In Dakota’s dreams, Cally died a hundred times that night. Strangled by Owen Jackson. Torn apart and devoured by a blood-red Dragon. Drowning in garbage while she stood paralyzed, unable to help. Michael Farrell drifted in and out of these scenes too, throwing her treachery back in her face. Sometimes, he screamed at her. Once, he Shifted into his Dragon form and ripped her to pieces. The worst dream, though, was when he simply looked at her, eyes full of pain and betrayal, then flew away without a word.
Leaving her alone, forever.
The sound of wings threaded through all of these phantasms, whenever the noises of the dream died away. Feathered wings, not scaled ones. Flapping in the darkness overhead, unseen.
She woke as tired as when she went to bed. Four cups of coffee barely got her moving.
Despite all that, her head finally felt clear. She knew what she had to do: come clean and apologize.
Nothing that Hare said made sense. The First Flight wasn’t some clique of cannibal Dragons. They were the family she’d never had. Warm, loving, there for each other. And her Mate… Yes, she could call Michael that. Gladly. He was loving, honest, and strong. Everything she had ever dreamed a man could be. Blinded by her fears and the Fangs’ lies, she’d betrayed him. But she would win his trust back, his love. No matter how long it took.
Yes, he truly was a Dragon. She could live with that.
Only one doubt remained, the Wellspring. If it truly was a place of peace and magic, she would know Mr. Alester and his secretary had deceived her. Dakota still distrusted Owen Jackson. Her suspicions could wait, though, if the rest of the Flight was clean.
A trip to the Wellspring, one quick glimpse…and then it would be time to eat crow.
Carefully, she set the lead cylinder on the counter. She was not going to take the Fangs’ GPS tracker with her. No doubt, they monitored it constantly.
Slipping on her jacket, she headed toward the door. Her plan, such as it was, involved cutting into the woods about a quarter of a mile before the Stiles’ farm. Then, well, blundering around looking for a trail. Not much of a plan, really, but…
But why was she standing in the kitchen?
Lost in her thoughts, she had apparently turned around and walked right back inside. And here she stood, staring expectantly at the microwave.
“Damn, I need more coffee,” she groaned. “And a nap.”
Shaking her head, she ventured out into the crisp spring air. Low grey clouds brooded overheard, heavy with the threat of rain. Dakota prayed they wouldn’t cut her search short.
Fifteen minutes later, she began to realize just how bad her plan really was. The woods behind the Stiles’ farm were not a park. They were, well, woods. Trees that went on and on in every direction. Up gentle hills and down. Through boggy patches, around large pools. There were no trails, no landmarks. Nothing except trees, trees, and more trees. Even the rare growl of traffic faded away, leaving her with nothing except the sound of her footsteps and her labored breathing.
And the trees.
After a half hour, she gave up. Wandering aimlessly did nothing. Time to turn around and head back the way she came.
Which was…back past that mossy log, right? Yes. Definitely. She had, most certainly, passed that log. Dakota stomped back toward it. From there, though, nothing looked familiar. A sea of trees spread on all sides, exactly the same.
Look on the bright side. If Dragons really can tell when their Mates are in danger, I can’t stay lost forever. Eventually, Michael will find me. Then I’ll get to die from embarrassment, not starvation…
Cursing her city-born childhood, Dakota trudged onward. Annoyance swelled to worry. But by the time those worries darkened to true fear, a glint of green caught her eye.
Ahead, along a small ridgeline, lay a grove of birches in full leaf. Winter’s chill lingered here and most of the trees were still only in bud. These ones, though, flourished as if they clustered close to something warm.
Or magical.
Why not head up there? After all, she couldn’t get any more lost.
As she scrambled up toward the green, a man in hunters’ camo slipped out from between the tree. Looming over her, he peered down. “Annie?”
Dakota peered at him. “It’s… Finn, right?”
