Chapter Twelve
Vasili wanted to keep kissing Abigail, but the clock was ticking away, and the station in Omsk was getting closer. It took effort to push back his anger. His dragon was furious that he hadn’t been able to protect her from what had happened. The fact he hadn’t even known she’d existed was irrelevant. There was no logic when it came to dealing with that side of him. Primal and fiercely protective, his dragon roared at the thought of anyone harming Abigail.
“Why did you come to Europe?” He was curious, wanted to know everything there was to know about her. After all she’d been through, it would have made more sense for her to want to stay home, close to her family.
She shrugged and tried to turn away, to look toward the window, but he tugged her back around.
“I couldn’t stay. I didn’t feel safe at home anymore.”
There was an underlying thread of hurt in her voice that made his heart ache. Home was important. Home was everything. It wasn’t just a place, but a feeling, a sense of belonging, of safety and community. She’d had that taken from her by an act of violence. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” She blinked several times. Her eyes were luminous, but she shed no tears. She rubbed her finger over a small stain on her jeans, as if trying to erase it. “It was the house we grew up in after our parents died. Our grandpa raised us, gave us a home.”
He watched her intently, giving her all of his attention. He wanted to make her pain go away but didn’t know how. He kept silent, hoping she’d keep talking.
“He taught us everything about buying and selling. We spent our childhood going to estate sales, yard sales, thrift stores, and antique shops.” Her gentle smile soothed some of his anger. She’d had so much, and it had all been ripped away from her.
Every little detail about her past was catalogued and tucked away like a precious gem in his memory so he could pull it out whenever he wanted. “What else did he teach you?” He was sorry he would never be able to meet the man.
Not everyone was willing to take in orphaned children, even if they were related. He knew that from experience. He’d had family, but after his mother died, they’d all turned him away. That would have been a death sentence to a human. Even for him, it had been a struggle to survive at first.
Abigail continued her story, pulling him away from the morose thoughts of the past. “Grandpa taught us to follow our own passions and dreams, no matter if they weren’t exactly considered normal. He told us the only person we had to live up to was the one we looked at in the mirror every morning.”
Vasili was glad she’d had such a wise man to guide her through her youth. “You have a camera with you.” He’d noticed it in the bag she guarded so closely. “You like to take pictures? Photographs?”
She nodded but seemed lost in another memory. “Yeah, my sister gave me a camera when I was a kid. Mostly, I think, to keep me busy. Turns out I not only liked it, I had an eye for it. I sell some of my finer work through a small gallery back home. I sell a lot of stock photos, too. I did sell prints online, but I shut that down before I left.”
He stroked his fingers through her hair, loving the silky feel. “This is what you love?” She had a talent for finding the best gemstones, yet she took pictures. Abigail was a puzzle, so strong in some ways, yet fragile in others.
“I do enjoy it, but I love vintage fabrics, finding and repurposing them.” She bit her lower lip, and his cock jerked. He’d been aroused most of the time he’d been around her. His lust for her knew no bounds. He wanted her lips on every part of his body. His dick flexed in agreement.
But now was not the time or the place.
When he didn’t say anything, she continued. “I know it doesn’t make a whole lot of money, but sewing relaxes me.”
“You enjoy it. That is all that matters.”
“That’s what Constance says.”
The way she spoke about her sister told Vasili just how much her sister’s opinion meant to her. He hoped Constance would like him, because he wasn’t planning on leaving Abigail anytime soon. Not ever.
“What about you?” she asked.
As much as it pained him to share, he knew he had to try. Sharing didn’t come easy. Part of it was genetic—dragons were secretive creatures, and that was half of his DNA. It also came from being warned to watch everything he said and did while growing up. His mother had meant well, had done it to protect him, but it had only reinforced his inborn mistrust of others. “I was born about four thousand years ago near the Ural Mountains.”
“So it really is home for you.” She seemed surprised.
“Yes. I was raised in a nomadic tribe. The people lived off the land. It was a hard life.” One that had drained the life from his mother at an early age, especially since she’d been raising a child on her own without the help of a man. His sire had been little help.
“Life must have been difficult.” He could hear the interest, as well as the sympathy in her voice. “Especially for your mother. This is such a harsh land.”
He gave a jerky nod. He could still picture his mother. She had thick brown hair that had fallen to her waist. Her eyes had been as dark as the soil they sometimes tilled in the summer months. She’d been a healer, one of the only reasons she hadn’t been ostracized by her family and tribe. They’d needed her. Still, she’d been isolated even as she’d lived among them. They both had.
“It wasn’t easy for her.”
She pressed her hands against his chest. “And what was it like for you?”
“Difficult.” He’d borne the brunt of taunts and physical abuse whenever she wasn’t around to protect him. He’d been small for his age. Weak. Until he’d hit puberty. Then everything had changed.
