Windy City Dragon

by Genevieve Jack

  “You can’t go home?”

  “No.”

  Awkward silence stretched between them.

  “What about you? You said you’re the only half vampire. Does that mean the only one in your coven?”

  “I’m the only half vampire in the world.”

  “The only one… anywhere?” Totally unique. Dragon catnip. He inhaled her moonlight-and-honey scent and quelled a rush of desire.

  “As far as I know. My mother was a human who practiced necromancy. After my parents met and were mated in the 1940s, she cast a spell to temporarily reverse my father’s vampire nature… um, raise him from the dead. Basically she made him human for a short time, and he fathered me.” She paused. “I was five when she was murdered by a werewolf while my father was sleeping.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tobias watched her over his shoulder. There was so much pain in her expression. All those years working with her, and he’d never known.

  Sabrina sighed. “It was a long time ago.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “As someone who lost their mother over three hundred years ago, I can say unequivocally that the pain never goes away no matter how much time has passed.”

  “Three hundred years?”

  “That’s when we came here, to this realm. Unfortunately, my mother didn’t make it.” Only half of Sabrina’s face was visible behind him, but her wince was unmistakable.

  “You don’t look a day over two hundred and ninety.”

  “I was an adult when we lost her. I can’t imagine what you must have been through as a child.”

  Sabrina paused what she was doing. “My father became both parents to me, and he’s never failed me. Not once. But I remember her sometimes. Her face comes back to me at the strangest of times, and I feel the hole. Do you know the hole? That mother-shaped wound that never quite heals. Something is missing inside, and you just hope it doesn’t make you defective.”

  He nodded. “I can relate.”

  “It’s a sad thing to have in common.”

  “You’re not defective, Sabrina.”

  She grinned. “You haven’t tried my cooking.”

  Another slice of pain traveled through his shoulder and he winced. “How many vampires live in Chicago?”

  “Thousands,” she said softly. “My coven runs the city. Nothing happens here that we don’t have a hand in.”

  “What, like the mob?” He laughed lightly as he said it, but when she looked at him, her expression was serious. “How have I lived here for so long without knowing this?”

  “We operate under the surface. Other vampires sleep during the day, but there are a few humans that work for us. We can accomplish everything we need to through a few strategic relationships. We try not to disrupt the lives of workaday humans.”

  Tobias turned that bit over in his head. It almost sounded like her coven was influencing the humans in power to do their will. Chicago was no stranger to mob activity, and it really wasn’t a surprise that vampires were part of that. But he was thankful she was different. She was a nurse. Her coven’s activities didn’t reflect on her personally.

  “Got it!” Pressure and a tug precipitated a gush of blood that splattered grotesquely on the floor. She dropped the forceps—still locked around the bullet—on the table and pressed a towel to the geyser sputtering from the back of his shoulder.

  “I heal faster than a human, but it will take some time in this form. I apologize for the mess.”

  “You definitely don’t heal as fast as a vampire.” She pressed harder. “I know this sounds strange, but vampire saliva has healing properties. It’s how we close up the wounds we make when we feed on human hosts. Would you mind if I…?”

  “Lick the wound?”

  “It’s gross to you, isn’t it? Ugh, this is awkward. Never mind.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder, her red hair falling in a wave across her right eye. By the Mountain, she was beautiful. She could lick any part of him she pleased.

  “If you’re willing, I would be grateful for your help.”

  Her green eyes widened and silver flashed along the edge of her irises. “Okay.” Long, cool fingers traveled up his back and hooked over his shoulder, kneading the base of his neck. He felt the pressure on his wound ease. The bloody towel landed on the table. He swallowed, a tingle rising in his torso at the thought of her bubblegum-pink tongue touching his skin. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her lower her head.

  His imagination hadn’t done the deed justice. Warm, wet heat lapped over the back of his shoulder. If she caused him any pain, he didn’t notice. He was too distracted by the way his body reacted to the feeling, an instant erection punching into his fly. She licked again, the feeling like hot honey oozing over his flesh. Her lips grazed his skin. Her breath came cool and soft against the wet path she left behind. He reached between his legs and adjusted himself.

