Day of the Dragon

by Katie MacAlister

  “Yes.” She pushed the word past the strangling knot in her throat.

  “Wanna see.” The wolf still had control as he forced her to turn, amber eyes brighter than ever.

  “Declan…”

  He grunted and simply tugged on her shirt while he encouraged her to turn. He pulled it up to reveal her back. She sighed and helped, drawing it higher to show him everything. Claw-tipped fingers ghosted over her skin, the sharp tips teasing her scarred flesh while he explored her back.

  He said nothing while he looked her over—traced each twisted knot with his fingertips. Then his touch disappeared, and she bit back the whimper that threatened to escape. She missed the feel of his skin on hers.

  There was definitely something wrong with her. One hundred percent. She wondered if they made pills for Stockholm syndrome.

  Moist, warm breath bathed her back, and Abby froze, not moving a muscle while Declan…His lips brushed her back, low and just above the edge of her sweatpants. It was the worst scar out of them all. Being confined in such a tight space while her cougar had fought to heal the damage had resulted in some ugly, twisted scar tissue.

  He moved on, teasing another spot just above her hip on her left side. The kiss wasn’t meant to incite passion. It was almost reverent.

  The werewolf who proclaimed to be so deadly, dangerous, and unfeeling now gently touched her as if she’d shatter at any moment. Another kiss, this one to the right, a long, thick line that still gleamed shiny white even after so many years. He continued, and she closed her eyes, imagining more than six feet of violent male kneeling behind her—comforting her?

  He didn’t caress her. He kept his hands from her body, only his mouth learning the uneven plane of her back. Warm lips. Moist breath. The scent of the clean forest at dawn. It called to her cougar, luring it forward while lulling it into a restful calm.

  His travels continued higher, not stopping until his lips finally rested at the base of her neck. She didn’t have any scarring there—her cougar had been able to heal that part of her. But it was like he sensed the damage had extended beyond that twisted part of her.

  Because it had.

  Declan’s careful handling brought tears to her eyes and she blinked them away, unwilling to break down. She hadn’t cried when she’d been shot. She wasn’t about to start now over mere memories.

  Declan murmured against her unblemished skin. “I’ll kill them.”

  Abby shook her head. “It was a long time ago. I don’t even know who it was exactly. I just know it was them.”

  “I’m a very good hunter, sweetheart. Unified Humanity gave the order. I’ll find the ones who carried it out.” He still had his lips on her. As if he couldn’t force himself away.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “I can smell your pain.” Now a growl traveled from Declan to her. It slithered down her spine, and she fought the oncoming tremble. “You’re lying to yourself.”

  Abby chuckled and shook her head. “Maybe I am.” She shrugged. “But we don’t have time for me to burst into tears over something that happened when I was eight.”

  Eight years old and untouched by violence until that day.

  He stood, his heat moving along her back as he changed position. He tugged her shirt back down, and then two thick arms wrapped around her. He cradled her in his strength, almost like a living, breathing wall of protection. “Why didn’t your cougar heal everything properly?”

  “Because after I was hurt, I hid like I’d been taught.” She closed her eyes. Those stupid tears were really determined now. “I stayed curled up in a cupboard for two days. My cougar healed what it could as it could, but the position and tight quarters…”

  Declan rested his cheek on top of her head. “Every time you healed, you’d twist and hurt yourself again.”

  Abby nodded. “And I was so weak that—”

  “You were eight. The fact that you survived…” He sighed. “I’m going to find them.”

  “It doesn’t—”

  “It does,” he snarled, but his hold remained soft and gentle. Then he withdrew, hands releasing her and arms slipping away while his warmth vanished. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “Yeah,” she whispered, “okay.” She took one step and then two, fighting her body to put distance between them. Her cougar wanted to turn and rub all over him, but…but her human mind needed space.

  She crawled into bed, wiggling beneath the covers and claiming one of the pillows. On the other side, Declan did the same, settling into place with a deep sigh. Silence descended then, the sound of their breathing the only thing that broke the quiet.

