Paying the Dragon's Price

by Diana Rose Wilson

  The only thing that mattered was the feel of him pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Hers. Hers. Loving her. She felt tears streaking down her cheeks as he kissed her, sweeping his thumb over the slap mark. A vibrating growl rumbled through him.

  Someone was going to walk in on them! She sensed their approach. It was a little red spark flickering like an ember in the corner of her mind’s eye.

  She tightened her grip on Travis, arching against him as his teeth caught her lower lip. “Someone’s coming!” she whimpered.

  He growled at her, licking her lower lip after releasing her, and grinned. “How do you know?” he asked as he adjusted to draw out of her and pull back. It was agony when he slipped free of her. Not only because he’d fucked her so ruthlessly, but because she didn’t want to release him. Her legs were not working right, and her knees wanted to crumple out from under her.

  “They must have heard someone getting fucked in here,” she said.

  “Yes, terrible, isn’t it?” He reached for her face and tipped it up, wiping cum from her chin with his hand, winking. “You are going to fucking destroy me.” He frowned and glanced up as though he heard the sound she could not. “Someone is coming.” He arched an eyebrow at her.

  “That’s what I said.” She was pulling her dress into place, squirming in his grip, motioning for him to hurry, to get him to cover himself.

  He leered at her and fixed his clothing with a hiss and grumble about condoms as he did. Finally, he slipped his arm through hers and pulled her back into the room and toward the tapestry. “Just follow my lead. Let’s hope it’s not the old lady.”

  Fire-pants in the tapestry seemed to smirk at her. At least she sensed approval rather than that horrible I-will-burn-the-soul-right-out-of-you impression Vans had felt when the woman had thought she’d get fucked against the tapestry.

  Man, she needed to get her head examined.

  “So, who is the woman?” Vans asked as she pressed into Travis’s side.

  “No idea,” he said, brows drawn together as he eyed the tapestry from that close distance. He tipped his head back and leaned away with a frown. Maybe he was getting that fire-of-the-sun treatment. He glanced at Vans to see if she was feeling it and she smiled at him, shrugging.

  The door behind them swung open and a giggling trio of women paused at the doorway. “Oh. Oh my. Sorry. Carry on.” They tittered, eyes lingering, but apparently the show was over and they’d missed out on the fun of catching anyone in the middle of screwing.

  Travis glanced over at them, nodding his head, and reached to tip his hat that wasn’t there. “Fuck.”

  The women laughed harder and left. With a grumble, Travis prowled back to the alcove to grab up his hat.

  “I don’t know why the Engels or Adlers would want this hanging in their dining room. It’s going to put people right off their food. She’s not really good dinner company. She’s…” Vans looked over the scene, wondering at the intricate detail. She leaned in closer to get a better look at the fine beadwork stitched into the woman’s intricate armor.

  Travis grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “We should go!” His voice sounded tight, his eyes on the woman in the tapestry.

  “What did you see?” she asked, allowing him to draw her out of the room.

  “One pissed-off redhead. I have no idea why Beatrix hung it there. The old woman should have left it wherever it came from.” He looked down at her as they slipped out of the room. “You need to go freshen up, my love.” He cupped her face affectionately and kissed her, softly and sweetly, in contrast to his earlier roughness. “Are you all right? Not hurt?”

  She leaned into the big hand and felt her legs weaken. “I am wonderful.” She nibbled at his lower lip and then stood on tiptoes to rub his nose. “I love you, too,” she told him and pulled away, dashing for the bathroom before he could restrain her or see the tears in her eyes.

  Chapter 2

  Deception

  Without really looking to see who was in the room, Vans charged into the bathroom, a frantic laugh rising in her throat. She’d told him. She’d told him how she felt. And…he felt the same way. Oh god. She was a disaster! Thank goodness no one stopped her.

  Then she focused on the room and realized a woman stood staring at her.

  Marcie Perez had arrived to the party with her black hair beautifully pinned up and shining in a crown of curls. Now, though, they were twisted into a messy bun. Her makeup had obviously been reapplied, but her mouth had an unmistakable swell to it and…well, there was a radiant glow around her. She sparkled with pleasure.

