Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(66)

Putting anyone else at risk.

This wasn’t the time, and it wasn’t the place, regardless of the urgent situation. Maybe she could just tell him— “Jordan!” Her name again.

She cringed.

“Jordan.” He spoke softer now. “Sweetie…”

She dropped her head in her hands and dug her fingernails into her hair.

Oh God; oh, God; oh, God…

What. Had. She. Done.

f

Zanaikeyros stood in the underground garage, his feet a shoulder’s width apart; his arms crossed over his chest; his sapphire-gold eyes closed as he maintained the deep psychic trance—as he tracked Jordan Anderson’s blood like a homing pigeon, following the roadways, accessing her speed, feeling for the bodies—and heat—all around her.

Seven men.

One of them, the driver.

One of them, the dude in the charcoal-gray suit, the attorney.

His name was—

Dan Summers.

She was in a hollowed-out van, speeding toward the interstate, and she was virtually quaking with fear. Sick with regret. Or maybe regret was not the right word: She was feeling the truth of their connection…and now, their separation.

Her dragyra soul was weeping, whether she understood it or not.

He took snapshot after snapshot in his mind’s eye, memorializing the images and the map as a series of pictures in his neocortex—transferable impressions that he could pass on to his lair-mates, a GPS that any of them could follow.

Speaking of his sapphire brothers: One by one, he could feel them surrounding him as they transported into the courtroom plaza garage: first Axe, then Jace, then finally Nakai. Levi was already there.

The dark blue van stopped in front of a gated estate. The iron doors swung open, and it pulled into a long, curved drive before snaking its way toward the back of the compound. Zane zoomed in on an address affixed to a brick-and-mortar post, next to five parallel wooden garage doors. The four iron block letters inscribed into the column were plain and easy to read: 6958. He didn’t need to know the name of the street or the subdivision, and he didn’t need to know the name of its owner—he had the map. He had the directions. And he also had his backup, the brothers of his lair.

He opened his eyes and banked his fire—suppressed his dragon’s rage.

“This shit has already made the human news,” Nakai said, without preamble, shifting his powerful muscles beneath the frame of his duster.

Zane eyed each of his brothers in turn: Indeed, they were all wearing their knee-length leathers, in the middle of June. That meant they were conspicuous as hell and packing a hidden arsenal: assault rifles, handguns, and their favorite medieval weapons, of every class and variety. “What is the news saying?” he grunted.

Nakai shifted restlessly. “Just speculation. You know the drill: report it first, then explore the facts. Terror in a district courtroom”—he mimicked—“a lone gunman; no, an escaped prisoner; possibly a terrorist attack—they’re all over the map.”

Zane nodded.

At least that much was good: The humans were far from putting two and two together, and they never would. One less thing to worry about.

“Where is she?” Jace intoned, his deep, resonant voice no-nonsense.

Zane wondered if the dragyri had his Katar. “In a van,” he snarled. “She was in a van.” He softened his voice—no need to take it out on his brothers. “Now she’s at a house—a fairly large estate. My guess is they have a safe room or some sort of hideaway built in. Probably a shit-ton of security, too.”

Axeviathon nodded. “And who’s she with?”

Zane visibly bristled. He rolled his neck on his shoulders, popping it three times to release some more tension. “Looks like, uh, a SWAT team, whoever drove the van, and her ex-lover, another attorney. Some guy named Dan. I think he masterminded the getaway.”

Levi took a cautious step back. His deep, melodious voice dropped into a soothing, silken purr. “You good?”

Zane’s nose twitched in an effort to restrain a guttural snarl, and his top lip drew back. “Yeah,” he lied. “I’m good.”

Axe looked him up and down, apparently assessing Zane’s state of mind for himself. “We don’t need to go all nuclear on everyone who’s there, Zane. No need to kill them all—”

Zane leveled a hate-filled glare at his lair-mate, and this time, he snarled overtly.

Axe held up both hands. “Hey, don’t get it twisted—we’re going to get her back.”

“But we need to wait for nightfall,” Nakai chimed in, always logical in nature. “Too much news already.” The winged cross on his left temple seemed to shift, as if in flight, as he furrowed his brows in determination.

Zane took a fresh appraisal of all the males, realizing how quickly they’d come to assist him—how serious they were about getting it done. “Thanks for coming,” he offered, sincerely. “I know all of you were busy.”

There wasn’t a single reply.

Where else would they be?

The rejoinder was implied…

“Well,” Levi finally said, eyeing the empty garage. “The one thing we don’t need is a handful of humans laying eyes on a lairful of dragyri males, amped up, packing, and throwing off heat. We need to find someplace to lie low until sundown.” He narrowed his indigo-sapphire eyes. “What say you, Zane?”