by Paula Quinn
Carina.
Jacob. He reached his out thoughts and found Helena’s brother almost immediately. He hadn’t gone so far that he still couldn’t reach him. Where’s my cat?
Garion? Shit, this is really happening! I can hear you!
I know. Where’s my cat?
She’s safe with me. Where’s Helena? Police are everywhere.
He couldn’t go back for Carina now. I have Helena. I’m taking her home. I’ll return for Carina before the month is over. Guard her with your life or—
What do you mean you’re taking my sister home? What home? Where are you? I’m coming to get her!
Right now, I’m somewhere over Albany, I believe.
That was you then! Jacob breathed. We heard the crash from the roof. I thought I saw a light, like a shooting star…Garion, you’re Drakkon. His breathing changed, hardening his tone. Where’s my sister?
She’s unconscious. Garion told him with a clip of annoyance in his voice. He wasn’t in the mood for any more communication. Carina was safe. That was all he needed to know. Helena was shot but I’ve begun her healing process. She’ll recover under my care. You have my word. In the meantime, take care of my treasure and I’ll take care of yours.
He ended the connection, satisfied that his cat would be fine with Jacob for a few weeks. If he took Helena to a hospital and found some clothes to wear, he could go back and get Carina and take a plane home tonight. But he couldn’t leave Helena in the hands of mere mortals. Especially not now. Once test results from Helena’s blood returned, her doctors wouldn’t let her leave. She’d realize what he’d done and that he’d left her to figure it all out on her own.
He cursed his human heart for turning her. How could he? How could he do it? He rolled his head between his shoulders and had another look at her. She appeared a fragile thing. No match for his power. Letting her die would have meant one less member of The Bane in existence. His Drakkon heart—growing stronger every moment—told him he should have left her. She hated Drakkon and didn’t deserve to fly when he’d denied so many others. He expelled a snort tinged with methane. He was a weak man, as pitiful as the rest. It explained why he’d left Red alive. Why he’d let himself grow so fond of a Drakkon hunter. Why, even now, he didn’t drop her.
He refused to ponder such trivial things when he was finally flying! Ah, he missed soaring on the lifts and dips of the wind, cutting the clouds with his tail, chasing down his prey. He’d been young, only eleven winters old when a child, who believed himself a knight thanks to his foster mother’s romance novels, had put him down. He could have defied his human side and remained Drakkon. He could have found the rest of The Bane and then the Elders and killed them all but the Aqua who’d taught him to fly hadn’t raised a monster, so he’d gone down without a fight.
But now, he was finally free!
He glided for over an hour, reveling in the sky and recalling the sound of a haunting violin. It was her music, he reminded himself. Her, who he’d been holding when he heard music from the stars.
He wasn’t sure if his breathing grew more labored because of who she could be or because he’d been flying too long. He didn’t want to think about her being his life mate. Who would want to live for centuries with someone who hated him? Not him.
He’d never traveled so far on his wings. He had a long way to go. He didn’t know how he knew the way to Norway. He simply did. He knew how long it took by plane. Unless he pushed himself hard, he didn’t fly as fast as an aircraft, he’d have to stop and rest soon. He’d remain Drakkon since turning back meant him being naked and his paltry skin exposed to the frigid cold, and because he didn’t want to turn back. Not yet. He needed a place high up with some kind of perch. A cave would be ideal. Thankfully, he could see well in the dark.
He searched for a quarter of an hour before he found a mountain range in the Canadian province of Newfoundland. He settled his back feet down on a wide, snow-covered perch and moved toward the black hole carved out of the rock. It would shelter Helena from the wind.
He carried her inside and gently placed her on the ground. He pressed his snout to her shoulder and gave a gentle nudge. She didn’t stir or open her eyes. There was more healing to be done, but he needed energy he didn’t have. So for now, it was enough that she would live. It was best to wait. He didn’t need her screaming the entire way home.
