Dragon Heartstring (10 page)

I
punched
in Max’s number on my car comm while speeding away from the north side of the city toward the west.

“Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” said Max when he popped on-screen.

“I need you to run a tag number, and I need an address
now
.”

“Good evening to you, too.”

“Here’s the tag.” I sent him the photo I’d captured before the car had disappeared around the corner.

“Slow down. What do you need this for?”

“Max, two fuckers just drove by Shakara Icewing’s clinic and chucked a brick through her window that would’ve cracked her skull if she’d been standing in the way. I need that address.”

Max’s relaxed expression tightened. “All right. Give me a minute.”

I heard him typing on his keyboard as I drove past the human-only nightclub scene still going hard. On instinct, I ventured to the side of town where I suspected the pale-faced asshole who’d thrown that brick would live. Kraven Silverback, the Nightwing guard on duty following Shakara, had appeared by my side on the street the second I popped outside. He said he’d follow them. But I needed the address. Needed to get there faster before the rage thrumming through me set me on fire.

“Okay,” said Max. “The tag belongs to some dude with multiple priors. All violent, but nothing to send him to prison.”

“The specific address, Max.”

“Whoa, man. What are you planning to do?”

“What do you think?”

“With that look in your eyes, I’m afraid to guess.”

“Give me the address.”

“The hell I am. Meet me on the five hundred block of Glendale Strip.”

I clicked off the comm and took a left on the next street heading south toward the human-only section of low-income housing. After a few more turns, I made my way down the Strip, then slowed when I came upon the five hundred block.

This didn’t make sense. KORC was comprised of zealots and radicals, mostly pretentious college kids out at Gladium University trying to make their voices heard. Even if their message was bullshit. Rarely did their members come from the ranks of the poor. For one of its members to live here wasn’t just rare. It didn’t happen.

I pulled into a parking spot along the curb underneath a broken streetlight. Actually, there were several streetlights broken down the Strip. I couldn’t sit here long in my sleek, expensive vehicle without attracting attention. Scanning the line of parked cars, none of them were the dinged-up gray muscle car I’d seen tearing away from the clinic tonight.

I reached into the backseat, unzipped my duffle bag, and pulled out a T-shirt. After changing out of my buttonless, wet shirt—my thoughts straying briefly to the clinic and the desk and Shakara—I reached behind my seat again and found the brick. I reread the part of the message on the backside of the brick that I hadn’t shared with her.

Careful you don’t break your pretty white wings.

A fresh surge of fury rushed through me just as Max’s car wheeled past. He slowed and backed into a spot across the street, hopped out, and strode toward me. I clicked the unlock button as he reached the passenger side. He shouldered in out of the sprinkling rain and closed the door.

“Nice night for a stroll down Glendale Strip.”

I handed him the brick and continued scanning the street while he examined it. “So who is this prick?” I asked.

“The owner of the car is Gus Simmons, mid-twenties, high school dropout, multiple arrests for various degrees of assault and possession of low-grade drugs. Guilty of several petty crimes but he is
not
a member of KORC,” he finally said.

“I know. But they’re going to pin it on them anyway.”

“They?”

“There were two men in the car. The passenger threw the brick.”

“Of course,” said Max. “I probably don’t have to tell you this, but chances are that whoever
they
are, they probably have plans of something a bit more…injurious to blame on KORC down the road. Beyond this brick.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” I asked, knowing full well this asshole would most probably try to hurt Shakara, then frame KORC for the wrongdoing. The brick was step number one.

Max settled back, his wet leather jacket squeaking against the leather upholstery. “I’m surprised they attempted anything with the clinic open, knowing they might be spotted. That was sloppy.”

“The clinic wasn’t open,” I corrected.

“Right. But the lights were on. He knew someone was there and was taking an unnecessary risk of being seen if he wanted to frame KORC.”

I shifted my shoulders toward the window with my hand still on the steering wheel. “The lights weren’t on.”

I didn’t need to look to know Max was observing me.

“Interesting.” I could hear the snark in that one word.

“Keep your opinions to yourself.”

“I have no opinions.”

