Didn’t he know it.
Six centuries as an adult. The pain was more than he could bear sometimes.
Other Dragons were like him, alone, but they had their parents. Remy had seen over a thousand of this realm’s years, but his parents still lived. They slept to dispel the ravages of time, but Remy would wake them upon the arrival of their grandchild, whenever that auspicious event may be. They only slept, though. They were alive. He could call on them whenever he wished, disturb their slumber whenever he needed them.
Georgios had no one.
For certain, Remy was his best friend, but that was not the same. Kin provided a succor no other could compare to. Though Remy was like a brother, after all their years together, it wasn’t the same bond.
Dragons were linked via bonds to many factions. Each one different and unique, dependent on the recipient. The House required one’s full embrace. Like kin did. Friendship came next. Dragons owed their loyalty to the Queen, and technically, that superseded the link to the House, but everyone knew it didn’t.
“How many years do you have, Lara?” he asked softly.
“Just over three centuries. I’ve stopped counting now, though,” she said teasingly. “I round up. I’m either three centuries, three and a half centuries, or four centuries.”
A laugh escaped him. “You’re a singular female. Most ladies wish to appear younger!”
She snorted. “I can’t look any younger than this. All nightwalkers are stuck at that age when they reach the epitome of beauty.” She pursed her lips. “In human lore, that particular fact makes sense. After all, we’re hunters. We need to be attractive to our prey. But the reality is, we don’t feed from humans. We have no prey…that’s why we have daywalkers. They nourish us. So, why we need to be beautiful, I don’t know.”
“Better than being ugly, I suppose.”
She chuckled at his blasé retort. “I like your sense of humor, Georgios.”
His brows rose at that. He hadn’t been trying to be funny.
Maybe she sensed that because her chuckle deepened.
“God, I needed that.”
“What? The tea?”
“No, dummy. The laughter.” She blew out a long breath and began to rub the back of her neck. Tension had gathered there; he could tell from the discomfort in her eyes, and he longed to get up, to massage away the ache. As was his right as her mate.
“You have had a bad evening?”
“Understatement of the year.” She winced. “Maybe the decade.”
“I understand if you don’t wish to share with me,” he started, but she waved a dismissive hand.
“You believe I’m your mate, don’t you?” she asked softly, cutting through his bullshit and prevarication like a knife through butter.
He did like her directness. But he couldn’t answer. Not without potentially putting her at risk.
She sighed at his silence, then stunned him by reading into his body language with a precision that was close to expert. “I’m going to take that as a yes. But from your words as well as your actions, especially in the face of Remy’s behavior in contrast to yours, I’ll hazard a guess that you can’t claim me. For whatever reason that may be.”
He cleared his throat while he wondered how she saw so much when he said so little. “Tell me what happened tonight.”
“I shouldn’t be so eager to go traveling to the other realm,” she informed him, seemingly ignoring his question until she continued, “The last time I did, it got me into a whole heap of trouble.”
That had him scowling. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he demanded, “Of what do you speak? Something from the other realm put you at risk?”
Dragons, Goblins, and Elven folk lived in the other realm. It was connected to this one through portals, but very few knew of its existence. Only mates of the Dragons ever traveled consistently from one side to the other.
“No, not from the realm but meeting Remy changed me.” She pursed her lips. “I don’t know if he told you this, but I was the first Sanguenna he came to.”
“No. He didn’t tell me that.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I should probably keep my mouth shut, then, but when he came, I didn’t believe him. I wouldn’t cross to the other realm without a boon.”
“What kind of boon?” Before she answered, he sighed. Remy had been unable to fly the last time Georgios had paid him a visit, and he’d received a lecture from Mia, Remy’s leman... The lecture pricked his memory. “You asked for a Dragon scale.”
She nodded, a guilty cast marring the porcelain perfection of her face. “I have a pregnant nightwalker in my coven,” she reasoned. “It’s an old wives’ tale to be sure, but they say a Dragon scale in the coven secures births. I don’t know whether that’s true or not, but Isabel almost lost the child days before Remy came to me. I had to do what I could to save Isabel and the baby. You know how difficult it is for nightwalkers, not only to conceive, but to carry babes to full term.”
He did know that, and she was right. Dragon scales acted like wards. She was his leman, and though he couldn’t claim her yet, if ever, her guilt deserved to be appeased. She’d pissed off a Dragon Shifter, not with an avaricious intent, but all to protect one of her coven. That was an act of bravery worthy of a morsel of the truth.
“You’re right. They are shields. Dragon scales act as wards for all negativity. It’s the stress that causes miscarriages in nightwalkers,” he intoned.
“How do you know that?”
“Our House specializes in guarding books that deal with healing. For all races.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you being serious?”
“Of course.” When hadn’t he been serious? “Why would I lie?”
“You do realize I’ve got, like, ten different degrees, right? All of them to do with healing. Anything from botany to homeopathy… then the bog standard medical degree. I can practice as a human doctor,” she informed him.
The Mother worked in fortuitous ways.
Well, sometimes.
