Flying Through Fire (Dark Desires)

by Nina Croft

  Nah.

  Her eyes were obviously not to be trusted. She’d have to rely on her other senses.

  Sounds—more squealing—not helping.

  She sniffed, filling her nostrils. Lots of smoke and burned metal, and underneath that, the musky scent of werewolf. Suddenly, there was a new scent—clean air—and a warm breeze brushed over her bare skin.

  She huffed out a breath and pushed herself up, opening her eyes at the same time. Her first thought was that her poor little shuttle would never fly again. Someone had peeled the top open as though it were a container of food and they couldn’t wait to get at the contents. Not the most comforting of comparisons, considering the circumstances.

  She didn’t have time to be too disturbed, though, because a huge, clawed…hand entered the opening at the top of the shuttle, gleaming black iridescence with a hint of purple, and her mind slowed, giving her time to take it all in. There were talons instead of fingers, each tipped with a huge, curving claw.

  As it came closer, she held her breath, waiting for those claws to slice her skin.

  Wolf howled and scratched at her insides, but there was no time to shift.

  Finally, when she thought she might explode, the talons wrapped gently around her and lifted her from the floor—or ceiling; she was no longer sure which way was up—and out through the tear in the shuttle.

  Warm air surrounded her, caressing her skin. She was naked except for the tattered rags of her clothes, but that really wasn’t a major concern right now. The grip loosened, releasing her onto the soft, pale yellow sand, and for a second she lay, eyes closed, gathering her strength, trying to get her mushy brain to function.

  Best case scenario: she was dreaming.

  Worst case…no, her brain wasn’t working that well yet. But she was pretty sure “worst case” included the biggest mother-fucking dragon she had ever seen.

  She took a quick stock. The last shift had healed all the bruises. Her throat was parched, but otherwise, physically, she was okay.

  Mentally, she still had her doubts.

  She knew she was going to have to look again soon.

  Stop being a wimp.

  Easy to say.

  One, two, three!

  She opened her eyes.

  Yup. That was a dragon. The biggest freaking dragon ever, and he was crouched only feet away, watching her out of huge purple orbs. Something rapped inside her head, and she reached up a hand to rub it.

  The knocking got louder, and a noise filled her mind—a loud, totally unintelligible noise. She slapped her hands over her ears with absolutely no effect, because the sounds weren’t outside her head, but inside. Was he trying to talk to her? Because he was failing spectacularly.

  “Stop!” she yelled, and held up a hand, palm first, in case he didn’t understand the word. Actually, she was pretty sure he understood at least the gesture, as the noise stopped. She exhaled.

  The beast spread his wings a little and the tips twitched. She was reminded of Thorne when he got irritable, and almost smiled. But she didn’t, because Thorne always got even more pissed off when she laughed at him, and she really didn’t want to piss off this creature.

  She licked her dry lips and glanced around. Nothing living in sight. She was seated in a sandy basin, and to the left of her, a range of ruined mountains reached up to the darkening skies. The sun had recently set behind the wall of rock, and night was drawing in, the temperature dropping. Her stomach rumbled; she was always starving after a shift, but she could cope with that for a while. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t last long without water.

  She glanced at her companion. Maybe it was time to try a little communication of her own. She pointed at her mouth. His nostrils flared, and that knocking came again. She shook her head, and it stopped. Hmm. She pretended to hold a glass, brought it to her mouth, and drank.

  Nothing.

  Probably dragons wouldn’t use cups, so she tried bending at the waist and lapping at the ground. When she glanced up, he was still sitting there. But as she stared, he gave an almost regal nod of his head, spread his wings, and lifted into the air.

  She gazed into the sky as his huge form banked and then flew off to the left.

  As he vanished from sight, her brain started working again. She shook her head and got to her feet, a little wobbly but basically okay. The shuttle lay on its side about ten feet away, and she shuffled over. The door was against the ground so no hope of getting in that way, but she scrambled up over the side and in through the jagged hole.

