Celtic Dragons

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Natasha walked over to him, laying a hand against his back. “She’s not just doing it for you, is she? She’s doing it for herself too. For Grady, whom she loves.”

  He turned back toward her, sliding his arms around her waist and drawing her close to him. “It’s amazing to me how completely you’ve slid into our lives in such a short time. It’s like you were always meant to be here. It’s hard to imagine that just two weeks ago, I didn’t have you.”

  She smiled, resting her hands against his chest as he held her to him. “It’s hard for me to believe too. I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

  “Wait’s over,” he murmured, kissing her softly.

  “In a lot of ways,” she agreed. “I contacted a lawyer today about divorcing Matthew.”

  Ronan lifted both hands, cupping her face in his palms. “How do you feel about that?”

  “Calm,” she said, and the funny thing was that she meant it. Just weeks before, she would never have thought she could face ending things officially with Matthew without having a complete meltdown, but the truth was that she knew she could handle it. She was finally ready.

  “I’m glad.” Ronan tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, his fingertips brushing against her earlobe. “I know it’s going to be stressful for you, but I appreciate you doing it. Trust me—I’m planning on breaking off my arrangement with Abigail immediately.”

  She smiled wryly. “Yeah, that might be a good idea …especially if she’s here to, you know, destroy you.”

  Ronan winced. “I still want to believe that that’s not why they’re here. A power play, maybe. But two branches of the clan, going after each other? It’s unheard of.”

  He walked away from her, clearly anxious as he paced up and down the room. Natasha hated to see him so pent up, but there was nothing she could do to heal this particular problem. All she could offer was her support and her healing any time he needed it. And all of her love, which grew with every look and every touch that they shared. He was already so much a part of her, and she could never bear to lose him.

  There was a knock at the door, and Ronan went to it, pulling it open to reveal the fiery redhead who Natasha had seen several times now. The woman had always been friendly to her, though they had only interacted in passing, but now her face looked white and drawn and her eyes were dim and downcast.

  “He’s here,” Moira said quietly, and then she teared up and started to turn away.

  Ronan reached out a hand and turned her back toward him, pulling her against his body for a hug. Moira cried against his chest, and he backed her up into the room, closing the door to give her privacy as she worked through the things she was feeling. It was a surprise to Natasha that she didn’t feel jealous at all of Moira, even when Ronan rested his head against her red hair and rubbed her back. The energy between them was that of family—siblings. He was comforting his little sister, and Natasha loved him all the more for it.

  She also wished that there was some way for her to give the two some privacy, but she would have to squeeze past them both to get to the door. So she just turned away, giving them as much privacy as she could while still being in the same room.

  “I had to fight him,” Moira whispered, her voice sounding broken. “I had to wrestle him to get him here. My dad, Ronan. He was so defensive—I know he’s guilty. I know he is. And I just—I don’t know why he would do this. Does he not understand? I didn’t want to overpower him, but he didn’t give me a choice. He said you weren’t his leader anymore and that he would never talk to you.”

  Natasha ached for the distraught woman, and she wished that she could draw the emotional pain out of her the way she could if it had been a physical pain that was ailing her.

  “I’m going to talk to him,” Ronan assured Moira. “He’s your dad. He’s like an uncle to me. You know that. I’m not going to just bring the hammer down on him. I want to understand where he’s coming from.”

  “He’s coming from a place of bitterness,” Moira said darkly. “And I think it’s too late. I tried to get my mom involved, but she’s scared of what he might do. I just don’t know how my parents turned into …this. I’m so sorry, Ronan.”

  Natasha turned around, clearing her throat somewhat awkwardly. If she was going to be part of Ronan’s life, and if she really trusted that he wanted her as his partner, then she had to get comfortable with his friends. “Moira …your parents aren’t a reflection on you. Trust me. My parents can be …insane sometimes. Most of the time. I’m not suggesting that my father’s habit of walking around my house in his underwear while my mother loudly has sex with her boyfriend in her bedroom is the same as what your father is doing now, but I do know what it’s like to have to distance yourself from your parents’ behavior. What you do doesn’t reflect on them, so why should what they do reflect on you?”

  It was a huge relief to Natasha when Moira offered her a smile instead of brushing off her interjection. “I think the idea of your dad standing in his underwear listening to your mom have sex with another man is the only thing strange enough to actually make me smile right now. Ronan tells me you’re a healer. I don’t suppose that you deal with broken hearts …”

  “Only when they’re physically broken,” Natasha said regretfully.

  “Why don’t you stay with Natasha?” Ronan suggested, easing Moira toward her. “Let me go talk to your father and see what I can do. Natasha will keep you company. She’s great at that.”

  Natasha smiled at Ronan, walking him to the door as Moira sat down in one of his office chairs. He bent down and kissed Natasha gently as he opened the door. “Thanks for looking after her.”

  “Anything I can do,” she told him. “Anything at all. Remember that Charlotte is on her way, right? To help you talk to your Nana.”

  He nodded. “I remember. But …whether or not I need her depends on what Liam tells me.”

