, an insidious smile lighting up his face.

  No words needed spoken for her to know what he wanted and there was no way in hell she was going to let him get away with forcing himself on her. She’d burn the city to the ground before she permitted that to happen. Holland’s hair began to lift. A sign her darkness was surfacing. The asshole before her would be sorry soon enough.

  She was just about to let go of the curse she’d been born with, when the man charged her. He caught her off-guard and slammed into her. The wind was knocked from her, and she lost her concentration. She hit the ground and the man fell upon her, his hands groping at her, trying to get under her shirt.

  Holland punched and smacked at the man, but had little effect on him. He was too strong for her. There was little doubt he was more than human; she just wasn’t sure what he was. That didn’t stop her as she raked her fingernails down his other cheek, making it match the one she’d hurt before.

  He hissed and backhanded her across the face, shouting something at her that she didn’t understand. Though she could guess it wasn’t “thank you.”

  She didn’t stop her struggle. Her darkness didn’t wait around for her to permit it freedom, or to focus it in any direction. It acted of its own accord. Like when she was a child. She knew then it was protecting her.

  She met the man’s gaze and felt her darkness surging through her.

  Before she could register what was happening, the man’s weight was ripped free from her. At the same moment, her darkness unleashed hell in the form of a giant fireball. Just as it had done when she was a child. She thought she’d imagined the giant ball of burning embers back then, but seeing it again now as an adult, she realized it was real. She also realized something else.

  She wasn’t alone with the man in the room any longer. Someone else was with them.

  She scrambled to get off the ground, but slipped. There was a blur of movement, and then she caught a glimpse of someone who couldn’t possibly be there.

  It was the man from the nightclub that she’d met on her twenty-first birthday. The man she’d handed her virginity to. The very man who then took off, leaving her naked and alone.

  Ezra.

  Why was he in the Middle East?

  What was he doing in the factory?

  There was no way she could possibly reason it all out in the short time she had before the very fireball she’d just let free from herself headed right for him and the man who had attacked her. Holland screamed, trying to warn Ezra. She was too late. The ball of fire crashed into him and her attacker.

  Horrified, Holland moved quickly, rushing at the fire, trying to will it back into herself. It didn’t work. The genie was already out of the bottle. There was no putting it back in, no putting a lid on it.

  She closed her eyes tight, unable to watch Ezra burn. The smells of scorching flesh filled the room, and she sobbed openly, shaking her head, hating her darkness.

  She was a demon.

  A monster.

  Her father had been right.

  And she should’ve died long ago.

  Something touched her cheek softly, and she lifted her lids, her gaze falling upon Ezra. He was unscathed. His clothing wasn’t even burned.

  How could that be? She’d seen the flames hit him.

  Confused, she glanced at the floor to find the charred remains of her attacker there. Her darkness had worked. How was it Ezra was unharmed?

  “What? How are you here? How are you not hurt? How are you not dead?” she asked, the stream of questions falling from her lips almost faster than they were popping into her mind.

  One second he was staring at her, and the next his lips were on hers. His kiss was just as toe-curling as she remembered it being. Her body responded to him as it had at the nightclub. It was as if no time had passed. As if he hadn’t walked out on her after fucking her brains out.

  He cupped her face as his kiss seared her lips. Their tongues laced and she went to her tiptoes, wanting better access to his mouth. He backed her against one of the drums and she pressed on his hard chest, wanting desperately to scale the man. She wanted to climb him and wrap her legs around his waist before offering all of herself to him.

  He’d had this effect on her at the club.

  Apparently, that hadn’t worn off any.

  A niggle in the back of her mind told her this wasn’t the time or place for making out, but she didn’t care. She wanted him. All of him.

  He lifted her and deposited her on one of the drums, his mouth still locked on hers. She lifted his shirt and made skin-to-skin contact with his muscular torso. He did the same to her, lifting her shirt, his hands skimming the undersides of her breasts, her bra the only thing that kept his hands from being directly on her.

  Holland’s legs did as she’d wanted them to—they wrapped around Ezra’s waist. The hard press of the bulge in his pants against her mound spurred her onward.

  He put his hands on the wall behind her and leaned toward her, forcing her to lean back, too. Breathing hard, he broke the kiss, but kept his face close to hers. “Are you hurt?”