  She moved lower on his arm, stroking a long trail from his elbow to his shoulder, then another along his ribs. Her nails scraped up the back of his neck and into his hair. She moaned, and didn’t that just light his inner fire?

  Tobias had an inkling that his wound was healed; there was no more blood dripping to the floor. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. All his awareness narrowed on the feel of her warm mouth on the back of his arm and the resulting tingle in the head of his cock. In his quiet ecstasy, he didn’t notice the rise of his inner dragon until it was too late. The rumble of his mating trill rose in his chest, a deep vibration that seemed to rattle the walls.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “What was what?” He knew exactly what it was. It was his inner dragon’s way of calling mine, possessive and feral. Something he could not explain to her and was wholly inappropriate in the age of the #MeToo movement. He might as well tell her he wanted to club her over the head and drag her back to his cave by the hair.

  Instead, he turned to her, rising from the chair. “Thank you.” He placed his hands on the outside of her shoulders, met her gaze, and moved in closer.

  She didn’t pull away. In fact, her expression was hungry, her gaze lingering on his mouth. Damn, her lips were close, flushed with blood, parted for him. What he’d like to do to that mouth. He stroked up her arms to cradle her face. He was going to show her exactly how she’d made him feel.

  “I’m going to kiss you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, rising up on her toes and brushing her lips softly against his. He teased her lower lip, then repositioned to take the kiss deeper. Her head rolled and she leaned into him.

  “Sabrina?” Her weight sagged in his arms.

  “Your blood is good,” she slurred. “Really good.”

  “Are you okay?”

  In answer, Sabrina swayed violently on her feet. He caught her before she hit the floor.

  Sabrina woke on her couch, wrapped in an afghan she’d bought from Pottery Barn. Tobias was gone. As she sat up, a headache jackhammered in her skull and she cursed. If she’d thought his energy was intoxicating, his blood made it look like a virgin cocktail. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember anything as erotic as the taste of Tobias’s blood, except maybe the act of licking it from his tightly corded shoulder.

  Dammit, she had the hots for the doctor. Pressing a fist into her forehead, she chided herself. One come-hither look and she’d spilled secrets like a busted piñata. She didn’t even know this guy. Well, she’d known him for years, but not the real him. She’d known a human version of him. Worse, she had no idea what her coven’s rules about dragons actually were. Before today she would have questioned their existence. At least he’d said he was alone here. That increased the chances he wouldn’t be viewed as a threat.

  Stretching her arms over her head, she stared out her floor-to-ceiling windows. Almost sunset. She’d slept all day. Time to get cleaned up and join her father for the monthly coven assembly. Heading for the bathroom, she stopped short when she noticed a note on the sparkling-clean tabl
e. In fact, the entire dining area, floor included, had been scrubbed to a shine. It looked like Tobias had even washed out the towels she’d used on his shoulder and hung them on the rack to dry. No trace of blood anywhere. And the coat she’d left in the coffee shop was hanging off one of her chairs. He’d retrieved it for her.

  She lifted the paper from the table. It was from the pad she kept on her fridge: purple-lined and trimmed with a picture of a cat with its claws out. The caption read Reasons I shouldn’t kill you in your sleep. Cheeks warming, she squeezed her eyes closed. Great, if he hadn’t thought she was a psycho before, he did now. She opened her lids again and read what he’d written.

  Had to go. Dinner tomorrow?

  —Tobias.

  She smiled and picked up her phone to text his number.

  Have to work tomorrow night. Lunch date?

  Saturday? There’s something I’d like to show you.

  She grinned. I can’t wait.

  She returned the phone to her pocket and hurried into the bathroom. If she didn’t get to the tunnels quickly, her father would be angry, and if there was one thing Sabrina didn’t want to do, it was make Calvin Bishop angry. When Calvin got angry, people died… or worse. She showered and donned the ruby-red Armani gown she’d purchased for the event. Once her hair was curled, her makeup applied, and her ruby and diamond jewelry in place, she dematerialized to her father’s luxurious living quarters in the tunnels.

