Dragon's Tears (City Dragons Book 3)

by Lisa Oliver

“Time passes differently in the dream realm,” his dragon replied. “But yes, soon.”

  Byron rolled onto his front, plucking at the grass. “It is nice here. You have a lovely place. What do you like to do when you are here alone? Do you fly, or roll around in the grass, or…?”

  “I’ll take the or option.” The dragon chortled. “Do you see that big slope over there, the one with the mudslide down it?”

  Byron looked and his eyes widened. The slide was wide enough to fit his dragon. “You don’t, do you?”

  “I do. It’s so much fun.” His dragon gave a full body shiver. “Do you want to come with me?”

  Mud. Sliding. Byron could think of a million things he’d rather do. But his dragon looked so excited, and really, Byron felt like they’d finally connected on a soul deep level, so much more than they ever had before.

  Standing up, he brushed off his pants. “I’ll do it, but I’ve got two conditions.”

  “Name them.” The dragon was already stomping his way to the bottom of the slide.

  Byron huffed to catch up with him. “One, we never tell anyone about this.”

  “Agreed. My fellow dragons wouldn’t understand the appeal anyway.” The dragon was actually smiling, with big rows of white teeth flashing in the light. “What’s the second condition?”

  “You tell me your name.” Byron knew he’d surprised his dragon, but he’d guessed, when Sammy’s dragon took the name of Midnight, that the other dragons had probably discussed for hours what they’d like to be called. “I think, if we’re friends, and I wouldn’t slide down that hill for anyone else, then I should know your name.”

  “I liked Dancer.” Dancer tilted his head shyly. “You have that lovely blue statue in your bedroom…”

  “The one I bought because it reminded me of the color of your scales. The Dancer.”

  “Yes. Yes. That’s the one.”

  Byron made a mental note to never underestimate his dragon… Dancer, again. He was a remarkably observant soul. “Dancer it is, then.” Byron smiled as he looked up. “Now, please tell me I don’t have to climb up this great big hill, just so I can slide down it.”

  “This is the dream world; we can do what we like.” And in a blink, Byron was on the top of the hill looking down. Dancer was already lying down, belly deep in mud. “Climb on,” he yelled, bracing his front feet in the ooze.

  “Remember I really wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” Byron climbed on the dragon he was usually only a part of, taking care not to step on any of Dancer’s joints. His dragon felt surprisingly warm and real under his fingers. “Okay, I’m holding on. Don’t go too…”

  But it was too late. Dancer was already speeding down the hill, his long tail swinging behind him. A huge splat of mud hit Byron in the side of the face, and he didn’t know who was more surprised – him or Dancer – when he started to laugh. Gods, this is amazing.

  Chapter Four

  He’d barely been in his office five minutes, when Byron heard a knock on the door. “Enter,” he said, minimizing the email program on his computer screen. He frowned as Petrov came in, the warnings from the man yesterday flooding back. “Another problem?”

  “Mr. Hollingsworth told me about the threat you received last night at your home. He was warning me to be extra vigilant about letting people up on this floor.”

  Byron nodded briefly. “That’s fine. Thank you for letting me know. I’m not expecting anyone, except the detectives, although Dirk was going to tell them not to come until after lunch.”

  Petrov stepped closer to the desk. “You received the parcel and opened it yourself?”

  Leaning back in his chair, and twirling the pen he’d been using, Byron said, “Yes. As I explained to the police, it must have been delivered after my housekeeper left for the day. I was late home myself, but it was waiting on the doorstep when I got there.”

  “That must have been very shocking for you.” Petrov took another step closer and lowered his voice. “What happened to the parcel and the packaging?”

  Byron frowned. “The police took it with them, I suppose. Their department has a number of shifters and magic users who can probably use something on the packaging to trace its origin. What’s all this about anyway? This happened at my home. It doesn’t impact the company.”

  “It does tie in with the… people asking about you in the foyer.”