  That woman just had a quickie!

  “Marcie!” She realized she was gawking and straightened, covering her mouth to shield the condition of her own face.

  For a moment, the tall, elegant woman stared at Vans, and then narrowed her eyes, moving to step around her, making for the door. Vans grabbed for her arm to stop her. “Don’t. Travis is right out there.” Vans gasped when Marcie tried to shoulder past her. “What the fuck? Are you all right?”

  “Are you?” Marcie’s hand darted out and she poked into the handprint on her cheek. Hard.

  “Yes. Consensual. Fucking ow!” Vans hissed with the pain the jab had caused and jerked her head away from the contact.

  Marcie motioned to herself. “Consensual,” she answered and her gaze hardened. “Funny how my play is somehow not acceptable though.”

  “Oh my god! You went out and met up with him? Holy fuck!”

  “It’s not your business.”

  Vans shook her head. “We’re your friends. We want what’s best for you.”

  “Then why doesn’t anyone support me? Like I supported Travis despite how you crushed my best friend, Ursa.” She yanked her arm free. “You’ve known me for less than a month. How can you possibly know what’s best for me?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but went for the door. “Merry Christmas.”

  Vans stood there, staring at the door, feeling a completely different type of slap connect with her.

  Dazed, she walked toward the sink, and with a deflated sigh glanced at her condition in the mirror. The tears, the hand slap, her cum-ruined makeup. Then there was the state of her mangled hair. She was wrecked.

  Marcie’s words rang in her mind. None of them should be trying to control what she did. She didn’t know Marcie well, and had no idea what sort of life she led outside of parties. She had always assumed the woman had dozens of men on speed dial. Young, virile guys keeping her properly entertained between the parties. It never even crossed her mind that Marcie might not be very sexually active.

  She ran sex parties!

  Marcie deserved to have two young studs as dates, wearing only banana hammocks and bow ties. Twins, maybe.

  Vans pushed the image away with an effort.

  It certainly wasn’t Vans’s place to put her nose in Marcie’s life. Honestly, she was more concerned that Marcie would run into Travis and have to deal with his shit.

  The shit he needed to get over real quick.

  She washed her face, neck, and cleavage hastily, then raked her hair into some semblance of ordered chaos. After applying a little lipstick and liner, she darted back to the main room.

  Looking around for Travis or Marcie, she moved deeper into the main hall. She spotted Travis with Leo and Ursa. No one turned to her as she slipped in beside Travis and his arm slid around her. He protectively pulled her tight against him.

  What the hell was going on?

  Then she saw the drama by the coat check. Marcie was talking with Beatrix Engel, the white-haired CEO smiling and cool. A prickle of ice cut through Vans.

  The adversary.

  Yes, she saw it. She glanced at Travis, frowning. He worked for that cold, evil woman?

  Wait.

  Vans didn’t know she was evil.

  Except she did.

  Travis was worried that Mano was dangerous when he’d worked for this woman? How could anything be worse than the adversary? She knew instinctivel
y that the woman wove lies to deceive Travis and the others who worked for her. It didn’t explain why though. What was the purpose in this tangled game?

  She couldn’t hear what was said, but she could see by the way Marcie’s spine tightened that she didn’t enjoy what she’d heard. Marcie turned and grabbed her coat, then strode toward the door just as the golden-haired man walked in with his mother steps behind him.

  They ran right into each other.

  Leo pinched the bridge of his nose. “If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is. What the hell is going on?” He turned to glare at Travis.

  “Don’t give me that look. That asshole is a trouble-making little shit.”

  “He seemed very nice to me,” Ursa said, her tone tight.

  “Love, you think everyone is nice,” Leo told her, wrapping his arms around her.

  That’s when things got interesting, of course, with a whole audience to witness it. Like watching a house of cards touched by a match.

