Ariana looked like she would argue, but then she relaxed into a smile. “You know, I would relish hearing you tell him that.”
She unshouldered her pack and began picking up fallen limbs to clear space for our pop-up tents.
I watched Ariana, admiring her ass as she bent over to grab a branch. That ass was a fucking poem. I nudged Slade. “Tell me again why we had to bring four separate tents.”
“The pop-up tents are easier to carry. More practical.” He sighed, following my gaze to Ariana. “Not as much fun, though.”
Quentin opened up the bag and pulled out the satphone. He pressed a button, then held it to his ear. “Odd,” he said. “I don’t hear anything.”
“I checked the phone before we left,” Slade said as he snapped open one of the tents. “It was working then.”
Quentin jabbed a couple more buttons. “Well, it’s not working now.”
“Maybe it’s just a little glitchy,” Ariana said.
“They don’t get glitchy,” Slade said. “Not this brand.”
“Maybe Quentin just doesn’t have the right touch,” I said, reaching for the phone.
Quentin raised his eyebrows in a challenge and passed it to me. I pressed one button after the other, but the stupid thing wouldn’t come to life.
“Glitchy,” I said.
Quentin smirked.
“This phone won’t get glitchy,” Slade insisted.
Ariana touched his arm, soothing him, but he still scowled at the phone.
“We’ll try again in a bit,” Ariana said.
Nodding, Quentin put the phone away and stowed his gear in one of the tents.
I hadn’t gone camping since I was a kid. Once a year Mom and Dad would take me to Mount Lassen in northern California, and we’d spend the weekend roasting hotdogs and marshmallows over the fire. We’d hike the rocky trails of Lassen Volcanic National Park, then stay up late listening to the soft sounds of the forest by the roaring campfire.
The dense foliage and moss-covered ground of the Warzenschwein Mountains was nothing like the scenery of Mt. Lassen where I’d camped as a child, nor was it like Berlin. There was something both dark and magical about this place. It was the thickness of the trees that told tales of ancient life, the intertwining reach of branches as if the entire forest was a single organism. It was the richness of the colors, from shades of brown and green so dark they were nearly indistinguishable from black, to the rich brown of Ariana’s eyes and the emerald of my dragon scales. And it was the air, the damp scent of pine and moss, of a forest unsoiled by human hands. But more than anything else, the magic of this place was amplified because Ariana was here with me.
Thick, dry smoke filled the air, the comforting scent of a wood fire. I gathered a bundle of twigs and returned to the center of camp. Slade kneeled beside the first fragile embers, shielding them from the slight breeze with his hands. Quentin laid stones in a circle around the small flames, and Ariana set down her armful of logs by Slade’s side.
I set my sticks down then grabbed a blanket from my bag and spread it out beside the fire. Ariana took a seat on my blanket, then looked up at me, her dark eyes shining in the firelight.
She patted the place beside her. “Come sit.”
I did as she said and inhaled the sweet scent of her. I knew I’d never look at a Granny Smith the same way again.
Slade dragged over a fallen log, and he and Quentin sat down, too. Slade pulled a bag of the German meat from his pack and tore into it. Quentin eyed the food dubiously and seemed to suppress a shudder as Slade took a big bite.
Slade turned to him and, with his mouth full, said, “What?”
“Nothing,” Quentin said, reaching into his pack and pulling out a Clif bar.
“You eat those all week,” Slade said, “and you’re never gonna be able to poo.”
The look on Quentin’s face was priceless, and Ariana and I burst into laughter. I pulled her closer to my side, enjoying her warmth and her sleepy, contented scent.
She’d taken out her loose up-do and now her long, dark hair was braided at the nape of her neck. Her skin glowed with natural beauty. She looked so different than she did at home, without her makeup, without her red heels and pencil skirts. She appeared more carefree, though I knew that wasn’t the case. I wanted to see her like this, and the other way, and in any other surprising environments we could think of. I could easily spend the rest of my life getting to know her.