  The what? Byron wondered what Petrov was covering up. “You can discuss that with the detectives when they arrive,” he said firmly. “I’m sure they’ll be interested in any light you can shed on the situation. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot to get done before they get here. Was there anything else?”

  “Come out for a drink this evening,” Petrov said suddenly. “I mean, sorry. What I meant to do was ask would you like to come out for a drink with me this evening?”

  Byron’s eyes narrowed. “Is my being stalked a turn on for you or something? Only I seem to recall, the one time I approached you for a bit of mutual fun you used terms such as ‘moneyed dick’ and ‘playboy asshole’ to turn me down. Does the fact I’m attractive to some sicko who uses cow’s hearts instead of flowers or chocolates to gain my attention make me more appealing all of a sudden?”

  “No.” Petrov couldn’t have looked more shocked if Byron had slapped him. “I find you very attractive. I always have. It’s just… when you approached me before…”

  “Once, five years ago. It’s not as though I made a habit of it.”

  “Yes. No. Exactly. I was new to the company then and needed to focus on my work and I couldn’t allow myself to get distracted. But you’ve had a rough time… I’d like to help if I can…” Petrov let his voice trail off.

  A pity fuck in other words. Byron barely managed to suppress his huff. “As you just pointed out, you have a valued position in this firm. In my position as a member of the founding family, it would be irresponsible for me to be seen publicly with any employee at this time, for fear of putting them in the path of any danger that might come my way. I would hate to distract you from your huge responsibility, keeping everybody else safe. So, thank you, but no thank you. You can go now.”

  “Byron, please.” Petrov squirmed, his face twisted as though he had a huge secret to spill, or he could have had hot Chili for breakfast, Byron wasn’t sure which. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone right now. This person… someone could… what if someone was gunning for you when you head home tonight? Or they were planning to abduct you or attack you?”

  Byron raised his eyebrow. “I’d have to go home at some point, even if I went out with you first. And if something did happen, at least then I’d know who this asshole was. But you’ve just made my point for me. I would never willingly put another person in danger, so I will leave this evening, on my own, the way I always do. I’m sure you won’t have any problem finding someone else to drink with. Let me know when the police arrive and close the door on your way out.”

  Leaning back over his desk, Byron purposefully didn’t look up as Petrov huffed, took a few steps forward, stepped back, and then muttered under his breath in something that sounded like Russian as he walked out. I swear, some people get stranger with every passing minute. Byron got back to his work.

  /~/~/~/~/

  “Excuse me. What did you just ask me?”

  The interview with the detectives was not going well. Firstly, Petrov insisted on standing outside his office door while the interview was in process, something that Detectives Grimble and Post seemed to appreciate. Byron didn’t. He knew the sneaky wolf shifter would be listening to everything that was being said. Then, Grimble, the scruffy guy from the night before, came right out and said he thought Byron was lying about having no recent exes. But the killer punch was when Post, his partner who was female and better dressed asked him in a sweet ‘you can confide in us’ tone, if he was having issues with his equipment.

  “I know dragons are all powerfully mysterious and full of magic,” she said with a
chuckle that should have been charming but wasn’t. “But you’re still a shifter under that suit. A lot of men don’t like to talk about any problems they might have during sex, but if you’ve turned some poor person away, because you’re struggling with your own needs or desires…”

  “Poor person?” Byron snapped. “You’re calling the person who did this to me a ‘poor person’. Who’s the victim here? You’re blatantly saying that something I did caused some random individual to send me a rotting cow’s heart with a note attached that didn’t just suggest he’d package my heart the same way, but he threatened to do it?”

  Post had the grace to look embarrassed, so Grimble took over. “Everyone knows shifters are very sexual beings,” he said puffing out his own chest. “I myself have six children and another on the way.”

  “All that means is that your mate or whoever you have those children with was able to put up with you a total of seven times, over goodness knows how long. Your partner’s ability to have children has no bearing on the strength of your sexual desire or prowess. It just shows a hell of a lot of character on her part.”

