Blood and Fire

by Dana Lyons

  “Should we go?” he asked.

  At first blush, she couldn’t say no. And the glint in his eyes enticed her. She struggled constantly to remember …

  The paradigm has changed. Pack behavior is the new normal.

  “Okay.”

  They paid for their tab and sedately walked out. Inside, her heart was pounding. Her head felt light and she wondered, did I drink that much?

  At their room, she passed her card in the slot and drew her hand over the screen. The door popped open.

  Inside, he pushed her back against the door. It latched as he cupped her face in his hands. “I’ve wanted this kiss since the first moment I saw you.”

  His face came closer, his voice husky with memory. “You know, you’re the only woman I ever saw that walks in boots like they’re stilettos.” His lips passed lightly over hers, testing. The kiss came slowly, almost as if to delay the pleasure one more second. She moaned, wanting him, yet part of her held back.

  Crossing the line.

  She didn’t know where the line was any more. He felt her hesitation and drew back. “You don’t?” he asked with skepticism.

  His face was close and she wanted to curl into him, but she feared what tomorrow would bring. She didn’t know how to be alpha for anyone but herself. The responsibility—

  “No,” she blundered. “No, I mean not no, but yes. Well, maybe, only I’m not sure—”

  He stepped back and put his hands on her shoulders. A mischievous glint rose in his eye. “If you’re going to be alpha, you’re gonna have to get this decision making thing down.”

  She laughed. He smiled, and his gently crinkled eyes held no recrimination, making her confession rush out. “The old me wants you. The new me needs you. But in between—Nobility has made it complicated.”

  “I see.” He drew her over to the couch to sit. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know how to make this work with you and Quinn,” she blurted. “Before Nobility, I wanted to rack you after the case was over, then I could walk away.”

  He pulled his chin in, his face filled with indignation. “You were going to use me like that?”

  ‘Yes’ was on the tip of her tongue, but she was suddenly ashamed and felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Nobility? This constant state of morphing out of the old and into the new was perpetually uncomfortable.

  I need stable ground.

  “Nothing is familiar anymore, Rhys. I’m constantly second guessing myself, I—” She threw her hands in the air. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.” She exhaled, resisting the alpha title. “I can’t be responsible for others when I’m like this.”

  She studied him. He looked nothing like the Morgan she met out by the river. His eyes were dark and deep, a perfect hiding place for secrets, yet his mind was open to her. His black hair glinted with blue highlights, reminding her of the raven, devoted and intelligent.

  Does the old Morgan still exist inside this understanding exterior?

  Nobility called for her to trust him. But she didn’t want Lazar’s mating comment to cause her to act prematurely. In her pre-Nobility days, she would have jumped at the opportunity. But the very fact Lazar suggested they mate was enough to make her dig in her heels. More important, she didn’t want to spoil what was building up around her. Not just with Rhys, but Quinn also. And her earlier reaction to Simon lingered in her mind.

  She cocked her head, realizing the desire to hold off on the sex reclined next to the pressure to consummate the pack—oddly what she would expect from Nobility. She spoke softly. “Lazar said once we mate, the pack is hard-wired … for life. That’s a long time. Before I do something permanent—and I must stipulate that permanent relationships are not my strong suit—I need to understand the situation better. I don’t like Lazar manipulating me.”

  “No one likes being manipulated,” he echoed. “While I can’t help being disappointed, I must applaud your strength, your very human expression of … Nobility.”

  His eyes were kind, his words understanding, his proximity a source of emotional comfort. This, she thought, is the bond of Nobility.

  “Lazar has given us quite a gift,” he said.

  “Are you defending him?”

  “Not in the least. But I can’t deny what he has brought to my life.” He traced a finger down the bridge of her nose. “He made us exceptional, and he made us family.”

  She sat near and held his hand, craving the closeness. “In many ways, I feel you’re a part of me. And yet, I honestly don’t know you.”

  “Since you checked my background, you must have questions. Ask me.”

  She pulled back, wondering where to start. “You come from a military family, why didn’t you go into the service?”

  A smile teased his lips, one only half steeped in humor. “My father, the General, was so pissed off when I told him I decided to be a cop. It was epic.”

  “You did that to make him mad?”

  “No. I did it because I prefer to give the orders, not take them. He never understood that.”

  “There’s always someone to give you orders,” she argued.

  “Yes, but in the military, you take orders and you have to look like the guy next to you. No thanks.”

  A long moment of silence came as he gazed at the back of her hand. “I’ll tell you what Nobility’s done so far. My established MO is to rebel, as I did with my father, or go into flight mode. Before Nobility, I would have walked away from this hot mess and refused to participate. My old ego wouldn’t sign up for any of this. Well, maybe for you,” he added quickly.

  “I tried to show Nobility who was boss. The night I went home from your place I was going to prove I was still in control.” He chuckled weakly. “Huh! I broke a cold sweat after the first block. I never even made it home, the compulsion, the instinctual drive to return to you and Quinn proved a stronger force.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Nobility has stolen my rebel, the loner, and the bigger change is I’m not sorry to see him go. With that said, I have to admit that even though Nobility drives us toward a pack—I don’t know how this is going to work out.”

