Hidden Dragons (14 page)

“Daddy!” squealed the cubs, streaking out from the kitchen to attack him.

Nate bent to pick both up at the same time. Rick was treated to the sight of the normally self-possessed werewolf beaming with pure delight. That he liked being called
Daddy
by his adopted kids was clear. A little chaos of explanations and news sharing ensued, after which Nate pushed them firmly in the direction of Rick’s bedroom.

“Tiger nap,” he ordered.

“Daddy,” the twins complained in unison.

“Go on,” he said. “You know the rules for when grownups need to talk in private.”

The cubs stumped off like glum French
chats
to the guillotine.

“You are the man,” Tony said admiringly.

Nate shook his head. “Don’t be too impressed. The little monsters will probably eavesdrop.”

He looked serious, and that made Rick feel serious as well. “What did you find out?”

“Let’s sit for this,” Nate said.

Tony and Rick had turned his couch right side up. Cass was perched on one arm, seeming lost in thought as she stared out the front window. Nate stopped in his tracks when she turned around. There was no denying he was as dazzled as his kids had been. Snow White simply had that effect.

“Hello,” she said, looking like she felt awkward. “I’m Rick’s friend, Cass.”

“Ah, right.” Nate recovered his aplomb. “Nate Rivera. Nice to meet you. I, uh, take it you need to hear this too.”

“Yes,” Rick said—maybe too firmly. Nate gave him a weird look. He couldn’t help that. This concerned Cass more than anyone.

Nate pulled a big armchair closer, leaving Rick free to sit beside Cass. She didn’t move from the couch’s arm, though her hands did tighten for a second atop her thighs. Being close to her felt good, like a drug he was getting addicted to.

“So,” Nate said, leaning forward across his knees. “I went to see a professor of Faerie Culture at City U. I figured your question about what made ancient dragons special was worth getting an expert opinion on. According to Professor Pliny, true dragons could make and unmake worlds. They feature in a lot of fae origin tales, including the story of how the Pocket was formed.”

“The Pocket isn’t that old,” Tony interjected from beside Rick. “Only a couple centuries.”

“Right,” Nate said. “Professor Pliny says according to recent legend, our reality was created from the death energy of T’Fain, the last true dragon to walk Faerie.”

Nate glanced at Cass, but she shook her head. “I’ve never heard this story.”

Nate studied her expression for a couple seconds before appearing to accept what she said. Cass didn’t seem to mind being doubted as much as causing jaws to drop with her looks.

“Neither had I,” Nate conceded. “But this professor seemed to know his stuff. He said the last dragon had a keeper, variously known as Justice, Saul and Zeke.” He rolled his eyes at the list. “You know how faeries are with names.

“Anyway, the story goes that Justice or whoever was distraught over the loss of the beast he’d trained up from a hatchling. Supposedly, he disappeared into the Pocket shortly after its death, never to be heard from again.”

Nate pinned Cass with another look, but she shrugged at him.

“What does this have to do with the guy who attacked Sn- Cass’s father?” Tony asked.

“Professor Pliny said there were rumors—which he admitted could be wishful thinking—that T’Fain wasn’t actually the last dragon.”

“So this Justice guy smuggled a dragon into the Pocket? Those things are big. Wouldn’t we have heard rumors it existed?”

“Maybe not if he’d smuggled eggs. Three eggs, specifically. They were known as the Sevryn clutch, after the cave in which they were supposedly discovered. The clutch was a myth even in T’Fain’s time. Apparently, purebloods have conspiracy theorists too. They accused the Dragon Guild, who were supposed to answer to fae kings, of hiding the eggs to further their own agendas.”

Tony pulled one sneakered foot above his knee. His running shoes were in worse shape than Rick’s. “Don’t dragon eggs have an expiration date?”

“According to the professor, they could last indefinitely. He says they won’t hatch until conditions for it are right.”

“Conditions being?” Rick asked.

“If we were talking about ordinary creatures, I’d say temperature and available food supply. Since we’re talking dragons, who knows? The conditions could be entirely mystical.”

Tony leaned back on the couch with his hand on his ankle and his foot wagging. “So some faerie or block of faeries wants to make their own version of the Pocket? Maybe one they can lord it over without interference from their rivals?”

