by Ava Benton
“Such as?”
“Such as your heritage,” I suggested. “Who your parents are. Your siblings. Aunts, grandmothers. Do you know anything about your lineage?”
She raised an eyebrow, appraising me. “I see. You believe I’m one of these priestesses Alan was talking about.”
“I only want to know what you know about your lineage. That’s all.”
Her jaw tightened, and she blew out a gust of air through her flared nostrils. Frustration seeped from her every pore, it seemed. “I wish I could tell you. I truly do.”
My heart sank even as the dragon reared in my head. “Are you truly this stubborn? Or are you just daft? Do you not understand that I’m trying to help you?” How could she remain so immovable? She was in a cell! How much worse did it need to get before she began to cooperate?
“Do you not understand what I’m trying to say?” she whispered through clenched teeth. She stopped her pacing, coming to a halt in front of me. “I was orphaned as an infant. I know nothing about my lineage, as you put it. No grandparents, aunts, siblings. Nothing. I have no past.”
Ahhh…
The dragon was pleased with this, because it added to the truth of her claims. If she didn’t know…
“There are no records?”
She shrugged. “How would I know?”
“You never tried to find—”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, so stop asking questions about it. You’ll never understand.” She turned away, hands gripping the bars tight enough that her knuckles stood out in stark prominence.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, I have no idea. I suppose the myth that orphaned children always wish to find their families is just that. A myth.”
She nodded slowly. “It isn’t that I didn’t want to, though,” she explained in a choked whisper. “I did want to. For a long time.”
When she looked over her shoulder, I noticed a tear running down her cheek. Even in near-darkness, it sparkled like a diamond. “Do you know what I do when I’m not fighting? I find people for a living. I work as a private investigator and bounty hunter. I’m damned good at it, too.”
“I’m sure you are.” She would be good at anything, as special as she was.
“But I’ve never found them. Don’t you get it? Never. Not a shred of evidence that I even had parents.” She pushed away from the bars, rubbing her hands together as she continued pacing. “I mean, look at you. You live with what I’m guessing is an extended family—I mean, you all look similar, and you all…”
She stopped and swallowed hard.
“I know what you mean.”
It was too difficult for her to say the word. Dragon. We were all dragons. The least I could do was let her off the hook instead of forcing her to say something her mind still had yet to wrap itself around.
Her smile was one of gratitude—albeit brief gratitude. “Right. Meanwhile, I feel like I came from nowhere. No one. I don’t even have a family medical history to rely on. What if something runs in my bloodline? I have no idea. I go to the doctor, and he asks if there’s a history of cancer, diabetes, whatever, and I just stare.”
“That can’t be easy.” I wouldn’t know anything about it. We didn’t go to doctors, and I’d lived long enough to know everything there was to know about my family’s history.
“Emelie is all I’ve ever had. I told you all about her earlier.”
“You mentioned her before, too. In a couple of your emails.”
This time, she smiled more genuinely. “You remembered that.”
“Of course. I remember just about everything you ever wrote to me.”
She sighed, nodding in the direction of our living area. “Because all you have is them. Right? I was somebody new.”
“That’s not true.”
She tilted her head to the side, smiling.
“It isn’t entirely true.”
“I thought so.”
“I was on my way to look for you,” I reminded her in a whisper. “You were more than just a diversion to me.”
She was quick to look away. “That was unfair of me. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve been through quite a lot.”
“An understatement.”
I stood, suddenly hesitant. “Might I…?” I gestured to the back of my neck, then to hers.
She closed in on herself, wrapping her arms around her torso. Like a flower in reverse bloom. “I guess so. I’ve never seen this mark everybody’s been talking about.”
“And you wouldn’t, would you? How often do we look at the back of our own neck?” I reached for her, suddenly more aware of her alluring warmth and sweetness than ever before. Her hair was as soft as it looked, like corn silk which I allowed to slide through my fingers perhaps a moment longer than was necessary.
She tensed, holding her breath, waiting for me to confirm what the others had already claimed. I lifted the thick swath of hair in one hand and leaned in for a closer look, doing everything I could to ignore her enticing presence.
There it was, just at the hairline. Unmistakable. A crescent moon.
“Well? It’s there, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“What is it even?”
“A crescent moon,” I whispered, lowering her hair before the temptation to plant a kiss along the nape of that long, graceful neck became too much to ignore.
“I think my hairdresser noticed it once,” she recalled. “A birthmark. That’s all.”
“Yes, a birthmark. One shared by the Blood Moon Priestesses.”
“Who are they?” It was her turn to sit on the cot—no, sink down onto it, as though she was suddenly very tired or very weak.
She wouldn’t be accustomed to weakness, would she? As strong and capable as she was by blood, by birth.
“The first thing you have to understand before I tell you the history is that we’re much older than we appear,” I began.
“I already know that.”
My eyebrows arched upward. “You do? Did one of them tell you?”
“No, but it makes sense. You have a sorta old-fashioned way of talking sometimes. I always thought it was sort of nice, somebody who uses proper English. Not like everybody else I know.”