“Your father?”
He sneered. “My sire abandoned us. I was too small. A disappointment.” He could still hear the echo of those words even after all these years.
“I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. His arms rose, seemingly of their own volition, and closed around her. He hugged her tightly, drinking in her warmth and caring.
“It is well in the past,” he assured her.
She leaned back and nodded. “Doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt. And it’s his loss.” For someone so young, she understood so much. “What about the Knights?”
His lip curled in disdain. He’d known this was coming, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about them.
“Men have always coveted my treasures, but when they finally realized what my blood could do, then they wanted to own me.” It hadn’t come as a shock to him. By then, he’d understood the innate greed that seemed to drive a certain kind of person.
She shivered. “That’s horrible.”
“That is human nature,” he corrected. “Man always wants what he perceives will bring him more power. He thinks little past tomorrow. Look at the state of the world. They do not understand that when all the water has been tainted and there is no fresh air left to breathe, all their money and power will not bring it back. They do not understand that their grandchildren and great-grandchildren will curse their names. They do not seem to grasp that man cannot eat gold once the fields are fallow.”
He shook his head. “I have seen the rise and fall of great civilizations. They all believed they would last forever, but they still fell. It is no different today. They will all be gone someday, but the drakons will still be here.” He could live in conditions that would kill a human.
He supposed that was a plus. If mankind eventually destroyed itself or at least sent itself back to the preindustrial times, drakons would be able to live freely once again, no longer having to hide.
Still, he hated to think it would come to that. The world was such a miraculous place, filled with natural beauty, art, music, and innovation. If only people would realize it before it was too late.
“You’re right. I worry about the state of things.” She gave a wry laugh. “I worry about a lot of things these days. Hence, the panic attacks.”
“You’ve been through more than most.” Most people lived their lives never realizing what was happening around them in the shadows.
Since they’d be pulling into the station within minutes, he got back to the topic at hand. “There have always been men who coveted drakons and what we have. They know we have treasures, collected over the long years of our lives. We have knowledge, long lost to mankind. But it is our blood and its ability to heal, to extend life that men have always craved. They need us alive to have a continuous and steady supply that is potent and reliable, and they’ve been trying to capture us since they first discovered what our blood can do. The Knights are simply the ones who have been the most organized and persistent.”
“But you’ve stayed away from them, off their radar.”
“For many, many years. Until now.” And as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t regret it. It had brought Abigail into his life. He was ready to share his home with someone, ready to open his heart to the right woman. He’d been alone for so very long.
Her eyes clouded with worry. “That’s my fault. I’m so sorry.” She stared at the bracelet. “Do you think you should destroy this?” She started to take it off, but he stopped her.
He’d done a lot of thinking about the bracelet on the trip while she slept. He didn’t need as much rest as she did. Plus, he’d been unable to sleep deeply, his need to watch over her driving out all others. He’d changed his mind about what they should do with the Knight’s trinket.
“Not yet. If it is a trap, let them spring it.” Let the Knights come to them. It was the only way he could find and eliminate the men after her.
“You can’t mean that?” She seemed horrified and scrambled off his lap. Hands on her hips, she glared down at him. “That’s too dangerous.”
He reached for her, but she backed away. His scowl deepened. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he promised.
“I’m not worried about me. Well, no, I am, but not just about me. I’m expendable. They want you.”
Hearing her speak of herself that way made smoke seep from his nostrils. Fury the likes of which he hadn’t felt in many a long year stirred deep inside.
“You are not expendable,” he corrected.
She looked at him with worried eyes. “Let’s destroy the bracelet. Please. What if they can track it?” Her eyes went wide, and she swallowed heavily. “What if they know where we are even now? We should have gotten rid of it before we left the city.”
Her distress was making his dragon anxious. “Once we are somewhere safe and away from people, we will,” he promised. It was highly likely the Knights could use the bracelet as some kind of magical tracking device. He’d thought as much when he’d first seen the thing wrapped around her wrist. His immediate instinct had been to use it to trap and kill the men after him so they were no longer a threat. But now his priorities had changed.
As much as he’d like to use the bracelet as bait to lure Anton Bruno and his men, he didn’t want to upset Abigail any more than she already was. There were other ways to find out more about Bruno and his men. It would take longer, but it was doable.
He knew she wouldn’t be in danger. He wouldn’t allow it. And Vasili didn’t believe he was being arrogant to think that way. He was a drakon, and he would protect his woman.
The train began to slow. “We are almost there,” he told her.
She looked away and gathered her things, looping her bag over her shoulder. “What will happen now?”
“I keep a truck near the station. We will get it and head out of the city.” Best to get away from people as soon as possible. It would be easier to see the Knights coming. As much as he’d like to believe they’d outwitted them, he knew better. Even if the magic in the bracelet couldn’t be tracked, the Knights had informants everywhere. Bruno and his men would be waiting for them and would make a move at some point.
