Bound to the Dragon Read online

  Not since the days of his time with the manticores had Dante reached for his dragon, only to be unable to find it. It was impossible.

  “Don’t go trying to shift now.” The cruel voice was back. “You won’t be able to, anyway – yeah, we know all about you dragons. Between the dragonsbane and the fact we’ve got your personal hoard item, you won’t be able to get to your dragon. You may as well just be an ordinary human now.”

  Dante ignored him, continuing to search for his dragon. He had promised both it and himself that they would never be separated again – it was like being separated from half of his own soul.

  We can’t be parted!

  But it seemed whoever this man was, he was telling the truth – his dragon was nowhere to be found. Perhaps the dragonsbane had driven it so deep into his mind that it couldn’t come out, and it felt weak from the loss of contact with his amulet. A dragon drew its powers from its hoard of treasures, after all, and the point of carrying a personal piece at all times was so that a dragon would never be caught powerless.

  Dragons tended to be secretive about this, however, for obvious reasons – so how did this man know about it? And where had he gotten dragonsbane from? Who would go to such lengths?

  “Who are you?” Dante forced the words from his lips.

  “Heh. You don’t remember? I should be insulted I suppose, but you’re not exactly with it right now. You know me – I’m Harlan Garrick.”

  Garrick.

  Between the search for his dragon and the way he was unable to focus on anything, Dante hadn’t recognized his voice at all.

  He looked up now to see the man grinning cruelly, Dante’s amulet dangling from his clenched fist.

  So his retreat was a trick after all.

  Dante knew it had all been too easy. A man as persistent as Garrick had seemed to be didn’t just back off after one beating. But to know about his amulet and to have gotten dragonsbane from somewhere – that meant he must have been working with other shifters. Other shifters who knew enough about dragons to tell him how to make sure Dante couldn’t shift, and that he would be too weak to fight.

  I’ll fight him whether I can shift or not, Dante thought. As long as I have breath left in my body, I’ll protect Mercy and kill anyone who tries to harm her.

  That was the only thing that mattered right now: getting free and finding Mercy, making sure she was safe...

  “You better stop struggling – it’s useless. The boss told us we had to keep you here, and that’s what we’re going to do. You get too lively and we’ll just give you some more dragonsbane. So you may as well just shut up and sit tight until we get word from the boss about what we’re supposed to do with you.”

  The boss.

  Obviously, Garrick was working for someone. The way Mercy had talked about him had always made it seem like he was in charge, but Dante didn’t believe any normal criminal would have these kinds of resources and knowledge. He must have been getting them from somewhere else. It was part of the reason the manticores had dominated so much organized crime for so long now – shifters tended to keep themselves secret, and there simply weren’t that many humans who understood them or their weaknesses.

  Dante forced himself to concentrate.

  The manticores. Garrick must be working with them...

  It didn’t make much sense, Dante thought – manticores despised humans almost as much as they despised dragons. But who else could it be?

  On the edge of his mind, however, Dante realized that there was another possibility. Someone who had obviously tried to drive him and Mercy apart, who had given Dante a bad feeling from the very first moment they’d met, even if he hadn’t quite been able to figure out why: Roy Wilmore.

  Mercy trusts Roy, though, Dante thought. She’s known him for years – since she was a child. Could he truly be...?

  Dante shook his head. True, Roy had given him a strange feeling, like a shadow creeping across his mind. But one thing was certain: he wasn’t a manticore. Dante would have been able to sense that immediately, just like he would have been able to sense another dragon, or any other kind of shifter.

  So what is he, then?

  Was it possible that Roy was... something else? Something he’d never seen before?

  Dante pushed the thought from his head. Even if that was true, he couldn’t worry about it now. First, he had to get out of here and find Mercy. Everything else could come later.

  “Forget about it.” Garrick’s voice sounded amused. “Even if you managed to get free, you’re not going anywhere.”

