Now he knew she was trying to make him feel better. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. He hadn’t expected kindness. She didn’t owe him that.
“So you were going to run away from yourself, were you?”
She dropped the hand that was braced on the roof. “Please don’t start making sense. I don’t think I can handle a Bloodkin making sense.”
Her wry way of coping eased the rest of his discomfort. She was easy to be around. Her nearness settled his dragon. He’d make sure she was safe and established by the time this business was over and he left for Havyn.
“I thought we were going to see Mr. Fraser,” she said. “SFO is that way. You missed the exit.”
He shook his head. “I’m taking you home. If Fraser serves the Bloodkin, he will come to us.”
CHAPTER 7
“We meet again, Mr. Chandler,” Emerson said as she climbed out of the car, grateful for the solid ground beneath her feet. Thane had cut a three-hour drive to Big Sur down to a little less than two. His place overlooked sheer rocky cliffs that went straight down into the ocean below. The salty air whipped through her hair. The silver sky beckoned, and for a moment she envied the gulls winging out above the water.
Chandler gaped at her and then looked to Thane, stricken. “My lord?”
She grumbled at his response, but the edifice Thane called his “stronghold” captured her attention. Apparently, that was dragonspeak for big-ass castle. Majestic in its size, classical in architecture, and spare in embellishment, Thane’s home was an estate both large and grand enough to house the government operations of a small country. The massive double doors were flanked by sculptures of Roman warriors. She doubted they were reproductions.
“Emerson will be assisting me in my search for Carreen and Rinc’s killer.” Thane gave the hood of the car an affectionate pat as she imagined a rider would his horse. “See that she’s comfortably situated, and buy whatever clothes and things she requires for her stay.”
Mr. Chandler shook his head. “I’ll find her a place in town.”
“No. She needs to be here. When does Fraser arrive?” Thane joined her in front of the steps leading up to the house.
Mr. Chandler was speechless, but his eyes twitched as if he wanted to keep arguing.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Emerson told him. “It’ll only be for a few days,”
Thane’s brow lowered.
“Maybe a week?” she amended. Definitely not longer than that. “I’ll stay away from…um, his lordship at night. I’ll binge on television. I’m behind on all my shows.”
Mr. Chandler was ashen. “You have no idea the danger you’re putting yourself in.”
Thane growled at him. Actually growled.
“Oh, but I do,” she said. “I just witnessed Gerard Heolstor’s end change.” She marveled at how she sounded as if she knew what she was talking about. “Thane broke his neck right in front of me.”
“And who will kill my lord Thane if the Song overcomes him?” Mr. Chandler asked.
“You will, Matthew,” Thane replied, low and dangerous.
“By pricking you with my short sword?” Mr. Chandler impatiently gestured to a sheath under his suit jacket that she hadn’t noticed before. “I think not.”
He had a sword? Emerson shook her head. By now she shouldn’t be surprised by anything these people did.
“I’ll be long gone by the time that happens, I promise,” she said. She hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking.
She glanced at Thane for confirmation and found his gaze heavy upon her. He almost appeared normal in the half-light of early evening. The weight of his many centuries on Earth was lifted by pale shadows so that he now seemed as young as his face and body looked. She realized he wasn’t really young or old. Somehow those words didn’t seem to apply. He was just Thane. Timeless. Ageless. Magic. The world turned around him.
The impact of the concept made her stop in her tracks. Being unaffected by time was a kind of freedom she hadn’t known existed, couldn’t even really fathom with her measly twenty-five years, and yet it seemed this freedom was hers now, too. How long would she live? What kind of life could she have?
“When is Fraser coming?” Thane asked Mr. Chandler again, though he didn’t shift his gaze away from her.
Her mouth went dry, her face hot.
“Tomorrow at ten, my lord.”
Under Thane’s intense scrutiny, she pivoted slowly. “Mr. Chandler—”
“Matthew, please,” the man corrected.
