Day of the Dragon

by Katie MacAlister

  Everyone fell silent with her groan, and the heavy weight of their gazes settled on her shoulders. She didn’t know how she knew that they stared; she just knew.

  And didn’t like it one bit.

  Abby bit her lower lip and swallowed any other whimpers and moans that threatened to break free. Being the center of her captors’ attention could never be a good thing.

  Soon their movements picked up again, the jangle of buckles and the metallic rasp of zippers with the occasional grunt and low whispers. They spoke, they moved around, and they left her alone.

  Which was great as far as Abby was concerned.

  Then a large, strong hand wrapped around her biceps, holding her in a punishing grip, and yanked her to the left. She scrambled to gain her feet, silently cursing when her captor jerked and she scraped her knee on the sand-covered, uneven van floor. Now her knee throbbed in time with the pulsing ache in her side.

  Her captor pulled her out of the van, further tearing her wound, and blood flowed free of the cut. What little clothing she wore had dried during the ride and was now soaked in blood.

  “Careful, asshole!” The deep, chocolatey baritone boomed through the cavernous space. It was tinged in rough fury that felt more like a caress to her cat. And hell, she wasn’t sure how a voice could sound like chocolate, but his did.

  All chocolate and smooth and sweet with a hint of hot and…Ahem.

  The tight grip on her arm eased a little. She’d be bruised by the rough handling, but if she had bruises to bitch about, it meant she was alive to do the bitching.

  She’d take it.

  She listened for everything, counted every step as they led her to what felt like a smaller area. Their footsteps were now muffled—by carpet? The buzz of lights—fluorescent—reached her as well. An office of some sort? With an attached parking garage?

  The three men remained silent during their trek down hallway after hallway. They turned left, then right, then left and two rights? Why did she have to be a number person and not some amazing Tracker chick?

  Soon their pace slowed before they stopped altogether. At least for a moment. Just long enough for one of her captors to…unlock a door? And if it was unlocked, it could then be relocked.

  She might be blind, hurt, and exhausted, but she wasn’t stupid. Okay, maybe a little stupid because she’d already let them take her to a secondary location. Statistically, that meant she was for sure going to be killed.

  Abby was taking a hard pass on going into that room though.

  The man holding her tugged and she tugged back, leaning away and digging her bare heels into the carpet. She shook her head, the blanket still blinding her, and it swung with the rapid movement. A whimper escaped her lips, terror stealing her ability to speak.

  Had she mentioned hard pass?

  The grip on her arm tightened, a growl following the squeeze, but she was already too scared to be even more frightened by the man. “Move.”

  She moaned, fear still forcing her to be silent.

  “Let her go.” The voice was louder, but familiar—Hot Guy. That order was followed by the disappearance of the other man and a deep grunt. Then she found herself lifted from the ground and cradled high against the stranger’s chest. “Got you.”

  The first time he’d said those words, a wave of panic had overtaken her. This time a blanket of something else drifted over her body—calmness. A calmness she didn’t expect to experience again manifested with his touch and murmured words. There was something wrong with her.

  The cat snorted and wondered if her human half had always been so slow.

  Hot Guy took two steps into the room and paused; then a hard thud was followed by the squeak of hinges.

  “Dec—” The man’s voice was cut off by the slam of the door.

  There was the familiar scrape of a lock, and her captor growled low, “Keep out!”

  When no one opened the door once more, he seemed to relax, shoulders dropping though he still held her securely. He carried her across the space, five long strides, and then he slowly bent, placing her on a hard surface before withdrawing.

  Abby stayed in place, huddled beneath her blanket—cold, bleeding, and in pain—while she waited for whatever happened next. Questioning? Torture? A game of Uno?

  The blanket was swept away, exposing her to the room’s bright light, and she blinked against the harsh glow. Bright splotches filled her vision, and she squinted while she fought to bring the room into focus.

