by Anna Lowe
Every muscle in his body burned as the fire circled through her veins then whooshed back into his, making his inner dragon roar.
Mate! My mate!
It was thrilling. Exquisite. A rough, rugged high with a delicate edge that made him teeter in ecstasy for minutes on end. Natalie was right there with him, clutching his sides while her body trembled with need.
“So good…”
Tristan never wanted to let go, but at some point, the fire subsided into satisfied little embers — a signal to let go. Carefully, he sealed his lips around her skin and retracted his canines. Natalie shuddered as he did, coming for the second or third time. He kept his tongue over the bite, making sure the wound healed. Then he melted over her as his body shut down, utterly spent.
Panting, he mumbled her name and combed his fingers through her hair, though he was probably tangling it. Nothing registered but the heat inside him and the voice in his head — Natalie’s voice, singing in joy.
Love. Mate. Never have to be lonely again.
For a moment, sorrow washed over him. They’d each locked away how alone they’d felt — until now, when it all tumbled out like a wave. Tristan pressed his face against Natalie’s hair, letting her sweet scent remind him there was nothing to be sad about now.
“Tristan,” she sighed, going limp. “I love you so much.”
Light flooded his soul, and he bobbed his head up and down. “I love you.”
She patted him on the back and chuckled. “Wow. Who knew?”
He smoothed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “What?”
“That being bitten could feel so good.”
He laughed and scrubbed his cheek against hers.
“And wow — what was that? That fire part,” she asked.
“That’s a dragon thing,” he said, trying to sound casual about something he’d never really believed in, then had been blown away by.
Natalie thought for a moment, holding him close. Then she whispered, “Do we get to do that again?”
He laughed. “We can do that as often as you want.” Then he groaned. “Of course, I really should go report to Alaric…”
She shook her head. “I need more time getting to know my mate. Thoroughly.” Her voice dropped to a sensual whisper, and when she put a finger to her neck, she groaned. “Wow. I could give myself an orgasm just thinking about it. Even touching it feels good.”
Tristan nosed her finger out of the way and started kissing the tiny scars of the mating bite. And, hell. He nearly moaned at the sensation, too.
Natalie started moving her leg over his, heating up all over again.
“You’re a dangerous man, Tristan.”
He laughed. “You’re a dangerous woman, seducing me all over again.”
She snorted. “Ah, yes. The ultimate seductress. That’s me.”
He pulled back and looked her in the eye. “Do you even know how beautiful you are?”
She blushed, and he didn’t wait for an answer. He just ducked his head, whispering his lips over her breast. “I suppose I’ll have to prove it to you all over again.”
Not a hardship. His dragon grinned.
Within minutes, they were wrapped around each other, panting and groping all over again.
“I’m liking these perks,” Natalie murmured, then arched at his next touch.
“So do I,” he whispered, pulling her close. “So do I.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Two days later…
Natalie took a deep breath as she looked up at the imposing facade of Alaric’s villa.
“We got this,” Tristan murmured, squeezing her hand.
She forced a smile, though her stomach was full of butterflies. They had put off meeting the Guardians for a few days, but now, she just wanted to get it over with.
“On my own terms,” she mumbled one of the lines she’d been rehearsing in her mind.
“Ready?” Liam asked from a few steps ahead.
Natalie pursed her lips. Was she ready? To start her new life — a life with Tristan, and as a Fire Maiden — yes. But ready to face Alaric?
Ready, her dragon side growled.
In the few days since Tristan had given her the mating bite, that inner voice had grown louder, and she’d grown more comfortable with it. The dragon wasn’t a separate being. It was part of her and had been all her life.
Ready for anything, it insisted.
She straightened her shoulders. Slowly becoming a dragon shifter definitely boosted her confidence. Besides, she would never feel as secure as now, with Tristan and Liam backing her up. Liam had just received word of a new assignment in London, but he’d put off his departure to guard over the penthouse while she and Tristan recuperated. Of course, Liam had teased them mercilessly about all the — ahem — resting they’d done in that time. But he’d proven himself a true friend, giving them space and privacy — and somehow talking Madame Colette into doing the same.
