Madd
THIRTY
The club, which was named after the pack, looked the same as it always had from the outside. The black cladding shielded the clientele at night and long into early hours of the morning. It was shuttered during the day, and most people would have walked past without giving it a second glance.
Flint had been specific about the meeting. Firstly he wanted it in the city and in an enclosed space. Evander would never risk shifting and not only destroying the building but announcing that shifters existed to the human population.
The meeting would take place at the club, though Flint didn’t mention which part of the building. Evander had agreed because apparently he wanted to meet badly enough. But Conrad couldn’t figure out why.
We arrived an hour early. Flint and his brothers, Conrad and me, plus six pack members who positioned themselves at the exits and along the street. Inside, the club was dim and quiet and smelled of luxury, with its marble bar and polished concrete flooring.
Hunter led us downstairs, and Conrad stopped at the top of the stairs. He’d never been here before, and yet he was the one who suggested the location to Flint when we were throwing around ideas, saying it would be perfect for dragons.
But he was gripping the rail, and sweat was dotted on his brow and upper lip. I’d witnessed him as his father was burned alive, and he hadn’t responded like this. His shallow breathing accompanied by the color draining from his face suggested he was suffering from morning sickness.
“Conrad, there’s a bathroom in the panic room if you’re not well.”
His hand found the wall. “It’s not that. This is the reason I suggested this location.”
Huh? Because he was going to throw up over his brother? It didn’t seem like much of a threat to a dragon who’d burned his father to a crisp.
“I’m claustrophobic, and so are all my flight.”
“What?” My screech echoed down the stairs, and Ranger and Hunter raced back up. “Why would you do that?”
“Because they’ll be uncomfortable.”
“Oh, well, that makes me feel better.” Ranger’s sarcasm was in full throttle. “Perhaps we can pat their brows and distract them while we talk.”
“No.” Conrad was fanning his face. “It’s not just that. It’s our fire. Underground we lose possession of it, though not entirely. It sort of fizzles as though someone has squirted water on it.”
“Oh.” Ranger grinned. “I like that.” He rubbed his hands together, and Hunter shoved his brother down the stairs and told him to get on with it.
I went in front of Conrad in case he toppled over but kept looking at him, making sure he was upright and still breathing. His face was encased in pain, and I admired how he was willing to do this.
The panic room was exactly as it was when Hunter unveiled it, with reinforced walls, corridors branching off to secondary rooms, a monitoring station, and dim security lighting. But the sofas and armchairs had been pushed aside and a large table placed in the main room.
Hunter walked through the panic room like he owned it. His daughter was born here. Flint positioned himself at the end of the table, and Conrad stood at the other end.
Conrad’s hands were behind his back like they were when he told me he was pregnant. There was a slight tremor in his fingers, and his eyes kept going to the ceiling as though he was measuring how much concrete was above him.
“Breathe.” It was silly telling him that because it wasn’t like he’d forget.
“I am.”
Twenty minutes later, the dragons arrived.
We’d left the door to the panic room open, and Flint’s satellite phone crackled when his guys said the visitors were here.
Judging by their footsteps, they were confident as they walked into the main part of the club.
But they were floors above us and had no clue they were headed underground.
I was so proud of my mate that he’d submitted himself to the same suffering as his kin so we’d have the advantage.
The footsteps paused, and there was a muttered exchange and more than one curse. But they continued coming down, though their paces were less pronounced.
Evander walked in first, looking as composed as always. I searched his face for signs he was in discomfort, but he appeared like any man attending a business meeting.
Vasik followed with four other dragon shifters. One of them kept looking back toward the stairs, and Vasik's jaw was clenched and his nostrils flared. I hoped they were imagining being crushed with concrete and steel as the walls caved in.
The twins stared at each other across the room. Conrad was rigid with the effort of containing his claustrophobia. Evander appeared unbothered, though I took some delight in witnessing how he white-knuckled his phone. Not that the device was any use down here in the bowels of the earth.
“Brother.”
“Evander.”
“You look well. Pregnancy suits you.”
My mate’s scent filled the enclosed space, and it was heightened I guessed by his distress because it became more intense when his twin walked in.
It was so powerful it clogged the air, and I wanted to turn the air-conditioning up.
As if it was a competition, Evander’s scent heightened and matched his twin’s.
