“This is Artem’s mate.” She tried to keep her voice from breaking, but she didn’t succeed. Worry for her mate was a blade against her throat. “I’m sorry to call you, but I don’t know what to do.”
Instantly, the playful drawl vanished from Taevas’s voice. “Tell me what’s wrong, Paloma.”
She was surprised he remembered her name, but didn’t waste time saying so. Speaking as fast as she could, she relayed the situation, including the broken relays, the m-storm, and the Patrol squadron that likely had Artem in custody, if not already in a body bag. By the time she finished, she felt like a chain had been wrapped around her chest, slowly squeezing until she couldn’t take anything more than shallow breaths.
“Pull over, Paloma.”
“What?” She turned a corner. Soon, she’d hit the River Bridge, the tiny spit of engineering that connected her mountain to the rest of the Sierras. It was the only way off the mountain — by vehicle, of course. It would have been directly in Artem’s flight path, so she headed that way as fast as she could.
“I said pull over.” The whip of command was impossible to miss, and almost as impossible to fight. It was like he’d reached through the speakers to grab her by the throat, forcing her to do as he commanded with nothing but his presence, his deep, deep voice. Paloma found her foot hitting the break before she’d even realized she’d done it.
There was movement on the other side of the line. Hushed voices, too, like people were coming and going around him. “Are you stopped?”
Paloma panted, her whole body trembling. “Yes, I’m— Why did you—”
“Good girl.”It was a silky purr, but beneath the softness there was nothing but sharpened steel. “Now you’re going to tell me your exact coordinates. You have that on your phone, don’t you? Send them to me now.”
“I…” She blinked hard. Her phone was mounted on her dash and open to her satellite maps. With a trembling hand, she tapped the screen until she got confirmation that her position had been sent.
There was a dull ping from his end. “Ah, that’s a good girl. Very good. There we go. Now wait just a moment and don’t move, sweet Paloma. Your clan is coming.”
Before she could ask what was going on, the line disconnected.
Paloma stared at her phone in disbelief. What could he possibly be planning?
Her answer came a bare minute later when, to her shock, an m-gate broke the universe open right in front of her truck.
A massive dragon emerged first, his wings folded neatly against his broad back. Taevas was instantly recognizable. A deep, royal violet, he wore a black on black suit that was cut to emphasize his build and wings. Two tall horns arched high over his head, framing a hard, beautiful face matured by centuries. Two smaller ones, similar in size to Artem’s, nestled beside the much larger pair, giving the strange, dragonish impression of a crown.
His hair was long and black, with twin braids threaded by his temples to keep it out of his eyes and, she guessed, from getting tangled in his horns. She couldn’t be sure from her position, but she thought she saw hints of silver strands in those braids, too.
Two more dragons quickly followed him through the gate. Neither were as intimidating as Taevas, who carried an aura of pure, unchecked power, though they were wearing svelte body armor and clearly carrying weaponry.
While she gaped, the m-gate closed with a teeth-rattling snap. Taevas sauntered forward to tap on her window with a single claw. She fumbled with the button, but eventually managed to roll her window down.
“My, you do smell delicious,” he said by way of greeting, his smile all sharp teeth and sin. Taevas was perhaps one of the single most handsome beings in all the UTA, if not the entire world. Too bad he was also terrifying.
Paloma’s brain short-circuited. “I…”
He reached through the window to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear, just like Artem loved to do. Claws traced the curve of her cheek in what she’d come to recognize as a distinctly dragonish gesture of possessiveness. Paloma’s throat constricted painfully as he said, “Now, my sweet new clanmate, let’s go save your wayward dragon, shall we?”
* * *
Never in her life did she think she’d go toe-to-toe with a squadron of armed to the teeth, scarier-than-anything elves in the middle of a bridge during a spontaneous m-event, but that didn’t stop Paloma from doing just that.
As Taevas and his guards sprang from the back of the truck, wings unfurled, she threw herself out onto the bridge. One look at Artem lying prone on the ground, wrapped in some sort of sizzling, glowing net, and she bolted.
Guns swung to aim her way and a series of shouts rose up, some strangely robotic, but she didn’t heed them. Panic was a raw note in her voice when she yelled, “Get away from him!” Eyes on her mate, she stormed up to the person between her and Artem, the only soldier without a helmet on, and pushed him with every bit of strength she possessed.
Well, she tried.
The elf was as big as a damn house, so he didn’t move an inch, no matter how hard she tried to move him out of her way. Lightning fell in a slow-moving, unnatural waterfall around them when she demanded, “What have you done to my mate?!”
“Paloma, stop! I’m fine! Please don’t—”
She sucked in a gasp and made to lunge around the elf, to get on her knees and fucking crawl if she had to, but a gloved hand held her bicep, restraining her. The elf peered down his nose at her.
Ignoring the way Artem howled with outrage at his handling of her, he dryly asked, “Dr. Contreras?” Luminous blue eyes with vertical pupils flicked over her shoulder. “And… Isand Taevas. I don’t remember receiving word that you were planning a state visit.”