Kidnapped by the Dragon

by Kayla Wolf

  ”What do you plan on doing with yourself, Owen?” Helena asked brightly, seemingly unaware of the way her mate had been scrutinizing their guest. “Are you looking to settle down around here, do you think?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said, pretending to think about it. “I’m tired of the nomad life, that’s for sure. I’ve been travelling for—months or years, I think. It’s time to settle somewhere. And I think community is incredibly important.”

  Alexander was nodding. “It is. I’d invite you to stay here awhile, see how you find the climate and the surroundings. As I’ve said—this community is eager to open its doors, to rejoin the world. And we have a great deal of space. If you’re interested… and the Council agrees … I see no reason you couldn’t remain with us indefinitely.”

  Angela was beaming at him. She was seated at his side—he’d resisted looking at her too often, worried that the strange feelings that had risen in him earlier that afternoon would return. But she was clearly delighted at the prospect of him staying. Important to play this hand properly. “That’s very kind of you, King Alexander.”

  ”Give it some thought, of course. Let me know when you’ve made a decision. In the meantime—”

  ”Tell us about California!” Helena broke in, her golden eyes aglow. Owen caught the glance the bear gave her as she spoke, and his throat closed over. Such a look in those dark eyes, such simplicity in the way he smiled to hear her speak, just slightly. Love, that was what it was. Just love. No place in his life for that kind of thing. He’d resigned himself to that a long time ago.

  Hadn’t he?

  Chapter 6

  Owen settled in to the palace just fine, and Angela could hardly remember what she’d done before he moved in—how she’d spent her days before she’d made friends with the strange dark-eyed dragon from the west coast. She’d been so worried, when she introduced him to the family, that he’d find all of them more interesting than her. That he’d make friends with Samuel, or Alexander, or even Art, and leave her all by herself again—that she’d feel like some weird kid, tagging along with her cool older siblings, like she’d felt with Jessica when they were younger. But no. To her delight, Owen had made a point of maintaining a friendship with her. After she’d helped him pick out a room to stay in, and after dinner that first night, she’d shown him around the palace, helped him get his bearings and know where everything was. She’d been worried that he’d have no use for her friendship. But to her surprise, he kept seeking out her company. They’d have meals together sometimes or go for long walks in the valley outside.

  ”We could run if you wanted,” he said once, glancing at her. “I know you wolves are athletic…”

  ”Only if you want to,” Angela said, wrinkling her nose. “I prefer walking to running any day.”

  He’d laughed, a sound that made her heart beat faster. “We have that in common.”

  She loved having things in common with him. They had a shared interest in history, in the origins of shifters, and particularly the conflicts between them. But to her surprise, Stephen didn’t seem especially keen on inviting him along to their little research meetings. The old patriarch of the family hadn’t been at the first dinner with them all—he’d been busy reading and missed it. It wasn’t uncommon for Stephen to miss events like that, and they’d thought nothing more of it. But when Angela brought her new friend along to their next meeting, there was something in the air that made her nervous.

  ”Owen, was it? Good to meet you.” They’d shaken hands, reserve in the older dragon’s golden eyes, and Angela had almost wanted to shake him. Why was he so stand-offish? Wasn’t he as excited as she was to meet a dragon from another colony, a completely new friend? Someone with new stories, new histories, new things to share with them?

  They’d made awkward small talk for a little while. Angela had waited for Stephen to invite Owen to read with them—and she’d waited in vain. After a while, Owen had made an awkward apology and left, tipping her a roguish wink on his way out of the library. Stephen watched him go, still and impassive, then turned his golden eyes on Angela with a look of innocence that made her grind her teeth.

  ”You were kind of rude to him,” she pointed out. Stephen didn’t do well with outright confrontation.

  ”Was I?”

  ”Yeah. I thought you’d be excited to meet someone with so many stories to tell. I thought he could help us with our research! He says he knows some stuff about magic—”

  ”We don’t need any help,” Stephen said dismissively, turning his face down to the book in his lap. Angela fought to stop herself from growling.

