The Dragon of New Orleans

by Genevieve Jack

  “Envoûter!” Delphine charged, raising the dagger.

  The silver blade flashed. Gabriel’s grip tightened around her middle, and then they were moving, fast. Raven was hoisted upward and sideways. There was a crash. Glass shattered and she held her breath as she was thrown through the open window. In the next blink, the gardens swept by beneath her dangling feet. She was in Gabriel’s arms, and he was flying!

  She tried to look over her shoulder, but he banked left and all she saw was starry sky. He landed gently on the walkway outside the grounds.

  No sooner were her feet on the pavement than she spun around, speechless but needing to see, needing to know how he’d flown her from that room. She caught a glimpse of two dark, fleshy wings tucking into his back.

  “Wait!” Raven protested, raising her hands to his chest. “Let me see. I want to see them.”

  With a wicked smile and widening eyes, he grabbed her wrists, glancing both ways up and down the street. They were alone. “Not here.”

  Raven’s cheeks warmed.

  He quickly removed the black button-down he was wearing and gave it to her, reminding her she was standing on the sidewalk in her bra. She donned the shirt quickly. What had gotten into her? She’d practically thrown herself at him. In a public place, no less.

  “Will they follow us?” she asked, looking back toward the convent.

  “They can’t leave the grounds. If they do, they’ll turn to dust.” He slid his phone from his pocket and called Duncan, saying only “come now” when the driver answered.

  Raven’s face tightened in disgust. “What are those women?”

  “You’ve never heard of the Casket Girls?”

  She’d heard of them. Everyone who grew up around New Orleans had. In the early 1700s, the king of France sent women to serve as wives to the men living in the colonies of what would become New Orleans. The women’s long, arduous journey across the Atlantic left them pale and painfully thin. Some of them had contracted consumption, what was now called tuberculosis. It caused them to cough up blood. Those ghostly, starving women arrived in the colonies carrying casket-shaped boxes that contained all their belongings. The women were called the Casket Girls because their real names were lost to history. They became the source of vampire legend. Some said they’d inspired Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

  “Are they truly vampires?” she asked.

  Gabriel snorted. “One could call them vampires, but they do not completely fit the label. They caught something on their way here from the Old World, something that lives in them still. They drink blood and are experts in fortune telling and divination, but they do not have fangs or power over the elements. They are prisoners there. The former nuns ritualistically bound them to the grounds to keep them from feeding on the townsfolk.”

  “What did they mean about me being an abomination? Some of what they said was in French. Did you understand it?”

  His smile faded and his gaze shifted over her shoulder. Duncan was there. He pulled up beside them, and Gabriel opened the door for her.

  “Come home with me. We need to talk.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Gabriel tried not to stare at Raven across the seat of the town car, although his eyes were drawn to her again and again. By the Mountain, he wanted her. The memory of her white skin in the firelight, the way she’d writhed against him, the brush of his fingers against her sex… He closed his eyes and forced himself to think of something else. His accounting procedures. Blakemore’s inventory policy. The general idea of being plunged into an ice bath. As soon as the car stopped, he opened the door for her and helped her out.

  “You look pale. Are you all right?” Gabriel asked.

  “I’m fine, all things considered,” she said. “A little hungry.”

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  She shrugged. “Breakfast with you.”

  He frowned. “Raven, you must eat. Please. Didn’t Juniper and Hazel bring you meals today?”

  “Yes, of course they did. I ate an enormous breakfast. I wasn’t hungry.”

  “Come. We’ll eat and we’ll talk.” He found the curve of her back with his hand and guided her up the stairs. She was still wearing his shirt, big enough on her to be a dress, and Gabriel liked the look of it. He wished it was all she was wearing. He’d like to see her bare legs, to unbutton the shirt slowly.

  Fuck. He’d told himself he wouldn’t do this. It would only complicate things, for both of them. She turned her head, her eyes twinkling, her mouth holding the promise of ecstasy. Her gaze traced the lines of the simple black T-shirt he wore. There was nothing short of abject desire in that perusal. Everything narrowed on her, all his thoughts bowing to the overwhelming need to mark her as his own. There were a dozen other things he should be thinking about now. Life-or-death things. But it had been decades since his body had responded like this to anyone.

  He stopped in the hall outside the door, and she collided with his chest. It was his speed. He’d stopped much faster than she could, faster than any human could. It wasn’t on purpose, but she ended up flat against him. She inhaled deeply and went limp in his arms. And wasn’t that like a bowl of milk to his inner kitten?

  “Are you all right?” he asked her.

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded husky.

  He massaged the base of her neck as he searched her face. He was not alone in his attraction. She wanted him too. He could see it in her eyes, smell it like a perfume around her. If he could have her, even once, maybe he could manage this runaway desire. If he could just taste her.

  Fumbling for his key, he unlocked the door without letting her go and flipped on the light. She turned in his arms and entered his home. She’d been here before, of course, when he’d saved her from her attackers, but he wondered what she thought of it. He’d taken the place down to the studs a few years ago. It was light and airy, completely modern with stainless steel appliances and clean, almost sterile lines. The floors were hardwood and the art on the walls was contemporary. Lots of gray and white with punches of red. Gabriel might be almost five hundred years old, but he liked to change with the times.