She hadn’t managed to stop his sire from murdering his mama, so she wasn’t that great.
“That’s too cool. Oh God, I want to see your library now. I bet it’s fascinating.”
At that, he preened, and not for the first time since they’d begun speaking. His chest puffed out with pride, and had he been in his Dragon skin, undoubtedly, he’d have trumpeted out his satisfaction for all the realm to hear. “Our library is vast.” Realizing what he’d said, that he’d spoken of the library as though it was his and hers, he quickly carried on, “My kin has the largest collection of books in the other realm.”
She smiled. “That’s definitely something to be proud of.”
He smiled back, touched at her understanding when few could comprehend just how vital books were to the Dragon race.
As their gazes clashed and held, when he licked his lips and she swallowed as a haze of feeling overtook them both, he wasn’t altogether surprised when she cleared her throat and blustered, “Like I was saying, ever since that scale was given to me, I’ve been doing weird stuff.”
“What kind of weird stuff?”
She gnawed at her cheek. “It sounds crazy, but caring more?”
“That doesn’t sound crazy. Like I said, a scale cuts out negativity. Even the kind of negativity that has been bred into someone through three centuries of living.”
“You mean like prejudice?”
He nodded. “I assumed that was what you were referring to.”
“You’ve hit it on the nose.”
What on earth did that mean?
He was accurate?
Before he could question, she continued with a long sigh, “I wasn’t cold before. Not exactly. Just very straightforward. Then, the scale came and changed that.
“After I made it back to this realm, I told Remy I could get to the coven without his help, and he took off for the next Sanguenna on his list. As I was walking back to my coven’s shelter, I h
eard fighting.
“We live near the woods. I wasn’t frightened, would even have ignored the fighting, but then I heard a small boy cry out. It was a death cry.” She gulped. “He was born Alpha.”
“And his current Alpha decided to ward off any future challenges?” he asked, managing to surmise that much. Such a situation was too common within the other Shifter races.
They were too emotional, too volatile, unlike the wise Dragon race.
She winced. “I just couldn’t leave him there. He was bleeding out, which did call out to me anyway, but I felt compelled to save him.”
His eyes widened in astonishment, and his voice was below a whisper, so quiet no one, not even her staff who were Vampires, would hear him, “You let him drink from you?”
She gulped. Nodded.
To say he was stunned was like saying these new American people had a taste for coffee. The last time he’d been here, tea had been so all fired important they’d started a war over it!
He was so astonished, he choked on his words.
Nightwalkers never gave blood.
Ever.
They horded their own like he horded his treasure, his library.
“Word spread?” he asked softly.
“I just escaped a hearing with a judge. They were going to put me to death, but…” Lara let her hands part before dipping her chin in a mock-curtsey, “…as you can see, they didn’t.”
His beast rumbled inside him. “You will never come to harm from your people,” he told her. “I will not have it.”
He’d claim her before he let them endanger her.
She blinked at him, softening a little at his reaction. “Thank you,” she whispered, raising shaky hands to cover her face. As she dragged her fingers down over her cheeks, she mumbled, “They brought Max in, and he lied for me. His testimony saved me.”
“The boy managed to convince a judge?”
At his surprise, she huffed out a small laugh. “That boy was born to rule.”
Georgios rubbed his jaw, pondering the matter, and deliberating its urgency. “You’re safe now?”
“For the moment.” She shivered. “I just can’t help but feel this isn’t the last I’ll hear of it.”
Two
“He’s here. Again.”
Katie grumbled, “Shut up, Megan. You’re just jealous he comes for Lara.”
Amused at her staff’s bickering, Lara murmured, “Enough, children.” Both women flushed. They were daywalkers and were working the last hour of their shift; otherwise, they wouldn’t have been able to blush.
Daywalkers had more human traits than nightwalkers. A fact she was grateful for every time Georgios appeared in her coffee shop. If she were a daywalker, she’d have lit up like a candle at the sight of him.
As it was, she could always approach him with calm.
Not that she felt calm. It was simply that she could project it, and he seemed to believe her.
Well, she thought he did.
He was a strange one.
The other Dragon who had visited her weeks ago had an urgency about him. A desperation, almost. He’d been willing to gift the coven a scale to get her to come over to the other realm, and though he’d not been happy about the trade off, he’d done it to scratch her off his potential leman list.
Georgios didn’t have the same kind of vibe. Unlike Remy, he was relaxed, at ease. He ordered a different coffee bean every night. Once his order was in, he’d sit there, reading a paper, watching the crowd, and he’d wait for her to come to him.
He never said hello to her first.
When he walked through the door, their eyes would meet; he’d nod, and then, he’d ignore her until she could come sit with him.
This had happened for the last ten nights, and she was terrified to admit that she was as eager to get to him as he seemed uneager for her to come to him.
Well, that was how it appeared, anyway.
He was keen enough to come here every night. That had to mean something, right?
It was bewildering to Lara that, for the first time in centuries, she actually gave a damn about what a male thought. What he did.
How human females dealt with the dating scene, she had no idea.
