Playing With Fire: Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society

by Meg Ripley

  Jason followed Neil's gesture to sit at one of the overstuffed chairs that rested on either side of a glass coffee table.

  "Alright. Neil, I know that we spoke briefly on the phone, but I wanted to give you more information about this investment opportunity."

  Jason placed his briefcase at his feet and released the latch on the top, reaching in to pull out the folder that contained his presentation about the park.

  "Absolutely. Let's walk."

  Neil bounded back up out of his chair and started toward the doors, removing the smoking jacket as he went so that he could hang it on a hook on the wall that Jason noticed was also shaped like a dragon. He was picking up on a theme in the house and it was making him distinctly uncomfortable.

  They walked back through the foyer and Neil led Jason up the massive staircase to a hallway at the top. He turned into the first doorway and Jason followed him, trying to give the pitch that he had prepared, but found it harder to deliver effectively without the benefit of the pictures, news clippings, and charts that he had carefully tailored to demonstrate that this could be a potentially lucrative investment choice.

  Jason felt like he was having to stretch a little bit further; be a bit more dramatic with how he spoke about the park and all of the opportunities that he saw for it, even if he wasn't entirely sure that he believed what he was saying himself. He wanted to believe it, though. He wanted to believe that he could help Mr. Kelsey take all of the enthusiasm, nostalgia, and faith that he had inside himself and somehow use it to transform his beloved park.

  "This is my favorite spot in the house," Neil said.

  Jason had been so busy talking that he hadn't really paid attention to his surroundings, but when he glanced up he realized they were walking through not a single room, but a long gallery that looked as though it had been crafted out of several rooms by removing dividing walls. Paintings covered the walls and Jason noticed that nearly all of them featured dragons. In the center of the wall to his left was a massive mural of a maze that looked remarkably like the one outside of the Club.

  A twinge of discomfort twisted in his stomach and Jason tried his best to get a glimpse of the inside of Neil's wrist. Now that he had removed his smoking jacket, Neil was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, which would have allowed Jason to see whether or not Neil had a specific tattoo on his wrist, indicating that he was one of them. The older man shifted and Jason saw both wrists. Neither had the mark, which meant that he wasn't a dragon himself. That meant that he knew far too much about Jason's world, and that put him, and Jason, in danger.

  "Is that alright with you, Jason?"

  Jason jumped slightly at the sound of Neil's question, realizing that he had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard what the older man had been saying to him.

  "I'm sorry. What were you saying?" Jason asked.

  "I was saying that you have me fairly well convinced of the whole thing, but I am no longer the only one who makes decisions about my investments. It seems that I have made one or two hasty decisions that my progeny did not appreciate, and now I've promised that I won't make any more investments without approval. You will have to impress Shayne and get approval before I can go ahead."

  "And Shayne is?" Jason asked.

  Neil gave a sigh and looked up at the huge painting with a spark of longing in his eyes that pushed Jason even further into his nervousness.

  "Not nearly as easy to please as I am."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jason didn't go home that night. Instead of driving back to the city, he chose the opposite direction and drove until he found a bar with a bright neon sign to welcome him inside. The Club had its perks, but Vincent was sure to be there, and Jason was too furious to speak to the arrogant twit at the moment. His anger at Vincent mixed like wet cement with his irritation at facing yet another hurdle, creating a heavy ache low in his stomach. Maybe alcohol would help dull that pain; maybe it would help put him to sleep in the nearest empty bed so he could wake up bright-eyed and ready to tackle the task ahead of him. Or he might wake up with a hangover and a whole bunch of regret, but either way, he'd appreciate the head change.

  The bar had a good amount of business for a Thursday night, but Jason was able to find a seat at the end of the bar, making eye contact with the cutie behind the cash register. "Double vodka, on the rocks with a wedge of lime." Not his usual drink, but what was the point of going to a strange bar if he didn't want to shake up his routine a little? She nodded, moments later presenting him with his drink and a smile.

