Rurik

by Lauren Smith

  “I suspect it’s morning sickness.”

  “That’s right, you mentioned she was pregnant.” Charlotte’s eyes softened, and Rurik wondered if Charlotte ever dreamed of having children. He couldn’t imagine her not wanting them. She was warm, sincere, loving, and brave, everything that made a good mother. But if they mated, he could never give her children. Only a dragoness or another of the immortal kin could have drakelings. Or would it be a thunderling? He honestly had no idea how this would work out, and it caused him some concern.

  “Yes, only a couple of months.”

  “Wow, that’s wonderful. She and Grigori must be thrilled.”

  “They are.” Rurik changed seats, settling in beside her. He buckled up and reached over to take Charlotte’s hand, stroking the back of it and studying the delicate veins just hinted at beneath her skin. So fragile and so beautiful. She’s incredible.

  “I like your family,” she said softly, ducking her head. He cupped her chin and raised her head so that she peered up at him beneath those dark lashes. His body flared to life at her seductive yet shy gaze. The woman knew how to turn him on without even trying.

  “Seems like they like you too.” He leaned over and traced his fingers down her cheek. He gazed at her lips, neither too plump nor too thin—the perfect shape for both kisses and smiles. His hunger to taste her in every way he could was almost overpowering, and her intoxicating virginal scent was damned hard to ignore. He’d teased Grigori mercilessly about how he hadn’t resisted Madelyn, but now he understood his brother’s loss of control. A true mate was difficult to resist, a virgin true mate all but impossible.

  “Are you going to kiss me?” she asked.

  His lips quirked into a wicked smirk that earned a giggle from her. “Maybe.”

  She made a soft little noise of excitement as she gripped the collar of his jacket with one hand and tugged him toward her.

  Their lips met in a mix of searing heat and sweetness. Joy ran through his veins, like the old lullabies his mother had once sung when he was a drakeling. There was tenderness, fire, sorrow, and delight all mixed in their kiss that rocked him to his core. He held a hand at the nape of her neck as he kissed her more urgently, demanding she open herself, give him everything she had. The burning desire to connect with her went beyond physical need. Behind his closed eyes he saw his home, the Fire Hills of Russia, the rippling shades of fiery leaves in the fall, the joy of flying low over the valley. His body surged with adrenaline and excitement as he shot up through the clouds and into the bright light of the morning sun.

  Then the images changed. He saw a little girl chasing two blond-headed boys across a sandy shore, laughing as she tried to catch up to them. They stopped, each holding out a hand to her. Their palms, much bigger, much stronger, curled around her small fingers as they led her to the lapping waves. She screeched in delight as the cold water kissed her toes, then rushed forward to clean her feet of sand before the water pulled back out. The eldest boy smiled down at her. “Don’t worry, Charlotte, we’ll protect you.”

  “Yeah, always,” the other boy agreed. Their sunny smiles and dark-blond hair seemed familiar, and the heartache that poured through him was strong enough to drown him. Something about this made Charlotte’s heart heavy, and he was feeling that through her as they kissed.

  The vision faded as he and Charlotte broke apart. His arms were locked around her, and she was clutching his jacket as though her life depended on it. Ghosts of tears clung to her lashes. Her lips were parted, and he could sense the questions on the tip of her tongue. It was as though his mind and hers had been on the verge of becoming one.

  “What was that?” she panted, a little frightened.

  “I…” He couldn’t tell her the truth, or that he’d made a dangerous mistake. Shared memories and emotions were a sign of a mating in progress. He could not ignore it or dismiss his fascination with her. This was infinitely more. He’d never let things get this far with Nikita—he’d been far more careful around her.

  A true mate… But to claim her would be to defy my father. He could already hear his father’s voice in a commanding tone.

  “One to lead, one to gather jewels, one to protect. That is how it must be. We have no other children, so you must each bear a burden.”

  And Rurik’s burden was living the rest of his long immortal life alone.

  “Rurik, what’s the matter?” Charlotte asked, her brows knitting together.

