Hot Blooded (16 page)

Her father was adamant that she only trust those at Dreagan. That wasn't difficult after knowing Laith, but she needed more. Her father spoke of dangers and enemies, which meant he had seen things that worried him. Had he seen his murderers?

Now Iona really wished Laith was there. Perhaps then he could tell her what he'd refused to earlier. How was she supposed to keep a secret confidential when she didn't even know what the secret was?

Look to the night skies,
her father had written. What could possibly be in the sky besides stars and the occasional airplane or helicopter?

She would have all day to think about that. Iona folded up the letter and put it back in the envelope. She set it down beside her, and then changed her mind and returned it to her purse.

If she didn't get her thoughts off of the contents of the letter, she would go insane. She wanted to jump in her car and find Laith, and that made her remain where she was. She was getting too close to Laith, her desire too profound to be controlled. Even with the worry over whatever secret her father kept, she knew she had to have some time alone to think and digest everything—including her yearning for Laith.

Iona got her camera and laptop and plugged in the camera to start uploading all the pictures she had taken.

*   *   *

A chime sounded from his computer, alerting him that Iona Campbell was uploading more pictures. He clicked on the folder labeled with her name and scrolled through each picture as it came through.

The silly chit had no idea she was doing exactly as he wanted. Of course she also had no idea that her photos were sent directly to him. She had been one of his best acquisitions since he put together the Commune, but her usefulness was coming to an end. She was now in possession of the plot of land that had been in her family for untold generations.

Iona wasn't as vigilant as her father. It was going to be easy to get on the land and find the doorway onto Dreagan. And he knew exactly where to start looking—the waterfall.

 

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

Laith ran through the motions of pouring one drink after another, but his mind wasn't in it. No, he was squarely, firmly thinking about Iona.

Leaving her the day before had been difficult after their kisses. Staying away had been nearly impossible. Laith filled yesterday and today with anything he could think of that might take his mind off of her—to no avail.

She was resolutely a part of him now whether he wanted it or not, and frankly he didn't want it. That wasn't entirely true. He wanted her, craved her as he ached to see his Blacks again, pined to see the dragons they had sent away.

Laith took the money from a customer and put it in the register, but he wasn't seeing the currency, he was thinking of Iona's yielding lips, her honeyed taste. He could spend eternity kissing her, and he wanted to do much more than that.

Had they been anywhere else, Laith knew he would have made love to her. But they hadn't been anywhere else, they had been at the waterfall. It was a spectacularly beautiful place that was scarred by what they had done there.

“Laith?”

He blinked and came back to the present to see Rhys standing across the bar. “Aye?”

“I was beginning to wonder if you could hear me. I've been calling your name for a while.”

Laith grabbed a towel and wiped down the bar around him. It had been a long day, and he suspected another long night awaited him. “I was thinking.”

“I doona have to use magic to know your thoughts center on one mortal.”

Laith glanced around quickly to make sure none of the humans had heard Rhys. He speared Rhys with a glower. “Lower your voice,” he said through clenched teeth.

Rhys raised a dark brow. “You sound just like Con.”

“I doona,” he mumbled grumpily.

“Con disappears and everyone takes over his … attitude.”

“You doona.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Thank goodness.”

Laith frowned as he leaned his arms on the bar. “Con still hasna returned?”

“You'd know that had you come to the manor this morning or even at lunch.”

“I had things to do.”

Rhys smirked. “Right.”

Laith whistled and tossed the towel to Sammi when she turned to him. She caught it easily, her usual bright smile in place.

“You leaving?” she asked as she joined them.

Rhys gave a grunt as he pushed away from the bar. “I'm attempting to get his arse moving.”

“I'm leaving, I'm leaving,” Laith said as he threw up his hands.

Rhys paused and turned back to Sammi. “By the way, Tristan said to remind you that he'd meet you when your shift was over. He'll be in his usual place.”

