Dragon Seeker: Part One (Dragon Hunter Chronicles Book 5) Page 2

  But damn it, even that shouldn’t have been enough for an addiction to seep into her bloodstream more powerful than heroin, taking over her nights with thoughts of what his hands might feel like on her bare skin. Of how soft his gorgeous lips might be on her own, or for that matter, caressing the rest of her erogenous zones. How mouth-watering the bulge in his well-fitting jeans was. Or how badly she’d wanted to run her fingers over his abs to see if doing so would create some sort of exquisite music.

  Neko had been all too right; Lyre had found his way inside Trix quickly, mercilessly, even. This was well beyond chemical dependence. The Dragon shifter had worked his way into her soul, somehow, and far too easily.

  It was high time that she saw him again. And tomorrow might be her chance to do just that.

  Lyre

  “How does it feel?”

  Lyre was standing in the front hall of his twin brother’s elegant flat. His fingers danced in a rapid, elegant sequence, signing the words as Minach’s piercing eyes observed from a few feet away. Lyre didn’t need to sign in order to communicate, of course. Despite his inability to hear, he was gifted with the skills of the ancient bloodline of the Kindred, the powerful Dragon shifters with far-reaching abilities that blew the most open-minded human away.

  He could as easily have conveyed the words directly to Minach’s mind via his own, to make their way to him just as though he’d spoken them out loud. The two brothers had been able to speak telepathically ever since their childhood; since even before Lyre had lost his hearing. As boys, they’d often chatted in secret late into the night, engaged in long conversations about what might happen when they learned to shift. Speculating about what their Dragons might look like, how big they might be, what sort of fire they might breathe at unsuspecting enemies. Planning mischievous schemes, inventing wild tales about wolves battling bears, and how the two of them would conquer lands as a team of powerful shifters, an unstoppable force of nature.

  So yes, the brothers had always shared an intimate mental bond. And ever since the first of the four Relics of Power had been found a few weeks earlier, their powers had only grown stronger. Other senses had strengthened, too; sight, smell, even speed had increased.

  But neither of the twins was keen on resorting to intimate means of communication, at least not with each other. They hadn’t spent much time in each other’s heads ever since the events of their youth had driven them apart. A wall of icy-cold stone had shot up between them decades ago, and the bond that was supposed to exist between twins had been slashed apart with a blade sharper than anything known to man. And in recent days, things had only gotten worse.

  And now the two tall, powerful men stood mere feet from one another, the figurative wall between them almost palpable. Minach faced his twin, the crease between his eyebrows growing deeper than ever as he looked at Lyre, whose features were calm. Handsome as ever, of course, his dark hair surrounding a face that attracted female attention everywhere he went. Broad shoulders, a chest that couldn’t help but strain against whatever shirt he wore. Leg muscles that tested the fibres of his jeans. For Minach it was like looking in a sodding mirror, only to have his reflected face finally look as he wanted it to, all the anger melted away into a perfect, likeable fucking package.

  Perfect, that was, but for the lack of one important sense—a sense that Lyre should never have lost. And all of it was Minach’s damned fault. No Dragon should ever have to live without his hearing.

  “How does it feel, you ask?” Minach growled out loud, knowing full well that his sibling could read his lips, or at the very least his expression. “It feels like a fucking piranha is chewing on my leg. It feels fucked. Beyond fucked, even. Double-fucked with a large dollop of shite. That’s how it feels.”

  From the end of the long hallway, Lumen, the Dragon Guild’s leader, studied the men in their elegant surroundings. The flat was bright and cheery, at least, even if its resident was a surly bastard. Set in a well-preserved Edwardian walkup, white plaster walls leading to high ceilings, decorated in painted landscapes, portraits and abstracts, the likes of which were owned only by those with cash to burn. The treasures of a Dragon shifter.