  A man towered over her—dark hair, blue eyes, heavily muscled body, and black clothing.

  “You,” she whispered. He’d saved her once, but was it only to kill her now?

  Chapter Eight

  Me,” Declan grunted, and stopped himself from saying anything else. She feared him—face pale, eyes wide, and the stench of her fear nearly overwhelming the coppery tang of her blood.

  Blood that soaked into her clothing and turned her pale top a deep red. A fact that enraged his wolf. The beast paced in the back of his mind, snarling and growling with every step. For an animal who normally enjoyed the scents of fear and blood, it was pretty pissed about both coming from Abby. And Declan wasn’t going to question why. At least, not yet.

  He couldn’t help her fear of him, but he could handle tending her wound. He’d patched up himself—his team—enough over the years.

  Declan dropped to a crouch and slipped his knife from the sheath strapped to his side. He tugged on her shirt with his other hand, lifting the bottom edge to expose her side. “Take this off.”

  He expected her to listen.

  He didn’t expect her to shove him away with flailing hands.

  “No.” Abby even went so far as to push the fabric back into place. “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

  “You’re fine?” He moved her shirt out of his way again, pointed the tip of his knife at her seeping wound, and then met her stare. “That’s a bullet hole in your side.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” More tugging down while he wanted the cloth up. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  More like perfectly delusional. Declan didn’t remember chicks being so difficult, but it’d been a while.

  He closed his eyes and sighed while he prayed for patience. “Lift your shirt.”

  “No.”

  “You know, most people would try to be accommodating after they’ve been kidnapped,” he drawled.

  “Why should I make killing me easy on you?” She clenched her jaw and tipped her chin up, a stubborn gleam in her eyes.

  Her arguing made his dick hard. Her words made his wolf growl all the louder.

  “I didn’t save your ass to kill you.” He yanked her shirt up and held it in place, ignoring her when she tried to wrench it free again. “I rescued your ass…”

  Because the wolf hadn’t let him stay on that damned rooftop, and he still wasn’t ready to examine why his beast had been so determined. It hadn’t cared about orders from the team alpha and his responsibilities to SHOC. It’d needed to keep Abby from harm. Period.

  He changed tactics. “You’ve been working for FosCo all week, but something changed tonight. What was it?”

  “Who are you?” she countered.

  “A concerned citizen.” He rolled his eyes and placed his knife between his teeth. He used his free hand to press on her side. The bullet had entered her back but hadn’t popped out the front. Which meant he had to dig it out before her cat got too far in her healing.

  Extracting a bullet after the wound closed was a pain in the ass.

  He felt along her waist, fingers pressing her soft flesh, and he pretended not to notice the silken feel of her skin beneath his hand. He’d spent days fantasizing about Abby, but none of his imaginings included her bleeding all over him.

  Declan ignored her harsh inhale, the way she stiffened, or the fact that she’d stopped breathing altogether. He knew he hurt her—he’d been shot more than a few times, and that shit never got easy—but it couldn�
��t be helped.

  He finally worked around to her front, still searching for that bullet, and…He withdrew his touch and pulled his knife from between his teeth. He gestured at the vague shadow beneath her milky skin.

  “There it is. Hold your shirt for me and don’t move.” He released the cloth, and it fell back into place. Declan closed his eyes and begged for patience. Again. “Do you know how to follow directions? Or do you ignore hired killers for shits and giggles when they give you an order?”

  Abby’s swallow was audible, and a new wave of her fear slipped into the air. He could scent her sweat, the flood of adrenaline that filled her body, and the stark panic that followed in its wake. He hated that he could sense the changes in her—that she even experienced the riot of emotions—but he had to admit it was useful.

  She surged, throwing her weight forward while she struggled to gain her feet. Struggled because he easily reached across her, his hand finding the curve of her hip, and pushed her back into the chair. She flopped against the seat, and a long, low groan eased past her lips.

