She couldn’t help but laugh. What a rogue. Charming and annoying at the same time.
Inside the restaurant, the dragons clustered around tables devouring the Every Day Is Taco Tuesday! special lifted their heads. Drust pulsed with pure power and they felt it.
Every one of the dragons paled, suddenly focused on their food and ate faster, as if they could not wait to leave. Some actually did, tossing bills down on their tables and hurrying for the exit.
A few shifted into their dragon forms and flew off.
The Coldfire Wizard swept his gaze over the crowd. A shadow crossed his face. For a moment Lacey felt bad for the guy. It must be terribly lonely, knowing everywhere you went, your own people feared you and didn’t want you around, even if they did nothing wrong. She didn’t know if he had friends. Perhaps in Tir Na-nog, but still, here on earth he must feel like the guy no one wanted at the party.
She scowled at the other dragons. “Wusses.”
Maybe Drust could be a big PITA, but he didn’t deserve this cold shoulder stuff. And she’d always had a soft spot for the underdog.
Although…
Looking at him, she couldn’t see him ever as being an underdog. He stood over six feet, had a quiet, commanding air and practically bristled with enough power to take out the restaurant and the rest of the city.
And yet, she knew she hadn’t imagined that glimpse of vulnerability in his intense eyes.
“Come on.” She tugged at his arm. “Tommy’s over here.”
The owner and general manager was behind the bar, checking on the liquor. He caught sight of them in the mirror behind the shelves of bottles and turned.
Tommy wasn’t a bad sort, but he was all business. When he spotted Drust, his face broke into a beaming grin. Tommy wasn’t afraid of Drust. He saw everything as a business opportunity, and a wizard in his bar would give him bragging rights.
Tommy vigorously shook Drust’s hand. “Welcome, welcome. Can I fetch you a drink, Mr. Drust?”
The wizard looked amused. “Just Drust.”
“Just Drust, what do you like to drink? We have a full bar,” Tommy nattered on, pointing to the array of bottles.
Drust walked behind the bar and studied the assortment. He selected a bottle filled with amber liquid. “Who is this Jack Daniels? A patron of yours?”
Biting back a smile, she watched Tommy launch into a lengthy explanation on the process of making the whiskey in barrels and aging it. Drust’s mouth thinned.
“I understand. I have no desire to drink whisky. Perhaps an ale…”
The owner practically tripped over his own feet to snatch a cold IPA Lacey knew instinctively the wizard would detest. She shook her head, dug a Fat Tire out of the cooler.
“Here. Try this. You like your ale not as bitter, perhaps a little fruity.” Lacey blinked in confusion. Where the hell did that knowledge come from?
Drust tilted his head. “How did you know?”
A shrug hid her nervousness. Terrific. Now he’d think she was stalking him. But she truly could not understand how she knew, only that the knowledge came to her, as if buried deep inside.
“I read it in the Daily Rag on Wizards. They had a feature on what you wizards like to drink.”
“I doubt it,” he said softly. “I have not imbibed alcohol in several hundred years, not since I was mortal.”
Curious, she gazed up at him. “And you think now is a good time to stop being sober? Damn wizard, and here you were, a poster boy for Alcoholics Anonymous. You disappoint me.”
Drust chuckled, the deep sound sending a pleasurable tingle down her spine. “You drive me to drink, Lacey McGuire.”
He watched her pop the top and then their fingers brushed as she handed him the bottle. Lacey jumped back at the shock of electrical energy jumping between them. It didn’t hurt, but potent and raw, it felt sexual and throbbing with chemistry.
As if they’d shared a similar moment long ago…
“Need a glass?” Why was her voice so breathless? Sheesh, she sounded like a damn starstruck groupie.
He shook his head and sipped. Nodded. “Not bad.” Drust set the bottle on the counter.
“You don’t like it?” Tommy asked, his forehead beading with droplets of sweat.
“No, it’s quite good. But I do not drink on the job.”
Drust winked. Lacey smirked. Tommy looked confused.
“I have work,” she murmured.
