That is not why you drink. The beast snorted flame into the sky, his patterns jarring and vivid. Waves trailed through the dew and clung to the side of the van when he swiped the vehicle with his tail.
“Yes, it is.” Ladon did have a headache. It pounded against his temples and Dragon’s reprimands weren’t helping.
You could shower.
“She’s showering.” Naked, the spray running down the curve of her back and over her breasts. Those damned cuffs sliding along her damp skin. Ladon tried to force back the image by tapping his knuckles against his forehead. He’d rein in these thoughts. Give her the space she needed.
He hadn’t done so upstairs. He’d seen it on her face after her phone buzzed. She’d looked at him the same way she had the night before, when he touched her hair.
Modern women were confusing. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
You will show her respect. You will not drink and make her leave. Dragon dropped his head and set his forelimbs, wild pulses rebounding across his shoulders. She is not afraid of me and I want her to stay.
The beast hopped around Ladon like a giant glowing dog and made his head hurt more. Behind them, the van’s door stood open and the morning sun flooded the interior. He could get another bottle. He needed clean clothes, anyway. And he’d left out their tools.
You have no right to act this way with me. I am not the one who almost had sex with Rysa.
“I did not!” He yelled louder than he meant to. Three sparrows in the front yard took wing. “I wasn’t going to.” Though he would have, if the circumstances had been right. Are right. Will be right. He grimaced, knocking his knuckles against his forehead again. He’d sworn to give her distance but his desire for her hips wouldn’t leave him alone.
Dragon pranced sideways, his entire body between Ladon and the vehicle. She is upset about her mother. The shackles frighten her. She does not understand what it means to be a Fate. You will make her feel less in control if you give in to your base desires.
Ladon stepped forward and stopped inches from Dragon’s snout. He wanted to yell “You’re not my sister!” and drop into the van’s driver’s seat with a bottle in each hand but he sniffed and slapped the beast’s neck instead. “She’s affecting me. I can’t think.”
Do not blame Rysa.
“I’m not blaming her!” We didn’t even kiss, he pushed.
You are acting like the Draki Prime when they were teenagers. Dragon raised his head and blew more flame into the sky. You want her to stay as much as I do. Yet you behave like an idiot.
Ladon whipped a pebble down the driveway. It skipped across the gravel before slamming into the mailbox post next to the road. A crow sitting on the box took flight, cawing the avian form of “Idiot!” If the bird had a middle finger, it would have made a grand gesture at Ladon.
He’d awoken this morning with a beautiful woman wrapped around him. Beautiful and without the usual disdain heaped on him by Fates and Shifters.
Though disdain wasn’t the correct word. They showed more of a reverent and terrible awe. It manifested as the nervous stare of someone afraid of a beating.
All the wars, all the battles. How did he justify five centuries as a Roman Legatus? All the killing. Sooner or later, the disdain would dart through Rysa’s eyes. No matter how he detailed his life, or explained his reasons and the context of his history, it would raise its head and nothing else would matter.
In the eyes of modern women, how could he be anything other than a monster? “She’s a Fate. She’s not going to stay with us. You have to understand that.”
She will do as she pleases. I will not drive her away because I am afraid she will leave. Dragon flicked Ladon’s shoulder, his irritation swarming through their connection like a full hive of bees. We have lived long enough for you to understand this, Human.
Ladon slapped the beast’s neck again. “You’re the idiot! I’m realistic.” The beast may be right, though. Both dragons had a sense of the world as it was. Better sense than his. Better than the Draki Primes’.
His brother-in-law chuckled and said they saw better than any human. If they couldn’t see the world, how could they mimic it?
“She was sleeping right next to me.” Wiggling her thigh against his crotch. Ladon rolled his shoulders, stretching the ligaments. And she smells nice, he pushed.
Dragon snorted, ignoring him. I want a bath.
“Then take one. No one’s stopping you.” Dirty dragons were surly dragons. Perhaps the beast might stop chastising him if his back wasn’t covered with soot. “You look like a giant lint ball when you mimic to invisibility.”
