by Starla Night
“What’s going on here?” She crossed her arms. His attitude and his reluctance to meet her made the hairs on her body stand up. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“We were never together.”
So that was it. The gauntlet was thrown.
Her heart panged. She sucked in a breath. “We’re mates.”
He shook his head shortly.
“We had the naked sex!”
“In a dimly lit office.”
“What do you need? Stadium lighting?!” She tried to lower her voice. No need to broadcast to the neighbors. “Why didn’t you say something? Or turn on more lights?”
His expression turned accusatory. “You put on clothes.”
“I did not.”
“The barrier.”
Her whole world crashed around her ears. “The condom? You count a see-through plastic birth control device designed to fit on your cock — inside my vagina — as ‘clothes’?”
His jaw flexed. But his bitterness was unmistakable. “You do not wish me to father your dragonlets.”
Oh.
Okay.
Amber said the whole purpose of dragon marriage was to produce offspring. But humans were a little more complicated.
“Well…”
His face closed.
“It’s not that I … it was sort of, I mean — You still haven’t proposed.” She gesticulated. “I fully intend to have kids. I just thought — You’re going against the natural order.”
“Natural order?”
“We’re supposed to date. Spend every Friday arguing whether to go to our favorite restaurant or the one down the street, and whether we watch one of my sappy chick flicks or one of your testosterone-fueled action shows.”
“Dragons do not use testosterone as fuel.”
“I know. Or, actually, I didn’t. Huh.”
He stared at her.
“No, look.” She tapped her index finger into her empty palm for emphasis. “The point is, we’re supposed to date and then we buy a house and then we get married and then we have kids. But you’re too busy with your investigations or hitting on other women or whatever is stopping you from coming to see me. And how can we bring in a kid if we don’t know what our relationship is right now?”
“I do not hit women.” He frowned as though listening to a correction in his translator. “Or entice them.”
She crossed her arms again. “Well, you enticed me.”
“You are odd.”
“Not that odd. You’re so busy putting up a cold front that no one else has braved your arctic manners to reach your heart. You could entice a lot of women if you tried.”
He rejected her violently.
“You’re sexy as sin. Let up a little and women will flock to you.”
He snarled. “How could anyone accept this face?”
“How could they not?” She grabbed him.
He drew back in surprise, clearly not having intended to get within her reach, and she was dragged out the window. Clawing on, she wrapped her legs around his waist and started to slide.
His protective arms closed around her. They dropped like a stone and hit the ground roughly. He absorbed the impact. She felt a mild bump cradled in his arms.
His fury wiped away to worry. He stroked her head.
“How could they not?” she repeated, in a whisper, and covered his parted lips with hers.
He exploded under her kiss. Passion heated as if their office sex had been moments instead of days earlier. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tangled with hers, and drew her out. Weaving, tempting, tasting. Heat flared to her center. His cock hardened against her waist.
She would reach him. He would understand. She would never give up.
He jerked back and dropped her.
Her socked feet thumped the cold, nasty concrete.
He stumbled away, one hand clapped over his mouth. “With me, you are not safe.”
“I’m perfectly safe so long as I’m right next to you.” She stepped toward him.
He flew out of reach.
She stopped. “We’re mates, Kyan.”
“You do not wish to be. Not seriously.”
“I’ve already tried twice to be very serious about it. The first time, I didn’t know, but the second time, I gave it my best.”
His jaw flexed.
“Be honest. Is the condom holding you back? I’ll take a pill. Or, let’s get on with the house-buying and marriage-proposing and we’ll just have a baby. Okay?”
He shook his head. Again.
Well, there you go. “If you keep denying we’ll ever be mates, you must be the one who doesn’t want to be.”
He froze.
The truth broke over her like a migraine. She sucked in a harsh breath. Her heart squeezed with excruciating pain.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You deny I’m serious because you don’t want me to be serious.”
He didn’t answer.
She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry.
He hovered like an ice statue.
“I accepted you a long time ago, you know. Not just your face.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, trying all her tricks to stave off the burning tears. “You’re the one who won’t accept me.”
“I accept you.”
She dropped her hand. Anger was much better than sorrow. “Then why are we still doing this dance?”
He looked away.
“You want your empress.”
He fixed a cold gaze on her. “I will never marry the Empress.”
If they weren’t mates, then what was his plan? Wait, she knew it. “You’re going to pretend to go along with it, then fake your own death and hide out all alone for the rest of your days?”
His eyes widened.
She’d guessed it. “It’s a stupid plan.”
He looked shocked and deeply disturbed. “Is it that predictable?”
“No, I know you. Nobody else would be so eager to give up their home, their friends, and their family.”
“I don’t want to give them up,” he muttered. “There is no other choice.”
“There is another choice.” She thumped her palm on her chest. “Me.”
Concern melted to sorrow.
She gritted her teeth. Speaking clearly, honestly, so there would be no mistake, she declared her truth. “I want you.”
His face clenched with soul-deep pain. His voice roughened to a whisper. “I do not.”
