15. Chapter 15
The plane landed with a soft skip at a small airport.
As the plane slowed, Izzy’s eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Trees fenced in the area, cutting off her view past the airfield perimeter.
Pitch-black hills—the White Mountains—loomed far away in the violet sky.
She loved mountains. Their history was a slow, gradual change, like hers.
“Welcome to Whitefield, New Hampshire, boy and girl.” The pilot’s gravelly voice spoke over the intercom system. “It’s cold this spring morning and too damn early for me to be awake. Just got to park this baby. Prepare to exit my plane in an orderly fashion so I may get some shut-eye.”
Izzy’s lips curled into a smile from his spiel, and she yawned.
Spending the rest of the journey in her inner library had made her eyelids feel like weights.
After that kiss, she had needed logic to settle herself.
It took time to push her emotions back into the vault where she preferred to keep them.
She needed to concentrate on finding out more about dragon immortality and how to break the link.
Not daydream about kissing Daxton again.
The plane abruptly stopped next to a black four-door Jeep Wrangler lit by the runway lights. The driver cast a massive shadow as he leaned against the vehicle with his foot propped on the nerf bar.
Daxton, who had moved back to his seat after his nap, gazed out the window and growled inhumanly. The sound rumbled like a group of men singing a bass note.
She shivered. “What’s wrong?”
“Keiran, our Centurion, knows about you, and he’s probably here.”
Fear crept up Izzy’s throat, and she squeaked, “What? How do you know?”
“That”—he pointed out the window—“is Silas. Keiran’s right-hand man. He oversees our security and privacy from humans.”
“And they might believe I’m a threat.”
“They might, but if our people are to understand each other, meeting Keiran is the next step between the dragons and the Fallen.”
“I’m not an ambassador, Daxton.” She pulled her cardigan tight and tried to calm her heartbeat with deep breaths.
He sighed back into the seat, but the straight line of his mouth and tight jawline portrayed a body-wide tension. “We can turn the plane around if you want.”
She blinked. He’d do that for me? “Am I in any danger?”
“No.” The word came out from deep in his register, as if from his dragon, and he winced.
“But this meeting might include some extensive safety measures,” he continued. “I’m not going to lie. I can be in serious trouble bringing you here.”
That doesn’t sound promising. Daxton had a point though: a meeting would have come up eventually. And the last thing she wanted was to make matters worse for Daxton. She needed to figure out the link and couldn’t do that while stuck on the plane.
“Let’s go,” she said, her mouth going dry.
He paused, examining her face. It was as if he was giving her the chance to back out. When she didn’t, he jumped to his feet.
Breathing deeply, she calmed her mind. I can do this. She stood and grabbed her luggage from under the seat, glad to be in control of at least something as she followed Daxton off the plane.
The runway lights illuminated the details of the burly driver, who stood a few inches taller than Daxton.
He wore jeans, and his loose T-shirt stretched to fit his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Before she deduced anything else about him, Daxton moved, blocking her view.
Annoyance tingled at the base of her back, but she pushed it aside.
She didn’t know what kind of threat Silas presented.
“I didn’t expect a chauffeur,” Daxton said.
“Funny,” Silas said. “Especially considering everything you’ve been up to.”
She could place accents well, but she couldn’t discern his. Her own changed with each life, depending on where her parents raised her.
“Is Keiran here?” Daxton asked.
“Yeah.” Silas’s glance landed on her.
Her skin itched under his scrutiny. She frowned. Daxton’s all-consuming presence kept her from picking up spirit energy from Silas. If she had to pass tests to go further, she wanted to collect as much information as she could first.
“Keiran has shit to do too, so let’s get a move on it.” Silas sauntered to the trunk with surprisingly lithe movements for his size, his blond hair swaying against his shoulders, free and untamed.
As she walked to the Jeep with Daxton, she focused on the structure of each muscle of Silas’s back highlighted under his tight shirt. She pictured a repetitive pulling action that stressed the right arm more than the left, forming slightly uneven muscles. Deduction points toward an archer.
Fighting the need to take the bag into the backseat with her, she set it down in the clean back and closed the trunk.
Daxton opened the back passenger door. She met his reassuring gaze briefly before she climbed into the lifted vehicle and sat on the suede interior.
The scent of fresh linen filled the clean vehicle.
