by Paula Quinn
Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to calm the terror of being carried across the sky in his claws. She wanted to go home and agreed to climb into his waiting hand three times, but the thought of dangling so high up made her want to stay in the cave under new blankets. “Can’t you just knock me out or something?”
Don’t think that option hasn’t already been considered, he tossed her with impatience staining his voice.
“This is your fault,” she accused. “You brought me here. Why? Why couldn’t you heal me someplace with an elevator?”
Helena, my patience is growing thin. He turned his head to stare at her and, ignoring her blackest glare, held out his huge hand. Wrap yourself in the blankets and get in my hand. Do it now or I’ll leave without you.
She set her hands on her hips. “I believe you would.”
Then why aren’t you doing what I told you to do?
Honestly, the instant he turned back into a man she was going to stab him again.
When he moved closer to the edge, she clutched her belly where slight pain remained and hurried to collect the blankets. “Okay, damn it!”
She was over being afraid of him. If he were going to kill her, he wouldn’t have partially healed her body. That didn’t mean the sight of him didn’t shock her every time she set her eyes on him. He was a Drakkon. A real, very big Drakkon who liked her as much as she liked him.
“We’re probably going to crash into a mountain,” she muttered while she draped one blanket after another around her shoulders.
I can see fine. Don’t you know anything about Drakkon? And while I’m at it, how can you be afraid to fly? You were born of a Drakkon’s loins. Your brother wants to fly.
Oh? Did he tell you that? She slid her sharp gaze up to his. Was he really bringing this up now? She’d always suspected Jacob wanted to fly. She’d known for years that he was sympathetic to Drakkons, but he wouldn’t truly act on it, would he?
He didn’t have to tell me. His heart speaks for him—as you already know.
“Stay away from my brother, Gold,” she warned.
He has my cat.
Damn it. She forgot that she’d left Carina with Jacob. She’d forgotten other things, too, that were coming back to her now. She looked at the gold scales curving around his thick forearms, his long, razor sharp claws peeking from beneath a pile of blankets. “I left my brother and came back for you.”
He was silent and she shook her head. “I was a fool.”
It would appear.
Before she could respond and tell him to go to hell, he reached out and closed his fingers around her and lifted her off the ground. He gave her no chance to argue or beg for more time, but leaned out and fell off the edge of the mountain.
Helena couldn’t scream. She tried but she couldn’t breathe in enough air to get started.
With nothing left to do, she promptly fainted. The trouble was, she woke up less than three minutes later from her blissful oblivion. The instant she grew aware of where she was, clasped in the hand of a Drakkon while he soared beneath the stars, the same result occurred. She came awake the second time just after a minute, opened her mouth to scream, and then passed out one more time.
The third time she came to, she kept her eyes sealed shut to block the wind and to make it easier to tell herself they were just a few feet off the ground. It didn’t matter. She still panicked. They were going too fast! What if they crashed?
We will not crash, the Drakkon assured with an arrogant tinge in his voice.
Her belly dropped three times when he dove to avoid wind shears or mountain waves. He explained it all but she didn’t care. She only wanted him to stop doing it.
We’re almost at 8,000 feet. Tell me if you begin to feel unwell.
Did he really have to tell her how high up they were? How about if I want to tell you how much I hate you?
It’s not that bad, Helena. The blankets will keep you warm and the wind out of your face. I won’t drop you.
He sounded more like Garion the man. She hated thinking it, but she missed him.
You weren’t real, she thought clinging to one of his fingers in case the others opened. You weren’t real.
I was. I am real, he answered in a quiet tone in her thoughts. The man you know is only half of who I am.
She shook her head and tried to open her eyes. She was glad it was dark out. Better not to see what was beneath her—or what wasn’t beneath her. You gave your word that I’d never meet this half. We had a deal. The Bane didn’t come after you. Your own friend did!
Do you think I’m not aware of who betrayed me? he asked, flapping his giant wings and lifting them higher. He lost an arm for it. He should have lost his life but my weaker half resisted.
Was it the altitude or the thought of him biting off Jeremy’s arm that made her feel lightheaded and nauseous?
Your weaker half? You sound as if you hate that part of yourself, she accused.
No, he denied, that part hates me. I’m the monster the man is ashamed of, the part he didn’t ask for, the part he denies.
She remembered Garion’s guilt when he thought he’d killed the children at Hendrick’s home and the release of it when she confessed who the children were.
Regret and mercy aren’t weak, Garion. Running from your emotions and being detached are.
Emotions are useless. They never served me in the past.
He couldn’t mean that. She wanted to tell him but she felt horrible. You’re making my head pound.
We’re too high, he growled, dipping downward and making her guts drop out.
She groaned in his clutches. She was definitely going to throw up.
Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?
She scowled at the wind. I just did. Please stop talking.
She remained still and silent as the nausea passed. Her pounding head took longer. At least he did as she asked and didn’t use telepathy to communicate with her. The Gold was arrogant and infuriating but he wasn’t as horrible as she’d always imagined he’d be. When he wasn’t licking his chops at her, he did nothing to hide his contempt—not only toward her but toward his human side, as well. But he’d been thoughtful getting her blankets…and even the pig. She should have eaten something. She was starving.
