One True Mate 2: Dragon's Heat

by Ladew, Lisa

  Graeme struggled to keep his emotional distance. “I’ve never been,” he said softly.

  Heather shrugged out of her jacket and placed it on the chair behind her. Graeme averted his eyes from her simple, but lovely purple blouse. He searched his table for a menu, but then their chef appeared, pulling his focus. The chef was a tall, thin man, obviously not Japanese, but certainly from one of the islands off the coast of Asia. Singapore, maybe, or the Philippines? Graeme frowned and looked around. A non-Japanese chef cooking in a Japanese restaurant. He marked the other chefs, noticing several were Japanese but not the majority, and one was even a European-looking woman. His eyes slid over the diners and he found a large mix of ethnicities there, also. He looked at Heather but she didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Had the world really moved on so much in the years he’d been submerged?

  Their chef introduced himself and began a practiced banter that told Graeme that, not only was he a chef, but he was also a showman. Graeme would allow it, as long as the food was top-notch. He glanced at Heather. No, he would allow it as long as Heather was happy.

  She beamed at the chef, talking to him in an excited voice that told him she was happy. Graeme frowned, feeling minute stirrings of some babyish emotion in his chest. No, he would not succumb to whatever had set him off earlier. No way. Not with a human.

  Chef Eugene spilled a large portion of rice onto the grill and the starchy scent filled the air as oil and salt flashed, a server brought him and Heather soup, and Chiemi sat two more people at their table. Graeme finished his scorching-hot soup in one large draught, then waited for the next course as Heather sipped hers and laughed when Chef Eugene flipped an egg into the air with a silver spatula and caught it in his hat.

  Heather watched the chef, and Graeme watched Heather. Fresh was the right word for her. She brought light and joy into the room, her infectious laughter making him smile more than he wanted to.

  She blushed and looked down, and Graeme’s eyes shot to Chef Eugene. He was leaning forward towards her, one eye opening from a wink. Graeme played over what had just been said, the banter he’d been ignoring as part of the show.

  Looking at you makes my soufflé rise, is what the chef had said, thinking Graeme wasn’t really listening, or maybe not caring. Hot liquid rose in Graeme’s chest like mercury in a thermometer. He held the anger in as best he could.

  Heather dropped her eyes to her food and seemed uncomfortable for the first time. More heat rose in Graeme’s throat, the urge to grab Chef Eugene by the throat and take him into the back for a little lesson spearing through him. He would not, though. Chef Eugene was a human and would not live through even a tiny lesson from Graeme.

  Graeme stared daggers at the chef, trying to decide on his next move, as the grill sizzled and popped. It would be a disaster if Chef Eugene paid so much attention to the females at his table that all his food burned…

  Graeme maneuvered his water glass in front of the grill to block the view of the people across from him, then placed a finger on the silver surface, heating it by several hundred degrees. The rice, eggs, and shrimp that had been searing nicely flash-fried, black smoke rising in lazy coils into the air.

  “Oh!” Heather cried, and scooted her chair backwards.

  Chef Eugene gasped and bent to fiddle with his controls, then stood sharply to pull the food off the grill.

  Graeme pulled his hand back slowly and smiled. “Maybe you’d be better off flipping burgers, Chef Eugene.”

  But when he turned to Heather, she was watching him, wide-eyed, her eyes going from his hand, to his face, and back again. Graeme pressed his lips together, wondering what she’d seen but, before he could think of what to say, Chiemi hurried over to reseat them.

  “I’m so sorry, so sorry,” she repeated as she ushered them to another grill. Graeme answered quietly, trying to reassure her, as Heather watched him with something new in her eyes. Something he couldn’t identify. Maybe he should take advantage of the situation and suggest they separate. He’d send someone else to talk to her.

  As he was considering, he sat down at their new grill, which was closer to the door to the kitchen and he saw a familiar face move behind the tiny oval window.

