by Black, C. I.
* * *
Grey materialized in the receiving hall at Court’s public anchored gate, not his lair, like he’d intended. In his hurry to retrieve a weapon that he should have brought in the first place, along with the stress of keeping his memories at bay, his concentration had slipped, again. He sagged against the wall, black specks dancing across his vision. His throat ached and every muscle in his body throbbed from being on high alert while in the human world.
Remembered rain rattled against the windowpane and the reek of rotten food wafted over him.
He didn’t have time for this. He wasn’t sure what he’d seen in the alley beside Jade’s shop, but it hadn’t been good. At least Hunter had escaped, although Grey had no idea who’d made the white gate. Maybe Hunter was back in control of the body, or—and this was more likely the case with the white gate—maybe the Handmaiden had helped him.
Wouldn’t that be lovely. But Grey wouldn’t know until he found Hunter or Hunter phoned. Or the Handmaiden returned to Court and revealed what she’d done. And the more Grey thought about it, the more it had to be true. Only the Handmaiden’s gates were white. If Hunter had somehow gotten back in control of his body, his gate would have been black. Which still didn’t solve the problem that Hunter was in trouble.
Grey drew power to gate to his room, but stopped. Even if those drakes were still there—which he doubted—Hunter wasn’t. And the purpose of the exercise was to find where Hunter was and what was wrong with him.
Damn.
What he really needed was a way to find Hunter. Although running one or two traitorous drakes through with a dull blade had a certain amount of appeal as well.
He fished his cell out of his pocket. The only person he could think of calling was Capri. Her specialty was cleanup, but she knew more about today’s human world than Grey did and if he could trust another drake with Hunter’s current situation it would be her.
He flipped the phone open.
But could he trust her? If he guessed wrong things would get much worse.
Footsteps down the hall drew his attention. Zenobia sauntered in his direction, followed by her Second. Her eyes lit up when she saw Grey and she sped up her pace.
“Hello, Grey.” She showed a hint of teeth. It wasn’t a sexual invitation.
Even if it was, Grey wasn’t stupid enough to take the bait. Zenobia didn’t like him and she did nothing to hide her distaste. He couldn’t tell if she hated him because of his association with Hunter or not, but Hunter was closer to family than his own, and anyone who was against Hunter was against him.
“Zenobia.” He flashed a little more teeth than she did.
Her Second, a green drake in a thirty-something male with richly dark skin, stiffened.
“How’s Hunter? Still alive?”
A growl thrummed in Grey’s chest. “He’s fine.”
She smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I’d keep an eye on him in his weakened condition. You never know when a drake might take advantage of the situation.”
“Are you confessing something?” Maybe he didn’t have to go back to the human world for a fight. He could just impale her. She’d heal fast enough and it would make him feel better.
She opened her eyes wide in a mockery of innocent surprise. “Not me. But just about every dragon has their eye on his position. Who wouldn’t want control of the medallion? I can think of a few who’d make excellent assassins.”
“I’m sure you could.” This conversation was getting old, fast.
“For one, that little girl leading the North American Clean Team. What is her name?”
Zenobia knew very well what Capri’s name was. “She doesn’t want the job.”
“You so sure? No one talked about taking the job when Hunter was so strong. But now he’s a weak little woman.”
Zenobia’s Second chuckled.
“He has fire,” Grey said.
“But will that be enough?” She shook her head as if answering her question and sauntered away with her Second.
“Bitch,” Grey growled at her back.
Her Second glanced at him.
“Try me.” Grey could take him. He was dying to take him. But Zenobia snapped her fingers and the man fell into step beside her. She hadn’t outright admitted to the attacks on Hunter, but she hadn’t denied it either.
Grey opened his cell and dialed the first three digits of Capri’s number.
Every dragon had their eye on Hunter’s position at Court. Surely Capri was happy with the job she had. Yet there was no way to know for sure.
He ground his teeth. Zenobia was playing with him and he was foolish enough to take the bait.
“Bitch.”
He finished dialing Capri’s number. But she didn’t pick up and he wasn’t going to leave a message.
CHAPTER 24
Anaea couldn’t make her mind work. She would have thought, given everything that had happened in the last couple of days, she’d just accept Hunter taking over Mark’s body. But she couldn’t. Couldn’t see past her college crush to the predator within. Perhaps this was the last straw. She’d seen more than she could take and was going to lose her mind like the crazy Jester in the Dragon Court.
Hunter hotwired the lock to a suite on the second floor of a fancy, towering hotel.
“Isn’t someone going to notice?” she asked.
He swung the door open and stepped aside, indicating she should enter first.
“No. I own it.”
The suite’s sitting room was spacious, with a conversation area comprised of antique furniture near a marble fireplace and an out-of-place large-screen television.
“You own what?”
By the door, to her right, sat an office area, complete with laptop and printer. An enormous oil painting of a clear summer sky hung above the desk.
“I own the hotel. Or rather, one of my holding companies owns it. You tend to build significant resources when you’ve been around as long as I have.”
