Claim the Dragon Page 8

  As Steele came closer to the Dumpster the two were making out behind, he spoke slowly, but loudly. “Let her go!”

  The woman, who’d been on her knees with her face buried in his groin, tried to pull back, but he kept his grip on the back of her head. Steele knew that wasn’t so he could continue to feel the pleasure of her mouth on his dick, but to provide himself a partial shield. Again, this guy was an ass.

  “I said, let her go.”

  “Get your own!” the guy yelled.

  Steele sighed and moved in closer, grabbing the woman out of the way just before the whooshing sound of the Reaper’s blade echoed through the air.

  Seconds later Steele sat straight up in his bed at the hotel, a sharp slice of cold spreading through his body. The Reaper had claimed the soul Steele led him to.

  Steele’s heart raced as his eyes searched the dark room, for what, he wasn’t sure. When it was apparent that he was alone and no longer in the dream, he dropped back down onto the pillows, using an arm to cover his eyes.

  He hoped it had worked. Prayed it was so.

  Never before had he attempted to swap one soul with another, but he’d thought it was worth a try. While that guy wasn’t powerful, he had demonic blood running through his veins, probably from a distant relative, but still it was there. Steele hadn’t picked up on that the night he’d used dream dust on the guy—if he had, Steele would’ve killed him then. Because killing demonics to keep humans safe was the Drakons’ job. They didn’t, however, just go around killing humans, even vile disgusting ones. By chance, he’d seen the guy on the street when he’d been looking for Ravyn last week, and then he’d picked up the scent and started to plan.

  Now, he would wait to see if the plan to give the Reaper this soul instead of Ravyn’s would work.

  * * *

  The first thing Steele thought at six o’clock the next evening was that he’d been to this house before.

  His call to Senator Daron Robles’s office this morning had led to a tag team of other calls, with the final one coming at four this afternoon, setting the meeting time for six. That had given him the entire day to sit in his hotel room reading more about the dagger’s curse and thinking about Ravyn. His dick was still hard, reminding him that all of those thoughts about her hadn’t been about her dying on some roof.

  Dragging a hand down his face to smooth his lightly trimmed goatee, he raised an arm and pressed the doorbell to the brick house in Sodesto. In moments, a tall thin woman wearing a kelly-green dress opened the door and offered him a smile. Her golden hair fell in heavy waves down to her shoulders, makeup was carefully applied to an averagely pretty face and diamond earrings sparkled at her ears.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Eze. Senator Robles is waiting for you in the den. Let me take you to him.”

  Steele nodded, figuring she’d said all that needed to be said and that she really only expected him to follow along. He could do that, especially since he needed a few more minutes to replace thoughts of Ravyn with thoughts of business. That was why he’d stayed in his room all day instead of instantly going out to find her. She was safe during the daylight hours—the dream told him she would die at night. And besides that, he needed to do the job he was being paid to do. Magnum’s words hadn’t fallen on deaf ears.

  The layout of the house was simple enough, three large rooms off the main foyer—formal living room, dining room, library. Portraits hung in gold beveled frames along the cranberry painted walls. Plush rugs covered glossed wood floors. It smelled like incense, some deep and heady fragrance that was heavy and potent, seeping into his nostrils as quickly as if the entire place were filled with smoke.

  A few steps ahead of him, the woman gripped the doorknobs of double oak doors and pushed them open.

  “Senator, Mr. Eze from the Legion Security Company is here,” she said.

  A fire blazed in the marble fireplace against one dark wood paneled wall. Burgundy leather chairs were positioned around the fireplace and a man rose from one of them. He had a cigar between his lips, glossy black hair smoothed down to his scalp and hunter-green eyes.

  “Thank you, Marona. Come in, Mr. Eze, come in,” the senator beckoned him.

  Steele embraced the eerie feeling he’d felt upon entering this dour room and walked past Marona to accept the outstretched hand of Daron Robles.

  His hand was chilly, the smile that ghosted his lips was insincere and his eyes assessed Steele in the same way the Drakon was assessing him.

  “Good to meet you,” Robles said when they disconnected the handshake.

  “Likewise,” Steele replied, immediately noting the sour taste the word left in his mouth.

  “Let’s get right down to business, I’ve got another meeting in an hour.”

  “That’s fine with me, sir.” Steele followed Robles when the man moved to sit back in the chair he’d been in before.

  Robles extended one arm toward a brown leather chair across from him. Steele took his seat there, being sure not to lean back in the chair, but resting his elbows on his thighs instead.

  “I understand you’d like to upgrade the security of your house. Can you tell me what type of system you have at the moment?”

  Whatever it was, Steele was betting it was crap because he hadn’t seen a control panel on either wall when he stepped inside the front door. Of course, the system could be set up somewhere else in the house, but a panel near the door ensured less chance of false alarms because it could be quickly disengaged. Unless there was a remote, but that wasn’t a method he ever advised.

  “We have an automated system that’s monitored by a global company. They came out a few years ago and ran wire on every window and around the doors. But I’ve made some, ah, upgrades to the place since then and I’ve just been reminded that I need to pay more attention to my security.”

