Watcher United Read online

  Wilder nodded and fell into step. “The only other time I was in Canada, I visited British Columbia in the Marines. That was decades ago.”

  That matched up with the intel Danel dug up. If this guy was the real deal, he was the only Dragon who survived the culling of the species besides Rayvn. He was also their best chance at controlling Rayvn’s boys through adolescence.

  They needed a fallback plan to avoid another teen Dragon incident that might expose the Otherworld to the city.

  “So, Marines, eh? How long—” A female cry on the air stopped him short. He cranked his head as they rounded the Royal York Hotel. “You hear that?”

  Danel shook his head.

  Wilder nodded. Considering Dragons had super heightened hearing, he went with the confirmation. The three of them jogged down the alley behind the historic hotel and up the ten concrete steps behind the TD Centre. A human male lay KO’d on the ground, as a woman struggled with three bad guys.

  The growl that erupted from the Dragon’s chest seemed to speak to his distaste of bullies abusing innocent women. He dropped his satchel, clenched his fists, and hoofed it into the fray.

  “Cooleroo,” Seth said, following the lead. “You check the man down, D. We’ll take the heat.”

  Seth arrived on the scene a half-step after Wilder peeled Asswipe One off the girl and bounced him against the side of the building. He took Asswipes Two and Three.

  “Hello, boys. Care to pick on someone your own size?” He grappled one around the neck, pommeling him with a round of fist-to-face and mule kicked the other to the ground.

  “What the fuck is that?” Wilder cursed beside him.

  Seth turned to see where the alarm bell had rung and cursed. Wilder shook off his dragon heat grip and ended up with a palm full of black ooze peeling off the burn.

  “Leviathans,” Seth said. “The city is lousy with them.”

  The darkness of the little walkway courtyard offered them a bit of privacy, but not much. They were within view of three major business centers with nine hundred windows facing out at them. They were also on a backstreet thoroughfare between Front and Wellington—two major city streets.

  “Keep it simple, soldier.” Seth grunted, a sudden elbow to the nose snapping his head back. “Rude. I was talking.”

  Danel joined the tussle and shanked Asswipe Three as the guy rose from the ground. The Persian made quick work of cutting off his head and pulling him behind a hedge.

  Wilder’s guy went full fang-banger on him and opted for dragon vein. He cursed, ripping the long-fanged skinhead from his neck. “We are not dating, demon.”

  Seth winced at the spray of blood from the dragon’s neck. That shit was going to go downhill fast. “Sit down, Dragon. We need you alive.”

  Seth stopped fucking around and decapitated his guy on the quick. Wilder tore into his, ripping him to shreds. Eventually, he fell still and hit the concrete. Seth wasn’t sure if the dragon sat or collapsed. Same end result.

  The guy was horizontal.

  Fuck. “D. You plug that hole, I’ll call the Greek.”

  Cassi burst out laughing as she stared up at the huge Shag Shop sign, and Dougal opened the truck door for her. She double-checked the address on her phone before hopping onto the sidewalk and grabbed her purse. “Well, this is the place.”

  “What the hell are you girls up to?” Kyrian said from behind the wheel. “I’m damn sure Zander didn’t know about this. There’s no way the Sumerian—”

  A call rang in on the Bluetooth receiver in the truck and her hubby hit the button to accept. “Yeah, Seth, what’s up?”

  “Huge trouble. We’ve got an injured dragon about to lose it in the downtown on Saturday-fucking-night.”

  “Is he gonna shift?”

  Cassi blew a kiss as the truck peeled away from the curb and shot off into the night. She hoped Rayvn was all right. If Kyrian got there in time, he would be. Her husband’s healing powers seemed to grow stronger every day.

  “Mistress?” Dougal said beside her. “Are you headed in to join your lady friends?”

  She blinked out of her haze and squeezed his arm. “Yes. Thank you, Dougal.” Pulling her phone from her jacket, she slid it in the pocket of her purse and stepped through the first of two sets of glass doors. “I don’t wish to be interrupted unless it’s by Kyrian or one of his brothers, or Larkin with an answer to my proposal.”