She hugged herself against shivers threatening to consume her. It was just another detail. Nothing more. And yet, it was a detail that reminded her of how insane her life had become. Of course Hunter was rich. He’d had a thousand years or so to amass his wealth. Hell, he owned a Gutenberg Bible and had probably bought it new from Gutenberg himself.
“I found in my line of business it helps to have a few contingency plans.”
“And we’re safe here?” She had no idea how Mark had been found. Magic, probably. Which meant, how could they be safe here or anywhere?
Hunter shuffled to the closest chair, a stiff wingback in dark red damask. “No one knows I own this place and a dragon would have to do a lot of digging to discover that I do. And by then our problem should be solved.”
She nodded, his words washing over her.
“Why don’t you go get cleaned up. In a couple of hours I can officially check us in.” He offered a rueful smile, looking ever so much like Mark. Her heart skipped a beat and her teeth chattered.
She clenched her jaw.
“It wouldn’t do for us to show up mere minutes after the email notification was sent.”
“I suppose not.”
“There are robes in the bathroom and I made arrangements for fresh clothing once we check in.”
She nodded but didn’t move. She couldn’t, not without trembling. God, she was going to shake herself to pieces if she didn’t do something soon. And without Hunter’s soul in her body to heal her, she wouldn’t be able to recover if she fell apart.
“Anaea.” His voice was soft, heartbreakingly like Mark’s the night they’d said goodbye. Her eyes burned and her vision blurred. She turned to the only other door in the suite. It had to lead to a bedroom and the bathroom.
“Anaea.”
Not looking at him was worse. Now all she could think of was Mark and what had never been between them. She wanted to rant and scream and pound her frustration into something... someone.
“I’m okay.” It
hurt to say it, but there wasn’t anything else she could say. Nothing that would be productive or make her feel better.
“Are you sure?”
Her throat tightened. Why did he have to push? Mark wouldn’t have. That had been their problem. But it wasn’t Mark sitting behind her. It was Hunter. Magical, feral Hunter. Who wasn’t human. And who had thrown her into this nightmare. But that wasn’t a fair thought, either, and she couldn’t maintain her anger at him.
She sniffed. “I just need...” She didn’t know what she needed. Well, she did. She just couldn’t bring herself to ask. She needed to be held and told everything was going to be all right. But it wouldn’t be and it wouldn’t be Mark murmuring those words. “I just need a hot shower and something to eat.”
“Anaea.” He sucked in a noisy breath and shuffled close, but she refused to look at him.
“Something with chocolate would be preferable.”
He brushed her shoulder with a tentative hand, but didn’t maintain the contact. “Chocolate I can do.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
Hunter directed the bellboy to put the bags of clothes on the desk. He thanked the young man with a tip large enough to inspire loyalty but not gossip and closed the door behind him, clicking the bolt in place and hooking on the chain. Unwelcome guests would at least be slowed down by the door even if it wouldn’t stop them.
He couldn’t hear the shower any more, but Anaea wasn’t in the living room. He shuffled to the bedroom door and eased it open. She lay on the bed, eyes closed, wrapped in the blankets, and curled into the fetal position.
His heart contracted. He hated to see her so vulnerable, and sleep revealed the insecurities she kept locked deep within her. He wanted to show her all the strength she possessed and failed to recognize. This woman was a warrior, and more of a dragon in spirit than many dragons he knew.
He inched closer. Pain rippled through him. Not the sharp agony he’d first experienced when he’d been thrown into this body, more a dull ache of healing. It felt strange to be in an empty vessel after the warmth of Anaea’s occupied one, even for the short time he’d spent with her. He was alone.
Again.
A creature of magic chained to the earth. A dragon without a real coterie and with very few friends. He had thought the fury brought on by the great betrayal of those human sorcerers was enough to sustain him, but it was empty. As empty as the anger that had motivated the humans in the first place, so very long ago.
But those men were dead, nothing but dust. He doubted any of them had been true sorcerers and were immortal like dragons, seeing as no one had heard or seen any activity from them since. The Handmaiden’s fears that the sorcerers lived and would finish off the dragons were unfounded. The Mother of All had destroyed them and saved dragon-kind, albeit in spirit form. Humans rose and fell, some by his hand, and he obeyed his King and Prince. That was his life.
But there was no comfort there, no love.
Anaea had left the medallion on the nightstand and he gingerly picked it up, not wanting to wake her, and hung the chain around his neck.
She sighed. Her breathing changed and her lids fluttered open. A moment of panic, of not knowing where she was, flashed across her face and then her gaze locked on Hunter. A hint of a smile pulled at her lips, then she pursed them and the expression vanished.
Had she been happy to see him or the man whose body he possessed?
He shoved that thought away. He couldn’t do anything about that, as much as he really wanted to. Regardless, she drew him to her, a moth to a flame, his spirit unable to resist hers. He knelt beside her.
She snaked a hand out of the covers and brushed her finger along his jaw, drawing heat with her touch. He wanted to say something, but he had no words. How could he express joy and sorrow all at the same time?
If he were in his true form he’d leap into the air, roar and spit fire. If he were still in her body he’d sense her feelings and know what to do.
He inched closer. Her breath caressed his cheek, warm and feathery. Just like in her dream.