He wanted Abigail safe before that happened. The only place he knew he could leave her was his mountain fortress.
The brakes on the train sounded as they came to a complete halt on the tracks. “Let’s go.” He held out his hand, and she slipped her fingers around his. “Stay close,” he reminded her.
“I will,” she promised. He caught the glint of the stone from the bracelet peeking out from beneath her sleeve. Maybe he should have already destroyed it, but it was too late for second-guessing now.
He yanked open the cabin door and moved quickly down the narrow corridor, easing through the crowds also trying to get off. Using his big body, he made a path for them. Some people grumbled, but most simply got out of his way.
Then they were on the platform. He breathed in the cold air and the stench of fuel and humanity. He hustled Abigail through the station and out onto the streets, keeping his eyes open for anything suspicious. But there were simply too many people around, too many places for someone to hide. It might be late March, but the city was alive with people and activity at this time of the day.
The lunchtime rush hour would be over, and the restaurants would no longer be crowded. They needed food, but they needed to get away from here more. “Come.” He led her to the right. She didn’t complain as they walked for fifteen minutes. She hurried to keep up with his longer strides, their boots scrunching in the snow that partially covered the sidewalk. Normally, he’d slow down to match her shorter steps, but the back of his neck was tingling. Someone was watching them.
Her fingers tightened around his. “Do you feel it?” she asked.
He was surprised once again by her depth of perception. Most people never realized when they were being followed.
“Yes.” He turned into the long-term parking lot. The attendant greeted him in Russian. Vasili paid him in cash, slipping him extra. The extra assured his ride was still there and waiting for him. That wasn’t always the case in lots like these.
He ushered Abigail into the passenger side of his truck and then climbed behind the wheel. Within seconds, he was turning out onto the road.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seat.
“Put your seat belt on,” he told her. The last thing he wanted was for her to be injured if they had an accident.
She snapped the restraint on and then stared pointedly at him. He smiled. “I don’t need one. I cannot be hurt in an accident,” he reminded her.
“Good to be you,” she commented.
He frowned at her sharp reply. It wasn’t like her. Not at all. She was rubbing her forehead. “Headache?” he asked, suddenly worried. She needed food and proper rest. More water, too.
“Yeah. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Vasili felt several of his tattoos begin to tingle. Not his birthmark, but the ones he’d purposely had inked on his skin.
He pulled out of the garage and made his way out of the city. The longer he drove, the more doubts seeped into his brain, along with a steady pressure that made him irritable. With the doubts came questions.
Why had Abigail stayed with him? She’d followed him easily, letting him take the lead. Did she believe she could insinuate herself into his life? That she would make him vulnerable?
She was probably working for the Knights of the Dragon. Those bastards were everywhere. How much had they paid her to wear the bracelet and walk around Moscow, trying to lure one of his kind? She had a sales receipt for the thing, but that was easily faked.
Maybe she was a fake, too. All those stories she’d told him just that. And how did he know the people she’d talked with were related to her? They could all be working for the Knights, for Anton Bruno.
Maybe even Father Petrov was in on the whole scheme from the beginning.
Anger pumped through his veins. He loosened his grip on the steering wheel before he cracked it. If they thought they could capture him so easily, he’d show them.
He’d kill her and leave her body for them to find. His entire being rebelled at the thought of harming her. No, I can’t hurt her.
Better to disappear into the mountains where puny humans couldn’t follow him. What had he been thinking to bring her so close to his home? He hadn’t been thinking. Obviously, she was in on the plan with the Knights, scheming against him.
Yes, he needed to kill her.
His dragon roared to life inside him, shaking him from his dire thoughts. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he thinking such crazy things?
His tattoos were practically burning his flesh.
Magic. Someone was trying to use magic on him. He glanced toward Abigail. Her entire body was stiff, as though she was frozen. Her hands rested in her lap, and the stone in the bracelet was glowing.
Bastard Knights were trying to make him kill her. They were trying to trap him. If he spilled her blood, he had no doubt it would activate some secondary spell. And there was nothing more powerful or darker than blood magic.
Thankfully, they were far outside the city limits. He had no idea how long he’d been driving, as he’d been lost in the fog of anger and suspicion the spell had cast around him. If not for the talismans inked on his body, he’d be ensnared in the web of dark magic being cast over them.
He saw a good spot just ahead and pulled his truck over onto the side of the road. She turned her head and stared at him. But it wasn’t her eyes staring back at him. Her beautiful blue eyes were now a dark brown, filled with cunning and deceit.
It had to be the mage.
Vasili knew he had to pretend. At least until he figured out how to break the spell. Whoever had a hold on Abigail might well be able to kill her. He knew the bracelet was the key.
