Nero changed into dry clothes and paced his bedroom, furious at his lack of control, at the Handmaiden for not being around to fix his dugga’s magic — because he wouldn’t be feeling this way if his magic was under control — and at fate, on the slim chance he really was inamorated.

Whatever the situation, he had more important things to worry about. And as much as he knew keeping his distance from Becca was the best solution to his situation, he needed information about the dragon who ran the facility who’d been holding her prisoner.

He gated into the transition suites’ kitchenette, determined to keep his focus. The warm, comforting smell of the creamy chicken and pasta casserole heating in the oven made his stomach growl, reminding him that, even if he did have reasonably fast healing, he still got hungry and he hadn’t eaten in a day. Because Becca had hijacked his dugga’s magic. Mother, this was such a mess.

Raven stepped out of Becca’s room, glanced into the other room where the new intake lay, then glared at him. “I don’t know what you said to her, but that’s got to stop if she has any chance of conquering the soul sickness.”

“I asked her about her injuries.”

Raven frowned and strode toward him. “More than the cut Diablo had given her?”

“Cracked ribs and a broken collarbone.”

“She didn’t look physically hurt when I talked with her.”

“That’s the problem.” And it was more proof toward the truthful reality, which Becca’s mind just couldn’t handle. Mother, she was going to go insane and take him down with her, and he couldn’t even order her death to save himself. Even the idea whirled in his mind and made his stomach roil. “If she’s a sorcerer—”

“Her mental state is even more tenuous. I’ve changed my mind,” Raven said. “You can’t be here.”

“I have to be here.” To protect her—

No, God damn it, to get necessary information.

“You endanger the very tentative balance I’ve managed to create in her mind.” She crouched before the oven and gazed inside. Had she just admitted to having an earth magic that helped her deal with human mages? She was a young drake. She might not have even realized until recently that she possessed the power, until she’d been faced with all of Zenobia’s soul-sick mages. “Did you really try to kill her?”

“She endangers the puzur,” he growled. Even if Becca did conquer her soul sickness and join the puzur, she still endangered everyone he cared about. If the wrong dragon got his hands on her, she could be used to expose his secrets. If the wrong dragon had her, Nero would sacrifice everything to protect her. Killing her would never be an option, which left him with removing himself from the puzur — and in effect giving up his hoard — as well as leaving his coterie and the Asar Nergal.

“So why didn’t you?” Raven asked, her gaze still locked inside the oven. She’d encountered unnaturally created mages before and knew the most likely outcome. Since she’d joined the puzur, she’d dealt with over a dozen and had only managed to save two. But in the last three weeks, there’d been dozens more, and she hadn’t been able to save any of them.

What Zenobia had done to those humans was more than just a dragon desperately needing to transfer into a vessel and ending up in one already occupied. No, for the last hundred years, Zenobia had stolen people, mostly homeless soldiers already struggling with psychological conditions from their combat experiences. The dragons who’d been assigned to awaken the humans’ soul magic hadn’t tried to hide their presence. They’d barged in, taken over, and clawed at the humans’ mental essence — until magic was awakened, they’d gone crazy, or the dragon had given up and moved on to another victim.

There was nothing delicate or discreet about their actions, and what made it worse, those taken at the beginning of Zenobia’s plan and who’d managed to escape discovered themselves decades ahead in time. The dragon souls in their bodies had slowed their aging and extended their lives, but also made them lose sense of the time when they’d been trapped in their own heads.

God, Becca could be dealing with that, too. Sure, he knew she was a soldier, but he didn’t know much of anything else about her. How many years had she lost? There’d been that horrible event in Afghanistan. How long ago had that happened? Had that forced her into a life of living on the streets?

“Why didn’t you kill her?” Raven asked again.

He jerked his attention back to her, his gaze having dropped to the floor. He had no good answer. And no way in hell was he telling her the truth, because that wasn’t the truth. He wasn’t inamorated, and soon enough he’d stop craving the feel of her aura against his. “We need to convince her to stay here.”

“And by we, you mean me, because you’re leaving before she gets out of the shower.”

“No. I need information from her. She’s the leak in the Asar Nergal. Her telepathy connected to my dugga’s magic, and she’s been eavesdropping on all my orders.”

“She’s the one who’s been passing that information to the other mages? No wonder the last handful have been so hard to apprehend.” Raven grabbed the oven mitts, opened the oven, and pulled out the casserole. “But that would mean she knew who you were.”

“She didn’t know who, but certainly what. Zenobia’s drakes didn’t care if their vessels were soul sick. One of her drakes had the earth magic ability to control their minds, so I doubt they tried to hide their essence or knowledge from their victims.”