“Matthew. I’d love a shower, please, if it’s not too much trouble.” She was still so smoky, and she needed to think. And she couldn’t do that if Thane wouldn’t stop looking at her.
Matthew motioned her toward the stairs of the enormous porch. “This is a bad idea.”
She followed him into the house, but she was aware of Thane, dragon shifter, at her side. And now she had a better idea of what that meant, just not exactly what it meant for her.
The main room to Thane’s stronghold was enormous and built of white stone befitting a temple. Arranged on an oriental area rug, the furniture—a dark leather sofa, chairs, and a large table—were solid in their design. Another sculpture—this one a female, primitive in its smoothness and gestural composition—stood to the side of the sitting area. Naked and full-figured, she stood regally, her only adornment the curls on her head and a low crown over her brow. She exuded strength, boldness, and blatant sexuality.
Thane came up behind Emerson, his body heat warming her skin.
“There are some cave drawings of possible dragon shifters,” he said, “but The Goddess is the first known depiction in art. She was discovered in Mesopotamia in the Royal Cemetery at Ur.”
Emerson looked closer. What she’d thought had been a crown was actually a series of protrusions of bone on the woman’s forehead—nascent spines?—not unlike those Dr. Buckley had pointed out to her on the skull of the female remains from Kingman Hills. Carreen, Thane’s wife.
“I could be like this?” Emerson asked, more to herself than either Thane or Matthew. There was no way this ancient woman was or had ever been chattel. She was more like an aloof queen, full of power and tranquility at the same time.
“Emerson,” Thane said, “you are already like her. And you will be utterly terrifying when you know it for yourself. I pity the Bloodkin man who attempts to win you.”
Thane thought she was like this queen? Not nearly. She was trying, though. It’d help if she weren’t so scared all the time. But give her a thousand years, and maybe she’d get close.
“I don’t want to marry a Bloodkin,” she said to cover her embarrassment.
“They will want you,” Thane said. “Ransom Heolstor does already.”
Her mood cooled. Ransom. Mr. I’ll-marry-her-today. “Then he’s going to be disappointed.”
Thane smiled. “You prove my point.”
Something passed between Thane and Matthew, and the latter said, “This way, my lady.”
He led her up a marble staircase, though she still felt Thane watching her from below. Even when she turned the corner into the hallway, she felt him. The house—simple and strong—was an extension of him.
Matthew settled her into her room and had dinner sent up. Shortly after, a few packages arrived, filled with some basic attire in the sizes she’d specified to Matthew earlier. The pajamas were the comfortable and soft variety, her favorite. She curled up in bed with her tablet and watched television, one episode rolling into another while her attention slipped sideways. Night fell, and she should’ve been sleepy, but the air seemed to vibrate with a strange intensity that made her restless. And yet, the anxiety that had pursued her for the last year working for the Bloodkin was gone, unable to penetrate Thane’s domain.
The strange sensation made her want to go outside to take a walk in the moonlight, but the memory of Gerard’s shift kept her in the guest room. Thane had warned her. Opening the window was the best she could do to
satisfy the longing that pulled at her heart. But even the salt-touched wind seemed to have substance. Outside, the summer scent was thick with growing, blooming things. The waves of the ocean roared and hissed in her mind. The stars here shined brighter, as if she could reach up and gather them by the handful. She felt more alive than she’d ever been before.
Was Thane making her feel like this? Or was her dragon finally waking up?
Morning found her sitting on the floor, her back to the door. She’d closed her eyes but hadn’t slept, concentrating instead on how the sunlight from the window crept up her body in a blanket of gold.
When she finally rose to dress, she didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that her eyes would be different. She knew already. As she expected, a citrine green had overtaken her usual brown. And she now had twin daggers for pupils, too.
***
Thane stared at Matthew in disbelief. His long-time man-at-arms had just taken position next to Emerson after delivering Martin Fraser from the front door to the chair set aside for him for their meeting. Matthew had been at Thane’s side since long before they’d taken a boat to the New World.
