Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Oh. Wow. I’m a little disturbed by his words, but then, I suspected Gabriel was dangerous.
“Do you… harm many people?” I have to ask. I mean, I can’t just settle down with the villain, no matter how kind he may be to me.
“Not the innocent, no.” But his gaze grows distant and a haunted quality comes over his face. “Except by accident.”
I remember the gold cuffs I saw on his dragon in the vision.
“Your dragon is dangerous.”
His gaze snaps to mine, and his expression smooths. He lifts me by my waist to set me on my feet. “We should get ready for dinner, little human.”
“So I’m right,” I persist, but he’s already up, walking away, a phone at his ear. It was a question he didn’t want to answer.
I should be frightened to hear he can’t always control the animal side of him, but I’m not. For some reason, I feel a huge surge of sympathy for the dragon.
He can’t help what he is.
Or how dangerous he can be.
And then I’m sorry for Gabriel, too. He seems so together, so controlled, but it’s for good reason. He has a dark side that could lay waste to an entire countryside with one angry bellow of fire.
How lonely it must be for him—to be this relic from the past, a beast he must keep from all those around him for fear they will be harmed.
All the more reason for me to stay.
Gabriel Dieter–man and dragon–needs me.
11
Rafe
“I dunno, Sarge. This is a shit lead,” Channing mutters.
We’re huddled in a dark corner, waiting in the freezing rain. There are few people out on the Parisian streets. The only movement comes from a few patrons ducking into a dark doorway lit by a neon sign.
Channing looks like a wannabe rapper in baggy jeans, seven hundred dollar sneakers, and a bright, brand-name shirt. Club attire, so he can blend in if need be.
Deke is a silent shadow at my side. He and I are dressed for combat. It’s just the three of us. Lance is back in Taos, holding down the homefront and guarding our mates.
“It’s all we got,” I tell Channing. “But it’s a good lead. You weren’t there when I got my ear chewed off by the Tucson Alpha. His mate had a vision when she held something Tabitha made. She saw fire.”
“That can mean a lot of things,” Channing says.
“Not according to her. The fire and Tabitha were inextricably linked. Like a bond. Like a mate. And who do we know who breathes fire and has been searching for his mate?”
“Gabriel Dieter,” Deke growls.
“I fucking hate him,” Channing says.
“Yeah, join the club,” I say. “Gabriel Dieter’s gone to ground. No movement at any of his known headquarters. He’s got Tabitha, I know it.” My breath puffs in the cold air. “This is our only lead.”
“Well, at least we know if he has her, it means she’s safe. Physically, at least. He wouldn’t harm his own mate,” Deke reasons.
“True,” I say. “But the guy loves to play games. Who knows what kind of psychological bullshit he’s pulling on her right now. And I seriously doubt she’s with him consensually.”
“What about the email?” Channing asks.
Deke growls. “That email is bullshit. Sadie says Tabitha never emails when she could call, and never calls when she could text.”
“Fine. When do I go in?” Channing nods at the club’s neon sign. “Not that I’m complaining about waiting out in the rain. It’s just I went through all this trouble to find this swag outfit, I want to show it off.” He grins at his orange trainers. They’re such a bright color, they glow in the dark.
Deke narrows his eyes at Channing. “You look…”
“Awesome? Epic? On fleek?” Channing hums a party anthem and shuffles his feet in a poor imitation of a moonwalk.
Deke tilts his head. “Nope. You look wrong. Just…wrong.”
Channing stops dancing. “I do not! This outfit is steezy. I got the drip.”
“Yeah, no.” Deke leans out of the rain, the picture of a bored wolf picking a fight. “More like cheugy.”
“What does that even mean—”
“Quiet.” I raise a hand, and their argument cuts out. “That’s our target.”
A rangy young man with a shock of dyed red hair has stepped out of the club. He saunters through the rain, steam rising from his jacket, and leans against the graffiti-covered wall.
I flick my fingers, giving the signal. We can’t risk talking because our target’s a shifter. Channing nods and starts across the street towards the club. Deke disappears into the night.
I wait a beat and follow Channing, cutting left while he heads right. He stands between the club door and the alley where the redhead is lighting up.
I can tell the target’s a dragon shifter because he lights the end of his cigarette with a flick of his fingers.
I hunch in my coat like I’m hurrying against the winter wind and enter the alley.