“Tell us about Victor,” Quentin said to Slade. I shot Quentin a warning glance, but he ignored me and continued, “How close were you, growing up?”
Slade set down his mystery meat, no longer looking hungry.
“Quentin. Dude,” I said.
Quentin turned his flashing blue eyes to me. “What? I’m not asking because of any macabre curiosity or gossip. The more we know about Victor, the better our chances of success with this mission.”
“Obviously Slade doesn’t want to talk about it,” I said.
Slade shook his head. “No, Brains is right. The more information you have, the better.”
Ariana squeezed my arm, then got up and went to sit next to Slade on the log. It was like she knew she’d be the most comfort to him right now, as he was baring part of his soul to all of us. But even though she was curled up next to him, I could feel the same comfort, like she was spreading it to all of us.
“The thing is,” Slade said, “he was a good guy. Back before he left, anyway. Broke my mother’s heart. Mine too.”
Quentin nodded, looking impatient, but he stopped short of telling Slade to go on.
Slade took a deep breath. “He was...he was a good dad. He did fun things with me. He sometimes took me in the woods, showed me his dragon form. Let me fly on his back.”
Victor sounded like a cool dad, like my parents, even. Fun, indulgent, eager to share the dragon culture with me.
“We made breakfast for Ma sometimes, and brought it up to her. We played catch. I don’t know, I don’t think I have anything helpful.”
“No, you’re doing great,” Quentin said, giving Slade an encouraging nod.
We all fell silent, maybe all of us wondering where it went wrong with Victor. Why did he leave? Why did he stop being Slade’s dad? If it had happened to Slade, it could have just as easily happened to any of us.
“He sounds nicer than my mother,” Ariana said, her head on Slade’s shoulder. “It was my dad that made me pancakes and helped me with my homework. Even before my mom left to work at the embassy in Badinor, she was resentful. I don’t think she ever wanted a family. She spent her time avoiding me and my dad, working late hours, and going out for drinks with friends after. When she was around, she was angry.”
That had to have been hard for Ariana. Dragons needed their dragon parents—not to mention a daughter needed to bond with her mother. I opened my mouth to say something, although I didn’t know what to say. But to my surprise, it was Quentin who spoke.
“My parents weren’t around much either,” he said. “My brothers and I were raised by Rosalie, our nanny.”
Since learning that Quentin had brothers, I’d envied him to a certain extent. I’d pictured him and a bunch of dragons, a big happy family. The reality sounded a bit different.
“What’s Rosalie like?” Ariana asked.
“Strict,” he replied. “We were meant to behave as gentlemen, little trophies to be shown off by our parents when they deemed it necessary to acknowledge our existence.”
“Who read you bedtime stories?” Slade asked, his expression puzzled. “Who tucked you in?”
“Are you referring to nursery rhymes and happy endings?” Quentin asked.
“Well, yeah,” Slade replied.
“No one,” Quentin said.
He didn’t say it in a way that begged for pity, but my heart twisted. No stories, no nursery rhymes. It explained his formal nature, the way he held himself more rigidly than the rest of us. As an only child, I’d felt lonely on occasion. But at least my
parents had shown me love, and they’d been there for me when I needed them.
Quentin continued, “To be a Phillips is to learn proper behavior to represent the family. It means boarding school and strong discipline.”
“That sounds terrible,” Slade said.
Quentin shrugged. “What about you, Taylor?”
“My parents are still together,” I said. I didn’t visit them as much as I ought to, but we spoke on the phone sometimes. “And they were always warm and affectionate. They have the kind of relationship I always knew I wanted.”
Ariana’s gaze was locked on mine. “That’s what everyone wants, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said. “It is.”
I wondered if she was thinking about what she’d had with her mate before he died. Did she suspect, yet, that the three of us were bound to her in that way? I wanted to ask, but it didn’t seem like the right time.
She said, “I sometimes wondered if my mom hadn’t gone to Badinor, whether she and my dad would have stayed together.”