He dipped his nostrils to her bloodstained parka and inhaled her scent that was laced with traces of his essence. The human side of his thoughts told him she would never forgive him. He exhaled his breath and took a step back. Did he have to tell her? If she didn’t know she had the ability to turn, she wouldn’t try. She could live for years ignorant of her power.
But Garion the Gold wondered what she would look like as a White Drakkon. He let his gaze rove over her like lambent flames, hungry for something more satisfying than food. Something that would last for centuries.
Helena, he probed. When no response came, he curled up in front of the entrance, blocking out some of the cold, and closed his eyes.
He didn’t sleep but recalled the days when he was a young Drakkon. Days filled with sunshine and games with Ellie and Tabitha, his nurse, flying with Marcus when Garion was three and killing Simion the Red together. Marcus and Samantha provided him a good life with an equal balance of human and Drakkon experience. He remembered altering Thomas and the boys as if he’d done it just yesterday. Their Drakkons hadn’t stayed dormant for long. He’d had to train Will and Aidan to fly and land without crashing. Thomas had needed no help though. He’d ruled the sky once before.
He remembered that they’d all been shot down only two months after he’d turned them. The Whites were responsible. Helena White’s family had killed Thomas. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at her. What was he doing trying to save her? He should be eating her! Her family was the reason he’d been locked away for so long. How could he consider her as anything more than a bitter morsel?
Clouds drifted, bathing him in a shaft of moonlight while he swept his tongue over his scaly jaw. No, he admonished himself. He wouldn’t eat her.
He rose up on all fours and turned for the opening. He wouldn’t take her as a life mate either.
With a mighty snap of his wings, he lifted off the perch and back into the sky where he belonged.
#
Helena opened her eyes to the glaring sun just outside her window then closed them again. She was freezing.
That wasn’t a window.
She opened her eyes and lifted herself on her elbows. Her mind didn’t register right away that what she was looking out of was a cave opening. Her bloodstained parka captured all the attention she could produce in her groggy state. What the hell—? Jeremy Redmond had shot her in Garion’s arms. Garion. Where was he? Where was she? She looked around and then wished she hadn’t. She was in a shallow, high-ceilinged cave. Alone and, judging from the sky being level with her gaze, she guessed the cave was very high up.
She tried to move backward but encountered the back wall directly behind her. Whoever had brought her here had placed her as far from the edge as she could go. She also discovered that the cold had numbed her to the pain beginning to lance through her back to her belly. Movement had gotten her blood flowing. She should have remained still. She searched for her phone and then remembered her bag was probably in Garion’s penthouse. What was she doing here alone? Garion surely couldn’t have brought her. He would have had to fly—and he promised her he wouldn’t. Besides, why would he bring her to a cave and not a hospital? Had Jeremy killed Garion and used his blood to turn? Had the Red taken her? Her heart raced and the pain increased.
Had he left her here to die or was he coming back? She wasn’t sure which was worse of the two. If he was coming back, what was he intending to do to her? She had to do something to protect herself! But her wound…
She unzipped her parka and pulled up her sweater. Her belly was covered in dried blood—but there was no wound. Her skin was
smooth, sore but there was no sign of a bullet hole. Where had all the blood come from then? Had Jeremy shot Garion while he still held her?
Her eyes welled up with tears while she pulled down her sweater and zipped up her coat. Was he truly gone then? Why did she feel as if her heart were being ripped from her body and cast to the ashes at the very thought of it?
Garion? Are you there?
Only silence returned. She tried again and then covered her eyes with her arm and wept. I don’t want you to be dead. I’m a mad fool.
A sound broke through the silence. It wasn’t just any sound, but one Helena had heard once before.
Wings!
She pushed herself up and pressed her back against the cold wall. What was the pain of her wound compared to what was coming?
The Drakkon came into view from the right, about three hundred feet away. It looked to be about twenty-six feet long from the end of its snout to the tip of its spaded tail. It was huge and it glowed beneath the sun like a living flame. A shimmering gold flame.
