Celtic Dragons

by Dee Bridgnorth

  “I’m interested in you,” Ronan said honestly. “And this is the best that I’ve felt in…months. You’re amazing, Natasha.”

  Her eyes lifted to his, and he suddenly wanted to kiss her perturbed pout. He couldn’t, of course, because they were in the equivalent of her office, he was naked, and they had only known each other for a little over an hour. It wasn’t as though this was a bar and they were both there looking for the same thing—some fun and some company. He knew how that went. This, however, was a different ballgame.

  “I’m not amazing,” she said, quickly looking away from him, flustered. “I’m not. I’m just …anyway. I need to know more about the person who cursed you so that I can try to find a remedy to the curse. What I’ve done here is just maintenance. I’ve healed you, but the curse still lives inside of you, so it’ll still affect you.”

  Ronan decided not to press to learn more about her—at least not at that moment. Maybe once they got to know each other better, she would start to open up more naturally. He hoped so, because he wanted to know so much more about her, and maybe the best way to go about that was to tell her more about himself.

  “Okay,” Ronan agreed. “Let me back up at little then.” He sat back down on her massage table, and she took a seat in a chair, a safe distance away. The blanket was still all that covered him, and he was glad for it, though he wouldn’t have minded a fresh set of clothes. “You saw that I could transition into a dragon,” he began. “Well, I am part of the Dragon Clan. The leader of it, actually. And Siobhan, who came here with me today, is part of it as well. She and I make up two-fifths of the current generation of dragon shifters. Our friends, Kean, Eamon, and Moira are the others.”

  “There are five of you here in Boston,” Natasha said, shaking her head in amazement. “Wow. I’ve read a lot about dragons, but never like what you seem to be telling me.”

  She’d read a lot about dragons. He would ask her more about that later. “No, you wouldn’t have read much, if anything, about us,” he told her. “We’ve always been intensely private. See, my ancestors come from Ireland, back when there was strife between the Irish people and the British people. The British were trying to colonize Ireland by subduing groups of rebels, and there was this one particular village which was exceptionally rebellious. It just refused to stop fighting.”

  “Your ancestors’ village.”

  Ronan nodded. “That’s right. They took the lives of a lot of British soldiers, with absolutely no sign of giving in or dissipating. So the British government used their secret weapon on this village—a woman who had been charged with witchcraft during the time of the Inquisition, but who, in exchange for her life, had agreed to serve at the will of the British government.”

  “Wow,” Natasha said again, and it was clear that she was fascinated. “I’ve heard of things like that, but I’ve never talked to someone who was part of it.”

  “Well, I wasn’t there,” he reminded her with a smile that held more fondness than he would have realized. “The British general ordered the witch to curse the village, and the curse she chose was to turn them into massive, mute beasts destined to be shunned from society. She thought that our bodies would be so bulky and heavy that we would be terrible fighters. And, at first, the curse was very effective. Both afraid and feared by others, the villagers fled into the Irish wild, hiding their hulking forms.”

  Natasha was frowning now. “But …wait. That’s not the curse that I’m sensing from you at all. Your only curse is the one that’s sapping your strength and your ability to control your power.”

  He nodded. “I know. Because my ancestors refused to just accept this curse and die off. It took them generations, but they figured out a way to fight back against the curse. They figured out a way to communicate, and then they found a witch who would help them. They developed the ability to navigate within their new bodies, and the bulky dragon form became more streamlined. They learned how to use their wings to fly, whereas initially their bodies were too heavy for their wings to lift them. They learned how to fight with their tails, and they adapted to the curse, controlling it. The witch helped them, too. She was able to reverse the curse enough so that …it wasn’t really a curse at all anymore. They were able to shift in and out of their dragon forms, spending the majority of their time in their human form, and taking their dragon form only when they wanted to. And when they were in their dragon form, they were sleek, powerful fighters. Not bulky beasts.”

  “That’s incredible,” Natasha murmured, staring at him with rapt attention. “They took a curse, and they made it work in their favor. There has to be more that I can read about them. I want to know everything.”

  Ronan chuckled, holding out a hand to her. “Come here, Natasha. I would come to you, but…” he gestured with his free hand to his loose wrapping.

  She got up and walked over to him, and Ronan didn’t hesitate to pull her closer, taking her face in his hands. “You don’t have to read about them in a book, Natasha. They’re part of me. They live inside of me—every single generation. There’s nothing in the world that I’m prouder of than the fighting past of my ancestors, and I will tell you about them until you feel like you were right there, watching it happen. And I will fly you through the clouds on my back. I will fly you over oceans and mountains and trees—I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Even right back to the homeland that they came from, where you can imagine it all happening right in front of you. What do you think about that?”

  Natasha didn’t look away from him, and he could almost feel her heart beating, even though his hands only cupped her face. “I…bet you say that to all the girls…” she managed, trying to brush it off lightly even though her cheeks were flushed and warm beneath his palms.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t. I’ve never told anyone about myself before. We don’t, in the Dragon Clan. The Irish are a private people. But I know I can trust you, and you’ve seen me at my truest self already, even if we’ve known each other less than two hours. But if I’m going to do all of that, you have to help me overcome what’s eating me up from inside first. Will you do that, Natasha?”

