“Fuck,” Austin cursed.
“Pretty much,” Max agreed.
“And this happens in the Realms every few centuries?” Stella asked.
Damian nodded.
Zach frowned. “But we’re not part of the Realms, right?”
“Earth is more like here,” Damian said, making a fist beside his orrery, releasing the globes to float back to their paths. “It has more periodicity than the Realms do, but there’s no reason it couldn’t be part of a Conjunction. And you all already know there’s bleed through when Realms touch Earth, via rifts. Plus, a Conjunction-level event doesn’t always have to come out in monsters. It can be releases of raw energy—volcanos, tidal waves, that sort of thing.”
“Earthquakes?” Austin guessed, remembering Lee’s story.
“Quite likely.”
“What can we do about a Conjunction though?” Jamison asked. “If it happening is just a mathematical probability?”
Damian leaned back to consider and met Ryana and Max’s eyes in turn before speaking again. “Harden Earth’s defenses. We’ll let the other wardens know—prime them, prepare them—and give them as much access to tech and magic as we can in the interim. We’ll have to buy new warehouses to create, store, and ship warded weapons and ammunitions.”
“Your shareholders won’t like that much,” Zach said with an ironic snort.
“My shareholders can go fuck themselves,” Damian said. “But, no, really, that’s why you’re in charge of them, not me. You’re better at making things palatable.”
“Or hiding them from the books entirely,” Zach said.
“That, too,” Damian agreed. Zach gave Damian a mock salute.
“Back to the Hunters, then,” Austin prompted, looking to Mills.
“Damian,” Mills said, laying a soft hand on his arm, “I’ve made a decision. And it’s not going to make me popular.”
One of his eyebrows rose as he sighed. “Why should anything tonight get any easier for me?”
She patted his arm twice before addressing the group. “Austin, Zach, Stella, you’re all going out. Max will run the fire brigade, just in case. Jamison and I will observe and run assistance from here, and Damian, you and Ryana will stay home.”
It took him a moment to parse what she’d said. “Me? Home? That’s unthinkable. Why?”
Mills pointed at the handprints he’d clutched into the hardwood in front of him earlier, with each of his fingers clearly visible. “That’s why. You’ve had a bad day, Damian. You said so yourself. And your dragon right now…his aura reads a little untrustworthy.” She waved a hand at his body, indicating the magical energies he had that only she could see. “We need to keep you inside.”
Damian would’ve fought her, only he knew she could only tell the truth.
“Stand down, brother. Stay home with me,” Ryana said from his other side, pressing her hand atop his.
If he hadn’t already been bitten by two werewolves tonight he might’ve fought harder, but as it was…. “All right,” he reluctantly agreed.
There was a soft knock on Andi’s door around six p.m. She blinked to life inside her darkened room. She’d had a long night—or day, really—of nightmares, running from the stupid angry rotting dog-thing again, and waking to reality brought no relief. Her memories caught up to her in an instant, everything from the night before: Danny, her uncle, Stella…and Damian.
“Andi?” Sammy asked quietly from the hall. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Andi lied. “Come in.” She pushed herself up in bed and yanked on the chain for her reading light.
Sammy entered and looked around. “Oh, wow.”
“What’s up?” Andi asked, her voice thick with sleep.
“You didn’t answer when I knocked. Why are you wearing all your clothes? And…those clothes?” Sammy had actually driven her to her mom’s funeral; she recognized the outfit Andi had fallen asleep in last night. Then she saw Sammy looking at all the walls, where all her family photos were gone and her shelves missing mementos, like her very own personalized tornado had ripped through. “What happened?”
Andi blew air through pursed lips. “Ambien side effects.”
Sammy’s eyes widened. “Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t know how to drive then.” She walked over to the reversed Fast and the Furious poster on the floor. “What’d Vin and The Rock do now?”
“Wrong room, wrong night,” Andi said, hauling up sheets to cover her dressed oddness as Sammy rehung the poster. She prayed Sammy wouldn’t ask about Damian. If she did, there’d be no way for her to lie. “Not the mirror,” she said, as Sammy reached for it next.
