Chapter Twelve
Nic’s blood ran cold as he listened to Dent explaining his plans. He wanted to swoop in and rescue Constance and her sister, but there were too many men, and they were spread out. There was no way to rescue both women before one of them was shot and killed.
He was also wary of those damn statues. As much as he’d like to dismiss them, he couldn’t. Too many of his fellow drakons had ended up in the clutches of the Knights. No one really knew the numbers. Maybe it was only five or six, maybe it was twenty. Even one was too many. If they caught and held one of his kind, they could feed off him for centuries.
Now that was an unpleasant thought.
He moved away from the building and removed his phone from his pocket. He turned it on but set it to vibrate. He’d barely done that when it signaled an incoming call. He knew it was Constance.
He answered, keeping his voice low. He knew where all of Dent’s men were so he could talk here, but not for long. “Yeah.”
“Nic, it’s Constance.
He could tell she was nervous, scared, too. “What do you want?” He kept his answer gruff in case Dent was listening.
“Umm, I need your help.”
He crouched in the darkness and lowered his head. Weariness overtook him. He was tired of fighting, tired of playing these kinds of games. “What kind of help?”
“Dent called. He wants me to meet him at a warehouse.” She gave him the address. For one brief second, he thought about ending the call and walking away. His dragon side almost went ballistic at the thought. The more primal part of his nature knew what the human side was having a harder time accepting. Constance belonged to him.
He almost laughed. His brothers got women who’d put their lives on the line for them. He got one who was going to hand him over to the Knights, his worst enemy.
Granted, she had no idea what they wanted to do to him and didn’t believe in dragons, but she knew there was a good chance Dent would kill him.
He should leave her to her fate, but that would make him too much like his mother. She’d thrown him away when things got tough. He wouldn’t do the same. He couldn’t do the same.
For better or worse, she was his.
“Nic, are you still there?” The sheer terror in her voice made his heart ache.
“I’m still here. I’m on my way.” He ended the call before he said something he might regret.
He thought about calling Tarrant but figured his brother probably had a satellite trained on him right about now while some company or country scrambled to find out why their multimillion-dollar piece of equipment was malfunctioning. Tarrant would make sure no one ever discovered why the satellite had malfunctioned or what it had been doing. And even if he wasn’t watching, he knew what was happening.
Nic slowly came out of the crouch and tucked his phone back into his pocket. He hoped he’d be able to call his brothers when this was done. Probably should have touched base with Ezra and Darius before he’d come here, but he didn’t want to worry them any more than was necessary. It was bad enough he’d dragged Tarrant into this mess.
There were half a dozen men patrolling the perimeter of the building. It was time to even the playing field a little. He had time, and it could make all the difference in whether Constance was able to escape.
Nic snuck up behind the first man, wrapped his hands around his head, and jerked. The snap signaled his death. Nic lowered him to the ground. He tried not to think about what he was doing as he continued around the grounds, slowly and methodically ending the lives of five other mercenaries, men who’d sold their services to the Knights.
These men had participated in the kidnapping of an innocent woman. They’d kill Constance if Dent ordered. And they were here to help capture him. Nic knew he couldn’t afford to have pity on men who would have none on him.
Still, he regretted having to take their lives. Human lives were so short. It always amazed and confused him that they didn’t appreciate the time they had and spend it in loving and joyful ways. Instead, they spent much of it fighting and warring over things they couldn’t take with them when they passed.
When the last man stationed outside lay lifeless on the ground, Nic headed toward the building, determined to do whatever he could to save the women and destroy Dent and his men. He was a drakon, a creature of myth, born of a full-blooded dragon and a human female. He was intelligent and ruthless, but not ruthless enough. It was his all-too-human heart making him walk toward the warehouse where his fate awaited instead of just incinerating the place and everyone in it.
It was ironic really. He’d been thinking about the Deep Sleep more and more often, wondering if he’d end up like some of his brethren, going off to settle down for an eternal slumber. Did they have thoughts while they slept? Dreams? His life had left him empty.
Then Constance had come into his life, and with her, the Knights. No, he wasn’t going to end up in the Deep Sleep, but he might end up a guest of the Knights. He had no idea how they held drakons. He knew they had potions to keep them locked in the dragon form, never able to change back to their base form of human, drugs to keep them weak.
Then there were those statues. Nic had no idea what they could do, but he knew they were dangerous.
Since all the doors were covered by Dent’s men, Nic went to a window he’d seen earlier. He took a quick look inside to make sure no one had entered the small room since he’d last checked. The office looked as though it hadn’t been used in months. He put his hands on the frame and pushed, putting just enough pressure on it so the lock broke. It made a small noise. He paused and waited, but no one came to check.
Nic raised the window and slipped inside.
…
Constance hated the situation she was in. Dent had her sister, he had her, and soon he’d have Nic. If she’d had any other choice, she would have made it.
“He’s on his way.” Not that Dent didn’t already know that since he’d made her put the call on speaker. “What now?”
“Now we wait and hope Mr. Wilde doesn’t tarry.”
