Chapter Seventeen
Abigail was terrified, but probably not nearly as afraid as she should be.
Vasili was scarier than he’d ever been before. There was something different about him, remote. It was as though he’d cut off all his emotions.
Ice crept out from under his feet, spreading around the room. She could smell Bruno’s fear, hear it in his increased breathing, feel it in the slight tremble of his body. She was scared, too, but she also trusted her drakon.
The answer he’d given Bruno had left her shivering. Her captor didn’t want to know if he was a drakon, but what kind he was. She didn’t know much about that. She assumed there was earth, air, fire, and water ones, like had been represented in the statues her sister had found. She’d never heard about ice drakons. And from Bruno’s reaction, neither had he.
Vasili hadn’t moved, but he somehow seemed larger, more menacing. The air in the room was growing thicker, like fog but almost icy somehow. And the ice was slowly creeping over the floors and up the walls.
She shivered as the cold penetrated her feet and the fog seemed to wrap around her like a blanket. Or a shroud. Not exactly a pleasant thought.
Vasili’s gaze flicked to a statue that Bruno had placed on the floor between them. She worried about that. Had seen firsthand what such things could do to a drakon. All she could do was hope the magical object didn’t have too much of an effect on him. He’d fought off the compulsion of the bracelet. She’d also spent her time planning how she could break free from Bruno and destroy the statue if it became necessary.
But she needn’t have worried. Vasili simply smiled and shook his head. “More trinkets.”
“Why don’t they work on you?” Bruno demanded.
“I’m special,” he taunted. “Your magic and toys don’t work on me.” He took a step forward.
“I’ll kill her,” Bruno warned, yanking her head back and jamming the gun into her temple. “I know about your kind. I’ve learned much over the years. I controlled my last dragon by using his woman against him.”
“The bracelet,” she whispered. Had the drakon he’d captured given it to his woman, like Nic had given Constance a necklace of rubies?
Bruno chuckled. “It was originally a necklace. I had it taken apart and the gems set into smaller pieces. Several of those pieces were bespelled by a mage and distributed across Moscow and St. Petersburg. But somehow, you found one of the pieces. I was disappointed at first, but then he was attracted to you, and I knew he had to be a dragon.”
“What happened to the drakon you had in captivity?” Vasili sounded calm, too calm, as though he was totally removed from the situation. It was beginning to worry her.
Bruno shrugged. “I neglected the woman’s well-being, and she died. I really didn’t care, but the dragon seemed to know. Somehow, he managed to conjure up enough fire to destroy himself. Why would he do such a thing?”
Bruno seemed truly perplexed. Abigail was horrified by how easily he talked about destroying other people for his own gain. He wasn’t defending himself as Vasili was or as Nic had in Las Vegas. No, he was all about power and wealth, but mostly he was concerned with keeping himself alive.
“You’ll do fine as a replacement,” Bruno continued.
She would not let him have her drakon. They weren’t mated, not really. He hadn’t known her for long and would be fine. Even as she told herself that, her chest ached at the thought of losing him. But Bruno could not be allowed to use her to control Vasili.
She wasn’t having it. She’d rather be dead than have her drakon trapped.
He hadn’t looked at her, not once since he’d stepped into the room. She willed him to do so. As though feeling her gaze, he glanced at her. There was no fire there, no passion, only pure ice.
So be it. It proved her point. Her drakon would survive without her.
Still, she mouthed the words, “I love you,” before lifting her feet and letting Bruno take all her weight.
Everything happened quickly. Bruno grunted and tried to keep his hold on her. Vasili roared. Thrown off-balance, Bruno’s gun slipped from her head. She tried to roll out of the way, but he made a grab for her with his left hand while he raised his right and fired. A sharp pain punched through her leg. The chill from the floor enveloped her when she fell. It was so cold it stole her breath. She closed her eyes against the pain and prayed Vasili would be okay.
…
The ice surrounding Vasili’s heart shattered into a million tiny fragments the second he saw Abigail falling. He’d understood what she’d said, even though the words hadn’t been spoken aloud.
I love you.
He knew then she was planning something. She fell as Bruno fired. Blood spurted from her thigh. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the room. Vasili roared and sent his icy breath hurtling toward his enemy. It surrounded him. Encased him. The man was frozen in a solid chunk of ice before he could pull the trigger again.
Vasili leaped toward Abigail, scooping her into his arms. Blood pumped from the wound with every beat of her heart. The bullet had hit an artery. She was dying.
It was too cold out here, so he hurried into the bedroom, laid her on the bed, and ripped open the leg of her jeans. Blood gushed from the hole in her thigh. There was no time to waste. He manifested a claw and swiped it over his skin. When blood began to trickle from the cut, he held it to her mouth. “Drink.”
In spite of her injury, her eyes were open, and she was staring at him. He shoved his arm more firmly against her lips. “Swallow. You must swallow.”
What if she didn’t want to? What if she would rather die than live in his dangerous world?
