Chapter Four

Don’t panic. It wasn’t easy. Not with a very large man crouched beside her and another one seated across from her. They looked like bikers with their tattoos, jeans, and boots.

Plus, hello, they’d brought her here on a motorcycle. That much she did remember.

“Where am I?” She tried to sit up, but the man beside her gently held her down. Just as well, as a bolt of pain slammed into her skull and her stomach threatened to revolt.

“You need rest. You’re safe,” he promised her. “I’m Jericho.” He watched her intently for a reaction. Was she supposed to know him?

I’d remember him.

But the way her brain was currently scrambled, maybe not.

“Do we know each other?” It wasn’t easy to find the words she wanted, but she managed through sheer willpower.

“No.” He reached out and stroked his hand over her cheek. The warmth from his fingers soaked into her chilled skin, and she shivered. “You’re cold.” It came out almost as an accusation.

“Yes.”

The man seated across from them got up and came back moments later with a blanket. Jericho took it from him and placed it over her, making sure it was tucked in against her sides.

“Thank you.” Her voice was weak but filled with appreciation as the heat from the blanket worked its magic.

“You should try to sleep.” His eyes were dark and deep. It would be easy to get lost in them, to do exactly as he told her.

Rest might be what she needed, but she had too many unanswered questions whirling around. “What happened?” If she kept asking, they’d eventually have to give her some answers. At least, she hoped they would.

A vision flashed in her mind—the screech of metal, a cry of pain, the sensation of slamming against something hard, pain in her shoulder. She flinched.

“What is it?” Jericho demanded.

“Accident.” She raised her hand and touched the bandage at her temple.

“Yes. You were in a car crash.”

It was natural that her memories were jumbled, but she liked it when things made sense. “Are we going to the hospital?” Maybe they were airlifting her. That was the logical assumption.

“No.” Again, Jericho watched her. She got the sense he was looking for a particular reaction, but damned if she knew what it was.

“No?” Why wouldn’t they take her to a hospital? Unless… “Kidnapping?” She had no idea why that was the first thing to pop into her brain or why they’d want to take her in particular.

While she seemed to have retained general knowledge and basic information, anything related to her, specifically, was a blank slate. Her past was a complete mystery, and that scared the hell out of her.

“That remains to be seen. Right now, consider yourself in protective custody.” When he stood, she tilted her chin up, ignoring the pain and forcing herself not to look away. She might be vulnerable, but she was used to being in charge.

How do I know that? And what am I in charge of? The harder she tried to think, the worse the pain got.

“You know me.” Of that she was certain.

“I know your name,” he corrected.

It was as good a place to start as any. “And what is it?” She needed that information. It was amazing how much of a person’s identity was linked to something as simple as a name. Without it, she was rudderless, adrift on an unknown sea.

“Karina. Your name is Karina.” The vibration from his deep voice was like a physical caress.

“Karina,” she repeated the name, letting it roll off her tongue. She didn’t feel like a Karina. But what would that feel like? It was odd to know her name but not identify with it.

Her lungs were squeezed in a vise of panic.

“It’s okay.” Jericho crouched back down beside her. “Slow your breathing,” he ordered.

Keeping her eyes locked on his, she drew strength from his presence. That didn’t make any sense, since he’d all but admitted to kidnapping her. She wasn’t buying the whole protective custody thing. But right now, he was her only link to sanity, the only thing grounding her.

Lungs burning, she forced herself to draw air in more slowly, holding it briefly before releasing it. The more she studied him, the more it seemed as though his eyes were indeed black and not dark brown. Was such a thing even possible?

“That’s it,” he told her. “Breathe. You’re doing great.” His praise, his concern, helped drive back the fear of the unknown.

“I’m fine.” She wasn’t sure if she was reassuring him or herself. Instinct told her she disliked being vulnerable, which meant she needed to do everything in her power to heal.

If that included rest, so be it. If Jericho or his men were going to hurt her, they’d have already done so. For now, she was safe.