“That’s a lie.”

A car came up the street slowly. The headlights swung right as it turned into a side alley of an apartment building along the five hundred block.

“That’s them,” I said, watching two guys, one of them the scraggly dude who was in the passenger seat, come out of the alley and approach the apartment building.

Max and I eased out of my vehicle, waited till they disappeared inside, and then strolled toward the apartments. We had to veer around a bench, and I nearly tripped on a man’s legs sticking out from underneath. I sidestepped and glanced back, thankful to see the man pull his legs farther under the bench.

We continued up the shadowed walk, the slanting rain illumined by the one working streetlight.

“I’m assuming you have an apartment number,” I said as we approached the entrance.

“Twenty-nine.”

Dark clouds blotting out the moon and stars gave us good cover. By the time we reached the door, Kraven Silverback appeared out of the shadows.

“I followed to be sure we didn’t lose them,” he said. “If you’ve got this, I’ll report back to Shakara’s apartment building.”

“We’ve got this,” I assured him. “I’d much rather you be at Shakara’s place. Lucius has stationed more officers on duty tonight as well.”

With a swift nod, he melted back into the night. I heard the distinct flap of his great wings as he lifted off, then Max and I filed into the apartment building.

There was no elevator. Max pointed to the stairwell. We climbed to the second floor and stepped out into the hallway. It was empty. I led us down the dim corridor, only one bulb lit that blinked erratically as if it were on its last leg. We passed apartment twenty-three where a woman shouted at a man in a shrill voice. Something about the waitress where he worked. He grumbled a reply. The walls were paper-thin.

Moving on, there was little noise elsewhere. Silverware and plates clinked together from behind the apartment door of twenty-seven. Someone doing dishes perhaps.

The three of us stopped outside twenty-nine. No sound whatsoever coming from the other side. Max pulled his police-issue handgun. I motioned to go first. Max nodded. I reached for the doorknob, turned, and glanced at Max with a shake of the head. It was locked. With a huge swing of my torso, I busted open the door, the frame cracking as we rushed into the room.

“On the ground! On the ground!” shouted Max, gun aimed at the two men on the sofa snorting dust.

One of them, the driver, Gus Simmons, shot up his hands. The other, the scraggly, pale son of a bitch who’d thrown the brick darted toward the bathroom. I lunged and tackled him to the floor, then pinned him with one bony arm behind his back and my knee on his shoulder. He struggled. I clenched my fist in his nasty hair, hauled back, and slammed his face into the wood floor.

He screamed.

“Stop moving, mother fucker. I’d love to have a reason to crack your skull open and watch you bleed.”

“We weren’t doin’ nothin’,” yelled the other one, also on the floor on his stomach while Max handcuffed him.

“Really, Gus?” asked Max.

Holding his arms from behind, Max hauled the guy to his feet and shoved him into chair against the wall. Max picked up the clear bag of pink poppy dust off the table. “Looks to me like you two were celebrating something.”

“Aw, that ain’t nothin’,” said Gus. “That’s just a little weeknight fun, ya know? Not even an ounce. Not worth haulin’ us in on that.”

I wasn’t a police officer, but I knew enough from Max that he was right. The time in paperwork wasn’t worth the few nights in jail for the amount in the baggie. Plus, I was guessing these guys had a wealthy patron who would get them out fast. But the dope was leverage.

“Yeah,” said the guy beneath me. “What you want with us? You ain’t no fuckin’ cop. This is all some bullshit.”

“You want to know what this is?” I said, leaning down, my blood pumping like mad through my veins.

“Tell me, pretty boy,” he ground out, his face still planted against the floor.

“You paid a visit to the clinic on Sable Street.”

The guy’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I lifted his head and slammed it back down again.

“Mother
fucker
!” he screamed.

“How about I go get the brick in my car and knock your fucking teeth out. You think you’ll remember then?”

He tried to spit at me, but only managed to dribble on his face and the floor. “Go ahead, pretty boy. You ain’t got it in ya. Who the fuck are you guys anyway?”

