I stood up abruptly and pulled my cardigan back on. “Taylor?”
Nobody answered.
“Hello?” I asked, hating the breathlessness that betrayed me. I couldn’t smell anyone.
“I’ll go look,” Quentin said, bounding for the stairs. A second later, he returned. “It’s just a cat on the landing.”
Just a cat. That had been a close call. My body screamed for more, for fitting myself over one of their generous cocks and taking the other in my mouth. But although this might be the time, it sure as hell wasn’t the place.
“We should go to bed, anyway,” I said. “Alone. We’re guests here...I don’t know what came over me.”
“I did,” Quentin said, his voice warm.
“And me,” Slade added.
I tried to hide my smile, but they saw it anyway and smiled, too. We quietly walked back up the stairs.
“I didn’t think I could resent a little cat,” Slade said, giving a side-eye to the Bergers’ black feline who stood sentry at the bottom of the stairs.
Quentin and Slade each kissed me goodnight at my door. I went to my bed, hoping I’d be able to sleep.
And if I did sleep, I wanted to dream about being sandwiched by those two sexy men with a roaring fireplace next to us. If I was really lucky, Taylor would be in the dream, too.
Chapter Twelve
Quentin
The burgundy vinyl seats were stiff. Given the expansive distance the train traveled, I’d expected at least a thin layer of cushioning for comfort. Perhaps the poorly-disguised plywood was a testament to German grit.
Taylor appeared not to mind as he stared past me out the window. Slade had increasingly focused inward as our journey continued. As if sensing this, Ariana had chosen the seat beside him. We all wanted to support him in this, but it was her closeness that would best soothe him. It was her touch that soothed us all.
Had I slept following our encounter by the fire, who was to say what dreams may have blessed or haunted me. It was just as likely I’d dream of suffering as it was I’d dream of tender embraces.
At first I’d tried to ignore the dreams which appeared to contain images of events unrelated to Slade, Taylor, and myself, but those visions persisted. They weren’t all unpleasant, and after realizing that, I’d decided to analyze rather than ignore them. There was a common theme in both types of dreams—Ariana.
I’d seen her in a gown of white lace, I’d flown beside her, and I’d watched her laugh at a joke none of the three of us had ever told. I’d seen her in carefree bliss, and sobbing distress. I knew her on a deeper level than should have been possible in our short time together.
The only fathomable conclusion was that my profound connection to Ariana had manifested a sensory response in my subconscious. To find my mate was to know her present state of emotion, especially when the state elicited a sexual response.
Whether that connection went deeper, I was still uncertain. While vivid, the other dreams appeared more likely to be my imaginings than anything else.
I stole a glance at her as she peered past Slade out the large window. Her dark hair was up off of her shoulders, clipped back in a loose chignon. Her long neck was bare, and I was tempted to run my tongue along her soft, exposed skin. Her full lips were glossed in her preferred shade of plum, and I remembered the way they had looked wrapped around Slade’s cock in my dream. She appeared a voluptuous goddess worthy of worship. But she was too fierce to put on a pedestal, too strong to allow her fate to be left in the hands of anyone but herself. In time I hoped she would trust me as much as she did Taylor, that she’d look upon me as she had in my dreams. But I would gladly take whatever affection she offered, and I’d cherish every minute.
Her small hand rested over Slade’s, visibly soothing his tension. Every time she squeezed his palm, his stiff shoulders softened.
Over four hours had passed with few words exchanged between us. The task ahead weighed heavily upon our shoulders, and each of us was lost in our own thoughts. The vibration of the train and its rattling over the tracks created a soothing lull.
Out the window, the natural landscape was much like what we had left in Connecticut. The same autumn hues decorated the trees, though the grass appeared a brighter and more vibrant shade of green. The most notable differences were architecture and scent. As we crossed open fields, I saw great masses of stones, remnants of castles long forgotten. There was a sense of history, of antiquity in every direction, even in the middle of nowhere.
Eventually, sharper inclines replaced the rolling hills, and thick trunks of mature trees replaced the open meadows. We’d reached the Warzenschwein Mountains. The town of Versorgungsstelle wouldn’t be much farther.
The train car grew dim as we traveled through thicker and thicker foliage. Overhead lights kicked on in response to the loss of the sun.
A voice carried from overhead speakers. Taylor perked up and listened to the words spoken in German.
“We’re here,” Taylor said.
“Attention travelers,” the announcement came in English. “We are approaching the trading post of Versorgungsstelle, last stop before Zurich.” The same message continued for the third time, the last in French.
When the train stopped, we gathered our bags and exited onto a tidy wooden platform.
Referring to Versorgungsstelle as a “town” was a generous overstatement. A hodgepodge clump of ramshackle hovels seemed more apt. The structures were sided in wooden planks slapped together without regard for aesthetics. Dirt paths crossed between the houses. All I could credit the settlement with was choice of location. Any shifter in his right mind could appreciate the appeal of uninhabited forest as a back yard.
“Verse-ore-gun...I give up,” Slade said.
“Versorgungsstelle is German for supply post,” Taylor said. “Little towns like this offer an essential service to hikers.”
