Day of the Dragon

by Katie MacAlister

  “That’s it? That’s all she is? A civilian who has something that will appease the director and give us more intel on Unified Humanity. Nothing else? She’s got no other connection to you?” Birch lifted a single brow, smirk on his lips, and Declan wanted to claw it right off the smug prick’s face.

  Was that all she was? No, but making her more meant she’d be at risk. It meant that tying her life to his could see her roped into an op. If one half of a couple was in, they were both in.

  And Declan didn’t want her anywhere near danger.

  “Yeah, she’s just a civilian,” he rasped.

  “Then when she gets back, we’ll park her with the team and treat her as a civvy.” The dick sounded so damned cocky.

  “Fine,” Declan growled. “But no one lays a paw on her. No one.”

  Because if they did, he’d rip it off.

  Birch just shrugged and turned his attention to the water. They both turned their attention to the dark, churning water, stares unwavering as they waited. Twenty feet down, then another twenty up just to get inside. Then she’d retrace her path. Birch had said it wouldn’t take her too long, but…

  But she hadn’t returned. Not in five minutes and not in ten.

  His body vibrated with his wolf’s growing frustration and anger, the animal debating between lashing out at Birch and diving into the water himself. A flurry of bubbles, a blossoming of red, and a scent that caused his hair to stand on end made the decision.

  “Human,” he hissed, and mixed in with the human’s blood now surfacing was the scent of… “Abby.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Contrary to popular belief, tasting human blood didn’t suddenly turn Abby into a flesh-craving beast intent on murdering all of humanity. Oh, her beast wanted to do some murdering, but not for consumption—for being pissed off. The cat hissed and snarled in the back of her mind, tail whipping and claws flexing and contracting—as if her nails were thirsty for blood as well.

  And it wasn’t just any human she wanted, either. She wanted the asshole with the tranq gun. The one who’d shot her just as she exited the cave mouth. The drug had been fast acting, dragging at her the moment the needle pierced flesh. She’d tried to resist her attackers, had even gotten her fangs and claws into one of the men, but soon lost the underwater battle.

  She’d been tossed into this fully tiled room, complete with drains set into the floor. It was empty save a shiny metal table and her—shackled to a chair, wearing nothing but a bra and panties. Now she waited to see who’d walk through the door. So far no one had appeared, but she doubted they’d leave her alone forever. Not when they knew who—what—she was.

  That was something she recalled during her partially unconscious travels. There’d been hands—rough when they hauled her around. Then voices—snickering, derisive, and taunting.

  A familiar one amid them all. Dark, angry, vicious…Eric Foster. Mr. Foster hadn’t been pleased about Abby’s escape or what she’d had in her hands when she’d fled.

  Which meant she was with Unified Humanity and hadn’t been taken by another SHOC team. The human blood had been a clue, and this man’s statement locked her guess into place.

  “Can’t we make her shift and skin her? She killed Roger.”

  Abby had mentally smiled at that one. Roger was dead because she’d torn off a good chunk of his hand and then more than a little of his throat. She hadn’t killed him per se, but she’d nudged his life closer to its end. A lot closer. She hadn’t cared for the “skin her” part of the guy’s statement, though. She liked her skin exactly where it was—on her.

  But back to the tiled room and the chains and the cold. Couldn’t they keep her warm and kill her? Did they have to make her freeze before they got to whatever they planned on doing to her?

  Abby snorted. There was something wrong with her when her first thoughts—after being kidnapped—were to complain about the temperature. Not her impending…whatever the humans planned.

  It was Declan’s fault. Declan’s and SHOC’s, and she’d blame cougars for being solitary and prideless, too. If she’d had a pride, they would have helped keep her safe. Her cougar joined in on spreading the anger around, though it did feel she was being unfair when it came to blaming cougars and their naturally solitary nature.

  Traitor.

