by Kira Nyte
“I’m not expecting her home for another couple hours.” Her uncle rubbed the back of his neck, returning to the office doors and pulling them closed again.
Ariah turned back to Alazar. The dragon had disappeared, leaving a concerned, handsome man in its stead. “I was scared. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pushing you away, but I was…scared.”
“Why?” Alazar’s brow creased. He lifted a hand and cupped the side of her face, his thumb stroking along her cheekbone. She absorbed his warmth, his strength. “Was it something I did?”
“No. You did nothing, I promise you.” She sighed, her shoulders dropping. “I’m not used to the luxuries you showed me today. That’s all.”
Her uncle grunted, earning Alazar’s sharp attention.
“You have something you’d like to add?” Alazar asked the man, but Ariah shook her head.
“He has nothing.”
Unfortunately, Uncle Mark must have made some indication that he did. Alazar’s dark brow arched. When she glanced back at her uncle, he was rubbing his beard in his signature conflicted manner. His dark gaze turned to Ariah, then back to Alazar. He crossed his arms over his chest.
A ripple of tension skated down Alazar’s fingers, the smooth motion of his thumb on her cheek jerking momentarily. She could have sworn the hot surface of scales brushed her cheek, but in a breath, his skin was all that pressed against her.
Alazar broke his gaze from her uncle and focused on her. “Will you tell me what happened?”
Ariah tried to form a reassuring grin, but knew it fell short of anything substantial. Staring into the flames licking in Alazar’s eyes, realizing the fierce dragon reflected behind his irises was for her and only her, coaxed her into a place of comfort. Still, she couldn’t find the words to put to her lips. The strength to face her shame continued to slip through her fingers.
“It’s been hard the last few years. I’ve worked a lot and had to take care of my father. So, today was a gift I wasn’t expecting and it kinda caught me off-guard. There’s really nothing to tell.”
Alazar stared at her for an excruciating minute. In that minute, she swore he was picking and peeling at pieces of her mind, trying to find out the truth in her hollow assurance.
“Okay.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Okay.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. The soft breath that escaped his nostrils was hot against her skin, almost scorching. “I should be going. You had a long day and need to rest.”
“You certain you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Ariah asked.
Alazar’s thumb strummed her lips before he dropped his hand. The loss she felt as he stepped back was unbearable. She lowered her hands to her sides, unable to wrap her head around the powerful connection thrumming between them. Dragons, lifemates, magical dragonstones. It was real, she believed that now, but she never expected the pull to this handsome dragon man to be so…so overwhelming.
“I know you’ll be safe with Mark for the night.” The cutting side-glance toward her uncle made her believe he had doubts about that. Her uncle puffed out his chest as though offended. The unspoken battle of wills continued. “May I come by tomorrow to bring you back to town?”
Ariah silently begged him to stay with her longer, but she managed a nod. “Sure. I’d like that.”
Alazar brushed a knuckle over her cheek and headed toward the office doors.
“I’ll walk you out,” her uncle said.
“I think I can find my way.”
Uncle Mark followed Alazar from the office, pulling the doors closed behind them. Ariah moved to the doors and cracked one open to watch the two men in their awkward walk to the front door.
“Al, I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I know you did everything you could.”
“Hey, it’s all good. Nothing I can’t handle.” Alazar chuckled and clapped her uncle’s shoulder. “I’ve got tough skin, remember?”
Ariah chewed her lower lip as a faint pulse of shuttered pain caressed her mind on a far softer scale than it had before she burst into the office. Whatever her uncle said to ignite Alazar’s mental agony was somehow linked to his apology. Something that involved Alazar.
What happened?
Hadn’t that been the question Alazar asked of her minutes ago? And she froze. The words, the explanations, everything froze somewhere in her throat.
Ariah moved away from the door, leaving the two men to exchange their quiet words. A short time later, her uncle returned to the office.
Uncle Mark observed her in his closed, quiet manner for a long moment. “I think you need to fill me in on a few things over dinner.”
