“Wistful,” Tristan said. “That’s a good word for it.”
“I like other art as well. I’m just… It feels like fate, doesn’t it? That he came to my city. That I found his work before others did. Other than you, I mean.”
Tristan nodded. “I got lucky.”
“Yeah,” she said. “So are we going to see another one today?”
“Yes. I thought so.”
“Good,” she said, taking another bite. “I can’t wait. It’s almost too much excitement at once.”
“I hope not,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to faint again.”
“I didn’t faint that day,” she said. “And I didn’t even get to see Astray’s art. I just fell and hit my head like an idiot. Speaking of which, how did you get there so fast?”
“I was just grocery shopping. You know, since mine got ruined.”
“Right,” she said, flushing. “That was my bad. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said, waving a hand. “Groceries are replaceable. Besides, it meant I was there when you needed me.”
“Yeah,” she said, feeling suddenly solemn as she stared at her sandwich. “That’s kind of new for me.” She tried to brighten her expression, hoping it didn’t seem forced. “How did things go with Xander? Is he mad about the couch?”
“No,” Tristan said, feeling blood rush into his cheeks as he sat there. “I mean, we didn’t talk about it. It’s a pretty cheap couch. That’s why it’s easy to lift.”
“Why didn’t you put it back?”
“I couldn’t,” he said, and the bashful look on his face made her heart melt. “Every time I look at it from now on, I’ll remember the best night of my life. I don’t want Xander touching it.”
She laughed, flushing slightly. “I get it. You’re possessive with your things. Thus, the big vault for your art, living here all alone, hiding from everyone—”
“Well, there are reasons for that.” He took a deep breath. “I know I said I wouldn’t talk about the reasons we hide, but I can tell you that there are people around who don’t want us to be here. If they discover us, we have to move.”
“Like who? Drug pushers or something? Are you part of the mafia or something? Running from your family?”
He snorted. “No.”
“Are you a criminal?” Her tone was teasing. “On the run after stealing works of art in a museum heist?”
“No,” he said, laughing openly now. “My works all have verified provenance.”
“Then who? Who could scare away a freaking billionaire like you? Other billionaires? Weird art collectors who want to steal from you?” She blinked. “Are you the long-lost cousin of a dictator who thinks you’ll take their throne one day?”
He laughed, a deep, rough sound that made her heart sit up and take notice. “You really have an imagination. No, nothing like that. Let’s just say I’m in someone else’s territory, and if they find me, I’ll be in trouble. We’ll leave it at that.”
“Fine,” she said, munching her sandwich. “But I’m going to imagine whatever I want.”
He smiled. “You do that.” He stood, downing the rest of his sandwich in one bite as he went to the counter to clean up. “I’ll call us a taxi, and we’ll leave in a bit.”
“Great,” she said, smiling around her sandwich. “I can’t wait.”
It was dangerous spending time with this beautiful, complex man when she didn’t know much about him.
But then again, she’d never been averse to risk, and so far, Tristan was definitely worth the danger.
Chapter 14
The taxi was cramped and smelly, and Tristan was glad when they arrived at their destination and he could help her out into fresh air.
Well, semi-fresh.
“Big Joe’s Scrap and JunkerZ?” Kelsie accentuated the final consonant with her teeth clenched.
“Yeah, I feel like the Z on the end didn’t need to be capitalized,” Tristan replied.
“Mistake or intentional?”
“I guess we’ll never know,” he said solemnly.
Ahead of them, a small, unmanned booth marked the entrance into the astonishingly large scrapyard that rose above the urban landscape like some heaping monument to human consumption.
“Are we allowed in?” Kelsie asked.
“Since when were you one to worry about a little trespassing?” Tristan said over his shoulder as they strode into the place. Thankfully, it was fairly quiet, though men’s voices talking animatedly from the direction of a small trailer meant that the place wasn’t entirely deserted.
“Construction sites and alleys are one thing, but I think I might get tetanus just looking at this place,” Kelsie said nervously.
“Just stay close to me. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” Above them, a rusted sign said, “All visitors must check in at main office. No customers on site when crane in use.”
To their left, the aforementioned crane—a large, rusted, yellow-painted structure—was busy lifting a car off the ground from one giant pile and moving it to another, though for what purpose, Tristan had no clue.
Then the voices of the men sounded like they were getting closer, and Tristan wrapped an arm around Kelsie, ducking them off to the side, tucked between two twenty-foot-high rows of smashed vehicles.
They’d be in and out in ten minutes if things went right.
Tristan led Kelsie down the row past several mangled heaps of steel and iron. All around them, the scent of dirt and corrosion wafted like flies while the sun cast eerie shapes on the ground around them.
“I’ve never been somewhere like this,” she said conspiratorially, coming beside him as she peered into the unorganized piles as if searching for treasure.
From the first when he’d met her, Tristan had to admit that he’d loved that about her. Kelsie’s curiosity, her ability to be interested in adventures and new things despite the risk to her.
He wanted to go on all those adventures with her, experience a life outside his apartment.