  Shut the fuck up, Dante thought, his lips curling into a snarl. If Harlan Garrick thought he could keep him from his mate, he’d quickly find out just how wrong he was.

  He gritted his teeth, searching for his strength.

  I will break out of here, and then they will all pay.

  The ropes around his wrists and arms burned as he twisted against them, trying to break them. The dragonsbane had sapped his strength, and even that small amount of effort made sweat break out over his skin. His dragon was still nowhere to be found.

  I have to find Mercy...

  The thought of Mercy seemed to send a wave of new strength through him. He tried to focus on the image of her face, her dark, luminous eyes, her round, soft cheeks and pointed chin, the way her black hair fell in curls over her shoulders. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. His mate, his everything. He couldn’t fail her when she needed him.

  Dante let out a low growl. He wouldn’t allow this. He had struggled for so long to find his place, to feel that he had moved on from the man he had once been. He wouldn’t let this happen – not now. Not after everything he’d been through.

  My mate. I won’t let them hurt you.

  All at once, Dante felt a small flicker inside his heart. Mercy’s name and the image of her face were all he needed. The flicker became a glow – still weak, but definitely there inside him, soft and golden, and growing stronger with every passing second.

  Dante reached for it, striving to touch it.

  Mercy. Mercy!

  He called out to her, not knowing if she could hear him, but knowing he had to try.

  Dante? I – how – where –

  Mercy’s voice in his head was like a wave crashing over him. She sounded confused, but to Dante, merely hearing her voice gave him hope.

  I don’t have time to explain, he said. Are you safe? Have you been hurt?

  I – I’m not hurt, Mercy said. She was hesitant, and Dante wasn’t surprised – seeing as she didn’t know he was a dragon, she of course wouldn’t have any idea of dragons’ telepathic powers or connection to their mates. But somehow, she was accepting this – accepting that they could communicate this way. But Dante, it’s Roy. He’s here. He’s the one who’s been behind all this.

  Fury surged through Dante. If only he had trusted his instincts sooner – if only he had known that the shadow he had sensed meant that Roy was someone they shouldn’t trust. And now, he had Mercy. She had said she wasn’t hurt, but that didn’t matter – he would tear Roy limb from limb for threatening her.

  I’ll be there soon, Mercy, Dante promised her, sending the message through the golden glowing connection they shared. I won’t let him hurt you. Don’t do anything – just wait for me.

  Mercy was silent a moment. Then, she sent I believe you, Dante. I knew you couldn’t be dead. But please, please – keep yourself safe. If something happened to you, I don’t know what I’d – I couldn’t –

  Don’t be concerned for me, just worry about yourself, Dante told her. He wouldn’t tell her where he was or what had happened. Not until later, after she was safe. He refused to make her frightened for him.

  I’ll try, she sent to him. But Dante, there’s something you should know –

  Just like that, her voice was cut off. Fear rose in Dante’s chest. What had happened to make Mercy stop talking?

  He wanted to roar, wanted to spread his wings, wanted to
breathe fire and rage down on Roy and anyone he was working with.

  His head felt clearer than it had just moments ago. Either the effects of the dragonsbane were wearing off, or –

  Or the mated bond has the power to restore my strength, Dante realized. The mated bond was powerful magic, after all. Even dragons who had spent their whole lives studying it still didn’t understand it completely.

  “Shit – what the fuck –”

  Dante shook himself, blinking, his vision now clear. Garrick’s voice, far from his smug tone of earlier, now sounded panicked.

  Snarling, Dante turned toward him – and realized that he could no longer feel the ropes cutting into the skin of his arms and wrists. Looking down, he saw them lying on the floor next to him. In his rage, he had torn right through them without even thinking about it.

  His vision was still fuzzy around the edges, but unlike before, now Dante felt that he could actually concentrate. He wasn’t at anything like his full strength and he could still feel the way the dragonsbane was making his muscles sluggish and his mind slow, but he forced himself to ignore it, bunching his fists.

