Enigma (Dragon's Oath Book 2), page 1
Enigma
Samara Saward
Copyright © 2023 Samara Saward
All rights reserved.
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Cover designed by: GetCovers
Formatting designed with Atticus
Contents
Dedication
Foreword
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
About Author
Also By
For my big little brother
I'd be sad if you died
Foreword
Both the author and characters are from Australia. This book is written in Australian English.
1
I almost spill my coffee all over the gleaming dinner table when Aspen drops her phone and launches to her feet, startling me. She races into the adjoining living room, muttering under her breath about carelessness and media interference then lunges for the remote, scraping her fingernails across the glass coffee table in her haste. The sound grates against my eardrums and I cringe.
I’m confused, obviously. I don’t know why we’ve gone from sitting at the dining table and discussing our escape from Philomon’s warehouse to watching TV. But I’m down for some Netflix and chill if she is, so I trudge behind Gray and Jaxon as they follow her into the immaculate living room.
The large TV rises from its hiding place under the floorboards, and I’m stunned when Aspen doesn’t put on the most recent episode of Dating Witches. Instead, she flicks through the channels until she lands on channel six. We’re confronted with a closeup of Grace Levere, the reporter who accosted me here at Shaw Manor a few days ago.
Her glossy brown hair shines in the morning sun as she finishes what I’m sure is a riveting report. I’m not interested in what’s on the news. I’m turning back to the kitchen when Grace’s words pierce through Shaw’s rumbling growl and I slowly turn back, my own anger bubbling to the surface.
“You heard it here first, folks,” says Grace. “An eyewitness saw a dragon, with two passengers on his back, fleeing the scene where four have died and thirteen were grievously injured. We’re still not sure if the eagle flying alongside him was coincidence or a supernatural ally, but Jaxon Shaw has some explaining to do.”
The camera pans to a woman with auburn hair and red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Her blank stare doesn’t waver from the white sheet which is acting as a barrier between the camera crew and whatever horrifying scene lies beyond.
Grace rushes over to the woman. “Can you tell me what happened here?”
The girl takes a moment to compose herself. Large white words move across the bottom of the TV screen. Breaking News: Warehouse attacked in Melbourne’s western suburbs.
Impatient for a reply, Grace pushes. “What’s your name?”
“Adyn,” says the woman, steeling her nerve. “There was a loud bang which woke us up. When we came outside to see what was happening, we saw a fricken dragon taking to the sky. That’s when we ran. The ground was shaking and there were explosions coming from that warehouse.” She points to the smouldering remains of Philomon’s home. “We were running as fast as we could, but then —”
“That’s when the debris hit your friend?” Grace cuts in, without a shred of sympathy.
The woman nods and a tear falls from her eye. She wipes it away in agitation.
“Thanks for your time, Adyn,” says Grace. To the camera, she adds, “Well, there you have it. Witness proof that Jaxon Shaw, the last dragon on Earth, was here at the time the explosions started.”
“Turn it off,” says Jaxon in a deadly tone.
Aspen mutes the volume and turns to face Shaw. “I thought we would have more time to plan a defence.”
“This isn’t good,” says Gray, running a hand through his ash blonde hair. “We need to put a stop to the accusations before the other media sites get wind of this. There will be reporters crowding the front gate within the hour.”
“I’ll find out who this Adyn girl is and see if we can temper her anger. By the look of that footage, her friend is seriously injured, if not one of the dead,” says Aspen. Her amber eyes glisten with tears. “I can’t believe this has happened. Too many people have died because of Quinn and his vendetta.”
While Aspen and Gray discuss how best to tackle the media coverage, Jaxon paces the living room. He shoots frustrated glances at his employees every so often, the deep blue of his eyes flaring brighter with every pass he makes. The way he’s clenching his jaw makes the small divot in his chin more pronounced, even through the five o’clock shadow.
My fingers itch to smooth the furrow between his brows. Instead, I tuck my hands into my armpits and ask, “How do we play this, Jax?”
“I don’t know,” he says, without looking at me. “The council will get involved. They may be lax in their approach to the law, but now the humans are a part of it. Both the humans and supernaturals will expect the local ABBS to act. We have no proof Quinn or Davenport were there. Hale, can you work on that?”
“Of course,” says Aspen. She tucks her flaming red hair behind her ears and returns to the dining table. Opening her laptop, she adds, “There are a few security cameras I can access. Give me a couple of hours and I should have something for you.”
“Good. Gray, I need you to work damage control. Find the witness.” Shaw’s eyes flash with something akin to concern. “There are no residential streets near that warehouse. I assume she is homeless; the blast woke her, so she would have been using one of the nearby warehouses for shelter. Find her and bring her here. We can set her up in one of the safe houses.”
