10. Chapter 10
Something clutched Izzy’s ankle midhover. She gasped and dropped the journal about the limbic system.
Daxton.
He stood at the top of the stairs like a statue—chiseled muscle in a dark pullover and snug jeans.
Dominance was displayed in the square set of his jaw.
The dusting of sandy-colored stubble and deep shadows under his eyes hinted that he’d gotten as little sleep as she had.
Hovering in midair, she eyed his chest, not meeting his gaze.
With proximity, the emotions from her mortal body bled over. She quivered, her nervous system exploding into chaos.
Dorsal interosseus. Biceps brachii. Supraspinatus. Reciting the defined muscles of his arm, she distanced herself from the excitement, until her gaze rested on his unshaven face, tense with harsh angles. For one frightening heartbeat, her brain blanked like a scrubbed chalkboard.
Her spirit form tightened, ready to run, but a solid bronze attraction plated her mind. Weighed down and losing concentration to stay in the air, she drifted to the ground.
“Where is Simon?” she said, feet touching the concrete floor.
The masseter muscles ticked in Daxton’s jaw. His liquid-bronze gaze roamed over her, licking like tiny flames across her skin. “We need to talk.”
She scoffed and struggled to regain control over her shaking limbs.
Surely, he wouldn’t have harmed Simon. After all, Daxton had rescued her.
“I wouldn’t talk to you if you were the last…
” Am I really going to go there? The man truly made her feel childish, but as she couldn’t think of anything else to say—“…thing on earth.”
“Who said you had a choice?”
Her heart thundered. She stepped back. He strode down the metal stairs to the floor of the tower. She tracked every fluid movement as each determined step brought him closer to her mortal body on the lounge.
“Are you going to kidnap me now?” she stammered, struggling to make herself move to intercept him as, for some obtuse reason, she wanted him to.
“The thought had crossed my mind,” he whispered.
Each ripple of his taut muscles under that skintight pullover enthralled her.
The strength and power he exuded should have caused her trepidation, but he didn’t scare her.
Rather, the prospect of his kidnapping her created that same shaky excitement she had when he chased her.
She had no idea why she would want that, but she did.
“And now?” she asked.
He stopped beside her human body, studying her unconscious form like a puzzle to solve.
His dragon prowled along the edges of her mind as if he was searching for an opening to the link.
The heat of his presence caused her body to flush with warmth.
He stroked the back of his fingers against her body’s left cheek.
The touch reached her spirit, light and airy, like a feather. She stumbled closer to him, intending to stop him from repeating the caress. “Wh-what are you doing?” she said, palm pressed to her face.
Silently, he brushed his thumb over her cheek.
Desire ricocheted through her, tugging her to her vessel.
She quivered, trying to resist, but the tingling impression of his finger against her skin was too much to deny.
She craved to experience it physically, not muted through her link to her flesh.
Of its own accord, her spirit streaked to her body.
She snapped open her human eyes to his all-consuming form looming over her.
“There you are.” His gaze bore into hers, savage in its intensity.
He’s dangerous. He controlled her with only his touch.
The hair on her arm prickled with unease even as her blood sizzled, and her body tightened, wanting.
Pheromones poured from his being, and she responded as if they were an exact chemical pairing.
This kind of reaction was the reason she’d wanted distance.
“What are you doing here?” She scrambled off the couch and away from him. Her hands shook while straightening her glasses. A tug on the link drew at her like a hand at her nape. Thankfully, her transition to human hadn’t broken her concentration on the shield against it.
“Isn’t it obvious? I thought we were going to help each other?”
“It’s too much right now. I can’t think straight when you’re so close.” She walked past him to climb the stairs with slow steps, her still-waking muscles twinging in protest.
“Believe me, Izzy, I feel it too. But why did you run?” His whisper echoed like a shout.
She pictured the malicious grin on her human mother’s face and what could have happened because her feelings distracted her. Nausea forced her to stop moving. With her eyes closed, she rubbed her stomach. “For my safety.”
Daxton’s footsteps banged up the stairs as he followed. “Do you think I’d hurt you?”
“No.” She continued climbing. “I…I’d like you to leave.”
“You’re not going to find the answers you seek in your labs.”
She kept herself from turning around to rebuttal, and instead, yelled, “Simon.”
Loud stomps thudded into the tower before Simon appeared at the top of the stairs. “Yes?”
“I gave explicit instructions for you not to let him inside if he showed up.”
“That was before he almost attacked me, and I recalled how barmy you’ve been acting.” Simon crossed his arms. “It seemed more beneficial for the two of you to hash things out.”
She whipped around to Daxton. “Seriously? You almost attacked him?”
A pang of guilt stretched through the link, his expression scrunching as he lifted his hands. “I don’t know how to explain that one.”
“You’d better try.”
His lips pressed together. “I apologize. I…feel possessive and protective where you’re concerned. My dragon is all instinct and hard to control. All the more reason to figure out what is happening.”
She hated that he was right, and that she wasn’t surprised he’d come after her.
Their link held one inevitable truth—she couldn’t have stayed away from him.
The energy felt like the attraction between electrons and protons, a relentless pull that defied resistance.
She hypothesized that he’d find her one way or another, and though she was curious about his methods, she severely miscalculated how long it would take him.
Over the time they’d spent separated, she’d scrubbed her mind in search of the spirit link connecting them.
It felt as if she were still a part of his Spirit Cavity.
She’d sought to disconnect it, but she couldn’t find anything to break.
