Celtic Dragons

by Dee Bridgnorth

  “Can we at least have this conversation inside?” Ronan asked Siobhan. “Providing that Natasha is willing to let me back into the house after I became a dragon in her backyard.”

  Natasha smiled and gestured toward the house. “Come on back in. Just…beware. My family is very curious about you.”

  Ronan’s eyes widened and darted toward the house. “God. Were they watching?”

  “No, they didn’t see you…transition,” Natasha assured him, guiding him back inside. “They do know that you ran out of the house fast and that you’re naked in the backyard.”

  “God.”

  Siobhan chuckled, shaking her head. “You know, this is going to be a great story one day. Not now, obviously,” she added quickly, when Ronan lifted an eyebrow at her. “But someday.”

  “Thanks for that,” Ronan said, flicking her nose before following Natasha inside and nodding politely to the row of people lined up in the hallway to watch him. “Sorry for the commotion,” he said, before ducking back into the studio room with the massage table.

  The next person who walked into the studio was not Natasha, but a woman who looked exactly like her, only thirty years older. Aged or not, the woman was gorgeous, and she walked right over to Ronan, taking his face in her hands and clucking her tongue sadly at him.

  “Oh my dear. You’re much, much too handsome to be suffering this way.” She smiled, moving her hands to his shoulders. “My name is Rosemary. I just want to help you release—”

  “Mom!” Natasha’s horrified voice interrupted her mother’s attempt at seduction, making Rosemary jolt backward from Ronan guiltily. “Are you serious right now?”

  “I’m just trying to help!” Rosemary insisted, edging back toward Ronan. “He’s troubled, dear. Maybe your hocus pocus isn’t enough to fix him …”

  Natasha stalked over and took her mother by the arm, leading her out. “Your vagina isn’t going to do him any better.”

  As Natasha and Rosemary disappeared, Ronan looked up at Siobhan in amazement, shaking his head. “Weirdest day—ever.”

  “You should have told us you were having trouble with transitioning,” Siobhan told him, bypassing the strangeness with the mother and her earlier amusement to now get down to business, since they were addressing the heart of the problem. “You realize that this has bigger implications, right? Our ancestors gave us the ability to transition in and out of our dragon forms so that we could live normal lives amongst humans rather than having to always wander around as dragons. Losing that control over the transition is serious, Ronan.”

  He wished they were having this conversation under other circumstances—at least with him dressed—but it was clear that avoiding the conversation was no longer an option. “I know that. I haven’t wanted to worry anyone. It’s a curse, Siobhan. I don’t know the breadth of its power, but it’s only on me. It’s not on all of us. And I’m going to figure out a way to break it.”

  “We are going to find a way to break it,” she corrected him.

  Natasha walked back in, her face red. “I’m so, so sorry about that. My mother was way out of line. She’s …well, she’s an inexcusable person.”

  “That’s all right,” Ronan assured her, with a tired smile. “I was just about to try to explain to Siobhan what you had told me about the curse I’m apparently carrying around.”

  “Yes,” Natasha said quickly, getting back to her professional state to combat the awkwardness of the last half an hour. “Yes, it’s clear that he’s been cursed. I can feel it in him, sapping his strength. With more concentrated effort, I could determine its origin and any …well, any potential cures. But it’s a very strong, powerful curse. It’s not something I’ve seen before—like your typical hex.”

  “And it’s located…” Ronan said, prompting her with a resigned wave of his hand.

  Natasha bit her lip. “Ah, well, it seems to be located in the…genital area.”

  “What?” Siobhan asked, suddenly much more alert. “What does that even mean?”