  Dougal pulled the next door open and she slid her jacket off and handed it to him. “Austin secured the store for our private enjoyment. I’m thinking you may prefer to remain here with Brennus and Xxan, rather than escort me throughout.”

  Dougal seemed about to argue until he scanned the interior. His eyes grew wide. “Yes, Mistress, that might be best. I shall be right here if you need me.”

  Zander’s phone rang, and Hark took the opportunity to pull the gloves out of his pockets and pull them on. The chill in the air promised that by the end of their shift, they were going to be cold down to the marrow of their bones. He checked the caller ID and pressed it to his ear. “Hey, D, what’s doin’?”

  “Z, locate Rayvn and get him to the club roof, stat. We’re coming in hot and need his blood and a transfusion kit. And Seth needs Colt and his crew in the courtyard behind the Royal York and TD Centre for cleanup.”

  The line went dead, and Zander blinked at the screen. Well, shit, that wasn’t good. He called up the dragon’s contact info and dialed, jogging back toward Queen Street with Hark on his heel. “Yo, Dragon, where you at?”

  After a forever of travel, which was likely only five minutes or so as the crow flies, Kyrian and Danel landed rough on the roof of Zander’s club. They didn’t technically “crash,” but they didn’t earn any points for sticking the landing either—well, that shit was tough with a half-dead dragon dangling between them.

  He folded his wings and prayed to the Choir and back that the low-hanging clouds looming over the city had given them enough cover to avoid a series of UFO sightings. Whatevs. Better to stir the pot of crazy than to have an injured dragon go full Godzilla stomp-down-chomp-down on the city.

  “Over there.” Kyrian pointed at the outdoor furniture under the gazebo. “Lay him on the sofa and turn on the lights. We’ll ensure he’s stabilized and then move him to the second floor once we’re certain he won’t bust out in scales.”

  When the illumination hit, Kyrian examined the dragon’s neck wound. “’Kay, the hole is still sealed, but he needs blood before he fades on us.”

  Zander burst through the roof doorway that led down to the loft apartment. “What do you need, Adelphos?”

  Thankfully, Rayvn followed tight on his heels.

  Kyrian reached out for the transfusion kit in his bestie’s hand and got busy. “We’re getting far too much action out of these damned things, don’t you think? Ray, I need your arm.”

  Rayvn shrugged off his jacket, his dark brow pulled tight. “You sure about this, Greek? Dragon blood isn’t a universal source. It’s damn specific.”

  Kyrian ripped open one of the sterile wipes and cleaned Rayvn’s arm. “I know. Welcome to your ancestry moment, my friend. Rayvn, meet William Derango, Dragon.”

  “You stink, my brother.”

  Covered in Leviathan goo and dragon blood, Seth was rank and ripe—not to mention ripped. His jeans hung off his muscled thigh in a huge flap—and damn, he liked those ones too. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be Greek gods.”

  “True dat.” Kyrian navigated the exercise equipment in the workout area of the second floor. Zoning in on the cooler fridge, he made a selection and offered him a bottle of cider. “Hey, is that the dragon’s bag? He was asking about his stuff.”

  Seth set Wilder’s duffle on the weight bench and screwed off the cap of his beer. “He gonna pull through?”

  Kyrian tipped back his longneck and swallowed. “Aside from one hell of a hickey, he’ll be right as rain in a few days. You and Danel did good holding shit together. Hark and Bo canvased the area for witness
es. So far, so good.”

  Seth chuffed. “You mean, we might catch a break on this?”

  “Wonders never cease.”

  He downed the rest of his beer and let the sweet, amber chill cool him way down deep. When he straightened, he handed his brother the empty. “Is Z upstairs?”

  Kyrian set the empty on the counter. “Filling out the week end reports before we head back out. Should be almost done.”

  Seth said his good nights, and headed into the foyer and up one flight of steps to the third-floor loft. In the dark confines of the stairwell, there was no avoiding how much he reeked.

  People thought living the life of an immortal hero was all champagne and orgasms, but most of the time, it was really rather disgusting.

  Emerging into the outer foyer, he keyed in the security code to access the loft and let himself in. “Yo, Sumerian, you around, my brother?”

