The smoke, which she knew was a mark of him being a dragon shifter, was also a very manly scent. One she hoped she’d soon grow used to so that it would just disappear.
But for now, she’d have to deal with it. With that in mind, she headed downstairs to begin the charade she hoped would set her free.
Leaning on his crutch, Van stood in front of the refrigerator, door open. The grill was fired up. All that was left was the cooking. He stared at the platter of steaks he’d planned on having for dinner. Two for him. One for Grom.
Van would still have his, but Grom wouldn’t. Not tonight. Yes, he spoiled his dog. And anyone who thought that was a waste of steak could get scorched.
Grom sat at his side, whuffing and whimpering softly. His nails clicked on the tile as he shifted in place.
“Sorry, Grom.” Van took the platter out with one hand, slid it onto the island counter, then used his crutch to reach back and shut the door. “No steak for you tonight. This has to be for our visitor.”
Grom whuffed unhappily.
Van limped to the spices and got to work seasoning the steaks. Garlic, salt, pepper. “Don’t worry, pup. She won’t be here long.”
Three days, tops. That was how long he figured it would take to satisfy whatever requirements the League had for this rehabilitation business. Then the League would be happy, Lisa could keep her job, and the animal rescue would get a nice fat check as his thanks for bringing Grom into his life.
He smiled down at the dog, who seemed to understand that he wasn’t getting a steak for dinner. “I’ll make it up to you. You’ll see.”
“You’ll make what up to him?”
Van twisted to see Lisa leaning against the wide breakfast bar that separated the cooking space from the great room. “Not getting steak for dinner.”
“Why not?”
He suppressed a smile. “Because you’re eating it.”
She made an odd face.
He waited for the lecture on how she thought he should be raising his dog, or how he was wasting food, or whatever.
But instead, she laughed. “So you’re feeding me dog food?”
Her comment caught him off guard, and he barked out a laugh as well, but turned quickly to hide his amusement. “I suppose I am.”
He hadn’t expected the sense of humor from her at all. He liked it. Liked that she could joke. It was one of the many reasons he and Pandora had hit it off. People thought he was such a serious guy because of his profession, but he liked having fun as much as the next person. Maybe more. But a lot of people never found that out about him because they were too scared to even try to get to know him.
“What kind of dog is Grom?”
“Doberman.” Van slanted his gaze in her direction. She’d moved a few steps closer, putting her in his field of vision, but her attention was focused on Grom.
“He’s, uh, very handsome. And seems pretty well behaved.”
“Grom is a good dog.” He slathered the steaks with good olive oil and gave them a little massage, working the seasonings into them.
“He must have been expensive.”
“He was a rescue.” He kept watching her. She seemed hesitant to come any nearer.
“Really? Wow.”
Van hobbled to the sink, washed his hands, then grabbed a towel to dry them and turned to face her. “He’s very well trained, but still young.”
She nodded. “Does he bite?”
“Not unless I tell him to.”
She paled a little, and Van realized that had been the wrong answer.
He tossed the towel onto the counter. “He won’t hurt you. Are you afraid of dogs?”
“I don’t know if afraid is the right word. I never had any pets growing up. And he’s so big. I just don’t know what to expect, I guess.”
Van leaned his crutch against the counter, then, with great effort, crouched next to Grom. It required him to keep his injured leg out straight and support his body weight on the other, but it was doable. Once down, he scratched Grom’s head. “He won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Almost on cue, Grom flopped down and rolled over to show off his belly, legs in the air.
Lisa let out a small laugh. “He is kind of cute.”
Van patted Grom’s taut belly. “Come. Pet him. You’ll see.”
With hesitant steps, she walked over and squatted beside Van, then reached out to stroke Grom’s stomach. “He’s softer than I thought he’d be.”
Grom bent his head to see her, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. There was a look of sheer pleasure on his doggy face.
She smiled. “He does seem nice.”
Van just nodded. Her perfume was filling his head, making it hard for him to think. Or maybe it was the half inch of space between her thigh and his that was causing his brain to short-circuit. Or all that flame-red hair.
It was too much. She was too close.
With a burst of energy, he pushed himself upright. “I must get these steaks on the grill.”
The move caused Grom to scrabble to his feet, startling Lisa, who fell onto her backside with a small yelp.
Van’s gut response was to help. Without thinking, he reached a hand down to her, bending. His strength was no match for the brace.
Pain shot up through his leg and into his gut like he’d been run through with the blade of a giant knife. He stiffened and growled in pain, freezing in place.
Lisa crawled backward, fear in her eyes. They flashed with green fire, an indicator of whatever kind of supernatural she was.
That look of fear was something he knew well. Just as he knew how to bring himself under control. He ignored the pain, breathing deeply. “Don’t be afraid. My leg. I forget.”
She nodded and got to her feet, still a good distance away from him. “You bent it.”
“Da.” And that was all the discussion of his injury he planned on having. Grimacing, he reached for his crutch. He settled it under him, then picked up the plate of steaks. “Grom, ko mne.”
Grom did as he was told, staying at Van’s side as he made his way toward the deck where he kept the grill.
“Can I help?”