  “W-what?” she asked, her attention on his lips, not what he was saying. The man had the
ability to make her turn into one of those women who became absolutely brain-dead around a hot guy. It was as if he was a walking girlie-part defibrillator—bringing her vagina back to life with a jolt. Good gods, she hoped mouth-to-va-jay-jay resuscitation was in order.

  “Holland, are you hurt?” There was a certain urgency to his words.

  “No.” She tried to kiss him again, but he caught her chin gently, keeping her in place. Couldn’t he see how much she needed him to just stop asking questions and fuck her?

  He looked her over, a slight smile touching his lips. “Hey there.”

  He was just as she remembered him being. His long dark hair pulled back loosely into a bun. A shaggy beard graced his face and emerald-green eyes held her attention. There didn’t seem to be anything but muscle on him. She didn’t know what kind of workout he did, but it was killer.

  Having him there with her, saving her, was too much for her to wrap her mind around. She wasn’t sure if her mind had finally broken. Were the doctors and nurses right? Maybe she was crazy. It was really the only explanation she had as to why a man she’d met on her twenty-first birthday in a club, and had handed her virginity to, was suddenly standing before her unharmed after she just hurled a massive fireball at him.

  “I’m totally insane right? Wait, you answering won’t tell me any different. I’m imagining you, aren’t I? Wait, don’t answer that, either,” she said. His lips were still far too close for her to think straight.

  Ezra offered a warm smile. “I had the same concern in regards to myself. Turns out, I was bullheaded and stupid, not insane. Though others would argue that point. Let’s get you out of here. We can talk about it later.”

  Holland shook her head. “I can’t go. Not without Donnie.”

  Ezra’s jaw set into a firm line. “You want me to free your lover?”

  Baffled, Holland tipped her head, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “What are you talking about?”

  “This Donnie character. He’s your lover, right?”

  She snorted, her ardor cooling. “No. He’s the head of my security detail, asshole.”

  Ezra lifted a dark brow, his lips quirking. “Thought I already told you once you couldn’t use that word.”

  Ezra had never told her she couldn’t use that word. The only person to ever tell her that had been Newt—

  Gasping, she really looked at him this time. When she’d met him on her birthday, she’d thought his voice was familiar. And she’d been positive she’d seen his green gaze before. She’d kept thinking of Newt that night as well.

  No way.

  Aghast, her mouth fell open.

  Ezra grinned. “Wow, no questions? That really isn’t like you, Sweet-Pea.”

  Only Newt had ever called her that.

  Complete disbelief held her in its grasp for what felt like forever. When she finally found her voice, all of her training as a journalist failed her. The best she could manage was one word. “Newt?”

  He winked. “Yeah, took me a bit to figure it out too. Sorry I didn’t recognize you before. In my defense, you had been itty-bitty when I’d last seen you. I didn’t put the woman you’d become together with the little girl you’d once been.”

  Unsure she believed him, she narrowed her gaze on him.

  He offered a warm look. “I gave up smoking that night, and I do my best to avoid littering.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Such a mouth on you, Sweet Pea.”

  It was true. He really was Newt, and he’d come to her aid again.

  “I don’t understand. How are you here?”

  He grabbed her and kissed her forehead. The way his fingers dug into her arms, gently yet firmly, told her he was holding back. Being held by him made her feel safe, even though she knew they were in a factory full of bad guys.

  “Let’s go help Donnie,” Ezra said, taking her hand in his.

  Holland remained in place, tugging and forcing Ezra to do the same. She stared up at the man who had seemed like an angel to her when she was five years old. The man who had run through fire to save her life. The man who had killed the monster who had made it his mission in life to try to get the darkness out of her. She’d searched for him for the greater part of her life. All that time looking and she’d actually found him once already. And now he’d found her again.

  Emotions welled deep within her, and the next thing she knew she was crying. She opened her arms wide, much the way she’d done when she was a child, and she grabbed for Ezra, hugging him tight.

  He wrapped his powerful arms around her and squeezed. “I’ve got you, Sweet Pea. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.”

  Clinging to him, Holland cried. She didn’t understand how he’d found her yet again, or how he’d ever found her to begin with. All she knew was that he was here, he was real, and he was holding her.

