Page 10 of Born in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #2)

Chapter 10

D orian

I stare at the NyxCorp acquisition documents spread across my dining table, the words blurring together. It’s nearly noon, and I’ve accomplished exactly nothing since getting home this morning. My third cup of coffee sits half-empty beside me, gone cold like my concentration.

My mind keeps drifting back to 5 a.m., when I hit the street outside Juno’s apartment. Seattle’s morning chill had slapped me in the face—a welcome distraction from the hurricane in my head.

What the fuck had happened in there?

Even now, hours later, I can still feel the phantom sensation of her skin burning on my fingertips. I’d walked for blocks, trying to clear my head before returning to my car. One foot in front of the other. Simple mechanics. Unlike whatever complicated bullshit was happening in my chest.

I push back from the table and pace toward the windows of my warehouse apartment. The Seattle skyline stretches before me, but I’m not seeing it. I’m seeing her face, feeling her body trembling against mine.

I’ve never— never —spent the night just holding someone. Never carried anyone to bed without following them in. Never felt this bizarre, unsettling protectiveness that made me want to hunt down whoever left those flowers and tear his throat out.

This is what happens when you don’t get laid properly. Your brain goes haywire.

That had been my first thought this morning. The simplest explanation: I just need to get her out of my system.

Except that’s not it, and I know it. When she had that panic attack, something broke in me. Seeing her like that—gasping for air, eyes wide with terror—triggered a response I didn’t know I had. An overwhelming need to shelter, to protect.

Dragons don’t do vulnerable, Dorian. Get your shit together.

I check my phone for the third time in ten minutes. No messages from Juno. Should I text her? What would I even say? ‘Hey, hope you’re doing better after your panic attack. By the way, I can’t stop thinking about how you felt against me.’

Jesus. I sound like a teenager.

I return to the papers, forcing myself to focus on the NyxCorp data. Something still feels off about their Heritage Assets subsidiary. Lydia was right to flag their unusual purchasing patterns—all that weird-assed historical shit…

What the hell are they up to?

I make notes in the margins, circling suspicious expenditures. But my mind keeps drifting to Juno’s apartment, to the scent of lilies that triggered her panic, to the man who sent them.

Ex-boyfriend, she’d said. The kind who doesn’t understand when something’s over. Well, he’s going to learn the hard way if I have anything to do with it. The hard, painful way.

I’m halfway through drafting an email to our research team when my phone rings. Sloane’s name flashes on the screen. I suppress a groan. If Caleb is chasing me through his assistant, I must be seriously late for something.

“If this is about the quarterly projections, tell my brother I’ll—”

“Dorian,” Sloane’s crisp voice cuts me off. “There’s been a security breach at Craven Towers. Your brother needs you here immediately.”

My spine straightens instinctively. Sloane doesn’t use that tone unless something’s genuinely wrong.

“What kind of breach?”

“He’ll tell you more when you get here. But he’s… agitated.”

Caleb? Agitated?

My brother’s emotional range typically spans from stoic to slightly less stoic.

“I’m on my way.”

I grab my keys and jacket, my mind already shifting gears. Security breach could mean corporate espionage, competitor aggression, or—worst case—something to do with the Heartstone.

As I swing onto my motorcycle, Juno’s face flickers through my mind. Just for a second. Then I’m racing through traffic, weaving between cars with the precision that comes from reflexes honed over centuries.

Whatever’s happening, it’s bad. I can feel it in my bones.

I make the trip in record time, engine roaring as I pull up at the towering office block. The underground parking at Craven Towers is unusually active when I arrive. Security personnel move with purpose, speaking quietly into radios. I catch fragments—“vault,” “midnight,” “no visuals”—that spike my concern.

The elevator ride to the executive floor gives me thirty seconds to prepare. I loosen my shoulders, slip on the mask of casual indifference I’ve perfected over centuries. Whatever fire Caleb’s battling, he doesn’t need my panic added to it.

As the doors open, I catch the tail end of a heated exchange. A woman with electric blue hair is gesticulating wildly at Sloane, her voice carrying down the corridor. I recognize her from a bar we went to a few days back. When my uptight brother had acted totally out of character and joined in a lame-assed game of Truth or Dare and then kissed a girl. I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself.

