Did that mean the judge would call her back the minute she thought she was near freedom?
It was highly likely.
The crowd parted for her to step forward, but the opening was swallowed up behind her like a tidal wave was urging her toward the door.
When she made it to the exit, she nearly felt faint when the judge didn’t call her back, and the crowd didn’t join her outside. Sick to her stomach, she hid the tremor in her fingers as she strode down the stone corridor lined with rich rugs and tapestries, which reminded her all the more of Hampton Court, and she headed for the great hall.
She ignored the grandeur. Avoided the guards. And with no small relief made it to the entrance.
Rushing down the stone steps, she ran toward her car in the parking lot. She still felt certain the judge could change his mind, and if that were so, her best chance at freedom was now.
The wheels screamed as she drove out of the lot, leaving the castle behind her. It looked like it had been plunked down in the middle of the metropolis, because it had been. The Emperor had purchased an old castle in Scotland and had it brought over to the States.
The turrets, slitted windows, and fucking moat, added to the hauteur of the court, and when she was over the drawbridge and driving on the highway, she took the first exit to a service station.
Having parked, she pressed her forehead to the steering wheel and did what she hadn’t done in three centuries.
Bawled like a baby.
One of the reasons he hated this realm was the fact men always seemed to wear either suits or jeans.
He’d never been a fan of either. Jeans were restrictive. A man needed air to get to his balls, dammit. And suits felt like the equivalent of a prison for the chest. So damn constricting.
The head of his House, Remy Dreconis, had recommended a tailor in London. Savile Row were the best, he’d said. Well, Georgios saw the appeal, but still, he felt like he was wearing a straitjacket.
And yes, he knew how restricting they were.
Not that he wanted to think back to those days when he’d been locked up in one.
Damn humans.
Just because a man revealed he could turn into a Dragon didn’t mean he needed to be locked up for being mad!
Remy had to bail him out on that particular occasion. In fact, Remy had to bail Georgios out on many occasions.
He pursed his lips at the thought, and sat back in the armchair he’d claimed as his in the coffee shop that belonged to his leman.
He’d been coming here for the past month. Ever since he’d awoken from a potion-induced sleep that Remy had put him under, because his mate had finally started to stir.
Coming to this realm, seeing her behind a counter, and serving coffee of all things, had come as a bit of a surprise. She was the leader of a coven, after all. Powerful for a Vampire. Serving people wasn’t exactly in her job description.
His Dragon didn’t like it. The beast rumbled when a customer flirted with her. Yet what astonished him was how both males and females did it.
Something called a sexual revolution had occurred since he was last here. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it was very inconvenient.
Now he had to growl at both men and women when they stared at his mate’s cleavage or eyed her butt when she bent over.
No, this modern society was very irritating all around. Everywhere he went, things beeped and pinged. Cars lined the streets now, but at least there were no bombs.
The second to last time he’d been in this realm, he’d been in London. The Blitz had prompted him to make a swift return to his world lest he was caught up in the blast too.
It had reeked of cowardice, but with every bomb, his beast had wanted to break free. A Dragon roaming over German airspace wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Even in those unenlightened times.
It had been return home or be caught, again, in shifted form.
He grimaced at yet another memory where Remy had to save his behind.
Really, the man had made quite a habit of it.
Hiding his irritation behind his coffee cup, because admitting that he was a nuisance bruised his ego—and what man appreciated that?—he drank deeply from the mug. The blend was smooth, rich, and creamy. Much like his mate’s skin, he thought.
Not that he could see his mate’s skin at the moment.
Which was another source of irritation.
He’d come here with the explicit desire of seeing her, and she wasn’t bloody here.
His beast had been grumbling since his arrival. And having a three-ton Dragon storming around his head wasn’t pleasant for anyone. Man, beast, or any poor bastard in the vicinity.
“He’s so hot,” one of the baristas murmured to another. “He comes in every night. Have you noticed? I think he likes me.”
His hearing was sensitive enough that he could hear the two servers discussing him over the din of a full coffee shop.
The woman, though beautiful—when wasn’t a Vampire gorgeous?—did nothing for him.
Before his mate’s stirring, he’d have taken up the offer in her eyes more times than she could count. But now, he was a one-female male.
Well, he would be if he struck up the courage to actually meet the pesky creature.
The truth was, Georgios was relieved to have found his mate, but he wasn’t happy about it. Not one bit.
Which put him in rather an awkward position.
The beast wanted to claim her every which way but Sunday. The man wanted to wait. To watch. To learn.
The dual desires only ratcheted up his irritation.
He reached for the paper he’d brought with him. These Kindles were too irritating for words. One couldn’t beat the feeling of paper against fingers, the rustle as he shook out the sheets, or the ink that stained the digits after a long, hard read.
No, indeed, no electronic device could compare, he thought snootily. Then, as he began to read, he scented her, and all his inner grumblings faded to dust.