  “I…” Again, he was at a loss for words. Thankfully, Grigori and Madelyn returned at that moment.

  “Sorry. Sometimes I get a little sick,” Madelyn said, her face still pale, but she was smiling. “I’m pregnant.” She touched her belly gently, and Grigori sat down beside her, lacing his palm over hers.

  “We’re pregnant,” he corrected with a warm smile, and his mate leaned in to nuzzle him.

  “Oh yeah? You can carry the baby for a few months then,” Madelyn retorted, but she returned his nuzzling embrace with a soft smile.

  Rurik watched them enviously. He could never have that. Charlotte was watching them too, and the longing and loneliness in her eyes broke through the cool distance he’d tried to put between them. She may not be a mate he could claim, but he could still provide her with comfort. He slid an arm around her shoulders and lifted the armrest between them so she could slide closer to him. She was stiff only a few seconds before she settled against him with a sigh.

  “Congratulations to you both,” Charlotte said, smiling. “You must be so happy.”

  “Thank you,” Grigori replied. “We are indeed happy.” He murmured something in Madelyn’s ear, and she blushed.

  Rurik bit his lip to keep from laughing. Big, scary Grigori—a warrior in corporate boardrooms and a fierce dragon in his own right—was grinning like a young boy and whispering sweet words of love in his wife’s ear. Grigori noticed Rurik grinning and frowned before he leaned over and socked Rurik in the arm.

  “Ow!” Rurik snapped.

  “Whatever you’re smirking about, brother, I will repay it in bruises,” Grigori warned.

  Madelyn laughed and glanced toward Charlotte. “That has to be a brother thing. I’m an only child. I don’t know how brothers do it, always tussling, punching, growling.”

  “It is definitely a brother thing. I’ve got two myself. They shove each other all the time. Sometimes they do it to me, but not intentionally.”

  Another pang of jealousy hit Rurik as he listened to Charlotte speak of her brothers. Two men who would have the rest of their lives to spend with her, while he would have to walk away, leaving only these fleeting moments with her and a lasting emptiness inside.

  “Would you ladies like another drink?” Grigori asked.

  “Water would be great,” Madelyn said.

  “Yes, water, please,” Charlotte echoed.

  “Come on, Rurik.” Grigori pulled him away from Charlotte, and they walked up to where the flight attendant stood ready to serve them.

  “Two bottles of water, please,” Grigori said. He and Rurik then stepped away to a careful distance.

  “You’re playing with fire, Rurik.”

  “How so?”

  Grigori stared hard at him. “Charlotte is a virgin. You know that. But there’s something else—there’s something about her that is intoxicating even to me, which it shouldn’t be, since I’m mated.”

  “If you get any ideas…” Rurik raised his shoulders slightly in defense.

  “Don’t be stupid. My point is, something doesn’t feel right. You must take care. I see the way you two are together. It’s only less than a day, and you are already fixated on her. I want you to be careful.”

  “It’s a temporary fascination,” he lied. “It’s not as though she is my mate.”

  Grigori slid a finger under his collar and then loosened his blue silk tie.

  “I’ve never seen you like this before. Not even with Nikita. Are you sure she’s not?”

  “She’s not,” he lied again
, the words stinging his lips.

  “How do you know? I see a different side of you. The burden you bear as a family battle dragon takes a heavy toll on you. But around her it seems to fade.”

  “And that’s my burden to deal with,” Rurik growled. “Not yours, not Mikhail’s.”

  Grigori’s gaze turned soft in a way that reminded Rurik of their beloved mother.

  “You’re going to let Father’s old nursery rhymes of our duties define your life forever? He should never have told you that you could not have a mate. With our dwindling numbers, he was wrong. What’s more, you deserve happiness. If that means taking a mate, Mikhail and I will both support you.”

  “I can’t,” Rurik whispered.

  “Why?”

  Because Nikita’s death wrecked me, and if I had a real mate, it would someday kill me. And if I die, you won’t stand a chance if Drakor rebuilds somehow and strikes again.