“Badinor changes everything,” Slade said. “War changes everything.” His light brown eyes seemed darker with remembered sorrow. “When my dad went to Badinor, he promised he’d come back.”
“My mother, too,” Ariana said, frowning. “I think the place changed her.”
“It changes everyone who goes,” Slade said, his voice approaching bitterness. I wouldn’t have thought bitterness existed in Slade.
“You turned out all right,” I said to him.
“Says you,” Quentin said, giving Slade a light punch on the arm.
Slade pretended to be offended, but Quentin was already saying, “Actually, you know I love you as though you were one of my own brothers. I certainly like you better.”
It seemed like a huge admission from Quentin, and we were all quiet for a moment.
“Thanks, guys,” Slade said. “I trusted him. That’s what hurts most. Then one day, someone he worked with came by, said he died. I never believed it, not for a second, but Ma bought the story and wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You were right, though,” Ariana said softly.
“Didn’t help any,” he said. “It would only make my mama sadder to know that he just left us. She’d have felt worse, like she does now. She wouldn’t have moved on, met James. So I let it go, even though I always knew the truth deep down.”
I felt so sad for him, this giant guy who was one of my closest friends—or like Quentin had said—a brother. To have his heart broken so young sounded the worst. Quentin, too—they’d had rough times as kids.
Slade seemed to shake it off. “I’m not sure any of that will help us find him, though. I do know he’s a great outdoorsman, and we went camping all the time. If he’s hiding something, it makes sense he’d be out here in these woods. It’s where he’d have the biggest advantage.”
“Speaking of advantages,” Quentin said, “I should try the phone again.”
He found the phone and pressed the button. I held my breath. Silence. And then—static. A faint light blinked next to the receiver.
“Yes!” Ariana said.
She recited some numbers. Quentin pressed another couple of buttons, but then the static disappeared. The light went out.
“Guess it’s glitchy after all,” I said.
Slade shook his head and shrugged, like it wasn’t worth it to argue.
“Hopefully it’ll work tomorrow,” Ariana said. “Koenig needs to be in control. Not sure how much of that is his alpha nature, and how much of it is him being an asshole.”
“What happens if we don’t get in touch with him?” I asked.
She shuddered. “I don’t know. He might send some of his goons in after Victor, or hire someone else. Someone who doesn’t care whether Victor lives or dies, as long as the Allencloths get the treasure.”
Chapter Fourteen
Slade
Sleep didn’t come easy that night. Thoughts of the past filled my head, playing on repeat. After talking with the others about when my dad left, it seemed like the only thing I could think about.
His last deployment had been heart wrenching. Not just for me, but for my ma.
At first I’d tried to comfort her. I’d crawled up in her lap. I’d told her everything would be okay. I told her Daddy was okay. Deep down I could feel it. I always could.
She’d smiled at me. She’d told me that she knew he was okay, too.
One morning, I stomped on my way down the steps. I rounded the corner and found her standing in the kitchen, putting a pile of bacon on a plate.
She turned when she heard me enter.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning, Mama,” I said, and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. Even at eight years old, I was almost as tall as she was.
She hugged me back, hard. Then she let me go and I took a seat at the table.
She put down a plate in front of me. Six pieces of bacon and a mountain of eggs. Banana. And on the side was a tall glass of milk.
“Milk?” I asked. “Again?”
“You need your milk to grow big and strong,” she said. “Do you want to be a dragon or a salamander?”
She’d been asking me the same question since I could remember. I gave her the same answer as always. “Dragon.”
The doorbell rang.
Mama went to answer.
I took a big gulp of milk. I was going to be a giant dragon, just like Dad.
I heard a deep voice from my place at the table. “Mrs. Rouland?”
“Don’t,” Mama said. “Please. Don’t say it.”
She sounded upset. I rose from my chair.
"I’m sorry, ma’am. I have been asked to inform you that your husband has been reported dead in the Tejeman Province of Badinor, Darik City, at oh-seven-hundred on May third.”
