Back then Saba had struggled to break the cords and had to wait for Malcolm to free her. Now Saba severed her bonds with a fierce bite of magic that smelled of burning wire. She sat up and dragged the sheet over her, which made her even more delectable. Her tousled hair fell over her oval face, her dark eyes regarding him in unconcealed fury.
"I forgot all about your clothes," she said, the shift of her eyes betraying her. "I pushed them to the back of the closet to make room for mine."
The fact that she hadn't forgotten at all and lied about it made his heart beat faster. She hadn't wanted to erase him completely from her life but didn't want to admit it.
"I didn't need them," he said. "Caleb lent me clothes."
"Caleb?" she asked, confused. "How did you get here? I summoned you with the dragon's tears, but then they were spent. It takes a witch to let a dragon into the human world."
"Lisa let me through." Lisa was not a witch but a silver dragon, a being of immense-power, and if she wanted to create a doorway to let dragons out of Dragonspace, there was nothing to stop her.
"Oh," Saba said. "I see I'll need to have a talk with Lisa."
Malcolm looked back at the computer to hide his amusement, but he could not keep his gaze from her for long. He wanted to feast his eyes on her. Beautiful, strong, fiery, fierce Saba. Being a black dragon, he could have compartmentalized the memory of her and tucked it away while he concerned himself with higher problems of physics and theoretical mathematics, but for some reason, he'd never been able to banish the picture of her entirely.
Not even the pleasure of calculating probabilities to the nth decimal point could make him forget almond-shaped eyes that grew dusky with desire, wisps of black-brown hair like silk under his fingertips. He couldn't forget her impatient glare, the growl of irritation when she said, "Malcolm!" Her laugh of triumph when she completed a spell that healed him from a sword wound. He'd taken her in his arms and kissed her on the littered floor of her apartment after that, nearly ripping her clothing from her body in his frenzy.
"What exactly do you want?" Saba demanded. "You were adamant about leaving this world behind and getting back to Dragonspace, now you've gone to Lisa and asked to be let in again. Why?"
"Several reasons." He leaned back in the chair, trying to let his logical mind take over, but the nearness of her, the memories of her scent and taste distracted him. "First, I wished to learn who the white dragon was and why he attacked you."
"You don't know?" she asked, eyes wide.
"I do not know every dragon in Dragonspace. I was hoping you could tell me."
She blinked. "I haven't the faintest idea. I was minding my own business on the train, and there he was, pinning me to the floor and assaulting me."
"Why were you on that train at all?" he asked, watching her reaction to his questions. "You still work at Technobabble in the Financial District and leave your office at five-ten every afternoon, stopping at Sylvia's delicatessen for a salad and chocolate chip cookie. Today you were instead traveling on the seven twenty-four train from Oakland to San Francisco. Since your family lives in Berkeley, you could not be returning from a visit with them, as you would have boarded the train at a different station. Therefore, today you deviated from your usual routine, which might have some bearing on what the white dragon wanted."
She stared at him. "How do you know all that, Sherlock? Don't tell me you've been spying on me from Dragonspace."
Malcolm tapped a few keys of the computer keyboard. "I am a black dragon. Compiling and comparing information is what we are best at."
"But how did you know all that? Is there a spyhole in here or something?" Her face went pink, her dark eyes outraged as she contemplated what he might have seen through a peephole.
"Not exactly," he said calmly, touching the slips of paper he'd laid out on the desk. "As you said, only a witch can open a way for a dragon, and so there are no holes through which to spy on you. But while you slept, I made a few simple deductions. You are listed on the Technobabble website as a senior database programmer, and that list was updated only last week. Your parents' home is listed at the public records office, giving its exact address in Berkeley. In your raincoat pocket I found a canceled ticked for the BART which was stamped with the name of the station where you purchased it and the date and time." He lifted the ticket from the table.
He went on. "I also found receipts from Sylvia's delicatessen, where you have purchased a baby-greens salad, a chocolate chip cookie, and a double latte four times in the last week. Each purchase was made between five twenty and five twenty-five in the evening, and it is approximately a ten-minute walk between the delicatessen and the building that houses Technobabble. The slight difference in times can be put down to how long you had to wait in line."
Saba gaped in disbelief at the receipts he now held in his hands. "You figured all that out by going through my pockets?"
"That today you deviated from routine? Yes."
He saw Saba make an effort to close her mouth and try to behave nonchalantly. "I see I'll have to clean out my pockets more often."
"So why did you change your routine?" he asked again. "What did you do today?"
Saba blew out her breath and scrubbed her hand through her short hair, a remembered gesture that tugged at his heart. "I went to the Greater Bay Area Database Programmers semiannual seminar. The latest in platforms and real-world applications. I can't see how a dragon would be interested in that."
"Databases appeal to dragons," Malcolm replied. "Our minds work in much the same way. Black dragons' minds, anyway."
"Well, the white dragon didn't mention databases. He said he needed a witch who knew about dragons. That would be me." She proceeded to tell him how the white dragon had greeted her on the train, tried to mark her, and then physically attacked her when she would not cooperate.
