She turned her back, pretending to add sugar to her coffee as Conor and his female friend headed towards the counter. As soon as they’d gone by, Lily made a break for the door, which now seemed terribly far off.
At last her hand was on it, first pushing the thick pane of glass and wooden frame and then pulling on its handle, trying to escape, desperate to be freed from this prison. She would be outside very, very soon.
“Lilliana.”
Her eyes closed even as her body seemed to go limp. Crap. To pretend she didn’t hear him would be ridiculous; it sounded as though he were standing directly behind her. She couldn’t be that rude, even to a man she’d never see again.
She turned to face him, her back now to the door.
“Oh, hi,” she said, temporarily behaving as though she’d forgotten his name. She tried to look over his shoulder for his date, who was still by the counter looking at her cell phone. She was pretty, that one. And thin.
“I thought that was you,” he said, taking a few steps in her direction. “You finished the exam so quickly—I was hoping to run into you afterwards,” he said. These words and the thought that he’d wanted to spend time in her presence filled her suddenly with something delicious, as though a drug were being released in her bloodstream. A very dangerous and addictive one; the type that lands a person in rehab for six months.
But there was that woman to consider—the one by the counter—and she was an antidote for any drug.
“Oh? Did you want to compare notes on the questions?” Lily asked, her tone overly innocent.
Conor took her arm and pulled her away from the door, which was being pushed forcefully from the outside by an irritated businessman who’d grown impatient with the silly woman blocking his way. Conor’s eyes set themselves on Lily’s own, that same sort of unreadable, piercing stare fixed on her that she’d seen so many times.
“Notes,” he said, his voice filled with a sort of frustrated desperation. “No. I don’t care about notes. I don’t care how either of us does on that exam. I don’t think it’s of particular relevance to either of us, is it? To our futures?”
“I don’t know what you mean by that…”
“Lilliana, is there a reason you don’t have a forwarding address?”
“Excuse me?”
“I wanted to find a way to contact you in the summer, but apparently you won’t exist in the near future.”
“I…I’m traveling,” she half-lied. The truth is that I’ll only exist in the past.
“Are you now?” said Conor. “Well, don’t you have a cell phone? No, of course you don’t, you calligraphy-writing, strange, mysterious, beautiful girl.”
Once again chemicals flowed freely through her bloodstream, endorphins releasing with each sweet word.
“I think your…friend…is waiting for you,” she said, attempting to change the subject and to calm her heart, which wanted to be held out in two hands and offered to him. “And I have to go, so…”
Conor turned his head briefly to his companion. “Yes, I suppose she is waiting,” he said. “Well, enjoy your travels.” His voice betrayed further exasperation. He took her hand and kissed it; an oddly outdated gesture. “I will see you again, and very soon,” he said as he held her fingers in his, stroking them gently.
Lily pulled away and left him there, watching her. And she knew now that he knew the truth: she was not like anyone else in that coffee shop.
* * *
6
Returning home to Dundurn in her current state seemed like an impossibility to Lily. There would be too many questions—her mother had always somehow been able to tell if something was weighing on her mind, ever since Lily had been a baby. It wasn’t that Gwynne was a mind-reader; more that she felt what her children did. Their distress was her own, and when they were confident and secure, she could relax. Something in the makeup of a dragon mother meant a nature more protective than any human could imagine.
And while Lily loved her for it, there were times when she needed the freedom to feel torn up inside, away from prying eyes and acute parental instincts.
There was no way that she’d be able to hide the adolescent moment of heartbreak that she’d just suffered; this sort of sudden and painful end to a first feeling of profound attraction to a man. Perhaps that was why they called it “a crush;” it had nothing to do with the positives of adoration—only the biting sting of rejection.
But she’d rejected Conor first, hadn’t she? He’d put the moves on her, after all, and she’d turned away. But somehow the knowledge of it didn’t help; all she could do was kick herself for not turning to him, touching his face, feeling his lips on her own.
As she walked, she found herself moving west among a sea of bustling pedestrians and honking drivers. Something in the crowds of strangers reassured her and made her feel protected from her emotions. Here she would hide them from each set of eyes around her and put on a brave face.
She stopped to take in the figures darting to and fro and smiled at last, amused at the thought of her two divergent worlds. In all her time in London she hadn’t shifted, and the sensation was a little like holding off on eating delicious food that sat in front of her on a table: her dragon form was a comfort which offered her the freedom to fly, to explore the world from above. And the thought of soaring about London in her déor’s form made her laugh outright.
“What’s funny?”
Among the noise of the city came the voice from behind her. Lily turned to look, seeing only men in business suits, women lugging small suitcases and dragging children home from school. But that voice…
In the distance she saw him as the crowd parted: Conor, standing, watching her.
She stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do. Surely she’d walked for ages by now—had he actually followed her all the way from that café?
