by Lia Davis
She nodded. His pale gray eyes had been mesmerizing, even though she was repulsed by his overly familiar and eerily cold touch. His words had been a blur, like a distant murmur, but they reverberated in her mind, down her spine and into that warm place where desire lived. As soon as he spoke, it was like every lustful nerve in her body had been on fire. “What did he do to me?”
“My kind can compel humans,” he said. “So my guess is that he compelled you to…” he hesitated. “To bang him, as you said. Or, anyone in sight, it seemed.”
“Oh my God,” she murmured. Then horror struck her. “And you can do this too?”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t. Not like that,” he said, putting up his hands defensively.
She pushed the tea away suddenly, sloshing the brown liquid over the edge. “I need to go,” she said. She was sitting across from either a total nutcase or a dragon in a man-suit who could look her in the eyes and command her to screw his brains out as easily as he ordered a beer at her bar. There was no part of this situation that was safe or logical.
“I’m sorry, I did not mean—”
“It’s okay. Can you get me an Uber or something? I’ll pay you back.”
“Uber?”
“Shit,” Violet said. “Do you have a phone?”
Chapter 9
Dread and guilt weighed heavy on Pahlin’s shoulders as he watched Violet pacing on the small front porch. A few minutes earlier, she’d taken his phone into the laundry room to make a call. He half wondered if she wasn’t calling the human police. But there were no flashing lights at his door.
Her face was drawn, her lips tight as she emerged from the room and handed him back the phone. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m going to wait out here.”
He felt helpless as he watched her making tight circles on the porch. He thought he’d done the right thing by telling her the truth, but she’d looked at him in disgust when he’d told her what Fidhur had done. And when he’d confirmed that he had the same ability? He felt that disgust and horror transfer to him, like filth clinging to his skin.
More than anything he’d ever wanted in his life, he wanted to reassure her that he would never harm her. He needed her to look at him and see that he was worthy of her trust, to understand that he was not like Fidhur. But he feared making it worse. It wasn’t an issue of his English; even in Kadirai, he could not conjure up the combination of words that would undo the damage that Fidhur had wrought.
After a few minutes of pacing, a car pulled into the empty driveway. Violet knocked on the door lightly. He opened it immediately. Her head was bowed. “Thank you for keeping me safe,” she said without looking at him.
“Of course. I am sorry for all the trouble,” he said stiffly. He wanted her to look up, for that hard expression on her face to soften and confirm that she wasn’t horrified by him. But she didn’t look up. She simply nodded, still looking at her feet, then hurried down the driveway to get in the waiting car.
As the car backed out of the driveway and left him alone, he scowled. After his chat with Imani, he was fairly certain he’d accept her offer of work, but not before he had another chance at Fidhur.
Pahlin locked the door, then walked through the house and out into the small, fenced-in back yard. He took long, centering breaths, taking in the smells and the energy. Even the air was different here. At home, there was a constant crackle in the air, a magic that was barely stable. While it was thinner here, it was still present, like breathing while flying high in the air.
Finding the lightning meant gathering enough of that energy to ignite the spark of magic within himself. It was hard in human form, but not impossible. Until now, he’d been holding onto his identity as an outsider, not making much of an effort to acclimate himself. Now becoming part of this world mattered more than ever.
Pahlin breathed deep, committing the smell and feel of the air into his memory, letting the unfamiliar become familiar. He paid attention to the stray currents of magic that moved around and through him, internalizing them. He could not continue to long for home if he wished to truly belong here.
He was not an angry person by nature, but a quiet fury simmered in him after the events of last night. With his eyes closed, he saw Fidhur’s face and the nasty way his lip curled into a sneer. You can have her when I’m done. What kind of trash, t’haran dan keth, did such a thing? And why? Because Violet had made him leave? Or was it simply because he could?
With narrowed eyes, Pahlin raised his head to the sky. “Grant me your strength,” he murmured, hoping the Skymother heard him even here in the human world.
