Page 4 of Red Fury (The Dragon Tributes #8)

S hadow

The lights of his apartment went dark hours ago. I get out of my vehicle, looking down the street. I’m two blocks away from Damien Marsh’s apartment building.

Damien Marsh.

Hah! Like hell that’s his real name. The lying bastard isn’t even human, let alone some ex-Army Ranger turned security specialist.

I can still smell the smoke on him from our encounter earlier today.

Dragon smoke. The kind that clings to our skin no matter how much we try to mask it from one another.

I’m very much in tune with my dragon. I could smell it, even though many of my kind wouldn’t be able to in their human form.

He should have worn cologne or something.

Idiot!

At first, I thought the Council had sent backup. Another Draiger to assist with my mission. But a quick call on my burner to Councilor Reed this afternoon crushed that idea.

Which means only one thing. He’s a Red.

The enemy.

And Council orders were crystal clear. Question him. Find out what he knows and why he is here. Then neutralize the threat.

We know that the Reds are more controlled than we first thought, but him being here is a serious problem. A serious risk to human life and I can’t allow it.

I’m dressed all in black. Before going any further, I check my weapons one final time. I have a blade strapped to my ankle and another one in a sheath inside my right sleeve at the wrist. I have a lock pick, and all my senses are on high alert.

It’s time for some answers.

My dragon stirs, eager for violence, eager to shift and deal with this threat the old-fashioned way. Fire and claws.

“No, girl,” I whisper to her. “We can’t! Stay calm…please.” I haven’t shifted in three long weeks. It’s been tough to stay in my human skin for so long. It becomes particularly apparent at times like these when I need to remain calm and centered.

We can do this!

The apartment building is a converted warehouse in a trendy part of downtown D.C. Four stories, brick facade, the kind of place that caters to young professionals. Perfect cover for an operative.

I’ve been watching the building for hours. There are no security cameras on the back-alley entrance, minimal foot traffic, and the fire escape ladder is rusted but functional.

I scale the building easily, making quick work of it. Fourth floor, corner unit. I memorized his address from the personnel files I accessed earlier.

The window leading to his apartment is cracked open slightly. Rookie mistake…or maybe he’s more confident than he should be. He probably assumed that, like most Draigers, my senses are not as honed or as sharp as his.

Wrong!

The funny thing is, the longer I’m on the Mainland suppressing my dragon, the keener my senses have become. The more in touch I am with my beast. It’s weird, but there it is. He should not have assumed, and he’s going to have to pay the price.

I slip through the opening, my feet touching the hardwood floor without a sound. The apartment is dark except for the faint glow of city lights filtering through the blinds.

I note the expensive furniture and minimalist décor.

There are no personal photos or belongings visible.

I’d say it came furnished…a rental. How does he afford this on the salary of a bodyguard?

He doesn’t, that’s how. It’s also clearly the home of someone who doesn’t plan to stay long. It’s all too sterile.

I move through the living room toward the hallway, every sense sharp. His scent is stronger here, that distinctive dragon smoke and male…all male. From the smell of soap and mint, I’d say he showered before bed.

The bedroom door is open, and I can hear the steady rhythm of deep breathing. Asleep. Perfect.

I peer around the doorframe and freeze.

Holy shit.

He’s lying on his back, one arm thrown over his head, dark hair tousled against the white pillowcase. The sheet is riding low on his hips, revealing a torso that looks like it was carved from freaking stone. Broad shoulders, a defined chest, and abs that could stop bullets.

And then there are the tattoos. Intricate designs cover his arms and chest, black ink with flashes of deep red woven throughout the patterns. A Red. Just as I suspected.

I suppress a sigh. Such a pity he has to die. He’s damned pretty, I’ll give him that.

I draw the blade from my ankle holster and move into the room, careful to be silent. Three steps to the bed. Two. One…

I launch myself onto him, straddling his abdomen with my thighs and press the razor-sharp edge of the blade against his throat in one fluid motion.

His eyes snap open instantly, no grogginess, no confusion. Just immediate, alert awareness. Dark blue eyes that seem to look right through me.

He doesn’t struggle or panic. Instead, he slowly raises both hands in surrender, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Cocky bastard!

“It’s you,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. “I have to admit, I’m shocked. You managed to scent me out,” he continues. “You also managed to sneak up on me?” He lifts his brows. “I underestimated you, Draiger.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I lean forward, putting more weight behind the blade. “Damien Marsh, my ass. What is your real name, Red?”

