Dark Dragon's Desire (Dragongrove Book 4)

by Imogen Sera

  He held her head to him, gently stroked her back, and murmured into her hair. She stayed like that a long time, torn between hating him for dragging her back down with him and adoring him for coming for her— for not forcing her to be with him, but being available for her.

  “Why were you so nice to them?” she sniffed, miserably.

  He looked at her as if he didn’t understand. “Was I not supposed to be?” he asked.

  “I didn’t know you could be nice,” she said. “You were never nice to me.”

  “Oh, Mira,” was all he said, but there was regret on his face.

  “It was easier when I thought you weren’t capable of being nice. But you were nice to them.”

  He pulled her against him again. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  She knew that he wasn’t apologizing for being nice, so she just pulled away and shook her head. “It’s fine, I just don’t know why…” she trailed off and looked up at him. “It’s been quite a fucking week.”

  He cradled her head in his hands and watched her, the same look in his eyes. “What should I do, Mira? Can I help?” When she didn’t respond he asked her, “Should I leave?”

  “Please don’t,” she said, shaking her head miserably. “I don’t know what you should do. I don’t know what I should do. I don’t know anything right now.”

  “Sit with me,” he said, and when she didn’t protest he sat right on the ground in front of her, and then pulled her from her rock onto his lap. She protested vaguely, wanting to sit on the ground, too, but… she didn’t. She wanted him under her, wanted to soak in his warmth and solidity and presence. So she pressed her face to his chest again, and tried to forget about all the things she wanted to forget about.

  “Will you take me home?” she asked. “I’m leaving in two days.”

  He smiled. “I would love to take you home. I’m relieved you’re coming home.”

  She scoffed at that and looked around. “You can’t actually think I would want to stay here?”

  “I was worried you would,” he confessed. “That’s partially why I’m here.”

  She looked up at him thoughtfully. “What would you do if I stayed here?” she asked, testing him. She wasn’t sure why she asked it; she wasn’t sure if she’d like the answer.

  “Convince you not to,” he said. “And I was looking at houses nearby, just in case.”

  She laughed at that. “Really?” she asked disbelievingly. “You’d miss me that much?”

  She expected him to say that he’d miss annoying her, or miss fucking her. Instead he just pushed her hair back from her cheek and said, “I would.”

  “Eve is coming too,” she said, suddenly serious. “If you won’t take her then I’ll walk with her.”

  He looked at her strangely. “Why would I not take her too?”

  “I don’t know,” she said sheepishly. “I don’t know if I’m just allowed to invite people to the palace. But she’s not staying here.”

  “Of course you can,” he said. “It’s your home. I’ll be delighted to take both of you home.”

  “Thank you,” she said, leaning her cheek against him again. “It doesn’t feel like it though. Ingrid invited me and then I just… stayed.”

  “She wanted you to stay,” he said. “She hoped that you would when she wrote to you. She didn’t think Lily would want to stay long for John’s sake, but she thought you might stay awhile, since you were so eager to stay on at Dragongrove.”

  Mira smiled faintly at that. “I hate it here,” she said. “I don’t know why; I don’t have any particular reason to. My parents love me, my brothers love me. I had a good childhood. I just can’t… be me. Not when I’m here.”

  “I like you, especially when you’re you,” he said. He paused for a minute. “Ingrid wanted to invite you because she likes you, but also, I think, for my benefit.”

  Mira blinked up at him. “You can’t pretend you didn’t hate me when we were at Dragongrove.”

  “Never,” he said, and brushed his fingers along her jaw. “I never hated you. Ingrid could tell. Lily could tell. My brothers knew.”

  “I wish I could have been able to tell,” she said.

  He didn’t respond, just pressed a kiss against her temple and held her to him.

  Mira hugged her mother for far longer than she wanted to, but she felt a satisfied sort of selflessness in doing it. Her mother hadn’t put up the fuss that Mira had expected when she’d announced she’d be leaving the next morning, and a glance at her father’s watchful gaze made her sure of who was behind it.

  She’d told her father about her improvements in writing, and promised she would get started on a letter as soon as she returned.

  She hadn’t seen Tarquin since he’d held her in the field two days earlier, but he’d promised to be nearby, and to meet her and Eve on their way out of town. She was surprised to learn that she missed him— not his heated touches like she had, back when she first came to the palace; not the odd desire to have him near her so she could shout all the things she hated about him— just a sweet longing for his presence, settled down somewhere deep in her chest.

  So as she and Eve walked along the dusty road, Mira carrying both bags to help accommodate Eve’s awkward gait, she couldn’t help the bloom of anticipation that nearly overwhelmed her.

