Was he trying to offend her, or was he simply unaware of the rules?
“I’m Remy Dreconis,” he told her, his tone silky smooth. It was in direct contrast to his rather coarse appearance. Not his suit, granted. But without that, she knew he was rough and ready. That suit was his attempt to appear more human.
He really shouldn’t have bothered. It wasn’t working.
“And why are you here?”
“Because we have need of each other.”
She blinked at his audacity. “I didn’t even know your name, never mind you, so why should I need anything from you?”
He wasn’t offended; she sensed that, but his nostrils flared in ‘mini’ outrage—males were so easy to rile. Then, he tilted his head and smirked. “You don’t know?”
She glowered at him a second, strode toward her desk, and sat in her chair. It was a grandiose thing. Not to her taste, but then, not a thing in this room was. Her ante-chamber was where she attended to guests, and if the council came a calling, her peers, this was where they talked.
Her own private quarters were far more modern than this homage to Louis XV. Her chair was more a throne. Gilt edged and in a royal blue velvet, it was high, and she towered behind her desk.
Surprisingly, for something so old, it was comfortable. Either that or she’d just gotten used to it over the years.
Image to Vampires was everything.
That meant she had to tower over not only the desk but the people in front of the desk too. Only trouble was, there was no towering over someone as bloody big as Remy Dreconis.
“Explain,” she commanded and watched his mouth turn down in a grimace.
“You’re very rude, aren’t you?”
“You can say that after you barged your way into my office and took a seat without my permission?” she demanded, her tone quiet and without inflection. No sign of how that inherent lack of respect had irked her.
She could tell her words but lack of reaction confused him.
He nodded. Once. “I apologize. It is a long time since I’ve been around Vampires. Your customs and formalities are endless. I never remember them.” He wafted a dismissive hand as though those very foundations of her life meant nothing.
All her years on this planet and the arrogance of men had yet to cease irritating her.
It was true what they said. Familiarity bred contempt. Not acceptance.
She sniffed her disinterest in his lackluster apology. “That still doesn’t tell me why you’re here, Mr. Dreconis.”
He scraped a hand across his jaw. “No. It doesn’t, does it?”
“Enlighten me.” Her eyes flashed a warning that she’d take no more procrastination.
“Have you been taking more blood than usual?” he asked, disarming her with the question that triggered her own particular contemplation after Brady had passed out, fully clothed on the bed.
She thought back to yesterday when he’d done the same. And the day before that.
“Don’t answer. I can see that’s a yes.”
She blinked, irritated. Through gritted teeth, she declared, “It must be pleasant to be a mind reader.”
“Your lack of reaction was a reaction in itself,” was all he said, making her purse her lips. “Are you running hotter than usual? Is your temper swifter to burst? Having unusual dreams?”
She narrowed her eyes at the highly personal questions, and inwardly stiffened at the last one. It took all she had not to react and, instead, waspishly demanded, “Is there are a reason behind this insulting line of interrogation?”
Remy huffed, and she saw a tiny flicker of flame burst from between his lips.
At the sight of it, she jerked back, grimacing as she knocked her funny bone on a knobbly bit of her chair’s armrest.
She hadn’t known that was even possible.
Had she not believed him before, there was all the proof she needed.
A dragon was, without doubt, in her office. Sitting in a too-small visitor’s seat, and looking remarkably suave for a beast too dangerous to have a permanent residence in this realm.
“Trust me to get landed with an irritating Sanguenna,” he grumbled under his breath, seemingly unaware that he’d just shocked the hell out of her.
“You’ve not been landed with anyone,” she retorted, annoyed at his assumption.
“Unfortunately, we both have.” He raised a hand and rubbed at his forehead. Then, before she could bitch and demand further explanation, he held up his hand and grumbled, “Did you know that the only way a dragon procreates is with another paranormal?”
She blinked at that rather off-topic question. “No. I didn’t. Why is that relevant?”
“It can’t just be any supernatural. Ghosts, seers, wizards...they’re no good. They have to go into heat.”
“So, other shifters?” she asked, playing along in the vain hope the man would get on with it and leave her office. He was too distracting for her, and his own, good.
“It’s a special kind of heat…”
“What kind of heat?”
He gritted his teeth at her interruption. “Are you also aware that there are only five female Sanguen currently in the US? One or two in Europe. A handful in China and Russia?”
She blinked. “Sexism, you can’t even escape it when you’re a vampire.”
He scoffed at her dismissive tone. “It makes your kind incredibly rare.”
“What kind?” she snarled. “I’m a female Vampire.”
“No, you’re a female Sanguen. There’s a difference. Your power, in comparison to that of a regular female vamp, is indescribable.” He scowled at her. “And don’t try to make out you don’t realize that.”
She bowed her head. Once. That was about as much of a concession as he was going to get out of her.
He blinked again at her rigid stance. That weird membrane of his fluttering out for a longer period, she wondered if that was a tell. Did that happen when he was pissed off?
Satisfied at potentially having sourced a weakness, she watched him, waited for him to give her more answers.
“Are you aware that only Sanguennas go into heat?”
