by C C Dowling
Dick and Dick Jr. make no move to put their weapons away. Creed lowers his. I hiss in his ear. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m turning you in,” he says, loud enough for the angels to hear. The metal of his weapon snakes along the grooves in his skin as he faces me, unarmed. “We can’t fight them by ourselves.” He lowers his voice so only I can hear. “I won’t risk losing you.”
“You’ll lose me by turning me in,” I want to scream.
Both of my hearts plummet to my feet and shatter. Creed’s trying to get rid of me. He really did choose Lyra. He’s my fucking Destined, and it didn’t even last a day. I know I’m a dick, but fuck. Is it so impossible to love me? I think of what I said to Harlo, and yeah. I am impossible.
Fuck.
“Don’t do this,” I beg, pride be damned. “They’ll kill me.”
Something flickers behind Creed’s dark eyes as he stares into mine, but it’s gone before I know what it is. I don’t hide shit from him. I know my emotions are on full display. Fear. Betrayal. Abandonment.
What does it say about me that the men in my life, the ones who should love me and defend me, don’t do either?
You know what? Fuck him. Fuck this. I’m too sober to surrender without a fight. Too stubborn, too. Also, too pissed.
“Don’t,” Creed warns in a low tone.
“Don’t what? Defend myself? Someone has to,” I say with a bitchy sneer. “It sure in fuck isn’t you.”
Creed grabs hold of my arm. “Dhru, remember what I said before.”
Which fucking part? The part where Lyra the Savior is such a fucking saint she’s willing to help me? Or the part where he pussied out and said that we can’t fight them?
Turning his back on me, Creed stalks past the angels and down the stairs. “She’s all yours.” He glances at Redhead, then disappears out the back entrance of the club.
The sound of the metal door slamming shut reverberates in the hollow space in my chest, where my two hearts used to beat. Creed walked out on me. He left. The other half of my goddamn soul, gone. What was the fucking point of being Destined? The point of any of this, if he was just going to quit on me?
Dick and Dick Jr. step closer, evil-as-fuck grins on their perfectly chiseled faces, and goddamn it. Should angels look this fucking sadistic?
Both the Fae and the dragon in me react. I allow the beast to unfurl, the heat of her fire spreading through me. The Fae part of me tugs on the energy of the earth beneath me. The net the angels cast dampens my connection, but it’s still there.
Pulling the energy into myself, I infuse my dragon with it. I’m just about to drop my human suit and unleash them both when the front doors of the club slam open. For a heart-stopping moment, I think Creed’s come back with reinforcements to save the fucking day, just like in the movies. But what walks through that door isn’t my Destined. Or hope, for that matter. Not even a chance of walking out of this alive.
I am so fucked.
The instant I walk through the door, Dhru’s amethyst stare finds mine. Seeing her is like a kick to the gut by a Centaur.
Cornered by three Powers, her eyes are wide and wild, her fists clenched. Energy swirls around her like a whirlwind, signaling her impending shift. If she shows the angels her dragon form, they’ll know that something isn’t right. Then again, an archangel walking into a bar with a Succubus should be their first clue that something isn’t right.
The Angelic Authority doesn’t know Samael is the father of all Succubi. He’s worked very hard to hide it, which is why my transgression in saving Dhru was such a sin. I haven’t even begun to pay for that fuck-up. Still, I know my father’s end game with these angels. They won’t leave here alive. There’s no need for me to hide.
Something like relief flashes across Dhru’s features when she sees me, which is quickly replaced with guilt and regret. She feels bad. Actually fucking feels bad that she hurt me. I didn’t think dragons were capable. Dharkstars, especially.
Her guilty look is followed by stone-cold fear. She’s one dragon surrounded by three Powers, an archangel, and a Succubus. I told her that the next time I saw her, I’d kill her. Hell, I thought that would be true. But now, looking at her, all I want to do is protect her. From my father. From me. From our world.
Speaking of protection, where the fuck is her Destined?
“Greetings.” My father’s cool voice cuts across the distance, drawing the attention of the Powers. “You must be Dhru Dharkstar, Dhamyan’s daughter. I’ve waited twenty-five years to meet you.”
