by Lauren Smith
A part of her knew she should be freaking out. She’d just up and left Moscow and her research behind to travel hundreds of miles to rural Russia with two men who could shift into dragons, but she felt more and more connected to Grigori every passing moment. She craved him . . . His touch, his kiss, the way he looked at her as if she were beautiful and special.
The Range Rover bounced the last few feet down the road before the trees parted and the view made Madelyn’s breath catch. The three small palaces were like three brightly colored kaleidoscopes in the middle of the Fire Hills. The meadow on either side of the gravel road was covered in wildflowers. Madelyn raised a hand to her trembling lips. A flood of emotions threatened to sweep her away. This place, somewhere she’d never been to before . . . felt like home. How could that be? She never felt at home anywhere, not even in Michigan where she’d lived her entire life. Her bones wanted her to stop, get out of the car, stand in the field and grow roots so she’d never leave.
“Welcome to my home,” Grigori said as the car stopped in front of the center palace.
It was like a fairytale home tucked away in the forest. The dozens of windows each had boxes full of bright flowers. Where Moscow had been cold and rainy, this little valley was still caught in the dazzling web of late summer without any of the suffocating heat.
She started to follow Grigori out his side of the car, but he frowned at her and shut the door. Then he walked all the way around to her side and opened the door, holding out his hands. She tried to grab them but he moved in close and gripped her waist, lowering her down to the ground. They stayed close a few seconds longer than was necessary, but Madelyn had no intention of pulling away. This man was . . . addictive. She just wanted to be close to him. On some level, she knew she was falling for him hard and fast. Her brain seemed to have checked out, leaving her heart and body in charge.
“Rurik will bring in your bags.”
Grigori’s brother made a clearly sarcastic remark in Russian before he picked up her bag out of the back of the car and headed toward the front door behind them.
Madelyn walked up the marble steps and followed Grigori inside, her hand tucked in his. A line of servants had formed in the hall ready to greet them. All of them were smiling and whispering but they silenced themselves as Grigori and Madelyn got closer.
“This is Ms. Haynes. She is my personal guest I want you to treat her the way you treat me. Anything she asks is hers.” This last was spoken in English and Madelyn felt her face heat up when the now curious servants turned their attention to her.
“Hi,” she murmured shyly, and tried to disappear into Grigori’s arms. “It’s nice to meet you.”
The servants all began to murmur polite “hellos” in heavily accented English and it made her smile.
Looks like I’ll get to practice my modern Russian while I’m here. She was looking forward to it. The servants listened to Grigori give them a few instructions in Russian before they left to see to their duties. It gave Madelyn time to study the interior of Grigori’s home.
The entryway was bright and sunny, with yellow walls and a walnut staircase. Vines with rosebuds were painted on the walls and there were painted birds clinging to the branches so detailed that Madelyn half expected them to come to life and start singing. It reminded her of the old English country mansions she had glimpsed in the coffee table books her mother had. Grigori was watching her closely, his eyes sweeping over her face as is trying to read every tiny expression.
“What do you think?”
She met his gaze and couldn’t hide her smile. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe you live here.” She leaned into him and the way he wrapped his arms around her made her heart leap. She’d never had a man be so willing to hold her, to cuddle her close. Madelyn had grown used to feeling alone and cold inside but Grigori made her feel different. He allowed her to be a woman who wanted to be touched, to be loved. Her heart stilled as she realized that was what she wanted. She wanted to be loved.
Rurik walked ahead of them up the stairs, and he looked oddly out of place with his leather jacket and jeans, like a wolf prowling a fairytale castle. But not Grigori. He was more like a snow leopard in the way he moved with leonine grace. His elegant black trousers and dark gray sweater fit perfectly in this palace but he was no less lethal than his brother.
As they ascended the stairs, Madelyn ran her fingertips along the banister and took in the sight of the hall. When they reached the top of the stairs, a series of wide windows on the right side of the hall let light burst through in bright, bold patches, illuminating a series of portraits along the left side.
