by Anna Lowe
Tristan seriously considered shifting back to dragon form, launching off the terrace, and hunting down that damn lion. Instead, he gripped the railing tighter, trying to control himself.
Should I remind you she’s off-limits? Liam asked.
No, you shouldn’t. Tristan turned away.
That she’s a Fire Maiden, and way, way out of your league?
Tristan frowned at the stars. No.
That Alaric will kill you if he catches wind of you messing around with Natalie?
We were not messing around, Tristan insisted.
You were thinking about it.
Tristan gritted his teeth. Yes, he thought about touching…kissing…even making love to Natalie — just about every hour of every day. How could he not? She was perfect in every way.
His dragon grinned. Me and my mate…
Tristan found himself drifting away all over again, replaying her soft touch. Her awestruck eyes. Her—
Not even tempted? Liam teased, ripping him out of his fantasies.
Shut up, Liam, Tristan roared back.
For a moment, he had his thoughts to himself, but Liam sighed and butted back in.
Listen, lust is one thing, but if you’re thinking love, watch out. It’s never as simple as you think.
Tristan frowned. What the hell did Liam know about love?
You think it’s all about you and her, but there’s a whole world out there, waiting to judge you. Waiting to tear you apart. To ruin everything — forever. For you. For her. For your kids.
Whoa. Kids? Who’d said anything about kids? Tristan glanced down at the park. He’d always thought Liam was another happy-go-lucky lion who didn’t believe in long-term relationships. But the sadness in Liam’s voice came from bitter experience. What had happened? When?
It’s never worth it, Liam finished. Believe me.
Tristan frowned into the darkness. The words were an echo of the teary breakdowns his mother suffered every time his father came and left.
Every time he comes home, promising it will be different, I believe him. But then he disappears again, and I wonder what I was thinking. Love isn’t worth it, my son. Nothing is worth this agony.
A lump formed in his throat. But Natalie was different, right?
Then again, that wasn’t the point. His mother hadn’t been warning him about getting his heart broken. She’d been warning him not to do the breaking. All those times she’d sighed and said, You’re just like your father…
Sometimes, her words had a sentimental ring. But others…not so much.
Tristan circled his shoulders wearily. Up to that moment, he hadn’t felt the least bit worn out by his patrol. But suddenly, every muscle ached, and his chin dipped. Boy, was he tired.
Anyway, it’s all been determined now, Liam continued.
Tristan’s chin snapped up. What has?
Alaric’s people searched Natalie’s family records. She goes right back to Amelie on her maternal grandmother’s side. That’s only four generations. Close enough to—
Tristan couldn’t hold back the choking sound that escaped his throat. He’d been hoping Natalie wasn’t the Fire Maiden Alaric sought. But if she was that closely related to Amelie, Alaric would force her to stay in Paris. She’d be a near prisoner. And as for him — if he remained in the city, he would forever be confronted with the woman he couldn’t have.
Tristan? Liam called.
Tristan shook his head and moved out of Liam’s line of sight. Thanks for keeping an eye out. Good night.
Tris—
Tristan shut his mind off from his friend and bent over the handrail, feeling sick.
Your job is to protect our Fire Maiden until we find her a suitable mate, Alaric had said.
Tristan tightened his hands so hard, the iron railing groaned. A multitude of stars winked down from the sky. Were they mocking or cheering for him?
Mocking, he decided. Then he took a deep breath and forced himself to look over the rooftops. He had come to Paris with one goal — to finally settle down in a nice place. To find a good job and do it well. And that’s what he would do. The mission was straightforward enough — to protect Natalie and the city. That would have to be enough. And if he was ever tempted to give in…
He scowled, picturing his mother with her face buried in her hands.
He wouldn’t allow himself to be tempted, and that was that. He would do his duty and stick to what he did best. Fighting, not feeling. Flying. Defending the woman he loved.
