by Zoe Chant
"I can see that," Reive said, his voice warm.
"He seems nice in email. He told me that he couldn't confirm or deny that he had the book I was looking for, but if I was ever in Italy, I could stop by and look at his library. I thought at the time that I'd never get to go. I couldn't possibly. But now, here I am. Like a dream come true."
"You deserve to have all your dreams come true, Jess."
He said it earnestly, leaning forward, his gaze intent on her face. Jess could feel a blush rising into her cheeks again. She hastily looked down at the laptop.
"Yeah, well, when you're an orphan who has to make her own way in the world, you have to make sure your dreams are practical ones."
She didn't mean for it to come out bitter. She really didn't feel bitter, most of the time. On the whole, leaving aside the "occasionally turns into a monster" issue, she was pretty happy with her life. She'd worked her butt off putting herself through college, and now she was starting to pay down on her student loans and save some money.
But a trip to Italy to look at a rare book definitely wasn't on the agenda. Not yet. Not for a while. Maybe not ever.
Except ... now, apparently, it was. Courtesy of an incredibly sexy and sweet dragon shifter with a rich family, whose interests and hers were going in the same direction for a while.
She sneaked a peek at him out of the corner of her eyes, just as he got up and went to the minibar. He came back a moment later with a newly opened cold beer for himself, and another greyhound for her, fresh and cold with ice cubes clinking in it.
"You looked like your drink could use a refresher," he said, smiling as he handed it to her.
"Thank you. I'm sorry about that thing earlier, I didn't mean to—"
"Jess. Listen."
Reive sat beside her on the couch. He was so close, she could almost feel his body heat. She found herself leaning toward him without meaning to, like a flower toward the sun.
"Stop apologizing for occasionally mentioning that you've had a rough life," he said gently. "I want to know about your life—I mean, whatever parts of it you want to tell me about. And some of it's going to be messy, and some of it you might be angry or sad about. That's okay. It's what makes you, well ..." He shrugged and smiled. "Human."
Up until that point she had been blossoming, but he couldn't have done more to dump a bucket of ice water over her burgeoning libido if he'd tried.
Human. Except she wasn't.
And dragons and gargoyles were enemies.
"I need to concentrate on this," she said, and Reive just nodded and got up from the couch.
She was still very aware of him, far more than she wanted to be, as he moved around the suite. Water ran in the bathroom. Then it was quiet for a bit, and she thought maybe he'd decided to take a nap.
The drink was hitting her hard, in a way she found pleasant. Usually she had an extremely high alcohol tolerance, which probably went along with the gargoyle thing. But on an empty stomach and almost no sleep, she was slightly buzzed, a light floating feeling that helped contribute to the sense that she'd stepped completely out of her ordinary world.
"Jess," Reive said softly, and she looked around. He was at the window. "Come here. There's something I think you'd like to see."
Jess got up, and had to grab onto the back of the couch. She definitely wasn't drunk, but ... yeah, wow, probably better think about getting some room service soon.
She went to join Reive at the window. He moved aside to let her in.
The clear light earlier in the day had grown soft and gold, casting long shadows across the rooftops of the city. In this light, everything was soft-edged and pastel, a patchwork painting of gold and cream and pink and orange.
It was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.
"This is gorgeous," she breathed softly.
"I thought you'd like it. There's nothing quite like a city at sunset."
He was gazing out at it raptly, and she found herself just as caught up in the golden light on his face, outlining his long lashes and softening the sharp line of his jaw.
"Jess?" he said, turning toward her.
It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and kiss him.
He kissed back warmly, eagerly. If there had been any doubt in her mind that he, too, felt the attraction thrumming between them, there was no doubt now. He was a skilled kisser, and all rational thought fled as she leaned into him, pressing against his leather-clad torso. As their kisses grew more frantic and heated, his hand tangled in her hair and dragged strands out of their braid. The heavy motorcycle jacket was in the way now. She began to fumble with its zipper, not really thinking about anything except wanting to get closer, to feel more of him.
And then he broke the kiss, jerking back with a soft gasp. His hair was tousled, his lips parted and eyes blown wide with need, but his face had paled under his tan.
"Reive, what is it? Did I hurt you?"
"I'm fine." He started to raise a hand to touch his right shoulder, then lowered it quickly. "I ... don't think this is a good idea."
"Reive, look, whatever is wrong with you, you can tell me. If we have to be careful, we can be careful."
But he was already taking a step back, regaining some distance. "This isn't a good idea."
"Fine," Jess said, hurt. Maybe he was right anyway; there was only heartache that way.
Gargoyles and dragons are enemies.
"Jess, listen—"
"I need to work on the translations," she interrupted, turning away from the gorgeous view and his too-tempting face and body. "Maybe I'll order room service before we both pass out drunk. Do you want anything?"
"No," he said quietly, standing there at the window. The sun slipped behind the buildings, and now his face was in shadow. "No, I'm fine. I'm sorry about that."
"Why are you apologizing? I kissed you. Reive ..."
But he went into the bedroom and shut the door.
Great, she thought. I have no idea what just happened there.