The Power angels lower their weapons and take a knee, bowing their heads at my father, too cocky, self-important, and high-and-mighty to notice me.
Dhru’s gaze slides from mine to Samael. I expect her to have the same reaction all creatures do to the archangel of Death and Seduction. Dharklings and Lightlings alike typically gravitate toward him, unable to resist. Instead of being drawn in, Dhru’s brow furrows, and her jaw clenches in disgust. A look I also know well.
I suppress a laugh. Why the hell did I think this dragon would follow the norms or rules? She isn’t attracted to my father. She isn’t lured by his Seduction or powerful presence. The look on her face tells me that those things only piss her off more.
Fuck, I want this woman.
Need and desire slam through me, spiking my heart rate and squeezing my lungs. My father’s nostrils flare as he glares at me from the corner of his eye. He can scent my arousal. A low rumbling vibrates his chest in a warning only I can hear. It’s his way of forbidding me to want her like I do. If only it were that simple. I’d gladly submit to my father’s will.
If I’m not careful, Dhru Dharkstar will be the death of me, like her father was the death of my brother. Shit. Even if I am careful, she still might be the death of me.
“Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck do you want?” Dhru spits at Samael. The Powers hiss at her insolence and blatant disrespect of an archangel.
My lips twitch with the need to kiss her filthy rebel mouth.
A look of amusement flashes across Samael’s face. I suppress a groan. I know that look. It’s the one he always wears when challenged. I’d seen it plenty when he’d dealt with the stubborn wills of both Mayz and Eden, Lilith’s eldest daughter and first-born Succubus.
“I am Samael,” he answers, offering no further explanation. Typically, none is needed.
Dhru’s eyes flick from me to my father. Confusion contorts her gorgeous features. She probably can’t figure out why a demon and an angel are standing together, why I’m not stabbing him in the back.
“Congratu-fuckin’-lations,” she finally says, smoothing her look into a blank mask. “If you’re here to kill me, you’ll have to wait in line until I deal with these feathered fucks.”
She nods at the Powers who still kneel at her feet. They glare at her, but don’t dare move. Samael hasn’t given the command to. In angel hierarchy, all other types are subordinate to the archangels.
“After that, I’m pretty sure she’s next.” She nods her chin at me, then squares her shoulders. “You’re last.”
Samael laughs. It’s a deep, throaty sound that’s one part sexy, twenty parts terrifying. “You really are your father’s daughter.”
Dhru’s hands fly to her hips as her mouth twists into a sneer. “So I fucking hear.” She enunciates every word with derision. “It’s amazing how everyone knows him but me. But sure. Bring it the fuck on. Punish me for the sins of my father. Then we can see how alike we truly are.”
Samael’s gaze flicks to me, only for a second. I catch it. With his eyebrow raised, he draws his sword and spreads his wings. Flying through the air, he rushes Dhru. Before I can do anything but draw my weapon, he’s on them. The Powers. They don’t expect him to attack. My father removes two heads before Dhru even blinks.
“Holy shit,” Dhru mutters, backing away from him. “That wasn’t what I expected.”
Samael moves between Dhru and the remaining Power. As predicted,
the redheaded angel steps into my father’s open arms. It doesn’t matter that she witnessed her two companions fall to my father’s sword. Or that she’s next. She wants him, can see only him. Samael’s ability is cruel like that.
“Call for reinforcements,” Samael commands the Power. “Tell them Dharkstar dragons attacked you.”
Wide-eyed, the Power complies.
A white pulse of energy shoots from the base of her spine out the top of her head and into the sky. “Are you going to kill me, too?” she asks my father without a trace of fear. It’s like she’s eager for death if it means being closer to Samael.
He chuckles. This is fun for him. He caresses her cheek with the back of his hand. She shivers and leans into his touch. “No,” he says, and turns his attention to Dhru. “She is.”
“What the fuck, dude?” Dhru says, staring at him.
The Power’s eyes flash white. She grips her sword. I break into a dead sprint toward Dhru, taking three stairs at a time. I reach her just as the Power raises her sword overhead. Dhru growls like a feral beast, signaling her shift.
The doors to the club burst open. The sword swipes through the air. I leap for Dhru. And all Hell breaks loose.
What the actual fuck?