  As he watched them, Lumen smiled in amusement. If ever he’d wanted to inspire a riot among the female population of London, he could have asked the two men to head out the flat’s front door and walk down the street. No heterosexual woman with an ounce of libido in her body could have resisted such a sight. And no doubt many, in a state of confused horniness, would have torn off their clothing and offered themselves up for the taking by one or both men. Dragon shifters had that effect on the opposite sex, and unleashing two identical ones would no doubt be devastating, to say the least.

  But Lumen’s brief smile faded as Minach took a wincing step forward before allowing himself to lean against the wall.

  “You’re walking, at least,” the Dragon Alpha said after a lengthy silence. “That’s an improvement over a few days ago.”

  “Well, it’s easy for you to be positive when you’re standing on your very healthy legs, isn’t it?” Minach snarled, narrowing his eyes.

  “Yes, well, thirty or so Lapsed can do a lot of damage, even to a Dragon. Your déor is powerful, Minach, but even the strongest couldn’t have escaped from so many teeth and claws without some consequences.”

  “Consequences,” spat Minach, gesturing violently towards his leg. “That’s what you call this load of bollocks? To say nothing of what those lobotomized twats did to my wings.”

  “Your wings will heal. But maybe the process will go faster if you work on being less of a plonker.” This did little, other than to inspire another glare from Minach, whose Dragon was emitting growls from deep within his chest. “Well,” added Lumen, “you’re in no shape for your first Alliance mission, that’s for damned sure.”

  Minach snarled, “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. And there’s no shame in it, for fuck’s sake, man. I need you to rest up until you’re as close to one hundred percent as you’re likely to get.” He turned his eyes to Lyre and said, “Head to the living room, would you? I need to speak to your brother in private for a moment.”

  Reading Lumen’s lips, Lyre did as the other shifter asked, relieved to turn towards the front of the flat as Lumen helped Minach to his bedroom.

  “Lie down, put your feet up and get on with your rehabilitation when the time comes,” Lumen said, as the other shifter limped along beside him.

  Minach surrendered, his broad shoulders hunching forward. Much as he hated to admit it, Lumen was right. His Dragon was itching to get to work scouring the streets of London for the Forsaken, but he would be useless in this condition. The creatures were too powerful to take on in anything less than his ideal physical shape.

  Lumen helped him into bed before speaking. “So, are you going to tell me what giant red-hot object has been crammed up your arse, or do I need to figure it out for myself?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the other shifter huffed.

  “No? Maybe you can explain why you’re being such an unmitigated cockweasel to your brother, who’s done nothing but be kind to you?”

  Minach’s jaw tightened, the grinding of his teeth all but audible. “He helped me fight off the Lapsed, on the Heath.”

  “You’re right. He’s an utter bastard. I can see now why you’re so upset.”

  “He shouldn’t have helped, Lumen. He should’ve let me die.”

  “So, you’re angry with him for not letting an army of braindead shifters rip your head off, then, is that it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Lumen sat down on the edge of the bed. “Bloody hell, you really hate yourself,” he said quietly.

  Minach nodded, his features softening. “Don’t you see? Every time Lyre does something good—every time I see the potential in him—it reminds me of what a horrible person I am. How I betrayed him. How I ruined his life.”

  “It was a long time ago, Minach.
He’s forgiven you; I know he has. And he has a good life.”

  “Has he? So tell me this—why is he still alone?”

  “What do you mean?” Lumen stared at the other shifter, confused.

  “Why doesn’t he have a mate? I mean, you found yours. I have none for obvious reasons—I’m a shit. But Lyre? Why does he keep a million miles from women?”

  “I suppose…” Lumen stopped himself. The truth was that he couldn’t answer the question because he had no idea.

  “I’ll tell you why. Because he thinks he’s unworthy of love, that’s why. Because he thinks he’s damaged goods. Because he…”

  Lumen rose to his feet. “Minach, the only one who’s damaged around here is you. You need to let this go—this toxic waste that’s jamming up your insides. Just let it be.”

