The Dragon Villain's Prey: A Paranormal Romance (Separated by Time Book 8)

by Jasmine Wylder

  “Get me outside,” he ordered.

  “You’re smoking,” Dominique squeaked.

  “Outside!”

  Dominique flinched, then her pale face hardened with determination. For a split second, Ivarsson was afraid she was going to leave him here, and he couldn’t blame her. But her arms wrapped around his chest and she hefted him against her, taking on his weight, and half-dragged him toward the hallway. The journey was agonizingly slow, and they both panted by the time they had stumbled out of the house. Ivarsson attempted to straighten. The only thing that accomplished was that he pulled himself from Dominique’s grasp and tumbled down the steps. She squeaked again and hurried after him, but he was already pulling the fires up hot from his belly.

  His skin hardened, scales developing on his arms and face. His hands turned to claws. Teeth sharpened. Smoke burned black from his injury. He flipped over as wings burst from his back. Within seconds, he had shifted. His fires concentrated around the hole in his throat as he swung his head around and stared down at Dominique.

  Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she stood there, covered in his blood, her expression clearly asking if she was in a dream.

  Ivarsson nearly grinned at that expression. He waited until his injury had stopped smoking before gently returning to his human form. Calmly, with Dominique still staring at him, he picked up the ruined remnants of his pants and tied them around his waist as a bit of modesty—for Dominique’s sake, of course.

  “You’re…” Her voice trailed off.

  “A dragon,” he confirmed, nodding.

  She stared at him silently for such a long time that he was starting to wonder if she had fainted standing upright. When he took a step toward her, though, she came back to herself and skipped back from him. She pointed accusingly at him and let out yet another squeak. She really was a little mouse, even if she had stabbed him.

  “You’re a dragon!”

  “Yes, I am aware of this.” Ivarsson had to chuckle at her. “Does that surprise you?”

  “Considering that you were working with people who wanted to take out all dragons everywhere? Yeah, it does! How can you be a dragon and still…”

  She sucked in a huge breath and leaned against one of the posts that held the porch of the old farmhouse up. He’d bought it for a song, and then spent several months fixing it up to his specifications. It was the perfect place to hold a woman against her will. No neighbors for miles, nobody to notice strange things happening, since those neighbors were hidden by acres of thick forest.

  “Well, perhaps it’s time I explain to you,” he said, starting forward.

  Before he reached her, though, she turned on her heel and ran. She jumped off the porch, wincing as her bare feet hit the gravel, and headed for the forest. She moved faster than he expected. Ivarsson grunted as he ran after her; his blood loss had left him feeling weak, and she was at the tree line before he caught up with her and caught her by the waist. Dominique howled, sounding more cat-like than the mouse she usually was. She writhed in his grip, nearly breaking free, but he tightened his arms and dragged her back to the house.

  “Let me go!” she spat as he shoved her back into her room. She whirled on him, her fists clenched as she panted, her face red. “I’m not going to be handed over to a bunch of psychopaths to be cut up and dissected!”

  “So, you can be dissected without being cut up?” Ivarsson asked sarcastically, then shook his head. “Don’t make any more shivs or I’ll take all your books away. Understood?”

  She flinched, the anger fading from her eyes so easily. He stared at her in fascination for a moment before he shook his head and stepped back.

  “Wait,” she blurted.

  Ivarsson cast her an annoyed glance. He just wanted to go sit down, so that he could show how exhausted this had left him. Bleeding out and then running around had taken a lot out of him. He arched a brow at her, waiting for her to say what she what she wanted to say. Dominique twisted her hands for a moment, a mouse once more, before stepping forward.

  “What are you doing?”

  Ivarsson tapped his fingers against the doorframe. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean… You’re a dragon. Why are you acting against the dragons? How long have you known? Are you… are you trying to send them back? Or find a way that you don’t have to be a dragon anymore?”

  Since Byrelmore came to Earth, there were many people who had been descended from dragons, unbeknownst to them, whose dragon heritage had come forward, enabling them to shift. For some, it was like they were finally able to be themselves. For others, it was the most terrifying thing that had ever happened to them. It was no surprise that Dominique would assume that he was one of these.

  He smiled at her, baring his teeth in a way he knew intimidated people. She stared back, caught between curious and afraid.

  “As I said before, I’m not acting against dragons. I’m acting against Indulf, and Indulf alone. As for sending Byrelmore back? No. I have no desire to go back to the time before electricity, running water and women wearing short shorts and bikinis.” He winked at her as her jaw dropped. “You’re making some assumptions about me, Miss Dominique. Perhaps you should examine those assumptions more closely.”

  “But—” she started.

  Ivarsson didn’t listen. He shut the door, cutting off her protests, and sagged against the wall. His fires burned low in his stomach, as exhausted as he was. No sound came from Dominique’s room, and Ivarsson wondered how she would react if she knew the whole truth… but no. He wasn’t going to tell her that. He’d said more than enough already. She could live with her curiosity.

