Page 32 of Wild Fire

Dani was stubborn. Perhaps more stubborn than anyone he had ever known and given the enormity of his lifespan, that was saying a lot. The only creature he knew who was even more stubborn, proud, and resolved was himself. She might not be willing to concede defeat, but he’d felt it in every moan, sigh, and shudder of her body when he’d made love to her. Sobek had suggested that perhaps he should simply force the issue and claim her despite her protests. Falkor had suggested that was a good way to get shot. Warrick was inclined to agree with Falkor.

He could feel his cock tightening as his body readied itself to go another round with her. He doubted he would ever have enough of her. He only wished there was a way to give her immortality, as well. He would trade any offspring that they might have and all the riches in the world if he could just have her forever.

Perhaps it was knowing that nothing was more important to him than being with her, glorying in her response to him, and knowing that only she could take him to the dizzying heights of passion where they flew free of all earthly restraints. He’d never known such wild and abandoned lovemaking as he had with her—it ran the spectrum from slow, deep, and meaningful to seeing how many times he could make her climax before he came himself—each and every time was better than the last.

The snap of a twig outside the window was all the hint he had that they were no longer alone. The doors to the mill from the front and the side burst open, and hordes of cult members poured in, flooding their space with their foul stench. Warrick barely had time to even register the danger, much less react when the bed was drenched in seawater, taking his breath away as chains of iron were flung across the bed, rendering his ability to shift moot. The seawater he could have dealt with as he was in his human form, but now being held in place it began to seep into his pores, causing him excruciating pain.

Two of the more lethal-looking cult members seized Dani, one wrapping her hair around his fist while the other grabbed her thighs as they yanked her from the bed. A third member of their troop bound her hands behind her back while another wrapped high-tensile wire around her legs.

“Don’t struggle against the wire. It will only cut you to ribbons if you do,” he managed to get out before a cult member wielding a butcher knife sliced into his shoulder.

As part of the group dragged her out the door, cursing and screaming at them, the others attacked him with all manner of sharp, pointy objects—spikes, nails, knives, and the like. This time they weren’t taking samples—they were looking to let blood and kill him. It was a gruesome, messy way to die, and he vowed not to give them the satisfaction.

“Die, you mutant beast,” one of them snarled.

“I see you,” Warrick rasped. “No matter who else gets hurt, no matter who else dies, I will find you and kill you, dragging my talon across your windpipe, reaching into your chest to rip your heart out and incinerating you until there is nothing but ash.”

The man stumbled back, his false bravado fleeing in the wake of Warrick’s vow.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s a goner. It’ll give the cops something to worry about. We’ve got the girl. The buyer is willing to pay a premium for her.”

Warrick struggled in vain and bellowed in pain as they doused him again with the seawater, which now had open wounds to use to maximize his pain. Between the iron chains, the seawater and his sudden blood loss, Warrick was unable to move and could only hear Dani’s muffled screams as they tossed her into a white van before scrambling in behind her and driving off.

How had they found them? The mill had been off the grid for years. Few people, if any, outside the Phantom Fire knew of its existence, and no one save Sobek and Falkor had known he and Dani would be here.

The other question that had plagued him from his first bout with captivity was how they had known he was a dragon and how to render him powerless. The argument could be made that when he shifted to give Monroe’s drakaina time to escape the slavers, he had shifted, and the slavers had been confronted with a fire-breathing dragon. The problem with that was they’d been ready for him. Dani had wondered if the drakaina had been the real target of the slavers or if they had been bait to lure Warrick away from Dragonwyk, where they might have stood a chance to enslave him.

None of that mattered. All that mattered now was finding Dani and saving her. So much for the idea of her remaining human. She would be drakaina, and they would fly into whatever battles they faced as a united and bonded couple.

That was all fine and good, but before he could do any of that, he had to rescue himself or at least get himself in a position to get word to his brethren. Fighting off the dizzying blackness of unconsciousness, Warrick managed to roll off the bed, hitting the hardwood floor with a decided thump. The wood was slick with his blood, but he was free of the chains as well as the seawater-soaked bedding.

Painfully, Warrick dragged himself across the floor, clawing at the wood with his bare hands until he reached the hearth. From there he managed to loosen one of the large river rocks that formed it and withdrew an emergency beacon that had been planted for just this sort of scenario.

If he succumbed to his injuries, which was a definite possibility, he would demand that Falkor extend to Dani the same rights and benefits she would have had if they had already taken their vows. His eternal flame would be taken care of—either by him or his brothers.

With the last of his strength, Warrick activated the beacon and prayed the Phantom Fire could respond quickly enough to rescue Dani.

* * *

DANICA

“What did you do to him?” she shouted, kicking at them and landing the occasional hard blow to a vital part and making them keep their distance.

They’d tied her tightly to a pole in the basement of a building. Unfortunately, they had to cut the razor wire in order to move her inside and weren’t able to secure her legs a second time. So, she was able to use them in her defense. They had also been unable to fix her position on the pole so she could move around in a complete circle and rise up and down the pole, making it difficult for them to get to her.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! She couldn’t feel Warrick. A part of her wanted to give in to panic and hopelessness, damning herself for her inability to commit. If she had done so, they most likely would be safe and secure up at Dragonwyk.

No! She refused to give into despair at the idea of Warrick being dead. None of their attackers had been wielding a sword, which greatly lessened their ability to sever his head or rip his heart out of his chest. No. Her pragmatism had gotten them into this mess, and it was damn sure going to get them out. She would find a way to escape these bastards and get to Warrick, but how? She had no idea where the mill was other than in the mountains by a stream and she had no way to contact the Phantom Fire—or did she?

Hadn’t Warrick said that the drakaina they had saved belonged to the clan of Ridley Monroe? But she couldn’t simply call him up and say, ‘hello. I know you’re a dragon. My eternal flame and I saved two of your drakaina. Might you help me save him?’ Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. She likely wouldn’t get past his receptionist.

Didn’t she remember Monroe had gotten married last year to some fancy schmancy pastry chef who was now the toast of the Pacific Northwest? Wildest Dreams—that’s what her bakery was called. The pastry chef might be easier to run down and get a face-to-face with. Surely, she would understand Dani’s need to get to the Phantom Fire. Didn’t Monroe’s clan owe him that much?

Okay, she now had a clear plan as to what to do once she was free. She just had to figure out how to escape. If only she’d embraced the idea of becoming drakaina. If she hadn’t been so bloody stubborn, she could have shifted and toasted these bastards, gone back for Warrick, and saved the day—not really, but she could have at least escaped and gotten herself to Wildest Dreams, Eden Monroe’s bakery.

But none of that had happened and chiding herself now would do little to help her. Deep breath, calm your nerves, and do what you’ve been taught to do—observe. The concrete floors made sneaking up on someone without being heard difficult if not impossible. Dani focused on what she could see in front of her. She seemed to be in a room within a much larger space. There was a door to a hallway just outside the door where she could see cult members and thugs coming and going, occasionally dragging a girl down the hallway and up a flight of stairs.

On occasion, one of the thugs approached her with a look that said he meant her harm and Dani readied herself to inflict as much damage as possible. She was able to grasp the pole behind her, bringing up both feet to kick out. After she sent the third one staggering back, clutching his middle, they left her alone. That in and of itself was worrisome. What were they waiting for? Muttering amongst themselves, Dani realized it wasn’t so much ‘what’ they were waiting for, but ‘who.’ It seemed someone wanted to deal with her personally.

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