I moved closer to my mate, and Evander side-eyed me. I refused to show how that glowering look unnerved me, and I dug my nails into my palm. My wolf was snarling and trying to place himself in my gaze, but I shushed him.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet.” Evander addressed Flint. “I know this has been a difficult period for both families.”
“You killed your father and threatened my cousin's mate,” Flint snapped.
“My father's death was a necessary transition of leadership.” Evander folded his hands. “But I'm here to discuss the future, not the past.”
Evander swept his gaze over me as a child would when someone snatched the favorite toy. “Under flight law, a dragon child, born of our bloodline, has rights within our family regardless of how they were conceived.”
“And how does that change when the baby is not encased in an egg but will be born alive?” I couldn’t resist throwing that at Evander.
I could have sworn he reacted as if my words slapped him, but he recovered and replaced it with that phony serene smile. “That doesn't change the child's claim to our bloodline.”
"No. But it changes yours." Conrad stepped forward. “You don't get to invoke flight law selectively. The child's alpha father is a wolf and their pack is La Luna Noir.”
“The child's uncle is the head of the dragon flight,” Evander snapped. He was more rattled than earlier and ran a hand through his hair.
“Whatever claim you think blood gives you, you forfeited it by your actions.” Conrad’s anger was fueling him, allowing him to fight through his phobia.
Evander leaned back in his chair. The warmth in his face was replaced by a more sinister expression. “I was promised a mate.” Evander lowered his voice. “And my brother took what was mine.”
I leaned forward, hoping he could see my wolf in my gaze. “I was never yours.”
His eyes found mine. This was a man who believed he'd been wronged. Whether what he felt for me was an imitation of the bond Conrad and I shared or entitled desire, the distinction didn't matter. He believed it.
“I’m not here to revisit history but to propose a resolution.”
We waited, and Conrad didn’t prod his twin to continue.
“Conrad returns to dragon territory for the birth where proper facilities exist for a pregnant omegas. I provide security and medical support. The child spends time with both families.”
Not without me, and no way would our kid set foot in that compound without both their parents. Conrad was never going back, so this wasn’t a solution.
Conrad didn't blink. “No. The child is my child. Mine and Madd's. You're not part of this.” He smirked. “Besides, there are no eggs, so I don’t need a nest.”
Evander made a fist and his breathing sped up. “Then we have a problem.”
Flint walked around the table, and the dragon shifters’ hands moved to their holsters before remembering they’d surrendered their weapons upstairs.
“No. I refuse to allow this pantomime to continue.” Flint’s tone and posture told any wolves present that he was in Alpha mode. “Conrad, do you accept the protection of this pack? Not as a guest or a mate's partner but as a full member.”
I put an arm around my mate. This was unexpected, judging by Ranger and Hunter’s gaping mouths.
My mate glanced at me, and I mouthed, “Yes.” He agreed, and Flint pressed a claw into Conrad’s throat, drawing blood.
“This man is La Luna Noir.” Flint turned to face Evander. “Your flight law doesn't apply to him anymore. Your flight has no claim on him now.”
The room was deathly silent with the only sound being the ventilation system humming in the walls. Evander hissed and scowled, and from deep in his chest, a dragon roared. Heat poured from his skin and his eyes flared. Flames flickered as he opened his mouth.
This wasn't a warehouse with high ceilings and room for flames. We were in a concrete box underground. I grabbed Conrad and prepared for fire to hit the ceiling and for smoke to choke us.
And there was smoke but nothing more than a cigar would produce, and the fire that should have surged and incinerated us reminded me of a sparkler that children waved around on special holidays. Evander’s fire was the budget version of what I’d witnessed when he killed his father.
Ranger folded his arms. “Is that all you’ve got?” Fur rippled over his forearms and his wolf bellowed.
Vasik grabbed Evander’s arm. “We need to leave.”
Evander looked at Conrad and his superficial mask was gone. It was replaced with fury. Perhaps there was grief too, but it was buried so deep, I didn’t recognize it.
“This isn't over,” Evander snarled.
“Yeah, it is, and it has been since the day you burned Father alive and chose power over family.” Conrad's knees buckled, but I held him up.
The dragon shifters hurried out, and Evander stared at us over his shoulder. His face was white, and he was sneering as Vasik dragged him up the stairs.
“I’m pack.” Conrad was about to collapse, but Ranger tossed him over his shoulder and headed upward to fresh air and freedom.