God, Dent spoke like he belonged on some British period drama. All that was missing was the accent. He even looked the part with his spectacles and tweed jacket. Set him down in a castle library and he’d be right at home.
“I want to go to my sister.” She wasn’t exactly in a position to make demands, but she made it anyway. Dent smirked at her, but then he surprised her by jerking his head to his right.
Constance bolted from the center of the circle and ran toward Abigail. The man holding her sister released her at the last second, and Abigail fell into her arms.
“I’ve got you,” she soothed. Her sister was trembling. Or maybe that was her. Chances were it was both of them.
“What’s going on? I don’t understand any of this?” Her sister sounded young, like she had when she’d been frightened as a child, looking to Constance for reassurance.
“I know you don’t, baby. This will all be over soon.”
Abigail rested her head on Constance’s shoulder and whispered in her ear. “I overheard them talking. They’re going to kill both of us.” Her sister sounded deadly calm now, not the least bit afraid. It was then she understood that the childlike attitude was for her captors.
“I’ve got a plan,” she whispered back.
“That’s enough of a reunion,” Dent told them.
Reluctant to make him angry at this point, she held her sister away. It was then she noticed the swelling on Abigail’s left hand. It looked like two of her fingers had been broken.
Abigail saw the direction of her gaze and shook her head. God, she was proud of her sister. If Abigail could handle what had been done to her, Constance would have to do the same, at least for now.
“Come back to the center of the circle, Ms. Owens.” Knowing she had no choice but to obey Dent, she did.
A shiver skated down her spine, and the energy around her changed. She didn’t dare look around the room, but she knew Nic was here. How had he gotten here so soon? It should have taken him a lot longer.
He’d been following her. He’d been watching over her, and she was betraying him. Acid churned in her stomach. Her heart ached so badly her chest hurt.
She wanted to yell at him to run, but if she did, her sister would die.
She stepped where Dent had directed her, once again wishing she could go back in time and ignore the statues. Maybe she never would have met Nic, but at least he and her sister would be safe. This situation was all on her. It was up to her to fix it.
A dead calm settled over her. If she died here, she wanted to do everything in her power to give her sister and Nic a chance to live. From what she’d noted, Dent had half a dozen men that were visible. She had to assume he had more in the shadows and likely outside as well.
“Now what?”
“Now we wait.” Dent wandered over to the onyx statue and bent down to study it. “Do you have any idea what the eyes are made of?” he asked her.
“Diamonds.” That was obvious. She’d originally thought they were fakes, but like all the other dragons’ eyes, they were real gemstones.
“Diamonds.” He reached out and touched the statues, visibly shuddering when he did. “They’re more than diamonds, Ms. Owens. They’re dragon tears.”
Dragons again. These people were out of their minds.
He straightened and frowned at her. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“You’ll have to forgive me for not buying into your insane fantasy.” She studied him. “You look a little old to have played role-playing games in your youth. Maybe you’ve read too many fantasy novels.” It wasn’t smart to be provoking him, but she was sick to death of the whole dragon thing. They’d upended her life and hurt her sister, and for what? Some stupid myth?
Her sense of Nic grew stronger. He was getting closer. The air in the room stirred. Even Dent looked around and gripped his weapon a little tighter. “Mr. Wilde. I assume you’ve already joined us.” Dent glanced at the man closest to him. The mercenary spoke into some kind of headset and then shook his head.
“That’s not very nice of you to kill more of my men, Mr. Wilde,” Dent continued. “Maybe I should hurt one of the women.”
“Don’t.” That one word, spoken with such command, froze everyone in place, including her. Nic strode from the shadows, looking calm and utterly confident. He’d removed his jacket and was wearing jeans and a tight black T-shirt. His feet were bare.
She frowned over that. Why had he removed his boots?
She wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Dent laughed and pointed his gun at Nic’s feet. “So I was right.”
“You want that carved on your headstone?” Nic quipped.
He didn’t seem the least bit concerned by all the weapons pointed in his direction. He was unarmed, but every one of Dent’s men had their guns pointed toward Nic. What was going on?
“Step into the circle with Ms. Owens,” Dent directed.
Nic tilted his head to one side. “Why?”
“You obviously care for her, or you wouldn’t have come.”
Nic smiled at Dent, and it wasn’t a pleasant expression. She shuddered, seeing another side of Nic, a ruthless side. This was not a man you wanted as an enemy, yet that was exactly what she’d done by betraying him.
“Maybe I used her to find you so I could kill you and all your men.” Nic’s softly spoken taunt sent the tension in the room skyrocketing. Constance was sweating. She had no idea what she should do. She stayed motionless, not wanting to draw either man’s attention.
She’d entered a very dangerous world, one where people talked about killing as though it were nothing. She was in way over her head. They could have their games and their artifacts. All she wanted was her sister safe.
“Unlikely,” Dent replied. “You could have just disappeared. Isn’t that what your kind does?”
“It’s what we used to do.” Nic strode forward, looking bigger and more powerful with every step he took. “We’ve left the Knights alone for decades, thinking you were wiped out the last time you clashed with one of my kind. Unlike you, we don’t like to kill innocents. All we want is to be left alone. But you changed things this time, you and your friend Temple.”