  “Study.”

  Seth unlaced his filthy boots and left them at the door. He laughed at Z’s black Motorocks sitting there in a tidy grouping. How the hell had their sweet little cowgirl housebroken them without them knowing it?

  He sauntered down the hall in his socks, his big toe sticking out and his sweaty feet leaving footprints on the polished hardwood behind him. Arriving at the study, he leaned his shoulder against the door jamb and took in the space.

  A true gentleman’s office, Zander’s twenty-by-twenty-foot study housed his desk, books, fireplace, and enough wood trim to choke a beaver.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Zander looked up from the paperwork and dropped his Mont Blanc. Sitting back in his leather chair, the gears and joints creaked beneath his weight. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. “See you, yes. I could do without smelling you though.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s been a night.”

  Zander clasped his fingers behind his head and yawned. “Give me tonight’s account from the top. There’s a shit-ton of exposure hanging over us here, and I want it from all angles.”

  Seth recapped the night and highlighted anything that might come back to bite them in the balls. Colt and his guys had taken care of cleanup. The bodies had been dispatched. The human woman and her date were wiped and sent home in a cab.

  He didn’t think they’d been exposed, but then, with the run of luck he’d been rocking lately, who knew.

  When he was done with the recount, Zander closed the file and shut off his monitor. “Good enough. I’m headed back out with your twin. We’re scanning the construction yards down by the water. Kyrian heard there might be trouble in the land of Djinn. Something about the astral plane or some shit. With Phoenix’s dark magic levels off the charts, we should be able to sweep the area quick and quiet, and see what’s doin’.”

  Seth cringed. Phoenix using magic in his everyday life was his twin’s new normal. He supposed it was inevitable. Born to a witch. Married to a witch. You couldn’t be in the same room with the guy and not sense the level of power that now flowed freely in his veins.

  “Z? How are you with him?” Seth swallowed past the lump in his throat and sighed. “I mean . . . do you forgive him?”

  Zander sat on the edge of his desk, crossed his arms over his chest, and drew a deep breath. “It eats at me that I failed the two of you. I’ll carry that with me to my grave. But I’ve made enough mistakes in my own life that I’m certainly in no position to hold onto a grudge against Phoenix.”

  “But doesn’t it make you mad? He gave up. He chose to leave us.”

  His commander paused, considering his words. “The man we knew and loved for a lifetime, the warrior, the brother, and the friend, would never have acted so violently against himself. You were right to worry about the release of dark magic back into his life. You nailed it. Thankfully, Storme levels him out the same way Austin levels me out when Jackson threatens to take over.”

  Yeah, he’d heard from the others that Phoenix’s bride could siphon off his excess dark energy. Funny, he’d never thought of it as the same thing Austin did for Z.

  He figured the Zander/Austin connection was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. He hadn’t spent enough time with Cassi or Ronnie to get a read on them or their relationships with his brothers, but Z and his cowgirl amazed him.

  Was Storme really Phoenix’s soul mate?

  He never considered that. He simply hated her on principle.

  “Z? Would you say hey to him . . . from me? Tell him I’m glad he’s happy.”

  Zander arched a brow and nodded. “Will do.”

  “And Z? If it’s okay with you, I’d like to hang here for a bit and get cleaned up. I’ve got a wicked headache and could use a minute to sort through some shit, if you don’t mind.”

  Zander gestured up the hall and the two of them got moving. “Mi casa es su casa. Austin keeps the guest bathrooms stocked, and I’ve got clothes in the laundry room to borrow if you want to burn the hot mess you’re wearing. And Seth?”

  The Sumerian paused in the foyer as he stomped his feet into his boots and locked the badass silver buckles. He grabbed his black biker jacket off the bathroom doorknob and shrugged it onto his broad shoulders. “Good chat, my brother. Take all the time you need.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Thea arrived at Zander’s club, the O-Zone, shortly after midnight. Ronnie was scheduled to work the main bar and Phoenix was meeting Zander, so she tagged along for the ride to get out of the house for a few hours. After the naughty shopping with the ladies, she wasn’t ready to shut herself in for the night.