  That didn’t sound good. “How’ve you been reminded?”

  “A week ago tomorrow someone broke into my house and stole a very valuable item and once I reported the crime to the enforcers, they suggested I upgrade my security with a new system and possibly armed guards. That, or buy a guard dog.”

  The ends of the man’s lips lifted, an edge lacing his tone. But before Steele could pay more attention to either, he repeated the senator’s words.

  “Someone broke into your house?” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a notepad and pen. He rarely needed to take notes during a meeting because he always activated the recording mechanism on his communicator before it started, but he’d also found that actually seeing him take notes made clients feel more assured their concerns were being taken seriously. He held the pen over the paper but already knew the date the man was going to reply with.

  “Yes, last Friday evening. I’m not sure of the exact time because my personal assistant, whom you’ve just met, left for the evening at seven. I was away on a business trip and did not return until Saturday night. That’s when I realized I’d been robbed.” The man crossed one leg over the other and stared contemplatively out the window located behind the chair where Steele sat.

  “What did they steal?” Visions of the Egyptian dagger immediately formed in his mind, along with a picture of one very attractive thief.

  Robles looked at him. “A thirty-four-hundred-year-old dagger worth at least half a million dollars.”

  “Did you keep it in a safe?” Steele asked without missing a beat. He knew he should act a little more surprised at the price or perhaps the age of the dagger, but he’d never been one to mince words.

  Robles shook his head slowly. “No. No. I had a case made especially for the piece. It was shatterproof glass and it sat on top of an unmovable pillar. The glass was supposed to be sealed to the pillar.”

  Steele watched the man carefully. “How did you plan to get it out when you wanted to?”

  “I was told the case had a fingertip-sensitive l
atch and that my fingerprint was the only one that could open it. I know now that was a lie because the glass and latch were still in place, but the dagger was taken.”

  “Was the piece insured? And why would you have something that valuable in your home? Are you a collector?”

  Steele found no real interest in politicians. Over the years and living in many places, they’d all eventually yielded their beliefs to the lure of power. Weak, unimaginative and troublesome was how he viewed them.

  “I hold a degree in archaeology. It’s my first love, but politics paid the bills. There’s a big archaeologists’ convention taking place in the city beginning tomorrow and lasting through next week. I had plans to invite several professionals in the field over for a private showing.”

  “You were going to invite several people to a house that’s barely secure to see a half-million-dollar dagger.” Steele’s words were curt as ire rose steadily within him, stirring the beast.

  Robles slammed a hand down on the arm of the chair. “I am a prominent citizen of this city and a very powerful person within this state. I did not expect anyone to be brazen enough to break into my home.”

  Then you’re a powerful idiot.

  The words rumbled behind lips Steele focused hard to keep closed.

  “How did you come to be in possession of such an expensive artifact?” He left out the word cursed on a hunch this human didn’t care to hear the word any more than Ravyn had.

  “It was gifted to me.”

  “And you planned to keep it here in your house forever, or did you intend to sell it?”

  Robles looked uncomfortable. Steele was asking pointed questions because he wanted real answers. The fact that a senator—however wealthy in his own right—would come into possession of such an item and have it here in his house was a little tough to swallow. There had to be more to it, especially since the dagger carried a death curse for anyone who owned it.

  “I planned to add it to my collection, yes. There is no crime in that. And I do not appreciate being spoken to as if I’m the one who has done something wrong.”

  Shit! That’s exactly how he was talking to the guy.

  Reminding himself again that this was part of his job—the real, paying job he had—Steele cleared his throat.

  “I’d like to tour the house and take a look at the system you already have set up. After that I can map out what you’ll likely need to further safeguard your collection. I can have a report and quote to you no later than tomorrow at noon.”

  “And what am I supposed to do until then? The conference starts tomorrow, and I hope to have the dagger back in place by Sunday for a dinner party. But I certainly don’t want to take the chance that someone can walk in and walk out with it again if I did.”

  Which was something the guy should have thought about when he first brought the dagger into his private residence. That was the type of item that belonged in a museum, closely guarded. Or better yet, it should have never been removed from the tomb of King Tutankhamun. What kind of morbid souls went around breaking into graves and stealing everything out of them? Obviously, humans.

  “The most immediate suggestion I can offer is to lock everything in a safe until the new security measures are implemented.” From the look on the senator’s face, Steele knew that wasn’t his preference. He could’ve offered a personal guard until the new system was purchased and installed, but he had a feeling the most important piece this guy possessed was already gone.

  “Fine. Marona can walk you around. I’ve got to get ready for another meeting.” Robles stood abruptly and Steele followed his lead.

  “That would be great. But I just have one more question, sir. If you don’t mind. How do you plan to get the dagger back?”

  Robles came to stand closer to Steele. He was half a foot shorter than Steele’s six feet three and a half inches and was easily half Steele’s weight. But he kept his shoulders squared, chin tilted upward, and eyes locked on Steele’s.

  “I’ll remind you again of who I am in this state. If that thief is still in Burgess, my private investigators working along with the enforcers will find him and when they do that bastard’s gonna wish he’d never been bold enough to break into my house.”