One minute, GQ-angel douchebag with the pretty hair and perfect teeth slices through the Powers to protect me? Help me? I don’t fucking know. The next, he seduces Redhead. Oh yeah, and frames my ass. Then he sets his pet angel loose on me.
That’s also when Harlo lunges toward me. She said she’d kill me the next time she saw me. I definitely deserve that shit. The Fae in me wants to defend myself, though her conviction on the matter is half-assed. My dragon says no way. Guess Harlo will have to take me out, ’cause there’s zero chance I’m raising a finger to harm her.
Fuck my fucking life. Fuck these fucking emotions. These fucking angels. And my fucking father.
I duck the sword aiming to take my head off and brace for impact with Harlo. Only, she doesn’t ram me. Demon and angel go down in a tangle of limbs. The wicked, two-pronged dagger I got stabbed with on Nightingale’s rooftop slides between the ribs of the Power. Harlo hisses, then bites the angel’s neck, drawing blood. Pulling the blade out, Harlo makes a slice across Redhead’s neck. The knife severs tendon, muscle, and spine. Bitch is not recovering from that.
Crouching before me, Harlo faces the big bad angel she came in with. She hisses at him. Blood and gore pour from her lips, down her chin, drip at her feet.
Good Lord in Heaven, my demon is hot as hell.
An unreadable look passes between the two of them. I don’t have time to analyze it, though. The front doors of the club burst open. Dragons in their half-shifted forms pour in. They almost fill the lower level of the club with their bulk and numbers. My own dragon gives an answering growl, with a side of fang, to show them I’m on their side.
At a quick glance, I’d say there are at least a dozen, their scales ranging in color from dark black to darker black. Leading the dragons is my Destined, looking badass and ready to kill, Called Weapon in hand.
How in the shit did Creed get a gang of dragons to follow him into a Vegas nightclub?
A twinge of guilt rides me for thinking he’d abandoned me. He’d asked me to trust him. I was too caught up in my own bullshit to do that. Worst. Fucking. Destined. Ever.
The big, badass angel Harlo’s staring down reaches for her. My dragon’s having none of that shit. Scales snake a pattern across my skin as I let the energy uncoil, dropping a portion of my human suit. I growl and snap at his hand.
The angel flinches and pulls back, as if defending Harlo was the last thing he’d expected me to do. “Silver,” he mutters, and I have to imagine he’s referring to my scales.
“Don’t touch her,” I say, trying to sound as threatening as possible. It’s hard with a mouthful of extra teeth and an unhinged jaw.
Harlo and the asshole angel both turn their stares to me.
“What? I can’t defend you?” I question Harlo. I swear she smiles at that. “You aren’t the only kick-ass bitch here.”
“Dhru!” Creed calls to me, taking my attention from Harlo. How the hell did he fit so much emotion into something as simple as my name?
On impulse, I step toward Creed, wanting to go to him, but torn because there’s zero way in hell I’m leaving Harlo up here to face Samael, or whatever-the-fuck name he’d given.
Glancing from me, to Creed, to Harlo, the angel cocks his head. Amusement twists his perfect features. Features that, instead of making him blindingly gorgeous, make him painfully repulsive.
“Daughter,” he says to Harlo. The air in my lungs freezes. What the fuck did he just say? “Mind telling me what in Heaven is going on?”
On cue, because this situation isn’t fucked enough, the back entrance door bangs open. More of the winged Powers file in. They stare down the dragons in true West Side Story fashion. If they start singing, I’m going to lose my shit.
Harlo’s gaze flicks from me to the angel-dragon showdown on the level below. “Looks like you’re getting your war, Dad.”
I’ve always wondered what it would look like for a dragon’s brain to explode. Both figuratively and literally. Today looks like the day I’ll find out.
Dhru’s mouth pops open. Her blank eyes dart from me to dear old Dad. Battle cries and the clank of metal against metal sound from the floor below as dragons and angels go at it. The three of us aren’t fighting. Yet. I wonder what my father’s next move will be.
Samael appraises me as his calculating eyes swirl like two gold coins. I just challenged my father to protect a Dharkstar. I can’t imagine what he thinks, or that he’s going to be very forgiving.
