Bane's Dragon: Torment (Bane Dragon Wars Book 2) Read online

  Bane’s Dragon: Torment

  Book 2

  Roxie Spears

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  © 2019 Romance Books 4 U

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  For permissions contact: [email protected]

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  Prologue

  Fumes of pink and red rose into the air, mingled with it in neutral dance, a tired dance, one that Colt had witnessed too many times to count. He sat cross-legged at his usual table, smoking a cigar, eyeing his favorite raven haired woman as she daringly took the metal pole in one hand and let her body do the rest. What was impressive was that she’d managed to look Colt Bane dead in the eyes the entire time, even as she used the strength of her calves to climb up to the very top of the pole, dip her head back, and hang upside down like some mystical forest creature. Colt shifted in his chair. He didn’t like to sit too close, but not too far, either. And certainly never next to the stage. He was the type of man that liked to maintain a reasonable distance, but was never too far away from all the fun.

  “Hey,” a low gurgle made him jump.

  “Jesus, you scared me,” he turned around, raising his eyes to meet Morgan’s.

  “Got you a drink,” the man said, plopping down on the chair next to him. He stared at Miss Malika through heavy-lidded eyes, sipping his scotch slowly, letting it swoosh in his mouth.

  Colt raised his shot class and nodded at Morgan. It wasn’t long before Andrew, another one of his friends, joined them at their table. “Aren’t those the same boots she wore last time?”

  Colt almost choked on his drink. “What?” he said with a raised eyebrow. “Andrew, you never fail to surprise me.”

  Morgan laughed and shook his head, later downing his drink in one gulp. Colt’s eyes lingered on Malika for a while, who was now twerking on stage. The door creaked open, causing his attention to drift towards two men entering the club. “Check it out,” he said, nudging Morgan’s leg.

  The two men stood by the door, scanning the place. One of them sported a long trench coat soaked in water and a pair of rain boots. He clenched his jaw at the sight of Colt, later advancing towards him, eyes fixated on his, hands balled up into loose fists.

  “Borg,” Colt muttered through clenched teeth, immediately rising to his feet. It wasn’t everyday that he ran into Borg Makinen. Andrew and Morgan stood behind him, hands stuffed into their pockets and their shoulders rolled back, like bodyguards. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he took a step forward but Colt didn’t move. He would graze noses with Borg if he had to.

  “What, you think I’m afraid of you?” he breathed. Borg’s expressions almost seemed to fade with proximity, a pink halo surrounding his face. Ironically, Malika continued to dance and the people continued to watch her, unfazed and immersed in a different breed of tension.

  “I would watch my back if I were you,” Borg’s hot, spunky smell traveled up Colt’s nostrils. In the darkness of the club his eyes seemed to light up like lumps of hot coal. “Leave, now,” he ordered, nodding towards Colt’s friends, who stood unwavering, like they were pinned to the floor.

  “Time always stands still before any confrontation,” Colt hissed, tilting his head slightly to the right. As he did so a pair of canine fangs seemed to fight their way through, fully forming before he could tilt his head back again. At that moment Borg’s eyes flared up, as though his whole body was an engine ready to fire, and that was when Colt felt a pair of hands pulling him back.

  “No, stop it!” He recognized the voice as Brian’s, who was latching onto him so tightly, his fingers were digging into his skin.

  “Get off me,” Colt snapped, breaking free of his brother’s grip. His fangs shied back into his gums and he loosened his fists.

  “Listen, you don’t wanna do this,” Brian said, his eyes darting back and forth frantically. “We’re sorry about that.” He was slowly leading him to the door, Andrew and Morgan following them with their heads hanging low. As though triggered by a spell, they both straightened themselves suddenly, remembering to at least appear confident in the face of defeat. As Colt advanced towards the exit, he couldn’t help but feel like every single person in that room was holding their breath for him. Even Malika had left her pole and stood there anticipatingly. Halfway through their argument everyone must’ve realized that this was no drill, no walk in the park. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed because he walked away from it all.

  “You’re done, Colt Bane!” Borg growled.

  Colt paused. Every muscle in his body was ready to shift, but his head was much smarter. He felt his brother’s grip on his arm tighten again, as though telling him to let it go, and so he did. Colt felt like he had gotten cast under a spotlight, like he was the lead in some sort of play, because everyone was staring at him, waiting for that monologue or better yet, that fight.

  “We’ll kill you all, do you hear me?” Borg’s deep gurgle continued to haunt him. He was this close to giving in, but there was something about Brian’s eyes that scared him that night. He carried himself with warning, and Colt wasn’t just about to ignore that. “We’ll kill you like we killed Krystal!”

  Colt felt his heart shatter all over again. If someone had told him this story as he lay in bed that morning, he probably would’ve imagined himself ripping Borg apart. But the thought of Krystal’s death failed to bring with it that rage; instead it just made him immensely miserable, so miserable that he needed to step out into the rain.