“That explains why the soul sickness has progressed so far by the time we get to them,” Raven said. “It also means Rebecca knows more about dragons and the world than she wants to admit.”

“And if she knows what the dugga is and his job…”

“It also explains why she thought Diablo really was the devil. She thinks he and you have to kill her.” She got two plates out from the cupboard.

“I said I’m staying.”

“And I said you can’t. Maybe tomorrow she’ll be stable enough to talk.”

“No, I got her from a facility with a gatelock on it.” Nero reached around her and pulled out another plate. “They’d been interrogating her about me.”

“She told you that? Was that before or after you tried to kill her?”

“She didn’t have to tell me. When her magic seizes mine, I see and hear what she does.”

“The seizures.” Realization flashed across Raven’s expression. “Her magic causes them. So your dugga’s magic isn’t failing?”

“I don’t know. It could be, and that’s why Becca can affect me.”

“Becca?” Raven cocked an eyebrow.

“That’s how she thinks of herself… some of the time.” It was how he thought of her— because of their close mental connection… not because he was inamorated. “I know this will make her recovery harder on you, but I need to know about the facility and any leads on the dragon in charge.” Hell, he wasn’t even sure he knew where the building was. Yeah, for all the high rises around it, it was somewhere in the heart of the city and had that weird piece of art in front of it, but that was all he knew. Dealing with Becca in his head had been such a distraction, he’d neglected the common sense that had kept him alive for over two thousand years.

“Pushing her now means we could lose her forever.”

He knew that, but with the kind of tactical support the facility possessed, he had to assume it had security cameras as well, which meant the drake in charge already knew he’d gone after Becca and that put him at a serious disadvantage.

“It’s a risk I have to take,” he forced out, his stomach churning and soul screaming in protest.

“And I suppose I don’t get a say in this?” Becca asked from her doorway, her gaze on Nero, making his pulse race. She wore black athletic leggings that accentuated her lean, muscled legs and a black hoodie that skimmed her hips and hid the rest of her figure. She’d tied her dark hair back in a ponytail, a practical move, but that emphasized her gaunt facial features and drew a small growl — irrational as it was — from deep within him at the reminder of her mistreatment.

“Of course you get a say.” Raven pointed at the small kitchen table. “Let’s eat.”

Becca glanced at the table then back at Nero. Heat throbbed in his chest. He couldn’t ask her questions. That endangered her.

He clenched his jaw. Not asking questions endangered everyone else. He had to keep his focus long enough to determine which drake ran the facility and for the Handmaiden to return and fix his magic… or give it to someone else.

“I need to ask you about that facility,” he said before he could change his mind.

“If you’re up for it.” Raven spooned a scoopful of casserole on a plate and shoved it into Nero’s hands. “For Becca,” she said.

Nero slid into the closest chair and set the plate on the opposite side of the table from him.

The muscles in Becca’s jaw tensed, her gaze still locked on him, appraising, judging his very soul, making his heart pound. She didn’t draw closer and didn’t sit, and all he wanted was their mental connection to renew so he could find out what she was thinking. If he knew that, he’d know how to approach her without hurting her more than he already had. And that only made the churning need to protect her stronger.

Mother of All, he wasn’t going to get anything done if he kept feeling like this.

He jerked his thumb at the chair across from him. “Just sit already.”

Raven set a plate in front of him with a low growl.

Crap. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say, and he certainly hadn’t intended such a sharp tone.

“If you can, I’d like to know about the facility, and then I’ll leave you alone,” he said.

Becca raised her chin and still stood her ground. “I’m not sure I can tell you much.”

“Any little thing will help.” Help him avenge what they’d done to her.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Raven sat with her own plate and three forks.

Steam curled from the plate in front of him, and his stomach released a loud growl.

Becca snorted. “So the devil’s master gets hungry.”

“I’m still a person.” He should eat, get the information he needed, and move on, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from her long enough to grab a fork.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Except you’re not a person.”

“You probably shouldn’t think about that,” he said.

A shiver swept through her and her hands fisted at her sides, but she didn’t hug herself like she had before, as if while in the shower she’d come to a decision.

“I don’t want to think about that hospital, either.”

“Tell me what you remember, and you never have to think about it again.” He knew trauma didn’t work that way, but he vowed he’d never ask her about her experiences again. Not about her time as Zenobia’s prisoner nor the facility.

“Only if you feel you can,” Raven said.

Becca’s gaze jumped to Raven. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll know when I lose it.”

Raven pursed her lips, and Becca blew out a heavy breath. “You didn’t say that out loud, did you?”

