Waking the Dragon (19 page)

“Dating.” He laughed with a sarcastic lilt. “Humans.” He shook his head.

A burning flush crawled up my neck. I hated it when he mocked me.

“I’m not interested in dating, either.” He moved close. I backed up, my butt hitting the wall. He caged me in, arms on the stone balustrade on either side of me, the upward draft sheering across the mountain lifting my dark hair. “There’s no such concept in the Morgon world.”

“Morgons don’t date? That’s ridiculous. Of course, you do.”

“We fuck. And we mate. There is nothing in between. No trying a guy on for size.” His voice had dipped low, vibrating against my skin like a rough caress.

I tilted my head at a sassy angle. “Kind of beastly, don’t you think?”

His mouth tipped up in a feral grin. “We are beasts, Moira. We scratch that urge when needed. We heartbind when the beast tells us so. No. You and I won’t be
dating
.” He said the word as if it were poison, leaning closer and inhaling a deep breath. “We’re tied nonetheless. Whether or not it fits the pretty picture of your idealized future makes no difference. You—”

A strong gust of wind blew my hair across my face. With a violent turn, Kol snapped out his wings, guarding me against a sudden intruder I could no longer see. Shielded by Kol’s massive body, I heard the crunch of boots on stone and the soft whoosh of large wings folding. The jovial rumble of laughter let me know this was no attacker.

“Seriously, Kol. Is this how you greet all your guests?”

Coiled tight, Kol’s body loosened just a fraction, his wings sliding closed. He’d drawn a long dagger, now sheathing it back into its holster in his boot. I didn’t even know he carried weapons. I stepped from behind him.

The sight of the Morgon man standing opposite him nearly knocked me on my ass.

Double. I was seeing double. Absolutely identical to Kol, but for the scar and the hair. The stranger bore the same sharp angles as his brother, but his smile, something I suspected he wore frequently, softened his features. His sapphire eyes danced with life, whereas Kol’s burned with darker emotions. There was a difference in attire, too. The newcomer wore business casual pants and a starched, pale-blue shirt. His clean-cut hair was styled so that a heavy lock slid forward in a sexy sweep. So different from the wild, dark waves of Kol and his combat-ready clothes.

“Well, well, dear brother.” His brow arched, and a smile widened in an expression that had surely seduced many a woman. “Who have we here?”

Kol heaved out a heavy, heavy sigh. “Kieren, this is Moira Cade.”

“A great pleasure to meet you. I’d kiss your hand, but I’m afraid my brother would rip out my throat.”

Kol’s response was a low growl. I started to inch forward, but his rigid stance warned me to keep still.

“I had no idea Kol had a twin brother.”

“Keeping me a secret, I suppose.” Kieren winked. “Didn’t want to take the chance of me stealing you away.”

I would’ve stepped forward to shake his hand and clarify his wrong assumptions about me and his brother, but Kol cut off anything else that might’ve been said or done.

“Why have you come? You could’ve sent me a message via comm.”

The merriment leeched from Kieren’s sparkling eyes. “No welcome mat laid out for your brother?”

Kol said nothing, his body a line of tension held in an iron grip.

“No matter.” He crossed his arms. A defensive pose. “I have information for you. Perhaps Ms. Cade ought to go inside while we talk.”

I stepped farther in front of Kol. “If this is about the Devlin Butcher case, then I’m staying.”

Kieren’s expression widened in surprise.

“Go ahead,” said Kol. “She’s part of the investigation.”

Taking a moment more to apparently process the idea that Kol was working with a human woman on the case, he cleared his throat. “The man you described going under the alias ‘Borgus’ is undoubtedly Barron Coalglass. His clan lives in Cloven and owns half the city. Barron is the youngest son of Titus Coalglass.”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait. Tell me why that’s bad.” My blanket slipped, a bare leg peaking out. Kieren’s eyes followed the length of my leg, his mouth lifting in a half-smile I’d seen more than once before on his brother. I felt Kol’s posture tighten. He shifted forward, just enough to put his body between me and his brother.

Kieren answered my question. “Titus Coalglass not only has money, shitloads of it, he also has political power. He’s in the Cloven Senate.”