  Mano renounced his inheritance and stripped off his fine tux jacket and shirt right there, showing off the glory of his tattooed body to the whole room. Ursa let out a choked squeak as she gawked, and Leo shifted uncomfortably. Travis remained silently stoic. His head tipped down, and he looked intently at her.

  Did you see it? Do you like it?

  Her lips curled into a contrite smile, knowing this was the third time she’d done so in a day.

  Did he mean the fucking tattoos? Mano’s were fucking epic. The tribal artwork covered his chest and back completely, but it wasn’t really her thing. She liked Travis as he was—his hard body decorated in glittering chest hairs she could run her fingers through. Yes, she liked that much better than a bunch of tattoos blurring her eyes.

  Her focus had shifted again, and she realized he remained looking at her with acute disappointment. He obviously didn’t mean the damn ink, and she once again she had allowed herself get distracted by imagining Travis naked. Couldn’t he understand how distracting he was?

  “Marcie. Be sensible. Think of what you are giving up.” Beatrix’s voice cut through Vans’s thoughts, and she looked toward the gathering by the door. Beatrix’s husband stood beside the twin sisters, looking huge and imposing but utterly impotent. They faced off with Marcie and Mano.

  Vans couldn’t hear their words as the couple gazed into each other’s eyes. Marcie definitely appeared to approve of the nearly naked and tattooed man.

  “Mano! How dare you turn this party into a carnival!” Beatrix’s voice sharpened. “Put your shirt back on this instant. Are you divorced of your senses and any thread of decorum?” Beatrix flashed a glare at her sister. “What sort of animal did you raise?”

  Neither Mano nor Marcie gave the matriarch or mother any attention. Mano reached into the pocket of his jacket, drew out a leather box, and opened it, showing what lay inside to Marcie before slipping the brilliant diamond and tanzanite necklace from within. The stones were the same color as Marcie’s widening eyes, and he adoringly slipped it around her neck, leaning in closer to murmur to her.

  Stepping back, he offered out his hand to her. “You ready to go, pretty lady?”

  Marcie hesitated a moment, her hand going to her throat where the necklace sparkled and gleamed against her honey-brown skin. Then she took his hand, letting the bare-chested man pull her out into the night.

  The old line ends. New lines begin, the woman from the tapestry whispered to her. The words resonated with satisfaction as they echoed through her head.

  The whole room burst into loud speculations and shouting.

  The volume came mostly from Beatrix and her sister before the grim-looking Mr. Engel grabbed both women and pulled them from the room, preventing their raging argument from fueling even more rumors.

  Ursa glanced over at Vans as though she heard her say something. Her eyebrows lifted in question. Had she said it aloud?

  “Well, b-but…but—” Ursa blinked owlishly around at the others. “Does that mean she quit? Got fired?”

  “I would think that was a take-this-job-and-shove-it right there,” Leo agreed in a low voice, his expression pensive. “I had no idea… Travis, did you know about any of this?” There was a hint of accusation in his tone as he slowly turned to look at his friend. “You said he was a troublemaker. Not that he was being manipulated into leading the company. Did you hear that threat? ‘I want to know where my son is. You are going to tell me, or I’m going to make things difficult.’” Leo glared at Travis, staring him down with black eyes.

  Travis frowned in thought before shaking his head to clear it. “This can’t be right. Beatrix herself told me repeatedly about how her son was led astray by her nephew, his cousin. She said it was all Mano’s doing that her son left.”

  “And she is willing to put Marcie in a vise to get to him? What the fuck, Travis? That doesn’t seem right,” Leo said firmly. “I wouldn’t tell her where he is. Ever wonder why he doesn’t want to be home?” The big man shifted from one foot to the other, pulling Ursa in closer, as though trying to protect her .

  Travis licked his lips as though he tasted something sour, his features tightening. Uncertainty clouded his usually clear gaze. He let his arm slip from around Vans. “I need to find out what’s going on. Excuse me.”

  He didn’t wait for anyone’s approval, just walked off, following the raised voices where they’d retreated into a back room. Vans watched him go, her heart aching with every step he took.