“For me. Please, little one,” he pleaded. He couldn’t live without her. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. “If you love me, you’ll drink.” Had she meant what she’d mouthed at him before making her desperate bid to be free, or had it simply been the stress of the moment?
She swallowed then, but it wasn’t enough. Her leg was still bleeding. He sliced into his arm again and again, feeding her more and more of his blood until her wound began to close. Only then did he pull his arm away and give a sigh of relief. The bleeding stopped, the artery repairing itself. The ragged skin of her thigh began to close, but not before fibers from her jeans and the mangled bullet pushed to the surface.
She began to shake, then. Lurching up, she grabbed her leg. He caught her hands and pulled them away so she didn’t hurt herself further until the healing really had a chance to take hold. “What is it?”
“Burns,” she managed to get out from between clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry. That’s my blood healing you.” He hated hurting her, even if it was necessary. The worse the wound, the harder the healing.
She shivered and shook for several minutes. Her cries lashed his soul. Her tears scorched his heart. Finally, it was over. She gave a ragged sigh and relaxed. There was only a tiny scar left on her leg and even that was fading as he watched.
He hung his head, breathing heavily. He’d almost lost her. What would he have done without her?
He knew in his heart, his icy heart that was no longer quite so cold, he would have died without her. He didn’t want to remain in a world without Abigail. He’d been alone for so very long.
When he felt the touch of her hand on his arm, he slowly turned to her. The ice inside him was gone. In its place was a fury the likes of which he’d never known.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded.
She blinked several times, seeming disoriented. “I couldn’t let him have you.”
If he lived ten thousand years—no, one hundred thousand—he would never fully understand her. She was fragile, human, yet she kept risking her life for him.
He wasn’t worthy of her. But he would be. He’d work at it until he was.
He brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. “You frightened me.” It wasn’t an easy admission to make. It was also a vast understatement. He hadn’t been frightened. He’d been filled with a bone-deep terror that had shaken him to his core.
“You scared me, too.” She caught his hand and held it to her face. “You seemed so cold, so remote.”
“I couldn’t look at you. I knew if I did, I’d lose control and possibly get you killed.” He sighed when she kissed the palm of his hand.
“Is Bruno dead?”
“Yes.” His enemy was encased in a solid block of ice.
“The rest?”
“Gone.” He’d spare her the gory details. It was enough that she knew he’d protected her. She didn’t need any more nightmare images. She already had enough of those.
He needed to get rid of Bruno’s body before she got up. She didn’t need to see him. And Vasili needed to thaw him out and burn his body. Bruno had ingested drakon blood for years. He wasn’t going to risk his enemy possibly thawing out at some point and coming back to life. “I have to clean up some things,” he told her.
She nodded and glanced toward the open door.
“Sleep,” he told her. “I won’t be long.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “Okay.” She was asleep almost as soon as her eyes were fully shut. The tension and stress, not to mention the blood loss and healing, had taken their toll.
He hated to leave her but knew he had to tie up the loose end in his living room. He’d have to pack up his home and move, too. He hated that, but there was no other choice. There was no telling who Bruno had told about this place. And if not Bruno, maybe someone who’d worked for him. One of his mercenaries could have easily sold the information. In this day of technology, it could be done quickly and easily with a phone call and a money transfer.
He quietly left the room and closed the door behind him. The walls and floor of the living area were still covered in ice. He walked over to the frozen statue that had been Anton Bruno and studied him. He looked ordinary, if somewhat brutish in appearance. What made a man like him? What made a man want to capture another and bleed him for power and longevity?
There was no other animal as cruel and cunning as man. They sank to depths of depravity that still managed to surprise him in spite of everything he’d seen in his long life.
It was easy for him to move the frozen Knight into the elevator. At the last second, he grabbed the small artifact Bruno had brought with him. The hum from it made some of Vasili’s tattoos vibrate, a sure sign they were fighting the magic contained inside the artifact. It could not be allowed to exist.
Thankfully, he hadn’t damaged the mechanism too badly when he’d jumped down, and the metal cage rose to the top with only a clunk or two of protest. He carried the frozen body out into the scorched yard and set it down in the center, tossing the artifact down beside it.
He was exhausted and needed food and rest. Shifting and fighting was hard work. It also took a lot of energy to employ as much fire as he had, unless one was a fire drakon. They thrived on it, much as he did in the cold.
Still, he wouldn’t rest until this was done. He blew softly at first, melting the ice. He was curious about his theory, wondering if Bruno could survive his icy tomb because of the blood he’d ingested over the years. Vasili had no idea how many years he’d had a drakon captive, but it was probably quite a few.
Sure enough, Bruno moaned and his eyelids fluttered open. Vasili didn’t give the man time to speak. He shifted into his dragon form, breathed deeply, and released the flames. They skated over Bruno at first, not penetrating his skin. Was the drakon blood protecting itself? It seemed likely, but there wasn’t enough of it in him to protect Bruno indefinitely.
