Page 44 of Red Fury (The Dragon Tributes #8)

S hadow

I’m buckled into the passenger seat, of the car, next to Kozlov, and everything feels wrong. The seatbelt feels too tight, or maybe that’s just because I can barely breathe. My head is pounding, and there’s this weird buzzing in my ears that makes it hard to focus.

I don’t know if it’s the drugs he pumped into me or the blood loss from drinking from me like he did. Like he wasn’t going to stop. Like he didn’t care if I died. It’s probably a bit of both.

The landscape outside the window is endless farmland.

Fields of corn and soybeans stretch as far as I can see, broken up by the occasional farmhouse or barn.

Then there are the herds of cattle grazing in huge fields of tall grass.

It might have been beautiful on another day.

It might have been relaxing even to stare out of the window at the passing countryside as the sun lowers on the horizon. Today is not one of those days.

I have no idea where we are, only that we’re in the middle of nowhere.

The perfect place to dump a body. The thought makes my stomach lurch.

“Where are we going?” I ask, noting how my voice sounds just as weak as I feel. “It’ll be dark soon. Are we going somewhere to sleep for the night?”

“Yes,” Kozlov tells me without taking his eyes off the road.

He looks worse than he did on the plane.

Much worse. His hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles.

His shirt is wrinkled and has bloodstains on the collar.

My blood. But it’s his eyes that worry me the most. They’re wild, almost manic, with dark circles underneath that make him look like he hasn’t slept in days.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a drug addict going through withdrawal.

He keeps sniffing in my direction, his nostrils flaring like he’s trying to catch my scent. It’s beyond creepy.

“I’m curious,” I add, but he doesn’t answer.

He sniffs at me again, closing his eyes and groaning. “You smell so good,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So fucking good.”

There’s something hungry in his voice that makes what little I feel of my dragon recoil even further inside me.

He says it again, and this time he actually leans closer to me while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. I press myself against the passenger door, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

“You have no idea how good you smell,” he continues, his voice getting rougher. “It is driving me insane.”

A horrible realization creeps over me. The way he’s acting, the constant sniffing, the manic look in his eyes. I still get the feeling that he’s acting like an addict. Like he’s addicted, only not to drugs.

But to my blood.

I open a window, letting some air in because the thought terrifies me more than anything else that’s happened.

If that’s the case, if he’s somehow become addicted to my blood specifically, then I’ll probably be dead before anyone can help me.

I’m too weak to help myself, and he’s not going to let me go. Not when I’m his drug of choice.

I almost couldn’t stop him before. I doubt I’ll have the same sliver of luck again this time.

He’ll start drinking, and he won’t stop until I’m drained. With the drugs in my system, I’ll die because I won’t have advanced healing.

The open window must help because he goes back to concentrating on the road ahead.

A few minutes later, we turn onto a long, narrow driveway that’s more dirt and gravel than actual road. The car bounces and lurches over potholes and ruts that feel like they haven’t been filled in years. Tree branches scrape against the windows, and I can hear rocks pinging off the undercarriage.

“Where are we?” I try again, but he doesn’t answer.

He just keeps driving, that same unsettling smile playing on his lips. His fangs have started to elongate, and I can see them when he grins.

It’s revolting…he’s revolting.

Five minutes later, we finally arrive at our destination.

It’s a cottage that’s seen better days. Much better days.

The paint is peeling off the siding in long strips, and several of the shutters are hanging at odd angles.

The front porch sags in the middle, and there are weeds growing up through the floorboards.

It doesn’t look like anyone has lived here in a long time.

“Get out,” he tells me, turning off the engine.

I consider my options, which are basically nonexistent. I could try to run, but I can barely stand upright. My legs feel like jelly, and my vision keeps going in and out of focus. He’d catch me before I made it ten feet.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the car door. The fresh air hits my face, and for a moment, I feel slightly better. Then I try to stand, and my knees nearly buckle.

Kozlov is around the car in seconds, his hand gripping my upper arm to steady me.

“Careful now,” he says. “We can’t have you falling and hurting yourself.”

Bastard!

We walk toward the cottage, and once again, I think about trying to break free and running. But I know it would be useless.

“Where are we?” I ask again as we approach the front door. “Why did you bring me here?”

He pauses, his hand still on my arm, and looks up at the cottage. I’m not sure what I see in his eyes. It’s like he’s deep in thought. His face gets this look of calm for a few moments.

“My brother owns this property,” he says finally. “He bought it a few years ago out of a sense of nostalgia, though I never understood why.”

His grip tightens just a little.

“Not until now. Not until today.”

I want to ask him what he means, what the significance of this place is, why he brought me here of all places. But something in his expression stops me. There’s a darkness there that makes my heart beat faster.

I wait for him to continue.

“Go inside,” he tells me, reaching around me to push open the front door. It creaks on its hinges.

I do as he says, and he follows close behind me. The inside of the cottage is just as run-down as the outside. The air smells musty and stale, like it’s been closed up for years.

Kozlov walks around once we’re inside, his eyes taking in the empty rooms. There’s no furniture, just bare floors and peeling wallpaper. It’s bigger than it looks from the outside. I can almost picture a family living here.