Dragon pushed Ladon toward the porch.
Behind them, Harold walked out of the shed carrying two sawhorses. “There are shammies in the garage. I’ll get the hose when we’re done.” He set the sawhorses next to the van but thought better of it. He tapped his chin and moved them to the side, into better light.
Dragon ducked into the vehicle and reappeared with his jug of baby shampoo. Scrub my ridges.
“Looks like now’s the time. I’ll go get it, then.” Harold pointed over his shoulder.
Ladon slapped the beast’s tail. “Only if you stop complaining.” He’d had enough badgering for the day. He stripped off his t-shirt and boots. No use getting his clothes soaked. “You hold still this time. And don’t dowse me.”
I will dowse you if I want to. You were going to have sex with Rysa.
“Let it go!” Twenty-three centuries and the beast picked now to drive him insane. “She’s had enough hurt in her life. I won’t add to it.”
Harold walked out of the garage, shammies and hose in hand. He hooked the hose to the water feed by the porch. “You better not. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off female Fate.”
Ladon grabbed the hose with more force than he intended. Male, female, Hell hath no fury like an angry Fate. They’d stew and plan and vengeance would pierce his left shoulder above his clavicle with an arrow poisoned with the blood of a Burner. Ladon shuddered, wishing he hadn’t pulled up that memory.
Harold took a step back as he gestured surrender. “I just think you need to talk to her about what it means when the Great Sir takes a shine.” He pointed at Dragon.
Ladon sprayed the beast’s side, ignoring Harold. Why were women complicated? It used to be that all he had to do was smile and run his finger down an arm and he’d have himself a companion.
Until she got sick of him.
Sooty water splashed off of Dragon’s haunch.
The water is cold. The beast rolled away from Ladon’s shammy.
“I’m going in.” Harold waved in Ladon’s general direction. “She’s Jani. You treat her well. If you don’t, you put all our lives in danger, you son of a bitch.” Harold flicked Ladon a rude gesture as he walked into the house, the screen door slamming behind him.
What did Harold care? The Jani had ignored Marcus for a century and a half and weren’t likely to start caring now.
Ladon scrubbed at Dragon’s shoulder, harder than he should, and tried to ignore the beast’s complaints about the water’s temperature. “How many rivers have you bathed in? It’s no worse than that.” You’re acting like a baby, he pushed.
I have bathed in many rivers. They were also cold.
The bath would take forever if the beast kept rolling around like a hedgehog. “Why don’t you wash yourself? You can hold the shammy.”
My ridges are dirty. The beast presented the bumps along his back. They ran his entire length, interweaving in an intricate plaited pattern.
Ladon had seen both dragons rub trees bare of bark to clean their backs. He sprayed Dragon and scrubbed between two particularly dirty bumps. Best to wash the grumpy beast and save Marcus’s oak.
Dragon’s coat didn’t wave under the water and it appeared duller than it should. Ladon rinsed off the shampoo and the beast’s ultra-fine, transparent down rebounded, but not as well as it should have.
“Someone needs a sa
lt scrub.”
I need to sleep.
“We’ll get you home.” And Sister would act like an adult. She’d help protect Rysa so they could rest.
Dragon snorted. Sister and Sister-Human are stubborn.
Yes, they were. Thank the gods for Derek. Ladon hoped his brother-in-law could talk some sense into his sister.
***
Rysa watched through the screen door. The mesh pixelated Dragon’s hide. Her eyes attempted to compensate but his colors looked like they’d been visually autotuned. A headache threatened.
Or maybe she had a drumbeat against her temples because of what had happened upstairs. If she went outside right now, she’d fall over dead from embarrassment before her foot hit the porch steps. In the shower, phantoms of the dream had played across her skin as the warm water ran down her thighs. She’d caught herself moaning once, her fingers spread on the shower wall tile.
Outside, Ladon scrubbed soot off Dragon’s flank. They bickered. She couldn’t hear it, but felt it through their connection and saw it in Ladon’s body language. Rysa watched as Ladon’s arm rubbed, then stopped. His shoulders stiffened before he sprayed more water.
