The Dragon of New Orleans

by Genevieve Jack

  “Oh?” His eyebrows shot up.

  “The spell you’ve put on it seems to be tightening the knot again and again, like a song on continual loop. I need to break the repeat mechanism. Then I should be able to untie it.”

  “Clever, clever girl,” he said. He slid his hand over her knee and traced tiny circles along her skin.

  She watched as his hand swept higher up her thigh. Long, lengthening strokes that ran from her inner knee up under the skirt of her dress, stopping short of her black lace panties. He’d seen them, picked them out. The thought of them in his fingers made her squirm. Her breath came heavily. She licked her lips and inhaled his smoky scent. A little higher and he’d graze her sex. Her body longed for it, ached for it. Her nipples hardened within the lace of her bra, and her hips circled, moving his hand up her thigh.

  “What happened to waiting until you trusted me about Kristina?” he asked, his sinful mouth drawing close to hers. A dark grin played at the corner of his lips, and he watched her through hooded eyes.

  It almost killed her to hold her ground. “Tell me. Tell me now where we’re going and what happened to her.”

  “I can’t. I can only show you. And we are about half an hour from our destination. What shall we do for thirty minutes?”

  He trailed his fingers closer and grazed the seam of her underwear. Raven closed her eyes, her breath coming out in a shaky exhale. She had to be soaking wet. Her body was a throbbing bundle of need.

  “Would you like me to stop?”

  His fingers climbed again toward the apex of her thighs, and this time she shifted her hips. He obliged her with a long stroke over the thin material that covered the center of her sex. The rumble in his chest grew louder.

  “Oh, Raven, you are wet,” he said, brushing his lips against hers. “Tell me what you want. Should I stop or give you a taste of what will happen when you are mine?”

  She licked her lips, then tried to catch her breath. No amount of effort could remind her of why she wanted to wait. All her mental energy was focused on the tangle of nerves so close to his fingers. His touch was exquisite torture. Lord help her, she was weak. But there was no other answer she could give than to raise her fingers to the nape of his neck and drag her nails through his thick dark hair.

  “You must tell me, Raven. I’ve promised I wouldn’t take anything you weren’t willing to give. I am nothing if not a dragon that keeps his promises.” His skin felt hot against her own, and his dark hazel eyes smoldered with red fire.

  “A taste,” she said. “Give me a taste.”

  The possessive growl that escaped Gabriel’s throat was a bit premature. After all, she’d asked for a taste, nothing more. She wasn’t his. Not really. Not yet. But she’d asked for more and he intended to give it to her.

  He caressed the back of her knee with his fingers, which then climbed toward the moist lace that covered her sex. Slowly, so slowly. His mouth hovered over hers. Jasmine and vanilla formed a heady scent in the small space, and he wondered if it was her magic coming to the surface. Perfume didn’t grow stronger with excitement. Magic did.

  He worked his fingers under the lace. When she moaned in response, he claimed her mouth, drinking that moan in with a kiss that she returned with abandon. She gently clawed the back of his head with her nails.

  “So wet,” he whispered into her mouth, dipping a finger into her and circling. She raised her hips to drive him deeper as her tongue darted over his bottom lip. He returned the gesture, deepening the kiss and showing her with his tongue exactly what he wanted to do to her.

  She tipped her head back and whimpered between kisses, her hips moving faster now. Gabriel’s own arousal was threatening to tear through his jeans, but this wasn’t about him. It was about her. About showing her how perfect it would be if she were his. He wanted to make her sing.

  He kissed his way down her neck to her breast, skimming his teeth over the thin material of her bodice. Her nipple pearled under the heat of his breath. He dipped a second finger into her, working slow, languid circles. He watched her carefully, committing every flush, every roll of her hips to memory. She writhed closer to him, her petite body grinding against his fingers. How he would love to be inside her, buried in her. Once she said the word, he would mark her as his mate. He slid an arm into the arch of her back and lifted, his fingers diving deeper, his thumb massaging in quick hungry circles as he ravaged her neck with his mouth.

