Chapter Nineteen
Showered and dressed, Dagen stared blindly at the screens in front of him, unable to concentrate on the data flowing over them. His brain was too busy replaying his and Onyx’s lovemaking. Growling in frustration at his inattention, he clicked several keys to bring up the latest data from his operatives.
“Problem?” Clad once again in the midnight blue dress, she stood in the open doorway. Like him, she’d cleaned up, her hair once again in a tidy braid. Unlike him, she didn’t have clothing to choose from.
“Sorry we never made it to the storage facility for your bags.”
“That’s not on you. If I’d stuck to the plan we would have picked them up on the way hom—on the way back here.” They both ignored how she stumbled over calling this place home. “Did you find out anything useful?” She joined him, peering over his shoulder.
“A lot of activity all night. There’s a large force searching for us.” He did his best to ignore the scent of his soap mingling with that of her skin. It became almost impossible when she put her hand on his shoulder and leaned closer.
“Are your people safe?”
Worry threaded through her voice. Most would be concerned about their own security. “They’re smart and tech-savvy. They’re tapping into cameras across the city.” He’d had years to hack the system, to learn the ins and outs, and was able to use them without detection. Galen and his men were stealthier than most wolves. They were tracking the hunters without detection.
Something dark and nasty skittered over Dagen’s skin and raised the hair on the back of his neck. The tattoo on his chest began to burn. He leaped to his feet, sending his chair spinning toward the corner. “What the hell?”
Onyx’s entire body stiffened, her eyes widening. Whatever it was, she sensed it, too.
He sniffed the air. The only thing close was when he’d seen a tree hit by lightning—a combination of smouldering vegetation mixed with decay. He sniffed again and caught a hint of blood. Whatever it was, it seeped into the room, swirling around them.
“It’s searching for us. No, not searching.” She swallowed heavily. “It’s calling us. She’s cast a blood spell.”
Agitated, his wolf wanted out, but there was no visible enemy to fight. “How does it work? Does Solange know where we are?”
She shook her head, her gaze troubled. “I don’t think so.” Her mouth opened on a quiet scream. Clutching her throat, she stumbled toward the door, slamming into the hallway. When he went to reach for her, she shoved farther away. “Don’t touch me.” Sweat beaded on her brow.
“You’re burning up.” Heat radiated from her. “I can sense a pull but nothing like what you’re experiencing.”
Panting heavily, she banded her arms around her midsection. “My blood link to her is greater.” Desperation burned in her eyes. “She gave birth to me. She’s using that link to make me come to her, hoping you’ll follow because of our connection.” Giving a cry, she headed to the front door. “I need to leave. Stay here. Let me battle her on my own.”
He caught her around the waist, holding her upright when she swayed. “It hurts you to resist, doesn’t it?”
She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I can fight it, but it will weaken me. I need to be at peak form when we meet.”
“Give me five minutes.” When she shook her head, he caught her chin in his hand. “While it would have been better to control when and where we met, this is what we’ve both worked toward. Whatever happens, this ends today.” No one survived being beheaded, not even a powerful mage.
Straightening, she searched his face before giving a curt nod. “I need my bag.”
“You know where we’re going?”
“Not yet. It’s more directional. I sense the call of the blood.”
He could, too, but whatever Solange had conjured was affecting her more. “Five minutes.” He guided her toward a chair and settled her there. Her face was pale, her features pinched. Fine lines radiated out from the corners of her eyes and deep furrows ran across her brow. “I’ll be fast.” Chronic pain wore a person down. It was probably an unintended side effect of the spell. Or maybe it was intentional. Weakening Onyx would serve Solange’s purpose.
Huffing out a breath, he headed to the office. Anticipating a showdown with his enemies, he’d set certain things up in advance. All he had to do was set them in motion.
He yanked his chair over to the computer, sat, and composed a quick note to the other lone wolves, alerting them to the situation and promising an update as soon as there was something concrete.
A second message was set to send in twenty-four hours. If he didn’t return, his wealth and his entire organization would pass to the white and gray wolves. While he was confident in his abilities, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe he couldn’t be beaten. All lone wolves died in the end, or he and the others wouldn’t be here. If Solange was successful, they’d need all the resources they could get their hands on in order to survive and fight back.
With that done, he blasted a message to everyone in his network, ordering them to stand down and seek safety for twenty-four hours. He wouldn’t sacrifice any of them to this madness. Most of them were human with no knowledge of his kind and no way to protect themselves against such a threat.
Done, he stood and stared around the room. It represented the culmination of decades of dedication and effort. He’d started with one building, hiring himself out as a mercenary. Now he owned property around the world, was worth billions, and had his fingers in every pie imaginable. He was proud of what he’d built, what he’d accomplished, and the people he’d helped. Beyond his paying clientele, he’d assisted many without the resources to fight back against tyranny.
He rubbed his chest, ignoring the pang in his heart as he turned away. Locking the door behind him, he detoured long enough to grab Onyx’s bag. Although he’d been less than five minutes, the idea of her being alone bothered him.
