“Yes, just me.” Stone shed the rest of his tattered clothing from the struggle in the alley and flexed his muscles. The last of the aches and pains rolled away. A glance at his arm showed no signs he’d been hooked to an IV. He rubbed the spot anyway. A nurse, he guessed, his Florence Nightingale. Sexy and beautiful, she was everything physically he could want in a woman. Was there more to her? “I want you to stay here and watch over someone for me.”
“Watch over? Me?”
Stone chuckled. “Aye, you.” He turned and brought a heavy hand down on his James’ shoulder. “All I want you to do is keep this particular woman from sleeping with any other man until I return. You can do that, can’t you, James?”
His secretary’s mouth fell open, and then the fear died from his eyes to be replaced by his usual straightforwardness. “Can the lass be that special, sir? You don’t usually go in for women who are so wild that you have to worry the minute you turn your back. Most often, I have to beat them away with a stick when you’re tired of them.”
James’ face took on a distinct look of disgust. Stone didn’t blame him, and he was right, the women Stone had taken into his bed tended to become clingy until he felt the need to break it off. No matter how much he reiterated that he was not interested in anything more than a physical relationship, they fell in love. Or thought they did. He wasn’t sure he believed it existed, so he couldn’t acknowledge their feelings were anything other than lust or infatuation.
Stone felt the need to explain. “I have chosen her for my bed, but I haven’t taken her yet. I don’t want another man between her legs before I get there. Do you understand now?”
Stone figured James was questioning in his mind where Stone had been all night if he hadn’t been bedding a woman, but Stone wasn’t going to tell him that part. James would just drive him further up the wall and delay Stone’s departure. Besides, he didn’t know if what happened tonight was him in the wrong place at the wrong time or if there was more to it. He’d have to investigate it when he got back.
James bent to pick up his clothes from the floor and frowned at their condition. “Mind telling me why your clothes are this way, sir? You’re usually so well kept together.”
“Not really, no.” Stone chose fresh clothes and tossed them on the bed. “I’m going to take a shower. Please put together a bag for me. I expect to be gone no more than a week. I’ll give you her name and address before I leave.” Stone started to close the bathroom door and paused. “James?”
“Sir?”
“I’m counting on you to keep her for me. I don’t care if she dates another man so long as she doesn’t take him home or he takes her home.”
“Aye, of course, sir. Count on me.”
* * * *
The limo that had been waiting for Stone when he arrived at the airport rolled to a stop in front of his father’s castle. Stone shifted his shoulders and heaved a sigh. Now began all the pomp and circumstance, the self-importance that was what his father was all about. Perhaps he demanded so much of everyone around him because of his small stature, but it always grated on Stone that his parent expected him to be the same way. He was not like that. He didn’t need servants at his beck and call twenty-four hours a day.
The chauffeur ran around the long vehicle and popped Stone’s door open. The man bowed almost to the waist. “Have a good day, sir. I’ll have your cases in, in a jiffy.”
Stone nodded and headed up the steps to the entrance. Before he reached it, the door opened, and the butler bowed. “Mr. Hughes, sir. Good to see you.”
“Lawrence,” he greeted the elderly man. “Is my father around?”
“In his office, sir. He’s waiting for you.” The butler snapped his fingers, and a maid appeared to take Stone’s suitcases to the room he occupied when he was at home. He took his time walking along the extended hall to his father’s office. The room was called an office, but it was so spacious and was filled with so many books, it might as well be a mini-library. Stone questioned whether his father had ever cracked any of them open.
He rested a hand on the doorknob and paused to collect himself before going inside. Einin had declared long ago when Stone was eight years old, a Hughes never knocked. He was too important to be kept waiting or to be granted permission for anything he wanted.
“Stone, come in,” his father boomed, standing up behind a desk too large for his stature. The massive oak construction served to dwarf him even more, but no one could tell him that. “You took your time getting here. I drilled James, but he became so flustered and was no use at all for giving me information. You need to replace him. I can name a few secretaries who will work out better.”
Stone closed the door behind him and crossed the room to first shake his father’s hand and then sit down. While he did, he tried recalling if the man ever hugged him or told him he was proud of him. Stone had no desire for either of those things, but he wondered about it. A mental shrug cast the thought aside.
“James works well for my needs, Father. Now, shall we discuss my uncle?”
The reddening in his father’s face amused Stone. The man hated when Stone didn’t cave to his wishes, but he’d raised him to be just as pigheaded as he was. Einin couldn’t blame anyone but himself.
“Yes, well I’ve had him brought here. He’s set up with our family doctor. However, it is the circumstances surrounding his accident that concern me—along with the fact that a great amount of his blood is missing.”
Stone’s own blood ran cold. “That’s an odd way to put it. What do you mean by ‘missing’?”
His father linked his hands behind his back and paced to the window to stare out. “As you know, the shifter heals faster than any human can. There are no distinguishing marks on your uncle’s skin to show where he might have been pierced. He does have a slow-healing gash over the right side of his abdomen where it was suspected that he’d lost the blood. Doctor Martin tells me that the laceration isn’t likely where he lost the blood. Your uncle is old, and he’s not healing to the extent that he once did, but there are signs that the clotting around the wound had begun immediately and was sufficient to keep him from bleeding to death.”
