by Olivia Ash
Right.
I spread my wings, still awkward and new to this whole flying business. I focus intently on them, flapping as hard as I can, and I slowly lift into the air. My claws drop a little with every beat, grazing the water as I take off with wobbly imperfection.
It’s not pretty, but I do it.
I'm starting to get the hang of this. But damn, it's hard.
With every wing beat taking me a foot or so more into the air, it takes me a little while to reach him. He effortlessly flies ahead, his powerful wings angling and banking through the air currents with practiced ease. After an awkward start, I manage to keep up with him, but it's obvious he's going slowly for my benefit.
I try to go easy on myself for not getting this instantly, but I'm not used to things taking very long to understand. Zurie never gave me the leisure of learning at my own pace.
As we soar across the sky, I often pause to close my eyes and drink in the warm sun as it beats across my skin. The cool, sweet air rolls over me, and once again, I feel at home flying through the clouds.
Before long, dragons begin to tail us, roaring in celebration. At first, it's just a couple, but before long, there are dozens on every side, above and below and behind. Their roars are like an ongoing rumble of thunder that never stops, filling my heart with pride and accomplishment as the embassy approaches.
I did it. I shifted.
And Zurie can suck it.
If my former mentor comes for me, she will die.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I slowly pace my bedroom as I sip a murky green tea from the massive teacup in my hands. It tastes like matcha and dirt, but I don't care as long as I don't get pregnant.
Yet.
I smirk a little, remembering the excitement in Jace’s eyes at the prospect of a baby. It was adorable, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of dad he will be. What kind of fathers all my men will make.
Something to consider, perhaps, when we’re not actively being hunted.
With every sip, the cramps subside a little more, and the dread of a pregnancy scare starts to fade.
In the suite beyond my bedroom, the door to the hallway creaks open. I've started playing with the idea of leaving it unlocked as I get more and more comfortable here, but I still expect whoever wants in to at least knock first.
There isn't the whisper of footsteps along the ground, and as far as I can tell, the creak was the only indication that someone's even in there.
My training kicks in, and I chug the last of the tea before setting the cup gently on my bed. I rest my palm against the handgun at my side and stiffen, my eyes on the door to the living room.
Levi walks in—much to my delight—and I relax my shoulders.
Damn, he’s stealthy.
I wonder if I'll ever be able to pick up on his movements, or if he will forever be able to duck and dodge me, somehow more silent and surefooted than anyone else I've ever met.
He smiles as our eyes meet, watching me with an odd expression somewhere between trepidation and desire, like he's afraid I won't recognize him. He hesitates by the door, awkwardly stretching his fingers as he waits for me to break the silence.
I tilt my head in confusion. “What are you up to?”
“Checking on you,” he admits. “How are you feeling?”
“Great,” I admit with a broad smile.
And it's true.
After all the chaos and stress, I'm glad Jace convinced me to take one night away from it all. I feel renewed, like the world is fresh and bright.
Part of that is probably the mate-bond magic giving me rose-colored glasses and a temporary high, but I figure most of it comes from the fact that I finally shifted.
That I truly am a dragon, in and out.
Levi walks slowly toward me, and flurries of excitement dance through my chest the closer he gets. He gently sets the back of his hand against my arm, and as our skin touches, our rare and beautiful connection opens.
As the mind link opens between us, a flood of devotion and affection bleeds through from him into me, blended with the occasional ribbon of concern.
Of dread.
I have a confession, he says through our link, and another flutter of dread bleeds through with the words.
What's wrong? I ask, setting my hand on his bicep to comfort him as I study his face.
I was worried I might lose you, he admits, his eyes roving over me as his brows tilt slightly upward. Once you mated with Jace, we were all worried we might lose you forever.
Oh, Levi. I let out a slow sigh of relief, grateful that's the only concern in this conversation. Tenderly, I hold his face in my hands. Never, I say through our connection. That was the deal. No mating if Jace expected me to live life his way.
The mate-bond does things to people, he says, apparently not convinced yet as he holds my wrists. It changes you—
Not me, I interrupt, grinning. I’m too damn stubborn.
With that, I open my heart to him.
I let my guard down, truly and completely.
Through our connection, I try to make him feel what I feel for him. The devotion. The respect. The admiration for all he's done, and all I know he will do in the future.
As my emotions filter through into him, he smiles, and his shoulders relax with relief. He kisses the heel of my palm, and it's clear that we're good.
Nothing can take him away from me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fish it out to see a text from Drew.
Did you get laid?
I laugh and type out my reply while Levi holds me tight. Yes.
A moment later, my phone buzzes again. Good. I've got dibs on you tonight though.
I shake my head, laughing at these ridiculous men.
Levi wraps his arm around my shoulders and reads the text, only to chuckle under his breath. “He wishes.”
The phone buzzes again. Irena just arrived. She's in the downstairs corridors and nearly snuck by me. Did I beat Jace to telling you that?
My heart pangs with excitement at the idea that my sister's back, but at the same time, I know this can't be good. She told me if she returned, it would be because something big happened.
