Mercy Burns

Chapter Seven

A hand wrapped around my waist and dragged me backward, into a body that was hard, strong, and burning with heat.

The car roared past inches from my toes, the tires squealing as the driver hit the gas, sending debris thudding into my bare legs and leaving a thick cloud of black fumes in his wake. The white car quickly disappeared into the traffic, leaving me shaking in shock and disbelief.

“Move,” Damon said, his grip sliding down to my elbow as he hustled me away.

He didn’t give me time to think or recover, but simply forced me forward, off the street and onto the sidewalk. Three seconds later, we were in a cab and heading God knows where. Which didn’t mean he hadn’t given the driver a destination, just that I’d been too shaken to hear it.

“Thank you,” I said, when I actually found enough air to speak.

He didn’t say anything—particularly not “I told you so”—but the anger practically rolled off him in waves. Oddly enough, it didn’t really feel as if that anger was aimed at me—which may have been wishful thinking on my part. And I was quite happy to continue the silence. It gave me a chance to settle my nerves and catch my breath more fully.

Eventually the cab stopped, and I realized we were back at the multistory garage where he kept his car.

“How do you think he recognized me?” I said as the cab zoomed off.

“I don’t know.” He glanced at me then. “Did he ever get close enough to smell you?”

“He was on the other side of the street—”

“Not then,” he said impatiently, grabbing my elbow again and hurrying me inside the garage. “In the house.”

I remembered Angus carrying me in; remembered the guard touching my hair and drawing in that breath before he’d yanked my head up. “Yes.”

Air hissed out between clenched teeth. “You could have mentioned it.”

“Why on earth would I think to mention something like that?”

“Because dragons have olfactory senses as sharp as any bloodhound. He might not have recognized you by sight, but he would have recognized your scent.”

“Well, no one ever thought to mention that to me.”

“But you grew up in a clique. It’s something you should damn well know!”

“I’m a fucking draman. I don’t know anything.”

He gave me a disbelieving look and marched on toward the elevator. I ripped my elbow free of his grip, but continued to walk beside him. It wasn’t like I had a lot of other options right now. If I called Leith, he’d come running all right, but he’d probably tie me up and start investigating by himself. I’d already lost one good friend to these thugs. I didn’t plan to lose another.

“Stay behind me,” Damon said as the elevator came to a bumpy stop on the fifth and the doors swished open.

I did as ordered, following his long strides across the oil-stained concrete. His car was parked on the opposite side of the garage from the elevators and the stairs, in a position that wasn’t immediately visible from either. There were no other cars parked near it and no one around.

He relaxed a little, then glanced over his shoulder at me. “Lose the wig. We need to give you a new look.”

I placed the handbag beside me, then pulled off the wig and tossed it into the trunk once he’d opened it. “What’s the point if that guard has my scent and can track me down regardless of the disguise I’m wearing?”

“There are ways around the scent problem.” He ferreted through several bags, then pulled one free with a grunt of satisfaction. “Get undressed.”

“What?”

He glanced at me, and even in the dusky confines of the garage, the devilish glint in his dark eyes was all too evident. “Suddenly bashful?”

“No.” Though I was. Dragons normally weren’t, of course, but then, I wasn’t full dragon and I really didn’t want to expose my body—and my scars—to this man’s critical gaze. It might have been different if it was night and I had the illusion of privacy, but in this dusky daylight, everything was far too visible. “I just want to know what you plan to do.”

“I plan to temporarily get rid of your scent. Now, strip.” He pulled out a plastic spray bottle filled with a lemony-looking liquid, then tossed the bag back into the trunk. After glancing rather pointedly at his watch, he added, “We haven’t got all day. Not if you want to catch this Angus person.”

“This isn’t exactly a private area,” I said, the heat of embarrassment growing in my cheeks. “And stripping could definitely attract the wrong kind of attention.”

“The cameras can’t see us here, and we’re also out of visual range of anyone who comes out of the elevators or stairs—facts you’re more than aware of.” Then he gave me the ghost of a smile that had my face flaming hotter. “What if I promise to turn around until you’re naked?”

“Fine. Turn around,” I muttered, wondering how the hell I was going to stop the blush from rolling right down to my toes.

He turned, although his amusement spun all around me, heating my skin more than his gaze ever could.

I hurriedly undressed, stacking my clothes on the car’s roof before crossing my arms across my breasts and turning my back to him. “Okay, I’m naked.”

A heartbeat later I realized just how wrong I’d been before. His gaze could warm me far more than any emotion riding the air. The weight of it burned by skin, making my spine tingle and my pulse flutter.

“You weren’t kidding about the scars, were you?” His voice was cool and controlled, and it jarred against the hint of anger that stirred the air.

It was almost as if he were fighting for control.

