by Lauren Smith
The sapphire dragon tattoo on his forearm itched, but he didn’t scratch it. He knew the dragon inside of him was trying to warn him to stay on his guard. The phone on his desk buzzed and his personal assistant, Alexis spoke.
“Mr. Barinov, you have a call from the Russian State Library.”
Every muscle in his body tensed. There was only one reason anyone from the Russian State Library would be calling him. That damn book by James Barrow. He’d been too softhearted and Barrow had been so earnest. He’d gone against his better judgment and allowed the Englishman to spend a year studying him and his brothers. And he’d been paying for it for the last 200 years. He’d been lucky Barrow’s heirs had sent him the journal. Thankfully, it had never been sent to a publisher; Barrow had kept his word about his writings remaining a secret.
I should’ve burned it. But he hadn’t been able to. Barrow had become a friend and Grigori hadn’t wanted to destroy the memory. There was also something fascinating about reading an insightful human’s observations about him and his brothers.
He couldn’t leave it at his office or his home in the country. His enemies had frequently broken into both places more than once, searching for anything they could use against him. He’d thought he’d be clever and tuck it away in a library amid other obscure texts that no one ever looked at in a guarded collection. It had been safe all these years, hiding in plain sight. Until now.
“Mr. Barinov?” Alexis queried again.
“Put the call through.” He turned away from the window and walked over to his mahogany desk just as the phone rang.
He answered. “Yes?”
“Mr. Barinov, my name is Yuri. I’m a guard for antiquarian book room at the Russian State Library.” A man spoke, his voice hushed and anxious.
“Yes.” Grigori waited, his patience on a razor’s edge.
“When I first took over security for this room I was given strict and confidential instructions to call you if anyone ever came asking about a certain title in the collection. Someone checked out the Barrow book, Mr. Barinov.”
Grigori closed his eyes, holding his breath for a moment. “And?”
“I followed protocol. She did not leave the library with the book. But . . .” The guard hesitated. “She was taking pictures. I have no instructions regarding pictures.” The phone cracked as Grigori’s temper flared.
“Pictures?”
“Yes. She was using her phone.” The guard’s voice wavered as though he sensed Grigori’s building rage.
Pictures. Fuck, if any evidence of his existence was discovered and exposed in the world of mortals it would put a target on his back and that of his two brothers. The magical world knew of his family, the last three brothers in ancient bloodline of Russian Imperial Dragon shifters, but the rest of the world didn’t know . . . Couldn’t know.
“Can you detain her until I arrive?” he asked the guard.
“But she’s leaving now—”
“Stop her!” Grigori barked. The other end of the phone was full of panting, the flapping of rubber soled shoes on marble, a muffled shout for someone to stop. Grigori tried to picture the library in his mind, wondering why the guard couldn’t catch up with this woman. Finally the footsteps stopped, and Grigori heard the sounds of streets of the city muted beneath the guard’s gasping for breath.
“She ran—I couldn’t catch her before she left the library. She’s gone. But I have the book.”
Grigori sighed. “I will come to collect it. When I do, I want every detail you have about this woman. Her name, where she’s from, everything.”
“Yes, Mr. Barinov,” the guard replied, still breathless.
Grigori slammed the phone down and cursed. His hand was white-hot from his temper and he’d left burn marks on his expensive new phone. With a growl, he pressed the intercom button
“Alexis, please have someone replace my phone in the office. This one met with an unfortunate accident.”
A second later his receptionist opened the door, leaning against it to look at him in concern. His dragon perked up beneath his skin at the sight of the woman’s killer legs. She was staring at him, the perpetually hungry look in her eyes always an open invitation to share her bed, but he’d never once been tempted. Sure, he’d noticed, and his instincts, so close to the surface, never let him ignore a beautiful woman. But things had changed over the last hundred years. His skin didn’t prickle with awareness and excitement. His dragon didn’t growl with arousal the way it had in his youth.
No one had truly tempted him enough in a long time to let his bestial urges run free. Had he been in a better mood a smile would have curved his lips. As a younger dragon, he would have bedded several succulent mortals in a day, breaking bed frames as he gripped the wood to keep from harming the females while he fucked them into oblivion. Now his bed was empty of companions, but he wouldn’t sleep with just any woman. Not anymore.
“Another accident Mr. Barinov?” Alexis purred as she approached his desk.
“Yes, please order me a replacement.”
“Of course.” She held out a hand and he handed over the destroyed phone.
Her expensive perfume rolled off her in thick waves. The decayed floral aromas made his nose twitch even as she walked out of his office and closed the door behind her. He never liked perfumes. A woman’s natural scent was a heady thing and shouldn’t be ruined with perfumes.
He could almost hear his younger brother, Rurik, teasing him. “As if you know anything about women anymore. You haven’t had a woman in over a decade, brother . . .”
