Caught up in her own emotional turmoil, it had never occurred to her that Vasili was dealing with his own. “I’m sorry.”
He gave a hard jerk of his head. “You do not apologize for what you feel.” He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips. The warmth of the tender kiss seeped up her arm and spread to the rest of her. “We will get through this. Together.”
“Together.” She liked the sound of that.
They drove the rest of the way in silence. Vasili was a confident driver. Not surprising since he’d probably been doing it since the invention of the first car. He parked the SUV, and they made their way into the hotel.
The elevator ride was nerve-wracking. She was so close to being reunited with her sister after all these long months apart. So much had changed for both of them.
Vasili had barely knocked on the door of the hotel suite they’d been directed to when it was pulled open. Abigail would have been knocked over if he hadn’t caught her. Her sister wrapped her arms around Abigail and hugged tightly. “I’ve missed you so much,” Constance told her.
“Let’s go inside.” Vasili gently eased them into the room and closed the door.
A large man was standing just behind Constance with his arms crossed over his chest and watching Vasili. Neither of them spoke, and the tension in the room grew. The women drew apart, Abigail came to his side, and he tucked her under his arm.
“Constance. Nic. This is Vasili Zima.” She put her hand on his chest as she introduced him, and her sister let out a short scream.
Vasili jerked her behind him to protect her. Nic did the same for Constance. Abigail poked him in the side and peeked around him. “What? What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You’re married.” Constance pointed toward her hand. The gold ring gleamed on her finger. She pinned Vasili with a glare. “You didn’t coerce my sister, did you? Because if you did, I don’t care if you’re a drakon, I’ll—”
“Constance, stop.” She interrupted before her sister said something she might come to regret. “I love him.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but the situation seemed to call for it.
“You do?” Her sister studied her as they both stepped around their men.
Abigail nodded. “I didn’t want to wait. I figured we could celebrate later.”
“You’ll take care of my sister?” Constance demanded.
Vasili inclined his head. “My life is hers.”
Constance studied him for a long moment before finally smiling and holding out her arms. “Then welcome to the family.”
…
A week later, they were on a private island off the coast of Maine to meet the rest of Nic’s family. Abigail had been as shocked as Vasili to discover her new brother-in-law had three brothers, one of whom was Tarrant.
She was nervous. He could sense it. He wasn’t too thrilled himself. Being surrounded by four other drakons wouldn’t bother him if he was alone, but he had Abigail to protect. The only thing allowing him to override his protective instincts was the fact the other drakon had mates as well.
“Isn’t this cool?" Abigail exclaimed. "He has his own island.” They approached the house more slowly than Nic and Constance, who had already gone on ahead to meet his family. Everyone was here. They were the last to arrive.
“I have an island, but mine is in the Arctic. Not somewhere you would like.” A tropical island was his idea of hell.
She laughed. “I don’t need an island.”
No, she asked little of him. All she wanted was to spend some time with her sister. It was difficult to spoil a woman who was happy with whatever she had. But he’d done something he hoped would please her.
“Let’s go.” With his arm around her shoulders, they walked toward the house. The other couples were waiting outside. He eyed the men with suspicion and the women with curiosity, wanting to know what kind of woman would tie herself to a drakon. Obviously, none of them were as brave or wonderful as his Abigail, but they had to be courageous to have taken such a bold step.
Nic made the introductions. “This is Ezra and Sam, Tarrant and Valeriya, and Darius and Sarah.”
Vasili felt Abigail tremble, but outwardly she appeared calm. She’d come a long way from the woman who’d been having panic attacks when they first met.
“It’s nice to meet you all.” She stepped forward and offered her hand to Sarah, as she was the closest. Vasili eyed Darius, silently warning him not to do or say anything to upset her.
The men were reticent, but the women were not. Within minutes, they were all laughing and chatting and had led the way inside where they all congregated in the kitchen and dining area.
Darius was staring at Abigail. Vasili stirred beside his mate, not liking the other drakon’s interest. Then he noticed exactly where Darius was looking.
