Chapter One

 

 

 

The wind howled through the bare trees, clacking frozen branches along one another, much akin to bugs scrambling to get purchase on a smooth surface. A tiny sliver of moon cast a weak, pale glow over the snowy landscape. Desolate. Empty. While no snow currently fell, the chill couldn’t be ignored.

Footsteps crunched through the crusted snow as a lone figure strolled to the farthest point of solid land before more of the bogs of the Boundary Waters began. Blood dripped from the razor-sharp blades of her tanto and katana. The sword rested against the sleeveless top of black leather, blending in since the metal was the same color. The tanto hung from the woman’s right hand.

Dracen Lloyd ignored the bitter cold, oblivious to the sting of her own injuries and her exhaustion. Her gaze remained sharp as she scouted for more of the dammed. The demons were relentless. Now isn’t the time for me to relax. Others were near—while she might not be in visual contact with them, she had no doubt they lingered and approached.

How she possessed the knowledge, she couldn’t say. Since she’d accepted her role as a Guardian, she’d devoted her time and energy to being the best she could. It had taken its toll on her. She no longer felt. Anything. Not even empathy toward her foster siblings.

Ice coated her heart and soul. Even now, pain was nothing more than a word. She bled. This she accepted as fact. She comprehended there should be pain. There wasn’t.

She slowed her breathing, scenting the air in order to pinpoint where the vile demons were. With slow and methodical movements, she flexed her fingers—tacky with blood—on the hilts of her weapons.

Her powers were growing. Her understanding of everything occurring was slim. Every aspect of her life had evolved with such swiftness. She’d left the vineyard, that she was a danger to them flashing in the corner of her mind.

They were all happy. Even Tiarnán, the one she had been closest to. She’d smiled at the appropriate times but hadn’t ever been at ease or relaxed. Tiarnán had been aware something was up and she accepted she would have to face him at some point.

Whatever. First we have to survive the prophecy.

One person had a way of contacting her and that came with a strict stipulation. Only if Lian passed. She was certain she would feel if he did, but Altair was her back up.

The wind pierced her exposed skin with the efficiency of Inaki’s well-honed, handcrafted blades. She never flinched. The sensation was odd, not painful. The demons were closer now. Her fingers flexed again, almost with a mind of their own. She could call forth more weaponry—non-blood coated. She didn’t.

More blood would spill this night, no matter whether or not her blades were covered already. To the left came a new sound.

Her mind worked feverishly to work it out. Human? Who would be out here at this hour?

She struggled with her conscience before diverting all her attention to the sound. Deep down she knew her response to this noise should be alarm and concern. As she was, she didn’t care.

I’m losing my humanity.

For that reason, she set out to investigate. Grip tight on her weapons, she lengthened her stride, narrowing the distance between her and her new goal. Using the trees, she stuck to the shadows, aware of how efficiently she blended into the landscape.

A man, barely hanging on, took on four others. She slid from the darkness that had hidden her, sending her knife into the temple of the demon disguised as human, coming up behind the man. It dropped instantly and she had recalled the blade before the other three knew what happened.

“Guardian,” one trilled in its hissing speech as it dodged a strike from the true human.

Impressive this human has held out this long. From the looks of his staggering body, he was nearly finished. Blood poured from numerous wounds and in the miniscule light she made out older scars below the red staining his skin.

A fighter.

She gave only a single thought to warn them away but ultimately decided not to. Without a word, she set out to kill the remaining demons. The moment her tanto and katana flew on a direct course for the two creatures farthest from her—her knowledge of the demons allowed her to have already made the adjustment for their expected counter—she called up a serrated chain and sent the loop out over the nearest one’s neck.

One strong pull lifted the creature off his feet, yanking him to her and keeping the human out of harm’s way. If it was a firebreather there wasn’t any way for it to take the necessary breath to spew its flames.

The male didn’t sink to the ground, relieved by her saving him, he remained on his feet and went to her weapon in the neck of the hellspawn closest to him and ripped out her katana. Their gazes met in the dim light and she saw his dark eyes—she would have assumed they were black if not for her sharp vision that picked out the hint of green.

Anger strummed along the air between them. She brushed him off and returned her attention—most, not all—to the demon.

