Chapter 3

Cal didn’t bother dragging his feet as the two shifters hauled him off. Part of him was still flying high after catching what he’d seen in Cynthia’s eyes. Love. Hope. Yearning — for him.

Of course, all that was way in the back, behind a decade-plus of regrets — and even worse, mistrust. But love was still there. Enough to make him hope.

Which was bad, but his stupid wolf couldn’t get some things through its thick, lovesick mind.

Mate loves me! She still loves me!

Well, of course, she did. They were destined for each other. But things didn’t always go according to destiny’s plan, especially when the fucked-up traditions of noble dragon clans intervened.

He sucked in a deep breath and hauled his focus back to his surroundings. Maui, huh? Even as a woman on the run, Cynthia had managed to end up in some pretty amazing digs.

“You know why I’m not killing you outright?” the blustery dragon growled as he bustled Cal along.

“Must have something to do with my charm,” Cal shot back. The lion shifter twisted his left arm, and Cal winced, then went on. “Or because you’re dying of curiosity.”

“Dying, huh?” The dragon wrapped a thick hand around Cal’s neck. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

Cal snorted. Way back when he’d first met Cynthia, he’d been a little wowed by dragons. Even a powerful wolf shifter had to respect a creature with wings, talons, and the ability to breathe fire. But dragons had their weak

points, too. His right arm might be covered in burn scars, but the dragon who’d done that to him was dead.

He twisted, trying to break away — more to test the shifters who held him than to actually get free. A test they passed with flying colors, which was good. Cynthia needed real protection, not just a bunch of amateurs in muscle shirts.

“Do you have to be so rough with him, Connor?” the woman following them complained.

A she-dragon, Cal decided, judging by her scent. A scent with a lot of salt air and ocean mixed in. He sniffed again, then glanced back.

“Whoa. Sea dragon?”

She grinned, but her mate jerked Cal’s arm hard enough to make his teeth rattle.

“What’s it to you?”

If Cal’s hands had been free, he would have stuck them up to show he meant no harm. Not to these dragons — or the lions, bears, and wolves they lived among. Hell, if this bizarre little pack had a koala shifter, he’d be fine with that too. The more and the fiercer, the better, because they protected Cynthia. That much, he’d picked up from the very first glare.

Apparently, the rumor of Cynthia being holed up with a bunch of Special Forces veterans was true. Maybe she had a fighting chance against the shitstorm he knew was bound to rain down soon.

“Connor…” the sea dragon warned.

“Jenna…” her mate replied in exactly the same tone.

But a moment later, the dragon released his grip on Cal’s neck. “I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone,” Jenna sighed.

“I don’t see why you and Anjali insisted on letting this guy in.”

“Call it a hunch.”

Cal would have loved to turn around and study Jenna’s expression, but Connor would probably tear his arm out if he tried. Did she know more than she let on? It had been impossible to interpret the looks she and the other woman — Anjali — had exchanged when he had first asked to see Cynthia. They’d almost turned him away, but Anjali had looked him over intently and whispered two words.

What if…?

The women hadn’t said a word after that, but he could sense them pushing thoughts into each other’s minds as all closely bonded shifters could. What if, indeed. Women talked, right? Had Cynthia told them the whole long, sad story during a boisterous evening of girl talk? Had she described the

lone wolf who’d come out of nowhere and swept her off her feet?

The more Cal considered, the more he doubted it. Cynthia didn’t do girl talk. She didn’t drop hints. She was a dragon, after all, and the only thing dragons hoarded more than treasure were secrets.

“We’ll see what Silas thinks of your hunch,” Connor muttered.

Other than the stomp of their footsteps and the occasional whoosh of branches swatted aside as they walked, the next few minutes passed in silence. Cal looked around, trying to get his bearings. The coastal highway he’d cruised in on was somewhere to his right, making a long bend away from this huge property. The shoreline had to be to his left, judging by the murmur of surf rolling over pebbles and sand. That left a long, thickly wooded strip between the shore and the road. The perfect shifter hideaway.

