Page 33 of Dragon Bodyguard
She’d repressed it. Losing the feeling had been like losing a part of herself.
A noise made them break apart, Misha turning his head to the foot of the bed. She watched his eyes widen, still drunk on the taste of him, following his gaze as if in slow-motion to see a man, face covered by a black ski mask, standing over them.
Knife in hand.
Chapter 11 - Misha
Adrenaline shot through his veins, and he didn’t think—he just reacted. Before their assailant could make a move, he made his. Pushing himself off the bed, he braced one foot on the mattress and threw himself over the man. Another dragon, no doubt. Misha roared with fury, hand around the wrist of the man’s hand holding the gleaming weapon, keeping it from finding any target.
The man roared back, stumbling into a wall with Misha clinging to his back. The man realized this was as good a move as any and slammed Misha back into the wall, this time with severe intention. Misha had the wind knocked out of him, put kicked a foot back to stop himself from hitting the wall for the third time.
The bedroom door opened, and Fabian and Konstantin moved through it. They were on the man in seconds, wrenching the knife out of his hand.
Kristina was yelling from the bed. His name. And curses. Then he realized she’d gotten off the bed and backed into the corner on her side of it. She was shell-shocked again, eyes wide with fear. But she was glowing.
He stared at her.
There was a fire in her veins.
Her inner dragon. Finally, rearing its damn head. It should have made itself known sooner, it should have connected with her to protect her, to empower her. Why hadn’t it?
She didn’t seem to have even noticed what had happened within her, too focused on the turmoil in front of her.
“Take him down to the cells,” Misha commanded, Fabian and Konstantin nodding their understanding of the order.
There were three rooms in the basement that weren’t really cells but were still affectionately referred to as the dungeon. Those rooms had borne witness to many unsavory things. Mostly, though, they simply served as holding cells for anyone about to be put through Dmitri’s prescribed rigorous interrogation process.
And it would be rigorous.
Misha reached up and pulled off the ski mask, revealing the face of one of Ilya’s younger bodyguards.
Misha scoffed at the revelation. He wished he could say he was surprised, but he’d already begun to ponder all the possible implications of what was actually at stake here. And this was beginning to confirm it. He didn’t have all the details, but there was a lot more than met the eye. He needed to get Kristina to safety, and then he would have to ask her about it.
He would have to ask her about when she began to ascend to something closer to an official member of her family.
As the bodyguard was dragged out of the room, he turned to Kristina. Her eyes were wider than ever, trailing the man. Of course, she would know him. There was no time to pick the situation apart. If Misha was right, he needed to get her out of the house. Right now.
“Come with me,” he said, reaching out his hand to her.
She didn’t hesitate, moving forward out of the corner, slipping her hand into his. He gave her fingers a squeeze of encouragement before he pulled her with him up to the built-in bookcase. He reached for one of the books and tugged on it. The lock it was attached to clicked quietly. He pushed on the shelf, making it swing inward to reveal the hidden passage beyond.
“Where are we going?” she asked, following him into the passage, hand in his, keeping herself close to him as he pushed the hidden door closed again.
“Someplace where no one will find you,” he said. “They’re coming for you, and they’re serious about it,” he added, needing her to be aware of the threat-level she was facing.
“Byron…” she murmured. “He works for my father.”
“I know,” Misha said.
“He’s a traitor,” she stated, a soft growl behind the words.
Misha didn’t say anything, merely held her hand tighter as he brought them to a set of narrow stairs. The passageways within, and underneath, the house had all been kept bare, no money wasted on decor. There were lights running along the floor and ceiling. The most simplistic design. Effective and cleverly executed so that no one would ever suspect they were there.
She stayed close to him as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Her scent was all over him, the sensation of having her close still fizzing somewhere right beneath his skin, though he was concentrating on getting them to their destination. The assailant must have entered through the passage. Misha was vigilant against any sound or movement but didn’t want to draw his gun. He didn’t want to alarm her for no reason.
Besides, chances were high that there was no one else in the tunnels, and Byron had been the outlier, sent to grab the prize and deliver her to whoever was waiting for her. Most likely beyond the parameters of the estate.
Misha brought them down one more flight of stairs, the air growing cooler as they entered the basement level of the passageways. He stopped by the nondescript wall and gave a soft push, revealing another hidden door, this one impossible to find unless you knew exactly where to look. He pulled her with him through it and got them moving again, the door sliding shut behind them of its own accord.
