Ondrej

by Saranna Dewylde

  Her oh so round and delectable ass.

  Gods, but he was in trouble.

  Voshkie pulled her ride up next to them. “You can change your mind and ride with me.”

  Krysanthe looked back at him and he spoke into the mic. “Hey, it your trip. Whatever you want, Princess. But I can fly. She can’t.” He winked at her, trying to make her feel at ease.

  He knew she had to be afraid of what was to come, but she was dealing like a champ.

  “We’re going back through those same lands where the ghouls attacked, aren’t we?” Voshkie said with a nod. “Yeah, it’s best she stay with you. Take care of her, right?”

  “On my honor,” he said.

  She kept nodding and he reached out and clasped her shoulder, in the same way he’d do with any of his brothers. “I understand it’s hard for you to share this responsibility. I know that no one loves her like you, but I will protect her.”

  “I hope you prove me wrong.”

  “You think I can’t protect her?” Ondrej wasn’t insulted, even though the dragon inside of him was.

  “I know you can. It’s a matter of whether you will or not.”

  “What do you have against dragons?” He cocked his head to the side. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve never met one who wasn’t a shit.”

  He laughed. “I don’t think I’m a shit, but I guess I’ll wait and see what you have to say about it.”

  “A shit?” Mikolas asked. “You don’t any of us. What gives you the right to judge us?”

  “Not your business and oh, fuck you.” Voshkie flipped him the bird and revved her bike.

  “Wow, I’ve never seen you make anything female hate you so fast. Usually you have to sleep with them,” Ondrej taunted.

  “Looks like you lost yours,” Mikolas said and made as if he pulled something out of his jacket pocket, but it was only his middle finger. “Found it. All for you.”

  “We’re close, but we’re not that close. Sounds like you’ve got some feelings you need to deal with.” He swung his leg over the bike and his weight caused her to sink back against him.

  “Is this okay?” she asked.

  “We’ve got a long ride on a bike. We’re bound to touch. If you’re uncomfortable, you can ride with Voshkie, or any of my knights. No harm, no foul.”

  Part of him wished she’d ask to ride with Mik. Part of him didn’t want her this close for so long. But another part of him did. It felt so good to have her pressed up against him, right in a way the nothing had been in a long time.

  Except she wasn’t his—she couldn’t be.

  He thought about what Mik had said, that her father had basically given him tacit permission to—no. That hadn’t been Glorfindel’s game at all. He was going to get the princess anywhere she needed to go. If that happened to be Barky McFuckstain’s in West Virginia, that’s where they were going.

  “No. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I know all things gold can be a distraction to dragons.”

  “Not to me. Or my crew.” It wasn’t the gold part of her that him so entranced. “Don’t worry about my comfort. Let’s just worry about keeping you safe.”

  “There’s something about you, Ondrej. You’re almost too good to be true.”

  “We all have our faults.” He revved the bike and they started down the twisting mountain road that would take her away from her world, and into his. “I meant what I said, though. You’re safe with me.”

  She grabbed his thigh around a particularly steep curve and the press of her hand burned him through the leather and there was no reining in his erection. After they eased out of the curve, she squirmed against him, and he wasn’t sure if it was heaven or hell.

  Finally, he wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her in place.

  “Sorry,” she said into the mic. “Trying to get comfortable, but your belt buckle is poking me.”

  He wasn’t wearing a belt.

  “I’ll see if I can find another when we stop.”

  Krysanthe stilled and settled against him. He fought for control of his body. He’d never felt this before. Sure, he’d been attracted to beautiful women, but his own flesh had never disobeyed him like this. Not since his youth.

  It was intimate, this ride with his fingers splayed against her stomach, anchoring her there. He knew he should really put his hand back on the bars, but she’d settled with her arms over his and he found he couldn’t make himself move.

  At least not while they were on a straightaway. No reason to. Except he was acting like a boy that couldn’t hold his load.

