Chapter Nine
“We’re here.”
Onyx peered at the seemingly deserted warehouse. “Where is that exactly?” She was proud that her voice was level. It had taken the entire drive to settle the emotions battering her. It was her fault for expecting more from Dagen than he could give. He’s the lone wolf. If she repeated it enough, the lone part might finally sink in. Unlike his counterparts, he wasn’t willing to accept the connection between them.
So be it.
He didn’t have to love her or even like her for that matter. All he had to do was work with her to destroy their enemies. Once it was done, she’d retrieve the copy of the journal and figure out a way to negate the blood tie between them, setting him free once and for all.
A silent scream ripped through her entire being. He was part of her and had been her entire life. That connection had given her purpose and hope when all seemed bleak. Their goal aligned them, even as the magic bound them.
Her door opened, startling her. He held out his hand, but she slid out without touching him. Safer that way. Apparently, heartbreak hadn’t made her body any smarter when it came to him.
His lips firmed but he said nothing as he closed the door. “This way.” The remote beeped as he engaged the locks.
Gripping her knapsack, she followed. The brick building might have served as a small factory or warehouse in another era. It was well maintained. No graffiti decorated the walls, and all the windows were intact, but an air of inactivity surrounded it. Grass and weeds poked up through cracks in the asphalt. There were no other vehicles in sight. The entire area was spookily silent, considering they were in a bustling city.
The door didn’t creak when he opened it, the locks and hinges well lubricated. The metal panel slammed shut behind them with a sense of finality that gave her a jolt. He pulled three bars across, locking them down.
The lower floor was dark as a dungeon with little light getting in from the smattering of windows set high on the walls. “This way.” He headed toward the far end of the room.
She eyed the door and then his retreating back. Without transportation, she wouldn’t get far. Then there was the undisputable fact they were stronger together than apart. With a sigh that was part frustration, part relief, she followed. His eyes might adapt to the lack of light, but she had to take her time and place her feet carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was fall flat on her face.
Although he never said a word, tension vibrated from him. Whatever this place was, he had doubts about sharing it with her. That was his problem. She hadn’t asked him to bring her here.
The door he stopped in front of was plain and painted black. It wasn’t wood. Likely steel, possibly titanium. Dagen didn’t mess around when it came to security.
His shoulders were rigid as he bent down and aligned his face with a square box. A low beam scanned his eyes and a faint click sounded. A retinal scanner? He pulled the door open and motioned her forward. She hesitated, her earlier thought about this place being like a dungeon jumping to the fore.
Taking a deep breath, she took a determined step forward. The landing wasn’t large and became even smaller when he crowded in behind her. The door closed with an ominous thud.
“Down the stairs.”
Dim lighting ran along the walls, offering enough illumination so she didn’t fall and break her neck. Down seven steps, another landing, turn, down another seven until she reached the bottom. “Now what?”
He stepped around her, his big body brushing hers. Another scanner. Another heavy door. They landed inside a small vestibule. Like the rest, it was all painted black. The next door had a keypad. Blocking her view, he inputed the code and turned the handle.
She braced herself, gently pulling her magic up inside her. Was this an interrogation room? Somewhere he could question her without anyone hearing her scream?
Stop it! He wouldn’t physically harm her. If anything, he’d gone out of his way to protect her. He doesn’t know the full truth. Sweat trickled down her back as an icy shiver crept up her spine. There was one thing that might cause him to turn on her. It was a secret she’d have to divulge eventually, but she wanted time to gain his trust first.
His movements were jerky as he shoved the door open and motioned her inside. At least there was light coming from the space. Curiosity piqued, she stepped over the threshold and froze, barely hearing the door close behind her and the locks being engaged.
The room was huge. It had an industrial vibe in keeping with the rest of the building, but that was where the similarity ended. Like something out of a designer magazine, it was open but divided into zones by function. On the far end was a gym setup, including free weights and a treadmill. Next to it was a living area with a massive sectional sofa and an equally large television mounted on the wall across from it, all surrounded by cabinets. A kitchen, complete with stainless steel appliances and a long island with six stools, rounded out the space.
