The lines about her mouth softened. "And you're not conceited about it or anything."
"It is not boasting," Malcolm replied. "It is a statement of fact."
"If you say so." Saba's eyes glinted at the humor she found in his remarks, although, as usual, she refused to explain. "Well, let's get on with it. Let's find your female so you can go have dragon sex with her."
Malcolm touched her hand. "Not just sex. A mate for life."
"If she doesn't kill you first."
"Exactly."
She studied him a moment, eyes unreadable, but he felt her closing off to him. She withdrew her hand. "All right. Let me prepare."
Preparation consisted of Saba setting candles at the four corners of the map, then encircling them with salt and laying quartz crystals at the base of each candle.
This setup was a little different from the one she'd done last year when they'd tried to locate an elusive witch, but he realized she'd progressed in her magical studies, learning different techniques and working with more confidence. Pride warmed his heart as he thought how far she'd come, his witch who'd first looked upon him in fear. He'd told her she would grow, and she had.
Saba dimmed the lights and resumed her seat, candlelight throwing a golden glow over the map and her pointed silver pendulum on its chain. She scattered salt over the map and dangled the pendulum so that it just touched the salt.
"Put your hands over mine," she said.
Malcolm closed his hands around her smaller ones, liking the feel of her fingers under his.
"Here we go," she said tightly.
Saba chanted a rhyme asking the elements to guide her hand and show her the location of Malcolm's mate. Slowly the pendulum moved through the salt, tracing faint patterns, but resting on no one area. The pendulum traveled remembered falling, falling such a long way, and the dull rush of hurt. Voices above him, movement, silence. Then the voice of the woman easing into his brain with the sweetness of wind chimes.
Stay with me, he wanted to say.
The voice vanished. Over it he heard a cold chuckle, the cruelty in it sharp.
I will kill you, Malcolm promised.
The soft woman's voice swam back to him. Don't you dare die on me, do you hear? I'll make you live whether you like it or not.
The voice conjured pleasant memories. A scent of spice and musk, slick skin under his hands, mouth on his like she couldn't get enough of him. Small hands moving down his chest, fingers ringing his staff in a wildly erotic grip. Hips moving beneath his, soft cries of feminine joy.
He wanted that again. He'd have that again—being inside her, home where he belonged.
He remembered wild black hair, brown eyes he could drown in, small-boned, taut body, lovely, lovely lips…
He imagined he saw those lips now, moving in words he could not distinguish. As though he watched from above, he saw her kneeling in a room lit with candles, his naked body on the bed beside her. Glittering salt encircled their two forms and a heap of purple stones whose name he did not remember rested on his chest, a faint violet light pulsing from them.
The black-haired woman had a book open in her lap, a huge thing that nearly dwarfed her crossed legs. Its pages glistened as though made of pure gold. On the right-hand page crouched a black dragon on a background of white, the only color in the picture the blood red of the dragon's tongue. The dragon had wide eyes, a fearsome scowl, and curled claws.
The left-hand page was rilled with symbols, swirls, and lines. The lines seemed to move and writhe, dancing in his blurred vision, and the young woman held the book firmly as though trying to tame them. She was reading the words.
Her mouth tightened. "What are you talking about? It's obvious that either the pendulum needs to be cleansed and reconsecrated, or that I can't find your mate for you."
"You found her." Malcolm laid down the pendulum. "I knew it was so, but I wanted you to do a spell so you would believe it."
She stared in astonishment, making him smile. "It's you, Saba." He touched the soft pad of her parted lips. "My witch."
* * *
Chapter 7
Saba gaped in shock at Malcolm, who sat calmly, satisfaction in his eyes.
"But I'm not a dragon," she croaked.
His expression was warm. "I should have been able to easily forget about you when I returned home, but I could not. No matter how often I told myself you meant nothing to me, still the memories of you cut through everything I did. Black dragons spend much time thinking, years if necessary, but I'd find myself calling an image of you to my mind, wondering what you were doing, and speculating on why I missed you."
"You missed me?"
"I did." He drew his thumb across her lower lip. "My thoughts were ever disturbed by longings for you. It concerned me. But if you are to be my mate, then the longings make sense. Once we are together, no doubt I will be able to return to my mathematics untroubled."
Saba sat still while conflicting emotions raced through her mind. The first was mirth—he couldn't be serious about magic choosing her as a mate, it was like something out of a romance novel. The second was a deep, heartfelt relief that he hadn't forgotten her. The third was amazement, and the fourth was anger.
"Malcolm." She took his hand and deliberately moved it from her. "You're saying you want me to be your mate in order to relieve your tension? So you can go back to Dragonspace, this time without troubling thoughts of me?"
He frowned. "That is not what I meant."
Saba rose, scattering salt, and the pendulum rolled across the table. "Forget it."
Malcolm got to his feet and swiftly blocked her exit from the room, six and a half feet of solid male, his eyes unyielding as ever, his jaw set in a stubborn line. "What should I forget?"
She glared. "Here's an interesting thing, Malcolm. After you left, I did much research on dragons. Nowhere did I come across a reference to black dragons needing to find their true mates. No wonder the pendulum couldn't locate one."