But if Death didn’t like the scars, then why didn’t he—and the council he worked for—do something to make the situation for draman more bearable? Yet even as that thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it. We were draman. In the scheme of things, we didn’t matter.

I shivered a little, and knew it didn’t have a whole lot to do with the gathering coolness. “Why would you think I’d joke about something like that?”

Though I heard no sound of movement, his finger suddenly touched my skin, trailing heat as he traced the S-shaped scar along my right side. “This one’s nasty.”

His finger stalled at the knotty end of the scar, and the heat of it spread across my butt, making me ache. I fought the urge to press back into his touch and said, in a voice that sounded amazingly calm, “It’s retribution from someone I wouldn’t sleep with.”

“The man who did this wanted to sleep with you?” A note of incredulity had crept into his otherwise controlled tone. “That’s not exactly the most convincing way to seduce a reluctant partner.”

I smiled, though it belied the anger that still burned somewhere inside. But it was an anger aimed just as much at myself as the man who’d given me the scar. I’d been stupid that day. Stupid enough to put myself into that situation, and to believe that a dragon could ever change his colors. “Apparently there was a bet between Seth—the man who gave me the scar—and his bisexual mate. The object was to bed as many draman as possible in a day. I refused to be one of many, and he lost the bet by one draman.”

To say he’d been unhappy would be the understatement of the century. And if I’d thought his tormenting had been bad up until then, afterward it became ten times worse.

Damon’s finger was moving again, tracing a line down my back. He reached the junction of my legs and my breath hitched. For a moment, neither of us moved. My awareness of that finger—and of him—was so acute that every little hair on my body felt like it was standing on end, and my heart was going a million miles an hour. Wanting, needing—and yet fearing it at the same time.

How many times had I been in a situation like this, wanting someone I shouldn’t?

And how many more times did I need to get hurt before I learned my lesson? Before I stopped hoping that not all dragons were tarred with the same brutal brush? That there was one out there who could accept me?

That man wasn’t Damon. He was a hit man for the council, for God’s sake, and a man who believed draman shouldn’t exist.

I should be running as far and as fast as I could.

And yet here I stood. Hoping. Needing.

“What about the scar that cuts across the middle of your stain?” he said softly, his touch shifting. Up to the snakelike skin that twined around my spine. Not downward. Not to where it ached.

Disappointment mingled with relief, but both were quickly washed away as his caress slid across my hip.

“The result of fighting off yet another would-be suitor who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“And this?” he said softly, his fingers tracing the jagged scar that cut across my shoulder blades, slicing into the tip of my stain.

I shivered, as much from his caress as the memories. “A gift from a flight lesson gone wrong.”

His hand slid around my waist, and suddenly there was no space between us. All I could feel was the heat of him pressed up against me. The hardness of his erection nestled against my butt. The warmth of his breath flowed past my ear as he said, “Draman can fly?”

I could barely breathe, let alone think, but somehow managed to say, “Most can.”

“Can you?”

His lips brushed my ear as he spoke. I shivered, the memories of past hurt crowding present pleasure, the need for caution warring with the simple desire to feel and enjoy the touch of another. “I’ve never been able to fly.”

It was the truth in more ways than one.

“Then perhaps that is something we should fix when we have a little more time.”

His lips brushed the junction of my neck and shoulders, and for a moment it felt like he were branding me.

Then he stepped back and cold air washed between us, cooling my skin but not my reaction. I ached, and there was no simple remedy for something like that. Not here, and not now, anyway.

“Raise your arms so I can spray you down,” he said, his tone calm and unperturbed. Which was annoying, to say the least. Death could at least have the decency to sound a little hot and bothered.

I raised my arms as ordered, and moisture hit my skin, its scent slightly acidic but not unpleasant. He sprayed my back, arms, and legs, then ordered me to turn around. I did, and he repeated the process, all in a very cool, calm, and collected way.

Highly annoying indeed.

When he’d finished, I reached for my clothes again, but he’d already grabbed them and tossed them into the trunk. “They’ve seen that outfit. You’ll need something else.”

While he scavenged through his trunk, I reached for my flames and used them to cover my nakedness. They lapped across my body gently—a fiery blanket that neither burned nor smoked, and one that had the bonus of keeping the chill from my skin. I just had to hope that no one came out of the elevator—although standing there naked was as likely to catch as much attention as standing there on fire.

Not that Damon seemed to notice either way, despite the powerful erection I’d felt only moments before. My gaze slipped downward. It was still there, and that made me feel a little better. At least Death wasn’t in control of absolutely everything.

“I thought you didn’t carry female clothing around with you?”

“I don’t, and we can’t risk going out to buy more, so this time you’ll have to make do with male.”