  Mac. So, Wade had sent someone to watch over him. Probably at least two someones. A good idea if he went all caveman again. But the sight of Mac stirred something inside him he didn’t want to face. If Mac even came close to Heather, Graeme knew he was going to make Mac hurt.

  This was a game he didn’t want to play. Thoughts of packing up and running crossed his tired brain again. He wouldn’t even tell anyone, he’d just go.

  “So, when are we going to talk about what I did?” Heather said to him, paying no attention to the new chef who’d arrived.

  “What did you do?” Graeme asked, suddenly curious.

  Heather blinked at him. “I started a fire.”

  “Really,” Graeme said, fascinated. The word conjured only good feelings in his chest.

  She frowned and he could see embarrassment flood her features. “And I stole my mother’s gold jewelry and spread it all out in front of the fire.”

  Graeme dropped the fork he had picked up and turned in his chair to face her. “Really?” he said again. A fire and gold. Two things that had fascinated his kind for eons.

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  “Why did you do those things?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

  She shook her head and Graeme saw tears form in her eyes. She didn’t know.

  “I think I might be going crazy,” she finally whispered, lowering her head, like it was something she didn’t want to admit to anyone, especially herself.

  Damnú, Graeme cursed silently, aiming it at the gods, the angels, the demi-gods, anyone who made the beings in this world feel like they had free will, and then messed with their minds and hearts and genetic code to the point where they felt such pain at their unwitting actions. If the angel who had fathered this lovely young woman had been in front of him at that moment, he would have done his best to wring the being’s neck.

  For the first time in six hundred years, he would have done it because he cared about someone, and not as a bid to get himself killed.

  Chapter 12

  Heather fought with her emotions, trying to get them back under control. She hadn’t realized she was going to say the words out loud, but when she did, lightness had filled her. She wouldn’t lie to this man, no matter what.

  She peeked at him through her lashes and the compassion on his face undid her. His fingers twitched and his hand reached toward her. She remembered touching him as he lay in the hospital bed and didn’t know if she could bear his touch at that moment.

  “Ta ma hurry, chi annit!” she blurted out, trying to get the guttural h and the accents on the words that were burned into her memory just right, although she knew she was butchering them.

  His hand faltered and dropped back by his side as his mouth curled into a frown. “What?”

  “What does it mean?” she asked, her voice still soft.

  “Where did you hear it?” he almost growled, his voice hard suddenly.

  “I saw you in the hospital bed, at the doctor’s place.”

  His frown deepened. “I thought I dreamed you.” Emotions warred on his face and she tried to place them. Disbelief seemed to be the strongest one, then something bigger, meaner, like he was at war with himself. “You were the reason I got better,” he finally breathed, his eyes boring into her, his words making her gasp. “You touched me, didn’t you?”

  The breath squeezed out of Heather’s lungs, smothering her. “Your hand. I touched your hand. Were you sick?”

  Graeme looked about the room as if searching for rescue. His eyes narrowed as he looked towards the kitchen and she looked that way, too, but saw only a closed door.

  The chef at their table spoke and joked and the other people they were seated with laughed. Food was piled onto their plates but they both ignored it.r />
  Finally, Graeme spoke. “I was resting after an injury,” he said in a tone that did not invite more discussion. He turned to his plate, picked up his fork, and began robotically to eat.

  Heather faced her own plate, although she didn’t feel the least bit hungry anymore. She pushed her rice around, speared a shrimp, twirled it, dipped it in butter, smelled the butter─ garlicky─ then dropped the fork again while Graeme ate everything on his plate.

  She hated where they were. How awkward she felt. Like she’d done something wrong. On some level, she knew nothing was her fault and Graeme was wrestling with something, but that knowledge did not remove the awkwardness.

  “Where are you from?” she asked cautiously, hoping for something to lighten the mood.

  Graeme shoveled the last bit of rice into his mouth and wiped the lower half of his face with a cloth napkin, looking around as if wanting more to eat. She felt him look at her, even as she stared at her food.

