Zanaikeyros – Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons Book 1)

by Tessa Dawn

  Zane turned back around to regard the wicked dragon on his throne, and just as he suspected, his hideous mouth was turned up in a smile.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jordan was standing outside on the terrace, wearing jeans and a taupe, sleeveless blouse, gazing at the waterfall when Zane returned later that night. The dragon moon hung low in the bottomless, dark sky, the air was cool and crisp, and her beautiful auburn hair reflected in the moonlight like a mirror of the crystalline stars.

  Zane inhaled sharply as he strolled further onto the deck. “Evening,” he said, trying to pitch his voice in a deliberately gentle cadence to avoid startling her.

  It didn’t work.

  She spun around, placed her hand on her heart, and gasped. And gods be merciful, but in that moment, she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He told his beast to heel—this wasn’t an invitation to pounce. “Sorry.” He spoke softly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Jordan shivered involuntarily. “You didn’t.” She lied. And then she wrung her hands together in a nervous gesture, paced backward until she bumped into the terrace railing, and leaned back against the iron banister, trying to appear at ease.

  Zane stopped about five paces away; no need to crowd the woman. “So, how was it? Your time in the lair? Are you feeling any better about being here?” Now that was a loaded question, and he was probably opening a can of worms—but hell, they only had seven days left, and she had to enter that temple of her own volition. They didn’t have a second to waste. They didn’t have time to play games.

  Jordan stared at the planks on the deck nearest to her bare feet, ostensibly to avoid making eye contact. “It was fine,” she said, surprising him with the brevity of her answer.

  He nodded. “I see. Did you have a chance to explore the lair, spend any more time with my brothers?”

  She swallowed convulsively—once again, betraying her nerves. When her eyes finally met his, she couldn’t hold the contact; they darted to the left and the right. “Um, yeah,” she murmured. “I mean, you already gave me a cursory tour, so I didn’t feel the need to check anything else out. But Levi was kind enough to take me to the library—I grabbed a couple books.”

  Her demeanor was almost edgy, Zane thought.

  Cagey.

  Sure, she was uncomfortable and afraid—who wouldn’t be?—but she almost seemed to be hiding something. He quickly dismissed the thought. After all, what could she be hiding? Her cell phone wouldn’t work inside Dragons Domain—they had little use for cellular towers and Wi-Fi when they could communicate telepathically, even across a distance—and the signals wouldn’t cross the portal anyway, unless they were enhanced by a jewel, in this case, by a special sapphire sphere. Something he wasn’t going to tell Jordan…just yet.

  Better to turn his attention to something that could move the conversation forward. “So, you tried out the library? What did you think? What kind of books did you grab?”

  Damn, that sounded like an interrogation.

  Oh well, at least it was a start.

  “Oh,” she said, smiling weakly, “well, you know me.” She shut her eyes, shook her head, and took an obvious, slow breath. Raising her chin, she amended the statement: “Well, you don’t know me, not at all; but if you did, you would know that when I’m…when I’m unsure about something…I always choose analysis first. I gather information.”

  Zane cocked his eyebrows. “And?”

  “And…I thought the library was very nice, very well appointed, and obviously stocked to the gills. And I grabbed three books.”

  He studied her hazel eyes, wishing he understood that guarded undercurrent, wishing she could relax just a bit. “So, you didn’t grab a novel or a cookbook, I take it?” He forced a congenial smile, and she pressed her back harder against the rail.

  “No,” she said quickly, and then she actually turned around, rested her forearms on the railing, and pretended to view the falls. In other words, she gave him her back. “I grabbed an atlas of your territories, a volume about the customs of the Dragyr, and another journal—the genealogy of the Sapphire Lair.”

  Zane strained to hear her clearly.

  It wasn’t like he didn’t possess supernatural hearing, but with the waterfall flowing, the fact that she was mumbling, and his proximity being ten feet away, he had to concentrate on each of her words. Screw this, he said to himself, closing the distance between them and sidling up behind her.

  She instantly stiffened, but that didn’t deter him.

