by Meg Ripley
“Hooray for me.” Resa stormed out of his office. The secretary at the desk outside said something to her, perhaps telling her to have a nice evening, but she breezed past and headed toward the elevator. She should have known that it wasn’t going to work. She had built up her hopes far too high, far too quickly. Mr. Stephenson had made her believe that she could really make something of herself as a journalist and not just a random blogger. She had been an idiot, and that asshole Ethan Beaufort had just made her even more of one.
When she reached the first floor and the elevator doors opened, she slowed as she walked through the lobby. It was a massive space, with the center of the room extending three stories high. Resa looked up, examining the blue dragon sculpture that hung down from the ceiling. It looked like it was going to fly right into the offices that bordered the lobby.
She didn’t get it. As far as she could tell, this man had started out with nothing. He didn’t have rich parents, and he hadn’t won the lottery. Ethan Beaufort had built a huge corporation from the ground up, and the vast majority of what he did was based on fantasy. He made video games about knights, dragons and elves. Sure, there were some boring accounting programs, but he had a dragon as his mascot for crying out loud. So why the big show of putting her down? Was he that much of an asshole? Or maybe there was more to the story.
Resa glanced toward the welcome desk. It was nearly closing time, and the clerk was packing up to leave. She flicked her curly hair as she flirted with a young man in glasses and put her purse over her shoulder. The merchandise store, which was just off the main lobby, had already closed. Someone had turned off the lights and shut the doors. Nobody was there to see her as she moved away from the building’s front doors and slipped into the stairwell.
16
Ethan watched her go, surprised to find himself feeling regretful. What did he care what some young reporter thought of him? She was just trying to build up a name for herself, and she was using him as a stepping stone. In a week, she would have forgotten that she had ever been there.
But there was something distinctly different about her. She wasn’t a shifter; he could tell that much. She smelled completely human, a scent that he had grown used to since he was constantly surrounded by so many of them. Maybe it was just because she actually had the guts to argue with him. Nobody else was brave enough to do so, and she cast his attitude right back in his face. No, it was something else. Ethan had a fleeting idea of what it might be, but he dismissed it and turned his computer screen on.
Though his office was soundproof, he knew without looking that the rest of his staff had either left for the day, or was on their way out the door. Even in his human form, he could sense that the building was empty. Ethan let his workers think that he let them go home at five o’clock because he was a nice guy, but the truth was that he enjoyed having the place to himself. He liked not having to worry about someone walking in or calling and wanting an opinion on something.
He worked furiously on his idea for tracking down the hunters, but he ran into a wall every time. There was always something that stopped him, and it was making an anger that wouldn’t leave build up inside his body. He wondered how he had gone this long in his life without feeling so frustrated before, but there was no turning it away now.
His skin tingled, threatening to shift. Ethan slammed his computer shut and shoved himself away from his desk, charging out his office door. Kira’s desk was unoccupied, and she had left on only enough lights for him to make it to the elevator. He turned the corner and slammed open the door to the stairwell instead, flying up the steps as fast as his human feet would carry him. Despite the physical exertion on his body, he took deep breaths in an effort to keep himself calm. It was barely working. His true form not only called to him, but demanded to be let out.
Bursting out onto the rooftop, Ethan tipped his head back and flung out his arms. Wings pushed through his back, and he felt the breeze catch in the thin, leathery flaps. His skin rippled as it shifted from a smooth, pale surface to scales of deep blue, each of them reflecting the moonlight. His limbs extended, stretching muscles that he could never use in human form. Even Ethan’s face changed, his jaw and nose coming forth to form a menacing muzzle and his hair was replaced with spikes.
It hurt. It hurt like no other physical pain he’d felt in his life, either as a dragon or as a human. His bones and muscles stretched and pulled, sometimes yanking at his joints so hard that they felt like they would pop out. His skin burned as it expanded and separated, flipping over in segments to reveal the scales underneath. But it was a kind of pain that he craved. He knew the members of the Darkblood Society spend most of their time as humans; it was safer, easier. But Ethan didn’t think it was right or natural. They should be able to let their bodies burst forth as dragons anytime they needed to. He wondered, not for the first time, when the shifters as a whole decided to be more human than dragon.
Ethan stood there on the rooftop for a moment, his head tipped back and his nostrils flaring as he took in the scent of the city. It was sickening sometimes, with the thickness of the human population all around him, but there was so much more to it. He could smell the hot dog vendor three blocks away and the Chinese restaurant around the corner. There was something else, a faint whiff of perfume like someone had left a bouquet of roses near an open window.
His hearing, too, had improved. Anyone could hear the horns honking on the New York City streets below and the general roar of traffic. But Ethan heard the subtle sound of a transmission shifting, the squeak of a stairwell door opening, and the quick suck of air through human lips.