Bruno cried out as the flames licked at his flesh. He managed to roll over and began to crawl away. That was not happening. Vasili moved closer, his fire growing hotter as his anger grew. The artifact exploded, evaporating into thin air. Finally, Bruno’s skin began to melt. He yelled in terror, but Vasili closed his ears to the screams and pleading and allowed his dragon side to have its way. This man needed to die. Abigail would never be safe as long as he lived.
Finally, after what seemed to be hours, but was probably only a couple of minutes, Bruno’s body began to collapse. Skin disintegrated and bones crumbled until all that remained was ash. Vasili pulled his flame back and shifted to his human form. He stumbled once before righting himself. He couldn’t remember ever being so exhausted.
He blew into the wind and scattered the ashes.
Vasili dragged himself back inside the cabin. He closed the door behind him before heading to the secret door. Making sure it was secure, he took the elevator down to his home. The walls were still icy, so he breathed warm air into the room. It wouldn’t do for it to be cold for Abigail.
He wanted to go to her side but needed to eat. He was no use to her in his weakened condition. He went to the kitchen and began to eat anything and everything he could get his hands on. After about a half hour, he was feeling well enough to join her.
She was still exactly as he’d left her. He liked seeing her in his bed. He climbed beneath the covers and pulled her tightly against his body. There was a lot still left to do. He had to clear out his home. Then there was the matter of Bruno’s holdings, as well as any other bespelled artifacts the Knight had seeded around Moscow.
But there was enough time for them to rest first. If more of Bruno’s men came searching for him, it would take hours, if not days, for them to mobilize, assuming there were any left. His home wasn’t on the beaten path and was difficult to reach. If Vasili was mistaken and they moved quicker than anticipated, his perimeter alarms would alert him to their presence.
The only important thing now was taking care of his woman. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when she snuggled closer. Only then did he finally relax and allow himself to sleep.
…
Abigail woke with Vasili’s arms wrapped around her. The recognition was instantaneous, as were the memories of what had happened. How long had they been sleeping?
She slowly turned until she was facing her drakon. Even in sleep he was fierce. The dim light from the hallway filtered into the room enough for her to make out his features. She raised her hand to touch his face, but he caught it before it reached him and kissed her palm.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She was also nervous. Telling him that she loved him was one thing when she thought she was dying. Facing him now that he knew the truth was quite another. “You?”
He made a low rumbling sound that made the entire bed vibrate. “I’ll be fine.” He combed his fingers through her hair and sighed. “I thought I’d lost you.” The starkness of his words, the unvarnished pain in his voice made her heart hurt. She threw herself against him and buried her face against his chest.
“I was so worried about you.”
He stilled and eased back enough so he could see her. “You do know I’m a drakon, right?” The sardonic tone made her grin.
“I’m well aware of that, but I also know the Knights have captured and held drakons before.”
He kissed her forehead. “I keep telling you I’m special.”
She laughed in spite of the seriousness of what had happened. Her drakon had a dry sense of humor beneath the cold exterior he showed the world. “So you are.”
“So are you.” He kissed her then, and she sighed, leaning into the embrace. She needed this, needed his heat and passion to thaw the icy memories. Once again, he’d saved her. He’d fought and killed many men who wanted to cage him for their own gain.
Their breath mingled, and their tongues tangled. She knew there was a lot to talk about and plans to make, but she let all of it go. Touching him, reassuring herself he truly was fine, was all that mattered.
She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him until she was lying on top of his larger, harder body. His hands roamed her body, curving over her hips and gliding up her spine until he finally slid them around to the front and cupped her breasts.
She sucked in a deep breath and moaned. His hands felt so good on her body. They were big and rough, yet he always handled her like she was precious.
“Tell me again,” he demanded.
She stared down at her drakon. His eyes glowed in the dark, his chin tilted upward, and his jaw was taut. She knew what he wanted and gave it freely. If there was one thing she knew, it was that life was too short to hold back. “I love you.”
He gave a strangled groan and pulled her down until their lips collided. Heat radiated through her. She had no idea if it was from him or from the passion they generated when they touched.
Vasili’s kiss was consuming. Their tongues tangled in a heated duel, their only outcome mutual pleasure. There wasn’t enough air to breathe, but that didn’t seem to matter. She wanted to give him whatever he needed and take whatever he gave her.
He continued to stroke and touch, as though he was memorizing her entire body. Each place his fingers grazed, he left a sensual heat behind. When she finally pulled away and gasped for air, her entire body was on fire with need.
“I want you, Abigail.” It wasn’t exactly an undying declaration of love, but she was okay with that. She was beginning to understand him more and more with each moment they spent together. Words would not come easy to him, but actions would.
She had no idea if they truly would be together forever, or if their time would be limited. Surprisingly enough, she was okay with that. Life was a gift. She’d almost lost hers several times now and wasn’t about to waste another minute on regrets or holding back.
She planned to take whatever goodness life offered her. And right now, that was Vasili Zima.
“I want you, too.”