Chapter 13

13

Clarabelle could have swornshe heard Dracin in her head. Telling her he was coming.

Dammit.

The stupid—amazing—man shouldn’t be risking himself. Not for such an untenable situation.

At the same time, her heart swelled. When he’d called her mate, he meant it. And guess what, she felt the same way. She’d never met a man who intrigued her like he did. Who made her body sing. Who made her feel protected even as he respected the fact she could protect herself.

Was it love? Maybe. All she knew for sure? She wouldn’t let him die saving her, which meant she needed to find a way out of this bloody cage.

The witch, named Gloria—one of the supposedly missing ones from the local coven—had left for a few hours. During that time, Beth had brought Clarabelle more food and fed her tidbits of info, such as the fact the vampires Theodore ranked as worthy napped in the actual house overhead, the windows covered in sun shades. The less desirable weren’t allowed inside, hence the mill, a place called the Barn, and another nest named the Sewer. The parking garage had only ever been a holding place for captured nonhumans. The auction itself was held in a hotel penthouse suite with the rich buyers coming to bid and then taking their purchase home with them.

“What’s this space used for?” she’d asked Beth. The lavish décor, even if gaudy, seemed to indicate an entertaining space.

“Orgies and gorging,” a soft reply with downcast eyes. “He and his lieutenants feed down here. It’s up to me and the others to clean up after.” Beth had pointed to the drains on the floor. “Once a week, he also bites people to try and make more vampires.”

“How does he choose who to infect?”

“When we get too weak to feed, rather than kill he tries to change us. It will be my turn soon. I just hope I don’t end up like the crazy ones.” The sad downturn of her lips broke Clarabelle’s heart. This poor woman, barely out of her teens, was already downtrodden by fate. She wanted nothing more than to rescue Beth, even as she had no idea of how to save herself.

A struck gong sent a vibration through the room and led to the servants throwing themselves prone on the floor, Beth included.

First to enter, Gloria, the traitor witch, head held high, smirking in Clarabelle’s direction. What Clarabelle wouldn’t give to slap her.

Next, the vampires slunk in. Fifteen males and five females, all beautiful and haughty. Her heart broke at the sight of the frightened people who streamed in after, stripped of their clothes, some of them sobbing, others staring off blankly, their minds escaping the trauma. They were herded by wolves. Shifters doing Theodore’s command. The clan leader entered last. Theodore wore nothing but pants, his chest bare but for a dangling pendant.

Ignoring the humans, Clarabelle counted twenty-one vamps and at least two shifters in the room. Who knew how many more were upstairs? Not great odds even if she had her magic.

The large table, laden with food earlier for the blood slaves, had been cleared. She feared why. Sure enough, a beefy fellow got nosed by the wolf in its direction. The poor naked man hyperventilated, eyes wide, sweating in fear. He might as well have poured gravy on himself. He only made himself more appetizing for the waiting vamps. The human sacrifice whirled to run, only to find himself face to face with a young woman, who cocked her head and smiled.

She only had to whisper, “Get on the table, cow,” and the man obeyed, mesmerized by her command.

Clarabelle turned away before the feeding started, but she couldn’t escape the slurping noises or grunts of satisfaction.

“You should watch and count yourself lucky I need your magic, or you’d be on that table instead,” Theodore stated, coming to stand by her cage.

“You’re really asking to be staked. Slowly, just as the dawn rises,” her reply.

“And you’re asking to be punished,” Theodore retorted. “But I still need you, so instead, let’s show you what happens when you mouth off.” He snapped his fingers, apparently the signal for Gloria to rush to his side.

He leaned close and whispered something to her that brought an evil smile to her lips.

Clarabelle’s stomach sank as Gloria left and returned with a head-ducked Beth in her wake.

“Kneel,” Theodore ordered.

Beth hit the floor, and Clarabelle knew he planned to hurt Beth to punish her. He must have seen on the cameras or been told of Beth’s kindness.

Despite knowing the futility, she tried to stop him. “Leave her alone.”

“Or what? You think I don’t know you were trying to subvert her? Trying to use her to escape? There is no way out for you. And best you learn that now.” He lifted his hand, a signal for Gloria, who squinted her eyes as she concentrated, a glow at her wrist showing a bracelet. Clarabelle didn’t understand what it meant until the collar around her neck began to show a matching glow.

Gloria stole her magic!

A sickening lurch in her stomach had Clarabelle doing her best to breathe and not scream. Poor Beth. She didn’t beg or even whimper as Gloria pulled magic from Clarabelle, winding it in an inelegant wad of electricity. The bitch—because this was no witch—tossed it at the poor defenseless Beth.