His thoughts were interrupted as they rounded another corner into an area where uncrushed cars were strewn about or laid into haphazard piles on top of each other. Nearby, Tristan could hear the crane moving and the sound of metal squealing and groaning in the crusher.
But they were close to Astray’s piece now.
“Not a very cheery place, is it? Like a car graveyard,” Kelsie said, appraising an old black mustang that had been recently picked at for spare parts.
Thankfully, when Tristan reached his hand out to take Kelsie’s, she grasped him back, her soft palm warm in his. Even the slight contact distracted him with images of how they’d spent their time together in private.
If they weren’t in a place like this, he’d have a mind to do something right now.
But he pressed forward, moving to the back of the yard.
And between two large piles of cars, Tristan found it.
A nondescript white van, without markings, sat beneath a wall of vehicles that rose up behind it. The van was in surprisingly good shape, though the interior was stripped.
Tristan strode up to it and pulled at the sliding side door. At first, it didn’t move. Then, with a grunt, it yanked free, hinges screeching until it was all the way open.
Behind it, painted on the white of the van’s interior opposite the door, was another Astray piece.
This one was much smaller than the others, all of a few feet in diameter, depicting a young child sitting on the ground. The child’s head was buried in folded arms that rested on its knees, while out of its back, small, tattered wings rose up, disappearing into the van’s roof.
It was impressionistic, almost violent in its brushstrokes, as Astray’s work usually was.
“No way,” Kelsie said, and Tristan moved out of the way so she could get a better look. “How lucky is it that this has remained untouched? Imagine if you hadn’t found it and it had ended up like hundreds of other cars here, smashed?”
“Perhaps Astray
hides art in places no one can find it sometimes,” Tristan said. “Maybe he makes more pieces than most people know.”
Kelsie put her hands on her hips as she peered over at him. “Do you know him or something? How are you so informed?”
“I have connections,” Tristan said.
Her eyes went wide. “To Astray?”
“To someone who can tip me off about his work,” Tristan said, hoping this line of questioning just died.
“I see,” Kelsie said, nodding. “Money really can buy anything. Damn, that would be so cool to have a connection with him. To know everything about him or his work.”
Tristan had to try hard not to feel jealous at the way she talked about Astray. It was stupid for him to feel that way. She’d been a fan of the artist before she even knew Tristan existed. Still, his dragon didn’t like it much at all.
He sighed, resting back against a nearby van while she took photos. Hearing her praise any other male and getting mad about it meant he really was getting ideas about having her for a mate forever.
Those kinds of thoughts were more dangerous than any junkyard.
“I’ve never seen such a small piece, but it’s beautiful,” Kelsie said from inside the van. The rhythmic sounds of her camera snapping photos were almost reassuring as Tristan kept an eye out for anyone coming toward them.
Thankfully, a particularly large pile of scrap blocked their view of the nearby crane and the rest of the yard, so it was unlikely anyone would see them back here.
Tristan felt like he could do this all day, though. Watch Kelsie work, doing the thing she loved to do. Protect her so she could be safe while doing it. Then afterward, they could go home and…
She sighed. “This one is so evocative. Just look at the way the child is sitting. The way the red conveys a sense of rage that almost mitigates the longing.”
“Ah. I didn’t notice,” Tristan responded, not really wanting to look at the painting again.
“Do you think there are other paintings here at this yard?” she asked, attention focused on the screen of her camera as she clicked a button to scroll through the pictures she’d taken.
“He never puts two pieces in the same location,” Tristan said flatly, walking over to stand next to her. As she bent to get an angle, a curl fell over her forehead, and Tristan leaned forward to move it behind her ear. As he did, her gaze shot up to his, and she flushed slightly.
“You’re right,” she said, her lips slightly parted after she’d finished speaking. So full, so luscious. Tristan couldn’t think of anything to say other than…
Mate.
He pulled his hand back as if his skin were burning.
“Did you get everything you needed?” he asked. “Because we probably shouldn’t push our luck here, just in case.”
“Yup,” she exclaimed, fidgeting a bit before putting her camera away, and Tristan moved to shut the door, closing it before they headed back for the entrance.
But they didn’t get very far when a man’s voice, presumably calling out instructions for the crane operator over a radio, started to get louder and louder.
“Farther back. No, too far.”
The mechanical whirring of the crane was getting close overhead, and Tristan looked up.
“No, too far. Stop! Dammit, Ben, stop!” But the angry voice was the least of Tristan’s worries as, above them, the crane’s gigantic claw hung nearby, carrying a truck.
But the operator was either asleep at the controls or he wasn’t paying attention because the heavy payload was heading straight for a too-tall pile of cars.
A pile that he and Kelsie were standing right next to…
With a metallic groan and a crash, the claw collided into the pile of scrapped cars, overturning a half dozen wrecks right toward them. Kelsie looked up just in time to gasp.
There wasn’t time to run. There wasn’t time to hide. In his human form, he’d never be able to keep so much mass from crushing them beneath the metal landslide as it avalanched toward them.