To her dismay, Drust followed her outside as she went to her only remaining table with the lecherous dragon who copped a feel. The wizard sat at the bar, talking with the bartender, a Lupine shifter. Terrific. She could only hope these asses behaved and not humiliate her.
Tonight was not her lucky night, for not only were they drunk, another dragon shifter joined them. Seeing her, he smirked. Lacey’s heart dropped to her stomach and she wanted to retch.
Yeah, this really was her lucky night. Not.
Why of all the nights did Mike have to show up? She hadn’t seen him in months, not since their last date ended with her clawing at his face when he’d tried to rip her blouse off.
Best to pretend it never happened, and be as professional as possible. One of the dragons waved her over.
“Bring a tall cold one for my friend,” he said, his speech slurry. “And a plate of spicy tacos.”
Maybe the fates would be kind and Mike wouldn’t recognize her with her hair tied back. But his gaze sharpened on her.
“Lacey McGuire. How the mighty have fallen from the sky,” he taunted. “Look at you, slinging tacos. I thought you were such a big businesswoman.”
Lacey summoned her most courteous smile. “What kind of beer would you like?”
He rattled off his order, his gaze gleaming. “Hurry up. I have a hot date in an hour.”
Couldn’t be that hot. She pitied the poor woman he planned to take out.
When she returned with the plate of tacos and a tall mug of beer, Lacey felt Drust’s gaze burning into her back. Flustered, she nearly spilled the beer, but recovered in time. Mike stared at her breasts and licked his lips.
“I expect a lot from those who serve me. You need to meet my needs, Lacey.”
Tempted to dump the tacos into his lap, she only smiled. “Anything else?”
Not because she couldn’t handle him, but because she didn’t want a scene. And damnit, she needed those tips, especially now that Drust had scared away all the other tables.
Mike pointed to his dish. “Yeah, I have a problem. Look at this.”
But when she approached his chair, he suddenly turned around and clapped a hand on her ass, squeezing hard. Startled by the brief pain, she yelped and jumped back.
Lacey’s hand curled into a fist, ready to deck the jerk. But suddenly there was a cold breeze and an infuriated man standing by Mike’s chair.
No, not a man. A wizard. A really pissed off one.
“You dare to touch her?” Drust roared.
“Yeah, why not?” Stupid Mike obviously did not know who Drust was. “Not that it does any good, my friend. I know. I’ve gone out with her.”
She backed off, slowly. This was so not good. Maybe she should fetch Tommy…
A crowd started to gather, watching with interest. Though many dragons had fled, there were still enough shifters left who did not know Drust nor fear him, who wanted to see the show.
Tommy was counting receipts in the office when she ran inside. “Tommy, fight outside. Hurry,” she yelled.
Not wasting time to see if he followed, she bolted for the patio. By now the crowd had grown larger, but from the steps leading down to the deck she saw a panicked Mike pick up a steak knife.
And plunge it directly into Drust’s side. The crowd gasped. Chairs toppled backward as the other dragons at Mike’s table rushed for the exit, their plates of half-eaten food abandoned, along with their pitchers of beer.
They knew who Drust was, and didn’t want to turn into dragon shish kebob.
Lacey didn’t give a damn about t
hem or the tips racing out the doorway. She’d seen that knife and it was wicked sharp. Her thoughts centered on Drust, the knife sticking out of his side. The wizard stood there, arms folded, regarding Mike.
Maybe he was contemplating how to turn Mike into a dragon taco, but she didn’t care.
Lacey pushed through the crowd to reach Drust’s side.
Drust pulled free the knife and it clattered to the floor. Cobalt blue blood coated the blade. Dimly she thought it ironic how the dragon wizard was living proof of his aristocratic lineage with blue blood.
Spotting her, the wizard turned. “Lacey. Are you injured? Did this cad hurt you?”
“Forget him,” she snapped. Lacey rushed over to him, probing his side. “Are you all right? That asshole stabbed you with a knife!”
Drust remained still as she squatted down and examined his wound. She frowned. No evidence of any stab wound, except for the cut in his tunic. No blood, either, but for the liquid on the knife. As she glanced at the weapon, that blood vanished as well.
