Dhark & Destined

by C C Dowling

  Determined to keep my distance, I step out of the car and watch as a man in a trench coat approaches. He’s either human, or an assassin sent by her father’s enemies to kill her. Hard to tell at this distance.

  A surge of energy pulses across my skin as I drop the glamour I use to appear human. I focus on the deep grooves cut into my flesh. Grooves that hold the metal of my Called Weapon. A weapon made from the melted blades and stolen magick of my fallen foes.

  Metal bonds with metal, and solidifies into a double-bladed axe. The same marks that pattern my flesh are etched into the weapon itself, marking it as mine. My fingers grip the handle. My pulse and breathing slow as I focus on reading the energy signature of the approaching stranger. Normally, I’d attack first, ask questions later. But humans generally don’t know about us. It isn’t a hard and fast rule, more a guideline that we not reveal ourselves unnecessarily.

  A hot, stale breeze blows upwind of Dhru and the stranger, before the tendrils of my spell reach them. I scent the air, using all three lungs to draw it in. My muscles relax, and I allow my weapon to melt back into my skin.

  The stranger is human. A drunk, unbathed human at that. So much for me charging in to save the day.

  Throwing up my glamour, I cross my arms and strain against my desire to go to her when she drops her purse. The contents scatter across the sidewalk. It’s as if something in her blood calls to something in mine. The rules where Dhru is concerned are clear, though. Don’t approach until I witness her shift, or unless her life’s in danger. So far, I’ve only witnessed her drugging herself into near oblivion, and being an asshole to just about everyone.

  What does it say about me that I’m hard for a woman who’s determined to destroy her life? Not that something as weak as human drugs could kill a dragon. Still, who am I kidding? I’ve got a hero complex bigger than my . . . well, it’s big.

  Leaning against the car, I dismiss those thoughts and shove them down a deep, dark hole. I’ve been pursuing this assignment too hard, neglecting my needs. Fae—hell, all supernaturals—need to release our tensions frequently. Once I make sure Dhru’s at work, and leave her in Lyra’s more than capable hands, I’ll take care of myself. Then I’ll take care of myself again.

  Trench Coat Guy cracks Dhru across the jaw with his knee. That was unexpected. He hadn’t looked capable of putting a bottle to his mouth a minute ago. My feet don’t hesitate. I move toward her, rage making me want to tear the human’s limbs from his torso, though I don’t understand why. She isn’t mine to protect. She doesn’t need protection. The human does.

  Bending space to step through a dimensional rift would get me to him so much faster, but few spots on Earth contain enough magick for that. Good thing for him I run fast.

  Dhru lunges for the kill, half-transformed into her snarling beast. Her teeth are long, pointed daggers, and her jaw hinges in a way that makes space for the extra teeth. Hands I’d once thought petite are now thick and clawed. Scales the color of gold-flecked tempered steel snake in a line from her forehead, across her cheekbone, and down her neck, disappearing under her shirt.

  The color of her scales is like a battle axe to the gut. Dragons, especially Dharkstar dragons, are usually black, or a dark shade of green or purple. Sure, anomalies happen. Like blood red, midnight blue, and fire orange. But not light colors. And never silver. Those shades are reserved for Lightlings.

  I don’t have time to question further, though. Dhru’s about to make a mid-afternoon snack out of a human.

  I throw my size in her way and she crashes against my chest. Wrapping my arms around her to keep her from eviscerating the man feebly attempting to crawl away, I drop the glamour making me appear human. I’m not supposed to, but this guy’s drunk. Or high. And he’s already seen Dhru partially shift. No one will believe him, and he’ll probably doubt himself once he sleeps it off.

  Over my shoulder, I say, “Run.”

  Eyes wide, the human scrambles to his feet, tripping over his trench coat twice before taking my advice. I love when I don’t have to repeat myself.

  A low, rumbling growl, and pain in my bicep, turns my focus back to Dhru. Did she just bite me? Blue, glowing blood drips down my forearm and sizzles when it hits the hot pavement. Removing her teeth, her lips curl as she snarls, “You taste like shit.”

  I rub the puncture wounds, the flesh already healing over. “That’s because dragons don’t eat Fae,” I say, throwing the glamour back up. The magick settles over me like a second skin.

