Drakon's Tear

by N. J. Walters

  He growled, and she stilled. Shit, he hadn’t meant to do that, but he was on the edge. If he kept this up, it wouldn’t matter that they were in a church or that the most dangerous organization in the world was after her. The only thing that would matter would be stripping her naked and getting inside her.

  He did the only thing he could. He lifted her off of his lap and stood. There was no hiding his arousal, and he didn’t bother to try. He began to pace. Abigail pulled her legs up against her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and tracked his movements as he prowled around the small space.

  She watched him with an intensity that was unnerving, until he finally stopped and looked at her. “What?”

  He expected her to rail at him for getting her all hot and bothered and then stopping. Maybe she was upset about him kissing her again, or maybe for not fully answering her question.

  Abigail slowly pushed to her feet and stared at him for the longest time. Then she walked toward him. When she was close enough, she pulled down the edge of his sweater.

  He tensed when she exposed a small piece of his tattoo. He had ink on the opposite side of his chest, but she was focusing on the stylized swirls on the left side. They were blue and outlined in the same icy blue as his eyes.

  She traced one of the swirls with her index finger. He, a mighty drakon, trembled at her touch.

  When she looked at him, there was a trace of awe and fear in her eyes. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

  How did she know such a thing? Had she learned about drakons from her kidnappers, or did she have a deeper knowledge about his kind than she had led him to believe? Her question left him unsettled.

  Whatever answer he might have given was halted by a light knock on the door. Grateful for the interruption, he pulled himself away from her and opened it, letting Father Petrov in. The priest looked from one to the other, obviously sensing the tension between them. Being a smart man, he said nothing and simply set the tray he was carrying on one of the chairs since the table was in pieces on the floor.

  “Eat. Drink. You will leave shortly.” Then he turned and left them once again.

  There were thick slabs of brown bread with fresh butter, local cheese, and thin slices of ham piled on a single plate. Vasili sniffed and noted it was all fresh. Since he could taste preservatives of any kind, he appreciated the priest’s gesture, especially since he’d have to have gone out of his way to find such things.

  As hungry as he was, Vasili ignored the food and retrieved one of the steaming mugs of tea. He held it out to her. “Drink some tea. Eat if you can. We have no idea when we’ll get the chance again.” Once they left this sanctuary, they were running for their lives. It was only a matter of time before the Knights found them. And he wanted to be on familiar turf when it happened.

  He grabbed the other mug, turned his back on her, and drank deeply, all the while trying to pull his unruly body back under his control.

  …

  Anton Bruno was not happy. “What do you mean you can’t find her?” The man standing before him was sweating. That was good. He should be afraid. Anton wanted results, and he wanted them now.

  “This American woman, a woman alone in a foreign country, eluded you?” He had his men out searching for her, as well as the members of the politsiya on his payroll.

  “She has help, sir.”

  That much was obvious. He doubted she’d overpowered his man and killed him herself. Right now, he believed another member of the Knights had her. Although he didn’t know how such a thing could happen.

  Maybe she worked for one of them. Unlikely, but possible. Or maybe they’d simply been trailing his men and gotten lucky. Whatever the reason, he didn’t like it.

  “Find her.”

  His man bobbed his head up and down. “Yes, sir.” He backed out of the room, leaving Anton alone in his office. He picked up his phone and contacted his best hacker. “Tell me what you know about the woman.”

  He wandered over the sideboard and poured a glass of Stolichnaya Elit, the best vodka in the world, in his opinion. He sipped in satisfaction as his hacker gave him a rundown on this Abigail Owens, an ordinary woman, by all accounts. One who’d come in to an inheritance and was now traveling across Europe on her own.

  He needed more. “Keep looking.” He hung up and downed the rest of his drink in one swallow. A waste of good vodka, for sure, but he had places to be and things to do. He thumped the glass down on his desk and headed out to direct the search himself.

  Chapter Eight

  It seemed crazy to be considering such a thing, but deep in her heart, Abigail knew it was the truth. Vasili was a drakon. She had no idea why he could touch the bracelet and not be trapped by it. Or maybe he was. Maybe she was the trap.

  Horror snaked through her. Was that the reason he’d kissed her, touched her? Was it because of the curse or spell or whatever it was? She stared at his broad back, wondering how to address the subject. He obviously didn’t want to talk, but this was far too important to ignore.

  “What if I’m the trap?” she blurted.

  Vasili tensed and slowly turned around so he was facing her. The frown on his face would have scared her if she didn’t know him. Come to think of it, it did scare her. A little. Okay, a lot, but she wasn’t about to back down.

  “What do you mean?” He set his mug back down on the tray but stayed away from her.

  Abigail shrugged and looked at the bracelet. It seemed so harmless. If the silver were cleaned up, it would look like an expensive piece of bling. But it was so much more.

  “You said it yourself,” she pointed out. “I was attracted to this.” She held up her arm. “And you were attracted to me. So what if the Knights are using me as a trap?” She swallowed heavily, her heart aching. “Maybe that’s why you’re attracted to me, why you kissed me. Maybe you don’t have a choice.”