How long before we’re home?
Several more hours, he replied. We’ll need to stop in Greenland and then in Jan Mayen to rest. It won’t be long after that.
I thought you said we were somewhere in Canada. Why do we need to stop in Greenland or anywhere else to get back to New York?
Who said anything about New York?
Oh, no! What? What was he saying? You did! she told him. You said you were taking me home.
I am taking you home, Helena. My home. You said you wanted to go and it’s the best place to fully recover from your gunshot wound.
Yes, she had wanted to go, but he’d refused. Only one thing had changed since then. Now he was Drakkon. What was it he had asked her in his elevator? “How do you know I’d bring you back once you were there?”
Would he bring her back? Was the Gold taking her to his lair with intentions on keeping her? They had heard the damned life mate music. Did he think he was going to keep her forever? He’d have to alter her! Would he force her to become the thing she hated?
Listen to me, Gold— she began.
I’ve heard enough, his gravelly voice rumbled through her. I’m breaking our connection. Don’t bother with words. I won’t hear them.
What? Was he joking? Gold! Gold, I know you can hear me. Turn around and take me back to New York! I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to go home with you! Gold?
She tried several more times but he didn’t respond. She shouted to him that he was acting like a brooding child but the wind tore the words from her lips and carried them away.
What had he heard her say that angered him? She hadn’t said anything. He’d been listening in again, damn him. She’d been thinking about hi
m forcing her to become Drakkon and how she could escape. He didn’t want to hear her objections. She almost laughed. He would never stop hearing them—at least not until she found a way to get the hell away from him. Where were they heading? She guessed northern Europe since they’d be stopping in Greenland. It wasn’t the quickest route to the UK, so they must be on their way to Norway or Sweden since he’d mentioned it not being long after someplace called Jan Mayen. Great, more cold. Why couldn’t he live in Bermuda or one of the other islands? Did he live in a cave? Her heart sank further.
He’d said he was bringing her to his home so she could fully recover. She still didn’t know why he hadn’t taken her to a hospital. He’d kept her alive. She was grateful, but why not drop her off in front of the nearest ER? Why carry her all the way home if he didn’t intend to keep her like he kept his cat? He hadn’t mentioned keeping her. In fact, he’d changed his mind about helping her and had left her in the cave. He didn’t like her. Why would he want to keep her? Stop, obsessing over this, Helena, she chastised herself. He doesn’t want you.
She didn’t know why her logical thoughts didn’t offer her any comfort. She was glad the monster didn’t want her. But she had let herself feel something for Garion Gold. Even now, held securely in his clawed fingers, being carried over what looked to be water reflecting the moonlight and making her wish she could pass out, she missed his voice, his beautiful, seemingly guileless smile, his touch.
He doesn’t want you.
With no one to speak to, she closed her eyes and rested her head on the edge of his finger. She hummed some music she’d written until she finally fell asleep.
#
Garion soared across the pre-dawn sky, doing his best to keep his concentration fixed on direction and not on emotion or the sound of her singing deep in his head. He’d heard the melody before, played masterfully on the strings of a violin in the front of William Hutton’s apartment building. Like the lament of a siren, her music had drawn him in and washed him under murky depths where he’d stopped thinking with his head. He could feel it happening again while she hummed, dragging him back to his human heart. Thankfully, his Drakkon instincts burst forth with the sun’s awakening.
He knew he shouldn’t have been listening to her thoughts after he’d told her he wouldn’t be. But he wasn’t some shining knight from his mother’s stories. He didn’t concern himself with other’s privacy. Listening to another’s inner thoughts was the only way to know the truth about them. He would have known about Red’s black heart if he’d listened.
He would not have known that Helena had heard the song of the stars.
I don’t want you to be dead. He’d heard her cry on the perch where he’d slept the night he’d left her. She’d wept for him and he’d flown back to her as quickly as he could. Not for me. For the man.
She was his life mate. There was no more room for doubt. He would have exulted at finding her, turning her, but instead he cursed the stars for shining on her. She was a White and if that weren’t bad enough, she wanted to “get the hell away from him before he forced her to become what she hated”. She would never be happy with him and besides that, she didn’t like the cold. She liked Bermuda.
He cut his tail to the left. They should reach Greenland soon. He’d push himself as far as he could to make it home quickly. He’d have to change when he reached the villa. His Drakkon would end up breaking all the windows—and his treasures. That wouldn’t do.
But now that he’d changed, things would be different. He’d fly when he wanted to and he’d burn anyone who tried to stop him. He might even get Ellie’s list and color the sky Blue, Green, Purple, and Red. He’d tried life as a man. It was lonely and empty but for a cat and a handful of visits to his family. He’d tried to hide, but The Bane had found him—found his sister. He was done hiding. If the Elders wanted a war, he’d give them one.
He spread his wings wide and rose with a glorious lift. He wouldn’t be caged again. This time, he’d put down the man. He would remain Drakkon as much as he could, growing stronger in his basest desires, his cold-blooded detachments.
