by Jenn Burke
It was ridiculous to feel as though he were walking into a lion’s den, but a room called “the cave” was definitely not a normal feature of any office building. Aidan had no memories, and he still knew that. The corridor leading to the room was unremarkable, with the same paint and carpet as every other hall, but the door itself was different from the others in the building.
It had the same frosted glass, but something had been affixed to the rear of the glass to make it even harder for anyone to see in. On the wall next to the door was a card reader with a red light. Taking a deep breath, Aidan swiped his security card, and the light immediately flashed to green.
All right, then.
He pulled open the door before the light could switch back and stepped inside. As soon as the door closed behind him, darkness fell like a thick, impenetrable blanket. He blinked and then blinked again, trying to see something. Anything. After what felt like ages of blinking and squinting, he finally made out a dim light deeper in the room. He focused on that slight bluish glow and took a step forward.
“Hello? Nassim?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Aidan understood why this place was called the cave. His voice wasn’t contained like it was in an office or even one of the large boardrooms. It didn’t quite echo, but the sense of space was unmistakable.
A breeze ruffled Aidan’s hair, and he wondered just how large the cave actually was. It couldn’t be that big, right? It was still a part of the Tuninas Software office building. It wasn’t as though he’d stepped into some alternate dimension… right?
He knew mythos were weird, but not that weird.
Slowly Aidan picked out other lights, just as dim and muted as the first. But it was enough to get some sense of the floor, and wow. Were those rocks? Oh, that was what that glow was—phosphorus lichens. Or paint that was supposed to emulate them, maybe.
“Of all the things you could remember, you remember phosphorus lichens?” Aidan muttered.
“They’re kind of an interesting thing to remember.”
The voice was Nassim’s, but not. It was lower, with more bass, and rumbled through Aidan’s chest and from the floor into his feet. “Nassim?”
A loud snort that sounded more like a horse than a human came from Aidan’s right. “Over here.”
Aidan turned slowly, suspecting what he’d see. A large black mass loomed there, like a hill cloaked in the deepest night. But this hill moved, its surface lifting and falling in a distinctive rhythm—a breathing sort of rhythm.
Two pinpoints of fire flickered to life, and Aidan fell back with a shout.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Nassim—dragon-Nassim—rumbled. “I’d never—”
“Sorry. Sorry.” Aidan held out a hand as he pushed himself back to his feet. “I know. I, uh… I wasn’t expecting… this.”
“Seeing my dragon form?”
“Dragon, rocks, phosphorus lichens—are they real, by the way?”
“Yes. The rocks too.”
“Huh. When they call it the cave, they’re not kidding, are they?”
Another snort. Aidan wondered if that was the equivalent of a human grunt. Those fire-laden eyes remained focused on Aidan. “Sometimes… I need to not be human for a little bit.”
“Oh?” Aidan ventured a step closer.
“You can come here. I already ate a goat earlier.”
Aidan froze. “That’s not funny, Nassim.”
Vibrations traveled through the room. “It’s a little funny.”
Okay, maybe. Also reassuring, because a powerful mythos making bad jokes lost all ability to frighten. Aidan moved toward Nassim’s bulk, only to hiss as he stepped wrong on a rock.
“More to the left. Straight… there you go.” Teeth flashed in the pale light as Aidan reached Nassim. “Welcome to my lair.”
“I’m glad I can barely see your smile. It’s probably terrifying.” Aidan settled on a boulder near Nassim’s lowered head. From this distance he could make out some details but not many. He had an impression of bony ridges along Nassim’s snout and eyes and large horns curving into the dark from atop his head. The air was noticeably warmer this close to Nassim, and it carried a scorched-rock scent with it.
“So is this like where you’re from?”
“I’m from the Ottawa Valley.”
“Really? Wait—really?”
“Well… now.” Nassim blinked those huge eyes, hiding his fire for a split second. “I was not born in Canada. My family is from the sands of the Middle East, but don’t ask me to tell you exactly where. Borders and boundaries have changed so much. I probably wouldn’t be able to find it again.”