He seemed frozen as well, observing her from a distance. But it was Conor who moved first, advancing until he stood directly in front of Lily so that she had to lift her face to look at his. This time he didn’t put a hand to her chin.
“You heard me laugh?” she asked quietly.
“I could see you laugh,” he replied. “Looking up at the sky and letting out a chuckle. I have to admit that I found it endearing.”
“Well, I was only thinking of something that happened a long time ago,” she replied, her voice going cold. The recollection of Conor walking into the café with his female friend was planting itself again in her mind, reminding her that his intentions might be less than noble. “I’m surprised to see you,” she added. “Where’s your date?”
“She’s not a date,” he said, smiling so that a dimple appeared on his left cheek. “She’s my cousin, who’s going to be attending school here. I’m letting her stay at my flat until she finds her own.”
“Oh. I see.” Lily did her best to conceal the muscular reaction of her own cheeks, which wanted to contract into a broad grin of relief. She reprimanded herself sternly for it; this was not a thing to celebrate. His being in a relationship would have greatly simplified life. Now he was once again available, and she reminded herself that she was not—not to a human man, anyhow.
“Did it bother you to think that I might have someone in my life?” Conor asked with his usual flair for bold-faced questions.
“I…no, of course not. Why would that bother me? It was only that I was surprised.”
He stood there with that infuriating smile on his face, unflinching in his stare. She felt again that he was looking into her, reading her most intimate thoughts. And all the white lies in the world wouldn’t convince him that she had no interest.
“You’re leaving soon, to go home. Correct?” he asked at last, breaking the tension as a knife might glide through a tightly-pulled wire, sending it shooting in both directions.
“Yes. I was…am…supposed to go later today.” Lily struggled for the appropriate verb. Fly? No. Catch a train? Hardly. Leap through time. Yes, that would be the honest answer, bu
t it was an impossible one.
“Do you have a couple of hours to spare before you go? I’d like to take you somewhere.”
“I don’t know. I really have to…” Lily’s voice trailed off. What was she thinking, turning him down? She’d kick herself for it all summer.
“Come on,” said Conor, taking her by the hand. “You’ll like what I have to show you. I promise.”
* * *
7
They wandered side by side down streets that progressively seemed to become less crowded, in and out of rows of beautiful, well-preserved old row houses painted white, which made Lily feel as though she’d stepped into a Mediterranean town. She enjoyed London. Her having been a part of English history led to a sort of love of the city’s more recent claims to fame: the Parliament buildings, Big Ben’s intricate tower and chiming bell, the funny London Eye that resembled a gigantic, overpriced wheel of death in which tourists enclosed themselves for no sane reason that she could see, other than to be imprisoned with a view of the city for an hour or so.
It was in the nooks and crannies that she derived the most pleasure; the places where she could hide away, quietly strolling in and out between residences and old churches, and remember her other life without the watchful eyes of strangers on her.
But in this moment as she walked with Conor she felt as though he were pulling her into a secret of his own; some hidden gem that only he could reveal. Something in it all gave her goosebumps and a warmth which settled deep inside her. She was beginning to feel at home with the strangely forward young man, which both frightened and excited her. Feeling at home meant that when they were separated a sort of pain would be inflicted on her and it would be unlike anything she’d ever felt.
He’d let her hand go, but on occasion as they strolled the back of his own would graze her fingers, which sent a pulse of electricity shooting through her body. Whether the move was deliberate, she didn’t know, nor did she want to. The possibility of accidental contact was almost as good as that of deliberate touch.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked at last. Lily considered feigning a slight apprehension or even fear of being abducted, but she was no actress; he’d see right through it. And no part of her was frightened of the man—only of the emotions he stirred up inside her.
“A place that’s very special to me and to my family,” he said. “You say you’re interested in rewriting history—well, I want to show you some of mine.”
They came at last to a wide street lined with a series of tall connected houses. Conor stopped at one much like those surrounding it: tall, brick, flanked on either side by similar structures. Without a word he opened a wrought iron gate and led Lily to the front steps.
“Oh God, this isn’t your parents’ house, is it?” The place, she knew, was worth a fortune in downtown London. Perhaps she wasn’t the only wealthy student in their class.
“No, no. It’s not really anyone’s at this point. But since my family has more claim to it than anyone, I get to come here when I like.”
The words didn’t help to explain how they’d gained entry and the mystery remained as Conor pulled what looked like an ancient skeleton key out of his jacket pocket and opened the front door.
“Ladies first,” he said, his dimples taunting Lily as though to say, “Try and resist these, weak woman.”
She walked into a narrow front hallway whose walls led her eye to ceilings so high that her déor could have fit into the space. Beyond the foyer in front of her was a steep staircase curving up and to the right among richly-painted walls hung with more art than Lily had ever seen in a gallery.
“What IS this place?” she asked, staring at the portrait of a young man which hung at the base of the stairs.
