Manhattan Dragon

by Genevieve Jack

  Her face came into view, breathless and waiting. “Nick?”

  Filled with a new energy and possessing a body he realized was completely healed, he took her face in his hands and kissed her, kissed her like he could wash away everything dark that had ever happened to her with his own breath. His hands circled her waist, found red silk that slid softly between them.

  She was not unaffected. Her nails scraped up his spine and along the muscles of his shoulders.

  “I’m naked aren’t I?”

  Her smile was close and bright. “I had to clean you up. You were covered in blood.”

  “How long’ve I been out?”

  “Three days. It didn’t take as long with Harriet, but Tobias thought it was due to the nature of your injuries. How do you feel?”

  “I’ve gotta piss like a racehorse.”

  She laughed. “The bathroom is there, and Flubell has prepared you something to eat.” She grabbed a pair of black sweats off the dresser and tossed them to him. “I also brought you some clothes from your apartment, against my better judgment. I rather like you naked.”

  “Oh shit—Rosco!”

  “He’s here and he’s fine. He’s sleeping in the library. I bought him one of those giant beds.”

  He backed toward the bathroom. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m not finished with you.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Once Nick had made use of the facilities, he looked at himself in the mirror. Same old mug. Same sandy-brown hair. Same scar that cut through his lip and his eyebrow. But he felt different. He felt awake and alive. Rowan had replaced his batteries. And when he emerged again, he left the pants behind.

  Rowan’s eyes flicked down his body appreciatively.

  “Take off your nightgown,” he said, and his voice was all grit.

  “Why? What do you plan to do with me naked?” she said through a smile.

  He swaggered toward her. “I plan to show you you’re mine.”

  Rowan crossed her arms, fisted the silk, and pulled it over her head. God, she was perfect—lush curves, red lips, and a body filled with dark secrets. His was ready in an instant, hard for her. Only for her. He closed the space between them and took her mouth. His hands explored the soft weight of her breasts, his fingers tugging her erect nipples, drawing them out. Her hips thrust against him and he moaned at the thrill. Their first experience had been good, but now he savored her. He planned to worship every inch of her.

  He skimmed his hand down the slope of her waist and slowly, ever so slowly, between her legs.

  “Fuck, you’re wet. Is this for me? Just for me?”

  “Yes,” she said, voice husky with need. “I am yours.”

  He dropped to his knees, hands on her thighs, and looked up at her. “Then let me take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”

  He kissed her above where his fingers worked and licked up her center. She grabbed the corner of the dresser and hooked one leg over his shoulders, pulling him hard against her. As if he needed any further motivation. She tasted of oranges, of sweetness. He couldn’t get enough. His dick twitched, begging to be inside her, but he was a patient man and the sweetest dessert was the one waited for.

  Her climax tore through her, and he supported her as her knees gave out and her back arched with pleasure. He rose to meet her, face-to-face, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her sigh warmed the skin between his neck and his shoulder.

  “You’re mine,” he whispered to her. “Forever.”

  “Do you know what forever means?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “Maybe. It’s an abstract concept for me still.”

  She hooked her fingers in his and led him from the bedroom to the terrace. “Let me show you.”

  “Hey, I’m naked here.”

  “You’re also invisible as long as you touch me.”

  He ran his hands over her ass. “Then I guess I have to keep touching you.”

  “It’s a beautiful night, don’t you think?”

  “I’m distracted by a beautiful woman and didn’t notice.”

  Her wings unfurled from her back. “Let me show it to you.” One arm and then the other wrapped around him, and then her legs. Standing up, he thought. Well, all right. He grabbed her thighs and slid into her.

  “Hang on tight.”

  “Uh, what?” His eyes widened as she shot into the sky, their bodies locked against each other, coasting toward the moon.

  “Jesus, Rowan!” Pleasure traced its fingers around fear as she soared higher and higher, rolling in the air and bracing him against her with her heels. He clung to her, deep inside her. They climbed higher.

  “This is forever, Nick. It’s not worrying about death or falling. It’s knowing that you’re hard to kill. It’s the sun and the moon and us.”

  He trailed kisses up her neck and whispered, “I like us.”

  “Me too.”

  She turned in the air and thrust against him. It took him a second to find the rhythm, bracing himself against her shoulders, her heels. They were tangled together as tightly as woven vines.

  And then, as he felt her body climb again toward that golden peak, she folded her wings and dove. Nick’s stomach dropped as his climax rocked through him and his body rushed headfirst toward the Dakota building. He felt her orgasm again. She bucked against him. The roof rushed toward him. Closer. Faster.

  “Rowan!”

  Her wings unfurled without a moment to spare, and they swooped and coasted gently back to her rooftop terrace. Nick’s heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his skin. She landed softly, setting him on his feet, their bodies parting. She ran her nails through the hair behind his ears and held him close. His brain replayed the feeling of flying, of dropping, of shattering inside her.

