Chapter Ten

“Kasia?” Meira called out to her sister even as they hurried down the narrow corridor after Rune.

She followed him into a room not unlike one she’d seen in Ben Nevis, though more rudimentary, with wires snaking out the door. It sported a solid wall of screens and monitors with a long console filled with various computers underneath. Older ones, and an odd mix—a Genesis midtower, a Compaq Elite, even a Medion all-in-one. Top of the line, ten years ago. Hopefully they’d at least upgraded their operating systems and software. The room was also crowded—Rune, Tyrek, and one more. A man with Mediterranean coloring and striking blue eyes. A blue dragon shifter. Rune had mentioned his men.

She paused and glanced to Samael. He stepped up beside her, legs planted wide, arms crossed, expression as dark as his eyes. “We weren’t expecting an audience.”

She had to bite back a laugh as the other man exchanged a look with Rune then backed up slightly. Not giving ground per se, more like a token show of acknowledgment that Samael would rip his arms off and beat him with them if he so much as glanced at her wrong.

The urge to laugh disappeared under the realization that cozy warmth wrapped around her because of it. All that talk of mates. Not to mention that kiss.

Hell’s bells.

“This is Aidan Paytah,” Rune said. “He was part of the Huracán team of enforcers until he found his mate, Sera. You’ll meet her in a bit.”

Meira glanced at Samael, but he was still in intimidation mode and not emoting.

“Why are they with you?” she asked.

“Because before they mated, Sera had three different brands interlaced on her neck.”

That pulled Samael out of his glower. “Holy shit.”

“Indeed.” The glance Rune flicked him seemed significant, though Meira wasn’t sure how.

“I can see that that’s unusual,” Samael said slowly, not taking his gaze from the blue dragon shifter. “But why would it require him to go rogue and join you here?”

Meira dropped her own gaze to the man’s hand. Sure enough, on the back of his hand between his forefinger and thumb, where Ladon’s mark should have shown, was only a patch of blank skin.

“Because.” Aidan spoke up for the first time, calm and resolute. “One of the marks on her neck belonged to Pytheios, and the Alliance was not going to allow me to be part of the process. They wanted to find the High King his mate, be the ones to save his life.”

“Fuck.” Samael spat the word, but he also eased up. She had no idea what tipped her off to that fact—the set of his shoulders, perhaps, because his emotions remained steady—but she knew he’d accepted that answer.

“Why is he here, though?” Meira leaned closer to Samael to ask.

“Good question,” he said. “Why are you here?”

“I have a family to hide. But any king who stands against Pytheios is all right with me.” Aidan held up his hand. “With or without the mark.”

Meira glanced up at Samael, who gave a small shrug. She had no doubts they were of the same opinion. Regardless of what sent Aidan rogue, which sounded legitimate at first glance, here stood a man of honor.

Besides. He could do nothing to Kasia and Brand through a screen.

“You may stay,” Samael said.

Aidan’s lips tipped sideways. “Thanks.”

Rune hit a button, and the wall came to life.

“Kasia?” Meira called.

“I—ear—ira—” Kasia’s voice cut up. Meanwhile the screen stayed black.

Rune grimaced, leaning over to fiddle. “This happens sometimes. We’re patched into the closest city, but weather and the distance and mountains cause issues.”

Meira tapped him on the shoulder. “May I?” she offered, hesitantly. Not wanting to step on his toes.

Raised eyebrows greeted the question. Then he waved at the console. “Be my guest.”

He hardly finished talking before she pulled one of the chairs up in front of a keyboard, typing away, immediately looser because she could finally tune out all the people and messy emotions in the room and just focus. Fingers flying across the keys, she brought up a series of diagnostics and then started adjusting.

“Can you hear me?” Kasia’s voice sounded more clearly, but the screen remained black.

“Just a sec,” Meira said, distractedly.

“O-kay.” Her sister drew the word out. Not that Meira really noticed.

Then the screen lit up with a clear image. Kasia’s lovely face, red hair a halo, larger than life, peered out at her from four middle screens paired together. Her sister was in a similarly set-up room in the Gold Clan’s stronghold of Store Skagastølstind.

