“Did you see it?” The short human male who passed for his assistant, Martin Baccus, poked his head around the corner. His dull brown hair stood up in untidy spikes as though he’d run his fingers through it repeatedly.
“No.” He held out his hands, palms up. “I didn’t see a thing. What am I supposed to be looking for?”
The putrid odor of something dead and rotting wafted up from one of the dumpsters. It smelled neither human nor dragon, so he ignored it, keeping his attention on his anxious assistant.
“Toadstools.” Martin waved toward the end of the alley. “A huge pile of them.”
Drake shook his head with disgust. “I can’t believe a grown man such as yourself would fear fungi.” Was he serious, or was this some dumb joke?
“I can’t help it. I’m deathly allergic.” Martin crossed his arms with a shudder. “Besides, they just sprang up from nowhere and almost touched me. What was I supposed to think?”
“I think everyone is deathly allergic to toadstools, Martin. Regardless, I would never have expected you to think we were under attack.” Drake reached down, grabbed an empty crate, and turned it over. “I could understand if it was an army of imps or a clutch of brownies.” He sat on the overturned crate and rested his head in his hands, unable to stop the laughter that escaped. “But toadstools?”
Of all the things in the world that Martin could be afraid of, toadstools were at the bottom of a very long list.
“Well, they’d kill me,” Martin mumbled.
“Toadstools kill everyone,” Drake said with a sigh.
Man, he was getting tired of hiring humans and wimpy humans at that. It wasn’t that Martin wasn’t a nice guy. He was. But, he was also a coward, plain and simple.
It would be lovely if he could find himself a true familiar. It was just too damned bad that the people meant to work with his kind had chosen to go into hiding hundreds of years ago. He couldn’t say he blamed them. The burning times during the dark ages had seen to the destruction of most of their kind.
Nothing good had come of the Spanish Inquisition or the witch burnings, either. Those two events had killed nearly everyone with whom his people had made alliances. Finding a witch these days was like discovering one needle in a million haystacks. He would never get that lucky.
“Come on.” He stood with a sigh and motioned for Martin to follow him. The man may be an idiot, but he was his idiot, and after having paid for the man’s education, he’d hoped at least to get a few years of work out of him before the other man went totally off the deep end.
Martin started toward him only to stop and point a shaking finger, his eyes widening with horror. “There they are again!”
Suddenly, a bunch of toadstools sprang up around Drake. He looked around with surprise. “What the hell?”
It was like watching a time-lapse video of fungi growth. The toadstools appeared everywhere—and they were toadstools, not mushrooms. They covered the entire end of the alley where Drake stood behind an old, rundown used bookstore.
“Killer toadstools!” Martin screamed, then turned and ran toward the road with a gurgle of terror.
Drake couldn’t do anything but stare after him with shock. He would have laughed at the idiot, but he was too amazed at the site of the obvious magic springing up around him.
“Killer toadstools? You’re kidding me, right?”
The sultry sound of a woman’s voice wrapped around his insides and squeezed. Gods, he hadn’t had a woman affect him in such a way for centuries. At least, not since that little witch in Spain had shown him her belly-dancing moves. Too bad, she’d met her end during the inquisition. She hadn’t been his mate, but he still might have offered for her had she lived. He had never learned where she’d learned to dance like that.
“I can’t believe you’re afraid of toadstools.”
He turned to face the owner of that amazing voice, certain his shock was evident on his face. “Pardon me? I never said anything about them.” He jerked his thumb toward the mouth of the alley. “That was Martin, my assistant with the overactive imagination.” He chuckled. “Apparently, he’s allergic to fungi, and the appearance of so many toadstools caused him to believe we were under attack.”
The woman merely smiled and raised one perfect blonde brow, her expression bemused. “May I ask who in the world he thought would use toadstools to attack someone?”
Drake stared at the charming woman who appeared before him like an apparition. Her glowing, white-blonde hair gleamed with golden highlights. The glossy mass fell in long waves down her back and over her shoulders.
Sky-blue eyes pierced him with a look of humorous disbelief. The woman wore her full-length, flowing black cape, with the hood barely up, holding it fastened at the neck with a unique silver clasp.
The narrow gap over her full breasts gave him a peek at the black blouse and dark calf-length skirt she wore beneath it. What held him rapt was the dainty hand at her side holding a wand that appeared to have been made of Elder.
Not five minutes ago, he had wished to find a witch, and now, by his estimation, one stood before him.
She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. His stomach clenched at the sound of her voice, the way her laugh tinkled like little bells, and her eyes gleamed in the dim light of the moon behind him.
Drake shook his head to clear it. He was dreaming. There was no other explanation for the apparition in front of him or the pure, magical sound of her laughter.
“He’s sure one of my enemies has discovered he is allergic to fungi.” Was that his voice? He sounded like an untried youth speaking to his first milkmaid. Drake fought the urge to scowl at himself, for fear his expression would scare her away.
“Do you have very many enemies?” She frowned, then bit her lip when she glanced around and obviously realized they were truly alone in the alley. “Should I be worried?”
Now, she looked frightened, and he lamented the loss of her beautiful smile.
“I have my fair share of enemies.” He shrugged. “Perhaps more than my fair share.” He held up his hands. “And before you ask, yes, they would probably exploit Martin’s weakness if they knew of it.”
She bit the corner of her lower lip and grinned. “Is that information worth money?”
Drake watched as she turned a bit and surreptitiously pocketed her wand on the side farthest from him. He understood her desire to hide what she was. Not many people knew of or appreciated the talents of a good witch.
Instead of commenting on her actions, Drake grinned at her attempt at humor and inclined his head. “Some might pay well for the information. However, I would not advise approaching them. They aren’t the kind of people with whom I would keep company.”
She tilted her head to the side, her smile still in place. “And you are?”
“I am Kendrake Delfavaro.” He reached out to take her proffered hand. “I am pleased to meet you...” Drake paused, waiting for her to offer her name.
The blush that crept up her neck to cover her face was the most charming sight he had seen in a long time. He was unaware that women could still blush in these days following women’s lib and free love. It was refreshing to know some still did—especially this one.
There was something about her sweet scent and sexy voice that kept his senses on edge and every muscle in his body tense.
Truth be told, she was the first woman who had truly caught his interest in hundreds of years. That made her one of two things. She was either a potential mate or a potential danger. Only time would tell which.
FOLLOW THE LINKS BELOW to keep reading the Dragon Bound series.
The Golden Dragon ~ Dragon Bound book #1
The Ice Dragon ~ Dragon Bound book #2
Book #3 is coming soon!
Mating Kendra Page 17