  Against her cheek, he whispered, “I think I’m going to like forever.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  It had been centuries since Rowan had spent any time with Gabriel and Tobias together, but as they reunited over a few slices of pepperoni pizza at Lombardi’s, she realized what she’d been missing. Family was a treasure that could never be replaced. Comfort and connection surrounded her, and she slipped back into the ways of her childhood, looking up to Gabriel and leaning on Tobias as they discussed what had happened with the vampires and how Sabrina, Tobias’s vampire bride, had wiped the minds of the Forebears and sent them back to Romania thinking all the talk of dragons had been disproven. What Aldrich had seen had been nothing but an illusion produced by a very talented witch.

  So it was soul crushing to learn that her mother had collaborated with her uncle to kill their brother Marius and that Paragon was now under their rule. But she believed her brothers, believed that they had stayed apart for no reason other than her mother’s desire to keep them weak, to make them forget where they came from and their responsibilities to the world they left behind.

  “Scoria was here,” Tobias said. “With orders to kill us all.”

  Rowan gave a shrill inhale. “Mother sent Scoria himself?”

  Tobias nodded. “In March. Chicago. We had to eliminate him.”

  Rowan brought her fingers to her lips. Scoria was the captain of the Obsidian Guard. Sending him was the equivalent of waging war.

  “It’s no longer enough to allow us to live out our existence in another realm. Now she and Brynhoff want us dead,” Gabriel said.

  “But why?”

  Gabriel fixed Tobias with a steady stare. “My mate, the one who returned to Paragon with me when I discovered our mother’s treachery, she is a witch.”

  “Oh, Gabriel.” Rowan tried not to judge. She loved her brother, and she of all people now understood the undeniable nature of finding one’s mate. But witches were forbidden.

  “Believe me, I felt the same way,” Tobias said. “But I’m more convinced than ever that Raven was sent by the goddess of the mountain herself. I think the same prophecies that warned us about witches may actually be promising us a way to save
Paragon.”

  Rowan leaned forward and said through her teeth, “Before we go any further, there is something I need you to understand. I will never go back to Paragon. I have a life here now with Nick, one I prefer to what I left behind. I will never be a Paragonian queen. I will never marry another dragon or birth a bunch of whelps to propagate the race. Do you understand me?” That was that. She’d raised her voice to her brothers, something she’d never done in her five hundred years. But she was no longer a Paragonian princess. She was the captain of her own ship, the ruler of her own life, and she would live it on her own terms.

  “Never,” Gabriel said, the fire in his dark eyes burning. “I would never do that to you, Rowan. But mother sent Scoria for a reason, and she will send others. Next time she may come for you herself, or—”

  “Alexander. We have to warn Alexander! He’s unwell and he can’t protect himself.”

  “We know.” Tobias took her hand in his and squeezed. “He’s how we found you. Through the paintings.”

  “You saw him?”

  “No. His apartment was empty. But we were in his apartment, and it looked like he had been there recently.” Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck. “Judging by his rooms, he’s not in a good place.”

  “We’re concerned he’s suicidal,” Tobias said.

  Rowan frowned. “I’ve seen it in his art. He’s getting worse. Darker.”

  “A suicidal dragon who suddenly has an easy way to kill himself…,” Tobias said.

  “We have to find him,” Rowan said, “before someone from Paragon does.”

  Gabriel placed a hand on hers. “So we can count on your help, Princess?”

  “Don’t call me that, Gabriel. Honestly.”

  He winked at her.

  “Yes. Yes, you can count on me. You saved my fucking life and the life of my mate. I owe you. And I owe Alexander. I will help you.”

  Gabriel took her other hand. “Together again.”

  She grinned and offered a deep chuckle. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  The chief of police stood next to Nick as he arrested Soren. They’d already raided Gerald and Camilla Stevenson’s homes and found several links proving the real estate developer was the mastermind behind NAVAK and the largest human trafficking ring ever busted in New York. Nick had no problem proving Soren was Stevenson’s accomplice. It seemed Gerald had hours and hours of recordings on their relationship, probably meant to use against Soren if he ever turned on him. Pretty damning stuff.

  “You’re a fucking bastard,” Soren yelled, spitting as Nick handcuffed him and read him his rights.

  “Yeah, I’m a bastard. But I’m an honest bastard who gives a crap about integrity.” He handed Soren off to a fellow cop to process.

  “Great job, Nick. This bust is a record breaker. You’ve saved hundreds of trafficked victims.”

  It meant a lot to Nick to hear those words from a superior. This job, these people, they’d become like a family to him. But they weren’t his family. This was a job. And he’d given far too much of his life to it.

  “While you’re feeling pleased, maybe this would be a good time to ask you for some time off.”

  “A vacation?”

  “Longer. Administrative leave.”

  The chief grew serious. “Fill out the paperwork and we’ll see what we can do.”

  Nick did exactly that and left the moment his shift was over. He needed to stop at the jewelry store. He had a ring to buy before he met Rowan for dinner and more important things to do than could be found in a police precinct.

  Rowan signed the papers Adrienne placed in front of her, her heart overflowing with joy. The land under Sunrise House was hers. With the signing of these papers, she owned it. No lease. Bought and paid for.

  “How did you pull this off?” she asked, shaking her head.