His quiet fury erupted into a burning, crackling rage. Balling his fists tightly, Pahlin sucked in a sharp breath and reached for the spark. A small jolt shook him, bolting from the base of his spine and up into his head. It was surprising, but pleasant in its familiarity. That was it. He rolled his shoulders back and reached for it again. The shock was stronger this time, hitting him with a spike of heat that surged through his body. Pain accompanied it, but it was a familiar ache that told him he had found himself once more.
Still picturing Fidhur’s face, he stalked toward the large tree that cast shade over the backyard. Grunting with effort, Pahlin planted his hand against the tree and released the pooling electricity. Energy sizzled down his nerves and burst out of him. The tree trembled under his hand. He slowly pulled it away to see a charred black handprint on the bark, his sheer rage made manifest.
“There you are,” he murmured as the energy throbbed in his head and chest. With energy crackling along his skin, he walked into the house to make a call. Even if Violet never wanted to see him again, Pahlin would ensure that Fidhur got what he deserved.
Chapter 10
Walking into her own house after the night she’d had was the most relieved Violet Ray had ever been. Her friend Kate had picked her up from Pahlin’s house, no questions asked, and drove her back to the bar to get her car and her belongings. As she pulled into the other employee spot behind the building, Kate finally broke her silence and turned to Violet with wide eyes that were still smudged with last night’s eyeliner.
“Okay, Vi,” she said. “Is everything okay? I’m so not judging. I just need to know that you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Violet lied. While she’d paced on Pahlin’s porch, she’d come up with a cover story in case Kate asked. “Just had a little too much to drink and went home with a guy. Nothing happened, but he couldn’t drive me back to the bar, so I slept on his couch. I’m really fine.”
Kate nodded. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure. Call me if you want to get lunch or something this week,” she said.
“Sure,” Violet said, though a lunch date was the last thing on her mind. She’d retrieved her purse from inside the bar. She barely noticed the condition of the bar other than to note that it hadn’t burned down in her absence. There were too many other thoughts crowding her brain to worry about whether Bonnie had closed up properly.
The short drive home was practically automatic, and passed in a blur of muscle memory. Relief washed over when she walked into the cool comfort of her own house and locked the door behind her. Once she was safely inside, she checked her phone and found several missed texts from Bonnie.
Bonnie: Are you ok? One of those guys said you were sick and his friend was taking you home
Bonnie: Text me to let me know you’re ok
Bonnie: I’m worried, text me back
Violet winced and hastily composed a reply.
I’m so sorry. I was really sick and that guy Paul took me home. I’m ok. Thanks for checking on me. You’re the best.
She hurried upstairs to her bathroom and drew a hot bath. As she took off her clothes, she inspected herself again in the mirror. The tattooed man had put his hands on her, and although she was grateful they’d been interrupted before things went further, the thought of his hands on her breasts, his tongue in her mouth… She shuddered.
But worse than the fact that he’d done it
was that her body had responded. And it wasn’t just a purely physical reaction. Even though some part of her had realized subconsciously that there was something very wrong, there had been a part of her that would have gladly let him do whatever he’d wanted to her.
And that didn’t even begin to touch her confusion about Paul-Pahlin-Dragon-boy. She’d thought he was attractive before, and before last night, if he’d asked her out for coffee, she would have said yes without hesitation. Now there was a whole world of confusion around him. And despite the humiliation of the situation, a pleasant twinge of heat ignited between her legs at the memory of grinding against him, feeling the firm press of him between her legs and imagining what he would do when she removed those pesky pants. Was that residue of Fidhur’s psychic roofie or just raw attraction? What was even real?
She kicked her discarded clothes away and sank into the hot bath. The water was near scalding, but the intense sensation was comforting.
What was she supposed to do? Dealing with a drugging and nearly getting into bed with a stranger was bad enough. But to find out that said stranger and her gallant rescuer were both shapeshifting dragons from another world? That was grounds for a nice stay at the local psychiatric facility. Calling the cops on the tattooed guy probably wouldn’t do any good. He could just pull his eye trick again and convince them she was lying.
So what was she supposed to do?