  ”Are you kidding? We’ve got hundreds of books to get through. I don’t even speak Draconic properly. He does! He could help us! Why don’t you like him?”

  ”It’s not that I don’t like him, Angela. I don’t trust him.” The old dragon looked at her simply. “It’s nothing personal. I don’t know any black-eyed dragons. He could be anybody.”

  ”He’s not anybody,” she said, anger building in her chest. She fought to control herself, feeling her eyes burn with the age-old impulse to shift. “He’s Owen. He lost his family, he came to us, he’s kind and gentle—”

  ”You’ve only known him for a few days, Angela,” Stephen said, not looking up from his book. “Get to know him a little before you start sharing our secrets with him, hmm?”

  ”You shared your secrets with me,” Angela challenged him, letting some of her anger slip. He looked up at her, met her anger head-on with those golden eyes, and she was instantly reminded of how much older he was than her. Looking at him now, she wouldn’t be surprised if he predated the Pyramids. She’d never felt so small and young in her life.

  ”Angela, I trust you,” he said simply, but he said it after a silence that all but froze her solid. “And I trust you not to give me a reason to doubt that trust.”

  ”He’s a good guy,” she muttered, almost under her breath.

  ”I hope you’re right.”

  ”I am right.” She felt like a child, but she couldn’t help it. “And if you spent any time with him, you’d know that too.”

  ”I look forward to spending more time with him,” Stephen said magnanimously. “But not in here.”

  She hadn’t dared push the issue any further than that. They’d sat in silence, reading, for the rest of the morning—then she’d run out to find Owen, full of apology. He’d been a little disappointed, but he’d hidden it well.

  “It’s natural to distrust one another,” he’d said when she’d apologized for how rude Stephen had been, explained the reasoning behind his distrust. “He’s an older guy—he’d have lived through plenty of wars where information was everything. The stories humans tell about dragons… they always talk about us hoarding gold. That’s not quite right, but we definitely hoard information. Pretty jealously, sometimes.”

  ”Yeah,” Angela said irritably. “It’s dumb. Maybe it’s because wolves share everything we know with each other, but… I just don’t see why he wouldn’t want you to help us out.”

  ”It’s okay, Angela, really,” Owen said softly, reaching out to touch the side of her face—the contact sent shivers down her spine, and she gazed at him, hardly daring to breathe. How could he make a gesture like that so casual, when it made her feel like she was about to lift off the ground? “Maybe I’ll earn his trust one day. I’m in no rush. We’re a patient bunch, dragons, and I’m around for the long haul.”

  ”Are you sure?”

  ”I mean, unless you’re getting sick of me,” he teased her. “I’ll go as soon as you tell me you’re tired of me—”

  ”No way! Are you kidding? You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years,” she said in a rush, then blushed crimson, realizing what she’d said. But he only smiled at her.

  ”Same here.”

  One day, after a long dinner she’d spent giggling with Owen about something or other, she was surprised to find Helena standing in the door to her room. She’d been
halfway through a book about magic that Stephen had tasked her to read. For some reason, the old dragon had been much harder on her about their research than usual. It was like he was trying to force her to spend more time studying—if she didn’t know better, she’d think it had something to do with Owen being here. But the joke was on Stephen. He could set her all the homework in the world—she was still going to find time to hang out with her new friend.

  ”What’s up, Helena?”

  ”Oh, nothing much,” the dragoness said, stretching dramatically. “Just thought I’d come to check in on my favorite wolf pup.”

  ”Don’t call me that,” Angela muttered. Helena tilted her head to the side, confused.

  ”What? You used to love that nickname.”

  ”It makes me feel like a kid,” Angela said flatly, putting the book down. “I’m twenty-five.”

  ”I know, baby.” Helena winced at the pet name, waving her hands apologetically. “Not baby! Not baby! Big—big, mature, old woman. Ancient lady.”

