by Lisa Oliver
Grabbing the parcel again, Byron padded across the floor in his socks, the quiet, calm, and order of his apartment soothing his jagged nerves. Everything was in its place, just as it should be. Placing the package on the coffee table, squaring it up so it was an inch from the right bottom corner and running parallel with the side and bottom edge of the wood, Byron went over to the small bar he’d had installed and poured himself a drink. A large one.
It’s not like there’s anyone here to judge me for it.
Walking back to the table, Byron set his glass on the coaster that was placed so it was four inches from the closest edge of the table and positioned at eleven o’clock from his preferred seating spot. Byron sat, allowing his back to rest on the comfortable couch and closed his eyes. He let out a long sigh. Perfect. In a world full of confusing changes Byron felt as though he could only ever relax when he was surrounded by the peace and order of his home.
Although, he couldn’t allow himself to relax for long. Byron opened his eyes, noting the anomaly on his table. My mystery parcel. Instead of reaching for it right away, he picked up his universal remote, hitting a key so soft classical music played through his discretely placed speakers.
No one has ever been able to play A Comme Amour like Richard Clayderman. Byron allowed himself a small smile before reaching for the parcel.
Hmm. No return address. Byron scanned the package, tilting it one way and then the other. There was something inside though, as it moved when Byron turned the package upside down. I didn’t order any shoes, did I? The box was about that size, but Byron would have remembered if he had. Besides, all his shoes were hand made in Europe, with six new pairs delivered to him at the company address every six months.
Resting the box on his knee, Byron peeled off the wrapping tape, and opened up the paper. Brown just like on any other commercial package, so no clues there. Inside the wrapping paper there was a shoe box, and Byron frowned. I didn’t order any shoes.
Tugging off the lid, Byron gagged as the smell of decaying meat hit him. Shoving the box on the table, he tried to get up, but his knees wouldn’t let him. Turning his head to one side, he was just in time to save his couch from being covered in the partially digested remains of the boring dinner he’d attended. The highly polished wooden floors weren’t so lucky.
Chapter Two
Dirk came, Jon tucked under his arm. Byron didn’t even remember calling him, but he must have done. At least he was able to clean up the evidence of his reaction before they arrived. Then Dirk made calls, and before Byron knew it, he was faced with a houseful of law enforcement all nosing through his things and jotting stuff down in notebooks.
“I don’t have any enemies,” he said for the tenth time. This time the questioning was from a grizzled detective who looked as though he hadn’t been near a razor or a toothbrush in a week. “I rarely socialize. I’m very busy at work, but everything I do for the company is in-house and would be of no interest to any outside party.”
The detective switched the toothpick he was chewing to the other side of his mouth. “So, you believe this is an inside job. We should be looking at people in your company?”
“I can’t see that anyone in the company would have anything to gain from trying to scare me.” Byron winced as across the room an officer picked up one of his prize crystal statues. “Ours is a family company. If anything happened to me, someone from the family would be appointed in my position. No one else stands to gain anything from getting at me.”
“Are you accusing a family member?” The detective flicked a casual glance at Dirk who was talking to one of the uniforms.
“No, I am not,” Byron said between gritted teeth. “My brothers, cousins, and I, have been able to muddle along together for centuries, and if any of them had a beef with me, they’d say so to my face.”
“Personal life?” The detective looked as though he didn’t believe him, but Byron was beyond caring. He just wanted everyone out of his space. “Ex-girlfriend, boyfriend, significant other?”
“No.”
This time the detective made his skepticism more clear. “I find that hard to believe. Rich, single dragon, like yourself. You lot always have a heap of admirers wherever you go.”
Byron bristled under the implied slur. “I’m waiting for my fated mate.” Byron made sure his gaze stayed steady. He’d had the foresight to lock away all the papers in his home study, but if the police caught wind of the fact, he was actively trying to find a man based on the skimpiest of descriptions, he’d be a laughing stock.
Fortunately, Dirk came over, dropping his arm over Byron’s shoulder as if he hadn’t ranted at him the day before. “Are you all finished up here? I need to speak to my brother, privately.”
“Company business? I understand, sir.” The detective put away his notebook and tapped the side of his nose, before strolling away.
“You get a ‘sir’. I get a ‘I find that hard to believe,’ and a ‘you lot’ like I’m some mindless playboy,” Byron muttered angrily as Dirk led him out onto the balcony.
“Those men are paid pittance to do a thankless job.” Dirk made sure the sliding doors were firmly closed before turning to him. “How are you holding up?”
“Does their thankless job have to entail messing up my space and touching my things?” Byron couldn’t help his eyes darting back towards the slider.
“You have a housekeeper. She can clean up for you.” Dirk gripped him forcefully by the shoulders and turned him so all Byron could see was the topsy-turvy skyline. “Are you all right?”
Byron shook off his brother’s hands and actually looked at him this time, although he was sure his face mirrored his shock. “Since when did you care if I was all right or not? I’m the useless brother, isn’t that what you said to me yesterday? I’m not the eldest so father ignored me. You were so busy forging your own path, determined to prove yourself better than the old man, you barely noticed you had a brother, let alone two of them. When mother learned I couldn’t help her get more money out of the company on either side of the Atlantic she hung up on me and hasn’t been in touch since. Sammy’s la-la in love, just like you are, and wouldn’t even listen to a bit of commonsense, and now you have the gall to stand here and ask me if I’m all right?”