When Violet was frustrated or angry or facing any number of negative emotions, her response was usually the same. Get to work. After a long soak, she shaved her legs, scrubbed herself from head to toe until she was flowery fresh, put on some makeup, and headed back to the bar. Bonnie had done a decent job of locking up, although there were half a dozen things out of place. After last night, Bonnie deserved a medal for leaving the place standing.
Violet turned on the stereo and got to work wiping down tables and straightening chairs. After sweeping the floor, she restocked her freezer with glasses. And when there were perfect lines of glassware chilling for nice frosty draft beers, she got to work slicing lemons and limes for garnish. There was something incredibly soothing about the productivity.
Her hands fell into a practiced motion, letting her mind drift. How in the world was she supposed to just go about a normal day as if she hadn’t been carried into the night by an actual dragon? How did people move forward when the world upended itself, when a fundamental truth dissolved right out from under them? What was next? Was Sonny secretly a werewolf? Hell, was Bonnie a vampire? After all, Violet had only ever seen her at night, and the younger woman did eat her steaks practically raw. What else was out there that she couldn’t even imagine?
Part of her wanted Pahlin to walk through the door, and part of her never wanted to see him again. He was gorgeous, and he seemed kind, but he had the same power as the tattooed man. What could he do? It was bad enough to wonder if a guy would take advantage of her when they were alone together. It was infinitely scarier that he could simply look in her eyes and remove her ability to say no.
And yet, last night, he’d repeatedly said no to her. She’d literally been pulling his clothes off, all but pulling his dick out, and he’d peeled her off him before she could do anything. Anyone could have argued that she wanted it. Hell, as far as she was concerned, she’d wanted it. And he’d denied her. He had literally locked her in a closet to protect her from doing something she would surely regret. Either he hadn’t found her attractive in the least, or he had a rock-solid moral code that wasn’t shaken by her throwing herself at him.
“Huh,” she murmured. The question of why he’d done it occupied her mind for the next hour, as she looked up drink recipes online for her traditional weekend special. She always tried out a new drink on Saturdays for a discounted price, provided that anyone who sampled it gave it a rating to determine whether to keep it in her rotation.
She had just poured a bourbon-based drink called a Gold Rush for sampling when someone rapped on the door. Startled, she craned her neck. There was a man at the door, peering in through the glass. It was Eric, Pahlin’s friend. Was he one of them too? She palmed the small paring knife she’d used to cut lemons and approached the door. Without opening it, she shouted, “What?”
“Will you speak to me?” he replied.
She hesitated. “Don’t put ideas in my head.”
He sighed. “I will not.”
She carefully unlocked the door, then stepped out onto the porch. The small knife wouldn’t do much, but if he so much as looked like he was about to lock gazes, she’d stab him in the softest spot she could. “Yes?”
“Pahlin told me what happened,” he said. “I know that you know what we are.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said. Confirmed. “What do you want, Eric?”
“Well, since you know…my name is Ariv,” he said. Because of course, nothing was what it seemed. As she glared at him, he squirmed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I just stopped by to ensure that you were all right. I am sorry that one of our kind violated your…erm, your will that way. Please understand that this is not acceptable to us. We have very strict rules, and Fidhur will be dealt with. Harshly, I would imagine.”
She nodded. “Good.”
“I did, however, speak to your employee. The girl with the yellow hair?”
“Bonnie? What did you do to her?”
“After Pahlin left with you, she was very upset,” Ariv said. “I only told her to calm down, and that you were ill.”
“How did you know I wasn’t in trouble?”
“Because Fidhur was lying in the parking lot cursing Pahlin’s name and swearing to tear his head from his neck, and you were nowhere to be found. I was not sure what had happened, but I knew Pahlin would never hurt you,” he said.
“Okay,” Violet said. “Is that all you came for?”
“No,” Ariv said. He reached into his jacket, and Violet tightened her hand on the small knife. I will cut you, dragon-boy. But he only withdrew a slick piece of paper. She recognized the shape and glossy sheen of a sports ticket.
