One he didn’t want to face as he shifted from dragon to human form. He hit his haunches without conjuring his clothes. Modesty be damned. He needed to make sure he was alone. Truly alone.
With Mavis’s magical menagerie wandering about, even a Dragonkind warrior couldn’t be sure he went undetected. The guests who came and went from The White Hare owned a variety of abilities. Not many Magickind could see through the cloaking spell he conjured, but…
No sense tempting fate. He wanted to surprise Mavis, not broadcast his arrival.
Balanced on the balls of his feet, Kruger stayed still and silent, becoming part of the landscape, absorbing the night sounds, enjoying the splash of the enormous fountain a hundred feet away. Inching forward, he scanned the rear of the hotel, then glanced toward the water feature positioned between the wide stone patio at the back of the house and the forest he hid inside.
Circular in shape, almost as large as an Olympic swimming pool, the fountain featured a statue of Poseidon, trident held high, rising from the froth of a curling sea at its center. Listening for telltale signs, Kruger watched the raised marble lip, waiting to see if—
Splashing sounded.
Laughter followed as three water nymphs surfaced in the fountain, splashing, giggling, frolicking in the moonlight. He watched the trio grab the smooth stone lip and kick out of the pool—two dark-skinned, one light, all with curvy bodies shielded by the wet fall of long, thick hair.
Gathering the gloom, he faded deeper into the shadows. Unaware of his proximity, the nymphs toweled off and, rounding the fountain edge, trotted up wide-mouthed stairs and across the patio. The hiss of hinges stroked through the quiet as the door opened and Mavis’s major-domo stepped out. The pungent scent of gorgon assaulted Kruger’s senses. He bit down on a snarl, watching as the half-man, half-snake—with dreadlocks instead of serpents for hair—slithered outside. Bowing his dark head, he waved an elegant hand, ushering the nymphs inside.
The trio giggled and hustled through the open door.
Pausing mid-slither, the gorgon scanned the back terrace. He hesitated, shimmering yellow eyes searching. Wrapped inside the cloaking spell, Kruger stared back, waiting for the moment the major-domo sensed his presence and—
The male turned away and followed his guests inside.
The collection of voices faded.
Kruger released a long, slow breath, then glared at the backside of the closed door. The stout oak surface mocked him with its pleasing shade of blue. Goddamn Mavis and her flair for hospitality. Everything about The White Hare screamed, Welcome! Come in and stay awhile.
He scowled.
Rocketing overhead, Levin snorted. Static blew into Kruger’s head as a link opened into mind-speak. “Seriously?”
“Donnae start.”
“We’re Dragonkind. Top of the food chain. What would the gorgon have done—hissed at you? Stuck his forked tongue out and—”
“Lev—”
“And you’re hiding in the thicket.”
Kruger growled a warning.
His friend chuckled. “And the innkeeper? She’s, like, what…a hundred and two years old?”
“Seventy-three, arsehole.”
“Whatever,” Levin said. “Huge threat, lad. Real big.”
“I’m not afraid of—”
“She’s beating you at yer own game, mon.”
Kruger tipped his head back to glare at his brother-in-arms. Fuck. He should’ve gone with his gut, snuck out of the lair, and left Levin at home. But Cyprus’s decree that no one flew out alone had made him hesitate, then toe the line. A wise decision, no matter how much Levin annoyed him. With the Danish pack circling, attacking at random, the shift in protocol was a necessary one.
No one wanted to be caught out by the enemy pack. Which made accepting a wingmate a smart move, though he wished Rannock was at his back tonight. His best friend might be volatile, vicious, and impatient, but at least the male knew when to keep his mouth shut. Always the better bet when on mission. But with Cate now in the fold, Rannock was off rotation, taking a much-needed break to play with his mate. Something about tearing apart a classic car and putting the rust bucket back together.
“Ruger,” Levin said, using Kruger’s nickname.
Kruger clenched his teeth. “What would you have me do—fry her?”
“Thought that was the plan.”
“In the beginning, mayhap.”
“What happened?”
“She tried tae kill me.”
“With what?”
“A shotgun. Vintage. Mint condition.”
Levin laughed. “She’s got style. I think I like the old bird.”
Kruger thought he might too. Another problem to add to the pile. A massive one that told him he might be losing his mind.
He never backed down. Ever. He won in the business world…period. He’d been involved in countless mergers and acquisitions, hostile takeovers and startups. Every business venture he touched turned to gold. His packmates—the warriors he lived with inside the underground lair beneath the Dragon’s Horn—loved him for it. Mavis, however, had yet to see his appeal.
She upped the ante at every turn, making him want to tear his horns off. But after seven weeks battling with her, he’d come to know his opponent. Now, even as the situation surrounding The White Hare went from not-good to critical, he couldn’t bring himself to end her life. Putting her in the ground left a bad taste in his mouth.
Somewhere along the way, he’d developed a soft spot for the aging female. For a human, she took surly to new heights. He should know: before meeting the shotgun-loving maniac, he thought he’d cornered the market on assholery. The innkeeper, however, created a new category, refusing to back down no matter how much pressure he put on her.
An epic tug of war. She yanked. He pulled. No ground was ever won.
Every time he talked to his solicitors, Kruger gave them new instructions, changing tactics, hoping to find one that worked. He played nice in the beginning, doubling his proffer twice, offering more than the pile of stones she called a hotel was worth, and yet…
He got nowhere. Which made no sense. Mavis O’Donnell shouldn’t be an obstacle—not for him.
The types of deals he brokered on a regular basis framed his interests. The why of a venture rarely mattered. He worked until he got what he wanted, so her refusal to sell tripped his trigger. He’d gone head-to-head with CEOs of powerful corporations—skilled negotiators and savvy businessmen the world over—who possessed less staying power than the human currently mucking up his plans.
“Annoying,” he growled under his breath.
Ice-blue scales flashing moonlight, Levin hovered over the rooftop. His friend’s midnight blue claws touched down, curling over the eaves without making a sound.
Folding his wings, Levin leveled his gaze on Kruger. “Admit it—you admire her.”
“Do not.” Deny. Obfuscate. Misdirect. Three excellent strategies, ones Kruger deployed often. “She’s a pain in the arse.”
“Admit it, Ruger. You like her.”
“Go home, Lev.”
“And miss all the fun? No way in hell.”
“Stay out of my business.”
“When have I ever done that?”
Never. The nosy male insisted on knowing everything. “The right tae privacy—ever heard of it?”