I knew the Morgon provinces were governed by a Senate, each member holding equal power except for one consul, the leader of the Senate. His power rotated every ten years, ensuring no man or clan held power too long. A decade might appear a long term to humans, but it was a short span for Morgons. The Morgon Senate was not too dissimilar from the Gladium Parliament, except that our house had both human and Morgon representatives.

“So,” I intervened, “even if we catch Barron, his father will get him off.”

“Not necessarily.” Kieren tucked his hands in his pants pockets. “But we’ll have to bring him in alive and take him before the Tribunal. No
blade justice
for him or it could start a war among the clans.”

One thing that hadn’t been eliminated from human records was the history of
blade justice
, the unwritten law of execution-at-will upon a proven Morgon murderer. For centuries, the Morgon Guard had wielded supreme rule as the law enforcers in their society. Those offenders who had committed the most heinous crimes often fell beneath the sword before ever reaching a courtroom. I’d often read about how there was a tradition among aristocratic families that one son always served the Morgon Guard for a time—a trademark of duty, patriotism, and being born of the highest stock. This was because not everyone could “join” the Guard. One had to go through rigorous training and pass physical tests before being selected and branded a member. And by branding, I meant literally marked. I wanted to see Kol’s sharp-lettered seal of brotherhood, the “MG” tattoo on the back of his neck, but he kept his hair too long.

I eyed him now, mulling over this idea that Barron was impervious to
blade justice
. “So, in any other case, Barron would be executed on the spot for his crimes. But because he’s a politician’s son, he gets special treatment? That’s how it works in
your
society?”

Kol gave me an arrogant smirk, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s no different than in the human society.”

Touché. But of course, I wouldn’t admit it.

“You’re also forgetting one vital detail,” added Kieren.

I broke away from the staring contest I was losing. “What?”

“You haven’t yet proven Barron’s guilt. He is certainly the man you’ve seen hanging at this stadium club of yours, but we’ve yet to see blood on his hands.”

The fact that I became dangerously close to getting that evidence last night, perhaps spilling my own blood on his hands, haunted me still. One, because we would’ve caught the Devlin Butchers and kept any other woman from a horrific fate. Two, because I’d wanted to bail the second I sensed some evil entity lurking in the shadows.

“We’ll get our proof,” promised Kol.

“So Gaius is definitely hiding in their ranks.”

Kol gave a tight nod. “I’m sure of it.”

Kieren stalked toward the parapet’s edge. I noticed a slight limp in his gait as he favored his right leg. What struck me more was that his hair was short enough to reveal his nape. There was no MG tattoo marking him as one of the Guard like Lorian.

“Not sure if you’re aware,” said Kieren, “but Valla passed her Boards. She has only the Assassin’s Trial left.”

“I’m well aware.” Kol’s voice was deep and steady. “I speak to Valla daily.”

Kieren turned a sharp look on his twin. “Of course you do.” With a regal bow and a forced smile to me, he leaped over the edge, swooping down, then arcing back up into the clouds. I gasped, watching his steady ascent, always marveling at the grace of Morgon flight.

Trying to suppress any note of jealousy, I asked, “Who’s Valla?”

Kol was behind me, his chest brushing my shoulders. “Our sister.”

His warm breath swept across my neck. At once, I remembered his lips on my skin, shivering at the thought.

“What’s an Assassin’s Trial?”

“The final test before she earns a place in the Guard’s Assassin Order. A division only for Morgon women.”

Turning around with my back against the balustrade, I gazed up at him. “There are women in the Morgon Guard?”

A slow nod, eyes drifting to my lips. Subconsciously, or maybe consciously, I wet them. Sapphire flared.

“Morgons need national assassins?”

“Every nation needs assassins. Morgons simply choose not to hide what they are behind a name such as the Gladium Special Forces.”

He got me there. “Why only Morgon women?”

“They’re swift and silent. And like women of both races, they’re good at deception.”

Switching subjects. “Your brother has a limp. How was he injured?”

“I broke his leg.” He clenched his jaw, forcing out the words. “Right after he cut open my face.”

What?
I’d always thought he’d been dealt that injury by an enemy, not his own blood. His twin.

Lightning-fast, he gripped my face in his large hands, power vibrating like an electric current. He could crush my skull, kill me in a heartbeat if he wanted, and the way he looked at me now, I feared he would.

