Nero woke in blissful, painless quiet, with his arms wrapped around Becca. Her back was tucked against his chest, her breath slow and heavy with sleep, and her thoughts — dreams most likely — were gentle whispers across his consciousness. The feel of her skin against his made him harden, and his thoughts jumped back to the bathroom, where he’d made love to her on the countertop, and then to the bed, where they’d made love again before falling asleep.

His inamorated bond with her had been well and truly solidified and sat whole and dense around his heart. The sensation was stronger than he’d ever experienced with his first inamorata. Maybe it was because his soul magic had become stronger when the Great Scourge had sentenced dragonkind into their spirit state, or maybe it was because they both possessed a form of telepathy and the mental bond enhanced the inamorated connection.

He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was hers. He wanted— no, needed to bring her shinies and meat, needed to add to the hoard she didn’t have because she was human, and needed to convince her when she said she was going to leave — and he knew she would — to stay.

Becca sighed, still asleep, and shifted, rubbing against him and forcing him to suck in a slow breath and calm his arousal. If he didn’t, he’d wake her and bring her to climax again. Surely so soon after sealing the bond, he’d be able to convince her they were stronger together.

But that didn’t address the danger she presented to his puzur, one she was determined to protect him from. She knew he’d abandon everything to be with her, and he knew she wouldn’t let him. Except if he let her walk out on him, she’d be a target for the drake who’d captured her before, the one who knew she had a direct connection to the dugga.

She shifted again, sending an electric shock of desire zinging through him.

He bit back a moan and made himself ease to the edge of the bed and get up, instead of sliding his hands over her soft skin and waking her. Too much had happened in such a short time. He needed to think, regain his focus, and figure out what he was going to do… about everything. In the very least, he had to find a way to make it safe for Becca to have what she wanted, even if that was to head out on her own.

He forced his attention through his partially closed drapes and out his bedroom window. Darkness still veiled his property, with the moon sparkling on the stretch of snowy garden between his house and the woodlot. The clock by his bed said 4:32. A few hours until dawn.

Mother, he couldn’t believe his world had irrevocably changed in less than twelve hours.

He pulled on a clean pair of pants and a Henley, his attention returning to Becca again and again. Every time he looked away, his gaze was drawn back to her. Her dark hair, still in its ponytail, was splayed on the pillow, a splash of darkness against the white sheets, just like the rose and thorn tattoo curling over her biceps and shoulder. Black ink in pale skin. Her complexion still held a sallow hint, and her figure was too thin, revealing the ravages of her captivity, but a sense of peaceful satisfaction radiated from her, a calm he knew she’d never thought she’d have again.

A soft purr slid up his throat, and he didn’t fight it. He was hers. Forever.

The purr turned to a growl.

And he damn well would figure out how to protect her and give her everything she wanted. He could only hope that also involved staying and not just because staying was the logical answer to all their problems.

He made himself step into the bathroom and not return to her in his bed. If he woke her now, he wouldn’t have the self-control necessary to carry on a serious conversation about what she wanted. The soul bond would take over, and all he’d want would be to lose himself in her pleasure. No, the best thing he could do was take care of what problems he could and give Becca time to process how she felt about everything.

With a hiss, he summoned a gate, then grabbed his phone from his discarded pants on the bathroom floor as it formed. As much as he didn’t want to put any distance between them, he wouldn’t be able to think straight until he forced himself into a room where he couldn’t just open the door and watch her sleep.

The gate finished forming, and he stepped through into the kitchenette of his transition suites, not too far from Becca, but hopefully far enough away. No one sat at the kitchen table, but the coffee maker was gurgling its announcement of an almost-ready pot.

He grabbed a mug from the cabinet, poured himself a half cup, and headed down the hall. Raven and the new intake were the easiest of the problems on his list. He might not be able to do much for them, but he could at least make sure things weren’t worse. A part of him was also hoping Grey was still around and would remember some precedent that might help him deal with Regis and the decree that all dragons return to Court’s interdimensional sphere. That kind of proclamation could incite war between the Royal coterie — and its supporters — against all the other coteries. And while he’d backed Regis in the Council session — because he’d had no idea what Regis had been ranting about — he needed to find a way to get the prince to change his mind.

Inside the new intake’s room, Raven was curled up in the lounge chair, asleep, with whispers of wind dancing around her making her hair flutter. The magical enhancement of her earth magic had yet to diminish, which meant the new guy’s power was strong.