Natalie, his dragon whispered sadly. Natalie…
Chapter Fifteen
Another few days passed, and for Tristan, every one was torture. Well, each individual moment was great because he got to watch Natalie — out of the corner of his eye, at least — as she read, did yoga, or just gazed out the windows, thinking. She had a way of biting her lip and twirling a lock of her hair when deep in thought, and he ached to be the one doing that for her. Even more so, he longed to throw open the windows, grab her hand, and take her flying. Still, he got to talk to her, share meals, and fly home to her after patrolling Paris.
But then he’d remember he couldn’t have her, and that was when the torture set in. She’d smile, and he would smile back, feeling all lit up inside. Then he’d frown because a smile was all he could ever give her, and a smile was all he would ever get in return.
So, treasure every one like a jewel, he tried convincing himself.
That was the thing with dragons — the urge to hoard treasures. He’d never been one to collect gold, silver, or diamonds, what with all the moving around he’d done. So other than the small change he accumulated in a jar and the snack food he impulsively stocked up on — a holdover from his time in the military — he collected memories. Like the one time his dad had taken him fishing, many years ago. That Holy shit, you just saved my life look fellow soldiers had thrown him from time to time. Other treasures in his collection were memories of kids in ragged war zones laughing at the funny faces Liam made, reminding them joy existed, if only for a short time.
But a single smile from Natalie…
He found himself grinning like a fool, then frowned.
Off-limits… Off-limits…
“Everything okay?” Natalie asked in one of those miserable moments after reality crushed his dreams.
Not really. You’re a Fire Maiden. I’m a nobody you will never be able to count on, like my mom couldn’t count on my dad. Also, you’re as off-limits as a masterpiece in the goddamn Louvre. You’re the Mona Lisa, the Venus de Milo, the Winged Victory. I can look, but I can’t touch.
But he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he bluffed. “Everything is great.”
Then he walked off, making things worse, because she probably assumed he didn’t like her.
Like? I love her, his dragon declared.
Meanwhile, Alaric had ordered him to check in daily, and the news was grim.
“We haven’t been able to locate Olivier,” Morfram reported. “Nor his accomplices.”
Which meant the rogue vampires were still on the loose. Apparently, they’d given up on Natalie’s apartment, but they’d been spotted around Paddy’s bar, where Natalie worked as a waitress.
Where she used to work, Tristan thought glumly.
She’d been sacked after the end of her first week off. He could see the devastation in her eyes when she’d hung up the phone. How will I pay my bills? How will I manage to stay in Paris?
The fact that she wouldn’t have to worry about those things as a Fire Maiden didn’t seem to help. And the more he’d tried to explain, the madder she grew.
“I don’t want a free ride. I want to earn my own living.”
“It’s not a free ride. Far from. Fire Maidens dedicate their lives to others.”
Couldn’t she see she was perfect for the job? But at that moment, the frustrations she’d kept bottled up over the past days came bubbling out, and he figured he’d better let her rant.
“I want to do something u
seful in life, not live off someone else’s account. Not like…like…”
Jacqueline? he’d nearly filled in.
He didn’t know who Natalie was thinking of, but Jacqueline certainly fit. A niece of one of Alaric’s distant allies, she’d been living off his wealth for years without doing much in return besides flouncing around Paris in the latest, greatest fashions. She never flew patrols and rarely attended meetings. If she spent an hour a month working toward law and order in the shifter world, Tristan would be surprised. What did Jacqueline actually accomplish besides seducing warriors who passed through Paris?
Tristan scowled, having come close to falling for her charms. How he could have been so blind to Jacqueline’s selfish, petty side, he had no idea. But that was further proof that he couldn’t trust his feelings when it came to Natalie. He could be just as misguided about her as he’d been about Jacqueline.
His dragon huffed, making his nostrils burn. She’s nothing like Jacqueline.
No, she wasn’t, but still. He had to stick to what he did best — defending Paris.
Defending Natalie, his dragon insisted.
And that was getting harder and harder as her cabin fever increased.
“I came to Paris to live,” she ranted one evening in one of her rare outbursts. “Not to live like a bird in a cage. Is this how a Fire Maiden would live?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, not wishing to say, It is for a vulnerable Fire Maiden who can’t shift.