One stand of forest gave way to another, and he had the sense of crossing an unmarked property line, because everything changed. The underbrush was thinner, the woods tidier — more like a private estate than an overgrown

farm. They even passed a clearing where neatly trimmed grass hemmed in a helipad, complete with a brown chopper with red and yellow stripes.

He stiffened, and his head snapped around to the left. Someone was stalking them from the bushes. A pair of tigers?

He nearly whistled. Maybe Cynthia had a bigger army at her disposal than he’d thought.

Finally, they emerged onto a patch of manicured lawn. Footpaths converged from every direction, leading to an open-sided, thatched building where several burly men stood, thick arms crossed over their chests. There were women too, and each looked just as capable of defending the place as the men. A row of tiki torches marked the main approach to that meeting house, and though it was high noon, he could picture them crackling and swirling at night.

All in all, a pretty impressive sight. Every subtly flexed muscle, every sure stance told him this was not a pack to be messed with.

Then a calico cat wound between the legs of those cold, uncompromising men, and Cal had to hide a grin when one or the other glanced down with a soft, indulgent smile.

So they were tough, but they had heart. Another good sign, at least as far as Cynthia was concerned. Still, that didn’t change the fact that there were about a dozen of them and only one of him.

In other words, the usual shitty odds. His wolf sighed.

Connor and the lion shifter marched Cal directly up to the tall, dark- haired man at the apex of the phalanx of shifters waiting by the meeting house.

“Let me guess. Silas Llewellyn,” Cal said, oh so casually.

The man’s dark eyes flickered, but he answered smoothly. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

Before Cal could answer, Connor gave him a shake. “A dragon slayer — or so he claims.”

Cal kept his head high as Silas’s dark eyes swept over him, taking in every detail.

Yeah, look at me, dragon, he wanted to say. And don’t hold your breath waiting for me to be impressed.

If Cal were honest, he was impressed. Not so much by the man’s wealth, power, or reputation — yes, he’d done his homework before coming out to Maui — but by the solid wall of loyalty and respect Silas commanded from those around him. Up to that moment, Silas Llewellyn had only ever been a name to Cal — another name on a long list of snobby dragon clans. But now…

“Release him,” Silas murmured.

Cal pursed his lips. Logic dictated there had to be some decent dragons in the world other than Cynthia. It was just that he’d rarely met one.

The dragon shifter frowned, and the lion protested outright. “Silas, man.

Did you hear what Connor said?”

Cal considered, impressed all over again. Soldiers who thought for themselves and didn’t hold back from questioning crazy orders, even if they respected their commander? The world could use more of those.

Silas nodded gravely, and the others complied, though they didn’t back away. They stood there bristling, ready to pounce if Cal tried anything.

“Dragon slayer? The one we’ve been hearing about?” Silas turned his head this way and that, studying Cal from different angles. “The one who strikes then disappears, leaving no trace?”

Cal grinned. Funny how a reputation could be a good thing sometimes. He shrugged, playing it cool. “I’m one of them.”

Everyone’s jaw dropped, and even calm, collected Silas did a double take. Typical dragon — trying to hide everything, still revealing too much.

“One of them?”

“A dragon slayer who takes innocent lives?” a tall redhead on the right demanded, unimpressed.

“There’s not an innocent bone in the dragons I kill.” Cal’s voice went all gritty, and he chastised himself for letting a tiny hint of emotion slip out.

“And which dragons might those be?” Silas demanded.

Cal made a face. “Believe me, I specialize in killing bad guys.”

“That depends on your definition of bad,” the redhead said, crossing her arms. Her eyes were as green as the emerald that hung from her necklace, her face stony.

Cal swung his jaw left and right. “How about dragons who steal away women they have no business putting their dirty claws on? Or two-faced dragons who show the world how rich and generous they are, while earning major drug money on the side? Dragons who kill a man in front of his kid’s eyes and laugh while they do it? Do any of those meet your definition?”

