Flux of Skin (Fate Fire Shifter Dragon Book 2) Read online

Ladon bent his arm under her hips as he kissed her again. “I love you.” Another kiss. “We love you.” The rumble rolled from his chest, deep and intense.

  She kissed him harder, and smiled.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered. Rysa, his beautiful Fate. His healer. “Beloved.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. Yes.

  He’d give her everything.

  Now and forever.

  Chapter Ten

  Sister returns.

  Dragon’s picture-voice floated through Ladon’s dream space, his inner landscape, and shunted his dreams toward real places and true form and color. Concrete meaning planted in his mind. The world’s firmness took root.

  Morning had come and gone already, as had noon, and lunch. The bright day settled over the hospital and crawled into the room through the slats covering a heavy sliding window. It sat on his eyes and held them closed while machines blipped near his head. His muscles ached but he wouldn’t move. He protected something precious from the darkness.

  He lay on a too-narrow bed in a familiar hospital room, but he still dreamed of the RV.

  The dream shifted and changed. The edge of the RV’s remembered bed became the edge of the Dragons’ Rock, the big flat outcropping up the side of the mountain, outside the cave entrance. The beasts sunned themselves on the huge slab during the summer months, pulling in the stored warmth from the rock to soothe their talons and hides. But it wasn’t summer. It wasn’t spring.

  Ladon sat naked on the Rock. The air smelled off, the way air full of ice stank of lifelessness. Wind pushed and pulled against his skin as if he wore constricting leathers. He heard the sky’s roar and tasted every freezing ray from the sky above. Saw the clawing edges of the granite under him.

  But he shivered as if his warmth had decided not to move to his limbs ever again. The way he’d shivered once, many centuries ago, when he’d bled too much from a knife wound. He’d been so cold. His mind had frozen, too.

  In front of him, the Rock’s ledge dropped off. Falling could kill both man and beast. The pit below crackled and gnawed with snapping teeth.

  He needed to stay back. Something skated along the edge and could trip a man. Send him to his death.

  Where was his armor? He never went into battle with Shifters without his armor.

  Dragon spoke—Human. You must wake up. Sister-Human enters the building.

  The dream flickered. Reality again rode into his mind, but this time on the back of the construct of Dragon’s words as a new cathedral of real perception and sensations which anchored his thoughts. The world, for the moment, stopped spinning.

  The disjointed, disconnected strangeness that wasn’t the Dragons’ Rock vanished.

  He opened his eyes. In his arms, Rysa slept, her skin too warm and her life too frail. The machines accentuated her breathing—in, out, in, out. But she breathed rhythmically.

  Her body had begun to settle. She slept, and her warring abilities slept. She healed.

  The dream reasserted itself and Ladon’s body responded to a sleep-made impression that wasn’t quite an image, a thought that was more feeling than context—she might fall into the pit. Fall cold, shaken, and terrified.

  The sudden sense of falling jolted through his bones. The bed shook.

  He blinked, his mind as shaken as his body, and now fully awake. Rysa shifted against his side, but didn’t open her eyes.

  Her arm tightened around his chest. He buried his face in her hair.

  A memory of an exaggerated version of the Dragons’ Rock flitted through his head, then vanished. What did I dream? He’d had too many dreams lately, with too many of them leaving behind only a binding and viscous residue.

  He didn’t like it.

  I understand your dreams no better than you, Human. The ceiling creaked as Dragon moved out of the shed and onto the open roof above. Sister and Sister-Human have returned. A pause. They bring guns. Another pause. And food.

  Hunger panged from the roof.

  Ladon hadn’t fed Dragon. He hadn’t gone to the cafeteria and instead had stayed in the room all night with Rysa. And with Derek as well, who now slept in another bed the nurses had wheeled in shortly before Sister left.

  Paige had checked in Derek last night. She wouldn’t let him leave and had started him on an IV while he waited for Sister by the hospital’s entrance.

  Ladon hadn’t realized how much damage the crash had done to his brother-in-law. But he rested now, asleep across from Rysa, his own machines beeping and wheezing.