  “You’ve got no call to insult me.” Grimble bristled.

  “You’ve got no call to insult me, either,” Byron snapped back. “You’re supposed to be conducting a professional investigation. My life was threatened, or at least my heart. And I can assure you, for all the mystique and magic of dragons, I’d have a damn hard time breathing if my heart was missing. What did you get from the packaging, from the box, from the heart itself, or from the note? What leads are you chasing up?”

  The look Grimble and Post exchanged didn’t fill Byron with confidence.

  “This is clearly a very personal crime,” Post said gently. “As you can appreciate, police resources are always in high demand, and as it’s highly likely you know the person who sent the package to you…”

  “You haven’t done anything since last night, have you?” Byron couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “Sir, the plain fact of the matter is that eighty percent of stalking is done by people known to the victim,” Grimble protested.

  “But what about the other twenty percent of victims who are stalked by perfect strangers?” Byron was struggling not to yell. “Are they the ones more likely to be found buried in a ditch somewhere because you couldn’t be bothered to investigate the way you’re supposed to? I’m a dragon. I’ve never tried to hide that since paranormals were outed. Some might say that gives me celebrity status in this town especially now my brother has been made clan leader and he’s true mated. Someone could have seen my picture, built up unlikely scenarios about me in their head, and then decided to threaten me when I didn’t notice them. Is that at all possible?”

  “It’s statistically unlikely, but it is possible.” Grimble looked worried.

  “If you look at the facts, it’s highly possible.” Byron seethed. “One, I haven’t dated in over ten years, so there are no recent exes. Two, despite the insulting suggestions about my sexual prowess, I made a conscious decision not to hook-up with random people five years ago because I believe I have a true mate I will meet one day. Three, the disturbing package was left on my doorstep, which strongly suggests that someone followed me home from here or in town, because my private home address is not available publicly anywhere. Even the purchase of my apartment was done through a shell company organized by the European branch of our clan. And four, and perhaps the most important point of all, you’re both wolf shifters and could scent it if I was lying, which I’m not. And I wasn’t lying last night when you asked me the same damn questions. For fuck’s sake, did someone at least sniff around my doorstep last night to get a scent impression?”

  “Well, no sir,” Post said, shaking her head. “But then, we had no idea when we were called in what type of person you were, or the full facts of the situation. By the time anyone thought of it, too many of our own people had gone through the door.”

  “Yes, it didn’t escape my notice that you had adequate police resources to send in a dozen officers for a chance to nose around a prominent dragon’s apartment, but you’ve done nothing about the case since, except waste my time.”

  Post’s cheeks flushed. Grimble pulled out his notebook and flipped it open, grabbing a pen from his jacket pocket.

  “Have you seen anyone unusual loitering around when you go to your car at night, or perhaps if you’re out shopping?”

  “No. My housekeeper does the shopping.”

  “Has anyone deliberately bumped into you, asked to sit at your table at a restaurant, or offered to buy you a drink at a bar?”

  “No.” Byron paused for a moment. “No, wait. I tell a lie. Someone offered to buy me a drink at a bar when I was in Germany a while ago. I was there for my father’s funeral, and just said no. But that was on the other side of the ocean and I can’t see anyone tracking me all the way back here just because I turned down a drink.”

  Grimble scribbled something. “What about in the company? Any disgruntled employees, recent firings, things like that?”

  Byron had to stop and think. “Four I think, or it might have been more. You’d need to check with Bryce, my brother’s PA for the exact details, but we’d recently found incidences of employees thinking with their dicks instead of doing their work, and after they slandered my younger brother, they were dismissed. Merv, the ringleader, was our IT specialist and heavily involved with my younger brother at the time, so I doubt it’s relevant. But if you want to check them out, Bryce will give you the details. I was busy coping with my father’s funeral arrangements at the time.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Grimble said distractedly, as he scribbled in his notebook. Looking up, he asked, “One last thing. Are you absolutely certain you’ve had no hook-ups, or dates or anything at all of a romantic or sexual nature in the past five years?”

