by Amelia Jade
Chapter Eleven
Zander
Unbeknownst to Riss, she was not the only one looking for a place to drown her sorrows that night.
Once more, Zander found himself pulled to the Barking Squirrel, as if he’d left unfinished business there earlier in the day. The same waitress was still serving tables when he returned, but besides a raised eyebrow, she gave no indication that she recognized him.
Which was just fine with the Gale Dragon. Right then he needed to be alone, even more than earlier. He would tell everyone else in the morning. They had all known it would come at any point, so it shouldn’t be a surprise.
Then he would have to sit back and watch as Kieran handled everything from there. As his mother had said, if he didn’t find a mate, Kieran would inherit the Pierce name and all that went along with it.
Zander wasn’t sure he wished to be around for that. Perhaps he would go on a tour of some of the other shifter strongholds. As a Guardian, he could generally travel where he pleased, though he still had to file the appropriate travel forms. The difference between him and a non-Guardian were that his were almost instantly approved.
I heard Aerie is nice this time of year.
Beer arrived mercifully quickly, and he tossed it back in one go. The waitress eyed him up. He pulled out another wad of cash and put it on the table. Her eyes lingered for another moment, then she shrugged.
If he wasn’t in such a sour mood, Zander would probably have smiled when she came back with two mugs instead of one. He tossed one back just as swiftly, but decided to sit back and enjoy the third, as much as he could enjoy anything right then.
“Anything else I can get you, hon?”
“Don’t call me that,” he said, anger tingeing his voice, though he didn’t look up from his beer.
“Fine,” the waitress snapped and moved off, her shoes clicking irritatingly on the stained and scuffed hardwood floor. Here and there peanut shells crunched underfoot.
Zander finished his third beer.
“Peanuts,” he rasped as the waitress brought him two more refills.
She just looked at him.
“Peanuts, please,” he replied, pushing another bill on the table.
Like magic, a tray of the hard and salty snacks appeared in front of him. Zander set to work peeling them, trying to lose himself in such a menial task.
It didn’t work.
“Hey darling, I’m gonna be takin over for Lacie there,” a voice said.
Zander looked up. It was a new waitress, taller and less blonde than the first one, but with just as much ‘Don’t fuck with me’ written on her face.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Pardon me?” the waitress asked, her eyes narrowing at his tone.
“I said, don’t c—”
A hand wrapped around the back of his head and slammed his face roughly into the table.
“He was just saying he was sorry,” a new voice said.
Zander snarled and reached for the newcomer as they slid into the seat across the booth from him, but hands stronger than his own gripped his wrists and crushed them against the table painfully.
“Enough,” the voice said in a soft, deadly tone.
A voice Zander recognized, even through the blurry tears that always accompanied a blow to the nose.
Zander had never understood why dragons couldn’t have filtered that auto-response out as they evolved. But for whatever reason they hadn’t, and a blow to the nose would still bring forth tears, even if it only stung. He blinked them back and focused on the person across from him.
“What the hell was that for, Daxxton?” he growled.
Daxxton Ryker was nominally his boss. As the Wing Commander of Top Scale Academy, he ran the school. He was also one of the most influential Guardians in all of Cadia. Although he no longer held the top post of High Guardian, many still treated him as if he did. He was old, powerful, and one of the few known Aurum Dragons in existence. The golden-colored species were even rarer than his metallic brass, or the copper or bronze either. By a lot.
And now one of them had just decided he needed a good face-smashing.
“That was because you were being an insufferable ass to the waitresses,” Daxxton said cheerfully.
The waitress returned with a mug of beer for him, and as Zander watched, his mentor and a man he now called friend smiled and thanked the waitress. Then his expression turned to steel as he looked at Zander expectantly.
“What?” he grumped.
Daxxton leaned forward, his flinty eyes boring into Zander. “Don’t test me, Zander Pierce,” he said, biting off each word, making them a threat.
For several long moments Zander stared Daxxton down, trying to get the better of him, to prove that he didn’t need to listen to anyone.
It didn’t work. Zander glanced away and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the waitress who was still there.
“And?” Daxxton prompted.
Zander frowned, not sure where he was going, but then he caught on. “And please relay that to the other waitress if she’s still here, or tomorrow if she’s not.”
“I will,” the waitress said and retreated from the table, looking just as relieved as Zander felt.
“Well, that wasn’t too painful, now was it?” Daxxton said, leaning back and taking a long sip.
“Of course it wasn’t. You didn’t have to do anything,” Zander complained.
“Neither would you, if you hadn’t been an asshole to her,” the other dragon said bluntly, staring right at Zander.
“I think I’m allowed a little bit of leeway,” he snapped. “My mother just passed a few hours ago.”
Daxxton’s expression softened. “Zander, I’m very sorry to hear that. Irene was a lovely woman. I shall miss her.”
“So will I,” Zander said quietly. “So will I.”
