by Paula Quinn
“No, it’s all right,” he said, sounding like the wind. “I’ve never told this to anyone. I never thought I would. I’m unprepared.”
He’d never told anyone? Why was he telling her? He could have refused and remained mysterious, though she doubted his life story would reveal all about him.
“My parents died when I was three. Helena was two. We were the youngest of my father’s brood.” He paused in his words and his steps for a moment and cut his gaze to her. He lifted his brow as if expecting her to question him further. When she didn’t, he let his eyes dip to the ground and continued walking. “He was a wealthy man and had provided for us, should we be orphaned, which we were. We were shipped off to different countries for five years, raised by different nurses and teachers and then brought to live with our half-brother, Hendrick. At the time, Hendrick was the head of our organization, The Bane, dedicated to hunting dragons. We lived with him for three years until a dragon burned down our house and almost half my relatives with it. After that, we were mostly on our own.”
She stepped back. A dragon? A dragon had killed his father and his home and his family. She had a sinking feeling that there was much more to all this than he was telling her. She would have thought he’d hate dragons with a burning passion. She knew she would have felt that way had it been her father and family. “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
He quirked his mouth. “Why?”
“It causes you pain.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Jacob. You lost your whole family to a dragon. How could it not cause you pain?”
“I hardly knew them. Helena is my family, and we both escaped.”
She swallowed. He spoke like nothing fazed him. She wasn’t buying it. “You enjoy being mysterious.”
His low laughter filled her ears and made her eyes burn.
He stepped closer and watched as a breeze blew tendrils of her hair over her lips, beckoning his gaze, his fingers there. She didn’t back away when he spread his fingertips over her bottom lip and a hundred different visions of him kissing her flitted across her thoughts. He appeared as entranced as she, as if he saw the same visions and was about to make them all come true. He dipped his chin slightly, lifting his eyes to hers at the same time. Fire shone in their depths, wild and uncontainable. The heat consumed her, seeping into the farthest chasms of her heart. She had the urge to tip her head back and offer him her throat.
His nostrils flared slightly and he leaned in a little closer, enough that she felt his warm breath against her jaw.
“Ask me whatever you want.”
How could her heart pound so madly for a man she’d met this morning? What was this power he wielded so expertly over her that tempted her to tell him to take whatever he wanted.
“Is your heart spoken for?” She scowled, wondering when she’d lost control over her mouth.
But just when she began to defend her foolish tongue, he severed his gaze from hers and withdrew. “No, it’s not.”
She watched him take a step back, looking uncomfortable and uncertain. He furrowed his brow and then looked at her from beneath its shadow.
River wanted to say something but suddenly her rogue tongue went silent. What was wrong with him? What was this nerve she touched? Had someone he loved dumped him? Was he still in love? In denial? She understood the painful process off getting over someone. It wasn’t—
His expression softened and his eyes went starkly blue and a little apprehensive. “Is yours?”
She shook her head. “No.”
He quirked his mouth into something that could have been a smile of relief, or a contortion of terror. Either way, he swung around and continued walking.
Like she said…peculiar. But he made her smile and she wasn’t even sure why.
She picked up her steps and caught up with him. “Tell me more about your life,” she said, looking up and taking in the strength of his profile.
He glanced at her and his smile widened. “You would know everything then?”
Yes. Yes, she wanted to know everything about him. What were his favorite things? Why did talking about his heart make him go dark, but talking about the death of his family members had barely stirred him. “You said I could ask,” she reminded him, her smile matching his.
“It’s not good, I’m afraid. I got into trouble a lot. I drove Helena nuts. I finally landed a job modeling and then I met the guys from the band. That’s it. Nothing exciting.”
“Nothing exciting? You travel with the band, don’t you? You’ve been places, met people—”
“Is that what you want to do? Travel and meet people?”
“Yes, it’s my dream to spread my wings and—” She laughed at herself. “That’s probably not the best metaphor. I just know there’s more than this.”
“There is,” he agreed. “Why don’t you leave? Your family?”
She shook her head and stayed quiet for a minute, not sure she wanted to share this part of her life with him. “It’s partially the money,” she told him, wondering why it was so easy to share this…and her music with him.
“And the other part?” he asked in his slow, deep voice that was beginning to sound like music to her ears.
“To be honest, I don’t know if I can make it out there on my own. It’s scary.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who lets fear or uncertainty get in her way.”
She laughed and bumped his arm. He didn’t budge. “You don’t know anything about me.”
He leaned in and said above her ear, “Then tell me.”
Should she? He wasn’t staying in Harris. She didn’t want to start caring for a guy only to be dumped again. And she was pretty sure that if she fell for Jacob Wilder, she’d fall hard. Besides his tender attentiveness, he was beyond gorgeous, and he played music. He was shy and confident at the same time, which beguiled the senses right out of her. He was thoughtful and generous—yet there was something terribly dangerous about him that she couldn’t put her finger on, something familiar and feral in his burning eyes and the glint of hunger in them when he looked at her.
Don’t eat me!