“So why so much blood loss?” Stone mused.
“Exactly.” His father spun to face him. “You will assist me as long as it takes to get to the bottom of this, Stone. I don’t have to tell you what it means to keep our family secrets just that—secret!”
“Of course.”
“When your uncle regains consciousness, you will question him about what happened, and perhaps we can find out who has done this. I have also sent for Noah, but he hasn’t arrived yet. He’s crafty. He should be able to glean some info from whomever it was your uncle was with in the days before this incident.” His father grunted in disgust. “I suspect there will be a long line of women to interview, but Noah can do that as well. You and I both know your uncle was never faithful the faithful type.”
Stone made a small sound of acknowledgement. His thoughts raced over what this all could mean. Had someone discovered their existence and wanted to exploit them? The last he’d heard, his uncle had been gallivanting all over Europe. Noah would also have his work cut out for him. The two of them didn’t get along very well, but Stone figured he’d give him a hand finding clues. Stone had many connections he’d made over the years, working with the family whiskey distillery business.
“I don’t want you tempted too much with those loose women. Your wife has already been selected, and all you need to do is make the decision to settle down. Monica is a faithful girl. She’s been waiting all this time for you, trusting you to do the right thing.”
Stone was familiar with the guilt trip his father tried laying on him regarding Monica, his father’s ward, and if there was anything Stone would use to describe the woman, ‘faithful’ was not it.
An excited shout in the hall caught his attention. As if she sensed they were speaking of her, Monica burst into the room and launched herself across th
e room to land on his lap. “Stone! Lawrence just told me you were here. Why didn’t you come up to see me in my sitting room?” Her pouty pink lips were somewhat appealing, but the innocence she exuded was not. The demure hairstyle, the moderate makeup, and the flattering but modest dress was all an act. No one knew like Stone knew what a hell cat Monica was. After all, they had been lovers for two years before he’d called it quits, finding that while they connected well physically, Monica’s heart was cold. She loved one thing—money. And she would do whatever it took to have it.
Monica was his father’s ward. He’d taken her in when she was about six years old to cultivate her he said in order for her to be Stone’s wife some day. While his father didn’t say so, Stone was sure the man had done a thorough background check on Monica’s family and delved into their medical history. He then would have paid off her family to sign over her care to him. Stone considered the very fact that any parents who would do such a thing were a black mark on her history. His father didn’t agree.
“Hello, Monica,” Stone said and helped her off his lap. She continued to pout, but squeezed into the chair next to him. Stone decided to vacate the seat and let her have it. No matter how much Monica tried to get back into his bed, he would not take it there. Neither she nor his father would corner him into making her his wife. When and if Stone decided to marry, the woman he chose would be his equal in and out of the bedroom. She would never be lured by his money alone. How he would find this paragon of virtue, he didn’t know, but if he didn’t, so be it. He would be the last of his kind on the earth, and that was a good thing with these issues surrounding his uncle.
“It’s been a long flight, Father. If you and Monica will excuse me, I think I’ll get some rest before dinner.”
Not waiting for either of them to respond, Stone pivoted and headed out of the room. From the rustle of her clothing and Monica’s protest, he figured she was about to follow him, but his father called her back. Stone was relieved. He did not feel like uncurling Monica’s sensuous body from his, especially when it had been days since he’d last been with a woman. He had every intension of “starving” himself until he could feast on Tielle.
* * * *
Stone stepped from the shower and ran a hand across the fogged mirror. His reflected eyes shifted while he watched them, changing from rounded pupils to that of a narrow slash. Whenever he was home, he longed to transform to the beast that lived deep inside of him, to fly and feel the wind beneath his wings.
Above the trickling water as it swirled down the bathtub drain, beyond his soap’s scent and the heavy steam that hung in the air, he heard her. Did she think he wouldn’t know she was there in his room?
He flexed his shoulders and nabbed his towel to begin drying off. As he did so, he heard Monica slip out of her clothes, tiptoe across his room, and climb into his bed. He sighed. What did she think she would accomplish? Had he not met Tielle, Monica would have tempted him beyond reason. Finding her in his bed would have led to an entanglement he’d already fought hard to be free from. Not again. This was why he had put an ocean between Monica and his father and him.
With the towel knotted around his waist, Stone stepped out the bathroom. “Why are you here, Monica?”
She pouted and stretched as if she didn’t notice that the sheet covering her naked figure had lowered to reveal her breasts. Stone shifted his focus away from her and turned to his bureau. He pulled the top drawer open to retrieve boxers, but Monica leaped from the bed and pressed herself to him from behind. Her firm breasts flattened against him, and she stuck out her tongue to run it along his skin. Stone’s fingers tightened on the boxers.
“Come on, Stone. You know you want it.” She flicked out her tongue again. His cock tightened. “You used to like when I licked right here, the spot where you are the weakest, where you have the dragon tattoo. Remember that time when we were teens?”