  “Ow.” The sharp edge sliced into the skin over her ribs as she tumbled back into the body of the shuttle.

  She swore and pulled herself up, the sweet, metallic scent of her blood filling her nostrils. The cut wasn’t deep but was bleeding profusely. She grabbed a piece of her torn T-shirt and wrapped it around her middle then headed toward the food dispenser at the edge of the room.

  She pressed the screen, but it remained dead, so she thumped it hard with her fist and it flashed to life. She found the key for water and swiped it, heaving a sigh of relief as the bottle came sideways out of the shoot and hit the floor. She pressed the key a couple more times and then picked up the first bottle and unscrewed the cap, chugging down the whole lot, and feeling instantly stronger. Sipping on the second, she looked around for anything of use. But useful for what? She had no clue where she was, though she had a feeling that she was far from home.

  One thing was for sure—the shuttle wasn’t going anywhere. Without the huge hole in the side, she might have patched her up; she knew quite a lot about engines, thanks to tormenting Devlin until he taught her. But the hole was unfixable. Which meant she was stuck here until someone found her. That shouldn’t take too long; the Blood Hunter would lock onto the tracking device on the shuttle, and locate her straight away. She gnawed on her lower lip. One problem—the Blood Hunter hadn’t exactly been functioning when she left. But it wouldn’t take Devlin long to fix her. She had to survive until that happened.

  Her clothes were in tatters on the floor; like the shuttle, there was no repairing them. And this particular vessel was too small to carry much, not even a single cot bed, so no sheets. She finally found a length of cloth rolled up in the compartment under the seat, along with a small medical kit which might prove useful, and an empty satchel. She wrapped the cloth around her like a sarong, then took the two steps back to the food dispenser, got more water, packed it into the bag, then got herself a bowl of stew and wolfed it down. Then a second. The shuttle wasn’t meant for long flights so the food wouldn’t last long. Maybe she should ration herself. Instead, she ate a third, because after all—who knew what would happen.

  Why had the dragon brought her here? Why had he saved her?

  She’d been about to crash, heading straight for the wall of the tunnel, and no way would she have survived the surge of negative energy. The dragon had caught her vessel in a vicelike grip, diverted her course, and dragged her to the center. They had rolled, and she’d lost consciousness at that point.

  But she was pretty certain the dragon had saved her.

  Which made absolutely no sense. In fact, it was making her head hurt. Again. She went back and reached a hand under the console, scrabbling about until her fingers found the bottle of whiskey. They were stashed everywhere for emergencies. She took a medicinal gulp and shoved that bottle in the bag as well.

  Once she’d searched the place and found nothing else of use, she dragged herself out of the shuttle, careful this time, and dropped down onto the sand. A pair of sickle moons had risen, side by side, casting a dull orange light. And her new friend had returned.

  A bucket stood in front of the great beast. She shuffled over—her sarong was wrapped too tight—and peered in. It was half full of water. She leaned in close, sniffed it. A faint brackish smell drifted up but it was basically clean. Kneeling down, she splashed some over her face.

  At least there was water on the planet. She could survive for a while. And if there was
water, there would likely be some form of life, so that meant food. And the bucket indicated that there had been some sort of civilization here at some point. She would survive until the Blood Hunter came for her.

  She raised her head and stared at the dragon. What did he want with her? Right now, he was crouched in the dim light, eyes half closed, watching her as though she were some strange specimen he couldn’t fathom.

  He was big. Bigger than the shuttle. And quite beautiful. His wings were folded smoothly against his side, and his long tail, with a deadly spike on the end, curled around him. Would Thorne ever grow a tail? Probably not. He was already ten thousand years old; it would have grown by now. Probably for the best—it was already hard enough to get clothes to fit him.

  She yawned and all of a sudden, she was overtaken by a wave of tiredness. How could she be tired in the midst of all this? How could she even think about sleep?

