THE BLACK DRAGON: Werewolves of Montana Mating Mini #7

by Bonnie Vanak

  His height allowed him to reach the top shelf and move aside the milk glass. Awe filled him as he stared at the now-revealed objects.

  Dragons. Statues in all shapes and sizes. Green, blue, even one black dragon sparkling with glitter.

  “Seriously?” Amused, he shook his head. “Glitter is for the Fae. Not dragons.”

  Why would Ariel keep a collection of dragons? The whimsical art collection was the kind kept by someone who adored them. The collection was hidden, as if she didn’t dare let her father see them.

  When I see her again, I will ask her.

  Justin went to the simple bureau. It held a square jewelry box, a clock and three photos in frames. One was a younger Ariel with an older woman who had her eyes. Her mother, probably. Another featured an unsmiling Ariel with a sallow-faced, thin man about her age. The man had light brown hair, a mustache and beamed at the camera.

  Another photo of Ariel had been snapped at one of cliffs. Ariel sat on a boulder, looking pensive and sad.

  His hand trembled as he picked up the photo.

  He had not seen Ariel for nearly a year. Chest hollow, he stared at the woman who’d stolen his sense, and never left his thoughts.

  I missed you. Missed talking with you, even if the iron bars separated us. You were the only woman I’ve ever met who wasn’t afraid of me. Even Skylar, as much as I know she loves me, is a little scared of me.

  Filled with an exhilarating sense of anticipation he hadn’t experienced in a long time, Justin stroked a line across the glass. He couldn’t wait to see Ariel again.

  Couldn’t wait to hear her lilting voice, feel that soft skin against his fingers, and taste her mouth.

  And much more, if all worked out.

  His sensitive hearing picked up the agent’s heels on the carpeted stairs. Justin set the photo down. Back to business.

  “The ad said the house has a basement,” he told the agent.

  They walked down the steps to the basement built into the rock. Solid as a concrete bunker.

  Nearly impenetrable. He knew. He’d attacked the walls with claws and his efforts left him bloodied and bruised.

  The agent flicked a light switch. Justin took a deep breath, clenching his fists to control his emotions as they descended the carpeted stairs. He remembered being dragged down here, down the stone steps, iron chains nearly choking him as he gasped for air…

  Fingers tightened on the wood railing as he marched downward. You can do this. You’re no longer that helpless prisoner. It’s just a basement.

  He cleared the last step and wiped sweat out of his eyes. The agent glanced at him. “My, it is a hot day out. Would you care for water?”

  Tequila would suffice. “No, thanks.”

  The woman began her sales pitch, babbling about all the changes Harrington made. To their right, the stone wall had been covered with a pretty bricked pattern. Hanging in the middle was a colorful photo of mountains in autumn. He stared at the photo, centering himself.

  I can leave at any time. I’m no prisoner. Not anymore.

  Justin took another calming breath and walked across the hardwood floor to the newly renovated living area. Bile rose in his throat as he looked at the cream-colored walls, the overhead lighting and the soft carpeting. A fireplace made from the same gray brick sat before a leather sectional and coffee table. Soft overhead lighting hung above a granite bar with four barstools.

  “The wet bar also features a wine cooler. They made this area into a little kitchen, complete with cabinets, an oven, range and stainless steel refrigerator.”

  Harrington had used a refrigerator to store Justin’s blood for his experiments. Justin felt nausea rise again. He tried to control it.

  Renovations failed to disguise the faint scent of blood embedded into the concrete floor now covered with rich maple wood and thick carpet. With his sharpened senses, he could scent it as if freshly spilled from his body.

  “The basement adds to the spaciousness of the house, and it’s quite cool in the heat of summer.”

  Dark. Cold. A shiver snaked down his spine. He swallowed hard, trying to keep from vomiting. So damn cold and lonely, screaming for hours and no one could hear him…

  The agent’s heels clicked as she crossed from the cream-colored carpeting to the hardwood floor. She opened a door near the fireplace, displaying an office with a desk, filing cabinets, and a desktop computer.