Laith watched Sammi's smile broaden, if that was even possible. Tristan's usual spot was out back in the woods where he waited for her in dragon form. Sammi would then climb onto Tristan and he would fly them back to Dreagan.

The only way they were able to do that was because the pub was so far from town, otherwise people might see them. Since Sammi usually closed up, all the customers were long gone by the time she met Tristan.

Sammi gave them a wave before she filled another glass of ale. Laith walked to the back of the pub and past his office and the kitchen to the back door. He drew in a deep breath when he stepped into the night, Rhys on his heels.

“She's fine,” Rhys said. “We've been keeping an eye out.”

Laith knew that, but it wasn't the same as seeing her himself. “I want to see her.”

“Then go to her.”

“I'm giving her time. She's got a lot to deal with.”

Rhys grunted as he walked past him farther into the woods. “That's a load of shite, and you know it. If you want her, go to her.”

Laith narrowed his gaze on his friend. “Where is your usual horde of women, Rhys? You've only been out twice in the last month.”

“Keeping tabs on me now, aye?” Rhys asked and glanced over his shoulder.

The smile was forced, and it concerned Laith more. Rhys had always had women, flocks of women. He flew from one bird to another, and yet they kept rushing to him. Rhys was one of the few who loved to flaunt his wealth and his charm, which worked well with his love of women.

Things had changed ever since he was injured in Ireland. Rhys had been telling everyone he felt fine, but actions spoke louder than words—especially when it came to Rhys.

“What's changed with you?” Laith asked.

Rhys stopped and faced him. “Everything. You didna see what I have in the times I've gone after our brethren in the pits of the Dark Fae burrows.”

“Nor was I recently struck with a blast of dragon magic,” Laith added.

Rhys looked to the sky and sighed. Laith stood beside him and followed his gaze. The Kings had gone thousands of eons with no one coming close to hurting them. They were the most powerful beings on Earth, but they did have weaknesses.

A blast of Dark Fae magic while they were in dragon form could revert them back to human, unable to shift again for a short time. But the only thing that could kill a Dragon King was another Dragon King. Not only was their dragon magic some of the most powerful in the universe, but they couldn't be killed.

“I almost forgot how painful it was,” Rhys said into the quiet. “The last time I was wounded by another King was in the war with the humans when we were split for a time.”

Laith crossed his arms over his chest. “I had a glancing blow, but nothing serious. Hurt like the devil though.”

“We got too complacent. We're no' prepared for a battle of that magnitude, Laith. That small skirmish in Ireland proved that.”

“The Dark were defeated,” Laith said, confused.

Rhys made a sound at the back of his throat. “If they were truly defeated, they would no longer be a threat. We know they're most definitely a threat. They want something Con has hidden, and they willna stop until they have it.”

“I've no idea what it is they search for, do you?”

“Nay, but no' for lack of trying.” Rhys shrugged and pulled off his shirt. “I can no' shake the feeling that our time here is coming to an end.”

Laith took off his boots and set them next to a tree. “We've been here since the dawn of time. We're no' going anywhere, Rhys. We're supposed to be protecting the humans, remember?”

“The humans doona want our protection. We sent our dragons away for them, and for what purpose? To hide who we are, to forget the fierce magic that runs through our veins?”

Laith didn't have an answer for him, nor did he attempt to follow Rhys. They had to patrol tonight on the east border of Dreagan. It would take him near Iona, enough to get a glimpse of her cottage from the clouds.

He stripped out of the rest of his clothes and took off running. As soon as he reached the top of the hill, he leapt from the cliff and shifted midair. He spread his wings, letting them catch the current before he flew straight up and into the clouds.

Rhys's words were replaying in his head as he dipped his right wing and circled around to head east and keep an eye out for Dark Fae or human mercenaries. They had no shortage of enemies, but that's not what put a thread of fear in him.