“Professor Pliny suggested another possibility,” Nate said. “That some people in Faerie want to
un
make us. Evidently, certain factions think Faerie should be Faerie, and Outside should stay Outside. They’re very much opposed to our blended reality.”

A shiver seized Rick’s shoulders, rippling strongly across them. As if the response were catching, Cass shivered too.

“You’re
sure
you’ve never heard of this?” Nate asked her.

“Positive. I’m half human. Faeries that narrow-minded wouldn’t approve of me.”

“And your father never suggested he might be this Justice-Saul-Zeke fellow?”

“
No
.” She jumped to her feet to make the denial, which even she seemed to realize was odd. “No,” she repeated more moderately. “Admittedly, he wasn’t completely forthcoming about his history.”

She sat again and hugged herself. Rick edged his shoulder close enough to brush her side.

“Would you know how to train a dragon?” Nate asked, watching her closely. “Assuming a pureblood isn’t required.”

“I wouldn’t have the first idea. My father didn’t encourage me to practice magic. He said I’d have an easier time fitting in if I lived like humans. What tricks I know, I figured out myself through trial and error.”

Rick looked at her. Her brow was furrowed but not pained.

“I’m not lying,” she said, noting his attention.

He wouldn’t have thought she was, except her pulse was elevated, the color in her cheeks high.
Something
was going on with her.

His wrist cuff tingled, reminding him of its existence.

“Maybe we should try to dig up more facts,” he said. “All we’ve got now is speculation.”

“We could put out an APB for Cass’s father,” Tony suggested.

“Let’s hold off on that. If we did find him, we might inadvertently put him in more danger.”

“And Cass as well,” Nate said, eyeing him steadily.

“We shouldn’t discuss this outside the squad,” Tony added. Rick rarely saw him so serious. “If this is a faerie plot, they could have glamoured anyone to help them.”

“Agreed,” Nate said.

“Agreed,” Rick concurred.

Somewhat to his surprise, Cass took a tight grip on his shoulder. He guessed she needed an anchor. Rick was glad it was him.

~

Cass wanted to rail that all of this was nonsense. Her father wasn’t some famous dragon keeper from a tale. He couldn’t have stolen a mythic clutch of eggs and hidden it God knows where.

The problem was, if the story were true, it would explain a lot.

She followed Rick to his little kitchen, where he took one look at the mess and cursed. “I just cleaned up in here!”

“Sorry!” Tony called from the living room. “I’ll tidy before I go.”

Nate had left already, to share the latest news with their pack alpha. Rick tossed a few empty juice boxes in the trash, then pulled a clean glass from the cabinet. He filled it with water from the tap and handed it to her.

“Drink,” he said. “You look shaky.”

She drank and she did feel better. “I forgot how good Resurrection water tastes.”

He smiled. He was leaning against the counter close to her. Recently showered, he wore a fresh long sleeve shirt, which he’d pushed up to his elbows. Its deep green hue contrasted with the healthy ruddiness of his skin. Cass couldn’t resist laying her hand over his breastbone.

His heart started beating faster the moment she covered it.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” she asked. She meant since the world might be ending, but her voice was inappropriately husky.

Rick’s gaze focused on her mouth. “Yes, we should. As soon as I figure out what that is.”

He took the empty glass from her. Because that hand was now free, she flattened it on his chest as well. Heat sluiced through her, spreading outward from her sex. Rick’s muscles were hard as iron under the soft T-shirt. He took a step, and turned, and suddenly
her
back was against the counter.

His body was a wall she didn’t want to get around.

“Cass,” he whispered. “I love the way you flush when you look at me.”

She had no doubt she was flushed, especially when he wrapped his hands around her bottom and lifted her onto her tiptoes.

“Yes,” she murmured, tipping her mouth to his.

The kiss he claimed seared every nerve in her lips and tongue. She kissed him back with the same heat. His hands began to knead her ass, pulling her against the big ridge rising at his groin. She remembered how his cock felt moving strong and thick inside her. Wanting that again, she slung one leg around his hip and hooked her arms up his back to grip his shoulders. He understood what she needed. He ground his hardness against her pubis and she ground back, both of them gasping out their lust as quietly as they could.