  “Just let it go,” Brian said, squeezing his shoulder. His head hung low and all he could see were three pairs of rainboots and one pair of expensive leather boots -- his own.

  “What a smart choice I’ve made,” he said, rather to himself. Brian’s lips curved to a smile.

  “Come on,” he said again, wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulder. As they walked down the alleyway Colt looked back, his fangs extracting again at the mere thought of Borg.

  “This isn’t over,” he shook his head from side to side, kicking stones down the sidewalk.

  Chapter 1

  “For the millionth time, I ordered peonies not white roses! I hate white roses! They remind me of my grandma Hazel, and I hate grandma Hazel.” Emilie stared at her phone for only a moment before hanging up and tossing it onto the bed. Logan raised an eyebrow at her, his face eventually breaking into a smile. “I think your powers are rubbing off o
n me.”

  “Nah. That’s all you, baby,” he said, getting up and walking over to her. “Are the flower people stressing you out?”

  “Very much so,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Do you like white roses? We can just go with them if you like them.”

  “I’m not sure I like flowers in general.”

  Emilie’s face drooped to a scowl.

  “I’m kidding,” Logan said. “Listen, I know you want this to be perfect, because God knows I do, too. But you gotta give yourself a break.”

  Emilie nodded and then gave into Logan’s touch -- like she always did. “Who knew planning a wedding could be so exhausting?”

  The past year had been a rollercoaster. Logan was never the marriage type, in fact he was quite the opposite. Emilie was far from the commitment type, too, but she certainly left more room for nuances than he did. Her parents had divorced when she was eight, leaving her with a whole lot of questions and little answers. As she grew up these questions flourished and grew, too, but they turned into something more sinister than a mere inquisitive urge. Emilie despised the idea of being tied down to someone, let alone spending the rest of her life with them. Because to her, getting married was like making a promise she could never keep. You could never spend a lifetime loving someone, she thought, simply because people had a tendency to change. By the time she turned eight, her father surely was not the same athletic, kayaking man he once was when her mother met him. He had a receding hairline that continued to deplete with every year, and a temper that was quick to replace his athletic inclinations.

  Growing up, Emilie knew her father liked to row. He would spend hours out on the lake, leaving him with a permanent orange tan. She remembered glimpses of her parents’ fights, in which her mother blamed him for not being around anymore. Eventually, he had to give it up. He stayed home more often, helped around the house and washed the dishes. He changed her diapers, although reluctantly. In theory, Emilie’s father performed the ultimate sacrificial act which, needless to say, left him quite depressed.

  Eight years later, he left. Emilie remembered waking up one day and feeling different. Her mother never said a word about it, but the last time she saw him he was sitting in his kayak out on the lake, not rowing or doing anything, really, but having what she realized was a revelation. Emilie’s father needed to find himself again, so he did. In a way, she could never blame him. People change, she reminded herself. They made sacrifices, grew sick of what they had. They changed their minds. Emilie then reached the conclusion that she would never marry, simply because it meant living with the possibility that one day, she might want to leave it all behind her.

  And then she met Logan. He was far from a prince charming, but he certainly did sweep her off her feet. It was danger that brought them together, but what made them stay, she thought, was the realization that change was inevitable. Logan was bound to grow older, and with age came change. She was bound to grow up and change, for better or worse, but for the first time ever Emilie finally understood that sometimes, when people said, “I do,'' they actually meant it.

  “Em,” Logan said, his lips twitching to a smile. “I’m pretty sure there’s a worldwide consensus that planning weddings is… fucking exhausting,” he continued, gently rubbing her shoulders. They sat on the edge of the bed quietly, drinking in the silence, basking in each other’s effortless company; the best they’d ever had. “Come on, what else? What else is stressing you out?”

  Emilie paused for a moment, considering. “The fact that they don’t want to serve the fucking salmon without the fucking cream cheese.”

  Logan smiled and rubbed her shoulder a little bit more. “What else?”

  “They’re taking too long to show me the centerpieces.”

  “Uh-huh.” Slowly, he planted his lips on the fine skin of her neck.

  “And, and… they don’t know the first thing about color. I’m starting to think they don’t even know what off-white is.” Emilie then closed her eyes, feeling every muscle in her body go flaccid as Logan started planting kisses up and down her neck. She stopped for a moment, gazed into his eyes for a second before she leaned in and kissed him again. As he breathed her in, their lips interlocking and his hands soft on her thigh, Emilie felt like nothing else mattered. Gone were the feelings of fear and the unknown, replaced by complete emotional bliss that wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She couldn’t absorb what was happening. It was like everything was flashing past her, like she was watching it from an outsider’s perspective. That was what being with Logan felt like to her; an out-of-body experience. She hadn’t felt this happy, this euphoric, in a very, very long time. No one’s touch had ever made her feel this special. No kiss has ever made her feel so alive. The way his fingers gently clawed at her skin gave her chills, and she could feel herself growing more fond of him with every passing second. She just wanted this moment to last forever, uninterrupted.

