“And if it isn’t?” Rox asked.
“Then I will be killed in the defense of my mate and son, and the Pyr will assume the responsibility of raising them.” Drake smiled thinly. “But I do not intend to die just yet.”
* * *
Ronnie was terrified that she’d inadvertently reveal her dream of the Pyr Dreamwalker to Jorge. He watched her so closely she was almost certain that he couldn’t be fooled.
But she had to try.
The next night when she was collected for a visit to his apartment, she counted the number of steps she took. That might help Niall and Drake to find her. She tried to keep track of the turns they took as well, committing them to memory as well as she was able.
She knew when she arrived at Jorge’s apartment because the air was warm.
When her blindfold was removed, though, Jorge was standing right in front of her. Ronnie’s heart leapt for her throat and he smiled, as if she might make a nice snack. “You’re nervous,” he said, his voice low with suspicion. “Why?”
“I’m not nervous at all.”
His eyes narrowed. It was interesting that she found it impossible to forget that Jorge could shift shape to become a dragon, yet she had struggled to accept the same truth about Drake. “Your heart is beating more quickly than usual.”
Ronnie rolled her eyes. “Probably because my stomach is off,” she lied. Inwardly, she marveled that she was giving him attitude, but she wasn’t the woman she’d been when she met Mark. Ronnie realized with surprise that she was more accustomed to making choices, being in control, and dealing with the consequences.
Jorge couldn’t hide the gleam of satisfaction that lit his eyes, or maybe he didn’t try. “The food doesn’t suit you?”
“Maybe I picked up something.”
He practically smirked. “Yes, maybe you have.” Ronnie wished these dragons would stop making references to her being pregnant. It wasn’t even possible for her to have conceived this quickly!
“I’m not pregnant,” she insisted.
“Don’t you want a son?”
“No, not particularly.”
Jorge smiled. “Then this provides the perfect solution. You’ll bear the child and I’ll keep him.” She regarded him warily, distrusting how he smiled. “You do know that the Pyr just use human women as breeders, don’t you? Either Drake will take the child and abandon you or I will, and trust me, I’ll put him to much better use.”
“That’s disgusting,” Ronnie murmured, hoping she wasn’t pregnant.
Even though being so would let her live nine months more, which might give her more opportunities to be rescued. Surely Drake and his fellow Pyr wouldn’t bother to rescue her just to abandon her after the child was born.
If there even was a child. Ronnie’s stomach churned.
“What’s your poison tonight?”
Ronnie glanced up and Jorge’s smile widened. He had a lot of teeth. “Excuse me?”
“Which game shall we play?”
“Monopoly,” she said on a whim.
“My favorite,” Jorge agreed easily. “There’s nothing like owning the best real estate to put me in a good mood.”
He succeeded in that with alarming speed. He bought every property he could and in no time had two sides of the board under his control. He built steadily, chortling like a kid whenever Ronnie had to pay up for landing on one of his properties. She might have let him win, just because she wanted to see what a better mood looked like for Jorge, but he suddenly slid four properties, with their houses across the board to her.
“So you have a chance,” he said with a smile. “I like a little challenge.” He rolled the dice and bought Park Place.
“So,” he asked, his tone oddly conversational. “I suppose you just met Drake during your firestorm.”
Ronnie eyed her opponent. “Why do you suppose that?”
“It’s usually how it works, from what I understand.”
“Haven’t you ever had a firestorm?”
Jorge laughed shortly. “Not in the cards for me, I’m afraid.” He put a hand on his chest. “I have to make do with self-admiration.”
Slayers didn’t have firestorms, then. That was good to know. It followed that even if Ronnie hadn’t seen Drake wounded and bleeding red blood, she could have been sure he was Pyr, just because they’d had a firestorm.
That meant he was one of the good dragons.
“You seem to get by,” she dared to say and Jorge laughed, as if surprised.