Meira stood and scooted back. “Hey, Kas. How did you find me?”

Even virtually, Kasia must’ve picked up on the tension that crept into every man in the room as she cast her gaze around. She locked in on Rune. “I expected to speak privately with my sister…”

“My name is Rune Abaddon. This is my installation.” He held up his hand, which showed no mark between thumb and forefinger. “But I owe no king my allegiance. Meira remains here as our guest, but her presence is a danger to us, especially after what we’ve been through. You speak with her with us in the room, or not at all.”

“The fuck you say.” Suddenly Brand stepped into the picture behind his mate, gold eyes blazing, face set in a scowl that made Meira step back only to bump into Samael, who steadied her with a hand at her back that then curled around her waist. She sucked in as awareness filled her with the weight of longing. But she didn’t step away.

Kasia ignored her glowering mate, holding up a hand. “We appreciate your help.”

Rune glanced between the king and queen, then gave a brusque nod.

Kasia’s gaze moved to Meira. “I had a vision. That’s how I found you. Are you all right?”

“We were attacked at our old home in Kansas. Brock Hagan.”

“I saw. He’s a bigger threat than we realized. Something to do with Ararat next.”

“A vision?” Rune stepped forward. “Skylar never mentioned having visions.”

Kasia paused then smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Rune… So, you’re the one, huh? You and your men have even more of my thanks and trust for keeping Skylar safe. I’m sure Skylar would say the same. She’s spoken of you often.”

Rune lifted a single eyebrow. “Hiding her from my kind didn’t last long.”

Kasia laughed. “It never does when Skylar is involved,” Meira murmured.

That earned them a minuscule smile from the black dragon shifter.

“Did you see anything else?” Meira asked. No way had Kasia sought her out simply to check on her health. The risk would be too great.

“I didn’t see more than that, but your message got through to the Black Clan. They’ve sent their own message in return through me. Gorgon’s beta is dead. Do not approach Ararat until they have determined a new king.”

At her back, Samael stiffened, the creak of leather telling her he’d fisted his hands at his sides.

“Fuck that,” Rune snarled. “The next king after the beta should be the Viceroy of War.”

Of course, that’s how dragons would set it up. Meira inwardly rolled her eyes. Bloodthirsty lot. “I’m surprised there’s not a fight to the death involved,” she murmured.

Rune swung around to pin her with a serious stare. “Often there is, despite the system in place.”

Samael had yet to speak, a hole of silence behind her, the chink in his walls letting through only a pulsing sort of tension.

“How did Adish die?” Rune directed the question to Kasia and Brand.

“We were not informed,” Brand said.

Why wasn’t Samael speaking up? The pressure emanating from him was filling the room, suffocating her. Meira turned to him slowly to find a man who reminded her of Carrick and the other gargoyles, made of stone. If she touched him, part of him might chip away, so she didn’t dare reach out. “Sam.” She said his name quietly.

He seemed to have to drag his gaze down to hers, staring without seeing for a second before his midnight eyes focused.

Meira didn’t have to say anything. Perhaps he could see the questions in her eyes, and the message that they were in this together.

Sam reached out, almost convulsively, like he wanted to wrap one of her curls around his finger but dropped his hand before he touched her. “Someone is systematically taking out the leadership of the Black Clan.”

“You can’t know that,” Rune said behind her.

Sam didn’t take his gaze from her. “Adish is far from old, already mated, and healthy as a god. Disease did not take him. He is well respected, well-liked, and an impressive fighter, despite remaining out of recent skirmishes, in order to lead at Ararat. That’s why he was named beta.”

And left behind at the mountain while Gorgon was trying to secure himself a mate and allies. A leader the clan respected. Only traitors would kill such a man.

“Hrag is Viceroy of War,” Rune said. “He must be behind this.”

Samael shook his head, dropping his gaze to watch Meira closely, and she couldn’t look away. “Hrag stepped down,” he said. “He has not found his mate, and the aging process has taken hold of his mind.”

“Who was named Viceroy of War in his place?” Rune asked, impatience giving the words a crack.