He doesn’t want you.
He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the memory of her soft, doleful voice ringing in his head and the way it had shattered his Drakkon heart to pieces and made his human heart long to tell her—
Yes, yes, I do want you.
#
Jeremy Redmond opened his eyes to the glaring light in the ceiling. He looked around at the hospital room, the IV connected to his left arm. He remembered what happened and cut his gaze to the bandaged stump of his right arm.
Garion had bitten his damn arm off!
The memory of the Drakkon, that face he’d seen in his childhood, with eyes like all-consuming flames had come back to life. It was so much bigger and more deadly than Jeremy had remembered and, quite honestly, he’d nearly shit his pants.
The bite horrified him more than it hurt—at first. Jeremy was sure Garion was going to burn him but, thankfully, those core ideals Garion held to so staunchly, most of which Red hated, had saved his life.
They’d given him the opportunity for him to dip his arm in the small puddle of blood left by the gold dagger Garion had pulled from his flesh.
As his head cleared of painkillers and other antibiotics, Red wondered if he was Drakkon. Could he change right now if he wanted to? His heartbeat quickened, setting off a small alarm. He sat up and pulled himself free of needles and tubes. He felt good. He wanted to get out of here and fly.
“Mr. Redmond!” a nurse hurried into the room and headed for the machines all blinking. “What are you doing? Let me get the doctor.”
“Don’t bother,” he told her, leaving the bed. He untied his gown and let it fall around his feet. He felt good. Incredible, actually. “I’m discharging myself.”
“But your arm—”
“My arm is fine,” he assured her while he reached for a bag of his bloody clothes.
Dressing with one arm was more difficult than he’d imagined—and he was going to have to do it every time he altered. He’d repay Garion for that and for ruining his favorite coat.
The nurse brought back the doctor, who was just as unsuccessful at getting him back to bed.
Red left the hospital with an eager bounce in his step and set off east toward Central Park. Twice, he turned to look behind him. Twice, he found no one following him. He couldn’t shake the feeling though and hurried to his destination.
He entered the park without noticing the man with pale wheaten hair and cobalt eyes watching him from the shadows.
He remembered Garion’s instructions to their friends, Aidan and Will. Just think about being Drakkon.
He felt his body changing, his clothes tearing off. There was some pain as his bones stretched and altered, the front of his face growing outward, his bright red wings stretching out like the wings of a moth leaving its cocoon.
He’d dreamed of flying for so many years—of fighting back against the Elders and The Bane. Now, he could. Now, he would. But first, he’d repay Garion for taking his arm.
“Shit,” the man watching him fly away groaned. “That’s trouble.”
Chapter Thirteen
Garion sat on his haunches just inside a cave set high on the side of a mountain blanketed in snow and ice. He watched Helena pick at the flank of a caribou he’d hunted and cooked for her lunch.
“You’re sure no one saw you?”
No one saw me, he assured her while she placed a charred piece of meat on her tongue.
“It’s no turkey sandwich with cranberry dressing and cucumbers,” she said with a shrug. “But it’s actually not bad. Then again, I’m starving. I’d probably eat it raw.”
It was times like these when he regretted not having lips to smile. Were her Drakkon instincts awakening? Humans didn’t tend to consider eating raw meat. He thought about telling her what she now was because of him, but he didn’t think she was ready to hear it.
She seemed to
have come to the conclusion that he hadn’t kidnapped her and he wasn’t keeping her. It made her behave more comfortably with him, less afraid.
It was true that she’d come awake in his hand just above Greenland’s ice sheet screaming and trying to kick her way out of his grip. But she’d just awakened from dreams of talking cats calling out his name inside a Starbucks, so her fright was understandable.
He didn’t mention her dreams or that he could see and hear them in his head as if they were his own. He felt only a bit ashamed for intruding in such an intimate place as dreams, but he liked what she felt for him in them. She was jealous and angry when he called out a set of phone numbers to a dozen other cats who had gathered at the coffeehouse and unabashedly attracted to him when he held the one cat he loved.
“So, what’s going to happen after you bring me back?” she asked him, pulling the blankets around her more closely. “Do you still want me to speak to the Elders on your behalf?”
I don’t see the point.
“Really?” she asked incredulously, tossing down the rest of her food. “So, then tell me. What were all the lies for? Why did you bother trying to get me to trust you when you had war on your heart all along?”
I like it better when you use telepathy, Helena, he took a moment to tell her before he continued. As a man, I wanted peace—mostly for my family. I knew the Whites wouldn’t hesitate to kill them to get to me. So I stayed away. When you found my sister, it was the first time I’d considered changing in almost fifteen years. Nothing I told you was false. I might be a monster now, but I was a man for a long time, a man with values.
And Drakkon share none of those values? she asked him quietly in his thoughts, as he’d requested.
Not when my life is at risk. The Elders had Marcus pulled from the sky against his will and turned into a man. At their order, Thomas was shot down and killed. They’ll never agree to sit back and do nothing while I fly. And I want to fly. Why should I allow them to rule over me?