He didn’t mean to glare but, hell. He usually kept the memories locked away, but mentioning each of those bastards made it all come back. “Believe me. They deserved it, all right.”

The next few seconds ticked by in utter silence, and Cal took several deep breaths. Seeing Cynthia had gotten to him more than he thought.

“And what about Bartholomew James?” Silas demanded.

Now it was Cal’s turn to do a double take. James had been a close associate of Cynthia’s husband, Barnaby.

“Hell no. His only crime was being a snob. You know, like all dragon shifters.”

Connor glared. “We’re not all snobs.”

Cal shot him a sidelong glance. That, he had to give the guy. While Silas had a measured, aristocratic air, everything about Connor screamed rebel. He wondered what the guy’s story was.

Cynthia’s not a snob, his inner wolf said dreamily. She’s special.

Yes, she was. Like Silas Llewellyn, if he were honest. By reputation — and all outward appearances — Silas was one of those rare dragons who, despite a strict upbringing with hopelessly outdated traditions and manners, turned out to be more classy than snobby. The kind with heart and a sense of principle that made them look beyond their own fortunes every once in a while.

“Hang on,” the lion shifter broke in. “How exactly does a wolf kill a dragon?”

Cal flashed his best roguish grin. “Trade secret.”

Silas frowned. “The how doesn’t concern me. It’s the why, and the suggestion that there may be more than one dragon slayer out there.”

Cal snorted. “Dragons have more feuds running than any other shifter species. Is it so surprising that one of them has turned to hired guns?”

Silas narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you are? A hired gun?”

Cal made a face. Who the hell did they think he was? “No, I have my own personal vendetta.”

“And that would be…?” “None of your business.”

The lion shifter let out a low, grumbling growl, and a whiff of sulfur wafted over from Connor’s direction — a sure signal of how close the man was to shifting into dragon form. But the slightest motion from Silas made them back down again.

Cal decided he liked the guy. For a dragon, at least. And the mixed shifter pack Silas led was…interesting. Very interesting, to put it mildly.

Another quiet moment ticked by before Silas spoke again. “And what exactly is your business with Ms. Brown?”

It took Cal a second to realize who Silas meant. Then he burst out laughing. “Cynthia? Brown?”

Silas gave him a sharp look, and everyone frowned in confusion.

Cal shook his head, incredulous. “A she-dragon as classy as Cynthia named Brown? I know she’s in hiding, but who the hell is going to buy that? You and I both know she’s a Ba—”

Silas cut him off with a grunt, and Cal stared. Everyone else did too, and it dawned on him that while he and Silas knew exactly who Cynthia was, the others might not.

He glanced at Silas with renewed respect. So that was the level of security the man was trying to offer Cynthia. Well, good on him.

Cal cleared his throat and went back to Silas’s question. What business did he have with Cynthia? He motioned toward the adjoining property. “Why don’t you ask her?”

His voice was raspy, damn it, and he wondered what Cynthia might say if Silas asked. Would she admit that she’d once loved a lowly wolf like him?

She still loves us, his wolf growled. You’ll see.

“Anyway,” Cal added, moving on quickly. “Cynthia is not my target, and she never will be. Neither is her kid. You either, for whatever that’s worth.”

Silas seemed willing to take him at his word, but Connor snorted. “We’re supposed to accept that?”

Cal rolled his eyes. “Dragons kill dragons all the time. But when another shifter does it, you all flip out.”

“I only kill when I have to, and only the bad guys,” Connor snarled. “Just like me, asshole. Just like me.”

When Connor bristled, Jenna put a hand on his arm then turned to Cal. “Why do you do it? Why get mixed up in dragon business at all?”

Something in Cal snapped. Not so much at Jenna’s words but at all those disbelieving faces. “Because I swore to protect Cynthia. I swore to hunt down the dragons who killed her family.” His voice grew louder with every word. “Because I would die for her, all right?”

