Chapter One
It hit him, low in his belly, a sucker punch that had him stop dead while the wolves kept moving around him.
A hand on his shoulder. Mica’s concerned look.
Granite shook him off, started moving. He was in an enemy lair, and the wolves, while allies, were not friends. No, he would not show any weakness. He was Claw.
No matter how his senses were screaming at him.
Something valuable here.
Something necessary here.
He kept moving.
Jacobson must have had some warning. Some, not a lot. Enough that he gave the command to retreat. Not enough to clear out this shithole of a house entirely.
Low, haunted cries came from the upstairs. Feminine cries. The wolves were bristling, their animals coming to the surface.
The alpha female led the way up the stairs, gun ready in her hand, her eyes as hard and as wary as any wolf.
At the end of the hallway was a locked door. A wolf stepped in front of the female – kicked it open.
Cries became anguished screams, became pleas to not be hurt anymore.
Granite stepped into the room, Mica at his back.
She stood in front of the women. Teeth bared, eyes glowing. Her pale blonde hair was matted. Old blood flecked over the side of her throat; her clothing was dirty and stained.
Within him, Granite’s Dragon lifted its head, throat long and bare, and cried out in mingled joy and rage, its wings flaring outward in fearful display.
His mate .
His .
“We’re still looking for the broker between Jacobson and his buyers. If we can find that piece of shit, we can start doing some real damage to the operation.”
Granite stepped away from large window which took up almost the entire wall area. The view from the skyscraper usually brought calm, able to soothe the dragon by giving the impression of flight, but not today.
Obsidian was in his thoughtful pose, sitting with his elbows resting on the desk’s surface, forefingers steepled together and resting against his chin. Granite, Mica, and Bas surrounded the desk, while Malachite stood beside the door, taking his role of First Guard seriously.
“And you still believe we’re dealing with another dragon clan?” Obsidian asked, turning from Mica who had made the previous statement, and now looking toward Bas.
Like every other dragon in the room, Granite momentarily stiffened at the question. None of them wanted to believe it could be dragons allying with Jacobson. There were no other Clans nearby, and the thought of rogues this close to their own grounds did not sit well.
Bas’s mouth turned down, his visage thoughtful. “I cannot guarantee its other dragons. I can say there is magic somehow involved, and with the way Jacobson communicates with them, I do not believe its other wolves. There is none of the pack posturing I would expect if that was the case.”
If Bas was right about the magic – and Bas was right, he wouldn’t have said it otherwise – then that description did put dragons to the top of the possibility list. Only dragons as a race were consistent with magic. Humans and other shifters had the occasional person – even whole family lines – that had some magical or psychic abilities, but for dragons it was almost unheard of not to have some amount of mystical ability.
Bas took a step backwards, giving a bow towards Obsidian. “I must return.”
Without comment, Granite followed Bas out, leaving the other dragons conversing in the room. They walked to a small room, an elevator in the corner, and there Bas stood, clasping Granite on the shoulder. “Are you doing well?”
“As well as I can be in the circumstances,” Granite replied, clasping Bas’s shoulder in return, squeezing tight as if that could convey the maelstrom that was raging inside.
Bas didn’t need any clarification about what Granite was referring to. “I will find out who, and I will deliver all of them who hurt her to you. Gift wrapped and ready for you to do as you will.”
Granite’s fingers tightened
It hit him, low in his belly, a sucker punch that had him stop dead while the wolves kept moving around him.
A hand on his shoulder. Mica’s concerned look.
Granite shook him off, started moving. He was in an enemy lair, and the wolves, while allies, were not friends. No, he would not show any weakness. He was Claw.
No matter how his senses were screaming at him.
Something valuable here.
Something necessary here.
He kept moving.
Jacobson must have had some warning. Some, not a lot. Enough that he gave the command to retreat. Not enough to clear out this shithole of a house entirely.
Low, haunted cries came from the upstairs. Feminine cries. The wolves were bristling, their animals coming to the surface.
The alpha female led the way up the stairs, gun ready in her hand, her eyes as hard and as wary as any wolf.
At the end of the hallway was a locked door. A wolf stepped in front of the female – kicked it open.
Cries became anguished screams, became pleas to not be hurt anymore.
Granite stepped into the room, Mica at his back.
She stood in front of the women. Teeth bared, eyes glowing. Her pale blonde hair was matted. Old blood flecked over the side of her throat; her clothing was dirty and stained.
Within him, Granite’s Dragon lifted its head, throat long and bare, and cried out in mingled joy and rage, its wings flaring outward in fearful display.
His mate .
His .
“We’re still looking for the broker between Jacobson and his buyers. If we can find that piece of shit, we can start doing some real damage to the operation.”
Granite stepped away from large window which took up almost the entire wall area. The view from the skyscraper usually brought calm, able to soothe the dragon by giving the impression of flight, but not today.
Obsidian was in his thoughtful pose, sitting with his elbows resting on the desk’s surface, forefingers steepled together and resting against his chin. Granite, Mica, and Bas surrounded the desk, while Malachite stood beside the door, taking his role of First Guard seriously.
“And you still believe we’re dealing with another dragon clan?” Obsidian asked, turning from Mica who had made the previous statement, and now looking toward Bas.
Like every other dragon in the room, Granite momentarily stiffened at the question. None of them wanted to believe it could be dragons allying with Jacobson. There were no other Clans nearby, and the thought of rogues this close to their own grounds did not sit well.
Bas’s mouth turned down, his visage thoughtful. “I cannot guarantee its other dragons. I can say there is magic somehow involved, and with the way Jacobson communicates with them, I do not believe its other wolves. There is none of the pack posturing I would expect if that was the case.”
If Bas was right about the magic – and Bas was right, he wouldn’t have said it otherwise – then that description did put dragons to the top of the possibility list. Only dragons as a race were consistent with magic. Humans and other shifters had the occasional person – even whole family lines – that had some magical or psychic abilities, but for dragons it was almost unheard of not to have some amount of mystical ability.
Bas took a step backwards, giving a bow towards Obsidian. “I must return.”
Without comment, Granite followed Bas out, leaving the other dragons conversing in the room. They walked to a small room, an elevator in the corner, and there Bas stood, clasping Granite on the shoulder. “Are you doing well?”
“As well as I can be in the circumstances,” Granite replied, clasping Bas’s shoulder in return, squeezing tight as if that could convey the maelstrom that was raging inside.
Bas didn’t need any clarification about what Granite was referring to. “I will find out who, and I will deliver all of them who hurt her to you. Gift wrapped and ready for you to do as you will.”
Granite’s fingers tightened
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