Fate of Dragons Page 5

  Tucker gets me. He truly does. My confidence in Irena is enough for him, and he doesn’t feel the need to press for information or be convinced.

  He trusts me, pure and simple.

  I smile, grateful for this ridiculous and wonderful man, and wrap my arm around his waist. We stand there, peacefully watching the beautiful world around us, simply enjoying each other’s company.

  Tucker trusts me with his life, and I will guard him with all my power. As much as I love riding into battle with him at my side, however, I never want to test the limits of that faith.

  If anyone ever hurt this man—well, no one would find their remains.

  Chapter Six

  I feel him before I hear him.

  Jace.

  After he snuck up on us in the forest, I’ve been careful to tune in and pay attention to the sensation—even if it is still murky.

  As I stand in the courtyard with Tucker, just enjoying myself for once, I can feel the flurry of longing that bleeds through our surreal connection. I feel him getting closer, and I wonder if this magical mate-link-thing is ever going to make sense.

  Knowing where Jace is at all times would be about the greatest superpower ever, if only because it would help me avoid him when he’s being an ass.

  Seconds later, I hear his footsteps on the balcony above us. Soft, almost imperceptible, but they’re unmistakably his.

  “Hi, Jace,” I say without looking back.

  Tucker flinches and looks around, confused. It’s a moment or two before he looks behind me, toward the balcony. “How the hell do you do that, woman?”

  I chuckle. “I’m magic, remember?”

  “Yeah, but not like that.”

  “Rory,” Jace interrupts, his footsteps trailing down the stairs. I still haven’t looked back, and now I’m grateful—from his tone, he’s clearly pissed about something, but that’s not exactly news.

  He’s always mad about something.

  Tucker’s grip on my shoulder tightens, and I imagine they’re glaring daggers at each other. I continue to watch the horizon, ignoring their little spat. The stunning mountains begin to dissolve in the coming night. Above, clouds swirl through the sky as dragons dip and dive, honing their flying skills.

  “Take your arm off of my mate,” Jace says bitterly. “Or I’ll break it off.”

  “Oh look, it’s Captain Buzzkill,” Tucker says, and I can almost hear the frown in his voice. “Welcome to the party.”

  “Relax, ladies,” I snap, the last shred of peace from the beautiful sunset utterly shattered, thanks to their bickering.

  I glance between them—Tucker’s lean and muscled body, the way Jace’s strong jaw tenses as he glares daggers at the weapons expert beside me.

  “Jace, what’s wrong?” I glance him over, wondering if he just came for a dick measuring contest, or if he has a purpose.

  Jace opens his mouth, his brow furrowed in anger, and I know he’s about to start something. He glances at Tucker, shoulders squared, looking for all the world like he wants to punch him in the face.

  “Please, don’t.” I simply shake my head, warning him to be smart about this.

  For whatever reason, he shuts his mouth again and sighs. Maybe it’s the please that got him, or maybe he just has other things on his mind.

  “Fine.” He rubs his neck and gestures toward the embassy. “Look, I need you to come with me. Not because of this.” He gestures dismissively to Tucker, as if he’s nothing more than a rodent. “Something arrived from our… friends.”

  I frown. Jace doesn’t have friends.

  This must be from the mysterious assholes behind the dragon head this morning. They sent us another present, and judging by Jace’s expression, I’m not going to like what’s inside.

  “Go for it, babe.” Tucker plasters a huge kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you tonight. My room, or yours?”

  Oh, fabulous. I sigh in frustration.

  He did that on purpose. It’s like Tucker wants to get me in trouble with the dragon shifter who thinks he can rule my life.

  Jace squeezes his hands into fists, scowling at the weapons expert with barely restrained rage. I wonder if, had I not been here, Tucker would’ve wound up with a black eye.

  With a laugh, Tucker slaps my ass and jogs up the stairs into the embassy.

  The dojo master shifts his attention, the full force of his glare now focused on me, and I set my hands on my hips defiantly. “Yes?”