She shot up straight at that, glanced over at Eleanor, and snarled, “Get out.” Her assistant nodded swiftly and scurried away. “What the hell are you saying? I do not go into heat!” Of all the nerve.
Remy grimaced, his eyes drifting over to Elenor as she scampered off. “I’m saying that only a female Sanguen can go into heat. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“And from your earlier questions, I presume you were trying to ascertain if I was going into heat?” She packed as much loathing into that word as possible.
He grimaced, recognizing her disgust. “My dragon senses its mate is nearing her time.”
She frowned at that vague response. “Does that mean you’ve visited the other Sanguennas in the US?”
“Most of those around the world.”
“Because you’re seeking your mate?”
He nodded. Once.
“Why are you looking for a female Sanguen?”
“Haven’t you been listening? Because they’re the only ones with the innate power and strength to carry a Dragonling to term.”
She reared back in surprise at his first, and only, candid answer. “Other shifters can’t...?” When he shook his head, she grimaced. “I’m the last Sanguenna you’ve to meet, I presume?”
Another nod.
“And because your dragon knows its mate is approaching heat, you know this is the time to hunt for her?” Yet another fucking nod. She huffed at his sudden silence. “What if it’s a Sanguenna who hasn’t reached the position yet but has the power of one?”
He frowned. “It doesn’t work like that. The female Sanguen only goes into heat when she’s at the summit of her power. That’s how it works.”
“No, that isn’t how it works. A stranger doesn’t barge into my office one day and decide to inform me that we could be mates, and if we are, it’s because my bod
y has decided it’s time to make babies, which has stirred your beast into action.” She rolled her eyes at the ludicrousness of the situation. “I mean, it’s insane.”
“What about our world isn’t?” Remy demanded, and she could tell she’d hit a nerve with her dismissiveness.
“Don’t pull that card,” she warned. “You know full well I’m not being difficult here. You know what you’re saying is crazy.”
“Maybe it is, but it’s the way of it. Why do you think so few dragons are born? Because so few female Sanguen are born.”
“So, dragons are only born to women like me?” Another nod. “Your mother was a coven leader?”
“Yes,” he growled. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
At his impatience, she cozied into her desk chair, rather than sitting up stiff as a board opposite him.
“I feel no connection to you,” she told him bluntly. “No reason for me to think we’re mated.”
“You wouldn’t. That’s not how it works with a dragon shifter’s mate bond.”
“It isn’t?” She scowled. “How do you know then?”
“There is only one way to discover the truth.” He sucked in a breath like he was seeking both patience and calm. “You have to meet my beast.”
Chapter Two
The past month of Remy Dreconis’ life had been spent on the tedious task of whittling down a dozen female Sanguen to the one who sat before him now.
He’d not lie. Of all the Sanguenna he’d met afore, this one...this one held promise.
It mattered not that she was the last on a long list. That she had to be his leman. This one aroused something in him that had never been touched before.
It was bloody unnerving, if truth were told, and he was having a hard time holding his patience as she sat there gawking at him like a lunatic who belonged in an asylum.
She was beautiful. Aye, he’d give her that. Long black hair that matched his. Oh, the ’ling they’d make together with such similar coloring. A boy who was a miniature version of him or even a girl who looked like her.
She, with her violet-hued, almond-shaped eyes, was a striking female. A firm and obstinate chin thanks to cheekbones so sharp and pointed, they made the scales on his beast’s tail look dulled. Skin like cream, with a dusting of gold and peach, and lips made to be kissed.
She was tall. Not as tall as he, naturally. But at six feet, above average. She wore that height well too. Slender but with a ripe curve of hip and waist that would be a pleasure to unveil in bed sport.
Even now, as she looked upon him like he was a lackwit, her beauty shone through with a forgiveness that beggared belief.
“Close your mouth, Sanguenna, afore you catch too many flies.”
His voice was gruffer than he’d intended, but she was affecting him in ways that were most promising. She disliked his gruffness though. Sitting up poker straight, her nose popped upright with disgust. “I’ll not be told what to do in my own office!”
“Wasn’t an order,” he immediately denied. “More of a suggestion.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “This is ridiculous.”
“Maybe it is.” He shrugged. Smirked. “Maybe it isn’t.”
“Why only female Sanguen and dragon shifters?” she asked, an interesting hoarseness to her tone appearing at the question.
“It’s a matter of power and strength as I said.”
“I want details,” she groused. “Not just bare bones.”
He sighed. “How can I explain magic? How can you explain managing to see hundreds of winters and all because you sup from some poor sap’s neck?
“These things aren’t always meant to be explained.”
She stared at him a second, sat forward, and rested her elbows on her desk. The posture did interesting things to her breasts, which bandied together in an intriguing fashion in the bodice if her silky dress.
“I call bullshit.”
He blinked at her. Then, baring his teeth, murmured, “Do me the singular courtesy of meeting with my beast. Things will soon become apparent.”
She snorted at that. “Meet your beast, like we can just go next door and you can shift. How can I know if I can trust you? I have to go to another realm to meet your beast.”
