CHAPTER 2
They’d hit pay dirt with the address his dragon had nudged him toward. The assholes had been caught on the hop and hadn’t had time to clear out before Damian and his team had hit them.
And hit they had—hard and fast with all the brutality that black dragons were known for. The three of them spearheading the entry, with the recovery teams bringing up the rear, they’d ripped through the building like wildfire.
Within a few minutes of chaos and destruction, the traffickers had been rounded up into the center of the main room, the stench of fear rolling from them.
Damian’s nose twitched. Urine. One of them had pissed themselves. Great, just fucking great.
“Vane, get them out of here before they stink the place out,” he ordered, turning in disgust before he did something he’d regret later. Like rip their spines clean from their bodies. They were all shifters, pedaling the flesh of their own. That sickened him right down to his soul. If they were dead, though, they couldn’t provide any information on the network they worked for. He wasn’t dumb enough to think they’d caught any of the major players.
The egggggg… his dragon reminded him, and Damian headed toward the nearest of the containment boxes. The top had been ripped off a couple of them, and the first few he looked in were empty. The last one though, was occupied.
At first glance, he thought the creature, some kind of bird, lying on the bottom was dead. Sadness filled him that it had died alone and scared in a cage. But then, unbelievably, the tiny creature moved, opening an eye to blink up at him.
Fear oozed from its pores and it made the tiniest of sounds. A cry. Of fear or for help, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t leave the little thing in the cold, damp box. It didn’t even have a blanket or any straw to cushion its frail little body against the wood.
“Shhhh, it’s okay,” he murmured, keeping the deepness of his dragon out of his voice as he reached for it. “I’m here to help you. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
It shivered as he wrapped his fingers around it as gently as he could and lifted it from the box. It was so tiny and frail he felt like a brute touching it, but the way it huddled into the warmth of his cupped hands strengthened his resolve.
“Oh, you’re cold. Aren’t you, little dot?”
He lifted it up to get a proper look at it, his dragon peering out through his eyes as well, but neither of them could tell what it was or even whether it was male or female. It was definitely a bird and looked a little like a parrot. A bald one. A few small down feathers clung here and there, but that was it. It shivered again and blinked at him, large eyes locked to his.
He should have put it in one of the transport boxes the recovery team had. They’d probably know what it was and would be able to care for it far better than he could.
Oursssss… his dragon rumbled. Ours to look after. Make well.
Damian blinked a little at the possessive note in his dragon’s voice but then shrugged. The ways of dragons were mysterious, even to their human halves. Juggling the little creature carefully in his hand, he opened his jacket and shirt to slide it within, against his skin. It shivered again and then sighed, closing its eyes as it rested against him. Just the tip of its beak was visible in the open neck of his shirt. He watched it for a moment, but it didn’t seem inclined to move.
“Okay, dot,” he said after a moment. “Let’s clean up here and then get you home. Shall we?”
It didn’t take him long to hand over to the recovery team leader, and then he and the other blacks were free to leave the scene. They’d done their job, which was basically as shock troops to quell any and all resistance. Once the traffickers had been neutralized, there was no need for them to be there any longer. If anything, having black dragons on site… hell, even just the scent of them sometimes… was enough to scare some of the creatures they were rescuing half to death.
An hour later, he leaned back against the side wall of the elevator as he rode it up to his apartment. Weariness ate at him as the numbers rose higher and higher, all the way to the top. All dragons liked high places. It was a need that went right back to their beginnings when their ancestors had sought out mountain ranges to make their lairs in.
His lair, though, wasn’t in a mountain range. It was one of the penthouses in the Waldek Industries building, one of the highest in the city. He didn’t own it, could never have hoped to own anything as luxurious. The building, hell… Waldek industries in its entirety was owned by one of his best buddies, Nik.
Realizing that Damian didn’t have a place of his own, he’d insisted on renting him the penthouse opposite his own. But he’d refused to take a cent in rent. His “rent” consisted of beer and pizzas, and for Damian to listen to him wax lyric about Adra, the lone female black and the woman Nik was obsessed with.
The door pinged for his level. Damian opened his eyes and pushed off as he walked through the open door.
“We’re home, little dot. Let’s get you settled. Shall we?”
SULA SIGHED and snuggled closer to the warm chest she had been placed against. It felt like an age since she had been even remotely warm, never mind comfortable. This dark-eyed stranger had shown her more kindness in that one simple gesture than she had known in her whole life.
When he had pulled her out of the box, she had felt a mixture of relief and fear. The male was huge. He would dwarf even her owner, who to her seemed almost giant like. The fear she felt soon dissipated as he had slid her against his chest and spoke to her with soothing words. So she had let exhaustion take her, getting what little sleep she could manage before the nightmares started while this unknown guardian protected her. Time meant little to Sula. When she had been in the box or cage, she didn’t know if it was day or night, the date, or even what year it was for that matter.
So when she opened her eyes and peeked out of the safety of the male’s shirt, she was surprised by a brand new scene. Muted light from a magnificent sunset filled an open-planned room with windows that went all the way around. Sula pushed her head farther out of her hiding place to watch as reds, oranges and golds filled the sky, bringing with them a sense of longing. Those were her colors. She had always been described as a sunset made real.
The male’s words of, “We’re home, little dot. Let’s get you settled. Shall we?” reluctantly pulled her attention away from the color show and up into the face of her rescuer.
Before, when she had still been in the box, she had barely been able to make out his features except for his beautiful eyes. But now she could see everything, and every aspect of his face became clear. Harsh lines stood out, a proud chin covered with stubble, large nose but softened by full lips and kind eyes. To Sula, he was handsome. It was that simple.
Her tiny heartbeat thumped against her chest, and tearing her eyes from his face, she looked again around his clean apartment. Nothing looked out of place. Everything in the room seemed to represent the man who owned it—masculine and large with clean designs.