“But,” Daxxton’s voice hardened again. “That can excuse absentmindedness, distraction, and things like that. It will not excuse you being a straight-up asshole to someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
Zander’s head snapped up, rage spinning furiously in his eyes as he stared daggers at Daxxton, fuming at his tone.
“What the hell were they doing that got so easily under your skin anyway?”
He relaxed when it became clear that Daxxton wasn’t going to get violent with him again.
“Nothing that they deserved it for,” he relented with an exasperated sigh. “Just me being a grumpy dick.”
“You know, I know you have a temper, Zander. But you’ve never struck me as a dick for no reason.”
“Thanks. I think,” he replied, lifting the glass mug to his lips.
“So, why change that today? Yes, I realize it’s callous. Your mother died, but that’s not enough. Not for the man I know. What else is there?”
Zander hesitated.
Did he tell Daxxton about the terms his mother had set forth for him? About the Pierce name and title, and his quest to see it fulfilled? About how he had failed his mother on her deathbed, and was now shoving the only other woman he’d ever cared about away, because he had only started seeing her based upon a lie. That he could never look at her again out of shame for what he’d done.
How did he even begin to express all that to Daxxton anyway? Daxxton, who, for as long as Zander had known him, had never even been known to be intimate with a woman, let along actually have feelings for one beyond respect and friendship?
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said instead.
“Don’t want to, or won’t?” Daxxton challenged.
“Does it really matter at this point?” he returned, not interested in the semantic banter just then.
“So it’s a girl.”
“Fuck off.”
“Oh wow, you must have screwed up real bad with her.”
“How can you know that?” he snarled.
“I didn’t. I just guessed and you confirmed it for me.”
“You know,
Daxxton, for an old dragon shifter in a position of respect and authority, you’re a bit of an asshole.”
“I’m entitled to it,” the Aurum Dragon said, hiding his smile behind the beer mug.
“Dick.”
“Petulant child.”
Zander’s head snapped up at the words, molten eyes blazing with rage. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re acting like a child right now. Man up and tell me what’s going on. There is nothing wrong with sharing how you feel, despite any such things you may have been told by so-called ‘tough’ guys. I consider you a friend, Zander. Now let me be a friend.”
Brass-brown eyes met the strange golden-brown eyes of the dragon across from him, pouring all his anger and rage into the gaze, but it just slid right off the wily old shifter.
He’s probably been stared at by far worse people than me.
With his efforts not producing any discernable results—hell, not producing any results at all!—Zander bowed his head with a sigh.
“Fine,” he forced out.
“So, besides the obvious,” Daxxton said in a much more sympathetic tone. “What else is bothering you? The girl?”
Zander nodded. “I used her, and I feel pretty shitty about it. She deserved better.”
Daxxton leaned forward onto his forearms. “Tell me about her.”
“She’s wonderful. Short, spunky, and oddly enough…human,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips as he spoke, picturing the look Riss would have given him if he’d described her as spunky to her face. “Brown hair, and these wonderful, amazingly beautiful gray eyes. I’ve never seen anything like them.”
Zander started to speak some more when he noticed Daxxton was looking at him strangely.
“What?”
“I meant, tell me about why she’s pissed at you.”
“Oh,” he said, feeling sheepish. “That’s easy. I ended things with her.”
“How come?”
So he told Daxxton about his mother’s last wish, his failure to accomplish it, and how he’d basically used Riss toward that end.
“But now that she’s passed, there was no need to keep stringing her along. So I let her go.”
“And now you’re an angry asshole?”
“I guess,” he replied, glaring at Daxxton once more.
“Zander, I want you to think about something for me, okay? Don’t dismiss this question right away either. Actually think about it. Can you do that for me?”
“I suppose,” he said warily. “What is it?”
“I want you to ask yourself this: were you truly stringing her along?”
The question rocked Zander back into the booth.
Of course he had. She’d been nothing more than a pawn to help him satisfy his mother’s request. Hadn’t she? That was why he’d left her, so that she could resume her normal life without him. That would be for the best.
Even as he thought those thoughts, something in his mind rebelled against them, telling him that no, there was more to this. That Riss wasn’t just a puzzle piece he’d been using. He’d picked her for that purpose, yes. But something had gone awry during the process.
Somehow he had come to care for her.
She made him feel happy, and content. Zander was always smiling when she was around. Her touch lit him on fire, and the way her gray eyes stared at him with wonder and awe made him feel as if he were the only person on the planet when she was around.
Why didn’t I realize any of this sooner?
Because you’re a blind idiot, that’s why.
His dragon sent a pulse of disgust his way, letting him know that it had tried to let him know, to make him see that Riss meant more to him than he’d ever suspected.
“Holy shit,” he said aloud, his eyes still unfocused. “I really have screwed this all up.”
“Just not in the way you thought,” Daxxton said from across the table, taking another sip of beer.
“I need to go,” Zander said, standing up and reaching in his pocket for some money.
“I’ll handle this one, my friend. Go. Go find her,” Daxxton urged.
Zander nodded.
“Go!”
He took off into the night in a mad dash for her place, superhuman strength sending him flying through the streets faster than most could match.