Sammy gestured at her vaguely. “Yeah, you kinda don’t want to see this right now, trust me.” Andi snorted, as Sammy snickered. “Do you want some help? Or some dinner?”
“Nah, I’m not hungry. I’ll grab something from the cafeteria on my way in.”
“Your loss…I ordered ramen. I’ll put some in the fridge for you, though…just in case.” Sammy gave her a sweet smile. “Anything you want to talk about?”
Andi shook her head quickly. “No. I just really need a shower.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but….” Sammy said, and Andi laughed.
“Get out already,” she said, waving her roommate off.
Her phone buzzed. Andi sat down on her penguin-sheeted bed and reached for her phone, knowing that hope was foolish and disappointment was inevitable.
Wanna hang? Danny asked.
Like that was a feasible thing. Ditching Damian only to spend time with her brother—especially when all this was at least his fault. New number, who’s this? she texted back.
Very funny. But he knew her well enough to know that her sarcastic joke was still a “no” and didn’t reply.
Andi stripped out of her funeral attire and stuck it in the back of her closet to be forgotten too. She was never wearing that outfit again if she could help it—right down to the flats—so the only thing she wore into her bathroom was the necklace Damian had given her.
She took it off for inspection, cupping the stone in her palm. It wasn’t anything she could identify. It looked like smoky quartz or a blurry diamond, but with a tiny spark of light inside. Like the hot head of a pin—or a very small trapped genie. She gave her imagination a wistful smile. Technically, she probably should’ve given it back because what if some hunter-person saw it on her and then traced it back to a jewelry shop and found out he’d bought it for her? But she wasn’t willing to give everything up just yet. Ninety-nine-point nine-nine percent of their relationship had been swept away last night. Couldn’t she keep just one thing? Some proof of their having been a them, to survive the next however long she had to last without him? She put the necklace back on, stepped into the shower, and let cold water hit her like a slap.
Just like when he’d thrown her into the pool beneath his castle, when he’d been worried about her being scarred by unearthly blood. How safe she’d felt in his strong arms—even as she’d yelled at him—and how she’d known then, standing in the chest high water, feeling his gaze on her: intense, angry, and interested—that she’d wanted something more. She knew if she looked at herself in the mirror again she’d see the small scar the acidic blood had left beneath her breast.
It was nothing compared to the scar she now had inside her heart. She set her forehead against the cool tile and cried.
“It won’t be so bad, brother.” Ryana had joined him in his bedroom and redecorated the place as she liked. She had Lyka disappear his bed and replaced where it’d been with bench-like couches and a low side table full of all sorts of food he barely remembered from their childhood.
“I do live here, you know,” Damian said, sitting down, noting that all the couches faced his wall of mirrors.
“Grimalkin can change it back when we’re through,” she said, sweeping her wings out behind her as she sat down, with Lyka taking a perch on her shoulder. Ryana waved a hand at the wall of mirrors and assorte
d images of the rest of his team started showing, via whatever was reflective of them nearby. They saw Zach and Austin from the SUV’s side-views, while what was clearly a rearview mirror showed both the men up front and Stella in the SUV’s back seat.
“Ryana, no.” He paced over to the mirrors, waving a hand to turn them off.
“Why?”
He shook his head quickly. “Mills and Jamison are monitoring them. They don’t need us watching too.”
“But why can’t we?”
Largely because Damian had never considered doing it, he’d never been sidelined before. “Because it’s rude.”
“You mean you don’t have a mirror making sure your woman is safe at all times?” Ryana asked, her head tilting sideways. Lyka, sitting on her shoulder, mimicked the motion, twisting her beak.
“No. Andi doesn’t want that, and neither do I.”
Speak for yourself, human, his dragon muttered. He pushed it back.
“But we’re royalty,” Ryana said, completely sincere. “How do you monitor your servants, without spying?”
He laughed. “That’s easy. I don’t have any.”
