Lucas hurried him up the stairs, expecting at any minute to hear the loud tread of Hal’s footsteps behind them. When they got to the roof, he made a quick but thorough scan of the area. No one was in sight, and no planes or helicopters flew overhead.
“Conceal yourself,” Grand Duke Vaclav warned him. “You do not know who might be watching.”
“I know,” Lucas snapped, and was annoyed to hear his own voice. He sounded like the resentful teenager he had once been. He had to keep hold of his real self: Lucas the man, not Lucas the boy.
He could tell already that it would be hard.
Grand Duke Vaclav drew in a deep breath. The air around him sparkled black. Lucas’s vision blurred, and he felt the desire to look elsewhere, accompanied by the certainty that what he was looking at was ordinary and unimportant. But he kept watching. As a dragon shifter, he still felt the effects of draconic concealment, but unlike humans or non-dragon shifters, he could resist them.
The black sparks became a whirlwind, then a blizzard. Grand Duke Vaclav vanished within the flurry. Then the sparks winked out of existence. Where a gray-haired man had once stood, a dragon crouched. Every scale and claw gleamed black as if it had been carved from polished iron.
“Lucas!”
He spun around. Hal and Nick burst through the stairs and stood facing him. Hal must have found Nick in the gym; his chest was bare, and his black hair and werewolf gang tattoos glistened with sweat.
“I am sorry, Hal. I...” Lucas swallowed against a lump in his throat. “I have very much enjoyed working at Protection, Inc. I shall never forget it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Nick burst out. “And what’s with all that bling?”
The iron dragon’s obsidian eyes narrowed in contempt. He launched off the roof and rose into the sky, then dipped a wingtip, urging Lucas to join him.
Hal and Nick couldn’t see the dragon, but Hal must have spotted Lucas’s gaze shift.
“Is someone here with you?” Hal asked. His hand was on his gun; so was Nick’s. “Lucas, are you leaving of your own free will?”
No, Lucas thought. I am leaving because honor compels me.
But Hal wouldn’t understand that.
“No one can force a dragon to do anything.” Lucas lowered his gaze, unable to meet the frustrated concern in Hal’s hazel eyes or the hot anger in Nick’s green eyes. “Farewell.”
He reached within himself, seeking his dragon. Lucas drew upon his lust for gold, his joy in flight, and the assured power and detachment that he could only imitate as a human. He saw Hal and Nick begin to run forward. Then he was lost in his own transformation, his blood burning through his veins like molten gold, his body expanding like a butterfly breaking free of its cocoon.
His wings stretched out, his powerful legs tensed, and then he was aloft, soaring above the rooftop. The two humans shrank below, frustration and anger in every line of their bodies. Their faces turned upward, seeking him, but whether they could see him or not, he was out of their reach.
The part of Lucas that belonged to the man felt his heart crack into a million tiny pieces. Then his dragon took over. He twisted easily in the air, his wings stroking upward, shedding all feelings but glory in the freedom of the sky.
The gold dragon followed the iron dragon, heading home.
Lucas preferred to fly at a leisurely pace and watch the land below. But his great-uncle urged him onward, faster and faster, casting disdainful glances whenever Lucas lagged.
Lucas’s sigh came out in a puff of flame. Despite his resolve, he had no desire to arrive sooner. But he beat his powerful wings until he passed the iron dragon. He maintained that position for the rest of the trip, a full night and day in the air. They landed only briefly, to drink from lakes and to hunt a pair of deer for their supper. Lucas was just as happy to stay a dragon for the trip. He did not enjoy conversing with his
great-uncle.
When he was aloft, Lucas focused on flight and tried not to think of anything else. He especially tried not to think of how he’d fled from his own teammates without preparing them for his departure because of his foolish hope that he wouldn’t have to leave and his cowardice in wishing not to explain it to their faces.
He might be leaving to fulfill a vow of honor, but the way he’d left had been anything but honorable. Even if a miracle occurred and his mate ran to greet him when he landed, he’d never be able to face anyone in Protection, Inc. again.
Land and sea flashed by beneath his wings. As the sun began to set, Lucas saw the familiar dense forests and peaked roofs of Brandusa. He slowed, spiraling downward, until the turrets and towers of his ancestral palace came into view. The soft glow of its golden marble and the sparkle of its inlay of real gold gave him a pang of mixed resentment and nostalgia.
He braked his speed as he descended to the walled courtyard and the mossy floor, which was tended constantly by gardeners to provide a comfortable landing surface. Then his talons touched down.
Lucas was home.
A crowd of courtiers, servants, and family hurried to greet him and Grand Duke Vaclav, who had landed behind him. The dragon shifters must have spotted them flying in. Lucas became a man and drew himself up, his great-uncle’s lessons in deportment echoing in his ears: spine straight, shoulders back, chest out, chin up.
He greeted everyone as was proper for their station, from a polite nod to the servant who offered him a damp cloth to wipe his face to a formal embrace of his aunt and uncle, Queen Livia and King Andrei. His own mixed emotions at his return were mirrored in their faces: though they had always been kind to him, he was sure they’d have preferred him to find his mate in America and never return.