Immortal Coil (33 page)

Her heart skipped a beat.

No,
she
shouldn’t have.
Hunter
should have.

Surely this was just a memory, not a side-effect of having had Hunter within her. But it couldn’t be a memory. It was too unnerving, too close to her current situation.
Anaea
held the thought in her head, not shying away from it the way her instincts insisted she should. There were answers in her head… somehow. If Hunter should have arrived differently, how would that have been?

A gate would have been nice. It would have demonstrated
a strength
in earth magic that less than half of drakes possessed and might have been enough to convince these fools to go back to gossiping.

Of course.
A gate.
She could do that. She’d made one to escape from Jade and suspected she’d created one to flee the
Dragon Court
. Although she hadn’t used any magic since Hunter had taken Mark’s body. Could she even still use it? Was it still a part of her?

She turned back to the elevator. If the door wouldn’t recognize her, gating in was her only other option.

A tiny, rational part of her brain berated her for acting like an idiot. This was insane! She couldn’t do magic. She was a normal human being.

Then why did it feel so possible?

Heat seeped into her, ignited by that thought, and sent tingles racing across her skin. The hair on her arms stood on end and she shivered, but not from cold. The tingles raced over her again, building up speed and energy, swirling around and around.

She called the elevator and rushed into it. Tendrils of white light spun from her hands, caressing the back of the car. With a spike of fire, the light latched onto something she couldn’t see and the tendrils jerked taut. The energy roared through her, pouring into the elevator, drawing out sparks of
herself
along with it.

A dazzling speck formed in the center of the back wall, growing with every beat of her heart until it was as large as her whole body.

The elevator dinged, indicating the main floor. She stepped through the gate, the vortex encompassing her for a heartbeat before she arrived in a bright alcove, the walls and ceiling glowing with soft light. To her left and right were hallways marked with silver directional plaques.
To the gym and pools.
To other spa services.

Before her a gossamer curtain covered a doorway. She inched forward and drew the curtain aside. A tented wonderland of orange, yellow, and red gossamer fabric, cushioned booths, and greenery lay on the other side. Men and women socialized in knots of various sizes, standing, sitting, eating,
drinking
. A tall man with brown, stylishly mussed hair, sitting at a nearby booth, glanced at her. A hint of yellow light radiated around him.
“A new arrival.”

The other man and woman in his party turned her way. The light around them was both weak and yellow as well. And when she had a moment to figure out what that meant—not to mention wrap her mind around the fact she was seeing auras—she’d deal with it. As it was she froze, uncertain what to do. How did she think she could fit in with Hunter’s people well enough to pass as one of them without his coaching?

“Very new, from the looks of it,” the other man
said,
a blond. A smile spread across his classically handsome features.

The woman crossed her arms and frowned, but the man ignored her. He eased over to
Anaea
and held out his hand.
“First time?”
His voice slid over her, oil on water.

“Looks like Dune
has
this one handled,” the first man said.

The woman rolled her eyes.
“Just great.”

“Catch you later,” the first man said, and he escorted the woman away.

“Got a name, sweetie?” the blond, Dune, asked, holding out his hand.

Anaea
bit the inside of her cheek. Why couldn’t the others have stayed?

“Or should I just call you Sweetie?”

“Sweetie—” She swallowed
back
her harsh remark. She needed information. Not a fight. With luck, she could get what she wanted from Buddy here and extract herself before he got the wrong idea. Although from the looks of it, he already had the wrong idea. “Sweetie will do just fine. Care to give me the tour?”

“But it’s lunchtime.” He flashed a perfect, gleaming smile and she suddenly felt like a mouse cornered by a cat.

“What has that got to do with anything?” Perhaps going against her initial instinct to blow Buddy off was a mistake.

“You can’t go wandering around on an empty stomach.”

She fought the urge to punch him, not sure if the desire was hers or a residual emotion of Hunter’s.
“Right.”

He flexed his hand, drawing her attention back to it. It was still held out, an offer for her to accept his invitation.

Fine.
Besides, she knew Kung Fu, not to mention a dozen ways to incapacitate a man. Thank you, Hunter. She brushed her palm against his and he snapped his hand shut before she could change her mind.

“Excellent.” He flashed his smile again and led her into the room.

She felt like a new plaything on display. People watched her, all with various strengths and colors of auras, most with knowing or evaluating expressions.

More like an edible plaything.

Now she knew how that poor cow must have felt at the feast. It wasn’t anything in particular that she could put her finger on.
Nothing overt.
Only that she knew, without a doubt, that she walked into the lion’s den.
Or rather, the dragon’s den.

They rounded a pillar of silk. The main entrance lay only a few feet away. She could change her mind and get out. Go back to the safety of the hotel. Hunter really was much more capable of solving this mess. They were, after all, his people.

But that thought stung. It was her life, too. For once, she wanted to be in control of it.
That,
and she wanted Hunter to respect her, see her as an equal. She was tired of men looking at her as if she was a prize, or helpless, or just a thing.

A man two booths up ahead leaned back on his bench, the movement catching her attention.

Her heart skipped a beat. It was Nero.

She couldn’t let him see her. He was sure to recognize her from the
wasu
tahazu
and the feast, and then she and Hunter would be in trouble.

