Bewitching the Dragon: Bad Alpha Dads (Taming the Dragon Book 4)

by Tami Lund

  How did she feel about that? She wasn’t sure, honestly. She was still upset with him for not telling her what she was before they slept together, although there was a small voice in the back of her head whispering questions like, Would you have believed him?

  “Is that how I was able to summon him? Wait,” she said abruptly. “Do you remember when Petra’s baby was kidnapped?”

  Pacey pursed her lips. “Yes.”

  “What were those guys? The ones who knocked me out and took Sadie?”

  And there was another look Pacey and Argyle shared.

  “Dragons,” Pacey finally admitted.

  Rahu had said he was from Petra’s colony.

  “Holy crap, Petra is a dragon? Seriously?”

  She’d had no idea. Well, obviously. But still.

  “And so is Sadie? And Noah?”

  Pacey nodded. “Yes, they are all dragons. Petra actually has no idea that I’m a witch. Or you. No one knew, except Argyle, until now.”

  “Wow. That’s a hell of a secret. You kept it even from me.” Whoops, some sarcasm seeped into her words. She didn’t take it back, though. Because, damn it, if they had hidden this for her entire life, what else were they hiding?

  “I feel like I’m twenty-five years behind the eight ball,” Becca said. “Like I’m never going to catch up.”

  “You will,” Pacey said, patting her hand. “You’re a brilliant person, and, like I said, you have amazing stores of magic. Mostly, it’s just learning how to harness it and make it do what you want.”

  “Like summoning someone to help me.”

  Pacey glanced at Argyle and then asked Becca, “When?”

  “When those warlocks popped out of the bushes, I thought about Rahu, wished he was there, and bam, he was. For a minute I thought maybe I was a genie. Do those exist?”

  “In a sense, yes,” Argyle answered. “They are witches from the Far East. Distant relatives, I suppose you’d say. And, no, they do not live in bottles.” He paused and glanced at the ceiling. “Actually, I know of at least one who does live in a glass bottle. He says it’s quite comfortable and helps to avoid door-to-door salesmen.”

  “Maybe I need to learn how to shrink myself so I can fit into a bottle,” Becca said. “That way I can avoid the warlocks." She shook her head. “This is a lot to take in.”

  “That’s why we didn’t want to tell you,” Pacey said. “We’d hoped you’d be less reckless if you didn’t know.”

  “Or more careful if I did,” Becca snapped.

  Neither of them responded to that.

  “Oh my God, could you two please stop sharing those stupid, secretive looks?”

  Pacey broke eye contact with Argyle and gulped her wine.

  Becca’s hands flared, both of them, and the light bulb in the lamp exploded. “Oh shit!” She jumped out of her seat and bounced around, shaking her hands, like that would somehow calm her magic down.

  With a sweep of her hand, Pacey made the broken bits of glass disappear.

  “I managed to make glass move out of my way earlier,” Becca said. “But I didn’t know I could make it disappear.”

  “I didn’t, I just sent it to the trash,” Pacey explained. “You can displace objects, but you cannot actually make them disappear.”

  Too bad, because for a moment, she’d thought maybe she could make those warlocks disappear. Or maybe, as an alternative, she could secure them in glass bottles in the middle of a desert.

  Hmm. Not a bad idea.

  Except the bad guys always managed to figure out a way to get the genie out of the bottle, so never mind.

  Argyle turned on the floor lamp and said, “Rebecca, you are the only one who can defeat the warlocks.”

  “What? Seriously? What about you? I mean, you’re huge. And you have magic too.”

  “My magic is different from theirs. I can fight them off, therefore protecting you, but I cannot kill them. You are the only one who can do that.”

  “I’m supposed to kill someone?”

  “Not just someone. Warlocks.”

  Plural. Because killing one person—being—wasn’t bad enough. “Uh, how many warlocks are there in the world? Ballpark?”

  “A lot.”

