Claim the Dragon Read online

  “You don’t always go to a place like this one. It’s dangerous, Ravyn. I’m worried.”

  Cree was always worried. As a foster kid he’d worried about when one or both foster parents were either going to hit him, verbally abuse him or just kick him out of their house. As a scraggly sixteen-year-old who’d run as far and fast from the foster care system as he could, he’d worried that one day Ravyn would change her mind about taking a chance on him and fire him from his job at her bookstore. And when he was nineteen and that bookstore burned to the ground, he’d been worried about not only himself, but Ravyn, as well. His last name should have been Worrier, instead of Evanston.

  “The size of the house doesn’t matter. It’s what’s in it that counts, and we desperately need what’s in that house.” When he didn’t respond she sighed. “You’ve seen the storeroom. It’s getting to be pretty slim pickings and we’ve got a little over fifty mouths to feed. Plus, winter’s coming and you know how sparse things get then. We’ve gotta stock up to be prepared for those cold nights and possible blizzard conditions.”

  She felt like she was preaching to him and hated herself for it. Cree was a good kid who’d gotten a rough break. She’d been there and done that, so she could totally relate. But she’d sworn to help him find better, to be better, and she was damn sure gonna keep trying until she couldn’t try anymore.

  “We need this, Cree. I wouldn’t do it otherwise.”

  He pushed away from the door and took a few steps until he was standing just on the other side of her desk. “You’re doing it too much. You’re gonna get caught. Didn’t you say you thought somebody was watching you? Another enforcer or something like that?”

  She had told him that, only because she’d needed to vocalize the thoughts. If they’d sounded ridiculous, she would have let it go and chalked the feeling up to paranoia, something else she’d learned to deal with long ago.

  “I don’t know for sure that he’s an enforcer. I’ve never seen him in the navy-blue uniform they wear or carrying any type of weapon.”

  “But you’ve seen him more than once.” Cree touched his fingers to the top of the desk and leaned over. “If you’re being followed, this definitely isn’t a good idea. What if he’s like a private investigator, or worse, somebody you’ve already robbed who’s looking to catch you in the act.”

  She moved around the chair and planted her palms on the desk to lean over and get in his face. “No worries,” she said slowly. “I’ve got this.”

  But an hour later as she stepped out of the rideshare she’d hired to drop her off in Sodesto—Burgess’s version of a high-society neighborhood—she did a double canvas of her surroundings before walking down the street toward the house she intended to rob.

  Every house on this street looked like a throwback from some old horror flick. There were Victorians with soaring turrets and colonials with wraparound porches. They were each separated by sprawling lawns and curving driveways. Some had stone walls around the land like a guarded fortress and others had iron gates that were most likely wired to produce electric shocks to anyone trying to gain entrance without permission. She walked slowly down to the very end of the street, her footfalls silent in the light tennis shoes she wore.

  The shoes were black and matched the catsuit she’d shimmied into an hour ago. Her shoulder-length hair—the side that wasn’t cut low to her scalp—was pulled back and hidden beneath a black skull cap. A brisk breeze blew, reminding her that it was late September in Burgess and that winter was coming soon. She hadn’t bothered with a jacket because it would have only hampered her movement. The pitter-pat of her heart increased when she stopped at the corner, the droning sound echoed in her mind, annoying the crap out of her. She wasn’t nervous or afraid. She’d done this many times before, so tonight was just routine.

  I’m worried.

  Those were Cree’s words not hers. She wasn’t worried, she couldn’t afford to be. Her fingers flexed at her sides and she stared at the house that she’d been studying for the past three months. A brick colonial sitting on two acres of land that would have managed to look stately and regal in the daylight if its red bricks weren’t so grungy they looked gray in some areas and a chalky black in others. The shutters on all windows were intact, but the roof was lifting in some spots. Shrubs around the front of the house were cut regularly, as was the grass that rolled out to cover the land surrounding the house. Around the back there was a sunroom, a new addition as of last year, the weakness that would allow her to penetrate the fortress.

  Now, she sprinted across the street, flattening her back against the brick columns that held the iron gate allowing entrance to the front of the house. The gate was controlled by an electric box mounted on the column across from where she stood. Once the button on that box was pressed, a computerized voice would ask a variety of questions, and answers were displayed on a computer screen at a security company in a completely different state. It was a ridiculous setup and one she was certain was meant to keep people out. Fortunately, Ravyn wasn’t like ordinary people. Her father had told her that often enough.

  “Here we go,” she whispered.

  She moved slowly, keeping her back against the brick wall that circled around to the back of the house. There was no camera surveillance, another chink in the armor of security for this place, but a car could drive by at any moment, a neighbor could come out of their house, or be out for a stroll. Okay, maybe not the stroll since it was nearing two thirty in the morning. But she wasn’t taking any chances.

  The brick wall was a little higher around back—exactly three feet taller, to make it an even eight feet. Ravyn was five feet six inches. She reached back, lowering the pack she carried to the ground. Pulling out the bungee cords and hooks, she made quick work of getting them assembled and then tossing the line so that the hook soared over the top of the wall. When that was secure, she scaled the wall, taking wide steps so that she was over the top in less than ten seconds, dropping to the ground like a blur in the night.