It was true. He found women less and less appealing these last few centuries. His urge to mate, to find the one female in the world that was truly his, had started to drive him mad with frustration. When a dragon reached a certain age, they stopped running wild and craved the closeness of a long-term companion. Most dragons never found their true mates and settled to simply breed with other dragons for the sake of children and to cure loneliness.
His gaze dropped to a framed photo on his desk. It was one of the few of his parents in existence, from thirty years ago, just a few years before they died.
If I could be as lucky as them and find a true mate . . .
No mere woman would suit him. It had to be the right one, one chosen for him by destiny. He would know her by her addictive scent that would send his pulse racing and his blood pounding. If he kissed her, he would catch glimpses of her memories and she would see his. A bond would form the longer they spent together, making them inseparable.
I want that more than anything . . .
He was not going to be tempted by Alexis or any other woman. They would only pale in comparison to a woman who would truly belong to him. He wanted a woman of his own, one to share his heart and soul with. Despite being alive for almost three thousand years, he still hadn’t found the one woman that was meant to be his.
The sad fact was he couldn’t wait any longer. His once great family, the Barinovs, had included almost a thousand dragons.
Now we are only three. We are a dying breed.
The loneliness he was facing was slowly killing him, an immortal creature. The idea was almost laughable but it was true. A longing for a true mate had haunted him to the point that he was dreaming about her and waking up in the dark, his arms aching for a woman who was never there. He might never find the woman destiny had made for him. It was time to settle, and find a dragoness who could bare him children and continue the line, even if it meant he’d never know true love and completion.
“Mr. Barinov, is there anything else I can do for you?” Alexis asked, her suggestive tone telling him in no uncertain terms that she was offering herself to him if he was interested, which again, he wasn’t. She wasn’t his type. He liked his women with soft curves, a little petite with sunny smiles and warm hearts. He hadn’t met a woman like that in Russian in over a hundred years . . . He was tired of Alexis throwing herself at him when he continually turned her down.
“No.” He
almost growled the word. Frustration slithered beneath his skin making him irritable enough to snap at her.
Alexis blinked, her face pale as a sheet as she backed out of the room. Smart woman. Dragons tempers were nasty things and it was best to stay clear when a dragon was fuming.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed one of the few numbers he called with any frequency.
“Grigori? What’s up?” His younger brother answered, his voice half-laughing as though he’d been chuckling when he’d answered the phone. The thought made Grigori’s temper deflate somewhat as affection for Rurik swelled in his chest.
“Rurik, we have a situation.”
“What is it? The Drakor family again?” His brother’s tone turned gruff and serious.
Grigori stroked his chin as he replied. “No. They are abiding by our current treaty and staying to the eastern half of Russia.” It was true enough. The Drakors were notorious for their egos, and if they had been causing trouble in his territory, he would have heard about it.
Rurik blew out disappointed breath. “I miss the battles. What I wouldn’t give for the Drakors to put one foot on our soil . . .”
“You battle dragons,” Grigori was torn between groaning and laughing. “Always wanting to start a fight.” He loved his little brother, but he was the first to jump without looking—which often put their family in tense situations when it came to matters of diplomacy with other dragons.
Rurik was the family warrior, the one best suited for battle and to wage single combat against other dragons when territorial disputes arose. The Drakors were the other Russian Imperial breed of shifters that vied for dominance of Russia against his family. The Barinovs and Drakors had been enemies for centuries.
“So if it’s not the Drakors, what’s the matter?”
“Remember James Barrow?” Grigori turned back to his window once again, searching in vain for the creature he sensed but could not see.
“Of course. The Englishman who visited us in the Fire Hills. He was always drawing and scribbling away in that leather journal.”
“Yes. A woman was taking pictures of his journal today at the Russian State Library.”
“Fuck. That can’t be good . . .”
“My thoughts exactly,” Grigori affirmed. The journal was almost a handbook on dragons—their powers, their weaknesses—and it had dozens of pictures of the three of them specifically. They might as well have put a neon sign above his building saying “Real Dragons Inside!”
“Do you think she believes what he wrote down about us is true?”
“I have no idea, but no reason she has could be a good one. I’m going to the Library to collect the book now and learn everything I can about the woman who took the pictures. I want you to help me track her down.”
“Meet me at the club once you have the book.” Rurik hung up and Grigori slipped his phone back into the pocket of his trousers before he turned away from the window.
As he left his office, he ignored Alexis’s hopeful wave and he took the elevator down to the first floor. Barinov Industries, the family company he created a hundred years ago, had withstood wars, famine, and the many regime changes of Russian governments over the years.
He was not going to let one woman with a cell phone camera destroy his empire. For the last eighty years especially, Grigori had suffered the charade of “retiring” every thirty years and leaving the company to his son, also named Grigori. He’d spend the next few decades pretending to age, dying his hair silver and having new passports and forged birth certificates. The intricate lies he laid in place to keep the company going had cost him time and energy. He would not let his work be ruined by some overly curious human female.
His car was pulled out in front with his driver ready to take him anywhere he wished.
“The Russian State Library,” he ordered as he settled in the black leather seat of the sedan.
