Hot Blooded (18 page)

As she spoke, his smile began to fade. “You'd rather no' share a meal with me.”

“You've been a good friend,” she began.

Sadness fell over his face. “A friend.”

Iona's heart broke because she didn't want to hurt him. He wasn't bad looking, but he wasn't Laith. “A person can never have too many friends.”

“Quite right,” he said and then cleared his throat.

“I need friends.” The lie didn't seem like such a lie after she said it. Iona had always considered herself a loner, but she wondered if she had been wrong all those years.

Thomas's smile returned, albeit dimmer. “If you ever need anything, Iona, doona hesitate to call.”

“Thank you.”

He gave a nod and walked around her. Iona leaned back against the building and sighed.

“Very well done,” Sammi said as she came around the corner.

Iona jumped, her hand on her heart. “You scared me to death.”

“Apologies,” Sammi said with a smile.

Iona rolled her eyes. “No, you're not. How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it, I'm afraid.” Sammi came to stand beside her. “I got your text as I was making a deposit for the pub, so I decided to wait for you. I have to say, you handled Thomas wonderfully. You told him no without actually telling him no.”

Iona still felt badly about the entire incident. “I hope you're right.”

“I am. Now, about this shopping,” Sammi said with a bright smile.

Iona fidgeted under Sammi's watchful gaze until they began to walk. “I'm in need of a few things if I'll be remaining.”

“So you are staying.” She nodded in delight. “I'm happy to hear it.”

“It's just that I always pack so few items. It's time to update what I have.”

Sammi laughed and shook her head. “You don't have to convince me. I've never been a big shopper or had many friends. My mom and I did everything together. She was my best friend, so after she died and I came here, it took some adjusting to having a sister around all the time. Then there is Cassie and Elena who love to shop like it's nobody's business. However, Denae and Shara are good at it as well. Shara could be a personal stylist.”

“I'm not a shopper.” Iona's head began to spin at the thought of looking at all the different clothes. “At all. I mean, I can't remember the last time I went into a department store.”

“I didn't mean to frighten you off,” Sammi said mildly. “It took me a bit to become accustomed to having all the women around, but now that I know what it means to have girl friends. I wouldn't trade it.”

Iona was about to tell her she didn't need friends when she recalled her words to Thomas. She did need them. How else would she discover who killed her father? She suspected her excuse for friends went deeper than what she was willing to admit, but it was a place to start.

Sammi waved to someone across the street before turning her attention back to Iona. “Going to a store might overwhelm you since it's been so long. Why not tell me what you're looking for and I can grab a few things and bring them over.”

“Are you sure you're not just trying to keep me from leaving?” Iona teased.

“That's part of it.”

The fact Sammi didn't smile or tease had Iona's own grin disappearing. Then she put it together. “Because my father was killed.”

Sammi nodded and glanced around.

Iona suddenly stopped walking. “I don't know what I want for new clothes. I want something more than the plain tees and pants that I have. Perhaps a casual dress. I don't even know what size I am anymore.”

“Leave it to me,” Sammi said with a wink.

Iona wanted something new for that night when she planned to go to the pub and talk to Laith, but that was asking a lot of Sammi. “What do you need from me?”

“Just tell me any colors you don't like.”

“There aren't any.”

Sammi gave a nod and pulled her mobile from her purse. “I'll be by tonight,” she said and turned away as she began calling someone.

Iona wasn't upset at her departure. In truth, she had errands of her own to run. Her first stop was at Michael's garage where she purchased all the items she needed to fix the Rover. Then she headed to Thomas's office to put something in order that should have been done years ago.

*   *   *

Rhys stood in his mountain looking through the arched opening to the water that fell from high above down the jagged rocks to a pool of crystal clear water. It had been months since the last time he was in his mountain, but he had a suspicion that now that he was back, he wouldn't be leaving again.

He drew in a deep breath and felt the fire stir within. Rhys directed the fire at torches set along either side of the water. Smoke curled from his nostrils as flames sparked in the torches and flared to life.