“—if you’re messing with her—” Her voice is strident.

Interesting. Not corporate espionage, then. Something personal.

I hover outside the office, picking up enough to piece together that this woman—Mara—is looking for her friend. A friend named Elena who was apparently investigating us.

Wait. Not Elena. Jessica.

Jessica? The intern Caleb’s been obsessed with?

Sloane catches sight of me and mouths the word “vault” just before the blue-haired woman starts yelling again. Great. I think I’ll give that party a miss. I turn to the elevator that leads to the basement and arrive just as Caleb emerges from the vault, looking like murder personified.

I straighten up. “Wanna explain the pissed-off goth girl in your office?” I keep my tone deliberately light. “The one whose friend you’ve been playing kissy-face with lately?”

“Not now, Dorian. You’re not helping.” He shoulders past me with that self-important stride that screams I-carry-the-weight-of-the-world .

I fall into step beside him, dropping the act. “This is serious.”

“Very,” he grits out.

“And it involves the woman.”

He nods sharply, picking up his pace. “She was in the vault, Dorian. I picked up her scent.”

My blood runs cold. “What? How the fuck could she get in there?”

He shakes his head. “No idea.”

The security chief appears then—Mason, if I remember correctly. The conversation that follows confirms my worst fears. Someone breached our most secure vault, and our top-of-the-line security system caught nothing but an “electrical disturbance.”

Caleb’s temper ratchets up a notch, and I stay silent as I tail him away from the scene. In the elevator, the tension radiates off him in waves. I study his profile, noting the tightness around his jaw, the barely controlled fury in his eyes.

“What’s your take?” I ask.

“She was in here.”

“Jessica,” I say, using the name I know her by.

“Elena. Her name’s Elena Ross. She’s a PI.” His voice is clipped. “No idea who she’s working for, but she’s gone. And Malakai’s fingerprints are all over this.”

“Malakai. Shit.” The name alone makes my skin crawl. The oldest among us, with a prosthetic leg and a perpetual chip on his shoulder. “No details from the Smurf on who the client might be?” I ask, trying to inject some levity.

“The what?” He snaps a look at me.

“Mara. The girl with the blue…” I point at my head. “You know… Don’t worry, forget I said anything.”

His patience shatters. “This is not the fucking time for jokes, Dorian. If you’re trying to—”

“I wasn’t trying to…” I stop myself, adjusting my approach. Caleb needs focus, not my defense mechanisms. “Look, Caleb, I know you’re going to charge off into this like the brooding dark knight you are, but Malakai doesn’t play by your rules. If he’s behind this, you better be ready to draw blood.”

Our eyes meet, and I let him see the seriousness behind my words. This isn’t a game anymore.

Back in the office, Blue Hair—Mara—is still pacing. The moment Caleb enters, she’s on him like a guided missile with a target.

“Well?”

“She was here.” Caleb moves to his desk. “Last night.”

“And? That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

I hang back, watching the exchange. The fear in her eyes is genuine. She’s terrified for her friend. Meanwhile, Caleb’s calling for Malakai, which confirms every bad feeling burrowing under my skin.

When Caleb starts questioning Mara about Elena’s “unusual abilities,” I perk up. What the hell did this woman do to access our vault?

“What do you mean?” says Mara.

“Things she could do that others couldn’t,” he says. “Access things she shouldn’t be able to.”

The woman pauses. “Sometimes she just… knows stuff,” she says, too cagey for my liking. “But that’s not important right now. What happened to her?”

Sloane appears with the news that Malakai is conveniently unavailable.

Of course he is.

The old fucker is as slippery as a greased-up eel.

As Caleb heads for the elevator again, Mara follows, anger and fear radiating off her in waves. “Hey! Where are we going?”

“ You are going back to where you came from,” Caleb tells her. “I’ll deal with this.”

She starts to protest, and I step in. Time to deploy the one skill I excel at—making people do what we need them to do.

I turn to face her, deliberately softening my expression. “We’re going to take care of this,” I tell her, injecting warmth and confidence into my voice. “Go back to her place and make absolutely sure she didn’t go there. There’s a chance she’ll head home, and that’s the best place for you to be.”