  That was all it took. She arched in his arms, the symbols in her skin lighting up in unison as her orgasm tore through her. He held her through the aftershocks, then gently removed his hand, lowering her to the seat and straightening her dress. When she looked at him again, her eyes were bright with astonishment.

  “You asked for a taste.” He flashed her a smug grin.

  “Wicked, wicked dragon. You knew if I had a taste, I’d want the entire meal.”

  The car slowed to a stop.

  Gabriel shook his head. “We’re here.”

  The breath left Raven’s lungs in a deep sigh. What Gabriel had done to her body had wiped her mind. Gone were her former anxiety and misgivings, replaced by a deep sense of relaxation and a strong desire to curl up and take a nap. She’d never had an orgasm with her first lover. He’d been seventeen and had all the self-restraint of a rabid weasel. Gabriel was sex on legs. He was a dark wind that blew through her. He was the flame and she was the moth.

  If she didn’t find out soon what had happened to Kristina, she would weep. She was too sure, too incredibly lost to Gabriel, to accept that he had hurt her predecessor. It would break her if she was wrong about him. Her heart would not survive it.

  Raven allowed Gabriel to help her from the car. Duncan had pulled over in front of a club, very exclusive by the looks of it. The place was called Bacchus, a familiar enough name for New Orleans, but she didn’t recognize it as anywhere she’d been before. Not surprising. Most of her post-drinking-age adulthood had been spent in a hospital bed.

  “Come on,” Gabriel said, guiding her toward the bouncer.

  “Gabriel, there’s a line. A very long line.”

  “Not for me,” he said.

  The bouncer saw him coming and immediately dropped the rope. “Good evening, Mr. Blakemore. Your VIP room is ready.”

  Gabriel placed his hand on the curve of her back and guided her into the crowded and dimly lit club. “Upstairs.”

  On the way up the metal-and-glass staircase, Raven looked over the railing at a stage that was already set for a live band. “Who’s playing tonight?”

  “Blue Radio.”

  “The Blue Radio?” Raven turned to him excitedly. Blue Radio was one of the most popular groups in the country at the moment. Tickets for their concerts sold out instantly. It was unusual they’d be playing in an intimate venue like this. Even more unbelievable that she was present to hear them. “I love them. I’ve had a thing for them ever since their David Bowie tribute concert.”

  “The owner of this club is a friend of their new manager. No one knows they’re here. Only the fortunate patrons who get in tonight will be lucky enough to see them. Including you.” He winked at her.

  Truly excited now, she followed him to a small room overlooking the stage. His VIP room, she supposed. Dark wood lined in red velvet, the room provided privacy from the hall via a heavy black curtain. Although she could see hundreds of other patrons, she felt secluded here, above it all. A server knocked on the wall beside the curtain before entering and asking if they wanted anything from the bar. She ordered a martini. Gabriel ordered whiskey.

  The drinks hadn’t even arrived yet when Blue Radio took the stage. Along with the rest of the crowd, Raven leaped to her feet. As soon as they began their set, she sang along, swaying to the music.

  “Do you want to dance in the pit?” Gabriel asked her, pointing to the area in front of the stage. “I can get us down there if it pleases you.”

  Raven scanned the crowded dance floor below and shook her head. “No.”


  He laughed. “You’d rather dance up here, alone?”

  She turned to him. “I’m not alone.” She reached for his hand. When their fingers touched, the symbols on her skin came alive. “Anyhow, I’d rather be here with you than down there, worried about someone seeing these.”

  “You plan on touching me then?” he asked.

  Raven became acutely aware of why they’d come here. She was supposed to be asking about Kristina. But for some reason she didn’t want to. She almost didn’t want to know. Everything about tonight was what she wanted, what she had prayed for. An adventure. A piece of the life she’d missed before. The music, the man, the energy of the roaring crowd below them. She didn’t want it to end.

  Somehow she found the strength to say the name. “Kristina.” It came out of her in a burst and caused her eyes to tear.

