Page 9 of Rook (Dragon Brides #11)
Rook wasn’t just going to leave Sasha alone.
He didn't tell her he followed, but he did. The old hunter’s urge, part duty and part something hungrier, drove him. His steps made no sound. He stayed just far enough back, concealed behind a tangle of young fir, then a veil of ferns.
She crossed from dirt to the ragged bite of gravel, then to the rutted pavement of the small parking lot.
A large, battered brown van was one of two vehicles parked there.
The other probably belonged to the human the slavers had killed.
He watched her lift her chin, scanning the empty lot with a wariness he recognized.
She checked every shadow before moving, her eyes narrowed against the morning sun.
This would be the perfect place for an ambush.
The jagged edge of the forest pressed against the crumbled curb.
Too many places for a man to hide. He could see it all: the narrow lane in, the choke points, the way a pair of dragons with their fire primed could sweep the lot before she reached the van.
He cursed himself for ever letting her walk alone.
He summoned his fire and waited.
Everything in him went sharp, his senses stretching wide. The distant wail of a bird overhead spiked the hair along his arms. He scanned the reflection in the van’s windows. Was that movement inside? A slaver’s eye, waiting? The bitter taste of anticipation curled on his tongue.
Tension threaded through his limbs. He watched for the flicker of a shadow, for a glint of metal or flame. The air felt too bright, as if the world was holding its breath for violence.
Sasha snapped the van door open. She ducked in fast, tossed her backpack onto the passenger seat, and slammed herself behind the wheel.
For half a second, Rook braced for glass to shatter, for fire to slice through metal.
He closed one fist, flame tingling at his fingertips, ready to burn anyone who showed themselves.
The engine coughed and sputtered, hacking like an old man, then caught with a shudder. Its rattle filled the lot. Tires crunched over gravel as she reversed.
Rook waited for an attack. His pulse thundered. He scanned for any ripple in the brush, any excuse to scorch the earth bare. His gaze darted between the woods, the trash bin, and the cracked public toilet. All perfect cover.
But nothing materialized. No movement, no sudden flare of fire. Only the wind hissing in the needles and the rumbling complaint of the van as Sasha straightened it out and drove away.
He remained a shadow, blending into the tree line long after she’d turned south and disappeared from sight. Only when the last faint cough of the engine faded did the tension in his shoulders ease.
The dragon inside him snarled, pressing at the cage of his flesh. He wanted to break free. He wanted to shift, to scream out a challenge, his wings tearing through the new day’s light. He wanted to hunt above the treetops, to see for miles and be certain her path was safe and clear.
The urge was so strong his fingers curled, digging half-moons into his palms.
He shouldn’t have let her go. The wild, primitive knowledge burned through him. Only he could keep her safe. She was his to protect. His responsibility. She was … his. The word was sharp, possessive, and undeniable.
He was going mad.
A dry wind caught his face, prickling along his jaw. The emptiness the van left behind was louder than its engine. He was a lord of Vemion and felt like an abandoned cub pining for the warmth of a den.
He vaguely recalled something Shade, the Royal Matchmaker, had said to him. He’d dismissed her words at the time, but they ran through his mind with a sharp clarity now.
Your mate will drive you mad.
If some human on a backwater planet could make him feel this way, he shuddered to think what his dragon-mate would make him feel. He hoped he never met her. The thought was terrifying.
He forced himself to melt deeper into the trees, pulling away from the clearing. Away from him, there was no reason for the fugitives to chase her. She was just one person among billions. She would be safe.
Even if it didn’t feel that way.
He turned and headed back toward the ranger station.
The fugitives had found his camp, but they hadn't yet found his ship.
It was shielded, cloaked so that scanning tech from Vemion would struggle to pick it out.
Still, he didn't want to risk going back there now.
A single careless move could expose everything.
He needed to talk to someone, he realized. To get his head on straight. He was too far into his own thoughts, last night’s tension knotting his insides. And there was only one group of people in this galaxy stubborn enough to give him advice he might actually heed: his brothers, Vex and Zane.
As the eldest, Rook hated to admit he might need advice. He’d always been the one to issue orders and take the blows first. But he wasn’t fool enough to put it off any longer.
He found a sheltered hollow among a ring of huge pines.
With careful hands, he drew out his communicator and set it on the ground.
It glimmered with faint blue light, reading his signature.
He initiated the call. After several moments, the air flickered with static that resolved into two figures before him, ghostly but vivid.
Zane was the first to move, arms folded insolently across his chest. Wild dark hair fell in a rakish swoop over one eye, his smirk quick and sharp. Vex stood a half-head taller, his bearing as strict as a royal guard. Where Zane vibrated with restless energy, Vex was all iron restraint.
Zane gave an exaggerated look around, his mouth making a long O as he surveyed Rook’s surroundings. “This doesn’t look like Rook’s cruiser, does it, Vex?”
Vex furrowed his brow, scanning the moss and sagging pine behind Rook. “I can’t say it does. If I’m not mistaken, those are the forests of Earth.”
Rook suppressed a snarl.
Zane rocked back on his heels, grinning. “I always pictured your exile would be on some desert moon, not a mud pit.”
Vex’s lips twitched. “Have you finished the mission, or did you just want to chat?”
Rook’s jaw ticked. He had little patience for games. “Fine, yes,” he relented. “Your help may have been appreciated. The situation is more complex than anticipated.”
Zane snorted. “You mean the fugitives didn’t fall to the ground in fear once they saw you?”
“They did not,” Rook said, his tone flat.
“And they fought back when you attempted to use your fire against them?” That was from Vex.
“Yes.”
“Injured you?” Vex’s eyes narrowed on his left shoulder as if he could see beneath the battered shirt.
How did they always know? He straightened, shifting his posture to hold his left shoulder back. The healing salve had worked. It barely twinged.
“You need us,” Zane said lightly, stretching his arms overhead.
“I can handle this myself.” He clenched his fists. This was a mistake.
Zane leaned closer, peering at Rook. “Yes, going to Earth alone was a mistake,” he snapped back. “Which is why we asked you to wait two days for us to be ready to travel. But no, the mighty Lord Rook needs to do it all himself.” He rolled his eyes.
“That’s enough,” Rook snapped.
“Do you want us to come help clean up your mess?” Zane raised an eyebrow.
“No.” He would eat glass before he asked for help.
“Then I don’t know why you’re calling. I’ll see you at your funeral.” Zane’s figure blinked out, leaving Rook alone with Vex.
A heavy silence settled.
“He’s in a mood,” Rook offered.
Vex pursed his lips, his arms crossed. “You acted rashly in going there alone. It’s unlike you. Why?” His gaze was a scalpel.
He wasn’t going to tell Vex about his meeting with the Royal Matchmaker, about Shade and her schemes. He’d never hear the end of it.
“I am doing my job,” he said after a long pause. “And I need to return to it.”
Vex didn’t press. His tone softened a fraction. “Don’t get killed, brother,” he said quietly.
Then he, too, faded out, the hologram collapsing into empty air. The woods felt too silent.
Rook sat back on a rock and groaned, pressing his knuckles into his knees.
Don’t get killed.
Easy to say.
All he had to do was find the fugitives, capture them, and return to Vemion, leaving Earth behind for good.
And never seeing Sasha again.