“Shit,” he breathed, breaking free for air.

Because she could, Cass nipped the pulse that raced at the side of his neck.

He liked that. His green eyes flashed, the sudden bite of his fingers against her butt telling her his claws had slid free. The danger he theoretically posed to her made her hot. Too hungry to stop, she flicked her tongue over his upper lip.

He licked off the wetness she’d left behind. Cass couldn’t help shivering at that.

“God,” he swore, almost too soft to hear. “I want to fuck you till you can’t walk.”

She wanted to be fucked that way—probably more than once. Her panties were wet, her body itching to rub naked against his.

He must have read the readiness in her eyes. “We’re not alone,” he reminded.

She blinked. She’d actually forgotten Tony and the kids were there. Shocked at herself, she released Rick and dropped back onto the heels of her Manolos.

“Don’t apologize,” he said when she sucked in a breath to do so. He pressed one finger across her lips’ center. The tingle that streaked through her at the contact was alarmingly pleasant.

She shut her mouth and nodded.

Rick let out a wistful sigh. “Let’s get out of here. Maybe some fresh air will help me think.”

She knew he was right. She also knew
thinking
wasn’t what her body craved.

~

Rick seldom regretted his lack of alpha genes. Today he wondered if they’d have helped him know what to do. Adam didn’t wait for things to happen. Adam made up his mind and took action.

For a millisecond Rick considered handing the lead to him. He couldn’t do it, and truthfully he didn’t want to. No matter how big the ramifications of this case, it had fallen into his lap for a reason. Cass had fallen there too, he guessed.

He certainly wasn’t going to hand
her
over.

He stood on the sidewalk in front of his and Adam and Tony’s house. Cass stood beside him, nervously rubbing the elbows of her nice jacket. She was the key to this, whether she wanted to face it or not: she and her father.

Rick’s hand slid to the cuff that circled his right forearm, absentmindedly stroking it. The runes were subtle ridges under his fingertips. He and Cass were bound—by their pasts, by their attraction, and maybe by mystic forces he was too simple a wolf to understand. He thought about his own father. Marcus Lupone wasn’t a huge personality. Not like Nate or Tony or Adam’s wife. Rick’s dad was steady and patient and affectionate. Rick remembered learning to cook from him as a kid.
Here’s how you crack an egg, son
, he’d say, letting Rick ruin a whole carton until he got the hang of it.
Your mom likes them whisked nice and frothy. She’ll show you how to roll out pasta. She’s got a gift for that
.

Rick had learned more from his dad than his dad had known he taught.

He looked at Cass, who turned to look at him. He wasn’t aware of what he was going to say until it came out his mouth. “I want to see the house you lived in as a kid.”

Her cerulean eyes widened in their frame of black lashes. “Why?”

He didn’t have a good answer, only a vague instinct. “Just humor me,” he said. “Faeries aren’t the only folks who get hunches.”

~

To Rick, Enchanted Hills sounded like the name of a cemetery. In reality, it was a long-established, posh-to-the-nines residential enclave four miles outside downtown. Mainly humans inhabited the oversized Tudor homes, with a sprinkling of rich elf doctors and other white-collar professionals. The hills that gave the area its name weren’t big . . . unless you were the lawn boy pushing the mower up them.

Cass had a good memory. Though she didn’t seem to enjoy it, she directed him to her childhood street without faltering. Big elm trees lined it, their brown leaves mostly stripped by the last windstorm. Her family home was among the largest, set on a well-kept and spacious yard. A tall wrought iron fence guarded it, the thing substantial enough that Rick knew it meant business.

Keep out, riffraff
, he thought as he parked out front. The message seemed to be getting through. The street was as quiet as a graveyard.

He couldn’t imagine a slightly shy little girl playing on that perfect grass.

“We can’t go inside,” Cass said. “Mom sold the place before she left the Pocket. Other people live here now.”

Her voice was tight. She was clutching her seatbelt’s strap like she’d fight any attempt to unfasten it. Rick found her reaction interesting.

“We could ask the current owners if they’d let you look around. You could say you felt nostalgic.”

“Why?” she asked stubbornly.

“Because we might find a clue.”