“Who are you after?” she demanded.

“Fuck off, Guardian.”

His derision meant nothing. She lifted her gaze and met the true human’s again. With barely any effort on her part, she tightened the links around his throat, severing his head.

Acidic blood hissed as it landed on her skin but she ignored it. Without slowing, she strode toward the man. She held out one hand, her tanto returning to its spot in her left.

“Who are you?” she issued the question.

He stood taller than her by a solid five inches. Harsh contours created his face. His nose showed signs of having been broken more than once. Thick eyebrows slashed over dark eyes, giving him more of a rugged appearance.

He stiffened and there was no way to ignore his assessment of her. She allowed it, being as she did the same to him.

“Do not make me repeat my question.” Her tone had grown colder.

His gaze tingled something in the back of her mind. He looked down his nose, opened his mouth, and collapsed in a heap.

Well, shit.

Casting out with her power, she sought demons. While more still hunted her, for the moment she was safe enough.

You can’t leave him there. He’ll freeze.

Scowling at her conscience’s reminder, she angled her head to spy behind her. The haze from her sign sprawled over and beside her in an impressive display. Dragon wings hung low, clawed tips cut through the snow’s crust.

Weapons stored, she made her way to the man lying in the snow. She got him back to her cabin and laid him on the sofa. The cold had slowed his blood flow but she understood she needed to patch him up. She racked her mind for the best way to help him. She grabbed blankets.

Get him naked.

Words with different meanings to her. She approached him, crouched beside him and called forth her tanto. The next second her wrist was gripped in an iron-clad hold and her gaze was snared by dark forest green eyes. His swift reaction impressed her.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I have to get you out of your clothes.”

She swore he grinned.

“Never let it be said I didn’t cooperate with a beautiful woman who wanted me naked.”

She sliced through his shirt, ignoring how his touch remained. “I said ‘have to’, not ‘want to’ get your clothes off.”

“Perhaps.”

She relinquished the knife to his hand as she tore off the soaked material. Then, without paying much attention to his broad chest, she worked down his pants. His cock lay against his thigh and she kept her gaze on her own hands. Once he was naked, she reached for the first blanket and covered him.

“Knife.”

“Please?”

She blinked and recalled her tanto. Then it was his turn to blink.

“Where’d it go?”

She unfolded another blanket and covered him. “Rest.”

“Body heat is the best way.” His words were rough and raspy.

She flicked her attention to his groin before moving on to meet his gaze. “I could have left you out there.”

“May have been better if you did.” His thick lashes lowered to rest upon his cheeks, all teasing gone from his tone.

Dracen busied herself in tucking more blankets around him. She sent a wave of healing heat through him. Not much, but it’s the best I can do. I don’t have Cale’s ability, plus he’s not a Guardian.

After he was covered and his shudders had lessened, she drew up the ottoman and balanced a bowl of warm water on her knee. A soft rag was submerged in the liquid and the window rattled with the pounding sleet. Another storm had kicked up.

She tipped her head to the left and studied him. Intrigue filled her. Shaking off the uncommon emotion, she grasped the rag and squeezed out the excess water before cleaning off the drying blood on his face. Blood removal was imperative before she added the salve to extract poisons. He didn’t stir as she worked down his body with methodical precision, only exposing areas she tended.

The hardest moments for her to remain detached was as she cleaned the cut on the inside of his thigh. Her actions required her to move his shaft. He’s well built.

For the first time in a while, she was hit with the stirrings of desire for a man. She shoved them away and got back to it.

Tending all his injuries took her well over an hour and she was exhausted. Her sign had been doing its part to heal her injuries but she needed rest. Long, undisturbed rest.

That won’t happen, but I’ll take what I can get.

Her guest didn’t appear as if he’d be going anywhere, yet she still pushed the other sofa to the one he lay on, so if he did roll, he wouldn’t fall on his injuries. Then she walked back toward her bedroom.

That was when she heard it. Weapons slid seamlessly into her palms, easily replacing the cloth she’d held. Her sign shifted, its agitation blatant and ready for battle, as was she. Without the slightest hesitation, she ran for the door and back outside into the cold darkness.

