Dragon Bound er-1

by Thea Harrison

  A necklace nestled on ivory velvet, a ring of opal cabochons set in gold. The opals were bigger than the size of her thumbnails and had a multihued brilliance unlike any other opals she had ever seen. Tears prickling at the back of her nose, she set the case down and lifted out the necklace. It spilled over her fingers, the stones flashing with intense colors in the candlelight.

  Graydon appeared with a bottle of scotch under one arm. He carried another opened bottle in his hand. He nodded when he saw the expression on her face and took a drink. Then he came around the corner of the table and sat by her side again. He slid the opened bottle over to her.

  Johnnie Walker Blue. Alrighty. She took a healthy swig and looked at the bottle. Damn, that stuff was smooth. Cutting it with ice would just be wrong.

  “A dragon just gave me a piece of jewelry,” she said. She took another swig and handed the bottle back to Graydon. “Have I been added to his hoard?”

  He shook his head and drank too. “No, cupcake,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you’ve replaced it.”

  SIXTEEN

  She stared at the gryphon. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s downsizing. He’s decided to sell some businesses, and he’s making plans to either vastly reduce the size of his hoard and move it, or shit, I don’t know, maybe he’ll ditch it altogether. Says he wants to get rid of the ‘white noise.’ ” Graydon rubbed his forehead. “I guess maybe hell really does have a cold day now and then. Doesn’t sound like he’s quite right in the head, does it?”

  Her eyes glittered wet. Looking alarmed, he reached out to pat her hand, then seemed to rethink the gesture.

  He said, “I know he’s not a romantic guy. I mean having me just hand you your present and all. Even I know that was lame, but I think he’s tryin’. There’s even nice flowers on the table and shit . . .”

  His voice trailed off as she just looked at him. He offered her the bottle. Her stomach gave another inexplicable lurch. She shook her head. She folded her napkin and whispered, “I need a friend to talk to.”

  The gruff gryphon’s voice turned gentle. “What am I, chopped liver? You beat the crap out of me this afternoon. That pretty much makes us pals in my book.”

  She picked up the necklace again, turning it so that it caught fire in the light. “I did not beat the crap out of you.”

  “If you had one mean bone in your body, you could have,” Graydon told her. “Now Rune’s scouring the city for a Wing Ding expert for us to train with. We’re all gonna learn to go with the flow or whatever the fuck it is you said you did. Think we’ll look as pretty as you did doing it?”

  “Not a chance,” she said, smiling as she looked at him sidelong.

  His steady gray eyes smiled back. “That’s what I said too. Con, though. He thinks he’ll look like hot shit, but then, he always does. Guy spends an hour every morning getting his hair just so. I’m tellin’ you. Hair styling products for men? That’s just not right.”

  She chuckled. A companionable silence fell between them. She played with the necklace while he sprawled in his chair and drank scotch.

  “So,” the gryphon said at last, “tell Uncle Gray all about it. Dragos hurt your feelings or something?”

  “Wow, that would be simple,” she said. “Been there, done that, going to do it again sometime soon, I imagine. He said he might be mating with me.”

  “Oh,” said Graydon. “That.”

  “Yes, that.” The words started tumbling out of her. “We’ve known each other a matter of days, and he’s taken over my life. He demands I trust him, claims that I’m his, like I’m some piece of property. He doesn’t even know what I am and it’s driving him crazy.”

  “Well, none of us know that, cupcake. We can’t figure you out and you’re not inclined to talk about it.” Graydon drank some more.

  “I have my reasons.” She shivered. “And I’m a half-breed. It’ll kill him if I can’t make a full change.”

  “So you two talk about this and he walks out,” said Graydon. “Doesn’t sound quite right.”

  “Well, no. He said I had to make up my mind about what I wanted fast, so he could try to let me go. Then he said he wasn’t sure he could. Then he left. Meanwhile there’s the Fae King to deal with, and this is all so strange.” She waved a hand in a gesture meant to include everything. “I barely know anybody here, and it seems like I’ve already stirred up hard feelings. Everything my mom taught me was to run and hide. This isn’t running and hiding. This is insanity.”

