“Stop fighting, lad. We’re done.”
“Thought you wanted to kill me.”
“Started out that way.”
Chest heaving, the male shuddered. “What changed?”
“You’ve got skill, Rathbone,” he said, deflecting to avoid admitting the truth. The bastard didn’t need to know his thoughts on the matter… or the fact he understood how important the Triad was to Dragonkind’s continued good health. “But you’re raw. Untrained. No real challenge for me in hand-to-hand.”
“Fuck.” Still struggling, Rathbone grabbed Rannock’s wrist and pulled, trying to break free. “Who trained you?”
“Got brothers too. Brutal bastards who try tae beat the shite out of me on a regular basis.”
“I understand the impulse.”
He huffed in amusement.
Rathbone growled. “Let go, asshole.”
“Easy,” he murmured, loosening his grip. “Donnae—”
“Ran!”
Full of fear, Cate’s voice echoed down from above. Fast footfalls followed, plunging into the unlit stairwell.
Shoving Rathbone aside, Rannock pivoted toward the stairs. Wood splinters skated over stone. Metal clanged. She sucked in a harsh breath. He yelled a sharp command.
Flames on candle wicks flared. Light spilled, casting shadows as Cate tripped over a piece of broken railing, tumbling arse over heels toward the bottom on the stairs.
He reacted, moving to intercept her. Throwing out his hand, he conjured a thick web. Cate somersaulted into the netting. The material dipped, then flexed, tossing her toward the ceiling.
“Shit!” she yelled, arms and legs flailing.
“Jesus,” Rathbone muttered, struggling to his feet.
Sliding to a stop beneath her, Rannock watched her go up. She started to come down. Prepared to catch her, timing it just right, he raised his arms. She landed with a thump against him. Out of breath, heart hammering like a runaway drum, she stared at him with big blue eyes. Suffering from shock, she opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.
“Bellmia?”
“Holy crap,” she rasped, trying to catch her breath. “It was too quiet. I thought you were hurt. I thought he—”
“Nay.”
“—used his lightning whip and just…” She looked him over, searching for injuries.
Mouth pressed to her temple, he let her touch, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. “Lightning whip, lass?”
Checking the back of his head for blood, she nodded. “When Dillinger attacked me, he—”
He snarled. “Dillinger attacked you?”
Cate blinked. “Only a little. He didn’t do any serious damage. Couple of scratches. Some bruises. Nothing to worry—”
“What the fuck?” Teeth clenched, he spun to glare at Rathbone.
Cate jolted against him.
The male raised his hands. “The arrival of the TriHexe forced him to shift into one of his forms. Not his fault. He couldn’t control it.”
Rannock frowned. “One of his forms?”
“The least cooperative one,” Cate said with a shrug, treating the occurrence as old news.
“So far,” Rathbone murmured, wiping blood from his face with the hem of his tattered dress shirt.
“So far?” Out of breath, Levin slid to a stop beside Rannock.
On his heels, Kruger skidded to a halt on his other side. “Have many forms does the bastard have?”
Rathbone shrugged. “As of yet—undetermined. A new one shows up every once in a while.”
“Interesting,” Tempel said, trotting down the last few steps. “Give me a blood sample, and I might be able to figure it out.”
“Let me guess.” Pale gaze riveted to Tempel, Rathbone raised a brow. “Earth dragon. Skilled at deciphering DNA sequences of plants and animals.”
Tempel nodded.
“Thanks, but I think my brother’ll give your scan a hard pass.”
“Offer stands.” Hands in his pockets, Tempel sauntered down the hall like he had all the time in the world. Deception at its best, lethal urges well hidden. After what happened to his former pack in Belarus, the male was rarely, if ever, relaxed. Stepping over a downed suit of armor scattered across the area rug, he stopped next to Rathbone. Far enough away to remain respectful, close enough to intimidate. “Now, can we talk about the elephant in the room?”
“My dad,” Cate said, shifting in his arms, asking without words to be put down.
Rannock complied, dropping her feet to the foot. As her boots touched down, he pulled her close, keeping his arm around her.
“Where is he, Rathbone?” she asked, taking control of the conversation.
Her right.
Only fair.
Cate’s sire, her rules… until he deemed it necessary to step in and protect her.
“It’s not good news, Cate,” Rathbone said, expression guarded, tone reserved. “When Rannock and his brothers brought your sire in, he was in bad shape. Suffering from magic sickness. Worse case I’ve ever seen.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s like severe radiation poisoning. No one survives that kind of infection. Magic sickness in humans has a one hundred percent mortality rate.”
“What…” Shaking her head, Cate cleared her throat. “What are you saying? That he’s… that h-he…”
“I’m sorry,” Rathbone said softly. “He passed away early this morning. There was nothing we could do.”
“No. No. That’s not right. It can’t be right.” She looked at Rannock, hoping he’d refute the truth.
“Catie-mine,” he whispered, hurting for her.
“No, Ran. He can’t be dead,” she said, voice gone hoarse. A tremor rippled through her. “It doesn’t make sense. He’s my dad. Larger than life. He knows what jobs to stay away from. Even when things go bad, he finds a way out. He’s a master at getting out of sketchy situations. The best. The absolute best.”
Hating to see her struggle, he cupped her cheek. “Lass.”
She shook her head. “He can’t be gone. He just can’t be, Ran. He knows. My dad knows how to get away.”
Rathbone murmured, “He’s gone, honey.”
“Can I see him?” she asked. “Can I—”
“Nay, you cannae, Cate,” he said, despising himself for denying her. A hard pill to swallow, but no matter how painful, he refused to lie to his mate. Cate needed his honesty. She deserved the truth, even if it meant delivering another blow and watching tears fill her eyes. “I’m sorry, lass, but he’s contaminated by witchling black magic. You cannae get anywhere near him without becoming infected.”
Air rasped in her throat. Her voice broke on a denial.
His heart followed suit, shattering as he watched her absorb the blow. Disbelief turned to pain. Her eyes reflected the shift as her expression crumbled and emotion swelled. Stark agony. Deep sorrow. Gut-wrenching guilt. Connected to her, he felt the brutal combination grab hold and sink its claws deep. She made a hoarse sound as the first tear fell.
She sobbed his name.
Wrapping both arms around her, Rannock hugged her tighter. As she burrowed in, he murmured, trying to soothe her even though he knew he couldn’t. Grief went its own way, carving out different paths for different people. After the loses he’d suffered, he knew that better than most. And so when her knees buckled, he didn’t prevent her from falling. He folded with her, taking her with him to the floor, pulling her into his lap, doing the only she needed him to do in the moment—hold her together while grief tore her apart.