Fury of Shadows: Dragonfury Series: SCOTLAND #2 Page 3

  Grizgunn’s nostrils flared. His red-gold gaze started to glow. “My sire—”

  “Was a traitor. His scheming lead tae the death of my kin.”

  Grizgunn sneered at him.

  Raising his fists in blatant challenge, Cyprus growled back, daring the bastard to—

  The door to the side entrance flew open. Light from the street poured into the cathedral, cutting a swathe across the tile floor. “Father Matthew?”

  Female voice. The clatter of shoe heels echoing on stone. “Sorry I’m late, but…”

  Stunned by the sound of her, Cyprus listened to her lovely voice fade. Horror struck as the mystery woman came into view. Head bowed, arms pumping, she rushed up the stairs. White hot energy blurred the air around her, making her aura glow in the dark. Heat hit him like a battering ram. Hunger merged with desire. Cyprus jolted as magic cracked like a whip, lashing his skin, addling his mind, gluing his feet to the floor.

  Grizgunn fared no better.

  Shocked by the rare sight of a high-energy female, the Dane gaped at her.

  Propelled by primal instinct, Cyprus stepped forward, her bio-energy a lure he couldn’t resist. Jesus help him. An HE…here, in Edinburgh, standing less than twenty feet away. One with no idea who stood inside the church. Not the priest she called for, but two hungry Dragonkind males feuding over territory and—

  Her foot connected with the last step. Her wee chin rose, presenting him with the prettiest face and bluest eyes he’d ever seen.

  “High-energy.” Awe in his expression, Grizgunn rounded on her.

  “Go back, lass!” Shite. He was too far away. No way would he reach her in time. Grizgunn stood closer, a handful of strides to his twenty feet. Cyprus waved his arms to warn her. “Get out!”

  Blue eyes wide with confusion, she stopped. Her gaze tracked to him, then landed on the priest. “Oh my God—Father Matthew!” She dropped the briefcase she carried. As hard plastic hit the floor, she ignored his warning and ran forward. “Call an ambulance!”

  Desperate to reach her first, Cyprus lunged to intercept.

  Grizgunn moved faster. Shifting behind her, the Dane grabbed a fistful of her hair. He yanked. With a yelp, the female jerked to a stop. Her feet left the floor. Cyprus tried to intervene, shifting right then left, desperate to close the gap, but—no chance of intercepting now. Grizgunn already had her by the throat. She was locked down. Caught in cruel hands. Trapped by a warrior who enjoyed inflicting pain and making humans suffer.

  Four

  In full flail, Elise grappled with the man grabbing her from behind. One hand around her throat, the other fisted in her hair, he yanked her backward. Her feet left the floor. Shock buffeted her, ripping her from reality as the asshole dragged her toward the side door of the church. She reached over her head, hands curled like claws. Her nails scratched over forearms protected by heavy leather.

  He laughed.

  She screeched and tried again, swiping at his face. He hauled her upright, putting her on her toes. Hot breath rushed against her ear. Panic gave way to fear. Her thoughts splintered, echoing the chaotic bang of her boots on the stone floor.

  Her heart joined the parade, thumping hard against her breastbone. She sucked in a breath, trying to think. She needed to think. Figure out how to break his grip and get away, but…dear God, what was happening? A second ago, she’d been fine—on time, goal in mind, the promise of victory in her grasp. Now, she fought a guy she couldn’t see, never mind stop. He was too big. So very strong. No matter how hard she struggled, she continued to lose ground.

  Bucking against his hold, she yelled in fury.

  Her attacker twisted his fingers in her hair. Pain ripped across her scalp. “Quiet, female.”

  “Screw you,” she rasped, seeing spots as he squeezed her windpipe. Almost out of air, she punched backward. Her knuckles struck something solid. His head jerked to one side. Agony exploded across her hand. Clenching her teeth, Elise ignored the pain. Good. Finally. A direct hit. “Get off me! Get off!”

  Letting her arm fly, she elbowed him in the ribs and lunged sideways. With a grunt, he lost his balance. She launched another attack. Her hand snapped toward his face.

  “Fuck.” The asshole ducked.

  Her fist sailed wide, grazing his cheekbone.

