And I find this notion terrifying.
“So, tell me why you picked this place, of all the Irish pubs in Boston.” A genuine smile speaks to a genuine desire to know. Cait has a natural curiosity, quite refreshing after decades surrounded by women wanting from me: favors, gifts, things. Always wanting. Surprising me, she is willing to give, though on her own terms.
“It’s the energy. I’ve been to them all, and I’ve always liked this one best. I know people say it’s too touristy and such, but I love the energy of The Black Rose, the live music every night, and the Guinness, of course.” Cait’s the first person outside of my family or the Pendragons I’ve felt at ease talking to this way, that I’ve believed capable of such trust. Nothing she has done shows she feels there is anything to gain from becoming close to me. It is I who gains most from her nearness.
We thank the waitress bringing our drinks, and Cait says she hasn’t decided what to order yet. The silence falling between us leaves me uncomfortable, requiring me to continue speaking, and I answer the question she asked. “Before everyone knew about us, about vampires and the rest, I could come here and fit in. No one questioned my odd accent, though it’s such an archaic one, not the familiar modern Irish. People here overlooked it, didn’t bother me with questions, offering up a pint and a good laugh when I’d sit up at the bar. I’d sometimes find others who spoke fluent Irish to converse with. Older patrons.… Of course, little did they know how comparatively young they were.”
I laugh, and she joins me. She’s willing to listen and not ask me a thousand questions, not make demands of me, or have expectations. “This is my favorite place to come with my brother as well. I think that’s why I thought of it when considering where to bring you tonight,” I admit. “In some ways, you remind me of Evan, though you’re not one to mince words, and he’s often far too careful of what he says, but you have a deep compassion for others, like my brother… I believe even more than for yourself.” Few humans would offer themselves for a vampire to feed upon without expectations of their own, not even giving in to our seduction.
Turning, I meet her eyes, holding steady, wanting the safety of the harsh distances I hold so much easier. “It’s one of the many traits I dearly love in my brother, and one I know I can love in you, Cait.”
She shakes her head and laughs a little. “Then I didn’t just imagine the ice-hearted king grew a little soft and said that outside?”
“No.” Fearful of what her comment might mean, I try explaining. “What you did this morning, Cait… before I changed my mind. I had decided not to involve myself in this matter, allowing Dante or Theo to have you if they wished.” Cait leans back from me, looking away. “But after this morning, I realized what I would have lost in doing so. I have every intention of pursuing your affections to the fullest, Cait.”
“You would have died. That’s what you would have lost, Corrin.” Her voice is a mere whisper, her face still turned from me. “I’m not yours, never was, and you’re so far behind in this that I never will be.”
Hearing the faint sound of glass cracking, I pull my hand off the pint of Guinness on the table. “I am your king, Cait, and you will not be so rude as to refuse my advances when I pursue your interest out of…” My jaw clenches, not wanting to speak the words aloud, to admit to courting her as Evan deems proper, but there seems no other way. “… out of my own genuine affection for you. I grow quite fond of you, Cait, and that holds a great deal of value.”
She faces me and laughs rather sardonically. “In this situation, you aren’t my king, Corrin. You’re just a man like any other, and all the affection and fondness you can muster has no value to me if I feel nothing more than compassionate pity for you in return.”
Infuriated, I let my fangs drop and grab her by the throat, slamming her into the wall of the booth.
*Theo*
He hears my instinctive growl first, and though he’s quick to let go, it’s too late. The damage is done, in my opinion, and vampires are not nearly as fast as dragons. Corrin moves to escape the booth, but I have his arm in my grasp. Turning on me, fangs down, he goes on the defensive, preparing to attack.
“Corrin, don’t be foolhardy, boy,” Oliver yells behind me, grabbing at my shoulder, attempting to pull me away, barely causing me to waver in my stance.
