by Lauren Smith
Rurik gazed at her in surprise. “Yes, how did you—”
“That’s what got me involved in finding you. The power vacuum the Drakors left is what’s got the Brotherhood worried. The idea that whoever is left might ally themselves with other houses, or others might try to move in. Russia’s a powder keg right now,” she said. “I had to know everything I could about dragons before I came over.”
Rurik was torn between smiling and frowning. He liked that his mate was resourceful, but he didn’t like that she had access to files on him and his family. They worked hard to stay undocumented and off human radar.
“How much information do they have on us?” he asked.
She shrugged and told him as much as she knew from the files. “You have to believe me—the Brotherhood is more worried about you fighting each other and causing harm to civilians than fighting you themselves. Those agents they sent after you before were just going to bring you in for questioning. They never planned to kill you. They hoped you had answers about the war with the Drakors, and they needed to know how serious the situation was from your perspective.”
As she talked, she ran her fingers up and down his chest, seemingly unaware that she was stroking him in a soothing way. It felt good, really good. It would have felt even better if she’d wrapped her fingers around his cock, but now was not the time for that, much to his body’s disappointment.
“The problem is, your people close ranks and vanish whenever we try to get close,” she added.
“It is hard to blame us. It wasn’t that long ago that we were hunted down by your people for the mere crime of existing,” Rurik countered. “And it wasn’t that long ago that the name MacQueen meant death for shifters.”
Charlotte’s head dropped. “I know. But things have changed in the last fifty years. My parents and my brothers have made sure of it. My grandfather’s way was half a century ago, born out of the same fear as McCarthyism at the time. The rules have changed. They don’t kill anymore. Not without cause. They observe. Hell, my brother has even helped negotiate peace treaties.”
“Still,” Rurik said slowly. “It makes trust for dragons difficult. Half a century for you is half your life, but it’s merely an instant of mine. We have long memories. And who’s to say your brother’s successor won’t fall back on old habits.”
Charlotte was silent a long moment. “I don’t know, but we have to start somewhere. Will your brothers help us figure out what to do?”
“Yes.” He nuzzled her cheek before pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes. “But they won’t be happy about it. Do you think you can make your brothers see reason?”
“I hope so,” she said with a sigh. “We’re a little like Romeo and Juliet, aren’t we?” The smile that stole across her lips was tinged with sorrow. He hated knowing that mating her had caused that pain.
He tried to tease her. “Yes, if the Capulets carried flamethrowers while the Montagues were trained Special Forces. And I, for one, would prefer to avoid their fate if at all possible.”
Charlotte sighed and kissed his lips. Her sweet taste was the only reassuring thing about this mess of a situation.
“Promise me you will help protect my brothers and their mates.” He would never have asked that of anyone else. But if there was a chance she could help protect them from the Brotherhood, he had to ask.
“I’ll do everything I can, but you have to promise me that my brothers and the other hunters won’t get hurt. They’re my family.”
“We are your family now as well,” he corrected as he lifted her chin with his fingers. Their gazes locked, and he dove into the warm hazel pools of her eyes. “You’re not just a MacQueen now. You are Barinov too.”
“And that makes you a MacQueen,” she added.
He winced. “That will set my brothers in an uproar.”
Charlotte’s face reddened. “So…me being a Barinov, does that mean… Er… Do dragons get married like humans? You know, with a fancy ceremony and everything?” Her voice was slightly husky, and it made him wish he had hours to listen to her moan his name in bed with that low, breathless tone.
He nodded, keeping his eyes on her. “We do. The mating was enough in the old days, but we marry now in the human world in order to secure property and protect our loved ones. We adapt to local and regional customs as they change over time.”
She traced the seam of his T-shirt collar around his neck, her lashes fanning up so he could see those lovely eyes of hers.
“So…does that mean we’ll get married?” He sensed her unease and the lack of trust that came with the idea of marrying a stranger. He couldn’t blame her. They’d only known each other for two days. And while the mate bond was in place, they didn’t truly know each other or completely love each other. Not yet. But love would come, he knew it. A dragon could sense such things within its mate. The bond wouldn’t have occurred otherwise. He measured his response carefully before he replied.
“We will, when the time is right. I want us to have a chance to bond, to develop the feelings that we share for each other. I want to earn your love fully and give you mine.”
When she sighed in relief, he knew he’d said the right thing, so he couldn’t resist teasing her.
“We also have to make sure the wedding party doesn’t try to kill each other. A great wall built down the aisle, perhaps?”
She giggled, wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his neck again.
“Can you hold me, just for a little while?” she asked.
He could sense her emotions beneath the surface, like listening to a muffled conversation. She was a strong woman, but she’d been through much in the last two days.
“As long as you need,” he whispered, kissing her temple. Then he rested his cheek against her hair, and they both breathed together. His dragon stirred, cautious, but also hopeful.
She raised her head, and her eyes flashed with a new light. “How long before the plane leaves?”
“About two hours. Why?”
“Could we see a palace or two before we go? I really wanted to take some tours—”
He smirked playfully. “You don’t need tours. You have me.”