  Garrick was staring at him, eyes wide. “How did you – ah, fuck it, it doesn’t matter. You want to do this the hard way? Fine, we’ll do this the hard way.”

  Dante snarled, lunging forward as Garrick reached for something on top of a nearby drum barrel – after a moment, he realized it was a knife, the same one he’d stabbed him with earlier. He could see the iridescent shine of the blade, even in the low light of the storage shed he could now recognize this place as.

  “Yeah, we can,” Dante growled at him. “I don’t give a fuck. But know this, Garrick – you can either let me walk out of here to go find Mercy on your own terms, or you can do it in whatever state you’re left in after you try to stop me. It’s up to you. But either way, I’m leaving here in the next three minutes. Got it?”

  There was a definite flicker of fear in Garrick’s eyes as he raised the knife, wielding it expertly. Dante had seen enough knife fights in his time to know when someone knew what they were doing, and it seemed that Garrick did.

  He was able to shrug off the effects of the dragonsbane due to the strength Mercy had sent him through the mated bond. But he wasn’t sure he could handle another dose, not to mention the wound Garrick would probably give him administering it.

  I have to get this done quickly, Dante thought grimly. And he needed to find Mercy.

  Garrick didn’t give him much time to think – he lunged forward, knife flashing, his face set in an expression of grim determination. Dante dodged his strike, but he was surprised at the swiftness of Garrick’s movements. But then, hadn’t he also been surprised at how tough Garrick’s men had seemed when he’d taken them down outside Mercy’s restaurant? They’d taken far more work to beat than any humans should have, and he’d remembered thinking it was odd at the time.

  Dante knew of at least one substance that granted humans more strength and agility than they would possess naturally: dragon’s blood.

  Drinking the blood of a dragon would grant humans at least some of a dragon’s powers: healing, telepathy, strength, and swiftness. Dragon hunters had once drunk it as part of a ritual so they’d stand a better chance against whatever dragons they went out to fight, though that practice was falling out of favor now. These days, dragon’s blood was highly sought after by criminals looking for an edge over their opponents, especially since there were so many manticores involved in organized crime, and without it most humans didn’t stand a chance.

  It was what Rowena and her manticores had been planning on doing with his cousin Darklis and her mate Liev, before he had helped them to escape – keeping them captive and selling their blood. Dante could only guess why they hadn’t done the same thing to him, though he supposed he had become valuable to them as muscle. Who knew, maybe he would have met the same fate, when his usefulness had come to an end.

  Watching Garrick’s movements now, Dante became more and more sure he’d taken dragon’s blood before this fight. He was too fast, too tough. He shrugged off every blow Dante landed on him – blows that would have put a normal human out of commission. No matter what he did, Garrick kept coming, and it was sometimes all Dante could do to avoid his knife.

  I have to finish this. I have to find Mercy.

  Garrick’s arm shot by him, the knife missing his cheek by a bare inch. Dante ducked out of the way, keeping his movements small and economic. He was aware he’d have to have enough energy left to take on Roy... whatever he was.

  He could feel Garrick’s frustration rising the more he simply dodged his attacks. It was something Dante could use: an angry opponent was an opponent who made mistakes. Garrick clearly was unhappy at how the fight was going – and maybe he was scared of what Roy would do to him if he found out he’d botched this.

  Dante was desperate for this to end, but he was driven by love for Mercy, by the mated bond they shared – it was a source of strength, not a source of fear. As long as he kept it at the forefront of his mind, no one could take him down.

  I’m coming for you, Mercy, Dante sent to her, hoping she could hear him.

  Letting out a grunt of annoyance as Dante once again avoided his knife, Garrick lunged forward – and made the mistake Dante had been waiting for him to make.

  He overextended himself, his arm outstretched, his body leaning too far forward so he was off balance. Dante gave him no chance to right himself: he lifted his forearms so that one was behind Garrick’s arm and one was in front, and then moved them in opposite directions, quickly breaking the bone. It was a move that no one but a dragon would have had the strength to pull off, and it was brutally effective: Garrick’s howl of pain reached the rafters, the knife clattering to the ground. Dante was about to kick it across the room, when, thinking twice, he instead picked it up, taking care to only touch the handle, rather than the iridescent blade.