Ryana’s eyes went wide as she clutched a hand to her chest. “No. Say you’re kidding. You’re a prince, Damian—”
“And I manage just fine, with Grim’s help. And the others.” He sat back beside her. “They can deliver a lot of things these days, not everything’s bespoke. The castle cleans itself, and we make do.”
She shuddered, sending ripples down her wings and disturbing Lyka, who went to fly in lazy circles near the ceiling. “How…odd.” He watched her stare into space, considering her servant-less future, and he realized he’d been unkind.
“I’m sorry, Ryana. I know you just got here, and I’ve hardly taken any time to teach you.”
Her green eyes focused on him again, as she got a sly smile. “Yes, well, I hear being mated to a traitor takes up a lot of time.”
“Ryana,” he warned, but he knew from his childhood it was already too late.
“You do realize you could’ve stayed home, killed my mother, and already had two or three cursed children of your own by now? And then I would be at home, surrounded by a fleet of servants, and I’d have access to all my old books, with the opportunity to be an amazing aunt?”
He snorted. “You don’t like children, I haven’t forgotten.”
“I don’t have to like things to make a point,” she said, grinning.
“And just who would’ve suited me better, in your imaginary future?” He could hardly remember any of the women he’d been with before Andi.
“Ceraliea,” Ryana said, without hesitation. “She was heartbroken when you left, you know. Cried for weeks, or so I was told.”
“Our nanny’s daughter?” Damian struggled to put the name to a face, and then frowned, remembering. “Ryana, she was half-horse.”
“So?” Ryana sank near him and pretended to swoon. “Where your love was concerned, she was all woman!” She broke into peals of laughter, as he groaned. “Oh, it’s just as easy to rile you as it’s ever been, so there’s that,” she said, dabbing the corners of her eyes daintily.
He inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Give me time regarding Andi. The wound’s still fresh.”
Ryana snorted. “What kind of sister would I be to you if I waited long enough to be kind? Truly, have you been away so long?” She rolled her eyes, and then coquettishly turned her head, focusing her attention on him again. “Be honest brother, did you miss me?”
“Up until about five minutes ago, yes,” he said, and she chortled. “But really, you were the only thing about the Realms I missed. Not the servants or the spying or the one woman who magically chose to have a horse’s head for some reason.”
“Half-horse makes more sense than entirely-human,” Ryana said, still snide, then sighed. “I am glad to rank slightly higher than Ceraliea on that list.” Her hands played with her skirt, a nervous habit he remembered from their youth, and Damian realized the gulf of differences now between them. While the fire their childhood had forged them in had made them close, they’d still been apart for two decades. “I always understood why you had to go,” she said, smoothing her skirt back down. “I just didn’t like it.”
“It was your mother or me, Ryana. She was interested in ruling; I was not. If I’d taken you then, your mother would’ve skinned me…or I’d have been trapped on a throne after I strangled her.”
“I know,” she said, subtly nodding. “It’s just that it was hard without you.”
He could only imagine. “I am sorry for that.”
“Me too.” She straightened herself again, taking back some of the regal bearing she’d lost to taunt him. “In any case, if you don’t spy on people, what do you do to pass the time?”
“Train.” Damian shrugged.
One of her eyebrows arched high. “Let me rephrase: what do people who aren’t you do to pass the time? Normal people of this planet?”
Damian thought quickly. “Grim, a TV, please.”
Several of the mirrors on his wall disappeared, replaced by a large flat screen TV that showed both of them in reflection.
“Oooh! Is that a different kind of mirror?” Ryana got up and walked over to it, placing a hand upon the screen.
“Of a sort.” The only television he’d seen recently were the murder reenactments that Andi found so fascinating. He didn’t want to show those to Ryana though. “Hang on, I’ll be right back,” he told her, escaping to the bathroom so that she couldn’t see him ‘spying.’ Once there, he waved at the mirror over the sinks and Austin’s face, still in the SUV’s rearview mirror, showed. “Austin!” he hissed quietly.