“So, you met at the first spark of the firestorm, and its heat so overwhelmed you with a burning desire that you consummated it immediately.” There was mockery in his tone. “I have to tell you that it’s not a special story, not for the Pyr.”
“Actually, Drake and I met years ago.” Ronnie didn’t know why she told him that, because he was obviously fishing for information, but his attitude irked her into telling him more than she should have done.
“Really? Now, that is different.” Jorge applauded lightly. “Kudos to you for keeping the story fresh. Did he ravish you then, and just come back for more?”
Ronnie bristled at his mocking tone. “Drake was a perfect gentleman when we first met. I’d been thinking of him ever since.”
“Interesting.” Those blue eyes gleamed with hunger. “How did you meet?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe not, but we dragons do love our little secrets.” Jorge winced. “Humans don’t always think they’re so little, though.” He lifted a hand. “Maybe it’s better that you had your night of passion then were separated. Otherwise, you might have learned something that you found…unpalatable.”
“Drake has never lied to me.”
“Oh, then he told you when you first met that he was Pyr and a dragon shifter?”
Ronnie couldn’t hold Jorge’s gaze. “Of course not.”
Her opponent leaned over the board. “And did he tell you that satisfying the firestorm would leave you pregnant?”
Ronnie concentrated on rolling the dice.
“Yes, they do tend to omit that detail, in the heat of the moment, so to speak,” Jorge murmured. “Of course, you’ve been a single mother for years…”
“I am not a single mother,” Ronnie snapped, having confronted that particular conclusion more than enough times in recent years. “I’m a widow with a son.”
Jorge shrugged. “But you still have to do everything, don’t you? Whatever the history, all jobs fall to you when you’re the only one parenting. I’m sure you aren’t thrilled at the prospect of doing it all alone again.” He winced. “At your age.”
“I’m still young enough to take care of a baby,” Ronnie retorted. “And there’s nothing saying that Drake would have left me alone anyway, especially if you hadn’t sent those other dragons to interfere.”
Jorge used his get-out-of-jail free card. “I guess you’ll never know,” he said, as if rueful when Ronnie knew he couldn’t be. “Even though he abandoned his first wife and son. I suppose that history doesn’t always repeat itself.”
“Cassandra and Theo died.” Ronnie defended Drake, even as she wondered. Could there be truth in Jorge’s story?
“Of course, they did! Everyone dies sooner or later. Well, mortals and Pyr do anyway. The thing is, he walked away from them, doing his duty to the Pyr, and never returned.” Jorge met Ronnie’s gaze, feigning innocence. “Or did he forget to tell you that part, too?”
She dropped her gaze again. It couldn’t be true. Drake would be a responsible father, and she knew he had loved Cassandra. He hadn’t told her so, of course, but she’d seen his grief.
Jorge tsk-tsked. “These Pyr and their secrets. Come on, tell me, how did you meet? Drake isn’t exactly a social animal.”
“You’re so determined to paint him in a bad light, but I know better,” Ronnie said, losing her temper a bit. “Drake helped to find out what had happened to my husband, when he went missing and no one would tell me a thing. It’s because of
Drake that we even knew what had happened to Mark. For that, I will be eternally grateful to Drake and his men.”
Jorge sat back to consider her. “Well, that does sound laudable.” He pursed his lips and averted his gaze. “Unless, of course, he really didn’t have to look.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you are an attractive woman, Ronnie, and that Drake has been without the pleasure of a woman’s company for a long time. Much longer than you realize.” Jorge seemed to savoring a private joke, but Ronnie glared at him.
“By his own choice. That’s honorable.”
“But still.” Jorge smiled and Ronnie trusted him even less than usual, which wasn’t much at all. “If no one could find your husband, how did Drake find him? And was this Mark dead before or after Drake found him?”
Ronnie leapt to her feet. “How dare you make such an insinuation!”
“I’m just asking,” Jorge said mildly. “Because you don’t really know, do you?”
Ronnie tipped the Monopoly board so that all of the pieces scattered, then strode to the door of the apartment. “I’d like to go back to my room, please. The company is lacking a certain charm.”
