by Lili Zander
And then he’d kick my ass at pool.
I perch on the bed next to him. His breathing is steady, and his chest rises and falls gently. Around his body is a spider-web of protective and healing magic. Mateo’s taking no chances.
“Hey,” I whisper. It’s so weird how important the dragons have become to me, each one in a different way, but nothing is weirder than my relationship with Erik.
At the start, I’d been convinced he hated me, but then he’d paid Silas’ medical bills. I’d found him baffling and infuriating, and then I’d come to understand why he held himself apart. To lose your mate… your unborn child… I can’t even imagine what an abyss of loss that must have been.
I’d told him I wanted to be friends. Over the last month, Erik and I have established our boundaries. We don’t flirt. We don’t fool around. I thought it was enough. A real-life counter-balance to all the fairy-tale sexy-times I’m getting from the other four.
It’s not enough. I want more.
“You stupid lug,” I mutter under my breath. “I told you that I had a bad feeling about your stupid meeting. Did you listen? No, of course not.” I brush my thumb over his cheek, and his stubble rasps my skin. “You had to go charging in, thinking nothing could happen to the big, bad dragon.”
I blink back the tears in my eyes. Don’t be ridiculous, Aria. Mateo told you he was going to be okay. What on Earth are you crying about?
I’ve cycled through more foster homes than I can remember. Every single time, it didn’t work out. Once, because I was allergic to the dog, and the family chose their pet over me. Another time, because the couple was only in it for the money. Then there was the boyfriend who kept accidentally walking in on me in the bathroom.
“You could have been killed.” There’s a lump in my throat. “I can’t lose any of you.”
I thought my heart was hardened to loss. I thought there were only two people I cared about in the world. Silas and Bea. I was wrong. So very wrong.
“I’ve been practicing,” I tell the unconscious dragon. “I won a game of pool against Bastian a couple of days ago. You better wake up soon. Because the moment you’re awake, I’m going to kick your ass.”
Or kiss you senseless. One or the other.
Can he hear me? I don’t know. Just to be on the safe side, I don’t say that last bit out loud. It’s too embarrassing.
90
Bastian
I run into Aria outside Erik’s room.
For the first time in a long time, I have absolutely no idea what to say to her. I spent all night tossing and turning, guilt sloshing through my veins.
This is my family’s fault. All of it. My mother rejected Zyrian and chose my father, setting in motion the sequence of events that led to the dark curse. And now, it appears that she not only foresaw the future and pulled Aria into our struggle, but she did so knowing that Aria could die.
My mother did this.
A surge of anger pulses through me. She’d told Halla Northridottir to choose freely. As if that was enough. As if Halla had any right condemning Aria—my Aria—to this path. Condemning her to death.
My mate’s eyes are red-rimmed. She looks like she’s been crying. This is all my fault. I pulled her into this as well. I’ve had so many opportunities to send her away to safety, but I’ve been greedy and selfish. I’ve enjoyed her dry wit, her cheerful spirit, and her surprisingly filthy mind.
This should be our battle, not hers. Except it’s too late to do anything about it.
“Sorry about yesterday,” she says. “I shouldn’t have pitched a hissy fit.”
“I wouldn’t call it that.” She’d been frustrated for all of ten minutes. Then Mateo had dropped his little bombshell and she’d gone far too silent. “You’re entitled to yell, you know. You shouldn’t apologize for what’s a perfectly normal reaction.”
She shrugs. “Yelling doesn’t achieve anything.”
Her voice is flat, colorless. The curse is weighing on her mind, how could it not? The last week has been tense as we’ve waited at Erik’s bedside, willing him to pull through. Mateo has sent the spear to Italy, where his assistants are in the process of analyzing it.
Dragons are almost impossible to hurt. Yet that spear had almost killed him. And then there was Mateo’s drunken incident, the one that had prevented him from shifting. That knife is in Mateo’s laboratory too, and I’m willing to bet that the two attacks are linked.
We’re all under an enormous amount of stress. What Aria needs is a good distraction, and I think I have the perfect idea.