“What is this place?” Even as she asked, she noted a towel flung over one arm of the treadmill, the mug on the counter next to the sink, and the gaming console on top of the living room cabinets.
When he didn’t answer, she turned to face him. A muscle in his jaw flexed. His lips were pulled into a thin line.
“This is your home.” A kernel of hope sprang to life within her that not even the caution of her common sense could dampen.
He gave a sharp jerk of his head. “Yes.” He turned abruptly and headed down a short hallway. As if tethered by some unseen rope, she followed. They stopped at the first room on the left. It was equipped with a retinal scanner and keypad. Whatever was in there was damn important.
The moisture in her mouth dried up. Her heart was racing a mile a minute, part fear, part expectation. When the door opened, a blast of cool air hit her. It was an office, but unlike any she’d ever seen. Screens filled the walls. Computer components ran the length and width of the room. There were several workstations, along with the requisite keyboards. There was a single chair on casters. High-backed, it was covered in black leather and looked incredibly comfortable. It was the kind of thing a person would have if they spent an enormous amount of hours working.
Holy crap, I’m in the Batcave! Or his version of it. This was the broker’s headquarters, the hub for his entire operation.
That he lived and worked in the same space didn’t surprise her. His profession wasn’t a forty-hour week with evenings and weekends off. It was twenty-four/seven, three-hundred-sixty-five days a year. It did surprise her that he’d handed the reins off to someone else since he’d been with her all night and taken no work calls. But even he had to sleep sometimes. He’d also have to have someone trustworthy in place for those times he had to hunt as the lone wolf.
He sat in the chair and rolled up to one of the keyboards. His fingers flew over the keys. It was so fast, it was a blur. Information scrolled across several screens. He kept his gaze on them as his fingers continued to type.
Fascinated by this side of him, she crept over to stand beside him. The words on the screen went by so fast her stomach grew queasy. Glancing away, she studied the other monitors. They seemed to be footage from security cameras.
The image from the third screen made her stomach clench, increasing the nausea. She took an involuntary step toward it before she stopped herself.
“You recognize it.” It wasn’t a question. Dagen had spun his chair around and was watching her. Was this a test?
“Yes.” Charles Armstrong owned the home, a mega-rich werewolf and Solange’s partner. It was a private estate in upstate New York, built over a hundred years ago. The grounds were pristine, the impressive home impeccably maintained by a fleet of servants. But it was deep in the bowels of the place that Solange kept her laboratory. She conducted her experiments there, her magic locking out others while locking in her victims’ screams.
Onyx blinked but the image continued to blur. She was intimately acquainted with that lower level, had never seen the upper ones until her desperate bid for freedom. Then it had been a fleeting glimpse. The place reflected Solange—gorgeous on the outside and rotten to the core on the inside.
As she watched, a black limo rolled to a stop at the base of the steps. The ornate front door opened seconds later and there she was, the woman who haunted her waking and sleeping dreams.
It was impossible for Dagen to have planned this, but it didn’t negate the impact. The child inside her wanted to run and hide and pray Solange forgot she existed. But an anger rose in the woman, the one tempered by time and trials, by death and desperation. Onyx was stripped bare, her emotional shields smashed in that second. It was the first time she’d laid eyes on her captor in thirteen years.
A blast of pure fury erupted from her as she threw back her head and screamed for all she’d suffered, all she’d lost.
Pull it back! She wasn’t sure if the voice came from within her or if Dagen was yelling. It was impossible to hear over the din in her head. Heavy hands landed on her shoulder, yanking her back to the present.
“Onyx!” His roar shattered the bubble of raw rage.
Oh God, what have I done? Raising her hands, she yanked the power back, pulling harder and faster than she’d ever done. It slammed into her with the force of a blast from a hurricane, rocking her back on her heels. It wasn’t only herself she’d put in jeopardy but him. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, sweating and panting as though she’d run for miles. Years of caution were lost in a split second.