Tristan pulled Kelsie into his side just as she screamed in shock.
Then he did the only thing he could to save them.
He shifted.
The pile swayed and slid and fell, and Tristan cloaked himself to be invisible as he grew in the blink of an eye from his human form to his dragon. The shift was just fast enough, and he tented his wings on his sides, shielding Kelsie beneath him from all directions just as thousands of pounds of metal and scrap fell against his side.
Tristan pushed back, holding the tidal wave of junk with all of his weight while he looked down at Kelsie, who stood in place, stunned.
Of course she would be, since he was invisible and all Kelsie could see right now was a wall of crushed cars next to them, held up by some invisible force.
“Tristan? Tristan!” Kelsie called out, looking around in terror for his human form. She had no idea what was going on, and who could blame her?
The pile of junk heaved again, and Tristan knew that before anything else happened, he needed to make sure Kelsie was safe.
“You can’t see me, but I’m here,” he said, voice deeper in this form, and Kelsie jumped a little where she was standing, surprised by the sound. “Get to safety.”
Nearby, the voices of more men were getting closer.
Damn, he couldn’t be seen like this, out in the open, right in view of so many humans.
Thankfully, Kelsie didn’t hesitate, and she ran out from under his wings and hid behind a nearby stack of cars, far enough away from any danger that Tristan was confident he could shift back without her being in any danger.
Just as several men in yellow construction hats were starting to round the corner, he changed again.
All at once, the heap of vehicles that had been held back by his dragon’s size fell forward, and Tristan leapt away to avoid finding himself beneath it. Thankfully, he was still incredibly agile, and he quickly avoided the mass as it rolled over itself. It stopped just as Tristan reached Kelsie’s side.
Luckily, all the humans had been standing far enough back as well.
“Wha… wha… what just happened?” Kelsie exclaimed, eyes wide and fixed on the now-still pile of cars strewn far out in front of them. “Shouldn’t we be dead?”
But Tristan didn’t have time to answer as the workers reached them, and they all spoke in unison, expressions varied.
“Are you okay?”
“Hey, you’re not supposed to be here.”
“Can’t you read the sign?”
“Should we call an ambulance?”
Kelsie, still shocked, just gaped in the direction of the workers.
Tristan pulled her in close and faced the men.
“We’re fine, all fine here,” he said with a dismissive wave. One of the workers folded his arms, seeming suspicious, while the others turned their attention to the pile of cars that could have caused a tragic accident.
But the only accident here was that he’d had to shift. And now Kelsie knew.
Or at least she knew something wasn’t normal about him.
Damn, how was he going to explain this to her? He hadn’t expected to ever have to shift.
“Are you sure you’re fine?” the worker asked.
“We’re fine. Sorry if we caused any trouble,” Tristan said over his shoulder as he pulled Kelsie with him and they walked away. He produced his phone with his other hand and called a cab to pick them up as they exited the junkyard.
But of all the problems he’d expected to get into while cruising the streets for Astray’s work, having to tell Kelsie that he was a dragon, or any kind of supernatural creature, was the one problem Tristan hadn’t anticipated.
For the first time in his life, he was utterly without a plan.
“Come on. We’ll talk at my place,” he said solemnly.
Kelsie just nodded, her face pale as she followed him into the cab.
Chapter 15
Kelsie was in utter shock as they rode back to Tristan’
s house.
One second, they’d been facing certain death; the next, she was safe, something invisible hovering around her, holding the cars up as if by magic.
And then Tristan’s voice all around her, vibrating through her like it came from above.
She had so many things she wanted to ask him, but she could tell from his hard expression that he was determined to wait until they got to his place.
The cab pulled up by the building next to his, and as she followed him around the back to the secret entrance he used, it took everything in her not to just start yelling questions.
The second they were safely back in the living room, she couldn’t wait any longer. “What was that? What the hell was that? Are you a ghost? Like a giant one?” She paced back and forth in the living room. “Wait, am I even safe here? Is that why you’re hiding?” She stared at him, blinking. “What are you?”
Tristan was quiet and merely set aside his jacket and sat down on the couch. Then he sank forward, head in his hands, fingers moving through his hair tensely, and Kelsie felt a bit of remorse.
Slowly, she walked over and sat down next to him. This was the same man she’d trusted so far, and if he was that thing, he’d still saved her life. Images of his face when they were looking at paintings, when they made love, when they were dancing flooded through her, and she knew.
She was falling for this guy.
Which meant she couldn’t just flip out on him. “I’m sorry,” she said, putting a hand on his warm, thick forearm. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to explain.”
He looked up at her, blue eyes stricken, lines of stress underneath them. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who screwed everything up.”
She squeezed his arm, then moved down to his hand, intertwining her fingers with his so he couldn’t escape her. “I’m sorry I yelled. I just… It was frightening.”
“Me or the situation?”
“The situation,” she said. “I couldn’t see you. For a minute, I thought you’d died. And then yeah, the invisible thing. I just… It’s a lot.”
Dragon Next Door: Forgotten Dragons Book 1 Page 9