  Her lawyer, Adrienne, grinned and collected the stack of paperwork from her desk. “I didn’t. Stevenson offered it to me of his own free will, and I bought it on behalf of your company. I’ve been pursuing him for months. I have no explanation.”

  She inhaled deeply as a fine shiver ran along her skin. Nick had entered the building. A moment later, he appeared in her doorway, a shiny black bag dangling from his fingertip.

  “You wouldn’t know anything about Stevenson selling me the land under this building, would you?” She gave him a welcoming smile.

  He crossed the room and pecked her on the lips. “It seems Stevenson is capable of doing the right thing when given the proper motivation.”

  “What motivation could that be?”

  “Selling the building or death? I’d sell the building too, under those parameters.”

  “Nick, you didn’t!”

  “After the deed was done, I gave him some of Harriet’s potion and made him forget we’d ever had the conversation. I think it worked out just fine.”

  Adrienne closed his attaché case and stood. “I have to agree, and I think the kids who come here every day will think so too.” He held out a hand to Rowan, who shook it, and then to Nick. “Always a pleasure. Enjoy your evening.”

  “Say hello to Sally for me,” Rowan said.

  He gave her a wave before slipping into the hall.

  “Stevenson and Soren were arrested today; your building is yours. I’d say this was a good day,” Nick said.

  Rowan grinned. “One of the best.”

  “What’s left on our to-do list?”

  “You mean Verinetti? Harriet helped me with something. It’s only a matter of time before it takes effect.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Verinetti on our date tonight.”

  “Good, neither do I. What do you want to talk about?” They were going to see Cursed Child and then having dinner at Eleven Madison Park. She couldn’t wait.

  His brows pinched together. “There’s just one hanging thread we need to tie off.”

  “What’s that?”

  He reached into the bag and popped the top on a ring box. “Will you marry me, Rowan?”

  Her mouth dropped open. The diamond inside was lovely and surrounded by rubies. “A princess cut?”

  “No longer a princess of Paragon, but my princess instead.” He looked at her through his lashes.

  She withdrew the ring from the box and tried it on.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Hold on a minute!” She held it up to the light and started laughing. “I need to fully assess my options here.”

  “Oh? Is it a hard decision?” He tugged her from her chair, spun her around, and landed her in his lap where he tickled her furiously. “Fine then. I will live out my days as your servant. I think you should buy a pool so that I can officially be your pool boy.”

  She turned the ring in the light. “Naaaah. I’ll marry you.”

  He laughed. “You’ve decided?”

  She stopped laughing and looked him in the eye. “But not because of the ring. Only because I love you more than I ever thought possible.”

  “Sounds like a good reason to me.” He sealed it with a kiss.

  Rowan scooted off his lap and pulled him from his chair. “Let’s go. Djorji’s waiting, and we don’t want to be late.”

  They locked up together and danced their way to the car and their first real date.

  Harriet waited on the terrace of Rowan’s Dakota-building home, dressed in a camel-colored suit with the most deliciously patterned nautical Hermès scarf, her favorite Birkin bag slung over the crook of her arm. The thick falconry gloves she wore did not match her outfit, but some things couldn’t be avoided.

  She’d been there a while. Now it was just a matter of waiting.

  He would come. He always did.

  Especially today of all days, when Nick had busted Gerald Stevenson and ended all hope he might have had of gleaning any more money from the man.

  Sure enough, lit only by the streetlights below, a white owl flew toward her and landed on the wrought iron rail. The bird looked at her and flapped its wings,
growing more agitated as it realized its feet were stuck. Harriet calmly walked to it and clamped a metal tag around Verinetti’s leg.

  “You’re probably confused about why you can’t shift or fly away,” she said to the bird, who was snapping at her and flapping its wings furiously. “I can’t take credit for this one. It was an idea someone named Madam Chloe had, a witch out of Chicago, very powerful. I made the salve you are standing in. A simple concoction of herbs with a nerve agent that temporarily makes it impossible for your feet to release the rail. Madam Chloe made you the tag around your ankle, an enchanted metal alloy that makes it impossible for you to shift.”

  The owl looked at her in horror and struggled more furiously.

  “Ironically, it’s made of the same stuff Malvern bound Rowan with. He almost killed her, you know.”

  The owl screeched and flapped.

  “Your feet will relax in a few more minutes and you’ll be able to fly away, but I’m afraid you will be an owl for a very long time, Michael Verinetti. Unless you can find someone to cut that off you. They won’t be able to cut the tag itself. That’s impervious. They could cut off your leg, but be advised, you’ll want medical personnel nearby because when you shift back, you’ll have one less leg to stand on.”

  Harriet backed inside the open door, knowing the owl could not follow. The space was still warded against him.

  “I suggest you get comfortable in your new skin,” Harriet said. “If Rowan has to deal with you again, she won’t settle for a life sentence. It will be the death penalty.” She closed the door between them and watched through the glass as the owl’s feet finally released the rail and it flew off toward Central Park.

  Rosco nudged her hand with his nose, and she rubbed the German shepherd between the ears. “There’s my good boy. You have my permission to eat that bird if you ever see him again. Now, let’s go get a treat.”

  Epilogue

  June 9, 2018

  New Orleans, Louisiana

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