by Olivia Ash
As Harper looks clear into me, her brows slowly twist with worry and dread. “Your magic is shifting,” she says wistfully. “Your dragon is nearly grown. I can see it. There's a huge change within you, and that means your dragon is becoming real. But it can still die if you don't protect it.”
My heart flutters in my chest at the thought, at the possibility of really shifting. At the thought of flying.
But the fear follows soon after at the thought of losing it all. Of losing my dragon.
“Even if your dragon does survive,” Harper adds, “you may never shift, Rory. I've never seen a late bloomer. But there's something… well, other to your magic.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Irena asks.
Harper shakes her head as if she's just as confused as we are. “It's just… different. I've never seen anything like it. I've never…” She trails off as if she can't even find the words. “If you do shift, Rory, your dragon will be extraordinarily powerful.”
“Like a thunderbird?” I ask.
At that, Harper's gaze sharpens, the foggy haze to her eyes quickly dissolving. “No, Rory,” she says quietly. “Something far more powerful than even that.”
“What could possibly be more powerful than a thunderbird?” I ask, not quite believing her.
“I have no idea,” Harper confesses.
I frown. There are still so many unknowns about my magic—where it comes from, what the limits are, what the voices in the mist really wanted of me.
I briefly debate telling Harper about them, but I'm not sure that would be productive at the moment. It's not like I'm going to go chasing off through ethereal fog anytime soon.
An uncomfortable silence settles on the room, the sort that makes me feel like they’re both trying to get me to leave. It's like everyone has something to say, but they have no idea how to say it.
Usually, I'm fine with the silence, but this is different. Seeing as my sister tried to kill arguably my only friend at some point in the past, I don’t want to leave these two alone.
“What's it like to shift?” I ask. Yeah, it’s useful info I need to know—but I also just want to break the silence.
Harper smiles, her eyes wrinkling slightly with joy. “The first few times are exhausting,” she says. “You can never hold it for very long, but you can fly almost right away. Dragon instinct is incredibly powerful. In the beginning, you and your dragon are still learning each other, and you’re learning how to operate and navigate in a new body. You're in the driver's seat, after all, in a shift. You control your dragon, and she—well, it’s hard to describe.”
The Fairfax Boss trails off, biting her lip as she thinks through her answer. “Your dragon, she speaks to you, in a way, through intuition. When you first shift, it’s awkward and wobbly because you’re just not used to it yet. The access to your magic is limited, and it takes a lot of training to reach it in your dragon body.”
I frown. I’m honestly not sure what I was expecting, but I have to confess I thought it would be more instant. More intuitive, right from the start.
“I know you'll get it quickly,” Harper adds with a small smile. “After your first shift, it gets a little easier every time you do it. Sometimes a shift can come when you can't even control it though, right at the beginning. I've destroyed a few buildings in my youth while I was figuring it all out,” she adds with a laugh.
I smile, imagining Harper's beautiful dragon head breaking through a roof and roaring into the sky.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Irena watching Harper with a distrustful glare. Harper must see it, but to her credit, she doesn’t appear to care.
It will take a while for Irena to let down her guard here, surrounded by all these dragons. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the shifters here were other failed assassination attempts in her past.
I wasn't exactly at ease when I first got here, and I can’t expect her to acclimate just because I’m comfortable in the dragon den now.
“I should get ready to leave,” Harper says. She walks toward me and sets her hand on my shoulder. “I promise you that all of this will work out.”
I'm not sure if she's talking about Irena, my shift, Jace’s choice, or everyone who's coming after me.
Despite myself and everything I’ve learned about trust, I smile. I have to confess, I’m grateful to have a friend.
“Have a safe trip,” I say, returning the gesture and patting her lightly on the back as I head toward the door. “Irena, you coming?”
Irena hesitates, and it's clear she wanted to stay to have that chat with Harper in private, but Harper just smiles and nods toward the door.
I hope this isn't going to become a problem.
Irena joins me and walks into the hallway as I take one last glance at Harper over my shoulder. The dragon Boss downs the last of her whiskey and sets the crystal glass on a nearby table with a soft thunk before the door closes behind me.
As Irena and I walk through the hallways back to our rooms, I can tell there's something wrong with her. The frown that's practically a scowl. The subtle shaking of her head, as if she's having a conversation with herself and is disgusted by the entire thing.
Irena is a good person at heart. She loves and protects me so fiercely that I know she would do anything for me.
But when she feels like she has to put on a front to terrify or threaten people, she does a really good job of it.
“Will you chill out?” I ask, not bothering to mask my annoyance. “She’s not going to kill us, damn it.”
“It's not that,” Irena says with a small shake of her head. “I didn't even hear you walk to the door until it was too late. You were both in that room probably having a conversation, and I didn't hear any of it. I wasn't even sure she was in there.” Irena grimaces, absolutely disgusted with all the ways she just failed herself. “What is wrong with me?”
“You were in a coma,” I say tenderly, shifting gears and trying to be as compassionate as I can. “We don't even know what you are anymore. You have dragon blood in your veins, now. You have abilities—enhanced strength, glowing green eyes, and who knows what else,” I add with a shrug. “You're getting used to your new body, to your new skill. That takes time.
