Romance with a Bite

by Tamsin Baker

  Even in her compromised state, she wondered how this powerful being could be in any kind of danger at all. He was the dangerous, powerful creature, that was plain to see. If this was who was at the top of the Tiger and Dragon alliance, gods help them all. Suddenly, her arm was in a vise grip again. Breath left her in a rush. Stupid, so stupid, to think she could come here tonight. Silver must be laughing at her, the way he’d sold her up the river. But Hana had bigger problems right now.

  “I thought you were waiting for me,” a rancid breath panted in her ear.

  Hana went for the dagger in her fan, but he read her intent before she could even get a hand to it and batted the fan to the ground. Instinct surged through Hana and she tore her arm free from his grip. Heads turned towards Hana and the Tiger sleazeball.

  His face contorted with rage. He made to grab for her again and Hana brought her knee up, hard, into his groin, lurching away from him as he careened into a table set with crystal wine stems. The spectacle of the Tiger and the crystal smashing into the floor together distracted Hana for a crucial moment and that was all it took for him to dive at her again.

  Fast. He was so fast.

  A shard of crystal flashed in his grip, and his other hand slashed out to grab at her leg.

  She skittered back on hands and knees, bumping into the side of the fighting ring.

  Silver eyes filled her vision again, and she gambled. If these lot were playing at being Fae males, well, she knew a thing or two about how they behaved, from her gran’s stories.

  Territorial was an understatement.

  She took the gamble, twisting her leg and kicking out at the Tiger, her foot connecting with his face with a satisfying crunch, before dragging herself onto the stage. She took two big lunges towards the Dragon with silver eyes—Katana—and so fast she didn’t see his arms, just felt them, he’d scooted her behind him.

  Now a wall of muscle stood between her and the Tiger. The question was, what would the wall do next?

  Chapter 11

  “Well, it looks like Madam Tolouse is fascinated by the fight pits. Perhaps she’d like a taste up close.” Hana glanced around the Dragon’s arm to see that the Tiger had followed her onto the stage. She glimpsed his murderous expression, blood dripping from his nose where she’d kicked at him. The den filled with hushed, speculative whispers racing across the room with a crackle of excitement and expectation.

  Way to stay under the radar, Poncoyo.

  The Dragon’s rough palm tightened convulsively on her wrist. He cleared his throat, glancing at her over his shoulder.

  “It seems the lady might prefer my company tonight, Stryker.”

  The crowd gasped and cheered, and Katana sketched a bow, baring that spectacularly marked back towards her. Up close, the colours that danced across his scales were mesmerising. She pulled her attention back with difficulty to her predicament. She hoped he knew what he was doing, because it seemed to her that humiliating the Tiger was perhaps not her, or their, best bet.

  “The prior claim would go to me, Katana,” the Tiger’s cruel grin spread across his face.

  “Since you’re both on my property, I think it’s only fitting that I choose how to solve this little puzzle,” Katana grit out.

  Silence from the crowd. Stryker stared long and hard at Katana.

  “And how do you suggest we proceed?”

  “My pits are famed for their prizes. Much wealth and advantage can be sought here. Tonight, I will take on any man who lays claim to Madame Toulouse. Let it not be said that I do not look after my guests.” He turned to her, silver gaze searing. “Wherever they might hail from.”

  “There is only one who will claim her tonight.” Stryker said tightly. “Alessio.” He gestured to a young man in a white suit with a feral grin lighting his features. “You will take this match on my behalf.”

  Two men in teal suits rushed the floor from Katana’s corner and put their hands on Hana.

  Katana looked at her again, gaze intent.

  “Keep a good hold on her,” he muttered. “And don’t let Stryker’s men anywhere near you.”

  The demon Katana had been fighting—Tentacular by the look of his sucker-filled multiple arms—glared at them all. Logan strode towards him and exchanged what looked to be several heated words. The Tentacular demon seemed to be pissed that his fight with the Dragon had been interrupted. Hana wondered over the thundering of her heart, why the Dragon, so high up the chain of command, was even down here fighting in these pits. He strode back towards Hana.