  The stench of slick blood lingered in his nostrils. This is the workplace where Leo and his nutcase assistant drained my magick, stuck needles into my scales and then…

  Breathing deeply, he tried to banish the memory of the knife digging into his skin, the screams that he’d desperately tried to suppress.

  The agent was burbling now. “I do love this modern, compact office. Mr. Harrington had some kind of workshop down there for the longest time.”

  And a cell, where he tortured me.

  “I’ve seen enough,” he muttered, and headed for the stairs. “Can you take some photos for me?”

  Upstairs, he bolted into the nearest bathroom and vomited. Wiping his mouth with a paper napkin designed with bright butterflies, he stared into the mirror.

  “You are no longer that prisoner.” With a shaky hand, he touched the glossy surface of his reflection.

  Justin tucked a stick of fruity chewing gum into his mouth to disguise the smell of vomit and sprayed the bathroom with the air deodorizer.

  Never again. The day he became a prisoner again, he would die.

  6

  By the time he emerged from the bathroom, the agent had come upstairs and was milling around the hallway.

  “The owner and his daughter are willing to entertain all offers.” She beamed at him.

  “Are they relocating?” Justin looked around at the sparse furniture, the holes in the walls indicating pictures once hung there.

  “Well, I shouldn’t say this, but…”

  Say it.

  She leaned close in a conspiratorial manner. “Mr. Harrington was a well-known physician who became a recluse after his poor wife died in a car accident. It’s rumored he is on the edge of bankruptcy. His daughter has had to hold it together.”

  Justin arched dark brows. “Oh?”

  “Poor dear had to get a job, and with her being a cripple.” The woman heaved a dramatic sigh.

  Ariel is not a cripple. She’s not an object of pity. A low growl grumbled in his chest.

  The agent frowned. “Oh dear. Is that thunder? And it looks like such a sunny day.”

  Justin clenched his fists and closed his eyes, counting silently to ten in Latin. No compassion for Ariel. Compassion would dilute his purpose.

  Then he opened his eyes and forced his hands to relax.

  Forced himself to breathe in and out.

  Sedona was known for meditation for dragons and Others, but he struggled with such mental discipline. When he went quiet to channel his powers and learn self-control, his thoughts turned into furious images of revenge, not peaceful visions of nature.

  As a result, he seldom ventured to this haven for his kind. Despite the desert heat, the abundant sunshine and the energy vortexes dragons loved to channel, Sedona was a pit stop on the highway to adventure.

  Self-control was a must for his quest. Justin couldn’t risk letting anyone see his desperate need to purchase Leo Harrington’s house.

  Trap his daughter. Ruin and humiliate her as he’d been humiliated.

  Leo and Ariel would know what it felt like to play the hapless victim, relying on the mercy of a cruel master.

  Stomach muscles tightened as he thought of Ariel’s sweet face scrunched up in anguish and horror as she realized her fate. But first he’d seduce her, sweeten the deal.

  Love her and leave her. Do you really want to abandon her as you were abandoned as a child? Does she deserve that?

  “The house is listed for $399,000, but I’m sure the owner will be agreeable to any offers,” the agent chirped.

  “Four hundred,�
� he countered. “Cash.”

  The agent’s eyes widened. “I’ll present the offer right away to the owner’s listing agent.”

  “I’m in a hurry to close.” Justin thought of the money he had in the bank. Half a million was nothing.

  For revenge, he’d pay much, much more.

  “That might be difficult. The Harringtons will need time to move…”

  “The purchase is an investment. I’m willing to rent at a low price to the present owners for a short-term lease until they find another house. My terms will be quite reasonable.”

  Damn, if that woman’s eyes widened any more, they’d pop out of her head. “That’s very generous of you. Mr. Harrington is searching for a much more modest apartment, and this will give him some relief.”

  Until he finds out what I plan to do to his daughter.

  “Make the offer and get back to me on my cell by tonight.” Mirrored sunglasses sliding into his hand, Justin took a last look at the house before striding over to his Harley.