  Wrapping one hand around the back of her neck, I push calming energy into her. Now that I know she can transition, the mission can move forward. But I don’t want her to do it here. Dragons must perform their first full shift in the Shadow Lands. Transitioning anywhere else makes the outcome of the shift unpredictable. A few have never been able to shift back to their human forms. Yet another reason I need to get her home to her father.

  The irises of her eyes, which had been amethyst slits, round to their normal shape and color. Well, normal human shape and color. The rest of her body follows suit. Smooth skin replaces scales. Small hands replace clawed ones. I skim my gaze over her to make sure she isn’t hurt and linger at the strip of skin showing beneath her tank top, and again at her small but firm breasts. Hard nipples press against the thin fabric. Shit. She isn’t wearing a bra.

  Something hotter than desire flares under my skin. It takes every ounce of my considerable control not to push her against the building, take her mouth with mine, and—

  “I’m sorry,” she laughs, breaking my train of thought. “I must be way more fucked up than I think I am, and I think I’m pretty fucked up. Did you just say dragons don’t eat Fae?”

  I sigh, and mentally shake off whatever my urges think they want. I can’t wait to be done with this assignment. Can’t wait to get back home. Earth’s clearly fucking with my moral compass.

  “No. Fuck that. I don’t care.” She pushes against my chest. “Get the fuck off me.”

  Stepping out of my reach, Dhru drops to the pavement to pick up the scattered contents of her purse. Taking a knee, I help her.

  “I so don’t need this shit right now,” she mutters.

  Shoving the last of her belongings into her purse, she stands. I do, too. When she turns to leave, I grab her arm. “Wait.”

  Her head snaps in my direction, her dark eyes flashing amethyst. Wrenching her arm from my grasp, she says, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “I’m Creed.”

  Her heated gaze travels my length, as if I’m a slab of raw meat meant to feed a hungry dragon. “I don’t care if your sexy-as-sin ass is Apollo incarnate. No one puts their hands on me without permission.”

  I know Apollo. Well, I know the Lightling humans once worshipped as Apollo. He isn’t this good-looking.

  “I apologize. I won’t touch you again until you want me to.” Damn if my ego isn’t willing to do everything in its power to make her want me. If only I could figure out why.

  She raises her eyebrows and bites her lip, like she can read my mind. My gaze goes straight to the lip trapped in her teeth. I’d rather it be my teeth instead.

  Staring at a spot behind her, I focus on picturing a troll naked, and shift my stance to make room between my legs. I take a deep breath to calm myself. It’s a mistake. The scent of Dhru invades my lungs and coats my tongue. Sweat, stale alcohol, and vomit. Not the most attractive things. But there’s another scent there, too. Something sweet and tangy, and beneath that, a musk that’s unmistakable. Arousal. Instantly, my own flares, harder than before.

  “I’m so fucking tempted to want,” she mutters. I have excellent hearing. “Listen—Creed, is it? Thanks for helping me out, but I’m no damsel in distress. I don’t need saving.”

  She’s definitely not a damsel. In distress? I’d say yes. “I didn’t save you. I saved the human asshole who tried to mug you. He’s the one who needed it.”

  Her eyes widen, as if that’s not what she expected me to say
. “Human, huh? Right.” She draws out the word as she fumbles for her keys. “Okay, look. I don’t know why Helen hired you, or what she’s paying you to follow me. Just give her whatever it is she needs to move on, and do it fast, okay? She’s wasted enough time and money on me.”

  She thinks her ex-fiancé hired me. Interesting.

  “I’m going to go. Today’s been one hell of a fucked-up day, and I have to be at work in a few hours. I’d appreciate you not following me.”

  Holy shit. Did she just ask nicely for something? I didn’t think it was poss—

  “If you do, I’ll tear your nuts off and feed them to you for lunch.”

  I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips as she stalks off toward her car. “I’d expect nothing less,” I say, and jog after her.

  Reaching the driver’s side door before she does, I lean on it, once again using my size to block her. Something like annoyance—and humor?—flashes across her features.

  “I take it you don’t value your nuts,” she says with a sigh.

