by Anna Lowe
“Tristan.” Natalie tapped his hand. “Vampires?”
Her tone said she didn’t just want to know — she needed to know.
“Vampires…” he started, trying to decide where to begin. Suddenly, the coffee tasted bitter, the croissant stale. “Paris used to be overrun with them…”
Downstairs, dishes clattered. Was Madame Colette cleaning or hinting for him not to reveal the details of how dragons had come to dominate the city centuries ago?
Tristan heaved an inner sigh. Did she really think so little of him?
His dragon snorted. Yes.
He cleared his throat and picked up again. “There are only a few vampires left in Paris these days.”
Natalie stared into her coffee and muttered, “Not few enough.” Then she looked up, a little pale. “Do they drink blood like the stories say?”
“Some just drink a little. Others bleed you dry.”
Natalie blanched, and he winced at his word choice.
“Me?” she squeaked.
“Not you,” he said immediately. “Not if I can help it. But it would help if I understood what drew them to you. You, in particular, I mean.”
“I wish I knew.”
“What were you doing at Solidarité du Coeur anyway?”
She gave him a stern look. “I love volunteering there. It’s important work.”
He stuck up his hands. It was important work. In a way, it paralleled what he did — protecting the city and its people. But Olivier hadn’t given the impression of simply stumbling into that soup kitchen. He and the others had hunted Natalie down. Why?
“What were you doing there?” Natalie asked.
Tristan hemmed and hawed. Now would be a good time to tell her about his true nature. I’m a dragon shifter, hired by the Guardians to keep an eye out for trouble. But he didn’t want to dump everything on Natalie at once.
“I work for a security conglomerate. Kind of like…what is that called? Neighborhood watch.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Some neighborhood watch.”
Okay, so she wasn’t buying that, but he wasn’t quite ready to explain. Instead, he pressed on about her.
Yes. His dragon nodded eagerly. More about her.
“I work at Paddy’s Irish Pub, plus a few hours in an English bookstore.”
That didn’t explain the vampires either, not with Olivier’s words echoing through his mind.
You think blood like that comes along every day? Royal blood?
“What about your family? Any ties to Europe?”
“Yes, but that was generations ago. My great-grandmother emigrated from France to Quebec, then to the US. Would that make me tastier or something?” She frowned. “Wait. How do you know so much about vampires?”
He squeezed his lips together. That was the tricky part.
“There are lots of supernaturals around.”
Bad way to begin, he realized when Natalie blanched.
“Supernaturals? Lots?”
He hurried to correct himself. “I mean, it seems like a lot once you know they exist. Really, there are only a few. Most humans go their whole lives without realizing they’re there.”
She stared. “How do you know?”
Because I’m a dragon shifter didn’t seem like the best place to start, so he dodged the question. “I was hired to keep an eye out for vampires. It’s my job.”
Downstairs, a wet mop slapped the floor. Madame Colette was hinting again. Still, she was cleaning, so that was a plus.
Meanwhile, Natalie stared at Tristan. “Your job? Your actual job? Do you go around with cloves of garlic?”
He smiled, though she didn’t. “No garlic. My job is to report on any vampires who cause trouble, not to go after them.” That part was entirely true, though he frowned at the reminder of how pissed off his boss would be.
“And who exactly hired you to do this job?”
He waved around. “The people who own this apartment.”
“It’s not yours?”
That made him cackle out loud. “Me, owning a place like this? Maybe in my dreams.”
You got that right, the pause in the steady swipe of Madame mopping agreed.
Tristan shook his head. He’d never been rich and never would be. Still, the place was a huge step up from where he’d started when he’d first come to Paris. He and several other former military shifters who’d had been hired by the Guardians had bunked in much rougher digs at first. Since then, some had been promoted, some posted to other locations, others laid off. Tristan felt like a pawn being moved over a chessboard he could only see a few squares of. The Guardians were a secretive bunch, and in the beginning, that hadn’t bothered him much. A job was a job, and as long as he worked for the good guys, he was fine with that. But now…
His eyes drifted to Natalie, and his dragon growled. Not just a job anymore.
No, it wasn’t. But how exactly did Natalie figure in? Was she just another pawn, like him?
More like the queen, his dragon growled. And we will make her our mate someday.
If she agrees, he shot back.
His dragon might think the world still worked as it had centuries before, with a knight claiming the hand of the woman he saved. But things had changed in the twenty-first century, and a good thing, too. He didn’t want a mate who had no choice in her partner. He wanted her to want him too.
Downstairs, the mop slapped against the marble floor of the hallway, and he could practically hear Madame laughing. Why would a nice girl like Natalie want you?
He frowned into his coffee. Why, indeed?
Natalie stared over the crests of the trees gracing the Jardin du Luxembourg. “I started feeling it yesterday afternoon, not long after I took a walk. I stopped for a crêpe, and everything was fine. But then I started imagining someone was following me.” She frowned. “I guess I wasn’t imagining.”
Tristan thought that one over. Few humans sensed vampires until it was too late. But Natalie had?
“My dream was to live in Paris. But vampires…” She shivered. “Why would vampires be after me? I’m not special in any way.”