  “Well…” Natasha said, taking a seat and crossing her long legs, perfectly highlighted by her yoga pants. Even her bare feet, complete with silver-painted toes, were pretty and enticing. “The thing about curses is that they have a point of origin within the body,” Natasha told them both. “This can be determined randomly, for instance when a less experienced person places a curse on someone generically. That curse will still find a point of origin within the body where it will live. Often the abdomen, honestly. Curses aren’t creative creatures. Other times, when the person delivering the curse is more experienced and powerful, the curse is relegated to a specific part of the body, where it lives. That’s the trigger point for the curse. The curse will continue to grow and feed on its own, of course, but activity within the trigger-point area of the body helps it along.”

  Siobhan, oddly enough, didn’t interrupt Natasha’s speech, but Ronan could tell she was dying to. When Natasha finished her explanation, he jumped in before Siobhan could. “Yes,” he said, answering Siobhan’s unasked question. “Yes, the trigger point is my—”

  “His genitals,” Natasha interjected. “It’s his genitals.”

  For once in her life, Siobhan appeared to be at a loss for words. “That is…fitting,” she finally managed, shaking her head slowly. “Okay, then.”

  “Fitting?” Natasha asked, glancing back and forth between Ronan and Siobhan, looking for clarification.

  “Ronan is a playboy,” Siobhan told her. “Ladies love him, and he loves them right back. Are you telling me that every time he…has a sleepover, this gets worse?”

  Natasha nodded, looking down at her hands.

  “Well, it’s shocking that you’re not dead yet, Ronan!”

  He gave Siobhan a dirty look, uncomfortable with the picture of him that she was painting for Natasha. It wasn’t an incorrect picture, by any means, and he knew that Siobhan didn’t mean anything by her joking. But for some reason, he didn’t want Natasha thinking of him as a playboy. He always treated women well, and if the circumstances had been different, his goal would have been to treat Natasha very, very well.

  “Damn it,” Siobhan said, looking at her phone as it went off and standing up. “I’ve got to go see Julian.”

  “A vision?” Ronan asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah. I want you to stay here, Ronan. Natasha, clear your schedule, okay? I’ve hired you indefinitely to help Ronan figure out his cock curse. Deal?”

  “Yes!” Natasha said firmly, before Ronan could object to the name that Siobhan had given to his current condition. “Yes, that’s a deal. I would be happy to help. This is a very interesting case.”

  “I’m an interesting case,” Ronan lamented, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “I guess I can’t dispute that, since I’m sitting naked on your table after having turned into a dragon in your backyard because of a curse that lives literally in between my legs.”

  Siobhan walked over and patted his shoulder. “Always knew that thing was going to get you in trouble,” she said. “I’ll be back for you after I handle this.”

  “I’m here indefinitely,” Ronan said wryly, as Siobhan hurried out of the room to go check on Julian. “I guess we’ve gotten all the preliminary awkwardness out of the way, given that we’ve discussed my dick and I’ve transitioned into a dragon in front of you. I usually save that for the third or fourth date, and we’re not even on our first.”

  Natasha laughed, blushing lightly. “It’s all right. Let me just …let me clear my schedule, and then we’ll continue working.”

  “I hate for you to have to do that,” Ronan said, although he was quite warming to the idea of the spending the day with the beautiful woman in front of him.

  “No,” Natasha assured him. “Don’t worry. This is by far the most important thing on my schedule today. Everyone else coming in is just having a routine massage or acupuncture appointment. I mean, I always heal as I’m working, because I just can’t help it, but they’re all fine. The
y’re not like you.”

  He chuckled slightly. “Because I’m the furthest thing from fine.”

  “You’re an interesting case,” Natasha said diplomatically, before standing up and retrieving her phone from the table by the door. “I’ll make my calls, and then I’ll come back in. While I’m gone, I’d like for you to lay face down on the table and try to relax your body as much as possible. When I come back, we’re going to take inventory of what’s going on with you.”

  “Sure,” Ronan agreed, moving to lie down on the table. “Take your time. I’ll be in here, relaxing.” His tone was ultra-casual, but as he closed his eyes, pointedly not watching Natasha slip out the door, all he could think of was how much he wanted to take inventory of her the same way.