  Tucker started this, but I can’t back down now.

  “I don’t understand you,” he says softly, the anger dissolving with a hint of hurt.

  Before I can see any more of his expression, though, he turns his back to me and heads toward the embassy.

  I follow without a word. No, I guess he truly doesn’t understand me—and I wonder if he ever will.

  We walk through the dojo in silence, Jace a few steps ahead of me and walking at a brisk pace. Though it’s effortless to keep up, I wonder if he’s somehow trying to test me, to see if I’ll grovel or seek his forgiveness.

  I won’t.

  Heck, maybe he’s just trying to ignore me. With Jace, it’s hard to tell.

  Eventually, he comes to a set of double doors I’ve never seen before. Two guards in the dojo’s yellow and black uniforms are posted outside, and they salute with perfect form as he nears.

  Ah, these must be his elite soldiers—which means I’m going to see something new.

  One of the guards opens the door for us, revealing a large meeting room. Sconces on the walls cast flickering lights over the round wooden table in the center of the room, and one of the twenty ornate chairs has been pulled several feet from the table. Windows line the walls on either side of me, and I imagine we would have a stunning view of the ravine and main courtyard if it were light out.

  But that’s not why Jace brought me here.

  Another pine box sits on the polished surface of the table, and my blood runs cold at the sight.

  “Open it,” he says with a nod to the box. “And tell me what the hell that is.”

  I frown at the controlling thunderbird shifter, but my curiosity pushes me forward despite my annoyance.

  My fingers brush the rough pine boards, and I effortlessly lift the lid—which means he’s already broken the seal and looked inside.

  A neatly folded set of black clothes lay on a bed of straw in the box, and my heart nearly stops when I recognize it.

  Irena’s Spectre uniform.

  For a moment, I can’t breathe. My heart stutters in my chest. Furious, jaw tense, I slam the lid shut.

  “What is it?” Jace asks, the harsh edge slowly fading from his voice. Maybe he sees how upset I am, or maybe he’s relaxing now because it’s just the two of us in here.

  Whatever the reason, he seems to have forgotten his anger—for the moment. It’ll come back.

  “Irena’s outfit,” I say quietly, not looking at him. “The last thing I saw her wearing.”

  Jace curses under his breath, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him rub his temple. “That explains the note.”

  “Note?” I ask, my voice a bit tense.

  Why the hell doesn’t he tell me these things?

  “We found this with the crate.” He pulls a folded piece of white paper from his pocket and hands it to me.

  I snatch it from his hand to find a few words scribbled on it, the writing tight and elegant.

  She doesn’t have long.

  My blood boils. The fury is so powerful, so overwhelming, that I feel a surge of nausea in my cheeks. Heat burns along my hands, my magic threatening to break free, so I close my eyes to shove the emotions deep down—I can’t deal with them right now.

  I need to focus.

  Carefully, I study the note for clues. The blue ink is flawless. Precise. The script is distinctly masculine, with harsh lines and the occasional blotch in the ink. Whoever wrote this doesn’t waste time, but still cared enough to ensure the note was perfectly legible.


  This person wanted to make sure I got his message, and damn it all, I did.

  “I can’t believe they took off her clothes.” I’m seething. I pocket the note and toss the lid aside, rifling through the layers of fabric, looking for anything useful.

  The good news is her underthings aren’t here. They at least gave her that privacy, however minimal that might be.

  Jace walks up behind me and, in a fluid motion, lifts the note from my pocket. I pivot and reach for it, trying to snatch it back, but he gently grabs my wrist before I can.

  His grip is strong. Tight. Immobilizing. I briefly fight to break free, but my heart isn’t in it. Not really. We lock eyes as he stashes the paper in his back pocket, his expression softening slightly as I glower at him.

  “Give that back,” I demand.

  “Now who’s pushy and controlling?” He quirks one eyebrow playfully. “No, Rory. This is clearly upsetting you. Last time you were this upset, you blew a hole in a mountain.”