I beg to differ, his dragon sniffed.
Aloud, he muttered, “I don’t know.”
Most of his life, he’d dealt with shifters. Wolves were stubborn as anything. Bear shifters were mostly easygoing but dangerously possessive around their mates. Lions were obsessed with looking good, and dragons came in two flavors — snobby blue bloods and plain old commoners like him.
But vampires? He’d never dealt with any before this latest assignment. The fact that four had come after Natalie at the same time didn’t bode well.
“Is there anything special in your family? Ancient nobility, perhaps?”
The mopping downstairs slowed as Madame Colette listened in.
Natalie snorted. “Hardly. Just normal folks living modest lives.”
Tristan took another bite of croissant. Normal didn’t fit what the vampire had said.
“Did you ever have any trouble before?”
“With vampires? Are you kidding?”
“I mean at home. You’re from America, oui? What brought you to Paris?”
He half expected to hear one of the usual expat reasons. For the art… For the culture… I wanted to find myself…
But Natalie just stared out into the distance and whispered one word. “Dean.”
Tristan tensed. Whoever Dean was, he already hated the guy.
Natalie smiled faintly. “Dean was supposed to bring me to Paris, but he never did. So, I came on my own.”
Tristan tilted his head, and she looked at him, then sighed.
“It’s a long story. Do you really want to hear it?”
No, his dragon muttered. Not if it includes a shithead named Dean.
“Yes,” he said.
“I work — worked — in the human resources department of a big consulting company at home. A job I took to follow Dean, whom I met just as I was finishing college.” Her tone sou
red. “He liked having everything on his terms, and for some reason, I always tagged along. Don’t ask what I saw in him. I’m still not sure.” She pushed her plate away with a frown. “The job turned out okay, especially when I got to work in community outreach — you know, supporting fundraisers, organizing office charity runs…”
Tristan nodded, though he didn’t actually know. Community service in his military unit was mostly a matter of limiting collateral damage.
Natalie had lit up at the mention of her work, but then she clouded again. “Dean refused to talk about getting serious, and I was okay with that. But then he proposed, totally out of the blue. We’d gone out to dinner, and he ordered expensive champagne. Then he said he’d just been offered a year-long project in Paris, and he wanted me to go with him. I was so excited. I’ve dreamed about Paris ever since I was a kid. I minored in French and everything.”
That explained some things, but not others. Tristan tapped the table quietly, waiting for her to go on.
“I asked the company about transferring me here too, but there was no opening for me. Dean said not to worry — he’d take care of everything. He said I should take the time off. Enjoy Paris.” She stared in the direction of the Eiffel Tower. “I loved the idea, but it came out of nowhere, and I wasn’t even that sure what we had was… Well, the real thing.”
Her gaze drifted over to Tristan, and when their eyes met, another zing ricocheted through his veins. His body warmed, and he leaned forward, tempted to cup her cheek. No, that wasn’t the real thing. But I think this is.
Natalie gulped, turned pink, and looked away. “Anyway… As excited as I was about Paris, I wasn’t sure about leaving my job. Professionally, it was a great opportunity for Dean, but not for me. When I got cold feet, Dean did an about-face. He said we needed more time to work things out.” She shook her head bitterly. “As I found out, what he needed was time to figure out Plan B. Which he did. Her name was Mary, and she worked in accounting.”
Tristan’s jaw dropped. “He didn’t care who he was with?”
Natalie laughed humorlessly. “Apparently not. From what I heard afterward, it’s easier to make senior partner if you’ve done a stint abroad — and if you’re married.” She made a face. “You know — showing what a nice, stable guy you are. Anyway, I guess Dean figured he could kill two birds with one stone.”
Tristan balled his hands into fists. “You’re no stone.”
Natalie shot him a smile that made his world light up for a few heartbeats, at least. Then she frowned, and Tristan wanted to kill Dean all over again.
“Apparently, Dean was more interested in making senior partner than he was in me. But it did get me thinking. What was I waiting for? I’d dreamed about Paris for so long but never made that come true. I was always compromising for someone. In college, I was all set to do a semester abroad, but my parents split up, and my mother said she couldn’t handle me being so far away. Then I started working, and the dream slipped further and further away. Instead of moving to Paris, I made a trip here. A one-week trip, three years ago — just long enough to fall in love with the city before going back to Philly. Philly,” she muttered.
Then she leveled a fierce stare at the chimney of the neighboring building. “The good thing was, I started asking myself why I needed a guy to realize my dream. I might have gone on thinking about it forever. But then Notre Dame burned…”
Tristan tilted his head. The cathedral fire had ousted dozens of gargoyle shifters from their ancestral home, and it had caused many supernaturals to turn bitter toward humans for setting off the accidental fire in the first place. He would never forget the night he’d stood, dumbstruck, along with so many other Parisians. But what did it have to do with Natalie?
She shrugged. “I know it sounds crazy, but somehow, that’s what finally made me act. It made me think I could miss other treasures I’d never truly appreciated before. I even felt…”
He leaned closer. “What?”
