Rion

by Susan Kearney

  She stared at Rion, marveling that she hadn’t been roasted alive, that he’d risked his life to save hers. “If you hadn’t been here…”

  He placed an arm over her shoulders. In the distance a dragon roared. With a puzzled glance at the dragon, Rion removed his arm from her shoulder. “You would have found another way to calm them. That’s some skill you have.”

  While she appreciated his admiration, she immediately missed his touch. “I still don’t understand what set them off.”

  “I have a theory.”

  Several of Marisa’s team members approached, their faces filled with awe and fear. “Ma’am, we need you.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Wishing she didn’t have to work, Marisa turned to Rion. “I have to give instructions and fill out reports.”

  Rion nodded, his tone warm and understanding. “I’ll see you later.”

  Marisa arrived back at the hotel to find Rion had left her a message, saying he’d take her to dinner tomorrow at someplace casual. After being up all night, Marisa slept most of the day. When she woke at six, she showered, then dressed comfortably in jeans, layered tank tops, and a soft jacket.

  She took extra time with her hair and makeup. Humming happily, eager to see Rion again, she remembered his sexy kiss, his sexier touch. How he’d saved her life—by risking his own. She was so looking forward to seeing him again.

  Sure her hormones were in overdrive, their chemistry amazing. But he’d shared so much with her, talking about his family, his past, his flashes.

  Reminding herself she still didn’t know him that well did no good. Her hopes were high. She hadn’t felt so filled with eager anticipation in years.

  At exactly seven, Rion knocked at her hotel room door and handed her a bouquet of stargazer lilies. Dressed in jeans and a black V-necked T-shirt, he looked sexier than ever.

  “Hi.” His greeting was casual, but his gray eyes reminded her of thunderclouds filled with heat lightning.

  Surprised to find herself slightly uncomfortable under his intense gaze, she dipped her face into the flowers and breathed in one of her favorite scents. “Thanks.”

  On street level, a rental car with a driver and a huge picnic basket on the front passenger seat awaited them. Wonderful aromas wafted through the vehicle, and she appreciated that Rion had planned a romantic evening for them.

  The car took them to the London Victoria railway station. After less than an hour’s train ride, they were back in another car with another driver. Having lived in England only a few months, Marisa didn’t know British geography that well. But when she glanced out the window and saw the Salisbury sign, she looked at Rion in surprise. “We’re picnicking at Stonehenge?”

  “I have special permission.”

  Marisa was impressed. The ancient site was a political hot potato, and until the United Nations decided who should gain admission, no one was supposed to be allowed near it.

  The car stopped. Rion retrieved the basket of food and escorted her from the parking lot to Stonehenge. As they walked the path toward the site, the megalithic stones towered out of the rolling hillside.

  As she stood staring at the site, she had no difficulty imagining primitive people coming here to worship, thanking their gods for the end of winter or celebrating the spring planting or autumn harvest. However, the idea of people using Stonehenge as a spaceport thousands of years ago seemed like something out of a science-fiction movie.

  When she and Rion reached a grass knoll, he stopped, pulled a green-checkered cloth from the enormous basket, and floated it over the ground. “I was hoping we’d arrive in time to watch the sunset.”

  For an instant, a bird with outspread wings was silhouetted against the setting sun, and Marisa wondered if Merlin, Cael’s owl, had followed them, but she dismissed the possibility. England had thousands of owls.

  She gazed across the open fields. The tourist buses were long gone. She didn’t see any guards, although how Rion had arranged that she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. With the sun setting, they seemed alone here—except for the ghosts of ancient Druids and the shadows of knights from ages long past.

  He uncorked a bottle of Merlot. “Have the dragons all calmed?”

  “Yes.” She held two glasses, and he poured. “But I still don’t understand what set them off.”

  “You did.” He tipped his glass to her.

  “Me? It’s my job to settle the dragons. How would I set them off?”

  “Right before the dragons’ chaos, you were enjoying my touch.”

