by Vyne, Amanda
Even the prospect of it made him break out in a cold sweat. But did he really have a choice? A life with Tag and Brit, or the solitary silence he’d condemned himself to for the last twenty years? There wasn’t a choice. Brit was right. He needed to make a conscious choice to live his life, and that meant risking everything.
* * * *
Tag’s last view of the doc before he was summoned by Forestor was of her immersed in her lab with his father. Her brain was firing in that way that made it too difficult to follow her thoughts, but his father had assured him they were following up on her intuition that could be a major breakthrough on healing Katya. That meant his little doctor would be at it until she found the answers she was looking for.
As he walked into Forestor’s office he made a mental note to bring her food, or else she wouldn’t eat. She was running on three days with only a handful of hours of sleep and most likely the same number of meals.
“What’s up, boss?” Tag asked as he frowned at Gideon standing silent and seething off to one side. The dark man’s thoughts and emotions were closed off as usual, but there was a menacing aura around him that hadn’t been there before.
“I’ve got a dilemma,” Forestor said smoothly. He was behind his desk, facing the window, hands clasped at his back. “I was certain I understood your family dynamic, but I’m afraid a new development has shaken my certainty.”
“My family dynamic,” Tag repeated, his dragon surging at the veiled insult. “I’m not sure I understand or appreciate what it is you’re saying.”
Forestor turned to face him. His eyes bled black for moment as his power pulsed in the room. A warning. A reminder of the respect he expected from his people. “Do you know any reason why your brother would be meeting with a high official of the Triumvirate?”
A stillness settled over Tag as he processed the question. They were so close to completing their mating. If Vin was in league with the Triumvirate, could he be waiting until the mating was complete to trap the doc? If she were pregnant and needed Vin to maintain her pregnancy, would she willingly follow him to the Triumvirate? Would Tag?
His dragon was torn. It wanted to trust that his other half wouldn’t betray him and risk their mate, and yet it was infuriated by the possibility that he would. The contradiction had it surging and writhing too close to the surface. Tag’s eyes flickered into hunting vision in the long moment it took to gain control of his dragon.
“I see the consequences are not lost on you,” Forestor murmured. “And because I trust your honor and your dedication to protect your mate, I will give you twenty-four hours to determine what game your brother is playing at. I’m sure you appreciate the untenable position I am currently in with the Drakes in residence.”
Tag nodded curtly, his fury carefully banked. “I appreciate the courtesy. I will take care of it.”
Forestor nodded. “This is not a dilemma I am eager to face.”
If Tag’s brother intended to put his doc at risk, there wouldn’t be a dilemma.
Brother or not, Tag would kill him.
* * * *
When Vin stomped into Brit’s lab, he found Tag standing imperiously over Brit while she ate. The combined scent of their hormones swirled in the room, making every muscle in his body clench as though an electric current passed through it. In a rush of blood, his cock strained against his slacks. The memory of her so wet and so damn hot surrounding him rose up in his consciousness. The silky soft slide of her thighs over his was a ghostly sensation that had him shifting his weight restlessly.
Vin took shallow breaths to control it, willing his dragon back as he looked away from his mate’s glossy lips, damp from the melon she loved. In the bed, Katya sat up with a tray of food rolled up to her lap, fighting with Raife for control of the spoon. They all froze and stared at Vin when he walked through the door. Tag’s eyes glinted with fire.
“We need to talk, brother.” The last word dripped with contempt.
Brit narrowed her blue eyes, a piece of melon poised at her lips, and glared at him and Tag. “If you intend to pound your chests, please take it out of my lab.”
Tag’s fiery gaze swung to Brit, and Vin was aware of the faint static that indicated his brother was speaking to her.
“Do not threaten me, Taggart.” Brit brandished the fork with the piece of melon skewered on the end of it. “I can and will drug you again.”
Brit gasped when Tag buried his hand in her hair, some of the dark red tresses falling free from the clip. Vin’s heart slammed against his chest, sending blood to his groin in a painful rush as he watched his brother glide his tongue over their mate’s lips, tasting her. The musk in the room was nearly suffocating.
