Dragon's Promise (The Drake's Book 3) (Paranormal Nocturne Romance)

by Denise Lynn

  His soft chuckle should have been a warning. But before it completely registered as such, he hooked a foot around the leg of her chair and dragged it against his own. When she leaned away, he slung an arm over her shoulder and drew her close. She was effectively pinned by the arm of her chair on one side, his warm hard body on the other and the desk in front of them.

  “Now, isn’t that better?”

  Strangely enough, she didn’t actually feel trapped or imprisoned. With the warmth of his body and arm surrounding her, she felt...safe. And oddly calm and comfortable—something she hadn’t enjoyed in what seemed like a lifetime. With her parents, Derek and the council, these last few months had been a living hell. Caitlin stiffened, knowing that this was something she could all too easily come to enjoy.

  Craving this comfort, she would be fine with his calming touch, if she had any intention of staying with him. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Except for their son, they shared nothing in common. Nothing that would keep them together for what could be a very long time, given neither of them was burdened with a human’s short life span.

  Besides, they were different species—even enemies as far as her parents and the council were concerned. It wouldn’t be fair to him, her or little Sean to even consider sharing a life together. Someone would only end up getting hurt, and she feared that someone would be her, or worse, their son.

  Caitlin peered down at the grimoire. The image quickly filling the page took her breath away. She gasped.

  Sean drew lazy circles on her shoulder. “What do you see?”

  It was like watching an old black-and-white photo being developed. The unadorned concrete floor, ringed by cement block walls, steadily grew clearer. Then light from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling glowed eerily off the empty opening where steel bars had served as a door.

  Couldn’t he see what the invisible hand drew so accurately? She hesitantly touched the corner of the page. “That’s Sean’s nursery.”

  “Looks like a dungeon to me.”

  Obviously, he did see the pictures on the page.

  He leaned closer to her, his breath rushed warm against her ear. “Where is the rocker, the stuffed animals and the night-light? I thought those things were unspoken requirements for a nursery.”

  Caitlin shrugged. “It actually used to be a dungeon a few centuries ago.” Even though it had been updated for her use, it still was a dungeon—a prison cell that had effectively done its job.

  He traced the tip of his thumb along her neck. “And what exactly was our son doing there?”

  “It’s where I lived, so why wouldn’t he be there, too?”

  The brief tightening of his arm still resting across her shoulders was the only clue to his opinion of her questioning reply.

  “St. George’s home is so small that there were no other rooms to use as your living quarters or a nursery?”

  She didn’t know how to answer him. If he didn’t like knowing that the nursery was in the dungeon, what would he think if he knew she and their son had been imprisoned there?

  More details were etched into the picture. She closed her eyes, suddenly aware that she wouldn’t have to tell him anything.

  “What is this, Caitlin?” He leaned forward, pulling her toward the desk along with him. He tapped a finger on the page before leaning back, giving her room to breathe. “Are those bars?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was so soft, she wasn’t certain he’d heard her response.

  “Beg pardon? I didn’t hear you.”

  She cleared her throat then repeated a little louder, “Yes.”

  “I’ve seen you in action. While you can suck the life from a human with little effort, I doubt you pose the same danger to your family or the rest of their kind. So why would you need to be confined behind bars?”

  “Because I can suck the life from a human.”

  “Are you telling me that you have no control over yourself whatsoever?”

  “Of course I can control myself—under normal circumstances. But there’s nothing normal about being pregnant.”

  He was so close his snort of disbelief ruffled her hair. “You make it sound as if you had some kind of disease.”

  “We didn’t know how I would react, so my parents thought it safer this way.”

  “You might convince someone else of that, but I’m not buying it.”

  She tried to pull away. “Let me go.”

  “No.” He curled his fingers into her shoulder, holding her in place. “Look at me.”

  Caitlin swallowed her groan. If she did as he requested, he would be able to see the doubt in her eyes.