Confusion latched onto her proto-headache and clamped tight the muscles at the base of her skull. Her seers knew they’d get physical, and soon, too. It didn’t matter if involvement in her issues complicated his life. And Dragon’s.
It wasn’t like she had impulse control. Running away and talking too much telegraphed her issues. And that stupid bounce she did when she felt enthusiastic made everyone around her sigh. How long before Ladon got sick of watching her do that? Last semester, a guy she liked and who seemed to like her started pinching his lips when she became excited. Two dates, the relationship lasted. Less than a week.
But that was her life. No control. Her mother abandoned her with a nasty thing in her head.
And a very nasty accusation.
She wasn’t going to think about it now. It couldn’t be true. She’d never—never—do anything to hurt anyone. She’d never hurt Ladon and Dragon.
Outside, Ladon walked around Dragon’s side. He fluctuated between finding her attractive and stomping around because she was a Fate. Navigating his mood swings was as confusing as navigating her own.
Behind her, Harold cleared his throat. She spun around. He stood in the hallway to the kitchen holding a prescription bottle and a coffee mug. “He may look your age—and honest to God he’s acting like a kid right now—but he’s not.”
She blinked, half pulled from her focus by Harold’s comment. Yet she couldn’t stop looking out the door. Smooth and agile, Ladon moved like he knew where everything was—his own body, Dragon, the ground, the van, trees, handholds. Everything. She could watch him run, jump, and climb all day long.
“Rysa.” Harold had moved next to her when she wasn’t paying attention. “Did you hear me?”
“Sorry.” She didn’t feel hyper, but she did feel overwhelmed and paying attention to anyone other than Ladon was difficult.
“It’s okay. With all that’s happened, I’d have a hard time focusing, too.” He held out a bottle. “Ladon-Dragon brought these in this morning before running light therapy with Marcus.” He glanced at the ceiling. “When you and Ladon-Human were still sleeping.”
Her meds. They’d grabbed her meds from her kitchen counter? A flash of a memory burst into her vision, then vanished just as fast: Her seers had known at the house that he’d tucked them into his pocket.
She stared at the bottle. How was she supposed to get a handle on using her abilities? She didn’t know if what she knew was something she should know. “They rescued my meds?”
Harold shrugged and the pills inside the bottle rattled. “Looks that way.”
The damned cuff smacked his wrist when she took her meds. “Sorry!”
He patted the back of her hand and handed over the mug. “Water. He’ll be done with the Great Sir soon.” He nodded toward Ladon and Dragon. “Marcus is mediating. He’s looking for who’s behind all this.” He frowned when he glanced at the hallway. “I wish he wouldn’t.”
Rysa opened her meds and downed a pill. Maybe they’d help calm her seers. They helped her attention, even if they did make her nauseated. She figured it was a trade-off she’d have to live with, if she was going to function in the modern world.
She pointed with the mug toward Marcus’s study/ bedroom down the hallway. “He doesn’t have to look.” But all she saw was fire. If they were going to get answers, Marcus needed to find them, not her.
Harold didn’t respond. He took the mug and stood for a moment, watching Ladon and Dragon. “Go out and give him a hand. He’s been sulking since he came downstairs. Seeing your lovely face will make him feel better.” Harold raised the mug and winked before vanishing into the kitchen.
She set down her meds. Outside, Ladon swaggered around Dragon.
He jumped against the corner of the van, one bare foot hitting the bumper and the other about halfway up the vehicle, a shammy in hand. A twist and he landed gently—how, Rysa could not fathom—with one foot on Dragon’s shoulder and a knee on the base of his neck.
When he leaned over, lovingly scrubbing the beast’s back ridges, the sun hit the water clinging to his shoulders.
Rysa moaned. She couldn’t stop it before it passed her tongue and she wasn’t sure she wanted to, anyway. Every inch of her skin tingled. Her breasts wanted to be touched. Her thighs pressed together. Her lips parted.