  “Right.” Becca drained the rest of her wine. “So if I die, warlocks have no more natural enemies. And as magical beings with no conscience, they’re basically, for someone like me who’s still trying to understand all this magic stuff, demons. And if they run rampant, unchecked, eventually…”

  “Yes,” Argyle stated firmly.

  “Right.” She looked at her empty wineglass and wished it were full. A moment later, something bumped into her arm. She glanced down to see the wine bottle hovering there, nudging her. She didn’t even hesitate to grab it and fill her glass.

  “Okay. So I can’t die. Got it. Which means the second option is to learn how to kill those bastards.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rahu hadn’t seen or heard from Becca in two and a half days.

  Two and a half excruciatingly long days.

  He knew she was okay because he kept wandering over to her aunt’s house to check on her. And each time, Argyle or one of his gargoyle buddies greeted him and refused to let him in.

  “She’s fine,” Argyle said. “She’s in training. You are not permitted to see her.”

  What the hell did that mean? The training part, he meant. He got the ‘not permitted to see her’ bit, although he strongly disagreed.

  Problem was, she seemed to agree, because when he texted her, she either ignored him or sent terse replies that basically all said, I don’t want anything to do with you.

  His dragon was annoyed that he was letting a gargoyle boss him around.

  I’m not, he snapped back. I’m just giving her space.

  Yeah, right.

  At least now that Delilah was back from her aborted vacation, he was getting a few answers. Not that they were the ones he wanted to hear.

  According to Delilah, Becca was the only person in the entire world who could kill the warlocks who were after her.

  “Even Argyle can’t?” he’d asked when she dropped that little bomb on him.

  The half-witch, half-dragon had chortled. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Gargoyles exist to protect people, not to kill them. Not exactly the handiest of traits, is it?”

  No, he supposed not. Good thing dragons didn’t have the same problem. Except Delilah nixed that idea too.

  “Warlocks are practically indestructible. Didn’t the gargoyles tell you the history? Warlocks almost wiped out my species. No one can kill them except a Daughter of Light. Because she has the gods’ magic running in her veins.” And then she’d slapped him on the back. “How’s it feel to have slept with a god?”

  She’d found herself hilarious. Rahu didn’t. Because it didn’t matter. He hadn’t slept with Becca because she was a demigod. Well, he hadn’t known when it happened, but still. He slept with her because…because he had feelings for her.

  There, he admitted it. Okay, yeah, his dragon thought she was their mate, but that didn’t make sense because she wasn’t a dragon. But yeah, he definitely felt…something for her. And it had everything to do with her and nothing to do with whether she even had magic. Hell, he’d been attracted to her before he even knew she wasn’t human.

  We need to do something, his dragon demanded while he paced his bedroom, unable to focus on anything else. He’d given up on the deck, and he’d not even been able to concentrate on playing cards with the Elders.

  His dragon was right, but what the hell should he do?

  He finally wandered downstairs to the kitchen, more out of frustration than actual hunger. Delilah sat at the counter, drinking a glass of deep red wine.

  “You look even more miserable than the last time I saw you,” she commented. “Grab a glass. You have to try this wine. I stole this bottle from Antoinette’s hoard, and it’s flipping amazing.”

  He did as she ordered and watched as
she filled his glass. “You really did steal this from your reeve’s hoard?” That was damned impressive if she did. Dragons guarded and protected their hoards as if the treasures were their children.

  Delilah snorted. “She’s too damn trusting. Hasn’t changed the codes on the locks since she took over from Trennon. All I had to do was ask him and”—she snapped her fingers—“out-of-this-world wine.”

  “It is really good.”

  “So, what’s ailing you? Or are you still mooning over your lost demigod?”

  “She isn’t lost. She’s just…”

  “Not here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you even know where she is?”

  He nodded and sipped wine. “At her aunt’s house. Training, according to Argyle.”

  “Ah.”

  Delilah didn’t say anything else.

  “What does ‘ah’ mean?” he finally asked.