  He grasped her chin and turned her head toward his. “Caitlin, tell me again why they locked you up.”

  She paused, blinking, hoping to give herself time to be certain of her answer. “So I couldn’t kill anyone.”

  One eyebrow winged over his eye. “Whose brilliant idea was that?”

  She hesitated before answering, “My parents’.”

  “You had to think about it?” Sean brushed his thumb along her jawline. “Want to try again?”

  He saw through her half truth too easily. Her answer hadn’t exactly been a lie. When the High Council convened to determine her fate upon learning of her pregnancy, her parents hadn’t come to her defense.

  She’d been appalled and hurt by their lack of support, but they’d insisted that since the consequence of her actions with Sean would affect the safety of the entire clan, it was imperative that the matter be decided by a higher authority. Before she could formulate a feasible argument to their unwarranted fear, she’d found herself before the council.

  She sighed. “The High Council.”

  “And how did they expect you to feed? Did they provide any life force for you—other than the baby you carried?”

  His suggestion, that she would stoop so low as to harm her own child, made her ill. She jerked away from his touch and stared at him in disbelief that he’d even think such a thing. “What are you insinuating?”

  “After seeing this—” he once again tapped the picture “—I’m trying to figure out how much danger your family and their council pose. How can you be certain they aren’t working with Nathan?”

  Caitlin shoved her chair back, breaking free of his hold to escape his nearness, and rose. Pacing back and forth along the far wall, she said, “That’s ridiculous.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t move from his chair, but his gaze seemed to bore into her, making her spine tingle with building worry.

  “Really? Is it? They want nothing to do with the baby, nor do they want you to have anything to do with him.”

  “That’s quite a leap, don’t you think?” She tried to find a way to get him off this track.

  “How so?”

  “They were ashamed of what I’d done.” That much was true. “They confined me so I wouldn’t harm anyone.” She’d believed that—at first, but after they’d let Derek visit her, she’d begun to wonder and now she wasn’t sure at all. “To jump from that to accusing them of seeking to intentionally harm my baby is one hell of a jump.” She could only hope that was true.

  What sounded to her like a low-pitched, threatening hiss echoed in the office. She stopped pacing and turned her attention to Sean. The look of disbelief deepened to anger, turning his face into a frightening mask of rage. His narrowed eyes met hers, and when he curled his lips she swore venom dripped from his exposed fangs.

  He rose, slowly, and she backed away until her escape was stopped by the wall. His hand trembled as he pointed to the grimoire. “What is this?” Laced somewhere between man and beast, his voice was rough, raspy and filled with hatred.

  Caitlin knew what scene had filled the page without having to look at it. That cursed book was showing him Derek’s visit. A visit that nearly ended her life. She glanced at the safe that secured Ascalon from all but her. Just knowing the weapon was close at hand gave her enough courage to hold her ground.

  She said nothing, simply wa
ited for him to figure it out on his own. And it didn’t take long.

  “I will kill him.”

  “And I won’t stop you.” She blinked. From where had that response come? It was heartfelt and honest, but she’d not meant to say it aloud. As far as anyone knew, she was still going to go through with her marriage to Derek. What they didn’t know was that she’d see him dead before she’d exchange any vows with him. There were other uses for the honed sharpness of Ascalon’s blade besides slaying dragons.

  “This...this is your Baron Derek?”

  She nodded, unwilling to give him more than what he’d asked for.

  He rubbed a hand across his neck where she’d bit him earlier. “What are you?”

  “I was born with fangs. Useless fangs that can tear and rip, but I’m not a vampire. Our son wouldn’t permit Derek to change me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Caitlin swallowed hard; remembering that night wasn’t something she wanted to do. Every time she did let that memory invade her thoughts, her stomach twisted at the way she’d been tossed about the cell, before he’d pinned her to the bed. She recalled the abject look of hatred in his eyes the second before he tried to latch his fangs into her neck. “Derek tried to turn me.”