  From there it was a thirty-foot run until she came up against the wall of the breakfast room. This was the only room that hadn’t been lined for security because the owner of the house hadn’t gotten to it yet. Dumbass. She worked the lock at the door and eased inside, walking through one room after another recalling the blueprint she’d bought from Vertis as she ended up in what the blueprint called the “display room.” Again, dumbass rolled through her mind as she thought of the owner, because who really thought it was a good idea to keep valuable artifacts in an unguarded location called the “display room.” He might as well have just put an ad in the paper that said: Please come steal from me at your earliest convenience.

  Well, she supposed she should thank him but for now she’d just relieve him of the one thing she’d come all this way for. Now with her penlight in hand, she angled it first at the walls in the room. They were built-ins with what she suspected were other pieces of Dumbass’s collection on each shelf. Changing direction, she aimed the light in the center of the room and found the five dark wood pillars in a staggered line right where Vertis said they would be. She passed the first two, not bothering to inspect what was inside of them because they weren’t what she was here to retrieve. Instead, she headed straight for the one in the middle, letting her light rest on the glass case atop the pillar which was larger than the other ones. Upon closer scrutiny she saw that this pillar was also different from the others because it was bolted to the floor.

  She stepped closer and took a deep breath before lifting her hands and moving them around the perimeter of the glass, just in case there was some type of alarm that would go off if she got too close to it. Nothing happened and she figured that was a good sign. The glass was heavier than she’d thought but after a little effort she was able to lift it and set it on the floor. Her gloved hand closed over the hilt of a dirty old knife that she was told was worth a half a million dollars. She lifted
it from the base it was set on and slowly brought it up to survey it more closely. There was nothing exceptional about it. A filthy sheath covered the actual blade and she pulled it back slightly just to be certain she was getting what she came for. Dinged metal that appeared dirty or stained. She shook her head and was jamming it back into the sheath when she heard it. A low hum that buzzed soft and long and made her feel as if some type of device was running along her skin.

  She stuffed the knife into her bag and made her way back through the house the way she’d come. But a light flashed through the windows of the breakfast room and Ravyn ran in the opposite direction. She flew through the house she’d been told was empty and didn’t stop until she was standing in the center of the hallway on the second floor. A quick glance behind showed there were lights in the driveway. Somebody was definitely coming. Cursing, she grabbed a cord that was hanging and yanked it. In seconds, stairs to the attic unfolded and she hurried up them. Once she was completely inside the attic, she reached back to pull the stairs up behind her.

  Now she was trapped.

  “Dammit!”

  The whisper seemed loud in the drab low-ceilinged space. There were boxes everywhere and large covered things she presumed from their shape were paintings. She walked from one end to the next, stopping the moment she saw the small window. There was no way she would fit, but she didn’t have time to contemplate. Using more strength than she’d realized she had, she finally managed to push the window open and in the next seconds was squeezing her body through the small opening.

  Now she was on the roof. With a sigh she leaned over, resting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. The light she’d seen outside the house before appeared to be gone as now there was only darkness again. But it wasn’t quiet darkness, that low hum she’d heard when she was inside the house still buzzed in her ears. And that wasn’t all that was strange. Ravyn slowly came to a full stand, easing her hand into her bag to grab the knife she’d just stolen, because while Vertis had assured her nobody would be inside this house tonight, there was definitely someone on this roof with her. Someone she just might have to kill in order to get away.

  Chapter Three

  Something wasn’t right.

  A fierce breeze whipped through the thin navy-blue jacket he wore. His booted feet stood firm on the portion of the roof that was flat. She stood closer to a gabled section, her legs partially spread, back turned to him, but she knew he was there. He could tell by the way she was standing with her shoulders squared, arms tense and head slightly turned to the left. She knew and she was considering what to do next.

  “Just stay calm,” he said, even though this wasn’t exactly a calm situation.

  They were standing on the roof of someone’s home in the middle of the night. He wasn’t quite sure what the situation called for, but it damn sure wasn’t calm.

  “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  No, that wasn’t the right answer. He didn’t want her. He only wanted to save her.

  “You don’t know me.”

  She had a point there. All Steele knew was that she was in danger and for him, that was enough. The small technicality that said he was the one who’d brought the danger to her was something he was still grappling with.

  “We can fix that. But first we’ve got to get you out of here.” He moved closer, walking as if his two-hundred-and-thirty-nine-pound body was made to be trampling on top of somebody’s house.

  Her movement was quick, and like a blur on the wind she turned. Her right arm was raised, knife in hand.

  “‘We’ don’t have to do anything,” she snapped. “I’m going to walk away and you’re going to stop following me.”