  “South Uist,” he said, watching their new chef, then holding his flower-patterned plate up for more meat.

  Heather’s mood brightened immediately. “Oh, South Uist, I’ve always wanted to visit Scotland. That’s where Remus Whitecastle vacations in the summers. He bought a house he swears Bonnie Prince Charlie once visited for a fortnight in 1745. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but there is a plaque on the grounds that says Flora MacDonald once owned the land. I’ve seen a picture and─” She broke off. Graeme was staring at her, a strange look on his face.

  “Who is Remus Whitecastle?”

  “He’s a famous herpetologist. He directed and starred in the documentary The Great Dragon and founded Dragon Park.”

  The color drained from Graeme’s face and he grabbed his water glass, scooped the ice out of it, dropped it on the table, then sipped the water slowly while staring at her.

  “What?” Heather whispered, nervous.

  Graeme put his water down. “The Great Dragon? What, ah, what exactly is that about?”

  Heather smiled, unable to help it, as the image of a heavy, lumbering Komodo Dragon filled her mind. “Komodo Dragons, they are a huge monitor lizard found in Indonesia. In fact, they are the largest lizards on earth. Not the largest reptile, that’s the saltwater crocodile, and it can grow up to eighteen feet long. The biggest Komodo Dragon is only about ten feet long, but still, that’s pretty long, don’t you think?”

  Graeme was staring at her, a complete lack of expression on his face, and for a moment her nervousness returned. But then he threw back his head and laughed. Warmth danced up Heather’s spine at the rippling, masculine sound, making her shiver. On her other side, the chef finished his show, thanked her and everyone else at the table, bowed, and disappeared. She tried to smile at him and tell him thank you, but the truth was, her attention was mainly on Graeme, and had been for most of the afternoon. Just before the first chef had charred their food, she’d thought she’d seen Graeme reach out and deliberately press his finger to the grill, which was impossible, of course, but at that exact moment had been when she’d felt the blast of heat from the thing. It had reminded her exactly of the heat she’d thought she’d felt come from Graeme in the parking lot of the police department.

  Both incidents must have been her imagination, she knew that, just part of her taking a slow trip to the funny farm, but part of her didn’t believe it. Part of her thought it was more likely that she was caught up in something she didn’t understand. Some secret that was both unlikely and impossible, but still true. Her chest tingled in anticipation of the moment when that secret would be revealed to her. Somehow, she knew that the more time she spent with Graeme, the closer that moment came.

  Graeme stopped laughing and smiled broadly at her, the first genuine smile she’d seen that was all for her, that she hadn’t surprised out of him, and it made him impossibly handsome.

  “You like reptiles, don’t you?” he said.

  Her eyes widened and she didn’t know what to say. Ordinarily that was something she would hide, because she’d been called a freak one too many times in her life not to.

  He shook his head. “I don’t even need to ask. Of course, you do.” He leaned forward, his expression mischievous. “What do you think of dragons? Not Komodo, but the village-clearing, fire-breathing types of legend?”

  She looked at him aslant, trying to decide if he was making fun of her, when his expression turned sad. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he said curiously. “I really should be asking you what you think of wolves.” He faced her squarely. “Wolves are kind of cool, right? Mating for life, alpha males, and all that?”

  Heather rubbed her forehead. The man sitting next to her was handsome, distinguished, and eloquent, but confusing as crap. “Wolves are ok, I guess. I’ve never really thought about it.”

  His gaze snapped to the kitchen again and his eyes and voice turned mean. “You really should think about it. For your own sake.”

  ***

  He held the door open for her as they left the Benihana and Heather was surprised to see it was getting dark outside already. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, zipping it up and shoving her hands in her pockets. “How long were we in there?” she asked quietly, not expecting Graeme to hear her.

