Dragon Awakened (26 page)

Ferro held up his hand. “Wait, Kavanaugh.”

She'd been out the door, but Kade stopped at his commanding officer's order. Ferro crooked his elegant fingers, indicating that Kade close the door once they were back inside. Several officers, including Mia, hovered, ready to tackle her.

Mia Kavanaugh. Ah, the two green-eyed jerks were related. Even though Kade looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, he
felt
old in a way she couldn't pinpoint. Mia was probably younger than Violet.

She focused on Ferro, who felt much older. He was distinguished and poised, the benefit of having lived a long life filled with privilege and pride. Behind him, a large, gilt-framed portrait showed a Dragon incinerating a village. The plate mounted on the bottom of the frame read
DRAKOS
. Dragon god of peace and war, and one of the Tryah. This man apparently idolized him. Maybe not so good.

Ferro said, “Finish what you were going to say.”

Her control had paid off. She pulled free of Kade's grip, handing Ferro the paper on which she'd outlined the timeline of deaths. “Someone is killing and Breathing Dragons, and they've chosen the Fringe clans because they know the Guard will figure it's us misbehaving. First, one of the most vengeful families was targeted. An unprovoked attack on the Peregrines guarantees backlash, so who in their right mind would do it? Then the Peregrines killed one of the Wolfrums, their biggest and closest foe.”

Ferro leaned back in his chair, perusing the list. “Sounds like the typical barbarian activity we've seen before.”

“But the initial attacks weren't provoked. You hear things in the Fringe, at the least, rumors. Three people were killed, so the victims' families felt they had reason to take revenge. We don't kill without reason. Someone wants war. I'm asking you to find out why.”

“What would one hope to gain by inciting the clans?” Ferro rubbed the gold pendant he wore, a symbol that looked like curled whiskers. The same one in the Drakos painting.

“That's what I'm hoping you can find out. Being the authority, and outsiders, maybe you could ferret out more information than I can.”

“Fringers aren't exactly cooperative where the Guard is concerned. Which, frankly, is why I'm surprised that you've come to us. Does your family know you're here?”

She almost snorted. Thankfully she held it in. “No. We don't have a cordial relationship with the Guard.”

Kade did snort. “If only you would stop breaking the law…”

She flashed him a flame-eyed look, even if he was right. The Fringers, her clan included, had a long history of flouting the law. When they claimed the land at the edge of the Field over three hundred years ago, they decided they also lived on the edge of the law.

She continued. “If the Guard intercedes and conducts an investigation, the clans would back off.” She hoped.

Ferro glanced at her list, then at her. “I know it's upsetting to lose one of your family members, but these feuds have been going on for…well, since Lucifera. I remember the warnings about wandering into the pirate clan territories.”

He
remembered
? “You were there? On Lucifera?”

He gave a curt nod. “Even then the Castanegas and other clans had a reputation. The island's
Deus Vis
drew ships to it like a magnet, trapping the inhabitants the way we are trapped here. Some were pirate ships, crewed by barbarians. Those pirates were already enemies, and their hatred for each other erupted into battles. They were banished to the far side of the island, and carved out territories adjacent to one another. Interestingly, they did the same thing here.”

She craved more information about the island and the legends. None of her living clan members had been on the island. “How old were you when the island sank?”

“Eight.”

The oldest Crescents were only ten. “So you remember the war?” She nodded to the painting.

“I remember fighting, but the Tryah were scapegoats.” He gave her a tight smile. “At least that's my opinion. But you're not here to discuss Lucifera.”

No, she wasn't. “This isn't about the feuds.” She pressed her hand to her solar plexus. “I feel it here. Something isn't right.”

“I think it's probably a combination of the temperament down there, plus the unusually strong fluctuations we've been seeing from the impending solar storm.”

That again. “We've felt the effects before, and they've never incited anyone to murder.”

“I would suggest you weather the storm and stay out of trouble.”