An hour earlier, Natalie, Tristan, and Liam had gone out for a fortifying coffee, then taken the Metro to Pigalle. Liam had led the way, keeping her mind off the meeting with a constant stream of jokes and chatter.
“An Englishman, a Welshman, and a dragon walk into a pub…”
Most of his jokes started that way and ended with him laughing himself silly.
But that was an hour ago. Now, Liam hammered on the front door of Alaric’s villa and called out, “Hello. Anybody home?”
Natalie tightened the scarf around her neck — the one concealing the tiny scars from her mating bite. She was dying to show them off, but she and Tristan had agreed not to flaunt that detail too much. If the others scented that they’d mated, fine, but they’d rather not complicate the meeting with their news, joyous as it was.
Jules, the bear shifter butler, opened the door with a sour look. But the moment he saw Natalie, he bowed deeply and motioned inside. “Mademoiselle, s’il vous plaît.”
Natalie stepped past him with a smile and a sincere, “Merci.” Jules was the only shifter in the place who didn’t seem to have a hidden agenda of some kind.
Then she caught herself. Oops. A Fire Maiden was probably supposed to be aloof and regal. In other words, not too casual — and certainly not friendly — with staff. Then she snorted. She’d sworn to do this on her own terms, dammit, and she would. So she added a smile to go with her words, and miracle of miracles, Jules smiled back. Just a tiny one, but it was warm and genuine.
“Suivez-moi,” he murmured, leading the way.
Tristan and Liam flanked Natalie, and their footsteps echoed over the marble floor. Jules turned a corner, then knocked on the double doors of Alaric’s imposing den. A moment later, he pushed them open, and Natalie steeled herself for the worst.
Luckily, the first to greet her was Clara, who rushed up with a warm hug.
“Oh, my dear girl. So good to see that you’re all right. And you, Tristan.”
When Tristan nodded stoically, Clara rolled her eyes and thumped his arm. “Men. Always having to be such warriors. Are we not allowed to fuss over you from time to time?”
“Maybe from time to time,” Tristan murmured, flashing a tiny grin.
Hugo came up beside Clara and winked. “Something tells me he’s already had someone fuss over him.”
Natalie blushed deeply. Obviously, her scent gave every steamy encounter away. But Hugo’s eyes had already turned back to Clara, and they exchanged one of those secret looks that said, Remember the time when…
Then Hugo shook hands with Tristan and kissed Natalie on both cheeks. “I knew you could do it.”
Natalie hadn’t been sure of anything. But to have Clara and Hugo believe in her… That meant a lot.
“And I know you can do this, too,” Clara whispered, tilting her chin toward the head of the room, where Alaric waited.
The dragon shifter appeared just as stern — and displeased — as ever. Marcel was nowhere to be seen — thank goodness — but Morfram stood in the shadows of the right side of
the room, staring at her neck. Natalie forced herself to stare back until he dropped his gaze. Albiorix was beside him, following her with his beady eyes. But both men nodded deeply and shuffled back as if reminding each other, Watch out for that woman. She kills vampires, you know.
Not that Natalie ever wanted to kill anyone — or anything. Not even a vampire. But Morfram’s reaction gave her the boost she needed to face Alaric, especially when Liam and Tristan dropped back, letting her take the last steps alone.
She clenched her fists. Once upon a time, each of those men had been summoned before Alaric, and each had proven his mettle. Now, it was her turn.
“Sir,” she murmured with a tiny curtsy.
Alaric didn’t say anything. He just sat on that throne of his, totally aloof. Then, ever so slowly, he reached for a newspaper, snapped it open, and began to read.
Well, it appeared as though he wanted to read. But his eyes glowed in frustration as he squinted at the small type. He turned the newspaper this way and that in the dim light, growing more furious by the second.