  “It means she’s learning how to do her job. You know, go to battle with the warlocks.”

  Rahu nearly upended his glass but caught it and only a small amount spilled over the rim. He stared at Delilah. “Becca is planning to fight those warlocks? All of them? By herself?”

  “Why are you acting so shocked? This is what she was born to do.”

  “Yeah, but she only figured out she possesses magic a couple of days ago. It’ll take her years to prepare for something like this.”

  “I highly doubt Argyle will wait years before sending her off to her fate.” Delilah lifted her glass. “Here’s to your mate. On behalf of my better half, I sincerely hope she succeeds.”

  Rahu pushed away his wine. “I can’t let her do that. She’ll get killed.”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “I’m not sure it’s better, but I have an idea.”

  “Ohh, what is it? Do tell.”

  He shook his head. Honestly, he was still working through the details. Of course, it had only come to him a few minutes ago.

  “What other treasures does Antoinette have in her hoard?”

  “Your grand idea involves stealing from my reeve?”

  He shook his head but said, “Maybe.”

  “Well, in that case, she has all sorts of goodies. Priceless paintings, gems; even these giant chunks of gold down there. If you’re looking to bribe someone, giving them a peek at that room would likely work.”

  He slapped the counter. “Good. Wish me luck. I’m about to try to negotiate with a warlock.”

  He heard her say, “Wait,” but he was too intent on his task to stop to listen to whatever else she had to say. He needed to find those warlocks.

  Becca’s life depended on it.

  ***

  As it turned out, tracking them down wasn’t hard at all. Rahu had simply pulled up their website and sent a request through the “contact me” page.

  I want to talk to you. It’s about the Daughter of Light.

  They’d responded in less than ten minutes and told him to meet them at the Carousel Bar in an hour. He was there thirty minutes early, mostly so he could scope out the place and make sure he wasn’t walking into a trap but also because he was too damn fidgety to stay home and wait for the appointed time.

  It was midday on Thursday, after the lunch crowd and before happy hour, so the place was quiet. A bartender stood behind the currently stationary bar, stacking pint glasses and arranging liquor bottles. A server moved around the room, lighting candles on the tabletops. Two patrons on stools at one end of the bar nursed beers and talked about the weather.

  Ten minutes after the warlocks were to have arrived, Rahu felt the shimmer of magic in the air, followed by a quick succession of pops. The four warlocks came strolling out from the hall leading to the restrooms, still dressed in the same outfits they’d probably been wearing since the nineties. Leather, ripped jeans, scarves, and lots of big hair.

  Classy.

  The server noticed them as they approached the bar, and gave a little squeal. They paused as a unit. She rushed over and asked for their autographs and a picture, and Rahu watched as they obliged her, one of them even holding her camera so they could all take a selfie with her.

  A rock star warlock’s work was never done.

  Finally, she retreated back to her job and they stepped up to the bar, flanking Rahu as they all slid onto the high-backed stools. The two on his left each ordered a beer, the one to his far right ordered a double vodka tonic, and the lead singer, who had sidled up next to Rahu, ordered a Sea Breeze.

  “I had a feeling it was you who sent that message,” the singer said after he had his drink in hand. “So what do you want to talk about, Dragon?”

  Rahu swiped his sweaty hands on his shorts. “It’s about the Daughter of Light.”

  “Yes, I figured that out from the message you sent that said, ‘I want to talk to you. It’s about the Daughter of Light.’”

  “Right. So, um, I want to negotiate.”

  The lead singer lifted his brows. “Interesting. Are you offering us the Daughter of Light for a price?” His gaze swept over Rahu’s person. “I suppose that makes sense. You are a dragon, after all.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not offering her. I want to know what you will take in exchange for leaving her alone. If you know anything at all about dragons, you know I have a damned impressive hoard at my disposal.”

  He didn’t, of course. Hoarding jewels and gold and other precious metals was one aspect of dragon genes Rahu hadn’t inherited. But he was willing to do whatever it took to keep Becca safe. Even steal from his best friend’s mate.