  And that part hurt more than it should. Whether Vasili kissed her again or not should be low down on her list of priorities. The most pressing ones were staying alive and getting out of the country. But somehow, their kissing was at the top of the list. She hated to think that what they felt for one another was nothing more than some spell the Knights had conjured.

  It was weird to even consider that possible. Magic and spells happened in books and movies, not in real life.

  Of course, most people didn’t think dragons existed outside of myths and books, but she knew differently. And she’d learned firsthand back in Las Vegas that magic was not only real, but it was also extremely dangerous.

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Maybe it was her imagination, but she didn’t think so. She tightened her grip on the mug, letting her fingers absorb the heat.

  “What are you suggesting? That I’m so weak I’d be drawn in by some spell.”

  God save her from the male ego. “My brother-in-law isn’t weak, but he was trapped—” She broke off, appalled at herself. What had she done? She’d almost told a man she barely knew the biggest secret her family had.

  She quickly set her mug down and turned her back on him, trying to gather her composure. “Forget it. I just want you to go. I’ll be safer on my own.” Now that was probably the biggest lie she’d ever told in her life, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was keeping Vasili safe. It was crazy to feel that way, but she did.

  Another thought occurred to her. “Maybe the bracelet is affecting me.”

  A large hand descended onto her shoulder and spun her around. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Warming to her subject, she continued. “Maybe the bracelet is making me attracted to you.” That could account her for almost unnatural attraction to a man she hardly knew.

  “The hell it is. Whatever is between us is real.” His thick brows were lowered over his eyes, which looked like twin lasers in the dim light.

  Whatever reply she might have made was lost when he snaked out his arm, caught her around the waist, and dragged her up against him. He slammed his mouth d
own on hers.

  Heat and power surrounded her. Vasili was always so warm, which made sense if he was a drakon. He’d neither confirmed nor denied her accusation, but she was almost certain she was right. They were like two swordsmen locked in a duel, advancing and retreating as they tested each other, tried to find a weakness or discover some truth.

  This thing, whatever it was between them, defied words and logic.

  He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she was helpless to do anything but respond. She wanted him with every cell in her body. Magic or not, she didn’t care. All she wanted was his lips on hers and his hands on her body.

  He kept his arms wrapped around her waist, but she didn’t practice such restraint. She dragged her hands over his chest. Even with his sweater in the way, she could feel the thick muscles beneath.

  He pulled back as quickly as he’d grabbed her in the first place. “I wasn’t going to kiss you again.”

  Abigail swallowed hard. Well, that wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of their passion. Maybe he wasn’t feeling what she was. She started to withdraw, but he wasn’t done.

  “Not until we were somewhere safe.” His gaze seemed to glow, or perhaps it was a trick of the light. Maybe it was her imagination. Maybe she was simply grasping at straws. Maybe she just wanted him to be a drakon.

  It pained her to admit it because it sounded petty, but she felt left out of her sister’s life now that Constance had Nic. Abigail wanted a man to love her, to look at her the same way Nic looked at her sister.

  Was she so desperate to feel as though she belonged somewhere that she’d reach out to the first really interesting man she met? She didn’t think so. She liked to think she was made of sterner stuff than that.

  Yet, here she was kissing Vasili.

  He ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. The erotic sensation skated down to her breasts and then lower, until her core was pulsing with need.

  Vasili was a dangerous man in so many ways.

  “Your brother-in-law is a drakon, isn’t he?”

  She heard the right pronunciation. He’d said drakon, not dragon. He knew the difference even if he’d been using dragon up until now. He knew a lot more than he was telling her. If he was a drakon himself, it made sense he’d know. But what if he wasn’t? What if he was working for the Knights and using her to trap Nic?

  She tried to laugh it off. “I’m not sure what you thought you heard, but that’s just crazy.”

  His lips thinned, and he backed away. The mental and emotional distance between them had closed somewhat, but now the barrier separating them was back.

  As much as it hurt her, she had to do it. She couldn’t risk Constance or Nic, not for anything.

  They both turned to the door when they heard the knob turning. They hadn’t locked it when Father Petrov left the last time. The priest stuck his head in the door. “It’s time.” He looked at Vasili and then at her. “You are still going together, yes?”

  “No—”

  “Yes,” he interrupted her. “We go together, or not at all.” He pulled on his jacket and held out his hand.

  Knowing she really didn’t have a choice, and in some ways glad she didn’t, she put her hand in his. Having a partner to get out of the city would be a lot easier than trying to do it on her own.

  Who was she kidding? Without him, she didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting out of Moscow. Bruno’s men would find her.

  She shivered and pulled her coat more firmly around her. Vasili frowned, released her hand, and zipped her coat. The gesture brought tears to her eyes. Whatever he was—man or drakon—he’d been nothing but kind to her.

  Abigail hooked her bag over her shoulder and head, adjusted it so it wasn’t in the way, and turned back to the waiting men. “Lead on.”