“Yes, Mr. Barinov.” The driver pulled out in traffic and began to head towards the library.
Grigori barely looked at the passing scenery of Moscow, his entire being focused on this mystery woman. Why was she researching dragons, and how had she found out about Barrow’s journal? She shouldn’t have even been allowed to take it off the shelf. Grigori acquainted himself with the new library director and informed him that should anyone ask for the book he must be called immediately and they were not to check it out. The guard had clearly failed in his duties and Grigori would make sure the library director would have him fired.
The time had come to take Barrow’s book home and destroy it once and for all. While he had fond memories of Barrow, the details and personal histories of him and his brothers must be protected and that meant burning the book to ash. And dealing with this woman.
The only mortals who knew of his existence, aside from the ones in service to his family, were supernatural hunters. Namely the international organization called the Brotherhood of the Blood Moon. Pesky creatures, hunters. They rarely came into dragon guarded territories; it was simply too dangerous. Maybe this woman was a hunter, or they had hired her to find and retrieve any info she could on his family. If that was the case, he had a very nice dungeon she could rot away in for the next fifty years.
“Here we are, Mr. Barinov.”
Grigori climbed out and told the driver to wait for him. Then he quickly ascended the stairs and entered the library. The guard, Yuri, was waiting for him at the security desk.
“Mr. Barinov?” Yuri held out the faded leather bound journal and Grigori took it.
The leather was warm to the touch and he lifted it to his nose, inhaling. A lingering scent teased his nostrils, the feminine aroma inviting and enticing. For a long second Grigori simply drank in the rich smell . . . it was pure. The pheromone sweet, like ripe dragon fruit. He had not smelled something like that in some years. The woman was a virgin of childbearing age.
Must have her . . . Need to find her.
His body went rigid as the scent continued to plague and torture his nose with irresistible sweetness. If there was one thing besides a true mate that a dragon couldn’t deny himself, it was a virgin. A growl began to rumble at the back of his throat as he pictured himself finding this woman and curling his arms around her and breathing in her scent before he seduced her.
The old Grigori, the wild beast he thought had vanished this last century, was roaring back to life. His dragon was pacing inside him, ready to be unleashed. He wanted to sink his teeth into this woman’s neck and hold her still while he thrust into her over and over until she screamed with pleasure.
“Mr. Barinov?” Yuri interrupted the sudden lust and hunger in Grigori’s thoughts.
“Who is she?” he demanded in a low growl.
Yuri swallowed hard and held out a photograph, a print of a security camera photo of a woman.
“She is American. Her name is Madelyn Haynes. She’s a professor at an American university.”
Grigori stared down at the colored photo. It was slightly blurry, but he could tell that the woman had long strawberry blond hair and soft features. An ordinary woman, yet there was something about her face that he found fascinating. The lush curve of her lips, a slightly upturned nose and eyes framed by dark lashes. He lived in a city where beauty was praised and often the only way to survive. This woman would not have been considered pretty by such standards, but Grigori liked her full curves and romantic features more than he did the harsh, bony runway models that populated the Russian nightclubs.
Yes, she would be quite a delight to lock away in his dungeon.
He turned away from the security booth and exited the library. Back inside his car, he texted Madelyn’s information to his brother. Within a few minutes Rurik sent the address for a hotel near the Red Square. He texted Rurik to meet him at the woman’s hotel. He had a plan to trap their cunning little virgin and he was not going to let her escape.
Alexis Petrov slipped into the ladies restroom close to her office in Barinov Industries. Flipping the lock
on the door so no one else could come in, she checked beneath the stalls to make sure she was alone. This was one of the few places she could make a call without being seen on surveillance videos. She dialed a number on the screen, hit call and waited, her heart pounding.
“Drakor here.” The deep, growling voice sent shivers through her.
Dimitri Drakor was a veritable god, much like her own boss Grigori Barinov, but Drakor had promised her things Barinov never would.
Sex and power.
It had been too tempting to agree to spy on her boss the moment Drakor had taken her to his bed and promised her the world. All she had to do was tell him what Barinov was up to. It was her boss’s fault—if only he hadn’t ignored her! She was a former model and she knew she was gorgeous.
How can he ignore me? Me? I walked runways in Milan and Moscow! Resentment prickled her beneath her skin and she scowled.
“Barinov just left his office. He received a call from the Russian State Library.”
Drakor breathed softly on the other end of the line before replying.
“Do you know what he was going there for?”
Alexis flinched. “No. Only that the moment he hung up, he left. That means it’s important, right?”
“Yes, perhaps,” Drakor mused. “Call me immediately with any more news.” Then the phone connection went dead.
Alexis stared at her reflection the mirror for a long moment, her eyes haunted and her face suddenly showing her age. All of the parties, the drugs, the nights with powerful men who never called the next day had been a waste. She was past her prime.
Desperation drives us all. She forced a false smile on her lips, unlocked the bathroom door and stepped outside. She needed to be ready for when Mr. Barinov returned.