“Now is not a good time to remind me of that, baby,” Tag hissed and snagged the melon off her fork with a snap of his teeth before walking out the door.
Vin cast a glance at their flushed mate as he followed his brother out. He didn’t have the control to even get near her right now. He’d handle his brother first and then, hopefully, they would tackle Brit together.
Tag stood, arms at his sides, fists clenched. “Why were you meeting with the Triumvirate?”
Vin blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you think Forestor wouldn’t be all over you the minute you left the damn building? Your tail followed you right to your little meeting with a fucking Triumvirate agent.” Tag spun away, rubbing at his buzzed head.
His meeting with Irial. Of course they would think Irial worked for the Triumvirate. That was the point. He was going to have to risk another message to his friend and warn him the Trust’s entire operation in San Francisco might be compromised. How in the hell had he been followed? He was always careful.
“Nothing to say, brother?” Tag slapped the flat of one hand against Vin’s shoulder, rocking him back.
Vin ground his teeth, Irial momentarily forgotten. Every time Tag called him brother in that tone, he wanted to roar. The memories of growing up alongside Tag had helped sustain him these past hellish years, and with that one word, his twin could reduce their relationship to a mockery.
“Are you still fucking working for the Triumvirate?” Tag snarled. His fury radiated off him like a heat vapor. He slammed both hands against Vin’s chest this time.
Vin stumbled back a step. Blood rushed to his head, throbbed against his temples, pushed against his eyes, and the cold blues of his hunting vision devoured the lab. Vin focused on the only flush of crimson in the room. His brother.
Enough was enough.
Chapter Eighteen
“I have never worked for the Triumvirate.”
Tag’s vision slid into hunting mode reflexively. His dragon rose up in response to Vin’s. All the metal in the doc’s lab undulated around him in a sea of cool blues. In front of him, Vin’s body heat was a violent red creating a halo around him. It was a beacon for Tag’s fury.
He wanted the cold bastard to feel it. Fuck, he wanted to shove it down his throat and make him choke on it.
“You’re a fucking liar, Vin.” Tag relished the flex of muscles as he stalked around his brother. The dragon pressed against his control, and he felt it bleed through his humanity, coloring him, and it felt good—satisfying. Vin was the one who had walked away, severing the link between them as though it had meant nothing. That had been fucking agonizing—had made him vulnerable and small. Tag hated Vin for that. Even now the damn grief of that loss had the power to suffocate him.
Tag shook it away and focused on the hate. The anger. He stoked it, let it consume the pain. Vin didn’t deserve his pain, his grief. It meant Vin still meant something to him. And he wouldn’t give him that. Fuck him.
Tag crouched down into a defensive position, shifting his body so he angled away from his brother. They circled each other.
“No more lies.” Vin’s voice sliced through his mind, and Tag struggled against that ever-present instinct to meet the mental call, to reconnect like they used to. He resented the fuck ou
t of it, and that gave him enough strength to resist.
“All you fucking have are lies.” Tag snarled again and stepped to the side.
“And you never change. Always acting on your anger first,” Vin said with a drawn-out sigh. “Fine. Let’s play it your way, brother.”
“Fuck you,” Tag gritted out and launched at Vin, their bodies knocking over a standing tray. The crash of metal skidding across the concrete floor sharpened his need for violence. Vin flipped him over his body, and Tag rolled to his feet and spun back around to watch his twin rise slowly.
“Once we settle this, you are going to listen.”
Vin’s low rumble flowed over and through him, and Tag had to shake him off before he managed to get rooted inside him and defuse this righteous anger he so desperately needed right now. “Stay out of my head, Vin.”
A smile curled over Vin’s lips. “I’m going to get so far in your head, Tag. And you can’t stop me. You never could.”
Pain pierced through Tag’s skull, cutting through barriers he’d thought impenetrable to his brother. Tag shook his head and wiped at the trickle of blood seeping from his nostril. His anger and hurt intertwined into a burn that threatened to char him from the inside out. It made his skin crawl and his dragon claw at his flesh.