As much as I’ve tried to deny how I feel for Dhru, this beautiful, smart-mouthed, reckless-as-hell dragon is under my skin. In my veins. She awakens me. Makes me feel something other than hatred and sorrow. I miss my brother so bad that it sometimes feels like I could die from the gaping hole he left in me. But he also left me Dhru. In so many ways, she reminds me of the best parts of my brother. Killing her won’t bring him back. It won’t avenge him, either. Killing Dhru would be like killing Mayz all over again.
“This fuckin’ dude is your dad?” Dhru says, slicing through the tension coating the air like thick wax. Her words are slow and drawn out, like she’s still processing the question and all its implications.
I nod, not taking my eyes off Samael.
“Holy fuck. That means you’re bi, like me.”
My lips twitch at the double meaning. “Yeah. I’m bi.”
“Knew it,” she mutters, trying and failing to hide her shit-eating grin, which quickly fades as her eyes fall on the battle scene below.
Her Destined is down there. I know she wants to go to him. Should go to him. But a part of me sings with joy that she hasn’t left my side. It’s the strangest feeling.
“Why are you doing this?” Dhru asks my father as she watches the raging battle below. “Why did you kill your own kind and blame it on us?”
My father’s full, perfect lips twist in a sneer. “You’re a Dharkstar.” He spits the word. “That’s reason enough.”
Dhru’s sharp gaze slashes across Samael. “That’s bullshit. I haven’t done shit to you, and I’m definitely not responsible for my father’s fuck-ups.” She glances at me, then back to the archangel. “Something you both probably understand real fucking well.” Dhru turns to me, giving me her full attention. “Is that what this is about? Why you were on that rooftop? Why you threatened to kill me after we . . . ?”
I’m grateful she doesn’t finish that thought. It’s not that I don’t want my father to find out I’m sleeping with the enemy. It’s more that I’m ashamed of how I reacted to her. She hurt me. My response was to threaten her with death. Not my finest moment.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
Hurt, anger, and fear mar Dhru’s gorgeous half-human, half-dragon features. She rakes her fingers through her dark hair; it flops acros
s her forehead. I want so badly to brush it back. To hold her. To make the pain twisting her face go away. Pain my father and I put there.
“Fuck.” She breathes out. Her hands shake. Her body vibrates like she’s on the verge of a full shift, which would be bad. A dragon’s initial complete shift is supposed to happen in the Shadow Lands. If she takes her true form for the first time on Earth, it could cause permanent damage. Even death.
Her eyes land on the fight below. On the bodies of fallen angels and dragons alike. “All of this because my father stuck his dick inside a Fae who didn’t believe in abortion?” Dhru’s amethyst eyes lock with mine, begging me to tell her it isn’t true. In a way, it isn’t. Succubi don’t hate the Dharkstars because their leader fucked a Lightling. We’re the last creatures to judge such actions.
“No,” I say before I can stop myself. Before Samael can stop me. “All of this is because your father killed my brother for making you.”
Dhru gasps. A clawed hand covers her mouth. Her primal, wild eyes widen.
“You exist. My son does not. I will not abide such an injustice.” Samael steps toward Dhru, arm outstretched. A feral growl builds deep in my chest as I angle my body between them, shoving Dhru further behind me.
Samael’s gaze narrows. “What are you doing?” he demands.
Good question. What am I doing?
“Protecting her,” I say with equal force. Dhru rests her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I want to melt under her touch, but I don’t dare show that kind of weakness to Samael.
“You told me this dragon is mated to that Called.” He points in Creed’s general direction. “Yet you defend her like she is yours.”
“I am hers, you big fucking prick,” Dhru answers. “I’m hers, and his.” She points toward the Called holding his own against three Powers. “There’s plenty of me to go around. So take your judgmental, holier-than-thou ass and back. The. Fuck. Down.”
Samael’s glare turns into a frown. It’s not the disappointed look I’ve seen plenty of times before. It’s more like the look of frustration someone gets when things don’t go their way. My dad just set the angels and dragons against one another to get his war and distract the Council enough to overthrow the Authority. A master manipulator, the plan was always to keep his hands clean and his Succubi children protected until it was our turn to mobilize. He didn’t plan for his daughter siding with the enemy.