There was no need for him to have the torches. A dragon could see in any light. In his human form, his vision was three times that of a mortal, but even then it wasn't the same as his dragon eyes. It was one reason he set up the torches. The other was because he loved the look of the fire reflecting off the water.

As a yellow dragon, he was drawn to waterfalls. It was where any Yellow could be found. When they inhabited Earth. Now, it was a reminder of the past, of a time when dragons ruled.

Behind him was an outcropping of rock that rose up thirty feet in the air as if reaching for the hole that he flew into. Sunlight filtered through the large opening so that moss grew on the rocks, mixing with the gray and brown of the mountain.

Rhys walked to the water and entered. The pool was deep enough to submerge him ten times over, but there would be no playing for him today. He swam unhurriedly to the waterfall, then climbed up more rocks and walked beneath the waterfall to his cave.

He turned and lay down so that he could see out the waterfall. His return to the mountain could be permanent. He had been crazy to think that shifting to his true form and getting past the pain would solve everything.

It hadn't.

Rhys made sure he was alone when he tried to shift back to human form. He wasn't certain what made him think there might be pain. Regardless, he was glad he took the action, because the agony had been horrendous.

He immediately stopped trying to shift, and when he had, the pain ceased. That's when Rhys knew if he was going to try it again, he needed to be somewhere private, somewhere the others would know to leave him alone.

It wasn't that he was afraid of pain. He was a Dragon King, after all. It was the fact that it felt as if he were splitting in two.

The pain was ten times what it was the first time they shifted from dragon to human. Every muscle shredded, every bone broke, every tendon severed only to knit back together in a new shape. That pain had lasted but a moment. This … this lasted for what seemed like eons.

Rhys didn't want to lose control as he did the first time and shout. He refused to have anyone surrounding him worrying that he might be dying.

He was in misery. Not just because he was lying to everyone—including himself—about the extent of the injury, but the ache of it grew each day. Now he couldn't shift between forms without searing anguish. It would have been better had his brethren let his wound kill him, because this wasn't a way for a King to live.

There was an option. He could go to Ulrik. Rhys didn't want to see his old friend, but if Ulrik was the one had who injured him, Ulrik could be the one to fix him. If he even would.

At one time Ulrik would have given any of the Kings whatever they needed. But this was an entirely different Ulrik, one that had been banished, one who had been stuck in human form for ages.

One who hadn't been able to take to the skies as the other Kings could.

Rhys sunk his claws into the granite beneath him and closed his eyes. He immediately brought up the image of Lily. For several minutes he concentrated on her, and even daydreamed about pulling her close and sinking his hands into her thick hair. He dreamed of lowering his head to her lips and imagining how sweet she would taste.

Then he tried to shift.

 

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

Laith paced the hallway, stopping every so often to look in Rhys's room, but Rhys had yet to return.

“Have you been here all night?” Kiril asked as he walked up.

Laith halted and turned his head to Kiril. “Aye. He's still no' back.”

“You know Rhys,” Kiril said. “He likes his privacy.”

Laith raised his brows. “There's something wrong, Kiril. Something Con knows and willna tell us.”

Kiril's shamrock green eyes narrowed. “If there was something wrong with Rhys, he'd have told me.”

“I doona think so. You saw Rhys last night. You saw him lying still as death after he yelled out in pain.”

Kiril ran a hand through his wheat-colored hair. “He told me he felt great. He was laughing and joking last night as we patrolled.”

“I know. Right up until we all returned to Dreagan. I've no' seen him since, nor will he answer me when I try to contact him.”

“Rhys doesna ignore people. That's Warrick.”

“If we're going to get to the bottom of things, we need to talk to Con.”

“Talk to me about what?” Con asked as he approached.

Kiril turned to face Con. “Where is Rhys?”

“In his room getting ready for the day, I suppose.”

Laith shook his head. “Nay. He's no', nor has he been since patrol last night.”