On the bed beside her, a blanket tucked around him, lay the new guy, also asleep. His aura was now a muted yellow and no longer angry and pulsing, indicating the flare of his magic that had roared through Becca and Raven had eased. Nero, however, wasn’t foolish enough to hope the young man’s power had completed the first, painful awakening stage. For now, it looked like he’d at least been given a reprieve from the anguished state they’d found him in. It also helped to know — as bad as it was that Becca and Raven had to have been accidentally in contact with him to learn — that he was a surge. While Nero hadn’t ever had a surge, dragon or human, in his puzur or coterie, knowing what the problem was gave Raven a direction to work in, and with Grey around, perhaps he’d read something somewhere that might help her deal with the new human’s magic.

Raven’s expression grew pinched, and a hint of wind swept through the room. The new guy mumbled something, but neither of them woke. Still at peace. For now. That moved them to the bottom of the things he should be worried about list. If Nero was thinking straight, the top of that list should be Regis. But it wasn’t. It was Becca, and if he was smart, the sooner he solved the question of her safety, the easier it would be to focus on the dragon problems.

Of course, Becca’s biggest problem was a dragon problem. Some drake out there, with the ability — or connected to another drake with the ability — to cast a gatelock, knew Becca had a direct link into the dugga’s communications. Every drake but Regis and Tobias would want to get their hands on her. And Regis and Tobias would want her if they knew the truth about how Nero had modified the Asar Nergal’s only directive.

He took a sip of his coffee and headed back to the kitchenette to focus on that, but found Grey standing in front of the open fridge putting away a carton of cream.

“Raven is asleep,” Nero said.

“She was when I went to ask her if she wanted coffee. She only woke and took over watching the surge half an hour ago.” Grey grabbed a spoon from the drawer and stirred his coffee. “She said she’d already been zapped and it would be better if she got zapped again than if I did.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that. If the surge’s magic floods her again, what might not have been permanent before could become permanent.”

“Only if his earth magic is powerful enough.”

Nero raised an eyebrow and sat in a chair at the kitchen table. A flicker of hope trembled in his chest. “You saw his aura.”

“Hey, a drake can hope. I don’t know how you begin to teach a surge with that kind of power how to control it. He made Raven’s magic rage out of control without a power word or a gesture and while unconscious. Just living in this house with all the kids… one wrong touch…”

“One problem at a time. For now, he’s isolated. We’ve dealt with a fifteen-year-old with uncontrolled disintegrating touch. We can deal with a surge.”

“But disintegrating touch is just touch.” Grey slid into the chair across from Nero. “With a surge, even an accidental brush against his arm or leg, heck, his hair, could set off someone’s earth magic. The kids will need to be wary of more than just his hands.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy.” The kid with the disintegrating touch hadn’t been easy, either. Raven had spent two months feeding him because every time he picked up a fork or a glass he destroyed it.

“So.” Grey took a long swig of coffee. “Did you get some quality water time?”

“I’m back to fighting form.” Or as back to fighting form as he could get, without the help of a soak but with sealing his soul bond.

“And your inamorata?”

Just the thought of her made his insides squirm with the need to summon a gate and return to her. “Asleep.”

“Did you… you know?” Grey asked, his tone clear. He meant sex.

“Not your business,” Nero growled.

Grey raised his hands in defense. “It’s not, but sealing the bond might solve your dugga problem.”

“Except my dugga’s magic isn’t an earth magic. I’m not sure being inamorated would affect it like it affected your earth magic.” Both Grey and Capri’s earth magics had become unpredictable — and both were still struggling to control their newfound magical strength.

“I don’t know, either, but it couldn’t hurt.” Grey’s expression darkened. “I’m also hoping sealing the bond will help her overcome the soul sickness.”

“Even if she’s not inamorated back?”

“You know for a fact she’s not?” A hint of pity flashed across Grey’s expression. The silver drake was newly inamorated, as well. Nero knew how that felt and knew even just the thought of his inamorata not being inamorated back would make his soul ache.

And now it was aching, a heavy, painful throb at the knowledge that, no matter what he’d thought he’d felt when they’d made love, she probably wasn’t. “She’s human. Can they even be inamorated?”

Grey shrugged. “I’m pretty sure Anaea is. You should have seen it. The moment Hunter showed up, she managed to lock down all her empathy, or at least all of it until you gated in from that fight. Even then, there wasn’t a hint of smoke, and you know the first two things she releases when she’s shocked are her fire and telekinesis.”

