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She had to get her mind off him. To think of something other than the Druid inside her head and the Dragon King who occupied the other half of her dreams filled with wickedly erotic images.
Esther removed her laptop from her bag and opened it. She held her fingers over the keys, trying to think of something to do. Then she recalled the blog everyone at Dreagan was talking about. She quickly typed in the website address to The (Mis)Adventures of a Dating Failure.
The most recent post was at the top titled: Dating Doom.
* * *
Another day, another bad dating decision. Yes, my lovelies, it seems I’m in a perpetual circle of Dating Doom. The fact that I named this calamity should tell you just how horrible it is.
Let me start by saying words you’ve read by me many times—There’s this guy …
I tell myself I’m not desperate, that if I’m meant to be alone, then I’ll be alone. There are times I appreciate being single, especially during the holidays when I don’t have to fight with someone about which of our families we’ll go see because both live too far away.
But there are other times … I don’t need to tell you about those other times because we’ve all lived them.
My most recent dating disaster came after one of my old university crushes/friends friended me on Facebook. After I accepted his request, we soon struck up a conversation on Messenger. We were exchanging messages throughout the day, so I sent him my mobile and said we could move the exchange there.
FOUR hours went by without a word from him. I tried not to read too much into it since he had been answering almost immediately before.
I berated myself for pushing things, but then I realized that I hadn’t done anything wrong. All I did was give him my number if he wanted to talk that way.
And wouldn’t you know it, he sent me a text. For the next few hours, we spoke back and forth. But I’m a firm believer in actual conversation, not texting. Just as I was about to call him, he ended things for the evening.
First thing the next morning, he texted. The entire day, we texted constantly. He even mentioned wanting to get together. I, of course, said that would be a lovely idea.
Then nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch.
I waited, debating whether to contact him. After all, he could be busy. After six hours, I sent him a text. It was something stupid and funny.
But he didn’t respond.
I left it, knowing that when he wanted to answer me, he would. Yet it plagued me all night. Why, why, why was he asking me all these questions and even mentioning getting together if he was just going to stop replying?
It bothered me to the point that I actually lost sleep. Lost sleep! Can you believe that? I was so angry at myself for it, that the next day I was in the worst mood.
And I was so embarrassed about it that I wouldn’t even tell my best friend what was wrong.
All of this over a guy!
That loud bang you heard just now? That was my head hitting the desk.
To make matters worse, I kept looking at my phone to make sure the texts got delivered. Then I started worrying that maybe they hadn’t. I looked into text retrievals and even almost bought software to see if he had sent me a text that maybe got lost in cyberspace somewhere.
Then … I did something I shouldn’t have. I told myself not to do it. Again and again, I told myself to forget him, forget all of it. I yelled at myself. I berated myself. But it did no good. I still texted him again.
As soon as I hit send, I got a sick feeling in my stomach. I wasn’t desperate. That’s what I told myself. Why then was I acting that way?
Because I was desperate.
No.
I am desperate.
I hate that feeling. It’s not me.
Yet I know in the depths of my soul that there is someone out there for me. I’ve always known it. Even as a little girl, long before I knew what true love was or became enamored with romance movies and books.
He’s out there. But for some reason, I can’t seem to find him. Once more, I’ll try to convince myself that when it’s meant to happen, it will. I’ll stop looking into the face of every man I see on the street, wondering if he’s The One.
During all of this internal dialogue, the guy returned my text. There was no explanation for the missing time, and I didn’t ask. I despised myself for the loneliness that brought me so low. Though I’m not alone in this.
Both men and women alike have been doing the exact same things all because we want to find The One.
I think it was because I was forced to look inward at myself that my feelings for the guy changed. I continued to answer his texts, but when he didn’t reply, it stopped mattering to me.
It’s been two weeks since I last replied to him. I don’t know whether he got my text or not. I don’t care whether he sent one and I didn’t get it. If he did reply and I didn’t respond, he obviously didn’t care enough to double check with me to see what was going on.
And if he just hasn’t answered, well … that pretty much says it all, doesn’t it?
I can honestly say that I don’t care, though. For a few days, my emotions went through the ringer, but I came out of it finding a little bit of comfort.
He wasn’t The One.
My One isn’t going to give up so easily on me.
Yours won’t either.
* * *
Esther slowly closed the laptop. The blog resonated with her. Not because she was looking for The One, but because she understood loneliness.
When she took the job with MI5, she’d known that meant giving up any hope for a husband and children. The adventures, and yes, even the danger, appealed to her more than a family.
That was before she’d encountered the Druid and found out who her brother had been helping. It was before she learned how easily her species could be wiped from the earth.
She looked at Nikolai to find him staring at her with his beautiful, lucent eyes like the palest blue glass. He’d shifted in his seat to face her, his sketchpad in his hand. She knew he’d been drawing her and she didn’t care.
“Are you all right?”
She shook her head.
He set aside his pad. “I suspect this involves more than just the Druid.”
“It does.”