  They’d moved to regular seating and Graeme had ordered another full meal. After a bit of mostly normal conversation, she’d been able to eat her sushi and rice, spurred on by Graeme’s expansive appetite. She’d had green tea ice cream for dessert, and he’d had two servings of the banana tempura and three of the fresh pineapple boat. She’d learned he was a helicopter and a small plane pilot, he’d just transferred to Serenity from Scotland, and he hated ice cream. On her part, she’d tried not to share too much. She’d mostly talked about her brother, Jimmy. He was normal. They hadn’t talked about her crime at all, and she was trying not to let that weigh on her, but now their interlude was over. Back to real life.

  He turned back towards the police station and she thought about her tiny sedan with the half-eaten protein bar on the passenger seat, the lizard bedding spilled all over the back seat, and the massive dent in the rear fender. She’d held her own over the last few hours and didn’t think she’d come off too strange. She didn’t want to ruin any positive image he might have developed of her by letting him walk her to her car and get a good look at the state of it.

  “You know what, Graeme, I think I’m going to walk home. It’s a nice night. I’m only about a mile this way. I really wanted to thank you for lunch. It was wonderful, and I enjoyed talking with you.” She stood stock still as she waited for him to make the next move. He was old enough to be her father, but she’d flirted with him enough, or tried anyway, once she got over her nervousness, that he should know she was interested. But was he? He hadn’t flirted back, she didn’t think, but he’d smiled a lot. Maybe men his age didn’t flirt. She should ask him how old he was.

  He nodded in the direction her house was in. “I’ll walk you.”

  Heather turned that way and put one foot in front of the other, her heart doing somersaults in her chest. Was he just being polite? Or was there to be something between them? What if he wanted to come in? Her house was clean but the lizards! She grimaced, knowing in her heart that if he wanted to come into her house and take her on her living room floor while every reptile in the place looked on, she would let him. She barely knew anything about him─ just his name, his occupation, where he’d been born, and something he liked to do for fun, but it didn’t matter. She would have climbed into that hospital bed with him if he’d opened his eyes and asked her to, climbed up there and ridden him like a horse. She bit down on her cheek, hard, and curled her fingers into her palms, the nails pressing into her skin like punishment as she berated herself for being crude. She bet he wasn’t crude. She bet he was a perfect gentleman with the women he slept with. She snuck a glance at him and wondered how many women he had slept with. A dozen? A hundred? Women probably threw themselves at him all the time.

  Sh
e turned left, then right on auto-pilot, barely noticing the roads they covered as her mind spun on and on in overdrive. They neared her road as darkness began to fall in earnest and she unzipped her coat. She felt comfortable all of a sudden, like it was late summer, instead of late fall. Warm air bathed the left side of her face, the side Graeme was on, while a bit of coolness still nipped at the right side. Her thoughts finally slowed down a bit and she looked at him again, realizing he hadn’t said a word the entire time they’d been walking, and neither had she. He didn’t seem bothered by it. He seemed relaxed, content even, his face turned up towards the sky, a slight smile on his lips.

  They entered her street and Heather could see her double-wide three houses down. She sighed. This was where he realized she was not successful or glamorous. Just a working girl doing her best to make it month to month in the family business. She steered him towards her house, strode up the walk, and stepped a foot onto the bottom step, before she turned around to face him.

  “This is it,” she said, giving him a chance to clear out of there, but desperately hoping he didn’t want to.

  He smiled absently. “Your home is lovely. May I come in?”

  Her heart triple-timed in her chest and her breath caught, until she realized what he’d actually said was, “I’ll wait until you go in.”

  “Right,” she mumbled. “Thanks again.”

  “Heather,” he called, his voice deep and gorgeous.

  She turned back. “Yes?”

  “Don’t worry about the fire. I’ll smooth it over with the Chief.”

  “Thanks,” she tried to say, unlocking her door quickly and pushing inside, ready to head for the mint-chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer.

  But she didn’t make it there. She closed the door behind her, her back against it, and slid down it to the floor, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

  She knew he hadn’t been interested in her. Of course, he wasn’t. She was a baby. A freak. A-a-a. Her mind ran out of insults, but she didn’t feel any better.