  “Oh, I do,” I chuckle. If she only knew she already has them in a vise. “But I can’t let you drive.” I pluck the car keys from her hand and shove them into my pocket. “It’s illegal to operate a vehicle while under the influence.”

  Dhru narrows her eyes on my pants. “Don’t think for one second that I won’t go after my keys.”

  I step toward her, easily towering over her five-foot-nothing frame by a good foot. Her pupils dilate. Her lungs suck in short, quick breaths. My blood and body respond to her, as if I’m no longer in control, as if they’ve both accepted what my mind and moral code can’t. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Watching her from a distance was manageable. Being close to her, the smell of her, this energy between us, is my undoing.

  I lean down, my lips inches from hers. It takes every ounce of willpower I have as a Lightling, as a Called soldier, not to kiss her. “As much as I’d like that, I’m just trying to help. If you’ll let me.”

  She puts her hands on my chest and leans closer. By all the gods, if she presses her lips to mine, I won’t stop her. But if that happens, her father will demand my head. And probably other parts.

  “Fine,” she finally says. The look on her face tells me she’s as surprised as I am. Dhru the fighter. Disarmed. “But only because you have a sweet-ass car, and you did me a solid just now.”

  Hitching her purse onto her shoulder, she stalks toward my car without a backward glance.

  I’m out of my fucking mind. Lost my shit. Officially off the deep end. That’s the only thing that explains what’s happening to me. What I saw.

  Creed, in all his gorgeous glory, turned into something straight from a Lord of the Rings movie. What was that pansy-ass elf’s name? Oh yeah, Legolas. Dude’s got nothing on Creed. A hundred shades darker, five times more muscle, and about a million times more panty-dropping, Creed makes Legolas look like a hobbit. No, uglier. A dwarf.

  The moment he went from six-and-a-half feet of badass, dark chocolate, human savior to a Dungeons & Dragons drow warrior with pointed ears and silver filigree patterns tattooed over every inch of visible skin, I knew I was crazy. Locked-in-an-insane-asylum, drugged-out-of-my-head crazy. Or dead.

  Shit. I’m probably dead, lying on the sidewalk in front of Becca’s shitty apartment, cooking in the Vegas sun. So why does being around this guy make me feel so alive? Sure, in general, I prefer women, but I’m not really picky that way. I fuck what I like, labels be damned. There’s something about cock no woman can give me. And there’s something about pussy no man understands.

  Doesn’t matter. None of this is real. That’s why I agreed to let Creed drive me home. That’s why, if I give in to the part of me that wants to drag him into his back seat and ride him until he screams my name, I will have zero regrets. Opening the door, I breathe a sigh of relief as I slide into the passenger seat. He left the car running, and the A/C on high. Is it impossible to love a figment of my imagination? ’Cause right now, I do.

  Grabbing my cell phone, I punch in my address. Let the GPS do the talking—assuming something as mundane as Google Maps works in this fantasy-land I’ve created.

  Creed slides into the driver’s seat. “I know this is a lot to process, what’s happening to you right now.”

  I sigh and rub my temples to alleviate the withdrawal headache, which feels only slightly less painful than banging my head against a cement wall. “What’s a lot to process is you stalking me for weeks, coming out of hiding to save me, turning into some alien-wizard elf-thing, then offering to drive me home. All after I . . . I don’t know what I did.”

  Flashes of clawed hands and a hunger so intense I almost ate someone sends a shiver of revulsion down my spine.

  Creed laughs, shaking me from my dark thoughts. The deep, rich vibration sends tingles of longing and pleasure to all my girly bits. Fuck. I just had a threesome with Becca and Aiden. Why am I still horny? The back seat option is looking more and more tempting.

  “I’m no wizard,” Creed says. It’s the first time I realize he has a slight accent, though from where, I can’t say. “Warrior? Yes. Wizard? No. Wizards are hardly ever soldiers.”

  “So,” I draw the word out as disbelief tries to untangle what he just said, “you’re vehemently not a wizard, but you’re not denying you’re an elf?”

  “I’m not exactly an elf, though to someone raised in the human world, I suppose that’s what I’d be considered.”