"Then why did it keep pointing to you?"
"Because you had your hands on it and swung it at me. You're making this up."
"I need you, Saba."
The timbre of his voice betrayed faint worry, and she paused. "Why? Other than the obvious."
The teasing, sinful light in Malcolm's eyes faded. He cupped her shoulders, his fingers points of strength, but she sensed deep uneasiness in the threads of thoughts that touched her even if he didn't try to tangle her in them.
"Malcolm?"
He remained silent for a long time while outside several cars went past in a muffled hurry, and the couple who lived downstairs came home, having a playful argument about who would feed their demanding cat. Malcolm stood still, the muscles in his arms stiff and strained, his eyes fixed on her.
"I need your help, Saba," he said after a long time. "I am not lying about that."
The way he spoke troubled her. "My help with what?"
"I'm not quite certain. But I am… fading."
Saba ran her hands up his arms, over hard muscles beneath satin skin. "You feel solid to me."
"My magic, my power, my strength. All fading. I have no idea why."
"Illness?" She touched his forehead, which felt warm, but then, Malcolm always felt warmer than a normal human.
"No. Nor is it natural age—black dragons usually live for six thousand years, and I've just reached half that."
"You think you've been spelled?"
"A spell or a curse, I have no idea. I can find nothing. It began a few of your weeks ago, and then you called me to you. I am trying to decide if the incidents are connected."
She let her hands drop. "And you think I can figure it out? I'm still learning the craft. If you don't know what kind of spell is harming you, I doubt I will be able to discover it."
"I have told you many times how powerful you are. I will guide you and you will find the truth." He stepped closer to her, hands coming around to skim her waist.
"This is really why you came to find me?" she
asked. "Not this true mate business?"
He shook his head. "When I began to fade, I knew I would need to mate. Dragons must, before they die, it is one of our most basic urges. I thought that was why I couldn't forget you, why I needed to be with you, because of my need to mate soon. I consulted with Ming Ue, and we decided the best way to convince you was to make you believe magic had chosen you for me."
He dipped his head toward her, and she knew he wanted to kiss her. She drew back, exasperated. "You know, Malcolm, you could just ask."
He looked puzzled. "Ask for your consent to mate?"
"Ask for my help. Let's get back to this fading for a moment. Why do you think so? That it's not natural aging for a dragon? You are solitary creatures, you don't exactly have a lot of examples around you."
He didn't look convinced. "I read… everything. The dragon archive contains many books, composed by dragons and humans, telling of the world when dragons and humans intermingled, before humans stopped believing in legends. I have read every book written by black dragons, and accounts of dragon lives, and none of them mention this."
"You haven't taken into account the arrogance of dragons," she pointed out. "They might not want to admit the slowdown of middle age."
"Dragons are not worried about aging," he contradicted. "Humans believe that once they have lived thirty or so years they should be ashamed of their age. Dragons know that each year makes a dragon that much more learned, that much stronger and more magical. They describe their process of aging quite clearly, which is how I know this is not normal."
"Oh." She inclined her head in acknowledgment of her ignorance. "Ergo, you concluded it is a spell."
"Something magical, yes."
"Why you, though? What is it about you that would make someone want to cast a spell on you, to weaken you?"
He still stood very close to her, although he wasn't touching her at the moment,, confident she'd let him into her personal space. And he was right. He was the only one who could stand this close to her without her taking an instinctive step backward. No matter how much she argued with him or expressed irritation at him, there was always this closeness between them. The two of them in a tight space felt comfortable and natural.
"I have narrowed it to three possibilities," he was saying. "First, I lived a long time in the human world and perhaps learned something here that someone wants me not to have learned. Second, I am the keeper of the dragon archive, guardian of a vast cavern of knowledge. I am its protector, although I admit few dragons seem interested in knowledge any longer. Third, I met you."
"Me? What do I have to do with anything?"
"You are a powerful witch. Perhaps whoever is spelling me wants you for himself."
"I am also a powerful database programmer, but no one is spelling my boss so I'll go work for someone else."
The tiny space between them seemed to have lessened even further. "Perhaps whoever it is knows that together, we would be a formidable team," he said. "What they didn't predict was that the spell only urged me to come back to you."
His hands on her shoulders were warm and strong, and she no longer wanted to twist away.
"You mean whoever wants us apart has only succeeded in driving us together? Seems far-fetched."
"Yet, I believe it is true. And I am glad."
She watched him a moment, saw the warmth grow in his eyes. He was worried, yes, but Malcolm would use the situation to his full advantage.
"You could have just told me, you know," she said, voice softening. "You didn't have to go hole-in-corner with Ming Ue and come up with the story about finding your true mate."
A sinful smile flickered across his face. "But my way was more enjoyable. I did not know the meaning of play before I met you."
She tried a smile. "That's what those people at the party tonight were trying to do."
"No." He stepped closer, hand cupping her cheek. "They were desperately seeking relief from boredom, release from the tedium of their lives. They reach for the extreme because they cannot be fulfilled by the ordinary."
"And this is ordinary?"
