by Lili Zander
Mateo nods. “He tested the ward again last night,” he says. “Even with all five of us powering the magic, I’m concerned that the barrier won’t hold for long. The wolves can wait, tesoro. Our place is here. With you.”
I take a deep breath. If Zyrian enters my mind again, he’ll be able to find out everything I’ve discovered so far. Everything that was in my CPS file. All the foster homes I’ve lived in. And if he does…
The six of us don’t know what we’re looking for. All we have is the suspicion that I’m not Norm. But Zyrian is old and powerful. He might be able to piece together the puzzle of my identity faster than us.
His curiosity is the only thing keeping me alive. If he solves the mystery first, it’s lights-out for me.
Bastian insists we take his car, and I don’t fight it. It’ll take us more than an hour on the subway to get there, and Silas has dark circles under his eyes. It’ll be time soon for another transfusion of plasma.
We get into the car, and the driver starts moving. The ever-present guards follow us in their own vehicle, giving us a rare moment of privacy. I don’t begrudge their presence—they are keeping me safe, after all—but it’s still weird that someone’s always within earshot of me.
“How are you doing?” I ask Silas as we make our way out of Manhattan. “Are things too strange for you?” Silas is still living in a visitor apartment in the same building as us. He’s got to be feeling the same sense of dissonance that I am.
“I can’t complain, Aria,” he replies with a smile. “You’re safe, and you seem happy. Living out of a suitcase seems a small price to pay for that.”
“I am happy.” I give Silas a rueful look. “Five guys. You’re okay with that?”
“The marks are a sign from the fates, Aria, and I’m not foolish enough to fight them. Also,” he grimaces, “I try not to think about it too much.”
I laugh at his expression. “Forget me for a second,” I tell him. “You’re spending a lot of time with Eclipse Pack. Who is she?”
He gives me a startled look. “How did you guess?”
“Silas, I know you. Any other time, this situation would send you around the bend with worry, but you’ve been remarkably calm, all things considered.” I give him a sly grin. “What’s her name?”
“Sarina.”
“Do I get to meet her?”
He smiles. “It’s early days yet, but I hope so, little cub. You’ll like her. She’s nice. Funny as hell, too, and she swears like a sailor.”
For such a long time, Silas and I were a little family of two. Not anymore. Our Thanksgiving table is going to be pretty crowded this year.
If I survive until then. If Zyrian doesn’t kill me first.
The Cherry Blossom Retirement Home—who names these things anyway?—is a twelve-story brick building, squat and ugly. It’s nicer inside. The reception area is brightly lit, and the woman at the reception greets us cheerfully. “We’re here to see Pauline Summers,” I tell her.
“Room 531,” she says. “Though at this time of the day, she’s more likely to be in the dining room.”
“Okay.” I’m wondering how Tomas’ guards are going to get around the ‘two visitors only’ rule, but I shouldn’t have. Two of them start fighting in the lobby, and while the receptionist is distracted, one of them, a young panther-shifter called Dave, slips into the elevator with us. “Nicely done,” I tell him.
He blushes a little. “Mr. Vallin taught us that move.”
Pauline Summers is indeed in the dining room. She’s short and round, with apple-red cheeks and short curly gray hair. Her blue eyes track us as we walk up to her. “Can we sit with you?” I ask her.
She nods, and Silas and I slide into the booth. “Do I know you?” she says. “My memory isn’t very good anymore.”
I swallow a lump in my throat. This woman took me in when I was two. She had been almost fifty then, according to my files, but she’d cared for me for four months before CPS had placed me in a ‘better’ home. I should remember her, but I don’t. It’s not just her memory that’s a problem. It’s mine too.
“Not really,” I reply. “My name is Aria. A long time ago, CPS placed me with you.”
“No, no.” She peers at me. “Aria was a little blonde girl. You’re not her.”
“Can you tell us about her?” Silas asks gently. “What was she like?”
Her expression becomes troubled. “That poor child,” she says. “She used to have terrible nightmares. She’d wake up screaming in the middle of the night.”
Really? Once again, I have no memory of this. “What was in her dreams?”