She was dealing with a male she felt certain believed she was his leman, and his level of playing hard to get surpassed even the biggest jerk she’d served in her coffee shop.
Another server, Jenna, appeared and, to Lara who was wiping down the stainless steel counter and restacking dishes from the dishwasher, informed her, “He wants the Arabica bean. Venti. Non-fat soy milk. With caramel drizzle.”
Lara frowned at the order. She got the feeling he didn’t even like coffee, yet his experimenting continued. Even after she’d surmised exactly what she was to him. His combinations were getting weirder, however. To the point where she wasn’t sure if he even knew what the actual ingredients he was ordering even were. “He wants all that?”
Jenna shrugged. “Yeah.”
A little surprised, she gestured to Megan to make the concoction for him, and she carried over her green tea and his drink, not saying a word as she placed the disgusting concoction down on the table and took a seat opposite him.
“You do know that the caramel drizzle is supposed to go with regular milk, right?” As a greeting, it wasn’t exactly flirtatious, but Georgios didn’t flirt.
It was like talking to a mad professor. Without the professor bit.
Oh, and throw sexy in there too. Because he was. Sexy as hell. So hot, sometimes she didn’t know what to do with herself. With his tawny hair that curled about his suit-clad shoulders, shoulders so broad she had to gulp because his strength was such a turn on. Beneath the tailoring, she knew he was ripped. Just. Knew. It.
He had a craggy face, but it was still handsome. A nose with a kink, proof that it had been broken before, and a jawline so stone-like he radiated his obstinacy from the get go. But with his glittering green eyes, hair so many shades of blond and brown she didn’t even know what color to describe it save for leonine, and his six-feet five height, the man was her idea of a walking, talking sex God.
Said sex God looked up from his paper. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
Even his voice sent rumbles through her. What was it with him? Talk about Mr. Perfect for her. “Why not?”
“It’s busy.”
Her smile was wry. “How many times? I’m the boss.”
He grinned. “So I’m worthy of playing hooky, am I?”
“Definitely,” she told him, feeling no shame in making the admission.
He’d livened up her nights and no mistake.
His reticence about her being his mate was a little disturbing, but she had things to do in this realm for the moment. Things that involved keeping the coven out of the court’s interest.
She could afford to let him wait.
For the moment.
The dreams had started after Remy had appeared in her life. She’d thought he was the trigger, either that or his Dragon scale.
Now, she realized what had happened.
Georgios had told her that Dragons slept a lot to pass the time. He’d been asleep, and she’d awoken him with the dreams.
They had to share them, didn’t they?
Nobody could experience such acute pleasure in a dream and not have them be reciprocated, surely?
She shuddered a little at last night’s foray.
She’d had sex. A lot of it. After three hundred years, like anything, it got boring.
There was only so much thrusting a man could do to keep things interesting. But this guy here, what she wouldn’t do to get some action from him.
His nostrils flared, and once again, she was glad she couldn’t blush.
He’d scented her arousal.
Oh, fuck.
Wanting to cover her face, instead, she did the opposite. “Your fault,” she told him easily, and then, hid behind her cup of green tea.
“How is it my fault?” he groun
d out, his pupils turning to pinpricks at her scent.
She blew out a breath. “The dreams aren’t exactly good for your blood pressure.”
“Dreams?”
He didn’t know about them? How fucking disappointing.
“Yes,” she admitted, her voice croaky now. “Of me and you.”
“You have dreams of the two of us?” he asked, sounding astonished.
“Yes. I do.” Jesus, didn’t the man know the score?
“Are they good or bad dreams?”
“It depends on your viewpoint. I always come, so that’s something.” She smirked a little, then smirked harder when he eyed her with confusion.
Of course, his confusion centered on something that perplexed her.
“Come where?” he inquired.
Her eyes bugged, and then, she remembered the last time he’d been in the States, the War of Independence had been on the verge of breaking out.
She had no idea when come and climax had become recognized as one and the same, but it was beyond his time apparently.
She cleared her throat. “You know, orgasm?” She followed that up by nodding her head a little, eyes flaring, and her hands waving around. She probably looked insane, but she had to waft him toward an explanation.
“You mean a woman’s joy?” he asked, still sounding confused.
The term had her choking on her poorly timed sip of green tea. “Yes,” she spluttered. “That’s what I mean.”
“Why are you laughing?”
“Because it sounds like something from a romance novel in the sixties. Well, if they’d gone as graphic as that, I guess. After sex, the guy would have a cigarette, and would ask, ‘Did your woman’s joy please you?’” She snorted out a laugh. “I can just see it on an episode of ‘Mad Men’ or something.”
That set her off again, and only Georgios’s bewilderment stopped her from giggling. Still, she could sense he didn’t understand what she was talking about, but he was amused too.
He did that a lot.
Mirrored her sentiments.
Was that a leman thing?
It was like whatever she was feeling, he felt too. Like it made him happy when she was happy. And sad if she was sad.
It was kind of nice, she had to admit.
Leman Page 3