She prayed that the contact hadn’t been long enough for Solange to taste the magic. There was little doubt she was aware of a mage named Onyx. She’d make it her business to seek out information on other mages. The hope was she wouldn’t connect Onyx with the child she’d kept captive the first fifteen years of her life. It wasn’t likely, given the ferocity of the attack. Solange’s intellect was keen, her ability to manipulate, to stay two steps ahead of everyone else, well documented. They would need every advantage to defeat her, no matter how slight.
“What the hell was that?” He shook her lightly before glancing at the screen. It was then he saw her, saw Solange. A low growl rolled out of him.
Solange cocked her head to one side, stared directly at the security camera, and smiled.
Swearing, he hit several keys and the image winked out.
Like a deflated balloon, Onyx sank to the floor. Releasing and then retrieving that volume of magic took a lot of energy and she was already depleted. The room was intact, for which she was grateful. All the long hours of hard work, honing her skill and the safeguards around it, had paid off.
“Your equipment?” If she’d damaged any of it, he’d never forgive her. He was likely already regretting his decision to bring her here.
He moved from one keyboard to another, running diagnostics of some kind. “Everything seems fine.”
She really should get off the floor. The chill seeped beneath her clothes and into her skin, making her shiver. While she understood the necessity of keeping the equipment cool, she wasn’t a wolf, unaffected by the change in temperature.
She began to shiver, but made no attempt to move. It seemed all like too much trouble. The world continued to fade in and out. She swallowed heavily and rubbed a hand against her eyes.
He crouched, filling the space in front of her. Concern darkened his eyes. His lips were pulled thin. The scowl in no way detracted from his handsome appearance. “You’re so pretty.” Wait. What? Her words were slurred, like she was drunk.
“Onyx?”
She shook her head. Huge mistake. A spike of pain stabbed her skull and everything went black.
…
What the hell!
Dagen caught her before her head hit the floor. She was out cold, her body limp in his arms. He lifted her higher against his chest, her head lolling against his shoulder. After a final glance at his command center, he left the room, making sure it locked behind him.
There was only one bedroom, so he carried her into it. The huge bed dominated the space. She was a tall woman but looked vulnerable, almost small, when he placed her on it.
The knapsack was still on her shoulder. Through it all, she’d never let it go. He slid it down her arm and set it alongside the bed. He should remove her clothing to make her more comfortable but wasn’t sure how she’d feel about that after everything. Leaving everything else, he slipped off her shoes.
He had no idea what the fuck had happened. She’d been examining the screens while he’d done a quick check-in with work when everything had gone to hell. It was a pure fluke that Solange had appeared on the screen.
Or was it?
From her reaction, he didn’t believe Onyx was responsible. Her cry had raised goose bumps on his skin. It was primal, spoke of deep pain and loss, and echoed with the promise of retribution.
Whatever her history with the other mage, they hadn’t parted on good terms. Either they’d been aligned and had a falling out or they’d been enemies from the start.
His wolf howled, demanding to be let out. It had been locked away far too long and the blast of energy had added to his agitation. The blowback from the magic left both man and beast unsettled.
Swearing, he removed his boots and clothes, needing to be free from the restrictions. His gaze never leaving her, he embraced his wolf. The shift was instantaneous. Unlike a normal werewolf, there was no morphing from skin to fur, no lengthening or reshaping bones or limbs. In one breath he was a man, the next a wolf.
He shook, allowing his fur to settle over his large form. The stench of magic that surrounded her as she’d screamed was almost nonexistent. The only thing he could liken it to was a volcano erupting but suddenly reversing the flow, pulling the molten lava back. It was little wonder she’d passed out. The blowback was extreme.
It was another layer to the mystery of Onyx. From all he’d learned, she rarely used magic, kept it locked down, but the power within her was undeniable. As was her control. Not one piece of his equipment had been damaged when, by rights, every component should have exploded with the energy surge.
Starting at her feet, he sniffed his way up her legs. A hint of arousal lingered when he hit the top of her thighs, momentarily distracting him. He ignored the diversion and continued up her body, searching beyond her scent and his. If Solange had connected to her for the slightest second, he needed to be sure no taint remained.