“Unsavory scowls and judgment,” I said as I scanned the hard faces of the meandering residents. A shirtless man leaned against a lamppost, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed. Impervious to the frigid mountain gales, his bare chest was drenched with sweat, as was his short, square-cut hair. The woman beside him sported a mustache as thick as his, and a scowl just as fierce.
A shorter woman, hair kissed by snow, stood near them. Her long, gray dress hung loose and pooled at her feet. She, too, wore an expression of distaste as she peered in our direction.
“Don’t worry, Quentin,” Taylor said, and clapped his hand to my shoulder. “Before you know it, the only ones scowling at you will be us.”
“And deer,” Slade added, with clear amusement.
“Maybe even a bear,” Taylor said.
I pursed my lips and followed Ariana, who was already on the move. She scoped out the area, likely in search of the client we were meant to meet, then stopped in front of an open-air stand of shelves. Boxes of shotgun shells were stacked next to toilet paper and vacuum-sealed mystery meat.
“It doesn’t look like Koenig’s here yet,” Ariana said. She’d appeared tense since we’d left Emerald Pines, but that apprehension seemed to have multiplied since we’d stepped off the train.
Taylor moved in beside her and placed his hand on the small of her back. In response to his touch, she relaxed, if only a little. As she calmed, I did as well.
Slade handed the stout woman standing by the shotgun shells some money, then returned with a pile of the dried meat that seemed just as likely to be rat as anything else. He handed a packet to each of us.
“I think I’ll pass,” I said.
“Just stick it in your bag,” Slade said.
I did as he asked. Slade had organized all of the supplies for this excursion, and there was no reason to argue over carrying a small packet of meat that I could just as easily ignore. He’d chosen our uniforms—green and brown camouflage pants and jackets, and black t-shirts. The tall, laced boots were surprisingly comfortable. He’d also organized everything from our rations to sleeping bags, and every
thing else we would likely need in the depths of the forest…including tasers to use on Slade’s dad.
I was unsure whether he’d volunteered for the job to stay busy and avoid thoughts about his father, or due to the personal importance of the mission, or because he felt most qualified given his military background. Most likely it was a combination of factors. He’d been distant since he’d received the phone call from his war compatriot, worse since he’d heard from his mother. If storing rat meat in my bag meant giving in to his desire to provide adequate preparation, I would keep the meat.
Engines roared, drawing the attention and ire of the supply post’s residents.
Black SUVs drew up and parked in a semicircle in an open space.
Ariana stiffened.
“Looks like men in black,” Slade said.
“Or drug dealers,” I replied.
“It’s Koenig.” Ariana sucked in a quick breath and balled her fists.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins. I wanted to punch this bastard in the face and I hadn’t even met him yet. Slade’s jaw was tight, and Taylor appeared prepared to strike. We all felt it, the desire to protect and defend Ariana, whether the threat was physical or emotional.
The musky scent of wolves filled the air as men in cheap suits and pretentious sunglasses climbed from the vehicles.
At the front of the approaching pack was a man of average height for a shifter, with a lean build and the kind of hard face that seemed to belong in a town such as this. A thick salt-and-pepper beard grew across his cheeks and down his neck, and his green eyes shone bright beneath heavy brows. His gait was sure, his stance self-assured. He carried himself like a confident alpha, or a pompous asshole. Often the difference was indistinguishable.
The others followed one step behind, three wolf shifters on each side.
“Ariana.” The alpha of the Allencloth pack stopped six feet in front of us and clasped his hands behind his back. “Here you are.”
There was no handshake, no pretense of friendship, no decency, or common courtesy.
“Just as I said we’d be, Richard,” Ariana replied. Her tone was curt, her voice as rigid as her shoulders.
He considered the three of us surrounding Ariana, and his gaze lingered on Slade.
“Is this all you brought?” Koenig spat. “Two throwaways and a linebacker? Maybe I was wrong to hire Whitesong—”
“These are my partners,” Ariana said. “Three capable dragon shifters. If we had needed even a single man more, I would have brought one. Capturing Victor Rouland—”
“Killing,” Koenig cut in. “You end him and bring me his head along with the Vergoldet Fortune. That’s the deal. That’s how you get paid. I can’t have that monster showing up and murdering my entire pack as soon as you retreat to Connecticut.”
Slade’s fists balled at his sides.
“The deal is exactly what we agreed upon over the phone,” Ariana said. “We return your prize. And you stay the hell out of our way.”
A petite woman approached from behind the others, by scent another wolf shifter. The enforcers made way for her and regarded her with respect. Her hands clasped lovingly over her swollen belly. No doubt she was with child.
Her attire was casual, in stark contrast with that of her companions. She appeared younger than Koenig, but with shifters it was always difficult to tell. Perhaps she was his mate.
“Rouland—” Koenig said.
“You have my word he will no longer be a threat,” Ariana said. “If you have a problem with that, we’ll take down your men here and now, and take the entirety of the treasure for ourselves.”
I admired the strength of her resolve. They had us outnumbered four to one, and the heavily wooded terrain offered wolves the advantage. There was no space to spread our wings, yet I was certain if it came to it, we would prevail.
Koenig remained still. Silent.