  There were a few things he could do at this moment—wrestle the knife away from her, toss her over his shoulder and get them out of here before someone looked out their window and saw them, use his magick to put her to sleep and carry her to safety, or leave her to do her business because this wasn’t the scene from his dream. Meaning this wasn’t the night for her to die. In his dream she was on a rooftop, but her hair was out and flowing in the breeze. Her clothes weren’t all black, but blue jeans and a purple top. The fact that he’d memorized every nuance of that dream didn’t disturb him as much as the eager stirring of his beast.

  He opted for none of the available options, but instead pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans to show her he wasn’t a threat.

  “You can put the knife down, I’m not here to hurt you. To the contrary, I’m trying to help.” Because as the Dream Reaper, he was the one with the power to lead the Reaper directly to her. Steele wasn’t going to do that. Even though he’d never shirked his duty before. His job as a Dream Reaper was to use his magick to seek out those preternaturals who had an inordinate amount of power that could possibly be used to shift the balance of good and evil on any of the realms. The Reaper would then take those souls and dispose of them on the Spirit Realm. But this woman was just a human with no power. So either his magick was off for being led to her in the first place, or the Reaper’s was out of whack, because it wasn’t possible that she was meant to be on the Reaper’s collection list.

  She tilted her head, lips lifted upward into a smirk, a look that definitely shouldn’t have struck him as sexy, but the quick punch of lust to his gut said otherwise.

  “You’re an enforcer who’s sworn to uphold the law and protect the citizens of Burgess, but I don’t trust you or any of the rest of your kind. So, I won’t be putting this down, but I will be leaving here alone.”

  Her voice was a smoky rasp that appealed to him just as much as the smirk on her face. Even through his sunglasses he could see her as clearly as if it were daylight. Drakon magick worked a thousand times better at night.

  “I’m not an enforcer. If I were, I’d have arrested your ass last week when you stole from the safe in that jeweler’s back office.”

  Only a flicker of shock appeared in her eyes—whiskey-brown eyes with natural long curling lashes—before she stepped to him.

  “I don’t know what you want or why you’ve been tailing me, but this ends here and now!”

  She still held the knife as if she were ready to stab him at any second, and since he’d seen her do just that to someone else as recently as last night, he wasn’t inclined to take any chances. With a quick movement he gripped her wrist, squeezing so that her fingers would flex and she’d drop the knife, but that didn’t happen. Instead, she reached with her free hand and slapped it over the fingers that gripped the blade. He watched her arms rise over her head and saw as she slowly began to bring the knife downward. If he did nothing it would sink into his chest. Steele didn’t feel like dying tonight or being so wounded he’d need more than human medicine to save his life.

  He used his other hand, as well, grabbing both her wrists. She resisted, using more strength than he’d realized she had, but he could take her, there was no doubt in his mind. Not until bright streaks of lightning cracked through the night sky. First one streak and then another and another, until it looked as if the entire sky would break apart. Gusts of wind came faster and stronger to the point where both their legs trembled with the attempt to stay upright and not tumble to the ground.

  He half expected the sky to open and torrential rain to pour down on them, but that hadn’t been in the weather forecast he’d reluctantly watched on TV when he was wide awake this morning.

  “Let go of me!” she screamed. But instead of trying to get away from him, it felt as if she was attempting to match his strength.

  The tighter he held her, the firmer she stood, still trying to bring that knife down into his chest. Steele released her wrists and moved fast to wrap his arms around her waist instead. He was going to do the toss over the shoulder and if she stabbed him in the back so be it, at least she’d be safe, but that didn’t work either. One minute his arms had been firmly ar
ound her, the next she was yelling along with a boom of thunder and leaping out of his grasp. He stumbled forward momentarily and when he turned back, it was to see her jumping down from the roof and running across the street faster than any human he’d ever seen. She dodged through houses and leapt over security walls, all while he stood there with his mouth gaping, waiting to be struck by lightning.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to work. He had decided to save her, to protect her—even though those two things went against everything he was supposed to do in his capacity as a Dream Reaper. There was also the conflict with his job as a Drakon to protect the humans from preternatural beings. On the one hand, if she was too powerful then she’d definitely be a threat to the balance of good and evil, thus endangering other humans at some point. But, if she was—as he suspected—a woman with no magical powers, then he was actually harming a human. Something the Drakon didn’t do. The conflicts didn’t matter at the moment because, well, she’d gotten away. Thunder continued to rumble above, but it was no match for the growling sound his beast was making. It moved through his chest like boulders being pushed out of the way, making space for something he didn’t quite understand.

  Steele ran a hand down his face and squatted when he saw enforcer vehicles pulling up to the house. This really wasn’t how it worked. He’d been with her as she’d pulled off half a dozen robberies in the past week and never had enforcers shown up, nor had the sky seemed to become as angry as his beast was at this moment.

  Yeah. He nodded while watching enforcers get out of their cars and walk into the house, something was definitely wrong about this scene. He just had to figure out what.

  And while he was at it, he’d need to get a grip on why this woman was an exception to every rule the Dream Reapers had.

  * * *

  “That’s not a good address.” The driver balked.

  Ravyn had just jumped into the backseat and slouched down so she wouldn’t be seen. Her heart was pounding so fast and loud she almost didn’t hear the guy.