I rolled him over onto the arm I had bent backwards, put my knee in his chest, and wrapped my hand around his throat.

“You want to know who I am?” I squeezed his throat a fraction tighter. “I am Demetrius Cade. I own this fucking city. And if you don’t tell me who hired you to throw that brick, I’ll bury your body so deep no one will ever know you even existed.” His eyes bulged as I cut off all airflow. “And trust me. I will get away with it, and I’ll sleep well at night knowing you’re dead and gone.”

“Demetrius.” Max said my name as a warning. He knew I meant every fucking word I’d just said. “He can’t speak if you don’t loosen your grip.”

“We don’t know his name,” shouted Gus.

I loosened my grip on the guy, his face pinkish purple from the blood rushing into his face. His wide eyes remained on me.

“Describe him,” I demanded.

“Big guy. Bald. Scary looking. Was wearin’ a long, black coat.”

I glared at Gus. “A trench coat?”

“Yeah. Guess so. A trench coat.”

I nodded at Max. I knew who it was now. Exactly who I’d suspected.

Max holstered his gun back at his belt and pulled his cuff keys out. “Stand up and turn around.”

Gus obeyed.

I lifted off the mouthy one and stood. “And so you two just agreed to obey a complete stranger?”

He unbent his arm and clutched it to his chest. I might’ve splintered something. I didn’t care.

“It was easy money. He gave us the brick and told us what to do. No questions asked.”

“Yeah,” agreed Gus, rubbing his wrist now and backing away from Max toward the couch where he sat. “Good, easy money.”

I pulled out my wallet and tossed several bills on the guy’s chest at my feet. Then I threw a few more on the table where the poppy dust was scattered.

“Take this and get out of town. Tonight. If I find out you’re still here by dawn, you’ll wish you’d left.”

“We’re gone, man,” said Gus, scooping up the bills. “No problem.”

I marched back through the broken door. Max and I made our way swiftly out of the building. Interestingly, no one even opened a door in the hall. But I suppose they were used to sounds of violence. They all remained behind closed doors and out of other people’s business, which was good for us. Gus and his partner wouldn’t talk. But I didn’t want our description or a comm video popping up anywhere else.

Once out on the street, Max twisted me around by the arm. “What the fuck, dude? You threatened to kill the man
and
you gave him your name.”

“Because I gave him my name, he’ll never speak a word about this.”

It wasn’t arrogance to point out my name held more weight than anything. If I’d been just any rich boy beating on a criminal on Glendale Strip, I might find trouble. But I was Demetrius Cade. “Trust me. Those two will be out of town in the next five minutes.”

Max took out a cigarette and lit it. “Let’s go.”

We headed up the walk and back toward our cars.

“So you know who the bald guy in the trench coat is, I’m assuming,” said Max.

“It’s Aron Grayson’s new bodyguard,” I said, clicking my car unlocked as I approached.

“And so what do you plan to do now?”

“Pay Aron a visit.”

“No, that’s exactly what you’re
not
going to do. No vigilante justice. Tonight was close enough crossing that line.”

I opened my door and stopped. Max inhaled a deep puff from his cigarette.

“Then what am I supposed to do? Just wait around till they do something worse like blow up the clinic?”

“The hearing is almost here. You just stay close to your girl,” he said and flicked his cigarette onto the walk. He stomped it out with the toe of his boot. “I doubt you’ll have a problem with that.

“No. That won’t be a problem at all.”

T
he sound
of knocking on the door echoed through the house along with another rumble of thunder. I’d finally started to drift off and thought the sound was the storm picking up speed again. Then the knocking continued. It could only be one person.

I leapt up and hurried to the door while slipping my silk robe over my short nightie. Checking through the peephole to be sure it was who my senses told me it was, I pulled open the door to find a wet Demetrius for the second time this evening. Except now he appeared less like a wild beast and more like an injured animal.

“Come in. Quickly.”

I locked the door and fetched a towel in the linen closet in the hallway. When I returned, he stood at the window watching the storm crashing violently over the city, the room dark but for the flashes of light.

“Here.” I handed him the towel. “You know, for a man of means, you never seem to be prepared for the weather.”