Garion.
He swore he’d never turn. Her heart would have burst inside her with terror and the wonder of his deadly beauty if the last of it hadn’t just shattered like frozen glass around her. He’d turned. He’d become Drakkon. All at once, she was a child hiding behind a tree, watching the monster burn her family alive. She was afraid again and it made her angry. She’d fooled herself for years, believing she’d be fearless if she ever saw him again. But who wouldn’t be afraid of him coming closer, growing bigger? She felt ill. She tried to back further into the wall. Pain radiated throughout her body making her cry out. Outside, the Drakkon snapped his twenty-nine foot wide wings and then glided toward her the rest of the way.
He landed deftly on the perch outside the cave and folded his aureate wings over his back. He looked down at her from twelve feet up, with wide, elongated, yellow eyes set deep beneath a spiky, golden brow. His snout was wide and square with large, upward nostrils frilled with more spikes and long, white fangs overlapping his lower jaw.
He moved slowly and with caution, the muscles in his limbs were taut and ready to spring forward. Do you have a golden weapon behind your back, ready to poke me, White?
His rumbling voice in her head made Helena dizzy and queasy. His words tore deep at her heart.
“Garion?” Her teeth chattered while she spoke. Was it him? It had to be him. He was the only Gold Drakkon she knew of. It sounded like him somewhere beneath the snarl and mockery. Did he not recognize her? “Why did you being me here? Why did you turn?”
She realized she should try not to sound accusatory, but he’d given her his word. He’d convinced her that he didn’t want to inhabit the sky because the cost would be too high and here he was, a Drakkon! An angry sounding, terrifying Drakkon that just blew smoke out of his nostrils!
He bent his neck and brought his head down so that it was level with her face. I turned because I wanted to, he told her telepathically, inching a bit closer. I’ve wanted to for years and because it was the only way to stop Jeremy. I brought you with me to save you, but then I changed my mind and left.
Helena fought to control her breathing…and her thoughts. He’d wanted to change for years? So everything he’d told her was a lie. She didn’t want him to know that she was afraid of him, since it was obvious that he was trying to frighten her. Instead, she concentrated on Garion the man and how skillfully he had deceived her into believing he was a knight, not a dragon. It made her angry, and being angry was better than being afraid.
She opened her mouth to speak but her breath faltered at the power of his gaze and the slightest tilt of his head, as if he’d been listening. Good! Let him hear this! You manage to change my opinion of you, yet again, Gold. I thought there was a man behind the monster, but I was wrong. You lied to me and left me here to die alone.
She might have seen a stab of regret shadowing his gaze but he closed his eyes, shielding whatever emotion she was pulling from him.
I’m here, he told her, his tone a bit softer in her head. You’re not alone.
“But you changed and then you left!” Was she really more hurt about that than anything else? She hated herself for letting him in and him for deceiving her. “All your talk meant nothing. Everything about you was a lie. Now, your being alone makes sense. I was the fool all along.”
He opened his eyes and stared into hers. She saw no trace of the man she’d come to know. The man she’d allowed herself to trust.
As opposed to the fool being me, he threw back at her, which is what you intended all along.
No…yes, she sighed inwardly. But so what if he was correct about earlier motives? He’d made her question them all until she was almost ready to—.
She met his piercing gaze straight on and suspected he was listening to her private thoughts. “Change please. I’d like to speak with Garion.”
You are already speaking with me.
“Not Drakkon. I’m not at ease speaking with you in this form and I don’t like you in my head.”
Did his shoulders just shrug?
Would you be more at ease speaking to me naked? My clothes are in tatters on the floor of the penthouse. Besides, I’m assuming it’s frigid by the amount of your shivering. I’ll suffer hypothermia. Unless…
An image popped into her mind of him, clothed in nothing but his golden, glorious skin, his long, muscular limbs coiled through hers, their flesh touching, his breath—
“Take me home!” she demanded, then hoping to elicit some kind of humane response, added, “Please.”