Nero’s gaze lifted and she slipped into the small, dimly-lit booth in front of his before he could see her.

“Why don’t we sit here?”
Anaea
forced a flirty smile.

Dune grinned back. He glanced at the two-person seat, the curtains, and tropical plants. All of it suggested intimacy.
“Absolutely, Sweetie.”

He waved a waitress over, ordered a bottle of wine,
then
slid onto the bench opposite her.

“So are you new to town or just plain new?”

“New?” She had no idea what that meant. The memory of the rebirth ceremony flashed into her mind.
“Oh, ah... new to town.”

“Then you’ve certainly come to the right place.” He sneered. She didn’t think it was supposed to be a sneer, more like a seductive smile, but that wasn’t how it looked. It sent shivers up her spine, and they weren’t the good kind.

The waitress arrived with the wine, poured the first two glasses, and left.
Anaea
grabbed her glass, realized her hand trembled, and added her other hand to the stem to keep from spilling her drink.

“And you’ve definitely met the right drake.”

She doubted that.

Nero said something in Italian, catching her attention. There were only a few reasons people conversed in foreign languages and one was to keep the conversation a secret.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about Hunter anymore,” the other man with him said, also in Italian.

Definitely a secret conversation.

Dune leaned into the table. “I’m available to show you... the town.”

She nodded, only half listening to Dune and straining to hear Nero’s voice.

“Hunter’s resourceful and
Howel’s
challenge only drew more attention to us,” Nero said.

“You shouldn’t have left him hanging.”

“He got what he deserved.” Nero’s voice darkened. “And he’ll get worse if I find he’s changed allegiance. If another drake calls a challenge without my consent, he won’t just have a handprint burned into his cheek. Are we clear?”

The other man didn’t respond.

 
“
Howel
put us on Hunter’s radar and I doubt Regis will call for his rebirth even for fleeing Court with the medallion without permission.
Particularly with the Handmaiden missing.
Which means we need to turn Hunter’s attention away from us.
”

Anaea’s
heart skipped a beat. Dune said something, his lips moving, but she was no longer listening to him. Her thoughts whirled. She had no idea what Nero’s conversation meant, but he obviously was hiding something.

Dune wrapped his hands around hers. “Why don’t we skip lunch?”

“What?”

A heated look burned in his eyes. He eased the glass from her hands and placed it on the table, keeping her fingers captured with his free hand.

“I can help you fit in.” His tone claimed the only way to do that was to sleep with him.

She caught movement from the corner of her eye as Nero stood, and she leaned forward, praying he wouldn’t see her. “I’m sure you can,” she said to Dune.

Nero strode past.

“But I don’t have the time this afternoon—” she slid her fingers from Dune’s grasp “—for a man so... versed in fitting in.”

“Blow off the rest of your day.”

She glanced away, hoping she looked coy and not desperate to leave. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can.”

A polite ‘no’ was getting her nowhere. “I’m sorry. Not today.” She stood. Maybe if she made a date he’d give up. “I’m free tomorrow.”

He rose from the bench, the feral dragon within him radiating anger. It practically billowed off him in waves like heat from hot asphalt.

“A smart drake would listen to me.” He grabbed her wrist and jerked her close.

“I’m sure.” She fought to control her disgust and not make eye contact. Heat rippled over her skin, pooling in her hands.

“I don’t think I’ve made myself clear.” He seized the back of her head with his free hand and mashed his lips against hers.

Her heart leapt into a rapid tattoo. She twisted in his grip, but he held tight. She wondered if she should feel flattered that even bald and emaciated, someone found her attractive. But the man had no tact and crazy wasn’t her type.

She shoved at him and he bit her lip.

Energy roared down her arms to her palms.

How could she have been such an idiot to assume she could handle this? She dragged Hunter’s battle memories to the forefront, but there were too many, and they were too disorienting. Really, a quick knee to the groin was the easiest way to solve the problem.
So much for being subtle.

She rammed her knee into him. He grunted and shoved her. She stumbled backward into the bench and toppled over.

“You won’t get far in your coterie if you’re not willing to play the game.”

“Can you get any more clichéd?”

A man the next table over chuckled, while men and women at nearby tables stared. Some stood, many pointed.

Dune growled, fully releasing the
feralness
radiating from within. But he was nothing compared to Hunter.
An infant in a world of adults.
The energy within her surged.
It poured from her heart across her chest and down her arms to her hands.

Dune scrambled back.
“What the—?”

Something bright flickered at the edge of her vision and she glanced down. Flames licked the cushioned seat, dancing along her fingers and clinging to the fabric. She leapt up, batting her hands against her legs. The fire on her hands went out. But with a whoosh, tendrils raced over the back of the bench and caught a curtain.

Someone yelled as the fire swept from one curtain to the next. Smoke billowed around her, stinging her eyes and making her cough. Dune was gone and the flames encircled her.

Screams jerked Hunter’s attention from the drakes at his table. Smoke swelled on the other side of the lounge and people ran for the exit from a growing inferno. The fire alarm wailed to life. A heartbeat later, water spewed from the sprinklers but it did little to diminish the blaze. The flames were persistent which meant magic, and there were only a few drakes who could call fire.

Dragons scrambled from their booths, rushing from the room. Those who could open gates without an anchor popped away in the chaos of bodies and smoke and water.