  “Why?”

  Looking at him, she shrugged. “I don’t know. To make me a better fit as his wife, I suppose.” Because the truth lurking at the back of her mind was still too hard to face, she lied.

  “You are mine.”

  “No. I am not.” He really needed to get that idea out of his head. “Had I been yours as you insist, you wouldn’t have left the way you did. But I wasn’t going to be his, either.” She spread her arms, hands out, begging him to understand. “I fought him as best I could. He’s a vampire, Sean. He’s stronger than I’ll ever be, and I couldn’t risk letting the baby be harmed.”

  “He raped you.”

  “Not physically, but yes, essentially you could say that’s what he tried to do. He did force himself on me against my will. But your son wasn’t going to permit anything to happen.”

  Sean looked back down at the grimoire. “You were still pregnant, what could he do?”

  A small smile flitted at the corner of her mouth. “Make my blood so vile that the second it touched Derek’s lips he turned violently ill.”

  “And your parents still want you to marry this bastard?”

  “The whole thing was probably their idea to begin with. All I know is they were angry afterward. At me. Not him.”

  She closed her eyes against the memory of the bitter fight she’d had with them after Derek had stormed away. A shiver tracked nearly down to her toes.

  With a soft, nervous laugh, she looked at him and admitted, “I was overjoyed that the baby had stepped in, so to speak. It’s hard enough being a psychic vampire who requires living energy to survive. I don’t ever want to need blood, too.”

  “And yet you stayed with them.”

  “What choice did I have? I can’t disappear at whim as you can. Those bars held me captive as easily as they would a human. I was never let out of that cell until after Sean was taken.”

  “And you came straight to me.” He leaned on the desk. “I wonder, was it because you wanted to, or because they sent you?”

  She debated. Should she tell him the truth or add more lies to the ones she’d already told? With a sigh, she lifted her chin and held his stare. “In a way, both, actually.” At his questioning look, she explained, “It was my idea to come to you. If things hadn’t played out as they had, I’d have come to you long before the baby’s birth.”

  “And?”

  “And yes, it was also my parents’ idea. They told me to do what I must to get the items the Learned demanded to save our son.”

  “Considering they’re so willing to give him away, that doesn’t sound logical at all. Since he’s such a stain on their pristine reputation, I would think the child’s death would serve them better.” He frowned. “I have to wonder if the baby was anything more to them than bait.”

  She’d had the feeling that her parents had given in to her plea to come to Sean far too easily, but hadn’t yet had time to sort out why. “Bait for what?”

  “Me. My brothers. Nathan’s goal in life is to see us dead.”

  “Why would my parents help him?”

  He looked at her as if she’d completely lost her mind, before asking, “Why would the dragon slayers want to see the dragons die?”

  She couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the absurdity of his question. “Sure, maybe a few hundred years ago, but aren’t we all a little more civilized now?”

  Sean snorted. “If we were human, perhaps. But we aren’t. It’s ingrained in our DNA to hate each other.”

  “So you’ve hated me and my family since the moment you were conceived?”

  “Not exactly.” His gaze darted away before it returned to her. “But we weren’t talking about me, were we?”

  So, she wasn’t the only one in this office keeping secrets. Did he really think she wasn’t going to ask? “What do you mean—not exactly?”

  “We were talking about you.”

  She’d expected that answer. “Yes, we were.” She slowly walked toward the desk, noting the frown had left his face. Now he looked more...not quite worried. She doubted if he really worried about much; maybe a better description would be...concerned. Why? “But since Sean is your son, if there’s something I need to know, perhaps now might be a good time to share.”

  He glanced down and shook his head. Pushing the grimoire toward her, he said, “Looks like I won’t need to tell you anything.”

  She studied the still-forming picture of a dark-haired woman curled into a ball on a planked floor. Bloody stripes crisscrossed her back and trailed across her arms. Nathan stood over the naked woman with a whip in his hand.