  “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he whispered softly. “I know it’s frustrating, but I’ll yell at the flower lady first thing tomorrow.”

  Emilie couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t know if I want you to yell at her…”

  “Alright, fine. I’ll ask her nicely to pay more attention to our choice of flower arrangement.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can yell at her,” Emilie shook her head frantically before turning around and pressing her lips to Logan’s. He kissed her back with enough passion to burn the whole house down. “Fuck, you’re great,” she whispered against his lips. It wasn’t long before her phone started ringing again. “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Jack murmured, his voice distant. “I need you to come down here.”

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, her eyes growing wide just like everytime Jack asks her to go to the precinct.

  “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine, just get over here,” he said again. There was a dullness in his voice, one that didn’t deviate much from the norm. Emilie then rose to her feet and flipped her blond locks to the side.

  “Alright,” she muttered before hanging up. “I gotta head over there,” she said with furrowed eyebrows. Logan grabbed onto the edge of the mattress and let out a sigh.

  “That’s okay, a woman’s gotta work, right?”

  “Right,” Emilie smiled before pressing her lips to his again. “I love you.”

  Logan paused for a moment, his eyes boring into hers, lips barely touching now. She liked to tease him like that; only in the bedroom did Logan become so weak, so prone to her control. Other than that, he was a freebird. “I love you, too,” he hissed, not letting his gaze drop as she pulled away from him. Emilie yanked the first button down shirt she could get her hands on. She would know, because her closet was full of them. When she first started working, her sense of style had become reduced to lavender button down shirts and high-waisted work pants that did her little fashion favors. But they were comfortable.

  “Alright, I’m gonna go,” she said before winking at Logan and stepping out. The Bane mansion was still pretty much a mystery to her. Oftentimes she felt lost, at others just amused by all the crevices, twists, turns and spirals. Logan’s room was her anchor, her true north, the place she would always gravitate to when she was feeling like she was on the outside of things.

  As she bolted down the corridor she ran into Brian, who looked like he had just stepped out of the shower. “Hey,” he said, holding a towel behind his neck. “You headin’ out?”

  “Yeah, I am. But I have something for you first,” she said, her lips curving to a wry grin. “I found her.”

  “What, who?” Brian paused, considering. “Really?”

  “Yep, got her work address,” Emilie beamed, trying to contain her excitement.

  “Well, what is it?” Brian seemed taken aback; troubled almost.

  “You didn’t think I would find her, did you?” she asked him, almost challengingly.

  “I don’t know. I just didn’t expect you to find her so soon,” he said. “I may have
been underestimating you, after all.”

  “She lives in Kent, Connecticut,” Emilie blurted. “It’s a small town, pretty humid but that’s all I know.”

  “Well, thanks for that,” Brian said, trying to suppress a smile. Emilie wondered just when she would crack the Bane brothers, every single one of them. It worked on Logan, but the rest were tough cookies, to say the least.

  “You’re very welcome,” she replied before walking away. A wave of arrogance swept over her as she floated down the spiral stairs and headed out into the cold. Quafin in the winter was something else. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any creepier, a naked forest greeted her outside the mansion, stung by winter’s rasp, standing steady in the slapping wind. As she walked to her car Emilie dreamed of cold brew. It was odd, she thought, craving that bitterness, but perhaps it came with living here.

  She had gotten used to the roads, though. In fact she was starting to like them. As Emilie backed out of the driveway she rolled her windows slightly down and let her lungs inflate with crisp morning air. She was missing Logan already, but when duty called, there was little anyone could do to stop her.

  Chapter 2

  Brian, too, felt like rolling his windows down that day. The mountain path grew wider, leading to an upward peak. He wondered if he was going in the right direction, but his gut trusted Emilie. The path winded ahead so effortlessly, like silk over green hills, eventually leading into the horizon, touching the sky. Brian let out a long, immaculate sigh, one that sounded everywhere, or at least that was what it felt like. This was a path made for driving, he thought, just until it narrowed in the rocky passes, getting steeper and more challenging. Brian prayed that his car wouldn’t lose its momentum. He braced himself, watching out for the rocky terrain that seemed to harshen with speed. Finally he lifted his eyes to the distance ahead, eventually spotting a few houses amid the trees. The car seemed to roll in random directions, but he went along with it until he found himself on smooth ground again. A few people appeared in his periphery, much like the villains in a video game. He scanned the street for Caroline, thinking the population was already so small it allowed for room for chance.