Dragon's Honor (8 page)

Baron grinned. Okay, so blood washed out worked just as well as dried.

The rest attacked en-masse and he became a whirlwind of activity. Dropping his scales, he used tendrils of shadow to stuff two in the dishwasher, turning it on as he threw another in the microwave. Cooking dried blood well. Two more joined their buddy in the sink and one ended up the mop bucket. Bit of bleach might get rid of the stink.

Roaring again, he turned and headed back into the fray, determined that no redcaps were going to survive their first encounter with a dragon.

*

Honor ran like she’d never run before. Forget trotting along on the treadmill, she discovered a hitherto unknown ability to break the land speed record. On foot. She misjudged the turning into her father’s office and slammed into the door frame. Pain flared in her shoulder and upper arm but she was too busy to pay it much mind. Adrenaline coursed through her as she belted across the office, but rather than make for the hidden door behind the bookshelf and the panic room it concealed, she headed for her father’s desk instead.

“Sorry, Mom. I know you didn’t like violence,” she whispered to the painting above the fireplace. It was of a young woman standing by a window, her face highlighted by the sunlight streaming in and happiness. Her hand rested over her swollen stomach, reassuring and protecting the baby within. Honor.

She yanked the drawer on the left open. “But a gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do.”

Grabbing her father’s gun, she searched in the drawer for the ammunition. Thanks to her father’s insistence she know how to look after herself, she’d trained extensively on all the types of weaponry kept in the house. Her fingers closed around a couple of magazines, already loaded, and she pulled them free. Both full, one was standard ammunition, but the second shone in the moonlight streaming through the window behind her with the tell-tale glint of silver.

Slipping the normal one in her robe pocket, she loaded the silver, her movements slick with experience, but then paused. Shit. Silver was just for weres, wasn’t it? Would it work on redcaps? She screwed her eyes closed, trying to remember if Lucy had ever said anything about them, and more importantly, how to incapacitate them.

Redcaps...redcaps... Her eyes shot open. Lucy
had
mentioned them. They were fairies... Her gaze fell on the fireplace below her mother’s portrait. Pokers were iron, weren’t they? And none of the fairy-folk liked iron.

She was around the desk before she could think about it. Thinking about what she was going to do was a bad idea. It was the kind of idea that would have her curled up in a ball under the desk, gibbering like a damn idiot. Or holed up in the panic room, and that was
so
not happening.

No matter what Baron had ordered, she was not going to hide in there. Fuck waiting around for Sm—Baron, or anyone to come and save her. Someone had made threats on her life and now they’d had the audacity to invade her home. That pissed her the hell off.

She grabbed the poker and hefted the silver loaded gun in the other hand. Fucking paranormal douchebags who thought they could do whatever the hell they wanted. She’d show them.

Edging out the door, she glanced down the hall. Most of the front door and surrounding wall was gone, replaced by a shadowy, seething mass.

With a wordless yell, she fired blindly into it as she ran past toward the kitchen. A roar of pain followed her, making her wince and duck her head as her ears rang with the sound. Her heart pounded as her sprint ate up the distance between her and where she’d left Baron. Did he know about fairies and iron? Probably. He seemed to know more about whatever the hell was going on than she did.

Reaching the kitchen, she stopped by the door. The room looked like something out of a horror movie. Blood splattered what had been pristine white counters and tiles, small bodies scattered around the room like macabre set dressings. She sucked a breath in, hoping beyond hope the next body she saw wasn’t Barons.

The breath shuddered free in a sigh of relief when she spotted him over on the other side of the room. His lips were stretched in a wordless bellow as he held a redcap’s head down in the sink, while it struggled and lashed out with booted feet.

“’ello, pretty.” A harsh whisper made her jump and back up as a wizened face peered around the door frame. An evil look shone in its dark eyes as it looked her up and down. A drop of something dark fell from its cap and down onto its cheek.

“How about you and me have some fun?”

Baron roared her name at the same moment the horrible little creature detached itself from the door and launched at her.

Time slowed to a crawl. She had time to register a bead of sweat slither down her spine, in the hollow where it wasn’t absorbed by her night-gown and robe.

