Hot Blooded (32 page)

There were always casualties of war. Luckily the never-ending parade of mercenaries to his door kept him in supply of men who liked to kill. As for others, he paid handsomely to get whatever he wanted for the select few who weren't already indebted to him.

Another piece on the board had fallen right into his trap as well, though Con wouldn't realize just how deep Rhys was in until it was too late.

He eyed the bishop. The next piece was coming. He could hardly contain his excitement, because when that slid into place, it would put Dreagan in check.

With a little stirring up of the Dark Fae, the Dragon Kings would have enemies attacking from both sides. He wanted to celebrate, but it was too early yet. The time would come soon enough, and the first thing he was going to do was kill Constantine. He would be King of Kings, and the other Kings would bow down to him.

Or be slain where they stood.

He could hardly wait. He rose from the couch and walked to his desk. Choosing the sixth mobile, he texted a single letter—N—and hit send.

*   *   *

Laith stared out the window as he held Iona. She was asleep on her feet by the time he returned to the cottage and brought her to bed. She hadn't uttered a sound, simply turned on her side and drifted off. He wished it was that easy for him, but his mind was full of all that was happening. Every time they thought they had beaten a foe, another arose. Just as Con said from the very beginning, everything pointed to Ulrik.

Ulrik must have found a Druid who was able to return enough of his dragon magic so that he could cause damage, but even that little bit was plenty to disrupt things. Rhys was case in point. Because of his injury, he was now human, unable to shift without ripping himself in two. Who would be next? Because Laith knew Ulrik wouldn't stop there. His hatred was centered on Con, but it spread to anyone who wasn't with him—which meant every Dragon King.

Then there was the Dark Fae. Of all the beings Ulrik had to have an accord with, why did it have to be them? For a King to mix his magic with the Dark Fae was … criminal. Then again, Ulrik hadn't been a part of the war with the Fae. He had no idea what they were capable of.

Laith knew they hadn't seen the last of the Dark Fae. Kiril had delivered a huge blow to them in Ireland, but that only meant they would strike harder the next time. Which could be at any time.

As powerful as Taraeth, King of the Darks was, he was nothing compared to his right-hand man, Balladyn. Already the Dark had taken three Kings, but had been unable to hold them. When Balladyn kidnapped Rhi, she had managed to free herself—even if she wasn't the same. When the Dark came at the Kings again, it was going to be twice as hard as before.

“You're brooding.”

He looked down and found Iona's dark gaze on him. He caressed a finger down the side of her face. “Just thinking.”

“Brooding. There're little lines on your brow to prove it.”

That brought a smile to his lips. “Lines, huh? Should I be concerned about wrinkles?”

“Definitely.” She rolled over to face him. “Did you rest at all?”

“I was with you.”

She ducked her head as she yawned. “I should've stayed with the others.”

“Gwynn and Evie are human, despite being magical. They needed rest as well. As soon as I brought you in here, Logan came for Gwynn and Malcolm for Evie. Ryder, on the other hand, is still working.”

Iona's eyes darkened with desire. “You're in my bed.”

“I am.”

“With me.”

“Aye.” He cupped her butt and brought her against him.

Iona's hands roamed over his bare back. “Is it wrong that I don't want to think about what's going on outside my door?”

“No' at all,” he murmured before he kissed her.

Desire consumed them, devoured them. Iona fumbled with the button of his jeans while he shoved her shirt up and over her head. Laith tossed it aside and rolled her onto her back as his jeans were being tugged down his hips.

All Laith wanted was to be back inside her, to feel her tight, wet sheath surround him. The need, the yearning was more than he thought to ever experience, and yet the longer he was with Iona, the deeper the emotions and feelings became.

He unclasped her bra at the same time someone pounded on the door. Iona's body went limp as she moaned in frustration. Laith fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“We found something,” Ryder said through the door.

Iona turned her head to Laith. “You should've woken me earlier. I'm not going to be able to concentrate now,” she said with a wicked smile.