“I’m not dead yet,” Thane said to Matthew. “You could at least do me the honor of waiting to find a new master until I’m gone. I shan’t be too long, I promise.”
Though, come to think of it, Matthew could do far worse than Emerson, and she’d need someone knowledgeable to advise her as she came into her own among the Bloodkin.
Matthew’s mouth tugged upward. “I anticipate fire, my lord. I’m just making certain the lady doesn’t get burned.”
Thane raised a brow, then shifted his focus to Fraser.
The man’s heartbeat was rapid, and he stank of fear. Thane was making him wait. The better to break him.
Fraser’s gaze flicked from face to face and settled on Emerson’s. Her blazing eyes didn’t seem to put him at ease, but Thane felt tremendous satisfaction at her dragon’s emergence. The blue blouse she wore made her skin glow, and she wore pants that fit her perfectly. Hers was an effortless beauty, and her figure was damn distracting. His dragon was focused entirely upon her, and so, he had to admit, was the man.
“How was the flight?” she asked Fraser.
“Fine, thank you,” he answered. “Though, I’m a little confused as to why I’m here. As I explained to you, I cannot advise on the matter of the Kingman Hills claim.” He gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t have the blood for it.”
He was being deliberately obtuse. Thane would smoke him out soon enough.
“Oh, the claim has been settled,” Emerson said. “The meeting with the Heolstors was very productive. The remains belong to Mr. Ealdian, although both he and the Heolstor brothers kept talking about revenge and blood and war, so the repercussions of the discovery seem inevitable.”
Her eyebrows lifted to imply impending mayhem, which made him want to smile. She’d had that effect on him from the beginning.
“Then why am I here?” Fraser asked.
“Mr. Ealdian thought you might be able to answer a few ancillary questions to tidy up all the details.”
Fraser’s gaze slid to over to Thane, and he withered slightly.
“Of course, I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Good. Let’s begin, then, shall we? To whom do you report?” Thane asked, forcing his attention on Fraser.
“I report to the Assembly.” Fraser bowed his head. The posture reminded Thane of when vassals used to kneel to him. Some of the Bloodkin families still required that kind of subservience.
“Specifically, to whom do you report on the matter of Kingman Hills?”
“You, my lord, and Gerard Heolstor, or either of his sons if Lord Heolstor was unavailable.”
Something about his voice was familiar. Ah…yes. Thane remembered Fraser now. A couple centuries ago, there’d been a tobacco venture and he had handled the details of the contracts between the parties involved. He’d seemed competent enough back then. Dragon blood must have sustained him over the years, just as it had Matthew.
The question was, whose blood?
“Anyone else?” Thane asked.
“No one,” he said. “Your kind depends upon discretion.”
A lie. Thane gave him a tight smile. “You’re not leaving without giving me the answers I require.” Thane doubted he was leaving at all, and judging from the sweat that dripped down Fraser’s neck into his shirt collar, he knew it, too.
“I am nothing without loyalty. I’ve proven myself time and time again,” Fraser said.
“Proven yourself to whom?”
“All of you,” he said.
Thane glanced up at Emerson.
“Mr. Fraser,” she said.
He looked up at her, then remembering his place, down again quickly.
“Am I an Emmerich Red?”
Fraser exhaled in an easy whoosh. “Oh. This I can speak to, if only in a limited capacity. The Triad believes you are, yes. A sample of your blood was tested to confirm dragon heritage. Until you shift, however, we won’t know for certain what line you’re from. At such time as your Emmerich heritage is confirmed, the Emmerich hoard, properties, and accounts will be transferred to your keeping.”
Thane lifted a brow at Emerson while addressing Fraser. “The hoard was maintained all this time? By whom?” Fraser started to answer, but Thane, remembering an old alliance, beat him to it. “The Herrera line. Has to be.”
Emerson shook her head slightly, mouthing. Hoard?
“Every dragon has a hoard, Emerson,” Thane explained. “It’s in our nature to…acquire. I’m sure you have one already.”