“So you’re more used to, what? Hot sand?”
“Eh, not anymore. The caves in the north have their own charm.”
“Don’t you get cold?”
“No, Aidan.” Nassim chuckled. “I have a fire burning inside of me. I’m never cold.”
“Good point.” And a reminder that Aidan was sitting all casual-like, having a conversation with a freaking dragon. “So, uh, why are you hiding?”
“I beg your pardon. I am not hiding.”
Oh yeah, that was righteous indignation in Nassim’s voice. “You are totally hiding.”
“Sometimes I need space to—”
“Mope?”
“What? No.”
“Cry?”
“No.”
“There’s no shame in crying, you know.”
“I realize that, but I haven’t been crying.”
“So are you scared of something?”
Nassim lifted his head to look down at Aidan, and Aidan was pretty sure that was a dragon version of a death glare. Funny, he didn’t feel even a flicker of fear. “I am dragon. I fear nothing.”
“So what is it?” When Nassim looked away and didn’t answer, Aidan blew out a sigh. “I know I don’t know much about dragons. I don’t even know if I knew much about your race—”
“Species.”
“—species at all, before. But no one hunkers down alone in a cave-like room for going on four hours for no reason.”
Nassim’s sigh gusted over Aidan’s hair, bringing with it the aroma of charcoal and ozone. “I had two sales meetings this morning,” he finally said quietly.
“Crap. Didn’t they go well?”
“They were fine. I smiled and shook hands and presented the slideshows you updated for me yesterday. Thank you for that, by the way.”
“You’re welcome. Are we going to get their business?”
“I think so. They seemed eager.”
“That’s great, then.”
“Yes.”
Except Nassim didn’t sound like it was great at all. “But?”
“I would prefer such meetings to be scheduled separately, with at least a day in between.”
“Oh.” Aidan frowned as he tried to place all these new pieces into an image that made sense. “I’m sorry. When I got that call yesterday, I thought it was perfect timing that you had a slot open at the same time they did, and—”
“You didn’t know. It’s all right.”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I… I don’t like strangers,” Nassim said in a rush.
Aidan considered that for a moment and then shook his head. “Nope, you’re going to have to explain it better than that. You’re the CEO. You meet people all the time.”
Nassim was silent, and for a moment, Aidan thought he wasn’t going to offer up any further explanation. Then, his voice quiet, he said, “I get anxious around people I don’t know.”
“But—dragon.”
“Yes.”
“A dragon who literally just told me he’s afraid of nothing because he’s dragon.”
“Yes. I’m not afraid,” Nassim growled. “I’m anxious. There’s a difference.”
“Okay. Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
Aidan squinted at Nassim. “I’m not sure how to make that question more clear.”
<
br /> He got a faceful of hot, burnt-smelling air in response. Was that smoke leaking from Nassim’s nostrils?
“What does it matter why? It’s a fact, one you’ll need to consider when booking—”
“Wait. Hold on. Do you think I want to know out of curiosity, Nassim?” Stupid dragon. “I want to know so I can help you fix it.”
“Fix it?”
“Well, yeah. I’m not trying to downplay your social anxiety, but if it gets you so wound up you need to hide for half the day?”
Nassim’s giant head seemed to melt into the floor, or try to. “It’s not usually this bad,” he murmured. “It has been a… trying week.”
Oh crap. Of course. He’d been worried over Aidan’s disappearance, then dealing with Aidan’s reappearance and lack of memory, plus all the strangers at the hospital and the cops and… and trying to carry on at work as though everything were normal.
“Maybe you should have taken a few days off, huh?” Aidan said gently.
“I hate taking time off,” Nassim confessed. “I like being in the office, with my….”
“Your hoard.” Aidan offered a smile. “It’s okay. I figured it out.”
“Most humans dislike the idea of belonging to me like that.”