“Yeah, but—”
“Besides,” I interrupt, not letting her pity party continue. “When you come out of a coma, I would imagine you don't get to just jump right back up and be perfectly fine again.”
Irena shrugs. “It's still frustrating. I don't feel as in tune with my body anymore. Everything feels harder, and I don't know why.”
“Because you're fighting it,” I say without really thinking about my answer. It’s like the truth just poured out of me, unconscious and unwilling to go ignored any longer.
I sit with it for a second, that intuitive little answer.
I think it's true.
“What do you mean, fighting it?” she snaps. “Fighting what, exactly?”
“You don't want to be part dragon,” I point out. “We were raised our whole lives to hate them. I know for a fact that if you were the dragon vessel, you would think it was a curse,” I admit. “You don't see these new abilities as a gift yet, but I hope someday you do.”
I let the quiet settle between us, hoping my words were hitting home with her even if it was just in a small way. She frowns, slipping her hands into her pockets as we walk, and she doesn’t say anything.
“I know it’s hard to accept the truth,” I admit. “You’re not wholly human, anymore. Everyone who was once your ally will now actively try to kill you, if only because of what you are. Of what Kinsley did to you.” I grit my teeth with hatred, trying to quell my rising fury with the Vaer Boss and stay in the moment with my sister. “Irena, the more you fight what you are, the more you’re going to overlook. The more you’ll miss. The weaker you’ll be. Because the more you fight what you are, the more you reject every skill and ability you have and try to make things like they were…” I trail off, not even
sure what the full consequences of that could be.
She could die in battle.
She can miss something in a fight, something that could otherwise save her life.
Or, even worse, she could kill the dragon that I'm starting to suspect is growing within her, too.
I pause in the hallway, grabbing her hand so that she has to swing around and face me. Our eyes lock, and I do everything my power to drive this next point home. “You're a fighter, Irena. You always have been, and you always will be. You're powerful, you're strong, and you're fierce. But this is one fight you don't want to win.” I tap my finger on her chest, hitting the same spot on her as where I feel the dragon within me. “There's something growing in there, something powerful. Something that can save your life. But you have to let it grow. You have to listen to it. You have to trust it. And until you face what you are now, you'll never find out what you can be.”
For a moment, she simply watches me, and I'm grateful she at least heard me out. The odd expression on her face leaves me a little bit uncomfortable, however, and I'm not entirely sure how she's going to take everything I just said.
Eventually, the corner of her mouth curls slightly, and she studies my face as if she’s truly seeing me for the first time. “I go into one little coma, and suddenly, my baby sister knows everything,” she says, her grin widening. “When did you get so damn smart?”
I laugh. “It's all a front, I promise.”
She chuckles and cracks her neck with a weary sigh. “I don't know about this whole dragon thing,” she admits, gesturing in the air as if she's addressing every dragon all around us and the concept of dragons in general. “But I'll try, Rory. It's all I can do right now.”
“Then that's enough,” I concede. “Harper could train you, you know.”
Irena snorts. “Yeah, let me ask the person I tried to kill once for help. That's not weird.”
I laugh and lead her back down the hallway, toward our rooms. “Considering where we came from and who trained us—and comparing that to where we are now—I'd say our lives are pretty weird already.” I gesture out the nearest window as a dragon races by. “What's one more thing?”
Chapter Eight
I want answers, but Jace isn’t in his suite.
Shocker.
I sit in the private war room adjacent to Jace’s master suite, tapping my finger on the table as I lose myself in thought.
The access code Jace gave me didn't technically let me in here. I had to break in the old-fashioned way, with a bit of elbow grease and my trusty lock pick. I’m a bit disappointed, to be honest, that I was able to get in—but I figure that’s by design.
Jace doesn’t want to keep me out of here, and he’s probably just playing games with me at this point.
I lean forward in my chair and rest my elbows against the table with my chin on my fists. I want to know who's after me, what the bounties are, and who set them. I've exhausted the resources I have access to, and I came here as a last-ditch effort even though I knew I wouldn’t find a damn thing.
Irena didn’t have as much information as I thought she would, since apparently her contact is still sifting through the data. It’s hard to keep up with the sheer volume of people who want me dead.
The joys of being popular.
Yay me.
Short of asking nicely, I don’t know how to get the information—and let’s be real, asking nicely won’t get me anywhere.
Not with Jace.
I’m not entirely sure where to look next, since I don't know the tunnels as well as Jace does. I know I can probably find something down there, if I hunt long enough.
With a sigh, I lean back in the chair, wondering why this all feels so off—so wrong—but deep down, I already know.
Jace should just tell me these things, pure and simple. I shouldn’t have to hunt them down, and the old way doesn’t work for me anymore. The secrets. The half-truths. The running around in the shadows, stealing what intel I can find.
That’s not my life anymore.
I hear footsteps by the door, and the doorknob jostles. On impulse, I reach for my gun—and, with immense effort, I resist the urge to draw it.