  Until Declan grunted and moved. In a whirl of sheets and flex of muscle Abby found herself plastered to his side. Their bodies aligned, her curves molding to his hard frame. His arms were like steel bands, hands putting her in place before he held her immobile. He pressed her ear to his chest, arm curled around her shoulders. He rubbed her shoulder, fingers dancing over her side. He traveled up and down the length of her back, shoulder to hip.

  “I’m going to kill them, Abby.”

  Part of her wanted that. She wanted them hunted and punished for what they’d done to her life, but she didn’t want that blood on her hands. “I know what you want to do, but—”

  “Will do.”

  “But can you hurt them for doing the same thing you’ve done countless times?”

  He flinched, just the tiniest twitch, before he answered. “One, I know how to count. It’s not countless. Two”—he nudged her, forcing her to tip her head back and meet his stare—“never women. Never children. I told you that already. I’m not a good man, but I have limits.” He lifted his free hand, callused fingertips tracing the slope of her nose, the curve of her jaw, and on to her lips. “I’ll tell you something else. I haven’t taken a contract in two years. Not since I joined Shifter Operations Command. I’ve done things I regret, but that isn’t who I am anymore.”

  “Then who are you?”

  “The wolf who isn’t going to let anything—anyone—hurt you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Declan didn’t sleep. The shit-storm had begun around eight thirty and now the clock was ticking past midnight. His mind remained alert, wolf constantly listening for intruders while his human thoughts focused on the woman in his arms—Abby.

  Abby who’d been through hell—and not just what had occurred in the last few hours. Reading her file had given him bare-bones details. Seeing her back…It stabbed him with the truth and damned if it didn’t hurt. What the fuck?

  It explained her anger, though—the scent of her emotional agony that’d assaulted him with every question about his past.

  He hadn’t been lying when he’d assured her he didn’t touch women and children. Not after what he’d seen.

  Abby sighed in her sleep and rubbed her cheek on his chest. She nuzzled him, her lush body sliding against his, and he cursed the clothing that separated them. Oh, he knew it was necessary—her naked body was too damned tempting—but he hated its presence.

  Damn, then she went and moaned and wiggled her hips and like that he was harder than nails. He rubbed his free hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. She’d kill him if she kept it up. All those curves, her fresh scent and sweet little sounds.

  His wolf nudged him, urging him to explore the pretty little cougar, but he shoved the animal away. They hadn’t saved her to fuck her. They’d saved her…Shit, he wasn’t sure why anymore. He only knew he’d been driven to shield her from harm and wouldn’t let anything stand in his way.

  Abby took a deep breath and released it with a soft sigh, but this time she didn’t settle back into sleep. She moaned—she really needed to stop—and tensed.

  “Declan?”

  “Go back to sleep, Abby.” His wolf lined each word with a growl.

  She stiffened and edged away, as if she wanted to move out of his embrace. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to crawl all over you. I…”

 
He tightened his hold, not letting her budge. She drove him crazy with her closeness, but he couldn’t let her go. “Don’t be sorry.” He wasn’t gonna tell her how much he liked having her in his arms. “Just sleep. You can rest for a while yet. We won’t leave until tonight.”

  “How long have we been here?” she whispered, and even that aroused him.

  He was such a twisted fuck. “Not too long. Not long enough.”

  She fell silent for a moment, but he knew it wouldn’t last. He could practically hear her thinking. “What happens next?”

  Declan grunted. “You’re not going back to sleep, are you?” Abby shook her head, and he figured he’d have to content himself with the short time he’d held her. “Eat. Coffee. Plan our next move.” Then the one after that and then the one after that. So much bullshit. He turned his gaze to her and tried to ignore her sleep-tousled hair and bedroom eyes. “You don’t deserve this. Any of it.”