“Then they’re idiots.” Aidan scoffed. “I guarantee you, if you said ‘hoard’ to any of those people working beyond that door”—he jerked his chin in what he thought was the direction of the entrance—“they’d be thrilled about it.”
“Do you really think so?”
“They kinda love you. Maybe a tiny bit scared,” Aidan amended, thinking of Rebecca’s reluctance to disturb Nassim. “Or maybe ‘in awe’ is a better description. But yeah, mostly? They’d do anything for you because they know you’d do the same.”
That seemed to stun Nassim into silence. For a few moments, the quiet of the cave was disturbed only by the deep, bellows-like breathing of a dragon at rest.
“You seem to have become quite the expert on my company in the three days you’ve been here. Unless…?”
“No, no memories,” Aidan said with a sigh. “I guess I’m just observant. And objective.”
“Observant, yes. Objective?” Another snort. “I think not.”
“I’m not judging anything—”
“No. But there was too much conviction in your voice to count yourself as objective, ya kamar.”
Aidan frowned. “What did you—”
“If you must know,” Nassim said over Aidan’s words, “the reason I’m anxious is…. This is rather embarrassing.” He drew in a breath. “Jasper told you I fought in the Golden War, what humans call the Mythos-Human War, yes?”
“I don’t even want to think about how old you are.”
“Four hundred and seventy-two.”
Aidan blinked. “I can’t—I don’t even know what to do with that number.”
“Do nothing. Merely listen.”
Aidan made a gesture across his lips as though he were locking them and throwing away a key.
“The things you remember, merry gods,” Nassim muttered. “I fought in the war. Against humans. I lost….”
“You lost your mate. Jasper mentioned that too.”
“I am amazed that knowledge is still being passed along through the ranks.”
“Company legend, Jasper called it.”
“Indeed. But yes. Her name was Riladi.”
Her. Her name. Aidan felt his nascent hopes—not quite dead, apparently—crash and burn.
“She was beautiful and fierce, everything I had ever wanted in a mate. We planned to be parents, once the war was done.”
“What happened?”
“What normally happens in wartime. She died.” Nassim let out a breath. “Heroically. I don’t think she would have had it any other way. Another dragon from our battle wing was falling, and she braced him, but they got tangled, and she ended up hitting the ground too.”
“That’s awful, Nassim.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“But it still hurts.” Clearly.
“Yes. It does. Do you know how long the Golden War lasted, Aidan?”
“Do I have any memories, Nassim?”
He closed those fire-bright eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. I thought perhaps that fact had been tucked in beside ‘phosphorus lichens’ and the ‘my lips are sealed’ gesture.” When he opened his eyes again, their light was much dimmer. “Fifty years. Fifty years of fighting humans, of watching humans kill my friends.”
And just like that, it all clicked into place. “You have PTSD.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Why, because it’s been three hundred years?”
“Yes, that, and I’m—”
“Don’t say dragon.”
Nassim huffed and snapped his teeth shut. Aidan tried not to flinch at the noise.
“Seriously, though. It makes perfect sense. That kind of shit changes you.” Aidan couldn’t remember a specific example of how posttraumatic stress disorder affected someone, but he felt the rightness of that truth, as nebulous and intangible as it might be at the moment. “I bet there are mythos therapists who can—”
“No.”
“Do not pull the ‘I’m dragon, I’m too cool to be helped’ thing.”
“It’s not that important. I don’t need to seek out professional help.”
“Huh.” Aidan rubbed a finger over his chin. “What do you think Jasper would say if I asked him about this?”
Okay, that rumble was more a growl than a happy noise. Nassim whipped his head up. “I told you this in confidence.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Aidan—”
“There was no mention of confidentiality in our conversation.”
“Aidan!”
“Hmm. You might be right, Nassim. I don’t think I’m very objective at all.”
“But foolhardy,” Nassim breathed, his words more felt than heard. “Very, very foolhardy.”
“No.” Aidan stood and leaned forward to look Nassim in one of his big, fiery eyes. “Just unwilling to let you suffer in silence anymore.”