  “Go talk to my brother,” Minach growled, ignoring the command. “And do me a favour. Tell him not to get killed, doing whatever the hell it is that you’re about to ask of him.”

  “You know I will.”

  * * *

  Lumen shut the door behind him and headed out to the living room. Another bright, spacious area, with windows that reached from floor to ceiling, allowing the day’s clouded over greyness to light the space as much as it could muster. The furnishings, elegant Edwardian pieces of carved, rich wood and lush upholstery, were perfectly preserved and no doubt worth enough money to feed a small country. Minach had always had the taste of an aristocrat.

  Lyre turned to Lumen, his voice making its way into his fellow Kindred’s mind. There was no need to sign with this one; he and the Guild’s Alpha were good friends, and kept very few secrets from each other. Not long ago, they would have had to shift into their powerful Dragon forms in order to link minds. But since the discovery of the first Relic, they’d found that they could also do it in human form, just as the twin brothers had always been able to do. It was a convenient development, to say the least.

  “He’s angry with me,” said Lyre. So he knew. Yes, of course he did. Lumen had never met a more empathetic shifter in his life. Lyre had always been incredible at reading others’ moods.

  “Yes, well, I told him he’s being ridiculous,” Lumen replied. “You saved his arse and he should be grateful.”

  “To him, what I did was a betrayal. I’m the last person he wanted rescuing him from danger. Now he feels even more indebted to me than he did before.”

  “Right, well, he’s a grumpy shite for a reason. I suppose you can’t blame him for hating himself.”

  “Well, I don’t hate him, so he has no excuse for the mounds of self-pity. It’s been so many years, Lumen. Too many.” Lyre grimaced before shaking off the memory, too dark to think of just now. Too ugly. “So tell me, what is it you need from me?”

  He gestured to Lumen to seat himself in a comfortable arm chair, even as he remained on his feet. His large eyes, blue with icy white rings surrounding the pupils, were inquisitive, intelligent and piercing, filled with an energy that his Alpha recognized.

  “The Alliance needs your help again, I’m afraid,” Lumen replied as he seated himself, his deep voice booming steadily in Lyre’s mind. “I know you’re not an official member of the Guild, though I wish you’d consider joining our ranks. I don’t see why you don’t. You’d fit in well, and it’s right up your alley.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You wouldn’t need to be out in public often. And I’ve already spoken to Bertie—she’s told me that several of the Hunters would be more than happy to learn sign language.”

  Now it was Lyre who ground his jaw. “I…it’s not in the cards for me at the moment,” he said. “I’ll just leave it at that.”

  Lumen eyed him, trying to assess his meaning but failing. “Well, whether you’re in the Guild or not, you’re a Kindred. You’re of the old blood. And we—all of us—have a responsibility to the Hunters’ Syndicate now. I need you to fill in for Minach until he’s recuperated. As you know, the Hunters—even the best of them—aren’t powerful enough to take on the Forsaken without us, so I have an assignment for you tonight.”

  “I…of course. I’ll do whatever you ask.” Lyre braced himself, preparing for what was to come. For weeks he’d avoided any interaction with the Hunters. But truth be told, there was only one whom he was avoiding outright, much as he wanted nothing more than to see her again.

  Beatrix.

  The red-haired beauty who’d ridden his Dragon, their minds intermingling during their flight from downtown London to Hampstead Heath. A skilled wielder of blades and throwing stars, she’d fought the Lapsed from his back. She’d even assisted Lyre when the time had come to help Minach to escape in his wounded state.

  In the few minutes that they’d spent together, something powerful had occurred between them, though neither had spoken of it. A bond, the sort that comes along only once in a century. The sort that can’t be ignored. And it had forced a surge of heat through his body in tsunami-like waves, cruelly, violently reminding him of what he was. A hot-blooded man, with powerful needs and desires that he’d denied for far too long.