The girl never stood a chance. Never made a sound as she died, electrocuted, her body jiggling and then sizzling as her hair burned and even her skin bubbled. Clarabelle didn’t look away. She wanted to, but she couldn’t, not when this was her fault. Her burden to bear.

“Anything to say now?” Theodore asked with a smirk.

She stared at him, expression bland as she stated, “I hope your death is painful, and as for you…” She turned to Gloria next. “The Dark Lord sees your betrayal and will have a special punishment in Hell for you.”

“As if I’m ever going to die. My Lord has promised me eternal life.” Gloria’s smug reply.

The claim arched Clarabelle’s brow. “That’s pretty bold of him considering he knows witches can’t be turned.”

“What?” Gloria’s expression would have been comical if Clarabelle weren’t so angry.

“Ignore her. She lies,” Theodore lied. “Let’s take our place. Time for—”

Whatever he planned to announce got lost in the sudden thumping overhead. A banging hard and violent enough the ceiling cracked and chunks of it fell.

“What’s happening?” Theodore yelled.

As the crevice in the ceiling widened, they could hear some of what happened. Yelling, screams, gunshots, but it was the sudden warm sensation that enveloped Clarabelle that had her breathing a name.

“Dracin.”

He’d come for her.

An entire section of the ceiling collapsed, creating a dusty cloud and much pandemonium as the vamps found their dinner table crushed. Landing atop the mess he’d made, a dragon, big and beautiful, his dark scales taking on a reddish hue from the lights.

The massive head swiveled, and those beautiful eyes landed on her in the cage.

Belle, you are okay?

She could hear him, but no magic meant she couldn’t reply, so she shook her head.

Let me handle the bloodsuckers, and then I’ll free you.

He whirled to face the vampires who’d recovered and approached hissing, fangs out.

He hissed right back and attacked, his tail slashing through the air, taking out the wolf sneaking up. His wings flexed and sent vampires to his left and right flying. But it was his serpentine neck, with its long reach, that caused the most damage as he lunged and caught a bloodsucker and chomped, grinding the body until the bottom half fell. He gave the upper a bit of a chew before spitting it out.

One undead down. The others became more cautious, whereas Dracin bugled a challenge and charged.

To his credit, Theodore remained calm, but Clarabelle didn’t like the way he looked at Gloria. The witch turned to Clarabelle, wrist once more glowing as she pulled more magic.

“No,” Clarabelle muttered. “No.” She tried to stop the siphoning, but she had no power, no way to fight. She could only warn Dracin.

“Watch the woman with the glowing bracelet. She’s stolen my magic!”

He whirled in time to get the brunt of a messy electrical ball to the head, knocking him back. Unlike Beth, it didn’t kill him. He shook himself before roaring, which led to Gloria scrabbling to grab even more magic, rough tugs that caused Clarabelle to grunt and hit her knees.

Hold on. His voice reassured, but she felt herself getting weak, as Gloria sucked at her power to form a great big ball of fire.

Gloria cackled as she boasted, “Anyone want fried dragon meat?”

The flaming missile soared right at Dracin, who stood without flinching. The firebomb hit, and Clarabelle’s eyes shut against the bright flash of light. By the time she could see again, Dracin stood unharmed, the table behind him smoldered, and Gloria gaped open-mouthed.

Enough of this, she heard him growl in her head.

Before the witch could try something new, Dracin lunged, his serpentine neck stretching so that he might bite off Gloria’s head. The headless body slumped, dead. She was the Dark Lord’s problem now.

The relief at the witch being gone didn’t last long, because Theodore remained, standing smug, most likely because of the really big gun he held aimed at Dracin. “Did you really think I wasn’t prepared for the fact someone of your size might come gunning for me? After all, you aren’t the first dragon I caught. I had one, years ago. Alas, he escaped, never to be seen again. Pity. A dragon would have fetched a sweet price due to the whole rarity thing. Because of that, I’m going to give you a choice. Surrender now, and you can live. Or, die. And before you scoff at my threat, you should know the bullets in this gun are custom and will penetrate your scales and explode, shredding your insides. So, what’s it going to be? Surrender or dragon tartar?”

Can you tell him to kiss my dragon ass?

Clarabelle almost choked.

I’m going to enjoy eating him.

“I’d worry about indigestion,”her reply.

Good thing I know a witch who’s good with potions.

As if sensing he didn’t strike the right amount of awe, Theodore interrupted their exchange. “I looked into you after your escape, Dracin Smith, father unknown, only son of Helena Smith.”

