by Lili Zander
I take a seat at his table, and Erik follows my lead. “We need to talk, Hagan.”
“What about?”
“Let’s start with Drakkar Raedwulf,” I suggest.
This at least is familiar territory. “I didn’t know the wolf was crazy when I sent him your way,” Nygaard protests immediately. I even think he’s telling the truth. “I knew Archer was ill. I thought you could use the job.”
“The job that almost got me killed? Excuse me if I forget to send you a thank-you card. Nobody had ever managed to steal from the dragons, Hagan. You put me in an impossible situation.”
“How did you convince the dragons to let you go?” Hagan’s slowly regaining his footing. “Lord Jaeger was here to ask me about Raedwulf. He didn’t mention you, and I didn’t want to anger him by asking. But the dragons aren’t known for forgiveness.” He leans forward, and his voice cracks like a whip. “How?”
Erik stiffens at my side. I place a hand on his lap, trying to communicate wordlessly with the dragon. I’ve got this.
Hagan’s eyes follow the gesture. Good. He’s thinking now. Time to go in for the kill. “I’m asking the questions, Hagan. Not you.”
He tilts his head to one side. “You walk in here with one Norm at your side, making threats. Unless you’ve suddenly been inflicted with a case of acute stupidity, you know something I don’t.”
“Quite a few things, actually.” I’m the mate of dragons. The Norm guy at my side is really Dragon Prince Erik Valder. And I’m most certainly not unprotected. “I was a runaway. When I turned sixteen, you would have made me work in your brothels. But you couldn’t risk that anyone would come calling, could you? So you arranged for my CPS records to disappear.” I can feel Erik’s anger in palpable waves, but he doesn’t say a word. Thank you, Erik. “But I know you well enough to know you’d make a copy first. I want it, Hagen.”
“Everything has a price,” he says, his black eyes cold and wary.
“You’re right. You give me the records I’m looking for, and in return, I’ll make sure the dragons don’t kill you.”
Erik speaks for the first time. “I don’t know, princess,” he says, his voice hard. “I’m not sure I’m quite as forgiving as you are.” He gives me a sidelong look. “Do you mind if I take over?”
I’m kinda surprised he stayed silent as long as he did, actually. “Sure thing,” I reply, sitting back to enjoy the show. For the first time in days, I don’t feel dangerously off-balance. It’s a good feeling.
“Thank you.” Erik reaches into his coat, and even though we’ve been searched for guns, the three guards at Hagen’s side stiffen and tighten their grip on their weapons. He pulls a navy-blue velvet bag from his jacket pocket and sets it on the table. “In this sort of negotiation,” he says, “There are always sticks and carrots.” He tips the contents of the bag on the table, and five gleaming diamonds, each the size of my thumb, fall out. “This is the carrot.”
Hagen’s eyes widen. “And the stick?”
I’m watching Erik, not Hagen. A smile grows on his face. “I’m Erik Valder,” he says. His eyes gleam yellow, and fire dances on his palms. “I’m the stick.”
“Dragon,” Hagen whispers, his face turning pale. “I mean you no harm, Lord Valder.”
“I beg to differ,” Erik replies. “Everyone knew that Raedwulf was wanted for questioning by Lord Jaeger, and yet you didn’t come forward to tell Bastian everything you knew.” The fire blazes brighter. “Instead, you found Raedwulf a thief.” His voice is icy. “Bastian Jaeger might not consider that enough provocation, but I do. By all rights, I should obliterate you.”
Time for me to take over again. “Like I said. The files, Hagen. I won’t ask again.”
He’s not a fool, Hagen, and this is not a battle he can win. He nods tightly. “They’re on my laptop. I’ll make you a copy.”
We wait in silence as he copies the relevant files onto a USB key. “If something’s missing, I’m going to be very unhappy,” Erik growls. He leans forward and says something else to Hagen, pitching it too low for me to hear. Damn shifters. I have good hearing for a Norm, but I can’t compete with magicals. Hagen looks like he wants to protest, but he nods again, and Erik gets to his feet and holds his hand out to me. “Let’s go, princess.”