His eyes snapped open and he turned, hoping he wouldn’t see what his senses told him was there. She was hidden, almost invisible in the shadow of the door to the stairs, but she was there, nonetheless. Ethan cursed himself as he narrowed his eyes and curled his lips. He cursed silently to himself as he forced his body to return to the shape he had to fight so hard to keep during the work day. His face snapped back to smoothly sculpted cheeks and a strong nose. A raging itch took over his scalp as he hair regrew in an instant, and his legs slimmed and lengthened as he strode to the stairwell. The wings came last. He always regretted putting those away the most, because they felt so damn good. He allowed them to expand one last time before he folded them away and grabbed the reporter by the arm, yanking her out into the starlight. “What are you doing here?”
Resa Robinson’s eyes were wide and wild with fright. Her lips worked, trying to form the right words, but no sounds came out of them. She gestured at him, her hands alternately trying to describe the shape of his wings and the look of his other face. Even though she said nothing, Ethan knew exactly what she meant.
“You weren’t supposed to see any of that,” he growled. His fingers dug into the flesh of her arm. He had come here and shifted in the hopes of letting go of some of his anger. It hadn’t wanted to wait until he got to The Club. But now that his release had been cut short, he found that he was more furious than ever. Fire rippled in his veins and he battled himself not to throw her off the roof. “Now tell me, what are you doing here?”
“I—I was just trying to figure out the rest of the story,” she babbled. “I knew there was something more about you, that you couldn’t be just an ordinary guy. But, I had no idea.” She looked dazed, like someone had hit her over the head.
Ethan felt his lip twitch and immediately suppressed the smile that threatened to take over his visage. Resa was a smart woman, and one who weighed the words of an argument like the heft of a sword. But even she had nothing coherent or poignant to say about what she had just witnessed. He liked to see her reduced a little, even if it had come at his own cost.
“What, exactly, are you?” Resa was regaining her composure. The spark of curiosity had come back to her eyes, replacing almost all the fear.
That’s how Ethan knew he was in trouble. If any normal person had seen him shift, it would have been bad enough. It would be a mess, but one that he
could handle. But Resa was a journalist, and worse yet a journalist who was in search of dragons. He was exactly what she had spent her entire life looking for.
He reached toward her bag. “Give me your phone.”
Resa stepped backward, but she didn’t try to run away. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”
“I think I’ve answered enough of your nosy questions. Now give me your phone.” He was losing what little patience he had left. Resa’s arm felt fragile and delicate in his grip, even when he was in human form. He didn’t like to think about what he might do to her. He still had to figure out how to handle the situation.
“Fine, but why?” The reporter dug the device out of her back pocket and slammed it into his palm. She gave him a dirty look, but Ethan didn’t miss the flicker of daring that still remained.
“Are you kidding me?” He tucked the phone in his own pocket without looking at it. “I’m not letting any picture or footage of this get out.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but shut it again and nodded. “Alright, I understand. I’m sorry I intruded on your…whatever this was. Now, since you don’t care to tell me anything about it, I’ll be on my way.” She turned toward the door and yanked at her arm, trying to free it from his grasp.
But Ethan closed his fingers more tightly. “I don’t think so. You’re coming with me.” He marched her to the door, his mind racing. What was he going to do now? There was no chance in hell he was going to let Resa go. He had her phone, and therefore, she had no proof of what she had seen; there was little chance that anyone would believe her, no matter how eloquently she wrote about it on her blog. But still, she had seen something that only a few other humans had witnessed.
As they made their way down the first few flights of stairs, he racked his mind for other ideas. He could take her to The Club. Mr. Cross would tear her down until he knew everything, and then he would make the decision of what to do with her. It would take the weight off Ethan’s shoulders, but he wasn’t interested in letting someone else help him. He could take care of a simple human by himself, and he wanted to know more details from Resa before he let someone else interrogate her.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She kept her head held high, descending the steps like a queen entering a ball instead of a prisoner heading toward an unknown sentence. She could have tried to break free and run away or steal her cell phone back from him, but the fact that she remained so calm unsettled him. What normal human would keep her bearings and stay so cool when captured by a dragon? He imagined they were few and far between.
Ethan knew what he had to do. His plan wasn’t perfect; it was one that would need to be adjusted as he went, and he knew he might very well regret the whole thing. But there were few other options. He no longer needed time to think, so when they reached the next landing, he turned and pushed through the door to the hallway. It was only a quick walk to the elevator.
17
Resa had stationed herself in the stairwell after she’d left Mr. Beaufort’s office. It had seemed like the safest place to hide away, since she assumed most people would take the elevator. That’s what they always did in her building, and it was only the health nuts who insisted on taking the stairs. Twice she’d had to shift her position to stay hidden when someone came through, but for the most part, it had been a safe bet.
She had worked her way to the upper floors, watching carefully for Cobalt Computers employees. They would be heading down to leave for the day, and she would be able to see them from her high vantage point. But when a door opened above her and Mr. Beaufort himself had come storming through it, he had turned to go upstairs.