He was dismissing her.

Violet's gaze went to a map of Miami on the wall behind him. Went, in fact, to a red pin at the western edge of her clan's territory where Arlo had died. She took several steps forward, Kade shadowing her. She pulled up the memory of the map she'd made at home. Six red tacks that matched where the murders had happened. This map had some yellow ones, too.

“You know about the murders. What are the yellow pins for?”

Ferro moved to block her view of the map with his large, muscular body. “We are investigating, Ms. Castanega. As you can see.” Those words grated out. “But I cannot discuss the details of the case.”

This didn't make sense. He was dismissing her, yet he knew about the murders. “Thank you for your concern,” he said. “I'm sure it took a lot of courage for you to come here.” He looked beyond her. “Escort her out.”

Okay,
that
was a dismissal. Kade put his hand on her back to guide her out the door. The prickles that zinged through her at his touch were as odd as what she'd felt when their eyes had met. She involuntarily jerked away from him. He grabbed her arms and shoved her against the wall, pinning her wrists and flattening his body against hers.

“No fast moves,” he said, his voice a growl in her ear, his breath hot on the back of her neck. “Or I'll remove you from the premises bodily.”

Bodily. Which meant, his hands on her body. The idea crackled across her skin like the heat flush she got when she had to go into the alligator pens. Except Kade smelled a hell of a lot better.

“Going for another cheap thrill?” she rasped, her cheek mashed against the wall.

“What?”

She lowered her voice to a near whisper and turned to look at him. “You grabbed my boob on our last tussle.”

“That was an accident, and you know it. Come on, you think I need to cop a feel on a suspect to get off?”

No, she supposed not when he looked like that. Arrogant son of a bitch.

In her peripheral vision, she sensed other officers at the ready, but Kade's body heat enveloped her, overwhelmed her senses—and had her Dragon panting. “I was moving away from you. Your hand on my back, specifically. I don't like being touched. If I promise to be a good girl, will you let me go?” Contriteness saturated her voice.

The fog in his eyes swirled provocatively. “
Can
you be a good girl? Is that even possible?”

“Try me. After all, you have plenty of backup.”

“I don't need backup.”

What were they talking about? Oh, Heathe, Dragon goddess of sensuality, were they…flirting? No. Not possible. Why did her body tingle then? Why was her Dragon shivering with a lust she hadn't felt in forever?

Enemy! Stop that. I know it's been a while, and then only with boring ole Mundanes, but really.

Kade released her, and she rubbed her shoulders where he'd held them. “I can find my own way out.”

“Sorry, policy.” His fingers settled on her mid-back again as he guided her toward the door. “I have to escort you.”

She heard someone whisper, “Wouldn't want her to go bat-shit crazy in here.”

Her mouth tightened in response, the only one she would show.

Another man murmured, “Kade said she's as nuts as the rest of the Fringers. I wouldn't mind her going nuts on me.”

Several men chuckled, the thick sound of innuendo charging their laughter.

Kade lifted his hands, not looking the least bit contrite. “You did go crazy. Jumped me, tore a chunk of my hair out.”

“You were beating my brother to a pulp.”

“He deserved it. I came to arrest him. He should have gone peacefully. Instead he Catalyzed and went all scales and fangs on me.”

She swallowed back the angry things she wanted to say as the memory of that terrible day returned. She eyed the fine line that lanced Kade's right eyebrow and across his temple. “Nice scar.”

He paused at the door that led out to the reception area, drawing his finger across it. “Yes, it is. Scars are a badge of honor in the Guard. Arlo did me a favor.” He arched that eyebrow. “And the ladies like it. Gives me a dangerous look.”

“How'd that shiner work for you? Did that make you look mad, bad, and dangerous, too?”

A black guy who reminded her of Wesley Snipes hovered nearby, amusement on his face. “Kavanaugh, you didn't tell us this little girl gave you that shiner.” He eyed her up and down, the kind of survey that made her feel marginalized. His taunting gaze remained in place as it shifted to Kade. “You must be getting soft.”