  Ugh. Maybe she was losing her mind. That was as good an explanation as any. Her thoughts ran in scattered directions, mind grabbing on to one thread only to have it snap so she’d pick up another. It meant she bounced from wet to Declan to cold to Declan to…

  No, her thoughts weren’t scattered, not really. Her mind simply kept going back to the man—wolf—who’d gotten her into this mess. She missed that argumentative, dominating, gorgeous wolf. She wouldn’t mind him kidnapping her—again.

  If he could find her. She’d been hauled through the ocean, spirited away in a boat, then driven through the city in an SUV. Too many scents would overwhelm the trail.

  Well, she’d get her own happy ass out of the clusterfuck she’d stumbled into. Raised voices came from outside the room, deep tenors intermixed with lighthearted laughs. She recognized one voice—that laugh. It was the asshole who’d wanted to skin her.

  He drew closer by the second. Maybe she’d get lucky and the group of idiots would keep on walking and…They paused just outside the door, booming voices echoing through the solid sheet of metal that separated them.

  “What are we bothering with her for? Just let me kill her and be done with it. Foster got what he wanted.” One voice. It seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

  “It’s not your job to make that decision. Foster wants to know what else she has in that head of hers. Why do you think he wants you interrogating her? He said you like playing rough.” Roger’s friend chuckled. Did sadistic, heartless bastards like the people in UH even have friends?

  “I like what I like.” That familiar-ish voice again, and it was followed by a handful of beeps, as if he typed something on a keypad.

  He was coming in—panic sent her heart rate soaring. She closed her eyes and dropped her head forward, feigning unconsciousness. Maybe if they thought she was out of it, they’d leave her alone. Perfect plan. Prey in the wild played dead and it worked for their stupid natural predators.

  She was desperate prey. They were stupid, asshole, should-be-dead predators.

  Abby forced her body to relax and concentrated on unclenching her muscles. She slowed her breathing and begged her cougar to stay in the background. Busting out fur and fangs while out of it wouldn’t exactly sell her “I’m still passed out” plan.

  The door screeched as it slid open, metal on metal.

  “I like getting dirty.” Two heavy thuds, one step and then another. “I like doing what I’m told.” That voice pricked at her ears, the cougar’s curiosity surging, and she mentally whacked the cat on the nose. Her curiosity was going to get them both killed. The little shit.

  “But what I don’t like is an audience.” The masculine voice came out hard and flat, and even Abby recognized the order in his tone. No negotiation. The man wanted to be alone—with her.

  So not good.

  “Aw, c’mon. I heard they can take a lot before they die on you. I’ve never played with a shifter. Just lemme go one round.” The whiny jerk. She didn’t want to know what he meant about one “round,” and she never wanted to find out.

  “Goodbye, George.” Metal scraped metal once more, the squeal and grind sending a jagged shiver down her spine. Like nails on chalkboard, a horror-movie bad guy dragging a knife along a house window, or the big bad wolf huffing and puffing at someone’s front door.

  Rubber squeaked on the tile, and then came the slow, rhythmic thud of those boots on the hard surface as he approached. Methodical. Unhurried. Heavy with foreboding. This guy wasn’t in a rush. Abby wasn’t going anywhere and he knew it. Each step was a taunt, a foreshadowing of what was to come. Would he hit her just as slowly? Would he take his time while he cut her?
Wasn’t that what UH did? She’d heard stories, whispers from the older seals in the herd.

  Would he—

  A wave of warmth eased around her, her captor now circling her and surrounding her with his scent. It teased her nose, a hint of something known yet not. She parted her lips just enough for her to draw in the man’s scent. The cougar lent a hand, tasting his flavors and trying to put a name to the aroma. The seawater still filled her nose, masking most of the scents. All but one—fear. She mentally shook her head. As if a member of UH would be afraid of a shifter in chains—tight chains.

  “I know you’re awake.” That husky voice came, his breath ghosting over her cheek, and a hint of his scruff brushed her skin. His lips feathered over her ear.

  Close—so dangerously close. The cat urged her to turn her head and take a chunk out of the human.

  But she didn’t. She remained in place, feigning sleep, while she hoped he’d give up and leave her alone. Leave her be just long enough for Declan and SHOC to find her. Because he would. Maybe not because he cared for her—all they’d shared was passion—but at least because UH had the tablet and they’d want it back.