I set my hand on her shoulder, giving her my most reassuring smile. It’s manipulative as hell, but necessary. We can’t have her following us, can’t risk exposing more of our world than she’s already glimpsed.

“Fine,” she says slowly, the fight draining from her. “But don’t fuck me around, okay? If I don’t hear from you within two hours, I’m going to the cops.”

“That won’t be necessary. I promise.” I smile wider, maintaining eye contact until I feel her resistance crumble.

As Caleb heads back to the elevator, I linger just long enough to make sure Mara stays put. Once I’m certain she’s with Sloane, I join my brother.

“You think Malakai took her?” I ask as soon as the doors close.

Caleb’s jaw works silently for a moment. “I know he did.”

“Why? What would he want with a human PI?”

“She’s not just a PI.” Caleb’s eyes meet mine. “She got into the vault, Dorian. Past every security measure we have.”

“That’s impossible.”

“And yet,” his expression darkens, “she was there. And now Malakai has her.”

The elevator descends, and I find myself torn between two crises. The woman in my brother’s orbit who’s somehow vanished with our oldest clan member. And the woman from last night who’s somehow gotten under my skin in less than a week.

“If he’s gone rogue…” I let the implication hang.

“Then we’re all in danger,” Caleb finishes. “The Heartstone. The clan. Everything.”

As I stand there looking at him, I make a decision. Juno will have to wait. She’s safe. Elena—wherever she is—might not be.

“Well,” I say, rolling up my sleeves, “let’s go dragon hunting.” I make it sound more fun than it would be. The days of white knights on horses are long gone. Not to mention that we’re dragons, too.

“Where would he take her?” His voice is steel, all business.

“Let me think…” I run through mental files of properties, shell companies, and hidden assets. This is my domain—the web of our clan’s holdings that most members don’t even know exists. “He’s got four properties registered under his name, but he wouldn’t be stupid enough to use those.”

“What about the unregistered ones?”

I lean against the elevator wall. “There’s the factory in Tacoma, but it’s too exposed. The hunting lodge near Mount Rainier could work—isolated, defensible. Then there’s that old refurbished military bunker on Vashon Island.”

“The bunker.” Caleb’s eyes narrow. “That’s where I’d take someone if I didn’t want them found.”

“Makes sense. Concrete walls three feet thick, no cell service, remote.” I straighten up. “I can have the chopper ready for us in twenty minutes.”

Caleb shakes his head. “No. I’m going alone.”

“The hell you are.” I step in front of him as the elevator reaches the parking garage. “Malakai’s seven centuries old and built like a freight train. Even with the missing leg, he’s dangerous.”

“Exactly why you’re staying here.” Caleb’s expression hardens. “This could get ugly. Dragon ugly.”

“So we both shift. Problem solved.”

“And if someone sees two dragons over the Puget Sound? The fallout would be catastrophic.” He moves past me toward his dark blue Range Rover. “One dragon can be explained away as a private aircraft, a military exercise. Two is a pattern.”

“Bullshit. This isn’t about exposure.” I follow him, anger rising. “This is you doing what you always do—handling everything yourself because you don’t trust anyone else to get it right.”

Caleb whirls on me. “She’s in danger right now , Dorian. I don’t have time to argue.”

“Then don’t argue. Let me come with you.”

“I need you here.” He unlocks his car. “Coordinating from Craven Towers. Monitoring security feeds. Making sure no one else gets suspicious about what’s happening.”

“Playing second fiddle. Again.” The words taste bitter. “Just like always.”

Caleb’s jaw tightens. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? Five minutes, Caleb. Five fucking minutes is all that separates us, but somehow that translates to you getting all the responsibility while I get the scraps.”

For a moment, real emotion flashes across my brother’s face—frustration, maybe even hurt. But it’s gone just as quickly, buried under the weight of duty.

“I don’t have time for this.” He opens his car door. “Malakai has Elena. Every minute we waste could be—”

“Fine,” I cut him off, raising my hands in surrender. “Go be the hero. Save the girl. I’ll handle the cleanup. But I want to know everything that happens. No filtering, no editing for my delicate sensibilities.”

His posture relaxes slightly. “Deal.”