His smiled turned feral. "I would not say that. Those people could be fulfilled by simple joys, but they seek them in the wrong places."
"Are you looking in the right place?" she asked lightly.
"I do not know," he admitted. "But whenever you are involved, I always enjoy the search."
He caressed her cheek with his thumb, his body warmth making her own temperature rise. Malcolm never did anything by halves. He wanted her body and he would have it. He wanted her help, and he would have it.
I should resist more, she thought desperately. I should resist a lot more. Any other man would be on the wrong side of a binding spell by now, and here I stand, letting him touch me, just like I belong to him and have all along.
He began to unlace her top, fingers sure. "When I was in Dragonspace, I did much research."
She closed her eyes as he drew his fingers over the tops of her breasts, his touch raising goose bumps. "On mathematics and probability?"
"On pleasure," he answered. "As I told you there are myriad texts in my archive describing pleasure. I have read them all."
Saba imagined him sitting in his dragon coldness, absorbing book after book on sexual technique. The Kama Sutra, The Perfumed Garden, the Joy of Sex. Reading with his dragon eyes narrowed, holding the book between the tips of his claws as he perused it.
"So you learned a lot of theory, did you?" she asked, voice strained.
"I learned many things I wish to do to you and with you. I wish to pleasure you, as I did before, to thank you."
She put one hand on his chest, liking the feel of his hard muscle and the slow, steady thump of his heart. "It shouldn't be just for thanks or for payment. If that's what you're offering…" She willed herself to say the words. "Then I don't want it."
He tilted his head to one side, his eyes unreadable as he continued to unlace her shirt. "You do not want pleasure?"
"Not if it's for services rendered. That's not what it should be for."
He considered this. "There is much written about pleasure in exchange for other things. When I lived here in exile I observed that exchange often. In the land of your ancestors, Japan, they have geisha who give different kinds of pleasure and came to be much honored. I stayed in Edo for a time; I knew a geisha well and made her one of my own."
Saba's eyes widened. "You went out with a geisha before you met me?"
"Not go out, as you say now. She was helpful to me."
Knowing Malcolm, the woman could have been anything from his sexual partner to someone to play Go with on a Saturday night. Geisha didn't necessarily provide sex, but Saba would understand one wanting to make an exception for Malcolm.
"I've learned some of the arts of a geisha," she said. "Ikebana, calligraphy, dance. Never could get the hang of the shamisen, though."
He shot her a puzzled look. "Why should you play a shamisen? You are a database programmer."
"I was joking, Malcolm. But if you start missing the arts of the geisha too much I can always get out my ink brush and scroll."
"I would rather pleasure you instead."
Her heart beat faster. Saba supposed Malcolm had a sense of humor somewhere under all the layers of him. Or maybe his misunderstanding her was his way of teasing, of flirting. He leaned down and brushed his lips to hers, not quite a kiss, but tantalizing.
"How about if I pleasure you instead?" she whispered against the side of his mouth.
He stilled, and she wondered if once more he'd push her offer away. She stared up at him. "Are you going to tell me again that it's best if you don't allow yourself to feel anything for me?"
"That would be best," he said. His voice turned low and dark. "However, I believe it is now much too late for what is best."
Saba's eyes darkened and unlike before, she did not pull away. He expected her to, to tell him in her annoyed voice that he could go sleep by himself in the guest room.
He'd never sleep there, he knew that, because the scent of her magic permeated that room, the blue and silver feel of her imprinted on the walls and carpet and every piece of furniture. If he spent the night in the guest room he'd be hard and needy, his head spinning with erotic visions. Better to be with her and relieve the tension.
But she didn't tell him to go away. She looked up at him, her shirt unlaced to show the black edges of her bra, her fingers resting lightly on his chest.
"I want to undress you," she said, her voice soft but with an edge of hesitancy. "Will you let me?"
His pulse raced, but he dipped his head formally. "I would be honored."
"Oh, good." She fingered the edges of his shirt. "Will you sit down, please?"
He seated himself on the dining room chair, wondering what she would do. During his exile in human form, he'd had sex with women, responding to his male body's urges, but never had it been so important to him, never had he anticipated the touch of a woman the way he waited for Saba's.
He knew that after this, there would be no going back. No sitting on mountain ledges pretending to focus on mathematical calculations, no pretending he didn't need her. He'd held back before, knowing that having her would make leaving more difficult. Now it would be impossible, and at the moment he had a hard time caring.
She started with his boots. She tugged each one off, setting them gently next to him before peeling off his socks. She sat on her heels and began to rub his feet, taking her time, fingers kneading and massaging his heels, the balls of his feet, the arches. Her fingers moved in delightful patterns, squeezing and rubbing until his skin warmed and tingled. He'd never thought about foot-rubbing in terms of sex, but now he realized how very good it felt.
She moved next to his T-shirt, skimming it off over his head. She'd seen him naked before, including last evening in the train, but her gaze roved his torso in a flattering way, taking in every plane. She lightly traced the tattoo on his arm, then feathered her hands across his collarbone and around his pectorals, letting his wiry black hair curl around her fingers.
The Black Dragon Page 9