“Yes. What are you doing here?” Yesterday, his friendly smile had won her heart. Today, he was a different man. Cool, cautious, those icy blue eyes offered no welcome.
Well, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to pile more lies on top of her list of sins. “I wanted to see the Wellspring. Is this it?”
“The Wellspring is a sacred place. You can’t just wander up and take a peek at it.” Anger rumbled at the edge of his words. “You need to go home now.”
Dakota bit her lip. “Please?”
“No.”
A useless end to a useless trip. “Okay,” she sighed. “Would you point me toward the farm, though? I’ve gotten completely turned around.”
“I’ll take you myself.”
“Okay.” Meekly, she ducked her head.
Finn stood unmoving. His nose twitched. Then he snorted. “I’m sorry.”
“About what? I’m the one who’s trespassing.”
“About being a suspicious bastard.” Now his broad grin did break free, dispelling the last of her doubt. “You surprised me and, well, I snapped at you.”
“It’s okay. I mean, I know there’s supposed to be an attack soon and all…”
“Yes, and I’ve met enough villains over the years to know that they don’t ask permission before they do something wrong. Come here.” He waved her up the slope. “You can have a look before you go.”
“Are you sure?” Honestly, the fact that he was willing to allow this told her everything she needed to know.
“Yeah, why not? Just stay here at the edge. Don’t go wandering over and, say, toss a penny in.”
“No pennies, I promise!”
Branches and leaves wove a curtain around the Wellspring, but they parted easily. Beyond lay a grassy clearing, circled by vibrant leaves. Dakota could almost believe it was just another woodland dell – except for the Wellspring.
A small pool edged with mossy stones lay at the heart of the glade. Its still waters sparkled with sunlight.
On a cloudy day.
As she watched, tiny motes of light rose from it, glittering bubbles that drifted into the air and faded away. Everywhere they passed, colors gleamed. The air was rich with the scent of leaves and rain, every breath filled with the soul of spring and rebirth.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” she whispered.
Finn beamed at the little pool. “Isn’t it? Probably makes it easier to believe all the weird things you’ve been told about Shifters and magic.”
“It does. And it’s less scary than Dragons. Sorry!” she blurted out, as she remembered what he was.
The big man didn’t take offense. “No worries. We’re oversized predators. Hell, I’d scare the crap out of me – if I wasn’t me.”
There. The path was clear. The last of her doubts had been slain. There was no evil here, either at the Wellspring or in the First Flight. Anyone who told her otherwise was, at best, a liar. At worst, a true villain. Time to go home and think about how she was going to save her relationship with Michael.
“So, which way is the farm?”
Finn pointed in some random direction. “Follow me. By the way, most Wellsprings aren’t as impressive. They just look like ponds. This one is the oldest and…”
Dakota turned to go – and found that her feet wouldn’t obey her. Trapped like a fly in amber, she couldn’t step through the ring of greenery that bounded the Wellspring. “Finn? You forgot to unlock the door.”
“Door?”
“Yeah, I can’t get out.”
“What’s stopping you?” In two bounds, he was back at her side.
“My feet just won’t move. Isn’t this normal?” Fear set her heart beating faster and a strange, bitter cold began to creep through her body.
“No. I’m going to try something. If this hurts, speak up at once.”
Large hands closed around her waist. Gently, he lifted her into the air. Then he took a step down the hill.
Or, he tried. Dakota’s body simply wouldn’t pass beyond the edge of the Wellspring. She felt no pressure, no pain, not even when the Dragon pulled hard enough to make the muscles on his neck stand out sharply.
She also didn’t move.
He set her down and pulled out his cell phone. “Can you move backwards? Toward the Wellspring? No!” he yelped as she raised a foot. “Stop. Nothing forcing you to approach the spring is likely to be good. Let me get the smart people here.”
The cold deepened, sending a dull ache coursing up and down her right side.