A chunk of bacon caught it my throat. It wasn’t true. I knew it wasn’t true. I coughed.
“He fought valiantly but was killed in action. On behalf of the Secretary of Defense, I extend to you and your family my deepest sympathy in your great loss."
Mama’s voice broke. I ran to comfort her.
When I opened my eyes, it was dark.
My back was stiff from the hard ground, and my muscles ached from the cold that had seeped into my bones during the night.
I closed my eyes again and tried to go back to sleep. I tossed. I turned. Then I got up.
Camp was quiet. There were sounds of crickets and the hooting of an owl, of wind rustling through the trees, water rushing over rocks. I checked the air for weird smells. I couldn’t wander from camp unless I was sure there was no danger.
There was nothing; it was only forest.
I needed to do something. Content that everyone was safe, I grabbed my machete and went for a walk. Cold air pricked my face and branches scraped my arms as I pushed forward down a narrow trail, a deer trail. It felt good to move. There was a sound, faint at first, but it got louder with every step. It was a trickle, a stream. Maybe I could find some fish. The thought of fire-cooked fish for breakfast sounded way better than pre-packaged nuts and bars and meat.
I followed the sounds of water, pushing forward between tall tree trunks and thick undergrowth. Moss covered the ground and a scattering of rocks. Baby trees grew up between the big ones, along with thorny brush. It wasn’t quite vines. It wasn’t quite bushes. It was just a pokey mess.
I swung my machete before taking each step forward, clearing a path. It was slow moving, but I had time.
I checked my watch. Five thirty-two. There was still a good two hours before sunrise, and everyone else was still asleep.
With any luck, I’d have a fresh breakfast for Ariana by the time she woke.
The sounds of water grew louder as I went. It seemed to splash, like it hit a dam. I was on the right track.
Moonlight broke through the brambles, and I knew I’d almost reached a clearing. I chopped the bushy vines and stepped through the last barrier.
The dark
woods opened up to a wide stream. The current flowed over rocks at the sides. Toward the center, the water was too deep to see the bottom. Unlike the rest of the forest, there was space here, maybe even enough to shift and stretch my wings.
A cliff rose up from the water. I hadn’t been able to see it through the trees. The rock face towered into the treetops and formed a waterfall. My first thought was to run back and tell the others.
But they were still sleeping. Instead of bothering them, I’d check this out now and tell them all about it when they woke.
I tore off my clothes and stepped onto the wet rocks by the edge. The damp chill on the breeze was nothing compared to the icy water on my feet.
A few steps farther, and I looked down into the stream for fish.
The current rushed past my calves. There weren’t any fish, so I went a little deeper just in case. The bottom of a waterfall wasn’t a great place to try to catch anything except maybe some frogs, but I didn’t want to eat those. I remembered the face Quentin had made when I’d given him the elk jerky. Okay, maybe I’d bring back one frog.
As I waded toward the waterfall, the stream bed got deeper with each step. It was slippery footing, but I kept moving.
When I reached the rock face, water poured down over me like rain. Icy, heavy rain.
There was enough space here to stretch my wings and enough distance across the clearing to shift and take off. I could take to the sky with no one the wiser.
I threw my head back and closed my eyes. The cold water pelted my face, my shoulders, my chest. I let go of all the tension I’d been holding onto. I let go of everything but the feel of the water on my skin.
Wings erupted from my shoulders, and my body grew. There was a rightness to shifting, like I was returning to what I was always meant to be. Being a dragon made me feel stronger. It bolstered my confidence and made me feel like I could take on the world. With everything going on, with the search for my dad, I needed that strength more than ever.
I stretched my neck and flexed my wings. The clearing was tighter than I’d thought.
My tail and my hind legs remained in the flow of the waterfall, but the rest of me didn’t fit. I looked at the moon, at the fluffy white clouds, and I poised for takeoff.
Dragon Unbroken_A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy Romance Page 9