Something bad.
As excited as I am to have her here, I know how much resistance she has to coming back.
Something's definitely wrong.
I begin typing my reply to Drew, but a text from Jace pops up on the screen before I get the chance.
Irena. Downstairs corridors, it says simply.
I chuckle. “He’s not much of a texter, is he?”
“Nope,” Levi says with a smirk.
“I need to go,” I say to Levi, kissing him on the cheek as I head out the door.
He stops me, his hand on my wrist as he pulls me back toward him and kisses my forehead. “Go see your sister, but I definitely get dibs on you tonight.”
Even with the threat of something terrible hanging over my head, I can't help but grin as I kiss him playfully on the nose, in love with my life.
I jog down the stairs, heading for the corridors Jace and Drew mentioned in their texts. This stretch of hallways is almost never used, and I find it odd that she would come through here. She clearly didn't want to be seen, and I have to wonder why.
The murmur of voices whispers down the tunnel, and I steal through the shadows toward them. As I near, the voices get louder, and I start to recognize Irena’s. She's talking to a man, and it takes me a moment longer to recognize who.
Eric.
“I'm just worried about you, Irena,” he says.
“Don't be,” she answers, her voice chilly.
“Why are you pushing me away?” he asks, his tone tense and angry. “Do you think I endured that little audition of yours because it was fun?”
She pauses, and I can imagine her scrunching her brows. “Well, it was fun.”
He chuckles, and I peek around the corner to find him running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess it was,” he ad
mits. “But still, woman, I care about you. What happened that's making you push me away?”
“I don't want to talk about it,” Irena says, squaring her shoulders as she lifts her chin in defiance.
“I do,” he says, pressing the matter. “You can't keep running away from me. If you don’t want me, say so. Otherwise, tell me what the hell is wrong!”
Irena's bright green eyes narrow, her dark lashes a sharp contrast to the brilliant emerald. “I don't run away.”
“You just did,” he snaps, and it's clear he doesn't give a shit about her tone.
I smirk. Good. Irena needs a man who can keep her honest, if only with herself.
“We're done,” Irena says coldly. She turns on her heel and storms off down the hallway.
“If you walk away now,” he shouts after her, “you walk away from me forever.”
Irena pauses mid-stride, her body stiff and still even though she still has her back turned to him.
I hesitate, watching the exchange. I should probably give them space, but I’m too morbidly curious about what will happen next to pull away.
“I'm not going to force you to talk to me,” Eric continues. “But I will absolutely set my boundaries. You have a choice right now. Either you can be real with me or you can run away. So, what's it going to be, Irena?”
“You want real?” she says quietly, her voice low and deadly as she looks at him over her shoulder. “You want the truth?”
“That's all I've wanted this whole time,” he says, lifting both his arms and spreading them in frustration. “How bad could this possibly be?”
She turns toward him, taking slow and steady steps as she glares. “The people I love betray me, Eric. Every time. Every fucking time.” She pinches her eyes shut, grimacing with the words. “I'm done with being hurt. I'm done with lovers. I'm done with friends. I'm done with everyone who could betray me. Only my sister has my back.”
Oh, gods.
My heart twists for her, and I feel palpable pain in my chest.
She's in agony. She's taking this so much worse than I realized, and in a small way, I'm glad I heard all of this. She would never have admitted any of this to me. She would have let me think she's okay, that she's healing in her own way.
But what she did was make stories about the world based on a small subset of people. She nearly fractured, and by the look of things, only Eric can save her now.
“Love isn't for me,” Irena says, her voice shaking slightly as she pauses a good six feet away from Eric. “It’s just better this way.”
For a moment, he simply watches her face. From this angle, I can't see much of his expression. Based on the way Irena's eyes dart across his features, I suspect he looks somewhat tortured. I’m guessing he looks wounded and raw, and Irena can't handle it.
She can't handle that kind of vulnerability, not in her or anyone else. Zurie tried to beat that out of us, and I suspect Irena took more of the beatings than I did.
“If love isn’t for you,” he says gently, tenderly. “Then why didn’t you walk away? You could have just left and let that be that.”
She stutters, apparently unprepared for that comeback. “I… well, it’s obvious that…”
“Yeah?” he presses, clearly waiting.
Calling her on her bullshit.
He takes a few careful steps toward her, his palms lifted as he reaches for her shoulders. Irena, however, is apparently done. She turns on her heel and walks away, but Eric grabs her wrist. She twists her hand, escaping his grip only to have him grab her other wrist immediately after.
They spar and parry for a minute, equally matched and capable. He twists her arm, spinning her into his chest as he holds her face with his other hand.
Despite all of her resistance, Irena relaxes at his touch. Her eyebrows tilt upwards slightly in longing and agony. She stiffens in his grip, chest to chest, looking up at him even as she wriggles and tries to get away.
“The people in your old life aren’t like the ones here,” he says quietly.
She hesitates, still as a statue for a moment as she studies his face. “I don't know what you mean,” she lies.
“You're what? CIA?” he asks, shrugging.
