Rogue Dragon (9 page)

“Say again?” She held the torch high.

He searched his mind for the English terms. “I want you.”

A dimple appeared in her cheek as the side of her mouth kicked up. “You can have me if we can get up those stairs. The stone is probably wet and caked with ice. It’s treacherous walking up them in the middle of the night.” She waved the flame in the direction of the staircase.

“Why are we here then?” He glanced up the dark tunnel.

“After what you told me, I thought it more prudent to come through the back door. On this side of the island, because of the mists, no one would see us coming.”

He matched her smile, swooped down and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. “I like the way you think,
slaa dast
.” Kirill took the torch from her and started up the steps.

Water dripped from cracks in the rocks, and some of the treads harbored large holes where liquid had fallen in and pooled for years. He was careful and held Synda’s hand tighter than he should. The idea of her stumbling and falling down the hard treads sat like a stone in his belly. He stopped, and she walked into his back. He snaked an arm around her waist to keep her in place. Scooting behind her, he urged her forward with a light tap on her behind.

She glanced over her shoulder, and he shrugged. “If you fall, I am here to catch you.”

Synda shook her head and preceded him when he held the light above their heads. The climb felt like forever, and watching her luscious tush contract with every movement was its own kind of torture. Kirill sighed and resisted the urge to heft her up and run the rest of the way. It seemed that to be mated was both a blessing and a curse. The desire to sink into her softness was sapping his will. He inhaled and caught her sweet scent beneath the overpowering smell of seawater.

Before he could enjoy the newfound status with his mate and make continual love to her, he had to nullify the threat to her. By now, Timur should have delivered his message. Drago would be more than pissed, and he knew from watching the ass that when the idiot was angry, he didn’t think. Kirill would use that to his advantage. If luck was on his side, Manx would be home and asleep, unaware of the shit storm swirling around him. Best case scenario, he could hide them both away then go after Drago. He wiped a hand across his jaw. The thought flitted through his mind.
What if Drago or a few of his men are waiting for us
? He wouldn’t think about it. No matter the danger, he would eliminate it.

They exited the stairwell and walked onto an open span of land. The moon’s light bathed the patches of grass in a silvery glow , illuminating the frost sitting on the blades. Other areas of land still hosted small mounds of snow. In the distance, a house sat half hidden by the shadows. A copse of short trees flanked one side. He looked over at Synda.

Her head was tilted and her eyes were half lidded as she stared at the structure. She squeezed her fingers around his and started to move toward the dark building. He hung back.

Lifting her fingers to his mouth, he traced his lips along one digit. “Stay here,
slaa dast
.” He urged her to move toward the mouth of the cave they exited. A confirming glance over his shoulder and he started toward the house.

* * * *

She watched him disappear into the night and scoffed. As if she was going to stand back and let him have all the fun. Once she was sure he’d moved far enough ahead, she bent low and started running across the field. If others were waiting for them, damn if she’d let him face them alone. Of course he might not appreciate that sentiment.

A beam of light coming from the front window caught her eye, and she ducked before the beam could land on her. She scanned the immediate area and straightened when the ray arced and fell elsewhere.

Someone was in the house, and she had no idea where Kirill was. Synda trotted up to the side of her childhood home and tried to peer through the frosted panes. She could make out the faint outline of a person working their way through the house. Bending to jog under the window unseen, she made her way to the side entrance and turned the doorknob, thankful that her daddy still didn’t lock the door. The long squeak of the hinges told her it had been a while since anyone had used the entrance, and probably alerted whoever was in the house that they had company. She reached for her side arm and remembered she’d lost it.

Synda moved farther into the kitchen, she slid a drawer open and eased out the chef’s knife. Lowering her arm to her side, she tiptoed to the doorway and, backing up against the side of the doorjamb, she peered around it. An arm slithered out of the darkness and caught her shoulder. Fingertips dug into her clothes, jerked her around and into the adjoining room. She tumbled into a side table and its items fell down around her with dings and heavy thuds. Her weapon slipped from her fingers and she patted the floor for the handle.

She was yanked up. She snatched at her attacker’s hand and twisted it as she spun out of his grip. Dropping down she grabbed the first thing her fingers touched. Synda came up swinging and heard a crunch. Her makeshift weapon crumbled in her hand.

The stranger lifted her off her feet and flung her backward. Her head snapped back when it connected with the wall. She shook it to clear the rainbow of colors that swam before her eyes. A sharp pain exploded through her chest when she took a breath. She slid to the floor and, getting to her knees, she fell forward on her palms, rocking to absorb the pain. The sound of hurried footsteps urged her to get to her feet, and she grunted as the ache made her stomach roil.

Synda wobbled as she fought to stay upright, and formed a fist. Moonlight seeped through the window and she huffed, waiting for the dark figure to move closer.

Her attacker moved into the shaft of light and the window shattered, spraying glass throughout the room. Tiny fragments sliced across her face. The thud of bodies hitting the floor made her squint. She heard the grunts and growls. Synda reached out and rested a palm on the wall, moving forward to follow the partition. Her fingers grazed the light switch, and she prayed the electricity still worked. She flipped the toggle and dull yellow light flooded the room.

The men momentarily stopped delivering blows and stared at each other. She sucked in a breath and grabbed her ribs. Kirill’s skin rippled where his armor shifted under it. The other man had his fists in front of him, prepared for another attack. She studied him. Kirill pounced and threw his head back. She could see his dragon emerging. His jaw jutted forward, and teeth appeared from beneath top lip. The stranger beneath him continued punching him in the gut. A fierce determination was on the intruders face. She leaned forward and took in the dirty blond hair, the goatee around his mouth. Kiril’s jaw popped and she could see his lips spreading.

Oh shit
. “Wait!” Synda screamed.