The wolf shifter woman stood beside him. She gazed at Ariana with green eyes as warm as Koenig’s were cold.
“What do you say, Richard?” Ariana asked. “Shall I call you before nightfall with an update on our status?”
“That would be acceptable.”
“All right then,” she said. “Go home and wait for it. We’ll be in touch.”
One of the thugs by Koenig’s side took a step forward and opened his mouth. Koenig grabbed his wrist.
“Let’s go.” He turned for their vehicles, and I was left in awe once again of Ariana’s strength. I wondered if that sense of admiration I felt for her would ever dull. Likely not. My appreciation for the woman I loved grew deeper with every day that passed. I could spend a lifetime appreciating her strength, her beauty, and never get enough.
The Allencloth woman remained. Instead of leaving with the others, she walked toward Ariana. A smile spread across Ariana’s face, and my nerves calmed. This woman meant something to Ariana. She must be Emily Koenig, her friend.
“Ariana,” she said, and took Ariana’s hands in hers. “It’s so good to see you. Thank you so much for coming.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Emily.”
Emily glanced back toward the black SUVs, to her scowling father.
“I wish we could take time to properly catch up,” she said.
“After,” Ariana said.
“Yeah,” Emily said. “We’ll have to. I know you need to go and so do I. But I wanted to apologize for my father. It’s been hard lately, on him especially. He’s been on edge, and well, he was a dick to you.”
“I’m fine,” Ariana said.
“Good,” Emily said. “Promise we’ll catch up later?”
“I promise.”
Emily squeezed Ariana in a quick hug, then headed back the way she had come.
Something was wrong. Slade. I looked back toward town, but he wasn’t there. Then I found him, stalking out ahead of us into the forest. I appreciated the urgency he must have felt.
Standing up to Koenig was one thing. Completing our mission without casualty was likely another. Between the threat that Slade’s father posed, and the tentative alliance with the Allencloth pack, I was beginning to have doubts about this entire venture.
Chapter Thirteen
Taylor
This would be so much easier if we could shift into our dragons. Unfortunately, the tree growth was too packed. If we shifted in here, we wouldn’t be able to move. That left hoofing it.
After four or five hours of hiking, the darkness of the forest grew even more intense. The ancient trees pressed in on us. It was a land of ancient forest and older gods, of shadow and darker myths.
All of our senses were on high alert, and at all times, one of us was close to Ariana. It seemed an unspoken agreement between the three of us. If Victor Rouland were to ambush us, he wouldn’t have a chance to fucking touch Ariana.
Ariana, for her part, seemed to have calmed down after the interaction with Richard Koenig. Now that guy was a bag of fucking dicks if I ever saw one. Patronizing asshole. From one glance, I could tell he was a jerk on a whole other level than Jacques Pelletier. And it was easy to see Ariana hated him. The fact she’d brought us here was a testament to her feelings for Slade. And watching her interaction with Emily gave me a deeper understanding of how conflicted she had felt about committing to this job. Now, though, farther into the woods and away from the Allencloths, she seemed to be breathing a bit easier.
“I’ll be right back,” Slade said, turning to me.
“You okay?” I asked. Like Ariana, he seemed to have relaxed a little bit. He wasn’t happier, but he seemed less inner-focused than he’d been in Connecticut and at Berger’s place. Maybe starting this mission was helping him ease up on himself.
“Yeah.”
He trotted ahead, and I moved up to take his place next to Ariana.
She glanced at me for a second and raised her eyebrow. “You know, I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I know,” I said. “We just feel protective of you. Do you mind humoring us on this one
thing?”
“Sure, as long as you don’t mind buzzing off when I say I want some space.” She knocked gently into my shoulder.
I knocked back into her, grinning. “Fair enough.”
We continued on in relative silence, Quentin taking up the rear.
A couple of minutes later, Slade returned. “I found a clearing up ahead. Good spot for making camp.”
He led the way, and Ariana returned to his side. I fell back beside Quentin. This was my chance to ask Quentin what he’d meant on the plane. He had some theory about our dreams, and I was curious to know what it was.
“Hey,” I said, soft enough that only he would hear me.
“Yes?”
“Tell me what you meant on the flight,” I said. “Why do you think we’re having the same dreams?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked.
I gave him a look that I hoped said no, you idiot, or I wouldn’t be asking.
Without missing a beat, he continued, “All three of us are her mates. That connection, that bond, has permitted us to see her in a way others cannot.”
I nodded. It made sense to an extent. But that didn’t sound like what I knew of mates. There was just meant to be one for any given shifter. We all had one chance at true happiness, one soul that completed our own. But what the four of us shared wasn’t the kind of love story my mom and dad shared. We all three loved Ariana.
Could we all be her mates? Could that explain the dreams?
I didn’t say anything else. Quentin didn’t, either.
Soon we came to a clearing, barely visible in the darkening woods.
“I’ve got to call Koenig and check in,” Ariana said, grimacing with distaste.
“I’ll take care of that,” Quentin said, stepping over to her and swooping the satellite phone bag from her hands. “I relish the idea of telling him where to stick his pointy nose.”
Dragon Unbroken_A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy Romance Page 8