Dragon's Chase (Paranormal Protection Agency) (Paranormal Protection Agency Book 7) (5 page)

Moving across the room, he laid his precious burden down on the sofa and pulled back just to look at her. She still slept, the flutter of her eyelashes over her cheeks the most serene sight he’d ever had the fortune to witness. With relief he noted that her breathing was regular and deep, evidence that the damage to her side hadn’t affected her lungs. But still, the scent of blood clung to her, and the wounds, obviously magically inflicted, needed seeing to.

Rooting in his jeans pocket, he pulled his cell free. He had no idea what the magic did with his belongings when he shifted, but they were always there on the other side. For him at least. Occasionally Baron’s things went missing, leading to many interesting conversations with the cell phone companies.

He swiped a thumb over the screen and selected a number before holding it to his ear. “Ris? Yeah, it’s Duke. Can you head over here? I got something I need a second opinion on.”

Before he could get another word out, there was a knock at the door. Frowning, he strode across to open it, to find the Seer on the other side. Surprise flowing through him, he looked down at his cell, then back at the Seer.

“How the hell…wait, no.” He held up a hand as Ris opened his mouth. “Seeing the future, I get it. Come in.”

“Actually,” the tall Seer drawled. “I was just passing this way and wanted to see if you were up for a beer. There’s a nice little bar around the corner.” He paused, then frowned. “Or is that in the next decade? I lose track. Totally blinked and missed the fifties, you know.”

“Really? Too bad, I hear it was a good one.” Hiding his surprise, Duke ushered Ris through the door. Missed the fifties? Just how old was he?

The thought fled from his mind as Ris scanned the room, his gaze finding the unconscious woman on the couch.

“Oh my, oh my…is that her?” Eagerness tainted the Seer’s voice and he was across the apartment like a greyhound to stand by the couch. His expression almost reverent, he looked down at Duke’s mate.

“Did you know that she’s appeared in nearly every Seer’s visions for centuries?” he asked, his voice hushed. His pale eyes were rapt, as though riveted by the unconscious woman, so he missed the little start of surprise Duke couldn’t suppress.

“Really? What’s so special about her?” He couldn’t help asking.
Apart from the fact that she’s my mate, of course
.

“The Nightborne…here finally. I can hardly believe it.” Ris almost rubbed his hands together, the glee in his eyes evident. Then he appeared to remember Duke, and the fact that he’d asked a question. “What? Oh…she’s important because hers is like a gateway prophecy? Once it occurs, it opens the gates for other possibilities and prophesies to come to pass. Her actions, and those of her companions, will shape the future not just for your kind but all the paranormal races.”

Ris’ voice deepened, taking on the deeper tone it had when he’d spoken Truth at the warehouse. “Do not let the Nightborne fall. If she falters in her purpose, shadow will fall. Only when the blood dies will shadow be reborn from fire.”

He staggered after the last word, the blood draining from his already pale face. Duke grabbed his arm to stop him stumbling into the couch. Seer or no Seer, if he crushed Duke’s mate, then there would be blood spilled.

“Crap. It happened again, didn’t it?” Ris clutched his head, wincing. “If I ever meet that bitch, Truth, I’ll wring her frigging neck.” He looked up, squinting against the light. “What did I say this time?”

“Ermmm…. Something about not letting the Nightborne fall. If she falters, then shadow will fall. Only when blood dies will shadow be reborn from fire.”

Ris arched an eyebrow. “In other words, a fucking riddle.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Duke grinned, then looked down at the woman on the couch. “She’s called Nightborne then? That’s her name?”

Ris nodded as he knelt down next to her. “All that prophecy has allowed us. She’s injured though….”

“Yeah, but that’s not what I called you about.” Leaning down, Duke gently unwrapped the scarf from around her throat to reveal the strange collar. “What do you make of this?”

Unconsciousness was, at times, a blessed relief.

Chase had been a warrior for far too many years to mistake waking from it, with waking from normal sleep. For one, the cloying fluffiness that surrounded her thoughts was quite unlike her. Like any of the Queen’s bodyguard, she woke fast, going from sleep to wakefulness within seconds, often with sword in hand and magic at the ready. A fact that had ensured no one startled one of the Royal Guard out of sleep suddenly. Not if they were attached to their eyebrows, or indeed, any other body part.

She wallowed for a moment, knowing that once the fuzziness wore off, then the pain would set in. If she’d been knocked unconscious, then things were serious. Not some newbie warrior who’d barely held a sword before or thrown a spell, if someone had taken her out, then they were
good
.

Some of the fuzziness receded and the sound of voices reached her ears. Male voices, both deep, but only one sounded familiar. She lay still, keeping her body relaxed as she tried to probe her memory for why she knew the voice. Why warmth spread out from the depths of her heart to her chest at the sound of it. Her memory wasn’t playing nice, but she didn’t let that worry her and instead turned her attention to her body so she could assess her fighting capability.