“Don’t you fucking pity me.” Harsh, grating words. “Don’t!”

His grip tightened, pressing at my cheekbones. A whispered cry escaped me. His lips were on mine—scorching, devouring, punishing me for whatever wrong I’d done. His tongue licked in, tasting me with fierce passion. He crushed my body against one of the stone pillars linking the stone balustrade to the mountain. Ice-cold at my back, a wall of Morgon heat at my front, my mind hazed, drifting from coherent thought to my needy body. One of his hands slid from my face to my throat, encircling it entirely as his assault with lips and tongue and teeth continued. A black shield of wings covered us, blocking out the cold, gray world, focusing my attention on him and him alone. Heat bloomed between my legs. I moaned. He growled, deep in his chest.

This was crazy. This was unbridled lust. Some innate desire to want the bad boy. That was it, nothing more. Right? And I wasn’t the kind of girl to give in to such shallow passions, such superficial feelings. I wasn’t an animal. I didn’t need
to scratch that itch
whenever it arose. I was a strong, smart, reasoning woman.

I pushed him with great force, managing only to break our lips apart. “Stop, Kol.” Panting like I’d sprinted a mile, the hoarse desire in my voice betrayed me. “This can’t happen. I told you. I’m not interested in being with anyone right now.”

He made a sound in his throat, something between a growl and a laugh. Removing his hand from my face, he kept the one around my neck, stroking his thumb down to my collarbone, causing a sensual tingle to zip down my body. “You can think whatever you want with that logical brain and defiant will of yours. It still won’t change the truth.”

I ignored his hand, the feel of his stroking thumb.

Tried to. Wasn’t working. “What truth?”

He removed his hand, leaving me cold, leering down as if he wanted to bite and swallow me whole. “That you belong to me. You just don’t know it yet.”

You belong to me?

His words circled in my head as I stared blankly at the comm screen, scrolling down a junior reporter’s feature story on the struggles of the freshman student. I hadn’t read a word. The story was meaningless next to other more pressing matters.

Even with the Devlin Butchers still at large, my wayward mind kept wandering to thoughts of strong hands and smoldering lips forcing me into submission. Lovely, sensual submission.

What was wrong with me!
I didn’t behave like this, like some swoony, smitten schoolgirl.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around Kol’s conflicting behavior, though. One minute he was coarse and rude, insinuating humans were beneath his notice. The next, he had his tongue down my throat, making my body sing with each passionate stroke. I squirmed uncomfortably in my office chair, remembering the heat in his eyes when he had laid that last searing kiss on me.

My office door swung open. Kris carried two thermal cups and a white pastry bag under one arm. “Coffee and chocolate delivery.”

“God, Kris.” I took a steaming cup and lifted the lid, blowing before taking a long sip of mocha heaven. “I love you, you know that.”

“I know. And I love your door decoration out there.”

I frowned. “Oh. Yeah. Lucius insisted I have a Nightwing escort wherever I go. It’s pretty annoying.”

This was, of course, right after Kol had demanded I stay with Lucius and Jessen because Barron Coalglass probably knew I set him up for an ambush and might retaliate against me. Morgons could hold a serious grudge. At first, I thought to protest being caged at my sister’s place, but Lucius ensured I could come and go as I pleased as long as I had a security guard in tow. In the end, I knew they were right, much to my dismay. I bit my rebellious tongue, packed my things under heavy guard, and installed myself in the Nightwing’s third floor suite, the one third from the top.

“Give him to me. I wouldn’t mind him as an escort.” Kris winked as she opened the pastry bag and pulled out two giant chocolate-chip, chocolate muffins, shoving one in front of me.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.”

“He’s not much of a bodyguard if he just let me waltz right in here without even inquiring my name.”

“He knows who you are. He’s been given a photo list of all my friends and co-workers. And no offense, Kris, but you don’t look that threatening.”

“None taken. So what’s his name?”

“Wulfgang Icewing.”

Kris grinned, set a muffin on a napkin, and marched to the door. Propping it open with her hip, she said to the Morgon out of my eyesight, “Excuse me. Wulfgang? Would you like a muffin?”

Thick silence. I could imagine his keen eyes roving her body. Whether Kris realized it or not, she had a body that magnetized men’s eyes to every full curve. A barrel-deep voice replied, “No. Thank you.”