Shadow's End Read Free

mate and family, and those in his closest circle.
    Even so, Pia and his seven sentinels kept a sharp watch at public events, so they could help fill in any unexpected blanks Dragos might encounter. In the months that had followed the accident, Dragos had collected countless history books and read through corporate files obsessively in order to recover as much as he possibly could, as quickly as possible.
    Graydon thought of all the secrets the Cuelebres were keeping. Pia’s Wyr form. Her new pregnancy. Dragos’s accident, and the fact that he might have recovered most of his memory, but he hadn’t regained all of it.
    So far, they’d been damn lucky that none of their secrets had come out.
    At least as far as he knew. Blowing out a breath, he rubbed the back of his head and let the thought go. No sense in getting himself riled up until he had reason to.
    At Graydon’s question, Dragos’s dark, sleek brows had drawn together. The expression in his fierce gold gaze grew intent.
    â€œYes, I remember,” he said. “You had talked about taking a leave of absence—what, nearly two hundred years ago?”
    â€œThat’s right. Two hundred years, almost to the day.” With a quick flick of his wrist, Graydon tossed back the contents of his brandy glass. The liquor was smooth on his tongue, warm like liquid sunshine, and fiery on the way down. He welcomed the burn.
    Dragos’s gaze turned uncomfortably sharp. “I also remember you’d said that if you ever needed to ask for the leave of absence, you might not be able to tell me why. Is that still the case?”
    â€œYeah. And you promised I could have the time if and when I needed it.” Graydon met the other male’s gaze. “I need to hold you to that promise now.”
    Dragos’s frown deepened. He turned to face Graydon fully, and Graydon braced his wide shoulders in response. To get the full focus of the Lord of the Wyr’s attention could sometimes be an unsettling experience.
    â€œI don’t like it,” growled the dragon. “It smells like trouble. Like
you’re
in trouble. Tell me what’s going on.”
    Slowly, he replied, “I can’t. I made a promise, too, and it’s not my secret to tell.”
    The moment stretched tight, straining the air between them.
    â€œWhat if I say no?” Fierce, gold eyes burned as hot as lava.
    Unsurprised, Graydon nodded. The dragon disliked constraints of any kind, even those of his own devising. “That would be unfortunate, because I would have to go anyway.”
    â€œTo keep that promise you made.”
    â€œYes.”
    The pressure built, from the weight of Dragos’s attention and the vision that pushed at Graydon from within, until he thought his skin might split open.
    Breathing evenly, he stiffened his spine. Holding one’s ground was not passivity. It took its own kind of strength.
She
had said that to him once, all those many years ago, and he had never forgotten it.
    He would hold fast.
    Muttering a curse, Dragos pivoted to scowl down at the traffic below. “I gave you my word, and I’ll keep it,” he said. “But now you have to promise me something in return.”
    Releasing his pent-up breath on a soundless sigh, Graydon pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. “What’s that?”
    Dragos stabbed him with a sharp look. “You’re my First. The other sentinels rely on you. Hell—Pia, Liam and I rely on you. More than that, you’re family.”
    Unexpectedly touched, he ducked his head. “You’re mine too.”
    â€œSo,” Dragos said, “you go and take care of whatever you need to take care of, but you have to promise that you’ll tell me what’s going on the moment you can, and that you’ll come to me for help if you need it—and you must promise to come back.”
    He understood exactly why Dragos pushed for that last