She went back to the couch and her work, but she shuffled the papers absently without seeing them. She kept thinking about the way he'd jerked away when she touched his arm, pain written clearly across his face.
A friend of yours, huh?
Oh, Reive.
She was starting to have a suspicion about Reive's "friend." About the dark mottling on his dragon form. About the nature of what she had suspected at first was a disability and then an illness.
And if her suspicions and theories were true, she could never, ever trust herself to touch him—or anyone else, not ever again.
Reive
Reive woke alone in his regrettably Jess-free bed, with early morning sunshine slanting across the pillow. Lying still, he could hear soft sounds from the main room of the suite, the sound of someone clinking and moving about. At first he tensed in alarm, but then he relaxed as he recognized that it was only Jess, and she didn't sound worried. She was humming softly to herself under her breath.
If only she was here, soft and warm against him. He ached for her—literally ached; his arm was numb this morning for the most part, but there was a bone-deep pain around the shoulder. He couldn't help thinking of how much less it seemed to hurt when Jess was touching him. Maybe it was only that he hadn't been touched like that in so long; the pleasant sensations overrode the pain.
Yesterday, he'd almost gotten carried away with how good it felt. How good she felt. He had almost let her see his arm, and what was clearly no ordinary human illness, but the gradual petrification of his flesh and bone.
What are you doing? he scolded himself. You can't get involved with this woman. She's a human, she's not your mate, and she's already putting herself in enough danger to help you.
Also ... there was, lurking in the back of his mind, the awareness that if this didn't work, he had no business getting involved with anyone, human or not, mate or not, because the stone was going to consume him.
He sat up a
nd took a look at his arm in the morning light. The rate of petrification seemed to be accelerating. It had taken months for the first stone patches to show up, and weeks more for them to noticeably start to spread.
Now, in just a couple of days, his arm had gone from a patchwork of separate stone patches, to becoming almost entirely stone from shoulder to fingers. He could still awkwardly move and bend it, but it was extremely stiff, and the fingers were so clumsy that he could no longer pick anything up. Yesterday, checking into the hotel, he'd had to scrawl his name with his left hand.
Of course, he would be right-handed. This was going to be hard to conceal from Jess.
The only small silver lining was that it hurt less. The pain now was mainly around his shoulder, where his arm joined to his body, and in his hand, which was still in the process of transforming. The fact that he hadn't completely lost the ability to move his arm made him think that it wasn't finished changing yet, down at the level of muscles and bones.
When it did, would it just be a weight dragging him down, like a statue's arm attached to his body?
For a while, at the beginning, he had wondered if he could stop the progression of the disease by taking the drastic step of amputating his arm. He had been struggling with the possibility, knowing that if he was going to do it, he needed to do it soon. It was such a final step, though. There was no going back if he did something like that.
Although it would be a relief to be free of the pain.
But he was past the point now when it would have helped. A few days ago, he'd found some new patches of stone on his side. They had remained small for now, but he was starting to be able to feel them when he moved, tugging at his skin as if something had been uncomfortably stuck to his body.
There was no going back now. He had to find a cure or die.
A light tap came at the door. "Reive?" Jess called softly. "Are you awake?"
He reached hastily for the covers, pulling them to cover his arm. "I'm not decent," he said quickly.
There was a brief pause, and he realized that, given how things had gone last night, the hasty semi-lie might not be that much of a deterrent. Then she said, "I just wanted to ask if you'd like me to order breakfast for you."
"Sure." He wasn't really hungry, any more than he had been lately, but it would give her something to do other than coming in and seeing him like this.
"Do you want anything in particular?" Jess asked through the door.
"Something with meat in it." Meat was good for shifter healing, even if he didn't feel the usual craving for it. "Steak and eggs, maybe, if they have it."
"Will do," she said, sounding pleased.
Reive waited for her soft footsteps to retreat, then sat up and reached for his phone. He checked to see if Heikon had texted him, only remembering as he called up the empty text list that, with the new European SIM card in his phone, he had a different number now. No one could reach him.
His text to Uncle Heikon yesterday, sent from the parking lot of an Indiana gas station, had been simple and to the point. Might have spotted more gargoyles in Indiana; not sure if that's what they are. Their leader wears black robes and may have powers beyond what we've seen from them before. It looks like actual magic. Know anyone like that?
He'd gotten Heikon's response at the airport: Thanks. I'll look into it. Do you think they're a threat to the clan?
No, he had texted back. They really weren't; they didn't seem interested in dragons at all.
Do as you see fit, then, Heikon texted him. Report back if anything changes.
No request for further information. A year ago, Heikon would have demanded details. Now he was busy with his mate Esme and their kids and grandkids. Uncle Heikon, the seasoned warrior, had turned into a family man.
And Reive, who had spent most of his life at his family's beck and call, taking orders first from his cruel grandfather and then from Uncle Heikon, found that he really didn't mind being out of touch for a while.