I give her a sidelong look. “Can you drive?”
“Of course.” Her lips curl into a smile. “Silas borrowed Uncle Pete’s car and taught me when I was sixteen.”
“What about a standard?”
She raises an eyebrow. “What’s with all the questions, Bastian?”
I wait for her to answer, and she rolls her eyes at me. “Yes, Bastian. I can handle a stick.” Her eyes twinkle with amusement. “As you should know by now.”
I choke back my snort of laughter. She’s got a dirty mind, and I love her for it. “Come with me. We’re going to do something we should have done a long time ago.”
She tilts her head to one side. “Are you going to buy me something?” she asks, her voice coated with suspicion.
My lips twitch. “Nope.”
“Or give me something?”
“What’s with all the questions, Aria?” I tease. “Have a little faith, mausezähnchen. You’re going to like this.”
I lead the way outside and we make our way down an overgrown path toward the garage. “I like New York,” I tell her conversationally. “In fact, there’s only one thing I miss there.”
“And that is?”
I throw open the door, and she steps into a gleaming, state-of-the-art, temperature-controlled garage. Ten beautiful, classic cars shine under the spotlights. Seven Porsches, one 1956 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL, and a couple of Italian models—a 1964 Ferrari 250 GTO and a 1971 Lamborghini Miura SV—round out the collection, though I maintain that the Germans make far better vehicles. “My cars.”
Her mouth falls open. “Seriously? You have a hangar filled with cars?”
“Dragons like treasure, little thief. Which one do you want to take out for a spin?”
“You’re joking.”
“I told you. Whatever’s mine is yours. But if you pick the Ferrari, try not to crash it. They only made three of the 250 GTO that year.”
“No pressure.” She shakes her head wryly. “Pick for me. Something replaceable, please.”
“I know just the thing.” I make my way to the end of the garage and gesture to a gleaming silver car. “Last year’s Porsche 911 GT2 RS,” I tell her. “Seven hundred horses, two-point-eight second zero-to-hundred acceleration, and I won’t care if you wreck it.”
“Why is it here?” she asks curiously. “You haven’t been to Castle Jaeger in twenty years.”
I wince. “I was going to ship it to the States,” I reply. “But I got busy.”
“Of course you did. You one-percenters. Alright, Bastian. Strap in and hold tight. I’m going to take you for one hell of a ride.”
91
Aria
Driving Bastian’s Porsche on the Autobahn is great. The car handles like a dream, and to his credit, Bastian’s not a nervous passenger at all. We blare Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song—Bastian’s pick, and the two of us sing along at the top of our lungs.
Lunch is fantastic as well. There’s a kale and sausage stew, and some freshly baked bread to go with it. All the dragons except Erik show up for the meal, and we talk about music, movies, and books, studiously avoiding any mention of Zyrian’s curse.
But it’s there. Mateo’s words linger in the back of my mind, and though I curl up with a book after the meal, I can’t focus on it.
“What’s wrong?” Casius, who’s sitting in the study with a book of his own, looks up after I shift positions for the fiftieth time.
<
br /> “I’m just feeling restless.” Or something. I can’t exactly put it into words. “Do you want to duel with me?” Maybe I just need to work up a sweat. A couple of hours of sword practice might be the key to calming my nerves.
“I can,” he says agreeably. “But I have a better idea. Why don’t you give your friend Beatrice a call?” A grin flashes across his face. “Her scholarship letter went out a few days ago. She’s probably received it by now.”
Bea. Yes! A conversation with my best friend that involves nothing more complicated than gardens that need tending and fields that need plowing. That is exactly what I need.
I jump to my feet. “Casius,” I tell him fervently. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a genius? Thank you. That’s a great idea.”
He laughs. “Yes,” he says. “And you’re welcome.”
I miss girl-time. My mates are awesome, but I’m surrounded by nothing but testosterone… a girl needs a little estrogen before she starts growing her own beard.
I tap out a quick text to Bea on the way to my bedroom. I could use my bestie and a bottle or two or three of wine.