  “Good luck,” Natasha murmured.

  Then he was gone, and she was by herself in a room with Moira, a woman who seemed kind and sad and friendly all at the same time. Natasha sat down across from the woman, smoothing her palms down the jeans she was wearing and clearing her throat. “So …”

  Moira didn’t give her time to come up with some sort of small talk. “I can tell how much you love Ronan,” Moira said. “And I’m glad to see him so happy with you. We all wondered how long it would take for him to find her person. He’s more of a …”

  “Lady killer?”

  “Well,” Moira said, lifting a shoulder. “Yeah. But he’s also the greatest man in the world, second, of course, to Grady—the man I live with. Whom I will marry when all of this gets put to rest. Ronan sacrifices everything for his leadership position. Always has and always will. That’s why it upsets me so much that my father won’t just trust Ronan. You, though. You need to trust him. Always. He will never lead you wrong.”

  Natasha nodded solemnly, realizing that the passion in Moira’s voice was merely a reflection of how much she cared for her friend. Anyone who cared for Ronan that much was immediately Natasha’s friend. “I do trust him. He’s saved my life many times over the past few days. And I’ve saved his. We’re connected somehow. I don’t understand it, but I gave up understanding things long ago. I don’t know why I have this power to heal people and others can’t do the same. I don’t know why my mother seems to have supernatural intuition. Or why my father is allergic to pants.”

  Moira chuckled slightly. “All you need to understand is how much he loves you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

  “I don’t,” Natasha promised. “But I think I could say the same to you. You’re his family, and he won’t lead you wrong either.”

  “I know,” Moira said, and her face became solemn again. “That’s why, whatever he decides about my father, I’ll back him. He has my complete loyalty, because he’s earned it in a way that my father never has. As much as I love my father.”

  “I’m sorry,” Natasha told her quietly. “I wish that there wa
s something I could do.”

  “Just take care of Ronan,” Moira told her with a faint smile. “That’s what you can do for me. Take care of my leader and keep him well. I worry about him more than he knows, walking around with the weight of the world on his shoulders and now a curse that saps the life out of him. He needs a break. You’ll help him with that.”

  Natasha nodded. “I’ll do my best,” she promised. And she meant it with all of her heart. There was nothing that Ronan could ask of her that would be too much. Nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ronan

  He’d never had to deal with something like this before—ever. Ronan paced outside of the room where Liam Brennan was waiting, held against his will, and tried to think what he would say to the man who used to push him on the swing and play poker with him at family gatherings.

  So many things had changed since then. Many of the older generation had already passed, as was typical of the Dragon Clan, given the extra wear and tear on their bodies. Ronan couldn’t call on his father to talk to Liam like the brothers they had once been, before time and circumstance had caused Liam to move so far away from his connection to the clan. Ronan was going to have to go in there himself and put a man who had once been like an uncle to him back into his place.

  It wasn’t going to be pretty, no matter what happened. At best, he was going to have to coerce Liam into a confession and an apology with a following punishment. At worst, Liam was going to lash out at him—possibly by transitioning first and challenging Ronan in his dragon form.

  If that happened, then there was no telling what the end result would be.

  Ronan took a deep breath and opened the door to the office, striding inside and closing the door behind him before he looked at Liam. It only took him a half of a second to take in the sight of Liam’s angry, red face, mussed hair, and rumpled clothing. He was agitated, looking for a fight, and not in the mindset to be persuaded into logical action. Ronan took that as his cue to start with a hard line.

  “Liam, you’ve screwed up,” he said, grabbing a chair and slamming it down in front of Liam’s, then leaning against the back of it and staring down Moira’s father. “What the hell were you thinking? What gives you the right to go over my head and go to the LA branch about a problem you have with how I’m running the Boston branch? Do you have any idea what you’ve started here?”

  The man only glared at him. “I’d do it again. You’re ruining us here. Someone had to step in.”

  “I’m ruining us?” Ronan demanded. “By what? By trying to adapt us to survive? You realize that if we don’t take human mates then we’ll die out. Or we’ll start inbreeding—and then where will we be?”

  “Better off than we will be if we do it your way,” Liam spat. “Your way is for the weak. For the disloyal. Taking outsiders into our clan? Making them part of it? Don’t you understand what that will do? We’ll have some children who are dragon shifters and some who are not. Maybe some will be nothing at all—maybe they’ll be messed up little creatures with miserable lives. Have you even thought about that? What about the children who aren’t shifters?”

  Ronan had spent many a night thinking about that exact thing, and he had the answers to Liam’s question. But he wasn’t going to give it to him, because he knew that Liam’s motivation wasn’t the supposed good of the unborn children that Ronan and his friends would have. It was about resisting change because of his own bitterness over the love he had lost.

  “Bullshit,” Ronan told the man. “That’s not why you did this. You did this for you, and you know it. Now tell me what the LA branch is doing here, or there are going to be consequences that I can’t protect you from, Liam. I don’t want this to get any uglier than it has to.”

  “Don’t threaten me, boy.”

