“Of course I would.” Whoa, there was no hesitation in her answer.
Balthazar nodded. “That’s good enough for me.”
“So now that’s out of the way.” She wrapped her hands around the mug. “What’s the story about your brother?”
“He wants me dead.”
Eva thought she hadn’t heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”
“Ti wants me dead.” His smile was gone.
“Hang on. Ti—like in the story I heard back at the hotel?”
“Yes.”
Someone cleared his throat, and she glanced up at the blond man, Thorsson. “My lord—”
“Thorsson, Eva needs to understand.” Balthazar played with a fork. “My brother fought me for the family inheritance. I almost lost, but my younger brother, Lancelot, who you met tonight, stepped in and chased my brother off.”
“He’s the blond man who was with you? I suppose he has a dragon name too?”
“Lancelot is his human name. Lan is his dragon.”
“Oh, come on, Balthazar, now you’re really shitting with me!”
“I’ll show you something tomorrow morning that will convince you.”
Eva had met archeologists who invented stories around their findings to the point of believing them, instead of dealing with facts. Maybe Balthazar really wanted to believe that dragons existed, and telling him about the Viking vase hadn’t helped matters. “All right, I’ll let you humor me. But in the meantime, you’re expecting your brother Ti to come here?”
“Any day now.”
That alarmed her. “Shouldn’t you call the police?”
“No authorities. I’ll take care of it with Lancelot’s and my security’s assistance.”
“Look, I don’t want to get caught up in the middle of a family dispute—”
“You already have, Eva. I’m sorry.”
***
He escorted her to a guest room upstairs. “I’m sure you must be exhausted. Tomorrow morning, I promise I’ll explain everything in more detail and show you what I’m talking about.”
She looked around the spare bedroom. Her carry-on sat beside a dresser, but she only had enough strength to strip off her clothes before falling head first into the soft down pillow. She closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.
Her eyes snapped open moments later. Thunderous banging echoed through the walls. She glanced at her watch and was surprised that she had slept for a couple of hours. Shouts seeped beneath her door.
Balthazar’s brother must be here. Eva threw on her jeans and sweatshirt, and then slowly opened the door. The pounding grew louder, and a piercing scream made her jump in fright. Balthazar.
She hurried down the stairs and paused at the bottom step to listen. Several voices originated from the kitchen at the back of the house, and she ran in that direction. Suddenly she stopped, blocked by Thorsson’s massive frame. “What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t you hear the screams? Is Balthazar okay?”
“Mr. Andal is fine.”
Another muffled scream caught her attention. “What the hell is going on?”
“There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Eva caught sight of a couple of shadows in the darkened hallway behind the security guard. “I want to see Balthazar.”
Thorsson took a step forward. “No.”
“What Thorsson means is my brother is indisposed.” Lancelot stood behind the other man, his face in shadow.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“His wound. It causes him great pain sometimes. He’s having a bad time of it tonight.”
“Please, if there’s anything I can do—”
Lancelot stepped past the guard, his green eyes practically glowing in the dim light. “Thank you, but no. He should be fine in the morning.”
Eva wasn’t convinced, but all she could do was head upstairs. Balthazar’s screams haunted her before she fell into a restless sleep.
***
Dawn tinged the clear sky with hints of pink and orange when Balthazar slowly walked down the main staircase, bathed and freshly shaved. His night in the basement had been particularly brutal. Bal, his dragon, fought like a demon to be released, and it had taken all of his strength and wits to keep him under control. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on before Bal broke through and killed them both. It didn’t matter what Balthazar told him—all Bal thought of was his impending freedom.
It was perhaps foolish to hope that Eva and her father had found clues to the whereabouts of his scale. He had spent two centuries looking for it on the battleground of the Snaefellsnes Peninsula with no luck. Still, he was taking a huge risk with Eva today—he would show her proof of the existence of dragons.
Balthazar rubbed his shoulder, wincing as sharp needles of pain dug into his flesh. His missing scale had left a raw wound several centimeters in length. Bandages only aggravated it, and he couldn’t stand to look at the exposed pink tissue—it constantly reminded him of his loss. Lancelot had suggested that he get a tattoo to cover the wound. He had thought to stick with a simple pattern of his scale, but his brother encouraged him to be more elaborate. So he decided that in honor of his parents, he would have their faces tattooed over his wound.
Dad’s midnight skin contrasted nicely against Mom’s emerald, and he lightly caressed their images. The artist had done an exceptional job, creating his parents’ likenesses to the last detail. It served as a painful reminder that he would remain human until he found his scale.
He sensed someone in the formal living room to the left. The room hadn’t been used since his parents’ deaths, and he experienced an irrational stab of resentment that someone was in there. However, as he reached the main floor, both he and Bal realized it was Eva.
He leaned against the doorway to watch her. She stood at the opposite side of the room, looking at the dusty old armoire that Mom had ordered from a well-known Viking artist. She traced her fingers over the intricate carving, hesitating over the image of Dad in full dragon mode—head reared back and flames spewing from his mouth. Dad hated that image—he said it made him look too aggressive. And Mom laughed, patting his cheek gently, agreeing with him, and then she turned to look at him and his brothers with a knowing wink.