  He donned the glasses and then roared off, his blood humming, his body tensing with anticipation. Money talked and he’d just chatted up close to half a mil.

  Soon, Ariel would be in his grasp.

  But soon was not enough. He itched to see her again, a nagging curiosity that had little to do with revenge.

  Justin drove the bike a few miles away to a secluded spot in the canyon. He stretched out on a rock and dozed off in his beloved sunshine, feeling the warmth sink into his bones.

  An hour later, he woke, called upon his magick and shifted.

  Bones lengthened and became lighter. His blood sang with power, the heady rush filling him as his eyesight sharpened, his hearing became acute and he tasted desert heat and dry air upon his tongue.

  For this venture, he shrank to the size of a raptor bird. Looking like a vulture or an eagle would fool Others who happened to glance overhead. They would think him a bird of prey.

  Not a dragon.

  Like other dragons, he could adjust his true size to fit the need. Imprisoned in Harrington’s basement, he could not grow to full size. Iron chains had restricted him.

  Justin flapped his wings, confident his magick cloaked him in invisibility to Skins. Others could see him, including Ariel and her father.

  But he had not survived on earth for three decades without learning stealth.

  Soaring through the air, he reveled in the feel of wind against his scales, the thrill of gliding on currents and over rock and brush. A rabbit below, sensing the overhead threat, scampered into underbrush. Justin smelled its sharp stench of fear, ignored the creature.

  He had bigger prey to chase.

  Dragons were meant to fly, not be caged and tortured. Letting his anger fuel him, he flew to Ariel’s house to wait.

  Watch.

  Justin landed on the thick branch of a pine tree near the second floor deck. Folding his wings back, he waited.

  Finally, a truck rattled into the driveway. Doors slammed. A few minutes later, his patience was rewarded.

  Ariel stepped onto the deck, walked toward the railing and leaned on it. She stared at the distant rock rock cliffs. Damn, she was much lovelier than memory recalled.

  Hidden by pine needles and motionless, Justin knew she couldn’t see him. Scent him, perhaps. But Ariel looked so lost, he doubted it.

  Lonely.

  No pity.

  Still, his dragon’s heart constricted as he watched her hang her head and sigh, as if she carried the weight of the world on her slender shoulders.

  Such a little thing, his Ariel.

  His? Justin startled. Yeah, she was his.

  He’d put his mark on her from the moment she’d boldly hobbled into his cell and let him touch her.

  Her long sable hair lifted with the slight breeze. Cheeks hollow, color sallow, as if she hadn’t seen sunlight in a while.

  Last time he’d seen her, she was alive, vital with health, despite her amputated foot.

  Had his magick kept her thriving somehow? What if Harrington’s motive truly was altruistic, to save his only daughter?

  No. The Mage was evil. He wanted to cut off your balls and sell you for gold. Doesn’t put him up for Father of the Year.

  Still, Justin couldn’t deny his need. He wanted her as he’d never desired a woman before.

  No denying the sensual grace of her as her hips gently swayed with each step, or the feminine grace of her figure, or the spark of adventure and life he sensed beneath the shy demeanor.

  Seducing her, and ruining her, would prove a pleasant justice.

  Ariel. He spoke to her silently, his hunger a living, clawing beast.

  Justin nearly fell off the branch as she whipped her head up, staring at the tree.

  “Who’s there?” she called out.

  She couldn’t have heard him. Mages had puny magick, and never possessed any form of telepathy.

  He tried again. Ariel, little bird. Still longing to fly?

  Barely had he thought the words when she gripped the railing, her brow furrowed, her mouth compressed.

  “Who’s there? Show yourself.”

  Not now. Revealing himself would ruin all his careful plans. Justin remained hidden for a few minutes, and watched as Ariel turned and hobbled back into the house.

  Then he took to wing and flew away.

  But he couldn’t help wondering if he’d forged a connection with her. One powerful enough to make a psychic link.

  Mages couldn’t do that.

  But dragons could.