“Swords,” she replies, digging her spoon into the green jello in front of her with apparent enthusiasm. “Darkness. Death.”
I exchange a glance with Silas. “Endellion?” I whisper. “How is this possible?”
He looks as shaken as I feel. “Did you know who her mother was?” he asks the old lady. “Did Aria ever say anything about her?”
Her brows draw together in a frown. “No. Never.” She finishes her bowl of dessert and gives the empty bowl a sad look. My heart swelling with sympathy, I get up to get her a refill. When I get back, she smiles at me. “Thank you, child. I’m glad they finally let you out of that institution.”
My skin prickles. This is important. “The institution?”
“Or did you escape again?” She looks around the room. “Honey, it’s for your own sake.” Her voice softens with sympathy. “You’re babbling about prophecies and curses and magic. You tried to kill yourself. You tried to kill your daughter. You need help.”
My mother tried to kill me? Shock courses through my body. Then the rest of it sinks in. Curses. Prophecies. Magic. Did my mother know who I am?
“Mrs. Summers, this is Aria.” Silas places his hand over mine, as calm as ever. Worries like a champion, but he’s amazing in a crisis.
“No, no.” The old lady shakes her head with vehemence, and her voice rises to a shriek. “You leave that little girl alone, Ingrid. You can’t have her.”
Several people look up at the noise, including a nursing attendant, who straightens and starts making her way toward us. We have only minutes before we need to get out of here. My pulse races and my mouth goes dry. “Mrs. Summers, what’s Ingrid’s last name?”
But whatever thread of memory the old lady was following has reached its end. “You can’t have her,” she says again, and this time she looks like she’s close to tears. “No, no, no.”
The attendant bustles up. “There, there, Pauline,” she says soothingly. “Nobody’s taking anyone away. Have some more jello, sweetie.”
She gives us a strained look and Silas gets the message. He squeezes my hand. “Let’s go, little cub.”
My eyes prickle with tears. Mrs. Summers might know something, but I can’t put the old lady through more. It doesn’t feel right. “Okay,” I murmur.
I thought I might find answers here. Instead, I’ve hit another dead end. Worse, I’ve learned that my own mother tried to kill me.
64
Aria
Dave must have warned the dragons about the scene at the retirement home because four boxes of extra-large pizza are waiting for me when I get home. “Spinach, mushrooms, and black olives, love,” Rhys says cheerfully. “Come get some before Erik eats it all.”
They look so concerned that I almost burst into tears. Stop crying over every damn thing, Aria. And they really get me. They knew that pizza would put me in a better mood. “Extra sauce?” I ask hopefully.
Bastian smiles at me. “Am I a fool?” he asks. “Come eat, little thief. Silas, join us, please. There’s plenty of food.”
I take a deep, calming breath. This might be a shit-sundae of a situation, but I’m not facing it alone.
The next week speeds by in a blur. I go on dates with all five dragons. Bastian takes me to a glass-roofed bar, and we sip drinks while watching snowflakes fall all around us. Casius hears that I love the Nutcracker, and takes me to the
ballet. Rhys and I go ice skating and drink brandy-laced cocoa after. Mateo turns out to be a huge soccer fan, and the two of us spend an afternoon watching a match, eating junk food, and cheering every goal at the top of our voices. Erik and I play more pool and drink more beer.
When I’m not on dates, I work at Trendz. Bea thinks I’m a fool to keep working at the mall, and if I’m being honest with myself, I tend to agree with her. But I’m not entirely stupid. Much to Brooke’s annoyance, I turn down all extra shifts and opt out of overtime.
Silas taught me swordplay when I was younger. In the penthouse, Bastian and Rhys help me sharpen my skills. I practice with Endellion, the blade feeling like an extension of my arm. When I realize the men are taking it easy on me, I demand they stop holding back. As a result, Mateo’s taken to standing by, just in case he needs to perform an emergency healing.
Talking about Silas, Dr. Burdick examines him and sets him up with an enhanced plasma transfusion that combines wolf-shifter plasma with magic. “He’ll need a few doses before we can tell how well it’s working,” Dr. Burdick says. “But I’m optimistic.”
