Ruthless Knight

by Liza Street

  Ruthless Knight

  Fierce Mates: The Rock Creek Clan, Book Five

  By Liza Street

  Copyright

  Ruthless Knight, Fierce Mates: The Rock Creek Clan, Book Five

  by Liza Street

  Cover designed by Keira Blackwood.

  Copyright 2020 Liza Street. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  An Early Peek at Filthy Beast

  Also by Liza Street

  About Liza

  Prologue

  Tamryn awoke with a gasp. Someone was in her room with her, beyond the heavy curtains of her four-poster bed. She could hear them breathing. Skin-hunters?

  As slowly as possible, she reached underneath her pillow for the dagger her mother had given her. She subtly sniffed the air, searching for a clue that would tell her who was in the room with her. Figuring out their intent from their feelings would be easier than anything else.

  What Tamryn felt in the air was fear, urgency.

  “Princess?” A feminine voice.

  Tamryn remained silent. The femininity of the intruder wasn’t reassuring. Women could be skin-hunters, too, and the fear and urgency Tamryn sensed could have a different cause. Reading the feelings of others was certainly not an exact method of deducing the truth in a situation; it only supplied clues to the truth.

  “It's me, Princess. Illary, the witch.”

  Now that she said so, Tamryn recognized the woman’s voice. What was the witch doing in her bedchamber? She relaxed her grip on the dagger and sat up.

  A loud scream echoed from somewhere in the castle, beyond her room. Tamryn scrambled for the dagger again and heaved herself from the four-poster bed. Her nightgown tangled momentarily around her legs, but she righted herself before falling. The thick rug beneath her feet did little to prevent the chill of her stone floor.

  Everything in the room looked the same as usual, from the low stand with her washbasin to the heavy trunk at the foot of her bed to the heavy tapestry hanging on the far wall over which her mother had woven the story of their lineage—monsters and maidens erupting from fiery mountains.

  The witch stood a few paces away, brown hair pulled under a nightcap and deep brown eyes wide in the dim moonlight coming through the castle window. She, too, was in her nightgown, the billowy cream fabric similar to Tamryn’s, heavy against the bite of winter.

  “What's happening?” Tamryn asked. Another scream. Her heart pounded rapidly. “They’re here, aren't they?”

  “The castle guards are holding the worst of it back, but it didn't look promising when I left the queen’s side—”

  “You deserted the battle? Return to them, at once,” Tamryn said.

  Her parents should have more aid. The witch should be helping them, not dallying in Tamryn’s bedchamber. In fact, Tamryn should be down there fighting, as well. She moved toward her door. The witch moved with her.

  “I left only on the queen’s orders, to protect you,” Illary said. “I’ve been up most of the night and the binding spell finally works. I am to perform it on you, and then on as many of the others as possible.”

  “I told you I want no part of that magic,” Tamryn said, her voice heated. She wanted to burn everything to the ground, including the skin-hunters. But she would not breathe fire; she could not, yet. Not until her body learned to shift forms. And her mother had been coaching her to hold the power back. Better to suffocate an unused magic than be skinned alive for her dragon pelt.

  “This spell is your mother's wish—perhaps her last one,” Illary said. “Charles has already had the spell done on himself. He allowed me to try it on him first, so I could ensure that it would work without ill effects.”

  Charles, Tamryn's betrothed. Prince of another dragon kingdom, he was nobility personified. Brave, loyal. If he had allowed Illary to use her spell on him, then Tamryn could do it, also.

  A loud crash came from the royal suite—it was the door to her parents’ rooms smashing open.

  “Ellis, no!” Her mother's anguished scream as she called for Tamryn’s father.

  “Mama!” Tamryn called, rushing to her bedroom door.

  Illary stepped in Tamryn’s way.

  Her mother’s voice came from down the hall. “Tamryn, go, now! Be strong. Do not wait! I love you, daughter of mine. I love—”

  The words ended abruptly. Tamryn dared not consider what had happened to silence her mother. But in her heart, she knew.

  Her mother was dead. Her father, too.

  Tamryn blinked back tears and tried to get past the witch.

  “No,” Illary said. "There's nothing you can do. They knew this was foretold, which is why they asked me to finish the spell."

  Tamryn turned to the witch. Some of Illary’s long, black hair had escaped her cap. In front of her, she held a clay bowl laden with something that made Tamryn's nose twitch.

  “I'll be asleep the whole time I am bound?” Tamryn asked. Her mother had explained the spell to her, but Tamryn wanted to be sure. Not that it mattered at this point. Her mother and father were both gone. Skin-hunters were even now running through the castle, collecting as many dragons as they could. Tamryn couldn’t shift to fly away, and even if she could, to shift would be to invite the violence she strove to escape.

  Illary nodded. “Yes, you’ll be asleep while in the spell.”