Now it was Kade's mouth that tightened into a line. This was not friendly camaraderie, especially since the black guy was jabbing Kade in front of her.

Why the hell she had the insane urge to defend him, to say that he'd fought…well, like a tiger, she had no idea. No, take satisfaction at humbling him in front of his colleagues. And umbrage at the Wesley guy calling her “little.” Not at five foot seven.

Get me out of here.
She turned the door handle.

It wouldn't move. Damn. She wanted to get out of there. Now.

Kade leaned close, pressing a series of buttons and pushing the door open for her. “Allow me.”

She gave him a look that, while it may not kill, hopefully would singe him. Except, no…he gave her a bemused half-smile. She stalked out. Behind her, she heard the muffled laughter of the people who had no doubt heard every word of their exchange.

Dear Reader,

DRAGON AWAKENED and the world of the Hidden started very simply, as most story ideas do. I saw this sexy guy with an elaborate dragon tattoo down his back. But much to my surprise, the “tattoo” changed his very cellular structure, turning him into a full-fledged Dragon. I usually get a character in some situation that begs me to open the writer's “What if?” box. And this man/Dragon was the most intriguing character yet. I had a
lot
of questions, as you can imagine.
Who are you? Why are you? And will you play with me?
This is the really fun part of writing for me: exploring all the possibilities. I got tantalizing bits and pieces. I knew he was commanding, controlling, and a warrior. And his name was Cyntag, Cyn for short.

Then the heroine made an appearance, and she in no way seemed to fit with him. She was, in the early version, a suffer-no-fools server in a rough bar. And very human. I knew her name was Ruby. (I love when their names come easily like that. Normally I have to troll through lists and phone books to find just the right one.) The television show
American Restoration
inspired a new profession for Ruby, who was desperately holding on to the resto yard she inherited from her mother. I knew Ruby was raised by her uncle after being orphaned, and he'd created a book about a fairy-tale world just for her.

But I was still stumped by how these completely different people fit together. Until I got the scene where Ruby finds her uncle pinned to the wall by a supernatural weapon, and the name he utters on his dying breath: Cyntag.

Ah, that's how they're connected. [Hands rubbing together in anticipation.] Then the scene where she confronts him rolled through my mind like a movie. Hot-headed, passionate Ruby and the cool, mysterious Cyn, who reveals that he is part of a Hidden world of Dragons, magick, Elementals, and danger. And so is she. Suddenly, her uncle's bedtime stories, filled with Dragon princes and evil sorcerers, become very dangerously real. As does the chemistry that sparks between Ruby and Cyn.

I loved creating the Hidden, which exists alongside modern-day Miami. Talk about opening the “What if?” box! I found lots of goodies inside: descendants of gods and fallen angels, demons, politics, dissension, and all the delicious complications that come from having magical humans and other beings trapped within one geographical area. And a ton of questions that needed to be answered. It was quite the undertaking, but all of it a fun challenge.

We all have an imagination. Mine has always contained murder, mayhem, romance, and magic. Feel free to wander through the madness of my mind any time. A good start begins at my website, www.jaimerush.com, or that of my romantic suspense alter-ego, www.tinawainscott.com.

 

 

Dear Reader,

I often get asked which of my books or characters are my favorites. This is an impossible question to answer and I usually answer with something like, “The ones I'm with.”

See, every time I write a book, I lose myself in the world I'm creating so completely, I usually do nothing but sit at my computer—from morning until night—immersed in the characters and stories. I so love being with them and want to see what happens next, I can't tear myself away. In fact, I now have to plan my life and make sure everything that needs to get done, gets done; everyone whom I need to connect with, I connect with; because for the coming weeks, I'll check out and struggle to get the laundry done!

Back in the day, regularly, I often didn't finish books, mostly because I didn't want to say good-bye. And this is one reason why my characters cross over in different series, just so I can spend time with them.