Instead of a rope to cut, it was more like an invisible band of energy tying them together.
But with her mental health as damaged as it was, she couldn’t afford such a bond.
She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Simon, tea in the sunroom. Now, please.”
Simon hesitated, his stare flicking between her and Daxton. She sternly lifted her eyebrow, head tilted toward the kitchen. He nodded and took off.
She turned to Daxton. Two steps behind her, he stood so tall their gazes were level. Something wild and powerful glinted from within him, staring at her through his eyes. She swallowed and her stomach fluttered. “Come on, then.” She crooked her finger for him to follow.
The luxurious sunroom at the end of the hall overlooked the Great Smoky Mountains. The evening sun cast a light over the mist, making the mountains appear like rolling blue hills. Sitting in a circular suede lounge chair, Izzy curled her legs beneath her body.
Daxton stood, resting his arm against the high-backed recliner near the window. His gaze gleamed in the sun’s rays while he looked over the surrounding scenery.
“The Cherokee called the mountains shaconage,” she said.
“Place of blue smoke.” When he glanced back at her, the quirk to his mouth was contagious.
Damn her heart for reacting to that confident look and impressive depth of knowledge. “Where did you learn that?”
“I grew up around many Native American tribes.”
For how long? Do you know more of their languages? He stood like a book in front of her, waiting to be opened. Her body softened into the seat.
“Here’s your tea,” Simon murmured from behind her.
“Thank you.” She stopped staring at Daxton long enough to grab the hot mug.
Spearmint with a hint of lemon wafted up.
She nodded toward the door. With a wary glance in Daxton’s direction, Simon left.
She willed the man with broad shoulders to continue observing the view, so she could watch him.
But he turned. His gaze lingered on her cup.
“Pardon my not asking if you wanted anything,” she said. “I don’t welcome intruders.”
“No pardons needed.” He shrugged.
Her eyes narrowed. He might have admitted fault, but his cavalier response didn’t seem sincere.
“Well, Izzy, your intruder would like you to know he’s the best plan you’ve got against the Archfiend,” he said. “And after you finish your tea, you should come with him to New Hampshire.”
He’s humorous. A smile welled up inside at his reference to himself. She drank her tea. Pain as she burned her tongue kept her appreciation at bay. The dragon pulled on the link as if trying to pick the lock to her brain.
“Have you had any luck with finding the Archfiend?” she asked.
Daxton shook his head. “I’ve been back to Acadia, and my men have searched up and down the area, but no luck.”
Izzy gnawed on her bottom lip. “Have you tried mapping out his flight for possible landings?”
“What do you mean?”
Izzy grabbed her phone from her dress pocket and looked up the wind pattern for the area that night. “He headed toward the ocean, but I blinded him. Without knowing where he was going—”
“He would have let the wind take him somewhere,” Daxton filled in.
“And I doubt he could heal enough to move locations.” She pulled up a map to approximate the location where she was attacked. “That night the wind was from the northwest at twenty miles an hour. So, he probably drifted at least a few hours before the wound would have needed care.”
As she was estimating the miles, following the map southeast, he approached and stood over her chair. His warmth rushed over her, and her brain stumbled, like it tripped over its own feet. She pointed to land on the map. “This is where you should focus your efforts within a thirty-mile radius.”
He leaned closer. Lustful images of her tilting her face up to his, and their lips crashing together filled her mind. She swallowed and tilted her phone to her chest. In what direction was the wind going again?
“Let me double check that, and I’ll send you the map,” she said.
“That would be perfect.” He took his phone out and stepped away from her chair, honoring the distance she created. “Thank you.”
After she verified her thoughts, making sure she did in fact look southeast, she dropped him the photo and asked, “How many Archfiends have you taken out?”
“Seven,” he answered offhand. “Some were group efforts.”
That’s at least reassuring.
“If I were to go with you, what would my role be?” she asked. “I am not bait.”
His grip tightened around his phone as he slipped it back into his pocket.
“Nor would I put you in danger. The Tattered—Archfiend is after you, and already you have given us a better place to start. I also want to offer any information we have to you, so you’re more equipped to figure out this link between us. ”
Decisions whirled in her mind like a vortex.
His logical and compelling words chipped away at the walls she’d constructed.
Other than hiding, he was her best option when it came to defeating the Archfiend still hunting her.
And the information he offered could help with a solution to her reincarnating punishment.
Logic demanded that she take the opportunity.
But then a shuddering wave came over her, the unreliable guide of emotion. His proximity clouded her judgment. She still felt the ghost of his touch on her ankle, and the desire for physical connection that raced through her when he brushed her cheek. Staying close to him was dangerous.
“I…I can take the information you offer,” she said, her voice tighter than she intended. “But I will work independently. We can communicate remotely.”
Daxton’s eyes narrowed, a primal understanding dawning within their bronze depths.
“That is not how this works, Izzy,” he said, his voice softer now, yet it carried an immovable firmness.
“I understand your wariness because of this connection, but the Archfiend is after you. And this link ties us together. We work together in the same location, or we don’t at all.
” His dragon was a low thrum against the barrier, an insistent plea for her to understand.
Her mind raced, searching for an escape, another logical solution. There was none. He was right. To deny his help now, based solely on the fear of feelings, was illogical—dangerous.
“Very well,” she said. “In the same location. But we break this link the moment we understand it.” Though the words felt like sandpaper in her throat, the surge of relief was instant. But she’d have to keep her distance from this man who made her feel, or she’d never reach Heaven.