She gave him an exaggerated frown and shook her head.
Oh, yes she did. Hoards in popular mythos were often imagined as riches, but in reality they were filled with precious things. The monetary value was secondary.
“The Herreras were Emmerich allies,” Thane said. He should’ve thought of them before. “If the Herreras had maintained the hoard rather than subsumed it within their own, then they had to have had reason.” And if they’d known that an Emmerich still lived, why the secrecy? Emerson’s life could’ve been so different.
She looked astounded. “I have allies?”
Fraser shook his head. “We don’t know where you come from yet. You have to shift to know for sure. Your dragon will answer the question definitively. The Herreras, and indeed the rest of the Bloodkin Assembly, have been very patient.”
“Oh…well,” Emerson said, “I’m deeply grateful for their forbearance.” She sounded anything but.
Herrera. Were they the ones Thane was looking for? Had they killed Carreen and Rinc?
No. It didn’t feel right. He’d had no quarrel with them. In fact, they’d always lived on different continents and pursued different business interests. They’d prospered on intellect and wise alliances, not violence. What cause had they to attack Ealdian? Why would they send an assassin six hundred years later?
Perhaps Lena would think of something that connected them.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Emerson demanded of Fraser.
Thane had told her why already: power. The Triad had been trying to keep her in check.
“It wasn’t mine to tell,” Fraser said.
“You’re awfully chatty about it today,” she shot back.
“You asked me directly. And I assumed that Mr. Ealdian had informed you about your family.”
Her voice rose. “My family? You know nothing about my family.” She lifted shining, confused eyes to Thane. “All this time. Even when I was in college and already identified as Bloodkin. It’s been years.”
At her distress, his dragon flexed within him. She’d been alone. She’d made a wolf her brother. She’d had to ask for money to learn, to live. Her anger was his anger, too. He knew what it was like to be alone.
“I don’t want the hoard, whatever it is, whatever it’s worth,” she said. “And I’m done with Bloodkin. What kind of ally would leave me to fen
d for myself at seven?”
“It’s possible they didn’t know your circumstances,” Thane said. He’d find out if they had.
Emerson shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I’m done. Sooo done. You people make me sick.”
You people. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t will her dragon away. Her eyes were brighter and greener than ever.
She walked toward The Goddess and stood looking into her serene face.
“Emerson, you’re not alone in this,” Thane said to her back. When she drew away—or drew into herself—his dragon became agitated. He needed her here with him. “You’re not alone anymore.” The Herreras would be made to acknowledge her identity. Did they know what had become of her parents?
She turned abruptly. “Can we just finish this? I need to take a walk.”
Yes, maybe that was the better course. Finish, then talk.
Thane was turning back to Fraser when a flash of steel preceded a high, ragged cry.
Fraser gripped his arm as blood squirted from his wrist. The white bone and red flesh of his forearm was exposed by a clean cut. His severed hand lay on the carpet clutching a gun.
Matthew held his short sword slightly away from his body, blood dripping from the blade.
“Not again.” Emerson’s face and lips had gone white. “Oh, please God, not again.”
“He wasn’t going to shoot himself, my lady,” Matthew said. “He was aiming for my lord Thane.”
***
“Please, I need dragon blood.” Fraser’s face was white with strain.
Nausea curled in Emerson’s belly. She knew now why the Bloodkin called themselves that. Somehow, they kept managing to spill blood. The smell—rich and metallic—made her throat tight. Thane, on the other hand, moved closer to Fraser.
“I’m not going to give it to you,” Thane said to him. “Not after you just professed loyalty to my kind and then tried to sting me with that weapon. To what end? A bullet wouldn’t kill me. To provoke the dragon?”
“I had to try,” Fraser said. “If I didn’t, I was dead anyway.”
Emerson frowned in disgust. “Who put you up to it?”
“I’ll tell you if you help me,” Fraser said. “My hand can be reattached. It will grow back together. I’ve seen it done. Please.”
Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set Page 37