Besides, she was too exhausted to talk or think any longer. She’d pushed herself past her limits and was paying for it. Her entire body ached, but it was her head that hurt the worst.

Since she’d lost a fair amount of blood, she should probably drink some water or juice, maybe. It was maddening to know something like that but not the most basic things about herself.

“Purse?” Maybe there was something in there that would jolt her, help her remember.

“It’s gone.”

Not a big surprise, but it was still unsettling. With no money or identification, she truly was at their mercy. She shut her eyes and tugged the blanket closer to her chin. She wanted to put it over her head and hide but sensed that would be out of character.

Karina. She silently said the name. Who exactly was she? And why would anyone want to kidnap her?

…

“She’s asleep again.” Jericho forced himself to move away from her side. Not like she was going anywhere. Not when they were high in the sky.

“Her body had a shock along with the loss of blood. Sleep is what she needs. You think she’s telling the truth?” Khalil asked.

He couldn’t trust himself to be objective. “What do you think?”

Khalil leaned forward. “Yeah, it’s possible. Her head took one hell of a whack. Plus, if the tattoo on her shoulder is magic—and we have every reason to believe it is—we have no idea what the impact from the crash might do to it or her.”

That made a hell of a lot of sense.

“I wonder what it’s like,” Khalil asked.

“What?”

“Not knowing who you are. Waking with no sense of self. Not knowing your place in the world.”

Jericho’s stomach lurched. It had to be scary as hell, but she’d only given in briefly to the panic, quickly settling herself and asking questions. Hell, she’d demanded answers. He bet she was hell on wheels in a boardroom or chairing a meeting.

His mood soured at the image of her leading a gathering of the Knights. Yeah, Karina Azarov was one formidable foe.

He checked with his dragon side to see if it was still attracted to her. The urge to shift and curl his body around her was almost overpowering.

She was the woman who spoke to his soul.

He was fucked.

He headed toward the front of the plane where Enoch was working. “Anything yet?”

“No. I’ll need more time to delve into the archives. I’m looking, but we’ve accumulated a hell of a lot of information over the centuries.”

“Keep at it.”

“Will do,” Enoch assured him.

He probably shouldn’t have told Karina he’d kidnapped her, but he didn’t want to lie to her. He might not want her to be his mate, but biology had decided otherwise. And there was no way he could tell her something that wasn’t true.

He’d have to start practicing evasion or just keep his mouth shut.

He’d mostly done it to see how she’d react. There’d been honest bafflement in her gaze, as though she had no idea why anyone would take her. That went a long way to making him believe she’d truly lost her memory.

No one was that good a liar.

“I need a computer.” He didn’t have one of his own but knew Enoch would have several. God forbid he be without his technology for even a second. The world might come to an end.

“In my bag.” Enoch pointed to his satchel on the seat across from him.

Jericho dug out a laptop, sat down, and researched head and brain injuries, especially amnesia. Every now and then, he glanced back at Karina, then, satisfied she was still sleeping, he went back to reading.

A kernel of hope flickered to life deep inside him. If she didn’t get her memory back, they might have a chance of actually becoming mates.

Loneliness of a kind he’d never experienced speared through him. If she left him, he’d never recover. Nothing would ever ease the devastating loss. Not the men he’d called his friends for the past four thousand years, the family he’d created. And certainly not his blood brothers, men he’d never met.

As humbling as it was to admit, there would be no living without her. There would only be existence. This went beyond pure biology and tapped into something far deeper. Call it some primal instinct or divine fate. It didn’t really matter. He knew down to the very marrow of his bones—she was the woman meant to be his.

If they parted, he’d hold on until her lifespan was over before finding a quiet place to fall into the Deep Sleep. It was a condition that sometimes happened to drakons when they lost the will to survive. They didn’t die easily, but would simply curl up somewhere, fall asleep, and eventually turn to stone, becoming a part of their environment.

There had never been any reports of a drakon waking from the Deep Sleep.

It was a future he’d never anticipated for himself. He had his friends, his work, and the open road. Then there was the goal of making some kind of connection to his blood brothers.