  Ursa’s hand touched her arm. “It’ll be all right,” she said in a firm voice, adding a confident nod. “He needs to process all this.”

  Vans inclined her head, unable to work up an answering smile. She understood Travis’s shock. After being convinced for so long that Mano was involved in driving his cousin away from his family, this indication that those stories were lies must be a gut-punch. This put all those stories Beatrix had told him into question. Where did the lies stop? Travis was a man who valued truth and honesty.

  They were denied entry into the back offices by grim faced staff members. “Business matters”, the man intoned. She wanted to be at his side to support him. Instead, she and Ursa were sent to the bar to wait. How much of her behavior added to his anger? Her lack of attentiveness at the auction, her continued distraction, and her inability to figure out what he’d tried to show her

  Focus.

  Vans needed to learn better focus.

  Chapter 3

  Realization

  December 20, 2015

  Vans woke alone.

  Travis’s big bed felt huge, lonely, and cold without him curled around her as though he were afraid she might vanish in the night. She didn’t realize how important his hold was until she woke without it. Cuddling into the pillow, she tried to breathe in his familiar scent, but this morning the scent of faded cloves and leather didn’t comfort her.

  The ride home had been awkward. Travis hadn’t wanted to talk. He’d held her hand in grim silence, staring out the window. Her attempts at conversation had crashed against a steel wall. The man had locked her out, and it had made her ache.

  “I’ll be right up,” he’d told her when they had gotten to his house, and he’d sprinted off into the darkness to his office without another word. He’d closed the door behind him, something he’d never done before.

  She’d showered and dressed in something very pretty with stockings, garters, and a matching bra that he’d purchased for her. Then she’d snuggled into bed to wait for his return. She’d fallen asleep before he’d ever come up.

  Puffing out her cheeks, she crawled out of bed and pulled on her robe, shuffling out of the room. Listening. She heard his voice downstairs and tipped her head, trying to get a glimpse of him.

  “But she doesn’t see anything.”

  The sharpness of his tone made her blink, and she crept down the stairs to see to whom he was talking. She didn’t find him in the living room, but when she poked her head around the corner, she saw him pacing across the kitchen wi
th his phone pressed to his ear. He still wore his clothes from the night before. The tie was unfastened, top buttons open. He’d never gone to bed?

  “You couldn’t see them!” Travis shouted into the phone. “How can you see his and not mine? Why?” He sounded furious.

  Vans was startled by his tone and put her fingers to her mouth, ducking back around the corner at the expression on his face. Oh, she definitely didn’t need to get caught listening. She padded back toward the stairs. See his what?

  Fuckity fuck!

  “I can’t explain it. There’s a piece missing. Maybe she isn’t the one, Marcie. I think she’s desperate for something to cling to but…fuck. It’s going to crush me if I have to break it off with her, Marcie.”

  Marcie. A first ice-cold slosh of dread was followed by a second, colder blast. If I have to break it off with her, Marcie. It froze her, and she fled all the way up the stairs, chewing on her knuckles. Her heart hammered so loudly in her head her thoughts scattered in every direction like startled birds.

  “And say what? She hasn’t once even asked about the marks. You know what she notices? Anytime I mention a woman or look at anyone. She noticed that I didn’t like you getting cozy with Mano. She…doesn’t see anything, Marcie.”

  She didn’t want to hear more. Swinging the door closed, she began to franticly search for her clothes. Squirming out of the fragile nightwear, she left it in a pile in the middle of the room and wriggled into her jeans and a sweater. The room was too bright and her heart pounded too fast. She feared she might pass out. Just last night he’d said he loved her and now he was telling Marcie he had to break up with her?

  You should talk to him, Charles, the very rational voice of the tapestry woman suggested. Isn’t that what he’d told her? To talk to him and confront him? Except she wanted to knee him in the nuts right now. Why the fuck couldn’t he talk to her about this…whatever it was she was missing? He didn’t think she was the one now? He thought she was desperate? After what he’d said to her? Fuck him.