“Aye,” he said with a sigh as he glanced at the front of the luxury helicopter. “Our world isna for those who lack conviction. It takes a verra strong heart and mind, both of which you have.”
“Not so strong a mind. The Druid got inside, remember?”
Nikolai lifted a shoulder in response. “That doesna mean you’re weak. It means they saw your strength and exploited it.”
“Will you say the same thing if we run into a Dark Fae and I strip out of my clothes and beg them to fuck me?” She knew she was being crass, but she couldn’t help it.
His eyes sizzled with some emotion she couldn’t quite name. Then he leaned forward and said in a voice laced with danger, “They will never get near you.”
If she thought finding him bare chested had made her weak kneed, then hearing the promise in his words along with the fervor of his gaze made her yearn. Nikolai was one sexy-as-sin, toe-curling, breath-stealing Dragon King.
It took her two tries before she was able to swallow. She’d run into some lethal men and women in her work with MI5, but there wasn’t one of them that could compare to Nikolai.
His quiet, artistic nature made her forget one key fact—he was a Dragon King.
None of the dragons became King by chance. They were chosen because of their magic and power and strength. And each of them had to challenge—and win against—the King before them.
“Do you believe me, lass?”
She jerkily nodded her head, desire pooling low in her belly.
“Good,” he said and sat back. He picked up the sketchpad and went back to drawing.
She, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at him. There had been a promise in his words, but there had also been a note of vengeance, as well. If she’d held any worry before, it was long gone. She had a Dragon King by her side. She knew how lucky she was, and she wasn’t going to let this chance slip through her fingers.
She took a deep breath and slowly released it as she looked out the window. The Druid’s meddling made Esther forget the trained agent she was. It was a Dragon King who reminded her, and it would be a Dragon King she helped to end the Druid once and for all.
Esther might not have magic, but she had other skills. And the Druid was mortal. Esther would take out one of the Kings’ foes. It was the least she could do after everything they had done for her and Henry.
She clenched her hands before flexing them. The time of hiding in fear was over. It was time to bust through the shadows and confront the monster.
CHAPTER FIVE
Somewhere on Ireland’s west coast …
Eilish stood on the slope of the cliff among the circle of stones, feeling the pulse of magic begin deep within the earth before rising upward through her feet to fill her body.
She held her arms out at her sides, her palms facing downward parallel to the ground. With every breath, the magic recharged what had been taken from her in Venice. As soon as she thought of the city, she tried to turn her mind elsewhere, but she couldn’t.
Sebastian, and his lover, Gianna, were firmly set in her thoughts. She didn’t know how long she had before Mikkel discovered that she hadn’t killed Gianna. It was the act of delving into Gianna’s mind and erasing everything about Mikkel that had taken so much out of Eilish after doing the same with Sebastian.
Eilish’s gaze remained on the dark blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean. The wind whipped around her as the sea churned. A storm was quickly approaching—worse than the tempest that was about to open up above her.
No sooner had the thought gone through her mind than the first raindrop landed on her hand. There was a pause, and then the skies released their hold. The roar of the rain was music to her ears.
For as long as she could remember, Ireland had called to her, begging her to return. She hadn’t understood why until she learned that her father and the woman she called Mother had been lying to her.
Eilish had kept her magic from her father and stepmother even when they asked her if she had any abilities. It wasn’t long after her eighteenth birthday that she boarded a flight to Ireland with one suitcase.
And never looked back.
The moment she stepped onto Irish soil, she felt the magic. All around her, she could hear the sound of the land. Before, it had been just a distant whisper, but now, it was a roar.
It hadn’t taken her long to find other Druids, and even less time to realize her power far exceeded theirs. A month into wandering around Ireland, and she had her first encounter with a Dark Fae.
She’d had no choice but to use her magic when he attacked. After that, no other Fae—Dark or Light—bothered her.
It was difficult to believe that the humans could walk among those with magic and not know it. Magic was everywhere, but mortals were too focused on whatever electronic device they had or obsessed with obtaining some item they didn’t need.
Eilish was beginning to think she didn’t belong anywhere when she’d stopped at a pub for a drink and overheard two Dark Fae speaking about Dragon Kings. She’d listened intently, barely keeping her queries to herself. But their talk only produced even more questions.
She lifted her face to the rain and closed her eyes while magic swirled around her, in her, and through her. Despite her abilities, she couldn’t find the answers she searched for, longed for.
Mikkel dangled a missing piece of her past over her to get her to do whatever he wanted. She’d thought that by agreeing to work with him, she might find the answers to who her mother was, as well as learn more about the Dragon Kings.
Because she had no doubt they were connected to the dream that haunted her. It was always the same. There was a man, though she never saw his face. All she ever saw was the dragon tattoo.
Her delving had gotten her large chunks of information on the Dragon Kings, but it wasn’t enough. She knew their names and their powers, but she didn’t know their tattoos, and that’s how she’d find the one who was supposed to kill her.