 

* * * *

 

This time when she returned, she understood she could no long ignore her need for rest. Even so, she checked on her ‘guest’ before she made her way to the bathroom. Her leather stuck to her open wounds but she ignored the pull of flesh as she removed her attire piece by piece.

Turning the water on as hot as she could manage, she stepped beneath the spray. She stared at her feet, mind blank as blood and water pooled around her toes before vanishing down the drain. When the water ran clear without more than a slight hint of pink, she cleaned off the sweat.

Soreness remaining, she shut off the water and stepped from the tub. Dracen stretched for the large gray towel hanging on the peg and wrapped it around her before heading for her bedroom.

One light illuminated the room with a soft glow. She padded over to the bed and reached for the black shirt folded on the edge. Before drawing it on, she paused. The curtains were closed and her sign had settled.

She released the tuck and allowed the towel to slip to the heavy rug protecting her feet from the cold floor. Pulling her hair forward over her left shoulder, she dropped her chin to her chest, climbed onto the bed and closed her eyes. Tired, I’m so tired.

 

* * * *

 

Needles pierced his body, excruciating, agonizing, and it took all his training to remain silent. Lucas Kyle struggled to even his breathing out.

Where am I? Iraq? Afghanistan? Chechnya?

He listened. No sounds of people, but a low roar of winds was out beyond the walls. His body had many blankets on it and he flexed his fingers, hoping movement would return swiftly.

He worked his limbs slowly, all the while trying to recall his situation and where he was at the current time. No one stopped him as he forced himself to a sitting position.

Fuck, I’m naked. He couldn’t pull anything from his memory banks. There was also some form of salve on the numerous wounds he sported. So someone took care of me. Putting the couch here so I don’t fall.

A fire burned behind him and he cautiously rose to his feet, avoiding the blockade by the sofas. A bit wobbly, it took a few moments to get his bearings. A bloody rag by his feet turned out to be the remnants of his own shirt.

A woman, dripping blood. Face a cold mask of emptiness. Blades in each hand, also dripping blood, were as extensions of her body with the ease she held them.

That was it. All he remembered. Couldn’t see the face of the woman. Wrapping a blanket around him, he bent to pick his tattered shirt up, using the sofa arm to steady himself. Where are the rest of my clothes?

He made his way around the furniture and found his pants and boxers drying on a chair. Still bloody. His socks were on the floor near the fire.

The cabin he stood in was sturdy, keeping the cold sleet pounding the windows at bay. He peered out of one window to see nothing but the white hitting the glass.

A glance in the fridge alerted him to the very good chance they were in America. There was still no indications of how many were staying here.

I don’t like this.

Lightheaded, he searched for some water then guzzled it, unmindful of the streams pouring out of the corners of his mouth. He drank two glassfuls then placed the glass on the countertop. He stared at his reflection in the window and saw the bruising and cuts.

I ain’t getting answers staring at my reflection. He gripped the blankets and headed for the hallway. Walking cautiously, he passed an empty bedroom.

Then a bathroom. At his right was another room. This one wasn’t empty. A figure lay sprawled out face down on the bed. He blinked. A naked woman.

He gulped as he ran his gaze over her form. It wasn’t just the toned legs and firm ass, dark as if coated by chocolate. Nor the trim waist and full hips that were designed for a man to hold as he fucked the woman in question. It was all of it, together.

Her back bore a wealth of scars. He had scars of his own, so it wasn’t surprising to see them. There was one huge difference, however, and this was why he stared. Hers were melded intricately with the detailed tattoo covering her back—a silver dragon with outstretched wings and extended claws. The creature looked to be in the midst of a steep climb. The one eye he could see was a black diamond surrounding a flicker of fire.

He swore it watched him. Scars created veins or scales. The job was so life-like, he wondered if it weren’t real and alive. Deadly. Dangerous. Ultimately beautiful.

Damn.

He couldn’t place the woman yet he swore she was the one from the snippets of visions he was getting. As he stared at her, the haze around her faded. One moment more passed and it covered her again.

Luc skimmed his gaze along the room, noting the sparseness. One bag sat in a chair. He looked back to the woman and approached the bed. The tattoo moved. He blinked, pulling up short.