  “I’m fine,” I lie, turning my back to him.

  I’ll just steal the damn note back later—if it’s even worth my time.

  “You were right,” he says, changing the subject. “If our mystery friend sent us Irena’s clothes, it appears the Vaer are behind this after all. Obviously, whoever sent us this also sent us our little—” He clears his throat uncomfortably. “—present earlier.”

  I pause, leaning on the table, pressing my eyes shut at the reminder that someone died simply because she was loosely connected to me.

  It’s almost more than I can handle right now.

  And I hate how much I care.

  “Rory,” Jace says softly. Tenderly. He holds my shoulders, his strong grip surprisingly comforting. “We’ll fix this.”

  “Damn right we will,” I say, my voice dark.

  Deadly.

  Murderous.

  I lift Irena’s coat and examine it, looking for more information—anything at all that could help me—but I’m blindsided as the scent of her perfume rolls over me.

  We were never supposed to wear scents on missions, but we could at home. Off duty, when we got the luxury of a few hours’ rest.

  I put this coat on her to keep her warm through the coma—this wasn’t something she was allowed to wear on a mission. Her perfume is light and fresh with a hint of floral notes, maybe rose or lavender, and it always struck me how feminine her choice of perfumes was. She likes the gentle ones, the soft ones, the ones with beautiful bottles and gorgeous celebrity endorsements.

  Sometimes, it made me wonder if that was the life she wanted—something soft, something gentle. If she fought with what she was as much as I did.

  My anger momentarily dissolves, and I hug the jacket to my chest.

  I’m going to fix this, Irena. I squeeze my eyes shut. Promise.

  Something within the coat crinkles and slides out of the sleeve, falling to the floor. I open my eyes to find another piece of white paper covered in blue ink, identical to the first.

  Jace and I both dart for it, but I grab it before he can. I shoot him a triumphant smile as he groans in protest. “Rory, you can’t—”

  “Just did.”

  I scan through the note, but this one doesn’t have any warnings. No words.

  Just coordinates.

  Behind me, Jace’s footsteps across the wooden floor captures my attention. As I memorize the coordinates—in case he snatches this, too—I feel him come closer, feel the way the air shifts and buzzes with energy as he nears, and I try to ignore the way my body aches to lean into him.

  “A trap,” Jace says.

  Obviously.

  I nearly roll my eyes. It’s as if he only remembers I’m a hardened assassin when he wants a reason to be mad at me.

  I peer over my shoulder to find him inches away. His stormy gray eyes shift from the note to me, and briefly to my lips. His strong jaw clenches slightly, the muscles pinching as he bites back whatever he was about to say.

  “Yeah, it’s a trap.” I swallow my original sarcastic retort as I briefly lose myself in his handsome face.

  It’s insane how much these men affect me. I hate not having control over my body, hate that I can’t suppress the way they ignite a fire within me.

  Jace, Drew, Tucker, Levi—I crave them, and no one else.

  “Obviously, they wanted you to find this and meet them solo.” Jace says.

  “I wonder what they want to say?” I tilt my head, curiosity getting the better of me. “To set up a meeting—”

  “Absolutely not,” Jace snaps.

  “I’m not an idiot,” I snap back. “We wouldn’t go in blind. They’ve killed one of your soldiers, Jace. I think it’s time we have a little chat with whoever is behind this to let them know just who they’re messing with.”

  I hold the dojo master’s eye, daring him to disagree, but he eventually nods. “I suppose you’re right.”

  I am right, but I decide not to press the issue.

  “I’ll have a drone fly by and scan the area,” Jace says, lost in thought. “And in the meantime…” Quick as a whip, he tries to grab the note from my hand, but I react just fast enough to keep it out of his reach.

  “Rory—” He sighs, hands on his hips, and shakes his head. “Please. I know you’ve already memorized it.”

  I briefly grin, wondering if he’ll come around after all, and set the paper in his hand. “Fine.”