  “It’s my own fault in a way.” She grinned, even though she didn’t have much to smile about. “Curiosity killed the cat, right? I’m too curious for my own good. I found a loose thread and pulled. When it all unraveled…”

  “Curiosity isn’t killing this cat. You’re not gonna die.” He snarled.

  “You can’t guarantee that.”

  “The fuck I can’t.” His pulse increased, the wolf’s anger surging with the mere thought of something happening to Abby. “I didn’t turn rogue just to lose you. It won’t happen.”

  “Taking me out of there branded you a rogue?” She shuddered.

  “According to SHOC—the director.” He shrugged. The director was an asshole. “I’d do it again though.”

  “Why? I’m nobody.”

  He snorted. “You’re Abby Carter. Survivor. Smart as hell. Hard worker. Determined. Stupid because you jumped off that pier.” He pressed his lips to her temple, reminding himself that she’d lived through that dumb stunt. “Brave because you jumped off that pier.”

  “I don’t feel very brave.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve met cowards.” Killed more than a few. “You’re not one.”

  “I ran.”

  “After you knocked one of the humans out with a calculator.” He grinned. She’d been a fierce little she-cat. “Then you grabbed that tablet and bolted. You gonna tell me what’s on there now? Maybe where it’s hidden?”

  She tensed, and he wondered if she’d trust him enough to tell him. He could guess, but he’d rather get the truth from her.

  “I was auditing FosCo.” She turned in his embrace, moving to her stomach and propping herself on her elbows. “I logged into one of their bank accounts and discovered they’re funding Unified Humanity.”

  “That’s why Eric Foster showed up with those other men.” She nodded even though he hadn’t asked a question.

  “I didn’t realize he got notifications when certain accounts were accessed. I don’t know how he knew I was a shifter, but he did. He said it took only one phone call.” A tremble shook her. “Before he got there, I downloaded every screenshot and record I could find. I figured I’d hand it over to the council. Let them see if they could piece things together and find anyone else—any other companies—that are connected to Unified Humanity.”

  “See?” He grinned and twined an errant lock of her hair around one finger. “I told you. Brave.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We’ll agree to disagree.”

  “Uh-huh.” He tucked the strands behind her ear.

  “How did you know I needed help?”

  Declan winced. “The team’s on assignment. We were ordered to observe and see if there was any connection between FosCo and Unified Humanity.”

  “There is. I have the proof.”

  “And we have audio recordings and video of Eric’s attack.” He paused and figured he’d tell her the rest. “We’ve been watching the building for almost a week. Twenty-four hours a day.”

  Abby groaned and turned her head, hiding her face against his biceps. Her cheeks heated, her warmth transferring to his arm. “Oh God. You saw me…”

  Declan chuckled, recalling the sway of her hips and her little shimmy. “Yeah, we did. I watched you shake your ass every night. I watched you work all day, too.”

  “That’s a little creepy.”

  He just shrugged. Probably. “You should get some more sleep if you can. I’m not sure how much you’ll get over the next few days. With luck, we can get your tablet and wrap this up quickly, but I doubt it.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t sleep anymore.”

  Which meant he had to let her go. His wolf whined and grumbled, not wanting to release her just yet. He reminded the animal she’d probably think that was creepy, too. The animal reminded him that creepy or not, she’d still be in their arms.

  Ignoring the beast, he lifted the blankets and rolled away from Abby before the wolf won their battle of wills. “Let’s get up, then. The quicker we get this done, the quicker you can go back to your life.” He didn’t look at her as he strode to the bathroom. If he did, he’d pounce. “Give me a second and then the room’s all yours.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to let me out of your sight?”

  Yeah, that was what he’d said. But that was before she’d slept in his arms and been all sensual and sweet as she woke.

  He paused in the doorway, one foot on the cold tile. The chill chased away some of his need for her, but not nearly enough. “I’ll just be gathering supplies in the living room.”

  It’d let him put space between them—physical, but more importantly, emotional.