I have to be seeing things.

He gave a small shake of his head and opened his eyes to a cold draft in the room. If it affected the woman, there were no outward signs of such. He debated leaving or covering her with a blanket.

Luc went until his shins connected to the edge of the bed. He had four blankets around his naked body and she had zero. The haze thickened but he chalked it up to the same craziness that had him thinking her tat had moved.

Swinging one off, he spread it out over her. Then his balance vanished. With a groan, he reached out to steady himself and a wave of warmth washed over him.

Then he blacked out.

 

* * * *

 

Heat unlike anything he’d ever experienced before woke him. Not painful but arousing. It engulfed him from head to toe, awakening feelings he didn’t realize he had any longer. His cock was rock-hard and pressed against a warm, slick heat.

He opened his eyes and found he’d gotten intertwined with the woman on the bed and that they were under the blankets together, legs tangled. Her naked body was tight to his, her breasts flattened against his chest and her arms between their bodies. Her fingertips grazed along his groin and he had to bite his lip to keep the groan inside.

One second he was in his misery alone and the next she opened her eyes to stare at him. The intensity of her gaze shocked him.

“Guess you took that whole sharing body heat thing to heart.”

Luc couldn’t pick up on any anger or embarrassment in her tone. “Sorry, I know I came in here to cover you up with a blanket and… Not sure what happened, but here we are.”

Her fingers flexed and he bit the inside of his lip, this time hard enough to draw blood, to keep the moan contained. “Here we are.” She blinked. “How are your wounds?”

I’m injured? “Who are you?” He countered her question with one of his own.

“I was asking you that earlier when you passed out.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Passed out?”

“Yep. Sank into a heap.”

“Who helped you carry me?”

“Why don’t you tell me who you are? I mean, your cock is just about to be inside me, I think I deserve to at least know your name.”

He had to take a few deep breaths to keep from bucking his hips and driving his cock into the warmth he would bet existed there. “Luc.”

“And what are you doing out here, Luc?”

“I don’t know where here is.” He rested his hand on her waist, flexing his fingers along her smooth skin. He hadn’t any intention of moving away from her, especially since she didn’t act like it was an issue for her.

“Here is on the outskirts of the Boundary Waters, near Grand Marais.”

He let her words sink in but couldn’t pull up a single reason as to why he would be in Minnesota. Not one. Instead of dwelling on that, he stroked over her again, admiring the ridges of her scars. He also let it go that she didn’t tell him who she was.

“I saw your tattoo earlier,” he said in a low tone.

“Tattoo?” Was it his imagination, or did he pick up on surprise in her question?

“Yes, the dragon. Not sure how you could forget you had that one. How long did it take to get put on?”

“You saw my tattoo?”

“Sweetheart, you were lying naked on the bed here when I came in. Kind of hard to miss it. The thing is impressive, covering your back as it does. The position and intricate detail… I’m impressed.”

“Interesting.”

He stared at her, losing himself in her straightforward gaze. Okay, not what I would have expected for her to say when I mentioned her tattoo. “What happens now?”

“I was going to get up and put on some clothing. You should probably rest some more—you were outside in the cold for a while.”

While he didn’t want to release her, he didn’t attempt to restrain her as she rolled from his arms and the bed. The odd thing was that the warmth went with her. He stared unabashedly as she walked away naked, offering him another glance at her back, where the tattoo still existed but had changed. Now both wings were outstretched and the claws were reaching toward him, as if the dragon were swooping down on some unsuspecting prey.

Once I figure out where I am and how the fuck I got to wherever this happens to be, I really need to get some help. Because I’m losing it.

He closed his eyes and allowed the remaining warmth lingering in the blankets to assist him in finding his sleep zone. His erection raged and he struggled not to reach down and circle his hand around it to stroke himself to relief.

The next time he woke, the winds somehow managed to sound even louder. Whatever pounded against the window no longer was solely sleet. He cracked open his eyes to find the same single light illuminating the room. He was alone there and he sat up in an attempt to locate the woman he’d woken nude with before.

The interior of the cabin was silent. He couldn’t even make out the sound of a fire in the fireplace. It was as if he’d gone into a vacuum and could hear nothing surrounding him.