  His palm is warm, his skin hot and inviting, and sparks of need burn through me as my fingertip accidentally brushes his hand. He stiffens, his eyes drifting to mine, evidently just as affected by my touch as I am by his.

  In the silence, we simply wait for the other to speak, for one of us to extend the olive branch first.

  We don’t get the chance.

  Outside in the hallway, several men start yelling, their tense voices muffled by the closed door.

  The moment shatters, and both of us look away.

  Jace, to his credit, simply stares at the door and sighs with frustration. After a moment, it clicks for me.

  “You brought me here to keep Drew from finding out about the second box, didn’t you?” Despite the gravity of discovering the second box, I can’t help but grin at their feud.

  “Yeah.” Jace crosses his arms and watches the door, clearly expecting it to burst open at any second.

  “How’s that working out for you?” I chuckle.

  “Splendid, if it means he assaults me or a guard, and I can throw him in a cell.” Jace grins, eyes glossing over for a moment as he daydreams. “Or, even better, throw him out altogether.”

  “Play nice.” I roll my eyes and walk toward the door. “You might as well let him in.”

  “Let him in?” Jace groans. “You don’t know who he is, Rory. Not really. The man you’ve seen here—the things he’s done for you—it’s not real. You can’t trust this guy.”

  I pause briefly and look over my shoulder. “Wait, you fought at his side and still hate him?”

  “Absolutely.” Jace frowns.

  I tilt my head in confusion, wondering when the two of them will sort out their issues like healthy, adult men—instead of just yelling insults at each other all the time. “Well, I don’t hate him, and I’m letting him in.”

  “Honestly,” Jace mutters, rubbing his eyes. “What did I do to deserve a mate who manages to find every button I have and smack it with a hammer?”

  “It’s called karma,” I say as I reach the door, chuckling a little under my breath. “And something tells me yours is long overdue.”

  Chapter Seven

  The coordinates on the second note take us to a forest in the middle of Montana. As my boots pass silently over the forest floor, I scan for signs of life. For the enemy.

  There’s nothing.

  Just wildlife. No cameras. No heat signatures. No indication that anyone has ever set foot in these woods at all.

  While others would be relieved to be in the clear, it only puts me on edge. I’m used to the battl
e. To the hunt. I thrive in a fight. Besides, these are killers we’re dealing with. Master manipulators.

  They’re not going to just forget to show up to their own ambush.

  Something dangerous is in the works, and I refuse to walk into someone’s trap.

  “Clear on the North side,” Jace says through the small com in my ear. With my hair down, no one can even see it, and I like it that way. If I am somehow being monitored, our new friends need to think I came here alone.

  “East side, clear,” Tucker says through the shared link. “Guess they saw me flexing these guns and ran off.”

  I hear a small kissing noise through the link, and I figure my ridiculous weapons expert just planted a big one on his bicep. I pause, wondering if he realized he made a pun, or if that was accidental.

  “Shut up, Tucker,” Jace says, sounding a little weary.

  “No need to be rude,” I mutter, grinning a little because I know full well I’m just stoking the fire.

  Jace can be a jerk, but that just means he’s fun to mess with.

  “South side is clear,” Drew chimes in, interrupting the dojo master before he can make a retort. “Waiting on the signal from Levi for the West.”

  I scan the forest again, but I’m alone. Except for the five of us, there isn’t a soul out here. The birds sing, and I’ve spotted a few rabbits along the path so far, so the wildlife isn’t afraid of anything in the woods.

  And yet, this is clearly where I was supposed to rendezvous with the asshat who’s been sending me presents.

  It doesn’t make any damn sense.

  As I slip through the woods, silent as ever, my mind wanders. Why would they give me coordinates to an empty patch of grass in the middle of nowhere? Why lead me from the dojo? Is it because they know Jace will follow, and they want to attack it while he’s gone?

  Doubtful. As far as I’ve managed to glean from Drew and Jace, my sudden presence in the dragon world has temporarily suspended the other mini-wars the dragon families have with each other on a regular basis.