by Leela Ash
Like two prize fighters pummeling the crap out of him, rage and agony slammed into Jamie. All morning, they’d been at it, from the moment he’d awoken from the dream. Now, as he rode the elevator toward Lucian Fowler’s office, the attacks doubled.
The Rite! his Dragon boomed. You defiled our most sacred Rite!
“If that’s what it takes to win, then so what? Who gives a damn about some ancient tradition?”
Rage. The world melted into a red blur under the fire of his Dragon’s fury. He felt its anger spiraling, twisting back on itself. Then its maw, filled with razor-sharp fangs, closed on its own shoulder. Pressure… lights exploded behind Jamie’s eyes as that powerful jaw clamped tight. Piercing through scales that could shrug off bullets… writhing, ripping…
“Stop!” His legs gave out beneath him and he crumbled to the floor, screaming.
It’s a trick! A trick, I swear!
The pain didn’t relent at all. Oh hell, what if he actually Fell? What if his idiot Dragon couldn’t see the long plan?
I will protect her! he howled silently. I will make this right, I promise!
At last, the unbearable pressure eased. It was listening to him.
I will Claim her properly. You have my word. She will be my Mate in truth, okay? Just… wait a month or so.
Skeptical silence. But at least it wasn’t tearing itself – and him – apart.
‘Ding.’
The door slid open, and jubilant laughter filled the elevator.
Fowler. Jamie grabbed the elevator’s railing and hauled himself to his feet. No surprise the Worm found this amusing.
“Oh, I remember that.” Chuckling, he offered Jamie a hand. “Let me tell you, you’re in for a fun month. This will happen every damned day until you finally rip those wings off.”
Somehow, Jamie suspected his Dragon would finish the chore in a lot shorter time. “Tell me you’ve got scotch.”
“I do. Personally, I recommend something stronger. Like meth or heroin. This is going to sting like a bitch.”
“Scotch will do.” He limped to a chair and collapsed. “Won’t be much use if I’m strung out for a month.”
“Suit yourself.”
The first sip of single-malt filed the edge off the pain thundering in his head. Jamie leaned back and let the whiskey do its work. When he opened his eyes, he found Lucian studying him.
“You’re making good progress on Ascension.”
“Thanks.”
You didn’t have to fake it that well, he scolded his Dragon. A blast of seething anger was his only response. Reminding him that he played with fire: his Dragon wasn’t faking its outrage.
“And you’ve got great timing. I just received some information that made me think you might not be sincere about wanting to join the Fangs.”
Inside, Jamie’s pulse picked up as the Game began again. “Oh?”
“Mmm.” The Worm stared fixedly at a spot just above Jamie’s shoulder. Watching his Dragon, no doubt. Shifters could recognize each other and catch glimpses of another Shifter’s soul. “But you’re legit. Damage like that can’t be faked.”
See? That’s why I…
His Dragon snapped at its wing again and Jamie hastily stopped baiting it.
“So, who’s talking shit about me?” Couldn’t be a spy in the Flight. Even his own Alpha didn’t know where he was.
“No one. You remember my secretary, Judith Little?”
“Skinny Hare that interviewed me. Yeah.”
Shadows pooled in Lucian’s eyes, transforming them into black gems. Fascinated, Jamie watched. He’d never seen a Worm fight to control his anger. A Dragon’s eyes burned incandescent when that happened.
“Ms. Little has betrayed me. I believe she intends to subvert the Fangs or seek to leave our service.”
Uh oh. Sounded like somebody needed rescue. And nothing played havoc with undercover work like trying to save some idiot.
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“She’s the one who confirmed you. It’s… unusual for a Dragon to join us before he’s fully become a Worm.” Lucian’s eyes lingered on him a moment, then he shrugged. “But as I said: your injuries vouch for you.”
See?
Grrrrrrr…. his Dragon rumbled back.
“So, I’ve decided to give Ms. Little to you.”
Puzzled, Jamie pushed himself upright. “As in, a mistress?”
“No. As in a job. Kill her. Then get rid of the body.”