  “And your point?”

  He grinned into his glass as if he couldn’t help himself, as if he knew his theory would both irritate and intrigue her. “You’re telepathic, and you projected your feelings.”

  Her feelings?

  Right before Lucan had come to fetch her, she and Rion had been talking in Rion’s hotel suite. Then they’d kissed. She’d tasted the wine on his tongue. His clever fingers had caressed her scales, driven her wild. He’d made her feel good. Better than she’d ever felt. But had she actually projected her desire and arousal onto strangers?

  Stunned, she sipped her wine. “You really think… that I affected the dragons?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if that’s true, I wasn’t sending violent thoughts. The males were fighting.”

  “Over a female.”

  “My thoughts weren’t vicious. You saw the dragons. They were tearing each other apart. After you left, the docs gave them massive doses of antibiotics.”

  “Which probably weren’t necessary. Dragonshapers heal fast.” He peered at her over the rim of his wineglass. “To a dragonshaper, fighting is… foreplay. Your lust stirred their hot dragonblood. And then they couldn’t control themselves.”

  The implications rocked her. “Are you sure?”

  “Later, the dragons calmed. But then do you remember when you flung yourself into my arms?”

  “Of course.” Marisa sucked in a short breath.

  “One of the dragons roared.” He spoke gently as if he understood how shocking she’d find his theory. “And it happened again when I placed my arm over your shoulders. It’s why I pulled back so quickly.”

  Her hand shook so hard she had to set down her wine before she spilled it. “So kissing you, what we did together, was a mistake.”

  “Not for me.” Again he kept his tone gentle, almost playful. “I rather enjoyed it.”

  So had she. And yet… “Damn it. Unless I learn to control what I project, I can’t kiss you.” Or feel passion. Or make love. Yikes.

  “Or you could practice kissing me and keeping control.” His words were sexy, low and husky, and very suggestive.

  “Is that possible?”

  His hair ruffled in the breeze and he chuckled. “I’d be more than willing to help with the experiment—for scientific purposes.”

  “This isn’t funny, Rion. Those dragons could have died. If I hadn’t calmed them, the guards would have shot them with tranqs. They’d have fallen out of the sky.” Earth’s non-dragonshaping population was already leery of dragonshapers. And what sane person wouldn’t be wary? The dragons were huge and powerful, lethal when they blasted fire from their throats.

  “Relax.” Rion gestured to the setting sun. He dug into the basket and removed fresh bread, pickled onions, roast chicken, Cornish pasties, corn on the cob, and gooseberry trifle. “We’ll figure this out.”

  “How?” Disappointment washed over her. And yet… she reminded herself he’d gone to all this trouble after he’d known they wouldn’t be doing anything physical. Surely that meant he felt more than a physical attraction. “I’m afraid to even think… about us.”

  “I’m not going to let a bunch of dragons stop me from having you.” His eyes gleamed with heat. “We’ll think of something.”

  She unpacked dishes and utensils. “At least you’re honest.”

  That he’d openly admitted having seduction in mind made her very aware of him. She looked down to wat
ch his long fingers fist, then relax. She recalled those fingers teasing up the insides of her legs, caressing her slick folds. And she’d been so looking forward to making love. But now they couldn’t—and disappointment flooded her. To distract herself, she took a piece of bread and bit into it, tried to enjoy the setting sun. “Why did you choose this place?”

  “I didn’t want your brother interrupting this time.” He handed her a napkin. “And I want to show you something, but let’s eat first. I’m starved.”

  She nibbled, sipped her wine, and enjoyed the pink and gold streaks of the dying sun. Most of all she enjoyed the anticipation of what he’d do next.

  She would have liked to kiss him again, out here under the stars, encircled by mystical ancient stones, surrounded by history. The rugged megaliths, rough and weathered, lent a raw excitement to the air. But she didn’t dare give in to emotions that might set the dragonshapers off. “Do you think the people who placed the stones here were dragonshapers?”