“Oh. Great.” Just what I needed when in the company of a dynamic and sexy man—to look like a kid dressing up in her daddy’s clothes. “It’s going to look ridiculous. And certainly not very manlike.”

He glanced up from the confines of the trunk, the glimmer of amusement evident in his eyes. “At least you have rather small breasts, so they’re not going to be a problem.”

“There’s nothing wrong with small breasts,” I said, a little defensively.

“I didn’t say there was.”

“You didn’t say there wasn’t, either.”

He began pulling clothes out of a bag. “Your breasts are perfect, just like the rest of you.”

“It’d be more believable if you didn’t say it in such a sardonic tone,” I said drily.

He raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t believe I meant it no matter what tone I used.”

He had a point. I wouldn’t. I had a good figure, a reasonable face, brown hair, and brown eyes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that would make anyone look twice. But in a clique where the shimmering golds and fiery reds of a sunset dominated, being born a boring brown had meant I’d stood out in an altogether unwelcome way.

At least it had taught me to fight.

Damon tossed me a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and the scent of smoke and musky male teased my nostrils. It wasn’t his scent, though.

“They’re a friend’s brother’s,” he said, obviously noting my expression, “He’s smaller than me, so they should fit you.”

I slipped on the gray sweatshirt and wished it smelled more of him than of a stranger—though I guess a stranger’s scent made more sense if dragons did have such keen senses. The sleeves covered my hands and the shoulders slid halfway down my arms, and it was even bulky enough to hide the fact that I had breasts. The jeans had similar problems in length and were a little tight in the butt, but otherwise they fit okay.

I began rolling up the sleeves as he pulled out a small backpack and transferred the netbook and the other bits and pieces from the red handbag to it before handing it to me. He dumped the now-empty handbag into the trunk and slammed down the lid.

“Why are you carrying his clothes around?” I asked.

“Because I didn’t have a chance to return his effects to his parents before I was kidnapped.” He walked around and opened the passenger side door for me.

“So this friend’s brother—he’s the victim you mentioned before?”

“Yes.” His answer was controlled, but I felt the anger in him regardless.

“I’m sorry—”

“So will they be, trust me.” He handed me a multicolored woolen cap. “Tuck your hair up in that.”

Once I’d done it, he brushed my back lightly, guiding me into the car. I was still so attuned to him that I couldn’t help a tremor of delight.

But the casualness of his threat against those men seemed to hang in the air, sending another shiver through my soul. And while half of me questioned the wisdom of hanging around such a man, the other half—undoubtedly the insane part that was so attracted to him—knew he was still my best chance of getting the answers I so desperately needed.

I waited until he climbed into the driver’s seat and had reversed out of the parking bay before asking, “So, did they kill him because he was too close to finding answers?”

“No, he was a victim of one of the cleansings.”

I raised my eyebrows. “He was draman? I thought you didn’t like draman.”

“I never said that,” he replied, his voice holding an edge. “What I said was that draman cause us a lot of problems.”

“Well, your tone certainly didn’t imply affection, so what else am I to think? And you never did bother to explain how we cause you problems.”

The look he gave me was wintry, to say the least. “Most draman are stronger and faster than ordinary humans, and there are many who seem to delight in using this advantage.”

“History is full of the strong taking advantage of the weak. It’s not just a draman trait.” And I had the scars to prove it.

“True. But it is the draman who seem to most delight in risking exposure to us all.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I wonder why that might be? Surely it couldn’t have anything to do with the treatment dished out to most draman?”

“Not all cliques treat draman the way Jamieson does.” The winter hadn’t lifted from his eyes. In fact, it had probably gotten deeper. “And my friend was not draman. He was merely having a liaison with one.”

Was that liaison Chaylee? Rainey had told me that her sister had met someone, but surely if she’d known that someone was full dragon, she would have mentioned it. “In the draman town of Stillwater?”

He flicked me a glance. “Yes. And before you ask your next question, I neither approved or disapproved of the relationship. It was not my place to do either.”

That didn’t stop him from having an opinion about it—though it was one he obviously wasn’t going to share with me. “How do you know for sure that your friend is dead when no bodies have been found?”

“Because his kin felt his passing. His brother—who had a broken wing and couldn’t fly out himself—phoned me and asked me to investigate what had happened.”

Though his voice was flat, his anger seared the air, rolling across my senses as sharply as an axe and making it difficult to breathe. “Damon,” I panted, “control it.”

He glanced at me sharply, surprise in his eyes. Then the anger disappeared as if sucked away into a vacuum, and suddenly I was able to breathe again.

“You didn’t say you were sensitive to emotion.”

“You didn’t ask.” I tucked a sweaty strand of hair behind my ear and thought about admitting that I didn’t often get so attuned to the emotion of others that it affected me physically. That, in fact, I didn’t usually get a whole lot from him, either. But that might lead to him controlling himself even more, and I actually liked feeling the occasional flashes from him. So I simply said, “You flew straight out?”