Reality swam back a little when she pushed and pain flooded her body, forcing her to bite back the instinctive gasp. Okay, she’d definitely broken some ribs, and what felt like bruising around them, which meant they’d re-broken at least once before she’d healed them with a shift. More worrying though were the open wounds across her side, surrounded by soreness.

Memory returned. Sellers lashing out, hitting her while she was locked in her human form. The pain as his fists hit again and again. The bastard wore rings, the sharp edges causing more damage than his fists alone would have done. Anger flooding her, she locked the memory down and reached for her magic. It was there, but she couldn’t access it, like it had been locked behind a door. She could sense it, feel it, but not touch it. She hadn’t been able to ever since she’d woken in this cursed time.

“Well, it looks like a dog collar to me.”

The closer she got to waking, just a thin barrier between her and the conscious world, the louder the voices became. Their owners were close, easily within striking distance should she wish to cause them harm. She held off, assessing the situation and probing the missing gaps in her memory.

“Yeah, looks like it to me. Cheap store one.”

The voice again, the one whose tones soothed her soul and made her heart ache as deep within she felt the pull on her very essence. The rest of her memory slammed into place with a resounding click.

Her mate.

The guy with the sexy voice was her mate, the same man who’d found her in the alley and dispatched the Red Cap. What had happened after that though? She pushed at the black spot in her mind but nothing, no other details were forthcoming. She must have blacked out.

“Yeah, real cheap. I’m still not sure what you want me to say though. It’s a collar. Could it be a BDSM thing?”

The words from the other male stopped her thoughts in their tracks. BDSM…they thought she was a collared submissive. If she hadn’t been playing possum, she’d have laughed outright at that. Her? A submissive? Hegra’s tits, she didn’t have a submissive bone in her body.

“No, no…I don’t think so. Look again. Look
properly
.”

Something in his tone warned Chase a moment before magic rolled through the room, whispering over her skin to settle at her throat. Testing the collar.

“Crap. Magic. Powerful magic.”

“Yeah…no shit, Sherlock.” Her male snorted in amusement. “That much I could figure out for myself. Any idea what it is?”

She held her breath, not sure if she wanted them to know what the collar did. He was a dominant male, she’d easily gleaned that from their conversations, and if she knew anything about male dragons, if he knew she was subject to another’s will, he’d track Sellers down and confront him.

And die.

She couldn’t let that happen.

“Not a clue to be honest. I can just feel the power, not what it does. Perhaps it focuses her magic?”

She relaxed with relief, the slight movement obviously not discernable to the men who watched her.

“Could be…so it won’t hurt her?” Concern shaped her mate’s voice and she felt like a fraud for her deception. She should admit she no longer slept, let him know that she was okay. Little scrapes like this wouldn’t kill her.
Yeah, but they’d been enough to knock you out
. She ignored the little voice, shoving it to the back of her head as someone, her mate by the feel of it, settled on the couch next to her.

“Shouldn’t, no, but be careful, just in case?”

Gentle hands pulled her jacket free, then her shirt. The movement pulled at the torn edges of her skin, and pain lanced through her body, radiating out from her side. This couldn’t just be the damage of Sellers’ fists, he had to have had something on those rings. Some kind of—

“Skin around the edges looks odd.” The other male commented, his voice closer as though he leaned in to look. “Almost like the flesh is poisoned.”

Gentle fingers probed her side and she couldn’t stop the small murmur of pain that slipped past her lips.

Instantly, her mate was there, his big hand smoothing back her hair. “Shhh, sweetness. We’re just trying to help you.”

Blessed cool wetness stroked over her side, soothing the fire there and she murmured again, turning toward the hand that offered comfort. Okay, perhaps she’d been hurt a little more than she’d thought. In that case, it was okay to accept a little help. She wasn’t an island fortress and all that, sometimes even the strongest warriors needed a little help to heal, before they hit the battlefield again.

She could really get back in the fight, the little voice at the back of her head niggled as his hand smoothed over her hair again. His deep voice uttered reassurances as her wounds were bathed with gentle movements. All she had to do was give into her traitorous feminine instincts, the ones that demanded she cling to him, yield to his demands…. Sex with her mate would seal their bond and shatter the control collar’s hold on her.

But it could tip Sellers off that there was another dragon-mate—her—and bring him one step closer to his goal. She wouldn’t allow that, couldn’t create a situation where he could win. Because if he did, then the world lost. An uncontrolled Dragos, as pathetic as the original enchantment had been perceived, would still be massively powerful in this modern day world where magic had been diminished until it was nothing but a pale reflection of what it had been.

The pain in her side reached epic proportions and she whimpered again. She kept her eyes tight shut, not wanting to admit to the weakness.

“Crap, this stuff is nasty.” The other male cursed, his hands stilling on her wounds. “Hold on, I’m going to try something.”

“Anything, just help her.”

Her mate’s voice was tight with worry and she wanted to reach out, reassure him it would be okay, but in that moment the cool rush of magic surrounded her. It wrapped her up in tender coils, circling her body very much the same as she’d wrapped up her prey in the alley. Instead of squeezing the life out of her though, it spread warmth, like an all-over hug. It hit her muscles, tensed against the pain and eased them out, one by one.