  I’m sorry, Ladon pushed to Dragon. He would have pushed it to Derek, too, if the normal had been able to hear him.

  Shifters, doctors, and fevers did not excuse him from his responsibilities. He needed to be mindful. Watch his behavior.

  Sister had taken his van last night to recover weapons from the wreck—and to buy the dragons food. He’d left his vehicle in the hospital’s long-term parking when he and Dragon had come down from their home and transferred to Sister’s RV before the Salt Lake City fight. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time.

  A small heh escaped as he laid his cheek against the top of Rysa’s head, wondering if her future-seer had dropped that bit of luck into his mind. Untrained Fates did often manifest “luck” as their seers worked unconsciously, as Rysa had already done several times.

  They’d get her whole again and he’d help her learn to use her seers. Full, conscious use always trumped little pokes of happenstance, such as setting up access to his van.

  At least it let Sister make sure the dragons wouldn’t starve.

  Sister brings enough. I will eat. A new pang popped across their connection—Dragon wanted to be with Rysa as much as Ladon did. You must stay with Rysa.

  Rysa sighed. It sounded sharp, as if she, too, dreamed images which set her mind on edge. She might be young, and she might have lived a modern life free of physical danger up until she activated as a Fate, but she understood the world better than she realized, and it scratched at her unconscious as much as it did Ladon’s.

  Maybe her abilities augmented her comprehension, but he didn’t think so. Fates tended toward not understanding. Not seeing beyond their noses or their talismans. Yet even with the gaps in her awareness caused by her attention issues, Rysa understood the world.

  Sister says we have a problem.

  Problem? Ladon slowly, carefully pulled his arm out from under Rysa and the plastic-covered mattress under them crackled as he freed himself.

  Letting go of Rysa was the last thing he wanted to do. But Dragon said they had a problem.

  Tell me, Ladon pushed. Don’t keep secrets. Knowing that Dragon knew, and he did not, irritated Ladon far more than anything his sister could say.

  Sister-Human will show you. She comes in now.

  A shadow moved through the light streaming under the door. Muffled voices chatted in the hall.

  The edges of Ladon’s world—the drop-offs, the bumps, the pits, the things that were finely delineated in his perception—all wavered. This unease caused by the dreams and Dragon’s secrecy left him off balance in very much the same way as in the months after he’d suffered damage to his ear. He’d lurched around and leaned into Dragon because the forest rocked and the normals threatened his people with crooked swords and Burners exploded oddly sideways.

  At the time, centuries ago, dread had infused his senses, fueled by his mind seeing what should be up as down, and what should be left as right.

  Now, his dreams felt the same. They upset his vestibular system.

  The room’s door swung open. Dim light from the corridor cut a swath across the floor and over Derek’s bed. Sister stopped at the threshold, one hand gripping the door handle and the other a bag she carried over her shoulder.

  She’d changed clothes. She now wore her leather jacket—which she must have rescued from the wreck along with the weapons—though the days had warmed. Ladon knew why—she had at least two pistols and several knives hidden underneath. Her boots hid several
blades as well.

  The bag bulged against her hip and whiffed slightly with each step as she entered the room. Ladon suspected she carried weapons for him and for Derek.

  The staff had made Derek leave the rifles with the guard. Ladon had almost gone down to the guard station and taken them anyway. But such actions would have led to more harm than good.

  Sister walked directly to her husband’s bed. Derek snored softly, a sound barely perceptible under all the buzzing and beeping.

  “Paige stopped me in the hall.” Sister smoothed her fingers across Derek’s forehead and down to his shoulder. “She said he admitted how much his leg hurt after you disappeared into the hallway with your Fate.”

  Enough late afternoon light filtered through the window covering for Ladon to see his Sister’s face tense. She still did not look at him.

  She should not refer to Rysa as “your Fate.” Her bitterness was rearing its head again, and right now Ladon could not care less about her annoyances. He had family to protect, including Derek.