“Yeah.” He was silent for a minute, and though the force of it was muted, his anger and guilt still touched the air. Those were emotions I was all too familiar with.

And the only thing that would help either of us feel better would be stopping the bastards behind this destruction. And in my case, saving my friend from an eternity stuck in between worlds, never able to move on and be reborn, but never able to participate again in this one.

He added, “I did get there in time to stop the fires from destroying every building. His belongings were in one of the remaining ones.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath that did little to shake the residual pain, and said, “So if you were there in time to stop the fires from destroying the town, do you know what happened to the inhabitants?”

“No. The place was empty and there were no remains. I suspect they were all taken elsewhere to be killed and buried.”

“But how would that be possible? I mean, you must have gotten there quickly if the place was still ablaze. Surely they couldn’t have gotten rid of that many bodies so fast?”

“If the attackers were dragons or draman with full powers, and the majority of the town were draman without dragon powers, then it would be very easy to herd them into trucks and ship them somewhere else to kill them.”

“But your friend’s brother was a full dragon, and Rainey’s sister had full dragon powers.” And if they’d fought and somehow escaped—only to be caught and killed near dawn—then that would explain how both Rainey and his friend had felt their kin’s passing.

Damon looked at me, his expression grim. “Two against God knows how many? That’s not good odds in anyone’s book.”

“Meaning you think dragons are behind these attacks?”

“Well, it can hardly be humans. While most draman haven’t got dragon powers, they are, as I mentioned, stronger and faster. There’s no way humans could have wiped out a whole town so quickly and efficiently. And why would they bother? They’re more likely to want to stick us in a lab and study us.”

He had a point, but I couldn’t help adding, “Humans have a history of killing things they don’t understand, and even draman can’t outrun bullets.”

“But there were no shots fired at Stillwater. I would have found evidence of it.”

“Which doesn’t mean they weren’t shot somewhere else.”

“No.”

I closed my eyes against the images that arose. I didn’t need to think about all those other people. I had the chance to save Rainey’s soul, but it wasn’t within my power to save anyone else who’d been in that town. Not even Rainey’s sister.

“Would the council have ordered the cleansings?” The urbane man who’d talked to Angus in the van had claimed that it hadn’t, but he’d also mentioned that muerte didn’t move without orders from one of the kings.

“No. If they had, the muerte would have been informed. We were not.”

I guess that was something. “So if not the council, then who? Could this be the result of several kings plotting?”

“It’s possible, though I don’t see what it would achieve.”

“Maybe they wanted nothing more than a reduction in draman numbers.” But if that was the case, why would they go to such lengths to keep their secrets?

There had to be more than that behind all of it. There had to be.

“So tell me,” I said, my voice suddenly holding a slight edge, “if a full-blooded dragon hadn’t been killed in these cleansings, would you have been investigating them?”

He pulled out into the traffic then glanced at me, his expression still cool. “He wasn’t just a full-blood. He was a king’s son.”

“And of course, his life was far more important than all the draman who have perished.” The bitterness was more evident this time. “After all, if draman aren’t doing the dirty work around the cliques or providing sexual services, what earthly use are they?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s a common thread in dragon thinking.” I shifted a little to study him better. “If it was a king’s son that was killed, why isn’t the council investigating?”

“Because the king prefers to keep the investigation private. This sort of news would spread wildly through the cliques, and might just drive the culprits underground.”

“And that was a lie.” Or rather, a fudging of the truth. While it might very well be a consideration for not getting the council involved, that wasn’t the major reason.

He glanced at me sharply. “And why would you say that?”

“Because I can taste it.” I paused, then added, “So what’s the real reason?”

He considered the question for several minutes, and eventually said, “Julio has heard whispers of a plot against the kings. He fears his son’s death might be the start of it, but he does not want to raise the alarm until he has something concrete.”

That raised my eyebrows. “Surely warning the council should be his first priority?” After all, the council was made up of the thirteen kings themselves.

Damon glanced at me sideways. “His son was killed in a draman town. How do you think the council might react?”

“Badly.” Meaning draman blood would be shed. Especially given they already considered us a major cause of their problems. It was surprising that a dragon king actually seemed concerned about shedding draman blood unnecessarily, but maybe they weren’t all tarred with the same brush. “I see your point.”

“Finally.”

I ignored the barb. “Well, our kidnappers appear to know that your actions are a result of someone’s orders. They kept you alive to try and find out who.”

“At least that explains their refusal to do the sensible thing and get rid of me when they had the chance.” His smile was grim. “Hopefully, it’ll be a mistake they’ll live to regret.”