Sam lifted a hand and wrapped that curl around his finger, almost as though tethering her to him for what he was about to say. The skin on his neck shifted to scales of obsidian briefly before rippling back to human, the way she’d once seen an octopus change colors in an instant to blend with its environment as it flowed across the ocean floor.

Then he lifted his head to gaze over her shoulder at the other black dragon shifter in the room. “I was.”

…

“Bullshit,” Rune snapped.

Heavy silence fell over the room, like the doldrums on a ship he’d once sailed on in the Mediterranean, when nothing moved. Not a whisper of wind, and the water didn’t even dare lap at the sides of the ship. As still as the world ever got.

That was the room now.

Sam shifted his gaze to Meira, searching her expression. Was she angry that he didn’t warn her? Not that she really ever got angry. But did she believe him?

“I will only ask you this once.”

At his side, Meira visibly jumped at the venom in Rune’s voice, and Sam tightened his grip on her hair compulsively. At a small sound from her, he eased up.

Rune’s words were edged with a poison that made no sense. Why was he angry?

“I am not the traitor in this room or to my clan,” Sam pointed out.

Meira winced, though the way she was positioned in front of him, only he could see it. She gave him a small shake of her head, and he got the message. Probably not a good idea to antagonize the people giving them shelter.

The silence from Rune wasn’t still anymore. Instead it pressed into him like a physical presence, strain expanding against his skin, and Sam used his hold on her locks to tug Meira closer to him, even as he drew his shoulders back.

“I believe you,” Rune finally said.

Meira took a breath, but Sam didn’t move. “I don’t give a fuck what you believe.”

Rune barked a sound that might have been a laugh. “You haven’t changed, Veles.”

“I could say the same about you, Abaddon.”

The tension in the other man snapped, turning to full-bodied anger.

“You come here,” Rune snarled softly. “With her, bringing danger down on me and my people.”

Sam felt the way Meira had to stop herself from flinching, no doubt blaming herself.

“Don’t you dare try to blame her,” Sam said, a dangerous edge to his soft voice. “Because of our kind, she’s been on the run all her life. We owe her. All dragon shifters owe her and her sisters our allegiance.”

Samael didn’t wait for Rune to respond, dropping his gaze to the woman he’d tied to himself, the silk of her hair wrapped around his finger.

As though she were his…

Meira had yet to say a word, though her eyes had done plenty of talking for her. Clear, pure white. As though she trusted everything he was. No one, other than maybe Gorgon, had done that for him before.

A more suspicious woman would’ve wondered if he’d taken out the king in order to claim her. She was smart enough to put things together the same way Rune had and ask herself if he wasn’t behind these deaths and the overthrow of the leadership of the Black Clan. The question had to be asked. The way Pytheios got to people, and given Sam’s history… No lowborn commoner in the history of the clan had every been named to the king’s Curia Regis, his private council. Especially not to the position that put that man in direct line to the throne.

“He informed me the day you…the day of the ceremony,” he told her.

“I have faith in you over every other dragon within the clan.” The memory of Gorgon’s words echoed through his mind now.

He’d earned his king’s confidence and friendship with years of loyalty and service and had always tried to be a true friend when the king had turned to him as a sort of sounding board. An occurrence that had happened more and more over time.

“You trust me?” he asked Meira softly.

She nodded without hesitation, and something unfurled in his gut—something warm and soft and, hell, mushy. All because she trusted him. Then, the next moment, he wished he hadn’t, because she smiled, dimples flashing, and every molecule of air remaining in him vanished with a whoosh.

“You thought I’d doubt you?” A silly question, if the small shake she gave her head was any indication.

“I’m not used to anyone except Gorgon trusting me like that.” A confession that cost him, given who was listening. Showing any weakness in front of other dragons was an idiotic thing to do, but Meira was…Meira.

“Your men,” she said, a hint of a question in the word.

He cocked his head, not keeping up with whatever turn her mind had made.

She waved a hand. “They follow you into battle. That must take trust.”

True. But would he find that solidarity still there when he saw them next? He’d need to find out eventually but couldn’t say he was certain. Too many smoking guns pointed his direction.

