He shrugged her off and squinted down at her. “What?”
“Do you believe in the curse?”
His lips flattened and he glanced over her shoulder.
“Big boy is in a meeting with the other big boy.”
Hank grabbed her arm and pulled her into a conference room. Male cologne clung to the air though the giant room with its long polished table sat empty. Hank closed the door, turned to her and nodded. “I think, deep down, he does, too. He puts on a brave act, but even he can’t deny every Astarot has died before or on his thirty-fifth birthday.”
“No mates?”
“No true mates.”
“How old is Raf?”
He paused. His indifferent expression softened and his shoulders relaxed. “He’s thirty-five next month.”
Cold shimmered through her body and prickled her skin. “What’s the actual curse?”
“The exact wording is lost, but the gist of it is the Astarot will die by his thirty-fifth birthday unless he finds his true mate.”
Lara stilled.
Great! Her dragon nudged her brain. You go girl.
Shush.
Time for action. Her dragon waggled her brows, somehow, in Lara’s mind. And I mean a.c.t.i.o.n.
Thankfully, Lara never had to explain how her dragon expressed herself in her brain. A doctor would prescribe antipsychotics.
“For as long as the collective dragon memory goes, all the Astarots have perished in suspicious or violent deaths before or on their thirty-fifth birthday. A lot of shifters assume ispolini are behind the attacks, though, and question whether an actual curse exists.”
“So ispolini are either agents of the curse, or acting to perpetuate a myth.”
“Exactly.”
The idea of ispolini sent a shudder through Lara’s body. A real threat, not some wild tale for campfires. The contorting figures of her captors had only been the beginning. When fully shifted, ispolini stood as high as ten feet tall, or so the books said. She’d never seen one. The Bulgarian giants had enlarged heads and supernatural powers. The bulk of their dwindling population formed a covert anti-dragon militant group hell-bent on eradicating dragon shifters. No one knew what started the vicious rift between the two powerful supernatural groups, but after centuries of feuding, both populations had suffered from the war. Ispolini killed her parents, along with many others.
In human form, they were as indistinguishable as dragon shifters. They leaked magic, but as with all other supernatural beings, the flavor of magic didn’t reveal the nature of the wielder.
“Any other questions?” Hank interrupted her thoughts.
Hell, yes. “Uh, no.”
He nodded, spun on his heel and walked out of the conference room.
Lara took a deep breath before leaving the room. Hopefully, Rafael was still in a meeting with Sergei. She needed some fresh air.
That’s not all you need, her dragon grumbled.
Shut up, Clarice.
Her dragon huffed steam across her brain again. Brat.
Her flip-flops slapped against the stone floor and punctuated the rhythm of her beating heart. Well, what other kind of heart could she have? Of course her heart was beating, but as she neared the Astarot, it picked up the pace and beat harder.
The doors to Rafael’s office lay open when she passed them on her way to the elevator.
“Lara,” Rafael called out.
Lara cringed, but dutifully pivoted on her toes and walked back into the dragon’s lair.
Rafael had finished his meeting with Sergei and the other man had already left. Whatever they discussed was brief. His lips twisted into an amused smile, and he rested his chin on his fist.
“What?” she asked.
“Wondering what was more important than doing your job.” Rafael leaned back in his chair. He’d unbuttoned his suit and his jacket fell open to reveal his crisp white shirt stretched over his flat stomach. “You made such a point about your superior professionalism earlier, but then stomped out to have a tantrum.”
All sympathy for Rafael—legend, curse and all—fled from her thoughts, replaced with irritated warmth and the tangible need to punch him in the face.
“And you wonder why I don’t want to sleep with you,” she blurted. Then winced. The words flew out of her mouth before she could bitch-slap her brain. What the hell? Where did that come from?
Rafael’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. “I’m surprised you’re opening that topic back up for discussion.”
“It’s not up for debate. Merely an observation.” She shuffled in her flip-flops.
“Which is?”
“You’re a dick.”
No… her dragon moaned. He has a dick. A large impressive one.
Shush! Clarice. You don’t know that.
Stop calling me that. And his dick was hard to miss when it pressed against us. Get it? Hard to miss because it’s—
That’s enough.
Under the bright sun beaming into the room, Rafael’s expression turned from thoughtful to calculating. He shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, Miss Stone. Hardly a way to speak to your client.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “You’ve actually remembered your place in this arrangement. Maybe you should drop the sexual harassment.”
“You’re the one with sex on the mind, Miss Stone. Not me.”
Rafael pushed away from his desk, stood and walked around it. His movements powerful, yet smooth. Like watching a leopard stalk toward her.
Lara huffed. “No, I’m the disgruntled employee.”
Rafael stopped in front of her and leaned against the edge of his desk. He folded his arms across his considerable chest. His sandalwood scent washed over her. Like a lasso, it looped around and pulled her toward him. “Why? Is the pay not good enough? Bad locale?”
She locked her knees. “Not at all. My client refuses to provide me with vital information that could help me do my job.”
