And so here, back at my suite in the Arrow, I first filled Quentin in on everything Ariana and I had learned about “Harry Rocksoff.” And now I was working on kicking Quentin’s ass on the Gamebox.
Just as I was about to sic a mutant unicorn on Quentin, Slade banged into the suite, looking murderous.
“Um, dude?” I said, looking up from the screen.
Slade kicked one of the throw pillows I’d taken off the couch. It sailed across the room before landing next to the tiny dining table.
Quentin set down his controller. “What happened?”
Slade growled something unintelligible.
Quentin raised his eyebrows.
Princess Needleclaw came trotting out of Quentin’s bedroom where she’d likely shed all over his pillow. She took one look at Slade and cowered.
Slade immediately softened his stance. “It’s okay, Princess Needleclaw,” he whispered. In the same placating tone, he said, “It’s just I overheard a voicemail up in Ariana’s office. Pellets left her a message, wants to destroy Whitesong’s reputation.”
I was gonna kill Pellets.
Quentin picked up his phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I know a guy who knows a guy who deals in unsavory business transactions.” Quentin looked up at us. “What? Don’t look at me like that. Pellets threatened Ariana. It seems only right we find someone to take him out.”
Slade plucked the kitten from the ground and came up behind Quentin. “That’s no hitman.” Slade started laughing as he looked at Quentin’s phone. “You pulled up a prank site.”
Quentin smiled. “Well, I don’t actually know any hitmen.”
“You guys,” I said, “nobody can touch Whitesong Security’s reputation.”
“Pellets seems to think he can,” Slade said.
“He can’t.” I touched my fist to my chest. “I know it, I can feel it right here. Ariana is one of the most kind, generous, intelligent”—sexy—“caring people on this planet. We can all ignore Pelletier because he’s nothing but scum.”
Quentin stared thoughtfully at the television. “He might not be able to ruin Ariana’s or the company’s reputation, but he can scare off potential clients for a little while.”
Ariana had mentioned something the other night about helping children who were going blind. She’d said if she could keep up a steady influx of clients at Whitesong, she’d be very close to reaching the amount necessary to fund an important position. Losing clients now would mean a delay.
“She’s crushed, isn’t she?” I said to Slade.
He nodded. “Something about a macular degeneration research thing. Needs the funding within a couple weeks or something. She wanted to be alone, which is the only reason I’m here now. When I camped in front of her office door, she said she could smell me and that she still needed space.”
“You do kinda reek,” I said.
“Only because I’ve been hanging around you too much,” he shot back.
Princess Needleclaw purred and rubbed her face against his chin.
I stood up and looked around our common area. File folders littered the dining table, throw pillows were now spread around the couches and coffee table. A couple of game cases lay stacked in front of the television.
Our space looked lived in. It looked like a home. But something was missing. I hadn’t seen Ariana all day, and something inside me felt wretched, like the world wasn’t quite straight on its axis and things were falling apart.
“What’s wrong?” Quentin asked.
“One of us should go see her.”
“She said she wanted to be alone,” Slade said.
I shook my head. “Something tells me she’s changed her mind. One of us has to go back to her office. It’s Saturday, so it should be Quentin.”
Quentin looked up. “If she’s not seeing anyone, there can’t be much of a schedule. You seem to understand matters of the heart more than I do, anyway.”
Slade nodded. “Yeah, it should be you, Taylor.”
“All right, I’ll do it.” I shoved on my tennis shoes and moved to the door.
Slade picked up my controller, then looked at the screen. “How did you guys get to level six already?”
Chuckling, I left the room.
I stood in front of the elevator, ready to push the down button for Ariana’s office, but something stopped me, a gut instinct that told me to go up. I pressed the button for the top floor. On one side was Ariana’s penthouse, but the other side had roof access, and those were the stairs I took.
The door leading to the roof had all sorts of warnings written on it about alarms and for emergency only, but I ignored them and pushed it open. No alarms blared, and I realized my hunch had been correct. This was the place Ariana came when she was upset.
Like me and the guys, she was a dragon shifter. The scent of aether always clung to her skin beneath the apple scent. As a dragon shifter, she would want to fly.
The roof was empty. A beat-up punching bag was off in one corner beneath a makeshift overhang. It swayed back and forth in the breeze. Beyond the low walls, Emerald Pines stretched out in a beautiful cityscape. The city wasn’t big, but there were a few tall buildings like the Arrow, and they, and other shorter buildings, had windows that lit up the night.
By the edge of the roof, I found what I was looking for—Ariana’s clothes in a crumpled heap. She’d shifted and gone off to fly. I looked back at the city’s horizon, dotted with lights. Was she worried about being seen? She must have had wards of some kind, to prevent humans from seeing her take flight from the Arrow.
I took off my shoes at the same time I began removing my shirt. Bare-chested, I was just reaching for my zipper when I sensed her approaching. I squinted up at the stars and saw the dark shape blotting them out, getting bigger.