  Especially dragons who found their lifelong mates…

  7

  A little over a year ago, Ariel felt fresh hope in the slim possibility she could break free of her life. Find new adventure, be free to explore the world.

  Leo crushed that hope shortly after she’d freed Justin from his cell. He worried about her constantly. And she could not fault him, because she knew it came from love.

  Marriage to Parker would solve everything. At least financially.

  She walked around the living room, her chest aching. If not for her mother’s relatives finally finding a judge to challenge her mother’s will and seize all assets, life would have continued like this.

  Marian, her mother, had an endless store of wealth.

  All that was gone now. Only the house remained, for it was in Leo’s name. Yesterday the real estate agent called and told her the good news.

  At least it’s sold. Maybe I don’t have to marry Parker after all. I can make my own way in life, despite what Father says.

  Ariel peered through the floor to ceiling windows at the outside deck. That voice in her head on the deck outside, it had sounded familiar. Faint, but familiar.

  In the bathroom, she fetched a tube of anti-chafing cream. She plopped down on the torn leather sofa and peered around. Silly. No one could see.

  Ariel removed her prosthesis and exhaled. Today was a bad day and her stump hurt. She rubbed the cream on her limb. Yesterday she’d been in a hurry to get to work at the restaurant and failed to use the cream, and as a result, she had sores.

  Today the pain was barely tolerable, phantom pain from her missing foot. Ariel’s hand trembled as she rubbed.

  A distant scream echoed in her mind. The accident.

  Don’t go there. Using the technique her father taught her, Ariel thought of the colors in Sedona’s canyons and cliffs and remembered joy from watching eagles soar to their aeries.

  A heavy medicinal smell filled the air. She winced, hating it as much as the pain. The cream was a necessary reminder of her missing foot. With a resigned sigh, she donned the prosthesis.

  Time to cleanse the house and rid it of negative energy. Bundles of dried sage stashed in the dining room sideboard would suffice. Ariel took one, lit it and smudged the room with cleansing smoke.

  Yet her senses still tingled, as if something was off.

  Maybe I’m hungry. She headed into the kitchen to make dinner. Her father was gone, and she had to fe
nd for herself.

  Again.

  Ariel opened a cabinet, sighing at the slim pickings. “What to make for dinner? I suppose spaghetti and meatballs again.”

  “I like spaghetti and meatballs.”

  The deep, familiar voice made her lose her grip on the glass jar. Only a last minute save kept it from tumbling to the floor. Ariel turned, her legs trembling.

  Justin.

  The black dragon in Skin exuded raw masculine power as much as his dragon form radiated danger. Faded jeans covered his long, muscled legs. Feet stuffed into motorcycle boots were crossed as he leaned against the pantry door. His black hair was cut short, giving her a tantalizing peek at the intriguing dragon tattoo snaking down his neck to his shoulder. A black leather jacket and black T-shirt hid his strong chest.

  Forget dinner. Here was a feast for the eyes for a hungry woman.

  How had he gotten inside? And what did he want? Fear for her father tightened her chest. He must not see how afraid she was for Leo. Ariel silently thanked the powers above that Leo had traveled to see the Covingtons in Seattle.

  She glared at him. “I knew something heavy was in the air I couldn’t get rid of with smudging. I’m going to need a lot more sage. Maybe an acre’s worth.”

  He laughed. “I’ve missed you, Ariel.”

  Then he appeared to catch himself and his expression turned serious, as if regretting the admission. A thrill rushed through her. Maybe Justin did feel what she’d experienced in his presence last year. Maybe all those long, lonely nights where she’d lain in bed, staring at the ceiling, her imagination hadn’t conjured the potent chemistry between them.

  Maybe it was real.

  “What are you doing here?” Ariel backed off, staring at him.

  “I’m your new landlord. Bought the house yesterday.”

  Surely this was a nightmare. Justin bought the house? She’d been thrilled to find out it sold for the asking price.

  Now, Ariel knew why it sold so quickly.

  He stopped and looked around. “Where’s your father?”