  Few humans were aware of the network of freight tunnels forty feet under the city of Chicago that had become the home to the Lamia Coven. In the early 1900s, they were constructed to be utility tunnels, used to run telephone and cable wires to the city’s inhabitants, but soon they were expanded to haul freight and mail. The network was hijacked in the 1920s by the mob, who smuggled alcohol for their speakeasies in through the narrow passageways. That’s when vampires got involved. The vampires of Chicago had a long history of working with organized crime. Vampires provided Capone with muscle and manpower; he provided them with blood—lots of it. There seemed to be no limit to the number of bodies the man wanted to disappear, and her kind was more than willing to do the honors.

  Once the twenty-first amendment ended Prohibition, the mob forgot about the tunnels and the Lamia Coven took over for Capone. Aside from those who were on the payroll or who were dinner, no human had come down there since 1959.

  “Good evening, Ms. Bishop. You look beautiful tonight.” Paul, a member of her father’s human security detail and one of Chicago’s finest, smiled up at her from his seat outside her father’s chambers. He was in full dress today, his badge shining from the chest of his blue uniform. Two conspicuous puncture wounds shone from his left carotid artery. Good to know her father was eating.

  “Hello, Paul. I take it he’s up?”

  “Yes. He’s expecting you. Go right in.” He stood and pulled the vault door that served as the entrance to her father’s apartment open. Sabrina hurried inside.

  “Sabrina! Right on time.” Her father spread his arms wide and she embraced him, giving him a peck on the cheek. He looked dashing tonight with his sleek dark hair and oversized gray eyes. His skin might have never seen the sun, but it glowed with the kind of vitality that only came from recently taking a vein.

  “Good to see you, Father.”

  “You smell absolutely delicious. Is that a new perfume?”

  Sabrina realized what he was smelling. Although she’d brushed her teeth and washed her face, the scent of Tobias’s blood leached through her pores, and it was absolutely captivating. It made her mouth water for him. But she couldn’t tell her father that. This was not the time or the place to bring up dragon blood.

  “Perfume. I don’t know what it’s called. Some girl spritzed me at Macy’s.”

  He grinned. “I hope you bought a bottle. If not, you should go back. That’s worth whatever they’re charging.”

  Although her father’s home was underground, it was far bigger than her own and as posh as any penthouse. It was also a study in the passage of time, an eclectic mix of the finest in decor from the past five hundred years. The art on his walls included an original van Gogh. He’d been friends with the artist and even supported him occasionally in exchange for his work. This one was called The Beauty of Blood, and no human had ever seen it except Paul and the few others who’d entered his chamber. It resembled The Starry Night, only there was an embracing couple at its center, surrounded by swirling shades of red instead of blue. Sabrina found it both haunting and romantic, a representation of loving someone so much you’d give the life force from your veins for them. Her father had loved her mother like that once.

  “The main hall is already full. We have record participation tonight.” He straightened his bow tie.

  Sabrina brushed her hand across the back of his tux, removing a bit of cave dust. “Of course they came. They want to hear what’s going on with the werewolves.”

  His expression became somber as he looked at her in the mirror. What a funny thing it was that humans believed vampires didn’t have a reflection, as if a stretch of silver only reflected life and not magic.

  “The day that Frenwald killed your mother while I was sleeping, I swore I’d avenge her. I had his head in my hands before the night was through, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to end the Racine pack and make this city safe for our coven once again.” His fangs extended as he spoke, and Sabrina saw a bead of blood form in the corner of his eye. Vampire tears. “Today I get to announce to the world that we’ve accomplished our goal.”

  Sabrina grinned. “Truly? Racine has fallen?”

  He turned to face her. “Yes.”

  “Wonderful news! The war is finally over.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek. Although he was a vampire and his skin was cold, he had never been anything but warm to Sabrina.