Rafael dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “That curse is—”
“Beside the point. Whether it’s real or fabricated, ispolini have worked hard to perpetuate it. As it applies to protecting you, I should’ve been informed.”
“Ispolini are always a threat.”
“Then how come you never mentioned them when I first worked for you? You know, with the whole…” She waved her hands around. “The whole Hilary debacle.”
Rafael shrugged. “I figured you already knew ispolini were a potential threat. It’s well known they’re our mortal enemies. Even as a mage, I assumed you were aware.”
“You know what they say about making assumptions.”
Rafael remained silent.
“Why not mention the curse for this case? You’re a month shy of the deadline. The attacks are increasing, and with Hilary’s recent escapades and prison break, it appears at least one dragon shifter works with them.”
Rafael’s face grew dark, his eyes hooded.
Lara paused and went through everything she knew about the Astarot, including his body language. So proud. So stubborn. But smart and loyal. An awful, dark thought plagued her mind. She sucked in a breath. “You don’t expect to survive.”
“None of the other Astarots have.”
As if a giant ispolini fist sucker punched her in the gut, her stomach folded in on itself. She breathed out. “Then why bring me in? If you’ve already decided to give up. Why bring me onboard? Another crew member to go down with the ship?”
Rafael’s jaw clenched. His hands curled up as if to form fists, but he relaxed them.
Oh. Struck a chord there.
“I might accept my chances of survival are slim, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to lay down and admit defeat. I haven’t given up. I’m realistic when projecting outcomes. You’re one of my best options for taking out the ispolini, or at least as many as possible. They’re not expecting a female bodyguard. You didn’t require knowledge of the curse. You need to be close when the attacks come.”
>
“Does my life mean that little?” Her skin itched.
Her dragon roared.
He pushed off the desk and closed the distance. His hand reached out and caught a tendril of her hair. “You’re not to be harmed, if it comes to a battle. Hank has his orders as well.”
Too stunned to move, Lara froze like an ice sculpture as he wound the strand of her hair around his finger.
“Besides,” he said, his deep voice vibrating along her skin. “Maybe I wish to spend my remaining days with a beautiful woman.”
The silky red thread of Lara’s hair unwound from Raf’s finger, caressing his skin like a lover’s gentle kiss.
Why had he said that? She’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in a relationship, and realistically, he couldn’t offer her one. When she refused to return his calls, her distance had cut him in a surprising way. He’d accepted her decision, and told himself it was for the best. He hadn’t intended to hire her again.
Then he saw her at the club and his willpower crumbled like a poorly constructed house of cards.
The idea of placing her in danger gnawed at his gut every night, yet the idea of not having her near was worse. Now, with her close, yet not being with her proved the most excruciating torture. He wanted her with every fibre of his being. His blood sang for her, and his dragon…His dragon called for Lara Stone.
He kept flip-flopping his decisions and nothing annoyed Rafael more than indecisiveness. The Astarot and leader of the Obsidian Dragon Clan had never been indecisive a day in his life. Everything was calculated. Every detail deliberate. Decisions made with a logical, concise mindset.
He planned to remain a childless bachelor and take out the ispolini with him.
And then Lara Stone walked into his office with a scowl.
He knew he couldn’t have her…yet she was all he could think about. The memory of her melting in his arms as he kissed her sent fire racing through his veins.
“So, I’m hired arm candy?” Lara’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Lower and raspier than usual, she appeared as affected by their proximity as he was.
Logic said if he cared about her, he’d send her away.
His dragon growled.
Lara straightened.
Had she heard that? Maybe. He didn’t like how easily she read him. And dammit, if she wasn’t right about pushing him through the door. She’d done her job, and well. If those men had been ispolini…
The thought of her coming to harm made the ice from his dragon spread through his limbs.
He should send her away.
His dragon growled again, deeper and fiercer.
What? He snapped at his other half.
They know you care for her now.
She’s a target, Raf concluded.
Sending her away will make her more vulnerable, his dragon hissed, clearly not liking the idea.
Then what should I do?
Take her.
Where? Ispolini have spies everywhere.
No. Take her and claim her. On the bed. On the floor. Anywhere. She’ll be safe with us by her side.
“Rafael?” Lara looked up at him.
Had she asked something? How long had he stood this close to her, breathing in the soft scent of cherries and winding her hair around his finger while talking to his dragon?
“Take the rest of the afternoon off,” he said.
His dragon roared.
Easy, big guy.
“Huh?” Her eyes widened.
“I’m safe in my own building. After hours is when I need you. I’ll meet you for dinner. My place. Six o’clock.” That should give him plenty of time to make a final decision regarding his feisty bodyguard.
His shoulders sank. The right decision might end up being the most painful.
Lara left Rafael’s building more confused than ever. He pulled her in, then pushed her away. He warred with something himself. Like her.
You’re both idiots, her dragon snapped.
No, not idiots, indecisive. Lara shook her head. No. That word didn’t fit Rafael. It felt wrong.
