“That’s a lot of information.” She watched the information scrolling quickly over the screens. “Makes me slightly sick to my stomach just watching it move so fast.”
Tarrant settled her more snugly against his chest and tried to ignore the erection pushing against the front of his pants. Having her so close made concentrating on work a hell of a lot more difficult.
“How much do you know about drakons?”
She glanced up at him, surprised by his change of topic. “The basics.” She pushed a lock of hair away from her face. “Why?”
“Drakons, like dragons, like to collect. Some would say hoard.”
“But you wouldn’t?” Valeriya grinned.
He tweaked her nose. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“What do you collect? Computers?”
He shook his head. “Something infinitely more valuable. Information.”
He saw the growing comprehension in her eyes. “You’re able to read all that information every day, aren’t you?”
“It’s a skill. I can scroll several days’ worth of work, world news, and events in a matter of hours. If anything jumps out at me, I delve into it.” Valeriya sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “What is it?” he asked. Did she think he was a freak for having such a skill? It shouldn’t matter what she thought of him, but it did.
“Just when I thought you couldn’t get even more impressive.”
He put his hand beneath his chin and tilted it up. “Why should that bother you?” He was completely baffled. He’d lived a long, long time, but he still didn’t understand women.
“I’m so ordinary.” It came out as a plaintive wail. Then she looked disgusted with herself. “Ignore me. I’m not myself.”
She looked so disgruntled he couldn’t resist leaning down and brushing his mouth over hers. The sound of pleasure she made shot through him, arrowing down to his dick.
“You’re not ordinary,” he told her. “You managed to capture a drakon.”
She made a gurgling sound, part choking, part laughing. He muffled it as he kissed her. She stroked her hands over his chest and around his neck. He slid his tongue past her parted lips to taste her heat.
She delighted him in every way possible. He’d shared aspects of his life with her that only his brothers knew. She was firmly in his life now. There was no going back for either of them.
But she was human and would die unless he fed her his blood. He tensed, and she felt the change in him and pulled back. “What is it?” she asked.
He wanted to keep kissing her, but he wanted matters settled between them. It was his nature to want to have things laid out in an orderly fashion.
“I fed you my blood to help you heal.”
She nodded. “I know. And I appreciate it. It saved me a lot of pain and recovery time, even if it was a little uncomfortable.”
She put her hand on his cheek. Only she touched him like this, like he was precious and special. “You’re human,” he pointed out.
“Yes, I know.” He could tell he was confusing her.
“You’ll age and die unless you drink my blood on a regular basis.” There. It was out there. No more secrets between them.
“I will, but hopefully not for decades.”
“I don’t want you to die.” He finally spoke aloud what he’d been thinking. He didn’t want her to leave him, didn’t want to lose her.
“It’s inevitable.” The smile she gave him was sad and resigned.
“No, it’s not. Not if you drink my blood.”
“You want me to drink your blood, even when I’m not injured?” She said it slowly, as though she wasn’t quite sure she’d understood him.
Tarrant nodded.
“Why?”
He could tell she was honestly confused. Her sister would kill for the opportunity to keep him continually drained. So would the rest of the Knights. Yet not only was Valeriya not jumping at the opportunity, she seemed at a loss.
What little armor he had left around his heart cracked and shattered as he gave her the blunt truth. “Because I can’t lose you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Valeriya wasn’t sure how to react to Tarrant’s pronouncement. He had to care deeply for her, maybe even love her, at least a little bit, if he wanted her to drink his blood to keep her alive. But she didn’t want to be like the Knights and use him to prolong her life. She chewed on her bottom lip while she considered how to best handle the situation.
“Well?”
Her drakon was impatient. “I’m thinking,” she told him.
He turned away, but not before she caught a fleeting glimpse of hurt in his eyes.
“It’s not because I don’t want to be with you. I do,” she confessed. She felt at a distinct disadvantage having this conversation while sitting in his lap. “I just don’t want to use you. I don’t want to be like the Knights.”
“What?”
She shrugged and twined her fingers together in her lap. “They want you for your blood. If I drink it, how am I any different?”
He placed his large hand on the side of her face. “Because I’m offering it freely. Because I want you with me.”
This was what she wanted—to be with him. She’d be a fool not to take advantage of his offer. “Okay, but only as long as you want me with you.” She didn’t want to think about leaving him, but she was realistic. “Forever is a long time. We can try being together for a couple of years, and then if you still feel the same way, I can drink your blood on occasion to stay young.” It was a compromise.
“Done.” He looked pleased with himself. Valeriya had done what she thought was right. They could take some time and see where their relationship was going before they made any drastic decisions.
“What now?” They needed to be cautious. Valeriya knew her sister and the Knights had tentacles everywhere. “How do we proceed?”
Tarrant reached his arms around her and began to type on the keyboard.
“Umm, wouldn’t this be easier for you if I wasn’t sitting on your lap?”