  “I am…” He hesitated, searching for the words that would hide his fears. “I’m not like you and Mikhail. I’m not cut out to have a mate.”

  “I didn’t think I was either. I was obsessed with work and forgot how to live. Having a mate changes everything. You can’t imagine going back to your old life once you find her.”

  Grigori took the bottled waters back to Madelyn and Charlotte, leaving Rurik feeling torn and alone in a way he never had before. He couldn’t ignore his father’s instructions. It had kept the family safe for thousands of years. His father had been the eldest of three brothers, the established leader. His two younger brothers, Rurik’s uncles, had died centuries ago during a battle with Nordic ice dragons on a quest for special gemstones, ancient and mysterious in nature. One had watched his mate die and had vanished, most likely perishing in the icy mountains. Since then, Rurik’s father had trained his sons to fill their roles as leaders, guardians, and battle dragons. If Rurik turned his back on his father’s wishes now, everyone he loved could die.

  My family must come before my happiness.

  But as he looked at Charlotte, tiny fractures in his resolve seemed to splinter wider and wider. He had to face the rising truth. He didn’t want to lose her.

  8

  It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves. —William Shakespeare

  Charlotte could still feel the ghostly press of Rurik’s kiss on her lips. Something had happened between them. She hadn’t just seen stars. She’d seen herself through his eyes, running on the beach with Damien and Jason. Before that she’d been flying high above the clouds, without fear or panic. Just an amazing, thrilling sense of joy. She’d experienced his memories, and he’d experienced hers through a single kiss.

  There had been nothing in the Brotherhood files about that. At this rate she was going to have to write an entirely new set of rules about dragons, starting with mind-blowing kisses that make you share memories. But that was a problem. What if the next time they kissed the memories she shared exposed her for who she was?

  Rurik’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Are you okay?”

  “Sorry, just thinking,” she admitted.

  Rurik tapped her temple with a finger and winked. “I’d love to know what’s running through that head of yours.”

  She smiled shyly. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Rurik bit his lip, trying to contain his smile, and for a moment she forgot they weren’t alone. Then Grigori coughed politely.

  “You two going to disembark or stand here and ogle each other? I’m sure the pilot would like to refuel, and the flight attendant is cold because she can’t shut the door until we leave the plane.”

  Embarrassed, Charlotte slipped her coat on and descended the airstairs ahead of Rurik, ignoring the chill of the wintry breeze. Her head and heart were still in the clouds, and there was no coming down, at least not yet. She and Rurik bid goodbye to Madelyn and Grigori and caught a cab to the center of Saint Petersburg, where they had a chance to explore the city.

  “Hungry?” Rurik asked as they passed by a row of buildings close to the Winter Palace.

  She nodded eagerly. “Starving.” Charlotte was dying to try one of the local restaurants and actually take the vacation she’d told Rurik she was here to experience.

  Rurik led her to a cozy Serbian restaurant on the palace embankment of Saint Petersburg. The Gosti was famous for its Serbian specialty dishes, like pies with sweet and savory fillings, of which he ordered two and quickly found them a table.

  Charlotte took a bite of her beef-filled pie as she studied the little eatery. It was painted in a deep emerald along the bottom of the walls, with a butter-yellow wallpaper with a delicate, somewhat faded floral pattern along the top half. A floor-to-ceiling bookshelf against one wall contained dozens of books—not that she could read any of them. The intimate setting reminded her more of summer cottages by Lake Michigan than what she expected to see in Saint Petersburg. Outside, the snow was falling thick and heavy, just how she’d always imagined it would.

  “I can’t believe I’m really here.” Charlotte beamed at Rurik, unable to contain the excitement and rush of actually being in Russia, living an adventure she’d thought she’d never have. She reached out to take his hand. “Thank you for this. Truly.”

  “Anything for you, my little rose.” He brushed her fingers with his other hand, and they sat there quietly until they noticed an old woman staring at them. She wore a thick shawl around her head and shoulders, and the deep wrinkles in her face seemed as ancient as her brown eyes.