“Ah, I see. But you don’t know just how much older I am than my appearance?”
“No. Should I guess?”
“I highly doubt you’d ever come up with the correct answer,” I replied, unable to keep a grin from touching my lips. “Would you believe it if I told you I’m more than a thousand years old?”
Her mouth snapped shut. Her throat worked as she swallowed. Her hands gripped the mattress as they’d gripped the cell bars—tight enough that it appeared to hurt.
“Are you all right? Do you need water?”
She shook her head, breathing rapidly. “No. I’m okay.”
“You’re certain.”
She nodded.
“All right, then. We’re all of roughly the same age, my kin and myself. Our clan has lived beneath this mountain for longer than I’ve been alive. Protecting a treasure which exists deep beneath our feet, one which I’ve never seen. Protecting each other, too, and the future of our clan. Keeping ourselves out of sight of humans.”
I leaned against the bars, the spell of my memories overtaking me for a moment, and I stared at the wall over her head. “The Blood Moon Priestesses were our protectors throughout a good part of my life. They enchanted the woods surrounding the mountain, for example. Humans who ventured into the woods became hopelessly lost before they can reach us.”
“I was almost lost,” she whispered. “I wanted to give up, I was so sure I’d never find the mountain.”
“So, the enchantment is still in place. But you would, naturally, be able to overcome it. Because of who—what—you are.”
She was staring at the bars, lost in thoughts of her own. “I guess that’s true.”
“Have you always been exceptionally gifted at fighting?” I asked.
&nbs
p; “Sure. When I was a kid, I used to get into fights all the time in my foster homes. Notice the pluralization," she snickered. “Needless to say, I got bounced around a lot because of that.”
“You were angry.”
“And I was a damned good fighter. I wouldn’t back down, even against the boys. Now, when I’m in training, I spar with men. If I can beat a man, even when we’re not totally serious about it, I can beat even the strongest woman.”
“Undefeated.”
“Of course.” She smiled.
“And when you work as an investigator or when you’re tracking people. You’re very good at that, too. You know how to find people even when those around you are without the first clue. You understand the people you’re hired to find. You know why they move as they do, why they think as they do. It’s almost too easy sometimes.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because it’s who you are, Keira.” I went to her, squatting before her, so we were nearly at eye level. “You are unique. You possess skills and powers others can only dream of. It’s simply part of you, as much as the color of your hair or eyes.”
“So, I’m a—one of those—a Blood Moon Priestess. For real.” She chewed her bottom lip, which shouldn’t have inflamed me given the circumstances but certainly did.
I swallowed, reminding myself of the stakes at hand. “It would appear so. Your mother was likely descended from them, and your grandmother. I’m sorry that you had to learn about it this way.” I wondered if she’d ever have found out if it wasn’t in this manner.
“To think, I always wanted to know where I came from.” Her head fell forward, hanging between her shoulders. “Now I know.”
I couldn’t help myself. Not anymore, not when she was aching so deeply. I took her shoulders in my hands—they were shaking with the onset of her tears—and lifted them just enough to prompt her to raise her eyes.
“You’re exceptional,” I murmured, moving my head from side to side in order to maintain eye contact as she tried to avoid it. “You are gifted beyond belief. No wonder I liked you so much, right from the beginning. I could feel there was something special about you. Why else would I…”
She waited a moment before prompting, her voice thick with tears. “Why else would you what?”
I took a deep breath. “Why else would I have taken the chances I did in pursuing things with you? I should’ve steered clear. It was dangerous—evidently.” I chuckled in spite of myself. “Because you found me, which is the one thing we’ve worked to ensure wouldn’t happen. The most important thing of all. That we not be found.”
“Do you think that maybe…” She shook her head, fighting with herself.
“What? Tell me.”
Her eyes locked with mine, and the dragon came closer to the surface of my consciousness than ever. He wanted her, yearned to complete the connection between us. It was hypnotic, the pull she had on me. The desire she stirred deep in my core.
“That maybe… I came here because I felt it, too? That special—different—thing in me… recognized what was special about you?” Her palms were warm on my chest, tender and tentative. I leaned into them. I wanted her to touch me. I needed her touch.
“We both took chances,” I whispered as the distance between us closed by inches. Her plump, lush lips were so near, I could almost taste them.
“We did.” Her eyes opened wider than before, when they’d been sliding closed. “And look where it’s gotten us.”
The moment fell away. There was no getting it back.
But there would be more. I’d see to it.
“Come on.” I stood, pulling her up along with me. “We’re getting out of here.”
“What?” she gasped. “We can’t. How can we?”
“If we stay…” I shook my head, opening the door as quietly as possible. “No. You don’t need to know what will happen if we stay.”
“They’ll kill me,” she stated, matter-of-fact. “I’ve known it all along.”
“Right.” She was full of surprises. “So you can see why we need to go.” I gazed down the tunnel, listening hard. Tuning all of my sensory power toward any sounds or movements coming from our living areas.
I held a finger to my lips as I pulled her behind me, moving as silently as possible. I’d made up my mind, and there was no going back. I had to leave or else risk losing her. I wouldn’t allow it to happen. My dragon wouldn’t.