  "Can I open a tab for you?"

  Jason nodded and took out his wallet. "Please."

  She took the card and slid a fresh bowl of pretzels his way, offering another quick smile. It hooked his attention, pulling his eyes with her as she moved to the other side of the bar. He didn't want to stare, but she certainly had a body that was worth a second look and a moment of admiration. Delicious curves from top to bottom and no ring on her finger.

  He forced himself to look away before she could notice him checking her out, scanning over the bar with idle curiosity as he squeezed the lime into his drink. Three men were playing pool in the corner, and beside them were three women, splitting a pitcher and having a loud conversation punctuated with shouts of laughter. A young couple cozied up together in the booth to the right, and to the left was an older gentleman with a plate of food, a cup of coffee, and a wrinkled newspaper. The other end of the bar featured two young women huddled together with morose frowns, and another couple arguing over the jukebox.

  "Lively crowd tonight," Jason said when the bartender drifted his direction again, a rag in hand.

  "They're my regulars."

  "Your regulars? Do you own this place?"

  "Part of it."

  "It's a nice place." Holding out his hand, he added, "I'm Jason, by the way."

  "Thanks. I'm Mary."

  "Pleasure to meet you, Mary. You've been working here long?"

  "I cover here sometimes." She nodded at his drink. "Can I get you anything else?"

  "Water, please." He took a deep breath then tilted the drink back, his eyes watering at the sudden burn down his throat. A fire erupted in his belly and he immediately dove for a handful of pretzels, chasing the salty snack with the drink Mary produced for him.

  "How was it?"

  "Not bad."

  "Want another?"

  "Oh, God no. Bourbon, neat."

  "Coming right up."

  While she was distracted by the order, he took a moment to note the hints of red in her hair, the curve of her mouth and line of her jaw, and the rounded fullness of her breasts. She was extremely blessed in that regard, and the dark T-shirt she wore only accentuated that fact. She shifted and he quickly looked away, his gaze finding the TV screen in the corner.

  "Why order a vodka if you like bourbon? If you don't mind me asking."

  Jason was more than happy to answer any question she had if that meant she wanted to keep chatting with him. Maybe she'd flirt a little and give him a good memory. "Felt like trying something new. Needed something to help me think."

  She chuckled. "And you chose vodka? That's not exactly known for clearing the mind."

  "No, but it might help me forget for a few hours."

  Her smile faded. "That's always what they seem to hope for."

  The door chimed as a new patron walked in and he lost her attention. He sipped his drink, thinking of the painting of the maze. Thinking of Vincent. Apparently, the vodka was not enough to make him forget anything. He'd have to talk to Vincent, no doubt about it, and demand an explanation. Then he would have to consider whether Vincent should be reported for violating the sacred vow of silence, the oath of secrecy that bound all members of the Darkblood Society—the oath that kept them safe. He knew the investigation would be swift, and if they found Vincent guilty, the punishment would be severe. There was no tolerance for dragons who broke the oath—the risk was simply too great for the whole community.


  But Jason didn't want to lose his friend, either. He liked Vincent, despite everything, and there was still a chance that Neil could become an investor. Did he even have anything solid to report? The painting had not been an exact replica of the maze, and humans were allowed to be interested in dragons. Perhaps until he had evidence that there was more to the story than a passing interest, he would wait to speak to the council.

  "Go fuck yourself!"

  "Fuck you!"

  The sudden explosion of fury pulled Mary from behind the bar. As she rushed to the two men in the corner squaring off over the pool table, Jason looked around and realized there was no bouncer; no back-up of any kind. Jason stood without thinking and followed her.

  "You’d better get the fuck out of my face before I fuck yours up."

  "I'd like to see you try, you sonofabitch."

  "Hey now, that's no way to talk to your brother," Mary said, stepping between the two men. They both had a good foot on her and neither even glanced down as she squared her shoulders, forcing each of them to take a step back. "What's going on here?"

  "Stay out of this, Mary. It's none of your concern."