I wait until we’re safely back on the subway. “What was that about? What did you tell him?”
He gives me a sidelong look. “That if I ever find an unwilling woman in his brothels, I’d raze him to the ground.”
I swallow a lump in my throat. I hadn’t even thought about the others. Erik’s a far better person than I am. “You’re not that bad after all,” I murmur.
He grins, and the expression transforms his face. “Shh. That’s a secret. Don’t tell anyone.” I grin back at him, and a shadow passes over his face. “So, about our date tonight…”
“You want to cancel?” I push back my disappointment. “I totally understand.”
He shakes his head. “Friends can hang out together, right? Rhys told me about a German-style bar. They have beer and pool tables.”
That sounds amazing. I do my best to paste an innocent smile on my face. “Pool?” I give him a doubtful look, fluttering my eyelashes for good measure. “I’m not very good, but you could teach me how to play.”
He laughs out loud. “You’re trying to hustle me, princess? Bring it.”
13
Rhys
I’m glaring at Bastian, annoyance on my face, when the door opens and Aria and Erik walk in. She looks curiously at the two of us. “What’s going on?”
I grin wickedly. “We’re at an impasse, love. Bastian is being a stubborn arse. Maybe you can talk him out of it.”
Bastian gives me an exasperated look. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Griffith. That’s not fighting fair.”
“Talk you out of what?” Aria blushes a little when she looks at Bastian, and my lips curl into a smile. They fooled around last night, I’m sure of it. So she’s ready to play? I can’t wait.
“Bastian doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday. I’m trying to change his mind.”
“Your birthday is coming up? When?”
Bastian grimaces. “One week from now. Next Thursday.”
“Why don’t you want to celebrate?”
My smile widens. “It’s a milestone birthday. Bastian is feeling rather old. Rather understandable, really. I mean, it’s not every day that a dragon turns five hundred.”
Aria’s mouth falls open. “Hang on. Your five-hundredth birthday is next week? Of course, we’ve got to celebrate it.” Her mouth curves into a winsome smile. “Come on, Bastian. I love birthdays.”
“No, you don’t,” Bastian replies immediately. “Your t-shirt gives you away, mausezähnchen. ‘Whew. That was close. Almost had to socialize.’”
She looks down at her shirt ruefully. “Fine. I don’t necessarily love parties, but I like to dance, and I like cake.”
“You can help me plan, Aria,” I interject helpfully, ignoring Bastian’s growl of protest. “Bastian doesn’t like to admit it, but he loves to dance. There’s a really great nightclub in the Village that he’s quite fond of.”
Aria gives Bastian a questioning glance. “If you don’t want to celebrate, I won’t make you,” she says. “But a party does sound like fun.”
Bastian can deny her nothing. “Okay,” he says, giving in with good grace. “But keep it low-key?” He looks at Aria, his gaze possessive. “You’ll need something to wear. Use the credit card, Aria. The next time you enter a Chanel store, don’t leave empty-handed. It makes me happy to spoil you.”
She chuckles ruefully. “I might have guessed you’d know about that,” she says. “Okay, I’ll call Bea and see if she wants to go shopping.”
“I have a better idea,” I reply. “A friend of mine owns a clothing store. I’ll call her and set up an appointment for us to go tomorrow.”
I must like to torture myself. An image of Aria standing in her underwear in front of a m
irror flashes through my mind, and I groan under my breath. I have every intention of keeping my hands off her and giving her space, but I hope, for Arawn’s sake, that my mate is ready to change her mind.
14
Aria
“Where were the two of you?” Bastian asks me. I brace myself for jealousy, but his tone is curious, nothing more.
“I had a hunch that Hagen Nygaard was responsible for my missing CPS records, so I went to see him.” Both Bastian and Rhys open their mouth, most likely to play the role of the safety-police, and I hold up my hand to forestall them. “Before you freak out, Erik was with me.”
Bastian nods reluctantly. “Fair enough. What did you find?”
I grin triumphantly. “My missing records.”
“That’s my girl.” Rhys lifts me off the floor in an exuberant hug. “Let’s see it.”