“There’s so much light,” she murmured, completely in awe of the sunny exquisiteness of Grigori’s home.
His soft low chuckle made her skin flush and tingle. “Let me guess; you expected dungeons, moats and sulfur-scented caves?”
A blush flamed her face. “Maybe not dungeons . . .” But she had expected something more like a crumbling castle or series of elaborate caves in a mountainside.
“I do have a dungeon.” He winked at her.
“What?” They stopped in the shadows between two gold bands of light from the windows, where the tips of his hair were barely kissed by sunlight. Beside them was a tall portrait of a fierce-looking man who resembled Rurik, except for the ancient, slightly harder glint in his eyes.
“We do have a dungeon, for keeping succulent virgins prisoner,” he teased.
She shoved his chest, trying not to laugh. And he caught her, pulling her close, nuzzling her cheek. She glanced at the portrait again and just as Grigori kissed her, she had a sudden flash of memory so intense it ripped through her like a tidal wave. A man racing across a rain soaked field toward her before he transformed into a blue and silver dragon, his jaws snapping and claws glinting in a burst of lightning. She inhaled, ready to scream.
“Madelyn? What’s the matter? You know I’m only teasing.” Grigori held onto her even though she struggled to break free. An irrational part of her was panicking. Her instincts demanded that she run and hide.
“Madelyn!” Grigori’s rough shout broke through the thick fog of panic and she stopped thrashing in his arms.
Panting, her head dropped and she let her body relax. She was with Grigori, not trapped in her nightmares.
“Are you all right? You scared me, little one,” he whispered sweetly in her ear.
With a shaky nod, she tried to gather her thoughts. The nightmares always scattered them and she had to calm down to get herself in order.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” She didn’t want to lie to him, but these things that haunted her, she was afraid of them, afraid of what they meant and what it meant that he caused them to happen. The past and her dreams were a secret she wanted to keep from the world, even though Grigori had made her want to share all of herself with him.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you about my dungeon,” he murmured the words as he kissed her temple.
She shook her head. “It wasn’t that, I just . . . I don’t know what happened,” she lied.
He held her there in the shadows, letting her trembling subside and only then did he step back.
“You make me feel so strange,” he said softly, like a whispered confession. “I want only to protect you.” He smiled. “I want to fight and slay your dragons,” he chuckled.
“But you are my dragon,” she replied, feeling warm all over at his words. The panic she’d felt moments ago was already fading. She didn’t need to be sheltered or protected. She was a strong woman, but there was something wonderful about a man who wanted to be her protector. Something wonderful about this man . . . my dragon. Grigori was not the creature of her nightmares who hunted her. Her heart was sure of that now and she trusted him. But it didn’t erase the memory of another dragon, one that looked so much like him, who haunted her nightmares.
“Why don’t I show you to your room and then we can find something to eat in
the kitchens. My servants all speak English, so they should be able to help you if you require anything while you’re here.”
“Your servants speak English?” That surprised her. She didn’t see why he’d want to have bilingual servants. They started walking again and Madelyn’s eyes moved from portrait to portrait, but she knew she would have to come back later to fully examine them. Especially the one that made her remember her nightmares.
“The Barinov family has always employed servants that are intelligent and multilingual. We sometimes bring dragons from other countries here for diplomacy reasons and we like to have the servants able to assist them.”
“Dragons from other countries?” She waited eagerly for him to continue.
“There are several breeds of dragons. The men and women are of course human, but the dragons inside them can be different. My brothers and I are Russian Imperials. There are also Nordic Ice Dragons, South American Starbacks, Chinese Serpents, American Ridgebacks, English Drakes, and the Eastern European Wyrms.”
“But aren’t you an ice dragon?” she asked, remembering the way the glass frosted around his palms and how he had made the clouds shower snow over Moscow.