  Teeth bared on a snarl, he shook her like a can of soda. Her brain fizzed. She saw double for a second, but refused to stop fighting. One good shot. A quick knee to the balls. A hard stomp to the top of his foot. Her thumb digging into his eye socket. That’s all she needed…one good shot. If she got lucky, if she caused him enough pain, he’d let her go.

  Drawing her knee up, Elise kicked backward. Her boot heel slammed into his shin. He growled in warning. Terror lending her strength, she flailed, determined to break free.

  “Be still—or I’ll snap your neck.” He hissed the threat in her ear, wrapping her tighter against him.

  His chest bumped against her back, making her stomach pitch. Bile burned the back of her throat and—oh God. She was going to be sick all over herself. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Gritting her teeth, she refused to let one fall. No way would she cry. She would fight. Channel every bit of her energy into hurting him more than he was her.

  Making twin claws, Elise raked her nails across his face, leaving bloody tracks on his cheek. She tried to gouge him again. With a growl, he dipped his head. His teeth found an exposed patch of her skin. He bit down hard, slicing into muscle. Pain blurred her vision. A hot river of blood rolled over her collarbone. She gasped. He increased the pressure, cut deeper, ripping at her shoulder. The excruciating burn spread, numbing her arm, making her cry out, the faint rasp more sob than shout.

  Fingernails digging into her throat, he withdrew his teeth from her skin.

  She whimpered.

  He hummed. “Nice. Squawk some more, female. I like the sounds you make.”

  The threat should have made her comply. She should go limp, cease struggling—do something…anything…to ensure the pain stopped. The enjoyment she heard in her captor’s voice wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t let him win. The second he dragged her out the church and into the street, her chances of survival diminished….by a factor of a million. Every self-defense class she’d taken said so, the message always the same—never let the attacker take you to a secondary location, no matter—

  “Grizgunn!” The deep voice rang against the high ceiling. Elise flinched. Her attacker froze and, raising his head, stared at someone across the church. “Hurt her again, and I’ll—”

  “What, pretender—what will you do?” Grizgunn nipped the wound on her shoulder. As she winced, he growled in her ear. “I hold all the cards, every advantage…along with her.”

  “So you think.”

  “So I know,” Grizgunn said, yanking on her hair.

  Agony spiked, streaming down her spine.

  The second man cursed.

  Elise gritted her teeth, smothering a gasp of pain. No way. Not going to happen. She refused to provide the asshole with more of the sounds he enjoyed hearing. She’d die—or put him in a shallow grave—first.

  Grizgunn dragged her toward the exit.

  “Jesus. Easy. Go easy,” the other man said, the rage in his voice unmistakable. “She’s high-energy—too valuable tae damage. There’s no need tae harm her.”

  Faint footfalls whispered through the cathedral.

  “Stay where you are, Cyprus,” Grizgunn said. “One more step, and I gut her.”

  She heard a rustle. More footsteps. The soft shuffle of someone approaching.

  Immobilized by a punishing grip, she looked through her lashes. The owner of the baritone tinged with a Scottish accent stepped into view and…God. Him. She remembered now—the sight of him as she entered the cathedral. How she could have forgotten about him, Elise didn’t know. The guy was hard to miss, never mind ignore.

  Taller, broader, more muscular than her attacker, Cyprus struck her as invincible. The angular plan
es of his face backed up her theory, giving him a predatory air she appreciated given her situation. Grizgunn was wary of him, maybe even afraid. She heard the disquiet in his tone, read the tension in his body and the nervous jerk of his hands.

  And no wonder.

  Grizgunn’s fear made perfect sense.

  Everything about Cyprus screamed dangerous: the way he moved, the resolve in his expression, the intense way he assessed Grizgunn, searching for weaknesses, looking for an opportunity to strike. He wasn’t fooling around, which meant, neither could she. She might not know him, but as Cyprus walked closer, forcing Grizgunn to retreat, instinct aligned with her impression of him.

  He was safe. Somehow, she knew…he was safe.

  Elise reached for him, stretching out her hand. “Help me.”