  “Are you sure about this, boss?” a young man with chestnut brown hair and stylish cat-eye glasses muttered.

  Katana grinned, wild and feral. A shiver ripped through Hana.

  The mature Dragon, Katana, faced the young Tiger. The referee, a Snake in a yellow tunic, had them bow to each other. Hana tried to focus on the fight from the side of the ring where the young Dragons held true to their word to their master and flanked her on either side, both gripping her arms lest she try to escape. Panic throbbed through Hana as the noise and movement pulsed around her.

  Katana and the young Tiger were a blur of action, fists, feet, jumping kicks, arcs through the air as though they both had wings. Hana felt the Tiger’s fist as it crunched into Katana’s belly like it had punched into her own. Stryker glared at her across the ring, then the glare turned to that cruel smile as the young Tiger seemed to get the better of the fight, punching Katana in the face, landing a spinning back kick into his gut.

  Katana fell to his hands and knees, panting, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead.

  Hana tried to pull away from the young Dragons, instinct urging her to get into that ring to stop the madness. The fists around her arm tightened.

  “This is insane,” she panted. “Make them stop before one of them gets killed.”

  The young Dragon just grinned at her. “It’s okay, lady. Logan is tough. If he says you don’t have to go with Stryker tonight, you won’t.”

  Sure enough, Katana—Logan—got to his feet again, and came at the young Tiger so fast Hana’s eyes couldn’t keep up with the sequence of movements. But when her vision cleared, Katana held the young Tiger in an arm lock, pushing his face into the hard floor, his signature move, it seemed.

  Stryker roared and strode from ringside.

  “Don’t bother coming back, Alessio,” he snarled.

  Hana felt that as another body blow. To be exiled from one’s Clan was a death sentence. This night just got worse and worse. But Hana’s eyes were on Stryker as he glared at Katana, and then met Hana’s gaze for long seconds before jerking his head towards the stairs. His remaining men quickly closed ranks around him, so that only a small sea of white was visible as they left the fight den.

  Chapter 12

  Katana was crouched down next to the Tiger youngling, whispering urgently in his ear.

  He nodded to one of his men, the one with the glasses who had lazily reassured Hana, and he helped Katana bring the Tiger over to their little huddle. Glasses boy escorted the Tiger, while Katana himself now gripped Hana’s arm. She gazed defiantly at him.

  “Let’s go, Lady Toulouse,” he murmured, one eye half closed, where purple was blooming high on his cheekbone. She could have sworn he sounded resigned, not victorious, but that didn’t stop the butterflies rioting in her stomach as they pushed their way through the crowd that had quickly shifted its attention to the next fight.

  They rode the lift in silence all the way to the top floor. Of course, Katana would have his own penthouse suite here. As the doors slid open, the two Dragons escorted the Tiger down the hall. Katana pulled Hana in the other direction.

  “Where are they taking him?” she asked, tugging against his grip.

  “They’ll take care of him.”

  Up close, Katana’s voice was a deep rumble that grazed against her skin.

  “Take care of him, how? It’s not fair, he was just following orders. Can’t you—”

  Katana paused in t
he hall, taking his hands off Hana to scrub at his lightly stubbled jaw.

  “Haven’t you engaged in enough trouble for one night, Lady Toulouse?”

  He said her name as though he knew for sure she was a fake. She raised her chin to meet his gaze full-on but remained silent.

  “Aren’t you worried about what else is in store for you tonight?”

  His eyes gleamed as they grazed over the black and silver sheath dress that was now ripped up one side. She slowly placed a hand over her thigh, trying to draw together the slashed material. She had to force her body to stay still under his gaze, not to step out from his enigmatic presence. He was tall, strongly muscled, his chest broad. Magnificent. Compared to Logan Katana, Dragon Master, the Dragon Clan cronies in the Justice Precinct were like lizards. He was strong and majestic, like the Dragons of her grandmother’s tales. And all the more dangerous for it.