She knotted her fingers and twisted them shyly. “It’s silly, really. But I felt like I needed to help. Not with the cathedral, maybe, but in other ways. It just seemed like what I had to do.”
Somewhere in the back of Tristan’s mind, a voice whispered, Fire Maiden.
The voice of destiny, echoing an old legend he didn’t know much about. Only that they were the ancestors of a mighty dragon queen who protected Europe’s great cities. Why did it come to his mind now?
Natalie flashed a weak smile. “So, here I am. My father calls it my premature midlife crisis. But you know what? I love it. I love doing things on my own terms.” She motioned around. “I earn a quarter of what I used to and pay three times the rent for a tiny place. But I love it. I love living my dream.”
Tristan found himself grinning. “Good for you. Dean’s loss, by the way. And poor whatshername — Mary.”
Natalie laughed — a real one for a change. “Yes, poor Mary. That big project Dean was gunning for fell through. He never made it to Paris in the end, but they did get married.”
“Did he make senior partner?”
A naughty glint showed in Natalie’s eye. “Nope. Not yet, at least.” Then her face fell. “Of course, my dream of Paris didn’t include vampires…”
Tristan put a hand over hers. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll keep you safe.”
She bit her lip. “You’ve already done enough.”
He shook his head. “Three of them are still out there.”
“Three?” Her face went white. “You…killed one?”
He shifted in his seat, having experienced this before — the moment when a nice, normal person who lived a nice, normal life realized he was capable of killing. It almost didn’t matter that the deceased was one of the bad guys, or that Tristan only killed when he absolutely had to. He could practically see horror creep into her mind.
It was him or me, Tristan wanted to explain. Actually, him or you. Easy decision.
The coffee cup trembled in her hand, and she set it down with a clatter. Tristan braced himself for her to stand, thank him for breakfast, and hurry the hell away.
But when Natalie spoke again, it was a whisper, and she didn’t make a move to leave. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She covered her face with her hands. “This is my fault. I dragged you into this.”
Relief flooded him. She wasn’t mad. She didn’t blame him. But, wait. Why blame herself?
He squeezed her hand. “You didn’t do anything. They’re the bad guys, Natalie.”
She looked on the verge of tears, and Tristan burned to hug her. To hold her, protect her, and never, ever let her go.
“I have these dreams…” she said in a shaky whisper. “Where a vampire grabs me…”
He shook his head quickly. “It won’t happen. Not with me around.”
She forced a weak smile but shook her head. “But what if? I keep picturing the same thing. The vampire grabs me, and I can’t get away.”
Tristan fought the urge to let out his claws and flex in anger. God, he hated vampires. But she was right. What if?
So he stood and motioned for her to do the same. “Show me.” Dammit, his voice was all croaky. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”
She rose uncertainly, then gulped and turned her back to him. “He grabs me from behind and pins my arms.”
Slowly, Tristan looped his arms around her. She trembled, and damn — he did too.
He cleared his throat, trying to concentrate. “Like this?”
Just like that, his dragon purred.
Natalie nodded. “Yes, but tighter. So tight, I can’t even move.”
Tristan had never been so caught between fear, arousal, and anger. Gradually, he tightened his grip, reminding his dragon this was about life and death, not about him and her.
But it was hard. The top of her head was at about chin height, and he longed to cuddle her close. Then he’d nuzzle her cheek, brush his lips over her jawline, and—
Downstairs, something banged, and he snappe
d upright. Another reminder from Madame Colette.
“You can get out of every hold, no matter how tight,” he said quickly. “Just remember not to panic.”
And not to get aroused, he ordered his dragon.
“Okay,” Natalie whispered.
He considered the options. What would work for someone her size?
“Three steps. Snap, jab, elbow,” he said, deciding quickly. “Number one, snap your arms up.”
He showed her, and she mimicked him in halting movements. They would have to work on that for sure.
Definitely needs more practice, his dragon hummed.
“Really snap up, hard. It won’t break you free, but it will give you a little space. Then, step two. Jut your elbows into his ribs.”
Two points gently pressed into his abdomen, and he resisted the urge to pick her up and carry her to bed.
“Harder,” he insisted.
“Are you sure?”
He hid a smile. “I’m sure. Just jab.” If his abs couldn’t take it, he’d have to quit his line of work.
She did, though not nearly hard enough.
Oh, this is fun, his dragon crooned. We could teach her lots of moves.
Not fun, he retorted. Life and death.
Madame Colette backed that up with the firm snap of a rag.
“You have to put everything into the jab. Then comes three — whirl and throw an elbow at his face.” He forced himself away from Natalie long enough to demonstrate the move.
Natalie stared at his arms. “Then what?”
He shrugged. “Then you run.”
She looked dubious, and he would have given anything to add, Then you douse him with dragon fire. Problem solved.
But she wasn’t a dragon, so running was her best option. He’d just have to make sure never to leave her alone long enough for vampires to attack.
No problem, his dragon agreed. We’ll stay nice and close.
“Try it,” he said, nestling her back into a bear hug. “One…”
Her hands snapped up a little faster than the first time.
“Two…”
She jabbed his ribs, and though it wasn’t much more than a tickle, there was potential there.