Seconds later, the door opens and a gorgeous, brawny fire dragon enters.
Drew.
As our eyes meet, he stiffens.
Caught in the act—he’s not supposed to be here, either.
A second later, we both burst into laughter.
“It looks like we had the same idea,” he admits.
I relax my shoulders and set my hands on the table once again. “What are you looking for?”
“Information on that crystal,” he says as he closes the door behind him. “Whatever Zurie had that drained your power is a serious threat, and it's even more alarming because I can't find any information on it at all. I don't know what it is or where Zurie got it.” He hesitates before reluctantly adding, “I was hoping Jace had better luck.”
“That must hurt your pride,” I say with a smirk. “Coming to Jace for help.”
“I was not asking for help,” Drew says sternly, pointing his finger at me for emphasis. “I fully planned on stealing the intel, thank you.”
I laugh.
We’re so messed up.
But he has a point—the crystal is still a threat. One I haven’t given much thought to in all the chaos.
That’s the kind of mistake I can’t allow. It’s the kind of mistake that can get me killed, or worse.
To be fair, I destroyed the thing. In my mind, I suppose I felt like that was that—but Drew’s right. There could be more, and we need to know what it was. Between being reunited with my sister, testing my newfound friendship with Harper, and getting to know the dragon growing in my chest, there's just so much going on.
I'm grateful that Drew is following up on this—it’s comforting to know the men I adore will always have my back.
A shiver snakes down my back at the thought of the crystal or whatever dark magic Zurie had gotten her hands on that had slowly drained the life and magic from me. I can still see the crystal in my mind, the memory sharp and clear as the otherwise beautiful stone sat on the black satin in that little box.
Destroying it was the right thing to do, but everything about it struck me as just… wrong. It shouldn't have existed in the first place, and the scream I heard when I destroyed it still haunts me.
I have no idea who screamed. At the time, I thought it might have been Zurie—but the more I think about it, the more I relive the memory, the less certain I am. It didn’t sound like her, and besides—Zurie doesn’t scream.
“I'll keep looking,” Drew says, interrupting my thoughts. “I'll find out what it is one way or another.”
I smile. “I know.”
He flashes a cocky grin at the confidence I have in him. “I should probably leave. Jace would be furious if he knew I was here.”
My smile falls. “I was really hoping you guys were starting to get along.”
Drew shakes his head. “We've always hated each other, Rory. A few months crammed together in an embassy aren’t going to change a lifetime of hate. We've never known another way. It'll get bloody before it gets better.”
I stand, my chair scraping along the wood as my calves push against it. “It doesn't have to be that way,” I point out. “Jace nearly shot Tucker in the head, and now they're best friends,” I add with a gesture toward the door.
Drew runs a hand through his hair, letting out a slow sigh as he tries to find the right words. “You don't understand, Rory. With the history Jace and I have, there won't be anything like that. No clean break. No easy shift.”
“But he doesn't know the truth,” I point out, closing the distance between us as I try to make him see reason. “If you just told him—”
“Rory, don't,” Drew interrupts, looking at me with his intense dark eyes. “I know you want us both. I know you want us to get along. You want the entire team to get along.” He gestures out the window. “But
it's just never going to happen. Not with me and Jace.”
“You don't know that,” I say quietly. “You haven't even tried.”
I expect him to grimace in annoyance or wrinkle his nose in outright disgust at my accusation, but instead, he just watches me calmly. After a moment, he takes another step, closing the last gap between us, and lifts my chin until my lips are inches from his.
He watches me carefully, no doubt waiting for me to close the gap between us.
This man is so damn transparent. He’s just trying to distract me and change the subject by getting me all hot and bothered.
Well, two can play at that game. I smirk playfully and wait.
Drew leans in, his warm lips brushing lightly across mine, and I can't stop my eyes from fluttering closed in delight. Warmth and joy snake through me, the utter delight of his touch almost overwhelming.
The things this shifter does to me—it’s just not fair.
“I should leave,” he says again. “But my bed is open tonight if you're interested,” he adds with a flirty wink.
“Oh, good. You were able to pencil me in?” I lift one eyebrow, grinning as I toy with him.
He laughs. “Maybe. If no one else beats you to it.”
It’s a bluff. He’s mine, and I’m his. He’s just messing with me, but a little surge of jealousy rises in my chest regardless.
I chuckle, playfully nudging his shoulder. “What? Am I going to have to fight Tucker for the honor?”
Drew laughs, and I'm absolutely ensnared by the happiness on his face. It’s addictive, the kind of joy that makes the rest of the world melt away.
“I don't know,” Drew says, shrugging mischievously. “I think you can take him.”
My lips part, ready to dive in and launch off another retort, when I hear the thud of familiar footsteps approaching the door.
Drew cusses under his breath, and we both know who that is.
The confident gate.
The urgent step.
It confirms the fluttery burst of joy that charges through me as my dragon stirs, its mate near.
Jace.
The doorknob turns, and Drew leans against the wall, his arms crossed, a familiar stoic expression on his handsome features as he watches the entrance with his game face on.