“Yes and no. My father and I are rare Russian Imperials that carry a talent for ice in our genetic code. Somewhere long ago we bred with Nordic Ice Dragon shifters. We might be considered a mutt line, but that’s not really how dragons see it. We do prefer to stick to our own kind, but sometimes a great dragon with an amazing mix of abilities can be born from two different types of dragons mating.”
Madelyn tried to digest all the information. So many dragons. She’d never dreamed there could be so many species, but the myth variations from serpents to wyrms made sense. It matched the scope of the dragon lore and mythology that spread out across the globe.
“And your mother? She was a Russian Imperial?”
“She was. A pure one. Her line dated back so far we don’t even know the original dragon.” He glanced at her as they took another turn down a new hallway. “She and Catherine the Great were close friends.”
“Catherine the Great?” Madelyn wanted to squeal. That was incredible. She’d written one of her research essays in undergrad on the German princess who had ruled over the Russian court better than her own husband. History had always been one of her obsessions. Grigori was a walking history book, and she couldn’t wait to learn about everything he’d lived through over the centuries.
“Yes. My mother was a fan of the human Russian Imperial court and its intrigue. Dragons are quite talented at that. And Catherine saw my mother as a dear friend and a valuable ally.”
“What about you? Did you like the Imperial court?”
They came to stop in front of a white painted door, the edges gilded with elaborate gold paint. Grigori turned the handle and led her inside.
“Court wasn’t bad, but I much preferred the wild excitement of the woods and the hills. I can be myself out here.” He watched her as she took in the room.
The domed ceiling was painted with dragons in the clouds, their bodies sleek and elegant but no less fierce as they soared through the cumulus clouds. The massive four-poster bed, with an ice blue coverlet embroidered with silver scrollwork, was stunning. A dainty gilded vanity table and a tall armoire were tucked against one wall. Above them was a portrait of one of the most beautiful women Madelyn had ever seen.
The face . . . her face . . . Madelyn fell to her knees as a searing pain shot through her chest and visions flashed before her eyes.
The rain . . . it stung her cheeks, the icy droplets like knives. She let out a frightened cry but the smoke-filled air around her was empty, quiet save for the pounding rain. Through the gloom, a woman’s face appeared. Brown eyes dark with grief, a cut marring her cheek.
“Oh no . . . what have you done, Ivan . . . what have you done . . .” the woman wept openly as she reached for Madelyn. Madelyn squirmed, her body trapped until the woman touched her. Then she was being cuddled, her cold body pressed to the woman’s chest as they both cried.
“It’s all right . . . I’ll take you somewhere safe, my poor little one. I don’t have . . .” she shuddered as pain wracked her body. “Long now. And I will save you . . .”
A sob tore from Madelyn’s throat and she collapsed into Grigori’s arms.
What’s happening to me?
“Madelyn!” Grigori’s gruff cry was the last sound she heard as she sank into darkness.
Chapter 11
You turned your tears’
strength and pressure into your ripe gaze,
and were transforming every fluid inside you
into a strong reality, which would rise
and circulate, in equilibrium, blindly.
—Rainer Maria Rilke
This time Madelyn couldn’t shake off the fear and terror. She was frozen in that moment, terrified of the rain, the cold, and the silence. She could see the slither of a silver dragon through tall grass. Thunder rumbled like the low growl of wolves. The cold rain stung her skin, hot from running for her life. Fear punched her gut, making her taste bile and acid . . . Distantly as though from beneath a vast sea, she heard Grigori talking to her, whispering over and over words in a language she didn’t understand.
Bit by bit the nightmare began to fade, leaving her hollow and heavy-hearted. Tear tracks had dried on her cheeks and she was on the floor, wrapped around Grigori. Clinging to him. His dark gray sweater was damp when she buried her face against his shoulder. His body was shaking too, his hands curled tight around her back. He reached up to her neck massaging her tense muscles. His lips pressed into the crown of her hair and she slowly sagged in his hold.
