by Anna Lowe
Clara wasn’t in the room, but Tristan figured she had to have used the private, mind-to-mind connection all mated shifters shared.
“…the young lady will need space and time to grasp the enormity of her new role. Since it might overwhelm her to stay here, the apartment on Boulevard Saint-Michel is a suitable place for her to stay. Temporarily, of course.”
Tristan gulped. Had he just been granted his deepest desire or sentenced to a living hell? Protecting Natalie meant protecting her from vampires, gargoyles — and from himself. He was a hired gun. She was a goddamn princess, descended from royal blood.
“Is the apartment really suitable?” Marcel interjected with a deep frown aimed at Tristan.
“It’s perfectly suitable,” Alaric retorted. Then he pinned Tristan with his fiercest look. “Temporarily. Your job is to protect her until…”
Alarms clanged in Tristan’s mind. “Until what?”
Alaric waved. “Until we find her a suitable mate, of course.”
Tristan clenched his fists as his inner dragon roared. No!
Marcel stood a little straighter, and his eyes gleamed.
“Our Fire Maiden must remain in Paris, and she must be protected,” Alaric declared. “Then she must produce an heir. A daughter, ideally. Several, in fact.”
Marcel nodded eagerly, but Tristan couldn’t believe his ears. “What if she doesn’t approve of the mate you select?”
Marcel scoffed. Alaric tilted his head like he’d never considered such a thing.
“What she wants is not important, Monsieur Chevalier. What you think does not matter. What matters is the future of the city and the safety of its citizens.”
Says the guy who dangled a woman in front of vampires as bait, Tristan nearly yelled.
But Hugo pinned him with a look of warning, and Liam spoke into his mind.
Shut up while you’re ahead. We’ll figure something out.
We. At least he’d have Liam’s help. But did he have Hugo’s?
He glanced at Hugo, beseeching him. Please tell me you’re not on board with this barbaric plan.
But Hugo’s gaze was distant, his thoughts firmly shut off from Tristan’s mind.
“I’ll send my nephew over to check on the woman soon,” Alaric added.
Marcel flashed a lecherous grin.
Morfram nodded solemnly. “Meanwhile, we will track down the individuals who attacked her.”
“I will find the gargoyle involved. One of the young ones, no doubt.” Albiorix sighed.
Tristan made a face. Young for gargoyles meant less than a century or two.
“They will be punished,” Albiorix finished gravely.
That was fine with Tristan. But what about Natalie? He stood mutely, horrified at what he’d led Natalie into. She’d trusted him to find help, but he’d never imagined this…this…
Mess? Liam finished, chipper as can be.
Tristan swung his jaw until it popped. Mess was right.
But the door swung open just then, and the women entered. Clara’s eyes met Hugo’s and glowed. Jacqueline licked her lips in open invitation, though Tristan hardly noticed, because Natalie entered next, and his vision narrowed, turning everything else into a blur.
Mate, his dragon rumbled so loudly, Liam coughed.
“Miss Brewer,” Marcel said, stepped quickly to Natalie’s side. “Allow me to see you out.”
“No,” Tristan growled, beating Marcel to Natalie’s side. “Allow me.”
Her expression was grateful, and her hand went straight to his arm. Best of all, she didn’t so much as glance at Marcel. She just leaned against Tristan and headed for the door.
Then she squeaked, turned back to the others, and managed a polite Au revoir and even Merci. For what, Tristan wasn’t sure.
“Tristan?” she whispered, turning quickly toward the door.
“Yeah?”
“Get me out of this place.”
“With pleasure,” he breathed.
Chapter Twelve
Natalie speed-walked back to the Metro, barely noticing the over-the-top displays of the red-light district. Her mind was spinning with everything she’d learned. Dragons…vampires…Fire Maidens. Her?
She felt numb, and she didn’t notice how close she stuck to Tristan until they bumped for the second or third time. He didn’t seem to mind. Thank goodness, because she desperately needed someone to lean against.