“Okay. Now?” Mind spinning, he considered the problem. How the hell could he get that girl out of the city without blowing his cover?
“Tomorrow night. Little is running an errand for me now. She’ll return tomorrow afternoon. I don’t care when you do it, but it has to be before 7:30 pm. That’s when she’s meeting my researcher, Maya Graham.”
His Dragon perked up at his ‘Mate’s’ name. An odd, unfamiliar feeling flooded Jamie. Nervousness? Fear? No, nothing that weak. This was fiercer, stronger. A longing that urged him to kill Lucian where he stood.
That Worm has noticed our Mate. We should slay him.
Okay, his Dragon was talking again – rather than trying to tear itself apart. Good sign.
“Is Graham part of this treachery?”
“No.”
So his ‘Mate’ might truly be a Fang. Wonderful.
“Pay her a visit tomorrow morning, first thing. See if her research helps you pinpoint your Alpha’s Wellspring.”
No shocks there. ‘Beverwyck’ was an old name for the area around the Stiles farm, where the first Wellspring awoke. As the first and primary Wellspring, his Alpha, Brandon Lorde, protected it. Once Jamie had heard ‘Beverwyck’, the Fangs’ goal became obvious.
Though a visit with Maya was a good thing. It gave him time to chat up his ‘Mate’ and see if she worked for the Fangs of her own free will, or if they held some relatives hostage.
He hoped she was an innocent victim. He expected it, since his Dragon had chosen her to Claim. But he and his Dragon had some sharp disagreements over the years. He wouldn’t put it past the damned serpent to expect him to ‘redeem’ some fallen woman. A rescue he did not have the time or patience for right now.
Still, Lucian’s urgency surprised him. “Why first thing? Something happening?”
“It’s an important project and I want it done soon.” Lucian swirled his scotch. “Plus, I have her office bugged, and it’s clear she’s becoming erratic. Ms. Graham may need to be ‘managed.’ Which, of course, always kills productivity and morale.”
HE THREATENS OUR MATE!
Ah, hell! Even as the first touch of rage hit him, Jamie was already doubling over, eyes tightly shut. If Lucian saw the light of a Dragon’s rage in them…
Stop! He’ll know I’m a fake. I can’t save her if you don’t trust me.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, gimme a sec.” Silently, he begged his irate Dragon to settle down. “I guess killing Hares gives somebody vapors.”
Lucian chuckled, but asked, “Will that be a problem?”
“No. Meadowlands still a good place to dump bodies?”
“It’s a little more challenging with the Sports Complex traffic but yes, there are still plenty of private spots.”
“Good…” Jamie paused, testing his Dragon’s temper. When its fury dimmed to mere annoyance, he risked opening his eyes. “I’ll take care of this, then.”
“Excellent.” Lucian toasted him and tossed back the last of his drink. “And if you need something stronger than whiskey, let me know.”
Chapter 6
Gulping coffee, Maya stared glumly at her computer screen. She’d been up half the night, ever since that frustrating dream ruined her sleep. Enough time to confirm that Judith was right: the only Criehaven Island on the internet was the wrong one.
Time to go old school. At 6:00 am, she trudged into work and began the long, slow, tedious job of sorting through the colonial maps in APEP’s collection.
&
nbsp; Four hours later, the chime of the elevator shattered the silence. Maya jumped and gave a little shriek.
Oh hell, I need music or something. This office is as quiet as a tomb.
Who on Earth came in to work on a Sunday morning? And to her floor – she had the place to herself. Unnerved, she waited as the doors slid open.
The man of her dream stepped out: Jamie Wolfe, in Nikes, jeans, and a Yankees t-shirt. Same casual attire as before. Somebody was damned and determined to buck APEP’s dress code. The sight of him raised a witch’s brew of emotions in her heart. Lust, because he was a damned handsome man (even if he probably wasn’t as good in bed as she’d dreamed). Anger. Though that was unfair. The fact that she had a vexing dream wasn’t really his fault.
On top of that, lay fear. A sick, creeping dread that wormed its way through her and set her heart racing.