“I remember my father whipped me until I couldn’t sit down for a week.”
She laughed. She’d done so then too, not giving a fuck that he’d been the one to get in trouble for sneaking her into town. Never mind that it had been her idea and her insistence that they each get a tattoo. He’d drawn the line about them choosing each other’s name. Even then, he didn’t believe Monica would be the one. Instead, he’d chosen the dragon to symbolize what he was.
His father had berated him because of the location of the tattoo and possibly that he could be poisoned from that spot, as well as the risk of exposing what they were. Stone hadn’t heard the end of that lecture for months.
“You liar,” Monica quipped. “You healed within an hour from the whipping.”
“Didn’t make it any less painful.” He turned and put her from him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to dress. You know as well as I do that my father doesn’t like it when we’re late to his dinner table.” He bent to pick up her clothes and shoved them in her arms before directing her to the door. “Do not enter my room again.”
Stone slammed the door in her face, not giving a rip if a servant saw her. They all knew the real Monica, all except his father, and he didn’t want to know.
When Stone was dressed, he prepared to go downstairs to dinner. After he’d eaten, when it grew late and everyone had gone to bed, he would explore the area from the sky, re-familiarizing himself with home. Anticipation to do just that made him quicken his step. Tomorrow would begin his investigation, and then he would hurry back to the U.S. and to Tielle.
Chapter Six
Tielle flattened herself against a wall and peered around the corner. The older man dressed too formally for school—and anywhere else for that matter—perched on the end of one of the couches the university placed in each building. Who the hell was he, and was he following her like she suspected? The man stood out like a sore thumb dressed like that.
She sucked in a deep breath. Better to face this situation head on if she had to. She threw her shoulders back and marched down the hall to stand face-to-face with the man, hands on her hips. “Just what is the big idea?”
The older gentleman’s eyes widened. His mouth formed an O that was comical, and he tugged at the collared shirt he wore buttoned to the top. “I…I don’t know what you mean, lass.”
“Lass!” Tielle exclaimed. She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed. “You’re Irish, aren’t you, the same as that man who called me on the phone.” She tried to remember the name he gave her. “James or something like that. Are you working for Stone too, or the person looking for him? What kind of game are you playing because so help me, I am not one of those weak little simpering women who need a man to rescue her. I will handle my business if you people push me too far.”
The old man stared at her, awe seeming to shine through after the shock of her words wore off. “How do you know my name?” He slapped a hand over his mouth and then curled it into his chest. “I mean…Oh dear, he won’t be happy.”
“Who won’t be happy?” She paused and then continued. “James, who won’t? Stone?” Despite herself, she hoped that’s who the man referred to. She wanted to see Stone again, but with all the drama surrounding him, that might not be such a good idea. Then again, if she saw him, she could give him a piece of her mind for bringing the craziness into her life. Who was he anyway to have such an entourage following in his wake?
“I have to go.” James gave a sharp bow and spun away. His age did not stop him from almost running away and disappearing around a corner. Tielle considered chasing after him to get more answers, but decided against it. This whole situation was becoming absurd, and if she had any sense, she’d forget about it—and him.
Throughout that day and the rest of the week, Tielle focused on her studies and her part time work at the nearby hospital. She didn’t see Stone’s secretary again, nor did she receive any strange phone calls. On Friday, Jamie called to inquire about Saturday night.
“You want to go?” Jamie asked.
“I would but I decided to give Joe a call. We’re d
oing dinner and see what happens after that, whether I’m feeling him.”
Jamie laughed. “Feeling him? Correct me if I’m wrong, girl, but didn’t you two have a thing about seven or eight months ago? You broke it off.”
“Yes, but we’ve seen each other now and then, and I don’t feel like breaking in a new man. It’s been forever since I got some, and I’m so overdue. I tried talking to someone new, but once outside the club, the chemistry died. If it’s still jumping like it used to with Joe, then maybe I’ll let him take me to his place. If not, then I’ll be back to square one. So since I’m not going to the club, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Take a break, I guess.”
“Sounds good. ‘Cause we agreed, no going without each other, right? Or get another girl to go?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jamie laughed. “With the way we remind each other about the rules, you’d think we never broke them.”
“Is that a hint?”
“Oh wow, look at the time,” Jamie hedged. “Gotta pop dinner in the oven. Later.”
Tielle rolled her eyes and shook her head. She knew her friend oh so well. “Okay, girl. I’ll call you Sunday. Your turn to host our breakfast. Bye.”
“If you can get your—hopefully—sexually-satisfied ass out the bed. Bye!”
* * * *
Tielle jerked awake, sweat-drenched and heart pounding so hard it hurt. Although the late night was still, it seemed like she’d just heard a shout somewhere close by. As she sat up in bed trying to calm down, she waited for the person to call out again, but there was nothing. It had been a part of the nightmare she’d just had. None of the details came to mind.
Still somewhat shaky, she reached for her phone after checking the time. One a.m. wasn’t too late. She dialed, and after four rings the call connected. “Wow, no respect for your elders, huh?” came the teasing voice. “So late, anything wrong?”
Dragon Song Page 4