Ariah nodded, lowering her head as she knotted her fingers at her belly. Her uncle crossed the room, took her by the shoulders, and pulled her into a bear hug. His tenderness and protectiveness threatened to bring her to tears, but she stubbornly fought them off.
“You need to get this out of you, honey. Start with me. Trust me. At some point, you’ll find it in your heart to trust him, too.”
Trust. The very element of a relationship. The key factor in a family unit.
She had trusted her father. It earned her a gun to her head with only a cryptic explanation.
Could she trust the man who destroyed her father’s soul?
And Alazar. A near stranger who she felt she knew better than her own father and uncle.
Could she give her trust to a man, a dragon, who had his own dark secret?
Guess it’s time to find out.
Chapter Eleven
“Looks like you’re really off your game, my friend.”
Alazar glanced up from the spread of pool balls over the green felt table. Bridget Merrow, werewolf and owner of Howler’s Bar and Grill, held out a tumbler filled with his usual bourbon on the rocks.
Damn, did he need the drink right about now. After leaving Mark’s house—Walking away from Ariah without any more understanding about her shadows than when I first met her—he all but stewed in the smoky residue from his confusion. Mark knew more than he let on. Ariah had lied to him. He felt the shift of evasion in the air, caught the slight downward glance as she spoke. That invisible connection between them resonated with a lie.
He didn’t understand it. They were lifemates. Twenty-first century or not, a match was a match. Didn’t Kaylae learn to trust Zar in a day?
What luck. He sucked at gambling. Why not relationships, too? Weren’t they a gamble?
“Hey, Al. You’re drifting. Very unlike you. Wanna talk?”
Bridget hitched her hip on the edge of the pool table and crossed her arms over her chest. Her wild auburn hair brushed her golden eyes. She was in jeans and a tank top with the bar’s logo printed on the front, a dish rag tucked in the side of her waist apron.
Alazar accepted the drink and straightened up from his next shot. He’d missed the pocket anyhow. He missed the pockets more than half the time, hence the losses Zareh usually saved his sorry butt from. There was a time he and Zareh could throw down a suspenseful challenge.
Once upon a time, long, long ago…
He swirled the drink, ice clinking the sides of the glass, and took a sip. The alcohol didn’t burn his throat as it might a human’s. Then again, he breathed fire. Last he checked, flames were more damaging than liquor.
“I’m always off my game.” Alazar propped the pool stick against the floor and leaned on it like a crutch. Bridget’s brows rode up her forehead, her lips quirking. “Ah, screw it. I have no game. I suck at pool.”
“And darts.”
“Yeah, that, too.” Another sip. “And chess.”
“You play chess?” She gave his shoulder a playful punch. “I can’t see you playing chess.”
“I play for entertainment purposes.” Alazar saluted his glass toward her. “The entertainment of others at my expense.”
Bridget laughed. Alazar found it in him to smile behind the rim of his glass.
“You’re a great guy. You’re going to make one lucky lady very happy one day.” Br
idget pressed up to her feet and shook a finger at him. “Like, belly-aching-from-laughing happy.”
Alazar gave a dramatic bow at the waist. “I aim to please.”
Bridget clapped his shoulder. “Don’t we all?” She flicked the glass in his hand. “That’s on the house. Maybe it’ll help loosen up your shoulders so you can pocket some balls.”
Alazar glanced at the table. He’d started his solo game twenty minutes ago and only succeeded in pocketing two balls. His thoughts were so skewed he couldn’t focus on the pockets. Certainly one of his worst nights.
“Thanks for the drink.”
“Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
Alazar put his glass on the edge of the table and set up his next shot. He aimed for the corner pocket, a straight, simple shot, drew back, and hit the cue ball.
The seven deflected off the corner of the pocket. Alazar scowled. He was a dragon. Precision was ingrained in his DNA. He should be able to pocket an entire rack with his eyes closed. The harder he tried, the more he missed. The more he concentrated, the more he messed up.