She was sitting where he’d left her, pale but composed. “Ready?” He held out her bag.
She took it and slipped it over her shoulder. “I’m ready.”
Maintaining distance was paramount. He had to become a cold killing machine if he hoped to survive.
He offered his hand. She stared at it for several seconds, as if debating the wisdom of taking it. It occurred to him she was likely thinking along the same lines as him. As he was about to withdraw the offer, she closed her fingers around his.
The discord inside him settled. The sense of rightness, connection, made him want to howl. The bedroom was only steps away. He wanted to take her there and shut out the world. Honor and duty were unavoidable bitches. He pulled Onyx upright and gave her hand a final squeeze before releasing her and heading toward the door.
They made their way through the warehouse and into the vehicle without incident. All his senses were sharp, anticipating an attack. Once they were settled, he started the SUV and headed toward the road, automatically turning right.
He gripped the wheel tight, fighting the urge to take Onyx back to the bunker and lock her inside. His protective instincts battled with the need to use her and her skills to end this once and for all. To that end, he had to view her as another operative, an asset to be exploited.
He swallowed a snort. Yeah, like that would work. He’d never slept with an operative before, had never shared sizzling sex with an asset. Onyx was special.
Prickles of energy raced over his skin. It tasted…familiar. He glanced toward Onyx and frowned. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were moving in a silent chant. What was she doing? He clamped his lips together to keep from interrupting.
Where was the cynical voice reminding him she might be working with Solange, might even now be weakening him? Cocking his head to one side, he listened, but there was nothing but silence.
A strange lightness filtered through him. Was this true trust? Spending time together, making love, had silenced his suspicions. It was what he’d feared would happen. He only prayed it didn’t come back to bite him in the ass. He wasn’t sure he liked it. It left him open to a sneak attack.
“That’s better.” She opened her eyes and rested her head against the seat.
“Whatever you did made my skin prickle.” If he was alone, he’d shift and run off the excess energy.
“The close quarters, I imagine. I remembered you used our blood bond to bypass the warding on the bathroom door. I did something similar to neutralize enough of the pain to allow me to function normally.”
Some of the color was flowing back to her cheeks, the strain around her mouth and eyes relaxing. He kept his eyes on the road, watching for a possible tail. All the while he was aware of her every breath.
The sun had risen on a new day, the city coming alive. It had a special beauty, as it might be his last. Snarling, he opened and closed his fingers around the wheel when he pulled up to a stoplight. He’d survive. It was what he did. The wolf inside him howled in agreement. He was the lone wolf and would defeat his enemies.
Onyx might not survive, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nor would she want him to. Like him, she’d made her choices.
The tattoo on his chest pulsed and burned—a reminder of their connection. It went beyond blood and purpose. If he lived another thousand years, he’d never forget the smoothness of her skin beneath his hands, the way her breath caught in her throat before she came, her sweet sighs, or her addictive scent. They were imprinted on the very fiber of his being.
What did it say about him that he would sacrifice her for the greater good? As much as it pained him, the goal was clear—finish this using whatever means necessary.
…
They settled into an uneasy silence. There was so much left unsaid, but nothing would change the outcome of what was to come.
If their lives had been different, they could have lounged in bed this morning, maybe even made love again. She spun out the daydream, picturing them laughing as they made breakfast. Then they’d spend the day together—a walk in the park, lunch, maybe a movie. Talk about a fantasy. The closest they’d come to an actual date was last night’s supper, and that had ended in tragedy and death.
It’d been followed by tears of recrimination and heartbreak over Theo and culminated in a blaze of passion. She and Dagen had been doomed from the start. Talk about depressing. Still, she was glad for last night. There’d been too few moments of pure pleasure in her life. Dagen had given her most of them.
Her heart ached to confess her love for him. Instead, she used the emotion to center her. To remind her of her purpose, of the vow she’d made to Annalisa through the journal. She mentally sifted and sorted through the knowledge she’d compiled throughout her life, praying it would be enough. She touched her bracelets and the necklaces around her neck, letting their familiar hum of power soothe and energize her.
As though a switch had been flipped, everything became clear. “I know where we’re going.” She twisted in her seat and finally looked at Dagen, drinking in the sight of him. Shaggy hair fell around the collar of his T-shirt. The short sleeves stretched around massive biceps and exposed thick forearms.
He glanced in her direction, light flashing in his black eyes before he turned his attention back to the road. “Where?” The low growl of his voice vibrated through her.
Fear clawed at her. She clung to her composure, ignoring the ball of terror forming in the pit of her stomach. “The upstate mansion.” It was a place she was intimately acquainted with. It featured in every nightmare she’d ever had. Not bad dreams but memories. “The one where I lived.”
Swearing, Dagen pulled up in front of a sports bar. It was closed this time of day, so there were a few empty spaces. He slammed the gear into park and swiveled in his seat to face her. “The one where she tortured you.”