She frowns, wriggling in his grip. “Don't go there, Eric.”
He doesn't allow her to get away, and even as she tries to slide beneath his arm, he twists her hand again and pulls her back.
Damn, he's even better than I thought he was.
“No, you can't be CIA,” he says casually, as if they're simply sitting on a bench talking about life. “You're too knowledgeable about dragon culture.” He pauses, looking off down the corridor as his eyes gloss over in thought. “Knights?”
He's certainly getting closer.
Irena grimaces, still wriggling, still fighting—but admittedly not very hard. If she really wanted to, she could break his arm and disable him. That would stop him from pinning her in place.
But she doesn't.
Deep down, she still wants him.
“You should stop,” she warns, her voice chilly and cold.
“No, not Knights,” he says with a sigh, shaking his head, ignoring her completely. “You're too talented.” He shifts his attention back to her, studying her face as she squirms in his grip. “Spectres.”
She stiffens almost imperceptibly, and I know her well enough that I see the lie. I see the tell. I see the truth. Her jaw tenses, and she very convincingly shakes her head, her eyes narrowing as if he's getting closer but hasn't yet figured it out.
She's always been a brilliant liar. She just can't lie to me.
Eric, however, buys it. With a sigh, he once more shrugs. “Fine, Irena. Don't tell me. I don't care, anyway. I'm just trying to make a point. It doesn't matter to me who trained you or where you come from. I'm here for you now.”
Irena scoffs. “Right,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Like you would actually love a Knight or Spectre or any of those monsters.”
“I love you,” he snaps, releasing his grip on her hands and shoulder as he instead reaches for her face. His fingertips are light across her cheeks as he holds her tenderly and stares into her eyes.
Irena watches him, her jaw and shoulders tense as she studies him with a guarded expression, like she's waiting for the axe to fall.
Instead, Eric kisses her. At first, she watches him with her eyes open, letting him embrace her without indulging anything in return. He holds her tightly, and she simply stands there, letting it happen.
After a few moments, however, her eyes slowly flutter closed. She leans in, running her fingers through his hair as she gives in.
I relax my shoulders, grateful that the deep wound in Irena’s heart is starting to heal.
That’s my cue to leave.
She obviously has big news if she's here, but whatever's happening between her and Eric is also important. I need to give her space to heal—and probably to get laid.
Careful and quiet, I take slow steps away, making sure that she won't hear me.
There's a sharp intake of breath and a subtle gasp as lips part.
Eric huffs in confusion. “What—”
“Hush,” Irena says quietly.
I freeze, astonished she heard me. Her senses must be getting better if she could detect the whisper of a footstep.
Hell, maybe her senses are even better than mine.
“Rory,” Irena snaps, her voice tight with warning.
Crap.
I got caught.
With a frustrated little sigh, I shake out my shoulders and peek my head through the corridor. I lean against the wall as I grin at them. “You two are adorable.”
Irena briefly looks at Eric and pauses, clearly torn between desire and duty. But duty always wins out with her.
“I have news,” she admits, looking at me.
“I figured.”
She lifts her chin, watching me warily as if she isn't sure she should share this with me. “I wanted you to have this inform
ation last night, Rory. But I couldn't risk it being intercepted. Zurie can't know that we know.”
I stiffen at the mention of our former mentor’s name. “Know what?”
“Her plan,” Irena admits, squaring her shoulders. “She's on the move, Rory. She's coming for us both. Coming for every Fairfax dragon in the world.”
“Where?”
Irena pauses as if she can't quite believe what she's about to say. “Here.”
“That's suicide,” I say, not quite believing it. “Maybe your intel was wrong. Maybe she was leading us on or—”
“It's not wrong,” Irena says confidently, shaking her head.
And I've seen that look before. That resigned knowing. The way she frowns, like she wishes it weren't true.
Zurie has nothing to live for, so a suicide battle to end the war is all she has left.
I stand a little straighter, my fingers curling into fists as I slowly nod, accepting the truth of the situation.
“It looks like we have a lot to do to get ready then,” I say.
Chapter Thirty
It's surreal to sit in the war room attached to Jace’s suite—only to realize it's not his suite anymore.
This time, Russell leads the meeting, pacing along the far wall as he rubs his jaw and processes everything we've shared with him thus far.
In the last hour, he's gotten a full debriefing of the entire situation involving Zurie—except, of course, for how Irena and I know her. He eyes Irena suspiciously, and then his gaze slowly trails toward me.
It would appear he's piecing things together, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.
The dojo master needs to be smart, suspicious, and aware, and the fact that he's already picking up on the hints as to what Irena and I really are shows that he truly is the best choice for this position.
I just don't know how that's going to affect me and the people I love.
Irena sits to my left, with Jace on my other side. The three of us lean back in our seats, each in various positions as we slowly watch the new dojo master pace on the opposite side of the table. Harper sits across from me with her back to Russell and her eyes glazed over as she thinks through the situation. Levi, Tucker, and Drew sit nearby, spread across the length of the table.