She felt a rumble from the male’s chest. It rolled through her, helping her to feel even more protected. His scent—a combination of pure male and a hint of chocolate—wrapped her in its embrace and made her tiny mouth salivate. It had been years, too many years to count, since she had even had a whiff of anything of the chocolate persuasion. Her captors used to eat it in front of her, teasing her. Sula felt his hand move underneath her body, holding it in place as he walked through the room and into a smaller one off the side.
The large wooden desk dominated the small space, that and the strange display cabinet behind it. Sula couldn’t help but notice the multitude of eggs that sat in no particular order. Each one was different, from small wooden ones to brightly jeweled ones. Those held Sula’s attention more than the others. She had always had a weakness for anything sparkly, and the way the light from the setting sun shimmered and sparkled across them had Sula eager to touch.
She felt his hands move to pick up her small body from the confines of his shirt, but Sula didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay within its protective confines. Squeaks flew from her beak as he pulled her from the warmth. His eyes held only kindness as he looked her over, checking her for injuries.
Sula felt ugly. As a phoenix she should have been beautiful. Her feathers had once shone like liquid metal in hues of the sunset. Her tail feathers had been long and graceful. Yet now, now she looked more like a parrot ready to be put down.
Panic rose within her, making her heart race as he placed her down upon the wooden surface of the desk. She scrambled on her clawed feet to get back to him, back into his shirt where she felt safe.
The idea of being placed in a cage again or a box when she had known even a hint of freedom was too much to bear.
“Shhh, little dot. It’s okay. Calm down.” His voice, deep and husky, did little to calm her nerves. She could barely catch her breath and her squeaks were hardly audible.
Sula expected the male to push her away, to do something to show his displeasure, but instead he did something Sula was not prepared for.
His large hand made sure she was secure on the desk before he stepped back slightly and started to undress. Sula felt her anxiety slowly vanishing with each pull of clothing until her rescuer stood before her shirtless. Every inch of his chest was exposed and took her breath away for a purely different reason. Muscle stacked upon muscle rippled as he moved back to her, and in one swift movement he had her wrapped in the material of his shirt before he placed her on a cushion he had pulled from the sofa.
“There. How’s that?” he asked. Sula could do little but blink as she snuggled into her new bed. Her rescuer sat at the desk and gave her a chance to watch him. He was a shifter himself, the pure size of him and his demeanor spoke of nothing less. But being as sheltered as she was, she had no clue as to what he was.
Resting her head, Sula continued to watch until her eyes slowly drooped shut and she rested, dreaming of only sunset colors and long elegant feathers.
WHAT HAD POSSESSED him to wrap the strange little bird in his shirt, Damian had no idea, but it had seemed to calm the creature. It had watched him for a moment, big eyes firmly fixed on him, until each blink had become longer and they finally hadn’t opened again. He smiled as he realized the little thing was fast asleep, snuggled down in his shirt. All he could see was its beak, closed eyes and the top of its bald head.
Tilting his head a little, he studied it. It was tiny and delicate, its eyes almost appearing feline set. For some reason, its appearance made him think it was female. He was probably wrong… he had no idea how to identify bird genders… but the way it looked at him and moved was almost feminine.
For a moment he considered calling Nik and asking how the hell you worked out the sex of a parrot, but his hand paused as he reached for his cell. No, despite the fact that Nik would find something about the whole conversation to take the piss out of, for some reason he didn’t want the other dragon in here poking and prodding at the tiny creature. He felt… protective of it.
“How long were you in there, little dot?” he mused, stroking a gentle finger along the top of its head and down its beak. The sight of it panicking and scrabbling over his desk to get back to him had almost broken his heart. Right at that moment he’d realized he’d do anything to make it comfortable. Ease its distress.
Oursssss… his dragon insisted again, getting all growly and stompy in the back of his head. He’d heard that some dragons could communicate in full sentences, but his insisted on demands and mental pushes to get what it wanted. If it didn’t… a sulky toddler would be easier to deal with.
Ourrrrrrsssssss!
“Yes, yes… I know,” he told it, rising from his chair and heading out of his office. “But you can’t own another creature like that. It’s not allowed.”
He felt his dragon pout, and he sighed. Heading through to his kitchen, he opened the fridge to grab a soda, only to spot the chocolate cake on the second shelf. His stomach rumbled loudly, his dragon making lip-smacking sounds in the back of his mind. Damian sighed and reached for the cake, cutting a large slice that he carried back through to his office with the soda.
“It’s a good job dragons don’t get fat,” he grumbled good-naturedly to his inner cake-loving lizard. Cake, cookies, ice cream… the thing definitely had a sweet tooth. “Or our ass would permanently be in the gym with the amount of this stuff you eat.”
Dropping down into the office chair, he moved to put the plate on the desk next to little dot. She was still fast asleep, head to one side and beak slightly open. A tiny snore emanated from the thin chest buried under layers of his shirt.
As he moved, he got a whiff of his armpits and whistled, wrinkling his nose. After a day chasing down traffickers, he stank to high heaven.
“Cake after the shower,” he told his dragon firmly, levering himself back up and out of his chair. For a second he stopped and looked at the little bird creature. What would it eat? He had no idea yet what kind of paranormal it was, which meant it could eat anything from gold-tinted leaves from the land of the fae to the brains of goats born during a blue moon. He had no idea.
Of course, with the way it looked and his luck, it was also equally likely it was just what it looked like—a bald parrot. In which case, he had a new pet that would probably outlive him. He’d heard horror stories from human acquaintances about parrots that lived so long they’d been handed down in wills.
Shaking his head, he headed off toward his bedroom, the shower and hopefully some soap.