And that would only worsen if he claimed his mate. Which he wouldn’t do. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Fuck.

The only way to put any of this right was to find Gorgon and…what? Beg the king for permission to mate the biggest prize their kind could imagine? Treasure to be taken and claimed and hoarded. A political lightning bolt that could both electrify their kind or burn a hole through them.

No answers presented themselves to him yet, beyond knowing that she was his. A fact that caused a shit ton of problems and didn’t solve a damn thing.

“We won’t figure this out today.” Rune’s voice pulled Samael out of the spell Meira had cast over him, and he lifted his head to find his old captain watching him with narrowed eyes.

“I agree.” He unwound the lock of hair from his finger, forcing himself to step back from the woman who was supposed to be his queen and not anything else. “Meira must gather her strength to send me to Ararat alone.”

“What?” Meira squeaked the word, then shook her head hard, her curls tumbling about her face. “No. No way. Not unless I go, too.”

He put a hand to her face, and she stilled under his touch. Did she even realize she did that? “I’m not one of your strays who needs protecting. That’s my job. If we lose you, we lose everything.”

She glared at him, eyes swirling a darker blue, swallowing the white with her inner turmoil. “If I lose you…”

She cut herself off, eyes going wide, then shook her head and took a step back, away from his touch, her expression turning suddenly uncharacteristically cool as she guarded her heart, hiding herself from him, and, seven hells, he wanted to chase that look away.

She crossed her arms, the defensive move a jab to the gut, but he forced himself to remain still and calm.

“I can’t do this without a black dragon shifter at my side to guide me and stand up for me.” She canted her head slightly to the left, as though acknowledging Rune’s presence in the room, but didn’t take her gaze from Samael. “You are Gorgon’s most trusted adviser. It has to be you. I… I…” She dropped her arms, pulling herself up to her full height. “I order you not to go without me.”

She did just not say that. Albeit with a waver in her voice, but still. Samael crossed his arms, mimicking his unclaimed mate’s stubborn scowl.

Tyrek stepped beside them, in view but not between them. The white dragon clearly had enough sense not to try that. “Why don’t we pause, take the time Meira needs to rest anyway, and discuss options?”

“Get some rest,” Kasia reminded them all that she and Brand remained distant witnesses to the room. “Gather your strength. Let’s regroup in your morning time. What time zone are you?”

“U.S. Pacific,” Aidan answered when no one else did.

Kasia reached for a button on her side of the console. “Eight a.m. Pacific, then. We’ll call you.”

The screen went black. Meira didn’t even turn to say good-bye to her sister, holding her ground and her glare at him.

“You need to eat,” Samael said. All he could think of to say.

She rolled her eyes, then turned to Rune, her expression shifting to a polite but distant smile. “According to my captain of the guard, I must be fed now.”

Ouch. She really was upset, relegating him to staff, essentially. And that was not at all what he’d said, or even implied.

Despite the two-ton weight that had settled over his shoulders the second he’d learned of his beta’s death, knowing exactly what that meant for him, Sam had to bite back a smile. Meira might be unaware, but she was changing. Growing bolder. As if she’d given herself permission to speak her mind and take a stand. Still sweet, but that core of steel always had to have been there. Though he suspected she didn’t realize that herself.

“Would that be possible?” she asked, her expression softening for Rune. Because Meira would hate taking her frustrations out on an innocent bystander.

Rune’s eyebrows went up, and he glanced at Sam, who shrugged.

“Of course,” Rune said after a moment. “It’s close to dinnertime, and I think Sera’s cooking tonight.”

“She is,” Aidan confirmed.

“At least it’ll be edible, then.” Tyrek offered her an arm and walked her out of the room. Meira went without another glance in Sam’s direction.

Sensing her need for space, even if he wanted to crowd her, make her admit they were meant to be, Samael waited for the others to file out before following.

Except Rune stood outside the door, clearly lying in wait for him. “We need to talk.”

No shit.

Watching the distance grow between him and Meira as she walked down the hallway, away into the darkness untouched by torchlight beyond, felt almost like a vision, like the fates warning him of things to come.

That, in the end, he would lose her.