He backed away from her and dropped his belly to the floor. The bottom of his lower jaw followed. I intend to. We’ll leave at nightfall.
He intended to? Well, that at least was good news. He hadn’t snapped her in two or burned her alive—that was even better. But nightfall was many hours away.
“Why wait?” she asked, her eye catching his tail swaying over the precipice. The precipice. How high up were they? How did he intend to get her home?
She felt as if all the blood were being drained from her body. Did he carry her here gripped in his talons, dangling above—. The cave walls spun. She closed her eyes trying to control her nerves.
“Did…did we fly?”
No. I flew. You slept. And speaking of sleeping—. He closed his eyes.
Her blood chilled and she shivered all the way to her bones. “I won’t be doing that again.”
He opened one eye and settled it on her. Then you intend to remain here alone, after all?
When she shook her head and gritted her teeth to keep from throwing up, she would have sworn he appeared amused. She’d like to punch him in the face if she didn’t think his scales would break her hand.
“So, those are my choices, you bastard? Let you fly me around hundreds, probably thousands…” She paused to breathe. “… of feet off the ground, or leave me here alone to freeze to death?”
He expelled a gust of warm air and lifted his head. I seem to recall you mentioning your fear of heights. Flying at night will ease some of your fright.
“My fright?” she practically hissed at him. “You make me sound like a mouse.” She straightened her spine when she noted the shift of his brow and doubt in his lighthearted gaze. “I promise,” she told him in a tight, quiet voice, “I’m no mouse. And heights don’t bother me. I told you I was afraid of falling. Exactly how screwed up are your memories right now?”
Instead of answering her question, he snarled at her. It could have been Drakkon laughter. She had no way of knowing. You don’t believe I can keep you from falling out of my hand? he asked.
“Not if you change your mind again about saving me and let me go.”
Hmm, I see your point.
Oh, she didn’t like him as a Drakkon. He was lucky she’d stabbed him with her gold dagger when he was a man. If she hadn’t, she’d probably use it on him now.
When his boney brow dipped low over his eyes, she balled her hands into fists. “If
you’re going to intrude on my thoughts, you deserve what you hear.”
Yes, he agreed, the truth is often ugly so I rarely listen in. Presently though, this is the only way I can communicate with you since I don’t have lips.
She didn’t want to think about his lips, or flying, or about how wrong she’d been about him. She needed her energy to keep from passing out, an effect of her thrashing heart and ice-cold blood.
“Why didn’t you take me to a hospital?”
There was no time to get to the hospital, she heard him tell her. You were dying. I had to heal you myself.
Was that all he’d done? Her heart thudded in her ears. “How? How did you heal me?”
With my mind and the power in it, he told her, relieving her of her worst fear.
I don’t feel healed. She didn’t realize she hadn’t used her mouth to speak. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Everything hurts.
Just before she lost consciousness, she was aware of the Drakkon shifting his position, moving toward her again, and then…laying beside her.
Darkness covered her as she succumbed to the effects of the last several hours and the warmth of the Gold’s sheltering wing.
Chapter Twelve
“I can’t do it!” Helena said, backing into the wall and further away from the entrance where the Gold sat on his haunches, his tail curled around his clawed hands and feet, waiting for her.
The beast gazed out at the starry night sky and expelled a frustrated sigh. I shouldn’t have continued your healing. It would be easier if you were still unconscious.
She’d come to terms after he dumped a charred pig in her lap, called it breakfast, and admitted that he’d already eaten six, that he wasn’t Garion anymore. When he admitted, while eating his seventh, that he loved being Drakkon, she knew Garion was gone. He’d never existed.
She didn’t know what he’d done while she slept for the past sixteen hours—besides fly off to places unknown to steal eight blankets and a pig and drop them on her—but whatever it was, she woke up feeling a little better, stronger. He’d explained that because he’d used up so much energy to fly he didn’t have enough left to complete the healing process.