“Got it.” Gray disappears in a blur of black, using his vampire speed to get to the garage as fast as possible.
The sooner we find Adyn, the better. Mere seconds later, the distinctive sound of the garage door opening filters through the house. Without taking her eyes from her laptop, Aspen unlocks her phone and remotely opens the large wrought iron gate at the entrance to Shaw Manor.
Jaxon resumes his pacing, grunting now and then in a show of unrestrained irritation and anger. The quiet life he has led for the last century is falling down around him, and there’s little he can do to stop it. Everything that happened at Philomon’s laboratory slash warehouse is piling up; the man responsible for the slaughter of thousands of dragon shifters is dead, the woman who murdered Shaw’s beloved is on the run with my brother, and Rebecca’s doppelgänger sacrificed herself to restore the balance of life and death.
It’s a lot to handle. I’m surprised he hasn’t shifted into his big blue dragon and ravaged the city of Melbourne with his flames. His restraint is admirable.
“What can I do?” I ask in a small voice. “It’s my fault we’re in this mess. My actions led us here. Let me help.”
A lock of dark brown hair falls over Jaxon’s forehead when he turns toward me. It’s the most unravelled I’ve seen him. “There is nothing you can do, Pierce. Just stay out of the way.”
“Jax,” admonishes Aspen. “This isn’t Tatum’s fault. Don’t take your anger out on her. You said it yourself. This would have happened regardless of her going rogue. Quinn was a ticking time bomb.”
He snarls and bares his teeth at her. “Get back to work.”
She holds her hands up in surrender. When Jaxon turns his back to continue his attempt at wearing a hole in the floor, she mouths an apology to me before lowering her face to the screen once more.
I shrug and head into the kitchen in search of something with too much sugar. Settling on a jar of Nutella, I grab a spoon from the drawer and dunk it into the chocolaty goodness. “You know, I saw that girl and her friend.”
“What?” snaps Jaxon.
“Adyn. The girl with the pretty red hair on the news,” I say, gesturing to the muted TV. “When we were flying away, I saw them running. I remember hoping they would get to safety before the laboratory exploded. If I had said somethi
“Her friend died,” whispers Aspen. She turns her laptop around. “Look.”
The news story on screen has large writing across the top of the page: Two Dead at Warehouse Explosion. Below is an image of Adyn looking distraught, watching as a paramedic closes the rear doors of an ambulance.
I lean over the kitchen bench to read the smaller print. The more I read, the heavier my heart becomes, and the tighter the knot in my stomach. I lower the spoonful of Nutella back into the jar without taking a single bite.
Adyn’s friend, a boy named Buddy, died at the scene after being struck in the back by shrapnel. They say it was tin from the warehouse or something. Twin pangs of sadness and remorse clench my insides. Buddy died because of my negligence. He died because of my inability to work as part of a team. He died because of my stupid rescue mission.
I flick my eyes back to the flat screen, watching as the scene — the mayhem I caused — unfolds live on television. The camera zooms in on a firefighter as they pull something bent and twisted from the rubble. He wipes his gloved hand over the scrap of metal, revealing a set of three letters and three numbers.
A gasp tears at my throat and my heart pounds against my chest. “That’s the licence plate from my car.”
Grace Levere’s eyes widen, and she says something to the cameraman. An ad break interrupts the live feed. I wait in growing horror until she’s back on camera and words scroll across the bottom of the screen. Just In: Car belonging to a witch crashes through an inhabited warehouse. Police on route to question Tatum Pierce, alleged attacker.
2
I watch in stunned amazement as blue scales ripple along Jaxon’s exposed forearms. His muscles bunch with the opening and closing of his fists, and before I know it, he’s upending the glass coffee table in a fit of rage.
He points a threatening finger at me. “Pack your bags. I cannot allow the council to get their hands on you.”
“The ABBS won’t do anything. I’ll just tell them the truth. Two revenge-driven vampires kidnapped Seth, and I tried to save him. In doing so, Philomon Quinn stole one of my witch gifts and I escaped with your help.” I slide the hairband from my plait and twist it around my fingers, just to give my hands something to do. “They’ll see sense. How can they not?”
Aspen rises from her seat, shaking her head. “Your brother being kidnapped isn’t reason enough to demolish a warehouse, Tate. The Acting Body on Behalf of Supernaturals won’t see it the way we do. They’re already under pressure from the human law enforcement and this just made everything worse. I agree with Jax. You need to flee.”
“I thought eagle shifters were supposed to be smart,” I whip at her. “How does running help? If anything, it makes me look guilty.”