Her heart clenched as hard as his expression. She’d thought, more than once, that they were connected. Soul mates. But when she reached out and opened her heart, he shut up in his soul’s arctic fortress and shot down anyone who got too close.
And she had to accept that.
She turned and picked her way to the sidewalk, then up the stairs to her apartment. He watched her. Seeing her safely inside.
How noble. How protective.
How infuriating.
At the doorstep, she looked down on him. “You can’t be a team of one forever. You need other people. One of these days, you’re going to realize it.”
Chapter Eighteen
I want you.
The vow echoed in Kyan’s mind like a mantra. A chant.
A threat.
He fought it while he attended business meetings, stalked Syenite, and finalized plans to escape the Empress. It wriggled under his skin, tightening around his heart when he least expected it, waking him from a troubled doze. He had no time for sleep.
I want you.
He had lied.
He didn’t want her? No. He wanted her with his whole bitter-black soul.
She was something he could not have.
Being with him would only bring her pain. The terror in her eyes when they made love in his office? As long as she was with him, it would only grow. And someday, her soft, sweet tenderness would be erased. She would only gaze at him with fear.
The meeting, whose contents he co
uldn’t have repeated even at gunpoint, ended. His siblings filed out of the conference room.
Chrysoberyl rose from the table.
Syenite’s black shades seared Kyan as he passed, following Chrysoberyl. They left together as usual.
How to separate them?
Syenite was hiding more than eyes behind those black shades. Kyan followed, shadowing them down the hallway.
Amber stepped in front of him. “How is Laura?”
A sharp stab stole his breath.
He stopped short and tightened his control. “Fine.”
“Does she require the human wedding ceremony like Cheryl and Amy did?”
I accepted you a long time ago, you know.
He shook himself. “We are not mates.”
Amber frowned. “Go apologize.”
She assumed Laura had rejected Kyan.
He pushed past Amber. “She is safer this way.”
“What about you?”
“I do not matter.”
“Kyan.” Amber’s rising voice arrested him. “I will collect her for you.”
He spun to face her. “I do not ask for your assistance.”
“And I do not ask to lose my brother.” Smoke curled from her nostrils and her dark red hair crackled. “Act. Now. Or I will act for you.”
His hands flexed into clawed fists.
The other dragons gave them a wide circle. Managers and employees in the cubicles stood to look over their walls at the brewing fight.
It was not unusual. Siblings disagreed. But Kyan was rarely the center of the argument.
He did not want to fight his sister.
But he also would not bend. “Do not force my obedience.”
“To save your life, I will.”
His elongating incisors stabbed his lips.
“Ah, Kyan.” Alex stepped between them. “Excuse me. Do you have time?”
Amber’s inhuman gaze snapped to Alex. Her eyes narrowed to dragon slits.
Alex cleared his throat. His voice pitched too high as he fought his natural urge to run. “If you have a moment, I would like to discuss the security footage of the attack here.”
Kyan did not take his eyes off Amber. “I have time.”
She growled low.
“I’ll be waiting in your ops center.” He backed away swiftly. “Syenite, please come also.”
The security head for Carnelian Clothiers flinched. He glanced at Chrysoberyl and excused himself, striding after Alex.
Kyan turned his back on Amber and followed the other dragons. Danger prickled his back with deadly risk.
“We are not done,” Amber hissed to Kyan.
He spun once more to face her. “Laura’s shift begins in one hour. I will speak with her tomorrow.”
The smoke increased. “The final day?”
“It is how I desire to resolve this.”
Her dragon teeth pulled in and her eye slits dilated to round human pupils. “You have until tomorrow.”
“Understood.”
By this time tomorrow, he would have escaped to the icy reaches of space.
Kyan strode to the ops center, assigned two employees to secure Chrysoberyl, and joined Alex and Syenite in the inner conference room. It was the most private room in the building. Actually, now his fortress was gone, it was the most secure room on the planet.
Kyan queued the footage. Syenite sat stiffly.
“Just a moment.” Alex rested an ankle on his knee, more relaxed without a female dragon threatening his immolation. “We should drink coffee and make small talk.”
Kyan operated the espresso machine in the corner. “Small talk?”
“I believe neither of you were listening in today’s meeting. Ask me how my expedition to the silk art studio went.”
Kyan looked at Syenite.
The male turned to Alex. “How did your expedition to the silk art studio go?”
“So literal.” Alex smiled. The sharpness did not leave his two-tone eyes. “It went well. I learned to produce beautiful dyes. It is especially good timing for our launch of silk scarves.”
Kyan set a black espresso in front of Alex, a chai latte in front of Syenite, and settled into his own seat with a vanilla-flavored espresso.
Alex regarded Syenite’s drink with interest. “Do you enjoy that?”
Syenite looked down at the chai latte. “Yes.”
“I don’t suppose he has ever made it for you before?”
“No.”
“Good observation, Kyan.”