At first, Natalie thought the news was the source of his fury, and her stomach sank. Had there been a terrorist attack she hadn’t heard about? Had new enemies staged an ambush? Had left-wing political parties made gains in the polls?
But then she spotted Alaric scowling at a pair of reading glasses on the far side of the table, and her pulse settled. Whew.
“Here, let me get them for you,” she said, hurrying over for the glasses.
Which might have been a mistake, because Alaric looked madder than ever. But, heck. He couldn’t be mad at her about his eyesight.
He grunted a begrudging merci and snapped the newspaper a second time, signaling his audience to listen and listen well.
“Les catacombes vandalisées.” He read the headline then scowled at Natalie over the top of the newspaper. Catacombs vandalized. Then his eyes flicked down, and he continued to read. “‘Vandals strike the Catacombs. Jean-Marc Pourtaud, director of the catacombs, despaired as he reported fire damage to the historic Moine Ensemble, deep in the catacombs. The unique area, closed to the public, suffered significant burn damage. Although the artifacts of the ensemble escaped damage, it is clear they were tampered with by the incorrigible vandals. Have they no shame?’” Alaric flipped the newspaper down and glared at Natalie. “What do you have to say for yourself?
Natalie gulped and looked at her feet, not quite sure what to say. Luckily, Liam piped up.
“The vampires started it, sir.”
Natalie caught Hugo hiding a smile.
“Monsieur Bennett, my question was not directed at you,” Alaric growled.
“No, sir. Sorry, sir,” Liam murmured, taking a step back.
“We did our best to put the sword and dagger back into their original positions,” Natalie tried.
Alaric didn’t look impressed, but it was Morfram who replied. “Let us not forget it was a dragon shifter who orchestrated the attack.”
“With the help of those vampires,” Tristan pointed out.
“It was Jacqueline who initiated it all,” Morfram shot back.
“Um…” Natalie interjected, seeing the makings of a fight.
“Jacqueline wouldn’t have dared go so far without their assistance,” Albiorix threw in.
“Gentlemen…” Natalie tried.
But Morfram spun on Albiorix, enraged. “Gargoyles did the reconnaissance for her.”
“True,” Tristan agreed. “Gargoyles were in on it from the very beginning.”
Natalie looked to Alaric, then Hugo. Surely, they would say something to halt the escalating fight? But they just stood there without uttering a word.
Well, fine. She stepped forward, threw up her hands, and hollered a sharp, “Stop!”
Everyone stared, and she stuck her hands on her hips. “Listen to yourselves. Yes, vampires, gargoyles, and a dragon worked together to stage that attack. But if we don’t cooperate now, we’ll never beat them.”
Morfram, Albiorix, and Tristan shot one another slitty-eyed looks, while Alaric and Hugo exchanged… Wait. Smiles?
Hugo winked at her. I knew you could do it.
Natalie took a deep breath, trying not to get intimidated. Then she stuck a finger at each of the men in turn. “Squabbling is always easier than finding common ground.” She gulped, realizing that meant she had better lead by example and give Morfram a chance. “You have to be above that if you’re going to succeed.”
“You?” Hugo asked, raising his eyebrows in a way that asked, Do you include yourself in that group?
Natalie’s heart hammered. She had already made up her mind to stay in Paris, but this was a stark reminder of exactly what that entailed. Paris wasn’t all art galleries and pleasant walks in the park, and staying meant a lot more than spending time with the sexiest man alive. Accepting her role as a Fire Maiden came with great responsibility. There would be danger. Intrigue. Shifter-style politics. She chewed her lip, thinking it over one more time.
Alaric shot Hugo a worried look.
But the moment Natalie glanced at Tristan, she found herself replying without the slightest doubt.
“We,” she said firmly. “We have to be above that if we’re going to succeed.”
Alaric still didn’t look satisfied. “Succeed in what, exactly? Anyone can live in a fancy apartment and collect clothes.”
Natalie saw red. She’d never been interested in such things. “That was Jacqueline, not me.”