  He’d met them less than a mile from the farm, waiting on the side of the road and smiling brilliantly when he’d spotted them. It was a smile that Mira had rarely seen, and she supposed it was for Eve’s benefit. The poor woman was nearly trembling, with nervousness or excitement Mira couldn’t tell, but when she’d reached out to hold her hand she’d found her palm sweaty.

  Tarquin greeted them kindly and took the bags off of Mira’s arm. She made a noise of protest and he shot her an incredulous look, then kept walking ahead of them. He guided them down the road awhile, away from the nearby small town, and then out across a field and into the little copse of trees beyond.

  “Ready, Eve?” Mira asked brightly, in a tone that didn’t match how she felt.

  Eve nodded with wide eyes, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. Tarquin retreated a bit, then stripped and shifted quickly. Eve gasped at the sight, so Mira squeezed her hand reassuringly.

  Mira helped her awkwardly scramble up onto his back, and then followed behind her.

  After a long day of travel, Mira awoke in the dark in her bed in the inn they’d stopped at. She wasn’t sure why she had awoken, until she heard the distinct sounds of quiet sobbing and muffled murmured words. She reached for Tarquin, then remembered that he wasn’t in her bed. Why would she have reached for him so instinctively, she wondered, since they’d shared a bed all night exactly twice over the months and months that they’d known each other. Besides, she should have been focused on Eve, who’d hardly eaten her dinner and should be laying next to Mira.

  She wasn’t, though, and as Mira scanned the room, she was surprised at where she found her— sitting on the couch, her feet tucked under her, her face pressed into Tarquin’s chest and his arms around her. He was talking— quietly enough that she couldn’t hear, but the tone was low and soothing.

  The pang of jealousy that struck her was quickly replaced by shame. Of course he would empathize with a grieving widow. Of course she would seek someone who understood, all too intimately, what she was feeling. Mira chastised herself internally and quietly watched them; she felt as if she were witnessing something she had no right to see, something she hadn’t suffered enough to witness, but was unable to look away all the same.

  After a minute his gaze fell on the bed, and a sad smile at her was the only indication that he’d noticed she’d awoken. She watched for a long time, long after his words had faded to silence and the sobs that had heaved Eve’s back had ceased. Still he held her. A quiet sort of melancholy had fallen over the room, and as Mira drifted off, she thought that the sight of them was perhaps the loveliest, saddest thing she’d ever seen.<
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  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Tarquin woke her the next morning, his hand on her back and his face inches from her as he knelt next to the bed. His hair was messy, and his mouth was close enough that she could kiss him with very little effort. His nose brushed against hers.

  “Come eat with me?” he whispered.

  Mira blinked sleepily, then turned over to see Eve sprawled across the couch, still sleeping.

  He followed her gaze. “She hasn’t been asleep long. We should let her rest.”

  Mira nodded. She sat up and let the blankets fall around her waist, then rose and pulled her gown over her sleeping clothes. “Good enough?” she asked quietly.

  “Perfect,” he said. A warm fluttering shot through her.

  The way he took her hand easily in the hall, the way his hand rested on her back as they walked down the stairs, the way they walked in step and in silence; all worked together to have her breathless and confused just minutes after waking. She sat at a small table and he seated himself right next to her, and then he pushed his chair towards her and his arm was around her and his chin rested on her shoulder. She waited for what he would do— what more was to come— but there was nothing more, just an easy affection that was so foreign to her that it made her want to cry.

  She was totally, utterly his, but the sweetness of his actions made her nervous, made her try to remind herself to be cautious. It had been like this once before, and that hadn’t lasted. There was no guarantee that this would continue, nothing except the look in his eyes that promised more— more of this, a lifetime of this.

  So when he tangled his fingers with her and kissed the back of her hand, the words slipped from her without her trying to say them. “What is this?” she asked. “What are we… doing?”

  He gazed at her for a long time, silent as the universe decided that just that second their breakfasts needed to be served. He held her hand all the while, squeezed it reassuringly, and spoke when they were again alone at their table. “Would you hate me if I said I don’t know?”

  “I’ll always hate you,” she said, but her fingers brushing over his and the way her lips curved as she spoke betrayed her words.

  “I know,” he said.

  They ate then, and as he told her about what he’d learned from Cyrus, and from Augustus, and then bumped her knee with his— she relaxed. It was still there, the tension in her chest— she wondered if it always would be— but it wasn’t consuming. She could just enjoy this, even if it was just as friends. Friends who held hands and shared burning looks. It was safer, though, safer than considering the alternative.

  They arrived at the palace late in the night. They’d traveled slower than Mira had hoped, but Eve had needed to stop frequently to stretch and relieve herself. By the time they got there everything was eerily silent and the halls were deserted.