She appeared on the horizon like an angel come down from heaven. Her chestnut brown hair gleamed with vitality, and it was the perfect contrast to her pearly porcelain skin. Bright as a button, chocolate eyes scanned the place, and her naturally rouged lips pursed as she took in the night’s large crowd. She had high cheekbones, which were a little gaunt, and a high forehead with a widow’s peak. She was slender, too slender really, but with her height, his leman strutted around like a model. As he took her in, the wondrous sight that was his woman, she nearly glowed she was so incandescent, but he discerned a strain about her features. Fatigue as well as concern.
He frowned at the sight, and as she passed him, he reached for the hand that swung at her side. “Ma’am? Would you do me the honor of having a coffee with me?”
Lara blinked at him. “Excuse me?” She smiled. “I’m sorry. I was miles away.”
He could tell. That’s why he’d stopped her in her tracks. “I wondered if you’d have a coffee with me?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say no. He sensed it. But she surprised him, the both of them by the looks of it, by plunking herself in the armchair opposite.
Once the cushions embraced her, she sank back with a tired sigh. Then, when one of the servers appeared, she stated, “I’ll have my usual, Stacey.”
The server nodded and disappeared.
“Your usual?” he asked, cocking his brow in curiosity.
He’d only experimented with black coffee. Preferring to taste the different beans to the many variations humans asked for.
He still wasn’t sure what a triple, venti, soy, and no foam latte was. Or, come to that, what a tall non-fat, venti, half sweet macchiato was either. When some humans placed orders at the speed of bullets being fired from a gun, he had to wonder how the baristas managed to translate what was being ordered into actual coffee.
His mate, his leman, wrinkled her nose in a most appealing manner. “I shouldn’t admit this.”
“No?” He tilted his head, more intrigued than ever.
“Why not?”
“It’s a terrible thing for a coffee shop owner to admit.”
He grinned. “Now you have to tell me. I’ll die of curiosity.”
“I hate coffee,” she whispered, leaning forward. He hated that he was like any other male, and took advantage of the moment to peer down her top, but those were his breasts.
He had some right to them, didn’t he?
She pulled a face at her admission, which had him wondering if he was supposed to be surprised. He’d been tolerating the brew, mostly because his leman owned so many stores that sold the damn drink, if she didn’t like it then that meant he could stop experimenting, surely?
Because she seemed to expect a reply, he mumbled, “So what’s the usual if you don’t drink coffee?”
“Tea. I usually have green tea.”
He blinked. “I’m surprised.”
“Why?” she asked, sounding amused.
Deciding to grab the bull by the balls, he peered over his mug and stated, “Because I didn’t think Vampires usually drank anything.”
His words had her freezing in her seat, and then, she cast her gaze about to see if anyone had overheard him. She didn’t know that he’d made sure his tone was modulated enough for only Lara to hear. The coffee shop was very busy, and her hearing wasn’t as sensitive as his, but ten times more so than a human’s.
“How did you know?” she asked, softly. Still gawking around her to make sure no one was eavesdropping. He didn’t bother reassuring her. She was a Sanguenna, that meant she’d check regardless of anything he had to say. “Are you a nightwalker too?” Her brow puckered. “Although I’d have sensed you if you were.”
He shook his head. “I’m a Shifter.” He had to be careful here. He hadn’t really intended on blurting all this out, but curiosity had gotten the better of him, and inquisitiveness was the failing of every Dragon. It was why they were all obsessed by books. Georgios more than most.
“What kind?” She tipped her head to the side. “It’s not a regular Shifter. I’d have sensed that too…” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re definitely unusual.”
His damn beast preened at that, and before he could stop the creature from a rashness he’d regret shortly, Georgios blurted out, “Dragon.”
Her eyes widened, and she didn’t even acknowledge ‘Stacey’ when the woman brought her her green tea.
“A Dragon?” she whispered quietly, her eyes rounding in shock.
He nodded, pleased by her awe. His race was the mightiest of all the Shifters. They were the original predator, after all. So dangerous that they’d had to live in another realm, away from the humans, for millennia. Their might had stirred fables and legends. Their valor knew no bounds.
“What are you doing here?” she queried wonderingly.
He smiled. His Dragon, smug and pleased at her reaction to him, prompted him to tell her the truth. But, before he did, he wanted her answer. Soon, she’d undoubtedly run screaming from him. It was nice to have her close.
“You first. If we’re revealing hard truths, that is.”
“Me first?” she asked, then shook her head. “We can drink some liquids. It depends. Daywalkers, of course, can ingest anything. Nightwalkers… some grow more tolerant with age, others less tolerant. There’s really no rhyme or reason. I can’t drink coffee, which is fortunate as I really don’t like it. But tea, I’m okay with.”
“I shall have to try this green tea. I’ve never had it before.”
“When it cools down, feel free to sample some of mine.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
She smiled. “Not really. It’s my café. I can do whatever I want.”
He grinned. “It’s great being the boss, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” she said brightly and slowly retreated into the armchair. “I can’t believe you’re a Dragon.” Then, as an aside, she said, “My name is Lara, by the way.”
There was still awe in her voice, and his damn beast was purring like a pussy cat on a little girl’s knee. Mother, it was almost embarrassing.