  The wolf snapped at him for causing her pain. Apparently, it thought he could have been gentler. Declan was getting real damn tired of the animal. If it wasn’t demanding he jolt into action no matter the consequences, it was bitching at him.

  “You done?” he drawled, and she glared at him. At least she still clung to her spunk despite the pain. “Because this is happening. You can sit still, let me take care of this, and get your inner cat working on healing you, or you can fight me.”

  “Inner cat?” She licked her lips, small pink tongue darting out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Who are you? Are you crazy? They have hospitals for that. And drugs.”

  He snorted. “Abby, you’re a cougar shifter. You know that, I know that, and the guys outside that door know that. I’m gonna tell you again—sit still and let me treat you. Then you’re gonna answer some questions.”

  “Then you’ll kill me?”

  “For the love of…” He growled, and his vision wavered, the wolf snatching control for a split second before Declan managed to wrestle the beast back.

  Abby gasped, eyes widening with her shock. “You’re a…”

  “Wolf,” he snapped. “A very pissed-off, annoyed wolf.” He waved his knife, drawing her gaze. “One who’s trying real hard to do this the easy way, but I’m losing my patience.”

  His beast told him he’d cling to his patience and his human half would be happy about it, dammit. For some reason, the animal bounced between the need to take over and dominate the curvy cougar and the desire to give her the time and space she needed.

  Contrary wolf.

  Voices outside snared his attention, and he split his focus between Abby and the world just outside that door. His team—Birch and the others—were near, but too far away for him to make out their words. His animal told him they weren’t important. Nothing was more important than taking care of Abby.

  Declan sighed. “What do you need to hear so that I can do this already?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Declan Reed.” He bit off the words and reached for her for what seemed like the thousandth time.

  She leaned away. “I wasn’t done.”

  “Of course you’re not,” he grumbled.

  “Why did you help me at FosCo? Why did you chase me? Why did you kidnap me? Who—”

  “I should have just gagged you and tied you down. It would have been easier.” The wolf told him he would have tried, but the beast wouldn’t tolerate restraining her…unless she asked nicely. “I’m with Shifter Operations Command and we’re on assignment.”

  “To rescue me from Eric Foster?”

  “Sweetheart, while your death would have been a devastating loss to the hot-blooded men of the world, you aren’t the reason for this op.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Then why…?”

  Declan didn’t understand either. As for the why…he shrugged. “Felt like it.”

  He also felt like he was done with their back-and-forth. Pain etched Abby’s features, and the scent of her blood made his stomach churn.

  Deciding to act without her help, he kept her shirt raised with one hand and pricked her stomach with the other, not giving her a chance to object. She screamed. Just a quick shout followed by a deep inhale, which she held in her lungs.

  Blood welled at the new wound, and he placed his knife between his teeth once more before pinching the flesh around her cut. He rubbed back and forth, encouraging the ball of metal to rise. It moved up, up, up, and then popped through the slice. He caught it with ease, the silver slug coated in her fresh blood.

  The moment he released her she gripped her side, but she didn’t make a sound. Not a single breath passed her lips.

  But she didn’t need to yell or cry out for him to know she was in pain. The woman who’d chattered and questioned him was pale and trembling, giant tears pooling in her eyes—silent tears.

  A twinge of regret needled his heart. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and focused on the tip of his blade. He wiped the flat of the knife on his pants, cleaning it of her blood, and then slid it back into its sheath. Declan pushed to his feet. “I’ll get you some protein so your cougar can heal you, and I’ll see what kind of clothing we’ve got around here.”

  Clothing? A whole lot of nothing, probably. An abandoned office building wasn’t exactly a place that had an overflowing lost and found.

  My clothes…

  Nah. They’d be too big and might give his team the wrong impression. Like he claimed her or something. Which he wasn’t. Even if he’d already disobeyed orders for her. Probably would again before the night was through. Not much to be done about it though.