  “Hey, don’t go all 90210 on me,” said Graydon. “Let’s pull back from the curlicues for a minute and untangle things. Urien has to be dealt with, and he’s a dangerous fact of life at the moment, but he’s not part of the real issue, is he?”

  After a moment she shook her head.

  “Okay. Now, who hates you? None of us do. You’re sure as hell a game changer, and I’ll admit it took us by surprise. We didn’t take kindly to the idea at first and some of the sentinels are still grumpy about it. But we’ll adjust. Changes happen. That’s not to say there won’t be others who’ll have issues if you mate with Dragos. He’s very powerful, financially, politically and magically, and I won’t lie to you. Court politics can get pretty spiky. You gotta know that’s part of the package.”

  She narrowed her eyes on him, remembering the woman outside the gym. She described the woman to him. “That’s one of the sentinels, isn’t it? It looked like she’s got a real hate-on going for me.”

  He tapped the tips of his blunt fingers against the bottle, frowning. “That’s Aryal, and yeah, she’s one of us. She doesn’t exactly hate you. Harpies just aren’t known for being real forgiving types. Give her time. She’ll come around.”

  She nodded. “Tricks mentioned some hotheaded predators.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, there’s a lean and hungry pride of Wyrlions in the corporate law division. They bring a comprehensive new meaning to the word ‘bitchy,’ but they have their place. If anybody gives you any trouble, all you gotta do is let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a wry look. She didn’t say it, but if she was going to make a go of living here, she would have to fight her own battles and carve out her own niche.

  He said, “This might be hard, but it’s all simple at the same time. You know what it boils down to. Do you want Dragos or not? Do you want him bad enough to overcome what your mom taught you and let your guard down, to put up with all his shit, the Wyr Court, and deal whatever the future holds? Or do you want to run away and leave all this behind? That’s all you gotta figure out. The rest will work itself out over time.”

  She tried to imagine running away and starting over. She could go south. She would be alone. She knew without ever discussing it that if she said good-bye to Dragos, there would be no second chance. She said, “It’s all happening so fast.”

  “Often the Wyr mating bond does. I’ve known times when it has happened the moment two Wyr laid eyes on each other. Now, there were some bumpy roads.”

  “Have you ever known of the mating bond to happen to one person and not the other?”

  He blew out a breath. “That’s a tough one. It’s a lot trickier if a Wyr bonds with a non-Wyr like a human, since non-Wyrs don’t go through the same experience we do. As for Wyr mating, I remember once a couple hundred years ago it didn’t take right. At least I think. Were they going through the bonding process or were they just fucked-up? She killed herself when he wouldn’t have her.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “That’s awful.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What if I remain mortal?”

  He shrugged. “Dragos doesn’t appear to be running away because of that. Will you deny yourself a mate and the chance of happiness just because you’re gonna die someday?”

  “That’s different. I’m going to die one way or another if I can’t change. It just seems terrible to think that Dragos would die because of me.”

  He hunched his shoulders and w
atched his hands as he turned the scotch bottle in circles. “There aren’t any guarantees in life. Just because some of us are exceptionally long-lived and call ourselves ‘immortal’ doesn’t mean we can’t be killed. I would jump at the chance to have a mate, mortal or otherwise. Most of us would, you know. We never expected it to happen to Dragos, but I bet you every last one of us is thinking what a lucky son of a bitch he is.”

  They fell silent again. Then she slid her hand over to touch the back of his. “Thank you, Gray. You’re a good listener and a wise man.”

  He took her hand and pressed a kiss against her fingers. “Shh,” he whispered over her hand, eyes crinkling. “Don’t tell anybody.”