He fishes his cell phone out of his pocket and switches on the flashlight. “The dining room table used to be over here,” he says, gesturing to a spot near what I assume was once the kitchen. His voice has taken on a dreamy quality.

He’s definitely reminiscing.

“My Mamushka ,” he continues, using what I think is the Russian word for mother, “used to insist we all sit at the table for meals. No matter how tired we were, no matter how late it was, we had to eat together as a family.” His eyes grow watery. Is he feeling sad?

Then he smiles, and perhaps I see the male he was before he turned into this creature. His fangs are fully extended, reminding me that that male no longer exists.

My hands feel sweaty. My mouth dry.

“Oh,” I manage to say, my voice a whisper. “You lived here? With your family?”

Kozlov nods, still looking around the empty room like he can see ghosts from his past.

“Me, my two brothers, and our sister. My parents worked on the ranch.” He turns to look at me. “My father was a ranch hand. Worked his way up to manager over the years. My mother worked in the main house as a housekeeper and cook.”

He starts walking toward me, and I instinctively take a step back. But there’s nowhere to go. I’m trapped between him and the wall.

“I didn’t think so at the time,” he continues. “But we had a good life here, once upon a time. A great life. Simple and easy.”

He’s close enough now that I can smell his expensive cologne mixed with sweat.

“We had a great life up until things went belly up,” he says, his voice dropping low.

He keeps walking toward me, sniffing and snuffling like an animal.

“Before my mother and father were murdered and my brothers and I were turned into this.” He’s breathing hard, like he’s angry. When he looks at me, his eyes are blood red. “Before we were turned into monsters. I’m a monster…but you know that already.”

He cocks his head, his eyes narrowing on my throat. At the pulse there.

Fury

I can’t stop pacing. Back and forth across the small clearing, my bare feet silent on the forest floor. The bag I took from Webb sits at my feet, containing the clothes I stripped out of the moment I got his first text twenty minutes ago to say that the aircraft had landed in Wyoming.

That was twenty long minutes ago.

My skin feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending crackling with barely contained energy.

My dragon is right there, scales threatening to break through my flesh.

The beast is restless, agitated, ready to tear free and take to the skies.

All he knows is that our female is in danger, and we’re standing here doing nothing about it.

Thing is, we need a destination. Wyoming is huge.

I need more information. It won’t take me long to get there.

I just need to hold it together for a little longer.

Waiting…waiting…waiting…

I’m so sick of waiting.

My phone buzzes against the ground where I dropped it next to my bag. It’s Webb.

Vehicle headed to Clearwater. Still moving.

Clearwater, Wyoming? I do a quick Google search and scroll briefly.

What the hell is Kozlov doing taking her there? It’s in the middle of nowhere. My mind races through possibilities, none of them good.

I push out a heavy breath, feeling the tension coil tighter with each passing second.

Ten more minutes crawl by like hours. Another second, she could be hurt, or worse. The images that flash through my mind make my vision blur red.

My phone buzzes again when Webb sends me the final coordinates.

Finally.

Thank fuck!

I snatch up my phone and plug them into the map. The location marker appears, and I zoom in to get my bearings. Clearwater, Wyoming. Middle of fucking nowhere, just like I thought. Surrounded by nothing but open plains and scattered ranches.

Actually, this works in my favor. The more remote, the better. Less chance of some human looking up at the wrong moment and seeing a huge-ass black dragon streaking across the sky.

I text Webb back.

Got it. Thank you. Let me know if there’s any more movement.

Will do. Be careful, bro. Please try not to kill Kozlov. We need him.

He tells me. Then I tuck the phone into my bag and zip it shut. My dragon roars his approval, knowing what comes next.

I close my eyes and reach for him. As expected, the shift comes quick and easy, my body welcoming the change, embracing the power that flows through me.

Black scales emerge across my skin. My spine extends into a massive tail, and wings unfurl from my back.

The transformation completes, and I am in my dragon form. Powerful and deadly.

I carefully grab the bag in my jaws, mindful not to crush it with my razor-sharp teeth. Everything I need is in there – my phone and clothes for when I shift back.

With a powerful thrust of my wings, I launch myself skyward, shooting up as fast as my massive form will carry me. The ground falls away beneath me in seconds, the trees becoming tiny specks as I climb higher and higher into the darkness.

Up here, I’m invisible. Just another shadow against the black sky.

Once I reach a safe altitude, I level out and pour on even more speed, my wings beating hard as I race toward Wyoming.

The wind tears at my scales. I should be reveling in the freedom, but I barely feel it.

All my focus is on the coordinates burned into my memory, on the growing distance between us shrinking with every mile.

Hold on, Shadow. Please hold on for me.

The plea echoes in my mind, a prayer to whatever gods might be listening. I won’t lose her. Not when I just found her.

Please.

My dragon and I are in perfect harmony, both of us driven by the same primal need: to reach our female, to protect her, to destroy anyone who dares to hurt her.

Mine!

Kozlov has no idea what’s coming for him.

But he’s about to find out.