Abigail had removed her cardigan before taking a seat, and the short-sleeve shirt she wore exposed some of her tattoo. There was no mistaking the mark as anything but a drakon birthmark. And Darius wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. The other men had, too.
“Where did you get that?” Nic asked.
“Get what?” Abigail asked, turning away from a question her sister had asked her.
“The tattoo.”
The room went silent as every eye landed on her lower arm. She glanced at Vasili, and he knew she wouldn’t say anything without his consent. It made him love her all the more. He knew how difficult it had been for her not to tell her sister what had happened.
It wasn’t fair of him to put that kind of pressure on her. “I bonded with her,” he told them. He kissed her temple while he glared at the other drakons. “The mark covers her arm to her elbow and her back and chest to her waist.”
“It’s a smaller version of Vasili’s tattoo.” Abigail leaned against him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“What does this mean?” Constance glanced at her husband, obviously worried about her sister.
“We don’t know,” Vasili honestly told them. “But she feels better. Stronger.”
“I do,” Abigail confirmed. “I can’t explain it. It’s like a small part of him is in me.” She smiled up at him. “I like it. A lot.”
“How did you know to do this thing?” Nic asked.
“I obtained an ancient scroll in my travels a very long time ago. It seemed to have been written by one of our sires, or someone who’d spoken at length with a dragon before they left our world. I can’t be sure. It had the information about mating, about a true joining.” He gripped Abigail a little tighter. “She is mine, and I’m never letting her go.”
The men nodded. “You will tell us more about this later.” Nic’s tone made him bristle.
He didn’t answer to anyone. Then Abigail put her hand on his thigh and squeezed. He gave a brusque nod. Only for her would he do this. The other men knew it, the bastards, but since they were likely in the same boat as him, he didn’t allow it to bother him overly much. They still didn’t know about the other tattoos he planned to ink on his mate.
He’d tell them in time, but first he’d let Abigail convince him. That would be quite a pleasurable exercise for both of them.
“You all have necklaces,” Abigail pointed out, not so subtly trying to change the subject. “Like Constance does. They’re drakon tears, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” Sarah ran her fingers over the gold chain around her neck set with a multitude of diamonds. “Every drakon tear is different depending on what kind of element he is associated with.”
The men shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t blame them. None of them would want to seem weak in front of the others. Thankfully, a drakon cried rarely, and only for love.
“What kind of drakon are you?” Nic asked. Oddly enough, no one had bothered to ask up until now.
“What kind of drakons are you?” He turned the question back on him.
Nic only smiled. “We’ve got one of each. I’m a fire drakon. Darius is earth, Tarrant is air, and Ezra is a water drako
n. Now, which kind are you?”
He leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched out, and his hands crossed over his stomach. “I am none of those. I’m special.” He ignored the growls and grumbles from the other drakons and the snorts of laughter from their women.
If it were just him, he’d have taunted the men longer. But Abigail looked worried, so he grudgingly gave them the truth. “I am an ice drakon.”
Nic turned his head to one side and studied him. “Never heard of them.”
“That’s because we are very, very rare.” And that was saying something considering drakons were scarcer than…well, anything really.
“You can manipulate ice?” Nic asked.
To demonstrate, he held up his hand and allowed ice crystals to form around his fingertips. Then he touched the cup in front of him and the ice crept over it until it was totally covered. “There is always moisture in the air, in the earth, and of course, there’s water. I use it all.” He closed his fingers, and the ice stopped growing from his fingertips. Then he breathed gently on the cup, thawing the ice.
Abigail turned to him. “If you’re an ice drakon, then what are your tears?”
He reached into his pocket, glad he’d asked Nic for the name of a reputable jeweler who would work fast. “I never shed a single one in my long life.”
“Oh.” Abigail looked embarrassed. Why wouldn’t she be? The other women seemed sad and distressed. They all had a tangible reminder of their men’s love and devotion. Abigail had nothing.