  Pale violet eyes flicked to her. His gaze met and held hers. A shock of recognition pulsed through her. Absurd, perhaps, but something about him settled her, calmed her, rang true in ways she didn’t understand and refused to question. Logic ceased to exist. Her reaction to Cyprus—the trust she placed in him without good reason—didn’t need to make sense. Not here. Not right now. He wanted to free her. She needed the rescue, so…

  “Cyprus,” she whispered, a plea in her voice. “Please—help.”

  “I will, lass, but donnae struggle.” He maintained eye contact a moment more, helping her breathe, holding her steady, then returned his attention to Grizgunn. “Stay as still as can be, talmina. Cooperate, and he willnae tighten his hold.”

  Cooperate? Go willingly? The advice gave her a bad case of the shakes. But as her teeth started to chatter, Elise ceded to his suggestion…even though, she hated the idea. Going down without a fight didn’t feel right. The man holding her hostage would hurt again. The nasty bite on her shoulder—the painful grip of his hands, the brutal press of his body—left little open to interpretation. Every instinct she owned told her to struggle. She wanted to claw Grizgunn’s eyes out, but she couldn’t fault Cyprus’s reasoning. He was right. The more she resisted, the rougher Grizgunn became.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Don’t let him take me. Please, don’t let him—”

  “Look at me, talmina,” Cyprus said, soft reassurance in his tone. “Whatever happens, keep your eyes on me. Glued tae me—aye?”

  Fixing her gaze on him, Elise tried to nod.

  Grizgunn tightened his grip, delivering more pain. “Touching. Are you this soft with all your females, pretender?”

  Nostrils flared, Cyprus circled left, testing Grizgunn’s limits. “One chance—I’ll give you one chance tae save your own hide. Let her go and leave, whelp. Live tae fight another day.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” Grizgunn said with a hiss. “The female is mine—the spoils of war. Back off…or watch her die.”

  Reaching the top step, Grizgunn dragged her down the stairs. Her feet scrambled over the stone treads. Fear spun her around the edge of insanity. Her focus on Cyprus, she begged him with her eyes—her body, her expression…everything…anything, just as long as he didn’t leave her. She wouldn’t survive Grizgunn. Cyprus knew it, and so did she. The asshole might let her live…for a little while, long enough for him to play cat to her mouse: inflict maximum damage, make her scream and suffer, watch her bleed some more. But in the end, he’d become bored with the game and find someone new to prey upon. Sadists always did. Which meant…

  She was as good as dead if Cyprus failed to free her.

  “Cyprus,” she said, clinging to the sight of him like a lifeline.

  His eyes started to glow. A purple shimmer made her breath catch as Cyprus met her gaze. An odd sinking sensation took hold. The world dropped away, making her lose her bearings. Unmoored, Elise whispered his name again. A buzz erupted between her temples. The gentle burn pierced through her fear, blurring her vision as something foreign materialized inside her mind.

  She blinked, a slow up and down.

  A voice whispered, “Hold tight, lass. Help is almost here.”

  Thick Scottish accent. Undeniable command in his tone. Cyprus’s voice, his words, but…how was she hearing him? He hadn’t opened his mouth. His lips hadn’t moved, and yet, she knew he spoke to her. Elise frowned. Odd, but it felt as though Cyprus was inside her head. Then again, maybe there was a better explanation. Maybe, she’d just lost her mind. Misplaced like it like an airline did luggage the second Grizgunn grabbed her. Anyone would have, given the circumstances: crazy sadist and weird glowing eyes notwithstanding.

  His eyes began to glow brighter. The voice came again. “Remember, talmina—whatever happens, eyes on me.”

  “Whatever happens,” she said, repeating the command, ’cause, well…hell. If she was going to accuse herself of insanity, she might as well go all the way and act like a mental case as well. “Okay.”

  “Good lass.”

  Breaking eye contact, he flexed his hands. Inferno-like heat slithered through the church. The air warped and went murky. Light bulbs flickered, the hiss of electricity crackling in warning. Grizgunn cursed. Cyprus shouted, his battle cry a call to arms. Orange flame rose around him, racing over his shoulders as he charged forward, his glowing gaze on her.

  “Wallaig—now!”

  His roar jolted through her.

