Mercy Burns

“This isn’t personal, Mercy—”

“How can it not be personal?” I thrust to my feet, unable to sit there any longer. “Damn it, I’m draman. Are you saying that if the council ordered it, you would steal my fire and make me even less than I already am? That you would do it without regret, knowing it is necessary to protect the so-called greater race?”

He frowned. “I would never—”

“Why not?” I snapped, “I’m just another worthless draman, aren’t I? Good enough to take to bed or to keep around to do those nasty little tasks, but God forbid we ever be treated as equals, let alone fairly.”

He reached for me, but I stepped back, sending the chair clattering backward. He sighed, but there was little in the way of compassion in his expression as he said, “I would never do anything like that to you, Mercy. I wouldn’t even let anyone else do it, either. But facts are facts. Draman having dragon skills might be dangerous for us all.”

“No more dangerous than rearing young dragons. You said it yourself—draman are a part of the dragon culture. All we’re asking is to be a proper part of it.”

“Which probably won’t happen in my lifetime or yours. Old ways are hard to break down.”

“That doesn’t mean you and I can’t be the ones to try.”

He didn’t say anything to that, just dropped his gaze back to the netbook. I wanted to scream in frustration, but what was the point? Death and I might be amazingly compatible in the bedroom, but the truth was, he was an integral part of the machine I’d spent my whole life either fighting or running from, and he was never, ever, going to understand what I was trying to say. I had no idea why I even kept trying.

Because you like him, an inner voice said. Because you still believe things can change.

Because I’m an idiot, I added silently.

I picked up my mug and walked across to the window. The golden rays of the rising sun caressed my skin and I breathed deep, drawing in the energy and refueling the inner fires. Though the dawn was bright, pink-tipped clouds were gathering. I hoped it wasn’t an omen.

My gaze went to the road. It snaked along the coastline, a band of shiny black that reminded me a little of Damon’s stain. A white car cruised past slowly, its occupants obviously enjoying the view.

Only the car looked horribly familiar.

“Damon—”

He was beside me, looking out the window, before I’d finished. Maybe he’d sensed the sudden tension in me, although that would suggest an awareness and a connection he’d certainly never admit to.

He swore softly. “That’s the same car that tried to run you down in San Francisco.”

“But there have to be thousands—millions—of white cars around.” I was reaching for straws, I knew that, but I just didn’t want to believe that they’d found us again so quickly. “How can you be sure it’s the same one?”

“Because I remember the plate number.”

“You can see that from up here?”

“I have very good vision.” His attention was still on the car, and his whole body practically thrummed with the tension flowing through him. “Get your stuff together, Mercy; we need to leave. And keep away from the windows. I may not be the only one with good sight.”

I ran for the bathroom and grabbed my underclothing from the side of the bath, mighty glad it had dried overnight. The rest of my clothes—which I’d also washed in between our bouts of lovemaking—hadn’t, but I had no intention of wearing them anyway. I simply scooped them up, then went into the next bedroom and raided the closet. It took several tries to find a pair of jeans that fit me, but a sweater and T-shirt were less problematic. As was a raincoat.

Damon’s gaze slid down my body as I reentered the bedroom, and the smile that touched his lips had my heart doing happy little flip-flops. Then his gaze slid back up to my hair. “I think we’ll need to dye that.”

“Cool with me, but that means stopping by a store. There’s nothing here.” I knew because I’d looked, having had much the same thought. Dyeing my hair might not stop the guy who’d gotten the scent of me, but at least it would stop a cursory recognition.

He nodded and glanced back to the window. “The car is cruising back and forth, so he’s obviously got some bead on us, but not enough to pinpoint us yet. Keep an eye on him, and if he turns onto this street, or stops, yell.”

“How the hell did he even track us here?” I moved to the other side of the window and peered cautiously out. The white car was almost out of sight, cruising around the bend and heading back toward the RV park.

“Given Santa Rosa is inland, it’s logical that Coral would have taken the most direct route to the sea, and Bodega Bay is the closest city.” He stepped around the window, kissed me lightly on the cheek, and added softly, “I think you’re priceless, Mercy. And you’re certainly not an idiot.”

And then he continued on to the bathroom, leaving me speechless and staring after him. He’d heard my thoughts. He had to have. How else could he have even known I’d silently called myself an idiot only moments before?

It meant the connection I’d felt last night was very real, and very strong. But it was also very useless in the long term. Because I was draman, and that would never change.

Damn it, I thought, blinking back the sting of tears, what had I done to fate to turn her into such a bitch? First she steals Rainey from me, then she throws me into the path of a man who could be everything I ever wanted, and yet who is everything I can never have.

Death was dangerous, all right, but not in the way Janelle had warned. Unless she had meant just this.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the window frame, my gaze on the curve of the road and tension thick in my gut. Sure enough, after a few minutes, the white car reappeared. I stepped back a little more behind the cover of the lace curtains, but the car slowed anyway. It didn’t stop, but it was just creeping past. I swore softly and opened my mouth to warn Damon, but the car took off before the words could emerge. This time, it didn’t disappear up the sea road, but turned left and disappeared into the trees lining the street that ran past the house.

I turned and ran for the bathroom. Damon was toweling himself dry, but stopped the minute I burst in.

“He’s stopped?” he asked, voice brusque and body still glistening with moisture.

“Worse. He’s turned down this street.”

He swore softly, then tossed the towel down on the rim of the bath. “Go out the back door and head down to the trees, following the path we took up here. I’ll meet you at the car in ten minutes.”

“What will you be doing?” I pressed back against the door as he passed, then followed him back into the bedroom, watching as he, too, went through the closets.

“Taking care of our problem.” He glanced at me, his expression like stone. “And do not tell me to go easy on the bastard. He tried to kill you once, and he may just succeed the second time.”

There wasn’t anything I could say to that. He was right. This was the best option open to us, but it still didn’t sit right. I didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to be a part of it. Didn’t want him to be a part of it, even if it was his job.

That was just plain stupid. The man was never going to change who and what he was, especially for someone like me.

Besides, these people had killed Rainey, Angus, and countless others in the draman towns. So why the hell was I giving them such consideration when they’d given absolutely none to anyone else?

Even though my mouth was dry at the thought of what I was condoning, I nodded, then leaned forward and kissed him quickly. “Be careful.”

He smiled and cupped his hand to my cheek, his flesh so warm against mine. “I’d offer you the same warning, but I’ve got a feeling it’ll probably fall on deaf ears.”

I couldn’t help grinning. For a man who didn’t really know me very well, he’d sussed out that part of my nature easily enough. “Don’t worry about me. I can—”

“Take care of yourself,” he finished for me, voice dry. “Yes, I know. But a little bit of caution never hurts.”