  She smiled at him. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  She was tempted to change into gym clothes and spend an hour on a treadmill, but then tiredness swept over her. It had been another long day and the gryphons had already given her quite a workout before Dragos stopped them.

  Over Graydon’s protests, she put the necklace back in the box, cleaned off the dining table, put the leftovers in the large stainless steel refrigerator and rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher. Then she decided to wait for Dragos’s return in the library. Rune came to join them as she browsed through the volumes.

  She greeted him, picked an early history of the Wyr and curled up to read in a large leather armchair. The chair was the most battered piece of furniture in the room, the dark brown leather buttery-soft and bearing a faint but unmistakable familiar masculine scent. She could just imagine Dragos relaxing in this seat as he read his scientific journals. Rune and Graydon respected her unspoken desire for privacy and settled across the room to play chess.

  After a while she let the book rest on her chest as she closed her eyes.

  A gentle touch on her shoulder woke her. Rune squatted by her armchair, his eyes kind. She sagged back in the chair and yawned. “Time’s it?”

  “After two,” he said. “You look beat. Why don’t you go to bed? Better yet, Dragos said he’d stay in telepathic range. You could call him back if you wanted.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to do that. He needed some space. He’s had a tough day. And I don’t want to go to bed without him.” Her eyes started to drift closed and she forced them open. “Unless you guys need to go to bed?”

  He smiled. “We’re up until he gets back. Don’t worry about us; we’re fine.”

  She nodded and felt soft warmth as he tucked a cashmere throw blanket around her. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Pia.”

  He walked back to the chess table and Graydon. She closed her eyes again. Soon she was walking in a very old forest, breathing in its fresh loam scent. A small, pearly, luminescent dragon lay draped around her shoulders like a stole. She stroked a graceful sinuous leg, and the dragon lifted up his head to look at her with beautiful, dark violet blue eyes. She was full of emotion as she looked into his wide-open innocent gaze.

  I love you, said the little dragon.

  She kissed his delicate snout. I love you too, peanut.

  She came full awake with a start and sat up, looking around. For a moment she felt disoriented and abandoned as she put her hand to her empty throat and shoulders.

  Graydon and Rune watched her from across the room. Both men were wide-awake and alert. Graydon said, “What is it?”

  She shook her head. “Just a dream.”

  They stood. “What kind of dream?” Rune asked, eyes sharp.

  She frowned at them, not wanting to share it. “Nothing happened. It was just a dream.”

  They both looked toward the ceiling. “Dragos is back,” Graydon told her. “He’ll be right here.”

  “Okay,” she said, hurt that Dragos hadn’t reached out to her telepathically and determined not to let it matter. Now was not the time to develop a thin skin. In fact, as long as she remained in the Tower she ought to jettison any delicate sensibilities she might have altogether.

  Dragos entered and the atmosphere in the room turned electric. He looked invigorated. He glanced at the gryphons and jerked his chin toward the door, and they slipped out as he strode over and squatted in front of the armchair. She gave him a tentative smile as he leaned his forearms on the chair’s arms and regarded her. His gaze was moody, his mouth tight.

  “It’s almost four A.M.,” he said. “If you wanted to avoid my bed that much, you should have crashed in one of the other rooms.”

  Her smile vanished. She struggled to sit upright and pull the jewelry box out from under the open book. She threw the box at him. Impossible to miss at point-blank range. It smacked him in the chest.

  “I was waiting up to thank you for the gift,” she snapped. “That you, oh, by the way, didn’t give me yourself. Move.”

  He stayed crouched in front of her, eyes narrowed.

  She stuck her face up to his, giving him a full-on glare. She bared her teeth. “I said move out of my way.”

  He snatched her against his chest and drove his mouth down on hers. She struggled, managed to get one arm free and smacked him on the shoulder. He grabbed her by the back of the head to hold her still as he devoured her. She mmphed against his mouth and gave him another, weaker smack. He wedged her lips open and drove his tongue in deep.