The silence that ensued was thunderous, and Cal cursed himself. Now, why had he gone and admitted that?

But, hell — it was the truth. He would die for her. In fact, he already had, at least in his heart.

So why did it thump that hard when you saw her? his wolf pointed out.

We still love her, and she loves us.

Cal frowned. Hope. The most dangerous emotion of all.

An awkward moment passed in which everyone glanced at each other or studied him. Some suspiciously, while others seemed to see him in a new light. Were they starting to get that they didn’t have a monopoly on love and honor? That a guy like him might be in on those qualities too?

When Silas spoke, it was in a gentler, quieter voice. “And Cynthia is in danger because…?”

Cal cleared his throat. “Moira is building her forces.”

Several people groaned at the mention of the name, and he didn’t blame them. That she-dragon was the scourge of the shifter world.

Conceited…arrogant…greedy… his inner wolf ranted.

Don’t get me started, he sighed.

“We know,” Silas replied, unimpressed. Dragons. Thought they knew everything.

Cal faked a yawn. “Okay, so you must also know about Kravik and the gang he’s moved into North America with.”

The way Silas narrowed his eyes suggested he knew exactly how much trouble those old-world dragons had brought with them.

“The Lombardi clan? How do you know that?” Cal grinned. “I know a lot of things.”

“Believe me, I’ve been tracking them closely,” Silas said.

Cal laughed outright, touching his scars. He’d been doing a lot more than tracking the bastards. He’d been hunting them down, one by one. But fresh arrivals had quickly filled those gaps, eager to follow a promising new leader.

Kravik, his wolf grumbled.

Cal’s burn scars itched. He’d faced Kravik once, but the bastard had gotten away before Cal could work out a plan of attack.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” he said. “The idea of those bastards starting an all-out shifter war against Moira, or joining forces with her in some kind of deal.”

Silas’s face darkened. “Moira won’t stick to a deal.”

“I know that and you know that, but does Kravik know? You have to consider the possibility.”

“I don’t like it,” Silas said, looking grim.

The lion shifter at his side made a face. “What’s to like?” Silas gave Cal a long, hard look, then turned to the others.

“Gentlemen, ladies,” he announced, looking around slowly. “I’d like a private word with Mr. Zydler, please.”

The others looked surprised, but one after another, they stepped away — out of earshot, if not very far. All but that stubborn lion shifter who stayed put with his arms crossed.

“Mr. O’Roarke,” Silas murmured.

The lion shifter shook his head in a gesture that said, Not going anywhere. Cal could have sworn Dell’s beard grew thicker and longer, hinting he was on the verge of shifting.

“We all want to protect Cynthia,” Silas said. “And Joey,” Dell added, not giving way one inch.

“And Joey,” Silas agreed. “But if you respect Cynthia, you’ll respect that she has certain…secrets.”

Cal wanted to laugh. Oh, she had secrets, all right.

Dell didn’t look impressed, but Silas went on. “I swear I’ll share anything you need to know. But until then…” He raised his eyebrows in a not-so- subtle dragon command.

Dell jutted his jaw from side to side, then pierced Cal with a murderous look. “I’ll be watching, you got it?”

Cal rolled his eyes. Lions. Always acting like kings of the goddamn jungle.

Finally, Dell retreated, and Silas leaned in.

Cal kept his face masked when Silas began to speak in low, earnest tones, though it was hard at times. Silas knew more about Cynthia than Cal had guessed. Then the tables were turned when Cal told Silas exactly what Kravik and his European clan had been up to.

The more Cal revealed, the more he questioned himself. Was he nuts to trust a dragon with knowledge he’d nearly died to acquire? But, hell. Cynthia trusted Silas. Cal would trust the guy too. He had to if he wanted the dragon alpha to reciprocate.