He chuckled as he dragged the towel over his face and hair. “No. I suppose not.”

“Where have you been tonight?”

He tossed the towel to the side and pulled his wet T-shirt over his head, then dropped it to the floor.

“I’ve given your guards the night off.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll be staying here tonight.”

The silhouette of his broad shoulders and fine torso held me breathless.

“You still didn’t tell me where you’ve been.”

He said nothing as he took in my appearance from top to bottom. I could barely see his eyes in the dark. Then the lightning flashed, and I hitched in a breath. The way the man looked at me, with desperate longing and unhidden desire, nailed me in place. Waiting. Hoping.

A violent crash of lightning and thunder vibrated the glass. I jumped and turned toward the window. He captured me there, arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

“No need to be afraid,” he whispered in my ear.

“I’m not afraid,” I said. “Just touch me, Demetrius.”

His lips found that sweet spot below my ear. His hands skated down my arms to my hands. He lifted them and flattened my palms against the glass. “Leave them there,” he commanded.

I moaned when he cupped my breast. His thumb circled my tight nub over the silk, the sensation delicious. He glided his other hand down my waist, over my hip, under my hem, across my thigh, and between my legs. He growled when he found I hadn’t worn any panties.

“Is this for me?”

“Yes,” I managed to say. “I hoped you’d come back.”

“I told you I would.” His mouth was on my skin. “I keep my promises.” Then he whispered close to my ear. “Now open your legs for me.”

I couldn’t do anything but obey, close my eyes, and ride the sweet sensation that was Demetrius and his clever fingers. And they were very clever. I gasped.

He bit my earlobe. “I want to be inside you. Right now.”

“Here?” I asked, opening my eyes. The sky was dark, but we were plainly visible to anyone in the apartment building across the way if they were looking. Especially because they were Morgon and could see well enough at night. “What if someone sees us?”

“Then let them watch.”

He pinched my nipple lightly then pulled away. His other hand was still hard at work between my legs, stroking till I was slick with need. I heard the unbuckling of his belt, the sliding of his zipper, and the shift of his pants coming off his hips. That sound alone nearly made me come.

“Keep your hands on the window,” he rasped, his mouth close to my ear again, the stubble on his jaw scraping my neck.

The back of my gown lifted. He pressed a palm up my spine, leaning me forward at an angle. He nudged me with the head of his shaft, rubbing between my wet folds before pushing slowly inside me. He groaned and sheathed himself completely with a sharp thrust.

“Oh, God.” I reached back with one hand for his thigh and found his pants still half on. I fisted the material and pulled him harder as he sucked low on my neck, definitely leaving a mark.

He wrapped his fingers around my wrist, wrenched my hand free, and placed it back on the window. “Hold on, Shakara.” He gripped my hips, the folds of silk bunched under his hands, and started to really move.

“Demetrius.”

My back bowed at the force of his pounding thrust. He spread one hand atop mine against the window, his arm brushing the arch of my wing. He hit me in the sweetest spot with every pump of his hips. That same tightening in my chest coiled and wound around my heart, prickling with a slight sting.

Then Demetrius slowed, grinding his hips in a sensual circle. “You feel so good.”

One of his hands slid back underneath the front of my gown, gliding between my legs, and stroked me with those perfect fingers. A shocking wave of pleasure pushed me too high too fast. I screamed, my whole body tensing with the sudden orgasm. He stilled and let me ride it out. When I started to collapse, he pulled out and caught me in his arms, being careful of my wings. After hiking his pants up loosely, he carried me across the living room and into my bedroom.

He lay me on my back. I spread my wings out flat as he pulled my straps down over my shoulders and tugged the nightie down off my hips and tossed it on the floor. I’d left one small lamp lit on the side table. Normally, the thought of being fully naked in front of a man would send me into a trembling mess. But since Demetrius had just put me into a trembling mess for another reason, I was surprisingly calm. And the way his hooded eyes ate up every inch of my body while he kicked off his shoes and removed his pants made me feel…

“Beautiful,” he said, voice dropping deep.