Instead, he looked at her, mourning. He’d always felt a little sorry for humans, but most of them didn’t miss what they were ignorant of. Natalie, on the other hand, had enough dragon in her to dream of flying. She could peek into a whole new world yet never enter it.
Then the doorbell rang, and Tristan frowned. Now what?
He strode to the door, sniffing the air, then scowling. Yves, the doorman, was a jackal shifter who would never permit an enemy through. Unfortunately, Yves had no orders to stop assholes.
“Marcel,” Tristan muttered, opening the door.
“Bonsoir,” Marcel announced with a flourish.
Tristan made a face at the dragon shifter’s tailored suit and skinny tie. Was he stopping by with a message from Alaric before rushing off to a hot date?
When Natalie stepped up behind Tristan, Marcel turned on a thousand-watt smile and patted his heart as if to say, You beautiful creature, you.
“Bonsoir, mademoiselle.”
Natalie murmured unenthusiastic greetings, but Marcel’s self-important smile grew.
Tristan narrowed his eyes at the man’s stylishly messy hair, carefully cultivated five-o’clock shadow, and arrogant bearing. Who was he trying to impress?
Natalie, his dragon huffed. Hot date, remember?
Tristan’s blood boiled. Non. No way. Absolutely not.
Marcel started to move forward, but Tristan sidestepped, blocking his way. Which made the bastard step left, then right, only to be countered by Tristan each time. Finally, he spoke over Tristan’s shoulder.
“Natalie, I’ve been thinking of you. How terrible it must feel to be — how do you say? — cooped up here.” A sidelong look added something like, Cooped up with this heathen. You poor thing.
Tristan bristled. He might not share Marcel’s noble blood, but he had been doing his best to keep Natalie in good spirits.
“The apartment is great,” Natalie said quickly. And so is the company, her quick smile added, or so Tristan hoped. “It’s just…”
She motioned toward the windows, and Marcel nodded sadly. “I know exactly what you mean. Free spirits like us are born to fly free.”
Tristan coughed into his hand. Free spirit? Marcel? Everything the man did was calculated — including this visit to Natalie.
“That is why I petitioned Alaric on your behalf,” Marcel announced. “Hugo and the others were adamant that you remain safely indoors. But I said, ‘No!’” He raised a stern finger like a goddamn revolutionary. “I said, ‘I will keep her safe.’”
Tristan rolled his eyes. Then something about Marcel’s scent reached his nose, and he nearly bared his teeth.
Jacqueline, his inner dragon snarled.
Apparently, Marcel and Jacqueline had been sleeping together — again. They’d had an on-again, off-again relationship for months, although off didn’t always correspond to the times each had pursued liaisons with someone else. Both had insatiable appetites for sex, but neither showed the kind of loyalty most shifters did.
So much for noble dragon blood.
But Natalie clapped with delight. “You mean I can go out?”
Marcel grinned indulgently and patted his chest. “I convinced them I would protect you. Mademoiselle, I am at your disposal for the evening.”
And for the night, his glittering dragon eyes added.
Tristan stepped closer, ready to kick Marcel’s sorry ass back down the hallway. But Natalie bounced with excitement.
“Great. Fantastic. I’ll be ready in a second.”
“Take all the time you need, ma belle,” Marcel called.
She’s not your goddamn belle, Tristan’s growl said.
Oh, but she will be, Marcel’s slick smile assured him.
Tristan pushed Marcel into the hallway, slammed the door in his face, and grabbed his phone. But Alaric, damn the man, confirmed that he’d granted Natalie an evening out under Marcel’s protection, so there was nothing Tristan could do.
She put a hand on his arm. “Tristan, I love this place, but I swear I’ll go crazy if I spend one more minute locked up here.”
The contact made him warm all over, and the plea in her eyes gutted him. How could he deny her a taste of freedom?
Guilt washed over him. Her future as a Fire Maiden wouldn’t offer much of that either. What had he gotten her into?