Tarrant Cooper, one of his brothers and the owner of a huge communications corporation, had recently contacted many drakons by email, reaching out to share information about the Knights. When Enoch had intercepted the message, the time had felt right. But he’d wanted to approach them from a position of strength, of power, and had concocted his plan. It was supposed to be a straightforward job.

And then he’d met Karina.

He cursed the day he’d ever heard her name. He’d wanted to show his blood brothers he was better than them. Smarter. Stronger. Childish, absolutely, but he didn’t care.

By setting these events in motion, he’d basically condemned himself to hell.

He was no quitter. As long as there was blood in his body, fire in his belly, and resolve in his soul, he’d fight.

Problem was he was no longer sure what he was fighting for.

…

Karina woke with a jolt. Jericho was beside her, just as he’d been when she’d fallen asleep. “The plane is landing,” he told her.

There was something wrong. It wasn’t anything he said or did, but something had changed. It was in the way he looked at her. Before there had been a touch of warmth, a hint of fire. Now his black eyes were pure ice, as if all emotion had been cut off.

She hadn’t understood how much she’d depended on that tiny display of kindness until it was gone. Now she was truly alone.

“Where are we?” Not that she really expected him to tell her.

“You don’t need to know.” His voice was flat and low. It still resonated deep within her, in spite of the indifference tingeing it.

Fine. She’d figure it out on her own. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Frustration made her want to scream and hit something. How could she know that, but not have a clue about her life? Not even the most fundamental things. Did she have family? Was someone worrying about her?

Closing her eyes, she tried to conjure a memory but couldn’t bring a picture of anyone to mind. She simply felt alone.

“I need to use the bathroom.” As much as she hated to ask, there was no denying basic human biology.

The plane was already slowing, the wheels on the tarmac. She didn’t bother trying to see out of the window. There was time enough for that later.

The blanket pooled in her lap, revealing just how disgusting her sweater was—what was left of it. It was ripped and dirty and bloody. “Do you have something I can wear?” She hated to ask her captor for anything, but she’d make an exception for this.

One of the other men disappeared for a second, returning with a shirt of some kind. She took it with a nod of thanks.

Jericho offered his hand, but she ignored it. Standing on her own, she gripped the clean shirt to keep from taking the help he offered. His fingers curled into a fist before he dropped it by his side. “This way.” He showed her to a relatively spacious bathroom at the back of the plane.

Even though she didn’t look for confirmation, she sensed the eyes of the other men on her as she carefully made her way. When she finally shut the door in Jericho’s face, she gave a sigh of relief.

After quickly making use of the facilities and washing her hands, she finally peered into the small mirror mounted over the sink. The woman staring back at her was a mess. Her skin was pale as parchment, colorless but for the smudge of bruises under her eyes and on the right side of her face. A bandage covered her temple.

Dried blood flecked her face and neck. She shucked her sweater, biting her lip to keep from moaning as pain shot down her entire left side. After dampening a towel, she cleaned herself up, wincing when she hit tender spots. Thankfully, the borrowed shirt buttoned in the front, so it was easier to get on and fastened. The thing was huge and fell almost to her knees. She had to roll the cuffs back several times so they wouldn’t cover her hands.

It was disorienting to see herself. Pure terror knocked on her consciousness, but she wouldn’t give in to it.

She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror.

Desolation swamped her, but she shoved it back by sheer willpower. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She swiped it away with her palm and tilted her chin up. She would not outwardly show any emotional weakness they could exploit. The physical ones were bad enough.

Outside of the injuries, she had black hair, green eyes, and a slender build. Objectively speaking, she was good-looking, or would be without the cuts and bruises marring her face. It was as though she was an observer and not the woman staring back at her.

“Karina,” she whispered. “Who are you?” It was her lips moving, but she still had no answers.

The bandaged spot on her shoulder throbbed worse than her temple. Not surprising, since they’d removed a piece of metal.