  “You say the word human as if we’re not on planet Earth, where the entire population is homo sapien.”

  Creed cocks an eyebrow. His dark eyes lock on mine. I can’t look away. Hell, I don’t want to. “Are they?” he asks.

  Until a few moments ago, I would’ve said one hundred percent yes. But I’m clearly not in Kansas anymore.

  Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I get it. You’re trying to tell me that we”—I point from him to me—“aren’t human.”

  He nods once. “That’s correct. I’m Fae. You are dragon.”

  Dragon. The word touches a place deep inside. The coiled place, all scales and teeth and depraved desire. Then reality kicks in, and I remember that all of this is a result of mixing narcotics with alcohol.

  “Right. Okay.” I grab my purse off the floorboard and hug it to my chest. “That’s it. I’ve been on this crazy train long enough. I’m ready to get off. You can pull over here and let me out.” I put my hand on the door handle, ready to make a run for it the instant he stops.

  He doesn’t even so much as slow down. Damn. I was really hoping to not have to jump.

  Pulling on the handle, I fling the door open. Before I can move, or even blink, he grabs my arm and swerves, forcing the door closed again. Oh no the fuck, he didn’t. I may look small, but I’m mighty. And I fight dirty. Asshole won’t have a dick by the end of this throw down, I don’t care how mammoth he is.

  Gripping my purse, I’m ready to swing it in his face when he says four words that freeze me in place: “Your father sent me.”

  Ice shards flow through my veins and head straight for my heart. Just when I’d thought the asshole who abandoned me at birth couldn’t hurt me anymore. “M-My father?” I hate how weak I sound, but I have to ask. “What do you know about my father?” Because I know exactly nothing.

  Letting go of me, the elf known as Creed pulls over. When he turns to face me, the full force of his presence is like a dropkick to the chest. Desire, mixed with something else, pulls me toward him. My pulse quickens, as if my blood speaks to something inside his. I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted anybody. Even Helen.

  But I can’t want anyone, can’t be with anyone. Everything I touch turns to shit.

  Pushing aside the tempest of emotions wreaking havoc with my body parts, and especially my mind, I focus on finding out about my father.

  Creed studies me with those dark, fathomless eyes for what feels like an eternity. His broad brow furrows, and I can see there’s a lot he wants to say. “It
doesn’t matter what I know. If you don’t believe me about being a dragon, then you won’t believe me about your father.”

  That can only mean one thing. My father’s a dragon, too. At least, he’s a dragon in this delusion. They say mental illness runs in families. Explains a lot.

  “Okay. Let’s pretend, just for now, that I believe you. That I’m a dragon, and you’re a . . . fairy.”

  “Fae,” he growls. Seems I struck a nerve with fairy-boy.

  “Whatever.” I wave my hand and dismiss him. Mostly because I’m a bitch, and a little bit because I feel completely powerless right now. This is the only way I can maintain the illusion of control. “Why would my father, someone who abandoned me as a baby, send you to fetch me now?”

  Something in Creed’s eyes softens when I mention abandonment. Funny thing is, in my almost twenty-five years of shitty experiences, that isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened to me. When he opens his mouth to answer, I hold up a hand to stop him. “Save your fucking pity party and give it to me straight.”

  Creed shifts in his seat and clears his throat. “Your father didn’t abandon you. The Shadow Lands were in political turmoil when you were born. He decided to send you away, hide you on Earth, so you could grow up free from the threat of his station. He used Fae magick to hide what you are so others here on Earth couldn’t use your dragon essence to find you. But the magick he used is fading. It was never meant to last past your twenty-fifth birthday.”

  My heart rate kicks up at the mention of my birthday. It’s tomorrow. Other than that, the rest might as well have been in ancient Greek. “Is anything you said supposed to make sense?” I ask, not sure how much of this delusion I can handle. My headache tells me not much more.

  “Your father is Dhamyan Dharkstar. Head of the Dragon Council. As such, he holds a seat on the Council of the Nine, the ruling body of the realms. My queen dispatched me, at the request of your father, to retrieve you because I can track the Fae magick used to hide you. It’s time you came home, to complete your transition into full dragon and begin training to stand by your father’s side. One day, you’ll take his place.”