  Hopefully, Ketu and Antoinette would understand.

  The warlock cocked his head and sipped his drink with his pinkie thrust into the air like he was royalty drinking high tea. “You think you can buy us off? Do you think we are part dragon?”

  “No, but I think everyone has their price.” I hope.

  The singer shared glances with his fellow bandmates. “It’s true we have a price. Our price is the Daughter of Light.”

  “I just said—”

  “And we think she, too, has a price. We figure if we take something she cares about, we can stop spinning our wheels trying to track her down, because she’ll come to us to save that precious item. Right, boys?”

  The other three warlocks nodded and then they all pointedly stared at Rahu.

  He gave a nervous laugh. “You don’t honestly think she cares about me, do you?”

  One of the other guys said, “That’s exactly what we think.”

  Well, hell. Time to get out of Dodge.

  Before Rahu could jump off his barstool, the warlock to his left tackled him, slamming his back against the lacquered wood bar top. The tender leaped over the bar and rushed down the same hallway from where the warlocks had appeared. No doubt the server and the other two patrons had followed suit.

  “Do not allow him to shift,” the leader said.

  Another warlock grabbed Rahu and threw him to the floor. His head cracked against a nearby wrought iron railing and stars and Tweety birds began circling his crown.

  “Ah fuck,” Rahu said, fighting nausea as he grabbed the nearest warlock by the front of his shirt and pulled him toward him, at the same time lifting his knee so that it connected with the guy’s gut. The warlock grunted and rolled away from him, but two others jumped him, and one of them flipped him over onto his stomach. A moment later, he felt the sensation of rope being wrapped around his wrists.

  Charmed, no doubt, to ensure he couldn’t shift.

  Great, just great.

  One of the warlocks none too gently rolled him over onto his back and then straddled his legs and looked down at him.

  “Ready to visit our lair, dragon?”

  “You don’t understand. I’m not the right guy. She doesn’t care about—”

  Too late.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Do you have it right yet?” Pacey asked, leaning over Becca’s shoulder to observe the mess on the counter. Mixing bowls and
piles of herbs and beakers filled with liquids of various colors were scattered over the granite. There was a Bunsen burner and a bunch of measuring spoons too.

  Because modern-day witches apparently no longer used caldrons when they were attempting to create poison with which to kill their enemies.

  “I don’t know,” Becca snapped, using her forearm to brush hair out of her face. “Are you volunteering to try it to see?”

  She didn’t mean to be so cruel, but she’d lost her ability to be nice at least half a day ago. That was one of the reasons she hadn’t responded to Rahu’s texts. It was far too easy to misinterpret something sent via text message, and she was too bitchy at the moment to talk rationally with him.

  I don’t care that I’m a Daughter of Light and apparently my life’s mission is to kill warlocks; I still want to be with you. Do you think we can make a relationship work?

  ...would probably sound more like:

  I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before we slept together! I know I probably wouldn’t have believed you, but you could have at least tried! And I know now that at least half the blame—okay, maybe more—lies with Argyle and Aunt Pacey, but still! You and I slept together!

  Yeah, she still had a few issues to work through. Except she was too busy preparing for this new life mission to deal with her own emotions. Because she had to figure out how to make up for twenty-five years’ worth of training in, oh, a week. Give or take.

  Actually, they had no defined timeline, but Argyle said the warlocks were hovering about, just waiting for them to screw up so they could sweep in and attack her, and since whatever was going on between her and Rahu had destroyed the concealment spell, it seemed pertinent that she get up to speed ASAP.

  Besides, she had the strangest sensation of urgency she couldn’t really explain. Although she supposed, given what she’d learned in the last few days, none of this was particularly “strange.” It was, in fact, just another day. Typical. Like going to school and running out of milk was typical for humans. Training to kill monsters had become her new black.

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Pacey said, and Becca winced because really, she should be the one apologizing.