“You?” Laith asked. He lifted his head to look down at his swollen cock. “I need a cold shower.”

Iona threw off the blanket and rolled out of bed. So much for keeping her occupied for a while. He yanked his jeans back into place and stood before he buttoned them.

Laith waited at the door for Iona to put her shirt back on and comb her fingers through her hair. They walked into the living together to find Ryder all but tackling Logan in his effort to grab the box of donuts.

“Geesh. You're as bad as Galen. Warn me next time,” Logan grumbled. He then turned to Iona and smiled. “You've already met my better half, Gwynn. I'm Logan Hamilton.”

Iona returned his smile. “Hi, Logan. Where is Gwynn?”

Logan's hazel gaze momentarily met Laith's before he replied, “She's still resting. I had a hell of a time getting her to stop last night. It wasna until she fell asleep typing that I was able to get her home for a wee bit.”

“No' the castle?” Laith asked.

Logan shrugged and watched Ryder stuff an entire jelly donut into his mouth. “We're close enough to the castle it doesna matter. The Druids are strengthening the protection spells. The children have already been moved there.”

“Speaking of children, how is your son?”

Logan beamed like a proud father. “He's amazing. From the first moment Bran entered the world I've been astonished by him. Gwynn and I were talking about another child when all of this happened.”

Laith glanced at Iona. “You know we willna let anything happen to any of the Druids or any of the children.”

“I know,” Logan said with a nod. “Gwynn wanted to feed Bran before she returned.”

The front door opened and Malcolm walked in, raking a hand through his windblown blond hair. His blue eyes scanned the cottage before he stepped aside and Evie entered.

“There's a storm coming,” Malcolm said. His gaze hardened for a moment before he touched the scars running from the left side of his face horizontally to his right side when he noticed Iona staring. He told her, “I was attacked by Warriors when I was still mortal. I'd have died if it hadna been for the Druids.”

“I didn't mean to stare,” Iona hurried to say.

Evie waved away her words. “He's fine, aren't you, honey?”

Laith watched as Evie rose up on her toes and pulled Malcolm's face down so she could kiss his scars. The smile on Malcolm's face transformed the Warrior, his love for Evie evident in his every action.

“I didn't mean to stare,” Iona whispered again as she moved closer to Laith.

Malcolm lifted his eyes to meet Laith's. He gave a small nod, and Laith knew Malcolm wasn't upset. Laith took Iona's hand and pulled her to Ryder as he said, “Doona think twice about it.”

Ryder finished off his third jelly donut then dusted off his hands and glanced at them. “It took more finesse than I've had to use in a verra long time, but I was able to trace all of the e-mails to one place—Madrid.”

“That's not right,” Iona said. “My bosses are all over the world, but Abby, their assistant, is based in London.”

Ryder pointed to the screen of his laptop. “The proof is right there. If they lied to you about everything else, why would they no' do the same for where the assistant is?”

“Is there even an assistant?” Laith asked.

Ryder punched a few keys and a new screen popped up on the computer showing a picture of a thirtysomething attractive woman with big blue eyes and light brown hair. “There's Abigail Durham.”

“Abby has a British accent,” Iona said, her face mottled in confusion.

Laith asked, “So that is her? That's the assistant?”

“Yes, I've met her several times. She's delivered assignments and travel documents to my flat on occasion. We even had lunch together. She's a Londoner.”

Evie pulled out the chair next to Ryder and sat as she looked at the computer. “Her address is Madrid, and has been for ten years. Did she tell you she lived in London?”

Iona was so tired of the lies, of trying to find her way through them. “Yes. We talked about neighborhoods, restaurants, and shopping. Why wouldn't she tell me she really lived in Spain?”

“Good question,” Laith said. “As curious as that is, we really need to find the people behind the Commune. She'll know how to reach them.”

Iona was walking to the phone in the kitchen before Laith finished. She lifted the receiver and dialed Abby's number. Iona listened to the first ring before there was a loud beep with a computerized voice that said, “We're sorry, but this number has been disconnected.”