Her eyes widened. “Because you lived through all this… Holy cow. I keep forgetting. You seem so modern most of the time.”
“Most of the time?” He quirked a brow.
“Yeah, mostly. Sometimes you slip and say something adorably old-fashioned.”
“I’m not old fashioned.” He shook his head, and she grinned at him.
“Yeah you are, like when you call me ‘delicate flower’ or ‘little rose.’”
“I call you ‘flower’ and ‘rose’ because of your scent.” He nuzzled her neck, chuckling before he took a playful nip of her shoulder.
“My scent?” She wrinkled her nose, and then she lifted her forearm to her nose and inhaled. “I don’t have a scent, except for my body wash from the shower.” She sniffed again, and he couldn’t help but laugh. She had no idea what he could smell. And then she tensed.
“What?” he asked, his eyes serious.
“The lab…I stole a dragon pheromone the Brotherhood had been synthesizing. I wore it whenever we were together, but it’s washed off now.”
“Synthesized pheromones?” Rurik rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. “Why would you want to create that?”
“I figured it would get you to relax around me. None of the hunters who tried to contact you got very far because you sensed something was off around them. I thought it might help get you to trust me.”
Rurik rubbed her back, thoughtful. “That first night you did smell…wonderful.” He tilted his head. “That could explain why Grigori told me he found your scent irresistible. Interesting, but also concerning.” He leaned in and brushed the tip of his nose along her throat, inhaling deeply. “But I don’t smell it now. And you still smell wonderful, but it’s more…natural. Before, the scent was overpowering. It made me a little crazy. Now when
I breathe in your aroma, it makes my dragon purr rather than pace.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” She loved the way he spoke to her now, gentle and low.
“Oh yes. Your natural scent is layered beneath those you use from day to day, perfume, shampoo, and so on. It stands out to me. In time I will be able to track you across great distances,” he explained. “Our dragon abilities give us some advantages, even while we are mortal.”
She eyed him in a critical and assessing manner, the look of someone who liked puzzles and challenges. “What kind of advantages?” It was the way he expected a scientist with a thirst for knowledge and natural curiosity would look at him.
“Well, we have an excellent sense of smell, eyes like an eagle, the ability to create and manipulate fire, and mesmerizing, of course.”
“Wait, fire? I know you guys can breathe fire like in the movies, but what do you mean create and manipulate? How does that work? Do you have gas stores somewhere?” Her intense scrutiny and flurry of questions made him laugh.
“Fire for us isn’t about storing gases, but the manipulation of energy. You would call it magic, but it’s the most basic kind. After all, fire is just very excited molecules.” Rurik snapped his fingers. A small red flame burst from his fingertips. He opened his hand, and the flame hovered an inch above his palm, flickering slightly.
Charlotte started to reach out, but before her fingers could touch it, he curled his fingers into a fist, extinguishing the flame.
“That’s amazing.”
“It has its uses,” he replied, but he remembered all too well that those uses could be for dark and bloody ends. Just then he realized the long-standing mistrust between his kind and the Brotherhood wasn’t one-sided. The power they wielded was unlike anything normal humans could comprehend. Of course they feared it. They always would, unless they understood it.
They were silent a moment, simply holding on to each other before Charlotte spoke again.
“Rurik, how did you get that scar?” She reached up to trace the line from his brow down to his cheek.
“That is a very long story,” he said. “But if you want to hear it, I suggest we go to the Catherine Palace. I can show you.”
“The Catherine Palace? Not the Winter Palace?”
“I have more of a personal history there than with the Winter Palace. My brother Grigori spent much time with the Romanovs in the early twentieth century. I was more involved with Russian royalty in the eighteenth. Much of court life was centered around the Catherine Palace then.”
She sat up on the bed as she looked around for her socks and boots. “So you spent time around the czars?”
He watched her, wondering how his next words would affect her.
“You could say that. I was once Catherine the Great’s secret lover.”
Charlotte whirled to face him. “What?” She gaped at him. “Seriously?”
“The Russian court joked that none but a stallion could satisfy Catherine in bed, but the truth was, she needed a dragon. Her husband was a child who played only with toys and never came to her bed. She was lonely and in a marriage without love, and I saw her for what she was: a woman ahead of her time. I adore intelligent women.” He flashed a little wicked smile.
She shook her head with a mixture of shock and amazement. “No—really? You were her lover?”
“Would you like me to show you a few of my special moves?” He pounced on her, and she fell back onto the bed laughing.
“As amazing as that sounds,” she said, “I’m dying to see your former lover’s palace.” She stole a soft kiss that made his dragon stir inside, and Rurik felt damn good.
“All right, let’s go. We don’t have much time before we need to get back.” He stroked a fingertip down her nose playfully.
She bounced up out of his arms, grabbing her purse and coat. “Let’s go then!” He missed holding her almost right away, which shocked him. It had only been two days, and she was already someone he couldn’t live without. How could it happen so fast? Was it just the allure of finding and mating her, or was there something more about Charlotte? She was worming her way into his heart, and he couldn’t stop her.