Jamie Wolfe was just wrong. A no-skills ‘expert’ who could ‘help’ her research. He was the strongest evidence that Judith was right: something strange was going on at APEP.
Maya intended to find out what that was.
“Ms. Graham!” Jamie flashed a brilliantly white grin that set her heart racing for a completely different reason. Dammit, why did he have to be so hot?
“Mr. Wolfe.”
“Jamie, please. And can I call you ‘Maya’? Like I said, I hate formalities.”
No, she liked ‘Ms. Graham’ just fine. Despite that, Maya found herself nodding, loving the way her name sounded on his lips.
Hello? Could we take this seriously? This guy could be a killer, for crying out loud!
True, but she found that hard to believe. He’d been so gentle…
…in my dream. Which didn’t really happen.
Oh. Right. Maya straightened her shoulders and put on her best professional expression. “How can I help you, Jamie?”
“Other way around. I’m here to help you. How, I’m not sure. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve found and I’ll see if I can be of use?”
“Sure.” She grabbed some maps of Upstate New York and spread them across her work table. “Are you Haudenosaunee?”
Jamie frowned thoughtfully. “I’m hearing ‘hot in no sauna’ and I’m sure that’s not what you’re saying. Though, if you do have doubts about my elite sauna skills…”
She burst into giggles – which threatened to bubble away her more sensible fear. “Haudenosaunee. Europeans called them ‘Iroquois.’ I’m guessing you’re not a member of one of their Nations, then.”
“Nope.” He peered at the maps, so close that she could feel the heat radiating out from his muscular body.
With a gulp, she edged away. That heat brought back too many seductive memories from her dream. “So, what do you do?”
“Nothing. I’m rich.” He leaned down, his hand sliding over to brush against hers.
Maya pulled her hand back. Though slowly. “I still don’t understand why you’re here.”
“I’m here because another rich guy – the guy who pays for all this – wants me here. So, indulge him and get your paycheck. That’s all that matters in the end, isn’t it?”
“No!” Now she did step away, folding her arms across her chest. “My research matters to me. The truth matters to me.”
Emerald eyes studied her. Oddly, they made her think of an artifact she’d once seen, a mask of the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl. The Feathered Serpent. “Does it?”
“Yes!”
“Okay.” Those mesmerizing eyes released her as he turned back to the map. “In that case, you’re looking too far north. Try somewhere west of Saugherties. Maybe in the Big Indian Wilderness.”
“Wrong. It’s north of Albany.”
“Ms. Graham…” A soft growl wove through his voice as he reverted to her more formal name. “I know how long it takes to get to this place from New York City.”
“No, you don’t. Not if you think it’s down there.”
“Maya…”
“Don’t ‘Maya’ me,” she snapped. “I have a French diary which talks about it being several days’ travel north of ‘the castle.’ Which was on Castle Island in Albany.”
Guarded and wary, he watched her. “I assume you mean Dutch, not French.”
“No, French. The French traded for furs here before the Dutch arrived.”
“Well, I think your fur traders were wrong.”
“And I think you have no idea what you’re talking about.” Why the hell would he insist on this? It was almost like he was deliberately trying to steer her wrong!
“You’re the expert. Do what you want with my information. Though, I will warn you: Mr. Fowler isn’t going to be happy if you ignore me.”
That veiled threat brought her fears roaring back. Maya retreated back to her desk, leaving the maps to Jamie.
He asked a few more questions. Made a couple suggestions. Both idiotic, in her opinion.
After a blessedly short time, though, he straightened. “Sorry. Don’t think I have anything else to add.”
“No need to apologize.” Especially since she intended to ignore everything he said.
He turned slowly, glancing around the spacious office. “Nice place. No windows, though.”
“Of course not. Sunlight can damage delicate materials.”
“Ah. Bet your boyfriend’s pretty excited about the salary you’re pulling down.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” As soon as the words slipped out, Maya cursed herself. Where did he get off asking personal questions like that?
“No?” Even in the midst of her annoyance, the surprise in his voice was flattering. “Well, then, I bet your parents are proud.”