  With so many questions and unknown possibilities crowding her head, she gazed off. His confession echoed hers. The future remained uncertain.

  He nudged her with his shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. “My turn to ask a question. Who’s the girl with dark hair? You two went to a bookstore the day we met.”

  “Oh,” she squeaked, and tried to poke him with her elbow, but he sat too close. While she acted offended, his following her that day was not a surprise.

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “My question offers insight into who I am. Think of it as a freebie.”

  “Insight into what you are—as in a stalker?” she teased. Before he could defend himself, she answered. “Her name is Kit and I mentor her.” She glanced up at him. “It’s a dark life; she’s my light. I leave my mark on her; she lightens my load.”

  Her words exposed the double-edged sword of responsibility hanging over their future. Before Nobility, even on a good day, they never knew if they would make it home. Under their new circumstances, the day’s risks were exponentially increased.

  Deep thoughts moved in and consumed their words, leaving a long silence to wrap around them. He said softly, “Perhaps our lives are not so dark now. I used to live for being a loner … and not letting … not letting other people fail me.”

  He said this with a sudden rush and she knew he skinned a knee getting the words out. Everything was different now. She didn’t know whether to thank Lazar or kill him. “I won’t let you down. Neither will Quinn. For that, you can thank Lazar.”

  “I know,” he said solemnly. “We’re all responsible for each other, because of Lazar.”

  His words were meant to be a comfort, but she knew the truth. The responsibility was hers as alpha, responsibility for her and him and Quinn. This responsibility was heavier than she liked.

  While she was so caught up in ho
w Lazar’s actions changed their lives, a quiet fear grew in the back of her mind—a fear of what Lazar was up to. “Yes,” she finally responded. “All because of the good doctor.”

  What Lazar intended worried her. With no way of knowing how this was going to turn out, and considering the risk he presented to the human race, she thought—

  I might have to kill him.

  * * *

  After the investigators left, Lazar remained at his desk considering the new data they dropped in his lap. The three had been exposed to Nobility by Smith. That would explain Annie Cooper’s death—she must have caught Smith in the lab the night he left.

  He knew the men were shifters. He could see Nobility in them, and in the woman’s eyes. Her contacts were good, but he was better. He wondered what animals the men manifested, and regretted not asking. Time for that later, he thought. The next flight to Earth is still a week away.

  Plenty of time for me to prepare.

  The data results from the corrupted Nobility sample presented him with another opportunity. While his latest Nobility formula instilled genetic Nobility, it was designed to initiate a much slower evolving condition minus the animal manifestation. This would bring Nobility to the human race over several generations.

  If I really want to redirect humanity, the corrupted sample would deliver double results—seeding Nobility at its highest level while swiftly culling out the ultimately unfit.

  “That would certainly reduce the dredges of humanity.” He paused to consider the benefits of a world where everyone was like the Special Agent and her men.

  A world of beautiful, exceptional, shifting humans.

  He smiled, proud as any parent, and headed for his work station. The deadly formula was in his notes.

  * * *

  The next morning Dreya woke not remembering falling asleep. Her stomach rumbled. “I’m starving.” She got up and looked in the bathroom, found toiletries and showered. A station suit was left for her in the closet and she dressed in the pants and jacket. Hearing male voices, she knew her ‘men’ were up.

  She opened the door and peeked. Rhys and Quinn were laughing and relaxed in the easy posture of comradeship. Quinn saw her and called out, “The princess awakens.”

  “What happened. I don’t remember anything but sleeping.”

  “I programmed the Infinity screens for sleep until seven so we’d all get on the same clock,” he said. “Rhys and I just got up and were waiting on you.”

  Her stomach rumbled again. “I’m hungry. Where’s the food?”

  Rhys said, “They have a dining room serving food all day. Let’s go.”

  They headed towards the cafeteria, drawn by the smell of food making their mouths water. When they entered, her eyes bugged. “Whoa. What a spread.”

  There was an omelet bar, a bakery table, a cold table with real fruit, and a hot table with sides like potatoes and grits and oatmeal. She picked a plateful of fruit and a waffle, salivating over the smell of syrup and bacon.

  Simon waved at them from a table and they joined him. “I see you found the good stuff.” He chuckled as he surveyed their trays.

  “The chow line is impressive,” she said. She sat across from him with Rhys and Quinn flanking her.

  “Pantheon wants every day to be like a trip to Vegas or Disney World. They want employees who want to stay,” he explained.

  “I’m beginning to see the seductive nature of Draco,” she agreed. They ate with companionable small talk. Simon seemed to get on with Rhys and Quinn; she was surprised at how well these three high testosterone males tolerated each other. “Were you able to shorten our suspect list?”

  “I thought you might ask. Since I have so much time on my hands—” He pushed a file across the table. “Of the three hundred fifty who were within our kill zone, we narrowed it to two hundred who are over their limits.”

  She scanned the several pages. “Can you reduce it anymore?”