Being the curious reporter she was, Resa had followed him. That was why she was still there, after all; she needed to know more about him, find out what made him tick and discover what it was that was so different about him. And she had been sure there was something different, she just never would have guessed what it was.
The scene on the rooftop had been breathtaking. If someone had asked her a week previously what her reaction would be to seeing a dragon, she would probably have guessed she would laugh or cry. She had been trying to find evidence of these creatures for almost her entire life, and it seemed that it would be a moving experience.
But her body had taken on a whole new level of awareness. Her vision had grown sharper, bringing everything into high definition as she studied the deep cerulean scales that sprouted all over the executive’s body. Resa had felt the wind from his wings on her face and heard the scratching of his claws on the concrete floor of the rooftop. It was as though she had been asleep for years, and had finally woken up.
Even as he marched her down through the building, she found that her mind hadn’t gone into panic mode. Instead of imagining methods of escape, she was picking out the best words and phrases to describe what she had seen. Ideas for articles and books charged forth into her head, some of them coming so quickly, she was afraid she would forget them. She reached toward her laptop bag.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ethan yanked on her arm as he pushed the button for the elevator door to close.
“I was just going to get a notebook, Mr. Uptight.” Resa rolled her eyes at him and reached for the zipper once again.
Ethan had the bag off her shoulder and on his own in a moment. “No.”
Resa crossed her arms, a task made slightly difficult by his grip on her, but one she was determined to do anyway. “I’m surprised you have an entire building full of employees. I can’t imagine that anyone would want to work with you.”
He was so close to her that she could feel the heat coming off his body. It was hotter than a normal person’s, reaching out to her like invisible flames. The executive was a full head taller than she was, his firm jaw menacing as he glanced down at her. She tried to squelch the instinctive desire that made her stomach jump up into her throat and dive back down again.
“I’m usually much more pleasant,” he snarled. “And may I remind you that you were the one spying on me?”
Resa shrugged off his accusation. “I’m a reporter. It’s what I do.”
“Maybe you should find a new profession.”
“What if someone sees us?” she challenged, watching the levels tick down on the elevator’s display. “Won’t your employees think this is weird, you holding a stranger captive while taking her down through the building? I imagine you have security officers to do this sort of thing for you.”
His breath was hot on the back of her neck as he leaned close. “I could march you naked through the lobby if I wanted to. I rule this place, and everyone knows it.”
It might have been the fact that she had finally seen a dragon, or maybe it was just because Resa had always liked guys with a take-charge attitude, but Resa felt her core contract at his words. “Well, maybe we should give that a shot then. See if you’re right.”
Mr. Beaufort growled. “You’re a very difficult woman.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” she replied with a smile.
The elevator stopped on the third floor and the doors opened. Without a word, Ethan escorted her out into the hallway and around to another door. It had an electronic lock that beeped when he waved a badge in front of it. The two of them stepped out into what Resa could only describe as a private parking garage.
It looked like any other parking garage, with the ceiling and floor made of concrete. Short walls came up from the floor but stopped before they hit the ceiling, allowing a fresh breeze to blow through the place. But there were only two parking slots, and a large overhead door separated the space from where Resa guessed the other employees parked. In one slot was a deep blue sports car that was all swooping lines and angles.
Ethan guided her around to the other side of it and opened the door. “Get in, and I suggest you wear a seatbelt.” He let go of her arm, but he waited until she was buckled before he shut the door.
In the moment of silence that she had to herself in the
car, Resa wanted to scream. But it wouldn’t have been a scream of panic or fear. She didn’t know what was going to happen or what Ethan planned to do from here, but she had fulfilled her life’s dream.
She had seen a dragon, without a doubt.
She wished she could call her parents and tell them that she was right, that there had never been any need to take her to that therapist when she was little because she hadn’t been lying or having nightmares.
But the driver’s side door opened only a second later. Ethan’s cologne wafted toward her as he got in, and she cursed herself for thinking about how good he smelled. Why did this dragon have to be so attractive? Would she have cooperated so well if he hadn’t been? Or were all dragons good looking? Wait, were there any other dragons? She longed to ask him questions, but he’d made it clear that he wasn’t ready to talk yet.
With the flick of a small remote in the sun visor, the overhead door opened. Ethan turned the key, and the car roared to life around them. She stifled a giggle as he shot backwards, put the car into first, and zoomed through the door. He guided the car around the ramp in the main space of the empty parking garage, driving far more quickly than he should have.
“Are you trying to scare me?” she asked as they pulled out of the building and into traffic.
Ethan dodged around taxis with ease, but he didn’t look at her as he replied. “That depends. Is it working?”
“Well, let’s see. I don’t know what kind of car this is, but it looks expensive. I’m going to assume that means it has some decent safety features, which is probably far more than I can say about any cabs I’ve been in. There’s a dragon behind the wheel, which ought to be a far more intimidating idea than the fact that he drives too fast. What do you think?”
“It’s a McLaren,” he muttered.
“What?”
“The car. It’s a McLaren.” He turned onto a larger street with less congestion and took off.