  Abby’s animal grumbled and huffed, scraped at her mind when she thought of Declan as nothing more than a bed buddy. He was more than that, and the cat couldn’t understand why Abby’s human half hadn’t accepted that truth yet.

  If she didn’t let hope grow in her heart, there was no way she could suffer the pain of disappointment.

  The man ran his nose along her jaw, the warm tip sliding toward her chin and not stopping until he’d continued to her other ear. “You smell good. Even covered in sea water. Is that why he likes you? Is that why he betrayed SHOC?”

  She wasn’t going to react to his words. She wasn’t. Unified Humanity wouldn’t learn anything from her.

  Not. Happening.

  “The longer you pretend, the more it’ll hurt, you know.” His voice changed, a hint of a smile filling his words, as if he hoped she’d continue her charade so he could hurt her.

  Abby clung to her relaxed state, determined to hold out against this man. But then…then a palm landed on her knee, fingers curling around the outside of her right leg. That hand traveled north along her thigh—slow, methodical, and easing closer and closer to the juncture of her thighs.

  Her cougar whined and snarled, demanding she stop the coming attack. It wanted to fight. It wanted to claw and bite and bathe in the blood of their enemy.

  “Open your eyes, kitty.” Fingertips teased ever upward. “And maybe I’ll stop. Or did the wolf not do it for you? Do you want a real man? You’re pretty enough for a furry.” A little farther, his first knuckle catching on the stretchy lace. “Open your eyes.”

  That last order did it. Not because he injured her, but because his lips brushed hers, a soft caress that made her stomach lurch and her body move without thought. She jerked her head away from him, leaning back as much as she could while she opened her eyes.

  And froze.

  “Pike?”

  Pike. Jacob. Werewolf. Her tormentor?

  “What…?” Movement slowly returned to Abby, and she shook her head. “What are you doing?”

  The man she’d met was gone. The man who’d stood shoulder to shoulder with Declan—to defend her—had vanished. That Pike wasn’t in front of her. She didn’t know who this was.

  Malice sparkled in his blue eyes, a hint of anticipation and joy joining the emotion. He enjoyed this—taunting her, scaring her.

  “Hello, pretty, pretty pussy,” he murmured, and curled his fingers into the curve of her ass. He didn’t break skin, merely squeezed until the pain of his hold suffused her. “Nice of you to wake up.”

  “What are you doing?” She repeated her question, mind unable to form any other words. That same question repeated on an unending loop, and she wanted—needed—an answer.

  Pike didn’t give her one. He released her and straightened, pulling his arm back as he rose, and then crack. The back of his hand collided with her temple and her head whipped right, forced aside by the strength of his slap. Skin split, the searing pain jolting through her body, and blood flowed from the wound. It slithered down her body, covering her arm.

  This was why grates were set into the tile floor.

  “You speak when spoken to.”

  Her cougar snarled and pushed forward, but she shoved it into a mental cage. She couldn’t shift and attack. Maybe later, but not then. They had to be careful, smart. Didn’t the she-cat remember getting cornered by a polar bear? They’d lived because they didn’t panic and lash out. Abby needed that version of her cougar.

  With the cougar’s assistance, the wound on her head burned as skin sought to stitch—

  “Nu-uh.” Pike gripped her face, fingertips digging into the slash on her head. “Your kitty doesn’t get to heal you. Not yet. I want to see you bleed for a little while.”

  The cat snarled and bared its fangs but ceased its attempt to fix the damage. For now.

  “Much better.” He smiled wide, pristine, white, human-shaped teeth revealed with the evil grin. “Good kitty.”

  He even went so far as to pat her head as if she were a pet.

  “Now”—he leaned down and rested his hands on his knees—“you’re going to sit there like a good little pet and tell me everything you know and everything you revealed to others.”

  No, she really wouldn’t, and not only because she didn’t know much. Because she would never betray her kind. Not to Unified Humanity. Not ever. Not like him.