  He gave the signal for Dezo and Fabian to ride ahead and ensure the way was clear. The two bikes broke away from the formation and darted forward. Mikolas and Imre closed ranks, with Voshkie bringing up the rear.

  The afternoon had given way to evening as they cruised down I-70 and he realized she hadn’t asked to stop for anything. He knew the knights were hungry, he was starving.

  “Let’s stop for gas and dinner at that little place two exits up.”

  Fabian answered him. “Gram’s Café?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. We’ll grab a bite, a stretch and some gas, then we’ll camp at that park,” he directed.

  “Sounds good. We’ll meet you there.”

  He removed his hand from her waist to better control the bike, and was reluctant to do it. Ondrej wanted to have his hands on her at all times. He consoled himself that she was safer that way. It was a physical affirmation that she was unharmed.

  Only his dragon wouldn’t let him get away with that kind of self-deception.

  You like touching her because you want to fuck her.

  That voice wasn’t wrong. He wanted to do all kinds of things to the gold nymph, fucking her was just one of them.

  It wasn’t long before they pulled into the gravel pit of a parking lot at Gram’s. The place was a well-known hang out for denizens of the road, especially of the supernatural variety. The woman who owned it, she was everyone’s grammie. Which seemed nice, and it was, until you tried to start shit inside her place. Then she came out guns blazing, and silver bullets blasting. She was a former hunter who’d semi-retired to civilian life to enjoy her old age.

  The shifters who came to Gram’s knew what the deal was, that it was neutral territory. A place for an easy rest, a drink, and a bite. Maybe even a dance and some fuel, depending on if her old man had remembered to order a delivery, being as far out in no man’s land as they were.

  It was as safe a place as any to take the nymph princess.

  When he dismounted the bike, he took her helmet off and took stock. Ondrej reached forward and pulled her hair out of her braids. “Cover up those pretty little ears,” he said.

  She nodded and stretched before getting off the bike. “Oh my gods, I’m sore.”

  “Sorry about that. You’ll get used to it. A couple days and you’ll be an old hand at riding.” Only he wasn’t thinking about her being sore from the bike, he was imagining—

  “Ondrej, Ursari Knights are here as well,” Dezo said.

  “Eh, fuck ‘em. Gram’s is neutral territory. They know that as much as anyone and I wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of that woman. Even at seventy-two. She stays as sharp as those blades she carries.” Ondrej shrugged.

  The Ursari were bear shifters and Ondrej had no personal grudge against them, but Dezo did. He hoped his response was taken as the warning it was meant to be.

  They walked inside, Voshkie on one side of him and Krysanthe on the other. Voshkie hadn’t been told to cover her ears, she’d just done it. Neither of them looked specifically like gold nymphs, not like Glorfindel.

  Voshkie, for her part, could’ve been an Amazon.

  Krysanthe could’ve passed for a siren, a banshee, or maybe even a human, even though she had an otherworldly sort of beauty. Many women could accomplish with contouring what came naturally to Krysanthe, and almost white hair had become a fad. So her blonde-white locks weren’t
too out of the norm.

  Even though he couldn’t stop looking at her. That white leather was the stuff of fantasies.

  They went inside and found a seat. Not waitresses, it was a “order from the counter and seat yourself” sort of place.

  Granger, one of the Ursari Knight lieutenants, was quick to approach Voshkie as she stood waiting for her and Krysanthe’s order.

  “She with you?” Granger asked Mikolas, quickly picking up on the undercurrent between them.

  “I’m with myself.” Vosh growled.

  “Hey, just showing my brothers on the road some respect,” Granger held up his hands.

  Voshkie put her hands on her hips. “You know, that’s your fucking problem. You shouldn’t be worried about showing them respect. You were talking about me. So you should be worried about respecting me. You fucking shifters and your Alpha male bullshit.”

  Granger snorted. “No wonder you’re not with anyone. Your ass isn’t worth that mouth.”

  Before Voshkie could pull her sword, Gram was between them with a silver knife at Granger’s throat. “Son, I’d rethink your next move.”