Too late, white-hot flame flowed from Kirill’s mouth. The stranger pushed off his chest sliding back on a throw rug. The tail-end of the mat beneath him caught fire, and he jumped up. Patting at both his pants legs and the rug, briefly he met her gaze, and she saw recognition in his eyes before he moved to escape the stream of fire that followed him. She moved forward, catching Assan by the biceps and swinging in front of him. The flames abruptly stopped short at her feet. Kirill stood, a scowl on his lips.

He took a few steps forward and rumbled. “Synda, move now…
say chaas
!”

“Kirill, wait.” She placed her palms up facing him. “I know him. This is Assan. I grew up with him.” She glanced back and saw him toss his hair back from his face as he nodded.

“Nobody, friend or foe, puts their hands on you. He will die.” Kirill moved closer.

“No, Kirill, I really don’t want to have to explain to his father how stupid he was getting into a fist fight with a dragon.”

Assan snorted behind her. “Good luck with that, since he was the one that sent me up here to check things out.”

Synda swung around and stabbed a finger into Assan’s chest. “Shut up, dumbass, I’m trying to save your life.”

“I had the beast right where I wanted him,” Assan snapped.

“Yeah, I suppose you wanted to be barbecued.” Synda turned her attention back to Kirill. She kept herself between the two men and sauntered up to her mate to place both her hands on his face. “Please don’t kill Assan. We grew up together, and other than being a little slow, he is a good guy.”

Kirill’s gaze darted between her face and Assan’s. Slowly the brightness of his eyes dimmed and his breathing evened out. He covered her hand with his and held her stare while he spoke. “Count your blessings that my Synda speaks up for you. It’s been some time since I’ve eaten roasted fish.”

“Keep on dreaming, reptile.” A shuffle of steps and the whine of hinges accompanied by the solid click of a door closing told her she was now alone with Kirill.

A vein in his temple throbbed. She pulled his head down and traced his lips with the point of her tongue. His hand skirted down her sides and she angled away from his palm. He lifted his head and tilted it to look at her side. Kirill yanked the jacket aside and lifted the hem of her sweater. He narrowed his eyes and she bent her head to see what he was glowering at. Her ribs were bruised black with the edges turning a mottled purple. The wide mark covered a few of her tattoos, and he skimmed his fingers along her ribs. Her skin was tender to the touch. He circled her, holding her clothes away from her body. The cool air brushed her skin and goose bumps rose up.

“Next time I see that fish I will finish what I started.”

“You can’t kill him, and how did you know he was a merman?” She pried her top from his fingers.

“I’m older, I could sense his essence. I won’t kill him for you, but taking a nice chunk out of his hide is an option.”

Synda giggled. “Exactly how old are you?”

“Too old to want to talk about it. Where is your bathroom?” Careful of her bruises, he scooped her up and cradled her against his chest.

“Upstairs, unlike someone, we actually have in-door plumbing.” She bit her lip. “Dad’s not here Kirill. You don’t think…”

He held a finger against her lips. “I’ll find your father. In the meantime, you are my top priority and I want to take care of you.”

“Wait, what about the window?”

Kirill sighed. “I’ll handle that too.”

Chapter Nine

The narrow shower took up most of the space in the tiny bathroom. He’d set Synda on her feet and there was no room to maneuver with both of them standing there. Kirill stared at the contraption, with the showerhead hanging from tubes in the ceiling, and followed them. The knobs were bolted to plastic covered wood planks. He shook his head.
She complained about an outhouse
.

They moved in a circle as she inched toward the shower. He tilted his head and watched, fascinated, as she worked the knobs and a dribble of water fell from the metal head. The wall shuddered and pipes groaned, more water sputtered and then stopped.

“Crap.” She twisted the knobs then turned into his chest.

“What now?” He tried to step back but his calves hit the commode.

“I think the pipes are frozen. Dad hooked it up so we would have continual hot water as long as we kept the furnace outside lit. With him not here, I think the fire finally went out.”

“Where is the furnace?”

“On the back side of the house.”

“Stay here and give me a few minutes, okay?”

She nodded.

He gripped her hips in a dance to get out of the miniscule area. Synda placed a palm on his arm. He stopped, twisted his torso and pecked her nose with his mouth. The worry in her eyes constricted his heart. Her pain was his. He resolved to wipe the hurt he was witnessing away. She released his biceps.

Kirill trotted down the steps two at a time, inhaling deeply to warm his core. It probably would have been smart to put on clothes, but he didn’t have time. First with the perceived threat, earlier from the damn merman, and now making sure she was taken care of. Wind whipped the drapes, making them snap in the wind. He’d get the water warmed, and then see if he could find something to cover the window. A quick glance around the room and he wondered if there was also a generator. He hadn’t heard any noises but if there was, it was probably running out of oil too.

Outside, the snow flurries had picked up. He shook off the chill and increased his body heat, stalking around the house in search of the furnace. The old metal was caked with ice, and the opening creaked as it swung in the wind. Beside it, stacks of wood covered in deep drifts told him it had been more than a few days since anyone had been out there. Kirill moved back a few feet and called on his fire. He puffed, and a small fireball hit the iron. The metal glowed red and water sizzled as icicles fell from the potbelly device. He pulled a couple of logs from the pile and threw them into the machine’s opening. Kirill found kindling in a plastic box next to the wood and lit some, stuffing it under the wood in the furnace.

The snap and crackle preceded the smoke that billowed out from the apparatus. He waved his hand and stuck more wood into the opening before closing the door. The pipes outside the house looked like copper, and he followed them along the side. They were frozen at the connection in to the house. He put his mouth close to the soldered elbows and blew a breath. The ice behind the metal slid down the siding. Sure that her shower was now taken care of, he went in search of something to cover the window.