Relief spread through her like wildfire as the pain eased to an ache, then to discomfort, then it was gone. She sagged against the soft surface of the couch, her breath leaving her in a shuddering rush.

“Holy hell! That was tough.” The magic ceased and she opened her eyes, blinking against the brightness of the room. “Hey there, beautiful, how you feeling?”

Two sets of eyes looked down at her in concern, so she focused on the ones belonging to the man kneeling by the couch. He was…not human. She kept that nugget of information to herself, concealing her expression with a downward sweep of her eyelids. By the time she looked up, she had her expression under control.

“I’m okay, I think.” Her voice was croaky and low, so she cleared her throat. Pressing a hand to her side, she asked. “What did you do to me?”

“Just a little healing spell. Nothing too much.”

He smiled, the expression warming his pale eyes. Something else lurked behind the smile but she didn’t probe it, keeping what little she could access of her magic under lock and key. She didn’t trust strange men with magic, no matter how well-meaning their intentions appeared to be.

“Just cleared some of that poison out of your system. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Oh, this one was a charmer all right, and he’d bought her sweet and innocent act, lock, stock and barrel. She hid her smile. There was one born every minute.

“I’m Chase.” She admitted in a soft voice, looking up through her lashes as she tried to work out what the hell he was. He didn’t smell human, and his aura was no way anything near human, but neither was he fae, or demonic. Nothing she could identify. “And you are?”

“Leaving,” her mate growled, surging into motion from his spot by her side on the couch and bundling the smaller man toward the door.

“Nice to meet you, Chase,” he called over her mate’s shoulder, adding a wave that earned him another growl. Then the door slammed and she was alone, again, with the man destiny had designed for her, but she couldn’t have.

He stalked toward her, predatory interest in every line of his body. She sucked in a breath and tried to keep her expression neutral. It was a hard task. He was…beautiful. A strange word to use for a man, but no other would do. Tall and broad-shouldered, he didn’t have the face of a dark angel. She’d seen angels and they were entirely too effeminate looking for her tastes.

Dark hair framed his face, his chiseled features that screamed virility and masculinity offset by the most sensual pair of lips she’d ever seen on a man. His green eyes were dark, the thinnest sliver of gold around the edges telling her that this was a man in control of his beast. Not the other way around as she’d assumed one so young to be.

“So, Chase…Nightborne, is it?” He paused at the side of the couch and hunkered down. The movement pulled the t-shirt tight over his chest and shoulders, revealing just how well-built he was. She had to stop her gaze straying that way, forcing it to remain on his eyes. His lips quirked, as though he realized the problem she was having. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise. Mr…?” She felt the flush over her cheeks but couldn’t do a damned thing about it. She wasn’t blushing. She couldn’t be. The cast-iron bitch of the Royal Guard and the sole reason for the nightmares of every raw recruit for a hundred years did
not
blush. Ever.

Yeah, right. Her cheeks were cherry-red and no doubt glowing now.

“Duke,” he rumbled, the deepness of his voice betraying his dragon. Even as she watched, the gold ring around his eyes grew wider, his dragon flitting behind his eyes to peer out and take a look. Instinctively hers preened, pushing her to find out more about this male that was theirs.

She ignored the creature to smile and hold out her hand. Not for him to kiss, that would have been absurd, but for a handshake. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Duke.”

“Just Duke, no Mister.”

He claimed her hand, his dwarfing hers to turn it and bring it to his lips. Lips compressing into a thin line, she tried to pull away before he could but he held fast. A small battle ensued but her strength in this form was no match for his and she was forced to concede.

He grinned in triumph, a quick flash of white teeth before he lowered his head. His lips were still curved when he planted a gentle kiss on the back of her knuckles. The soft brush of skin on skin sent an arc of awareness through her so sharp it was like a bolt of electricity. It woke feelings and instincts within her instantly. Ones that she’d buried deeply for the sake of her mission.

Feeling flooded back to join the heat settling heavily in her groin. Butterflies had invaded her stomach, her breasts and nipples heavy and aching as, with her mate nearby, her body prepared itself for mating.

No, no, no
. This was just not happening. She couldn’t let it happen.

Snatching her hand back, she sat up, looking around the room. It was small but not as small a suite of rooms as she would imagine for a man living alone. The windows were large though, which was no surprise. Dragons didn’t like to be hemmed in, not even in human form, so the tall windows with the drapes drawn back to reveal the dawn-heavy sky soothed her.

“So, No-Mister Duke,” she began, smoothing her hair down and using words to create a barrier between them. He didn’t move, just watched her from his crouch. She felt uncomfortably like prey. “Thank you for helping me out, and thank your friend for me, but I really must be going.”

***

Hell, no
. She’d only just got here, injured to boot. There was no way he would allow her to leave. Not until he’d gotten…
her naked and screaming under him
. He blinked as the dragon completed the sentence, feeding him erotic images of the lady in question spread out over his favorite silk sheets. He almost groaned at the mental image. The midnight color would be the perfect foil for her blonde curls and the creaminess of her skin.