Malcolm pressed his fingertips together to conceal his fury as Saba told of the assault that had almost turned to rape. Somewhere inside him the dispassionate black dragon who assessed problems mathematically listened, but his very human body felt a rush of adrenaline and rage and the need to avenge her.
"You'd never seen him before?" he asked sharply. "Yet he knew your name."
"He knew about you, too," Saba countered. "Knew I'd once been a black dragon's slave."
"Not slave," he began.
"That's what you say. Your mark on me made me do anything you wanted."
He gave her a long look, even through his anger enjoying the challenge in her dark eyes. "I tried to put my mark on you again tonight. I couldn't. You have grown strong."
He had looked forward to weaving his strands of thoughts through hers, touching again the music that was Saba, like strings of oriental bells or running water. But he'd found himself turned away. Even in her sleep he hadn't been able to penetrate her mind.
She gave a short laugh. "The first thing I learned after you left was how to resist a dragon mark. I didn't want that to happen again."
Though he'd been frustrated at not being able to mark her, her answer gave him pleasure. "I knew you would be a powerful witch, and you have become so. That will be an asset."
"For what?" she asked, suspicious.
"I will tell you, in time. Right now, I am more interested in this white dragon. Why did he come to this world, and who allowed him to?"
"I doubt Lisa would have done it." Saba's eyes glinted like onyx. "Then again, she let you through."
He lifted his shoulders in a smooth shrug. "I was very persuasive."
"Caleb didn't try to stop you?"
Malcolm thought of Caleb, the golden dragon who had convinced Lisa Singleton to be his mate. Caleb had been there tonight in his human warrior's body with long golden hair and large blue eyes. He'd not opposed Lisa, but he'd glared at Malcolm and growled all kinds of dire warnings about what Malcolm had better not do while he was in the world.
Malcolm couldn't blame Caleb for not trusting him—Malcolm had nearly gotten Lisa killed the
last time he was here. Malcolm had needed Lisa and her magic, and she'd been hurt by his actions, though he hadn't meant her to be. Caleb was understandably wary.
He'd promised that his intentions this time were benevolent, and Lisa had seemed pleased with him. Malcolm hadn't mentioned Saba or the white dragon or his destination, wanting to find out more before he brought them into the matter, but Lisa had pulled him aside before he'd left the house and whispered, "Tell Saba hello for me."
"Lisa says hello," he said now.
"I saw her the other day, her and Caleb," Saba said. "In Chinatown."
"Ah. And how is the good Ming Ue?"
Ming Ue was a magical woman, a mage, who served the best dim sum in San Francisco. Ming Ue had known Malcolm for what he was the moment he'd entered her restaurant, and she had shown him reverence rather than fear.
"The good Ming Ue is fine," Saba answered impatiently. "I still want to know what you are doing here."
"And I've told you. To find out what you know about the white dragon."
"Nothing. End of story. You threw him back to Dragonspace. Didn't you chase him around there?"
"I tried to locate him, but I could not. He may or may not have made his way back to San Francisco—I returned because I did not like the idea of him roaming your world at will."
The way Saba's face paled, she didn't much like the idea, either.
"Will you help me hunt him?" he asked.
Side by side they could track down the white dragon, find out what he wanted, and rid the world of him, kill him if necessary.
"Do I have a choice?"
He looked her over again, the soft light of the lamp glowing on her wisps of black hair, her fine skin, the dark eyes that regarded him with intelligence and suspicion. Was she, somewhere inside her, happy to see him? Malcolm had never been self-deceptive and he wondered if he only imagined the interested spark in her eyes.
"My mark is not on you." He rose from his chair and approached the bed, no longer able to keep the distance of the room between them. "So you do have a choice."
She watched him warily, not moving the sheet, not shifting aside and welcoming him into the bed. He reached down and traced her cheek, loving the feel of the softness under his fingers. Her skin grew pink at his touch, and her eyes darkened.
"You can do as you like now," he said. "My witch."
He let his fingertip skim her lower lip, which had been bloody and cut when he'd seen her in the train. The lip was whole again, healed by his touch. Her blush deepened, and he saw a flicker of desire in her eyes, unmistakable this time. Her tongue moved across her lips the slightest bit, catching his fingertip.
Sudden heat shot through his body, fiery tendrils flaring from his finger through his torso down to his groin, where his erection lifted and extended. Want you, he thought. I missed you.
She moved her head, and his finger slid away from her mouth, the moment ending.
"I'll help you," she said in a hard voice, "I want to know what the white dragon is up to myself. But right now I need to sleep. I have to work in the morning."
His gaze wandered to the silhouette of her under the sheets, the enticing way the cloth draped her limbs.
Saba pulled the sheet higher and glared at him over it. "I meant sleep alone. There's another bedroom down the hall, if you remember."
He seated himself on the edge of the bed and smoothed his hand over her hip. "You used to like to sleep with me."
She reddened. "Yes, after we'd been fighting something or running from something or one of us had nearly been killed."
"We both fought this day," he reminded her.
"Well, I don't need it to become a habit."