With diners already gawking at the king’s presence, this turn of events does not go unnoticed, and people flee the restaurant in a hurry, thank the Goddess. I’m controlling the shift as best I can, but the faint scent of Cait’s blood in the air fuels an urgent need to let go, to free myself of human restraints into my natural dragon form. He tries to run, finding a partially shifted dragon digging talons into his arm, and I can wait no longer, the burning intensifying beyond control.
The vampire’s eyes widen in shock when I let the rush of the burn take over, all human characteristics dissipating, talons gripping him still. The king dangles a good twenty feet off the ground, surrounded by the screaming of a few patrons not yet out, the building filling with fully shifted dragons. Oliver followed suit upon seeing my change, Liam and Clifford quick to defend the king as well. Furniture falls to kindling and toothpicks, scrap metal and rubbish underneath us.
“Theo, hand him over. I will see to it he stays away from her.” He reaches an arm toward the troublesome boy.
I growl, letting out a hiss of small flame, a warning, and whip my long spiked tail to coil around Corrin, freeing my talons for a fight, if necessary, not at all careful when I slap my tail down, slamming him onto the floor, ignoring his pained moans. He’ll have no pity from me. “He will never learn. I told you, brother.”
Shifting their stances, I know both Liam and Clifford are prepared to attack, but I bide my time, watching Cait’s movements out of the corner of my eye. She’s injured, seemingly disoriented, but should be alright. I’m sure of it when I see her touch the ring she wears.
“Corrin is not your ward. Allow me to judge his soul.” Oliver steps toward me, horned head scraping against the ceiling in the crowded space, wings held close to his body.
There’s a crackle and the flash of lightning I waited for, and Dante appears beside the booth where Cait is. He wastes no time taking her into his arms, looking to me, eyes blazing, every light in the room glowing brilliantly before exploding, and in another flash, they’re both gone.
“Catch him if you can, brother.” With a deep roar I spread my wings and twist, using my hind legs to smash through the front wall of the building before careening out, dragging a rather angry vampire along by my tail, then take to the darkening sky.
Arcing away from the harbor, back toward the center of the city, I swoop through the air effortlessly, hearing my brothers behind me, but I’ve always been faster, more elegant in the sky than any other dragon in my house. In seconds, I reach The Aire, and skim along the top of the capitol building, teasing the king with the idea I might knock him on it.
“Theo, this is not amusing. Leave him to me,” Oliver insists, roaring behind me, even spewing a bit of fire to punctuate his statement.
I let out a deafening roar, sending a fireball into the air as I veer around a high-rise, working the muscles to move my wings harder, faster, and to boost my speed, and then I rocket through the cloudless twilight toward the expanse of the Atlantic. “You want him, Oliver?” Out over the water, I swerve, flinging my tail behind me, releasing the vampire as I make a sharp turn back toward the Boston skyline. “Go fetch.”
I do hope the little twit can swim, or my dear brother will be quite unhappy with me. I’m rather sure vampires don’t float.
*Cait*
“Caitriona, love, I daresay Theo would quite prefer you stay inside until he returns.” Dante repeats, insisting yet again.
I hold my finger to my lips, shushing him, keeping the icepack on the back of my head as I look up to the sky, watching for my dragon, scared that no matter how long I sit watching, he won’t be there.
“Do you think he’s okay?” I ask in a whisper, my po
or head still pounding thanks to that pompous bastard Corrin. He’ll meet his end if anything happens to Theo. Closing my eyes, I hold back the tears, taking a deep breath and blinking away the need to cry before watching the sky again.
“Theo is more than capable of defending himself. Do not worry.” Dante stops pacing around the rooftop garden, coming over to me again on the small bench. “Here, let me have a look.” Unhappy with playing the part of injured patient, I drop the icepack with a huff and lean forward, feeling his fingers part my hair to see. “I’m afraid this may need medical attention. If you insist, we will wait for him, but I would prefer to call someone right away.”
“I’ll wait.” He nods, probably already knowing my answer. It’s the same answer I’ve given him the last four times he’s wanted to call someone.
There is no one he can call to fix what’s broken if Theo doesn’t return, if I can’t say all the words I’ve left unsaid, all the ones he may not want to hear. But my heart can’t keep going until I do, until I know.