  Chapter Three

  Dominique

  Meditation was not working. Her thoughts were moving around too hard in her head to quiet, and she instead put some music on the computer and paced around, trying to work off the excess adrenaline in her system. Every time she stopped moving, there was a pressure in the pit of her stomach telling her to start walking again. Eventually, she pulled the bed away from the wall, so she’d have a track around the edges of the room, allowing her to walk smoothly as she tapped her fingers against her thighs.

  Against Indulf. From the past. Dickerson made no sense! She tangled her hands in her own hair as she considered it. If Dickerson was from the past, from when Byrelmore was still part of ancient earth, then that meant he would have had to come to Earth with them. How could he have done that and still managed to get so high in the FBI?

  Unless he came earlier? There had been a bunch of time-traveling assassins that had come after Indulf, back before the dragons even knew time travel was possible. Maybe Dickerson had been one of them! Then he could have established himself on earth quite in advance of Byrelmore coming to the present. The question did remain, though, why was he against Indulf? Was it personal, like she had first thought, or was it all political?

  And in the end, did it really matter? Dominque pressed her fingers to her temples now. No, it didn’t matter. Whatever his motives were, they didn’t change her situation at all. Being held prisoner, prey to this dragon, and waiting to be handed over for God knew what sort of experiments.

  No. She had to put those thoughts from her mind and concentrate on escape. The shiv had worked. Far better than she intended. The scent of blood wafted over her face, and her stomach clenched. She wasn’t going to try that again. When she thought she had killed him, it had more than terrified her. She couldn’t kill him, and that was the only way attacking him was going to work.

  So, she had to be smarter. Use her strengths. What were her strengths? She was caring, wanted to help others. Even though she was shy, she made friends easily, and it was easy to get people to open up to her about what was bothering them.

  Maybe she could reverse Stockholm Syndrome this thing. Maybe she could get Dickerson to start connecting with her, to get him to think of her with sympathy, maybe even to get him to like her.

  Could she seduce him?

  Her face flushed at
the thought, even though there was something tempting about the idea. She tried to scoff, to brush it off, but wasn’t as successful as she would have wanted. This wasn’t a storybook, she didn’t have magical lady parts that would soften the beast’s heart and get him to turn around. No. That wasn’t going to happen… but the rest of the plan, that was solid enough. Get him to trust her, make him reluctant to hand her over.

  When the door opened — her blasting music covering the sound of the lock turning — she jumped. Dickerson—Ivan, she thought. If I’m going to get him on my side, I have to call him by his first name—stepped in, carrying a tray of food. Her stomach gurgled hungrily. Ivan didn’t look at all worried as he set the tray down, glancing at her once.

  “You didn’t eat what I brought you earlier,” he said. “I thought you might be hungry.”

  Dominique swallowed, her gaze going to his throat where she had stabbed him. She bunched her hands into her skirt, feeling the blood still on her skin even though she had showered for an hour. “Are… are you okay now?”

  Ivan laughed and gave her a cocky grin that, in any other circumstances, would have made her knees go weak. “Am I okay? I’m a dragon, you think a little paper shiv could really hurt me?”

  The amount of blood he’d lost would suggest it was possible.

  “I see the doubt all over your face.” He stepped toward her, undoing the top button of the crisp white shirt he wore. He pulled it aside, showing her the smooth skin of his throat. “You’re not the first to stab me, Miss Dominique. I’m already over it.”

  “But it’s going to take a little longer for you to recover the blood you lost,” she pressed, reaching to feel for herself that his throat was unblemished.

  He caught her wrist and shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. Honestly, you should have left me for dead and escaped while you could. It was a stupid move, helping me. You know I’m handing you over to be cut up and dissected.”

  Dominique suppressed a shiver. She pushed that from her mind and instead let her gaze trail over him. Now that she bothered to look, it was a wonder that she hadn’t figured out he was a dragon before this. His body was typical of dragons; perfectly proportioned, with muscles on muscles and that Dorito-shaped cut of his upper body. He probably had that defined V at his waist, too, and for a moment she forgot that she was supposed to be getting him to see her differently, not the other way around.

  He chuckled, amused. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

  Her gaze snapped up. Her cheeks burned hotly, and she wrapped her arms around herself. What had she been ogling him like that for? Sure, he was an impressively built man, but kidnappers weren’t handsome. Certainly not ones like Dickerson.

  “I never wanted to get mixed up in all of this,” she blurted. “I never wanted to get involved with the dragons… I mean, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a dragon, not any more than there is anything wrong with being human, but there is all the political stuff that I just… don’t want to be involved in. I don’t see why people can’t just accept their differences and get along.”

  Ivan sighed. “Wrong time and place?”

  “Yes.” Was that a hint of regret she saw on his face? She leaned forward, trying to keep his gaze on her. “It’s ridiculous that people have attacked me in the first place. I might be friends with Anna and the others, but it’s more like a casual friendship. The kind of friend that you call up when all your other plans fall through, or when you’re feeling sorry for the other person.”

  “Is that what your friendship with Audiv is like?”

  Dominique hesitated a moment before shaking her head. “But you don’t even care about that.”

  Ivan was quiet.