“No.” He kept typing and brought three pictures up onto the screen. “Do you recognize any of these men?”
She studied each one intently. As an artist, she generally had a good memory for faces. “No, I don’t. Are these the men that came with Riggs?” Just saying his name made her stomach churn. He might be dead, but she’d be a long time getting over what had happened.
“Yes.” He pointed out the two on the right. “These two are former military. I’m still searching for this one.” A low ping came from a machine off to the left. “Got it.” He rolled his chair over to the screen. She gave a small yelp and clung to his shoulders so she didn’t topple over.
“I need my own chair,” she muttered.
Tarrant frowned but simply typed something onto the keyboard. A driver’s license with the man in question pictured on it popped up.
“Do you think it’s really him, or an alias?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But it’s a starting point.” His fingers were a blur on the keyboard as he typed in more commands. He finished that and rolled back to what seemed to be his main computer. This time she was prepared and hung on as he rolled.
“What can I do to help?” There probably wasn’t anything, but she hated feeling like such deadweight. There had to be something she could do.
“I need you to think back to everyone who ever came to your parents’ home. Anyone you ever met. And work forward to present day. Who did your sister meet or talk about?”
“It won’t be a long list,” she warned him. “Neither my parents nor my sister talked much about the Knights around me after it became apparent I didn’t approve of what they were involved in.” Too soft. Too weak. She’d heard them say that about her more than once as a child.
She had to move. She pushed off Tarrant’s lap. He let her go, but with obvious reluctance. “I need paper and pencils if you have it. I can make sketches as well as lists. Some of the people are dead now, but I can
still give you pictures and names.”
He nodded and pointed at a metal cabinet. “Office supplies are in there. You should find everything you need.”
“I have a sketchpad and pencils in my knapsack,” she reminded him.
His gaze softened and his normally icy-blue eyes warmed significantly. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I’d only be gone a couple minutes,” she pointed out. It wasn’t like she was leaving his home.
But when he didn’t budge, she relented and went to the cabinet, very aware of Tarrant watching her every step. She opened both upper doors and looked inside. There were pencils and pens of all sizes and colors, pads of lined and unlined paper, notebooks, sketchpads, and more. Heck, he even had an unopened set of watercolors and another of oil paints. It was like shopping in her personal stationary and art supply store.
“I think you’ll find everything you need.” He was smiling, the smug devil.
There was so much to choose from she almost didn’t know where to begin. “Pencils,” she muttered. She selected several pencils of different hardness, some for drawing and others for shading. She grabbed a medium-size sketchpad and closed the cabinet before she spent too much time checking out the selection.
Tarrant didn’t have computer desks here, but long countertops running along two walls. They were mostly covered with computers. There was a lone empty space on the far end with a computer chair in front of it. She carried her supplies there and took a seat.
She opened the cover of the pad, picked up one of the pencils, and thought back to her childhood. Then she decided it was probably best to work backward from present to the past. Anyone she’d seen around her sister would have more relevance to what was happening with the Knights right now.
Tarrant was watching information scroll by on several screens at once. She could only marvel at his ability. What was nothing but gibberish to her made perfect sense to him. He could read and comprehend at a phenomenal rate.
She wondered how many languages he knew. Man had gone from painting on cave walls and writing on papyrus to the computer age over the course of his life. It was incredible. He would be able to tell archaeologists so much about the world. Too bad humans had alienated drakons with their greed and lust for power.
Sensing her attention, he turned and cocked one eyebrow. “Is there something you need?”
You. She shook her head before she could answer aloud.
He patted his lap. “Plenty of room for you.”
“I need space to sketch.” Not totally true, but true enough. If she sat on his lap, she’d be so distracted by him she’d never get anything done.
She was finally able to catch her breath when he nodded and turned back to his work. They both needed some time to process everything that had happened. The attraction between them had been immediate and intense. Not to mention she’d discovered Tarrant was a drakon, been shot, and then healed by his blood. It was a lot to come to grips with. This was more normal, more like their everyday life would go—him working on computer and her sketching. Granted, she’d usually be working on her books. She’d get back to that as soon as the latest threat from the Knights was handled.
That is, if she still even had a career. She hadn’t been in touch with her agent or publisher in days. She was between projects, so she probably wasn’t missing too much. But that wouldn’t last forever. What would happen when their emails went unanswered for too long?
Would anyone even realize she was missing? It was more likely that her sister would make it seem as though she’d just packed up and left. Or worse. She wouldn’t put it past Karina to somehow hack her email account, write to her publisher, and tell them she was quitting. Then there would be no loose ends, no one questioning her disappearance, no one looking for her beyond the Knights.
She thought back to her apartment in New York, the one place she’d lived that felt like home. It had all her personal belongings, her books and clothes, the little mementos collected over the course of her lifetime.
Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. She swallowed hard and shoved those thoughts away. There was no point in wanting what she couldn’t have. Her plan had always been to go back home, but that was no longer an option.
She didn’t know what the future held or where she would go. All she could do was take one day at a time.
Valeriya picked up a pencil and began to sketch the face of the man who was always by her sister’s side. She knew him only as Birch—didn’t know if he even had a last name. She drew with deft strokes, and his image appeared on the pad in front of her.
…
Tarrant was very aware of Valeriya working diligently not ten feet away from him. A sense of contentment filled him. She’d agreed to drink his blood. Not right away. That had hurt, but he understood her reasoning. Didn’t mean he liked it, but he understood.
She needed time to be sure about him. He wanted her forever, knew she belonged to him, with him, but she didn’t have the same instincts he did. Or maybe she did. She’d told him about her gift, but he wasn’t quite sure how it worked. Did it only alert her when there was danger around, or did it guide her in other areas of her life?
She also hadn’t told him she loved him again. Only that one time.
He tried not to read too much into that.
He got into his work, reviewing reports for his businesses, searching databases for more information about the Knights, and generally catching up on the news of the world. He hated being out of touch for as long as he had been.
He was vaguely aware of Valeriya poking around the cabinets in the room. He heard her go into the bathroom once, and at some point she set bottle of water beside him. He thought he remembered to murmur his thanks but couldn’t be sure.
Other than that, they both worked in silence.
When he finally raised his arms over his head and stretched, he knew many hours had gone by. How many, he had no idea. He often lost track of time.
He swiveled his chair around and smiled. Valeriya was slumped over the counter with her head resting on her arms. He had no idea when she’d fallen asleep.
He went to the bathroom, and when he returned, she was stirring. He went to her and crouched down beside her chair. “Hey, sleepyhead.” He’d have to remember that she was human and needed much more rest than he did. He needed a sofa down here. And blankets. Maybe a comfy pillow. Somewhere she could curl up and sleep while he was working.
Or he could let her sleep upstairs in a bed. That made more sense, but he’d want her with him sometimes. He’d have her check out some online shopping sites with him later so he could figure out what she liked.
Her eyelids fluttered and then opened. Her eyes were glazed over, but when she saw him, she smiled. It was so open and so loving it made his heart hurt.
She reached out and touched his face. “Hey, yourself. How is work going?”
He captured her hand and kissed the center of her palm. “I’m caught up on work and still running searches on the Knights. You?” He wanted to see what was in the sketchbook but didn’t want to open it without her permission.
There were rules in relationships. He freely admitted he didn’t know them because they’d never mattered before. They mattered now. She mattered.
She sat back in her chair and rubbed her hands over her face. “I’ve made a start.” She took a sip of water from the almost empty bottle and made a face at the tepid drink. “Have a look.” She motioned to the pad.
He retrieved it and opened to the first page. Written neatly on the top of the page was the name Birch. The sketch showed a man in his mid to late forties, maybe even early fifties. It was hard to tell. He was a tough-looking bastard. “Who is he?”
Valeriya leaned forward so they were both studying the sketch. He tried not to notice how warm she was and how the lemony scent of the soap she’d used earlier mixed with her natural perfume. She was so close. It would be easy to pull her into his arms and take her on the floor.
“He’s Karina’s bodyguard. He’s been with her since she was a teenager. I figured it was better to start with the people I know about in the present and work backward, since they’d have more impact on what’s happening right now.”
“Smart.” He flipped another page. There were no names, but there were two smaller sketches. “Who are these men?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve seen them with Birch.” She pointed to the one on the left. “He drives Karina. The other man sits up front with him sometimes in the limo.”
He was about to turn the page again when his phone rang. He slid it out of his pocket, not surprised to find out Darius wanted to talk with him. “I want a face-to-face,” Tarrant told his brother as soon as he answered the phone. “Get Ezra’s laptop.” He ended the call before Darius could start asking questions. It was time to introduce Valeriya to his family.
“You want me to leave?” She ran her hands over the black leggings she wore. He could tell she was nervous.
“No.” He stood and pulled her chair over next to his. “It’s time you met Darius Varkas.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Valeriya was nervous and trying desperately not to show it. She was about to meet Darius Varkas, the reason she’d started on her wild quest. She was almost positive he was a drakon, even though Tarrant hadn’t confirmed it. They were most certainly friends.
She was glad Tarrant hadn’t insisted she sit on his lap. That would have been too intimate, too telling. She wanted to make a good impression on these people. They were obviously important to Tarrant, and she had no idea what he’d told them about her.
“Ready?”
She wasn’t, not really, but she nodded. Tarrant clicked some keys and a screen popped open. It showed a large man with straight black hair that fell to his shoulders. His features were rough. He looked tough and dangerous. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. They were green and looked as hard as the emeralds Tarrant had given her.
Drakon's Prey (Blood of the Drakon) Page 21