“You son of a bitch.”
With a roar, Tag rushed the fiery silhouette of his twin, the heavy thud of their bodies easing the restlessness that churned low in his gut. He was driven, desperate to drain that agony from his soul with violence. He was barely aware of each punch his brother got in or the shattering of glass and wood beneath his back as he was thrown again and again. He just focused on each swing of his arm, the reverberation of each strike against flesh, the smell of blood…the burn of air in his lungs.
“Stop it! Stop it!”
Tag jerked back from his brother at that scream. It cartwheeled through him, slicing into him. The blues and reds of his hunting vision swirled around him— disorienting—the heavy fall and rise of his chest grounding him just enough. He inhaled, his fist clenching in the remnants of his brother’s once crisp button-down shirt to pull him closer for another strike. The air drove sharply into his lungs, diffusing into every cell with the electric strike of lightning. The scent in the lab was pungent. His brother’s blood, his blood…her. Tag spun, following that scent, his brother forgotten. It was different. Stronger. Violent. It drew him, an irresistible lure to his dragon. Her fiery silhouette undulated like a flame, and he reached for it, wanting to feel it blister his skin.
Her breath gushed in a heated rush against his bare chest when he drew her against him hard. Tag dipped his head and inhaled the warm air in the pocket between her shoulder and cheek, licked his lips to gather the taste of it. Simmering on the surface, his dragon hissed a low threat over his shoulder at the others that tried to get closer to them. She was his. No other’s. His.
“Taggart?”
Tag blinked when the distorted cadence of her voice reached him, seeming so far away, buried beneath the fluid instinct he’d sunk beneath. Her voice was too difficult to understand, but her scent…the feel of her. That translated seamlessly. She was solid and warm against him, and he pulled at her clothes, desperate to feel her smooth skin against his palms. Lifting her up, he pinned her to the wall and ground his cock into her softness, reveling in the spicy scent that grew even stronger. The stiffness of her body against his was a challenge; she was testing his dragon.
When he tried to taste her, she turned her head aside. Tag pressed her harder into the wall with his hips and chuckled. She was strong, a fitting mate. His dragon surged within his mind, and he let it drive them farther into her mind, eager to merge with her—to connect in a way only Drachon mates could. Her mind resisted, and he pushed harder, his instinct to make her submit eclipsing all reason. Distantly he felt her body tremble against his as her mind rebelled violently, rejected his.
She was his mate. His. Why was she refusing him? Confusion broke through the heaviness surrounding him, bringing in shards of awareness. Brit. Her silent screams from his mental assault resonated in his mind, making him feel raw. He became aware of the grip he had on her soft flesh. He eased his hold, and she sagged in his arms. Tag blinked away the hunting vision and saw that he had her pinned against the wall, skirt up around her hips, one hand buried beneath her blouse. Her chest rose and fell in shallow pants, dark red lashes shadowing her pale cheeks.
Shock and horror left gashes in his soul. She was bloody—the bright red an accusation across her lips and cheek, her belly. He would rather die than ever hurt her. Tag cradled her unconscious body against him with one arm.
“Baby? Oh God, what did I do?” His heart ricocheted off his ribs and lodged in his throat. He touched her face with shaking fingers and turned his hand over in revulsion. It was dark with blood.
“She’s fine,” Vin said calmly and moved forward to gather her up in his arms. “The blood isn’t hers. It’s yours.”
Tag felt raw with relief as he met his brother’s eyes. Or eye. One was swelling shut, blood smeared across his face and oozing from his nose.
“And mine,” Vin sighed.
Tag glanced around. The lab was destroyed. His father watched by the lab door, his silent regard a harsher reflection than what Tag would see in any mirror. Raife blocked the entry to the exam room where his deathly ill mate lay, his pupils slitted as though ready for battle.
Tag swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He’d lost it. He’d become a threat to another Drachon’s mate—an offense worth killing over. Hell, he was a threat to his own mate. It wasn’t a comfortable realization.