Which she did — literally — once they entered the subway car and took a seat. She sank against his shoulder, wrapped her arms around Tristan’s in a sideways hug, and tried not to think as Paris’s hidden depths rushed by. Bright stations alternated with dark tunnels, an apt reflection of her thoughts. For fleeting moments, she convinced herself that everything would be all right. But seconds later, she fought tears of despair.
We’ve searched for a Fire Maiden for so long…
Natalie squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe Alaric and the others were all crazy. Maybe there was no such thing as shifters or vampires. Even Tristan — who knew? He and Liam could be suffering from some rare form of PTSD that made them believe they could change into animals.
But then she remembered Olivier in the alley. The teeth. The fangs. Tristan’s burst of fire.
So, no. They weren’t crazy. But that was even worse. And as for the Fire Maiden part… What would happen when Alaric and the others found out they’d made a mistake? That she was plain old her, and no one special at all?
But then the crystal warmed against her chest, and echoes of past dreams darted through her mind. All those times she’d imagined flying. Her uncanny resistance to fire. The way Paris had called to her over the years…
Could it really be?
Her only solace was the soft brush of Tristan’s hand on her shoulder and the steady murmur of his deep voice, telling her everything would be okay.
Liam, bless him, stood before them with his back turned, glaring at anyone who came close. He was the moat to the walls of Tristan’s keep — another line of defense keeping her safe. But how safe was she, really?
You’ll always be a target. All those vampires… Gargoyles…
She burrowed closer to Tristan. If she was a Fire Maiden, she would spend a lifetime looking over her shoulder, wondering when the next vampire might attack. Or would that lifetime be cut painfully short?
She glanced up at the subway map, tempted to transfer lines and rush to the airport. The subway car rattled around a turn, and the lights flickered, making her tense. The problem was, vampires could track her to Philadelphia. She slumped, burying her face in her hands as the metro car rattled along.
At some point, Tristan helped her up, and they transferred to a different Metro line.
“Not long now,” he murmured.
She nearly laughed. Every second felt like a lifetime. But eventually, a garbled voice came over the intercom, announcing Luxembourg station, and soon after, she was back in the sun, striding briskly to Tristan’s apartment.
“Monsieur Chevalier,” the doorman greeted Tristan in precisely the same tone he’d used the previous night. Then he nodded to Natalie and Liam in turn. “Mademoiselle. Monsieur.”
“Bonjour,” Natalie mumbled, forcing a smile.
Tristan murmured a curt greeting before leading her to the tiny elevator. Then finally — finally! — they were home.
Home? Natalie stopped short. This wasn’t home. It was a near-stranger’s apartment, and a bare one at that.
Still, when Tristan closed the door with a decisive thump, she felt better. Still hollow and overwhelmed, but not quite as lost.
“Make yourself at home,” Tristan murmured. “I’ll be right back.”
She headed for the red couch and sat there, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows without registering the view. Bijou threaded between her ankles, meowing something she took to mean, You look sad, but I’m sure petting me will cheer you up.
Natalie scooped up the cat and cuddled him tightly, tuning in to his comforting purr. Out in the ha
llway, Tristan and Liam spoke in low tones. And out in the city…
She puffed out a long breath. It was a new day. Possibly the start of a new life. But, hell. Where would she begin?
A cup of hot chocolate and a good book, her mother used to say.
Natalie looked around. No hot chocolate, but Bijou was warm and cuddly, and Clara had given her a book as she’d left Alaric’s mansion. She stared at the leather cover with its fancy gold embossing for a while. It looked like something out of medieval times.
A History of Dragons, the swirling script declared.
Slowly, haltingly, she opened to the first page and began to read.
* * *
Two days passed — two long days and nights, during which time Tristan came and went. When he was in, he remained close, as restless and edgy as she felt. When he was out…
She shut the thought out of her mind. Mostly, he went to check in with Alaric or to hunt vampires. What if he was injured again? Worse, what if he died? He’d claimed shifters were “mostly immune” to vampire poison, which wasn’t exactly comforting. And as for reporting to Alaric — he seemed to savor that duty even less.