“Lorde? We’ve got a situation at the Wellspring. Annie Crane is here and for some reason, she can’t leave.” A pause. “She wanted to see the Wellspring.” An angry buzz. “Well, she said ‘please’. What was I supposed to do? I know, I know,” he grumbled, running a hand across his buzz-cut hair. “We can discuss my lack of brains later, all right? Just get up here.”
“Fine.” With a sigh, he tucked the phone away. “Okay. Help is on the way. Let me try one more thing.”
“I’ve gotten you in trouble, haven’t I?”
“Nah, I did it to myself.” He walked directly behind her. “Right. Escape from the Wellspring, Take Two. Again, let me know if this hurts.”
“Okay.” The entire right half of her body had gone numb now, and her heart beat so hard she felt its echoes in her throat.
Lights sparkled at the edge of her vision. There was a strange, loud shuffling noise, as if something enormous shifted its weight. And suddenly, a great shadow spread over her and spilled down the ridge line. Dakota glanced upward.
A white Dragon loomed over her. Scars and claw-marks criss-crossed its face, slicing deep into its creamy scales. The sight of its maw, filled with deadly fangs, made her stomach flip. Yet Finn’s grey-blue eyes burned in the Dragon’s face.
It lowered its head behind her. Dakota felt a scaled nose, as large as a desk, press against her back. Talons dug into the soft soil, the Dragon pushed, and…
With a crackle of frying bacon, the stench of burned skin filled the air. Snarling, the Dragon jerked away.
“Shit!” Shifting to his human form, Finn stepped in front of her. A thin welt burned across his nose and cheek, as if someone had smacked him with a red-hot branding iron.
“Oh my word, are you okay?”
“I’ll live.” He touched the burn gingerly and winced.
“What’s going on?” Panic welled up, threatening to overwhelm her. Oh, how she wished Michael was here!
“I have no idea. Say, you didn’t bring anything odd here, did you?”
“No. I didn’t even remember to bring water.”
“You’re sure? Whatever burned me seemed to be in your jacket pocket.”
Dakota jammed her hand in just to be sure – and her fingers brushed against something cold. Something thin and metallic.
Something she knew she’d left at home.
“Oh no. No, no, no…” The blood drained from her face.
“Talk to me.” Finn’s voice, grim but calm, penetrated the cloud of fear. “What’s in your pocket?”
“There were people,” she stammered. “I didn’t know it then, but now I think they were the Fangs of Apophis. They gave me a ‘GPS tracker.’ But I left it at the house, I swear! I didn’t bring it. I left it…”
On the counter. By the microwave.
Where she’d found herself standing after her ‘caffeine-deprived’ moment.
“So you left it home – and it’s in your pocket now?” Steady as a rock, Finn didn’t doubt her. “Okay. Can you throw it outside the trees? Away from the Wellspring?”
“I’m afraid to. I took this thing out of my pocket and it’s like it forced me to bring it. I know that sounds crazy…”
“Nope. Not crazy at all. I officially hate magic and Witch Hares. All of them. Except my Mate,” he added in a mutter.
“What if it makes me throw it at the Wellspring, not away?”
“Good thought.”
With a sigh, he put a hand on her elbow. “Look, I think I can stop you, physically, from chucking this thing into the Wellspring. But if I have to use force, I could hurt you.”
“Like…”
“Like a broken arm or wrist.”
Strangely, the threat of violence, of punishment, calmed her. “That’s okay. I deserve it.”
Still, he wouldn’t condemn her. “You won’t be the first person the Fangs have tricked. Ready to give this a shot?”
Dakota nodded. With one hand on her elbow, the other ready to grab her wrist, Finn braced himself.
Nothing odd happened as she drew the cylinder out. Though, again, her hand wouldn’t move beyond the curtain of trees. “No good. I can’t…”
Shadowy spikes erupted from the lead rod, stabbing through her hand. They burned with cold, as if they were carved from dry ice. Everywhere they touched, her skin frosted white.
