Olivier Rodolfo was definitely not a chef. He stood above them on an interior balcony as they walked into the enclosed courtyard, the quintessential lord of the manor, and Sophia had to admit, he was incredibly handsome. A man whose face would have looked right at home on a billboard selling watches or high-priced men’s cologne. Dark hair, precisely cut and styled, chiseled, perfectly symmetrical features, swarthy skin, a lean, athletic build in a pristinely tailored suit.
It was only once Rodolfo had joined them, a smile on his face that Sophia discovered exactly why a dragon shifter should never be in close proximity to a Born. Perhaps if she’d had more information growing up, she would have been able to control her reactions, but she had never been battle-trained. She hadn’t been raised that way. Having been born centuries after the days her ancestors had aligned themselves with the Vikings and the mighty warlords of old set on conquering lands, fighting skills hadn’t been deemed necessary. She’d only been taught how to blend in with humans, not how to contain an instinctive reaction that was a roar in her blood.
Her response to Olivier Rodolfo’s nearness had been immediate, uncontrollable, and disastrously revealing as her eyes had shifted from pale brown to reptilian green, the pupil elongating in such a way that could never be considered human.
Rodolfo’s eyes had likewise shifted to demonic red and he had hissed at her, revealing massive fangs. The blow to her head that followed, Sophia never saw coming.
She’d woken, disoriented and in so much pain, her body swarmed with vampires, their fangs tearing at her flesh as they drank from her, growling and snarling like animals. Rodolfo himself had been at her throat, her blood dripping from his teeth as he smiled evilly in her face. “Legend tells that eating the heart of a dragon will give unimaginable power.”
She’d shifted. Her dragon bursting free at a speed she’d never before accomplished, fear and desperation guiding her, but the vampires had been prepared. Barbed wire, that had been used to restrain her in just such an event, burrowed under her scales, choked off the fire at her throat, and tore through one of her wings.
Rodolfo, a sadistic smile twisting those features that she’d initially thought so handsome, raised a dagger as Sophia let out a prehistoric screech of agony. The blade connected with her chest, the pain, bright and searing, was the last thing she remembered until she woke from her stasis within the rock that had kept her alive for five years while she healed from injuries that, had she not had the ability to encrust herself, would have killed her.
A warm drop of wetness splatted against her hand and Sophia blinked eyes that had grown hazy. Realizing she was crying, she swiped quickly at her face. The laptop sitting between her knees had since gone to sleep while she’d been up in her head, and the sun, she noted, was much further across the sky.
Her stomach grumbled in protest of her forgetfulness, or perhaps, she thought as she sniffed the air and smelled food, it was due to those mouthwatering aromas.
“We thought you might be hungry,” was said as Kane, with a big box in his arms, strode into the clearing leading the others. “I know I am.”
Jamie playfully smacked Kane on the arm. “When are you not hungry?”
His grin was unabashed as he told her, “Um, never.”
The sight, as well as the food, was a welcome reprieve and Sophia took a quick moment to make sure her face was free of the evidence of her tears and that her hair was still neatly tucked under her ballcap.
When they reached her, her brother waved a hand at the laptop she’d set aside. “Making any progress?”
Unwilling to admit that she’d barely even started despite the passage of hours, she went with, “There’s a lot to go through.” Which wasn’t a lie. There had been a lot of names in that file.
“Well, let’s get some food into you before you continue.”
“Hear, hear,” Kane said, shoving what looked like a hot sandwich wrapped in waxed paper in her direction, as well as a bag of chips.
“You should also probably stretch every once in a while,” Jamie suggested, unwrapping her own sandwich. “Set a timer if you need to. That’s what I do. I tell you, I know what it’s like to be bent over a screen for hours. You’ll thank me later.”
The conversation continued around her, and Sophia felt muscles she hadn’t realized were tense begin to relax. The sandwich tasted amazing, the company was welcome, and as they began to clear away the detritus from their meal, Sophia changed her mind about doing this alone.
“Can you guys stay?”
Every one of them nodded and settled back down, prepared to support her as she revisited her nightmare.
Chapter Eight
Taking a long drink from the Sprite she’d chosen among the assortment of beverages her friends had brought, Sophia ran her finger over the mousepad to wake her laptop back up. With a deep breath, she focused on the open file.
She had a vague recollection of Nate’s look of shock when all hell had broken loose, so he hadn’t known what she was, hadn’t deliberately lured her to Rodolfo, but she also couldn’t help but notice that upon the date of her capture, Nathaniel King, the man who she had thought she was in love with, had received a promotion out of the kitchens. No reason given, but an assumption wasn’t hard to make. He’d benefited from her pain.
Anger was a crawling, prickling heat up her neck, and a low, clicking growl rumbled in her chest.
“Did you find someone?” both her brother and Kane asked almost simultaneously.
“Nathaniel King?” Travis asked, his own voice decidedly growly. “Is he one of the bastards who hurt you?”
Sophia shook her head, unwilling to share with her brother – a brother who hadn’t wanted her to go to New Orleans in the first place, and who had warned her over and over again to be careful once he’d given in to her pleas – that because she thought herself in love, she’d stupidly walked right into the den of one of the Born.
“If he was, there’s not much we can do about it now,” Kane stated, extending a finger to point at the screen. “He was killed in the battle with Destin Jourdain.”
Sophia had heard about that battle from both Travis and Morgan. Destin Jourdain, the leader of the U.S. branch of The Order of Witches, had picked up the gauntlet Oliver Rodolfo had thrown down, and in one night, the powerful witch had pretty much decimated Rodolfo’s vampire army. By himself.