  She was a tiny slip of a woman, but the silence that had fallen over the café was proof that didn’t matter.

  “What about her? She was going to pull her blade.” Granger pointed out.

  “Only because your mouth got the better of you when she didn’t want a piece of your Kodiak dick.” Gram sheathed the knife at her side. “Don’t make me tell you again. You treat the women in here with respect. No one belongs to anyone in Gram’s Café. You hear me, boy?”

  “Yes, Gram.” Granger grumbled.

  “There now. You go sit down and Grammie will bring you a pie.”

  “You all right?” Mikolas asked her.

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “You sure?” Fabian asked. “We’ll take his ass outside and hold him while you kick him.”

  Instead of being insulted, Voshkie laughed. “Well, you know, I don’t really need you to hold him.”

  “No, but that’s our contribution that we’re happy to give. I hate that guy.” Dezo handed her a beer.

  Voshkie sat down with two identical plates. Two double bacon cheeseburgers with everything, fries with cheese and bacon, and two pieces of chocolate pie.

  “Oh damn, Krys. Sorry, I forgot to order yours.” Voshkie took a giant bite out of the cheeseburger.

  Krysanthe rolled her eyes. “I can get it myself.”

  “Let me. You want what she’s having?” Ondrej asked.

  “Maybe not so much. One cheeseburger, but two pieces of pie.”

  He laughed. “You got it.”

  “What about me, Ondrej?” Mikolas asked in a high voice. “Do I get two pieces of pie?”

  “If you get your ass up here and get it yourself.”

  Imre was unusually quiet, but he was stuffing his face with a tray that looked almost identical to Voshkie’s. Only his pie was cherry.

  He brought the food back to the table and found his own taste to be in line with everyone else’s. He got three double cheeseburgers, though. He had to keep his strength up.

  “This why we’re poor,” Mikolas teased. Even though he was already on his second burger.

  Granger approached the table again.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Voshkie grumbled.

  He held up his hands. “Hey, I wanted to say I’m sorry and I was out of line.” He shrugged.

  “Yeah, no worries. Apology accepted.” Voshkie took a bite of her pie.

  Granger rubbed his forehead. “I mean, really. That wasn’t me at all. I’ve never said that to a female.” He slipped her his card. “If I can ever do you a solid, let me know.”

  “Do her a solid?” Dezo snorted.

  “Oh fuck you, Dezo. I’m trying to make this right.” His head twitched once, and then again as his shift began to come over him. “Shit.”

  He headed for the door and burst through it just as his Change overtook him.

  “What the hell was wrong with him?” Dezo asked.

  “I don’t know, something.” Mikolas turned to Voshkie. “That’s a valuable boon. I’ve never known Granger to act that way. It’s good strategy to keep the contacts you make. Especially if they feel like they owe you something.”

  Voshkie tucked the card into her jacket. “Yeah, it’s not a big thing. I get that from males all the time.”

  “You won’t get that from me.”

  “Because you already know I’ll kick your ass.” Only Voshkie’s tone was light, teasing.

  “Maybe I’d like it.”

  “I know you would.” She took another bite of her burger.

  “We need to hurry this up.” Dezo looked up at the clock on the wall. “If we want to make camp.”

  “We’ll get there when we get there,” Ondrej said. “The ladies haven’t even started on their pie. Get yourself a plate, Dezo. Take a rest.”

  Ondrej wondered just what was up his ass. He’d been acting like someone stepped on his tail. He guessed they were all on edge from losing Jakob and they still had no idea what had made the ghoul so powerful. It was some kind of hybrid and whoever was controlling them had a lot of power.

  He knew they’d be taking a chance camping out in the open tonight, but he was confident that they could all take flight—except Voshkie.

  Ondrej leaned over the table and nodded for Mikolas to lean in as well. “If the shit hits the fan tonight, you take Voshkie.”

  “Yeah, you got it.” He leaned back. “Things go down, you’re with me.”

  “You mean if we have to fly?” She arched a brow. “No thanks.”