  Instead of saying the words aloud, she simply gave him two hard shakes of her head, the denial firm and unmistakable.

  Pike straightened, took a step back, and then began a lazy stroll around her. “I just can’t decide what to do with you. There are so many options. On one hand Foster ordered me to get you talking. On the other”—he clicked his tongue—“I just wanna play.”

  Another tremble, goose bumps rising on her skin. She didn’t want to play with Pike. At all. Unfortunately, she didn’t get a choice.

  “Does that sound good to you, sweetheart?” A smirk, one she wanted to claw off his face. “That wolfie not giving you what you need?” Pike reached down and grabbed his crotch, shaking his hand slightly. “You want a real man?”

  Abby sneered, lifting her lip to bare her still human canine. “Maybe if you bring me one.” She glared at him, her taunting stare sliding down his body from head to toe before she met his eyes once more. “Because all I see right now is a piece of shit.” She pulled at her bindings, straining to reach him. “A weak, insignificant piece of shit not worthy to lick my boots.”

  If she’d been wearing any.

  His eyes flared, a flash of amber for the barest of moments. There was something else in his eyes, too. Pain?

  He leaned down, bracing his hands on the arms of the metal chair. “That’s a lot of big talk for someone who’s staring death in the face. Keep pulling on those chains, baby. Isn’t that what he calls you?” He lowered his voice. “Keep pulling on them—try to break free. It’ll give me an excuse to hurt you even more.”

  “Should I beg for my life and promise you my undying love, Pike?”

  “Little bitch.” He spat the words in her face, saliva splattering against her heated skin. “Don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

  “What the hell are you doing? You’re working for UH? Really?” Another shake. “I never thought I’d see the day when a shif—”

  His next movement was fast, a blur of his hand rising and then a shot of pain to…her ear? What the hell?

  “Speak when spoken to.” The words were a growl, and she lifted her head to meet his intense stare.

  “Fuck. You.” Probably not the best response, but the only one that came to mind.

  Pike chuckled and backed away, shaking his head. “You’re trying to get me to end it too soon. You don’t want to give me a chance to enjoy myself.”

  Honestly, she’d been reacting on instinct rather than with
some sort of grand plan in mind, but she wouldn’t tell him that.

  His lips curled into a dark smile, a smirk she swore she’d seen before…on Declan? “Are all shifters this stupid?”

  No. No. Just…no. Tons of guys smirked. It was a thing with men. They thought they were all sexy when they quirked their lips even though half the men who tried the expression just looked like they were constipated.

  Pike’s smirk wasn’t familiar in any way. It sure as hell didn’t remind her of Declan.

  She stared at the man in front of her, eyeing his nose, the angle of his jaw, and those blue eyes. Stop it. She wasn’t following that line of thought.

  “Of course we’re not all dumb. I think it’s just cougars.” She pulled her lips back into a wide, feral smile. “And wolves.”

  Pike narrowed his eyes, and she felt his cold glare all the way to the marrow of her bones. “What did you tell SHOC about what you learned at FosCo?” Abby shook her head, and he lowered to her height once again. “Come on, sweetheart. Just tell me what I want to know and this won’t have to hurt so much.”

  She snorted. “I don’t know anything. How about you tell me why you’re doing this, instead?”

  He ignored her question. “You don’t know anything? Hmmm…That’s why you with one of their SHOC teams? Why you were working at FosCo? Because you don’t know anything?” He poked out his lower lip, eyebrows furrowed. “Poor baby, just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, is that it?”

  He tapped her cheek. “One more try, sweetheart. Tell me what you—and now the others—know, or things are going to get real.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you more than I have to.” Another expression covered his features, one that pushed the truth to the forefront of her mind.

  She didn’t know why Pike had betrayed the shifters in this way, but it wasn’t only shifters that he’d betrayed. “Why? Is it because you don’t like getting blood on your hands? Or is it only ‘furry’ blood? Maybe you have a thing about torturing women.” She captured his stare with hers, making sure her gaze didn’t waver while she delivered her final guess. “Or maybe it’s because you don’t like betraying your brother.”