“Talk to me, little one. Tell me. I know you want to hide your pain, but I can smell it. The bitter scent is hurting me almost as much as it hurts you.” His low voice was soft and decadent, almost hypnotizing. She didn’t want to hurt him. But perhaps now was the time to tell him about her nightmares and how being here was bringing them back. They felt more real, like memories rather than dreams.
Madelyn raised one hand and pointed at the woman in the painting. She stood in front of a large swing hanging from a tall tree, the fiery fall leaves above her seemed to ripple. Her sapphire blue gown was as deep as the oceans, and pearls and diamonds dotted the bodice and sleeves like the white caps of the cresting waves, sparkling in the morning light.
“Who is she?” Madelyn asked, her voice shaking.
Grigori looked over his shoulder at the painting. “That is my mother.”
“Your mother?” Madelyn sucked in a breath, unable to understand why she would recognize his mother. “But how could I know your mother?”
Grigori stiffened and looked down at her. “You knew my mother?”
“Yes.” Madelyn studied the woman’s features closely. That woman had carried her to safety, away from the rain and the silence. “At least I think I do. I have these dreams, nightmares really, where I’m caught in a storm. I’m terrified, and a dragon is hunting me.”
“You have nightmares about dragons hunting you?” Grigori’s eyes were wide as he studied her.
“Yes, ever since I was a child. But it’s not dragons, it’s one dragon. One that looks like you.”
Horror filled his eyes. “Me? But . . .” He didn’t seem to know what to say.
“But I don’t think it’s you.” She rushed to assure him.
He was silent for a long moment. “And you’ve seen my mother in these dreams?”
She nodded. “But she wasn’t a dragon. That’s why I thought maybe I knew her. Dreaming about dragons is one thing, my imagination might have made that up, but your mother? How could I know what she looks like if I didn’t already know her somehow?”
“But you couldn’t have,” Grigori said. “She died many years ago.”
Madelyn bit her lip, continued to stare at the portrait. Was Grigori right? Was she merely imagining things? She stared into the oil painting’s eyes and knew with dreaded certainty th
at she had known Grigori’s mother long ago. Somehow.
“You have been under a lot of stress, Madelyn. I believe discovering dragons are real has upset you more than either of us realized. It can be jarring to have what you thought to be true suddenly disrupted. Why don’t you lie on the bed and rest?”
She exhaled slowly, her breath still irregular but her heartbeat felt normal again.
“No, I don’t want to rest . . . I want to see you.” She lifted her head and he gazed at her, his eyes wide.
“By me, you mean . . .” he trailed off.
“Yes. The dragon.” She had to face her fears. It wasn’t that she was afraid of him, but the nightmares of a blue and silver dragon still haunted her.
Grigori’s lips slid into a firm line and he shook his head.
“No. You had a shock and you should rest.”
Madelyn crossed her arms over her chest, her temper from flaring slightly.
“Why do you always do that?” she demanded.
“Do what?” he asked, stroking her hip. The little touch was seemingly innocent, but it began to make her focus on the way her skin tingled rather than thinking about her dreams.
“Make me feel safe, right when I feel like the fear is closing in. You touch me and the fear just fades.”
“It’s my honor and my privilege to protect you and banish all your fears.” The words felt ancient, like a vow a dragon a thousand years ago would say, and it made her shiver in a good way.
The fear that had been fluttering inside her before slowly began to fade. She was safe here in this house with him. And that made her brave. She wanted to see Grigori as a dragon, because he wouldn’t hurt her and it would help her face her childhood fears.
“I need to see you. It might help me get over everything if I can see you, touch you.” Strangely the thought of touching Grigori, no matter what form he was in, did not scare her. It only enticed her. She knew he would be just as beautiful as a dragon as when he was a man. Grigori caught her by the waist, tugging her against him so their bodies pressed together. Heat blossomed in her cheeks at the intimate position, and Grigori’s indulgent smile turned slightly wicked.