That was my hope, too. We continued in silence, and eventually he drove into the parking garage near Pier 39, once again finding a dark and gloomy spot in one of the corners. I slipped my arms into the backpack, settling it across my back before following him to the elevator. Once we were at street level, we joined the dwindling crowds of tourists looking at the stores and enjoying the carnival atmosphere. Eventually we made our way toward the marina and leaned against the railing to look at the small group of sea lions.

Damon glanced at his watch. “It’s twenty past six. What time was this guy supposed to be at the boat?”

“Seven.”

“We’ll stay here for another thirty minutes, then move across.”

I nodded and crossed my arms on the old wooden rail, watching the snoozing sea lions. The setting sun began to streak the sky with red and gold—bright banners that heralded the onset of night. The air burned with energy, the music of it so sweet and strong that I felt like singing right along with it. I raised my face to the flag-covered sky and drew in a deep breath. The energy of it flowed through me, renewing and revitalizing.

“You’re practically humming with pleasure,” Damon said softly.

“I’m a dragon,” I said without opening my eyes. “I’m just not as much dragon as you.”

“You’re draman. You shouldn’t be able to feel the energy raised by the dusk, let alone thrive on it.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

A somewhat sardonic smile touched his lips. “You’ve been asking me nothing but questions. Why stop now?”

“Why did you kiss me last night?”

He blinked. “Your thought processes really don’t follow any logical path, do they?”

“No. Are you going to answer the question?”

He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the railing. He was so close that my skin tingled with awareness. “I kissed you because I wanted to.”

Part of me wanted to do a happy little dance, but I resisted the urge. “And now that you know I’m draman?”

He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “You being draman doesn’t alter the enjoyment of that kiss, however brief it might have been.”

“So you don’t regret the action?”

“No.”

“Then why keep bringing up the fact I’m draman like it’s some kind of problem?”

“It’s just that you’re constantly surprising me, Mercy.” He hesitated and raised a hand, his fingertips lightly touching my cheek. “My reaction has nothing to do with you personally.”

His caress sparked the fires deep inside and a shudder that was all pleasure ran through me. But I stepped away from him, even though it was the last thing I really wanted to do. I needed to make him understand. Needed him to see me. Not just the draman. Not just the woman. Me.

Why, I don’t really know. It wasn’t like we had the possibility of a future.

Maybe it was just some perverse idea that if a man who didn’t believe draman should exist could see me—the person rather than the draman—then maybe there was some hope of a better future for us all.

“But it does, Damon,” I said softly. “It makes me feel like I’m a second-class citizen. Like I’m never going to be good enough, no matter what I do.”

He frowned and clasped his hands together on the railing again. “Draman are not dragons, and that is something you’re never going to change.”

“No, but we can change the attitudes that go with it.” I waited until a young couple had walked past, then added, “Because what you’re saying now is that despite the fact that some of us can do exactly the same things as full-blood dragons, we don’t deserve an equal footing. That we indeed deserve the punishments and death.”

“I’m not saying that at all, but—”

“There are no buts here, Damon. We live and breathe fire just like you full-bloods, and we deserve the same sort of respect.”

“You’re never going to get that respect easily, Mercy. The old ones are too set in their ways.”

“But I’m not standing here talking to an old one, am I?”

He studied me for a moment, his dark eyes as unreadable as his expression, then he glanced away again.

I sighed. “If you can’t respect me, what’s the point of kissing me?”

Still he didn’t say anything.

Way to go, Mercy. Open your big mouth, make your point, and lose any chance of getting down and dirty with Mr. Dark and Dangerous. Maybe one of these days I’d learn to shut the above-mentioned mouth.

But then again, maybe not.

Because really, it needed to be said. I was sick to death of full-bloods thinking I was a quick and easy lay just because I was draman. Granted, I enjoyed sex as much as any other dragon—or draman, for that matter—but there had to be something there. And that something wasn’t disdain for what I was.

Unfortunately, full-bloods could be great deceivers, and sometimes not even those of us who had spent our whole lives around them could tell truth from lie. I wasn’t even sure they knew the difference, sometimes.

And I was fervently hoping Damon wasn’t one of those deceivers, because I had a feeling he could cause me a whole lot more heartbreak than any of the full-bloods in my past.

I dropped my gaze back to the sea lions, who were doing little more than lying on their blubbery bellies, soaking up the last few embers of sunlight.

As the last of dusk’s energy and music faded, I pushed away from the railing and said, “Let’s walk toward the boat, just in case he gets there early.” Anything was better than standing in that depressing silence.

“Do you know the mooring number?” he said, walking close enough that the heat of him washed over me, chasing away the growing chill of the night.

It was nice, sharing someone else’s heat, although it probably wouldn’t last too much longer, because he’d have to flame down once we got near the boats.