Her lack of faith was understanding, but it didn’t stop it from irking him. The others had been the same, but they’d never managed to do more than bore him. His irritation was another sign that this particular Sanguenna was different.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. Heading to his gallery, he found the correct video and hit play.
“Sister Sanguenna, whoever you are. I was as skeptical as you, as fearful and untrusting as you...” He turned the cell around and shoved it along the slippery surface of her desk until it came to a halt before her. “Remy Dreconis is a decent male. You can travel to the next realm with no fear. He will bring you back.”
Mia stared down at the video as it came to a halt, then looked over to him. “She could be anyone.”
He rolled his eyes. “Swipe left.”
Another video, another testimony.
“That one’s in Seattle. Call her. See if she speaks the truth.”
She tilted her head to the side. “I know of only one female Sanguen in the Seattle area.”
“You are friends?”
“Hardly.” She huffed. “Sanguenna have no friends.”
The latter was said without arrogance, but there was a glimmer of sadness there. He knew she’d been a Sanguenna for close to five decades but had seen more than two centuries. That was a hellish long time to have been alone.
He knew, because he’d been alone for far longer. Even dragons, renowned for the need for solitude, felt the creeping tendrils of isolation after so much time spent without their other halves.
“Call her,” he urged softly. “She will tell you true. Lara was one of the most difficult to convince as she was the first on my list. I had no videos to use to persuade her, to sway her to my cause.”
“How did you get her to believe you?”
He clucked his tongue in disgust at the memory. “It is of no import.”
“If you want me to go to another realm with you, you need to start sharing, buddy.”
Remy narrowed his eyes. “I had to give one of her retinue something. Collateral, as it were.”
She blinked, curiosity piqued. “What kind of collateral?”
He clenched his jaw, his beast still feeling outrage at the memory. “A dragon...” His nostrils flared. “A dragon has sixteen thousand and seventy-two scales.”
“Huh?”
He growled under his breath, then repeated the fact with waspish precision. “Each dragon. In existence. It is a peculiarity shared among every single member of my species.”
“But that’s impossible.”
“Nay, it isn’t. Humans all have the same amount of DNA, do they not?” She sat back, digesting his logic and nodding at him to continue. “Remove a single scale, we cannot fly.”
Her mouth dropped open as she processed his words. “Lara knew that and asked for a scale as collateral?”
He pursed his lips. “She did, and I ceded to the demand.”
“Wow,” she breathed, leaning forward again. “That’s why dragon scales are priceless.”
“You say that like I’m unaware of this,” he told her, disgust lacing his tone. “I am still unable to fly overlong thanks to her demand.”
Maybe she saw how that affected him because her lips turned down. “I’m sorry. When will you be able to fly normally again?”
He appreciated her apology; it was the first time a Sanguenna had offered a ‘sorry’ for his treatment at a sister’s hands. Some had even had the audacity to demand a similar price! Until he’d convinced them to speak with Lara, who had thankfully aided him in his task.
Perhaps out of guilt, or gratitude for the scale—Mia wasn’t wrong. Dragon scales were immeasurably precious.
“I should be back
to normal in a week or so.”
“They grow back?”
He nodded. “Slowly. Depending on the size. Thankfully, she accepted a small scale. One from my foreleg.” He winced in memory at how damned hard it had been to comply with the witch’s request. Scales were not meant to be plucked like a feather from a dead hen.
“Are you going to call her?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest, irritation weighing him down at the sore manner in which the Sanguennas had treated him thus far.
Knowing he’d be stuck with one of them, regardless of their potentially cruel natures, had been particularly harrowing.
Lara had known full well the priceless nature of a scale, she’d also known the ramifications of his doing without one, and had known the pain it would cause for him to accede to her wishes. She’d made the demand regardless.
He’d been rather grateful to learn she wasn’t his mate. No matter how he longed for his leman, he prayed the Mother wasn’t so cruel as to gift him a sadistic, avaricious harpy for a life mate.
Mia studied him again, and he noticed her fingers were twitching against the surface of her desk. Stroking the polished wood in a way that spoke of a need to fidget away her nerves or confusion.
Slowly, she shook her head. “You vow not to hurt me?”
He sat up straighter, arms dropping aside at her words. If that was her request, and such a simple one at that, he felt no compunction in being generous. “I will seal it with blood if that is thy wish.”
He winced at his archaic speech, but using ‘thy’ instead of ‘you’ had been a longer custom than the reverse.
Not that she seemed to notice, too intrigued by his last statement to care. “You would do that?”
He nodded. “With ease. You are the last, gracious Sanguenna. You must be my leman. I have no compunction in easing any concerns that help me in my quest to proving such.”
Another slow nod was his reply, and she got to her feet, rounded the desk, and perched opposite him. “Where?” she asked, huskily.
“For ease, my palm.”
Was he wrong in seeing the flash of regret in her countenance as she raised her own hand to her mouth, took the fleshy part opposite her thumb between her lips and bit down.
Christmas: Dragon Style (The Sanguenna Chronicles Book 1) Page 2