  He placed his right hand on the curve of her exposed shoulder and brushed lightly against her back with his chest. Yes, she would feel crowded, maybe even pressured, but she would also sense his warmth…his presence…his nearness. The fact that she wasn’t in this alone. “Tell me about the atlas,” he breathed in her ear, giving her something neutral, safe, and linear to concentrate on.

  She shivered, but she didn’t brush his hand away. Rather, she tilted her head slightly to the side to make her words more audible. “Um, I…I thought it was interesting…the territories, the way the domain is laid out.”

  “Mm. Hm.”

  She squirmed. “I was surprised to see the different regions, um, the mountains in the west, the desert in the east, the flatlands in the south, and what looks almost like a massive body of water, an ocean, in the north…the way the lairs are positioned, like numbers on a clock, more or less surrounding the temple in the center. The domain is bigger than I thought.”

  She arched her back slightly to ease away from the contact, and Zane absently rotated his thumb along the slope of her shoulder. “It’s a beautiful land, Jordan. The colors are brighter here, the sounds of nature are almost lyrical, and everything grows to perfection—it’s almost like a garden of Eden. I think you will come to love it.”

  She practically writhed, rotating her shoulder to escape his touch.

  He removed his hand and brushed the back of her cheek with the backs of his fingers, instead, just a soft, gentle slide of his hand. “Dragyra,” he whispered. “What can I do to assuage your fears?”

  She stiffened. “You can stop touching me for starters.”

  He grimaced. “No, I cannot. Your fear is drawing me in like a moth to a flame; your unease is distressing my dragon. He can hear your heartbeat racing in your chest; he can smell your terror drifting on the breeze; and he can sense your pulse, the way your blood rushes in your veins. And all of it…all of it…awakens his protective instincts. I can’t…not touch you.” He lowered his head, rested his chin in her hair, and inhaled her feminine scent. “Breathe for me, Jordan. Slowly, in and out. It will help us both.”

  At that, she seemed to bristle. “That’s an excuse, Zanaikeyros.” Wow, she used his given name. “You’ve brought me here against my will, you’re invading my personal space, and you’re using the fact that you’re a dragon to do what you please.” To his utter surprise, she wriggled out beneath his touch, faced him head-on, and squared her shoulders in defiance, her eyes remaining locked on his. “If you’re going to do something—and make excuses to do it—then just get it over with and stop playing games.” Her jaw was rebellious, but her mouth was trembling.

  Zane took a generous step back. “Just what do you think I’m going to do?”

  It was a stupid question.

  He knew what she feared.

  It was written all over her face.

  “Jordan,” he intoned in a deep, husky rasp, trying to conceal his frustration. “I am not going to harm you. And I am not going to force myself on you—not now, not tomorrow, not ever.”

  She visibly sighed with relief. “You aren’t?”

  “No.” His tone left no room for argument.

  She looked away, staring at an unidentifiable point beyond his shoulder. “Then your dragon doesn’t want…he doesn’t feel…he doesn’t have the impulse to—”

  Zane chuckled aloud. He couldn’t help it. “Oh, don’t get it twisted, pretty lady. My dragon is fully male, and you…
” His voice grew hoarse with conviction. “You are an amazingly beautiful woman, Jordan Anderson. Every instinct in my body is…aware. But neither I, nor my dragon, is a rapist.” She literally turned a pale shade of green, and Zane thought she was about to hit the deck. “Angel,” he said soothingly, reaching forward to frame her face in his hands, “look at me.”

  She glanced at his mouth, then his nose, then the side of his face, fidgeting in discomfort.

  “Look at me.”

  Her beautiful hazel eyes met his, and they were moist with the onset of tears.

  “If you were standing on a street corner, and you saw a child about to step out in front of a car, what would your impulse be?”

  She drew back and frowned. “To stop her…of course.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, “but what would it feel like…in that moment? Would you think it over? Would you weigh the implications—where is her mother; where is her father; do I have the right to intervene?—or would you possibly gasp, feel a surge of adrenaline, and dive for the kid without thinking?”