The dream flitted through her senses once again.
She pinched her eyes closed. How the hell was she supposed to handle this? Did all new Fates go through the future and past interfering with the present? Or was this just because she was singular? Hopefully, Marcus could help.
“It’s no colder than it was ten minutes ago!” Ladon yelled as he dropped off the beast’s back.
Dragon grabbed the shammy. He wiped his head and his chest, his big tail flicking across the gravel.
“Fine!” Ladon stalked away and stopped next to his t-shirt and boots. “Don’t waste the water.”
They’d started bickering again.
Dragon flicked one arm over the top of his head, his six fingers forming the American Sign Language ‘V’ hand-shape with his palm toward his head. Then he flicked his wrist over, rotating the ‘V’ upward.
The door banged shut behind her, the loud clap echoing off the van and the garage as Rysa skidded across the porch to the top step. “He called you an idiot!” she yelled. “Dragon signed idiot at you!” Bouncing, she ran to the gravel, Harold’s too-big sweats sliding down her hips. “What other signs do you know?” Her hands worked as she spoke the words.
Could Dragon sign? She hitched up the sweats as she ran barefoot across the gravel. “Ouch!” A stone poked her heel and she grabbed her foot, wincing.
You can sign? the beast signed. Vivid, wonderful colors and reflections of place and proportion and emotions washed into her perception. Her entire body responded, her back arching, and a moan ripping from her throat. She dropped to her knees on the gravel, stunned by the intimacy cascading over her mind.
17
Overwhelmed by the intensity flooding from Dragon, Rysa teetered against Ladon when he helped her to her feet. She glanced up—all the depth and excitement moving across the beast’s hide also filled Ladon’s expression. Dragon’s lights danced on his human’s skin.
Do you know many signs? Dragon ducked to the other side of Ladon. I will teach you more. I know most signs. He ducked back. Derek signs with me. Marcus remembers some, but Harold does not.
Ladon grinned. “He’s excited.”
You are Rysa. Dragon combined the ‘R’ hand-shape with the sign for ‘laughter.’
“Is that my new name sign?”
Yes.
Joy shot from the beast. A tactile sense of a color flashed: wine, roses, the warmth of a fireplace, moved across her skin like a smooth, tightly woven velvet.
It merged into Ladon’s fingers as th
ey danced over her hips.
Her body responded again, parts heating and limbs wanting to entangle with both the man and the beast. If Ladon started massaging like he did when he found her, she’d have an orgasm right here on the gravel. A full-on, blinding orgasm like Tom never gave her, fully clothed with this man she’d just met.
She shuffled backward, a blush rising up her neck, and stopped about three feet away, her hands smoothing over her thighs on their own.
Ladon’s gaze dropped to her hips.
“Don’t do that!” He’d stare at her body and distract her from everything but his.
His eyes traveled up, stopping at her breasts.
But he didn’t ogle. He looked at her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world and by God he wasn’t going to miss that.
He stood holding his t-shirt, bare-chested and mouth-watering, wearing an expression that said all he wanted to do was to pick her up and kiss her and touch her body and say how sorry he was for running out mad.
She couldn’t be angry with him. His reactions were her fault. She’d brought the inevitability of sex to the forefront this morning, not him.
Rysa closed her eyes and turned around. “Quit distracting me!” How was she supposed to pay attention to what needed to be done? “Put on your stupid shirt.”
A chuckle mixed with the sounds of him pulling the shirt over his head. Then his arms enclosed her waist, his chest and shoulders against her back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was distracting. And here I thought Dragon was—”
She pulled away, holding up her hands. They couldn’t do this. No more of him stroking her waist with his gentle-but-firm touch. She’d melt. She’d lick the spot below his diamond of chest hair the inevitability of sex would become a reality.
She’d ruin everything.
They needed to cut off the cuffs and find her mom and figure out what to do about the Burners and—
Games of Fate (Fate ~ Fire ~ Shifter ~ Dragon #1) Page 12