  “Woman, it’s taking all of me not to fuck the living hell out of you. I need to get you to safety. I want to hold you forever. I want to kiss every fucking inch of your body. But first, I need to know you’re safe.”

  Gulping, she jerked back from his hold and smoothed her shirt down, her cheeks flaming red.

  He touched her lower lip. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, Holland.”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Let’s get your friend and—”

  “Blow this Popsicle stand?” she asked, remembering his words from long ago.

  He winked.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ezra kept hold of his woman’s hand as he led her from the room. He was torn between wanting to be buried deep in Holland and wanting to kill things. The dragon side was even struggling between the choices. Apparently, it liked sex with her as much as it liked to be the bringer of death and destruction.

  That was saying something because his dragon was very fond of killing things.

  He’d already eliminated several bad guys on his way into the facility but could smell and hear more. Normally, he’d have killed all of them before checking on a prisoner, but this case was different. The prisoner in question was his woman.

  My mate.

  He didn’t bother denying what he knew now to be the truth. There was no other explanation as to how she’d reached through the ether to him, not once but twice in her life, when she’d needed help. That was something only a true mate could do. There was a connection between them that was inarguable. Something beyond the understanding of humans, and something not every supernatural had or could relate to. All he knew for certain was that he wasn’t about to let Holland slip out of his life again. He’d not wait years to cross paths with her again.

  He walked Holland past a row of old metal shelving units that were fastened to the walls. Projectors from the seventies sat on the shelves as did boxes that smelled like they held old papers. The entire factory was in a state of disarray and needed to be condemned. He fully intended to blow the place once he was done so that process would be sped along nicely soon enough.

  Holland stayed close to him, and he was pleased. He wasn’t sure his dragon side could handle it if she dared reject him in any fashion. When he’d burst into the room to find a man on her, trying to have his way, he’d shut off and nearly shifted forms. In a blind rage, he’d attacked, only to be struck with a giant burst of flames—that he wasn’t entirely sure of where they’d come from to start with. They hadn’t come from Holland, had they? Regardless, the flames had managed to get his beast under control and he was thankful for them.

  Without them, he wasn’t sure he’d have held it together. He’d heard of other shifter males getting lost in the bloodlust—a blind haze of rage that was all-consuming and often ignited out of fear for their mate. He’d heard of some alpha males who never came out of the state, and who ultimately had to be hunted and killed in order to protect mankind.

  He took another step and came to a grinding halt. Additional scents filled the area and he listened, picking up on English chatter. Concentrating, he heard the sounds of males
coordinating a strike on the building.

  “Do you have eyes on Monaghan?” one asked.

  Another responded, “Negative. “

  “Ears?”

  “Nothing yet, but one of them is talking about the prisoners. Something about a woman who needs to be taught her place. My guess is they’re talking about Holland. And I just picked up a portion of a conversation about a newt. No fucking clue what that was about.”

  Ezra stiffened and considered seeking out the men and killing them for daring even to converse about his mate. Reason settled over him and he realized the men outside were more than likely part of the security detail Holland spoke of.

  “I think we’re about to have company,” he said in a hushed tone to Holland.

  She pressed against his backside, her eyes widening.

  “I think your security team is here. They probably had issues tracking you like I did. The very fact I can hear them talking on their comms tells me that whatever technology this place was implementing to block communications is off.”

  “Is that good or bad?” asked Holland, glancing around, her heart pounding loud enough for Ezra to hear it clearly. She was scared.

  He wanted to lie and calm her fears, but found he couldn’t mislead her. “It’s not great. Means they want to be found.”

  “Is it a trap to try to collect the other men?” asked Holland. “I think they’re all different, too. Supernatural. And I don’t speak much Arabic, but I think these people want to try to sell Donnie and me. I recognized some of the words from the story I’ve been investigating on human trafficking in the area.”

  Ezra stilled. “Are you telling me you’re here, in the Middle East doing a story on trafficking?”

  “Yes. One of my sources double-crossed me. I’m hoping to get to strangle him myself when this is over.”

  It took him a second to be able to speak again. He was that furious. “You purposely put yourself in harm’s way?”

  She huffed, her shoulders squaring in defiance. “I did. And I’d do it again. The victims need a voice. I plan to give it to them.”