“I wasn’t given that information, but the boat’s name is the Heron. We should be able to walk along and find it.”

“I think it’ll be quicker and easier to ask.”

“So we’ll ask. It’s not like it’s a major problem.”

“Except if we ask the wrong person, and we end up notifying our kidnappers that we’re down here.”

I frowned. “But we know what our kidnappers look like.”

He glanced at me. “We may have beaten two of them, but there are more henchmen than that in this little gang, I assure you.”

I supposed he was right. The truth was, I hadn’t actually thought about it, even though I knew it must have taken more than the four men I was aware of to destroy the draman towns. “We’re not going to Angus’s boat, though, but his friend’s, so as long as we’re careful, we should be all right. After all, neither of us resembles our usual self.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is when you look like a kid wearing your much-older brother’s clothes.”

A smile touched his lips. “I think you look rather cute.”

“And I think you’re insane.”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to think that,” he mused. “I can see the Heron from here. She’s the white-and-blue motor yacht.”

I followed the line of his gaze and saw the boat he was talking about. It was large and long, and had at least three decks. It also looked damn expensive. But I saw something else, as well. Or rather, someone else.

Angus.

His sea-colored head was visible for only a few moments, before he ducked down into the lower decks, but I had no doubt it was him.

“Our quarry is on the boat,” I said softly.

“Good.” Damon flexed his arms, reminding me of a fighter getting ready for the next bout. “You go straight to the boat. I’ll board via the rear of the yacht in the next berth. Between the two of us, we should be able to prevent an escape.”

“He’s a sea dragon. He won’t need to escape. He can just call the sea and drown us.”

He gave me a cool, calm smile that sent a chill racing down my spine. Death had reentered the building.

“Even the canniest sea dragon isn’t faster than a bullet.”

Goose bumps joined the chill. “And just when does a dragon need a gun?”

“Since I became a muerte.” He shrugged, and it was a surprisingly eloquent movement. “Burning is not a pleasant way to die, and I’d rather a quick kill before I burn.”

“So Death does have a soft side?”

“There’s nothing soft about mercy.” He smiled suddenly, and it was like sunshine breaking through rain: brief but glorious. “Although, if we’re talking about you, I suspect you have lots of lovely soft spots.”

“Which you’re never going to uncover unless you work on that attitude of yours.”

His smile faded. “I can’t change the attitude of a lifetime in a matter of minutes, no matter how much I might want to kiss you again. You ready?”

I nodded, too struck by the knowledge that he did want to kiss me again to say anything intelligent. We walked on. That, at least, I could manage—although part of me wanted to dance.

There were locked gates between us and the boats, but it didn’t take much of an effort on Damon’s part to get past. We slipped inside and parted ways—he moving into the first slip area and me stepping on board the Heron.

The minute I set foot on the boat, Angus’s familiar voice said, “Is that you, Mikey?”

I saw Damon leap across to the stern, then said, “I’m afraid not, Angus.”

“Jesus, girl, what the fuck are you doing here?” He appeared in the main cabin area, then just as quickly disappeared as a black-haired blur grabbed him and pushed him back down.

I scrambled along the railing and into the upper cabin. Damon stood behind Angus, one arm wrapped around the sea dragon’s neck and holding a silver gun to his head with the other.

He glanced up as I entered, and with a slight movement of his head motioned me toward the plush leather couch that half wrapped around a teak coffee table. I slipped the backpack off, dumping it on the floor and out of the way before sitting down on the end of the couch, avoiding the large window.

Damon’s attention returned to Angus. “I’ll put a bullet in your brain the minute the sea does anything untoward.”

The other man held up his hands. “No trouble, I promise.”

Damon released his grip on Angus’s neck and pushed him unceremoniously onto the smaller couch opposite mine. Angus looked at me somewhat reproachfully. “There was no need for this, lass.”

I snorted softly. “I trusted you the first time, and ended up drugged and held captive by psychos. Why wouldn’t we show a little more caution this time around?”

“Because if I’d meant you any real harm, I would have ensured you got a full dose of the drug. You wouldn’t be free now if I’d done that.”

I couldn’t sense a lie in his words, and yet I couldn’t help retorting, “Why even dose me at all if you wanted to ensure I’d escape?”

“Because I needed you to be out of it when I carried you in. These boys aren’t fools, and neither am I. I’m not about to risk my neck needlessly.”

“And this is supposed to make me grateful? Those men burned down my apartment.”

“At least you weren’t in it, and you could have been. They don’t care who they hurt in order to protect themselves.” He hesitated, then glanced up at the man standing so watchfully behind him. “I saw what they did to you. I wanted no part of that when it came to the lass.”