The peace of the stones was broken by the sound of footsteps. She knew it was Mikkel by the way the magic retreated from him as if revolted.
She dropped her arms and turned to face him. “What are you doing here?”
“I grew tired of waiting.”
“I said I’d come.”
“You’ll come now,” he ordered.
It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but the need to learn of her mother was too great. Instead, she walked up the incline. As soon as she left the stones, she felt bereft.
Eilish followed Mikkel to his car. It was impossible not to compare him to his nephew. Mikkel had told her very little about Ulrik other than that he wasn’t fit to be a Dragon King any longer.
With just one meeting, she’d known exactly the type of man Mikkel was. He hungered for power the way most sought love. Mikkel cared nothing for life—any life other than his own.
His conceit was only overshadowed by his superiority complex. But he had a flaw. His temper. He couldn’t control it, and when he gave in to that emotion, the carefully perfected façade he’d put into place crumbled into dust.
He might be handsome, but his soul was as black as night.
She climbed into the car, uncaring that she was soaking his leather seat. He glanced her way. She briefly met his golden eyes, but it wasn’t him she saw. It was Ulrik.
Ever since the King of Silvers had come to her pub, Graves, and confronted her, he’d been on her mind. He hadn’t threatened her, hadn’t tried to bargain with her.
He’d simply wanted to know who she was.
Even when she gave him a warning, he’d merely smiled. As if he approved of her actions.
Ulrik was a walking contradiction of everything she thought she knew about Dragon Kings. Then again, her only source was Mikkel, so she had to take that into account. Still, the picture Mikkel painted of his nephew was nothing like what she’d encountered.
Mikkel was always strung tightly, as if waiting to attack. Ulrik was calm and composed, but behind his golden eyes, he was cold and calculating. He feared nothing and no one. Ulrik exuded a lethal combination of arrogance and power that everyone immediately recognized.
That’s when she knew she was speaking to a true Dragon King, not a wannabe like Mikkel. Yet her alliance was already given, and she couldn’t go back on it now, not when she was so close to discovering the truth.
She and Mikkel didn’t speak as his man drove them away from the stones. Eilish didn’t know where they were going, and she didn’t care. She wanted to get back to Graves where she could rest her mind and body.
The fingers of her left hand curled inward to her palm. She felt the brush of the cool silver against her skin and the bite of the claws. The finger rings were the only thing her father had of her mother’s. Eilish had worn them from the moment he gave them to her on her eighteenth birthday.
But they were more than jewelry. They were filled with magic, a power unlike anything she’d felt before. It heightened hers, making it more formidable.
She looked out the window when the car slowed before turning down a narrow drive. The road was bumpy as they slowly made their way. With every jolt, she could sense Mikkel’s growing anger.
Finally, the car came to a stop. Eilish got out of the vehicle and raised a brow at the small cottage. It was the opposite of what Mikkel preferred. The fact that they were there showed her the precautions he now took.
Mikkel was the first inside the dark dwelling. She followed him and halted in the main room, the light from one of the guard’s phones allowing her to see. Unlit candles were everywhere, and there wasn’t a single piece of furniture to be found.
“Light them,” he ordered.
She really hated being told to do anything. But she had to bide her time. Eilish gave a wave of her hand, and the candles flared to life, shrouding the room in a soft glow.
It would be a romantic setting if she weren’t standing with a power-hungry maniac. She knew what he wanted of her, but she wasn’t going to give in without gaining something herself this time.
“I’ve suffered long enough,” Mikkel said. “Ulrik got his magic back. It’s time I have mine unbound.”
When the Dragon Kings bound Ulrik’s magic, they’d ultimately bound that of all the Silvers—including Mikkel. He’d had a few seconds of becoming a Dragon King, enough for him to shift before his magic was bound. And then he was forced to remain in human form.
She walked around the room, looking at the candles. She glanced at him. “I understand.”
“What are you waiting for?” he bit out.
Eilish halted beside the window where large pillars were lined up. She ran her fingers slowly through the flame of one and felt the sting against her skin.
“I’m not playing, Eilish.”
She bit back a smile as she heard just a hint of his Scottish brogue in the words. A sign that he was losing control of his temper. “Neither am I.”
“I know you’re powerful enough to unbind my magic. Do it.”
“No.”
There was a long pause. When he spoke, she could hear the fury that shook his voice as he said, “You dare defy me?”
“Yep.”
“Do it!”
She turned her head to him. “The Druid who freed Ulrik, where is she? If she’s that powerful, why didn’t you get her to help you?”
“Ulrik killed her.”
Eilish wasn’t stupid. She’d spent enough time with Mikkel to decipher his meaning. “In other words, you had Ulrik kill her because she was a threat to your plan.”
“So?” he asked with a shrug.
“If you’d kept her alive, you would’ve had two of us.”
He raised a brow, refusing to reply.
Eilish lowered her hand and faced him. “I’m not going to help you any more until you give me some answers about my mother. This carrot you’ve dangled in front of me these past months is losing its effectiveness.”