Her reply comes almost instantly. It’s ten in the morning, you lush.
I laugh out loud. I totally spaced out the time difference. You going to Cellar tonight?
Pfft. We are having ladies’ night. Skype and W(h)ine. It’ll be our thing until you come home to me. Plus, I have news. Six work for you?
Six for Bea is eleven in the night. Mateo’s scheduled an early morning magic lesson, but I still reply without hesitation. Perfect.
Rhys passes me in the corridor and sees my wide grin. “What’s got you smiling, love?” he asks.
“Bea and I are having a girls’ night.” A much-needed night of girl talk. Accompanied by wine, of course. Copious amounts of wine. “We are going to Skype, drink a lot, get silly, and talk about boys,” I add cheekily.
His eyes flash with amused heat. He crowds me against the wall and holds my wrists above my head. “Boys hmm?”
My heart kicks up a notch. Arousal flares in my core, the way it always does when one of my mates is close. When he runs his nose along my jaw toward my ear, I turn my head and give him better access, humming my approval, yet wanting more. Always wanting more.
“Last I checked…” he growls, his breath hot against my ear, “We’re most definitely not boys.”
My body responds as if I were a puppet on a string, perfectly controlled by him. The deep rumble of his voice causes my nipples to pebble. He presses his body against mine, his hardness caught between us. Ho-boy. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Agree with what? I stare at him blankly, all thoughts vanished from my lust-hazed mind. God, he’s sexy. My dragon. Mine. “What are you talking about?”
He chuckles and nips my earlobe between his teeth. “You’re going to Skype and talk about men,” he corrects.
“Aria, Casius said you wanted to duel?” Bastian’s voice breaks through my fog. “Oh, sorry…”
I push Rhys away, planting a smacking kiss on his cheek, and accidentally—totally on purpose—rubbing against his erection as I pass him, finding a deep feminine satisfaction at his low groan. “Sorry, it’s time to play with swords.”
Rhys scrubs his hands down his face, then grabs my wrist and pulls me back for a passionate kiss. When we break away, I’m breathless. So is he. “Go play with Bastian’s sword, love,” he quips. “I’ll find you later.”
I smile back at him. “Later.”
I change into my favorite pajama pants—blue with cats on them, don’t judge—and my “Cats Because People Suck” t-shirt. I get comfy on my bed, glass of wine already in hand when my computer chimes with an incoming call. I click to answer and see boobs.
“I didn’t realize it was that kind of call…” I snicker.
“Fuck, sorry. Had to get this stupid bra off. Besides, my tits are awesome.” Bea gives her chest a little shake and smiles like a loon.
“God, I’ve missed your face.” My tone is wistful.
“Well, duh! I’m totally miss-able. It’s only natural that you go through withdrawals without me.”
We both dissolve into giggles. I take a healthy sip of my wine. Bea jumps up, and the camera shows her empty bedroom. “Forgot my wiiiine!” I hear her shout from her kitchen. In less than a minute she’s back on camera, bottle of wine in hand.
She tips the bottle to her lips, and I raise my eyebrows. “Really?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t judge me. I’m out of clean glasses. It’s either this or a mixing bowl.”
I shake my head, laughing. I’m already feeling a thousand times better than I did this morning.
Bea takes another swig and fixes me with a piercing look. “Okay, confession time. How’s everything really going? I know something’s up.”
“Do we have to start with me?” I ask, groaning at the prospect of my upcoming interrogation.
“Yep. Sorry chickadee. I know you’ll avoid your feelings until the end of days if I don’t force it out of you. Spill.”
I take a long, slow drink of my wine while I consider my options. I can’t tell Bea the truth, or anything close to it. It’s too dangerous. Which means I’m going to have to divert her attention.
“Having five mates is… complicated. They all have such different personalities and I just… I don’t know. I feel like I’m juggling five balls while blindfolded and I don’t know how to juggle.”
“Ten balls. You’re juggling ten… unless someone is missing one,” Bea says with a straight face, totally taking the bait. “Is anyone missing one?”
I stare at her open-mouthed.
