Page 22 of Hot for the Dragon (Saltwater Grove #3)

22

ARCHER

A rcher positioned himself between Daphne and the approaching dragon. His muscles tensed, ready to shift at a moment's notice as adrenaline coursed through his veins. The massive bronze dragon hovered at the edge of his property, wings stirring up dust and fallen leaves in rhythmic gusts.

"I can handle myself now," Daphne protested behind him. "You did just spend the last couple of hours training me."

"Humor me," Archer replied, not taking his eyes off the intruder. His protective instincts were in overdrive, especially after Ned's attack.

The stranger shifted and transformed into a lean man with dark hair who immediately raised his hands in surrender. He stayed at the edge of the property, keeping his distance.

Archer's nostrils flared as he scented the air but detected no familiar markers. This wasn't someone from his past. Still, that meant nothing.

"I just want to talk," the man called out. His voice carried across the yard, steady but cautious.

Archer's jaw clenched. He didn't recognize this shifter, which made him even more suspicious. In his experience, unexpected visitors rarely brought good news.

"Five minutes," Archer barked, crossing his arms. "Convince me you're not the enemy before I decide to show you exactly why people still tell stories about me." He felt Daphne's silent amusement at his posturing but ignored it. Sometimes a little intimidation went a long way.

The stranger stood there, hesitating, and Archer's patience began to wear thin. He flexed his shoulders, feeling the dragon within him stirring, ready to emerge at the first hint of trouble.

"The clock's ticking," Archer said, his voice carrying an edge of warning.

The stranger cleared his throat. "My name is Terry. I was part of the Crimson Wing before Carmen took over."

Archer's muscles remained coiled tight, ready to spring into action if needed. He knew of the Crimson Wing - they'd been peaceful enough, until Carmen had crushed their leader in combat. His gaze flickered to the distance between them, calculating the seconds it would take to reach Terry if this turned ugly.

"Carmen forced our loyalty through combat," Terry continued, his hands still raised. "It's our way - the strongest leads. But when I heard her..." He glanced at Daphne. "When I heard you speak about standing up against what we know is wrong, it struck something in me."

Archer felt Daphne shift behind him, likely wanting to step forward, but he subtly blocked her path. Terry might seem earnest, but Archer hadn't survived this long by taking chances.

"I want to help," Terry said, his voice gaining strength. "Carmen's planning something big, bigger than just taking over the town. She's gathering forces from other territories, making alliances with darker elements. What she did to my wing - forcing us to follow through fear and tradition rather than loyalty - it isn't right."

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying Terry's scent to Archer. No trace of deception, but Archer had been fooled before. His jaw clenched as memories of past betrayals surfaced.

"I know I'm taking a risk coming here," Terry added. "If Carmen finds out..." He swallowed hard. "But someone needs to stand against her. And after seeing what she's done to the town, hearing what she plans to do next..." His eyes met Archer's. "I'd rather die standing up to her than live following her."

Archer felt Daphne's restless energy behind him before she darted around his protective stance. His hand shot out to catch her arm, but she slipped past with the grace of someone who'd been dodging his attempts all morning during training.

"You mentioned Carmen's making alliances," Daphne said, her voice warm. "With whom?"

Archer suppressed a groan. Of course she'd jump right into questioning Terry like they were all friends having coffee. Her inherent trust in others would get her killed one of these days - if he wasn't around to prevent it.

"Mercenaries," Terry replied, lowering his hands slightly. "Any skilled fighters around the area who might give her an edge in battle."

Archer moved closer to Daphne, his shoulder brushing hers. "Seems awfully convenient timing, showing up right after we started making progress against Carmen's operation," Archer's voice cut through the yard like steel.

Terry shifted his weight, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I mean, if I were Carmen," Archer continued, crossing his arms, "I'd want to know exactly what we're planning. What better way than to send someone playing turncoat?" He felt Daphne's disapproving glance but ignored it. "So tell me, Terry, why now?"

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the wind. Archer's dragon instincts screamed at him to grab Daphne and get her inside where it was safe, but he forced himself to wait. Sometimes silence was the best interrogation technique.

"You're not exactly helping your case here," Archer drawled when Terry remained quiet. He felt Daphne's elbow dig into his ribs - her subtle way of telling him to play nice. He responded by shifting slightly closer to her, his protective instincts still on high alert despite her apparent ease with the situation.