Dirk shifted his feet uncomfortably. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you yesterday, but Sammy and Raoul were really upset. You told him to get rid of their baby.”
“Did anyone stop and ask me if I was upset? For fuck’s sake. The only reason I agreed to go to San Jose in the first place was to make sure Sammy was all right because we’d barely heard from him. Unlike you, I care about my younger brother beyond this family name bullshit. All social media was going on about was Raoul and Sammy’s dragon, but never our brother in person. So, I worried about him and when I got to the coven, I didn’t see anything there that made me feel any better. Sammy and Raoul weren’t even together; Sammy was dressed in jeans like he does, and Raoul was off doing business in his power suit and entourage like it meant something. But Sammy was unhappy. I felt it the moment I entered the building. He even snuck out of the coven with his cousins just so he could have a reprieve from his mate. What does that tell you? So, when I finally did get to speak to him and he told me about the baby, I might have overreacted. But for fuck’s sake, you could have spent two seconds asking me why I said what I did before you tore into me on my return.”
Dirk breathed out hard. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have asked, but the dragons said…”
“Those blasted dragons again.” Byron fumed. “Look, I get it,” he added quickly when Dirk frowned. “They’re part of us, we’re part of them. But since when did dragon gossip become more important than talking to me – the man standing in front of you? You didn’t ask to hear my side of the story; you just laid into me.”
Dirk’s frown lessened, as if he was trying to see things from Byron’s side. “The dragons don’t lie,” Dirk said slowly.
“Are you imp
lying I am?” In the mood he was in, Byron was more than happy to go toe-to-toe with his brother, clan leader or not.
“No, but Sammy was genuinely upset. Sure, I was pissed him and his dragon hid all that trouble at the coven from us, but at the end of the day, you basically called Sammy and Raoul’s child an abomination that should be done away with, and it’s really difficult to see a good excuse for saying something like that.”
Byron couldn’t even look at his brother anymore, especially when the bastard made perfect sense. “You’re just lucky you seem to have all the answers. I’ve never felt as though I’ve had any control in my life, ever,” he said softly, turning to stare at the skyline. “My dragon has never seemed to care for me the way yours and Sammy’s seem to do. To our parents I was a spare. I was so sure as I was growing up, that if I followed father’s laws to the letter, and did all I could to make him proud, that one day he’d notice me. That never happened and never will now.”
“Byron…”
“No,” Byron lifted his hand, “please, let me finish. You wanted to know if I was all right, so I am telling you. I’m not. I haven’t been for months. Knowing we could have fated mates shook me to the core. Knowing I might have walked away from mine, because of my father’s words ringing in my head… let’s just say my dragon barely speaks to me unless it’s to nag me to look at PI reports. My father’s teachings… why didn’t I know about this? And fuck, now dragon males can get pregnant? What’s next? Father’s dead. Mother won’t even speak to me. I have no friends to speak of at all. Is the sky turning red and are we going to be visited by pod people next? And now…”
He looked over his shoulder at the mass of people still milling about in his living space. “Now, there are people in my space, touching my things and not putting them back in their rightful place. Someone has desecrated my personal space, sending me a rotting heart from god knows where or who… no one ever comes here!”
Byron was close to breaking; he could feel it in his body, hear it in his voice, but he couldn’t stop. “I just wanted to belong somewhere and have something for me. Something I controlled, not my dragon, or the company, or my father, or anyone. Just me and this place was it.”
He flung his arm out indicating his apartment beyond the sliding doors. “It took me four years to find a housekeeper who understood my need to have everything left exactly where I placed it. It took a further two years before I could trust in her to keep doing that. This was my sanctuary, my home, my personal space,” Byron banged on his chest, “and now it’s ruined, spoiled, and I don’t know why or by who. I don’t understand any of this!”
“Oh, fuck, Byron, you should have said something.”
Dirk’s hug was so unfamiliar, Byron almost recoiled. But it’d been a dozen lifetimes since someone had held him, and he didn’t have the strength to push his brother away. For the first time in his life, he leaned on the older man, close to tears. “I can’t cope anymore,” he said, his voice hiccupping. “The one time our father had anything to do with me, he set me up for you to kill me, and now I’m getting hate from someone I don’t even know. I don’t understand. I try so hard to do everything right. What have I done wrong?”
“Shush, hush,” Dirk said softly, holding him tight. “We’ll work this out. We’ll make it right.”
I don’t see how. But Byron didn’t voice the words. His words had gotten him into enough trouble with his brother as it was, and the comfort was too rare to spoil it. But as he heard the sliding door being opened, he stiffened and pulled back, hastily wiping his face in case any tears might have escaped his eyes.
“I didn’t mean to intrude.” Jon stepped out onto the balcony; his face full of compassion. “It’s just, the police found a note. They think you should see it.”