“And if you’re not back in three hours, or I don’t hear from you, I’m coming after you, anyway. Dragon sightings be damned.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “I’d expect nothing less.” He pauses. “Double down on security for the Heartstone. If anyone gets their hands on it—”

“Yeah, I know. They get control of the clan. I don’t need another history lesson.”

As he slides into the driver’s seat, I lean down to the window. “Hey.”

He looks up.

“Don’t get killed. I hate boardroom politics, and if you die, I’m stuck with your job.”

It’s our version of “be careful”—wrapped in sarcasm and deflection. He nods once, then the engine roars to life, and he’s gone, tires squealing against concrete.

I stand there for a moment, frustration and concern warring inside me. Caleb and I have our issues, but he’s still my brother. Still the only constant in my centuries-long existence.

And he’s driving straight toward an ancient dragon with anger management issues and a vendetta against him.

Fuck.

I stalk back into the building, calling Sloane on the way and rattling off a string of instructions. Two hours later, I’m back in my apartment, having overseen a security briefing that left more questions than answers. How did Elena get into the vault? Why did Malakai take her? What’s their connection? The speculation ranges from corporate espionage to magical interference, neither of which explains the whole picture. Whichever way I look at it, this Elena Ross is no ordinary woman.

I pace from window to window, phone in hand, checking the time every thirty seconds. Two hours and seventeen minutes since Caleb left. No word yet.

Where the fuck is he?

The NyxCorp documents still sit on my dining table, untouched since this morning. I should be reviewing them. Should be preparing for tomorrow’s board meeting. Should be doing anything but wearing a path in my hardwood floors.

Instead, I keep replaying the expression on Caleb’s face when he mentioned Elena’s name. I’ve seen my brother interested in women before—usually brief entanglements that never penetrate his armor of duty and responsibility. This is different. There’s something personal in his urgency to find her.

My phone buzzes. I frown at the number I don’t recognize on the screen. For a moment, I’m tempted not to answer, but then consider that it could be connected to the shitshow we’re in right now.

“This is Dorian,” I say as I pick up the call.

“Where is she?” The voice on the other side is a shade short of hysteria.

“Who is this?” I frown.

“It’s Mara, dammit! Where is Elena?” She’s breathless.

Fuck’s sake!

How did she get my damn number?

“She’s fine,” I lie. I have no idea how she is. “Everything is under control.”

“I don’t believe you! Put her on the line.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “She’s with Caleb. She’ll be home shortly.”

“You’re lying,” she snaps. “I told you I’d call the cops if you didn’t bring her back. Don’t make me do it!”

“Mara, I swear to you that she’s fine.” I pray that I’m right. “Sit tight. She’ll be back before you know it.”

There’s a pause and then a sigh. “Okay. But if she’s not home within the hour…”

“She will be, Mara. You have my word.” I inject as much sincerity as I can into the words. She gives a snort a moment before the line goes dead.

I scrub a hand through my hair and call up Caleb’s number. It rings through to voicemail.

“Fuck!” I growl, redialing and holding my breath as I wait for him to pick up.

Don’t you dare be dead, you dick!

“Hello?” His voice is hoarse. But he’s clearly not dead. Small mercies.

Relief floods me. “Caleb! Where are you?”

“Home. I have Elena.”

“Good. Because Mara’s losing her shit. She’s threatening to go to the cops. If she does—”

“I’ll handle it,” he cuts me off.

“You’d better. And Caleb… be careful. She’s not just some random PI. There’s something about her.” I don’t know why I’m sure of it, but I’m certain that I’m right.

Instead of answering, he ends the call, leaving me fuming. Fucking asshole could try a little harder to communicate clearly.

I stand there for a moment, staring at the screen. There’s nothing left for me to do aside from mulling over these latest developments.

What the fuck is Malakai up to?

Who is this woman who’s derailed my control freak brother?

And what is Juno doing right now?

I fight back a smile at the thought of her. A spark of light amid the madness of the day.

Impulsively, I call up her name from my contacts and start texting her.

Just checking in. Hope you’re feeling better today.

A moment later, dots start moving as she types back a response. I imagine a smile curving her sweet lips as her fingers move across the screen. And somehow, despite the confusion, the pressure, and the insanity, everything feels right with the world once more.