  He was in and out of the bathroom in moments, striding across the bedroom and out the door without a word. His wolf remained focused on Abby—the sounds of her moving around his home—while his human half moved on autopilot. He had preparations to make, supplies to gather.

  Declan strode to the entertainment center and tapped on drawers and doors. They opened on silent hinges and quiet drawer rails. Overhead lights illuminated each tray, the light glinting off his babies. Hand guns. Rifles. Knives.

  He ran his fingers over the array of deadly metal, stopping when he reached a nine-millimeter handgun. He wrapped his fingers around the grip and lifted it from the tray, adjusting to the weight. He released the magazine and counted the bullets before he pushed it back into place.

  The soft rustle of clothes drew his attention, and he looked to his right. Abby stood nearby, gaze trained on his hands—the gun—before she turned her stare to the others, and he couldn’t miss the question in those eyes.

  How many people had he killed with these guns?

  “None.” He didn’t look at her, choosing instead to concentrate on his task. He returned the nine-millimeter to its home and moved on to the next handgun. “I haven’t killed anyone with these. Practice only so I knew how they shoot, but that’s it.”

  “How…?”

  Abby’s voice stroked him, and his body reacted. A reminder that he needed to put space between them.

  Declan smirked. “Baby,” he murmured. Condescending. Cocky. Asshole. “You wanna talk about my longest shot or how hard I can make you come?”

  “Neither.” She licked her lips, wetting her mouth. “What’s the plan today?”

  “Coward.” He sniggered.

  And I’m an asshole.

  “Are we taking all of those with us? Do we need them all?”

  “Tell me something.” He turned his head and met Abby’s stare. She kept her mouth shut and raised her eyebrows in question. “After having guns pointed at you, getting shot, jumping off a pier to hide something in the fucking sea so it won’t be found, and being picked up by SHOC. When I get your ass outta there, the rest of my team is drooling over the idea of catching you and you know we’re still being hunted. Now, all that”—he whirled his finger in the air—“and you ask me if we need all these guns?”

  Abby’s eye flashed, cougar now staring out. “Fuck you very much.”

  He grinned. Damn but he liked that
fire. “Well, baby, if you want it that bad—”

  “Enough.” She snarled at him, even going so far as to bare a fang at him. “You’re having a lot of fun at my expense. It was a stupid question—I get it—but you don’t have to be an asshole just because you have one.”

  “You’re gonna be okay.” Declan released a low chuckle. “If I can keep you alive.” He sighed. “Speaking of…You’re going to walk me through what happened—what you did—again. You’re not gonna stop until I’m ready to slit your throat if I hear your voice again and then you’ll say it once more.”

  Abby jerked back, his words piercing her as if they were bullets—sharp, hard, unavoidable. “Okay.”

  He huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. Just tired.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “‘Knowledge is Power’ isn’t some motivational poster. It’s the truth. In my line of work, knowledge is life. I’ve known a lot of people who died because of ignorance. Not gonna have you be one of ’em.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Abby blindly stared out at Declan’s backyard—one he’d turned into a lush oasis. Also known as a space with enough trees and foliage to make the area as private as possible without turning into a wild jungle. Because a wild jungle would result in notices from the HOA. Abby knew all about HOA notices, though hers were usually noise complaints because someone’s cat liked snarling at seagulls at two in the morning.

  And the cougar never apologized. Never.

  New sounds within the home drew her attention. Ones that were different from the click and clack of Declan’s fingers on a keyboard or the scrape of metal as he disassembled and reassembled one of his guns again. She’d been listening to that for what seemed like forever while he made sure they had what they needed to survive.

  Knowledge was power, all right. But guns were power, too.

  The slam of wood on wood—cupboard banging closed—was followed by the gurgle of running water. Then glass clicking against…stone? Declan was in the kitchen, then. She wondered how long it’d take him to hunt her down again. It’d been a while since that steak, and her stomach grumbled—empty.