  What if he’d brought her back here as a snack, and as soon as she lowered her guard, she would be devoured? But really, why would he wait? It wasn’t as though she could fight back. Even in her wolf form, she doubted she could make a dent on the scaly skin. Dragons were nearly impossible to kill.

  But she didn’t really think he had saved her life just to eat her.

  She shuffled back a little, glancing around her. The moons had disappeared behind a cloud, and the night was sinking into total darkness. There would be time to explore her new home in the morning. The sand was soft enough, and the air held no chill.

  She placed her bag on the ground as a pillow, scooped out a small hollow and curled her body into it. Her last vision, before sleep dragged her under, was the half closed eyes of the dragon watching over her. They reminded her of Thorne, and the thought was strangely comforting.

  And she slept.

  …

  “There’s nothing. Not a goddamn thing.” Thorne slammed his hand down on the console and the ship shivered under the onslaught.

  “Hey, watch that. Devlin’s just fixed her.”

  He took a deep breath and turned to face the vampire. Rico’s expression was impassive, but beneath that Thorne sensed the same frustration. They’d been so sure that they would pick up something. Some trail.

  “Still nothing from the tracking device?” he asked Fergal.

  “Nope. Nothing has changed in the last thirty seconds.”

  A low growl filled the room, and he realized with some surprise that it came from his throat. The ship shuddered and the lights flashed.

  Devlin’s voice sounded in his mind. “Whatever the fuck you’re doing, stop it.”

  Thorne came to a halt; he closed his eyes, found the fires stirring at his core, and doused them. It was that easy. Relief warred with his ever-present panic. He’d lived with the fear of his abilities for so long. Suspected his own strength and done everything he could not to wake the sleeping power. Or rather the sleeping dragon that lived within him. Now he accepted that it would do his bidding. He was in control, and a weight of fear lifted from him.

  Leaving nothing but the panic.

  There was no sign of her. Or the shuttle. Or the shuttle’s tracking device. It was as though she’d vanished. If she had been burned by dragon fire, there would have been something left.

  And deep in his mind, he knew she was still alive, somewhere in his world. “She’s not dead.”

  “I don’t for a minute believe she is,” Rico replied with a sigh. His hair was loose around his shoulders, and he looked rattled. He ran a hand through it, pressing his scalp. Thorne glanced across to where Daisy sat in the copilot’s seat. She was watching Rico with a wary expression. The last thing they needed was Rico losing his shit.

  “Are you okay?”

  Rico turned to him, and for a moment, Thorne thought he was going to give his usual shrug. Instead his nostrils flared. “No. I’m hungry.”

  Crap.

  Rico’s upper lip lifted, revealing one sharp, white fang. “And I want my woman back.” His eyes held flecks of crimson, and for a moment a shiver of fear ran through Thorne. He shook it off and stalked toward the other man, came to a halt in front of him, hands on his hips, and glared.

  “At least your goddamned woman is safe and you know where she is.” Saffira had reached the others and had disappeared into a wormhole, taking them with her to safety. “So stop your goddamned whining and come up with something useful.”

  Rico glared back and then let out a humorless laugh. “Good enough.” He thought for a second, and a sly smile curved his lips. “So does this mean you’re openly admitting that Candy is your woman?”

  Was he? He still didn’t know what he planned after this was done with, whether he wanted part of any new world. But Candy would. And there was still the fact that she was too young. Or he was too old. He wasn’t sure which, though maybe the former was better. Her youth would go with time, whereas he would keep getting older.

  “Dios, you’re still thinking too much.” Rico shook his head in disgust. “Just goddamn admit it.”

  He closed his eyes, had an image of her standing, staring him down, at her most aggressive, and something softened inside him, the doubts draining away. “Yes, she’s mine.”

  “There, that was easy, wasn’t it? Now, all we have to do is find her, kill a shitload of dragons, save the world, get Saffira and the others back from wherever she took them, and we can all live happily ever after.” He took a deep breath. “So how to start? We have to presume the tracking device isn’t functioning. Or the comm system.” He strolled across to Fergal. “From the shuttle type, can you work out her maximum distance from here?”