Jorge shrugged and gestured to his minions, then started to pick the pieces from the floor and pack them away. He moved methodically, as if he had all the time in the world, and Ronnie knew he was satisfied with himself.
He’d planted seeds of doubt in her mind, and he knew it. As much as Ronnie would have liked to have argued otherwise, she really didn’t know how Drake had found Mark or what condition her husband had been in when Drake found him. She really didn’t know Drake’s motives, or really, that much of his history. She certainly didn’t know any of his secrets.
She knew, however, that Drake could become a dragon at will and slaughter any man he so chose.
And that was exactly what Jorge had wanted her to remember. One of the triplets blindfolded her and she felt that being plunged into darkness was a good metaphor for her current situation.
“Trust is a precious commodity, Ronnie,” Jorge whispered just as she was being led to the door. “Don’t be too quick to share it with those who don’t reciprocate in kind.”
Had she been too quick to trust Drake?
What else hadn’t he told her?
* * *
The network of tunnels below the abandoned section of the hospital was more familiar than Drake would have preferred. The isolation and the smell of rot was consistent with the holes chosen by all the vipers he had ever hunted.
It was raining on the evening they selected for their attack. The cold October rain made the worn concrete surfaces slick and more dangerous than they usually would have been. There was rebar sticking out of the floors and walls where concrete had crumbled. Beneath the smell of mold and rot, of garbage dumped and toxic chemicals abandoned, there was a faint scent of Veronica.
She was here.
Her scent was warm, which meant she yet lived.
He exchanged a nod with the other three Pyr, each of whom went his own way as planned. Theo had asked for volunteers from the Dragon Legion. Kristofer and Arach, who were familiar to Drake, had come, which pleased him. They were good fighters and reliable Pyr. Three others, Rhys, Hadrian and Kade, were watching over Timmy. A fourth, Reed, was unknown to Drake, although Theo had assigned him to defend Timothy. Drake liked that Pyr’s resolute manner. The plan was that Jorge and his fellows would be flushed out with a fire set by the Dragon Legion in the tunnels beneath the building, and it would be left to Drake to rescue Veronica.
Drake found the spot in the forest where the dragons had devoured their fellow fairly easily, because the growth was charred from the dragonfire. That carried a faint scent of Slayer. He stood in the sheltered shadows of the trees and studied the spot while remaining hidden. He could discern the building on the far side, its walls and windows disguised by darkness and rampant vegetation. The roof had crumbled on one side, and most would have assumed it vacant. Drake surveyed the building with care. Only a Pyr could have seen sufficient detail at this distance, and Drake took his time to choose his point of attack.
There would be no time to correct a mistake.
He spied the steel door and knew from the smell of it that it was new. There was a faint residue of Slayer upon it, as if they had become sloppy in disguising their scent.
Or as if they intended to tempt him to enter that way. Drake would not make such a foolish choice.
He scanned the second story and almost missed the detail he sought, so concealed was it by grime and growth.
There were bars installed across a window, one of the few that seemed to still have intact glass. The bars were so perfect and similar that Drake recognized they were recently installed. The glass of that window was tinted, reflecting rain and forest like a black mirror, which meant he couldn’t anticipate exactly what he would find behind it.
Veronica, certainly, but perhaps more than that.
He smelled the first match struck and then a prickle of awareness within the building. Jorge had heard it as well, Drake would wager, and he was glad they had chosen to light the fires with matches instead of dragonfire.
Jorge might guess that it was Pyr taking his bait, but let him learn the truth of it as late as possible. Drake didn’t imagine the Slayer would be that readily fooled. He had baited a trap and was waiting for the Pyr to arrive. Drake smelled the gasoline ignite and felt the soaked cloth flare into flames.
Drake heard the Pyr stumbling in the tunnels, as if they were clumsy and human, lost and perhaps drunk. They joked with each other, like teenagers bent on making mischief, and Drake wondered whether Jorge believed the ruse.