Taking a slow, even breath, she lifted the hem of the borrowed shirt and exposed her stomach. There was some slight bruising, but it could have been worse.

A heavy thump sounded against the door. “You okay in there?”

She set the bloodstained towel down on the edge of the sink and stuffed her sweater in the garbage. If she didn’t open the door, he would. It wouldn’t matter that she’d locked it. And really, there was nothing to be gained by staying. She certainly couldn’t hide in here.

No, better to face whatever was coming head-on and deal with it.

A quick glance told her there was nothing in the bathroom she could use either as a weapon or to contact anyone. Not that she’d have the first idea about who to call. Maybe 911. But the thought of doing that made her stomach lurch. Why was she hesitant to contact the authorities?

She grasped the handle, turned, and opened the door. Jericho leaned against the opposite wall, his massive arms crossed over his chest, his biceps bulging. The black T-shirt he wore clung to his stomach and pectoral muscles, strained at the shoulders.

Standing in front of him, she finally had a sense of just how massive a man he was. She wasn’t short by any means, but next to him, she was positively tiny. It wasn’t just his height, which had to be close to seven feet, but the sheer size of the man.

Coupled with his rough good looks, black hair, and dark eyes, he really was menacing. But instead of being afraid, her heart fluttered.

Traitorous organ.

Maybe it was because she was dependent on him, relying on him for everything. Whatever the feeling was, it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. He was a stranger, one who’d taken her. She’d do well to remember that.

His gaze narrowed, but he didn’t ask her how she was, which she appreciated. She was getting tired of it. She had a sense she wasn’t one to accept sympathy or concern.

Three men stood behind him. She vaguely recognized all of them but didn’t know their names. Like Jericho, they were all big and tall and tough.

“Well?” She tried to put some command in her voice. The corners of Jericho’s mouth turned up slightly. It wasn’t quite a smile, but she found herself holding her breath, waiting to see if he would.

She was immediately disgusted with herself. What did it matter if he smiled or not? He wasn’t her friend. He was the man who’d kidnapped her.

Had he caused the crash?

It was likely.

Karina needed a plan, but right now, she was out of ideas. The best she could do was to go along with them and hope she got the opportunity to escape. She ignored the way her heart clenched when she thought about leaving.

He wasn’t her friend or lover. He wasn’t anything to her. Yet, he was.

When she swayed, he was there immediately, scooping her into his arms. “We need to get going. Once we’re settled in, we’re going to talk.”

She was afraid that meant he’d ask questions and expect her to answer. She didn’t assume he’d reciprocate. But that was later. For now, she rested her aching head against his shoulder.

“Do you have any pain killers?” She didn’t care what brand they were as long as they helped dull the throbbing in her shoulder and the never-ending agony beating at her skull.

Jericho carried her through the plane toward the door at the front. One of the other men met them there with a glass of water and two small white pills. She took them without hesitation, not concerned about poison. At this point, she almost wouldn’t mind dying if it meant the end of the pain.

“Thank you.” She held out the glass. He took it from her, gave her a curt nod, and tossed the plastic cup into the garbage.

Through the entire exchange, Jericho and the rest of the men had been eerily silent. For large men, they moved quietly and with an innate grace.

She peered up at her captor, held easily in his arms. He watched her with those dark, fathomless eyes. Then he shifted his attention to the others.

“Let’s go.”

She had no idea where they were headed but was certain she wouldn’t survive another motorcycle ride. All she wanted was a hot shower and about twelve hours of sleep. Maybe then she’d feel human again, might remember something.

Sheltering her from the wind with his large body, Jericho carried her down the stairs of the plane. A large SUV waiting for them, and she almost wept with relief. She wondered what the attached trailer was for until she saw one of the other men drive a motorcycle right up the ramp and through the open door.

When Jericho gently placed her on the back seat of the SUV, the rich scent of leather surrounded her. The only thing beyond the small airfield was woods and sky. They could be anywhere.

Closing her eyes, she willed back the tears that threatened to fall. She’d figure things out. It was what she did.