  "Well, it's happening in my bar, so it is my concern."

  By now, a small crowd had gathered around the warring factions consisting of Jason, the three women, and the couple that drifted over from the jukebox. Two of the women were darting nervous glances at each other, and Jason had the feeling that the fight was not over a game of pool.

  "Fine. Let's step outside and settle this like men."

  Mary put a hand on each chest and forced another foot between the brothers. "There's no need to step outside. We can discuss the issue right here."

  The taller of the two men narrowed his eyes. "There's nothing to discuss. I know he's fucking my wife."

  All three of the women gasped, and the other man didn't deny it. His face twisted with a defiant sneer and despite Mary's presence, he took a threatening step forward. "Maybe if you were a real man, I wouldn't have to take care of your wife."

  One of the women started to cry and in the same instant, Jason saw the taller man's hand clench into a tight fist. Jason acted first, moving with lightning speed to push Mary out of the path of the inevitable swing. He pushed her out of the way, but he wasn't quick enough to avoid the blow completely. The hard knuckles connected to his temple with enough force to send him stumbling into the wall. He blinked, righted himself and felt the fire kindle in his stomach. He took a deep breath and turned to face the other men, knowing that the embers would be glowing in his eyes, and hoping that would be enough to send them both running.

  "Get the hell out," Jason growled, eyes narrowed, fists clenched at his side.

  Both of the men stared at him for a beat, long enough to give their friends a chance to get moving. They wisely ushered the men outside, the women still wailing, and Mary hurried over to his side.

  "Come here. Let me get you some ice for that bruise." She led him by the arm back to the bar, her light touch like a soothing balm, cooling the flames inside of him. She dropped some ice in a towel, folded the cloth over, and gently held it up to his head. "Here. Hold onto that while I get you a drink."

  He took his place on his stool, obediently holding the ice to his temple.

  "Thanks, but you didn't have to do that," she said, sliding him a fresh drink.

  "Yes, I did."

  "I don't think he would have hit me."

  "I don't think he would have hit you on purpose. But he was drunk and pissed off and trust me, he packs quite a wallop." He winced, the pain breaking through as his adrenaline wore off.

  "You going to be okay?"

  "Sure. Trust me, I'd rather be in my shoes than his."

  "Well, thank you again. It's not every day I meet someone who's willing to take a punch for me."

  The corner of Jason's mouth lifted. "It was my pleasure."

  "Would you like something to eat? The kitchen is still open."

  "What's good?"

  "I like the cheeseburger and onion rings."

  "That would be perfect, thanks."

  She smiled and this time it reached her eyes. He felt like he took another blow, this time right to the chest. Yes, stepping in front of some guy's fist was definitely worth it if it meant getting a smile like that from her.

  When she returned, she carried a plate that was nearly overflowing with hand cut, crispy onion rings, and a giant, stacked cheeseburger. His stomach growled at the sight of it and he reached for it before she even set it down. The first onion ring was an explosion of heat and flavor and crispy breading. He quickly ate a second and a third and gestured for her to help herself to one.

  "No, thank you."

  "Take one. Please."

  She hesitated for another moment before snagging a small ring. She popped it in her mouth and chewed it with a satisfied smile. "God, I love these things."

  "They're amazing. My compliments to the chef."

  "Thank you."

  “You made these?”

  “Running with a skeleton crew tonight.”

  "You deserve another one."

  She happily took one, and between the two of them, the rings were quickly gone. "I'll go get more while you work on your burger," she said.

  He thought he would be too full to eat another helping, but as soon as he smelled the freshly fried rings, his mouth began to water and he helped himself to a few more while they were still almost too hot to touch.

  "So, what brings you to our little backwater?" she asked.

  "Business. You don't get much traffic out here?"

  "Not this time of year. Not too many reasons for anyone to stop."

  "Where's the nearest motel?"

  "There's a Quality Inn a few miles south."

  "Is it any good?"