  Raven stopped a few steps inside the door.

  “Are you afraid of me?” he asked from behind her. He wondered if the events of the night had finally caught up to her. He closed the door. “I should have warned you about the Casket Girls. What they do is hard to explain, and I’ve never had a reading go like this.”

  “I’m not scared,” Raven said, whirling around. It wasn’t fear he saw in her giant blue eyes but tenacity. “Will you show me, now that we’re alone?”

  “Show you what?”

  “Your wings.”

  His eyes widened and he tried to force himself to breathe evenly. “It’s a very personal thing you are asking.”

  “Personal? It can’t be that personal. You had them out in public.”

  “Out of necessity.”

  She sighed thoughtfully. “You don’t have to, but for the record, I thought they were beautiful, what I saw of them. Are they magic? How do they come out through your shirt?”

  He stepped closer and put his arms around her, sliding his hands inside hidden openings in the sides of the one she was wearing. He brushed the bare skin of her back. “Specially designed panels. Juniper and Hazel are excellent tailors.”

  “Oh…”

  Their eyes locked again and Gabriel pulled her closer.

  “Are wings the only, um, physical difference between you and a, um, human?” Raven placed both hands firmly on his chest.

  He slid his hands out of the shirt she was wearing and chuckled when a blush stained her cheeks. “Are you interested in investigating our physical differences, Raven? I thought you might have felt them tonight when I was pressed against you.” His dragon had locked onto her like prey. He had to be careful. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold himself back.

  “I love that sound,” she said.

  He knit his brows. “What sound?”

&nbs
p; “You’re making a sound now, a rumble.” She placed a hand over his chest. “It’s beautiful. Like a purr.”

  Shit, his mating song. It had been a long time since that particular trait had reared its head. He might as well strip down naked in front of her. “What do you expect when you look at me like that?” He tried to keep his voice even. He cupped her jaw. “You are the most singularly desirable woman I have met in my five hundred years.”

  She snorted. “I’m a skinny survivor with puffy, half-grown hair and a short fuse.”

  “You are a tower of feminine strength who might as well be a dragon the way you breathe fire. You’re brave and kind.”

  The scent of her arousal met his nostrils and he moved in closer. He wanted to kiss her, to taste her. He lowered his lips toward hers.

  “So, about those wings…,” she said, backing away a half step.

  “This is important to you?” He gritted his teeth.

  “Very.”

  He took a step back. If this was the thing keeping him from being inside her, he’d give her what she wanted.

  Slowly he crossed his arms over his stomach, grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, and slipped it off over his head. He didn’t have to remove the shirt. There were panels built into it the same as in the one she was wearing. But he wanted her, and having one less piece of clothing between them seemed like a good choice. He was rewarded with another wave of her arousal, her natural jasmine-and-vanilla scent growing musky. His nostrils flared.

  “You like what you see?” He swaggered toward her.

  She placed her hands on her hips. “Not as much as I would like to see some wings.”

  Damn, she wasn’t going to let it go. “So demanding.”

  She tapped her toe expectantly.

  He swallowed hard. Maybe this was for the best. If she could accept this part of him, maybe she could accept the rest of the monster within. He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and spread his wings.

  Raven wanted desperately to take a picture or video of what was happening in front of her; not to share it with anyone else, but to watch it over and over. Gabriel was beautiful. The man already looked like a chiseled work of art, standing in front of her in nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans. What happened next was frosting on the cake.

  Two dark wings extended from his back. Not black exactly but darkly iridescent. Smoothly scaled like the belly of a snake, they were covered in a light dusting of dark feathers. They were darkest closest to his body, jet-black with a hint of green when he shifted in the light, but the color lightened gradually toward an almost light gray tip. Raven stepped forward to get a better look, her hand extended, and he flinched away from her touch like a startled bird. She placed one hand gently over his heart.

  She knew two things—Gabriel had a heart, and it was in the same place as a man’s. It pounded against her palm, that rumble she’d heard before becoming more pronounced with her touch. “Trust me,” she said. “I won’t hurt you.” She almost laughed when she heard herself. He was a foot taller than her and more than twice her weight. Surely he could wipe the floor with her in a single beat of those wings. On the other hand, she couldn’t imagine being strong enough to hurt him.

  She skimmed her hand up his chest and over his shoulder to where his left wing originated from his back. The purring grew stronger. He didn’t ask her to stop, so she kept going. Gently, she stroked the outer edge, feeling the hard, bony structure that defined the wing. The glistening originated from a fine layer of scales that ran the length, smooth and soft as the layered petals of a flower. It wasn’t all scales though. There were feathers… tiny feathers from shoulder to tip, dappled like the fine hairs on a human arm. The wing itself was bare flesh, framed by a support network of five long bones that she thought looked like a massive webbed hand. She gently scratched along the inner curve with the tip of her nail.

  “Raven, please.” Gabriel’s voice broke. His eyes were closed as if what she was doing was almost painful, and the scent he was putting off—his regular smoky citrus radiance—had added another dimension. Cloves and spice. The world’s best cologne. Now she understood why seeing his wings had been such a big deal. This was bare skin. This was intimate.