  Byron flicked a glance at the door where he knew Petrov would be listening. “Five years ago, I was shot down in spectacular fashion by a man I thought showed an interest in me. His refusal, and the insults directed my way from him, were a wakeup call about behaving in a responsible manner. Since my brother met his true mate, I fantasize about doing the same. I did think… well...”

  Byron spread his hands and managed a smile. “You’re going to think I’m a foolish dragon but ten years and four months ago I did spot a man in a crowded bar in Washington. I only saw him briefly, I didn’t scent him, and unfortunately, I couldn’t stay to get to know him. But I wondered then if he was my mate, even before I knew I could have one. I’ve never stopped thinking about him. The man I asked out five years later, had a passing resemblance to that stranger, and… I guess I was at a very lonely place in my life right then. But the refusal was a good thing for me. There’s nothing worse than being entangled with someone else when your mate shows up, so I’ve chosen to have no intimate relations with anyone at all since that time. I want to be someone he can be proud of when we finally cross paths again.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Post dabbed at the corner of her eye. “That is so sweet, and so unusual. I do wish more shifters could think like you do.”

  “One of the joys of being horde obsessed, rather than driven by hormones,” Byron said with a tight grin. “I totally understand if you think I’m foolish; I’m aware many shifters never meet their mate. But if I do get lonely, or feel the urge for companionship, I find I can distract myself by searching for unique and unusual shiny things to add to my collections.”

  “Yes, well, I think we’ve got all we need for now,” Grimble said gruffly, snapping his notebook shut and returning his pen to his pocket. “I’ll get onto the magic boys this afternoon to test the packaging from your parcel. Hopefully they can use that to scry for a location of origin. I’ll also see if any of the psychics can give us any impressions of your stalker from the box or note. We’ll be in touch as soon as we have anything.” He stood up and with a final dab to her eye, Post did the same.

  “One more thing,” Byr
on said, as the detectives reached the door. “Petrov, our head of security, did mention to me yesterday that someone had been making specific enquiries I think he said, about me around the building and from some of our employees. I’m sure he’s already mentioned it to you, and I know he gave a report to my brother about it. But feel free to question him further – maybe he can give you more insights. Let him know no one here will have any issues with him taking time off this afternoon to help you with your enquiries.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Grimble looked surprised. “That’s very generous of you. We’ll talk to him before we leave.”

  “He has an office on the ground floor where you can have some privacy with him.” Byron gave them a small wave, chuckling as the door closed behind the two detectives. He could hear the mumble of voices in the hallway and the sound of three sets of footsteps going down the hall. That’ll get you back for eavesdropping, you nosy sod, he thought with a grin. With luck, they’ll keep you busy until I have a chance to get out of here for the night.

  Chapter Five

  “He knows about you. He’s seen you.”

  Ivak Sellivik, known internationally as Ice, paused in his methodical packing. With his plane due to leave within the hour, he had slipped away from his meetings, after making dozens of excuses it’d annoyed him to make. He didn’t have a second to waste. But his persistent half-brother on the other end of the phone said the one thing guaranteed to make him pause.

  “The dragon can’t have seen me, Petrov,” Ice said briskly. “He’s never had the opportunity…”

  “Ten years and four months ago, were you at a club in Washington?”

  “DC or state?” Ice asked automatically, his mind flicking through his long list of previous assignments.

  “DC,” Petrov hissed. “Look, I can’t talk long, I’m sure he’s onto me. He had the police questioning me for over two hours this afternoon, after they’d spoken to him. I had to tell them about the notes and messages, but I said it was company policy not to speak to the intended target about anything that minor unless the situation escalated. I played it off – dragons being dragons and not needing protection - but you should have heard him and what he said. He knew I was listening outside of his door. It was like he was sending me a message.”