"I've been talking to others," Terry said. "There are more who question Carmen's methods, especially after seeing what she's done to the town recently. They're just... afraid to speak up."

Archer watched Terry's body language carefully as the dragon shifter explained himself. Every muscle in Archer's body remained tense, ready to protect Daphne at the slightest hint of danger.

"And you expect us to believe you've suddenly grown a conscience?" Archer's tone dripped with skepticism.

"Not suddenly." Terry met his gaze steadily. "I needed time to gather support, to find others who felt the same way. If we could get them together, maybe have Daphne speak to them again..."

"Absolutely not." The words ripped from Archer's throat before Terry could finish. His dragon roared beneath his skin, protective instincts screaming. "You want us to walk into a gathering of Carmen's dragons? After what happened yesterday?"

"I think we should consider it," Daphne piped up behind him.

Archer turned to face her, his eyes blazing. "You were attacked by Ned less than twenty-four hours ago. Or did you forget that little detail while planning your suicide mission?"

"But if there are others willing to stand against Carmen-"

"Or this could be their Plan B since Ned failed." Archer used his height advantage to loom over her. "They couldn't get to you one way, so now they're trying another."

He watched as doubt crept into Daphne's expression, her green eyes clouding with uncertainty. His protective instincts urged him to bundle her up somewhere safe and deal with Terry himself, but instead he waited for her response.

"Could you give us something concrete?" Daphne turned and asked Terry. "Some way to verify what you're saying is true?"

Terry nodded, his posture relaxing slightly. "Max Stone. He runs the bakery on Fifth Street. He's been passing information to Carmen about Council movements and city defenses."

Archer's jaw tightened. He knew Max - the man had always seemed too interested in his comings and goings when Archer grabbed his morning coffee. The pieces clicked into place.

"But that's not all," Terry continued, his voice dropping. "Your efforts to cut off Carmen's supplies, her information network - it's worked. Maybe too well." He glanced over his shoulder as if expecting Carmen herself to swoop down. "She's moved up her timeline. The attack isn't coming in a month. It's coming in three days."

The words hung in the air. Archer felt Daphne stiffen beside him, her shoulder pressing against his arm. His protective instincts flared again, and he had to resist the urge to wrap an arm around her.

"She's gathered forces from three territories," Terry added. "Anyone who'll fight for the right price. When she strikes, it'll be with everything she has."

Archer cataloged every micro-expression that crossed Terry's face as he spoke, searching for any sign of deception. His years of experience told him Terry was either telling the truth or was the best liar he'd ever encountered. The dragon within him growled, already anticipating the coming battle.

"Three days?" Daphne's voice cracked. "That's not possible."

"The hell it isn't," Archer growled, his muscles coiling tight with tension. The news hit him like a physical blow. Three territories worth of dragon shifters and mercenaries meant Carmen had been planning this longer than anyone suspected. "Terry, I need a minute with my partner."

Terry nodded, remaining near his property line. "Take your time."

Archer's mind raced through combat scenarios, each one worse than the last. Even at his peak fighting condition, taking on that many dragons would've been suicide. Now? After years of isolation? The odds made his dragon bristle beneath his skin.

He glanced at Daphne, whose face had gone pale. Her presence complicated things further. If Terry was telling the truth, she'd be in even more danger. If he was lying... well, that scenario ended with Archer tearing someone apart. His protective instincts surged at the mere thought of harm coming to her.

The late morning sun beat down on his shoulders as he calculated their options. They could warn the Council, but evacuation would take longer than three days. They could try to rally the town's supernatural community, but against three territories worth of dragons? The math didn't add up.

His gaze drifted to Daphne again. She'd insisted on being involved, on helping protect the town. Now here they were, backed into a corner with a potential spy offering them intel that could either save them or destroy them. And all he could think about was keeping her safe.

The wind shifted, carrying Terry's scent to him again. Still no trace of deception, but Archer had learned the hard way that trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not when Daphne's life might depend on his judgment.

He flexed his hands, feeling his claws itching to emerge. Three days. Carmen had outmaneuvered them all, and now they were running out of time. The dragon within him roared for action, for violence, for protecting what was his.