“Then why get involved in Mercy’s kidnapping at all?” Damon asked, the tension emanating from his body reminding me of a rattlesnake ready to strike. “Why stay here, when you could so easily disappear into the sea and never be seen again?”

“Because they have Coral.” Angus’s voice was an odd mix of anger and defeat.

“Who is?”

“My mate. They’re holding her hostage against my good behavior.” He hesitated, glancing at me with a grimace. “And they’ll kill us all the moment they’re sure there’s no widespread interest in the cleansed towns.”

My sudden smile felt brittle. “So the real truth is that you eased up on the drug dosage to save your own skin rather than mine.”

“Well, yes. But I didn’t want anyone else to suffer the same fate as your friend, either.”

Something inside me went still. Cold. “So you did set us up that night.”

He hesitated. “I had no choice. Not with Coral being held hostage. But I did call the cops and report the accident as soon as I knew that’s what they intended.”

“Which would have been useless if they’d both been dead,” Damon pointed out, voice harsh.

“I know.” Angus glanced at me. “I’m sorry, lass.”

The apology was sincere enough, but something inside me remained cold. He’d basically signed Rainey’s death warrant by setting us up like that, and even if he had done it to save the life of his lover and himself, it was something I could never forgive.

“So why didn’t they just kill you both the minute they ran Rainey and me off the road?” I asked, voice sounding amazingly calm considering part of me really did want to jump up and hit him. Repeatedly. “And why the hell didn’t they check that we were both dead?”

“Have you any idea how far that car fell? You really shouldn’t have survived.” He studied me for a second, as if contemplating how the hell I actually had. “Of course, they realized a little later that they had no idea how many other people you might have told about the towns. Given they’d made me your original point of contact, they released me to see if any other fish would take the bait.”

“And that fish was me again.”

“Yeah. You should have just walked away when you had the chance.”

I flicked a somewhat dark glance Damon’s way. “People keep telling me that. So why didn’t they kill me the second time?”

“Oh, they intended to. They just decided to do it right this time, and question you first.”

Which is why he’d made such a point of saying when we’d met in the bar that these men weren’t going to be scared of one lone draman. If I’d answered any other way, if I’d mentioned there wasn’t anyone else, then I might now be a dead and lost soul, just like Rainey.

“But how could you be so sure that I’d come out of the drug quickly enough to escape?” I asked. “I’m draman. A drug meant for dragons could do anything to us.”

“It was a human drug, and most of them don’t affect dragons. Draman are, of course, half human, so it does affect you, though to a lesser degree. But I still only gave you half a dose to be sure.”

“You couldn’t have been sure I’d escape the cell.”

“No, but I figured you’d wake the muerte, and that he’d work something out.” Angus glanced at the gun, still pointed in his direction. “They’re tricky bastards, these muerte.”

Damon’s smile was cold. “What makes you think those men are any different from me?”

“Oh, I have no illusions about the men I’m working with. It’s part of the reason I changed boats.”

“You’re still in the same general area. If they want to kill you, changing location won’t stop them.”

“No, but it’ll delay them a little. Right now, I just need time.”

“For what?” Damon asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I’ve called Coral’s family in to help, but it’ll take them a little while to get here. The sea never hurries herself, even for a message that’s urgent, and it’s a long way from here to where they’re currently vacationing.”

“Tell us about the men,” Damon said flatly.

Angus blew out a breath. “There’s not a whole lot to tell. I only got into this a few weeks ago, after I recognized one of the men from the attack on Whale Point.”

“Whale Point?” Damon raised an eyebrow. “You were in that town when it was destroyed?”

Angus’s smile was grim. “I was barely fifteen, but yes. I think it was one of the first.”

“So why did you lie about not recognizing the people behind it?” I asked.

“I’m hardly likely to admit to something that might get Coral killed, am I?” He scrubbed a hand across his face, and there was an edge of frustration in the sharp movement. “As it turned out, my memory played me for a fool. The man I attacked wasn’t one of the ones who destroyed Whale Point. He sounded just like him, but he’s far too young. But he was involved in the more recent cleansings.”

If he heard the voice of the Jamieson king, would he recognize it? Somehow, I suspected he might. And Seth did sound a whole lot like our king.

He also hated draman—and he’d take great pleasure in erasing us. But there had to be more behind it than just that.

There had to be.

“Why didn’t you just call the sea once you got into trouble?” Damon asked. “It’s not like we’re far from water in San Francisco.”

“You’re not the only one who knows holding a gun to someone’s head is a good way to prevent trouble,” Angus said wryly. “And they were holding it to Coral’s. If it had been just me, I might have tried anyway. Any form of revenge would have been worth the price, even if these bastards weren’t involved in the Whale Point massacre.”

“So who was involved?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Name the people you do know, Angus,” Damon said softly. “Stop avoiding it.”