  Wind howled through the cathedral. Fire raged into an inferno, engulfing the walls. As the blaze collided with the vaulted ceiling, a hard crack exploded through the nave. The side door shattered. Wood splintered. Shrapnel nicked her cheek as Grizgunn howled in pain. Hard hands still at her throat, she felt him move behind her. He became bigger, rougher, the fingers around her neck growing into claws. The sharp tips scraped her skin as she hit her knees and looked up. Elise sucked in a breath, then lost it again. God, no, it couldn’t be. Just wasn’t possible, but…holy shit—the asshole had grown into a dragon with blue scales, razor-sharp claws, and jagged black horns on its head. Red eyes aglow, the beast snatched at her with a huge talon.

  Her butt hit the floor.

  “Get up, lass!” Flames billowing around him, Cyprus sprinted toward her. “Run!”

  Excellent advice. Too bad she didn’t take it.

  Frozen in place, she stared at the nightmare rising above her. Shock sank her ability to think. Incredulity did the rest, seizing her muscles, stealing her breathe, making her a stationary target.

  The beast took advantage of her momentary lapse.

  Monstrous claws flexing, it plucked her off the floor, caging her in its giant paw. Hard scales grazed her skin. Panic slammed through her. Her heart rampaged, pumping her full of adrenaline. The jolt rebooted her brain. But it was too late. The instant her mind came back on line, the dragon unfolded its wings. With a powerful thrust, Grizgunn blasted through the church roof, rocketing into the night sky before she gathered the strength to scream.

  Five

  Galvanized by the female’s fear, Cyprus sprinted across the cathedral. His heart beat double time. His ability to sense her shot forward, hanging onto to her like grabbing hooks and…thank Jesus. He could still feel her. Was connected in the most elemental of ways: embedded inside her thoughts, locked inside her mind, experiencing her kidnapping first hand. He gritted his teeth and ran faster. Goddess forgive him for not reaching her in time. Terrified. She was absolutely terrified, crying out his name, reaching for him through the spread of razor-sharp claws as Grizgunn turned tail and fled.

  The bastard slashed at the ceiling, widening the gap.

  Slate tiles poured through the jagged hole, shattering against the church floor. His dragon half snarled. His magic flared. Orange flame followed, licking over his shoulders, making his chest heave and knees piston. Footfalls echoing against stone, he watched Grizgunn escape into open air.

  Bloody hell. Not good. The bastard held the advantage now—was ahead of him, in dragon form…with the female clutched in his talon.

  Legs and arms pumping, Cyprus inhaled. His lungs expanded. Fire and acid pooled, combining into a nasty cocktail at the back of his throat. A
single exhale, and he’d fry the bastard. Take him apart scale by scale as his particular-brand-of-brutal scorched the webbing on Grizgunn’s wings. The perfect plan, but for one problem. He couldn’t unleash hell. Not with a female in the middle of the target zone. The second the force of his exhale stuck, toxic liquid would splash up and out. She’d be burned alive, the fury of his fire-acid incinerating her on contact.

  With a growl, Cyprus sucked in more air. The shot of oxygen hit him like rocket-fuel. Speed arrived like an explosion, thrusting him forward as Grizgunn’s spiked tail disappeared from view. The female screamed again. The fear-filled cry resonated inside his skull and—

  Goddamn it. He was a dumbass.

  No way should he have allowed the male to shift. Pinning him down in human form would’ve been better. The best strategy, advisable all the way around, but well…shite. He hadn’t counted on her: the sight of her, the scent of her, the zip of her energy fogging the air…along with his brain.

  He’d never encountered anyone like her. Not once in all his years of living. Like an inferno, the female burned bright, possessing the kind of bio-energy Dragonkind males yearned to touch. Sad to say, he was no different. He’d played the fool the moment he laid eyes on her: imagining, salivating, hesitating just long enough to give Grizgunn the upper hand.

  Goddamn it. He was an idiot.

  He never should have entered her mind and spoken to her. The psychic touch—the brief reassurance—had been a mistake. A distraction he couldn’t afford. He’d known it the moment she opened her mental doors and invited him in, accepting his presence…making his heart thump, his mind throb, and his dragon drift left of center.

  Not a great idea in a fire fight, but…to hell with it. Forget about Grizgunn. His priorities had shifted, dampening his need to annihilate, giving him a new mission…the female. All he wanted—all he could think about—was retrieving her. Taking her home. Ensuring her safety while he saw to her comfort.