He lifted his pike, light glittering along the lethal edge as it sped towards her neck. In the absence of any sort of instruction from her frozen brain, her body moved of its own accord. She side-stepped the pike’s descent and swung the poker like it was a baseball bat. But instead of aiming for his face, she recalled the words of one of her martial arts instructors and aimed for two inches behind the back of his head.

The poker hit with a meaty thunk, the impact reverberating through the metal to her arms and something wet splattered her robe and the wall. The redcap’s body hit the floor like a broken toy. She swallowed hard, backing up.

She’d killed him. Actually killed him. Bile rose in her throat and tears prickled the back of her eyes. She’d never killed anything before. Hell, she felt sick at the thought of killing anything. She’d cried for weeks as a kid when her pet rabbit had been sick and had to be put down.

Her left foot slipped on something, sliding out from under her. Unable to keep her balance she went down hard, eyes still riveted on the dead redcap. His wide-open eyes followed her every movement mockingly. Her breath shortened, tension stealing her ability to move as the scream lodged in her throat tried to claw its way free.

Before she could lose it completely, Baron was there. Pulling her into his arms, he smoothed her hair back from her face.

“Shh, love. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”

Chapter Seven

Honor couldn’t stop shaking. Even tucked into Baron’s side, safe and protected against his heart, she still couldn’t stop the tremors from racking her body. All she could see when she closed her eyes was red blood splashed across white walls. Shivering, she huddled closer, leaning against him as he spoke to the groups who had arrived, as though she could absorb some of his strength, right through his skin and clothing.

He amazed her. A few phone calls and people had started to arrive. Guards had secured the perimeter and the sound of power-tools filtered through the house from the direction of the kitchen and front door. It was just a patch up job to prevent the elements getting in. Anything more permanent would have to be dealt with at a later date, after her father had gone through the insurance companies for paranormal damage.

Honor had just nodded at that, her mind still on the verge of yammering away to itself in the corner. She wasn’t sure how that one would work. After all, ‘I’m sorry, but a troll ripped the front door off my house’ probably wasn’t something they heard on a daily basis.

She frowned, would that come under an act of Troll, or act of God? Some paranormals associated with different pantheons could get rather pissed off to be associated with the Abrahamic religions.

“Thanks, Zane. I’d feel much better knowing you guys are out there watching our backs. Whoever this is, they’ve got some pretty serious grunt to throw.” Baron shook the hand of a large guy with more hair than Wolverine. Honor was pretty sure the sharp canines that showed every time he smiled meant that he wasn’t human. More canine…werewolf or weredog, she didn’t know enough about them to make a guess on which.

“No problem. Me ’n the gang’ll stay outside, out of sight. Well, apart from Trent…you know how he prefers to guard things.”

The rumble of laughter from both men hinted at a shared background, but it was a clue she wasn’t up to deciphering at the moment. Her slight movement at Baron’s side caught his attention and he glanced down. Taking one look at her face, he turned back to Zane.

“Thanks man, I’ll leave you to deal with the outside security. I need to get Miss Croft…settled and comfortable. She’s had a hell of a night. Dealt with a redcap herself, with a poker.”

Surprise, then approval filtered over Zane’s expression and he offered her a smile. “Hey…well done. They’re tricky little bastards…err, excuse language. Good job on knowing about iron.”

Honor managed a weak smile in return. “Thanks. Pure luck really. I didn’t know whether the poker was iron or not.”

Yeah, it was probably less about the iron content of the poker as it was the fact you smashed his face in with a blunt object
, the nasty little voice in the back of her head sniped.

“Well, it’s a good job it did. Without it, wouldn’t have mattered how hard you hit him, he’d have kept coming back for more. Just one touch of iron and poof!” Zane spread his hands like he was mimicking an explosion. “Little beggars crumple like a house of cards.”

“Really?” She stood up straighter, feeling less like a monster. “It didn’t matter how hard I hit him? But his f-face….” She started to stammer and paused.
Oh, for heaven’s sake Honor, get it together
.