Nic laughed when Dent frowned.
“That’s right. We know all about your group and are learning more every day. We’ve been too isolated from one another over the years, because that is our nature. But you’ve pushed us too far, Dent. This time we’re coming for you.” He scanned the men in the room. “All of you.”
Dent was sweating now. For the first time, he appeared concerned, not as confident. “Get into the center of the circle.”
“Why should I?”
Dent didn’t threaten, didn’t warn any of them. He just turned and shot at Constance. She threw herself to the side at the last second, and the bullet whizzed past her. She half expected the impact of another shot. Instead, a great roar shook the entire building.
She looked up and lost her ability to speak or think. Nic’s shape began to change and he began to grow. His shirt split and shredded. The seams of his jeans let go. The tattoos on his body began to shimmer.
Wings erupted from his back, and his skin was replaced by thick plate-like armor that was red in color. Each scale was outlined in black. They were the same colors as his tattoo. His head flattened on top and became wedge shaped with an elongated jaw. He no longer had fingernails but deadly claws.
Constance blinked. She heard Abigail scream and some of the men yell. Nic had to be about fifteen feet long, and that wasn’t including his long, powerful tail, which was tucked around him.
He rose on his back legs and released his wings. The spread had to be at least double the size of his body.
Nic was a dragon.
She shook her head. Impossible.
Nic. Was. A. Dragon.
She’d had sex with a dragon. She was in love with a bloody dragon. How was this even possible? Then she remembered what Nic had told her about Dent and how the group he belonged to wanted to capture him and drink his blood. She couldn’t let that happen.
But it was too late. Dent fired at her again, and Nic pounced, coming down over her. She feared he might crush her with his gigantic body, but instead, he crouched above her like some big watchdog, shielding her from any further bullets.
The moment he was inside the circle, something changed. He roared as though he was in pain. She scrambled out from beneath him. “Nic? Nic, what’s wrong?” Stupid question all things considered, but this was something different, something he hadn’t been expecting.
These statues were dangerous to him.
He turned his big head toward her and opened his mouth. God, those were big teeth. All the better to eat her with. Yeah, not a pleasant thought. In this form, she’d barely be a snack.
“Run.” The word was guttural, as though it had been pulled from him.
He’d known. He’d known she’d planned to betray him, and still he was trying to save her. If she hadn’t already loved him, she would have fallen in that moment. Man or beast, it didn’t matter. She wanted to tell him she’d come back for him but didn’t dare. Not where Dent could hear her.
She scrambled out of the circle just as Nic whirled around and sent a blast of fire toward Dent. Fire. It was crazy. But the blaze slammed into an invisible wall. Now that Nic was inside the circle, the statues were acting as some kind of a barrier. She could leave, but he was trapped.
That’s what the statues were—a dragon trap. And she’d given them to his enemies.
He roared again, drawing all the men’s attention. She couldn’t let his sacrifice be in vain. Constance faded into the shadows and headed toward her sister. Her foot hit something, and she barely kept from tripping. She glanced down. It was the remains of Nic’s clothes. And sticking out of the pocket of his jeans was his cell. She grabbed it and jammed it in her back pocket.
The man who was supposed to be watching her sister had moved toward the circle with the others. They were both awed and scared of Nic. She didn’t blame them. He was fierce as he roared and threw himself against the invisible barrier. It seemed to work only on his kind.
His kind.
She’d thought her worldview had been upended before. Now it was totally off the rails. Abigail was watching Nic and the others, her face pale, her mouth wide open.
Constance grabbed her sister by the arm and dragged her into the shadows. “Don’t talk,” she whispered in her ear. “Run.”
Feeling like a coward, she turned her back on Nic’s roars of pain and hurried toward the entrance. She knew in her heart that the way was clear, that he’d disposed of any of the men who’d been stationed outside.
These two factions were at war. She and her sister and Mario were collateral damage.
Constance turned at the last second. Nic was in obvious pain but fighting his captivity. He was beautiful and terrifying all at once. He was also giving her time to escape with her sister. He’d done this for her. Given himself over to these awful men.
The night air was chilly after the heat from the warehouse. Both of them were breathing heavily as they stumbled toward the van. She shoved her sister inside and jumped into the driver’s seat. She expected at any second someone would notice them missing and come after them.
But as she put her foot on the gas and roared toward the gate, no one came after them, no gunfire split the night.
The gate loomed ahead of them. “Brace yourself,” she yelled at her sister. She didn’t let up on the gas, and the van hit the gate hard. The impact jolted them both. Constance’s head bounced off the side window. Metal crunched, glass broke, but the gate gave way under the pressure.
“Are you okay?” She knew she was still yelling but couldn’t seem to stop. She was terrified for her sister and for Nic, who was still back there.
“Yes. No. Who are those people? What was that thing?”
“We can talk later. I need to get you to safety.” She couldn’t take Abigail home. But Constance knew where to take her where she’d be safe, somewhere the Knights would never suspect her of hiding.