The dragon didn’t react, simply eyed the vampire. Clarabelle clung to the bars of her cage, wishing she could touch her magic not just to wipe the smirk from Theodore’s pompous ass but to handle the vamps and wolves forming a ring around Dracin.

“Funny thing, your mother’s name seemed familiar to me, and I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure it out, when it hit me. More than thirty years ago, I visited Ottawa. I was just a young vamp back then. Newly blooded. Always hungry and looking for a snack. Given there was no clan in the city at that time, I had to hunt my own food. Lucky for me, I came across a man leaving a local hospital.”

The dragon visibly stiffened.

“Rather than be grateful I’d chosen him, the man got offended when I demanded a sip of blood. Tried to incinerate me. Singed my custom suit.” Theodore managed to sound affronted. “It was my first meeting with a warlock. Almost my last, but the presumptuous fool let me live because he said and I quote, ‘I won’t kill even one such as you on the day of my son’s birth.’”

The low rumble from Dracin let her know this had to be his father, the one he’d never known because of Theodore.

“I have to say, that didn’t sit well with me. That this man, a cow of a human, boasted he could kill me. Me, a lord in the making. So, the next night, I lay in wait by the hospital. He never even saw what hit him. He woke chained in the mill, his feet in a bucket of salt water. Great for disrupting magic by the way.” Theodore’s cold smile said this story would get uglier. “He wasn’t the tastiest, but that didn’t stop me from feeding. He lived almost a week, although he started begging for his life two days in. Told me he was a newly made father. That his wife needed him because her pack had tossed her for daring to love an outsider. It was touching enough it almost brought a tear.”

Dracin visibly trembled, and Clarabelle spat, “You killed Dracin’s father.”

“I mean, technically, he died of dehydration and blood loss, but I guess some would say I was partially to blame.”

“You’ll pay for that.” She spoke the words a bristling Dracin couldn’t.

“Doubtful. I’m holding all the cards. Look around. There is no way out. Either the dragon gives up and is sold as a pet, or he dies.”

“He’ll kill you before he becomes a prisoner,” she stated.

“He can certainly try, but here’s the thing. If he’s busy trying to kill me, then that leaves you vulnerable to my lieutenants.” The vampires watching rustled and grinned, monsters who would gladly suck her dry. “Either way, you lose.”

Dracin stamped his feet, shaking with rage, and despite the collar she wore, she saw a distortion around him, a glow that indicated magic boiled within. A magic he didn’t know how to direct. But she did.

She murmured, “Remember what I did in the parking garage.”

Burn? the reply from the beast.

How?the man asked.

Alas, she couldn’t show him. Just whisper, “Follow your instinct. Surely the legends about dragons got some things right.”

“Quiet,” Theodore barked. “Enough stalling. I want an answer. Live or die?”

Dracin stared intently at Theodore.

“Poor dumb lizard. I think I just fried what little brain he had.” As Theodore laughed, Clarabelle watched as the tension in Dracin built, his body quivering, his eyes turning black, his nostrils smoking.

She clung tight to the bars and watched as Dracin’s mouth opened wide and fire spewed. He missed Theodore with the first stream, but he got the vampires to the left, who shrieked as they ran, living torches with no water to douse, only alcohol in their glasses, which, when poured, spread the flames.

Theodore gaped. “This isn’t possible,” a quick retort before he tried to flee.

She yelled, “He’s getting away!”

Dracin aimed his next fiery breath at the vampire leader, spewing hot flames that ignited everything in its path—furniture, tapestries, vampires, and the shifters caught up in the madness. Not everyone ignited. Some of the human slaves made it to the stairs and disappeared from sight. She hoped some of them managed to escape.

Smoke began to fill the room, making it hard to see, the rough grit of it making her cough “We have to get out,” she gasped.

The cage she’d not been able to escape from didn’t stand a chance when Dracin gripped those bars in dragon claws and pulled. She slipped out, only to pause. The fire had spread rapidly, ringing them in flames, cutting off the exit via the stairs. If she’d had magic, she could have shielded herself. But she didn’t have any protection.

She pressed her face against him. “Escape while you can.”

Not without you. Trust me.

She didn’t flinch when the claws gripped her, but she did suck in a breath—of smoke—as he suddenly jumped, flapping his wings, spreading ash, embers, and flames as he rose above the conflagration to the ceiling, and the hole he’d smashed in it.

The smoke followed, but it wasn’t as thick, and they kept rising, the destruction he’d meted on his way to find her now their escape route. They exited via the roof into a beautiful night sky, full of stars, fresh air, and freedom.