  Mira guided a weary Eve to the empty room she’d slept in during her very first night at the palace, and once her things were hung in the wardrobe and she was tucked into her bed, Mira promised to come by the next morning and slipped out of the room.

  Tarquin was waiting for her in the hall when she emerged, and once she’d shut the door behind her he closed the short distance between them and cradled her face between his palms, angled up to look at him. Her breath hitched in her throat— his eyes were scorching and her blood was burning and she was sure he would kiss her, for the first time since that stupid, perfect day. He didn’t, though, just studied her face for a long moment. He dropped his hands from her face, then, and wound his arms around her back and pulled her against him.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m glad we’re home.”

  Mira didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded against him and savored the heat from his chest under her cheek.

  He released her all at once and she mourned the loss of his touch as soon as he did.

  “I need to find Helias,” he said. “I’ll see you… in the morning?”

  It was odd— the hesitant, almost hopeful way that he said it. She nodded again, though, and flashed a tentative smile at him, and then he smiled back and awkwardly reached for her but didn’t touch her.

  “Good night, Mira,” he said, and she turned and fled to her room, pleased to be home and disappointed to be apart from him so quickly.

  Mira awoke with a tight chest and a persistent cough. She probably wasn’t ill enough to skip breakfast and stay in her room all day as she immediately wished to do, and she had Eve to look after, so she pulled herself out of bed and dressed slowly. She watched herself in her mirror as she dressed, examining the golden glow her face had taken on after a week on the farm. It was nice, she thought, she looked healthy— despite the rattling in her chest and pressure in her head.

  It had been so decadent to sleep in her own bed again that she hardly minded the way she felt, and as she walked through the familiar hallways and scattered sitting areas to Eve’s room, she mused over the fact that she was home. It hadn’t felt that way when she’d initially arrived, or even when she’d left, but now that she was back, there was no doubt— it was home.

  Eve greeted her warily, dressed and alert, and Mira felt guilty for leaving her waiting for so long. She ushered her along to the queen’s parlor, where the rest of the ladies gathered daily before breakfast.

  Lily adored Eve right away, as she did with everyone. That hadn’t surprised Mira at all. What had surprised her was the baby in the middle of the room demanding everyone’s attention, and the crowd of ladies giving it to him— even the queen was exclaiming over his round cheeks and blue eyes and red hair.

  Annie stood a little out of the crowd, looking intensely uncomfortable, so Mira came to her side with Eve clinging to her hand all the while.

  “They’re a little much, sometimes,” Mira said quietly, and Annie’s eyes darted in her direction and then she was hugging her.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her eyes bright. “I was so sorry to hear about your brother.”

  Mira shrugged it off with a faint smile, uncomfortable to be consoled when her brother’s widow stood right next to her.

  She introduced Eve, and a minute later Annie was sympathizing with her over pregnancy woes. Mira couldn’t relate, and couldn’t ignore her pounding head any longer, so when they were laughing together for the third time, Mira begged Annie to look after Eve and excused herself hastily. Eve waved her off with half a smile, telling her to rest, which at least assuaged the guilt that had been settling around Mira’s shoulders.

  Back in her room she fell into bed, wishing to sleep again but knowing it wouldn’t come— she was too uncomfortable. It wasn’t just the mild illness, though. It was the guilt she felt at leaving her parents again. It was the uncertainty of her life at the palace and not knowing how to spend her days. And it was Tarquin. Everything that had passed between them since she’d left— she’d gone from not speaking to him to casually fucking him to being totally and completely in love with him. There had been anger after that, of course, and now confusion in not knowing where things stood, but what bothered her the most was that she was fairly certain she had never made it past the love part. She wasn’t sure if she ever would.

  And she didn’t know what this was. He seemed to be comfortable touching her, which she would never protest, but he hadn’t kissed her and hadn’t tried to have sex with her. She wouldn’t have protested those things either, and yet, maybe it was better this way.

  She was scared, she finally admitted to herself, because she adored him and needed him and wanted to plan her life around him. She didn’t know what she was to him, and that terrified her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Mira avoided Tarquin as well as she could, being confined to her room. He had come to see her just after breakfast on the first day, a plate of food in hand, but she had feigned sleep. He’d left the plate on her table and a kiss on her temple.

  He did the same thing after lunc
h and dinner, but she’d been a coward and done the same thing also. She didn’t know why she was so afraid to face him, but if she didn’t talk to him then he couldn’t tell her that this was all a mistake. He couldn’t tell her that he regretted her and everything she’d done with him.

  By the end of the third day he seemed annoyed, letting himself in quickly after knocking and sighing heavily when she didn’t respond to him saying her name.

  “I know you’re awake, Mira,” he’d murmured, and she’d almost sat up and grinned sheepishly at him, but had decided to be a coward instead— she kept her eyes closed and ignored him.