“No.”

“Sorry.”

“Sit.” Raven gestured to the chair across from her. “Eat.”

“And let’s get this information about the hospital out of the way,” Nero said. Just get the information and go. Please. He could leave her alone. He could. If she was safe with Raven, he could leave and not return until Raven told him he could— or not return at all.

Riiight. Who was he kidding? Even just thinking that made his insides squirm and only confirmed how much he needed to stay away for good.

Raven shot him a glare, but Becca’s attention dipped to the plate of food.

“I want two things first,” she said, her voice low.

Desire churned in his gut, his soul straining to agree, and his mind fought to lock away the urge. A smart drake knew the terms first before he agreed to anything.

“There’s a GPS tracker in my body. I want it taken out.”

“It’s been disabled. You don’t have to worry about it,” he said.

“I want it out.” She squared her shoulders. “If magic exists, then you can’t say it won’t ever be activated again.”

“It’s a valid point,” Raven said.

“There’s only one drake who could reactivate it, and he won’t.” Because Nero would kill Gig if he did.

“Only one drake that we know of.” Raven speared a piece of pasta and chicken with her fork. “We know roughly where the tracker is embedded. If we can safely take it out, we will.”

“Raven, I want you to do it.” Becca crossed her arms, as if standing her ground and making her demand gave her power. And it probably did. She hadn’t had control of her life since Zenobia had kidnapped her, and as a captain in the army, she’d been used to having at least a bit of control.

“Fine. Raven will remove the tracker.” He glared at Becca, trying to will her to sit and start eating since, knowing Raven, she wouldn’t do anything until after dinner.

“And your second request?” Raven asked.

Becca slid into the chair and picked up her fork. “I need to look for Werner and any of the others who might have escaped and warn them about the tracker.”

There was no way in hell he was letting her out of the transition suites, not until he’d dealt with the drake who ran the facility. And while he could use his dugga’s magic to find her friends, there was no way he was going to activate it until the Handmaiden had returned and fixed whatever was wrong with it. For all he knew, just summoning his dugga’s magic would send him into seizures again.

“If they have trackers embedded in them, they’ll have been picked up already.”

“That’s an assumption,” she said.

“A good assumption,” Nero growled.

“I’m not denying it isn’t true, only that until we have confirmation either way, it’s still just an assumption.” She took a small bite of casserole.

“I can follow up on them,” he said, “but the facility and the dragon running it is the pressing issue.”

“And I’m not a fool. I won’t tell you what I remember about the facility until we confirm my friends are still captured.”

For the love of—

“It’s dangerous out there.”

“I’ve dealt with worse.” Her expression darkened. “I can always leave and look for my friends myself.”

“No, you can’t.” The hell he was letting her leave.

“Am I a prisoner?”

“No.” Never.

“So I can leave,” Becca said.

Raven shoved a forkful of food into her mouth.

“We both know why you can’t.” Because his Mother-forsaken soul didn’t want her out of his sight. God, he couldn’t even bring himself to go and let Raven — who was better equipped and clearly preferred by Becca — handle the situation.

“I’m willing to risk losing my shit to confirm the whereabouts of my friends.”

God damn it. “I’m not.” He growled and slammed his fork down on the table.

Becca jumped, her body tensed, and her expression hardened. No sign of soul sickness or fear, just ferocious determination to stand her ground. “I’m going, and Raven can come with me. After that, I’ll tell you about the hospital. Those are my terms.”

“I don’t accept them.” Even if he let her go with Raven, if something happened, Raven couldn’t free gate. They’d be stuck wherever they were until he could get there to help.

The determination in Becca’s gaze darkened, and a hint of something — was that fear? — flickered through him. As soon as he turned his back, she would leave. The only way to keep her safe was to prove she could trust him.

“You’re just like the others,” she said.

His soul howled at the accusation. I would die for you. I’m going to give up everything for you, if only to keep everyone I care about safe. Zenobia would never have done anything like that for anyone. Not many drakes would. “I’m nothing like them.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine. We’ll go confirm your friends are still imprisoned at the facility, and then you’ll tell me everything so I can break them the hell out of there.” He jerked to his feet, the need to take action propelling him up. Except he didn’t know what to do or where to go. His gaze jumped to Becca’s, and his soul ached with a need he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He forced his attention behind her to the hall and the two open doors. There. Go there. Just get away from her. He stormed past her, heading to the room with the unconscious mage. Except he could still feel her aura crackling against his even as he rushed away, and sense her determination and fear in his soul. She was going to destroy everything he cared about. Without a doubt he had to leave everyone to protect them, and denying it wouldn’t change the truth.