Luis and Dimitri stood in the alley across from the hotel the MacQueen sister was using in Moscow. Luis took a slow drag off a cigarette. They didn’t speak; they only watched the three black SUVs that were parked at the front of the hotel. Two blond-haired men climbed out of the first, and their familial resemblance to the woman they’d seen with Rurik was obvious.
Drakor smiled. “Damien MacQueen and his brother Jason are here.”
“They’ll be waiting awhile,” said Luis. “My men tracked Rurik and the woman to an airport today. They flew out to Saint Petersburg. Not sure when they’re coming back.” Luis flicked the tip of his cigarette, spraying ashes on the ground.
“MacQueen will have plenty of time to set his trap then,” Dimitri said with a grim smile. “Patience.”
“Patience,” Luis agreed. “Once we have her and take care of the battle dragon, my men will take out his brothers.”
They watched the hunters remove large duffel bags from their trunks and carry them into the hotel. Dimitri wondered what weapons, magical or otherwise, might be inside them. With the Barinovs gone, he would make the other dragon families of Asia fall in line, then the world. Once they were united, they could finally take out the Brotherhood. Then the world would know their true masters. Dimitri held no illusions about their alliance. Once the Barinovs were out of the way, Luis would no doubt seek to remove him as well. But Dimitri was old, older than most realized, and with that came cunning and knowing how to play the long game.
Patience. If you had enough of it, an opportunity would always show itself, a weakness to exploit or a means to control others. It wouldn’t be long before Luis was the one being removed, and then Dimitri would have a new family to rule over.
But that was the future. For now there was the alliance.
“We should go before we’re seen,” Luis growled, sinking into the shadows of the alley. Dimitri followed him, allowing the darkness to swallow him whole.
31
Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero. —Marc Brown
Damien stood in the small office of the hotel manager, watching the shooting that had occurred the previous night. The office was cramped with Jason standing behind the manager’s desk as the manager pulled up the security footage.
The picture the unknown caller had texted him had shown Charlotte being dragged to the ground with glass everywhere, but it hadn’t been clear what had happened. When they’d found the hotel where her bags had been left behind, they’d seen the shattered windows of the lobby, still in the process of being replaced.
“This is all we have on the cameras,” the manager said. His thick accent was punctuated with a nervous glance between the brothers. He tapped a few buttons on the keyboard of his computer, and the video began to play again.
Charlotte and Rurik Barinov stood near the valet booth when the glass suddenly shattered behind them. Chaos descended on the scene. The dragon shifter flinched as he was hit, but Damien couldn’t tell how many times or where he was wounded. Rurik took Charlotte down to the ground, covering her body with his. A few seconds later, Rurik stood up and lifted Charlotte up with him.
Damien leaned in close, placing a hand on the desk as he peered intensely at the security footage on the monitor. Charlotte seemed to be okay. It was not what he’d expected. “Do you have footage of them in the lobby?”
“No, I’m sorry.” The manager’s face was pale, but that wasn’t a surprise. Damien and his team had walked into his office like they owned the place. At the first sign of objection, Damien had called his contact in the Russian government and handed the phone to the manager. After that, the manager had agreed to anything Damien requested.
“What room is she staying in?”
The manager exhaled with relief. “That I do know. You will need keys, ye
s?”
“Yes.” He watched the manager collect a couple of blank keys and program them.
“These should work.”
“Thank you.” Damien pocketed the keys and wrote down his cell number. “If you see that man from the video, call me immediately.”
“Of course.”
The team took the elevator up to Charlotte’s floor. Damien motioned for everyone to draw their weapons and take ready positions outside her door. There was a chance Rurik and Charlotte were still inside. A few silent hand gestures let everyone know what was expected of them.
Damien inserted the room key. The green light flashed on the reader, and he flung the door open, pistol raised. The room was dark, the lights off, and no sounds came from within. Charlotte’s suitcase stood on a wooden luggage rack, lid open. The rest of the team flowed in behind him and fanned out, each checking the room and bathroom.
“All clear.”
“Clear.”
“Clear here.”
Charlotte was nowhere to be found.
“Search everything,” Damien ordered. For the next ten minutes, he and his team scoured the hotel room.
“Damien. Over here.” Nicholas was kneeling by the mini-fridge, pointing at a glass vial filled with green liquid inside.
“Meg, take a look at this,” Damien said.
Meg took the vial from Nicholas, holding it up to the light. “That’s the serum. Charlotte showed it to me when she made her big breakthrough.”
Damien stared at the bright liquid. The spare vials they’d taken from Charlotte’s lab didn’t have the same tint to them but rather looked blue-green, which made him wonder if there was a reason she’d left those versions behind.
So this was the magical dragon repressor his sister had reverse-engineered. It was a game changer to be sure, but Meg was right—if this fell into the wrong hands, it could lead to genocide. He didn’t want his name connected to such an event. The Brotherhood had enough blood on its hands, and he was committed to finding a better way. Nevertheless, he slipped the vial into a pocket in his coat, just in case.