  She nodded, licking her lips in a way that she couldn’t possibly understand made it almost impossible for him not to kiss her. “Yes. I’ll do anything I can to help you. Of course I will.”

  “Then I’ll take you flying,” he said, dropping his hands from her face and reminding himself just how much he couldn’t do the things he wanted to do with her. He had to focus. “I need to talk to my ancestors. That’s why I was working with Josiah Webb, who put this curse on me. I need to ask them for guidance, because my clan …we’re going to die out if we don’t figure out a way to breed outside of ourselves. For generation after generation, members have mated together, and at first there were enough of us to sustain that. But our numbers are dwindling, and we only have a few generations left before there are no more mates to give to our children. We have to be able to take human mates, and I need to know more about how to adapt what we are. They did it once. We can do it again. But Josiah backstabbed me, then died. I haven’t been able to track down a powerful enough medium who is willing to work with me—or one that I think I could trust.” He smiled wryly. “I don’t suppose you have a connection to the other side …”

  “No,” Natasha said, but her eyes were bright. “But I know someone. I know the perfect person, Ronan.”

  “You do? Who?”

  “She’s a client—or she was. Her name was Charlotte.” Natasha backed up from him and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts. “Aside from you, she’s probably the most powerful person I’ve ever worked with. She had cancer, and the treatments weren’t working. She spoke with a relative on the other side who gave her my name, and she came to me. When she got here, she was this shell of a person, pale and haggard and so thin that she looked like she would break in half if a gust of wind hit her the wrong way. It was pancreatic cancer, and she was on death’s door.”

 
“And you healed her.”

  Natasha nodded. “Yes. We spent …God, we spent days together. Weeks. I can’t even think how long. At first, I would hold her—literally hold her—on my bed and just draw out her pain. The cancer had metastasized to her bones, and every single part of her hurt. When we got the pain under control, then we started on pouring me into her…and she turned into this different person. Strong, alert, beautiful, healthy, vibrant. Right before my eyes.”

  Ronan couldn’t take his eyes off Natasha as she spoke, as though in a trance, remembering a woman who had clearly touched her deeply. She was even more beautiful as she spoke, her eyes soft with compassion and lit with energy at the same time. Her lips were full and inviting, her teeth constantly finding a bed in her lower lip as she paused to think of her next word. He somehow couldn’t believe that he had never known this woman before. He was so drawn to her that he would hardly have been surprised if he wasn’t meant to meet her someday, and he only wished that it hadn’t taken him so long.

  “I was able to heal her, cell by cell,” Natasha said, shaking her head in amazement. “And when she went back to the doctor, he was terrified of her. He wouldn’t believe that it was her. There had been no hope for her, and she had been sent home to die—to cross over to the other side that she was so connected to. When he finally ran tests on her, every trace of her cancer was gone and her body was perfect.”

  “Having the gift you have—how can you not know how amazing you are?” Ronan asked her quietly. “You save lives, Natasha.”

  She blinked at him, as though returning to the present after wandering lost in her own memories. “I did save hers,” she admitted. “And I know that if I ask her, she’ll help you, Ronan. I know she will.”

  This time, he couldn’t help himself. Ronan stood up off the table, keeping the blanket wrapped around him with one hand, and then with the other, he cupped her face and bent his head to kiss her. He kept the brush of his lips against hers soft, as though it was merely a gesture of genuine gratitude. But the spark that ignited between them was undeniable, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to sink into her completely and take her mouth along with the rest of her.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice husky again as he looked into her eyes. “I mean it. Thank you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Natasha

  Kissing Ronan had impacted Natasha in ways she didn’t want to think about.

  Which was why she had spent exactly no time thinking about it since his lips had left hers. She couldn’t afford to if she wanted to avoid acknowledging that his lips had only left her yearning for more.

  Instead, she had set to action, getting him clothing from her father’s room that did not suit him at all. Ronan, however, couldn’t truly look bad in anything, and when he’d gotten into the cab to take him to his office, where he was going to talk to his friends about what was about to happen, she’d had to take a steadying breath after his hug goodbye.

  Then she’d hurried back inside and called Charlotte, who had dropped everything to drive down to Boston and meet with her. Natasha was waiting for the woman who had become her dear friend, although they didn’t talk often, in her favorite café just a few minutes from her house, and when Charlotte walked in, Natasha couldn’t help but get tears in her eyes.

  Charlotte was tiny. She always had been, and when she’d been so thin and frail, it had only accentuated how small her frame was. Now she was a healthy, vibrant version of her petite self, and her green eyes were alight with energy and affection as she wrapped her arms around Natasha and squeezed with all of her strength.

  “My angel,” Charlotte said. “It’s so good to see you again. It’s been too long.”

  “Too long,” Natasha agreed, squeezing her in return, then stepping back to look at her pretty face, framed with short, sleek blonde hair. “You are as beautiful as I’ve ever seen you. How are you doing?”