Nassim blinked, and the fire embedded in his eyes dimmed. After a moment his head sank back to the ground. “I will consider it.”
“Sure. But I’m going to call around, get a referral, and make sure you go. So consider that.” Aidan took a step back. “Rebecca needs your signature, and I’m guessing your claws aren’t great for holding pens. So I’ll let you, uh….” He waved a hand and turned to head for the entrance. “She needs them signed by three thirty, and it’s three ten now, so you better get moving.”
It took everything in Aidan not to run for the door. He didn’t kid himself—Nassim could probably hear his heart pounding, so he’d know just how much adrenaline was flooding Aidan’s system. He’d confronted the proverbial lion in its den… or the dragon in his cave, whatever. Where the hell had that surety come from? He knew Nassim, but he didn’t know Nassim. What if Nassim’s last assistant talked back to him too, and his defiance was dealt with by a snap of a dragon’s jaw?
“Aidan.”
His name stopped Aidan just as he was about to push the door open. Nassim’s voice was no longer doing an impression of a bass guitar, so Aidan assumed that meant he’d shifted. His eyes couldn’t confirm it, not that he needed to see his boss naked or anything. That would be even more awkward than talking back to him.
“Yeah?” Aidan managed, his voice steady.
“I’ll attend any therapy sessions you schedule for me. Afternoons would be best.”
“You got it, boss.”
Smiling, Aidan turned back to the door. Amnesiac assistant 1, dragon 0.
Chapter Six
TUESDAY was good—a relaxed reintroduction to work and his colleagues. No pressure.
Wednesday was more of the same—still laid-back and with some more demands from Nassim, but nothing Aidan couldn’t handle. Give him a draft of a presentation, and he could make magic with Power
Point, a fact he jotted down on his list of all things Aidan.
Thursday was the cave incident. Enough said.
Friday? Friday sucked.
Aidan stared at the fifteen emails in his inbox and the five instant messages and wondered what the fuck had happened to the nice, cheery, happy atmosphere he’d enjoyed for the last three days. The papers Nassim had signed by Rebecca’s deadline had been overnighted to the customer, but they never arrived. The courier didn’t know where they were, and the customer was freaking out for reasons Aidan couldn’t fathom. Nassim had been on the phone all morning, trying to mend that relationship.
When things calmed down, Aidan was going to talk to Nassim about the fact that he had very competent, very charismatic sales managers who could patch things up just as well. Nassim didn’t need to shoulder everything.
Especially not when he’d been up for half the night on the phone.
Aidan wouldn’t have known that—seeing as he’d retreated to his bedroom per usual to track down more facts for the Aidan file—but something woke him at 2:00 a.m. He’d opened his eyes to his dark bedroom and could have sworn something had changed, but strangely, that knowledge didn’t freak him out. He caught the barest whiff of Nassim’s scorched-rock scent as he got up to visit the bathroom. A light glowed from the upper level, and Nassim’s low voice rumbled in a language Aidan didn’t know. It reminded him of the words Nassim had said to him in the cave—ya kamar. After taking care of business in the bathroom, Aidan opened his laptop and typed them into Google Translate.
They were Arabic, and Google thought they meant “oh moon.” Which made zero sense. He’d grumbled and returned to bed, but sleep eluded him. Getting up with his alarm was difficult, and Aidan was not happy about having to work.
Nassim was equally as sleep deprived and especially broody this morning, which meant that, on top of everyone being panicked, they were also extra wary of the dragon in their midst. Tension Software might be a better title than Tuninas Software this morning, and Aidan was discovering that it was his job to try to right the ship.
Breathe, man. You can do this.
He tackled the IMs first. It took him longer to get through them than he expected. Four of them were requests for updates on projects, since Aidan maintained a database that tracked that information. But the network was slow, and Aidan had to verify the name of each project with the requestor, as the teams tended to refer to the projects by nicknames that weren’t included in the database. Something to fix, but not today.