  …

  Vasili knew he had no reason to feel hurt, to feel as though Abigail was betraying him by protecting her family over him. If Nic was a drakon, it explained how she knew about the Knights and drakons. It also explained why she might think he was one. She’d know about the tattoos. Exactly how much she knew about his kind, he had no idea. What it didn’t explain was why he was attracted to her.

  Was it the bracelet or was it her?

  He knew she was worried about the bracelet, worried it was somehow affecting her around him. His dragon growled inside him, not happy with either train of thought.

  Yet, Vasili couldn’t dismiss it. He might have a primal side, a dragon side, but he was also a man with a keen intellect and thousands of years of knowledge. She could be right.

  The primitive part of him rejected that idea. Abigail was his. His to protect. His to care for. He’d found her, and she belonged to him now.

  There was no way he’d ever say that aloud. He wasn’t stupid.

  Keeping her close, he followed Father Petrov down a winding corridor. They heard voices, and the priest stopped. He motioned them into a dark, empty alcove. They all stood with their backs to the walls and waited as two younger priests walked by.

  “Have you heard? Powerful men are looking for an American woman in the city.”

  Vasili almost reached out and grabbed the young priest. As if sensing where his instincts were leading him, Abigail squeezed his hand. She already knew him so well. He also knew she probably had no idea what the men were saying, as they were speaking in Russian, but there was no mistaking the word “American.”

  “Where do you hear such things?” the other priest asked. “You need to concern yourself with the Lord’s work, not with gossip.”

  They continued on, their voices fading as the first priest argued it was smart to pay attention to what was happening in the city. Vasili couldn’t argue with his logic.

  Without a word, Father Petrov continued down the corridor. They finally came to a heavy door with a large iron key in the lock. He turned the key and pulled the portal open.

  “Thank you, Father.” Abigail offered her free hand to him.

  Father Petrov took it and raised it to his lips to kiss the back of her hand. “Go with God, my child.” Then he looked to Vasili. “Take care of yourselves.”

  He nodded at the priest and stepped through the door, leaving the sanctuary of the church. There was a truck waiting with the engine running. Vasili focused his senses and knew the driver was already in position, waiting to leave as soon as they were in. He didn’t want to see who they were. Smart man. The less he knew, the better for him. But the fact he was willing to do this favor for the priest spoke well of him.

  Vasili pulled Abigail after him and helped her climb onto the bumper and into the back. He waited until she’d navigated around the piles of boxes to the empty space at the far end before he hoisted himself up and in. As he pulled the canvas across the opening to secure it, Father Petrov waved to him and then shut the church door. The driver put the truck in gear, and they began to move.

  Abigail had seated herself in the far corner in the dark. It didn’t matter to him that there was barely any light seeping through the wooden slats that made up the sides of the truck or the canvas covering the far end. He could see her perfectly. She was seated on the cold metal floor of the truck, huddled in on herself. And she was shivering. The heat didn’t extend back here, and it was March in Moscow. He also knew she was afraid.

  A low rumble escaped him as he kept his head bent and made his way toward her. He maneuvered himself down next to her, which wasn’t easy given the cramped quarters. Without a word, he lifted her onto his lap to share his warmth with her.

  When she turned into his chest, his dragon sighed with relief and pleasure. Vasili wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple.

  With unspoken agreement, both of them kept quiet. Vasili didn’t want to risk the driver overhearing anything, not to mention any random person who might be walking the streets as they passed. He figured that Abigail just didn’t want to talk.

  They both had a lot to think about.

  The truck bumped through the streets of Mosc
ow, heading for the outskirts. Vasili braced his big body and kept Abigail secured so she wasn’t jostled. By his estimation, they’d probably just left the city when he felt the tension in her body dissolve.

  It wasn’t that she knew where they were. She couldn’t. She didn’t know the city as he did, didn’t have his enhanced senses, either. No, it was because she’d fallen asleep in his arms. As though on some deep level, she knew he would protect her.

  Both human and dragon sides of him practically preened with satisfaction. She’d given him the ultimate trust, making herself vulnerable by sleeping. He doubted she’d be able to do so if she was still tense and worried, no matter how exhausted she was.

  And she had to be pushed beyond her limits. She was human, and therefore much more fragile than he was. But she had a core of steel inside her.

  He kissed the top of her head and inhaled her unique scent—pure femininity with a hint of soap. He had no idea if it was her soap or that of the hotel where she’d been staying. He wanted to know everything about her. Drakon that he was, he wanted to hoard every piece of information about her.

  He wanted to know her favorite foods, what books she liked to read, what she did in her spare time, what her passions were, and what she wrote in that journal she had tucked away in her bag.

  It was strange how life could change so quickly. Only twenty-four hours ago, he hadn’t even known Abigail Owens existed. Now she was the center of his world. That should worry him more than it did.

  Yes, the bracelet had a spell attached to it, and that was the reason he’d been drawn to her. But it wasn’t the reason he was attracted to her and found her fascinating.

  No, that was all her doing.

  Vasili was unlike most of his drakon brethren. While he preferred to be alone, as any self-respecting drakon did, he went out among people when he needed to. He kept up with the times and politics, the ever-changing borders, and the rise and fall of countries and civilizations.