“Nyet.” Van didn’t want help. Didn’t need help. Just like he didn’t need Lisa here. It was bad enough she was making him forget his English. Without another word, he got the door open and went outside.
Monalisa stared after him. Well, that hadn’t gone as planned. Not even remotely. And her heart was still thumping in her chest. Her father’s brand of scary was nothing compared to Van Tsvetkov in pain.
The smell of smoke had intensified as the man’s eyes had gone as red as hot coals. Shimmers of heat had burst off him like he was on the verge of combustion. She’d half expected flames to shoot out of his mouth. But maybe he could only do that in dragon form.
She didn’t want to find out.
And yet, she might, because she was stuck here. At least for a little while longer.
The idea of using her powers and getting this over quickly was tempting, but not tempting enough for her to turn down the dark path her parents were so willing for her to walk. No, she’d befriend him (that had to be possible) and then convince him that honoring his contract was the right thing to do.
And pray to the saints that she didn’t get turned into a human s’more in the process.
So first, the befriending part. She swallowed. She’d started to think he wasn’t so bad, then he’d hurt his leg (trying to help her, so points for that) and turned into exactly what she’d expected him to be before meeting him.
His storming out afterward had only solidified that image.
But this was her job. Correction, this was what she had to do if she ever wanted to be free. And frankly, that was the depth and breadth of her heart’s desire.
She brushed herself off, got her pulse under control, and walked out onto the deck. His back was to her, and the grill was open, steaks sizzling away on the jumping flames. “Are you okay?”
He turned a skeptic
al gaze her way. “Why? You think this will prolong my therapy?”
She shrugged. “I was just concerned is all. You hurt yourself because of me. That hardly seems like something I should ignore.”
He glared a moment longer, then his expression softened and he turned back to the steaks. “It is not your fault.”
“It kind of was. You were bending to help me. And you wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t been here, so…”
He didn’t respond. Grom stared up at her, tongue out, his expression kind of making her feel like he was happy to see her. Which seemed odd, because why would he like her? He’d just met her. But then, what did she know about dogs?
She knew Van liked them. That was clear. And maybe it was also her way in. “I like Grom. He’s really nice. And I never knew I’d feel that way about a big dog.”
Van grunted. “He will get bigger.”
“Really? How big?”
“I do not know. But larger, for sure. One hundred pounds, maybe.”
“Wow.” She looked at Grom with new eyes. “But he seems like the right kind of dog for a guy like you.”
“Is that so?” Van glanced at her again, his eyes unreadable. “How?”
She was walking a fine line here, and she knew that, but Van’s decision earlier to help her gave her some confidence. “Tough exterior with a gooey nougat center.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Okay, wait. Maybe not a gooey center. But you know what I mean, right? Grom looks tough, and he is. But he also likes to have his belly scratched.”
Van frowned and picked up a long fork with two sharp tines. “I do not like to have my belly scratched.”
“Wouldn’t dream of attempting it, I promise.” The very idea made her smile, and she was glad he wasn’t looking at her in that moment.
“Good.” He flipped the steaks and, thankfully, put the fork down. “How do you want your steak?”
“Medium well.” That earned her another look. She gave it right back. Dragons might be okay with bloody food, but she wasn’t. “Can I help with anything? Fix the side dishes maybe?”
His brow furrowed. “Side dishes?”
“You know, salad, green beans, baked potatoes, that kind of thing.”
He shook his head. “No side dish.”
Her mouth came open in surprise. “You’re just eating steak for dinner?”
“Da.” He growled softly. “I mean, yes.”
Okay, that might be fine for a dragon, but that wasn’t going to fly for her. No pun intended. “That must be a dragon thing.”
He glanced at her. “What are you?”
She knew what he was asking. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Will-o’-the-Wisps were rare, and revealing that much would give everything away. She’d prepped for this, though. “I’m a dryad, but only on my mother’s side, and unfortunately, that bloodline’s gotten pretty thin.” She shrugged. “It’s enough to qualify me as supernatural, but I’m one of those with no real supernatural skills. Sadly.”
His eyes tapered for a second, then he went back to the steaks. “Dryads like trees. So you want vegetables, don’t you?”
“They are part of my diet, yes.”
He grunted. “There might be something in the freezer.”
“You mind if I look?”
“Help yourself.”
She left him on the deck and went back to the kitchen. His fridge had steaks, pork chops, a rotisserie chicken, a couple six-packs, and some condiments. His freezer looked about the same, minus the condiments and six-packs, but under a butcher-paper-wrapped pack of grouper filets, she found a solitary box of frozen broccoli growing a couple of substantial ice crystals.
She took it out, shut the freezer, then started rummaging for a microwavable bowl. Maybe she could find a way to get to the grocery store tomorrow. If she had to call another Ryde and charge it to her dad, she would. She couldn’t eat like her carnivorous companion for a week. Her body would rebel.
The doorbell rang just as she found a plastic bowl that would work. Grom barked, but Van quieted him with another Russian command Monalisa didn’t understand. She set the bowl and the box of broccoli on the counter, then shouted in his direction, “I’ll get it.”