Austin jumped sideways in the car, as the car veered. “Fuck, Damian, I nearly pissed myself.” Stella cackled in the back seat as Zach, driving, cursed.
“Sorry, what’s that film you like? The holidays one?” Austin made them watch it every Christmas.
“Die Hard. Why?”
“No reason,” he said, cutting the connection and returning to his sister. “I have a treat for you. A traditional earthly holiday film.”
In the beginning, it took twice as long to watch as it normally did, because Damian kept having to stop it to explain what things were to Ryana, although she got the underlying story immediately.
“This is a romance, Damian!” she squealed. “You’re so soft now!”
“No, it isn’t,” he growled. “There’s explosions. And deaths. And a holiday celebration.”
Ryana reached over to pull a bucket of something crunchy onto her lap to eat, sharing it with Lyka, feeding the bird by hand every other bite. “Most good romances include death, or hadn’t you noticed?” she said and he snorted. It seemed like his would, so he couldn’t deny it. “They don’t have to, though,” she went on quickly, as if reading his mind.
Shortly thereafter she gave into the story and stopped asking questions, completely absorbed. Damian watched along with half his attention, while the other half was still on his phone’s empty screen in his hand, trying to decide what to do. He wanted Andi to know that he thought of her—continually—but he also wanted to give her space to decide. It was a horrible position to be in, and he found himself envying the certainty of John McClane on screen. He was thinking he would’ve paid all of Blackwoods Industry’s fortunes to just have a problem he could fight his way through rather than one that required patience of him, when three things happened at once:
Grim appeared, hackles raised, tail like a fat white pinecone, shouting his name; Mills and Jamison burst through the door behind them; and Jamison’s dragon fighting apparatus dropped from the ceiling to land on the ground. Jamison ran over to it and started pulling it on.
“What’s going on?” Damian shoved up and off the couch, putting himself in front of his sister protectively.
“They’re fighting a dragon! You need to send Jamison there!” Mills exclaimed. “Grim! Show him!”
One of Damian’s remaining mirrors showe
d Zach, Stella, and Austin looking harried in some kind of office complex via a window’s reflection. They were fighting on short brown carpeting, surrounded by desks, with even more windows at their back.
“It’s just like the film!” Ryana shouted with glee.
“I need to get over there,” Jamison told him, having strapped on the weapon.
Damian took everything in in a second. “Nothing personal, but fuck that,” he said, transporting only himself through the glass.
Chapter 5
Somehow, even with the spheres of magic that Jamison had developed to hide them, bursts of machine gun fire had the werewolves pinned down. The Hunters didn’t have to see who they were shooting, because as long as they kept up a barrage at the door, they knew they’d get the fighters inside eventually. Damian was lucky that they hadn’t broken all the windows yet—there was an intact pane in the room he was able to step through. The second he landed, he knew why they’d called. The scent of warm dragon blood hung in the air. There was only one dragon it could be from.
Danny.
His own dragon answered, aligning itself beneath his skin, readying to fight. Finish this, it whispered, its monstrous urges echoing inside him. His dragon showed himself a vision of him tearing the other dragon limb from limb, and then flying free.
But he flashed back to Andi, crying on his castle’s roof. What if this destroys everything we have?
She is our mate, it hummed, its surety charging him like electricity. She is our destiny.
“Where is your sphere, Damian?” Zach hissed.
The magically imbued metal marbles protected anyone inside their radius, hiding them from view, but Damian was already inches from the door, bullets landing at his feet. He turned back toward Zach. “Why?”
“Because you don’t even have a mask on!” Zach snapped, pulling his own off to throw it at him.
Damian caught it as the pull of battle rolled through him like a tide. “I won’t leave any survivors,” he said, tossing the mask back. “Wait here,” he commanded the werewolves, pointing at the ground like they were puppies, flipping a heavy conference table over for their protection.
Dragon Mated: Sexy Urban Fantasy Romance (Prince of the Other Worlds Book 4) Page 7