  The oblivion of slumber held an appeal, especially as Tamryn’s heart felt as if it were a broken rock in the hollow of her chest. Sleep would allow her to forget this violence. She’d have a long, peaceful sleep, free of pain and hurt and agonizing memories. No mourning. No fear. No more waking up to the sounds of battle just outside the castle as the skin-hunters grew bolder in their attacks.

  When she awoke, though, her parents would not be there to greet her.

  She didn't think she could bear it.

  But she would have to. Her mother had told her as much. Be strong, Tamryn, she had said earlier in the day when they’d discussed the magic. Do not let dragonkind fade from the earth. Do your duty—be strong.

  Tamryn looked into Illary's fathomless eyes.

  Strength. She could do this.

  “I am ready,” Tamryn said.

  “You will wake when it is safe,” Illary said. “I will call you forth.”

  “Please, do the spell now,” Tamryn said. Before she could lose her nerve.

  Illary set the bowl down on the floor and helped Tamryn remove her nightclothes. “I don't want fabric influencing the spell,” Illary explained.

  Something big thumped loudly against Tamryn's chamber door. A skin-hunter—maybe they were alread
y wearing the pelt of her mother or father. Bile rose in her throat.

  Energy crackled around Tamryn, and goosebumps rose over her flesh. Illary was chanting some kind of rhyme, but Tamryn couldn't hear through the pounding on her door and the panicked beating of her heart.

  A golden glow surrounded her, coupled with the pain of her skin tingling. The tingles intensified. She was on fire. It felt like flames were licking over her skin. Instinctively, she touched her face, the burn scar she’d had since childhood. She knew what burning felt like, and this was it. This couldn't be right—Illary had done the spell incorrectly, and now Tamryn was going to perish and no one would continue her family’s name or save dragonkind.

  She sent a panicked glance to Illary, but the witch now looked like something out of a nightmare, her face distorted as if Tamryn saw it through warped glass. She reminded herself that Illary was here to protect her, not harm her.

  Do not panic, she told herself. Be strong, like Mother said. She pulled in one ragged breath, then another.

  But then the burning all over her skin moved inside.

  “Breathe, Princess,” Illary said, then returned to her chanting.

  How could Tamryn breathe when her skin was on fire? Her entire world was crumbling, the rough castle walls melting and breaking apart, just like her family, just like her life. Everything soon would be ash. Her mother had told her that their lineage had come from volcanoes. It was only fitting, then, that her very blood had turned to lava.

  The molten rock consumed Tamryn’s flesh, melting her bones, boiling her blood. She opened her mouth to scream as the fire reached her heart, but she had no mouth.

  She was bound in dragon fire, and she was no more.

  Chapter One

  Nolan put his hand on the sphere and the sphere disappeared.

  Now his hand was on the bare shoulder of a naked, red-haired woman. He took in the curve of her delicate spine, the wavy tangle of her hair, the pallor of her skin.

  In the back of his mind, he was aware of the other members of the Rock Creek Clan standing around him. He heard gasps. Someone muttered, “What the hell...”

  The earth beneath his feet was solid. Darkness surrounded them, shadows of midnight and moon. Pine scents filled the air from the circle of trees that surrounded them. It was mixed with the loamy scents of rock and soil, from the disturbed cairn where Nolan, primarily, had unearthed the sphere which had held this woman.

  He was aware of their surroundings, yes. But he was most aware of the still lungs, not breathing. The still heart, not beating.

  And it was like he was touching Emily again, her body cold and lifeless. Surrounded in snow. When he slept, his mind wouldn’t let him forget about that, Emily dead.

  This red-haired woman had been in his dreams like this, too. Her skin hadn’t been cold or pale, though.

  She couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t accept that. He held his breath, waiting for a sign.

  Beneath his palm, her heart began beating.

  He tore his hand away, shocked.

  He had dreamed this, Emily returning to life, so many times. But this was not Emily.

  Stepping away, he saw that the woman’s eyes had opened. They were a shade of violet he’d never seen on a human before. Emerging from a glowing golden sphere like this, though, she was obviously more than human.

  His friend Margot approached the woman. “Hello, there.”

  The woman turned her face to look at Margot. Her chin was pointed delicately, as was her nose. Her eyelashes were thick frames around those violet eyes. One side of her neck and the lower part of her jaw was covered in scar tissue—it looked as if she had long ago sustained a painful burn.

  Margot went on, “I’m Margot. You’re in the Rock Creek territory, in Idaho. That’s our alpha, Jameson.”

  Margot pointed to the blue-eyed, brown haired grizzly shifter who led the clan. The woman’s gaze followed Margot’s gesture with curiosity, but the wariness never left her expression.

  “We don’t mean you any harm,” Jameson said.

  His deep voice seemed to startle the woman. She drew her legs up closer to her chest and crossed her ankles.

  “May I ask your name?” Margot said to the woman.

  A slight shake of her head was all the response they received.

  “For fuck’s sake, give the woman some clothes,” one of the men said. Ian, Nolan guessed. “It's cold as butt out here.”

  Clothes. Yes. It was a good idea. Nolan was closest, so he yanked off his shirt and held it out to the woman.