It was Rhys's proclamation that the Kings wouldn't remain long. Earth was their home. Where else were they to go? Even if they could find their dragons, that didn't mean everything would return to how it had been before.

Laith wasn't going to give up their realm without a fight. The dragons had willingly shared it with the humans, but it had been the humans who hadn't wanted to share. Now the Fae were added into the mix as well, and though Laith wanted to deny that Ulrik was part of the problem, he wasn't sure he could anymore.

Ulrik wanted revenge against Con, and if Laith were fair, Ulrik deserved it after what they had done to him. Laith cringed as he thought of that day that altered the course of every dragon.

A day seared upon each Dragon King's mind and soul.

It made Laith sad to know that one of his brethren was bent on destroying everything they had built. It also made him angry.

Ulrik was a brother, but one that had attacked the humans, igniting the war. Ulrik was now focused on ending everything. Con wanted to kill Ulrik before things progressed further. Laith had been one to caution Con against such a drastic action, but now Laith realized it might be the only thing that could save them.

If Ulrik was the one uniting the Dark Fae and the humans to attack the Kings, with Ulrik dead, that unification would disintegrate. The Kings had battled the Dark before and won. They could do it again.

Laith didn't want Ulrik dead, but he didn't want Iona hurt either. Iona was innocent, just as John was. The Kings were meant to protect the humans—even if that meant protecting them from other Dragon Kings.

*   *   *

Rhys stood naked in the woods. He wanted to take to the sky, but the last time he tried to shift, the pain had been too much to endure. If he didn't get on patrol soon others would notice his absence and come looking.

No one could know the agony he endured every day. Rhys couldn't stand to see their pity or hear their sympathetic words. He was a Dragon King, more powerful than any of the other Yellows. He was the largest of his kind, the strongest, and the one with the most magic. It's what made him King, and what would get him past the hell he was in.

Rhys only had to think about shifting for his body to begin to change. It happened in an instant, his skin changing to scales, his hands and feet into massive taloned digits.

There was normally no pain, but nothing was normal anymore. The discomfort began softly and increased as more of his human body disappeared and the dragon took shape. A bellow formed, but he held it back, suffering silently. He shook, sweat covering him. The agony persisted, growing exponentially.

This was as far as Rhys got the previous night before he gave up. He wasn't going to give up this night. He would push through the pain and return to his true form.

With the last scale in place, Rhys slammed his huge dragon head from side to side to shake away the pain that was blinding him, unknowing that he was knocking down trees in the process.

*   *   *

Con jerked as he heard Rhys's bellow of agony through his mind. He said not a word to Usaeil as he ran to her balcony and shifted. He flew high and fast, his wings beating quickly to take him home to Dreagan.

Even without any clouds, he was high enough that no one could see him. He should've known Rhys was still in pain, no matter what he had said. Con took a direct path to Dreagan, one that could make him visible to any who bothered to look.

Fortunately when he finally reached Scotland, there was cloud cover. His wings ate up the air, getting him to Dreagan quickly. He knew by the way the others circled an area that Rhys was there. Con flew straight for them.

“
Con!
” Laith shouted as he came up alongside. “
Rhys isna moving.
”

“
I know. I heard his shout.
”

A flash of deep red scales flew below Con. A moment later Guy asked, “
What the bloody hell is going on, Con?
”

Con didn't answer as he glided down and landed beside Rhys who lay on his side, his eyes closed. “
Rhys? Can you hear me?
”

“
We've been trying that,
” Ryder said as he stood beside Rhys. He nudged Rhys with his large head of smoke-colored scales. “
He's no' responded.
”

Constantine rested a taloned hand on Rhys and felt his magic surge from him and flow into Rhys. Con's dragon magic could heal anything. The one thing he couldn't do was bring someone back from death. There was only one King that had ever been able to manage that—Ulrik.

No matter how much magic he poured into Rhys, nothing was happening. “
Rhys, damn you. Wake up!
”