  Jordan shrugged. “I would grab the kid on an impulse.”

  “Yes,” Zane said, “because it isn’t a thought—it’s an urge. And in that moment, it is all-pervasive.” He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks in the gentlest of caresses. “Your fear is like that car. Your heartbeat speeds it up. Your dread provokes a surge of adrenaline in my dragon. He doesn’t think. He doesn’t reason. He only knows he must act—place himself between the danger and his dragyra, and that’s why he reaches out. It is not something I can easily restrain. But the impulse to mate—the desire to take you in my arms and make you want me, make you need me, make you mine—that is more like a hunger. It gnaws at my gut, but it doesn’t demand immediate action.”

  Jordan blanched.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  She closed it and pursed her lips together, and then stood there—just stood there—frozen like a statue.

  Zane smiled. “Jordan, I have the power to help you with my mind. I can slow your heartbeat for you, if you’ll let me. I can even control your breaths. Let me hold you, dragyra, just for a time. I know you are not ready to accept this new reality—and you certainly don’t understand it—but there is a single flame that burns in your heart…and mine. That means there is a spark between us, however concealed or dormant, because the gods put it there. It will awaken on its own if you’ll let it. Let me hold you, Jordan. And let tomorrow take care of itself.”

  f

  Jordan’s head was spinning.

  Zanaikeyros was as smooth, polished, and hypnotic as he was terrifying, and she wondered if he wasn’t using his power…already.

  An errant cluster of chestnut-brown hair had fallen into his sapphire eyes, and between that and his flawless, angled jaw; the soft, smooth complexion of his skin; his words…his demeanor…his oh-so-gentle touch; it was all clouding her brain.

  And she didn’t like it.

  Not one bit.

  She had questions she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t even imagine bringing them up, like to hell with tomorrow, what about tonight? Did he expect her to sleep in his bed? Like what about the consecration, this date she had with the temple—what exactly was involved with rebirth? It wasn’t in the books she had read, and he hadn’t gone into it at her apartment.

  And worse, there was that thing she had done earlier.

  That thing in her purse.

  That thing she didn’t dare think of, lest the dragon was reading her thoughts.

  Lest she was projecting again…

  But he was right about one thing: Her fear was consuming her—it was practically making her sick. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, and if it got any worse, she could hardly function going forward. She would give anything to feel calm, to be back in control, to even embrace the illusion of self-determination.

  If only for a moment.

  And so she went out on a limb and slowly nodded her head, trying desperately not to tremble.

  Zane immediately took the cue. He pressed forward to close the small distance between them, dropped his hands from her face to her waist, and gently tugged her forward. As her body gave way to his momentum and strength, he braced her lower back with one hand, encircled her shoulders with his arm, and pulled her against his chest…into his embrace.

  There.

  It was done.

  More or less.

  He was holding her, and she was letting him.

  So why did she feel like she was about to panic?

  “Shh, little one,” he whispered in her ear, and a strange, peaceful warmth poured into her. It traveled along the canal of her ear, down her neck, and into her shoulders, where it spread out in light, pulsing waves and enveloped her chest.

  She took a slow, deep breath, and even that felt like a summer’s breeze wafting through her chest, delivering a powerful sedative throughout her body.

  He rotated his hand on the small of her back, and the same thing happened there: Her hips, her thighs, her knees relaxed, and her body folded into his.

  She felt like she was floating on a cloud.

  He caught her up in his arms, and she didn’t protest as he traversed the deck in five long strides, entered through the large French doors, and made his way across the suite to the raised platform, laying her down on the bed. “No fears, precious angel,” he reassured her—though she was too relaxed to care. “Only serenity and sleep,” he added, and she felt a current of lethargy pulse through her. “I will sleep in the chair beside you,” he whispered. “And in time, we will talk about the temple and your rebirth. No worries. Not now. Only peace.”

  Ah, she thought absently: So he had been reading her mind.