  He pulled his legs over the side of the bed. No more insulting Rysa. No more accusations and no more threats. Time for Sister to accept his choice. The woman on the bed next to him—the woman for whom he’d thrown aside all his responsibilities because she needed him—was now as much family as the man sleeping in the other bed. “My Fate—”

  She met his gaze as he turned. Even in the shadows, he saw the fear in her eyes.

  His sister, the co-commander of the Legio Draconis, this lithe woman who, over the millennia, had suffered as much as—more than—he had. She and her beast had come across the ocean first. She’d built their home in the mountains. And she’d dragged Ladon through the many fogs created by the deaths of many, many women.

  And now, in this modern hospital room, she looked down at the man who had wrapped his arms around her the first moment they met. Derek had ignored the grand party unfolding around them, ignored the Shifters and the threats, and had made her feel human for, Ladon suspected, the first time in her life. He’d run from a protected life to be with her, no matter the dangers it caused.

  Derek, who was one of the strongest normals Ladon had ever known, even if his body had betrayed him.

  The knock to his leg could have caused his blood disorder to open arteries. If he’d bled internally, they would not have known. She might have lost him last night, and Ladon had sent her back to the wreck, to collect weapons.

  Ladon glanced over at his brother-in-law. They’d known each other for almost seven decades and Derek’s compassion still surprised him. From what Dmitri told Ladon over vodka and scowls at The Land of Milk and Honey, Derek had always been that way, even as a child. Naughty, insolent, and irresponsible, but compassionate beyond any other of their family. He’d long ago lost the other traits—maybe not all of his insolence—but the compassion always shined through.

  Ladon thanked the gods every day for the time his sister had been granted with this man.

  “What did Paige say?” he asked.

  “His blood pressure is normal, and steady. She gave him boosters and ran some tests to make sure his clotting factors are stable.” She pulled a chair beside Derek, careful to lift it so the chair’s legs didn’t scrape and make a noise loud enough to wake either her husband or Rysa. “Paige ordered pain meds and a sedative. She said he should be awake for dinner.” Sister nodded at Rysa. “Your Fate, also.” She set her bag on the floor next to her feet.

  “Don’t do that, Sister.” Ladon bent slowly and pulled his boots out from under Rysa’s bed. His side grumbled, but a lot of the pain had receded.

  He glanced at Rysa. Her healer must work like her seers—popping random bits of lucky bone-knitting into his body while they slept. He stretched. His muscles ached, but he moved.

  “Don’t do what, Brother?” Sister sounded more exhausted than angry or aggrieved.

  Ladon pulled the other chair next to hers, at Derek’s bedside, and set down his boots. They needed to come to an understanding. They all needed to be on the same side or the Seraphim would make a show of it.

  The Seraphim always found a way to take minor irritations and turn them into major issues. Ladon long suspected their enthrallers could smell emotional distress, even on Sister and him. Damned bastards could do much good with such abilities, yet they chose instead to make life hell for those they deemed “evil.”

  Ladon slipped on his boots, trying to formulate the best way to deal with this family issue. Now was not the time for an argument. Or for yelling.

  Sister didn’t give him his moment. “Dmitri isn’t answering his phones.” She tapped her jacket pocket. “Neither are his lieutenants.”

  Ladon stopped tying his laces and sat up. Dmitri was their connection to Lucinda de la Turris. They had no idea where Rysa’s aunt was, or whether she’d entered the States yet. For all Ladon knew, the Seraphim could have her.

  Was the lack of back-up the problem Dragon warned him about?

  Inside the bag, Sister had two handguns in holsters, as well as ammunition, binoculars, and a new shirt for him.

  “The Seraphim are concentrating their efforts on us.” She held out the binoculars with one hand while she pointed at the window with the other.

  Ladon took them as he slowly stood up. They felt cold in his palm, two tubes of plastic, metal, and glass, and they carried a slight hint of oil. Sister and Sister-Dragon had always taken better care of their tools than Ladon and Dragon had.