He sighed. “I only know some. You met Evan—he owned and ran the bar you were both caught in. They killed him last night.”

“Do you know why?” Damon asked. “Seems a strange move, seeing as the place was proving useful.”

Angus shrugged. “Maybe he wanted more money. He was greedy like that.”

Damon didn’t look convinced, but all he said was “Keep going.”

“Albert and Jay were the men you knocked out to escape. They’re just muscle. As are the four men who alternate minding Coral. They’re draman, though.”

“Draman shouldn’t be able to restrain a full-blood dragon, whether they’re of the sea or the air,” Damon said with a frown.

Angus snorted softly. “How out of touch are you? Many of the draman around here are more than capable of standing up to full-bloods, simply because many have the same capabilities.”

“Having them, and using them, are two entirely different things.”

“Draman aren’t dumb. It seems to me that you and your much vaunted council might be, though. Or at the very least, behind the times.” Angus sniffed disdainfully, and I couldn’t help smiling. It was nice to know that I wasn’t the only one who had a less-than-stellar opinion of the council. “But Coral’s also got one of those home-detention devices on her, and it’s combined with a boundary fence alarm set to a frequency that’ll just about fry her brain if she attempts to break it. She did try to push past the pain of the thing, but to no avail.”

“Which those men undoubtedly delighted in telling you about,” I murmured.

Anger flared in his eyes, deep and bright, and suddenly this sea dragon seemed a whole lot more dangerous. “Oh, Vincent and Harry delighted in telling me lots of things. And they will die for that alone, if I have my way.”

I believed him. You couldn’t look into his eyes and not believe it. And just for that brief second, he was every bit as scary as the man standing so vigilantly behind him. I licked my lips and said, “Who was the elegant-sounding man you were talking to in the van?”

Angus raised his eyebrows. “You heard that?”

“Some of it.”

“Then you’ve more dragon blood in you than I figured. I gave you enough to knock you out for a good hour or so.” He hesitated, then glanced up at Damon. “Can I get a drink? No tricks.”

“The moment I suspect anything untoward, you die.” Damon’s voice was flat and deadly, and left no one in any doubt that he meant what he said.

Angus’s answering smile was bitter, but he rose and walked over to the bar, pouring himself a bourbon without offering either of us one. Can’t say I really blamed him.

“Tell you what,” he said, turning around to face us again. “I’ll do a trade. The name of that man for your help in rescuing Coral.”

“We’re not here to do a deal, Angus.” Damon’s voice was still flat. “We intend to stop these men, and we intend to get the answers we need from you. It’s your choice as to whether we do that nicely or not.”

Angus downed his bourbon in one gulp then poured another. “Then you might as well kill me now, because I’m not helping you unless you help me to save Coral.”

Damon shifted and the tension in the air sharpened abruptly.

“Don’t,” I said, half pushing to my feet. I wasn’t entirely sure what I intended to do, but I couldn’t just sit here and let him kill Angus. I might not entirely trust him, I might never be able to forgive him for his part in killing Rainey, but I didn’t want to see his brains splattered across the boat decks, either. He didn’t deserve that any more than Rainey had deserved what happened to her.

Damon glanced at me, jaw clenched and eyes as harsh as stone. He was going to do it, I thought, and I added hurriedly, “Please, Damon.”

He continued to study me, then said sharply, “For you, not for him. But don’t ask for any more favors, Mercy. You’ve had more than your fair share.”

I relaxed back into the seat and blew out a breath. Danger averted, but for how long? Death might have been restrained this time, but not for long. If Damon believed it was for the best, then he would kill, regardless of what I thought or did. It was his job, after all.

And I was insane to be so attracted to the man.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Angus said, the tension in him as sharp as that still riding Damon. His gaze met mine. “If I can get her out before her family arrives, we can all just flee, without her family putting themselves in danger.”

“Meaning you’re endangering our lives rather than theirs,” Damon said in an annoyed sort of voice.

“You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, muerte.”

“Mercy’s not.”

“Mercy is, and she won’t be left behind, so don’t even think it,” I said, before Angus could even open his mouth.

Damon gave me a dark sort of look. “Where are they keeping your mate?”

“Santa Rosa,” Angus said, then grimaced. “It’s far enough away from me—and far enough from the ocean—that neither of us can be of much help to the other.”

“So why call in reinforcements from the sea?” I asked, confused.

He glanced at me. “Because there are at least two men guarding her at the one time, and only one of me. I need the additional muscle.” He glanced at Damon, and a hint of mischief touched his lips. “You’ll do just fine in that department, lad.”

Angus shifted a little, moving from one foot to the other, and in that moment, the window exploded inward. He jerked sideways and blood splattered the mirror behind him.

Then he fell to the floor in a heap.