“They know we're on to them,” Ryder said with a scowl. “I had a feeling.”

“Which means they'll start wiping their existence,” Malcolm added.

Iona touched Evie's shoulder. “Look up Paul Woods.”

“Who is that?” Laith asked.

“A molecular chemist I know who works for the Commune.”

Evie shook her head after three unsuccessful tries. “I can't find a record that he's dead or alive. The last place there is evidence of him is four weeks ago in Uganda.”

“That could mean anything,” Logan said.

Ryder crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his chair back on two legs. “Or it could mean he's dead.”

“Look up Rebecca Turner,” Iona asked Evie.

They went through half a dozen names before Iona realized it wouldn't matter who she tried to find—everyone was gone. Whether they were hiding or dead, however, was the question.

“What now?” she asked Laith.

He looked around the room before returning his gunmetal gaze to her. “You have what they want.”

“The doorway,” she said with a nod.

“They'll come intending to go through it.”

Malcolm's smile was cold and calculating. “Then they'll be in for a surprise when we Warriors are there to stop them.”

“You've no' fought the Dark Fae, Malcolm,” Ryder pointed out. “They're much worse than any
drough
.”

Evie looked at Malcolm and took his hand. “The Dark Fae won't be expecting Warriors and Druids to aid Iona.”

“Doona count on that,” Laith cautioned. “If anything, we need to go on the assumption they know exactly what we're planning.”

Iona sighed. “So what do we do?”

“We give them what they want,” Laith said.

Iona widened her eyes in surprise. “You can't mean to let them through the doorway?”

“Why no'?” Ryder asked with a sly smile. “That's the easiest way for us to kill them.”

 

CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN

He walked along the windswept hills to an isolated valley. The tall mountains stopped any sound from reaching him. It made him recall the days when there hadn't been the deafening noises of modern day like cars, airplanes, trains, or even mobile phones ringing.

In truth, he detested the sound of all the humans who were overpopulating the world. All the movies, books, and television shows depicting various apocalypses made him laugh. He was going to show them just what a true apocalypse was.

At one time the humans had run from him, screaming in terror as he dove from the sky, breathing fire to burn them where they stood. Very soon, he would do that once more.

All the so-called dictators and leaders of nations would realize how feeble they truly were compared to him. This time Con wouldn't be there to stand in his way. This time, he would make sure there wasn't a human left. Man, woman, child. They were all going to die.

He reached the valley, and within seconds was surrounded by Dark Fae. Standing before him was Taraeth with his long hair with only a little black visible in the silver. Taraeth's red eyes bore into him as if trying to bend him without words.

His first instinct was to squash Taraeth where he stood, but he had need of the king of the Dark Fae. For now.

He glanced down at Taraeth's missing left arm and raised a brow. A human had done that, a human who was now mated to Kellan. Beside Taraeth stood Balladyn. He moved his gaze to Taraeth's right-hand man and grinned at the fury sparking in the Dark's red eyes. Balladyn's hair was long, the mix of silver in his black hair plentiful.

“I hear you had Rhi. And then lost her.”

Balladyn's lips pulled back over his teeth, glaring. “I caught her once. I'll catch her again.”

“How did you find the Chains of Mordare?”

“That is none of your concern,” Taraeth said, his voice raspy and his Irish brogue deep. “You called this meeting. What is it you want this time?”

He clasped his hands behind his back and didn't bother to give the rest of the Dark even a glance. His eyes held Taraeth's. “It's not what I want. It's what I can give you.”

“And what might that be?” Taraeth asked.

“I hear you're looking for the weapon the Dragon Kings have hidden.” He smiled when he saw the surprise flicker over Taraeth's face and Balladyn's skeptical look.

Balladyn's nostrils flared as he drew in a large breath. “How do you have it?”

“I don't. I do, however, know where it's hidden.”

“What?” Taraeth thundered and took a step toward him, his face mottled with fury. “You know I've been looking for that for years. Why haven't you told me before now?”