  He ate the last bite of his pasty and licked a crumb from his finger, then froze, his face expressionless.

  “Rion?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She reached for him. “Rion? Are you okay?”

  THE FLASH CAME on Rion fast and hard. He could see and hear Marisa asking him if he was all right, but at the same time his vision showed him another Marisa.

  This Marisa’s face was white, her eyes wide with fear. Her hair stuck to her damp face. A streak of dirt smudged one cheek. Shots fired. Bang. Bang. With each shot, Marisa flinched. Bang. The third shot struck Marisa right above the bridge of her nose, slamming directly into her forehead.

  “Rion?” Marisa’s worried voice broke into his consciousness.

  Sweet Goddess. He’d just seen her death.

  Shaken, Rion stared at her beautiful face. Was his being near her going to get her killed? Rion tried to think clearly. Should he tell her what he’d just seen?

  Last night the subcutaneous communicator had almost rendered him unconscious. Marisa had dealt with the alien technology without seeming too put off, but she didn’t need a nightly display of his peculiarities. And even if he told her what he’d seen, what good would it do except upset her? So he said nothing.

  But he memorized the bullet pattern he’d seen. Tried to brand that cheek smudge’s shape into his memory. And yet he might not be there to protect her when she died.

  He had so little information. But he’d long since quit damning his visions. He had a piece of something important. More than most people got.

  Marisa was staring at him, concern in her gaze.

  “Sorry.” Rion poured more wine into their glasses. “These stones are quite spectacular. It took either levitation skills, antigravity machines, huge cranes, or the strength of dragonshapers to set the stones here.”

  She smiled with her mouth, but her eyes remained thoughtful. “It’s difficult for me to remember that dragonshapers have been around for a long time. Their presence seems new… not as old as Stonehenge.”

  “You keep saying they—as if you aren’t one of us.”

  “It’s kind of like changing my hair color.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My hair’s naturally dark. Every time I go to the salon, they add another color.”

  That explained the multitude of shades from copper to wheat to golden. What color exactly had her hair been in the flash? It had seemed darker, but it could have been the lighting, or perhaps her hair had been damp with sweat. He must have looked confused.

  Marisa chuckled. “I still think of myself as a brunette. It’s not until I glance in a mirror, or hair blows in my face, that I remember I’ve changed. It’s the same with dragonshaping. I still think of myself as pure human… until I shift.”

  “I suppose that makes sense. Like anything new, it takes time to incorporate a change into one’s core thinking processes.”

  “You sound so scientific. What was your career on Honor?”

  He scratched his chin. “I was trained in astrophysics. My father believed that might help me date my flashes.”

  “Does it?”

  “Occasionally. But I work for the government. I’m a diplomat.” The partial lie rolled off his tongue easily enough. Yet he resented the need for dishonesty. She deserved better.

  “What did you like best?”

  “Meeting new people. Learning their culture. Finding out what’s important to them. No matter how different we all appear, when I go deep enough, I find we want the same things.” At least that was true. He gazed into her open face and wondered what about her made him want to tell her everything.

  “Such as?”

  “Peace. Security. Hope for a better future for our loved ones.” He leaned back, laced his hands behind his head, and looked at the stars, enjoying this moment.

  He knew all too well the peace wouldn’t last, and neither would Marisa’s contentment. As much as he’d have liked to be the man she wanted, as much as he’d have enjoyed exploring their new closeness, he had obligations. The needs of his people came before his own. And if that meant Marisa ended up hating him, he would have to live with the consequences.

  Wrapping up the leftovers, she neatly repacked them into the basket. “You ready for trifle, or do you want to walk off this meal first?”

  “Whatever you like.” She looked content. Happy. Guilt warred with his responsibilities. Fighting his very real attraction to her while he tried to do what was required tore at him, forcing him to reconsider his options. But no matter how he added up the parts, his conclusion always remained the same. He could never have her permanently, but he needed her.