  “You could let me go home.” Her voice was tiny, more a rasp than anything.

  “Abby,” he huffed, ignoring how good it felt to say her name. Damned good. “You think you can just walk away now? After that mess?” He shook his head. “FosCo—their associates—aren’t going to let that happen.”

  Golden eyes zeroed in on him, the woman’s cougar staring out. “You mean Unified Humanity.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What do you know about it? Them?”

  “I—”

  Two heavy thumps, the door shaking in its frame, cut her off, and Birch’s shout came through the thick wood panel. “Declan. Get out here.”

  The wolf bristled, snarling and growling while it shoved forward. It recognized Birch as its alpha—of a sort—but it didn’t like taking orders when they clashed with the animal’s desires.

  Birch’s tone had an edge that usually came when the man was getting ready to tell the team something they wouldn’t want to hear. Which was why he didn’t want to leave Abby even if she needed food and clothing.

  “Declan!”

  Chapter Nine

  When Declan joined Shifter Operations Command there’d been some give-and-take during negotiations. Declan got a pardon for his past and future “extracurricular activities” if he limited his freelancing to humans. In exchange, he’d agreed to abide by SHOC hierarchy and commands. There’d been a big ceremony and everything.

  So when Birch demanded Declan leave Abby, he did. Eventually. He made sure her cougar stopped the bleeding first. His wolf couldn’t stand the idea of her waiting for him to return while blood continued to seep from her wounds.

  Once the cat did its job, he pushed to his feet with a murmured, “I’ll be right back.”

  And he would be right back. He’d made it only two steps toward the door before his wolf whined and pulled against Declan’s mind. He wasn’t going to give in to the animal’s desires. Yet. He’d see what had Birch’s dick in a knot first.

  He tugged open the door and stepped into the wide hall. Birch stood in the center of the passageway, arms crossed over his chest and fierce glare in place. Ethan leaned against the opposite wall, legs crossed at the ankles and his attention on his cell phone. He wondered what game the lion was obsessed with now.<
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  Declan pulled the door closed once more before he spoke. “Where are the others?”

  “Cole’s focused on cleanup.” Translation: blowing up the offices next door. “Grant’s keeping tabs on emergency services. He also said we’re having difficulty contacting headquarters.”

  “Really?” He lifted his eyebrows. “Grant is having problems—”

  Ethan snickered, and Birch’s glare snapped to the distracted lion—waste of a scowl in Declan’s opinion—before returning to Declan once more.

  “Grant doesn’t have tech problems.” Ever. The other wolf might appear to be more obsessed with his stomach than his job, but there wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

  “Yeah, well…” Birch sighed and glanced at the lion. “Ethan, keep an eye on her. She doesn’t leave. Declan, you’re with me.”

  Declan didn’t want Ethan to keep an eye—or anything else—on or around Abby. So when Ethan pushed away from the wall and moved toward the door, Declan shoved him right back into place.

  “You can watch the door from where you’re at.”

  The lion pulled his lips into a knowing smile. “No need to get your tail in a twist, wolf-boy. Just thought I’d keep the kitty company.”

  “She doesn’t need company.” And she sure as hell didn’t need some pretty-boy lion near her. “She prefers to be alone.”

  Ethan snorted in disbelief. “Uh-huh.”

  Yeah, Declan didn’t believe himself either.

  Birch spun on his heel and stomped down the hall. “Move it, wolf.”

  He turned to follow his team alpha, his inner animal howling, urging him to remain and guard his territory. The beast didn’t get that people couldn’t be territory. His wolf told him he was an ignorant idiot and to just watch how quickly Abby turned into…

  Declan tugged on the wolf’s mental leash. He didn’t have time to deal with the whiny bastard. Not when a sense of unease permeated the air.

  The set of Birch’s shoulders and the tension in the bear’s fingertips put Declan on edge. He wasn’t gonna like what came out of his team alpha’s mouth next.