“It gives us time to come up with a plan,” she says. “Right now, it’s us against eyewitnesses. I need time to gather proof. You’ll be away for a few days. A week at most.”
“Can’t we just —”
“Enough,” snaps Jaxon. “You will leave.”
His eyes flick to the gold signet ring on my forefinger and a wave of realisation hits me: the unwanted mate bond between us is ruling his emotions. After everything that happened last night, the last thing we need is for me to be arrested and Jaxon to go all protective mate on the ABBS.
“Okay,” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “We’ll leave.”
“We?” Jaxon asks, narrowing his eyes.
I sigh. “Well, yeah. The tether between us is growing shorter by the day. You go where I go, dragon boy.”
Jaxon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. I think he means to calm himself down, but when he opens his eyes again, they’re blazing. Not willing to become barbequed witch, I take a hasty step back.
“Hale,” says Jaxon, his tone pure venom. “If the authorities come to question Pierce, tell them we are out of town for a few days. Do whatever you need to get them off our tail. Have Gray contact me as soon as he has the human girl.”
Aspen nods. “Of course. I’ll tell them you’re on a honeymoon or something. Everyone knows you have chosen a mate by now. Well, not chosen, but… Never mind. I'll sort it out. Be safe.”
Without another word, Jaxon spins and stomps his way toward the staircase. His movements are so agitated, I'm scared he’ll put a foot through the carpeted stairs.
Since the bond prevents us from being over ten feet apart, I have no choice but to follow. When I first slid the ring onto my finger, our tether had more slack, more leeway. But the longer we go without sealing the mate bond, the shorter the leash becomes. With us heading off to who knows where for who knows how long, the bond will be in full swing. Every minute we’re close, every time our eyes meet, we’ll be fighting the threads that bind us.
As I trudge upstairs to my room, I make an oath to double down on my efforts to sever our bond. I can say with certainty, both Jaxon and I don’t want this.
For the second time in as many weeks, I pack my belongings into a suitcase. Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting in the front seat of Shaw’s fancy black car while he drives us away from Shaw Manor.
He makes several calls during the drive, letting his employees know he’ll be out of town for a few days, and requests updates on the warehouse explosion from a contact in the Melbourne department of the ABBS. They don’t give us any new information. It makes Jaxon furious.
To lighten the mood, I turn on some music. Since Shaw already has his phone connected to the car, we’re graced with the sound of one of his playlists.
I huff a laugh of surprise. “Nickelback? I thought you would be more of a Tchaikovsky kind of guy.”
His lips twitch. “I find their lyrics resonate with me.”
“This song starts by talking about someone with their pants down. Do tell, dragon lord, just how this song resonates with you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Perhaps not this song in particular, but the others. I have been on this earth for three centuries. I have a deeper understanding of songs about loss and love and all they encompass.”
“You’re full of surprises, Shaw. What else do you like?”
He pulls his phone from the magnetic holder on the dash, unlocks it with his thumb print, then hands it to me. “Have a look. Play whatever you like.”
“Are you serious?” My blue eyes widen in surprise.
I set his phone on my knee and tie my blonde hair into a messy bun on top of my head. Getting to know Shaw better, even if it’s only through his taste in music, has been a long time coming, and distractions aren’t welcome right now.
His eclectic taste in music brings a smile to my lips, which turns to a laugh when I find Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. “I knew it,” I say, nudging him with my elbow. “You probably watched him live on stage.”
Hours pass. When I’m not pointing out every cow we pass — because that’s what you do on road trips, right? — I lose myself to the music. I forget my worries, letting them wash away with the ebb and flow of the melodies, and push the threat of arrest to the back of my mind, replacing it with dulcet tones and pulsing beats.
Even though I’m singing my heart out, Jaxon never complains. In fact, his head bops a few times and his knee bounces every so often. I know I’m a terrible singer, and I’m kind enough to restrain myself around others, but Jaxon’s lack of bleeding ears and his small smile make me feel at ease.
Out of nowhere, a picture invades my mind. An image of us doing this years from now, our smiles genuine and hands linked. Jaxon, with his wavy brown hair flecked with grey and Ray Bans shading his eyes; me, with my mess of a bun a little thinner, belting love ballads at the top of my lungs as we race through the countryside.
It’s enough to put a dampener on the mood.
“So, where are we headed?” I ask, lowering the volume.
“One of my safe houses. The media and authorities do not know about the one in which we are staying. We will be safe there. However, there is one stop we need to make beforehand.” His hands clench around the steering wheel. “Your parents should hear about Seth in person. From you. While it is plausible that they already know Davenport turned him into a vampire, I doubt they are aware of his fawning status.”