  “Already done.” The screen behind him came alight and showed their current position with a circle around it. “That’s presuming zero damage,” Fergal said.

  “That’s not a very big range.”

  “It was a low-range shuttle, probably the smallest available.”

  He studied the chart. The only planet currently within the circle was Trakis Four, right at the outer edge. Although, there were a couple of small, planet-like objects too uninhabitable to have been colonized. She might have landed on one of those if the shuttle was in trouble.

  But what was really doing his head in was the why. Why hadn’t she returned to the Blood Hunter when it was clear that he and Saffira were safe and away? What would make her head into space alone, in a shuttle that would not take her far? It didn’t make sense.

  “Will the circle keep growing?”

  “Yes. She will be on emergency fuel by now, which is self-generating and will keep going indefinitely. But her speed will be at a minimum, so the range will grow slowly.”

  “So we have to decide where to start.”

  “Jon and Alex are still on their way. I suggest we get them to head back and take that sector.” Rico pointed the area around Trakis Four. “We’ll head in the opposite direction.”

  At least it was a plan.

  He gave a nod of agreement and took himself off, sinking into one of the chairs at the edge of the room. He’d sworn never to do this, but sometimes you had to break your own rules. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, searching the vastness of space.

  And still nothing.

  He caught a few minds out there—there were still some of the old Collective around, who hadn’t been caught by the church. They weren’t far away, but he didn’t linger to hear their thoughts. Nothing from Saffira, Tannis, Callum, or Skyler. They were in a different time and out of reach, even for him.

  And no Candy. Not even a lingering memory of her thoughts.

  He rested his head back.

  Would he ever see her again?

  “We’re picking something up.”

  Fergal’s words brought him jolting upward. He was on his feet in a second and running across to stare at the screen.

  “Candy?”

  “No.”

  He blew out his breath as disappointment swamped him.

  “The ship is too big,” Fergal said.

&
nbsp; The screen was blinking now. “Can you give us a closer look?”

  They zoomed in on the red spot and it materialized into a ship, growing bigger as he watched. A white ship with a cross on the front.

  “It’s the goddamned Church,” Rico muttered. “Do they know it’s us?”

  “They will soon,” Fergal said. “They’re comming us. You want me to answer?”

  “Why the hell not?” Rico replied.

  A moment later a thready voice came over the comm unit. “This is Temperance Hatcher, head of the Church of Everlasting Life, requesting an audience with Captain Tannis of the Blood Hunter.”

  “What the hell?”

  Chapter Twenty

  She woke coughing, a deep, hacking, wet cough, and her hand, when she pulled it away from her mouth, was red with blood. She sat up, opened her eyes, and a shaft of pain pierced her skull. Closing them again, she groaned and stretched a hand out to steady herself.

  She knew this feeling. Recognized it. She had the sickness. Presumably from the planet, wherever she was. Or maybe spending time with the dragon.

  She was not too far along. She could still function—just—and she knew what she had to do.

  The piece of material wrapped around her was soaked with her sweat. She wriggled out of it and then willed the change. A moment of panic followed when her wolf did not answer. She called again and found her cowering deep inside.

  This time she responded to the insistent call, and a shiver of magic prickled over her skin. As the change swept through her, she collapsed back to the sand and was pulled under.

  When she woke again, she was back in human form. She took stock—her head was clear, only a dull ache remaining, and her lungs were not screaming for relief. She opened her eyes to find her new friend crouched close by, gazing at her out of those unfathomable eyes.

  She held up a palm before he could even try the mind thing. Her head might splinter if he knocked now. After grabbing her sarong, she wrapped it around her, more from habit than anything else. She doubted the dragon cared. Then she scrabbled in the bag and found a bottle of water, gulping it down in one go as her stomach rumbled.