Troubled, she glanced up. Drust’s expression remained inscrutable, but his eyes, oh his eyes, they burned with emotion.
Secrets.
Mike had stabbed him and yet Drust stood by, doing nothing. The wizard was all powerful and could slay her ex with a flick of his hand. But Drust did…nothing.
He gently clasped her wrists and helped her rise. “Why do you care what happens to me?”
The Coldfire Wizard sounded genuinely flummoxed. For once, the irritation was gone from his deep voice.
Lacey shrugged, unable to voice the emotions swirling inside her. Seeing Drust get stabbed had made gorge and panic surge in her throat, as if she’d witnessed such an atrocity before…
“It’s been a long night and I don’t want to clean up bloodstains. Especially blue blood. Hard to scrub out of the wood deck.”
But her flip answer did not dismiss him. Drust cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her skin. “You are an enigma, Lacey McGuire.”
Her mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. Then she saw the smirk on Mike’s face.
“Forget it, buddy,” Mike jeered. “Her legs are locked at the knee. She’ll never put out for you, chum. She’s as virgin as they come. Or don’t come. Frigid ice cold!”
“You have no discretion,” she hissed at him.
He smirked at Lacey. “Sorry, not sorry.”
Fury arose in her, combating the embarrassment of her ex stating a very private and personal detail. Picking up a half-filled glass of beer, she tossed it at Mike.
“Sorry. Not sorry,” she taunted him.
The dragon sputtered and wiped his face with a napkin. “You bitch. I’ll get you for that.”
But as Mike started forward, a fist crashed into his nose. Blood splattered and the dragon went flying backward, crashing into a table. Moaning, he lay on the floor, holding his nose.
Drust stood there, flexing his fist.
“Sorry,” he said smoothly. “Not sorry.”
Lacey bit her lip, unsure of whether to laugh or worry. She settled on a compliment. “That was a wicked punch.”
“I have not done that in centuries. It felt good.” He wriggled his fingers.
Now she felt more than a little confused. Why did Drust defend her honor as if she were a maiden from medieval times?
“He’s not worth the trouble. But thanks for not vaporizing him, wizard.” Waving at the crowd she shouted, “Show’s over. Everyone inside for a free round!”
“On me,” Drust added, his gaze never leaving her.
Shifters and dragons raced inside faster than you could mutter “happy hour,” leaving her alone with the wizard, and Mike, who still curled up in a fetal position on the floor. Curiosity filled her.
“Why did you hit him and not use your powers if you’re so concerned about me?” she asked Drust.
The wizard’s incredible blue gaze met hers. “I did not know if he still meant something to you personally and I had no desire to eliminate someone else you cared about.”
Her breath hitched. All this time she’d thought him a callous bastard, and yet a glimmer of true compassion shone through. It made her uneasy. She did not want to like Drust, nor draw close to him. And yet she felt they were linked together in some odd way neither of them could fathom.
“Still, you could have used your wizard powers to turn him into a toad or do something to him that wouldn’t have hurt him. Instead of punching him,” she persisted.
Drust blinked, as if surprised by the question. “I felt the inclination to fight as a mortal, as if I have done this in my mortal life. Odd.”
Not odd. Downright spooky, because she’d felt the same way, as if they were acting out a scene from centuries ago, a scene they had both participated in.
Drust regarded Mike. “I can still turn him into a cockroach, if it pleases you.”
“He did stab you.” Lacey frowned. “You’re the wizard. You delve out the punishment. Why ask me?”
“True,” Drust agreed. He waved a hand and Mike suddenly vanished.
A shiver raced down her spine. For a few moments, she’d forgotten what powers he possessed. Watching him sock Mike in the jaw had been like watching another male fight. This was a show of pure power, a reminder of exactly who the Coldfire Wizard was – a dangerous immortal.
“What did you do with him?”
“He’s thousands of miles away, shivering on a mountaintop, quite naked and unable to shift into his dragon form.” Drust’s mouth curved into a smile. “After an hour, he will return here, still naked, but the time away shall give him opportunity to reflect on his ill manners.”