“Just like with Ariah,” he muttered, lifting the glass to his lips for another sip. “Just like Micah.”
Coming to Howler’s probably wasn’t his smartest move. Not in this frame of mind. Taking to the sky to release his tension might’ve been better. There was nothing like spreading his wings and letting the rush of air over his scales take away the vile memories of his lethal failure.
Precision.
When one of the Firestorm’s key characteristics failed him most.
Another sip, another missed shot, another scowl.
Fifteen minutes later, he managed to pocket one ball and finish his bourbon. He drank the liquor for the taste and nothing else. It would take a case of high-proof liquor to give him any inkling of a buzz. Firestorm dragons didn’t get drunk. The alcohol metabolized before it had a chance to settle in the stomach. The fire in his gut often burned off the rest of the alcohol lucky enough to make it that far.
After another several missed shots and turning down a human’s offer of betting a hundred bucks on a game—if he lost to a human, he’d need that case of high-proof liquor—a server came over with a fresh glass of bourbon and a basket of fries.
Alazar flashed Bridget a smile and a short wave of thanks. He came to Howler’s way too much. He didn’t even need to order his usual before it arrived.
He popped a fry into his mouth and lined up for another miserable shot. One ball bounced into the pocket by sheer luck. He watched, brows drawing together, as the second ball slowed at the edge of another pocket, teetered, and tipped into the pocket.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He set up for another shot. He hit the cue, splitting two balls. Both sank into pockets.
“What the heck?”
“Wow, you are pretty good.”
Alazar spun around. The pool stick slipped as his fingers slackened, and he fumbled to keep it from crashing to the ground.
Ariah rubbed her index finger nervously against her lower lip in an absolutely adorable way he could easily become enthralled by. The motion brought his attention straight to her mouth, and reminded him how soft those lips were and how he had yet to fully kiss her.
“You caught me on a lucky shot.” His dismal mood soared until a bout of skepticism wedged its ugliness into his head. “What are you doing here?”
“I, um…”
Her cheeks flushed and her eyes glowed. She looked so beautiful. The soft scent of flowers struck him, as did the shimmer of her hair, still damp from a shower. The pretty waves caressed her cheeks, her bangs swept to the side. She had changed into a pair of dark jeans that hugged her legs, and one of her new sweaters that teased him with a peek of her shoulder. No knit hat. No overly baggy clothes.
The corner of his lip curled.
You’re starting to feel comfortable with me.
Ariah dropped her arms to her sides, hooking her thumbs on the pockets of her jeans, and tapped the toe of her boot against the floor. Man, what he wouldn’t do to wrap her in his arms and kiss her crazy.
Crazy. Just like the idea.
“I went over to your house and your neighbor told me I could probably find you here. The really pretty blond with strange”—Ariah’s eyes narrowed and made a single pointed gesture to her ear—“you know.”
“Ahh, Willa.” He chuckled. “Yeah, you saw right. Told you to believe me earlier.”
Ariah tilted her head, a wavy lock falling over her eye. “That glitter? Yeah, not buying it.”
“I told you it was a marketing strategy. Nocturne Falls is a paranormal town with paranormal creatures who hide behind the perception that they are playing a part in the town’s overall Halloween theme. In essence, they’re real paranormals pretending to be human pretending to be paranormal.”
“Yeah? Any paranormals here now?”
“I think you’re looking at one.”
Ariah’s glossed lips lifted and a spark lit her eyes. Her pupils dilated. “I think I see a handsome guy playing pool by himself.”
“Not too bad of a guess.” He tapped the pool stick against the table. “Can I interest a breathtaking young lady in joining me in a game?”
Ariah snickered. She grabbed a pool stick from the wall-mounted rack, rolled it over the table to check the stick’s condition, and chalked the tip. She handed him his glass of bourbon with a pointed look. “How many in are you?”