  He walked toward the window, careful not to trip on his untied laces. His gut growled, a low, rolling noise, one indicating the reassertion of his unease more than any call to eat.

  He’d thought maybe the Seraphim would go away. They no longer had the element of surprise, and attacks on a hospital were stupid enough that even they would think twice. Rysa would heal—he and Derek would heal as well—and they’d go home. Deal with this through Shifter political channels.

  Let Dmitri handle it. He’d come out with more power than he’d gone in with. He always did. But it seemed the Seraphim had thought of that already, as well.

  Ladon parted the slats covering the window, and the late afternoon sun blasted a spike of warm light into the room.

  And there in the lot sat three, four, five large trucks, all with construction company logos. Any normal pulling in wouldn’t know the difference. But these trucks gleamed in the bright sun, their side panels glossy and rounded as if they’d been bulletproofed.

  He saw five vehicles with people in their drivers’ and passengers’ seats. All watched the building.

  One, in the front, watched Ladon watch him.

  He recognized the bastard—he was the ugly enthraller who’d attacked Rysa in the electronics store. Ladon obviously hadn’t snapped his neck hard enough.

  The man was another gnat in the swarm buzzing around their heads. The son of a bitch sneered and tapped his temple.

  Ladon handed the binoculars to Sister. “How many?”

  She shrugged. “Fourteen vehicles on all sides of the building. They were here when I returned.”

  We have counted seven points of Seraphim activity from our view, Dragon pushed. And from the shed, the beasts could not see the entire perimeter.

  “They let you back in?” Ladon walked back to the chair to tie his boots. He’d leave them on now.

  “Yes. I parked your van in the open, where tampering with it would look suspicious.” Sister pulled one of the holsters out of the bag. “Here.”

  Ladon took it. If he strapped it around his chest it would most likely alarm the nurses. So he checked the weapon and stood again to stash it in the cart next to Rysa’s bed.

  “One waved us through.” Sister cut her hand through the air the way a traffic moderator signaled vehicles forward. “I suspect they’d let me out.” She stood, but her eyes stayed on her husband. “Derek, as well.”

  Ladon laid his hand on Rysa’s chest. Her lungs filled under his fingers in the soft, shallow inhales of sleep. She rested. But he didn’t
know how long her recovery would take. She, unlike Sister and Derek, could not leave. No, she was the focal point of the Seraphim’s attacks.

  We will not leave her.

  Ladon looked up at the ceiling. Those five words had become his and Dragon’s mantra these past few days. With Rysa, they’d found something perfect. Something special. Something right. He felt like a man—a real human man, not some godling from whom normals sidestepped away—for the first time in his life. Not once had Rysa looked at him with fear in her eyes. Not even when he’d snapped the neck of the Shifter who now watched them from the hospital parking lot.

  On the other side of Derek’s bed, Sister stashed the other weapon under the head of his mattress. “We should go out now. Kill them all.” She glanced at Rysa and her face hardened for a split second. “Quickest way to deal with this.”

  A part of his mind latched onto Sister’s suggestion. An old part. The part which had once commanded a Roman legion. The part which had stood between his people and untold numbers of Burners and malicious Fates. That part had snapped a Shifter’s neck only a few short days ago.

  He could set it free again. Nod to his sister and they’d fall into their fighting posture, bound by both their well-practiced ways of destruction and their synchronized dragons. They could walk into the lot as the beasts disabled all the hospital’s security cameras, and leave an undocumented pile of corpses for the sheriff to find.

  They’d done it before. Even with the heavy ache in his side, they could do it again.

  In the bed, Rysa slept what he hoped was a healing sleep. He stroked his fingers down her arm and over the IV tube snaking into her wrist, feeling the truth of her skin. This beautiful young woman loved him, but she lived a modern life, and she expected him to live one, too.

  He’d promised her he’d earn everything she gave them.

  He would not disappoint her. He would not be a monster in the eyes of his love.

  Ladon shook his head. “No killing, Sister. We’ve made a life here. I won’t give it up because Vivicus thinks poking us with sharp sticks will cause us to riot.”