“Fury. And yours?”

“I’m the one asking the questions.”

“Fair enough, but you know mine and…” he shrugs, “it’s only polite for you to return the favor.”

I flash him a smile. “I don’t give a shit about being polite. Besides, I’m the one holding the knife,” I growl. “I’m in charge, and I’ve decided that you don’t need to know my name.”

He studies my face in the dim light, those blue eyes taking in every detail. “Pity. I thought we might be friends.”

I laugh despite myself, quickly pulling myself together. “You’re full of shit.”

“Go ahead, then. Ask your questions. I have nothing to hide.”

Liar!

“Why are you on the Mainland?”

“I’m working security for Secretary Harrison. I thought that was obvious.”

I press the blade deeper, and blood wells up against the steel. “Bullshit. Try again.”

His jaw tightens. “I got sick of life stuck on an island. I wanted something more, and here I am. My people don’t even know I’m here.” Another shrug.

Does he think I’m that freaking gullible? I want to roll my eyes, but I need to keep them trained on him, and so I don’t.

I snort-laugh. “Last chance, or I’ll kill you right here and now.”

He smiles. “I am being serious. Why won’t you believe me?”

I slice the prick, and he hisses, blood running down his neck onto the crisp white sheets.

“You may as well tell me. I have all night to cut the truth out of you.”

“Fine, my people caught wind that a Draiger had infiltrated the Mainland government. I was sent to investigate.”

“Caught wind how?”

“It was our IT department. They intercepted an email. Correspondence between our late prince and someone from your Council.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know that.”

I move the knife, nicking some more of his skin; more blood wells.

“You don’t know, or won’t say?” I ask.

“I don’t know, okay?” His voice is a deep rasp. “I don’t have an answer for you. It’s not like you and I are given all the facts. We’re told what we need to know and what our assignment is and nothing more.”

That is true. I actually believe him this time.

“How are you feeling, by the way?” he continues. “You must be in desperate need of a shift. Of spreading your wings and feeling the wind on your back.”

Just thinking about it has scales pressing against the inside of my skin, trying to break through.

My dragon tries to surge to the fore.

Easy girl.

Easy!

His hand shoots up, grabbing my wrist and twisting until I’m forced to drop the blade. Before I can react, he’s using his superior weight and strength to flip our positions, rolling until I’m pinned beneath him on the mattress.

I try hard to resist, but I am no competition, not for the likes of him. He has both my wrists in one hand, using his free hand to pick up my knife, which he puts against my neck.

Dammit!

He should never have gotten the jump on me. I’m pissed at myself.

“Name?” he barks. “Now!” he adds when I don’t oblige.

“Claire Douglas.”

He laughs. “Don’t be a wiseass. You can tell me your real name; it’s not like I can do much with it.”

I roll my eyes, considering giving him a fake one, but what difference will it make? Who cares if he knows? He’s right about that.

“Shadow.”

“Pretty name.” He eases the knife away from my neck just a smidgen, but still has my wrists in one of his huge hands. I can’t believe how damned strong he is. I can’t so much as move. “It suits you. Why are you here, Draiger? Don’t lie to me.”

I sigh, my eyes moving down his huge-ass body as I try to come up with something plausible. His abs have abs…and his erection could take out an eye, it’s that big.

“What the hell!?” I growl. “What is that?”

He follows my gaze and chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Surely you’ve seen a cock before?”

Heat flames across my cheeks. “Of course I have. Why are you erect? Does putting a knife to the throat of a vulnerable female turn you on?”

“There are no vulnerable females anywhere near here…so don’t even go there, Shadow. And no, I’m not into hurting females… Not if I can help it.”

The threat is clear.

“If you’re not into hurting females, why do you have an erection?” I demand, trying to regain some control over this rapidly deteriorating situation. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

His smile turns predatory. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a beautiful female in my bed,” he says, his voice dropping even lower. “You’ll have to forgive my dragon for thinking we might have some fun since you’re pinned underneath me right now.”

Fear spikes through me, though I try hard to hide it. Fury is big. One of the biggest males I’ve ever seen. Even with all my training, I’m not sure I could fight him off if he decided to…hurt me.

“What are you planning to do?” I ask, proud that my voice doesn’t shake. “Are you going to force me to have sex with you?”