“Centuries ago, an ancestor of mine became very wealthy; he was an aristocrat up in the north of England. He passed down his art collections from generation to generation, and relics of his time and ours have all come together here. It’s a private gallery, though, and only open to visitors once a week. The rest of the time it’s surveyed by security cameras.” He pointed to a corner high above where wall met ceiling, and Lily noticed an out-of-place, shiny new-age camera looking down at them.
“I see,” she said. Well, clearly he hadn’t brought her here to make out. Unless he had a strange exhibitionistic kink. “And who are the people in all these paintings?”
“That is a great-great-great-and-so-on-grandfather of mine,” said Conor, gesturing to the first one they came to. “From Scotland. Our family had a castle there—still do, really, though it’s not very well kept up these days. They warred constantly with rival clans, as the Scots liked to do. Until some of them ended up moving south, away from all the sparring.”
“Of course,” said Lilliana, making her way slowly up the stairs as she examined more works: landscapes showing lush, rolling hills. Dignified-looking men and not so dignified ones, and beautiful women in lovely gowns.
“What’s this?” she asked as she reached the landing. A large crest hung before her at eye level as though seeking attention among the many works around it. Most of its paint was stripped off, but she could make out a painted shield, and behind it a bear, his paw draped over its front as though claiming the shield as his own. The enormous bear wore a suit of armour.
“That’s our family crest, believe it or not,” said Conor. “I suspect that my forebears were the burly type.”
“Forebears. Nice play on words,” said Lily, glancing at him sideways and allowing herself a brief smile.
“Purely intentional, I assure you.” There were those dimples again…how did he do that?
“I wouldn’t have associated bears with Scotland, you know,” she said. “I suspect that you see far more bunnies than grizzlies up there.”
“No, neither would I. But if we’re going to go with animals which are indigenous to the country, the lion seems pretty inappropriate, yet people use it all the time. Not to mention bloody unicorns.”
“And dragons,” said Lily. “I see dragons fairly frequently.”
“You raise an interesting point.” Conor looked now as though he were solving a mathematical equation, adding up pieces in his mind.
“No, I don’t. But show me the rest of the place. This is pretty fascinating.”
Her host paused and smiled again as Lily looked up at him. “I’m glad you like it here, Lilliana,” he said quietly.
“Well, how could I not? It’s amazing. All these hidden spots in this city—you never know what you’ll find.”
“No. You’ll never know what you’ll find,” he repeated.
Once again Lily found herself frozen in place, staring into his multicoloured, inviting eyes. Perhaps the security cameras wouldn’t be an issue after all. But the repercussions of allowing herself contact with him might be.
“So,” she added, turning on her heel and taking a few steps ahead of him up the remaining stairs, “Do you bring a lot of young women here?”
“Only the ones I want to seduce, tie up and store in the basement,” said Conor. “By which I mean ‘no one but you.’”
She turned and glared at him playfully. “Tie me up? You don’t want to do that,” she said. “You have no idea what I would do to you.”
“Perhaps not. But I would love to find out.”
* * *
8
Upstairs, they came to a large sitting room decorated with the most eclectic assortment of furnishings that Lily had ever seen. A table inlaid with bits of ivory from a time when such things were legal; a carved wooden chair that looked as though it might have come from Asia. But what caught Lily’s eye was the large model of a medieval-looking building encased in glass on a large table in the middle of the space.
“That’s our castle, home of the Dunbar clan.” said Conor as they approached. “In its former glory, of course.”
“Looks like Dundurn,” murmured Lily, examining it closely. Its style was very similar, its fortifications all but identical. Conor’s
ancestors must have been Scottish nobles around the time when she was born.
“What’s that?” asked Conor.
“Nothing. Just that it looks a little like a castle I visited with my parents when I was little.”
“Tell me…” he began.
Lily felt it again: his fingers grazing her hand. Only this time it was no accident, and this time his fingers encircled her own, squeezing gently as he spoke. “Tell me about your parents. I want to know. I want to understand what it is about you that draws me to you, Lilliana.”
She studied him. Those eyes of many colours were exploring hers again, as though he could read everything inside her. Why did she even need to explain anything to him? Obviously he knew everything already.
But no, he couldn’t. He couldn’t know that she was a shifter, destined to find a life in her century with two mates.
She snapped herself out of the trance by pulling away, pretending that her intention was to walk around the table.
“There’s nothing to tell, really. They’re just like everyone else’s,” she lied, adding silently, Except that my mother is a dragon queen, my fathers both dire wolves and they have two armies at their disposal and can pass through time.
“I don’t believe you for a moment,” said Conor. “You’re not like anyone else, and as I understand it uniqueness tends to be genetic.”
“Then your parents must be very odd indeed,” Lily teased, now standing opposite him, the castle acting as a barrier between their bodies.
“Must they? Are you saying that I’m different?”
Torn: A Dragon Shifter BBW Menage Serial (Seeking Her Mates Book 1) Page 4