  "It's not bad if you don't mind roaches."

  "Love 'em."

  "Then you'll be just fine."

  They split the remainder of the onion rings and continued to chat about the area. She seemed happy to talk to him and he tried to gather as much information as he could, trying to get a feel for the area—Adventure Isle was only a half hour drive away. Maybe the amusement park would be the draw this little town needed to pick up business. There might even be a chance to involve the entire community in a marketing or promotional opportunity.

  By the time Jason looked up again, he was shocked to discover they were the only people left in the bar. Mary blinked and looked around, as surprised as him. "Well, I guess it's time for me to close up."

  He expected her to ask him to leave, but instead she took his place and replaced it with a glass of ice water. "This will help with the hangover."

  "Cheers."

  She set about her nightly tasks and he watched her over the rim of his glass, sipping the water and thinking about how much he didn't want the night to end. She was good company, easy to talk to with a light, lilting laugh. She seemed to like him, too. What if she didn't want the night to end? She might invite him back to her place for a nightcap. It didn't seem outside the realm of possibility.

  She tidied up behind the bar, closed out the cash register, and swept the floor. He offered to help, but she waved him away, working quickly. He had to admit, he probably would just get in her way. When she was done, she double-checked the lock on the front door and then gestured for him to follow her out the back.

  "That's my car." She pointed to a little silver Honda. "I live four miles straight down this road. If you have time for another drink…"

  "I do have time for another drink. But um...maybe I shouldn't be driving. I could follow in a cab."

  She rolled her eyes. "Come on. No need to get a cab involved."

  Jason gave himself a mental high five and followed her to her car. The interior was clean and still carried a faint hint of new-car smell. The local country station blared to life as she turned on the engine, and she gestured at the dial. "Feel free to turn on anything you’d like."

  "This is fine."
<
br />   A sudden cloud of butterflies swarmed his stomach as she put the car in reverse, and he realized he was actually, genuinely nervous. Excited, too, but he would definitely need another drink to settle his nerves. It'd been a long time since he met a woman that interested him, and even longer since a woman invited him back to her place. He already wanted to touch her and wondered what her reaction might be if he brushed the hair away from her face, but decided against it—it might startle her enough to send them careening into a tree.

  She lived just past the edge of town, where the speed limit increased to 45 mph, in a modest trailer on a small plot of land. He couldn't see much in the dark, but the yard was full of flowers and the fence was freshly whitewashed. Inside, the house was cozy, clean, and decorated with eclectic charm. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Would you like a cold pack?"

  He touched his temple as he settled on her sofa. "No, thanks. I'm feeling better now."

  "Oh good. Cheap beer okay?"

  "The cheaper the better."

  She returned with a frosty can in each hand and curled up beside him on the couch. He put an arm around her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world, holding his breath in that moment before she relaxed against him. He rested his fingers on her arm, touching her skin just below her T-shirt sleeve. Her skin was soft, softer than he even expected, and the heat from her body spread into his arm. She popped open a can and handed it to him, their fingers brushing together, his mouth running dry.

  "Thanks." He took a drink to wet his tongue, watching the shape of her mouth as she brought her can to her lips.

  "I...uh...I don't do this sort of thing often," she said, eyes on her beer, the slight tremor in her voice betraying the fact that she was just as nervous as he was. Knowing they were on the same page gave him a shot of courage, and he set his beer down on the table and pulled her closer to him. She looked up and he met her gaze with a smile.

  "I don't either. I guess we'll just have to figure it out together."

  "That's a good idea." She licked her lips. "Teamwork."

  "Exactly." He plucked the beer from her hand and set it beside her. She looked up at him, her lips parted, her eyes soft. They moved at the same time, their mouths brushing together, and then molding together. She parted her lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss, and soon they were completely wrapped around each other. His hands roamed over her body, his own flesh sizzling everywhere she touched him. When her knuckles brushed over his erection, a moan escaped his throat and his hips shot forward, pressing more firmly against her palm.