  As threats went, Steele wasn’t in the least impressed. But it didn’t matter, because Ravyn was already marked by the Reaper. According to the preternatural laws, her death was imminent. This human and the other humans that were on his payroll had nothing on the Reaper. So, in the event that his little swap-out with the Reaper hadn’t worked last night, Steele would continue his efforts to keep Ravyn from dying on the roof as his first priority. Making sure this arrogant asshole got a new and very expensive—since he was such a powerful senator—security system was a close second.

  Chapter Six

  Fading wasn’t easy.

  It took a tremendous amount of strength, focus and Drakon magick. Moving a massive fire-breathing dragon stuffed into a human body from one physical location to another in the blink of an eye without anyone or any being seeing the transition, was a magnificent feat. And it was something Steele had been doing since he was five years old.

  That was two hundred and eighty-five years ago.

  Closing his eyes as he stood on the balcony of his hotel room in the city, he zeroed in on everything he knew about Ravyn Walsh. For starters, after his first dream of her, it had taken him a week to find out what her real name was. Most people he’d seen her speak to only knew her as Ravyn. And since this was a personal quest, Steele had chosen not to ask Isla to stop what she was doing for the Legion, to dig deeper into Ravyn’s life. Doing so would only open the door to more questions because for all that Legion Security was a large corporation which employed both Drakon and humans, it was the tight-knit group of dragons Steele had to worry about. They were sort of an unofficial clan that would have taken a big interest in what he was doing, because if saving Ravyn Steele managed to piss off the Reaper, the Drakon would not only be at war with the vampires, but the dark beings of the Spirit Realm, as well. That wasn’t something Steele felt like dealing with.

  She had no address, at least none that he could find on any preliminary search of the city’s citizen database. The last known address on record had been eleven years ago when she would have been eighteen years old. No address, no job status, no bank accounts, no children, nothing. It was as if she’d died at eighteen.

  Reluctantly, because he’d rather not do something he knew would pull him not just physically, but emotionally, closer to her, Steele recalled her scent—light, fresh, earthy and tempting. Breathing in deeply and letting the breath out slowly filled his body with that aroma. The beast stirred, lifting its head to take in the scent, as well. It grumbled and shifted, already opening to its magick in an attempt to find what it sought. The tingling began at his toes and moved slowly, as if someone were pouring water through a tiny spout into his body, up to his ankles and then his calves. The man’s mind drifted past the scent to bring forth a picture of her. She was shorter than him, the top of her head coming in just beneath his shoulder. Her skin was a rich umber hue, her lips—the bottom was a little plumper than the top. Her body was slim, fit, ample breasts and a tight ass that called to him on a more primitive note.

  His dick jumped and he swallowed deeply.

  The beast stretched, pressing almost painfully against the human form as the tingling increased, swirling in his groan at this moment.

  Focus.

  The word was whispered in his mind and his thoughts were immediately yanked back to earlier yesterday when he’d seen her in the pawn shop and then going into the antiques shop. He’d left her for a while, returning later to an alley he’d watched her walk down almost nightly in the past few weeks.

  He’d watched her disappear down that alley on many nights, but hadn’t followed because in his dream she’d been on a roof when she died. His fingers wi
ggled as the tingling continued to rise until it filled his chest and sifted slowly up to his mind. His eyes snapped open and in the next blink he was gone.

  Steele knew he was in the right place because her scent was no longer just in his mind, it was everywhere. Although there were no lights on, he could see everything. A full-sized bed was in the center of a fifteen by fifteen space. The frame was made of fresh wood, comforter and sheets were a soft rose color, numerous pillows were slightly askew. Stone walls were painted an industrial-type gray and the cement floor was covered with different sized rugs in pastel colors. That was all the softness in this space. There was a utilitarian desk and chair with a closed laptop to one side of the room. To the other side was a black barn-style door, a six-foot-tall cabinet to its left. This was where she lived.

  He stepped farther into the room, going straight for the bed, where he rested a hand on top of one of the pillows. His palm grew warmer as he touched the cool fabric. Steele ignored the niggling of something at the back of his neck and pushed the pillow aside. The dagger glowed against the pale linen. When he’d seen it sitting on top of the green fabric in the pawn shop earlier and in each of the pictures Robles’s assistant had shown him at the house, the dagger appeared dirty, ancient, almost defective. Now it shimmered like carefully tended gold. The hilt was encased with diamonds, and the sheath contained Egyptian hieroglyphics pressed deep into the gold.

  Just inches away from his hand. Steele could see himself picking it up, taking the dagger and leaving this room without anyone knowing. He could fade back to his hotel and pull up the records about the dagger’s history he’d saved on his communicator. There, he could think more on where this dagger came from and why a human like Robles was in possession of it, because his instincts told him this acquisition wasn’t about the man being a collector—not of this dagger and in this city. Something else was definitely going on and now it involved Ravyn. That, Steele would not tolerate. He was already fighting one death threat against her. He didn’t need another. If he could get this dagger away from her, that threat would be gone. Hopefully, the Reaper had been appeased last night, so that threat might very well be gone too. He could take this dagger and be done with her, forever. Right?