  He embraced her fully. “You remind me of your mother,” he said, pulling away. “She had red hair just like yours and the same fire in her soul. Veronica was a force of nature.”

  “I wish I could have known her.”

  “She would have been proud of you. When you take your place as master of this coven, we can include a tribute to her in your coronation ceremony.”

  Sabrina laughed. “I’d love that, but I think you’re going to be around for a long time.” She’d always known she was in line for his throne. She was his favorite. Calvin had sired other vampires, but she was the only one born the human way, out of love. A love that had driven her father for decades. He was immortal though. He’d be running this place forever unless he was killed by their enemies, and given the crazy amount of security that surrounded him twenty-four seven, she doubted that would be happening anytime soon.

  Thank the goddess. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready to do what he did every day. As much as she loved her father, she recognized he was a different person than she was. Fierce. Strong. Sometimes brutal. The coven needed him.

  He gave her a knowing smile. “It’s time.”

  She allowed him to lead her from his suite, through the tunnels to the great hall where she climbed the short flight of stairs to the dais at the front of the ballroom they called Lamia’s Star. The cavernous hall was the central destination of every tunnel from all over the city. There had to be over a thousand vampires there now, their pale faces staring up at her and her father, standing shoulder to shoulder and overflowing into the tunnels that branched off the sides.

  Sabrina took her usual place in front of the smaller of two blood-red thrones set up at the center of the dais. It wasn’t her father’s way to sit. With as much poise as she could muster, she stood supportively by his side, a smile plastered on her face as she scanned the crowd.

  She pretended not to notice Tristan, who scowled at her from the front row. He whispered something to the vamp beside him whose name she couldn’t remember. What was he up to? The little worm had been gunning for her for years.

  The echoing rumble of conversation went silent
as her father stepped to the microphone. “Welcome, my coven. I thank you all for joining me on this merry occasion.”

  She tried to ignore Tristan’s seething glances as her father spoke about the advances the coven was experiencing. Their numbers were increasing. All of their kind were amply fed and the coven’s reserves were plentiful. Their territory was secure.

  Sabrina had heard all these things before. She was part of making them happen, and she folded her hands in front of her hips, her spine straight, an unfaltering smile showing she supported every word.

  “And now I have a surprise for all of you,” her father said.

  Sabrina smiled wider. The coven would be so happy to hear the war was over.

  “I am pleased to announce that the Racine werewolf pack territory has officially fallen.”

  Cheers rose up from the crowd. Sabrina expected her father to go on, to tell the coven that they didn’t need to fight anymore. The war was won. Instead, he looked directly at Tristan and motioned with two fingers. The slimeball disappeared for a moment. When he returned, the crowd parted to allow him passage. Tristan had two men and a woman in tow. Bound and gagged, the three had fresh red blood and dark purple bruises marring their exposed skin. Sabrina’s eyes flicked down to their bound hands. The ropes were enchanted. They’d be powerless with them on.

  Her father beamed at the crowd of vampires. “I give you the alpha male and female of the Racine pack and their shaman!” Her father made a grand sweep of his hand, and the coven cheered in delight. “I want you to know I was compassionate. I gave them a choice: to surrender or die. They chose death. So here we are.”

  An icy fist formed deep within Sabrina’s chest. She rubbed the base of her neck against the discomfort and locked her smile into place. This was her father’s big moment. Why did she suddenly feel ill? She chided herself for drinking Tobias’s blood. This internal shiver that plagued her must be a side effect.

  But when her eyes met the female werewolf’s in front of her, the truth barreled into her like a cold wind. She was feeling their fear. The human side of her, the side that could absorb energy and sense emotions, was picking up on the sheer terror of the three captives in front of her. She’d never felt this before, not like this. Most vampire emotions were wispy to her, hardly detectable, and human emotions normally caused her barely more than prickle at the back of her neck. What these three shifters were feeling was strong enough to rattle through her as if the emotions were her own.