Her flip-flops slapped against the steps of the building as she headed to the parking lot. She almost stumbled when she looked up. Vincent Li, leader of the Sapphire Dragon Clan, made his way toward her. Another meeting with the Astarot perhaps? Had these guys not heard of teleconferences?
She paused.
Rafael would want to look each man in the face to decipher the truth behind his words. She also couldn’t imagine Hank allowing the Astarot to impart important information over the internet or phone lines.
“Hello, Mr. Li.” She smiled politely as he approached.
“Ms. Reynolds.” He pulled up short and scanned her with quick, efficient calculation. The smell of an expensive aftershave wafted from his clean shaven face. “I find it interesting that the attacks on Mr. Dragoi have increased with your presence.”
She rocked back on her heels. She did not expect an accusation from one of the leaders. The recent events flicked through her memory like a movie montage…without the music or perfect lighting.
If she looked at it from Vincent’s vantage point, his suspicion made sense. She was linked to every attack on Rafael so far. Lara groaned inwardly. She didn’t need this. Now, Vincent and the others would see her as a potential threat, enemy, or at least someone requiring further investigation. Her skin prickled. She already had to worry about Rafael and his team digging into her past, now all of the dragon leaders were a concern.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
Did he genuinely suspect her or was he attempting to deflect?
“You’re not going to warn me of the dangers of dating the Astarot or offer me protection?” she asked. If he got to be straightforward, then she did, too.
Vincent flashed his teeth, not quite a smile. “I wouldn’t insult your intelligence. Most women want to date the Astarot for that very reason. The danger and excitement.”
“And you don’t think I need protecting?”
“I’m not sure what to think of you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Except you’re different from the rest. I think you’re hiding something. You’re not what you say you are and not what Rafael says either.”
Her dragon stirred and uncoiled. She zeroed in on the dragon in front of them, alert and ready. Out of all the dragons Lara had met, this one put her own on edge the most.
“I don’t know many women who aren’t hiding something of themselves. We’re all complex human beings, after all.”
Vincent leaned in. “If you’re involved in the attacks against dragons, I don’t care how complex or pretty you are. I will crush you.” Dragon gold flashed in his dark gaze.
Dangerous. Her dragon vibrated at his threat.
Lara shivered.
We’ll crush him, she snarled.
“Good thing I’m not involved then,” she said. At least not in the way Vincent suspected.
The Sapphire Dragon Clan leader grunted and walked past her to the entrance of the building.
She had to admire the older man’s direct nature. He had zero fucks left to give and laid it all out there.
His threat shuddered through her body, sincere and genuine. But did he truly suspect her? Was he motivated for the betterment of the dragon clans? Or was he duplicitous and laying the threats on thick like a cloak to hide behind?
Chapter Fourteen
Lara tugged at her skirt and rang the doorbell. She held her breath as she waited at Rafael’s opulent entrance and faced the large front doors. The afternoon had plagued her with emotions of guilt. Here she stood, the key to breaking Rafael’s curse, and she’d kept her mouth shut.
She should tell him.
Yeah, you should, her dragon snarled.
Yet something prevented the words from tumbling out.
Fear.
If one word of her abilities got out, she was doomed. No hiding from Rafael, or the dragon clans.
But it wasn’t just fear of mating and losing her freedom. Fear of i
spolini.
Cold hollow terror consumed her bones and ate at her flesh. Ispolini killed her birth parents for little more than their species. Her adoptive mage parents adamantly drilled the dangers of ispolini into her thick dragon skull to keep her nature a secret if she wanted to live.
He’ll protect you, her dragon said,
And he would. She knew he would. Because the mate bond demanded it from both of them.
He’d protect her, cherish her, provide for her and claim her. He had to. He’d also most likely resent her.
And that was the kicker.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind the door moments before it swung inward. Hank leaned against the solid frame of the Astarot’s doorframe. He’d removed his suit jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves to his elbow. “Where’s Raf?”
Lara frowned. “He told me to meet him here.”
“You left him?”
“He gave me the afternoon off.” An uneasy feeling sidled up her neck. “Didn’t you escort him home?”
Hank straightened and something flashed across his gaze. Worry. “He said he planned to meet you.”
“Not until six.” Lara shifted her weight. “Can I come in, or do you plan to make me wait on the steps until he arrives?”
Hank sighed and stood back. She hustled past him and entered the Astarot’s mansion. Still lavish. Still vast. No matter how many times she visited, the opulence of this building would suck her breath away.
Empty, her dragon said.
And she was right. Evidently, Rafael didn’t believe in servants. An image of him sweeping dirt into a dustpan in his thousand dollar suit flashed through her mind. She choked on a laugh.
“I don’t find anything funny,” Hank said after closing the door. He pulled out his phone and punched the screen with his finger. It rang. After holding it up for a minute, he grunted and disconnected. “No answer. Something’s off about him.”
“He’s probably getting laid. According to my captors, it’s been awhile.” And she all but encouraged him to go out.
Idiot, her dragon seethed.
Hank paused. “That may be true, but he usually lets me know.”
Dangerous Liaisons (Obsidian Flame Book 2) Page 8