Finally, I see him. He’s massive and majestic, sailing through the sky’s soft moon glow, the light of the stars and the city dancing off the deep shades of green, the black horns and spikes along his body and tail disappearing into the night. “Look at him. Have you ever seen a more beautiful dragon than Theo?”
“How do you recognize him?” I shrug, not having an answer. “Caitriona, only the Dracopraesi and deities can distinguish individual dragons in their natural state with such ease. Although wards may become familiar with their own dragon over time, humans do not have the innate capacity to differentiate the subtleties among each House’s brotherhood.”
I stand, just a bit unsteady on my feet, refusing Dante’s offer of assistance. “I don’t know how, but I can feel it. I would know Theo anywhere, no matter what he looked like.” Watching Theo swoop down to the roof, shimmering and shifting as he comes in to land, touching down in his favored black boots, jeans, and a Rolling Stones t-shirt, I drop the icepack and break out into a run toward him, pushing Dante away when he tries to stop me.
The dizziness causes me to sway, but Theo meets me more than halfway, and his arms are around me, my feet off the ground, my face buried in his neck as I hold onto him, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Cait, are you alright?” His voice is gentle and full of concern.
“Me?” I ask, trying to sound sarcastic and failing. All I want is to know he’s here. That he’s safe. “I wasn’t in a three against one fight. I’m fine. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“I am free of injuries, though I will be far better when you no longer smell of blood and are attended to properly, Cait,” he answers, gingerly stroking my hair, avoiding the site of the damn split in my head.
My dragon tries to put me down, but I won’t let go. “Just give me a minute,” I mumble against his neck, breathing in the smoky scent of his skin.
The flash of light behind me barely registers. “Dante left. I believe you may be giving him the wrong impression of our relationship.” He says it in an unreadable tone, and I can’t bring myself to care.
“I thought I’d lost you.” I tighten my hold on him. He does the same.
“Never.” The word is a low, breathy whispered promise. “I am eternal, Cait. Even from death, I return anew. Dante would watch over you until I was with you again.”
Shaking my head, his soft black hair falls on my face. “Theo…” I take a deep breath. “I don’t think I can marry him.” My voice trembles, but I can’t stop there. “I love you.”
He wraps me up in his arms so tight I can’t take a breath, but the fear of letting him go, of losing him, holds onto me stronger than the need to breathe. When he releases me, I let him put me on my feet again, seeing tears in his eyes that match mine. “I didn’t know dragons cried.”
“We don’t, or at least it is quite rare. I never have, but I have also never had anyone love me, Cait.” He breathes heavily then looks at me, tears still in his eyes. “Do you trust me, Cait?” I stare at him for a moment, then nod. “I am going to do something. Heal you. You must not ask questions nor speak of this. Do you understand?”
I’m inclined to ask a lot of questions just because he told me not to. “Yes.”
“Lean forward. Let me see.” He gestures to my head, the injury, and I do, feeling his hands in my hair, gently moving it out of his way; then there’s something warm and wet but different from my blood. In a few moments, all the pain and dizziness is gone, as if nothing happened.
“What…”
“Remember, no questions, Cait. You must trust me in this,” Theo reminds me. “Those of any importance will know, will recognize the scent of dragon tears in your blood. They know what it means and will protect you.” I glare at him, expecting a better explanation. “To the lesser supernatural population, it acts as an added deterrent, and informs of your status as a dragon’s ward—an explicit marker of the danger they would encounter should they dare harm you.”
“Oh, great, so now I’m walking around with some supernatural warning beacon? A red flag, a neon ‘Beware of Dragon’ sign written on my forehead?” I snark at him, scowling that he’s ignoring my rant, smoothing my hair back in place instead. “You really are a pain in the ass. Keep this up and I might question just why it is I want you around.”
“Because you love me,” he says gleefully, and I fail to shove him off balance, but he captures me in his arms. His expression turns serious. “You know I love you, Cait.” The low lighting of the garden makes his eyes shine with the dampness of his tears, glittering from their unique Pendragon-green coloration. “But is it right of me to keep you, to be so selfish, knowing Dante is in love with you? Is that not what you deserve?”