“So my drapes are finally safe, but my small pieces of furniture are still in danger. Wonderful.”

“If she wasn’t inamorated back, having Hunter return wouldn’t have affected her magic like that. I’m pretty sure Ryan is also affected by Capri. It just isn’t as obvious.”

But both Anaea and Ryan were magically different. Anaea was a true sorcerer and immortal, and Ryan had been reborn and was now immortal as well. Becca…

Could be immortal, if the surge’s powers had affected her soul magic and was strong enough to make it permanent. But that was a hope beyond hope, and it would be Nero going insane if he continued to cling to that. Even an immortal inamorata didn’t guarantee forever. The time he had with her was the time he had with her. He was just going to have to accept that.

“She’s stable for now.” It was the best he could hope for, and with there being nothing he could do about that, he was best to concentrate on things he could change. “Did Raven mention the drake who’d abducted her?”

“The one after Zenobia?” Grey asked, his tone dark.

“Yeah. There was a gatelock on that dragon’s building.”

“She mentioned that as well, and I’ve been trying to figure out who it could be. There’s only a small number of drakes capable of casting a gatelock.”

“That we know of. I didn’t even know my cousin, Servius, had any sorcerer’s magic.” Nero’s gaze slid to the black depths of his coffee. “It could be anyone. A smart drake keeps an ability that powerful a secret.”

“And more so now, with Regis seeing traitors everywhere.”

“Another drake on my list of worries.” Nero tightened his grip around his mug. “If I’m forced to abandon the puzur, promise me you and Hunter will protect it?”

“It won’t come to that.”

“It might. If I or one of the other doyens of the Counseling Coteries can’t find a way around Regis’s proclamation that all drakes return to Court, the kids will certainly lose Raven and the dozen others not part of the Asar Nergal.” And if he couldn’t figure out who the drake was who’d captured Becca, he might be forced to abandon everyone just to keep them safe.

Mother! Just focus on one problem at a time. Becca was the priority. Even if her issue wasn’t as pressing as it was, she’d always be the priority. So satisfy the soul bond, and protect her.

He raised his gaze from the mug and met Grey’s, fighting the growl bubbling in his throat at the look of concern in the silver drake’s eyes. “Did Raven also tell you about the umbrella art outside the facility? Do you remember it?”

“I haven’t really spent any time in Newgate in the last seventy or so years.” From Grey’s tight expression, it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, and Nero wasn’t going to ask. He’d known the silver drake had kept to Court, and Nero had heard the rumors that something had happened, and that Tobias had reprimanded Hunter for using the Royal Coterie’s medallion to take the souls of two drakes without permission, but that was all Nero knew.

“Raven did ask me about it,” Grey said. “She mentioned Diablo was supposed to be doing a search for it.”

“He was.” But given his reaction to Raven getting hit with the surge’s magic, Nero doubted Diablo was going to pop by the house anytime soon. At least the younger black drake hadn’t decided to challenge Nero for the doyenship of the coterie and instead had just gated away.

“I did my own search, just in case.”

“Thank you.” If anyone knew what Diablo was thinking, it was Grey. Not that the two were particularly close, certainly not anywhere as close as Diablo had been with Andy, but with Andy’s murder, Nero feared Diablo would shut himself off like he’d been when he’d first joined the coterie, only fulfilling his duties because of his sister, Raven. But for some reason, he and Grey had started an albeit tentative friendship.

“It helped kill the time while I was sitting in a chair watching your new human mage sleep and hoping I wouldn’t have to touch him.”

“Did you find anything?”

“I did. Five years ago, the square at Fourth and Ross was redeveloped and a local artist’s sculpture, Up, Up, and Away, was installed.”

Nero pulled out his phone, and entered the installation’s name and Newgate into his internet browser’s search box. The image of the umbrella art was the first thing on the list and behind it was the familiar set of stairs leading to the front doors of the building where Becca had been held captive.

He opened a map of the area. The best place to gate into was the alley where he’d first accidentally arrived. The rest of the nearby buildings only had street access at the back or wide walkways with picnic tables and cement planter boxes. The only other good place to form a gate without being noticed was the loading bay of the building owned by the mystery dragon, but that wouldn’t work because of the gatelock.

“Not a lot of places to gate close.” He supposed he could also send a gate to one of the rooftops, but if he wanted to change locations, he’d still be forced to send a gate to that original alley.

“You’re not planning on going alone?”