He knew Bal watched Eva as intently as he was doing now. In his life, Balthazar had met only one other human woman that Bal liked. However, the poor thing almost lost her mind when she found him lying on the floor, bathed in dragon flame and screaming for help—that had been the first time Balthazar and Bal fought for dominance. She had disappeared into the late winter night. By the time he had regained his wits and went looking for her, the front door was wide open and her coat and boots were still on the threshold. He finally found her, almost frozen and half-buried. She had regained her health, but her mind had broken, and any time she saw him, she’d run, screaming uncontrollably.
Balthazar closed his eyes, willing the unpleasant memory away. When he opened them, Eva stood in front of the fireplace, looking at their family portraits. As she turned, her beauty struck him again. Her hair hung just below her shoulders and framed her dark face in black curls. The sweatshirt hid her body, but he remembered how Eva looked beneath her gown last night. But her eyes held his attention—dark pools of intelligence and wit. Eva offered something that other females only hinted at, and Balthazar allowed himself a glimmer of hope that maybe she could accept him for who he truly was.
“Oh!” Eva’s surprised expression changed to interest, and he caught her giving him a very quick and appreciative once-over before focusing on his face. “I didn’t hear you.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “How long have you been standing there?”
He shrugged. “Long enough.”
“I was up early—I couldn’t get back to sleep.” The skin under her eyes was puffy, and she wasn’t smiling, which bothered him even more. Eva moved past the fireplace and laid her hand on the ancient s
tone wall. “I was worried.”
“About what?”
She glanced at him, then looked away quickly. “The house has been in your family a long time?”
“A very long time.” He moved to stand beside her, watching. She wouldn’t look at him, and he wondered if Eva heard his screams last night—he hoped not. “It needed the odd renovation, but it was built to withstand a lot of punishment.”
Her clean scent aroused him, and he shifted his stance so that she couldn’t see his reaction.
“It looks like the house dates back about eight hundred years.”
“Nine hundred.”
She moved away, and Bal growled in annoyance. Balthazar felt the same way, and followed her as she moved to a display case filled with weapons and pieces of jewelry. “That’s an Ulfberht sword,” she said, pointing at the gleaming steel.
“It certainly is.” He loved her knowledge of Icelandic history. “Thorsson has one too.”
“Seriously? These are rare, and when we find one, it’s in bad shape.” Eva leaned over the glass for a closer look. “This one looks like it hasn’t seen any battle.”
“Oh, it has, believe me. Dad took excellent care of it.”
“And Thorsson’s?”
“He uses it when necessary.”
“Are you kidding? Has he chopped someone’s head off or something?”
He didn’t want to tell her that after killing Emilio Fuentes, Thorsson had done exactly that.
“No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” She drifted back to the fireplace and gazed at one of the paintings.
“That’s my brother, Ti.” He stood close to her—he enjoyed watching her expression as she studied things around her.
“You look like him.”
“We all bear a close resemblance to our parents.” He pointed them out in the large painting. Looking at them—his mother smiling, her green eyes sparkling like emeralds, and his father, his stern look hiding the gentleness beneath—brought a sudden wash of grief. It threatened to overwhelm the wall he had built around his heart, as it did every time he came in here.
“A stunning couple,” she said, glancing at him. She stared for a few moments before turning back. Damn it, she’d seen his minor breakdown.
“Thank you,” he managed to say. “I’m proud of them.”
“Do they live in Iceland?”
Shit. He tried to answer but couldn’t get the words out. She remained silent however, until he recovered, Odin bless her. “They died a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry.” She touched his arm.
He grasped her hand and just held it, enjoying her warmth. She squeezed his hand in return and moved closer. Her heat enveloped him, reassuring and calm.
“You said you were worried about something.” He stroked her hand with his thumb. “Care to tell me what it is?”
She stared at him, her eyes filled with concern. “I’m not sure how to tell you.”
“Just give it to me straight.”
She bit her lip, and at the last moment, pulled slightly away. “Look, um, I made coffee.”
“You did? Thank God.” He impulsively kissed her cheek, thinking that Eva would talk to him when she was ready. “I’ll find us some breakfast.”
He held her hand as they walked across the wide foyer towards the kitchen. “I was wondering if that other door in the living room led somewhere?” she asked.
“It’s a library.”
“Ah.” Her expression lit up. “Why is it locked?”
Balthazar laughed. “It’s not. It hasn’t been used in a long time. The door’s stuck.”
He gallantly sat her at the table while he rummaged through the fridge and brought out items to make a quick meal. “Has Thorsson shown his ugly mug yet?”
She laughed. “I haven’t seen anyone.”
“Probably no one’s up yet.” Breakfast was a simple meal of cheese, hard-boiled eggs, crackers and sardines. He positioned the plates on the table and grabbed a mug of coffee for himself. As he sat down and started digging into his meal, he noticed that Eva hadn’t moved. “Are you all right?”