“Believe it,” he said a little gruffly. “I’m Georgios.”
“What are you doing in this realm, Georgios?” she queried again, then bit her lip. “I shouldn’t ask that I suppose.”
“No? Why not?”
“I’ll admit, my surprise comes from having met another Dragon recently.”
Georgios nodded. “I know. The head of my House, Remy.”
“That’s him,” she said with a smile. “I’d never met a Dragon before him, and now I’ve met two in the space of two months.” At her words, she seemed to realize something. Her eyes narrowed as she mumbled, “Oh.”
He frowned at the sound. “Oh?”
“You’re here to see if I’m your mate, aren’t you?” She clicked her fingers. “Your leman. That’s what Remy called it, right?”
Dragons had only one pool in which to find their mates. Males found them in the form of Sanguennas—the female leaders of covens. Female Dragons found them in Sanguens—male leaders of covens.
This very limited pool of prospects meant that Dragons mated very rarely. And until recently, the Mother had been punishing their race.
That had been because of his father. The bastard had almost single-handedly brought down Dragonkind.
Oh, what a man to be proud of.
He blew out a breath for calm. It would do no good to think of Leon. It would do no good at all save to remind him of why he shouldn’t be here. Why he should leave his leman alone and not pester her with his presence.
His blood wasn’t worthy of her.
And that singular truth was a knife to the gut.
Before he could say anything, before he could even get to his feet, she asked, “I’m right, aren’t I? You call mates lemans?” She sounded perplexed as to why he hadn’t answered.
Clearing his throat, as nerves flushed through him, he murmured, “Yes. Indeed. We call them lemans.”
“I’ve always wanted to be named after a citrus fruit.”
He snorted. “You know the two words sound nothing alike. Well, they don’t if you have a European accent. Your American accent butchers everything.”
Her eyes widened, and he feared he’d insulted her, and then, she started to snicker. “You know how to hit beneath the belt.”
Tugging his collar away from his throat, he started to get to his feet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She waved him down. “Don’t go,” she urged him. “Please, I’m not offended. I’m originally German, believe it or not, but I’ve been here a long time. Enough for the accent to become second nature.”
It was his turn for his eyes to flare wide. “You’re German?”
Her lips twitched. “Ja. Ich bin Deutsche.”
“Any children you have will have a German name then.”
She blinked at his logic. “They will?”
He licked his lips, wishing he’d kept his foolish tongue still. Clearing his throat, he murmured, “Sanguenna are too rare for you not to be mated to one of my kind.”
Lara stilled. “And you, like Remy, have managed to whittle down the list?”
He ignored that. He had. But he wasn’t willing to admit that verbally, even if his actions had done a whole lot of admitting for him. “Well, it’s custom for a child to be named after the mother’s culture in my society.”
“So, you’re called Georgios. Your mama was Greek?”
Pain welled in his heart as it always did when he thought of his darling mother. She should have been alive now, alive to see him mate and to have a Dragonling of his own.
Instead, she was dead. Murdered by his sire.
He said none of that, simply nodded. “Indeed. My mother was Greek, and therefore, my name is Greek. The surname doesn’t change though. It holds true for our bloodline.”
“That’s like human custom.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Of a sort. We use the surname first and then comes the given name.”
She leaned forward, her interest evident, but that her interest centered around the topic in question certainly came as a surprise. “How come?”
“From the surname, we recognize the House.”
“So, when you say your name…” she let her words linger, prompting him to recount his, “Dregoris Georgios,” he inserted, she finished, “...and they hear Dregoris first, they know you belong to Remy’s House?”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
“And that’s important.”
“Indeed, it is. There are six Houses. We all belong to one of them and must do what we can to uphold the good name of our House.”
“So, it’s a bit like a clan, am I right?”
“It’s like your coven. The entirety of its brotherhood do what they can for the coven to shape it, to protect it for the future, do they not?”
She nodded.
“The House is just that.”
“Is Remy important?”
“Yes. He’s the one who meets with the Queen. The rest of us lowly folk don’t have to be bothered with her petty tantrums at court.”
“Sounds kind of cool to have a queen.” She disregarded his grumbling with ease. “I’ve only ever had Emperors.”
He shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything.”
“Does that mean you truly believe I’m your leman, Georgios? You’ve been very cautious not to admit to anything, but you’re here. And I knew your name anyway from all the coffee orders I’ve written for you. You’ve been visiting the shop for a while… Remy just came in, told me what he was, what I could be, and then, we toddled off to the other realm.”
His actions did look suspect. What had he been thinking?
Irritated with himself, with his need to be around her even if he couldn’t claim her, he decided to tell her the truth. Of a sort. “Do you wish to be mated?”
She was surprised at his question and sank back in the seat to answer. Putting distance between them? He wasn’t sure. What he did know was that he didn’t like it.
“What creature doesn’t want to be mated?” Her tone softened, so the cattle around them couldn’t hear her next words, “Even humans crave the connection, and their lifespans are hardly any time at all. Nobody wants to be alone.”
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