We reached my room, where my still-packed suitcase was waiting just inside the door, and continued down the tunnel. Past the kitchen, the common area, the control center. All of it, without being noticed.
“Are you sure of this?” she whispered as we ran.
“Yes.” I was more certain than I’d ever been in my life. I would leave them behind in favor of her, because she was all that mattered. Her safety, her well-being, her happiness. All of it. Just her alone.
I loved her. I knew it. I could admit it. At least to myself, for now.
It was still dark outside, the blackness of early morning greeting us as we neared the mouth of the cave. I could nearly taste freedom. For both of us.
“I told you.”
The sound of a female voice stopped me in my tracks. Keira slammed into me. “What the—?”
I turned to find Ainsley standing just outside the cave, standing beside Klaus. “You owe me fifty dollars,” she informed her mate Klaus with a wry smile.
13
Keira
I rubbed the side of my face, where I’d slammed it into the back of Tamhas. I’d never run into a brick wall before, but I imagined it feeling similar.
Oh, terrific. The woman whose jaw I’d kicked was standing there, smirking, looking at the two of us. We were so close to escaping, too.
She noticed the way I rubbed my cheek. “Hmm. How does it feel?”
I shot her the filthiest look I could manage. And I could manage a lot.
“What are you two doing out here?” Tamhas asked.
The man with her—I hadn’t seen him before then—spoke up. “Waiting for you. Ainsley was certain you would try to flee.”
“And he owes me fifty dollars now,” she reminded him, jabbing an elbow into his side.
He winced, then winked at her.
“Ainsley. Klaus. Don’t do this. Please.” Tamhas held up his hands, palms facing out. “Please. I don’t want to fight you, but I will.”
Ainsley’s eyes shifted from Tamhas to me. “She means that much to you?” she asked.
“What do you think?” He took my hand.
“Listen.” Klaus stepped between Ainsley and the two of us. “Nobody needs to fight right now. We’re on your side.”
“Are you, now?” Tamhas laughed. “That’s rich. Did Alan put you up to this?”
“Since when are you so paranoid?” Ainsley asked.
“He’s your brother. Why would you betray his confidence?”
Her face worked, like she was trying to find the words. “For one, I would do the same if it were Klaus in that cell. And for another, we’re not here to help you get away.”
“You’re not? You’re here to take us back?” he snarled.
The energy coming from him was intense enough to almost scare me. Not that he’d hurt me—I knew instinctively that he never would—but that he might hurt Ainsley for my sake.
As irritating as she was, I didn’t want him to bring that sort of heat down on his head. Not on my account.
“We’re not trying to help you escape,” Klaus informed him before glancing at me. “My apologies, but that isn’t why we were waiting. We were merely hoping to keep you from doing something terribly foolish.”
I glared at Ainsley. “Foolish? Leaving before you had the chance to kill me is foolish? How so?” I wished I’d had the chance to finish her off earlier. Maybe I’d get lucky and get a second chance.
“If he went with you, deliberately kept you away from the clan, things would be much worse,” she informed me. “You’d have the entire clan at your h
eels. You would never have a moment’s peace.”
“You paint a rather bleak picture,” Tamhas observed.
“And a rather realistic one,” Klaus replied. “She’s right. What we had intended to do, instead, was to ask Mary about the presence of the Blood Moon Priestesses. Do they still exist? Do they practice their craft?”
I couldn’t help but ask. “What does that mean to me? Any of it?” And who was Mary? Another dragon I had never met? Whoever she was, she sounded important.
“If the Blood Moon Priestesses are no longer in existence as a coven, it stands to reason that you aren’t here because of your association with them.” Ainsley’s voice was gentler than before. Much kinder, too. “We’re hoping she’ll find nothing, in other words.”
“And if they’re still in existence?” Tamhas asked. “What will happen then?
Klaus and Ainsley looked at each other, then back at him. Neither of them wanted to say it. They didn’t have to. I squeezed his hand and forced the most natural smile as I could.
“We’ll have to take that chance,” I decided.
“What?” He turned to me, eyes wide. “What are you saying? You’re willing to take a chance like this?”
“Yes. I won’t let you make this sort of sacrifice for me. It’s too dangerous, and you’d be turning your back on your entire clan.” I glanced at Ainsley and Klaus with an apologetic smile. “He didn’t give me a chance to argue with him.”
“He wouldn’t, would he?” Ainsley asked.
“Keira. You can’t mean this. Please.” Tamhas touched my face. “Please. Don’t ask me to sit back and accept what Alan wants to do to you.”
“There’s no guarantee that he will,” I reminded him. “I can promise you I have nothing to do with any covens or priestesses. My mother might have, or her great-great-great-great grandmother or somebody, but not me. Do you believe me?”
“Of course.”
“Well, then. I won’t let you separate yourself from your clan on my account. Don’t argue me on this.”
He shook his head, closing his eyes as he did. “I cannot handle this. I simply can’t.”
“I couldn’t bear knowing I was the reason you broke off with the clan. One of us has to be the strong one. I guess it’ll have to be you.”