Liam stopped by often, her only other link to the outside world, bringing treats, news, and good cheer. He’d picked up more clothes from her apartment, and those, together with some improvements Tristan made, helped her feel even more at home.
“Voilà,” he’d said when he set up a little nook for her with an end table and a lamp, plus thick cotton sheets and a blanket that looked brand-new.
“Still a terrible host,” Madame Colette had muttered when she discovered Natalie was still sleeping on the couch.
“She insisted,” Tristan said.
“I did,” Natalie added quickly. “It’s cozy.”
“Cozy? Impossible,” Madame announced in her thick Provençal accent.
“It is,” Natalie insisted. “The apartment is big and empty, but the couch is like its own little room. A place where I don’t feel so alone.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she winced. Oops.
Madame huffed, shooting Tristan a withering look. “A miserable failure of a host.”
Tristan glowered and grabbed his phone. “I’ll show you miserable…”
Within hours, a delivery crew was there, maneuvering in an antique writing desk with a fold-down top, plus a green, library-style reading lamp, some fluffy pillows, and—
Natalie laughed. “A beanbag?”
Tristan frowned. “You don’t like it?”
“I love it. It’s just a funny combination. A nice combination,” she hurried to add. “Thank you. Truly. I mean it.”
Madame Colette came in at exactly that moment, and Tristan folded his thick arms, daring her to comment. The housekeeper looked around with her flashing, eagle eyes, and a long, tense minute ticked by.
“I love it,” Natalie announced. “I really do.”
Tristan glowed. Bijou pawed the fluffy pillows, claiming them for himself. And as for Madame Colette…
She hmpfed and changed the subject. “I brought you a book. A good one,” she emphasized, frowning at the stack Alaric had sent over. “Here.”
She’d marked a chapter, so Natalie started there. The slanted, loopy script was hard to read, but the tome was filled with beautiful, hand-painted images. The pages were dry and ancient, and Natalie was terrified of damaging them. As far as she could tell, Une Petite Histoire des Temps Anciens was the epic saga of an eagle shifter clan. It read more like Wuthering Heights or Pride and Prejudice than history, which made a welcome change from the dry tone of Alaric’s books. The only dragon in it was a side character named Claudine who made a brief appearance in Chapter Three before running off with a poor knight in Chapter Four and eventually returning in Chapter Eleven to run off a pack of marauding wolves.
“Claudine? Wait a second…”
Natalie flipped through Alaric’s books, searching for the section that had stuck in her mind — one summarizing feats of great Fire Maidens over the centuries.
“Claudine,” Natalie whispered when she located the page. Tucking her legs under herself on the couch, she began to read.
Claudine d’Islay, as it turned out, was one of the mightiest Fire Maidens Paris had ever known. After repelling multiple attacks and bringing vampires under control with the help of her consort, a knight named Breselan, she went on to develop public works in Paris. Under her leadership, the sewer system was expanded and running water brought to the poorest sections of the city. Claudine also established orphanages and schools for the poorest of the poor.
While the eagle shifter book only mentioned her in passing, Alaric’s book detailed everything Claudine had done for the city and how she had lived to a ripe old age with Breselan.
Natalie sat back, comparing both books. Same Claudine, same knight. Then she sat back and sighed. The more she read, the more she decided she could never measure up. Liviana, Amelie, and other Fire Maidens had been able to breathe fire. They struck fear into the hearts of their enemies and fostered compassion in the city they loved. What could she do?
The doorbell buzzed, and she whirled. Tristan stalked over to the door and growled, “Hello?”
“Pizza delivery,” came a voice.
That was Liam, joking as always. He didn’t have a pizza, but he did have a shopping bag that smelled of fresh bread and cheese. He waved to Madame Colette, kissed Natalie on both cheeks, and thrust the bags into Tristan’s hand.
“No pizza, but I did bring a very nice wine.” Then he grinned and picked up Bijou, cuddling him under his chin. “Nice kitty. Sweet kitty.”
Bijou’s eyelids went to half-mast, and his purr echoed through the apartment.