He should have destroyed the damn thing when he had the chance. But Abigail had wanted to protect it, and he’d been enthralled. Now he had to believe that was intentional, a part of the spell itself. All he could do now was fight the compulsions.
In his arrogance, he’d assumed he could protect her. And he could from most things, but not from magic. He might be warded against such things, but she wasn’t. That left her vulnerable.
Once again, the Knights were using her as a pawn in their games.
He vowed he would kill them all. But first, he had to get them out of this deadly situation. He wanted to grab Abigail and run with her, far and fast. Instead, he growled at her. “Get out.”
…
Anton Bruno paced in front of Evgeny. They were situated in a clearing about an hour outside of Omsk. His men had eyes on Abigail Owens and the man with her. And from all accounts, he was big enough to be a dragon.
One of his men had paid the agent at the train station and learned the name the stranger had given when he’d purchased their tickets. Vasili Zima. It was unknown to him. It might also be phony. The fact that his hacker could find little on the man meant the name was either fake or the stranger might well be a drakon.
“Is it working?”
He hated having to depend on someone else, especially someone like Evgeny. Anton disliked being beholden to those who were more powerful than him. There was only one other person he feared other than Evgeny, and that was Karina Azarov, the leader of the Knights of the Dragon. Now that was one stone-cold bitch. He planned to displace her someday, but to do that, he needed a source of dragon blood.
He admitted he’d been careless with the last one. The creature had somehow managed to end its own life rather than remain captive. A miscalculation on his part. One he wouldn’t make again. Now he needed another.
He had Evgeny on his payroll. And now he was close to having a dragon as well. He rubbed his hands together for warmth and then reached for the bottle of vodka he’d brought with him.
“The spell is complex,” Evgeny muttered. He was peering into a large silver bowl, filled with pure spring water. Whatever he was seeing, only he could view it. Anton wouldn’t rest until he could learn to see for himself.
“But it will work?” he demanded. He was too close to having what he wanted to let it slip through his fingers. Dragons weren’t exactly plentiful. Most hid themselves well. The few that didn’t, that made mistakes, had already been taken by other high-ranking Knights.
Anton thought his idea to use a bespelled bracelet to trap one was brilliant.
“Yes, it will work. The spell on the bracelet attracted the dragon. I’m not sure why it attracted the woman. I wish she could be left alive, but unfortunately her death and blood are necessary for this secondary spell to work.”
“What exactly are you doing?” He wanted the knowledge for himself but knew Evgeny would never share. Like before, Evgeny worked from memory, not a book that Anton could steal. The mage was a clever bastard.
He’d chanted in languages Anton didn’t recognize. He’d burned herbs and mixed potions. There had been an animal sacrifice as well. A crow’s blood had been added to the mixture. The magic had brewed powerful and potent. Deadly. Then Evgeny had drunk the brew and directed the resulting energy.
Anton wanted to know how to do what the mage did. Casting a spell from a distance, tapping into the existing spell on the bracelet took skill, knowledge, and power.
But he was patient. Once he had a supply of drakon’s blood, he could live forever. Time would be on his side. He’d eventually learn what he needed to know. When he did, Evgeny would be expendable.
The mage looked up from the silver bowl and stared at him, as though he could read Anton’s thoughts. And maybe he could. He’d have to guard against that in the future.
“Right now, the dragon is getting paranoid, beginning to believe the woman betrayed him. The woman is getting more fearful, believing the creature will kill her. Once he does, her blood will come in contact with the bracelet. It will activate the spell I just cast, creating a magical cage for the dragon until you can get there and tranquilize him for transport.”
“Excellent.” Anton’s phone rang, and he grabbed it. “Yes.”
“Sir, they’ve pulled over.”
“Where?” He began to move, but Evgeny stayed where he was. Anton couldn’t allow that. “You’re coming with me.” He pointed at Evgeny.
“Why?”
“I might need you. In case the spell doesn’t work.” He thought his reasoning sound.
Evgeny frowned. “It will work.”
Evgeny’s arrogance was a match for his own. It was better if he didn’t have to force the mage to accompany him. He wanted to stay on the man’s good side as long as he was necessary for Anton’s plans.
“Don’t you want to be there to taste first blood?”
As expected, Evgeny licked his lips. If there was one thing Anton understood, it was human nature, especially greed. The mage wanted the dragon blood as much as he did.
“Of course. You’re right. I should be there.”
He wanted to hurry the mage along but managed to hold his tongue. It wouldn’t take them long to get there. By the time they arrived at the secluded location, the dragon should have killed the woman and be trapped by the blood spell.
He was so close. Not much longer, and he’d have a dragon of his own. After years of waiting, he was close to finally achieving his goal.