  Caitlin gasped as the woman’s pain surged into her blood, hot and agonizing. The rage beneath the pain was palpable, nearly alive with its intensity. She grasped the edge of the desk to keep from being overwhelmed by the emotions flooding her senses.

  Sean touched her shoulder, startling her, to ask, “Are you all right?”

  She brushed away his disquiet to study the words forming above the image. Reading aloud, Caitlin recited, “Not a dragon born, yet a dragon you shall be. Once this beast has taken form, it will answer only to thee.”

  She waited for the grimoire to fill in more words, but it seemed to have come to a stop. Sean reached down and turned the page. There, a lone figure, Nathan, had taken shape. A wicked, satanic smile curled his lips into a grimace. Pure evilness shimmered in his eyes. She read the words above his picture. “I am thee.”

  She shivered as a cold hand of dread seemed to close around her heart. Was this curse meant for Sean? Had his dragon been conjured into being by the Learned?

  “Sean...?” Uncertain how to ask him if he was Nathan’s minion, she let the question trail off and shifted her attention to the man standing across from her. If his ashen complexion was any indication, she wasn’t all too certain he’d known very much about this curse before now.

  “Look,” Sean whispered, his focus drawn to the facing page.

  Once again the woman appeared. But this time she lay facedown on the floor, her body shredded by the whip. Her dying gaze transfixed not on Nathan, but on whoever might be seeing this depiction of her last breath.

  “St. George will set you free.” The words, a mere breathless whisper, hung on the air surrounding them.

  Caitlin glanced quickly around the room. Neither she nor Sean had said anything, and those words were just now coming into sight on the page. So who had spoken?

  Then, once again, this time a little louder, the strange voice said, “St. George will set you free.”

  Chapter 7

  Strong waves, dark and foreboding, pounded against the rocky cliffs below the castle. The thundering crashes echoed relentlessly through the stone fortress, bringing peace to none within.

/>   High above the roiling waves, Nathan the Learned stared out an open window in the east tower. His attention focused across the wild sea toward Mirabilus.

  Very few beings—human or preternatural—have ever seen Mirabilus. The glamour spell the ancients had cast upon it centuries ago held as strongly now as it had that day.

  The residents’ daily lives had been disrupted only by the actions of Aelthed. He alone had brought humans to the druid island. First it had been the medieval Comte of Gervaise, who had promptly won the heart and undying love of Mirabilus’s queen. She had given birth to the first half-bred twins. The idea of a halfling female ascending to the throne of Mirabilus had been so reviling that his own father had tried unsuccessfully to kill both of them.

  Between the ineffectiveness of the hawthorn sickle used as a sword of judgment and the utter lack of planning, his father’s men had failed in their quest to rid the world of the halfling heirs. Those followers had died at the hand of the second human Aelthed saw fit to guide to Mirabilus—a medieval knight by the name of Faucon.

  At least the knight had taken one of the half-bred daughters off the island as his wife. But the other one had remained to become queen. And her husband—Nathan swallowed the bile that churned from his stomach to his throat—her husband had ascended to Dragon Lord of Mirabilus.

  A position of power that should have been his.

  The door to his chamber creaked open. “My lord?”

  Nathan swung away from the window, his heart thudding fast and angry with a long-lived hatred, fueling his eternal thirst for vengeance.

  One of the nursemaids trembled in the doorway. The wail of the baby she held broke through the haze of rage and the roar of the crashing waves. Nathan’s lips curved up into a sneering smile at her unexpected stroke of luck. Had the babe not been in her arms, he’d have spent his anger on her.

  “What do you want?”

  “The...baron—”

  “Get out of my way.” Her words were cut short as a flurry of black pushed by her and stopped in the center of the room. The man swung toward the nursemaid and pointed at the door, his dark cape hanging from his arm like a wing. “Leave us and take that squalling abomination with you.”