“Let’s get Silas here,” Bastian says. “Maybe the actual records will jog his memory. I want to know how much of Aria’s past he managed to uncover. It’s important for us to figure out how much is in the diary.”
“I’ll get him,” Erik says, turning around and heading out.
Bastian gives me a questioning look. “You two getting along better?”
It’s really hard to tell with Erik, but I have a feeling that as long as things stay platonic between us, we’ll be okay. Sex will complicate things. “I think so.”
“Where are Casius and Mateo?” My cheeks heat when I remember last night. God, that was hot. Is it wrong that I want to do that again, and more? It’s hard to stay focused on the curse and the prophecy when all I want to do is jump my dragons.
“Casius is out,” he replies. “I have no idea where he went. Mateo’s still asleep.”
“I’ll give him a call,” Rhys says. “He’ll want to see this.”
“Wake Mateo too, would you?” Bastian asks Rhys. Rhys flashes us cheerful grin and a thumbs-up sign.
“How come Mateo’s still asleep?” I ask Bastian. “It’s almost noon.”
His eyes fill with dark amusement. “Maybe you tired him out last night, little thief.”
I blush. “Seriously?”
“I’m teasing you.” His expression turns serious. “Zyrian’s been testing his ward,” he says. “Each time he does, it drains Mateo’s magic.” He gives the ring on my finger a pointed look. “Don’t take it off. No matter what.”
I bite my lip. “Won’t Zyrian get through? Sooner or later?”
“Probably.” Bastian runs his hands through his hair. “We’re fighting on many fronts,” he says. “You’ll be safe in Castle Jaeger, and my mother’s library might have something that will tell us how to break the curse. But the secret to your identity is in New York. Until we have some answers, we can’t leave here.”
“Why will I be safer in Castle Jaeger?”
“It’s warded by the most powerful magic in the world,” he replies. “My mother’s. She was the most powerful mage of her time.” His lips twist into a wry smile. “Mateo complains that his magic is muffled in my home, as if Maija Essen is restricting his power.”
“But she’s dead.” A thought strikes me. “Do dragons believe in ghosts?”
“Souls lingering on, unable to depart?” Bastian shakes his head. “My mother was Norse, born in the eleventh century during the waning years of the Viking age. On her death, either the AllFather chose her to lie in the halls of Valhalla, or the goddess Freyja took her to Fólkvangr.”
I stare at him. He’s five hundred years old. What’s mythology to me is history to him. “How does it feel?” I whisper. “To be five hundred years old?”
His eyes twinkle. “That, mausezähnchen, depends on when you’re asking me the question. Some days, I wake up, and I carry the world on my shoulders.”
I can believe that.
“This morning, on the other hand…” He tugs me closer and kisses me. “This morning, I woke up believing I could conquer the world.”
I hear the sound of footsteps and draw away from Bastian just as Erik and Silas walk into the kitchen. Silas looks confused. “I have an appointment with someone called Dr. Burdick,” he says. “Do you guys know anything about this?”
Bastian clears his throat. “I called him,” he confesses. “Dr. Burdick is a dragon. He’s also the world’s foremost expert on shifter diseases. I called in a favor.”
My eyes soften. Despite everything that’s going on—Raedwulf, Uncle Pete’s death, the stolen diary, the curse and the prophecy—Bastian still found the time to call a doctor about Silas’ health.
He is so getting a blowjob.
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing, mausezähnchen.”
He’s wrong. The twenty-thousand-dollar Chanel purse is nothing. This is the exact opposite. This matters.
Casius chooses that moment to walk in. “I think I have a way of shoring up Mateo’s wards,” he announces and then takes in the small gathering around the kitchen table. “What’s going on?”
I quickly explain this morning’s errand. I’m just showing Casius the USB key when Mateo and Rhys walk in, Rhys carrying a laptop. “Plug it in.”
With shaking fingers, I do as Rhys asks. Everything about my identity is on this key.
But will it give me the answers I seek?
15
Casius
While Aria reads her file, I watch her.