Van didn’t respond, so she headed to the door. She opened it and found a pretty, petite redhead on the other side. “Hello.”
“Oh, hi.” The woman gave her an odd look. “You’re not Van.”
“No, I’m not. I’m Lisa Devers. I’m his rehab therapist.”
“Huh. He didn’t say anything about hiring one.”
“He didn’t exactly. The League sent me.” Who was this woman that Van might tell such things to? His girlfriend? Monalisa didn’t need any complications, but the woman might be useful as an ally. “Can I tell him who’s here?”
“Oh, sorry.” She smiled and stuck her hand out. “Pandora Williams. I’m a good friend of Van’s. Helped him build this house.”
That sounded like a really good friend. Monalisa shook Pandora’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Van’s cooking steaks on the deck.”
Pandora nodded. “I can smell them. My mouth is watering. No, don’t bother him. I was going to see if he needed anything, but I’m guessing you’ve got that covered. Just tell him Cole and I are expecting him for the housewarming tomorrow night. At the Victorian, not my old place. Obviously. Well, to Van anyway. He knows. Oh, and you too, of course. If you’re going to be here.”
Monalisa nodded. “I’ll probably be here for at least a week.”
“Great. We’ll see you both. Nice to meet you.” She headed down the steps with a little wave.
“See you then.” Hopefully, they’d have vegetables. Monalisa closed the door and went back to the kitchen.
Van was just coming in with the platter of steaks, Grom at his side. He used his crutch to shut the door. “Was that Pandora?”
“Yes, good ears.”
“What did she want?”
“We’re supposed to be at the Victorian for a housewarming tomorrow night. She said you’d know.”
He put the platter on the counter next to the sad box of broccoli. “We?”
Monalisa shrugged. “She was nice enough to invite me too.”
He got plates out of a cabinet and silverware from a drawer. Steak knives came out of a wooden block near the coffeemaker. “That was the polite thing to do. Pandora is very polite.”
“She’s also very pretty.”
“And very involved.” He leaned on his crutch. “With Cole.”
“I assume that’s her boyfriend since she mentioned him.”
Van went silent for a moment, his gaze far away, like he was thinking. “She knows I cannot drive.” He looked at her. “She knew you were here somehow. Witch’s instinct.”
That was interesting. “She’s a witch?”
“A very good one.” He forked the steaks onto the plates.
She stared at the plate with the two steaks. That had to be for him. “Dragons must have big appetites.”
“Yes. Also, the protein helps me heal.”
She nodded. That made sense. “I can’t imagine how painful the bite of that manticore must have—”
“I do not wish to discuss it.” He picked up his plate and his utensils and limped off to the living room. Grom followed. Van settled into a large recliner and turned on the television, a massive thing that rivaled the screen in her father’s home theater. A basketball game roared to life.
With a sigh, she threw the broccoli back into the freezer, then grabbed her utensils and plate and sat at the breakfast bar to eat. Van might not want to talk to her tonight, but tomorrow they’d officially start his rehab and he’d have no choice.
At least, she hoped he’d cooperate. Otherwise, she’d have no choice to do exactly as her father wanted.
Van cut a piece of steak and shoved it in his mouth while pretending to watch the game. He wasn’t a fan of basketball, but he wasn’t about to talk about the fight either. Just the thought made his leg
ache.
He swallowed the steak, barely tasting it as the memory of that night came barreling back into his head. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to keep himself from reliving it. But as always, he failed.
The manticore shifter had been a ferocious opponent, and one of the most interesting he’d faced in a while. A bat-winged lionesque creature with rows of venomous teeth like a shark, Ronan was a relatively new fighter on the TFL circuit. He’d won the pairing with Van only because the originally slated fighter had been disqualified for missing his weight class.
And Ronan had only won because Van had been distracted.
Nothing like it had ever happened to him in a fight before. For the briefest of moments, he’d been compelled to look up. Then a flash of light had caught his eye, holding his gaze.
That was all the opening Ronan had needed. He’d bitten Van, paralyzing him long enough to claim victory.
Van stared at the steak on his plate without really seeing it. The move wasn’t dirty or underhanded. In the TFL, there were no rules except for no fatal blows. But the manticore’s bite had incapacitated Van, and the powerful venom would take a minimum of two more weeks to completely clear from Van’s system.
Such were the consequences of fighting in a league where mythological supernaturals ruled the highest ranks.
As a dragon, Van was nearly unstoppable. And in that form, he was the largest of all the mythologicals. It was why he never fully shifted in combat, relying instead on his sheer strength and speed to win. He liked a fair fight. Anything else was boring.
But not shifting was a big part of why Ronan had bested him. His manticore form versus Van’s human one had been an equitable match. So long as Van stayed vigilant.
Which he had. Until the distraction.
He cut another piece of steak, this time tossing it to Grom, who caught it midair and devoured it without chewing.
Ronan’s teeth never would have pierced the scales of Van’s dragon form.
Van ate another bite, but his appetite wasn’t there. He forced himself to eat, knowing his body needed the protein to recover.
The Dragon Finds Forever (Nocturne Falls Book 7) Page 3