  Chapter Six

  Natasha

  “Dad, calm down,” Natasha said, hanging up the phone from rescheduling with a client and putting her hands on her hips as she stared down her father. “I’m trying to conduct a business here! Why can’t you guys ever just let me do my job?”

  Ned was unperturbed by her ire, shaking his head back and forth slowly. “Honey, I don’t like you being in there alone with that man. What’s his problem, huh? Running out of here, like that? Rolling around in the backyard. Where are his clothes?”

  There was no way to explain what was going on, and while Natasha was open-minded to all things supernatural, having encountered many different kinds of people due to her unique gifts, her family had always been less understanding. Even if they had been understanding, she still would not have taken it upon herself to reveal who Ronan was. In her experience, most people with gifts or powers preferred to keep them to themselves, given that most people wouldn’t understand.

  “Dad, he’s fine,” Natasha said, pocketing her phone after having rescheduled with her last client for the day. “He’s going through some stuff. That’s why he’s here. That’s what I do, remember?”

  “I know, I know, but I’m still your dad, and I don’t like you being alone with him.”

  Natasha sighed, sweeping the long black fall of her hair over her shoulder to give herself a moment to react more calmly. Her dad meant well, and even though it was frustrating to live in a house with four other people, all of whom had people in and out all the time, she did also love her family. And she knew why her father worried about her. She knew why they all did. Natasha hadn’t been all right after Matthew, and there were days where she wondered if she was all right even now. “Thanks for caring about me, Daddy,” Natasha said, kissing his cheek. “But I’m fine. If I need help...I’ll scream.”

  “Loudly,” he advised, patting his stomach with both hands and looking around the living room, apparently having decided that their plan was sufficient to guarantee her safety. “I think I’ll start some lunch. Do you want anything?”

  Ned was already walking away before Natasha could answer, and she sighed again. But then she quickly turned her attention back to the room where Ronan was waiting for her, knocking lightly on the door and letting herself in.

  He was lying there on the table, facedown, as instructed, and she took a moment to look at him before walking over. There was no denying that the man was incredible, and seeing, even for the briefest of moments, what he had the capacity to become was absolutely awe-inspiring. She had worked with witches and empaths and even other forms of shifters, but she had never come across someone who was capable of becoming something so beautiful.

  And he was beautiful too.

  Moving toward him, she laid her hands gently on his shoulders, smoothing them down his back. The healer within her vibrated instantly at the touch, his pain moving into her body. It was instinctive, as it always was, to absorb other people’s pain, but she went further with him than she often did with a client, probing him with her fingers and searching for the source of his curse. Natasha shuddered as she reached more deeply into him, and she felt the impact of the anger behind the curse settling low in her own gut.

  It almost knocked the breath out of her, and she closed her eyes, startled when Ronan suddenly shifted under her hands.

  “It’s hurting you,” he said. “Whatever you’re doing. It feels incredible to me. Like I’m myself again. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  “Nothing can hurt me,” she told him, not taking her hands off his back. “Pain has no effect on me. Not physical pain anyway.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know,” Natasha admitted. “I’ve never known why or how I was born this way, but since I was a little girl, I’ve always been able to withstand levels of pain that could kill an adult.” Her hands slid further down his back, probing still at his muscles, releasing the pain into her own muscles. “My parents first realized that something was different about me when they saw me playing, fascinated, with the knife that I had stuck through my hand. I was completely unfazed. I told them that, yes, I could feel the pain, but that it didn’t bother me. That it was kind of cool.”

  He lifted his head slightly, looking up at her. “Kind of cool?”

  “Well, that’s how my child-self described it,” she said, chuckling slightly. “What I couldn’t articulate at the time was that I understood I was feeling pain on an intellectual level. I could describe the feeling to you, and I could recognize other people’s descriptions of pain, but it was never a real sensation for me. It never…hurt.”

  “Are there others like you?”