Tristan rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing sweet about that spitfire.”
“Of course there is. Just look.” Liam held out Bijou, who hissed at Tristan, then cuddled back up with Liam. “If you knew anything about cats—”
Tristan made a face. “I know lots about cats. Especially some overly talkative ones.”
Natalie furrowed her brow. There it was again — that reminder that all was not as it seemed. She changed the subject quickly. “Were you able to find that sweater?”
Liam had brought over all her essentials, and he’d promised to stop by her apartment for the few items he’d missed.
“Your wish is my command.” He took a deep bow and presented her with a shopping bag.
She half expected Liam to make a sophomoric comment about the bra she’d left hanging from her dresser, but he didn’t, thank goodness. He did, however, deliver some chilling news, even if he related it in his usual cheery way.
“I stumbled across your landlady. Charming woman.” Not, his expression said. “She didn’t want to let me in at first, even though I showed her your key.”
Natalie smiled. Her landlady was a lot like Madame Colette — a little brusque but good at heart.
“She said, ‘I didn’t let the others in, and I don’t want you here either.’”
Natalie froze, and Tristan growled. “What others? Vampires?”
Liam pinched his lips briefly, but Natalie nodded him on.
“You know how it is — those bastards don’t leave a scent. But I couldn’t sniff out anyone else…”
Natalie wondered how good lion noses were. But then her mind caught up on the rest of his message. Vampires were still prowling the city. Worse, they had found her apartment. She brought together the sides of her button-down sweater and looked around. Would they find her here?
They wouldn’t dare, Tristan’s eyes assured her.
“You know what else the landlady said?” Liam went on, clearly ramping up to his next joke.
“What else did the landlady say?” Tristan replied in a bored monotone.
“She said ‘That Natalie is a nice girl. Not your type. You leave her alone.’” Liam faked a hurt look, but his eyes sparkled. “Not my type? Who says nice girls aren’t my type?”
“She’s not,” Trista
n barked.
Liam grinned. “I don’t know. What you think, Nat? Fancy a date with me?”
She laughed. “Maybe some other time.” Then she grew somber again. She wasn’t interested in a date with Liam, but heck. She was getting some serious cabin fever. Would she ever have the freedom to roam the city again? Or would she be locked up in a gilded cage for the rest of her life, gazing out the windows like Bijou did?
She’d already had to call in to work and beg for time off. She had only asked for a week, feeling terrible about the vague excuses she’d provided. Worse, she’d had to call in to Solidarité du Coeur to do the same.
But, Natalie! What will we do without you? the supervisor had pleaded.
It gutted her not to meet her responsibilities and to give up the routine she’d come to enjoy. Work, long walks through the city, and fascinating talks with people she met at the soup kitchen. Everything that had given her a sense of connection to the city she loved.
She must have been frowning, because Tristan nudged her. “You okay?”
She forced a smile, though she didn’t know what to say. Yes? No?
“Oh, Clara sent you another book. One that looks even more boring than the last.” Liam gestured back to the shopping bag. “I swear, Alaric has an entire library devoted to dragons, dragons, and more dragons. I think the latest one is something like, The Dark Ages: Before We Dragons Came to Bless the Earth with Our Holy Presence.”
Natalie opened the book the minute the others moved away. It turned out to be The Great Shifter Wars and Their Aftermath: 1320-1597. And yes, it did feature a lot of dragons. But it had an entire chapter on Liviana, and she pored over every word.
The mightiest dragon queen of all, she forged alliances, banished enemies, established charities… She also amassed a treasure greater than that of any other dragon…
Natalie mulled over the words, absently holding the crystal in one hand while petting Bijou with the other. As always, her thoughts drifted to the one dragon she couldn’t get off her mind. Tristan. And as always, she told herself to think about something else.
But it was hard, especially now that she was spending so much time with him. Even when he was out of sight, she would catch a whiff of his rich, natural cologne, or hear his firm footsteps as he paced across the hardwood floors. She could sense him nearby. And at night…