She remembers some of her foster homes, of course. She was eleven when she ran away from Denna Norton’s house. Deena’s latest loser boyfriend had started to make a habit of walking into the bathroom when Aria was using it. Denna Norton didn’t give a shit about the girl, just about the income each foster child brought in.
She’d been in the Washington Heights home for two years. Before that, she remembered living in the Bronx. “Not too long,” she’d said. “A little over two months? Their names were Tom and Samantha.”
I’d gone to the address she’d given me, but the bungalow she’d described was no longer there. In its place was a sleek glass-and-brick unit. I’d talked to the owners, but they had no idea who Tom and Samantha were. “We bought it from a Japanese couple,” the woman who’d answered the door had said. “Before them, I think it was being rented out?”
Before Silas came along and lent stability to her life, she bounced around a lot. Now, as she lists the names on the screen, I realize how much she’s been through. She’s been in eighteen foster homes.
Eighteen homes in nine years.
Silas Archer nods at the screen. “I remember them,” he says. “Tom and Samantha Rivers. Before that, Molly and Paul Everhart in East Harlem.” He reads out a few more names that he recognizes. Finally, he stops at a page. “Krista Fanning didn’t know who had Aria before her,” he says. “The trail stopped cold there.”
Bastian’s eyes rake over the screen. “There are five additional names here.”
Aria swallows. “If anyone knows anything about my birth parents, it would be my first foster home, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s as good a theory as any,” Rhys says. He’s got his arm around her, and I know he’s as angry as I am at how much turmoil our mate has had in her life. “Pauline Summers in Queens. Let’s go find her.”
“Not yet,” I cut in. “Right now, keeping Zyrian out of Aria’s mind is the bigger priority.”
Bastian raises his eyebrow. “You said you had a way of shoring up Mateo’s wards.”
“Yes. Aria’s do-not-notice tattoo gave me the idea. Mateo used his blood to make the ward last night, but we all have the mark on our wrists.”
“All our blood.” Mateo closes his eyes. “Of course.”
I expect Erik to protest, but he nods in agreement.
“More than that. Our blood needs to be connected to Aria’s. We need another tattoo. Let’s go see Aria’s friend, the one who owns some illegal dragon blood. He can apply it.”
Aria lifts her chin defiantly. “I stole that blood from MagLabs,” she says. “Not Pieter. If he’s in trouble, I should
be too.”
She’s so loyal. “Your friend is safe,” I assure her. “I’ll even let him keep the rest of my blood. But Mateo must wipe his memory after he’s done. It’s for his own safety.”
“Okay.” She gets to her feet. “First East Harlem, now Park Slope. I’m all over the city today.” She winks at Bastian. “I talked Erik into taking the subway, but somehow, I can’t see you in it.”
Rhys laughs out loud. “Dragon Prince Bastian Jaeger taking public transit. Bastian, I will send you that Picasso I won in the auction if you do it.”
His eyes gleam with amusement. “You’re on, Griffith.”
16
Aria
Pieter is touchingly glad to see me. “I thought you’d been burned to a crisp,” he says, hugging me tightly.
Bastian clears his throat, and I give him a death glare. Seriously? He has no problems with all five of them being my mate, but I can’t hug my friend?
“I’m fine,” I say, disengaging myself from Pieter’s grip. “The dragons aren’t as bad as they’re made out to be.”
The tattoo artist focuses on the guys for the first time. Mateo’s gaes at work. When he sees them, his eyes widen. “Are these…”
“Yup. The five dragon princes. Bastian, Casius, Mateo, Rhys, and Erik, meet Pieter Van Den Berg.”
His mouth falls open. “You’re shitting me.”
“Nope. See? I’m perfectly fine. They’re really not scary at all. Big teddy-bears, all five of them.”
I have to hold back my laugh at their reaction to that comment. I swear Erik turns purple. It’s hilarious.
“Indeed, tesoro.” Mateo gives me an amused glance before turning to Pieter. “We need your help,” he says. “I need a knife and a bowl. And can you shut the store?”
“Umm. Sure thing.” Pieter locks the door and closes his blinds, flipping his sign to ‘Closed.’ Opening a drawer, he pulls out a Swiss Army penknife. “Will this work?”