  A predator.

  Never forget that, she told herself. And one whose Clan was intricately linked with Tigers as ruthless and cruel as that old man that Katana had fought for her tonight.

  “I want your assurance that nothing will happen to the young Tiger, and then we can deal with me.”

  Hana wouldn’t have the death of a youngling—no matter which Clan he hailed from—on her conscience. It was perhaps the only thing to be salvaged from the disaster that was tonight.

  His gaze sharpened. “You would look to protect a Tiger?”

  “I don’t care what Clan he comes from, or what he did or didn’t do tonight—”

  A wave of dizziness struck Hana and the intricately carved wooden panels around her began to blur. She was aware of gentle hands around her waist, being pressed into a warm chest, then carried over some threshold as the blackness beckoned.

  Hana awakened on a futon in a tastefully decorated suite. She was under a warm doona and a plain, fresh tunic was laid out at the foot of the bed. As she sat up and gazed blearily around her, she saw old-world, oriental fashion.

  Ornate timber screens shuttered the futon she sat on into one of many cozy alcoves in the large space, others housing brightly coloured cushions circling water features and statues. Indoor plants and bamboo gave the sense of being outside in a forest.

  It was ostentatious, but not in the way Hana would have expected. It spoke to a love of the natural environment, of a simpler time, when their ancestors would have made pilgrimages to ancient temples and worshipped the forest gods. It was like a little oasis in the middle of glaring, glitzy downtown.

  She heard water running from across the very large room, almost like a small forest, and glimpsed a closed timber door, likely a bathroom, and determined to stay where she was rather than risk coming upon the Dragon Master in a vulnerable—and naked—state in his shower. While the water kept running, Hana pulled off the ruined sheath dress and pulled on the plain cream tunic.

  Soon enough, she heard soft footfalls on the tatami mats and the Dragon appeared in a black silk robe that slid and shushed against the muscled chest it barely concealed. The Dragon was not in the slightest self-conscious about his body, and Hana could see why. Clearly the effects of the champagne hadn’t entirely worn off, if all she could think about in her current predicament was the chest of the Dragon who currently held her in his apartment and under his power.

  He was holding a tray of tea and something that smelled deliciously like wontons.

  “The kitchen sent these up,” he murmured, setting the tray on the low table by the futon. “It should help soak up whatever it was you ingested downstairs earlier.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “And how do I know that you haven’t just laced all of this…” she paused as the steam of jasmine tea wafted towards her, soothing and calming, “with more Xonorah?”

  His eyes widened. “Xonorah? They bring Xonorah into my events now…” he murmured.

  If he was lying, he was good at it.

  But of course, he was.

  “I suppose it’s just the courtesans who take Xonorah…”

  “Well, Lady Toulouse,” he murmured, “you must be careful what you accept at parties like these. If you were a real courtesan, you’d know that. So, after you sober up with that tea, I need to know what the hell you thought you were doing here tonight.”

  Hana bared her teeth at him. “I think I’ve had quite enough of whatever mind-altering crap you’re serving your guests tonight,” she spat.

  He stalked to a sidebar and poured himself what looked like a neat whisky. The drink reminded her of Quan, and she wished for the no-bullshit, street-level, fight club.

  “Why did you fight for me?” she asked, quietly, wincing at the purple blossoming across his cheekbones, the half-closed eye.

  “You answer my question, and I’ll think about answering yours.”

  She huffed.

  The tea smelled so good even if it wasn’t coffee, and her stomach was aching with hunger.

  Of all the risks she’d taken tonight, this seemed like the least of them. So she poured herself the jasmine tea, devoured the wontons in record time and ignored the big beast of a man watching her the whole time, as if by looking at her he could know her secrets.

  To prove that she wasn’t afraid of him, that she could leave any time she liked—maybe—she stood and prowled towards the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, a bird testing its cage.

  Chapter 13

  Hana felt the Dragon stalk up behind her, his breath on her exposed throat.