Con walked past them and threw open the door to Rhys's room. He stood there for a moment before Con looked at them and said, “He's no' answering my call.”

“Apparently he's no' answering any of us,” Kiril said. “I doona like this. I want to know what's going on with him.”

Laith took a step toward Con. “We both do.”

“I promised him I wouldna,” Con said.

“That was before last night. And before he disappeared,” Kiril said tightly.

Con looked away and put his hands in the pockets of his black dress slacks. His pale gray shirt was starched and his French-cuffed sleeves were held with his favorite cuff links—gold dragon heads. “Rhys has been in pain since the battle in Ireland.”

“He's no' been verra good at hiding that fact,” Laith said.

Kiril scrubbed a hand down his face. “He's no' been the same since Ireland. He came to help me and Shara, and in return he's been besieged by something we doona understand.”

“He's been plagued by dragon magic,” Con stated emphatically, his black gaze swinging to them.

Laith held up a hand. “We're no' going to get into who did this to Rhys now. We need to find Rhys and make sure he's all right.”

“I know where to start looking,” Kiril said sadly. He blew out a breath. “His cave.”

The three wasted no time in hurrying from the manor into the tunnel that led to their mountain. From there they rushed through the back entrance of the mountain. As one, the three shifted into dragons and flew to the mountain Rhys chose for his own.

It was miles away. One of the farthest from Dreagan. They flew quickly with no words between them. The bad feeling that descended upon Dreagan weeks ago when Rhys was first hurt had only worsened after John Campbell's death.

When they finally arrived at Rhys's mountain, the three circled the entrance before Kiril dove through the opening, shifting into human form and landing next to the water. Con went next, flying through the opening and waiting until he hovered next to Kiril before he shifted.

Laith took one more flight around the entrance that looked as if a giant had slammed a fist into the side of the mountain and created an opening. When he saw nothing of concern, Laith flew into the gap and swooped down over Kiril and Con to glide over the water.

One of his black wings sliced through the waterfall as he did. Normally, that would be enough to bring Rhys out if he was there, but nothing happened. Laith landed next to the waterfall and shifted.

Kiril and Con had already dove into the water and were swimming toward him. Laith navigated the rocks to stand beneath the cascade of water. A moment later Con and Kiril joined him.

“He could be sleeping,” Laith said.

Kiril made a guttural sound. “No' Rhys, and no' now.”

“Why do you say that?” Con asked.

Kiril shook his head and stepped through the waterfall. Laith looked at Con and shrugged, then followed Kiril. He came to a halt immediately.

“He didna tell me,” Con whispered, shock and anger thickening his words.

Laith could only watch as Rhys kept trying to shift to human form. He would flicker and begin to shift, before he would revert back to a dragon.

“The yellow of his scales has dimmed,” Kiril said sadly.

Con pointed to Rhys's right flank. “His wound has returned, as if it never healed.”

Laith grimaced when he saw the wound open every time Rhys attempted to shift. Each time the injury opened, he saw a glimpse of something inflamed within Rhys.

“Why can he no' shift?” Kiril demanded.

Con walked closer to Rhys and peered at the wound. “Dragon magic or no', it shouldna be prohibiting him from shifting.”

“Heal him,” Laith demanded of Con.

Con put his hand on Rhys to use his magic, and the instant Con's flesh came in contact with Rhys's scales, Con was flung backward, crashing into the rocks.

Kiril squatted next to Rhys's head and closed his eyes. Laith knew Kiril was trying to reach Rhys however he could, but nothing was working.

Con climbed to his feet and wiped the blood from a healing cut on his forehead. “There's something more than dragon magic doing this.”

“How do we combat it?” Laith asked.

“I can help.”

Laith and Con turned to find Rhi standing behind them. Her long black hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. She wore a black and white horizontally striped shirt and black jeans. Water pooled around her black boots from the waterfall, and yet she didn't take her eyes off Rhys.