  “You – you bastard –” Garrick gasped out, staggering backwards. “You really think you can –”

  “Where’s Roy?” Dante demanded, without giving him a chance to finish. “Where’s he taken Mercy?”

  Garrick let out a low laugh. “Fuck you. You think I’d tell you? Roy’d kill me.”

  “I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me,” Dante growled.

  Garrick sneered. “I’ll take that chance.”

  He was probably right, Dante thought, even as fury pulsed through his veins. Garrick was no longer an immediate threat to him. To kill him now would be to return to a way of life Dante had sworn he never would. But Garrick didn’t know that, and Mercy’s safety was more important right now.

  He looked down at Garrick. “Last chance,” he said, lifting the knife. “Tell me, and I’ll leave you here alive. And I promise you – I will beat Roy. He can’t kill you if he’s dead.”

  Just for a moment, Dante saw uncertainty flicker in Garrick’s eyes as he looked him up and down. Maybe he could sense that he meant what he said about killing Roy, the dragon’s blood giving him supernatural intuition. But then, he simply shook his head.

  “No one can beat Roy. He’s... you don’t know what he is.”

  Despite himself, Dante felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

  “Fine,” he snarled. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  He brandished the knife briefly – and then brought the heel of his hand down quickly on the back of Garrick’s head, rendering him unconscious.

  He couldn’t waste any more time here, demanding answers Garrick clearly wasn’t going to give him. He had to get to Mercy now.

  Trust the bond.

  The words suddenly drifted into his mind without his conscious will.

  Trust your bond. Trust your blood. Trust your dragon.

  Dante closed his eyes. His dragon hadn’t been there when he’d reached for it before – but then he recalled that Garrick had mockingly dangled his amulet in front of him when he’d woken up. He must still have it on him.

  Tur
ning over his limp body, Dante quickly searched Garrick’s pockets, at last finding the piece of his hoard stuffed into Garrick’s shirt pocket. The first touch of his fingers against the gold sent a shock of energy straight though him, jolting through his chest like electricity.

  Dante quickly slipped it on over his head, feeling his blood pulse, his strength renewing itself. His dragon surged up within him, roaring in fury, flames pouring from its mouth.

  Our mate! Where is our mate?!

  Dante let the dragon’s rage fill him – along with its unstoppable desire to protect their mate at all costs.

  We will find her, and we will punish those who have threatened her!

  All at once, Dante saw it: the glimmering golden light of the bond, stretching out from his chest. All he needed to do was follow it.

  It will show us the way. It will show us to our mate.

  Dante snarled, allowing the dragon to come forward. He felt himself shifting, claws replacing his fingers, his body growing, his skin becoming scales. Wings sprouted from his back, and a fire – a real fire – burned in his belly.

  Lifting his head, Dante roared his fury out into the world. His dragon’s senses could feel a cool draft from above him, and, looking up, he spotted a wide gap in the roof. Dante didn’t hesitate – spreading his wings, he launched himself upward into the air, crashing through the gap and taking off part of the roof with him.

  He roared again as he soared through the night sky, not caring who heard him. He hoped that Roy – whatever he was – could sense him coming.

  And I hope that Mercy can sense it too, Dante thought, as he sped on, following the guidance of the bond.

  I’m coming, Mercy. I promise you. I’m coming.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mercy

  Mercy sat on one of the plush couches of Roy’s suite, looking down at her hands, willing them not to shake.

  I heard him. I know it wasn’t my imagination, unless I’m cracking up even worse than I thought.

  She’d had a whole conversation with Dante – surely she hadn’t just imagined that? She didn’t know how it’d happened, but she was certain it had. It hadn’t been just her mind playing tricks on her. It hadn’t been just another symptom of the PTSD she suffered from.