No. What she was thinking couldn’t be true. Dragon shape-shifters weren’t real. They were the products of twenty-first century romance authors’ imaginations. Then again, dragons weren’t supposed to be real either. They were products of centuries old authors. Same thing.
She looked at Jacob walking beside her, farther away than he’d been a moment before. He lifted his eyes from the ground and then dragged his hand over his head, clearing his hair from his vision to look at her.
“I think…I think things are moving too fast.” Hell, that was the hardest thing she’d had to say in two years. Was she crazy? Dragon shape-shifters? Seriously?
“Okay.” He turned away—a bit ruffled. Was it her rejection that unsettled him…or something else?
“I’m sorry, it’s just—”
“You’re right.” He stopped her and returned his gaze to hers. “Things are moving too fast. I’m glad,” he said, aiming the crook of his disarming smile straight at her, “that at least one of us is clear-headed.”
She stared at his mouth while he spoke. She wanted to laugh at his claim. She’d believed for a moment that he was Drakkon, and for half that time, she didn’t care. She was anything but clear-headed.
Chapter Ten
Jacob stood on the top of the hill overlooking the loch and thought about the woman cooking dinner inside the house behind him. She suspected he was Drakkon. How? What had he done to raise her suspicions? His hair? The way he said her name? Was that enough to question his humanity? He should tell her the truth. Part of him wanted to. He’d already told her much. More than he probably should. About dragons. About himself.
What more would he have told her had she asked? He’d offered to answer anything. But she’d asked about his heart being spoken for and it had affected him in a way that was totally foreign to him. Fea
r had engulfed him. Fear that perhaps his heart was spoken for and she was the one claiming it.
Why now? Why her?
No one knew him. He’d never let anyone get close enough to know him. He’d never spoken about his childhood, about never belonging anywhere or to anyone. He never wanted to speak of it again. But he’d wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know at least some part of him, since he knew so much about her. He knew her dreams—the ones in her heart, and the ones in her head. Music…and Colin with the black hair.
The parts of her mind that he’d touched proved she didn’t love Colin.
But she still dreamed of him.
What would he do about it? Nothing. He’d do nothing. She didn’t belong to him. This wasn’t the seventeenth century. She wasn’t a possession. This was Drakkon thinking and it was dangerous.
He heard a sound behind him and took a deep breath in. The faint scent of cigarette smoke drifted across his nostrils. Ivy. He turned to see her walking up the hill toward him. She was shorter than River by at least seven or eight inches. Her eyes, beneath the hood of her sweatshirt were large and tainted with cynicism. Jacob wondered how she had grown so distrustful. Then he remembered Hagan Wray’s words His wife had left them. People he’d called friends had mocked him. Because of a dragon.
“I like it here,” she said, coming to stand beside him and gazing at the water. “Sometimes I feel like there’s a fire inside my soul and I want to jump into the sea and let it douse the flames.”
He glanced at her, wondering what emotions roiled within her.
She turned to look at him. “What are you still doing here, Mr. Wilder?”
“Call me Jacob.”
“Sure. What are you still doing here, Jacob?” she asked, her eyes round and suspicious. “Are you expecting the gang to come back?”
He smiled. “They might.”
She cast him a doubtful look and came to stand beside him, her gaze spread out over the loch. “Why is your hair white?”
“Why is yours blue?”
She smiled, still not looking at him. “River tells me you were the lead guitarist for Everbound, but you left because…?”
“It was time.”
She cut him another skeptical glance. “Speaking of time, how did you manage time to work for all the governments and a top-charting band?”
She was clever. He liked her. “It was difficult.”
She sighed and folded her arms across her chest and was silent for a moment. Then, “Do you like River?”
“Yes.”
Now, she turned to him, her expression of surprise making his smile deepen. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so truthful, Jacob.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t expecting it either.” He quirked his mouth at himself and then set his eyes toward the sun. He should be flying across it, heading someplace warmer, less inhabited. But instead, he was standing here at the edge of a tiny village waiting to eat dinner with a woman and her family. “It’s obvious really.”
“She likes you, too.”
He slid his gaze back to her. “How do you know?” Why did he care? Wasn’t it worse if she liked him, too? Wasn’t he sentencing them both to heartache?
“She’s cooking for you.”
“She cooked for Noah,” he countered.
Ivy searched his gaze and then smiled, discovering more about him than he wanted to let on. “But she’s cooking her best dishes tonight.”
“Is she?” he breathed. No one had ever cooked for him before. It was nice of her. But puzzling. She didn’t want anything to happen between them. She said things were moving too fast. She was right. “I didn’t mean to put her to more trouble.”
“Oh,” Ivy didn’t bother to hold back her laughter. “I’m sure you’re quite used to causing trouble wherever you go, Jacob.” Her mirth faded and she set her somber gaze on his. “Just don’t hurt my sister. Please.”
The only way to agree was to leave Maraig right now. If he stayed and grew closer to her…if he kissed her and heard music…he should have been gone by now.
“Did someone hurt her?”
“Yes.”
“Colin?”
Ivy nodded. “He was an asshole.”
Drakkon? Are you there?