  He took her hand. “I can see this is a hard limit for you. So let’s get it out of the way.”

  “Just tell me. I have to know what happened. It’s eating me alive.”

  “Come.” He took her hand and led her toward the stairs and then into an employees-only corridor. The music grew louder as they descended a long concrete ramp. By the direction of the sound, Raven thought they must be behind the stage, or under it. Where was he taking her?

  There was a woman in a suit standing at the end of the ramp, her hair bleached white and cropped up the back of her neck. From behind, Raven could tell she had her arms crossed. She was tapping her foot, and the muscles of her shoulders seemed tense.

  When they approached her, she said, “I hope you can appreciate how dangerous this is for me. He will kill me if he ever sees me again.”

  “I know,” Gabriel said. “I am sorry, but I need this of you.”

  The woman turned around. “Which is why I’m here. I owe you one, Gabriel. This is it.”

  Raven squinted, taking in the slope of the woman’s nose and the high cheekbones, the amber eyes. Aside from the cut and color of her hair, she looked exactly like the picture on her father’s mantel.

  “Kristina?”

  “Shhh,” the woman said. “If you want me to tell you anything, you will not use that name, and when you leave here, you will never think of me or look for me again. That name, that person, is dead. Do you understand?”

  Raven narrowed her eyes and nodded.

  “Good.” The woman who had once been Kristina uncrossed her arms and slipped her hands into her suit pockets. “If you need to address me, you can call me Jezebel. I’m Blue Radio’s manager. I’m here for tonight, and then you will never see me again. Understand?”

  “Jezebel,” Raven repeated. “Nice to meet you. I’m Raven.”

  “What do you want to know? You have five minutes,” she said sharply.

  Raven turned to Gabriel. “Can we have a few minutes… alone?” He made a face as if she’d injured him, but with a quick bow of his head, he receded up the ramp and out of sight.

  “Did Gabriel have anything to do with your disappearance?” Raven asked.

  “Of course he did,” she said. “He helped me vanish so my father couldn’t find me and kill me. I’ll spare you the details. All you need to know is my father is abusive and dangerous. Gabriel tried to take me under his wing. I stayed with him for a while, but my father tracked me down. He stalked me endlessly. Did Gabriel tell you my father tried to set Blakemore’s on fire?”

  “No.” Raven frowned.

  “Luckily, dragons have a handle on fire. Gabriel contained the blaze. After that, it was clear the only way I was ever going to be free was to fake my own death. Gabriel got me this job and arranged for my new identity. And he promised to take my secret to his grave. He’s the only one who knows, Raven. I told no one else. Not even Agnes or Richard. I couldn’t risk it. Now you know too. I hope I can count on you to keep your mouth shut.”

  “I won’t say a word.”

  “Three minutes,” Kristina said. “The band is finishing their first set.”

  “Why did you draw my family crest on the library catalog?”

  Her eyes widened. “What’s your family crest?”

  “It’s a twisted version of the tree of life.”

  Kristina hung her head and laughed. “That was the symbol the spirits sent me of the one who would break the curse. I kept asking them who can stand up to Crimson? Who can find a way to bring magic back to the ring? And they kept sending me that symbol.”

  “But what does it mean?”

  “Gabriel doesn’t know this, but the day I sketched that symbol, I came to understand that my being there was keeping the one who could break the curse from his life. If I’d found a way to stay, or taken a job closer to Blakemore’s, I might have been able to keep searching for the cure. But the spirits were adamant that the symbol I’d seen represented the one who must do it. It’s you, Raven. The symbol represented you. You are the only one who can cure what ails his magic.”

  “You mean I will find a spell to break the curse.”

  She shook her head. “You will break the curse and restore the ring. You can’t do one without the other.”

  Raven felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. “No. I haven’t practiced magic long enough for that. I can barely untie a knot in a rope. I can’t fight a voodoo priestess. I can’t restore dragon magic to a ring that’s not even from this world.”

  The woman stared at her. “Weren’t you once as good as dead?”