Although I absolutely “love the ones I'm with,” I will say that only twice did I end a book and feel such longing and loss that I found it difficult to get over. This happened with
At Peace
and also, and maybe especially, with LAW MAN.

I have contemplated why my emotion after completing these books ran so deep. And the answer I've come up with is that I so thoroughly enjoyed spending time with heroes who didn't simply fall in love with their heroines. They fell in love with and built families with their heroines.

In the case of LAW MAN, Mara's young cousins, Bud and Billie, badly needed a family. They needed to be protected and loved. They needed to feel safe. They needed role models and an education. As any child does. And further, they deserved it. Loyal and loving, I felt those two kids in my soul.

So when Mitch Lawson entered their lives through Mara, and he led Mara to realizations about herself, at the same time providing all these things to Bud and Billie and building a family, I was so deep in that, stuck in the honey of creating a home and a cocoon of love for two really good (albeit fictional) kids, I didn't want to surface.

I remember standing at the sink doing dishes after putting the finishing touches on that book and being near tears, because I so desperately wanted to spend the next weeks (months, years?) writing every detail in the lives of Mitch, Mara, Bud, and Billie. Bud making the baseball team. Billie going to prom. Mitch giving Bud “the talk” and giving Billie's friends the stink-eye. Scraped knees. Broken hearts. Homework. Christmases. Thanksgivings. I wanted to be a fly on the wall for it all, seeing how Mitch and Mara took Bud's and Billie's precarious beginnings on this Earth and gave them stability and affection, taught them trust, and showed them what love means.

Even now, when I reread LAW MAN, the beginning of the epilogue makes my heart start to get heavy. Because I know it's almost done.

And I don't want it to be.

 

 

Dear Reader,

In SHADOWDANCE, heroine Mary Chase asks hero Jack Talent what it's like to fly. After all, Jack, who has the ability to shift into any creature, including a raven in
Moonglow
, has cause to know. He tells her that it is lovely.

I have to agree. When I was fifteen, I read Judith Krantz's
Till We Meet Again
. The story features a heroine named Frederique who loves to fly more than anything on Earth. Set in the 1940s, Freddy eventually gets to fly for the Women's Auxiliary Ferrying Squadron in Britain. I cannot tell you how cool I found this. The idea of women not only risking their lives for their country but being able to do so in a job usually reserved for men was inspiring.

So, of course, I had to learn how to fly. Luckily, my dad had been a navigator in the Air Force, which made him much more sympathetic to my cause. He gave me flying lessons as a sixteenth birthday present.

I still remember the first day I walked out onto that small airfield in rural Maryland. It was a few miles from Andrews Air Force Base, where massive cargo planes rode heavy in the sky while fighter jets zipped past. But my little plane was a Cessna 152, a tiny thing with an overhead wing, two seats, and one propeller to keep us aloft.

The sun was shining, the sky cornflower blue, and the air redolent with the sharp smell of aviation gas and motor oil. I was in heaven. Here I was, sixteen, barely legal to drive a car, and I was going to take a plane up in the sky.

Sitting in the close, warm cockpit with my instructor, I went through my checklist with single-minded determination and then powered my little plane up. I wasn't nervous; I was humming with anticipation.

Being in a single-engine prop is a sensory experience. The engine buzzes so loud that you need headphones to hear your instructor. The cockpit vibrates, and you feel each and every bump through the seat of your pants as you taxi right to the runway.

It only takes about sixty miles per hour to achieve liftoff, but the sensation of suddenly going weightless put my heart in my throat. I let out a giddy laugh as the ground dropped away and the sky rushed to meet me. It was one of the best experiences of my life.

And all because I read a book.

Now that I am an author, I think of the power in my hands, to transport readers to another life and perhaps inspire someone to try something new. And while Mary and Jack do not take off in a plane—they live in 1885, after all—there might be a dirigible in their future.