  “U vas yest ‘sil’ naya sud’ba.” The woman spoke in a rusty old voice, pointing at them, then to her own chest.

  “What did she say?” Charlotte whispered.

  Rurik seemed to consider the woman’s words. “She believes we have a strong destiny, and she wants to tell our fortunes.”

  “Oh, can we? I’ve always wanted to do that!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Please?” Ever since she’d learned that magic was real as a child, she’d always believed in seers or people who could see glimpses of the future. Sure, most of them were just con artists, but some of them had to be real, right?

  Rurik chuckled. “If you wish.” He spoke to the older woman and offered her the chair between him and Charlotte. “I will translate for her as she reads the cards.”

  The woman hobbled over and eased down into the chair with a sigh, then removed a set of very old and worn tarot cards. The edges were rough and slightly crinkled. The illustrations, while faded, were still stunning in their design. She began to lay out the cards on the table. She made a horseshoe shape from left to right using seven cards. Her withered hands trembled slightly as she turned over the first. Then she began to speak in Russian, and Rurik translated.

  “The Magician is the past, the cunning master of all he surveys.” The card showed a magician in a warrior’s pose, a sword in his hand, with roses and lilies all around his feet. His tunic was white with red robes, and he wore a belt that was made of an ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail. The old woman’s brown eyes flashed on the serpent ring that Rurik wore. It had a green jewel in its single eye, and its mouth was consuming its own tail. The ring was stunning, and Charlotte wondered how she hadn’t noticed it before. Of course, she’d been distracted by the rest of Rurik most of the time. The woman reached out and touched the serpent ring, then pressed her gnarled fingers gently against Rurik’s chest, speaking softly.

  He translated for Charlotte. “Skill and confidence are yours but if misused can be your downfall. Beware of pride and arrogance.” Then she turned over the next card above it in the horseshoe formation and spoke again. “The High Priestess, guardian of secrets. She knows the secrets of life but shares them only with the wise.”

  The card bore a woman with an enigmatic smile. She stood between two columns with a curtain suspended between the pillars. A crescent moon rested like a crown in her hair.

  The old woman looked at Charlotte, speaking softly. Rurik did his best to match her tone. “You bear a great secret, hiding it from those who w
ould betray it. You must trust your heart, or you will make a grave error.”

  Rurik reached over and took Charlotte’s hand. She glanced at him, guilt making her feel hollow inside. How could this woman know the secret she harbored about the formula?

  The old woman turned over the third card. It depicted a woman holding the head of a lion and facing its open jaws, controlling the beast, keeping it from eating her.

  “The future. Strength,” Rurik translated. “Together you can control your destiny, but stand apart and all will burn to ash around you.” The woman touched both their hands, her eyes soft and serious.

  Then she turned over the next card. A naked couple entwined together. Charlotte knew very little about tarot, but she recognized that card.

  “The Lovers,” Charlotte said.

  The old woman nodded, and Rurik translated again. “Opposition and attraction. You must both choose between your desires. Family or each other. You cannot split apart.”

  She turned over the next card with a frown. With a little mutter, she slid another from her deck, putting it next to the card that had displeased her.

  “The Emperor and the Sun. You have two forces in your life. The authoritative leader who brings order out of chaos.” She stared at Rurik. “He speaks to you.” She touched Rurik’s chest again. “He tries to guide you—listen to him or you will fail.”

  Then she pointed to the Sun and spoke to Charlotte. It took a moment for Rurik to catch up. “He’s your guiding Sun. He is the center of all, the source of your love and trust—he illuminates you. He is a man of action but does not understand you are guided by the moon. Yours is a different path. The Emperor and the Sun will try to destroy each other, and they may succeed.”

  Rurik’s green eyes met hers, and she swallowed hard. They were destined to be on two different sides if a war between dragons and humans broke out.

  She turned over the second-to-last card, revealing a man hanging by a noose. It was upside down. She traced the line of the rope and addressed Rurik. His words came out soft and low as he translated.