With a scream, she felt the tracker tumble from her fingers to the ground. Those black nails vanished as it fell.
Clutching her wounded hand, she clenched her fingers – and found no sign of injury. Just patches of white, like frost-bite, scattered across her fingers and palm.
“I’m sorry! Let me…” Quickly, she dropped to her knees and reached for it.
It was like dunking her hand into a vat of liquid nitrogen. The air above the tracker thickened. Searing cold enveloped her hand as it slowed. For one second, she threw her full weight down, trying to force herself to grab the tracker. Then, wailing in agony, she jerked back.
“I can’t! I’m sorry. It’s like it’s in a block of ice or something. I can’t even touch it.” Half of the skin on her right hand seemed dead now, and an aching pain shot all the way to her shoulder.
Finn said nothing. When she looked up, he was simply standing there, staring sadly at the lead rod.
“Kirsten,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Who the hell was Kirsten?
“Finn? Snap out of it!” Grabbing his arm, Dakota threw herself at the line of trees. The bedazzled man tripped, staggered – then seemed to hit the same invisible wall that had imprisoned her. She, on the other hand, went sprawling five feet down the hill.
It seemed she was free to go now. The cylinder had what it wanted.
A Dragon.
Wings overhead. Not the nasty, whispering feathers that had haunted her dreams. These were strong, steady beats, drawing near.
Three Dragons sailed into view: black, gold, and green. As they banked, Dakota spotted a woman riding on the shoulders of the gold Dragon. Tess, still dressed in her riding leathers, sailed past like the Queen of the Air. Even in the midst of her shame and fear, Dakota felt a pang of envy. So free, so powerful. What would it feel like to soar through the air like that?
Would she ever deserve that?
The black swooped down, Shifting into Brandon Lorde as it touched the ground. Owen, the green, followed. Finally, the gold touched down and extended a leg. Tess slid off its shoulder and bounced to the ground. Air shimmered, and her Mate, Darian, stood beside her.
“Stay back!” she warned. “There’s a thing here on the ground. Finn took one look at it and he froze!”
“Explain, Annie.” Not hostile, not friendly, Lorde watched her warily. “What is this ‘thing’?”
No time to worry about her dignity. “Okay, first, my name’s Dakota, not Annie. And I’m an idiot, not a traitor. I accidentally brought something here. Don’t look at it!” she yelped, as Owen squinted at the ground. “It’s supposed to be a GPS tracker, but I think it comes from the Fangs of Apophis.”
“Can you remove it?”
“No. It won’t budge, and it’s started to defend itself.” She held up her hand, pock-marked with white. “Though…hang on!” She shrugged off her jacket and tossed it over the rod. To her relief, the jacket fell flat, hiding the magical trinket.
Yet Finn still didn’t move. “He said someone’s name. Kirsten?”
“Kirsten was Finn’s wife,” Darian said. “The Fangs murdered her.”
Eerie, but not helpful. Fresh out of ideas, Dakota rubbed her injured hand and prayed the Dragons knew what to do.
One quick scan around the glade and Lorde shook his head. “We need Witch Hares. I’ll call Amarie. Morland, get the Miami Warren up here.”
“What about Bree?” Tess suggested.
Lorde waved the suggestion off. “Not skilled enough yet. She’s new to her powers.”
“But she’s Finn’s Mate. She ought to know what…”
“No. Finn won’t thank you for upsetting her.”
Tess might not be a Dragon, but she didn’t challenge the Alpha further.
As the two other Dragons began to make their calls, Owen wandered closer, peering at Finn. Dakota’s heart beat faster. He was here. Close enough to touch. The man who murdered…
…Who had been accused of murdering her sister. Accused by people she knew were liars.
So, why did her fury linger? Why did she still long to slap his handsome, rakish face as he studied Finn? Hatred bubbled up within her, a deep, soul-sick loathing.