“This is number two, and it doesn’t affect me the way it affects others.”
“Hm.” She gave a nod to the table. “I warned you earlier, it’s been a while since I’ve played.”
“Let’s see what you still have then.”
Alazar put his drink on a high-top table and leaned against the pool table, unable to take his eyes off Ariah as she checked out her options. He drank in every small detail of his Ace, from the way her brow creased as she thought to the way she chewed her lip. He wondered if she took into consideration her drooping neckline as she leaned over the table and positioned the stick on her fingers in preparation for a shot. Despite the camisole she wore under the soft gray material, he caught the frailty of her sternum. It reignited his determination to find out about her past.
Ariah took her shot. The cue ball cracked into a side-by-side pair, splitting the balls apart. One ball fell into a pocket. The second bounced off the rail.
“Reactivating luck?” Alazar asked. Ariah laughed. “Well, you’re not a beginner.”
“No. I used to play when I would pick my father up from bars because he was too drunk to drive.” She came around the table, her eyes moving between the cue ball and possible shots. Alazar straightened up as she approached him and gave his hip a tap. “Excuse me, sir. You’re blocking a perfect shot.”
Alazar crossed one booted foot over the other, and wrapped both hands around his pool stick. “Perhaps I should stay here.”
“I have another option, just a little trickier.”
“How often did you play?”
Ariah sized him up before she brushed around him, her arm sliding against his side. He followed her with his gaze, willing to take the bait in this unspoken flirting session.
“Too often.” She leaned over the table, set up for her shot, and hit the cue true. Two balls fell into pockets. Alazar blinked. “Unfortunately.”
Despite the sensual smile she slid him, he couldn’t miss the sadness in those three words. “Where is your father now?”
She took her eyes off the table long enough to impale him with a lingering look of despair before going back to the game.
“Jail.”
He lost his smile and cleared a sudden lump from his throat. That certainly wasn’t the answer he was expecting.
“Would you like to fill me in?”
“Not here. It’s still pretty fresh in my head.” She took her shot. The ball missed. She sighed and straightened up. Alazar was impressed by her strength to keep her smile, but the
light in her eyes had dimmed. “Your turn, hotshot.”
Alazar laughed and rounded the table. She watched him closely, her attention heating up his skin as he closed in on her.
“Ace, you’re on fire. Not me.” He tapped the top of his stick against hers. “So, seems what goes around comes around. I see a perfect shot, but I would need to ask you to move to take it.”
Ariah lifted a brow and mimicked his stance from a few minutes before. “And I think I’ll stay where I am.”
“Very well.” Alazar gauged the line-up between the cue, the ball, and the pocket.
Then he set up for the shot with Ariah’s slender body tucked between his arms, his head pressed to the side of her belly, and his leg braced behind hers.
“Alazar!”
Her laughter was contagious. He took the shot.
To his utter shock, the ball rolled into the pocket.
“Holy cow. You actually made it.”
Alazar stretched up on his feet, trapping her against the edge of the table. Ariah’s chest rose and fell on short breaths, hunger conquering humor in her eyes.
She licked her lips before they parted.
He nearly came undone. “My Ace.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Alazar swallowed down a growl as he glanced over at the server. “Bridget asked me to get a drink order for your friend.”
Ariah dipped her head as her cheeks turned pink, rolled away from the table and out of his arms. Alazar chuckled and tossed a glance toward the bar. Sure enough, Bridget made a blatant look at Ariah before turning her gaze back to him and lifting her hands in a “well?” motion.
“Poor manners on my part. Ariah, what would you like?”
“I’m good.” Ariah placed her pool stick in the rack, drawing his curiosity. She turned back to him and shrugged. “I really don’t drink much.”
“Let Bridget know I’ll be cashing out my tab in a moment.”
The server nodded and moved to another pool table. Alazar motioned to the rack. “Throwing in the towel?”
“I think that last shot showed me what I’m up against. I don’t stand a chance.”