But she would. He ignored the others, pushed out of his chair, and dropped to his knees beside her. “What are you doing?” she asked, her cheeks growing pinker the longer he stared at her. She was so beautiful, inside and out, his Abigail. She was his heart. And it was time she understood that. He needed them all to understand that.
“I had never shed one until I met you.” He opened his hand to reveal the cuff-style bracelet he’d had made just for her. It was crafted out of silver, an echo of the one she’d found.
“But since then,” he continued, “I’ve shed one.” Only one single tear, but it was a testament to his true feelings for her.
The stone was bigger than the one on the original bracelet. It was much larger than any of the other drakon tears.
“Oh my God.” She reached out and touched the edge of the gem. “It’s the stone from your backpack.”
He frowned. “How do you know about the stone?” He certainly hadn’t shown it to her, and she’d been dead when he’d shed it.
“When we first arrived at your home.” She gave a quick glance toward the others, and he knew she didn’t want to discuss it now. “I was looking for a phone. What is it?” she gestured to the stone. “It feels like a diamond.”
He let it drop for now, but he’d get the full story later. “It is a rare blue diamond. As rare and precious as you,” he told her.
The design was simple. The band existed to hold and showcase the stone. He turned the band over so she could see the writing inside. “You had it inscribed?” She squinted, trying to read it.
“It is a protection spell.”
Some of the drakons began muttering at the mention of a spell, but he ignored them. “It will help keep you safe.”
“It’s like the one I found, only so much better.” The smile she gave him eclipsed the gemstone in both beauty and power. No other woman would ever wear his drakon tear. It belonged to Abigail, along with his heart.
“You like it?” He’d never given a gift to a woman. Oh, he’d given his lovers tokens over the years, but nothing this personal, nothing that had meant so much.
“No, I don’t like it. I love it. It’s perfect.” She held out her wrist, and he slipped it on. It had been designed on a hinge that opened and closed. He closed it now and locked it in place. To remove it, she’d have to find the hidden catch.
“The others have necklaces,” he pointed out. He caught her hand in his and raised it until the blue diamond caught the light. “I did not cry many tears for you. Only the one.” Did she think he loved her less since the others had necklaces full of tears?
She tugged her hand free and wrapped her arms around him. “This one tear is all I need. I love you, and I know you love me.”
“I do. Ya lyublya tebya. I love you.” He’d finally found his reason, his purpose in life. Abigail was his everything. She was perfect, his miracle.
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to the amazing staff at Entangled Publishing for making this book a reality.
Thank you all the amazing authors and readers that I am privileged to call my friends. Your support and encouragement means so much.
Author’s Note: Writers sometimes take artistic license, and I did so in Drakon’s Tear. The Moscow church in my book is fictional, as is the priest. Both come totally from my imagination. And to any Russian readers, the heroine in the story refers to a book as her guide to the language. So that’s what I did. If there are any mistakes, I beg your indulgence and ask your forgiveness.
About the Author
N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
www.njwalters.com
Discover the Blood of the Drakon series…
Drakon’s Promise
Drakon’s Prey
Drakon’s Plunder
Drakon’s Past
Drakon Unchained
Also by NJ Walters
Night of the Tiger
Mark of the Bear
Pride of the Lion
Howl of the Wolf
Heart of the Serpent
Flame of the Phoenix
Lure of the Jaguar
Alexandra’s Legacy
Isaiah’s Haven
Legacy Found
Quinn’s Quest
Finding Chrissten
Damek’s Redemption
Craig’s Heart
Wolf at the Door
Wolf in Her Bed
Wolf on the Run
Wolf from the Past
Wolf on the Hunt
Wolf on a Mission
Wolf in His Heart
Wolf in Her Soul
Wolf of Her Own
A Touch of Magick
Dreams of Seduction
Love in Flames
Discovering Dani
The Way Home
The Return of Patrick O’Rourke
The Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
A Legal Affair
By the Book
Past Promises
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