What they’d started in her dreams, they could finish in reality. But not now. She was his inamorata and in need of comfort. He just had no idea if she felt the same about him. Dreams were just dreams. Nothing more. In fact, she probably had no idea how he felt about her. She thought she was broken and unworthy and ugly. But there was nothing damaged about her and it was he who didn’t deserve an inamorata as beautiful in body and spirit as Anaea.
Humans expressed this with touches and kisses. Like when she’d touched his jaw.
He drew a gentle line along her chin. Her wide eyes stared into his. The promise of their dream quivered in the breath between their lips.
Mother of All, he needed to show her how he felt, needed her to know she was more than worthy. He brushed his lips against hers. Heat zinged through him.
She froze. Her eyes widened further.
It hadn’t been enough. That tentative contact hadn’t shown her anything. He dipped close again, but she jerked back, pulling the blanket up until all he could see of her were her pale eyes.
His gut churned and all warmth seeped from him. Now he had even fewer words.
* * *
Anaea couldn’t stop trembling. Hunter had kissed her, tentatively, and all she could think of was him in Mark’s body. She shouldn’t have pulled away. The pain in his eyes made her heart break. Then he’d rushed from the room without a word. She should call him back and tell him—
Tell him what? That she wanted what she’d fantasized? Boy, did she ever want what they’d had in her dream, and more. But he didn’t know about that. And there was Mark. Or rather, there wasn’t Mark but his body. She wanted Hunter. Not Mark. The two weren’t one and the same and yet...
She squeezed her eyes shut.
This was complicated. So very, very complicated. Too much had happened, too soon. She needed time to think and adjust. She could deal with this. Honestly.
If she were in her right mind she’d get up and run as far away from the mess as possible. But she couldn’t abandon Hunter.
She snorted at that thought. Hunter was more than capable of taking care of himself, particularly in this situation.
Fine. She’d admit it. She liked Hunter and missed having him in her head. Yeah, she’d wanted him out, but now that he was gone she felt empty and abandoned again.
Which was completely ridiculous. He was still with her. He’d even tried to kiss her. Of course, all she’d seen was Mark and she’d pushed him away.
And she was back again to everything being complicated.
Swell.
CHAPTER 25
Hunter splashed water on his face but it did little to ease the confusion of emotions within him. And they all had to do with Anaea. Every fiber of his being now knew she was his inamorata and he had no idea how she felt about him. Which still didn’t mean anything if they were dead.
He stared at his new face in the mirror, the glaring light from the hotel bathroom accentuating the sharp features. A stranger stared back at him. Dark hair, tousled from sleep, curled around his ears and the nape of his neck, too long for his liking. His dark eyes stood out against slightly tanned skin. If he squinted he could imagine they were still the eyes of his previous body. At least he was back to being tall.
He dragged his T-shirt off.
And strong again. He was lean-muscled, reminding him of the wiry black belts in Japan who’d kicked his Crusader’s ass centuries ago. He could work with this. Attack and bash was no longer his best style. But he had others and suspected this body was faster on its feet than his last one.
Did Anaea like it or was that why she’d refused to kiss him? From their shared dreams, she’d appreciated the Crusader. But there had been something between her and this man. He wasn’t sure what and didn’t know if he wanted to ask. Sometimes the hope, before receiving the answer, was better than the knowing.
Which was ridiculous. He’d always w
anted to know, always wanted to plan with all information available. Anaea was something different.
She was confusing, that’s what she was. She was human and, because of him, a mage. But she was so much more than that. A warrior, a linguist, a woman.
His inamorata.
Mother of All, he was losing his mind. The instinctual need to prove himself worthy of her was overwhelming, but he wouldn’t be able to do that until the attacks on his life had been stopped—he’d worry about Regis demanding her life when the immediate threat was over.
Which meant he had to get off the defensive even if his body hadn’t connected to the earth’s magic yet. Every time he turned around another drake was after him, and as a result, Anaea as well. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Whether he liked it or not, it was his turn to do some hunting.
He had no proof Zenobia was responsible and in this case, his gut didn’t count since the challenger from dinner last night had looked to Nero for help. What he did know was that everyone who had attacked him, who hadn’t been a human mage, had been young. So he’d start by talking to the younglings. He’d have to change his appearance a little, so he wasn’t recognizable as the human they’d just tortured and killed, but there weren’t many young drakes who’d recognize his aura. They’d only know he was a dragon. With luck, he’d confirm Zenobia’s involvement, make short work of her flunkies, and collect her soul.
He snorted at the thought. Not likely. Not with the way things had been going lately. He’d probably have to call in a little help. Grey was always up for knocking a few heads together, even if the drake didn’t want to go into the human realm any more. But Hunter needed to expose the root of the problem so he could defend his actions when Regis and the other doyens of the Counseling Coteries found out. Taking Zenobia’s soul without a writ would be too much like proclaiming himself independent. The doyens would demand Hunter’s rebirth for killing one of their own, even if they didn’t like her, and Regis would have a fit at losing his assassin. Taking her soul with proof would still end in a fight, but it was the best he could come up with.