“But you were, and I’m okay because of you.”
Damon shook his head, back and forth, back and forth, and something flashed through his eyes for just a moment before it was replaced by fury again. Fear?
“You don’t understand,” he whispered. “When I lose you, it will be the middle ages all over again. The earth will burn, and I won’t be able to stop myself. It’s the only way my dragon knows how to mourn.”
“Damon,” she said on a breath.
“Dangerous Clara,” he said. “You weren’t ever just a danger to me.” He gestured toward the open window with his good hand. “You were a danger to them as well. I’m not ready to lose you.” His dark eyebrow arched, and his voice turned to steel. “I won’t.”
She believed him.
Oh, Marcus was coming, and he was going to bring hell with him.
Her intended death by dragon’s fire was meant to let Damon know he was still alive.
Running was pointless.
Hiding wouldn’t work.
But if the death-bringer look in her mate’s eyes was anything to go by, Marcus had just called Damon’s animal to war.
And if Damon failed to rid the world of Marcus once and for all, it didn’t matter whether Clara lived or died.
The earth would burn, anyway.
Chapter Thirteen
A booming knock sounded down the hallway. Clara looked up from the floor outside Damon’s office where she’d been throwing tarot cards and frowned, waiting. Mason was in the office with Damon, but would get it, surely. He got frustrated if she stepped on his duties, so she’d learned to just let him do his running-of-the-household gig and steer clear.
With a sigh, she looked back down at the three cards she’d just drawn for Damon. He hadn’t shuffled them like she usually did with paying clients, but she’d perched outside the office he was working in and focused on him when she’d shuffled and cut the deck into three piles.
She’d drawn for his past, present, and future twice, just to make sure, and for the first time since she’d been doing tarot card readings, she’d drawn the exact same card twice.
For his past, 8 of Cups made sense. He had chosen to live in a situation that hadn’t worked for him. Perhaps he hadn’t chosen immortality, but it had been his choice to harden his heart to everyone to protect himself.
For his present, the card she’d drawn also made sense. The Hanged Man. His life was at a crossroads, and there was something he needed to let go of. Cough, cough, Feyadine’s paintings.
But twice now, she’d drawn a card for his future that made the blood drain from her face and limbs. A black armored rider atop a pure white horse with a woman turned away, and a child offering him a bouquet of wilted flowers.
Death.
Now, Death rarely actually meant that someone would die, and more often indicated the need to be open to change. It was more of a transformation card. But pulling it twice in a row on Damon’s future had her hair standing on end.
The resounding knock reverberated down the marble hallway again, so she scooped up the cards, shoved them into her back pocket to think about later, and jogged toward the front entrance. “I’m coming!” But before she pulled open the door, she wised up and asked, “Who is it?” Because she sure as hell wasn’t dumb enough to just open the front door for Fuck Face Marcus.
“It’s Creed and the other alphas, here to meet with Damon at his request.”
With a grunt for her efforts, Clara pulled a giant potted plant across the floor, and in front of the door stood on the pot and stared out the stupidly tall peephole. Sure enough, five men stood outside, and two of them she’d met before.
When she finally pulled the heavy doors open, they greeted her with somber smiles and Creed introduced her to the striking blue-eyed alpha of the Ashe Crew, Tagan, and the dark-haired alpha of the Boarlanders, Harrison, and lastly to a giant of a man with shoulders as wide as a redwood. His dark eyes crinkled as he offered his hand for a shake. “I’m Kong of the Gray Backs and the Lowlanders.”
“Kong?” she asked through a grin as she shook his hand. He just about rattled her bones. “You don’t smell like a bear, King Kong.”
“Gorilla shifter,” he said with a nod, confirming her suspicion.
Oh, she bet he was a beast when he Changed. “You’re the first gorilla shifter I’ve met,” she announced. “Damon is straight down that hallway on the left. He and Mason are in the office.”
Creed gave her a sideways hug as the others stepped into Damon’s house. “How are you holding up?”
Apparently word spread quickly when anything dramatic happened in these mountains. “I’m okay. Just worried about Damon.”