Malcolm stroked her hip with his thumb, irritation stirring. He wanted her, had wanted her all the long months he'd been in Dragonspace without her. She wanted him, too, but by the hardness in her eyes, he could see she would not open her arms and invite him into the bed. She'd rejected him once before, when he'd offered pleasure and she'd said no for complex human reasons he didn't understand. She'd been very, very angry at him.
"When I was in Dragonspace," he said, "I read many books. There is much written about pleasure between a man and a woman. I learned many things."
He felt her pulse quicken, saw her pupils widen, but her mouth became a firm line. "No, you don't," she said, raising her forefinger in his direction. "No seduction. Not this time."
He continued to caress her, saying nothing. He knew she remembered when he'd leaned her up against the front door of this very apartment and unzipped her pants and dipped his tongue inside her. She'd been angry at him just before that, trying to leave him, but her resolve had crumbled at his touch.
The look in her eyes told him that she remembered, that she knew he'd try seduction again, and that she was prepared to fight him. The fact that she braced herself to fight told him more than words that she wanted him. If she hadn't wanted him, she'd not fear his tactics. Knowing that was enough for now.
"Rest then," he said softly. "I will continue to research."
She looked startled as though she expected him to continue to argue, and he felt a trickle of mirth. He would take it slowly. They had many problems to solve, and they would solve them, and after that he would have time. She would give him back his life, and he would spend it making her see why she should not resist him.
He moved his hand to the curve of her waist and leaned to brush a kiss to her lips. Her mouth moved beneath his, but she stopped it and turned her head, her breath coming fast.
Malcolm sat up again and straightened the sheet over her. "Sleep well."
He felt her gaze on him as he moved back to the computer, but he pretended not to notice. He also pretended not to notice that though she laid down again and arranged herself in a sleeping position, her breath remained quick and shallow, and never moved into the deeper pulses of sleep.
In the morning, she glared at him again when he insisted on accompanying her on her commute to work. They rode busses downtown, transferring where needed, and Malcolm stuck close beside her, his eye out for the white dragon or anyone who might bear his mark.
He felt a warmth of pride in his Saba as she parted from him in the Financial District, despite her exasperated look. Malcolm had honored her wishes and not climbed into bed with her last night, even when she'd finally slid into sleep. He'd finished his research on the computer, shut it down, and gone to the kitchen for the one human food he'd missed: coffee.
He'd listened to Saba sleeping fitfully in the other room while he read the newspaper and turned on the television to catch up with what had been happening in the human world in the last year. By the looks of it, same old, same old.
By the time he'd finished, showered and put on fresh clothes, Saba had risen and donned a bathrobe, giving him an evil look as he handed her a cup of fragrant coffee.
"I did not come to enslave you, Saba," he repeated.
She looked delectable in the oversized robe, her hair mussed from the pillow, her eyelids drooping from lack of sleep, slim hands cupping the coffee mug.
"I'm just remembering the last time you burst into my life," she answered. "I did spells I wasn't ready for, almost got myself killed, went up against a megapowerful witch and a horde of demons, and was nearly wrecked in a barge. I can't help wondering what kind of crap you'll drag me into this time."
She was beautiful when enraged, her dark eyes flashing, her cheeks pink, wisps of hair falling over her face. She was right that he had caused her much trouble, but he'd also taught her about the power she had buried deep inside her. He'd touched a part of her no man had ever touched, drawing from her the truth of herself.
"The circumstances you outline were unforeseen," he said. "I regret any hurt you suffered. But the power we shared was incredible. You haven't forgotten the power?"
Raw, copper-tasting power, a combination of her earth-connected witch magic and the fire magic of dragonkind. It had been heady and mind-bending.
"N
o." She slammed her coffee cup to the counter. "I haven't forgotten." She turned her back and walked out of the kitchen, her backside swaying enticingly.
Malcolm watched her sway again under her raincoat as she walked away from him down the street toward the building that housed Technobabble. He knew that under the coat she wore a tight black skirt that molded to her form and set off her legs to perfection. Saba was not a tall woman, but her legs still seemed to go on for miles. In lacy black stockings, they made him remember what it was like to lower his head to her, to lick…
He indulged himself in that vision for a few moments. Soon he'd be able to share with her the true purpose of his visit here. He would ask for her help, and he would explain exactly why he needed her and only her.
First, though, he had a few things to take care of. The scent of danger had been high when he'd fought the white dragon. He wasn't sure what the danger was, or if the white dragon had anything to do with Malcolm's present dilemma. He also wouldn't rest easy until he knew exactly who had allowed the white dragon through from Dragonspace, and why he'd been so eager to find Saba.
He watched Saba move away from him awhile longer, appreciating the tilt of her head as she looked for traffic before tripping across the street in her high-heeled ankle boots. Beautiful witch. He craved the taste of her, the feel of her body under his hands. It wouldn't be long before he could have all of her and make her understand her part in this. Until then he'd have to content himself with looking.
He remained on the street corner, watching until Saba dove through the doors into the high-rise that housed her office. Only then did he turn away and head back up Sacramento Street toward Chinatown and his destination.
* * *
Chapter 3
The Black Dragon Page 3