  Ronan felt a flash of anger that he hadn’t yet experienced toward the man. He had been frustrated with Liam and upset about the situation, but he had also understood what Liam was doing and why. He still had enough respect for the man to try to work through this with him.

  But statements like that were going to end that mindset very quickly.

  “Watch yourself,” Ronan said, a dark edge to his voice. “Don’t disrespect me any further, Liam. That’s a bad idea.”

  “You aren’t half the leader your father was,” Liam snarled at him. “He would never have done this. He would never have watered down the clan just so that he could take the woman he loved instead of the woman he was bound to by destiny. He would be ashamed of you, just like I am.”

  Ronan shook with rage, and he could feel that his body was still susceptible to the curse that lived within him. Angry as he was, he should still be in control of his emotions and his transition, but both were threatening to take him over. Liam wasn’t going to back down either. That was more than clear.

  “My father and my grandmother would both be ashamed of you,” Ronan said, his voice low and deep as he pushed the chair out from in between them and advanced on Liam. “You’ve always been a friend, but you’re not acting like one right now. Decide. Now. Are you my going to be my friend or my enemy? There is no in between.”

  Liam glared at him, staring him down without any hint of remorse. “At least I have my principles, Ronan. I can go to bed with that comfort. Michael is here to take you out of power. You and your family have been getting too big for your britches for a while now, demanding that mates travel here to join with you and grow the Boston branch over all the others.” He stood up, getting right into Ronan’s face. “You’re arrogant, and you’re making stupid decisions, and I won’t let it happen. Look at how you’ve corrupted my daughter. My Moira.”

  “What are they here for?” Ronan said, through gritted teeth as he struggled both to stay in his own form and to keep from pushing the man’s chest and sending him tumbling backward. “Why is Michael here, Liam?”

  “To do what needs to be done.”

  “What does that mean?” Ronan needed to hear him say it—definitively, one more time—and once he did, all bets were off and Liam was the enemy.

  “He’s going to take you down.”

  “And you’re going to help him.”

  “Damn right,” Liam said with pride. “And someday, they’ll talk about me like they do Patrick O’Donnell. I’m saving everyone from you and your modern stupidity. You’re a fool.”

  Ronan reared backward, his shift coming over him instantaneously. Fire burned in his throat, spewing out of his mouth as his frame filled the room, dominating it as he broke both chairs and the desk.

  Liam stumbled backward, clearly taken aback by Ronan’s transition, but then his eyes narrowed and he transitioned also, turning into a gray dragon that was smaller but still powerful. As a shifter grew older, the dragon form became smaller and carried less speed and strength, but Liam could still hold his own against Ronan, especially under the circumstances. The room wasn’t big enough for either of them, much less two of them, and they had little space to do more than snap at each other. Ronan’s extra speed and strength were of no use within the confines that held them.

  Ronan breathed fire at the man, but it glanced off his scales just like Liam’s fire glanced off his. They butted heads and bit at each other’s wings, but neither of them could get the kind of space and leverage that they needed to really fight with each other. What they were predominantly doing was posturing and crashing about the room, causing more commotion than damage.

  The door flew open, and Kean strode in, still in his human form. “Liam--enough! This isn’t the way to handle this. Both of you—you need to get this under control. We have enough to worry about with the LA clan in town and unpredictable. The last thing we need is for someone to see what’s going on in here.”

  Kean was right, and Ronan was about to force himself to shift back into his human form, when Liam moved to the left, giving himself just enough space to use his tail to whip Kean onto his back, knocking the wind out of the man.

  Ronan erupted with rage, l
unging at Liam and pinning him against the wall, which began to crack beneath the force of the two dragons as Ronan continued to crush the smaller, weaker dragon with his brute strength. Their slitted, yellow eyes locked and held, and Ronan could see the hate burning from Liam. It made him sad, but it also made him angry, and he opened his jaw, snapping it at Liam in a further warning before backing off and snorting flames from his nostrils.

  In his dragon form, Liam stayed huddled against the wall, his chest heaving and his eyes blazing with fury. Liam wasn’t strong enough to fight back against Ronan, and he knew it. With just that one attack, he was almost spent, and he couldn’t afford to go at Ronan again. But transitioning out of his dragon form would be defeat, and Ronan knew that Liam wouldn’t do that either.

  So he did it first, as the clear victor.

  He transitioned into his human form, his perfect naked specimen standing there in the middle of the room, his gaze fixed on the dragon. “Don’t ever—ever—come at me or any of my people again, Liam. You are no longer under my protection. If I have to take you out to protect them, I will. And I have Moira’s blessing to do it.”

  It was a slight assumption, but he also knew Moira well enough to know that it was true.

  Liam snorted flames at him again, but they drifted harmlessly away from Ronan.

  “I’m going to give you five minutes by yourself,” Ronan told the man. “When I walk back in here, you’ll either cooperate with me and tell me where to find the LA clan or I’ll make sure there’s hell to pay. Don’t make the wrong choice.”

  Ronan strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Kean was standing in the hallway, and immediately, Ronan went to check on him, scanning the man for injury. “You all right?”