Then he saw a flash of orange dragonfire in the basement of the building. It shone through slits in steel shutters that were locked over windows, and Drake understood that Jorge, like so many vermin, had chosen to secret himself in the earth.
He heard a roar and the hair stood up on his neck as his fellows shifted shape to fight. The building shook with the impact of their blows. Drake summoned his own change, lunging across the clearing as the blue shimmer raced over his skin. He bounded into the scrub on the far side and leapt up the side of the building, ripping the bars from the window with savage force and casting them aside. He shattered the window with a mighty swing of his tail and heard a woman gasp.
He saw Veronica and felt her relief when she recognized him, just before he heard humans in the forest behind him.
Trespassers, or urban explorers as Rox had called them.
Probably with cameras.
Drake exhaled in exasperation, guessing that the unexpected presence of humans might complicate events. Still, he had to focus. There were sudden footsteps outside the door to Veronica’s prison and Drake beckoned to her to hurry. She was already running toward him and leapt into his embrace, the evidence of her trust enough to make his heart thunder. He spun immediately and took flight, propelling himself off the building wall with a mighty kick, even as he heard a Slayer swear behind him.
“Drake!” Veronica whispered and laid her cheek on his chest as he soared high. “I was afraid you were dead.”
“Not yet,” he muttered, flying high like an arrow shot at the stars. There would be pursuit and it would come soon.
“Don’t say that!”
It was only as he held Veronica close that Drake wondered whether carrying her would hamper his ability to fight in her defense.
* * *
Drake had come for her, at no small risk to himself.
That said something about his reliability and determination to defend her. Ronnie ran her hands over his scaled hide, feeling his power as his muscles flexed. He flew straight up, his wings beating hard against the air. She was amazed by how quickly he moved, and how effortless he made his flight appear.
She was tucked under his chin, nestled against the pounding of his heart and sheltered from the cold rain. His scales were as dark as charcoal and he could have bee
n made of chunks of night sky. They gleamed though, like black pearls. She felt how the scales layered over each other, making a coat of protective mail, and fingered the spurs on the bottom of each one.
Her dragon had thorns.
He was warm, too, which prompted her to curl against him. It was easy to recall how deliberate a lover he had been and even easier to want to survive this to make love with him again.
His wings were black and leathery, and their span was massive. His coloring made his dragon look to have been forged out of black pearls and iron, a massive sculpture come to life. His talons were a deep red, reminding her of iron heated at the forge and his eyes were the same inky dark hue as they were in real life. The iris was a vertical slit, instead of a round dot, but still there was something recognizable of Drake in the dragon.
She recalled how resolute he could be and how she felt his anger like a tangible force. There was something recognizable of the dragon in Drake, too.
She had so much to tell him and no notion of where to start. He had to know what she’d told Niall, but Ronnie wasn’t sure.
She started with essentials.
“Jorge says he wants the baby,” she confessed and felt Drake nod.
“I know.” He spoke quickly then, as if in a hurry. “He is a viper, Veronica, much like the viper that killed your husband.”
“I thought Jorge was a Slayer.”
Drake was dismissive of the distinction. “In these times, wickedness has a different name. No matter the name, he is evil and thrives upon sowing doubt into the minds of others. He would turn you into his ally, convincing you that I am your foe. He would undermine whatever faith you might have in me and draw you into his scheme.”
Jorge had tried to do just that. It was reassuring that Drake understood him so well.
She might have said as much, but Drake hurried on. Ronnie had never heard him speak so quickly or so much, so she kept silent and listened.
Time must be short for whatever he had to confide in her.
What did he anticipate?
“I erred in not telling you of the import of the firestorm.” There was regret in his tone that made her want to forgive him. “I erred in not asking for your agreement in conceiving our son. I forgot that times have changed and I was overwhelmed by the fury of the firestorm. I am sorry, Veronica, and I would spend the rest of my days in seeing that mistake repaired.”