The preparations for the party proceed in full swing, though I hardly have to do anything. Rhys mentions our plans to Bastian’s hyper-competent assistant Tracy, and she takes over, arranging to rent a private room at Equinox, sending out invitations, arranging an assortment of finger food and making sure the bar is stocked with Bastian’s favorite Scotch.
Mateo keeps his promise and starts to teach me magic, though that’s far less successful than my fighting lessons. Let’s be blunt: it’s a disaster. I can sense Mateo’s threads of magic just fine, but I can’t seem to touch the strands. “I don’t understand,” I whine. “It worked before.”
“Once, tesoro,” Mateo says patiently, not for the first time. “It took me decades to learn my art. You’ve been at it for less than a week. Have patience.”
And my nights… My nights are smokin’ hot. There’s a lot of heavy petting with Casius, and outright sex with Bastian, Mateo, and Rhys.
Everything would be perfect if it weren’t for the nightmares.
As if Pauline Summers’ words freed them from prison, I find myself pulled back to Zyrian’s castle every night. Every night, the wraiths shriek at me to stay away. Every night, I bargain for Silas’ freedom, offering Zyrian whatever his heart desires as long as he lets my father go. “Take me,” I beg the Dark Dragon in my dreams, and he laughs at me. “You?” he mocks. “I can snuff you out like a candle anytime I want.” I offer him Endellion, and his eyes sharpen with interest for a heartbeat before he shakes his head. “You know what I want, thief.”
Only the Bloodstone will save Silas, but I can’t give it to Zyrian. I can’t betray my dragons. The fate of all magic rests on me.
And so, night after night, I watch the Dark Dragon slice Silas’ throat. I see the blood gush from my father’s neck, and I wake up with an image of his slumped body seared into my mind.
From the exhaustion in Mateo’s eyes, I know Zyrian’s testing the wards every night. “I can’t stop him from dream-walking,” the mage says. “All I can do is keep him out of your mind. I’m sorry, Aria.”
It’s not Mateo’s fault. The dragons didn’t involve me in this. My mother talked about the prophecy when I was a baby. Whatever this is, it’s been simmering my entire life, waiting for the right time to blaze into life.
65
Aria
“I feel like Cinderella,” Bea says as she runs her hands over the red material of her dress. “I can’t believe your guys scheduled a girls’ day for us.”
Leave it to Bastian to turn a day that is supposed to be all about him into an excuse to spoil me, and by extension my best friend. He booked us a full day at a really nice spa. Not just hair and makeup like I had assumed, but massages, manicures, pedicures, and, of course, hair and makeup.
I woke up with a raging headache, but by the time we’re done, I am more relaxed than I’ve been in weeks—hell maybe even years. I have never felt so pampered. Spa days aren’t really my thing—a thief doesn’t need a manicure—but after this experience, I’m ready to change my mind.
“They totally spoil me,” I agree, and a thought strikes me. “Hang on, if you feel like Cinderella, does that make the guys your fairy godmother?” A vision of Erik with glittery wings and Mateo with a sparkly wand sets me giggling. “I can totally see it.”
Bea and I are still laughing when our limo pulls up to the curb outside Equinox, Manhattan’s current ‘it’ club. There is a line from the front doors that extends around the side of the building. “Wowza,” Bea says, her eyes round. “Please tell me your guys will get us in, Aria. I’ll freeze my ass off if I have to wait in line.”
The door opens, and Rhys sticks his head in, a grin on his face. “Hello ladies,” he says, his accent practically makes love to every syllable. “No, you don’t have to wait in line. I’m here to escort you inside.”
Rhys helps Bea and me from the car, walking us past the bouncer, who nods politely to us. He leads us to a private room on the second floor, from where we can see the entire dance floor. As we climb the set of stairs, he smiles over his shoulder at Bea. “Aria told me your friend Jesse might join us,” he says, raising his voice to be heard above the DJ. “I’ve put his name on the list, so he shouldn’t have any problems getting in.”