  She removed her hand from his wing and instead smoothed it along his ribs and down the front of his abs. “Please,” she echoed.

  Her feet left the ground and she was swept up in his arms, those powerful wings thumping the air on either side of her. When the rush was over, her back was pressed against the wall and he was stretched out against her. His chest was heaving and his breath brushed her lips.

  “Do you know what you do to me?” he asked.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her nails into his hair, her eyes on his mouth. “I think I do.”

  His lips connected with hers, deliciously hot. Everything inside her liquefied. She wrapped one leg around his hip and groaned into his mouth. He purred in answer, his chest vibrating against her torso, sending an electric tickle of pleasure through her. She moved her hand from his hair to his wing and felt his erection kick.

  Holding her up with one hand, he reached between them for the buttons of the shirt she was wearing. Raven was temporarily blinded by the glow of her own skin. The symbols were brighter than ever and seemed to be spreading. A flood of fear rolled through her and she stilled in his embrace.

  “Gabriel, what’s happening to me? What did the Casket Girls say?”

  He released her leg and settled her feet back on the floor, the intensity in his dark eyes cutting straight to her soul. The clink of silver on silver came from the next room, but Gabriel didn’t take his eyes off her. “That would be Juniper and Hazel setting up the dining room. I had them make you something.” His eyes drifted to her mouth. “I’ll tell you over dinner.”

  He started to back away from her, but Raven grabbed him by the hips. “Wait. Tell me here. I’m not that hungry and…” She parted her lips and allowed her eyes to sweep down to his erection. “I’d like to pick up where we left off.” Shameless, but she couldn’t help herself.

  He feathered his fingers across her cheek and brushed them through the hair over her ear, his wings flexing with his movements. “There is nothing I’d enjoy more than touching you, kissing you, finishing what we’ve started, but I can hear your stomach growling, and it’s been a long night. You’re tired and you’re hungry. And clearly you’re afraid.” He glanced at her glowing skin.

  Raven opened her mouth to insist she was fine, but he quieted her with a kiss, the tip of his hot tongue flicking across her bottom lip.

  “When I make love to you, Raven, I won’t rush it. I don’t want to be distracted by hunger or fatigue or the effects of this curse.” He held up the ring, his fingers noticeably free from tapping. “I want hours to worship you in the way you deserve to be worshipped, and I want it to mean something.”

  “What do you want it to mean?”

  “Dragons don’t mate lightly, Raven.”

  He’d said that before, although she wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by it. She felt her knees wobble and was thankful for his steadying hand leading her toward the dining room. The spread there was something out of a dream, laden with food and candles that burned above silver holders. The gilded china sparkled.

  “Do you like seafood?”

  “It’s my favorite.”

  “Good. I requested lobster risotto for you. It’s the oreads’ specialty. I don’t tell many people this, but the chef at Commander’s Palace has my oreads to thank for his prize-winning recipe.” He raised the dome off her plate, and her mouth started to water.

  “Mmm.” Raven’s stomach growled. Once she started eating, her body finally admitted it needed food. By the time Gabriel sat down on the other side of the table, she had made a sizable dent in her risotto.

  “We need to talk about what happened tonight with the Casket Girls.”

  “Why did they freak out like that?” Raven forked a chunk of lobster and moaned at th
e delectable flavor. “She called me Envoûter. What does that mean?”

  Tap-tap-tap. His fingers started up again and his expression hardened. “It means sorceress.”

  Raven stopped eating. “Sorceress.” When he said nothing more, she snorted. “Well, that’s ridiculous.”

  “Raven, has there been anyone in your family with powers?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Are you sure? Any strange events, family stories that can’t be explained?”

  “Dead bodies in the attic? No, we are not Anne Rice’s Mayfair Witches. We are a normal American family.”

  “Hmmm.” Gabriel sipped his wine.

  “They were wrong.” She shrugged. “I’m sure the Casket Girls make mistakes.”

  “Not often,” he mumbled. He pushed his risotto around his plate. “I am drawn to you, Raven.” He shook his head.

  “But?”

  “I am drawn to you like I have never been drawn to a human woman. If you are a witch, if you have power, my tooth will bring it out in you. It will make you far more powerful.”

  “You don’t think it’s true though.”

  “It would explain your psychic abilities, and it would mean… it would mean you might have the power to break Crimson’s curse.”

  Raven paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “But I’m not, Gabriel. I can’t be. I might be able to find the spell, but I’m not a witch. Believe me, if I was, I would have saved myself when I was dying.”

  His fingers stopped tapping and he gave a low chuckle. “In Paragon, I would have been forbidden from saving you if you were a witch. The gift of my tooth would imbue you with dragon magic. While this magic is fairly harmless inside a human, inside a witch, it could make you more powerful than anyone should be. Dragon-witch pairings have been outlawed in Paragon since the early fourth century when the Witch Queen of Darnuith attempted to overthrow my uncle.” He toyed with the ring on his finger. “Of course, in retrospect, she might have done us a favor if she’d succeeded.”