Cally. Lying dead in an alley. Rotting. Dumped like garbage.
In vain, Dakota fought to drive that image out of her mind. She had no reason to blame Owen for that! He had done nothing to her!
As if he could read her mind, Owen spun toward her. Power flooded through him, setting his emerald eyes ablaze with inhuman light. Dakota shrieked as he snatched her up, claws sprouting from his fingertips.
He’s going to kill me! He’s going to eat me! He’s…
He whirled, throwing himself between her and the lead tracker.
One glance showed why. Her jacket was rising into the air, lifted by a fountain of shadow and black feathers that erupted from the ground like a geyser of filth.
Owen was shielding her. Protecting, not destroying.
Dakota couldn’t see the tracker, lost in that spreading shower of darkness. Yet her guardian slowed and winced.
“So many…” he whispered. “What were their names? I can’t even remember. How awful is that?”
“Jackson!” Lorde bellowed.
Her jacket fluttered to the ground. A pillar of darkness rose from where the tracker had fallen. Taller than a man, it boiled with feathers and shadow. Black eyes, glittering with rage, appeared and vanished among its strands. Dozens of them. Hundreds. A sea of rage and hatred staring through the darkness.
Dakota scrambled away from it. To her horror, Lorde and Darian stopped moving.
“Alinor,” Lorde sighed.
“Charity. Oh God, Charity, I’m sorry,” Darian groaned, his words nearly a sob. One hand rose to massage his shoulder, where the edge of his Dragon tattoo peeked out from under his collar.
For a second, Tess froze too – then she whipped a pistol from her shoulder holster and pointed it at Dakota’s face. “What the hell is that thing?”
Go ahead, she begged the Fae woman silently, pull the trigger. Then it will all be over. I won’t have to fix this. I won’t have to see the look in Michael’s face when he finds out how I betrayed him.
No. Death was the coward’s path, and she wouldn’t take it. Shaking, Dakota raised her hands. “I don’t know. It’s standing over a lead rod with MeYaipa written on it.”
“What?” The gun didn’t waver. “Why did you bring it here?”
“I didn’t mean to. I thought it was a GPS tracker and I left it at home. But it… I swear it got itself into my pocket!”
In the distance, Dakota heard a steady thumping. Faster, less ponderous than a Dragon’s wings.
Tess didn’t lower her weapon. “Give me one reason I should trust you.”
“I’m Michael’s Mate. I really am.”
“So? You betrayed him.”
“I did.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Because I doubted him. Because I listened to liars. But I’m sorry and I’ll fix this. I promise.”
“How?”
That was the big question. Though another question grew more urgent. “Are we expecting helicopters? Because I hear a bunch.”
“What? Shit!” Tess holstered the gun and quickly dialed a number. “John? Fangs incoming! Get the other Bears out, now! All Dragons down! Run and regroup!”
The Fangs of Apophis? Here?
“Shit!” Tess screamed the word at the top of her lungs and shot Dakota a venomous glare. “I’ll trust you for now, but I swear if you screw us over, I will kill you.”
“I won’t! I promise! I…”
“Save your breath,” the slender woman snapped as she trotted toward the woods. “Come on.”
“But we can’t just leave them here!”
“Yes, we can. We are.”
“But the Fangs will…”
Tess rounded on her, tears spilling down her heart-shaped face. “Do you think I don’t know that?” she wailed. “Darian is my Mate! The father of our kids! Do you think I don’t…” The rest of her words were lost in an agonized sob.
Silent, shamed, Dakota slunk over to the Shifter as she scrubbed the tears from her face.
“Do you have a way to beat a chopper full of Shifter warriors?” Tess snarled. “Because I don’t. And that sounds like what’s coming.”
“No.” Despair filled Dakota as she turned her back on the helpless Dragons. Transfixed by her treachery.
“Then we run. And we pray the Fangs don’t immediately kill them. Because I want to rescue my Mate, not avenge him.”