Waking the Dragon (21 page)

The ring around his pupil, his namesake, glowed white-hot within shimmering sapphire. Gripping my hips tighter, he pressed a hard ridge against my abdomen. On purpose. My eyes widened. My breath quickened. He was big. Very big. Increasing my anxiety…and arousal.

He leaned down. Slow. So slow. A whisper-light brush of lips on mine. Soft, tender, while his body remained a steel wall. Gentle Kol made my heart do erratic things. Desire coiled low and deep, sparking heat within. I wanted to whimper, moan, plead for more, but I didn’t make a sound. His teeth clamped my lower lip, just barely, letting it slide out. Piercing eyes held me captive, making a promise as one word left that dangerous mouth.

“Soon.”

I started, snapping out of my desire-hazed stupor and stepped back. He released me and gestured toward the open archway leading into my sister’s home. “After you.”

As we passed under the awning and through the columns into the Nightwing home, I noticed two black-clad guards stationed in the shadows. Interesting that Kol would let someone see him in an intimate way with me. Surely, he knew the guards were there, watching. Wait a minute.
Of course,
he knew they were watching. That’s why he held me entirely too close and too long. Another marking of his territory. I frowned up at him as we stepped down into the living room.

He arched a dark brow. “Do you have something you’d like to say to me?”

“There are lots of things I’d like to say to you.”

“And do to me.” That arrogant, crooked smile lifted half of his beautiful mouth, the cleft in his chin denting further, making him even more devastating.

Ass.

“You think you know so much.” I scoffed and tightened the messy bun on my head, some hair having whipped out in the wind. “As if you have any idea what I really want.”

He shifted behind me, leaning close to my ear. “I definitely know what you want.” He nipped the shell of my ear. “And I’m going to explain it to you in full detail so there’s no misunderstanding.”

“Hah!”

“And show you.”

“Pfft.”

“Soon, Kittycat.”

There was that promise again.

“Hmph.” I shrugged away from him, so he wouldn’t feel me shiver. When had I become a mindless nitwit, incapable of forming words? My only response to him had been a series of snarky sounds as he’d detailed how he would educate me on my
wants
.

Another shiver climbed up my spine, tingling the hairs on my skin. I shook it off, moving away from him. I needed distance in order for my brain to function properly.

Lucius stood at the fireplace, gazing into the flames. I heard the door to the outer terrace close behind us. I settled on a black velvet chaise. One of the Nightwing security guards tapped the alarm pad on the outer terrace wall, disappearing from view as the steel doors came down.

“Moira.” Lucius held an amber-colored drink loosely in one hand, defying the tension in his shoulders. His typically tranquil gaze narrowed to a sharp edge. “I apologize for pulling you away from work, but we needed to ensure your safety. There’s been another murder.”

“I know.” I took a deep breath. “The symbol on her skin. I believe it’s the symbol for
The Herald
.”

“You know about the symbol already? That hasn’t been broadcast to the public.”

Kol crossed his arms, leaning his shoulder against the corner of the mantelpiece. “Her friend, Macon, is an intern at the Gladium Precinct. He’s been secretly getting video footage to her.”

“What the hell, Moonring!” How’d he know that? I really wanted to slap that smug look off his face. “Stalker,” I muttered.

“Good,” interjected Lucius, still in deep thought. “I’m glad you’re up to speed. The symbol is clearly a warning or a threat. We believe it is most probably directed at you, but there could be other reasons for displaying such a public message on the victim.”

Jessen rushed into the room. “Did she—” Seeing me, she ran to the sofa and pulled me up, hugging the crap out of me. “Thank God you’re all right.”

I winced, shifting my shoulder away, biting my lip.

“Relax, Jess. She’s safe,” assured Lucius.

Still, my sister swept a critical eye over every inch of me in a millisecond, assessing any possible damage. I was glad she couldn’t see my stitched shoulder.

“I’m fine.” We both took a seat, and she snuggled into me like we used to when we were little on the living room sofa. “Lucius, you were saying there may be other reasons for making it public.”

His eyes were on his wife, an endearing yet protective look.

“We believe there is another motive to these murders, other than an archaic ritual.”