I doubt it. But maybe it will cause enough shrinkage to shrink his ego as well. Lacey sighed and began gathering plates and mugs of beer. “In a way, it wasn’t his fault.”
“You are not to blame.” The wizard scowled. “Why do some women blame themselves when a male harasses them? He was rude and quite churlish.”
She liked this about him, the fair side of him that did not see her gender as two walking boobs and a vagina. But she had to be fair.
“Mike was telling the truth.” Lacey set down the plates, pulled herself up straight and met his gaze square on. “I am frigid and I don’t like sex.”
“Oh?” A dark eyebrow lifted, and now his blue gaze sparkled with challenge.
Uh-oh.
Drust wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close and kissed her. It felt like lightning shooting through her veins, pure liquid heat that sent desire spiraling through her. Her nipples tingled and turned hard, and the space between her legs grew wet with arousal. Lacey leaned into the kiss and gave it back, her tongue tangling with his.
When he pulled away, he looked as stunned as she felt.
“You kissed me.” Lacey put a hand to her mouth, feeling her kiss-swollen lips.
“Sorry. Not sorry,” Drust said softly.
All she could do was stare in incredulous disbelief, her heart still racing from the exquisite heat of his mouth.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispered. “Why are you doing this to me?”
His gaze clouded and his breath hitched. “I truly do not know.”
And then it sharpened as a predator’s gaze sharpens on the grazing deer he intends to take down. “But I intend to find out. Now the reason I came here, Lacey. Where did you hide the Book of Shadows?”
Chapter 7
Tristan was not having a terrific day.
First he had to quell a nasty fight between two cranked up bear shifter clans who warred over, of all the stupid things, fishing rights in a stream. The bear shifters had stirred up the quite real grizzlies in Alaska hunting for food after a long winter.
Only after using his powers to divert the grizzlies with a plethora of fish he’d conjured further down the sparkling cold water could he bang some sense into the heads of his shifter charges.
Next he rescued a sweet, pregnant fox shifter subjected to a hunt by two eager Skins who wa
nted her pelt. The fox’s mate was frantic when she tired and the Skins closed in.
Tristan knocked sense into the Skins as well, rendering them unconscious. When they awakened they’d have a strange desire to turn vegan.
But worst of all was the news Niki imparted to him when he finally arrived home, ready for playtime with the twins, snuggles, and then long, deep kisses and maybe a bout of lovemaking before dinner with his lovely mate.
“I’m taking the twins to my sister’s next weekend.” Niki stood in the kitchen of their castle, using the magick wand he’d gifted her to mark a calendar she used to record significant events. “Nia and Aiden are having a barbecue after the annual spring branding. The twins would love it. If it doesn’t snow again. You never know in Montana.”
He wondered if he could bribe Danu into making it a real blizzard. Because the last thing he needed now was his mate and children on the mortal plane, when the Book of Shadows was in dangerous hands.
Silver glitter dusted the erasable calendar. Normally he adored the way her brow scrunched up in thought as she flicked the wand to mark the twins’ growth or parties and gatherings with the other wizards. Today he wished he could take the damn wand away and banish the calendar to the underworld.
Tristan dropped into a chair at the table. Niki had decorated the kitchen the way she liked, and it was an exact replica of the one at Blakemore Ranch where she’d lived her mortal life. She’d added a few touches to make it more personal to their lives, painting it a sunny yellow and adding a Maplewood table and chairs with quilted cushions and some whimsical ceramic pigs on the window shelf. Framed by cheery blue and yellow curtains, the window overlooked a rambling meadow where they could run free before heading into the woods in their wolf forms.
Castle Baldwin was larger than they needed right now, but Niki had made it homey. It had many rooms, then again, he and Niki planned to have many more children.
As pleasurable as it was making those babies with her, it was worrisome being a dad, especially considering his enemies on earth. Today he’d made another, a grizzly shifter whom he’d turned into a fish as punishment for stirring up trouble. The shifter had reverted to his normal form after frantically trying to escape the real grizzlies trying to snatch up him as a nice snack.
THE MATING CLAIM: Werewolves of Montana Book 14 Page 6