“No? Well then… ten balls. Man, that’s a lot of balls. What do you do with all those balls?”
“Beatrice Marie Connelly!” I screech. I take another healthy sip—okay I chug the rest of the wine in my glass—then refill it from the bottle. I know I steered the conversation to this topic, but I have not had enough alcohol for ball-talk. “New rule, no talking about balls.”
Bea holds her hands up defensively. “You started it.” She takes a deep pull from the bottle. “Are you practicing safe sex?”
“What the hell, Bea?” I squeak.
“It’s a valid question. I just want to know if my best friend is going to be laying an egg or not.”
I almost spit out my wine. “Oh my God, I will not be laying any eggs. Besides, dragons choose when they want to have a baby.”
Bea looks contemplative. “Do you think wolf shifters are like that, too?”
“Not really,” I reply, alerted by her tone. “Why?”
She looks off to the side and chews on her thumbnail. She’s hiding something. Unlike me, it’s pretty easy to get Bea talking. Another couple of sips of the wine, and she’ll spill her guts. “How’s everything with Jesse?”
A Cheshire-Cat-worthy smile spreads on her face. “Things are great.” She flops back on her bed so all I can see are her knees. “He’s amazing. Better than amazing. Except…” She sits back up, a serious look on her face. “Things are complicated. Aria… He’s a wolf shifter.”
My jaw drops. How did I miss that? “No way.”
“Yes, way.”
“But I’ve met Jesse tons of times,” I argue. “I can always recognize shifters.”
“He said he took something to hide it,” she replies.
Ah. Back when I was casing the Valhalla Ball, Pieter had hooked me up with something that helped me pass as a fox-shifter. If a Norm can masquerade as a shifter, the opposite is probably true.
“Why are things complicated?” I frown at her. “It’s not that unusual for Norms and shifters to date. Unless you don’t want to?”
“Of course I do,” she responds indignantly. “It’s just complicated. Let’s talk about something else, okay?” A look of excitement takes over her expression. “You’ll never guess what happened. I got a scholarship! I’m finally going to go to cosmetology school.”
“Bea, that’s awesome!” I match
her enthusiasm.
She grins happily. “Apparently the advisor I talked to at the school last year recommended me. It’s enough for tuition and living expenses, can you believe it? I won’t have to work fulltime while going to school.”
I know I should feel bad about withholding the fact that the money came from me, but I don’t. Not even a little. I know my bestie, and if she finds out who her benefactor is, she won’t touch the money. She’s stubborn like that.
“That’s so great,” I gush. “You’re going to kick major beauty school ass. At least if you turn someone’s hair pink, it’s trendy. No beauty school drop-out…” I sing the last of that on a giggle. Wine buzz activate!
“Frenchy was way ahead of her time,” Bea says sagely.
We chat for another couple of hours, laughing and gossiping about everyone we know. At some point, I tell her to hang on while I get another bottle of wine from Bastian’s cellar. Finally, I glance at the clock and realize it’s after one in the morning. As if seeing the time flips a switch, I suddenly feel exhausted.
“I better get off here,” I slur. “I have a ma—a meeting in the morning.” I could smack myself for almost slipping and mentioning my magic lessons. It’s much safer if Bea knows nothing about my training.
“A meeting?” Bea gets a dirty little smirk on her face, her voice turning naughty. “Is that what we’re calling sex nowadays?”
“Oh, shut up. Next time, you’re going to tell me what’s up with Jesse.”
She fakes a pout. “You were supposed to forget about that.”
“Nope.”
She waves at me, and I wave back, spilling some red wine on my sheets. Ouch. Frau Ziegler’s not going to be happy with me.
“Talktoyoulaterbye!” Bea says and ends the call.
I close my laptop and crawl under the covers. Wine always makes me horny, and tonight’s no exception. I get out of bed, pull on my robe, and make my way to Rhys’ room. I quietly slip inside and take in his sleeping form. His hair is tousled, his chest bare. Nothing but a sheet covers him from the waist down. I discard my robe and crawl into the bed beside him.