He heard River’s sweet voice in his head and blinked at her sister. “You should get back. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
“Sure,” Ivy shrugged her petite shoulders and tugged her hood farther over her eyes. She turned away, but he called her back.
“Smoking will hurt you.”
She looked like she was about to deny her habit, then rethought it, maybe because he’d been honest with her. She nodded then disappeared down the hill.
Where are you?
He closed his eyes while River beckoned him—as she’d beckoned since the first time they’d met.
I hope you’re not asleep or…worse.
Worse? He felt his guts go warm at the sound of her concern in his head. He wanted to answer her, but it was better if he didn’t. She was starting to find similarities between him and Drakkon. The more he spoke to her like this, the harder it would be to tell her the truth.
I just wanted you to know that Jacob…Mr. Wilder isn’t so bad. I think I can convince him to leave you alone.
He smiled at her wanting to help him. What had Drakkon done to earn her loyalty?
Drakkon? What’s wrong? Why won’t you answer?
It took everything in him not to. It took even more to control Drakkon and not fly to her. If he’d wanted to strengthen his will, this was the way to do it. He turned around and walked back to the house.
*
The aromas wafting through the house smelled so good it made Jacob feel lightheaded. He was starving. When he entered the kitchen, his eyes settled on River first, alone in the kitchen, cooking with her back to him. His gaze traversed the thick, ginger braid dangling down her long, elegant back. His eyes roved hungrily over her small derrière and then fell to the wooden dinner table arrayed with spring flowers, folded napkins, fine silverware, and glasses filled with white wine. Had she done all this for him? If she wanted to move more slowly, this wasn’t the way to do it.
She turned from a steaming pot on the stove and smiled when she saw him. “Oh, good! You’re here.”
He decided then and there that it was his favorite thing she’d said to him yet.
“I was just about to call everyone in.”
“Let me help you.” He went to her. Drawn by her scent and the fragrance of the food behind her, he couldn’t help himself.
“No, you’re—” she stopped when he came close and reached behind her for the basket of baked rolls waiting to be set on the table. “—a guest.” She spoke on a broken whisper against his jaw as he leaned in. He smiled and dipped his gaze to her lips. He wanted to close his arm around her and haul her in close. He wanted to feel her heart thrashing against his chest while he captured her, tasted her, branded her. He stepped back with the basket in his hand. He may be keeping Drakkon caged but he was thinking like something wild and more primitive. He’d felt it earlier at the loch, when he’d touched her mouth and filled her head with every way he wanted to kiss her. He’d felt himself losing to Drakkon when she thought about surrendering herself to him. She managed to find an opening in his armor. He didn’t know how or what he should do about it. Was it already too late?
Soon, the others entered the kitchen and Jacob was seated to the left of the head of the table, opposite River and beside Ivy, who sat across from Graham, Noah’s brother.
Much to Jacob’s delight, River’s dinner came in three courses. First, she served them mussels cooked in lemon and star anise sauce. It was better than anything he’d had in the finest restaurants. Conversation around the table flowed smoothly, with most of the questions aimed at him. How long had he been with Everbound? What other instruments did he play? What were some of the places he’d been? Why wasn’t he drinking his wine?
“I have a ba
d reaction to alcohol,” he explained. Bad, as in it could make him bed-ridden for a week or two. He looked across the table at River. He thought alcohol was the hardest thing he’d had to give up. He was wrong.
“Poor dude,” Graham, who sported a neon green Mohawk, a few facial piercings, and a set of thoughtful eyes, said and sipped his wine.
They laughed over oven-roasted salmon with potato cakes, asparagus and lemon cream sauce, and stories, told by Mr. Wray, of his daughters’ childish escapades and River’s determination to attend University.
After dinner, they retired to the sitting room with pear tarts and tea. This kind of quiet, settled life was completely foreign to Jacob. He hadn’t eaten a home-cooked meal since he was eleven. There hadn’t been any softly lit sitting rooms where family gathered in his past. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar. River was here, and that made everything else okay for some damned strange reason. She pulled him closer toward something. He wasn’t sure what it was or what would happen when he got there.
Part of him didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to risk losing his heart to temporary love. He thought he could resist. Not caring had become second nature. But now that he was Drakkon, when he needed that wall to stay high and strong, he felt it shaking.
Another part of him, a part as foreign as family dinners and innocence, wanted her to take back what she said about moving too quickly. Wanted to kiss her senseless and to hell with the stars.
“Did you enjoy dinner?” she asked him, returning to the sofa after bidding her father goodnight and Ivy and Graham went back to the kitchen to clean up.
He let his eyes rove over her smile, her curious gaze. His gums itched and his chest burned. “I loved it. You compose beautiful music and cook like a master chef. What can’t you do?”
“Stop,” she said gently, patting his forearm that was resting on his thigh. “You don’t need to flatter me.”
“But I want to,” he told her, surprised and beguiled by her humility. “I’m complimenting you.”
Her easy smile returned, along with a rosy streak across her otherwise alabaster cheeks. “Well, thank you, but I can’t play the guitar, and you’ve only heard one of my songs. The others are different.”