  As her eyelids fluttered shut and she sank into the mattress, she had the sensation that he was drawing a blanket over her, and she sighed.

  “Ah, baby,” he whispered, sounding curiously sad.

  “Hmm?” she tried to reply.

  “What did you put in your purse?”

  My purse? she thought, unable to catch his words…

  And then the entire world went dark.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Monday ~ the next morning

  Jordan Anderson shot straight up in bed, her eyes darting to the nearest clock in a panic.

  What time was it?

  Had she missed Macy’s surgery?

  She was met by a deep, gravelly voice and a strong, steadying hand on her forearm—Zane, perched in an armchair beside the bed. “Whoa there, angel. You’re in Dragons Domain with me…in the Sapphire Lair. You’re safe.”

  She glanced at the tall, muscular male and rubbed her eyes. “I know that. I remember, but what time is it. I have to—”

  “It’s six AM,” Zane interrupted. “From what you told me on Saturday, Macy’s surgery is at nine, and she has to check in at seven. We still have plenty of time.”

  Jordan drew back, trying to process Zane’s words through her sleep-fogged brain. It was six AM? “You remembered all that?” she mumbled.

  “Of course I did,” he replied.

  She sat up in bed, leaned against the massive iron-and-wooden headboard, and tried to collect her thoughts. Tried to remember the night before.

  She immediately peeked beneath the thick cotton blanket still covering her body and sighed in relief, noticing that her clothes were still on. “You put me to bed?” she asked, still a bit confused.

  “I did. You needed the sleep.”

  She nodded. “Yeah…yeah…I sort of remember that. I just”—and then her eyes caught a glimpse of her purse, situated on the nightstand, and the entire memory slammed into her like a freight train. She swallowed a lump of anxiety. “Last night…my purse…” Oh dear God…

  His voice turned solemn. “I didn’t rifle through it. I figured that would be wrong…disrespectful.” He leaned in toward the bed, and his severe sapphire-and-gold eyes met hers. “I wanted to wait so you could tell me yourself.”

&
nbsp; Jordan folded her hands in her lap and stared at her thumbs. “Tell you what?” She decided to play stupid.

  He chuckled, but it was a humorless sound. “What’s in your purse, Jordan. What didn’t you want me to find?”

  Well, that was a fine wake-up call, she thought. And holy hell—what could she say?

  His expression grew impassive. “Look, I know the situation is awkward, and neither one of us chose this fate, but here it is. Here we are. The way I see it: The only thing we have going for us, this far, is honesty. It’s the only way we’re going to work this out.” A dead calm settled over him, and he modulated his voice. “What’s in your purse, Jordan.”

  Jordan shut her eyes.

  She needed to think.

  On one hand, he was right: They were facing a bizarre, untenable situation, and honesty always helped—hadn’t he been brutally honest with her? But on the other hand, she was committed to something far more basic, more primal, than working things out with Zane. She was committed to her own survival, intent on her own escape. There was no way—no how—she was going to become the consort of a dragon and live in some foreign domain, and he was batshit crazy if he thought otherwise…no matter how congenial he was being.

  No matter how deceptive she had been.

  I mean, let’s just get real, she thought.

  “I photocopied a page from the atlas,” she said, diving in with both feet.

  “Come again?” he prompted.

  She fiddled with the hem of the blanket. “In the library, when Levi took me, I used the copy machine to photocopy a page.” She prayed that the copier she’d seen actually worked, or the jig was up.

  He furrowed his brow, and his striking, enigmatic eyes grew more intense. “What page? Why?”

  She let out a slow, deep breath. This just might work. “Um, one of the pages in the back—it showed the whole of the territory.” She winced, feigning a measure of guilt. “I’m not sure why I took it. I guess…I thought I might be able to use it, maybe find a portal, maybe find a way to escape.”

  Zane didn’t react, at least not visibly. If there was something going on in that dragyri heart, it was very well concealed. “I already told you, the portal is in here.” He brushed the pads of his fingers over his amulet and frowned. “And where in Dragons Domain would you possibly go? You know nothing about this realm.”