  Natasha nodded, dragging her hands up his back, trying to keep her voice steady as his muscles rippled beneath her. She placed either hand on the side of his head, her fingers threading through his thick strands of dark hair. The color was so similar to her own, but while hers was fine and slick, his was coarse and thick. She curled her fingers in the strands and poured herself into him. “Yes. There are others like me. I’ve done a lot of research on it, and we’re not common. But we do exist. We can absorb pain, and we can do what I’m doing now. I’m healing you. It’s not magic. I’m not a witch. I can’t cure you right here and right now, at least not without paying a heavy price. But the power that is in me, when I pour it into you, your cells begin to heal, your mind begins to clear, your eyesight becomes sharper—everything about you becomes more whole. And, yes, any curse that’s affecting you…it retreats. It doesn’t go away immediately, but it retreats.”

  “I can feel you,” he said, and his voice was just a whisper, his breath coming faster. “I feel you inside of me.”

  The words, though not meant to be sexual, ignited Natasha from within, and her fingers tightened in his hair, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip to keep her faint groan from escaping. “It’s working then,” she murmured, and her own voice was threaded with the desire between them.

  He was so exposed to her, naked and vulnerable beneath her touch. His beautiful body was hers to touch and explore and caress, all in the name of good business.

  It was so tempting, especially when her fingers brushed against his neck and she could feel his heart thudding at his pulse point.

  “Tell me more,” she said abruptly, needing to distract herself from the reaction she was having to him. “Tell me more about how you got this curse. You said you met with a man who was supposed to help you contact your ancestors. But he cheated you and then died.”

  “Yes,” Ronan managed, that husky tone back in his voice, telling her that he was feeling exactly the way she was. “He fell from the sky. I was going to catch him, but when I did—I think his heart had stopped. He died, and there was nothing I could do about it. But at approximately the moment that he died, I felt a strange sensation come over me. I don’t know the extent of his power, but he could communicate with the other side. He was a medium of immense talent, or so I heard. He proved it to me that night, or at least, I thought he did at the time. I question myself now, just because so much time has passed and so much has happened since then. He was able to hold himself in the air and move, seemingly unaided. That tells me that his power was real …at leas
t to some degree.”

  Natasha frowned, thinking over the possibilities. “Turn over.”

  Doing as she asked, Ronan flipped on the bench, the blanket still covering him from the waist down. Natasha began to rub his chest, filling him with more of her healing power as she tried to learn more about the curse that haunted him. “If he could communicate with the other side in life, then he can in death too. He could curse you from this world or the next. I sense that he has cursed you from the next world. The curse…there’s an element to it that I don’t fully understand, and I think that it’s because it’s not a natural curse. It’s designed to dismantle you, piece by piece. To attack your body. Your power. Your control. Eventually, if left unchecked, it will kill you, Ronan. When I draw it into my body, I feel death.”

  “Death?” Ronan sat up, moving away from her hands, his face a mask of horror. “You feel death when you work on me?”

  “I can help you,” she assured him, surprised at his reaction. “Ronan, I can keep you from dying. You don’t have to worry about that. The more I take into me, the safer you are.”

  He stood up, almost letting the blanket slip from around him. “Natasha, I’m not letting you feel my death. I’m not putting death into you. I can’t do that—not when none of this even has anything to do with you.”

  “You don’t understand,” Natasha said quickly, moving toward him and taking his hands in hers. “It doesn’t hurt me, Ronan. And it can’t kill me. I’m immortal.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ronan

  “Immortal…?” Ronan was surprised, but as he thought about it for a second, it made sense. She was immune to the pain and disease that afflicted other people, so what would ever kill her? She could heal her own body just by existing. “Wow. I’ve never talked to an immortal person before.”

  She winced slightly, as though she wished she hadn’t brought it up. “That’s not completely accurate. There are ways I can be killed that I can’t come back from. Swift, sudden death for instance. Anyway.” She held up her hands, stepping back. “Not about me. We’re supposed to be talking about you, your curse, and how we can heal you.”