That’s super thoughtful. I beam at him, and he winks at me. “I remember the last time I saw that dress on you,” he whispers into my ear. “I’ve got to be honest. I prefer seeing it on the floor.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I reply, taking deep satisfaction in the way his mouth falls open. He thinks he’s the only one that can be wicked? Bring it.
Mateo, Casius, and Erik are already there. Mateo steps forward, wrapping his arm around my waist, and nibbling at my ear. “You look downright edible, tesoro,” he murmurs. He presses a soft kiss to my neck, and I gasp when his tongue swipes across my skin. He hums low in his throat, the sound somewhere between a purr and a growl. It does dirty, dirty things to me. “Mmm… delicious.”
“Behave,” I scold him, my cheeks heating, even though what I really want to do is whimper and beg for more. Ever since I decided to stop fighting the pull I feel toward my dragons, I’ve been in a constant state of arousal. It’s ridiculous.
The big jerk chuckles. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Thankfully—or not, depending on which part of my brain you’re asking—a waitress shows up with flutes of champagne. “A toast,” Rhys says cheerfully, lifting his glass toward Bastian. “To grumpy old dragons,” he says, his eyes filled with laughter.
Bastian wraps his arm around my waist and flips him the bird. “Thank you for the Picasso,” he replies. “I have the perfect spot for it in my office.”
I laugh at their banter and sip my champagne. Everyone looks relaxed—happy even. So much is happening, but for tonight, we are carving out time to just be. To relax and laugh and enjoy each other.
“Do I get a dance with the birthday boy?”
It’s an hour later. Silas and his date Sarina have joined us, as has Jesse. So far, I’ve been too busy gorging myself on the snacks and drinking delicious champagne to worry about dancing, but it’s time to work off some of the calories.
Bastian’s eyes light up, and his lips curl into a sexy smirk. He unfolds himself from his chair and stalks toward me, and heat runs through me at the way he’s looking at me. “Whatever my mate wants, she gets.”
We head to the dance floor, and I wrap my arms around his neck. “Kiss me,” I whisper.
His lips crash into mine. He grabs a fistful of my hair, holding me in place as he ravages my mouth. My nipples harden to stiff peaks, and my panties practically combust from my need. “What a demanding little thing you are,” he breathes into me.
“It’s a good thing you like it.”
Bastian’s dominance is something that’s both unexpected and hot as hell. The night I shared with him and Mateo was straight out of ever
y dirty fantasy I’ve ever had. He kisses me now, sucking my lower lip between his teeth. When he pulls away, my lips are swollen, and my body buzzes from need. I sway toward him, unwilling to let him go far. His dark chuckle tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
Arrogant Dragon.
“You won’t totally hate me if I bail, will you?” Bea asks. “I know I’m breaking all kinds of bestie rules, but…”
“But Jesse’s here, you’re looking all kinds of hot, and you want to go get your donut glazed.” I almost say it with a straight face. Almost.
Bea freezes with her lip-gloss halfway to her lips and stares at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. “What? Aria… I… someone needs to take Google away from you.”
A group of women enters the bathroom as we’re cracking up. One of them turns up her nose when she sees us. Oh dear. Bea straightens and flashes the women one of her patented eat-shit-and-die looks. It’s the same look she gave to Vivian Stewart in tenth grade when she tripped me in the cafeteria at school causing me to fall face first into my pizza.
I love that look, but it’s also my cue to get Bea as far away from the glaring women as possible. My bestie is feisty when she’s drunk and horny. I drag her out of the bathroom and toward the exit, where Jesse’s waiting for her.
“Are you sure you don’t mind my leaving you?” she asks again.
I roll my eyes and pull Bea into a hug. “Yes! Go batter-dip Jesse’s corn dog.” I really have been spending too much time on the Internet.
“I give you ten points for creativity on that one,” she replies. “Though, I’m deducting three because… ew.”
I smirk as we navigate the dancing bodies. Tomas is only a half-step behind me, and I can feel his watchful gaze on my back. “You know you love it… go ride his baloney pony, choke his chicken, sacrifice yourself on his pork sword—”