With a breath, he turned back to his brother and brushed his shaking fingers across her cheek. “She’s okay?”
“Yes, just unconscious. She’s been pushing too hard, giving too much. I think it was too much for her when you tried to force a mind merge.”
Tag winced but nodded. Vin wasn’t going to make it out to be any less than what it was, and Tag deserved that particular truth. His touch gentle, he opened his mind to hers, careful not to use any force. Unconscious, she couldn’t defend against him, and her emotions ripped through him. She was terrified by their fight and yet excited by it. She wanted them, even craved them, but was repelled by them. The conflict was confusing and impossible to analyze, yet her mind couldn’t stop worrying it, turning it over, searching for a solution. And the reason she couldn’t accept them was his fault— his and Vin’s. They’d let this go too far, misunderstood her, and underestimated each other.
His little doc was exhausted. She was too pale, her nearly translucent skin streaked in blood. They’d pushed her too hard and too long, thinking she would give in if they wore her down enough. They’d been fools. He’d been a fool. His doc would never give in; not when so much was at risk. Her sister. Katya. Doc was at the edge of her endurance, and instead of supporting her, giving her strength when she was faltering, he’d reveled in her weakness.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Tag eased the thought into her mind even though he knew she wouldn’t hear it, and leaned down to press his lips to her forehead.
“You’re right,” Tag finally said as he straightened to his full height. “It’s enough.” His brother’s gaze caught and held his over their mate’s unconscious body. Hard-held resentment stirred in his chest, and he struggled with it, would continue to struggle with it for some time. Reconciliation was going to suck ass, but they owed it to Brit to become a solid pair worthy of her future. He took a deep breath and inhaled the familiar scent of his mate. Their mate. It gave him strength. “It’s time we talked.”
“I NEVER INTENDED for things to come to this. I would never just cut you off. When I left the compound after Bryce died, I was desperate to do something—anything—to help our people.” Vin pressed the wet cloth to his lip with a sigh as he paced the floor in Tag’s apartment suite. He cast a restless glance to the door of the master suite where their mate still slept.
Thinking of t
he past left him edgy and unsure he’d taken the right path despite where he was today. After his brother’s death, he’d been angry and helpless and damn ripe for the picking. He’d barely been a week fresh from the nest when he’d been approached by Irial on behalf of the Trust. “I was in Tuscan when I was offered a way to do just that.”
“I’m listening,” Tag grumbled from behind the unopened Popsicle he held to the bruised corner of his eye. He was slouched down in a big chair, legs extended in front of him. He didn’t look thrilled, but he was listening and that was enough right now.
Vin cast a glance at the array of screens in the far corner displaying every foot of the Incog building in tiny squares. Was this room wired as well? How much did he risk revealing?
“My apartment isn’t rigged, Vin. That’s going too far even for me.” Tag rolled his eyes and licked a drop of melted Popsicle off his finger before ripping the wrapper away and biting off a piece. He motioned with the frozen treat for Vin to continue.
“I never worked for the Triumvirate. In fact I was enlisted to help bring them down.”
Tag arched one dark eyebrow with a grimace of pain but said nothing.
“I was told the Triumvirate was working on some research that could prove to be a serious threat to the Arcane as a whole and the Drachon specifically. They needed someone they could trust on the inside, and with my background they could get me in as a lab assistant, but it meant no contact with the outside world.” Despite that, Vin had still jumped at the opportunity to do something, anything. Tag wasn’t going to like this next part. “I contacted Dad. I kept careful contact the entire time.”
Tag launched forward, the Popsicle stick dangling from his fingers. “That’s just fucking great. I was your other damn half. We practically lived in each other’s heads and you couldn’t tell me?”
“No.” Vin dropped down on the couch and tossed the bloodstained cloth on the coffee table. “Come on, Tag. You’re such a damn hothead. I knew if you were aware of what was going on, you would get involved, and you’d end up dead. You wear your honor raw and out front. You always have.”