  ”That’s worse,” Angela objected, but she couldn’t help but grin. Helena was impossible to stay mad at for long. Sensing her forgiveness, Helena sidled over to the bed and flopped on it in triumph, turning her luminous golden eyes onto Angela as she did.

  ”So.”

  ”So what?”

  ”So.”

  ”Helena—Stephen wants me to finish this whole book by tomorrow, do you need something?”

  ”Just thought we might have a good old fashioned chat about boys.”

  ”We’ve never talked about boys in our lives,” Angela said flatly. “What are you talking about?”

  ”You and Owen. You’re spending a lot of time together. Discuss.”

  ”Subtle,” Angela said, rolling her eyes. The dragoness propped herself up on her elbow with a huffy sigh.

  ”How else am I supposed to bring it up? I never had a little sister until you, I’m new at it.”

  Calling her her little sister always got Angela on Helena’s side and she knew it. It was disgusting, how clever and manipulative Helena could be sometimes… but she was just so charming that it was impossible to dislike her for it. Angela heaved a sigh. “Fine. Yes. It’s good to get to know someone new. What about it?”

  ”Is that all it is?” Helena’s eyes were gleaming. “He’s just interesting to get to know? You’d be acting the same way if he wasn’t a handsome boy dragon?”

  ”What? Yeah, I guess?” Angela frowned, trying to focus on the book and block out Helena’s prying eyes. She knew exactly what the dragoness was getting at. She’d spent plenty of time thinking about it herself, in fact. It was true that she felt something about Owen that she hadn’t felt about anyone else… but so what? It was just a little crush. She never got crushes, it wasn’t like there were many guys around here to crush on. What was wrong with having a few feelings? Something of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, because Helena leaned forward, jabbing at her ribcage with one long finger. She squirmed, half-laughing, half-annoyed. “Helena!”

  ”You think he’s haaaandsome,” Helena caroled. “You like him!”

  ”So what! So what if I do! And I don’t, for the record,” she added belatedly, but the dragoness was already rolling on her back, kicking her feet in triumph.

  ”I knew it! Do you think he’s your soulmate?”

  ”I don’t know! He’s just—we’re just friends, don’t make it weird,” Angela complained, prodding at her sister-in-law with her toes. “I don’t know. I’d know if he was my soulmate, right?”

  ”Some people say you know straight away, but I think that’s old-fashioned,” Helena said thoughtfully. “Maybe some people get that lightning bolt moment, but I didn’t get it with Art. I mean, I thought he was interesting for sure, but I didn’t know he was meant to be mine for… ages. Neither did Alexander, quite famously,” she added, the corner of her mouth twitching. She’d spent a long time teasing her older brother about how long it had taken him to realize that the human woman who was helping him search for his soulmate was, in fact, the very soulmate he was searching for. “Have you talked to Jessica?”

  ”No? Why?”

  “Because she’s your sister. And because she knows what it’s like for a wolf to fall in love with a dragon. And because—”

  ”I’m not in love with him!” Angela blushed to the roots of her hair, the book forgotten. “I just—think he’s—interesting, and clever, and handsome—”

  ”—and you want to kiss him and marry him and live happily ever after, I know, I know.” Helena’s grin faded a little bit. “I don’t mean to tease you, honey, really. You’re doing the right thing—getting to know him, spending lots of time together, all that stuff. It’s good for you. It was what Art and I needed.”

  ”What does Art think of him?” Angela sat forward, curious. She rarely talked to the bear—he kept to himself most of the time, but she wanted to know if he and Owen had hit it off. She had a feeling it would be good for them to make friends—after all, they’d both lost their families, right?

  Helena hesitated now, and Angela could see a strange shadow in her eyes. “Art—isn’t sure. He tends to be suspicious of outsiders, it’s just—“

  ”Seriously?” Angela sighed. “Your dad’s the same. He said he doesn’t trust him.”

  “Bloody dragons, right?” Helena smiled, but she looked a little worried. “Give it time. Let everyone get to know him the way you are. After all, if he’s meant to be your soulmate, he’s bound to be a good guy, right?”