“I never knew my father. My mother died of breast cancer two years ago.” Again, she volunteered information! Jamie Wolfe was, undoubtedly, a plant. A spy for her boss. Yet, for some stupid, unfathomable reason, her treacherous heart yearned to trust him.
That damnable dream. It had to be, because she wasn’t an idiot!
“Brothers? Sisters? No?” Why did he sound so sad about that?
“No. Only child.”
“I see. That’s too bad.”
The funny part was that he sounded genuinely disappointed.
“Well, I should get going. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Okay.” Maya refused to thank him for his non-existent help.
Jamie winced sharply and massaged his shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry. I think we got off on a bad foot. Maybe I can take you out to dinner some night?”
Her heart, that deceitful, selfish thing, yearned to accept – but Maya shook her head. “I usually work pretty late.”
“Lunch then?”
“Mr. Wolfe.” He winced again as she retreated into the formality he hated. “Workplace fraternization is generally not a good thing.”
“Workplace fraternization,” he murmured, shaking his head sadly. As if he’d never heard that term before. Hell, he was rich. Maybe he hadn’t.
Dammit, why did she feel guilty? She didn’t owe him anything. He wasn’t her… her…
Mate.
That was the word, magical and mysterious.
And nonsense. Maya gritted her teeth and banished the last traces of that dream from her mind. She hadn’t been ‘Claimed’ (whatever that meant). He wasn’t her ‘Mate.’ He was a corporate spy.
“Don’t let me keep you,” she hinted, through clenched teeth.
With a shudder, he walked off, still massaging his shoulder blades.
True to her word, Maya buried herself in work for the rest of the day. She scurried outside long enough to find a hot dog stand for lunch but returned to her desk before anyone could accost her.
Worries grew, however. Jamie’s strange visit left her uneasy, unable to shake the feeling that Lucian Fowler was spying on her. Questions nagged her. Was Jamie testing her loyalty? Would Judith make it back to NYC okay? And what dark secret would she reveal?
More and more she fretted until finally, at 6:30, she couldn’t take it anymore.
Turning the lights off, Maya called it a day and headed for Tucci’s early. A drink or two might calm her down before Judith arrived.
A half hour early, she arrived at Tucci’s and snagged one of the few bar stools still available.
The white panel van across the street didn’t seem that unusual. People in NYC double-parked all the time. When Maya spotted Judith hurrying toward her, it was the last thing on her mind.
Until the door swung open and a man jumped out.
Jamie Wolfe. A hoodie hid his face, but she recognized his clothes from this morning and the deadly grace with which he moved.
Like a hawk pouncing on a defenseless dove, he grabbed her. One hand clamped over her mouth then he hopped back into the van with her, as if her friend weighed no more than a rag doll.
“Judith!” Maya screamed. Making everyone near stare at her.
Not the van, or its license plate.
Before she could cross the sidewalk, the van tore off.
Taking Judith with it.
Chapter 7
“Shit!” Jamie howled as he slammed the van door. Not a moment too soon, either. One second of shock was all he got, and then the damned Hare Shifted into a squirming bundle of fluff that promptly wiggled out of his hands.
Bob, his driver, stomped on the gas and the Dragon bounced off the rear door as the van shot out into traffic. The Hare hit the floor running and rocketed under the driver’s seat.
“Boss! Come get this critter! She gets under the brake and I’m gonna pancake her!”
Cursing, he stumbled forward. A furry little bullet shot past him and ricocheted off the locked door.
“Judith! Judith Little! Calm down, please! I’m not going to hurt you.” He sat on the floor and held his hands up. Maybe she’d stop fleeing if he didn’t chase.
Or maybe not. Without even slowing, the Hare spun and zoomed along the van’s other wall. One leap brought her to the dashboard. The second slammed her into the passenger window. Which was closed, thankfully.
“Boss!”
So much for the peaceful approach. Jamie edged forward more cautiously and this time, when she zipped past him, he pounced. His hand closed on fur, he took a firm grip…
…and a terrible scream, the cry of a dying child, tore out of the Hare’s throat.