Irritation needled his skin. He did not have time for Alex’s game. He still had to arrange the final events to ensure his seamless escape. “The footage is queued.”
“Of course.” Alex leaned forward. “Go ahead.”
They watched Chrysoberyl lounge in his suite, Syenite hand him coffee, and Kyan walk to the luggage. The bomb rose above the luggage. Syenite shot and detonated it.
“Stop there.” Alex leaned forward, addressing Syenite. “Will you remove your tactical shades?”
Syenite stilled.
Kyan tensed. Had Alex discovered how to trap Syenite? He should have given Kyan warning. A male this unpredictable could only be taken down with caution. Not by backing him into a private conference room where no noise could emerge.
“Please,” Alex said, unbothered by the delay.
Syenite’s hand paused over his shades. “You are not my superior.”
“I can contact Pyro.”
The male’s nostrils flared. Anger. And then another emotion. One both familiar and jarring.
Self-loathing.
“Please,” Alex repeated. “Your dark shades make it difficult for even our most talented to understand you.”
Syenite removed his shades, folded them, and set them on the table in front of him with a click.
Then he looked up.
Muddy, distractingly ugly irises made Kyan’s stomach flip. No wonder he wore shades so black they disguised all color.
And how ironic that a male as disgustingly ugly as Kyan could feel the same disgust at another similarly cursed.
Perhaps Syenite was unluckier. He had been a pure blooded aristocrat once. And his ugliness was natural.
His nostrils flared and every muscle in his body tensed. He hovered a hand over his folded shades. “I will put them back on.”
“Do not.”
His palm flexed into a fist. “It is … distracting.”
“From now on, please remove your shades when you enter the Onyx Corporation.”
His head jerked up. “But I will disgust you!”
Alex raised one brow. “Have you not heard? We are low caste bastards who reject the Empress and surround ourselves with human trash. We will soon become accustomed to your imperfections, too.”
Syenite grimaced at the table. His claws emerged and disappeared but he did not otherwise protest.
Kyan struggled to piece together this new revelation.
Could this male’s cursed eyes have caused him to hate and destroy the more attractively colored Chrysoberyl? Or did he wish humans to fall under Draconis military rule because he had been treated badly on Earth?
“Now, to business.” Alex straightened and pointed at the frozen screen. “You shot the bomb. Why?”
Syenite grimaced again. Without the mask of his shades, his emotions spilled out. Shame, guilt, anger. And again, self-loathing. “I was stupid.”
“No, I don’t think you were.”
“I made a mistake.”
“What was your mistake?”
He gritted his teeth. “I shot before I identified my target.”
“Are you sure?”
Long seconds ticked by.
“Are you familiar with this?” Alex set a small ball on the table. It was slightly larger than the bomb and decorated with iridescent scales.
Syenite nodded.
“I am not,” Kyan said.
“Of course you wouldn’t be. Syenite, will you operate it?”
He press
ed the scale on the top.
The ball rose in the air and exploded.
Kyan flinched for a weapon. But the others watched calmly and so he remained still.
Shiny powder poofed in an iridescent cloud and brimstone candy clattered on the table.
“It is a celebration popper.” Alex rubbed his ears. “Common in aristocratic households for birthdays and graduations.”
He scooped up the ball and rested it on the table. The scales had fallen off. Yellow lights gleamed around the outside exactly like a wrongly colored shrapnel bomb.
The bag Kyan had pulled the bomb from had been filled with iridescent powder and brimstone candy.
“I reacted to a celebration popper?” Kyan struggled to control his voice. Why had no one explained? How foolish. “Filled with brimstone candy?”
“It could be filled with anything. Actual shrapnel is a common prank. It is significantly weaker than a real bomb but can still cause injury. Detonating one in the air is not a bad method of defusing it.” Alex turned on Syenite. “I ask you again. Why did you shoot it?”
Syenite grimaced. “I did not see the device. I reacted.”
And if it had been a different type of bomb, no one would be having this conversation now.
“You saw it,” Alex insisted. “Perhaps not consciously, but you correctly defused a ‘prank’ shrapnel-filled popper.”
“What about the flechette grenade in the hospital?” Kyan pointed out. “You defused it with a demagnetizing wand.”
Syenite regarded Kyan blankly. “And?”
“That is not an ordinary object to carry.”
“Not for a head of security?”
“Not for anyone.”
Syenite frowned. “That’s why you’ve been following me?”
Alex interrupted. “Syenite. Go get your coat.”
He exited the room and returned a moment later wearing the bulky jacket. Alex made him spread it across the table. The demagnetizing wand, along with a hundred other security devices, was hooked or sewn to the interior.
“Pyro told me you had been wearing a customized jacket.” Alex flipped up the collar. Needles filled with counter-poisons and salves hid inside. Alex flipped it back down. “You have only started wearing it since the Onyx Corporation merger.”
“That is not true.” Syenite grimaced again. “I am not an experienced security officer. When Sard Carnelian took pity on my … situation … and invited me to Earth, I researched what threats I might encounter.”