Thank goodness Clara came to the rescue then. “May I remind you Natalie never inquired about the perks?”
Alaric replied with a low, unhappy grunt, and Natalie tossed her hands impatiently.
“Look, you’re the one who was searching for a Fire Maiden. You found one, though you didn’t bother filling me in on all the details. Like this, for instance.” She held up her crystal.
Alaric narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
She shook it impatiently. “I know it comes from Liviana’s treasure hoard, but what power does it have?”
Alaric looked blank. “It doesn’t have any. It simply reflects whatever power the bearer possesses deep inside.”
Natalie just about keeled over. That power…that determination… That had all come from her?
“But…but…”
Tristan stepped forward. “You placed Natalie in danger.”
Alaric shrugged. “We had to be sure she was the one.”
“You nearly made sure she was killed,” Tristan muttered.
Natalie crossed her arms. “Tristan was nearly killed too. One of your own men. How could you?”
“Sometimes it is necessary to…shall we say, test a man for his virtues?”
Natalie’s jaw dropped, and Tristan growled. “She could have died.”
Alaric, damn him, simply nodded. “She would have, if she were not worthy. And yes, you would have died too. But as you can see, we are all here today.”
Natalie put a hand on Tristan’s arm, holding him back. Before she could snap at Alaric, Hugo stepped between them and spoke.
“I agree that Alaric’s methods were risky.” He shot the dragon a stern look. “But his heart lies in the right place. He only wants the best for the city.”
“Would it be best if our Fire Maiden died?” Tristan growled.
Natalie was about to glare at Alaric, but a weary flicker passed over his eyes, and she reconsidered. Alaric had dedicated a lifetime to protecting the city. His methods were definitely old-school, but she didn’t doubt he meant well. And, heck. She could only imagine what it was like to shoulder so much responsibility for so long — and all alone. For every loyal lieutenant, like Hugo, there had probably been a dozen Jacquelines, all plotting to overthrow him.
Natalie looked at Tristan. No matter what obstacles she faced, she could manage them with her mate’s help. But Alaric had no one. Not a mate, at least.
“I came to Paris with another dream,” she admitted. “And for a while, all I found was a
nightmare. But now I have a different dream, and you helped me find it. A dream that will take a lot of work but can help a lot of people. Good people, like Philippe…Abdel…Yan…”
Alaric’s blank expression asked, Who the hell are they? but Tristan nodded along. He’d met some of those homeless men and knew all about single moms struggling to make ends meet.
“Sometimes I think she knows the city better than we do,” he pitched in.
Alaric’s eyes darted between them, then finally rested on Natalie. “Do you really think you can do it? Can you live up to the measure of your ancestors?”
Natalie considered for a moment, then turned the question around, too tired to play games. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
Alaric looked her over slowly and finally flapped a hand. “You’ll do.”
Hugo burst out laughing. “She’ll do? My friend, when was the last time the Guardians were blessed with a woman of such grit and character? Other than my dear Clara, of course.” He winked at his mate. “To have those qualities combined with royal blood is a rare gift, indeed.”
Alaric sighed. “Fine. I agree on that count. But a Fire Maiden needs a suitable escort. Not this…this…” He waved at Tristan.
“Hero?” Natalie filled in.
“Lower-class warrior.” Alaric frowned then shrugged at Tristan. “Nothing personal, of course.”
“Of course,” Tristan muttered.
But Natalie exploded. “Lower-class?”
Alaric merely shrugged. “Humans — especially you Americans — don’t understand such things. But bloodlines are important. Your lineage is royal.”
“So was Jacqueline’s, correct?”
Alaric’s face soured. “A drop of royal ancestry. Your blood is thick with it. And as a Fire Maiden, you have certain standards to uphold.”
“Standards? Like Marcel?”
Alaric looked at Morfram, who looked at his feet. “I admit my nephew was an unfortunate choice, and I have reassigned him accordingly.”