The sight of him still fully erect and his eyes filled with desire stirred me. He lay on top, his weight on one forearm, and cupped one of my breasts with his free hand. His mouth found my other. With a hiss, I arched my back, every part of me overly sensitized. His weight pinned me down, his tongue as clever as his fingers.

“Demetrius.
Please
,” I begged.

He shifted up and captured my mouth with his, spreading my thighs with his torso before thrusting inside me again.

I combed my fingers through his silky hair, intoxicated by his scent and mesmerized by the way his body rolled over and moved inside of mine. When I wrapped my ankles at the small of his back, he moaned.

“Yes,” he said, nipping at my bottom lip with his teeth. “Keep them right there.”

The sound of his labored breathing, of Demetrius on the verge of letting go of the rigid control he held onto so well, had unhinged my own cool demeanor.

I reached my arms beneath his and clawed down his back. “Harder,” I said. “I want it harder.” I skated my nails lower over his perfect ass, feeling the thrust and release of his muscles as he pumped inside me.

“Shakara,” he groaned.

“Stop holding back.
Harder
. Deeper.”

He reared up onto his knees and slid out of me. I gasped with the loss of him. With a heavy, dark look, he hooked my ankles over his shoulders and gripped the tops of my thighs as he pushed back inside me with a deep thrust. I tried to bite back my moans while he hit that spot inside me again, like he knew exactly where to stroke me in just the right way. I palmed my breasts. His gaze lowered. He pounded harder, flesh slapping each time he hit home.

I locked on his gaze and squeezed my breasts, then moaned his name. “Demetrius.”

He rocked twice more then held me still, gripping my thighs hard and grinding with his shaft buried deep. He groaned loud. His release was long. When he’d finally finished, he unlocked my ankles but didn’t remove himself from inside me. Rather, he spread out over me with his forearms above my shoulders.

Then he kissed me. And kissed me. Till I reeled with dizziness and an intimate sensuality that brought me near to tears.

When he finally pulled back and gazed down, still panting from exertion, as was I, he held a haunted expression—intense and almost forlorn.

“What is it? Demetrius?”

He didn’t answer.

“Are you all right?” I pushed back the wet strands of his hair hanging in his eyes. I hoped that look on his face was just a poor catch of light. “Demetrius?”

“No. I’m not.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I never will be again.” He nuzzled into my neck and banded both arms underneath me.

That ache was back in my chest. A low, humming throb. The yearning still there. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him tight.

“I know,” I whispered with a light kiss to his neck. “I know.”

We were silent for a time, clinging to each other. I rested my cheek on his chest while he brushed his fingers lazily over my bare hip. “You know, I thought of you as this cold, ego-centric jerk ever since I met you at the Unity Ball.”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath my ear. “That’s because I’ve been a cold, ego-centric bastard most my life. Following in my father’s footsteps, I suppose.” He sighed. “Though the old man isn’t all bad.”

“No one is all bad,” I said, lifting up and propping my chest on his. “When did you stop thinking about Morgons the way your father thinks about them? Was it when Jessen was injured?”

“No.” He shook his head, threading his fingers in my hair and letting the strands slip over his hand. “It was when Julian was born. When I first held him in my arms, actually. Jessen called me after she’d returned home from the hospital and asked me to come and see my new nephew. I wouldn’t refuse Jessen anything, especially after the guilt I felt about the entire Aron Grayson affair.” His gaze shifted from my hair to my eyes. “I didn’t know you could feel so much love for such a helpless little thing. I held him in my arms, very gently, because he was so tiny. Little arms and legs and wings. He reached up and wrapped his small fingers around one of mine, and I just knew.”

I leaned closer. “What did you know, Demetrius?”

“That I loved him. He was Morgon. And he was human. And he was my blood. In that moment, all the foolishness my father used to preach became just that—foolishness.”

I bent my head, nuzzled his mouth open with my own, and stroked my tongue over his, wanting to devour the delicious man. “I’m so glad Jessen and Lucius had Julian,” I murmured against his lips.

He smiled against mine, “I am, too.”