“Please,” she whispered. “I need this.”
Which was how Tristan found himself in the elevator not long later, counting to ten next to a smug Marcel and an excited Natalie.
Will not breathe fire at the shithead… Will not breathe fire…
“I can keep her perfectly safe on my own,” Marcel insisted when they reached the lobby.
Natalie shook her head before Tristan could. “He is my bodyguard.”
Yeah, asshole, he shot into Marcel’s mind. Her bodyguard.
“Bodyguards keep a respectful distance,” Marcel muttered, taking Natalie’s arm and wrapping it around his.
Tristan’s blood pressure spiked, but Natalie shot him a look that said, Don’t ruin this for me. And she was right. He could never have her, so he ought to resign himself to playing bodyguard and not boyfriend.
But seriously — Marcel?
He wanted to forbid her from going out with the man. Better yet, from even thinking of the man. But if he did that, he was no better than Alaric. Only Natalie could map her own future, and only she could choose.
I want her to choose me, his dragon cried.
Marcel made a sweeping gesture when they stepped out into the street. “Ah, Paris.”
Tristan scowled, trailing after them. The sky was the purplish blue of early evening, the air crisp. Paris was as beautiful as ever. But the city wasn’t his problem. Marcel was.
“I know just where to take you,” Marcel announced, steering Natalie away from the park she’d gazed at longingly for days.
“But…”
Marcel tugged her onward. “I know you’ll love it.”
Tristan balled his hands into fists. Every sentence Marcel formed started with himself. Did he think that would impress Natalie?
Marcel strode on, pulling Natalie past the bookstalls and shop windows her eyes lingered upon. “I will show you all of Paris, ma belle.”
She knows Paris, and she’s not your anything, Tristan wanted to growl.
“I studied at the Sorbonne.” Marcel gestured in one direction then another. “And I spent my childhood right over there.”
“Nice,” Natalie murmured, though she didn’t look to
o interested. Instead, her eyes lit up as they roved over the city she loved. She turned her head to admire every intricate streetlamp, every carved facade. And when they reached the promenade on the banks of the Seine…
“Wow,” she murmured, looking up.
“Yes, that is my family’s villa.” Marcel pointed to a building.
She meant the stars, asshole, Tristan growled, following her gaze upward.
It was one of those perfectly clear nights filled with stars in all their majesty, from Orion and Ursa Major to the long streak of the Milky Way.
“It’s gorgeous,” Natalie said, looking at Tristan, not Marcel.
His lungs tightened, his blood warmed, and for one breathless moment, the universe shrank down to just the two of them. Her chest rose the way it did when she gazed longingly over the park, and he swore his heart beat in time with hers.
Mate, his dragon whispered. You are my mate.
He’d never felt more certain about anything in his life. He nearly blurted it out, too.
I love you, Natalie. I need you.
But those were me, me, me thoughts like Marcel’s. Couldn’t he do better than that?
The evening breeze stirred her coppery hair, and Tristan bit his lip, wishing he could speak his mind. You fascinate me. You amaze me. And you deserve better than Marcel.
Her eyes took on a beautiful bluish tint, glowing like a shifter’s.
You’d make a great dragon, he wanted to say. You’re already as tough, and you could learn the rest along the way.
I could teach you. His dragon nodded eagerly.
He pictured coaching her through her first flight — a real flight, not a dream. Cheering for her once she became airborne and witnessing her delight. Then he pictured the two of them soaring in long, lazy circles over Paris, taking in the sights. Afterward, they would land on his rooftop and—
“It’s true,” Marcel said, breaking Tristan out of his reverie.
Natalie jolted too. Had she been just as swept away as he?
Marcel gestured to the mansion he’d grown up in. “The building was commissioned by Richelieu himself. C’est magnifique, n’est-ce pas?”
Natalie rolled her eyes, and Tristan hid a smile. Then he jutted his chin to the stars and did his best to shoot his thoughts into her mind. Magnifique.