Daxton’s bulky frame spilled over the seat in front of her, muscled arms curving out like folded wings. Acid churned in the pit of her stomach as they drove to meet the Centurion.
She closed her eyes and released the yellow energy tying her to her physical self, falling further into her spirit. At first, Daxton’s heated force filled her senses, preventing her from sensing the other dragon in the Jeep. Concentrating past that sensation, her mind reached Silas’s spirit power.
He radiated a similar inhuman impression like dragons did, but his spirit energy shifted like smoke, disabling her from getting a lock on it. Her spirit shuddered. What else was he?
“I’m Silas, by the way. Has Daxton been treating you kindly?”
She opened her eyes and met his glance in the rearview mirror. “Izzy. Yes, given the circumstances, he’s been fine. Thank you.”
“Fine, hmm?” He smirked at Daxton and said back to her, “What do you do for a living?”
He might have appeared curious, but from the assessing quality of his glimpse, she figured he had more to his agenda.
Some of the most dangerous foes possessed a charismatic charm.
They burrowed under the defenses of others and stole everything.
Her mother would smile and shake people’s hands as she took their companies.
Izzy trembled, envisioning Darcy with the syringe.
“Research,” she said.
“In what field?” He peeked back again.
“Fields like science, archaeology, and history.”
“Isn’t that kind of broad?”
“Not for her.” Daxton sounded proud, though a tendril of amusement ran along the link. “The woman has degrees in practically every area of study.”
As Silas sped up, she leaned forward and spoke over the drum of the Jeep’s rumbling tires. “My interests and studies have evolved as different branches progress.”
“You speak as if you’ve been around a while,” Silas murmured, rubbing his brow.
The truth of that statement sat heavily on her chest. She’d outlived too many people and didn’t have an end in sight.
As the vehicle drove uphill, the trees flanking the road on either side opened to a high, picturesque view of snowy mountains like rugged hills in the distance with clouds hanging low.
Rocks pebbled the short foliage on the other side of the road.
With winding curves up the steep hill, one wrong turn could send them down the mountainside.
She scooted closer to the door, imagining herself soaring alongside the car, feeling the misty clouds.
Elation tickled her lips into a small grin.
She touched the window as the rising sun’s rays brought orange between two hilly peaks in the distance.
These mountains differed from the ones in Tennessee: more alpine-like, with jagged peaks and unobstructed views that contrasted with the Smokies’ dense woodiness.
Worry tugged at her mind about her Coheart, and she pulled out her phone to prepare a text.
I am in their territory. How are things at the house?
Her phone vibrated in her hand—Simon with a fast reply.
Still working on the laptop. All blood tests came back normal.
She frowned. There must be some anomalies or biological clues about how dragons lived longer. As a lightning idea struck her, she flew through her responding message.
Test it for radioactive properties. Try the same equipment we used to detect my spirit.
Will do. Hope you have fun learning about them.
Simon followed the sarcastic response with a GIF of an animated girl pulling down her eyelid and sticking out her tongue. Why those things amused him, she didn’t understand.
As they rounded another curve, Daxton stiffened. His voice sounded like a peculiar mixture of breathy surprise and hesitant worry as he asked, “Why are you going this way?”
“Izzy, do you remember my name?” The driver turned toward her briefly.
She arched a brow at him. “Of course…”
Her mind blanked. His name is…
She remembered such details easily. But when she tried to recall his name, fog clouded the memory.
She pictured herself getting off the plane and visualized the man standing next to the Jeep, but then she sat in the truck driving down a random road.
A band tightened around her throat. Where were they?
Where did her memory go? She’d conversed with him, right?
“Actually, no, I don’t.” She nibbled her bottom lip as suspicion tapped on her shoulder. “Daxton, did you introduce us?”
“Yeah, Daxton.” The male leaned over, grinning at Daxton mischievously. “Did you introduce us?”
She couldn’t see Daxton’s face, but tension pressurized the car.
The link thundered with sizzling power and anger.
As she stared at the passing jagged mountainside, a tingling sensation crept through her like someone outside watched her with crude, calculating eyes.
Her skin crawled. The driver accelerated and continued looking at Daxton, his gaze nowhere near the road.
Izzy pitched forward to look out the front window.
“What are you doing? Pay attention,” she shouted as the tires skidded off the asphalt. The vehicle barreled toward the cliff’s edge, the rocky abyss looming closer with each passing second.
“Stop,” she shrieked.