“What’s this?”
“I told you Fidhur would be dealt with. I thought you might enjoy seeing it for yourself,” Ariv said. She reached out with her free hand and took the ticket. Like most events, there was information about time, date, and her seat number. The center simply read Pinnacle VIP. “If you decide to come, just understand there are rules. You will sit with me, and it will be assumed that you are with me for the evening.”
“With you?”
“In appearance only,” he said. “Our kind are tentative about socializing too much with humans. But it’s not unheard of. If you come with me, they will assume you are my girlfriend and that I am doing what is necessary to keep our ways secret from you.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Will you come?”
She examined the ticket. What was she getting herself into? “I’ll come.”
Chapter 11
The official that brought Pahlin to the anteroom was the same one who’d prepped him for his first fight with Fidhur. As soon as he saw Pahlin, his eyebrows piqued. “You’re back,” he said, the lilt in his voice making it clear he was surprised. He looked Pahlin over. “Rematch?”
“Yes,” Pahlin said. “I am better prepared this time.”
“Good for you,” the official said, not looking particularly confident in Pahlin’s chances. “You’re up next.”
At his request, Ariv had called the Gatekeepers to tell them what Fidhur had done. Their representative would arrive at the Pinnacle that evening. If the Skymother blessed them with fortuitous timing, it would be just in time for Pahlin to beat the sneer off his face and send him bleeding with the Gatekeeper for justice.
Though Ariv had convinced Violet to come see the fight, Pahlin held out little hope of their relationship progressing past this evening. Even if she hadn’t come, he wanted revenge on Fidhur, both for beating him and for what he’d done to Violet. Pahlin wanted her to know that she was safe from his kind, that t
hey did not make a habit of abusing human women.
Still, a tiny piece of him entertained the fantasy that she would lose that look of fear and smile when she saw him. And he hoped against all hope that he could kiss her and touch her without her being afraid of him.
The shouts of the crowd broke through his silly dream. The official returned and said, “Your turn.”
Pahlin nodded and pushed aside his thoughts of her smile. Instead, he called up, in vivid and sickening detail, the image of Fidhur pushing her against the wall with his hands roaming over her body as if it belonged to him. Crackling heat ignited in his chest, tingling down his arms with a sensation that bordered on painful. He let it grow, until his limbs burned with energy.
The bright lights made it hard to see, but he searched for the familiar faces of his only friend and the woman who’d occupied his attention all day. A quarter turn from where he’d entered, he saw them sitting in seats close to the top of the slanted seating. Ariv nodded to him, but Violet was stony-faced. Her dark hair was swept away from her face and braided, hanging over one shoulder. She looked like a warrior, ready for battle. He nodded to her, but she didn’t flinch. He swallowed hard and fixed his attention on his opponent. The other man looked as fit and healthy as ever.
As before, the official gestured for Pahlin and Fidhur to approach each other. In their first match, Fidhur had looked unimpressed and detached as he sized up Pahlin. This time, he scowled. When they were close enough that they could have put hands on each other, Fidhur leaned in and snarled. “I’m going to kill you,” he said.
“How are your balls?” Pahlin replied. Fidhur’s eyes narrowed.
They both glared at each other. The official looked back and forth between them rapidly. When it became clear that they were not going to bow or give each other any sign of respect, he backed away and shouted, “Begin!”
Pahlin wasted no time. He feinted to the left, catching Fidhur’s attention. Then he darted forward, slamming a hard punch into Fidhur’s gut. The other man let out a grunt of pain, but didn’t stumble. Instead, he slammed his hands on either side of Pahlin’s head, setting his ears ringing. Disoriented, Pahlin reeled. While his head was still hazy, Fidhur pushed him back, with one hand flat against Pahlin’s chest. The sharp, icy sensation exploded through his chest, making his heart thump painfully hard. He followed it with another hard blow to the ribs. You will not win this time, he thought, letting out a growl of anger. Fidhur hit him with a rapid succession of quick punches to the side, but Pahlin grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and palmed his face with the other.