Every trace of amusement vanished, leaving him vibrating with dread and no outlet for it, like a live electric wire flapping in the fucking wind.

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, then you are well and truly fucked.”

Samael jerked his head around to find Rune watching Meira’s progress down the hall. “I’m well aware of my fuckedness.”

Rune blew out a sharp breath and turned to face him. “And Gorgon? After all he did for you?”

Samael closed down at the question. But Rune, maybe more like him than he cared to admit, didn’t give up. “He made you Viceroy of War because he trusted you.”

“I know that,” Samael growled. “I also know his last request was that I protect her. I’m doing everything I can.”

Rune eyed him in silence for a long moment. “Yeah. I guess you are.”

A hell of an admission from his hard-ass captain.

“But you need to ask yourself… Is your priority her or the clan?”

“Is that what you asked yourself when you went rogue?”

Samael waited for Rune to lash out at that, aware he was being an asshole. Except the other man merely shrugged one shoulder. “I told Gorgon what I was planning before I did it.”

Shock stopped Samael’s feet midstride. “You…what?”

For once, the dour expression lifted. “Didn’t expect that, did you?”

No.

“I couldn’t tell my team. I wasn’t going to drag them down the same path. But Gorgon understood. In fact, he’s the one who reminded me about this place.”

Samael shoved his hands in his pockets as he mulled over that piece of information. “The king sanctioned you going rogue.”

“He couldn’t openly do that. But…yeah. Gorgon was a good man.”

“Is a good man. And I’m going to find him.” But what the hell would that mean for him and Meira, because he couldn’t turn his back on his mate, either?

Rune gave a sharp nod. “I believe you.” He glanced down the hall the others had disappeared down. “But if you can’t see the conflict of interest, I sure can.”

Not see it? It’s all he could think about, seeing no path to get them all where they were supposed to be. Where his bones told him he needed to be.

“Are you sure she’s your mate?” Rune asked.

“Have you mated yet?” Samael asked, rather than answer the question directed at him.

A muscle ticked at the side of his old mentor’s jaw. That was new.

“No,” said the man who’d been labeled a mate stealer but apparently was something else entirely.

Interesting. Samael didn’t push. They hadn’t exactly been close before, the relationship more that of asshole, know-it-all older brother. Rune had once told him that to make him the best fighter he could be, the scariest motherfucker on the planet, meant soft feelings like friendship were a waste of time.

Granted, his training technique had worked. Samael had risen quickly through the ranks, taking over as captain when Rune left for the colonies.

“This will be hard to explain, since you haven’t experienced it.” How did you tell a cold bastard like Rune Abaddon that, even now, with her walking farther away from him, his lungs were constricting, making it harder to breathe? “It’s primal. A knowing that settles deep.”

“Primal,” Rune sneered over the word. “Like we’re only as good or bad as our animal? Uncontrollable?”

“You control your dragon. So do I. But do you remember the first time you shifted, that edge to it that you might slip? That something bigger, more powerful than you might take control and never give it back?”

Rune snorted. “If finding a mate is like that, then no thanks.”

Again, the edge to Rune’s voice told Samael more was going on with the other black dragon. Something deeper than what he was letting Sam see on the surface.

“I took one look at her, and my center shifted. So did what was important to me.” Humans must have felt similarly when they discovered that the sun was the center of the solar system, not the earth.

Rune clicked his tongue and shook his shoulders as though twitching a cape off. “For now, I’ll just be grateful that the fates didn’t land me with a phoenix who is meant for my king, who may or may not be dead.”

A laugh punched from Samael. “Fuck you.”

Rune grinned, or his version of it, one side of his mouth drawing up. “You’re not my type.” Without saying more, together they started down the hallway. “Does she know?” Rune asked.

Samael stuffed his hands in his pockets. “She doesn’t want to believe in fated mates.”

“Maybe you need to make her believe,” Rune murmured.

Samael had to keep from slamming a fist into the man’s face. He’d never force Meira to do anything. “You definitely don’t understand mates. Feel free to stay out of it.”

Rune didn’t so much as blink, then gave an easy shrug. “Good luck to you, then.”