Memories avalanched, like a continuous horror film with no end. She clamped her hands over her ears, desperate to block the screams of the past—both hers and Theo’s. Her heart slammed against her chest as wave after wave of hopelessness, fear, and pain washed over her. She had to get out. She had to escape and run.
Releasing her seat belt, she clawed at the door handle. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Someone called her name. Solange found me.
“Onyx.”
The voice was male, not female. Confused, she looked over her shoulder. What was Dagen doing here?
He grabbed her and lightly shook her. “Breathe, damn it.”
Panic made it impossible. She clutched at her throat.
His gaze burned into hers. “In through your nose. Do it now.”
Some rational part of her managed to follow his order.
“Out through your mouth.”
Listening to him, focusing only on him, she brought herself under control and understood the extent of her meltdown. God, she wanted to crawl under the seat and hide. “I’m okay.” She shrugged her shoulders until he released her and sat back. “I apologize for that.” For all her talk about being a powerful mage and partner, she’d crumbled at the first sign of trouble.
“What the hell happened?” A muscle in his jaw pulsed.
“Memories.”
He shook his head. “It was more than that. There was something…tainted in the air.”
“You’re grasping at straws. It was a panic attack.”
“Try again.” He tapped his nose. “Wolf senses don’t lie.”
His conviction was convincing. Was self-doubt making her miss something? Drawing her attention inward, she pinpointed the external push . “Son of a bitch.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” There was satisfaction and a hint of smugness.
“Yes.” She was pissed at herself that he’d caught it and she hadn’t. “The easiest way to explain it is Solange amplified my memories and all the negative emotions associated with them. I should’ve assumed she’d cast more than a calling spell. With the force it would have manufactured it’d be child’s play for her to piggyback a nasty little surprise. I fell right into it, proving myself as useless as she believes me to be.”
“You broke through it quick enough.”
“No, you did.” And that was disheartening. “I can’t depend on you. I have to stand on my own two feet. Otherwise, I’m a liability.” It stung to admit it, but ignoring facts didn’t change them. Digging into her bag, she withdrew a black leather pouch on a long woven cord. She looped it over her neck, adding it to the assortment of necklaces she already wore.
“What’s that?” He lifted it to his nose and sniffed.
“Charm bag. It contains sage and lavender, black obsidian, tiger’s eye, and quartz crystals to protect against negativity.”
He lowered the charm, his fingers grazing her skin. Heat shot through her, making her toes curl. They stared at each other. Pupils dilating, he leaned closer. Her lips parted.
A horn blared as a vehicle passed them. Flinching, she jerked back, and the moment was broken. He settled back in his seat, gripped the wheel, and pulled the SUV back onto the street.
It was a good thing they’d been interrupted, right? Distraction could be deadly. She swallowed back her regret for the kiss that hadn’t happened. “I’m on my guard now. Nothing will get past me.” She wasn’t sure if she was reassuring him or herself. “It’s fitting that it’s ending where it all began.”
When it came to magic everything mattered—time of day, season, crystals, and herbs. But what topped all the tools and trappings was the intention. “For more than a century at the mansion, Solange has conjured and experimented. Her energy will permeate everything.” He needed to understand what he was walking into.
He took a turn, leaving the more populous area behind and heading into a more rural setting. The route wasn’t familiar. She’d been terrified when she’d fled blindly into the night, keeping to the woods, not noting any landmarks. She’d never planned to return.
“She’ll be confident, maybe overconfident. It’s not only her energy there,” he said.
The truth struck her hard. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“You were trapped, unable to leave. When it comes down to the actual number of days, you may have spent as much or more time there. She’s lived a life beyond the confines of the mansion, leaving you locked there. And don’t forget one important thing.” He shot her a quick glance. “You escaped.”
“You’re right.” The truth of that seeped into her. There had to be a way to use that to her advantage. “It’s her home turf, but it’s mine, too.” Solange had given birth to her at the estate. There was vast power in that life-giving act. It didn’t matter that the purpose of Onyx’s life had been as nothing but a tool.
The tug in her blood became an iron-clad grip the closer they got. If she could sense Solange, the opposite was true. Onyx locked almost all her magic down, allowing only a tiny portion of it to be present. The skill had been hard won, but one she’d been determined to master.
Solange expects me to be weak. But the mage was no slouch. She’d search for tricks and traps. Onyx would have to give the performance of her life.
Clouds swiftly appeared in the sky, as if pushed there by an unseen hand. They blocked out the sun. In the blink of an eye, the sky turned dark. Rain pelted the windshield.
“She knows we’re almost there.”
“Why the change in weather?” He pulled off the road, parking in a space between two trees.
“It was storming the night I left.” She flinched when lightning flashed across the dark sky.
“She underestimates you.” Dagen climbed out, the deluge soaking him instantly. His shirt clung to his muscular torso.
“I’m not so sure,” she whispered. If he heard her over the boom of thunder, he gave no indication. Shoving open the door, she stepped out into the heart of the storm. Wind whipped at her hair, and droplets of rain stung her skin. She slammed the door and stalked toward Dagen. “Let’s do this.”