  “It doesn’t matter why I came here tonight. Bottom line is, I’ve had enough of your hospitality for one evening. I wish to go home.” She pouted, like she imagined a mistress would do.

  A fingertip slipped over the teal tattoo circling her upper arm.

  “Your allegiance says you are Dragon Clan…but…”

  “You know I couldn’t wear that mark unless I’d proved my loyalty.”

  Warm hands gripped both of her shoulders and he turned her to face him. His silver-teal eyes smouldered like heating iron.

  “Tell me why you came here.”

  She clapped a finger over her mouth at the sensation that roiled from deep within her. As if something was being dragged from her. He swore, low and vicious.

  “Air. I need air,” she gasped.

  The double doors in front of her blew open on an invisible wind, revealing a balcony beyond.

  She stumbled through them, giving a wide berth to the glittering pool of water that looked more like an ancient glen than lap pool, the way it was surrounded by fern fronds. She took big, deep breaths of clean air.

  “You did spike the tea,” she snarled.

  But his face didn’t betray cunning or satisfaction, only a grim wariness. He waited, watching her. She kept gulping air, hand braced against the bricked apartment wall. Being up high, way above the city, its lights and lanterns winking along the Indigo River below them soothed her. A cool breeze, heaven-sent, washed against her face.

  The Dragon was silent.

  “I came here to meet you,” she whispered, instantly shocked that the words had slipped out without her meaning them to. She was distracted by the lights sprinkled below her like candy, and so her shock didn’t quite extend to all of her brain. Just like she couldn’t quite hold on to her outrage, as though it didn’t really matter that she’d just let a powerful Dragon warrior know her secret plan.

  “To warn you.” He stilled, like the perfect statue. “You’re in danger.”

  Telling him about her underground network, her Phoenix heritage, seemed like a pretty good idea too. She could picture the weight of the burden lifting off her shoulders right here in Katana’s penthouse apartment, floating away like a wisp of smoke to mix above her with the clouds.

  A storm was coming in, she noted, the sky a deep metal colour, almost the same shade as the Dragon’s eyes. Eyes that simmered and heated every part of her they touched. Burning through her like fire. A fire that burned through skin and meat and bones until it got to her very core, until Hana’s soul would
lay bare before him. She’d never felt so…light. So free.

  Her calves pressed against the barrier that hit her no higher than mid-thigh, looking up at the Dragon who almost blocked out all the stars. But there was an ancient universe in his eyes, and so it didn’t really matter that she couldn’t see—

  “Danger?” he murmured, voice soft and low, like the hush of his whisky on ice.

  “My grandma,” she whispered, because all the stories started there. That sense, the intuition that had urged her to throw herself on his mercy in the fighting ring flared to life again, bright and urgent as a flame, but this time it insisted on a different course.

  Don’t tell him. Don’t tell him who you are.

  “Grandma…”

  “Yes,” he whispered, eyes intent.

  She whipped out her hands so fast even his Dragon reflexes didn’t catch them, before she’d wound them around the collars of the silk robe and shoved him hard against the wall beside her.

  “My grandmother would have made Dragon creeps like you into handbags, you piece of crap.”

  His eyes widened in surprise, but they were back to the shimmering silver and turquoise, flat like a lake’s surface at night.

  “Don’t you ever try that again,” she spat, hammering her words home each time she slammed him back into the wall. “Keep your foul claws out of my mind.”

  Hana felt the rage and hate and despair course through her. Just another piece-of-crap Dragon general presiding over his swollen and grotesque kingdom. Heat flew through her like a phoenix on fire, emerging from the ashes until she felt she might explode off this rooftop and take to the skies.

  She felt the rage bone-deep, melting and re-forming her, so that when Katana went to free himself from her grip, he couldn’t move. She shoved him back again, revelling in this new strength, while a part of her screamed in terror.

  “Going somewhere, Katana?”

  “Who are you?” he murmured, apparently not afraid. No fear showed in the fine planes and angles of his face. Just a raised eyebrow, as though she were a curiosity.