He got up and went into the bathroom. He was going to need clean clothes; he wished he'd remembered to pick up something yesterday. The bathroom, at least, had a full set of the usual hotel toiletries, as well as a couple of sealed, plastic-wrapped overnight kits in a drawer, so he was able to comb his hair, brush his teeth, and shave. He examined his side in the mirror and was unsurprised to see that the gray patches on his flank and hip had enlarged, growing from pea-sized to better than quarter-sized.
There had better be some answers for me in Italy, or I'm screwed.
He could smell tempting food smells now, and in spite of himself, he found that he was slightly hungry. With a certain reluctance, he pulled on his rumpled clothes from yesterday, and went out into the common room of the suite.
"Hi," Jess said with her mouth full. "Uh, I ordered a lot of food."
She certainly had. There were pastries and fruit and plates of eggs, along with a steaming carafe of coffee, and a steak that looked and smelled amazing.
"Apparently steak and eggs isn't really an Italian breakfast thing," Jess said, swallowing. She had already demolished most of a plate of eggs and pastries. "But they said they could send up a steak, and I said yes please, and—uh, if you don't want it, I'll take half of it. I hope you like it rare."
"Rare is great," Reive said. He was surprised how hungry he felt, confronted with all of this—and with Jess, freshly showered in a clean white blouse and a long tan skirt, with her damp hair pinned up into a curly pile. Her bare feet were tucked under her, and she laid into the food with gleeful abandon.
Reive cut off part of the steak and transferred it to her plate, then got to work on his own breakfast. He actually was hungry. He went through the steak, the remaining eggs, and had started in on some pastries before he finally felt like he'd had enough. He used to eat like that all the time, but since the gargoyle poisoning, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd had that much.
"That was amazing," Jess said, flopping back on the couch. "So now we roll ourselves out of the hotel room, right? We aren't really staying for three days, are we? Oh!" She sat up abruptly without waiting for an answer. "So I woke up at like two in the morning because of time zones or whatever, and I've spent the last few hours working on your translations."
Her phone was beside her on the couch, sitting on top of a stack of papers. Jess lifted it off and held out the sheaf of papers toward him. It was hotel stationery covered in her tidy librarian's handwriting.
"Wow." He flipped through it briefly. The pages were numbered and appeared to have a table of contents. "You didn't have to stay up all night working on this."
Jess shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. "This kind of thing is fun for me. I couldn't sleep anyway. And I've read it all before a bunch of times, so I was able to remember some of it, and it was just a matter of trying to pick out the parts that might be useful for helping your friend."
"My friend," he murmured. "Right. Jess, listen, about last night, I'm sor—"
"There's not a lot there. I mean, not a lot that's helpful. It's pretty incoherent and very metaphysical."
Reive gave up on trying to apologize. If she was upset with him, she had every right to be. He continued to flip through the pages. She was right; even in English, most of it was beyond him. It was more like poetry than a magical formula for turning flesh into stone, or vice versa.
"But after seeing those guys at the library," Jess went on, sounding a little perkier, "I'm starting to think there's more to those symbols than just medieval alchemists being a little bit nuts about turning lead into gold, you know? Unfortunately, if there was ever a part of the book that explained it in any detail, it's either gone or at Romano's place."
Reive looked up from the book, and smiled at her. "So how do you feel about a drive?"
A few minutes later, with Jess's things hastily stuffed into her suitcase, they were out the door. Reive looked around, and then hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door and ducked down a side stairwell.
"This
feels so cloak and dagger," Jess giggled. She was carrying the suitcase herself; he'd offered, but she shook her head and Reive wasn't going to push the issue. She had seemed to have no problem carrying it all over Rome yesterday. Apparently moving book carts around built up some serious muscles.
On the main floor, Reive glanced out into the lobby. It was nearly deserted, without any sign of anyone who might be there to watch them. Still, taking no chances, he went down the hall toward the back instead, and through a door marked Passagio di servizio. This got them yelled at in Italian, but with profuse apologies in English and Latin, and their best innocent-tourist looks, they hurried out a loading door and found themselves in a narrow side street.
"You said drive?" Jess asked. "Aren't we going to take a bus?"
"I think a car would be easier. Much more chance to see if we're being followed and shake a tail."
They definitely didn't seem to have a tail now. They went quickly to the nearest bus stop and caught a bus to the first car rental agency that looked like it might have what Reive wanted.
And he wanted something specific. Well, make and model didn't matter so much, but if he was going to drive Jess around Italy, he didn't plan on doing it in a Hyundai.
"Bring me your most expensive convertible, please," he said to the English-speaking clerk at the counter, and Jess's eyes went round.
The car was an Audi, small and sleek and black, with a powerful, growling engine. Reive's dragon approved as soon as he got behind the wheel. It was the same feeling as driving a motorcycle, a feeling almost like flying.
He was going to have to shift gears a lot, but he found that he could do it adequately enough with his fingers loosely curled and the pressure of his palm to pop the gearshift from one position to another. With the glove on, he clumsily scribbled a loose signature on the various pieces of paperwork with the pen clamped between his stiff and inert second and third finger—"Born this way," he explained to the clerk. He noticed Jess's sharp gaze following his gloved hand around.
It still felt uncomfortable lying to her. He didn't care what random strangers thought, but he did care what Jess thought.