  She engaged with this strange new world today and liked the feeling. Not that she didn’t enjoy her time at the ranch, she did, but she wanted to explore the city and her place in it.

  Phoenix parked the black Navigator below a little sign with Zander’s name on it. As the rumble of the engine cut off, she opened her door and hopped down to the pavement. The new leather purse she’d bought at the motorcycle shop had long, dangly fringe on it, and it swished and danced as she slung it over her shoulder.

  Zander jogged down the metal steps at the back of the building and greeted them. “Welcome to my club, angel. You look very nice.”

  Thea brushed a hand down the silk blouse and denim maternity jeans she’d borrowed from Austin and looked at herself. Two months in the Human Realm and she still wasn’t used to what women wore here.

  Phoenix handed Zander the keys and started signing. Zander nodded, and turned to them. “’Kay, so Phoenix says you girls are inside until Danel brings you home after Ronnie’s shift. No stretching your legs. No breath of fresh air. D’s on the second floor if you need him. Otherwise, stay inside and stay safe.”

  Ronnie straightened her fingers and touched her forehead in a salute, laughing. “Yes, commander. I got the same lecture from my husband on the phone in the truck. I’ll be behind the bar if anyone needs me. You ready, Thea?”

  Thea nodded and followed her up the steps. After Ronnie punched a code into a little silver box on the wall, she pulled open the door and let them in. The chaotic noise of the club’s interior hit her like a stimulation assault.

  Loud, thrumming music sounded off in the distance. The lighting buzzed above as the heels of her new biker boots clacked on the ceramic tiles below. Pots clanged together in the industrial kitchen as a young boy sprayed water against metal surfaces at the sink.

  Thea took in the bustle of the man working the long grill and the sizzle and succulence of the meat searing over the flames. His sleeveless shirt showed off muscled arms and how beautifully they glistened in the glow of the grill’s flames.

  “Hey Colin,” Ronnie said, giving him a wave. “Can I get a bacon burger at the bar when you get a chance? I’m starving.”

  The young man turned to her and winked. He had the most interesting spine of green hair down the center of his head. “Ha, you knew you were working and skipped dinner again, didn’t you? You got it bad for me, blondie?”

  “Your cooking, maybe. And no, I can eat you under the table any
day, demon. Oh, and poutine too.”

  Colin laughed and pointed with his spatula. “What about you, lovely lady. Did you want anything?”

  Colin’s grin warmed her insides and she liked the sensation. “Not now, thank you. I believe I have a case of—what do you call them—flutterbies?”

  “You mean butterflies, beautiful, but I get it. The first time at the club is a new experience.” He pivoted from his efforts turning steaks, his appraising gaze following the fall of her hair and the curves of her bodice. When he reached the round of her belly, he swallowed and turned back to the grill. “Let me know if you change your mind. Zander said Ronnie was bringing in a friend of his tonight. Any friend of Z’s is a queen in this club.”

  Thea followed Ronnie to a large stainless-steel chest affixed to the wall, watching as she flipped up a wide door and grabbed a large scoop. With one hand holding a blue bin, Ronnie dug into chunks of ice and deposited them into the bin.

  When her bin was full, she straightened and shifted the load to her hip. “Are you ready for a night of fun and dancing?”

  Thea wasn’t certain. Her nerves were getting the better of her and she didn’t want to leave her belongings unattended. Her purchases from this evening were in her bag.

  “Is there somewhere I could freshen up and put my things?”

  “Zander’s loft is your best bet,” Danel said, pushing through the swinging door from the club proper. He took the bin of ice from Ronnie and gave her a quick kiss. “You’ll have a moment of privacy and won’t have to worry about your stuff going missing. Not that much goes missing here, but it happens.”

  Ronnie laughed. “Only if an idiotic patron doesn’t know who owns this place, I’d bet.”

  Danel smiled. “It’s always fun when Z tracks them down to reclaim what’s been stolen.”

  The thought of someone walking away with—or even realizing what was in her bag—was far more embarrassing than upsetting. Still, she’d rather not take the chance. “Do you think he’d mind?”