Their private conversation didn’t last more than three or four minutes, plus the long, silent minute Silas used to size him up at the end. Finally, the dragon spoke.

“Mr. Zydler, I offer you a choice. Leave now, and go in peace. Turn your back on this matter while you still can, and leave it to us.”

Cal snorted, but Silas shook his head.

“There is much you have discovered, but there remains much you don’t know.”

There’s much you don’t know, asshole, Cal nearly growled. “Or…” Silas continued.

Cal couldn’t help leaning in. “Or?”

“Stay, and work with us to protect Cynthia and her son.” “I don’t need you to do that,” Cal scoffed.

Silas tilted his head. “If you truly care about her — and I sense you do — you’d recognize we’re better off uniting our efforts. If this matter is as serious as I suspect, we need to use every resource at our disposal.”

Cal’s rebel blood boiled at that one. “I’m not your resource, and I’m not at your disposal.”

Silas leaned away. “So you choose the first option? Turning your back?”

Cal scowled. He’d sworn to protect Cynthia, and nothing would make him leave. But staying — even worse, cooperating — was out of the question. He wasn’t a team player, for starters.

Could have been, his wolf grumbled.

He made a face. If he’d been born into a halfway stable pack with decent leadership, he would have been tracked to become alpha when his time came. But his mother had bounced from pack to pack throughout his entire childhood. Just when Cal had finished fighting to establish himself in one pack, his mother would join a new one, and the whole tedious process would begin again. By the time he’d turned sixteen, he’d had it with packs and had hit the road. Being on his own was so much simpler. So much easier.

So much lonelier, his wolf snipped.

Yes, it had been. But then he’d met Cynthia and found new purpose in life. To love her. To woo her. To make her laugh. She’d been engulfed by college studies at the time — Yale, no less — and insisted that he give her space. But every weekend, he’d cruised into that snotty college town, picked her up, and spent the next forty-eight hours giving his destined mate everything her gilded cage lacked. Freedom. Laughter. Love. His body heated at the thought of all the times they’d holed up somewhere together and made hot, hard love.

Then he remembered Silas was half a step away.

Cut that out, he cursed his inner wolf.

Cut what out? the beast asked all too innocently.

Cal cleared his throat and forced himself back to the matter at hand. Choice A — leaving — was a no-go. But Choice B was even worse. Staying meant more fighting. More suffering. More heartbreak. He had to walk away if he wanted to stay sane.

Will never leave my mate, his wolf declared.

Cal’s hands formed fists at his sides. There was a third option, of course. He could stick around and do whatever the hell he pleased regardless of what this shifter pack demanded. But Silas was right about uniting forces. In fact, the dragon was right on most counts. It was just that Cal’s rebel blood rejected the proposition for the sake of defiance.

In the end, the answer was a no-brainer, and he knew it.

Cal frowned at Silas. “All right. But no ordering me around, dragon.”

Silas stuck up his hands. “You’ll have to abide by our rules, but beyond that, you move as you wish and do what you deem best. Every day, you will report to me.”

“Report?” Cal’s frown deepened.

Silas sighed. “Call it a meeting, then. You may be a born alpha, but I’m in charge here, you got that?”

Cal wanted to laugh. A born alpha? Ha. He was a loner, and he liked it that way.

What about the prophecy? his wolf rumbled.

He wanted to laugh. Prophecy, my ass. Just because some old woman claimed to have had a vision when he’d been born didn’t mean he had to believe it. Him, becoming a warrior who accomplished great things? A warrior who would extinguish a great evil and herald in a new era of peace in the shifter world?

His heart thumped harder, but he pushed the notion away and glared at Silas. His choice was made, and they both knew it.

Begrudgingly, he stuck out a hand. “You got yourself a deal. I just hope you’re right.”

Silas shook his hand while casting a worried eye at the sky, as if he expected a dozen enemy dragons to come hurtling over the ridgeline at any moment.

“I hope I’m wrong,” he murmured. “For Cynthia’s sake.”