“Such as?” I asked.

Lucius swallowed his drink in one gulp and set the empty glass on the mantel. Kol’s smirk had long-since faded to Iceman exterior. His lips tightened into a line as Lucius tucked his hands in his pockets and continued. “
The Herald
isn’t simply a college paper. It’s the most prominent publication on campus and is well-known even off-campus.”

I glowed, knowing readership had dramatically increased since I’d become senior editor when only a sophomore. Lucius ruffled his large wings, then refolded them, an unconscious gesture. “Whenever there’s a university event,
The Herald
is there, expressing the views of the student population, sharing the voice of the future leaders of the world.
The Herald
logo is synonymous with college ideals—liberty, equality, hope for the future.”

“So”—I cleared my throat, sitting straighter—“you believe the Butchers are denouncing these ideals, trying to destroy that hope.”

“I believe they plan to crush Gladium with fear, erasing the brighter future idealized by a free, desegregated nation, such as ours. I don’t believe the murders are part of a cult ritual at all. I believe the murders are being used to make Gladium fall on a much grander scale.” Lucius’s voice vibrated with building fury. His eyes flared.

Jessen popped up, then walked to him and tucked herself in the curve of his body, arms winding around his waist. He cooled, stroking a hand down her hair and back, the other cupping her belly, his anger sliding off like a shell.

“I’m definitely missing something,” I said.

Kol shoved off the mantel. Pacing to the plate-glass window, he faced the room, the garish light at his back casting him in shadow. “Immediately following the public release of the recent murder, the Gladium Parliament voted to close the doors of the Vaengar Stadium to all humans.”

“What!” I jumped to my feet. “That’s
illegal
. That’s segregation. They can’t do that.”

Kol eyed me with a curious expression. “They can do whatever is necessary for the safety of the people of Gladium. Every victim was abducted from the stadium. Every
human
victim.”

“But that’s going backward.” I put my hands on my hips, staring out the window into the city. “They can’t do that,” I bit out between clenched teeth, knowing I sounded redundant, but I was unable to articulate my swirling emotions of frustration and anger.

We’d come so far since the days of segregation and ignorance. Even my own father conceded that Gladium had turned the corner from a nation of two opposing populations to one of mutual peace. He hadn’t said it in those words, but we all knew it was true. Morgons and humans were intermarrying and having children. Business professionals of both races had become mutually prosperous through alliances and merging companies. Politicians were no longer split Morgon against human, but falling into a division of ideals and morals rather than one based on race. It wasn’t a perfect society, but Gladium was the first to prove that the two species could not only live amongst one another, but could cohabitate in peaceful union, could thrive and flourish.

I spun away from the city view. “This could reverse everything we’ve strived for.”

Kol crossed his arms casually. “That’s what they’re counting on. A segregated people riding on fear are easier to conquer.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The so-called Devlin Butchers appear to be much more organized, more militarized than we first thought. They aren’t mindless murderers. They’re making calculated moves, which have the appearance of mindless butchery.”

The white-haired cook, Ruth, clip-clopped to the living room entrance, wiping her hands on an apron. “Pardon me, Mrs. Nightwing, but how many will we have for dinner this evening?”

Jessen asked, “Will you be joining us, Kol?”

His eyes remained on me as he gave a curt nod. “Yes.”

“Add two more, please Ruth. What was tonight’s menu again?”

“Tarragon Steak,” she said before returning to the kitchen.

I hoped Ruth didn’t overcook the meat again, knowing how Morgons liked their meat rare. Kraven’s admission ran through my head.
I suppose it is the beast in us all. We like our meat bloody.

Like lightning, a vision crashed into my mind. A broken body, a slaughtered lamb, naked and gutted, gaping slashes on every pulse-point in her body.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, jerking my comm from my coat pocket. “They’re drinking them dry.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Jessen, pausing in the kitchen entrance. She returned to my side as I flipped through the photo gallery on my comm. Lucius and Kol came closer and hovered over my shoulder. Jessen joined them as I finally found the shots of Maxine Mendale I’d saved. I zoomed into the marks on her neck and inner arms, holding my comm so they could see.