Ariana was coming back. Instead of shifting into my dragon, I decided to wait. Seconds later, a glorious thirty-foot long dragon perched on the lip of the roof, her brown eyes so dark they looked black. Her amethyst scales shimmered in the moonlight, near the same shade of plum that she painted on her lips. Her snout was long and thin, as graceful as her powerful wings that stretched out high above me. She turned her head, considering me.
I stepped forward, a hand held out. “Hey,” I said. “I’ve been missing you today.”
She didn’t move as I set my palm against her scales. Dry and smooth, they rippled slightly beneath my touch before settling. Then she leaned into the touch.
“Ari,” I said. “Everything’s going to be fine, I promise.”
Those dark eyes flashed once, and then her shoulders slumped. A faint, ethereal light surrounded her, so I took a step back to wait for her to return to human.
Seconds later, Ariana stood before me, naked. She raised an eyebrow. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” I said, feasting my eyes on her form. But I reluctantly did the right thing, turning around so I could retrieve her clothes. I handed them to her, and she gave me a soft smile.
I didn’t stare while she dressed, but I didn’t completely avert my gaze, either. Shifters were used to nudity, because we couldn’t keep our clothes on while we shifted. It didn’t have to be sexual at all.
Who the fuck was I kidding? This was totally sexual.
She put on a pair of stretch pants and a baggy sweatshirt, then marched past me to the little overhang with the punching bag.
I followed a few feet behind, but didn’t speak.
She put on a pair of gloves and eyed the bag, but spoke to me. “Well?” she said. “Why do you think it’s going to be all right?”
She hit the bag rapidly, a one-two, one-two. Her eyes focused on it, eyebrows narrowed in a way that told me she was definitely imagining the bag was Pelletier.
“Want me to get a marker?” I asked. “I can draw his face on there.”
“My imagination is sufficient, thanks,” she said, voice dry.
“Did flying help?”
She sto
pped hitting the bag and turned to me. “Yes, and no. I needed to stretch my wings and be alone for a few minutes, but as soon as I got out there, I missed you too much.”
That had been what I felt. We were on the same wavelength, almost like we were mates or something. At least, how I’d heard the whole mate thing talked about. Obviously I didn’t really understand it, and I’d never expected to after my many failed relationships.
Her face crumpled. “It wasn’t just you I missed, though.”
Oh shit, I knew what was coming. I kept my eyes on hers, my face as impassive as possible as I said, “It was all of us.”
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked. She jabbed the bag again, but it was a half-hearted punch. Frowning, she yanked off her gloves and tossed them to the ground. “I loved Marc. He was my mate, and I know that was real.”
“Falling in love again doesn’t mean he wasn’t your mate,” I said.
“One mate. One. Not a second chance with another man later on. Not more chances with more men. Plural.” Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly blinked them away. “Pelletier is just the stupid fucking straw right now. Because honestly, I don’t know what the hell is going on with me, with you, with Slade and Quentin.”
I couldn’t tell if she was going to punch the shit out of the bag again or fall to the ground, but I couldn’t stop myself from taking three long steps toward her and taking her in my arms. “Shh,” I said. “There is nothing wrong with you.”
“Then why am I feeling so connected to you, Slade, and Quentin?”
I shrugged and held her tight, rubbing circles over her back and shoulder blades. “There are as many ways to love as there are people in this world.”
“Am I gonna fall in love with the next hot dragon shifter I meet, too?” she asked.
A flare of jealousy ignited in my gut. You better not, I thought, but I kept the thought silent. “For some reason, I don’t think so,” I said. “There’s something about the four of us. We seem to make a great team. But you know what, if there was someone else out there for you, too, I don’t think any of us would have a problem with it. We just want you to be happy, Ari.”
She sagged against me. “I love it when you say my name like that.”
“Ari?”
“Mmm, yeah. That’s what Marc called me, so I’m surprised it doesn’t bother me. I told everyone else to stop calling me that after he died...but I don’t feel that way when it comes from you.”
“Well, Ari, I am here to tell you that whatever you’re feeling, and whoever you’re feeling it for, is normal and natural.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Her hands slid up my back, and she ran her fingers through my short hair, toying with the ends at my neck. When she tilted her face toward mine, I knew what she wanted, and my heart rejoiced as my lips touched hers.
She tasted sweet and smoky, like fire and heaven. Like bliss. My tongue met hers, tasting, taking, giving.
The kiss ended, and she gave me a shy smile. “We should get back downstairs. I have to finish reviewing specs for Bellpowder’s job, and it’s already pretty late.”
My balls were already aching, but that was a secondary concern to keeping her happy. I kissed the corner of her mouth, and we held hands as we walked back to the rooftop access door. My heart felt fuller because I knew I’d helped her tonight, and we complemented each other in a way that defied explanation.
I didn’t need an explanation—I knew we were perfect together.
Chapter Twenty
Slade
I went to sleep mad, and I woke up mad. And horny. I didn’t know what that was about, but whatever. Feelings were feelings. I thought of rubbing one out in the shower, but I could hear Quentin and Taylor in the common room. Not ideal. Then again, when we were all around Ariana, their presence didn’t do anything to make me less aroused. If anything else, seeing one of them touching her, or a look of desire on her face for one of them, felt like I was in their place.