Her face was pale and drawn, making the dark circles beneath her eyes stand out. Her lips were parted slightly, her breathing slow and deep, her heartbeat steady. Strands of hair had escaped her braid and flowed across his pillow and down her neck.
A shiver racked her entire body. She rolled inward and pulled her legs into her chest. His wolf growled, not liking that she’d been pushed to the edge of exhaustion and over. It was partly his fault. He should have fed her and let her rest at the safe house rather than made love with her.
He glanced at his smaller computer setup in the corner of his bedroom. Business waited. While he had capable people managing things, he was the broker. He was the one people paid exorbitant amounts of money to handle their problems. He was the one directing and employing an army of informants, skilled computer hackers, professionals, and operatives. Built over decades of hard work and sacrifice, he’d lived and breathed his work, making connections, stockpiling money and resources for this battle.
There were plans to be made, not the least of which was contacting the other lone wolves. It was time.
When she shivered again, he jumped up on the bed beside her. Still in his wolf form, he curled up beside her, lending her his warmth. She snuggled closer and threw one of her arms around him.
Satisfaction flowed through him. Maybe they’d be at odds again when she woke, but for now, the connection between them was stronger. His wolf chuffed and nuzzled her hair before settling his head on the pillow beside hers.
…
Solange paused on the steps of her home, reaching for the magic that had come hurtling at her.
“Ma’am?” Her driver had the door to the limo open. He was a wolf, part of her security team. Charles insisted she have two of his men with her at all times now, not trusting the lone wolves. Or maybe it was her he no longer trusted. “We should leave.” Head raised, he sniffed the air. While he sensed something wasn’t right, he likely couldn’t pinpoint it.
The second member of her team had his gun out and was scanning the area. “He’s right, ma’am.”
Since whoever or whatever it was had vanished, she continued into the vehicle. With the door closed and the privacy screen engaged between her and the men, she allowed the slight niggle of concern to show. Her hands shook as she reached into the mini bar and poured a dollop of whiskey into the hot coffee her staff had already delivered. Two bracing sips later, the combination of alcohol, caffeine, and the steady movement of the luxury vehicle down the long driveway calmed her enough to replay the event.
The magic had come hard and fast, seemingly out of nowhere. There’d been no sign, no warning. It had struck like a physical blow, barely landing before it retreated, leaving no trace, nothing she could track. That should be impossible. She was the strongest mage in existence.
The fleeting thought that it might be the girl was quickly discarded. She’d never shown an aptitude for magic, her power slight and erratic. If anything, the girl would be a hindrance, a weakness to the black wolf. Yes, she had basic skills, but what had happened took great skill and control. No, it had to be someone else. Steady and sure once again, she drew out her phone.
“Are you on your way to the city?” her lover asked as soon as he answered.
“Miss me, Charles?” She’d never needed reassurance before, but this morning’s incident had unnerved her.
“Always. Did you get what you needed?”
She’d come up here to get the last of the blood supply from the black wolf and the girl. She’d preferred to keep it locked up here rather than in their city residence. After decades of working in the space, it was imbued with her power. Nothing and no one could get past the safeguards.
Only someone had.
It hadn’t been due to skill but rather a mistake on Solange’s part. She’d believed the girl beaten down and pliant, but she’d hidden a sly nature. She’d been fooled once, but not again.
She started to tell him what had happened but paused. “I have everything I need. I’ll be there in an hour, depending on traffic.”
“I look forward to it.”
When the line went dead, she slipped her phone into her purse. The closer they got to achieving their goal of immortality, the less she trusted Charles. He’d been different toward her lately—impatient, demanding. Yes, he’d almost died in a confrontation with the white wolf, but she was the one putting herself on the line over and over. It was her doing all the work, taking all the risks.
If another mage thought they could take what she’d worked long and hard for, she’d crush them. She’d crush anyone who got between her and her goal.
She pulled out the necklace from beneath her shirt. Two silver vials were attached, each with the remaining blood from the black wolf and his woman. She’d never taken much from the girl. Why should she since the creature was always there—until she hadn’t been.
No matter, she was Solange Dupree, the greatest mage that had ever lived. Picking up her coffee, she toasted herself and drank deeply.