  Charlotte followed Natasha back over to her table, hands linked until they sat down across from each other. “I’m doing really well. Truly. I’m strong and healthy, and I don’t take a single day of my life for granted. I’m engaged.” She held up her hand, flashing her big, sparkling diamond with a grin that matched. “He’s wonderful. We’re getting married next year, and you’re on my list of invitees. I really want you to come, because if it weren’t for you …I wouldn’t be getting married at all.”

  Natasha pressed her hands to her heart, so touched by seeing the woman again and realizing how good her life was now. “Of course I will. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Good,” Charlotte said, picking up her menu and scanning it quickly. “I’m having bacon macaroni and cheese and a Diet Coke. What about you?”

  Chuckling, Natasha nodded. “That sounds good.” She waved over the waitress, and they placed their order. Then she took a deep breath, folding her hands on the table and smiling across the table at Charlotte. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re so well. But I have to admit that I didn’t just call to catch up.”

  “What can I do?” Charlotte asked, leaning back in her chair comfortably. “Anything—anything you need. Consider it done.”

  Natasha knew that the woman meant it, and she had no doubts about cashing in on Charlotte’s offer for Ronan’s sake. “I have a client that I met this morning, and he’s really in a difficult situation. He came to me because he’s been cursed and needs healing, and in the midst of talking through everything, he revealed that he needs a medium. It was a medium who cursed him.”

  “It was?” Charlotte tilted her head, frowning. “That doesn’t seem right …are you sure?”

  “He thinks it’s right,” Natasha said. “But I don’t know. My read on the curse is that it comes from a powerful origin. It’s not your usual hex. It’s not from your run-of-the-mill witch or warlock. And there’s a component to it that’s very …male.”

  “Male?”

  Natasha scrunched her nose. “Yeah. Whoever cursed him made it so that every time he…” she gestured toward her lap. “Every time he has sex. It gets worse.”

  “Oh God.” Charlotte rolled her eyes, picking up her napkin and shaking it out onto her lap as the waitress came over and delivered their respective bowls of delicious carbohydrates and cheese. “That is such a man thing to do,” Charlotte agreed, picking up her spoon and digging right into the bowl. “And so petty. But what does this curse have to do with me? Because I can only speak for my own experience as a medium, but…I don’t have any cursing powers. That I know of. And none of the other mediums I’ve ever spoken to do either.”

  “Well, see, he was talking to the medium in the first place because he needs to talk to his ancestors. It’s…I don’t know. There’s a lot of backstory. I’d rather he tell you that so that we make sure to get it right. But I told him that I couldn’t help him with his ancestors, but that I could help control the curse…and I could get him in touch with someone who might be able to help with the rest?”

  Charlotte nodded, taking a sip of her Diet Coke. “Absolutely. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. I’m happy to do a session with him.”

  “Thank you so much,” Natasha said, taking her own bite of macaroni and cheese. It wasn’t what she normally got, but she had been tempted by Charlotte’s devil-may-care attitude. And she didn’t regret it all. Warm, sumptuous, creamy cheese poured over pasta and topped off with crunchy, crispy bacon was exactly what she needed. It was almost as good as the sex that she definitely was not going to have with Ronan.

  “Of course,” Charlotte told her, waving a hand. “Not a problem at all. No fee. No limits. My power is stronger than ever. Hell, these days I feel like I could blend the two sides of the curtain if I wanted to and just mix us all up together in one big realm. Wouldn’t that be interesting.”

  Natasha chuckled, pulling a face. “Uh …I don’t know about that. I like a little bit of separation between realms, I think.”

  “How are you?” Charlotte asked, growing a bit
more serious. “We’ve talked about how I am, and you know I’ll help your friend any way I can. But what about you, Nat? Be honest with me—how are you doing?”

  There was no doubt what Charlotte meant. In the weeks that they had spent together, healing Charlotte from the cancer that was eating her alive, they had shared so much about themselves with each other. Natasha had told Charlotte all about Matthew, and they had cried together as they lay there on the bed. It was very rare that Natasha ever told anyone about Matthew, partly because it made her sad and partly because she didn’t want anyone’s pity. She didn’t want people to think of her as a victim, because she wasn’t—not really. Even if she had let herself be treated like one for a little while, it wasn’t who she was inside.

  “I’m good,” Natasha said slowly, stirring her spoon around in her macaroni and cheese. “I’m stronger all the time. I still have my whole family living with me, which prevents me from getting lonely. Some days I would kill to be lonely, actually. But the distraction of having them around and taking care of them …it really helps.”

  “And no word from him, still?”

  Natasha shook her head. “No. Thank God. There have been times when …I’ve wondered what it would be like to talk to him, now that I know that I don’t have to be in that role he put me in. But it’s not worth it. If I never see his face again, that’ll be a blessing.”

  “If I did have the power to curse people, I would definitely curse him,” Charlotte told her. “And I would absolutely make it get worse every time he had sex.”

  Strangely enough, Natasha could actually laugh at that. A few years ago, she might not have been able to. But the image of her ex-husband with a cursed cock was amusing, and it felt good to laugh with her friend about it. There had been so many nights when Matthew had taken out his frustration and anger with the world on her, hitting her again and again, as though he was trying to see how much she could take before the pain would become real to her.