“A note? Where?” Byron smoothed down his shirt and checked the buttons on his jacket. “Did I miss it on the doorstep or something?”
“No.” Jon looked to Dirk, who nodded. “It was wrapped in plastic and stuck in one of the heart valves. I noticed it when the police were trying to work out what type of heart it was. Bovine, if you’re interested.”
“At least it wasn’t human or paranormal. Chances are someone just bought it at a butcher shop.” Byron took a shaky breath. “What does the note say?”
“Oh, did you want to…” Jon indicated back inside, but Byron shook his head. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stay in his apartment again. He definitely wasn’t going in there while people were pawing at his things.
“Okay. The police said it was written in pen, the same as the address label on the box. The exact words were, ‘blood is red, my heart is blue, open your eyes to me, or this will happen to you’. And it was signed by ‘Heartbroken’.”
Byron couldn’t believe his ears. “Heartbroken? Heartbroken? Is this some kind of a fucking joke? Whose heart have I broken for fuck’s sake? I haven’t had so much as a date in years, damn near a decade. And how did they find me, this so-called heartbroken person? How did they even know where I lived?”
“The police want to talk to you about that. They seem to think you’re not being truthful about your dating history.” Jon shook his head. “I know you are. I thought, given how late it was, it might be better if we all just got some sleep and picked this up again in the morning. Clear heads and all that.”
“You can use our apartment in town, if you like,” Dirk said quickly. “Jon and I will be staying out at the house, that’s where Tiernan is. You can join us there, of course…”
“No. No, thank you.” Byron shook his head. “I appreciate you respecting my need to be alone right now and will accept the offer of the apartment if that’s all right. But please, my dragon will tell your dragon if you don’t believe me, I don’t know who has targeted me like this. I haven’t dated in so long; I can’t remember when the last time was. I don’t do flings or hook-ups. Not since…” Not since seeing my mate.
Dirk stepped into his personal space and Byron was almost afraid he was going to be hugged again. “I do believe you,” he said quietly, “and if I never gave you the chance to talk before, I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to you when dad was killed, I should’ve made time to talk to you after the funeral. I should’ve asked you about your hunt for your mate and shown in some way I was interested in listening to you. I didn’t. That’s on me. But if anything else happens, anything unusual at all, you get your dragon to tell mine no matter where you are, and I’ll find you, agreed?”
Byron nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. Dirk clapped his hand on his shoulder, leaning in and whispering, “I know I’ve been a shit brother, but that changes from this moment on. You have my word. I will listen. Anytime. I will listen to you.”
Another nod. Byron really couldn’t say anything if he tried. His throat working, he waved frantically at the sliding door.
“Yep, and I’ll get rid of that lot too. Being CEO and Clan Leader has to count for something in this town. They can call to see you at the office tomorrow, after lunch will be soon enough.” Dirk held up his arm for Jon to slide under. “And don’t worry, bro. This probably is just some bastard’s sick idea of a joke. We’ll get him and when we do…”
More nods. Honestly, Byron was sick of not being able to do much else, but to his relief, Dirk and Jon left, and over time he heard his front door closing as the final person left. Resting his elbows on the balcony rail, Byron looked out over the city. It was the middle of the night, but the city still blazed with light and movement.
Who are you? What on earth did I do to you?
If his dragon had been paying attention, he might have noticed the man in black, standing on the roof two apartments over, watching Byron’s lonely figure through binoculars. As it was, Byron’s dragon was busy doing some soul-searching of his own.
Chapter Three
Byron tossed and turned in the unfamiliar sheets, his body bathed in sweat. Despite his love of order, and his preference for his pristine apartment, Byron could usually sleep a
nywhere – as evidenced by the number of times he traveled overseas or went to other states on clan business. But alone in Dirk and Jon’s apartment, his body was wired, every nerve tingling as though he’d gotten an electric shock. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the mangled heart laying in that box waiting for him to find.
“Fuck.” Byron clenched his fists in exasperation. “I need to sleep, goddamn it.”
I could help you sleep.
Byron stilled. His dragon’s tone was surprisingly quiet and gentle considering it was the first time he’d heard it all day.
“I thought you’d be laughing at my discomfort.” Byron sat up and reached over for the glass of water he’d put on the bedside table. “It must have embarrassed you, seeing me break down in front of my brother like I did.”
I was embarrassed yes, but not by anything you did. It seems my behavior towards you hasn’t been overly supportive or helpful in recent months. That’s embarrassing to me.
“You heard what I said to Dirk? Brilliant.” Byron took a swig from his glass and set it back on the table. “I suppose every dragon in our clan now knows what a loser I am.”
No! His dragon’s response was swift. I would never do that to you, to us.
Us? Byron had to admit it had a nice ring to it. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt part of an us. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, smoothing out the under-sheet around him, trying to find a cool spot. “I understand why you took a stand and refused to fight Dirk’s dragon for me, and yes, I know it was wrong to even suggest it. It’s just… I believed in my father’s words for so long, and he was a dragon too…”
A misguided one. His dragon seemed to hum. Your father’s dragon spirit was ancient, and tired of being repressed for so long by his human half. By the time Jon sent his human spirit into the next life, his dragon had already moved on.