  Resigned to carry through with his plan no matter how upset with him she was going to be, he took her hand. They strolled around the megaliths. This sightseeing expedition gave him an excuse to check the perimeter. Thanks to his well-placed bribes, the guards had retreated to the security trailer. But cameras still had them under surveillance.

  Rion knew exactly which angles the lenses covered. Last week he’d done a test run and had taken the opportunity to stash a carefully packed bag inside a hidden cavity within one of the stones. The Earth officials had no idea how to make Stonehenge function as a transporter. But Rion did.

  When they rounded one of the largest megaliths, he stopped, reached out, and placed his finger into a crack. Marisa held his other hand but watched, curious. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought I saw a glint of metal.” He pressed a stone. A click activated a hidden panel, and the stone, about as wide and high as a door, slid sideways with a soundless swish.

  “Oh… my… God.” Marisa raised her hand to her mouth.

  Beyond the door was a stone chamber about the size of an elevator. The air smelled stale and dusty. An owl flew inside. Rion tugged her into the chamber and reached for a lever.

  Her eyes widened. “Don’t—”

  He pulled the lever. The stone panel closed behind them, leaving them in total darkness.

  Marisa gasped, and her hand tightened on his. “We’re trapped.”

  “Don’t move.”

  With his free hand, Rion grabbed the backpack he’d stored last week. He slipped one strap over his shoulder, then flipped on a penlight and shone it on Marisa. Her eyes were wide, but when Rion quickly punched coordinates into a metal faceplate embedded in the stone, Marisa jerked backward, distrust sharpening her tone.

  “You just activated the transporter, didn’t you?” Her voice snapped with fury. Her entire body shook with stress. If her anger could kill, he’d be dead. And he deserved every bit of her rage.

  From above, Merlin hooted softly. Cael’s owl had followed them to Stonehenge.

  Rion’s gut tightened, but his resolve hardened. “It’s going to be all right.”

  “You don’t even know if the transporter still works.” She lunged for the lever.

  He stepped in front of her, clamped his arms around her. “It works.”

  Marisa fought like a wild w
oman, trying to break free. But he held on tight, trapping her against his chest and pinning her arms to her sides. “Easy. Don’t hurt yourself.”

  “Let me go.” Her entire body trembling, she twisted and jerked sideways, trying to yank free.

  Guilt stabbed him. “I’m sorry. I need your help. I can’t let you go.”

  “You mean you won’t.” Anger, hurt at his betrayal, and panic rolled off her in unmistakable waves. If any dragons were nearby, they’d soon be in a killing rage. No doubt she’d already sent a frantic telepathic message to Lucan. But her twin would receive her call for help too late.

  Within seconds, the ancient stones began to heat. Pressure built. His ears popped. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Marisa shook so hard her teeth clicked.

  “Damn you.” She tried to bite him, but he shifted back an inch. “You have no right to kidnap me.”

  “The situation’s gone critical, or I would never—”

  She glared at him. “What if I can’t return?”

  “I programmed this transporter to accept your imprint when it’s time to send you home.”

  The stones rumbled louder. The ancient mechanisms gathered energy and heated.

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded furiously.

  “The Unari have closed the portal on Honor. We have to go to Tor first.”

  She went rigid, her tone raw with horror. “But that’s an enemy planet.”

  This had happened before—going farther and farther into the mists until one could no longer see the way home.

  —LADY OF THE LAKE

  7

  Marisa couldn’t believe Rion was kidnapping her.

  One moment she was standing inside Stonehenge’s vault, the next she’d arrived in a blinding burst of light. The air seemed too thin. Although it was crisp and clean, she couldn’t suck enough oxygen into her lungs. Had they made it to Tor?

  Could she find a lever to pull to send her back home?

  The metal platform they stood on vaguely resembled Stonehenge, but the proportions were wrong, the materials peculiar. Instead of a huge ring of rocks, she and Rion stood surrounded by glowing green granite.