Taking a deep breath, she sorted herself out and tried again. “His face…there was blood and…and other stuff everywhere. I’ve never—”

She couldn’t get any further, her throat closing over at the violence she’d been capable of. Understanding flooded Zane’s expression as Baron pulled her closer. The shakes were back.

“It wouldn’t have mattered how hard to you hit him, Honor,” Baron said gently. “The iron did the damage, not you. As soon as it touched him, it’s like decay? Just a lot faster, and unstoppable.”

“Yeah?” She looked between them, gaze going from one man to the other. They knew more about this kind of thing than she did, way more than she did.

“Okay, if you say so.” She released a little sigh of relief. The guilt at causing a creature’s death still remained, but at least she hadn’t…actually bashed his head in.

“I do,” Baron turned her and urged her toward the door. “Now, let’s get you settled. Catch you later, Zane.”

She waved at the other man over her shoulder and let Baron lead her where he would. She was way too tired to argue. Silence stretched out between them as he led her upstairs. Even on that short walk the precautions he’d already taken for her security were obvious. There was a guard at what remained of the front door and another on the stairs. If either were human, then she was a monkey’s uncle. There wasn’t a guard at the top of the stairs, for which she was grateful. Tension joined the silence between her and Baron with each step closer to her bedroom door.

Oh hell, who was she trying to kid? It was the middle of the damn night. She’d probably had bed-head before the homicidal fairies had trashed the kitchen and tried to punch her ticket. Risking a quick glance down, she grimaced. Her robe hadn’t survived the encounter. Covered in redcap blood, a large tear had taken the hem from under the knee to hip, indecently so. Instead, she was swaddled in Baron’s shirt.

She stole a glance at him from under her lashes. Sans shirt, his broad shoulders and muscular chest were displayed to mouth-watering advantage in a tight, white wife-beater vest.

She swallowed, throat making a dry ‘clacking’ sound, embarrassed by the heat that rolled through her from the top of her head right down to where it made her toes curl. She shouldn’t find him attractive…well no, screw attractive, he wasn’t
just
attractive. He was hot, freaking panty-wetting hot with a capital H.

Her door loomed and she slowed down, not wanting to be parted from him. In her head she rolled through scenarios to invite him into her room, each more charged than the last. There was just one problem. She’d never have the guts to act like a sex kitten and say the words her imagination kept trying to feed her.

Baron slowed his pace to match hers, turning to study her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little….”

Hot and bothered? Wondering what you look like out of the rest of your clothes?
She’d been wrong about the tattoos. His arms were clear, which in her scattered state of mind, made perfect sense. She’d seen creepy little men scale walls like gravity was optional tonight, so a few missing tattoos were no biggie. She’d probably mistaken a shadow for a tattoo or something.

“Oh, screw this.”

His voice a low growl, he crowded her against the wall by her door. She met him halfway, lips crashing against his in a desperate dance as the tension of the last couple of hours shattered through her. Fuck being embarrassed. She needed this. Needed him. Needed the contact to feel alive again, to reassure herself that she hadn’t met her end in the hallway under a redcaps pike.

The heat of his body surrounded her, reassuring and arousing all at the same moment. His tongue parted her lips with a decisive sweep, and drove within the soft recesses of her mouth. She moaned at the first touch, the sound lost under his deeper rumble of approval and pleasure, and wound her tongue around his. Playing with it, teasing him and then withdrawing in a display of sexual bravado totally unlike her. She had no idea where it had come from, but when he growled and pressed his hips against hers, the thick length of his cock pressing hard into her soft belly, she didn’t care.

He broke away, his breathing ragged and looked down at her. She’d never seen such a tortured expression on a man’s face before. “God, Honor, don’t…just don’t. I shouldn’t…but I…when you…I can’t resist.”

She frowned in confusion. Couldn’t what? What was she doing? But she didn’t get past opening her mouth to ask. He claimed her lips again and if she’d thought the last kiss was hot, this one was an inferno. He demanded and she gave, not playing any more. Instead she let him plunder her mouth, taking what he wanted. What they both wanted. He kissed her like she was the last woman on earth, aggressive with a hint of desperation that melted her heart. Then she stopped thinking, and matched him kiss for hard kiss.