Rage (Her Monsters Book One) - K.A Knight Page 0,123
seat. The driver looks over at his shoulder at me. “Sorry, sir, I need to visit the bathroom and get fuel.” He nods at the station we are at and slides from the car.
Groaning, I slide from the car as well and stretch my body. My muscles are cramped from being in that small space for so long. Leaning back against the black car, I eye the station we have stopped at. It’s busy at this time of day, with cars parked out front and at the pumps. People have pulled up on the side at a picnic area, and seem to be relaxing.
Scanning the cars, my eyes linger on a nondescript black van, but when I see the woman and man heading to it with laughter on their faces and food in their arms, I shrug it off and look away.
Night is setting, you can feel it, and with it brings a cold chill to the air, but that isn’t the reason I find myself slipping back into the car. Something is off. Growling under my breath, I palm my swords and wait.
The driver eventually makes his way back to the car and he takes one look at my face before jumping inside and speeding off. Staring out the back window, checking to see if anyone is following us, I relax when I spot nothing.
Once we are a couple of miles away, I relax back into my seat and look at the driver. “No more stops, we are being hunted,” I order.
He nods, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. “Should I call master Carmichael?” he offers, his voice surprisingly calm.
“No, I’ll handle it when they decide to make their move. Just keep your eyes on the road and get me where I need to be,” I demand before sitting back, my swords ready in my lap. Waiting.
Being the hunted, the prey, doesn’t sit well with me, so I am just waiting for their first move so I can flip it on them.
I’m more relaxed now that I know the tracer is broken, even if the witches’ words keep rattling around in my head. Even my dragon is on high alert, sensing an issue. I pull over when it gets dark and try to connect to Dawn, but nothing happens. Frowning, I carry on driving, planning to try again later.
Pressing down on the gas, I speed up as something urgently pushes me to reach my mate. When I pull over a couple of hours later and I still can’t reach her, I start to get really worried. It’s possible she is not sleeping, that she is busy, but my dragon roars inside of me. A warning, or a threat?
Grabbing the phone, I scroll through the contacts, hoping Jean Paul will have loaded some from before or kept updated numbers. When I spot the name Lucias, I grin.
Dialling, I grip the wheel as I speed through the night until the call connects.
“Who is this?” comes a heavily accented Russian voice.
“Is that anyway to greet an old friend?” I tease, and I hear him inhale.
“Aska, is dat you?” he asks, shocked.
“Yes,” I say simply.
“Well, shit, if you’re awake something is really fucking wrong,” he laments, and I hear him moving. I can picture him now, reclining in the leather chair in his council office. I have known Lucias since he was a youngling and I watched him all my life. He grew up fast, powerful as well, until he was asked to sit on the western council. He agreed.
“Aska?” he murmurs, sounding tired.
“What is wrong, Luke?” I ask, frowning.
“Nothing, nothing, just politics,” he grumbles, making me laugh.
“Well, you did choose that life, Luke,” I joke.
He mutters something in Russian. “Aska, why are you calling me?” He doesn’t say it harshly, more like he is curious. I made him vow to never wake me, I told him of my plans and he knew of my withdrawal from this life—so it’s a valid question.
Why am I awake? Her.
“The mate call,” is all I say.
“Well, shit,” he chokes out.
We both go silent, my own thoughts drifting to my life before my slumber. I had been through wars with this man, he is trustworthy and good...but that was a long time ago. Has this life changed him? Is he really the Luke I fought side by side with in the crusades? Can I trust him?
“родной брат?” he prods, always impatient, just like when he was a boy and used to follow me around trying to carry