“No.” She looked up, and he drew in a sharp breath—her smile was gone again. Not a good sign.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed. “I’m sure it’s none of my business, and your brother and Mr. Thorsson assured me that you were okay, but I didn’t believe them.”
“Oh.” So Eva had heard him, after all.
“You were screaming last night.” She got up. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
Balthazar rubbed his shoulder. “Just a bad episode.”
“Bullshit. Don’t lie to me.” Eva stepped closer. “I thought you were dying.”
She had no idea how close she was to the truth. “I need to show you something today.”
“Your dragons again?” Her brows drew together. “Look, it was entertaining, but now it’s not.”
“I didn’t tell you my family’s story to entertain you. I want to tell you what’s going on, and this is the only way to prove it to you.”
He grabbed his mug and filled it again, right to the top, then drank it in one swallow—the heat from the coffee didn’t bother him, and the sharp kick of caffeine spread through his limbs. “I’m going to take you to a special place.”
“You mean like a special dragon place?”
Her question held a hint of sarcasm, and Balthazar wasn’t going to fall for it. He heard a slight movement in the hallway beyond the kitchen, and picked up his bodyguard’s scent. “Thorsson, good of you to join us.”
He stepped into the kitchen, silent as a shadow. “Yes, my lord?”
“Thorsson, grab a set of protective clothing for yourself and Miss Haraldsdóttir.”
“Sir?” Thorsson’s eyes widened in surprise.
Balthazar stared at Eva. “I want her to meet my parents.”
Chapter 3
They walked through the gardens at the back of the house. The sun had yet not appeared on the horizon. Wildflowers lined the stone path in a riotous array of color, and Eva inhaled their heady perfume. Stone benches sat randomly through the garden, offering uninterrupted views of the distant landscape with its rolling green hills and grey boulders. The stark beauty of Iceland always delighted her.
Balthazar walked beside her, his gaze fixed on the volcano a couple of miles away. She knew Lysuhóll Volcano had been silent for about three hundred years, but the possibility of an eruption was always imminent. The country was riddled with the massive lava cones. Lancelot and Thorsson brought up the rear, carrying the heat-resistant suits.
“Have you and your father explored past the battleground?”
She was startled out of her thoughts. “We’ve covered about half of Iceland, but haven’t explored north of the peninsula. I’m hoping Papa will be agreeable to an extensive project up here.”
“There’s a Viking community located about two miles north of the volcano.” He pointed. “Beyond the hill. Father’s sword was made there.”
“Really? I didn’t know there were communities in this area.”
“There aren’t. That old village must be buried under, oh, about twenty feet of volcanic ash.”
“Buried? How did you find it?”
“I didn’t.” He glanced at her. “I was with Dad when he had the sword commissioned.”
“Wait a minute. You’re talking—” She quickly added up the approximate years and stopped in her tracks. “Four hundred years?”
Balthazar kept walking but he nodded. “Sounds about right.”
He was seriously delusional, and she couldn’t go on like this. She looked at the security guard. “Mr. Thorsson, I need to know if you believe your boss.”
The big man glanced at Balthazar, who had finally stopped. “Go ahead and answer her, Thorsson,” he said. “She’s only heard the story from me. Eva needs a little more assurance until we get to the grave site.”
Mr. Thorsson looked uncomfortable. It wasn’t so much
his facial expression as his body language. He glanced down at his feet, then rocked on his heels, obviously worried. “Mr. Andal speaks the truth,” he finally said.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because you seem a little uncertain.”
“Not at all. It’s just that I’ve never had to explain to anyone about Mr. Andal’s idiosyncrasies.”
Spoken like a loyal employee. Eva looked at Lancelot, who watched her. “There’s no use asking you, is there?”
He offered a smile and shook his head. “You’ll get an eyeful when we arrive.”
“Great.” All of them believed in the mystical legend. Two of them actually thought they were dragons. She couldn’t get away from here fast enough. Which was too bad, actually, she thought as they continued their walk. Balthazar was a guy who really caught her attention. But how could she flirt with him when every other sentence out of his mouth was about him being a dragon?
They walked for another fifteen minutes before the collapsed dome of Lysuhóll appeared when they crested a small hill. “We’re going inside?” Eva asked.
“No, just to the base.” He pointed at the volcano. “My parents are buried just north of that spot.”
“They’re not in a cemetery?”
Balthazar looked at her. “We’re dragons, Eva. We bury our remains beneath our respective volcanoes.”
She guessed that for him, it made perfect sense. “Of course.”
He cocked a dark eyebrow, and Eva worried that he may have heard the disbelief in her voice.
The next leg of their journey grew tough as they scrambled over small boulders and treacherous footing. The land was pocketed with hidden gaps, and Eva cried out as she stumbled over a hidden rock. Balthazar caught her before she fell and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breasts were crushed against hard muscle, and her mouth was so close to his that she felt his breath on her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, as she found her balance. “I don’t know how I didn’t see that.”
He didn’t let go. “Much of it is grown over. Thorsson and I know this area like the back of our hands.”
His scent teased her, and she wanted to stand within his embrace. Reluctantly, she released her hold on him. “I’ll be more careful.”
Flight of Dragons Page 11