  She hesitated a moment, then slowly reached for the shirt. A brief expression of pain crossed her face as her long fingers closed over the fabric.

  “Let me help you?” Margot said.

  The woman nodded. Faith, Ian’s new mate, came over as well, along with Kayla. The three RCC women fussed over the newcomer. They helped her to stand and slid Nolan’s t-shirt over her head. The woman accepted their fussing without complaint, as if she was used to being waited on.

  “We’re taking her to Parker's old cabin,” Margot said.

  “The bed’s already made up,” Faith added. “And I barely slept in it.” She blushed and sent a quick glance to Ian, who gave her a roguish wink.

  Jameson cleared his throat, and the woman turned to him. “If you're hungry,” he said, addressing the newcomer, “there's food.”

  The woman shook her head, and the others ushered her out of the circle of pine trees. The cooking pot with the spell ingredients remained behind, forgotten. Magic. Magic was what had brought the mysterious woman to them.

  Nolan watched the four women go, his eyes on the long, slender legs moving below the hem of his shirt, which reached to her mid thighs.

  A hand clamped down on Nolan’s shoulder. It was his brother, Bryce, still naked from shifting out of his bear form.

  “Yep,” Bryce said. “You’re a goner.”

  Goner? Nolan shook his head, not wanting to think too hard. “Just in shock.”

  “Did...all of that just happen?” Ian asked. “A naked woman was in that sphere thing. Is that what Bronson's after? A person in a ball?”

  “We don’t know what she does,” Jameson said.

  Parker, still in his tiger form, growled and loped after the women, no doubt eager to keep an eye on them.

  “Rex,” Jameson said, “go with him, will you?”

  The wolf in their midst took off after the tiger. Bryce, Ian, and Nolan remained with Jameson. The four of them looked at each other, perplexed. The short, mournful who...who... of a long-eared owl cut through the night.

  “She’s not here to hurt us,” Nolan said.

  “How do you know this?” Jameson's voice wasn’t disapproving, more thoughtful and curious.

  “She was surprised to be here,” Nolan said. They had all been surprised by her arrival. The spell they’d done, courtesy of Ian and Faith’s work over the past few days, hadn’t been forthcoming about results.

  But they’d known Bronson was after the spell, and their options had been to either destroy it, hold onto it and wait for Bronson’s people to keep coming after it, or perform the spell and see what happened.

  Jameson didn’t often take risky chances. He was steady, calm. Nolan was grateful he’d let them do the spell. He had a gut feeling that everything was going to change—for the better—now that this woman had shown up.

  “She seems too weak to do much damage, anyway,” Bryce said, looking thoughtfully at the place and the trees where the women had walked away.

  Nolan frowned. He disagreed. There was nothing weak about the mystery woman. He just wasn’t sure if he should mention his impression to his alpha or not.

  But Jameson was perceptive; he had likely noticed her strength already. Besides, strength didn't equate to the desire to do harm.

  “We have to let her stay,” Nolan said. “What’s the point of doing the spell and finding out what Bronson is after, if we just send her off again?”

  “I’ll think
on it,” Jameson said, rubbing his hands over his face. “We can all talk in the morning. Clan meeting. Right now, I want to go back to my cabin and kiss my mate and hold my baby boy.”

  Nolan lingered by the cairn while everyone else walked off. He’d spoken the words that brought the woman to them. What had the spell papers said? The finding, the binding, the calling forth. He'd said the words. He’d torn apart the cairn to reveal the sphere.

  He was responsible. He had to take care of her.

  Chapter Two

  Tamryn looked around the small house the women had brought her to. The furnishings were strange in appearance and strangely constructed, not at all like the furniture that had filled the castle, but she recognized a low table, a sofa, and a large chair that was stuffed like a giant pillow.

  One of the women touched a beige rectangle on the wall, and soft light flooded the room. Tamryn blinked in the light, surprised.

  The women talked quickly. Their accents were unlike anything Tamryn had ever heard, and it was difficult for her to parse their meanings. One of them opened a tall door on a giant metal box on the far side of the room. “There’s only beer in the fridge,” she said, frowning.

  The interior of the metal box was lit, but Tamryn saw no candle inside. Did these women practice magic? Maybe Illary had sent them. If that were the case, though, one of them would have said so.

  No, Tamryn couldn't trust them. Not yet. They could be skin-hunters, or working with skin-hunters.

  Then again, they had seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to see them.

  Tamryn pursed her lips. It would be best to keep quiet, either way.

  One of the women left, then returned a moment later with fabric in her arms. She held up a pair of trousers and what looked like a long tunic with a hood. Tamryn allowed them to help her dress once more. She wouldn’t let them take away the t-shirt the blond man had given to her; instead, they put the new clothes on over that.

  When she was fully dressed, she looked down at herself. The trousers were roomy, as was the long tunic. This was nothing like what she had worn at home. Where was she? They had said “Idaho,” but that meant nothing to her. How much time had passed?