  ”Why’s that?”

  ”Because nobody could hold a candle to you who wasn’t absolutely brilliant.” Helena pounced on her, dragging her into a suffocating hug as Angela laughed and play-fought against the embrace. But with a good head of height on her—and a surprising amount of muscle for such a willowy woman—Helena wasn’t easily fought off. Finally, Helena allowed Angela to extricate herself, and climbed to her feet, grinning.

  ”Just give it time, babe. And be safe,” she added warningly. “There’s no need to rush anything. If he’s meant for you, things will just… fall into place.” The dragoness winked, then disappeared around the corner, leaving Angela to fix the bird’s nest that was now her hair. Why did the woman have to be so demonstrative with her affection? Still—it had felt good to talk through how she felt about their visitor. Whether it was just a silly crush, or something deeper (her heart pounded at that thought), it was good to talk it out with someone who’d been through it.

  Her book had been thrown across the room when Helena had pounced on her and had almost made it to the door. Rolling her eyes, she climbed off her bed, straightening the blankets before padding across the cold stone floor to retrieve the book. It was interesting, even if the pace Stephen was setting for her was a bit extreme—all about magic. Specifically, the magic inherent in shifter blood. The author seemed to feel that there were other ways of manifesting the power that allowed them to shift between states. There was one paragraph that seemed to imply that their powers could even be transferred—but the translation was particularly thorny, and she’d been struggling for half an hour now to nail down a reliable version of what the Draconic script said.

  As she picked up the book, soft footfalls caught her attention, and she looked up to see Owen heading down the hallway. His black eyes fell on her, and her heart did the backflip it had started doing every time she saw him (or even thought about him, sometimes.) She smiled, not caring that he was seeing her in her pajamas.

  ”Good evening,” he said, pausing in the doorway of her room. She remembered he’d gone out on a night run with Jessica and Samuel. He was wearing running clothes that were a little too tight on him, and she could smell the scent of his sweat from here—it was a good smell, she had to admit, a little dizzy. Was this why Jessica liked going running with Samuel so much?

  ”How was your run?” she asked to cover the fact that she was starting to blush. He groaned theatrically and pretended to stagger against the wall of th
e corridor, and she giggled.

  ”I’m so out of shape in this body,” he complained. “I can fly for a day straight, but running? Forget about it. Especially with a wolf. I wished you were there,” he added, shooting her a glance out of the corner of his eye that made her melt. Stephen was an idiot for not trusting him, she thought in a rush. How could someone with that face be anything less than a perfectly good person?

  ”Want to come in and rest your legs?” she asked, teasing him. “It’s a long walk down the corridor to your room…”

  ”I think that would be best,” he said, affecting a dramatic limp and staggering into her room. He perched on the edge of the bed and pulled at the too-tight T-shirt that looked like it was cutting off circulation to his arms. Not that she minded, honestly… the close contouring of his body was quite a sight. She studiously pretended interest in the book when she sensed his dark eyes on her. It wouldn’t do to be caught staring. “Samuel lent me some running clothes,” he explained, gesturing to the shirt. “Not the best fit, I’ll admit.”

  ”They look fine,” she dared, mustering the bravery to make brief eye contact with him before returning her eyes to her book. Ever since she’d realized that what she felt about him wasn’t exactly platonic, she’d been trying to figure out how to flirt. It seemed impossible—and it probably was, she thought, despairingly. Was that really the best she could do? An almost-neutral comment, and half a second of eye contact?

  ”What are you reading?” he asked, peering at the book. Angela felt a flicker of doubt. Should she show him? After all, it was one of Stephen’s books—one of the books the old dragon had refused to let Owen help them with. He’d probably be angry if she showed it to him. But by the same token… what if he could help with the translation she was struggling with? Maybe they could figure out what the paragraph meant together. Maybe Stephen would be happy, then—happy enough to let Owen keep helping them. Then she could spend more time with him.