“Can’t I just be in love with you enough to cover for us both?” I ask, not wanting him to have a way out anymore, fisting his hair in my hands, trying to force him closer, not so surprised when he gives in.
“Can you?” His lips ghost over mine. “Is it fair to ask it of you?”
“You didn’t ask.” Playfully, I lick the stubble on his chin until I’m teasing at his lips. He devours me in a kiss, hard, passionate, powerful. It’s the kiss of a dragon, leaving me breathless and exhilarated when he releases my lips, staring into my eyes, a wicked smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. I love it. “I offered.”
“You did.” Something in his eyes tells me this conversation isn’t over, I haven’t quite won yet, but I can’t argue anymore before he turns his attention to the sky. “He’s here.”
And with no more warning than the sight of him shimmering, my dragon is once again an actual dragon, roaring at the stars, sending up three huge fireballs and a steady stream of flames for several seconds before seeming satisfied. I see nothing to have brought on any of this as I search the sky, but just as I’m about to harass Theo about something being wrong with his dragon senses, there it is, or rather, he is.
If moonlight were a dragon, it would be the dragon gliding through the air toward us. He haunts the sky, ethereal and threatening, a silvery angel of death with pale gray horns, spikes, and talons prepared to destroy the darkest of souls, to save the world—he’s one of the most beautiful and terrifying creatures I’ve ever seen.
Swooping in nearer to the building, he lets out an earsplitting roar and a burst of flame into the air, dropping in closer, shimmering at least twenty feet off the ground, long gray tweed coat fluttering out behind him as he drops, landing solidly on his feet in shiny black Oxfords. His appearance takes me by surprise, charcoal slacks and crisp white shirt, sleek silver tie at odds with the dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. There’s a ghostly, unnatural sheen to his complexion, but it somehow suits the strange not-quite-dark-blond color of his hair and goatee, each strand looking as though a winter frost has settled on it, growing more noticeable as he comes nearer.
“Chill out, Theo.” His voice is gravelly, accented by an unusual mix of the southern provincial Sovereign American region and a hint of Eastern Europe. “You c
alled me here.”
“Oh, he did?” I remark. “I’m thinking I should revoke his phone privileges. He seems to abuse them.” Damn dragon, just calling in anyone he pleases.
The newly arrived dragon removes his sunglasses, slipping them into his coat pocket, and gives me a crooked smile, right brow arched, accentuating the jagged bone-white scar beneath his eye. For all his refined dress, the expression speaks volumes of how much I would never want to meet him in a dark alley alone.
“Hm. You bite. I like that in a woman.” A dark laugh and a smirk accompany his comment.
He steps closer, reaching his hand out, seeming friendly enough, maybe, and I hold my ground, sensing Theo shifting again at my side in human form, his hand on my back. “Claaron Graywyne.” He introduces himself in a tone far softer than the steely diamond eyes piercing me as he speaks. “It is quite lovely to finally meet you, Miss Hayden.”
“I would say ‘likewise,’ but I have no idea who the hell you are.” Determined to be fearless, I shake his hand, and his lips curl back into a smile like a heavenly devil.
Chapter 9
*Theo*
“She distracts you.”
I pull my attention from the hall, watching for Cait to reappear after her shower, and look across at Claaron, already quite at home on the sofa. “Did Rainelm not do the same to you? Tell me, brother, how did you not go mad loving a ward in such a way?”
He glances over his shoulder toward the hall. “My dearest brother, you are terribly ignorant of your situation, aren’t you?” Reaching for the water bottle on the coffee table, he drinks it all, making me wait too long for his explanation. I growl in warning, and he laughs. “She makes you irritable, and more obnoxious than you already were. It must be miserable to be so blind, to see so much of the future, the great destinies of others, and yet be unaware of your own feelings.”
Fire of Stars and Dragons Page 9