One thing was for sure, none of them knew it yet but I was going out to the Brightwater today to kick some butt.
I took a cold shower, but even that didn’t keep thoughts of Ariana from my mind. A mental picture of her naked form came into my head. Her breasts were luminous in moonlight, her dark eyes shining as she stared at me.
I shook the image away. My cock had been semi-hard since the night Taylor and Ariana had gone to the gala, and I was just going to have to get used to it. Sexy mental images seemed to be a new part of my life here.
In the common area, Taylor and Quentin’s conversation took on an edge. They sounded pissed. Their words were muffled, though. I threw on some sweatpants and came out of my room. “What is it?”
Quentin waved a hand in the air. “Simply more of Pelletier’s antics. He’s seeking to intimidate Ariana—”
“That’s it,” I said. “I’m gonna kill him.” I stomped back to my room and found a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I added my leather jacket and hunted around until I found the keys to my bike.
“I feel like I should try to stop you,” Taylor said when I came back out again, “but it’s all I can do to keep from joining you.”
“Nothing like a little Sunday murder to highlight the weekend,” Quentin said, raising his coffee cup in a toast.
I couldn’t tell if he was joking. Quentin, or “Brains” in my mind, was a hard man to read. Secrets. That’s what my mom would say about him. That is a man with secrets.
I didn’t care about any secrets right now. I needed to get the hell out of here so I could take out my aggression on the man who deserved it.
I left the suite and rode down the elevator. The whole way I pictured how I could rearrange Pellets’s face. He was not a good person. Worse, he was upsetting Ariana.
My plan was simple. I’d ride my bike to the ferry, hop on, get onto the estate because I had security clearance, and then I’d pound Pellets into smithereens. A tiny voice in my head warned me that something was wrong with this plan. As with the beautiful, naked form of Ariana, though, I pushed it from my mind.
The elevator took me down to the garage, where I stepped off. My bike was just where I’d left her. I started forward. Footsteps sounded in the garage, though, so I paused to see who was around. I didn’t want Ariana to see me this way.
That was when I realized what the small voice in my head was saying. It was asking me, “How would she feel about this?”
“She wouldn’t like it,” I mumbled out loud.
“Sorry?” someone said from the shadowy corner a few feet away.
If I’d been a lesser soldier, I’d have jumped. Instead I turned slowly, clenching my fists. “What?”
“Oh, it’s just me.” The maintenance guy, Jonathan or James or something, stepped out from around the corner.
I recognized him from his height. He had an unremarkable face, narrow eyes, short brown hair, and a kind smile. He looked like a normal guy except he was about as tall as me. That was hard to forget. This was the guy who’d given me the couches.
“I thought you were talking to me,” he said.
I relaxed my fists and forced a grin. No sense in taking my anger out on nearby innocents. “No, just myself.”
He gestured to the wall. “I had to take this panel down to replace the wires behind it, but it’s heavier than I thought. D’you mind helping me put it back?”
The shiny chrome of my bike beckoned to me. She’d take me out to the Brightwater, where I could work out my rage which was just simmering beneath my skin. But the maintenance guy needed my help.
“No problem,” I said. In one motion, I lifted the big panel up to the wall and held it in place while he screwed it back where it belonged.
“You seem kinda angry,” he commented. “I hope I’m not the cause of it.”
“No,” I said. “Someone’s messing with someone I care about. I’m just on my way to deliver a message.”
He nodded thoughtfully. I saw the nametag on his tan button-up shirt
. Jonathan. That was right. “You know, someone once told me that being angry is fine. Normal, even. It’s what you do with the anger that defines the man you are.”
I took a step back. That was pretty deep. It also sounded like the voice in my head, the voice I’d been ignoring.
I didn’t want to be a bad guy. I wanted to help Ariana, not hurt her or the business.
I clapped Jonathan on the shoulder. He winced.
“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“No, old injury, don’t worry about it,” he said.
“Thanks for the wisdom,” I said. “I’m rethinking that message I was gonna send.”
“Good man.” He gave me a wave.
I turned around and went back to the elevator. I still wanted to punch Pellets’s lights out, but that was the kind of decision that would make me the wrong kind of man for Ariana. And I could never abide that.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ariana
I’d wanted time to myself. But I’d spent twenty-five years alone. I’d been convinced the only option was to send Taylor, Quentin, and Slade away. But after my time last night with Taylor, I wasn’t certain I could go through with it. I was sure I didn’t want to.
The decorative copper doors of my private elevator opened on the forty-eighth floor.
I regretted sending Slade away yesterday, and I was determined to right that mistake before I tackled anything else this morning, be it choosing the next client or asking Taylor, Slade, and Quentin to meet to discuss the packages Maisie had put together for them.
The halls of the Arrow were always quieter on the weekend. Half of the building was empty, with the commercial floors cleared out. Business professionals were home with their families, enjoying their break from the busy workweek, leaving only the residential floors full of life. Those tended to be busier on the weekends than on weekdays, and kept the tower from feeling completely empty.
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