“I couldn’t figure out what these slash marks were. They’re on every part of her body where a strong vein would be accessible.”

“Accessible,” muttered Jessen. “Do you mean they’re actually—”

I nodded. “For bleeding her. I don’t have close-up shots of the other victims, but I could see these same cuts on them when I double-checked the photos Macon had given me.”

Kol’s expression sharpened into hard lines. “The victims were nearly bloodless. All but the one found this morning.”

Lucius rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But she wasn’t taken for the same purpose as the others. She was taken to send a message. They very well could’ve been using the others to harvest blood.”

“Maxine had a bite mark,” I said. “I thought it was just some random act of savagery, but now it appears the murderer really was drinking her.” I glanced from one man to the other, receiving no response. “Do Morgons really drink blood?” I persisted. A wave of nausea made me shudder.

“No,” Lucius assured me. “Sane Morgons do not. However…” He glanced at Kol who stood stoic as ever.

“However what?” I demanded.

“There are some Morgons who have a break in their psyche. They go rabid, reverting back to their primitive dragon, submitting to bloodlust. This was what we thought had happened with Maxine Mendale. But it never quite fit.”

“How so?” asked Jessen.

Kol pursed his brow. “The murders did seem to follow a ritualistic pattern.”

“Like a cult ritual,” I inserted.

Breaking from the circle, Kol stepped back, his wings fluttering in agitation. “If it were a cult, everybody would’ve been treated the same. But there have been differences, particularly the last.”

“Right,” added Lucius, pacing back toward the fire before turning to face us. “This last victim proved we’re dealing with methodical thinkers, more like violent radicals with a cause rather than cult fanatics. Cults have no need to display their victims in so brutal, so public a fashion. Every murder has served a purpose.”

“If not for some cult ritual, then why would they do this?”

The mechanic hum of the steel outer doors opening snapped all our attention to the terrace archway. Julian stood by the alarm pad, peering at the statue-like guards as they came into view with the rising doors.

“Julian!” Jessen marched after him. “What did I tell you? Do
not
open the door without permission.”

“Aww, Mom. I just wanna see the Nightwing guards. They’re awesome.”

Jessen swung him up onto her hip and punched the key pad.

Kol stepped forward. “Hold, Jessen. Wait till I’m gone.”

I frowned. Jess crossed the living room to the hall, whispering to her son. “You need a nap.”

“No, I don’t,” he murmured, stifling a yawn.

Kol had already untucked his wings in half-open stance, readying for flight.

“Where are you going?” I walked with him to the terrace archway. “I thought you were staying for dinner.”

“I need to visit Petrus at once. See if he has any theories on the blood drinking. I have an idea, but I need to speak with him first.”

“I don’t suppose he has a comm device so you can speak with him that way.”

An arched brow. “Do you recall seeing a comm device among his feather quills and parchment paper?”

I sighed. “When will you be back?”

Kol stilled, rotating his body toward me, a beatific expression in place. “Why? Will you miss me?”

I pressed my lips together. He leaned closer and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. A gentle gesture, a lover’s touch. I couldn’t breathe. “Don’t go anywhere until I return and keep the doors locked.”

He strolled onto the terrace and shot straight up into the air.

I punched the alarm pad, the steel door sliding closed. Ensconcing myself in the chair next to Lucius by the hearth, I sighed, frustrated and excited about the new discovery, as well as the man who’d just left after ordering me to stay indoors.

Once again, Lucius was lost in thought, staring into the flames. For a while, we sat in silence, both of us steeped in our own reveries.

Kol’s gentle kiss when we’d arrived and tender caress when he left stirred something in me. I was uneasy, disturbed by his soft affection. And at the same time, all I wanted was for him to return right this minute and do it again.

“Lucius?”

“Hmm.”

“How did you know my sister was your mate?”

A swift sidelong glance. “Soulfire.” He steepled his forefingers at his chin. “Most Morgons don’t speak of it, so I didn’t recognize it at first.” He grew quiet again.

“How so?” I encouraged.

He tilted a smile at me. “Ever the curious one, aren’t you?”

I shrugged. “It’s in my nature.”