I’m coming, Riss. I promise.
Chapter Twelve
Riss
“This looks like a good place.”
The neon sign outside flashed on and off in a slow repeat.
The Quicksilver Inn.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
The gray light, or silver she supposed, was soft in the dark, not overly gaudy like some of the pinks and yellows other establishments used that jarred her eyes with their vibrancy.
The heavy door opened slowly, resisting her pull.
Then suddenly it flew open and she almost stumbled inside.
“Sorry about that,” a voice said from behind her.
Riss glanced over her shoulder, forced to crane her head up. And up. A dull-faced grizzly shifter stared back at her, easily identifiable by his huge height.
“It’s okay,” she squeaked and kept heading inside.
“You sure this is where you want to be, little one?” the big shifter asked.
“Yes,” she replied, squaring her shoulders and standing up to the fullest of her not-quite five-and-a-half feet of height.
She was sure it looked ridiculous with the massive shifter standing behind her who was over a foot taller, but it was about appearances more than anything with these people, and Riss couldn’t afford to show any weakness just now.
With a sniff of disdain she strode into the bar, letting the questioning looks slide off her as she headed for what appeared to be an empty seat, right in front of the pouring taps. That would do just fine, putting her within easy reach of a refill at least.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked from behind the counter.
“Got anything geared toward my kind?” she asked without hesitation.
The bartender, a medium height man with tired eyes, looked her up and down briefly. “Only in bottles.”
“That’ll do. Not picky tonight,” she said.
The drink was deposited in front of her, and she twisted around in her seat to look at the rest of the bar, ignoring the questioning looks from the two shifters on either side of her. Riss wasn’t ready to talk to anyone just yet. Perhaps after a beer or two she could see if either of them could carry a conversation without trying to sleep with her.
Unlikely. They all usually have one thing on their mind at this type of place. But we’ll see, I suppose.
The bar began to fill up as she continued her survey, the night growing deeper. There were several distinct sections to the Quicksilver. The main portion was L-shaped. The entrance, at the corner of the L, was designed to funnel customers toward the rear of the bar, so they had to pass more places selling booze before they could leave. There was a short little seating area just to the left of the door, forming the bottom of the L. That area was filled with the elderly, those who would probably be leaving soon, she figured.
The farther to the rear she looked, the younger the crowd got. There was a recessed dance floor off to the side at the back, where several couples danced with each other, lost in the music. Riss was sure it would get more crowded as the night wore on.
Turning back to the bar, she took a deep drink, letting out a sigh of contentment as it went down.
The shifter on her right rolled his eyes and got up, finding somewhere else where he could perhaps quench his sorrows in quiet, she supposed. Riss wasn’t objecting; the extra space was quite appreciated. While it lasted, at least.
“You got a bold set of nerves on you, drinking in a place like this on your own,” a voice said, sliding into the now-vacant seat next to her.
“Me?” she asked, not positive he’d been talking to her.
; “You’re the only human I see in here,” he responded.
Riss looked over at the man leaning casually on the bar. Taller than her, but not as tall as Zander, he had jet-black hair that fell to his shoulders and bright blue eyes that gave him a sort of aloof, biker-model type of look. His features were a little too delicate-looking to truly capture the biker look, but the lack of facial hair was also a dead giveaway. Still, he was obviously a shifter judging by his natural grace. He might look fragile, but he could still easily overwhelm her.
“So? I’m allowed to be here,” she said.
“I’m sure you are,” the shifter replied.
Wolf. He had to be wolf, she thought. The smooth, arrogant air about him screamed it at her. But there was more. Something about him rang out as familiar.
“Have we met before?” she asked suddenly, before he could continue with whatever useless bullshit he’d been meaning to say.
“I don’t think so,” he said, frowning at her. “I’m positive I’d remember a pretty little thing like you.”
Oh brother.
“Thanks, I think,” she said dryly.
“It was a compliment,” he assured her. “I do apologize if it was too…sleazy, I guess. I did not intend it that way.”
The acknowledgment of his pathetic line brought some of her attention back to him. He was kinda cute, she supposed, in an exotic sort of way. He was smaller than Zander, but still packed full of muscle. This man was more lithe and graceful, where Zander exuded power and control. Different, but still somewhat appealing. Perhaps she could have a conversation with him.
“All right, Mr. Wolf. You’ve got my attention. Don’t lose it.”
He smiled and stuck out a hand. “Rielly.”
“Riss,” she replied, taking his hand.
“So Riss—which by the way is an extremely interesting name, flirtation aside—what brings you to the Quicksilver on a Monday?”
“Lost my job, lost the guy I sort of thought I had. People are probably hunting me. Pretty much, my life is over,” she replied without hesitation. “What about you, Rielly?”
The wolf shifter hesitated. “Well, now I can see why you’re here,” he said.
He tried to cover it up well, but something flashed behind his eyes. She tried not to roll her own as he gave away his excitement at hearing that there was no longer a guy in her life. So easy to read.