  “In fact,” he said pushing another sheet her way. “I give you the eight with the most overages.”

  “Eight I can handle,” she said smiling. “See, you make a good sheriff after all. Can you arrange for us to question them?”

  * * *

  Because there was no jail, questioning of the eight potential suspects on the list was held in the Human Resources offices. Rhys and Dreya took turns doing the interviews until the last dragon filed in and sat at the table, a senior member five years from retirement.

  “Nate Givens,” she said. “How are you, sir?”

  “Good,” he answered.

  He appeared relaxed, but she saw the vein pumping in his neck. “You’ve been over on your time limits lately. Why is that?”

  “I had maintenance to do and didn’t want to take time from my shift. Production is important around here.”

  Her gaze was locked on the vein in his neck throbbing with guilt. She was reminded of Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart. “You have excellent standing with the company, Mr. Givens.” She smiled and blinked; his heart rate slowed, the vein relaxed. “Pantheon appreciates your diligence to duty.”

  She gave him a moment to catch his breath. “Do you fly out there, Nate? When you’re a dragon?” The abrupt turn around caught him off guard. His face went blank while he decided on an answer.

  “No,” he blurted, and pushed back from the table. “Flying is forbidden.”

  “Good,” she said, shaking her head in agreement but with a weak smile and a touch of frown. “Just checking if you remember the rules.” She stood and put both hands on the table, leaning towards him. She raked him with a cold calculating gaze developed from years of experience at the interview table.

  I was damn good before Nobility. Now I have these freaky eyes … and I see you.

  The expanding telepathy and the ‘keen’ nature of her new eyes combined to give her a sharpened perception both the internal and external. Without getting into the thoughts of Givens’ mind, she could sense a dominate emotion. “You’re on my short list for this murder, Nate.”

  “It wasn’t me,” he refuted calmly. “I’m not the only one in overtime. Keep looking.” He stood. “I have to go to work.”

  “Watch the overtime, Nate.”

  He walked out. Rhys and Quinn came to stand at her back. “You gave them all the same speech,” Quinn said.

  “Yep. They all have a good story. I’m just poking the bear. I want to see what sets them off.”

  In spite of Lazar’s comforting words about the difference between them and the dragons, she didn’t trust him to reveal everything pertinent to their cause. “Since I don’t have a hard suspect, it’s no more or less than I’d do in a normal investigation.” But in this case, she needed to know what happens when a dragon breaks.

  She watched Nate disappear around a corner, thinking—

  Definitely on my short list.

  * * *

  Nate had to get away from the Special Agent. She frightened him. There was something about her eyes; he could feel her gaze drill into his back with every step. He took a corner, at last removed from her line of sight, and gasped, sucking his lungs full of air. A sudden lurch in his stomach and he bent over to vomit into a trash can. He stood and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  The smell of blood pumping hot in her throat filled his dragon mind with glee and satisfaction. Only sex with his woman gave him that level of pleasure.

  And flying.

  “She’s going to figure out I killed the boy,” he moaned.

  Let her, the reptile argued. So what? What are they going to do to you? You’re already on Draco for life.

  He shivered and rubbed his arms briskly. He didn’t want to lose his humanness. The call to fly had to be effectively shut down or he was going to kill again.

  “Flying will be the death of me. I’ll never fly again. Never, never, never,” he swore. The words came from his human brain, comforting and logical, reassuring.

  But the dragon had something else to say.

  We’ll s
ee.

  5

  In spite of Dreya’s short list with Nate’s name on it, after he walked from sight she parked her hands on her hips. She twitched her lips to one side as she contemplated what she had learned.

  Zip. Zero. Nada. Zilch.

  This case was fighting a headwind, a condition that always inspired her to go outside the box.

  “Uh oh,” Quinn said. “I recognize that look on your face. As I recall, that look got us into this mess.”

  “Oh,” Rhys offered, attempting offense, but delivering dusty sarcasm. “You missed when we broke into Senator Stanton’s house.” The corner of his mouth lifted, producing a you-ain’t-seen-nothin-yet smirk.

  She gave them a slanted glance, appreciating their observations and their concern. “There’s nothing going on here but me having more questions.” Questions, she thought, that are rousing some ugly suspicions.

  “Are we going to have to break in somewhere?” Rhys asked.

  He seemed eager, making her grin. “Not if he lets us in.”

  “He?”

  “God, himself.”

  They located Lazar in his chief of staff office. Dreya rapped on the door and peeked in. When he looked up, she was again shocked at his youth.

  That’s what happens when you graduate high school at age ten.

  She had to wonder—

  What made him want to be God?

  “Doctor, we have more questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “Come in, please,” he called. “How can I help you?”

  They filed in. Quinn stood at her back while Rhys walked about exploring the memorabilia on the walls.

  She had so many questions, both personal and official. She chose the topic that disturbed her most, Lazar’s destination. “What’s your end game, Doc? What does all this,” she waved her hand, “the station, the dragons, the genetic experimenting. What’s your destination? Where does all this get you?”