  “I was dying when Gabriel saved me, yes.”

  “Listen up, zombie Barbie. I speak to the dead, and what they are telling me is that you are way more powerful than even Gabriel right now. Your magic is getting stronger while his is getting weaker. I’m not sure what’s up with your little-miss-helpless routine, but you need to have a good look at yourself and admit what you are.”

  What did Kristina want from her? Raven spread her hands. “I know what I am and what I can do. I can absorb magic when I touch it.”

  The woman shook her head. “That’s the icing on the cake, sweetheart. The tree I sketched, I had no idea it was your family tree, but I did know it was someone’s. I traced it back to a woman who was burned at the stake for being a witch in the mid-1700s. If I were a betting woman, I’d bet that you are her descendant. You’re a witch and you have a dragon’s tooth charging you from within. And unless I’m blind, you two are more than boss and employee.”

  Raven blushed.

  “You are capable of saving the man and the dragon. Let yourself go. Stop saying you can’t. Stop putting limits on yourself. If you love him, you’ll try harder. You’ll try anything.”

  “How? Tell me how!”

  “If I knew how, I would’ve done it myself. I can tell you one thing; I doubt very much the answer is in that library of Gabriel’s.”

  “You have to help me. I’m not strong enough to figure this out, but maybe together—”

  “Pssh. Sorry, love. I can’t risk it. I’m supposed to be dead, remember?”

  “But aren’t you bonded to him? Won’t you die when he dies?”

  She shook her head. “Take it from a medium, everyone dies. I’m not the one he needs or the one who can save us.” She glared at Raven for a beat, then turned back toward the stage. “Now, you better go find Gabriel before he gets testy with me for keeping you from him. The way he looked at you, I thought he’d rather kill me than leave you.”

  Raven paused. “I feel the same way.”

  “Then I suggest you tell him so. While you still can.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gabriel waited near the backstage exit for Raven to return. Would she understand that he could not have revealed Kristina’s secret, even to her? It was not in a dragon’s character to break a promise. Kristina was his friend and his bonded servant. Although he’d freed her from the expectations of the bond for her protection, he would not free himself from his responsibilities to her. He could only hope and pray that Raven would understand that and not be angry with him for hiding it from her all this time.<
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  He heard her before he saw her. Her footsteps fell rapidly and her heart pounded. Worried, he rounded the corner to meet her. She barreled into him at a full run, and he caught her in his arms and twirled her around to stop her momentum.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She placed her hands on either side of his face. “You didn’t hurt her.”

  “No.”

  “You set her free.”

  “Yes.” His jaw hardened. “She was no good to me anyway with that father of hers constantly screaming in my face and scaring away my customers.”

  “You are a good man, Gabriel Blakemore.”

  “Dragon. I’m a dragon. You can’t forget that. I’m not safe and I’m not human. I can’t give you that. Not ever. Even if we break the curse.”

  She inhaled and tugged his head toward hers. “Safe is overrated.” Her lips crashed into his as hard as her body had, and he absorbed the impact with pleasure. The dragon enjoyed it too, rousing from its slumber and begging him to claim her, to mark her as his mate. It was instinct, as primal as his need to eat or drink. And it was rare. In Paragon, dragon males outnumbered females eight to one. It was common enough for males to seek sexual release outside their species. But rarely did they bond with them as their mate. Usually it was only about sex.

  Raven was different. She’d always been different. He wanted her. All of her. Her body, her soul, and her heart.

  “Say you will be mine,” he demanded into her lips. “Tell me you accept me as your mate and give yourself to me.”

  She retreated, seeming to fight with herself over the notion.

  “I don’t want to be owned. I won’t be caged.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of caging you. It would be like caging the wind.”

  “But you would own me.” She moved away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

  He dropped to his knees on the concrete corridor. “Don’t you understand you already own me?”

  “What are you doing? Get up.”

  “You have ruled me since the day I walked into your hospital room. You wicked girl, will we never be equals? Will you keep me at your beck and call, broken under your will until I am no more?”