  “Yes, Voshkie.” Krysanthe didn’t miss a beat. “If I’m airborne, so are you.”

  “Fuck,” she swore. “Is this something we’re expecting?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, why not maybe not camp out? I don’t know. Just a thought.” Voshkie shrugged.

  “It’s a good thought, but it won’t get us what we need. We can’t protect her until we know why they’re hunting her,” Imre added.

  “They’re hunting her,” Voshkie said in a low whisper. “Because she’s about to marry a mangy mutt. It’s a pretty simple equation.”

  “Who is controlling them? The Remus witch? Then who is going to keep her safe at the compound?”

  “I’ll take that bitch’s head,” Voshkie snarled. “Gods, but this is an impossible situation.” She scrubbed her hand over her face and then indulged in another bite of pie. Actually, it wasn’t really a bite. It was basically the whole piece.

  Mikolas nodded in obvious approval.

  The jukebox in the other room started wailing old eighties songs, and Voshkie put down her fork. “It’s on, now.”

  “I’m afraid I need to dance to work off all this pie,” Krysanthe said with a grin.

  He had other ideas about what she could do to work off the pie, but he kept those to himself.

  “Far be it from me to keep you from dancing.” Ondrej stood up and pulled out her chair.

  “I think that since you’re supposed to be protecting me that you should come with me.”

  “I’m fine, thanks. You’ve got your trusty Voshkie.” He nodded at the badass nymph.

  “Ah, but see, I’m going to be distracted. You and Mik both need to come guard us,” Voshkie said in a mock serious tone.

  “Forget them,” Imre said. “I’ll dance with you.”

  “Stand down, youngblood. I’ve got this.” Ondrej stood. “Come on, Mik.”

  “Fine. I’ll eat your pie.” Imre reached, but Voshkie grabbed his hand.

  “I take my pie very seriously, baby dragon. If you touch my pie, I will end you.”

  Imre snatched it anyway and shoved it in his mouth. “I always wanted to leave a good-looking corpse.”

  “Oh my gods, you’re so much like Aranka, it’s killing me.” Voshkie sighed.

  “This is why no one wants to dance with you, Imre.” Krysanthe patted his overstuffed cheek. “You’re
a tool.”

  Ondrej followed her to the dance floor, seriously debating if this was a good idea. Dancing was like vertical sex, your bodies moving in time, in synchronicity to a primal beat. It might not be a big deal to her, but it was to him because he wanted her too much.

  That spark that had passed between them, he knew he wasn’t the only one who felt it. He’d seen it in her eyes when they touched.

  He wondered, if only for a moment, if this was her bit of rebellion. If she wanted one night with a bit of rough who was a gentleman before she had to go to her future husband who was supposed to be a gentleman, but would end up being a beast?

  Even if that’s all it was for her, he still wouldn’t tell her no. He’d give her the ride of her life in more ways than one.

  Suddenly, that eighties glam rock song became a ballad.

  “Looks like you’re stuck slow-dancing,” Krysanthe said to Voshkie.

  Voshkie went into Mik’s arms with a reluctant sigh.

  “I can’t say I’ve ever had a woman be disappointed to dance with me,” Mikolas said.

  “Slow-dancing just isn’t my thing,” Voshkie answered. “It’s kind of gross, really. Just two people who want to rub up on each other doing it clothed and in public.”

  “I can go sit back down.” Mikolas released her, but Voshkie grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to her.

  “No, you’re dancing with me.”

  “So, you want to rub up on me?”

  “Shut up.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “So does she like him or not?” Ondrej whispered in her ear.

  Her hands twined around his neck and she reached up to whisper back, “I don’t know.”

  “What about you? Do you like Mik?” he teased.

  “Maybe I just do.” She leaned closer to him.

  Ondrej had no problem admitting he liked having her so close. She smelled incredible. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was something edible. He wanted to say chocolate, but it was better. If twenty four karat gold chocolate was possible, that’s what she’d smell like.