“For initial surveillance, it would be easier.” Usually, he sent Diablo. With the black drake’s rapid free gating ability, he could pop in and out of just about anywhere, and if things went south, he could get out fast so long as he wasn’t trapped within a gatelock.

“We know nothing about this dragon.”

“Hence the need for surveillance.” The sooner he scoped the place out, the sooner he could ensure Becca’s safety. “Any idea as to who might own the place?”

“Of the buildings in the area, there’s only one with uncertain ownership, and by that I mean it’s owned by a shell company within a shell company within a shell company.”

“So most likely an elder dragon.”

“Or an ancient one,” Grey said.

“Not sure I want to consider that. An elder dragon with a thousand years of resources and earth magic training is bad enough.” An ancient one would be even harder to capture and stop. Even an elder dragon had enough experience to know not to hang around the incriminating evidence. Hell, for all Nero knew, that facility had been cleared out the moment he and Becca had gated away.

Shit. He should have thought of that. There might not be any evidence left of anything, and he’d have no clue who wanted to abduct Becca.

Grey pulled out his phone. “Why don’t I call Hunter and the three of us will make a hunting party?”

“I really like that idea, but for the purpose of just checking the place out and seeing what I can learn, it’s best if the three of us aren’t accidentally caught together on video surveillance.” That would instantly send everything crashing down, as opposed to the teetering edge he was currently on. Yes, Regis was going to eventually learn the truth. Now would be a terrible time for that to happen.

“I see your point. Why don’t Hunter and I check it out.”

“That might still alert the dragon in charge about our connection. I show up, and less than twelve hours later you and Hunter come sniffing around.” Nero finished his coffee and pocketed his phone. “No. It’s better if I do the initial surveillance. I’ll be in and out within an hour, and hopefully I’ll have a better idea of who’s in charge.”

“That’s a terrible plan.”

“You got one that’s better?” Nero stood and pressed his hand against the wall to summon a gate.

“No.”

“Then keep an eye on things until I get back.” He hissed his power word. The gate flared to life and he stepped through, coming out in the alley in the same place where he’d first arrived. He slipped past the rusted fire escape bolted to the brick wall and eased to the alley’s mouth. A car drove past, its exhaust a white plume and its lights adding illumination to the filthy snow banks. Its engine rumbled, growing fainter as it drove away, and no other engine sounds drew close. The side street was even quieter than before, without even the hint of anyone around. Good for noticing anything out of place. Bad for offering any kind of cover if he wanted to wander closer.

Jeez. There wasn’t any way he was going to get close to the building without being noticed, which meant he wasn’t going to get much information right now. If he’d been thinking, he would have waited until the workday had started and more people were about. Except he hadn’t been thinking, not about proper surveillance, only about Becca and ensuring her safety.

He scanned the high rises on either side of the facility’s building. Maybe if he snuck into one of those from the other side, he could get a closer look at his primary goal, and hopefully this outing wouldn’t be a complete waste of time.

He turned, intending to head to the other end of the alley and work his way around the block to the other side of the left-hand neighboring high rise, when something sharp dug into the back of his shoulder.

What the—

He pulled it out and had just enough time to recognize a large animal tranquilizer dart before the weight of the drug slammed into him. His limbs grew heavy, his breath slow, and his thoughts stuttered.

Trap.

This was a trap.

And the dart had enough tranquilizer in it to compensate for his dragon’s enhanced healing, or he would have burned it out of his system between one breath and the next.

Someone yelled, and men in full tactical gear rushed from the nearby buildings as well as across the square toward him. More than a dozen. More than enough to take him down with the drug dragging at his senses.

He growled his power word, summoned his wind, and blasted the guys straight ahead, then turned and bolted deeper into the alley without waiting to see if he’d slowed any of them down. He needed time to summon a gate, and for that he needed distance.

A gunshot exploded behind him and pain bit his shoulder.

He sent another gust of wind behind him without looking. His foot hit an uneven patch of asphalt. He stumbled and caught his balance as more gunfire erupted and pain sliced into his chest.

Ahead lay the end of the alley and, if he could build up the strength of his wind for a blast that kept them at bay long enough, a chance for him to get out of sight.

He gasped, trying to catch his breath through the pain and the limb-numbing weight of the tranquilizer.

Twenty more feet.

He concentrated on his wind, drawing his power tight to release it in a gust that would buy him the time he needed.

Five feet.

Now.

He released the gust into whoever was behind him, and bolted out of the alley right into the line of fire of another group of armed men.