  Damn him! She wound her free arm around his neck and kissed him back furiously. All the electricity in the room shot into her body in one thunderous strike.

  After a moment he eased up, turned gentler. She sucked his lower lip between her teeth and bit him hard.

  He jerked back, gold eyes flaring. He touched his lip, looked at the smear of blood on his fingers, and his face creased with laughter. He said, “You liked me kissing you.”

  She didn’t try to deny it. “Well, there’s a whole lot happening over here besides that. I’ve got quite a bit of angry still going on. Not that you asked. Did you come in here looking to pick a fight? How do you expect me to trust you when you act like such a pig?”

  He didn’t like that and glared at her. Struck by the strength and ferocity of the expression, she stared at him. If she were meeting him for the first time and he looked at her like that, she would be spinning on her heel and on the run before you could say Kentucky Derby. How things had changed.

  His hold loosened on her. He eased back on his heels. She straightened and inspected the open book that had gotten crushed between them. Some of the pages had gotten creased. She smoothed them out and then set the book on a nearby table. All the while she was focused on him crouching too close in front of her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Her anger wasn’t so quick to die away just because he knew how to say the word “sorry.” But she didn’t want to start escalating things again, so she just nodded. Maybe waiting up to talk to him had been a mistake. She avoided his gaze as she folded the throw blanket and draped it over the arm of the chair.

  “Pia.” She looked at him. He held the jewelry box out to her. “I have a present for you.”

  The starch keeping her spine ramrod straight melted. Damn him again. “Do you?”

  He opened the box and lifted out the necklace. Gold and rainbow fire glittered in his dark fingers and was reflected in the gleam of his eyes. “I wanted to see how the opals would look against your skin.”

  “It’s a beautiful present,” she told him. “Thank you.”

  “I’d like to put it on you.”

  “All right,” she said.

  She pulled her hair into a hand and held it aside as she twisted in the chair. His fingers worked at her nape, securing the clasp. Then the weight of the necklace settled into place around her neck, much heavier than the slim chains she was used to. It was longer than a choker and fell to the top of her breasts. She looked down at it and touched one of the stones.

  His fingers stroked the hollow at the base of her neck and trailed along her skin. “Lovely,” he whispered. He bent and angled his head to press a kiss against her throat. She stroked his black hair, her eyes ha
lf closed.

  He drew back. The lines of strain were bracketing his mouth again. “Do you want to stay or not?”

  “I’ll be honest with you,” she told him. “It’s hard to want to stay when you’re being impossible. But I don’t want to go.”

  His gaze flared with something, triumph or relief, or maybe both. He started to pull her back into his arms.

  “Wait.” She braced both hands on his chest. “I’m not done. I don’t see how we can finish this conversation until something else is concluded.”

  “And what is that?” His eyes narrowed.

  “I need to know for sure who and what I am. We both need to know. That’s got to come before anything else. You think you want me to stay, but what if you change your mind?” She put fingers over his mouth when he started to speak and said, “It doesn’t matter what you say right now, since this is actually about me. I won’t be able to trust things between us until I believe you know who I am. Hell, until I know who I am. I want you to help me try to change, please.”

  He took hold of her hand and removed her fingers from his mouth. “Can I speak now?” he demanded.

  He sounded mad again. She wondered if anyone had ever told him before that it didn’t matter what he said or thought. She licked dry lips and said, “Yes.”

  “All right. You want to do this, we’ll do it right now.” He stood and pulled her to her feet.

  “Now?” She looked at a nearby wall clock. “It’s four thirty in the morning.”

  “The hell difference does that make? I’m not going to give you time to overanalyze things and chicken out. You napped, didn’t you?” He took her by the wrist and strode out the door.

  “Well, yes.” She trotted to keep up with him. “Damn it, that’s another thing. You’ve got to stop dragging me around like a sack of potatoes.” It was always some kind of he-man issue with him.

  He shifted his hold to lace his fingers through hers. “Better?”

  “Maybe,” she grumbled.