  “You don’t,” she continued. “Because you’re handing me over to be experimented on. If my friendship with Audiv was at all important, you’d only hold me for ransom or something… Or are you doing that, too? Are you waiting for Indulf to pay for my freedom before handing me over to your friends with their scalpels?”

  Again, he said nothing.

  Tears blurred her eyes as she dropped her gaze, unable to stare into his emotionless face any longer. “Don’t you have any compassion at all? What have I done to deserve this? I… I don’t want to die.”

  For the first time, he stirred, but he still didn’t speak.

  “After Indulf brought me to Byrelmore,” she continued, now more to herself than him. “My parents stopped talking to me. I don’t know why, they just ghosted me. I’m sure it’s because they’re against the dragons. And my boyfriend, he said that I must be sleeping with the dragons and broke up with me. All because I was taken to live with the dragons because some random people started attacking me… for no reason at all…”

  “People rarely get what they deserve. That’s life.”

  Dominique flinched at his cold tone.

  Ivan ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression softening for the briefest moment. “You had a hard life. Dragons have caused you a lot of trouble, so I don’t blame you for not wanting anything to do with us.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  He arched a brow.

  “I said I didn’t want to get involved in the political stuff. The cultural stuff, I can’t get enough of. I’ve always loved learning about different cultures, and I wish I could learn more about all that.” Why was she talking so much about herself when she was supposed to be getting him to open up to her? This was backward! “Not all humans are like those guys who protest dragons’ existence.”

  Ivan grunted and looked past her shoulder, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  Dominique waited for a moment, then stepped forward. Her mouth was a little dry, but she reached again to make sure that his neck was healed. This time, he let her inspect his throat. His brown skin was as smooth as anything, no trace of a scar. She let out a soft, relieved breath. Well, that would help ease her conscience at least. She hadn’t killed him and hadn’t even done any permanent damage. The way dragons healed was remarkable.

  “I think you’ve had a hard life, too.” She peered intently at his face, which was no longer turned toward her. “I think it’s been very hard for you. And you’ve let it harden you right back. What could be so bad that you don’t…”

  She trailed off, knowing the rest of that sentence was going to be highly accusatory. He didn’t look at her for a while, his expression thoughtful, lost in whatever was going on in his mind. She was struck by the sudden thought that if she kissed him now, he’d kiss her back. Then it would be easy to lead him back to the bed, and maybe if she did, he wouldn’t want to hand her over anymore…

  He turned toward her so abruptly that she flinched. “You seem like an optimistic sort of person.”

  “I try to be. I’ve spent a lot of years battling my negativity to become optimistic.”

  “And how is that working out for you?”

  She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or genuine. “Some days are better than others.”

  “I see…” He stepped toward her and this time she stepped back. “So, you have to fight for your optimism, and even that’s not enough sometimes? And here you are, a prisoner for merely being in the wrong time and the wrong place. Where’s the bright side of this? Where is the strength of humanity now? You asked me how I could do this to a complete stranger?”

  It was going to be something she asked, but she was too frightened now to point out that she hadn’t actually asked him anything.

  “Nothing comes to life unless it’s through blood, sweat, and tears. Compassion… Compassion isn’t real. The only kindness anybody shows another person is for their own gain, whether it’s because they want that person to give them something or to ease their own conscience, to make themselves feel good.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Dickerson shook his head and laughed. “Really? And what proof do you have of that? You yourself said that Anna and those others are only friends with you becaus
e they feel sorry for you.”

  “You are a master of twisting other people’s words around, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t respond to that.

  Dominique brought herself up, the anger at his words and the way he thought she was so easily swayed making the fear all but vanish. She glowered at him, her hands clenched. “I have been gaslighted enough to know when it’s happening to me. If you don’t believe in compassion, then I guess you have never felt it. So maybe you should just leave and call up your psychopath friends and get rid of me.”

  Dickerson still stared at her, as though he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Dominique leveled her chin, challenging him to contradict her again. For a moment, she thought he would. She almost wanted him to, so she could somehow shame him into releasing her. But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he walked out of the room and locked her in once more.

  Chapter Four

  Ivarsson

  He couldn’t sleep until late that night. He’d called up his contacts again, telling them to move up the schedule for taking Dominique off his hands. They were pleased enough upon hearing that, even though Ivarsson’s stomach twisted in an uncomfortable manner. He had everything he needed to squeeze a small ransom out of Indulf, or at least put up the pretense of wanting a ransom so that he’d look even weaker if he failed to get Dominique back.

  Ivarsson knew from his years with the FBI that a kidnap victim who wasn’t returned, no matter what choice was made, the person who chose the course of action was blamed for the outcome. He’d seen it happen all too often. And no matter what Indulf did, he wasn’t getting Dominique back.

  A strip of silver moonlight fell into Ivarsson’s eyes as he rolled over, and he scowled at the open window. It wouldn’t be as bad as she was imagining. There weren’t going to be any dissections, and she wasn’t going to get cut up. That was just her pessimistic side running away with her. No. The people he was going to sell her to wanted her to stay alive.