  He’d seen how she looked at him. He’d inhaled her scent, so heady, so luscious, her body beautifully calling out to his own. He knew what she’d wanted from him; it was the same thing that he wanted from her, of course. To tear the clothes off her body, to run his tongue over every sensitive inch of her. To see if she tasted as good as he suspected. He’d wanted to consume her, to claim her, to possess her as she’d possessed him the moment he’d laid eyes on her. To be inside her for hours on end, to watch her cry out for him, only imagining the sound of her ecstasy.

  And damn her for all of it. She was perfect, and he all but hated her for it. Beautiful, powerful, skilled. And far too enticing for her own good. It wouldn’t do to get tangled up in her web—or between her thighs. Much as Lyre would have enjoyed residing in that heavenly spot permanently.

  “You know the new Alliance rule by now, Lyre.” Lumen’s voice, resonating deep in his head, interrupted his thoughts like a bucket of ice water poured abruptly down the front of his jeans. Duty-fucking-calling.

  Lyre nodded, drawing himself back to reality. “Of course. No Hunter goes after Forsaken alone. Each must be accompanied by a Dragon.”

  “Yes. And tonight, we’re sending several Hunters to the East End, where some Forsaken are thought to be hiding out in various buildings. We need to confirm the theory before moving in. So I’d like you—and other Kindred—to patrol the skies. Keep an eye out for anyone who might need your help. Descend to the street if you must, if you see anything—or anyone—in need of attention.”

  In need of attention. She was in need of all sorts of attention, all right. But not the kind Lumen was talking about.

  “I’ll do as you ask.” Lyre’s reply was terse, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows. If not for the fact that he knew Minach was locked away in an adjacent room, Lumen would never have believed he was speaking to his brother. Lyre had always been the cheerful, enthusiastic one.

  “What the hell’s weighing on you, Brother? I’ve never seen you in this state.”

  Lyre turned his eyes to the window, watching cars ease along the street below. “Nothing of consequence,” he said. “I’m just distracted by Minach’s…injuries.”

  “Right. If you insist that’s all, I’ll take you at your word. Just…do this thing for us. Tonight at sundown, head out to the East End. I don’t want any Hunter to find out the hard way just how powerful the Forsaken are. You know that Neko went through that already, and that it nearly cost her her life.”

  Lumen’s mate had nearly been killed by the first of the wave of Forsaken, a man called Umbra, who’d been responsible for a series of murders in London. It was only because of her will to survive and Lumen’s devotion and strength that she’d managed to come out of the altercation alive.

  “Of course I’ll be there. The East End, tonight.” Lyre turned back to face him. “Wait. Lumen, what about the next Relic? The time mu
st be coming to locate it.”

  It was Neko who’d found the first Relic. But there were three more out there somewhere, waiting to be uncovered: the Relics of Fire, Earth and Air were still hidden somewhere in England. It would be to a Dragon shifter and a human Seeker to find them.

  “Yes, the time is coming,” said Lumen. “And we’ll need to talk about it soon, you and I. But for the moment let’s just focus on the task at hand, shall we?”

  As the Guild leader stood and turned to leave, Lyre pivoted back to the window, propping his hands against the frame at its sides even as a surge of heat swept through him. Heading out tonight would mean a risk of seeing her again. The red-haired Hunter who’d stirred something deep inside him—something that he’d thought had long since died.

  And if he saw her again, his strength might fail him. He would have to make her his, or find a way to distance himself forever.

  Midnight

  Standing under the blackened limbs of a gnarled ash tree, Trix had the look of an alabaster statue about her, albeit one with fiery red hair and eyes the colour of a pool of sun-kissed turquoise.

  A faint, pleasant scent wafted around the place where she stood, the cool London breeze stealing it upwards among the leaves. Jasmine, they said, was one of the most sensual of the scents, though Trix used it mostly just to keep her mind alert when she was working. At least that’s what she told herself. Somewhere in the back of her mind, when she’d chosen the scent for tonight’s task, she’d known that there was a chance that Lyre would recognize it on the air. And it couldn’t hurt to smell alluring to a sexy Dragon man after all, could it?