The Sun Dragon's Mate

by Liv Rider

  “Should we call the cops?” Noah asked. He’d been attacked, and probably drugged, though he felt fine now. Wasn’t calling the cops what sane people did in this situation?

  “You can,” Griffith said neutrally. “But they won’t be much help tracking him. Madoc wasn’t convicted by a human court.”

  What the hell is he talking about? He must still be under the effects of whatever Madoc had given him. He never should have had any of that drink. “So what exactly just happened?”

  Griffith studied him, as if measuring how much he wanted to tell him. “Madoc looks for people to prey on. You couldn’t have known. He’s very good at what he does.”

  “He was trying to kill me.” Noah was absolutely sure on that point. Madoc hadn’t drugged him, or whatever it was he’d done, to take advantage of him—he’d intended to kill him. And he’d almost succeeded.

  Griffith stared back at him, revealing nothing.

  Noah untangled his legs from his defensive pose. “Don’t you think I deserve to know?”

  Griffith shrugged. “I assumed you’d figured some of it out already. What kind of shifter are you, anyway?”

  Madoc had asked the same thing. It didn’t make any more sense coming from Griffith. “What kind of what?”

  Griffith stilled so completely it stopped Noah’s breath. “Humans don’t have that kind of life force. I could feel yours all the way across the parking lot.”

  Twice Griffith had referenced humans as if he wasn’t actually one. Which probably made Griffith as insane as Madoc, but it still wasn’t the craziest thing that had happened to Noah this night. “What are you talking about?”

  His phone buzzed. He glanced down at the screen. Todd, telling him that he’d run into a friend and was going to crash at her place. Noah’s stomach dropped.

  “It’s my roommate,” he said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “He’s not coming back tonight.”

  Griffith still looked nonplussed that Noah was apparently something different from what he’d thought he was, but he recovered quickly. “You’re not staying on your own. I’ll sleep on the couch, if that’s all right.”

  Noah’s throat closed over in gratitude. Even if Griffith was crazy, Noah still preferred his company over being alone right now. And weirdly, Noah felt safe with him. It was like he was someone Noah had known once and almost recognized now. Though if he’d ever met Griffith before, Noah knew he would have remembered.

  “Thanks. I’m Noah, by the way. Noah Tine. I didn’t, uh, actually introduce myself earlier.”

  That rush of energy and wellbeing he’d felt at whatever Griffith had done to him was fading. There was still so much more he needed to know—what little Griffith had told him didn’t make any sense—but he didn’t think he could stay conscious long enough to hear the answers.

  He stood on suddenly shaky legs, reaching out to steady himself on the arm of the couch. Griffith stood at the same time and put out an arm that Noah grasped reflexively, the contact sending another surge of energy and undeniable spark of electricity through him.

  Griffith steadied him when he staggered. “Sorry about that. A side effect.” He gestured to where his hands had burned Noah’s skin, even though there wasn’t even a mark. Griffith looked embarrassed, like he was apologizing for it. Another thing Noah wanted to know more about.

  Probably he’d just dreamed this whole crazy night and he’d wake up wondering where his brain came up with this stuff.

  Scales. He’d definitely seen scales.

  “You need to sleep it off. Can you make it to your room?”

  “I think so,” Noah said, supporting himself with an effort. He let go of Griffith’s arm, the loss of contact jarring, and felt Griffith’s eyes on him all the way to his bedroom.

  He closed the door behind him and collapsed on his bed, not bothering to undress before crashing into sleep.

  ***

  Griffith watched Noah’s bedroom door long after he’d closed it. He itched to go in there, make sure Noah really was all right, but he’d intruded on him enough for one night.

  He couldn’t believe what a complete fucking mess he’d made of things.

  He’d waited too long for Madoc to make his move, and Noah had almost died because of it. Madoc had drunk deeply from him, far more than he usually took from his victims the first time. More than Griffith had expected he would. Before, Madoc had liked to keep them around for a few days to feed on, arranging for some accident when he’d finally had his fill. Organ failure could be chalked up to so many medical explanations when human doctors were ignorant of the real ones.

  And then, when he’d had Madoc in his sights, he hadn’t pulled the trigger. Oh, he’d wanted to. He’d wanted to very badly; Madoc hadn’t been wrong about that. Which is why he couldn’t.

  He should have called in another hunter as soon as he’d seen Noah’s spell-dazed look coming out of that club. Griffith had zero objectivity when it came to Madoc.

  He retrieved his phone from his pocket. It was almost three in the morning, but Zach would be more pissed if Griffith waited to call him. He went into the kitchen to keep his voice from disturbing Noah.

  After the fourth ring, a sleep-muffled voice said, “If you’re not deep in shit needing to be bailed out, Rees, you soon will be.”

  “Madoc’s out.”

  Silence on the other end. “I know,” Zach said cautiously. “I heard yesterday. You’re not drowning yourself in whiskey somewhere, are you?”

  “I’m not calling because he’s out, I’m calling because he’s up to his old tricks again. He just tried to drain a kid to death. I’m at the kid’s apartment now, in case he tries to come back.”

  Griffith heard fumbling on the other end then Zach’s voice came through clearly, all trace of sleep gone. “He got away?”

  Griffith grimaced. “It was either bring him down or save the kid.” I had him in my sights; I could have shot him in the leg. But Madoc had been right; Griffith wasn’t sure he could have resisted going for the kill shot.

  “How’d you find him in the first place?”

  Griffith hesitated. “Picked him up at that bar on Fourth, then followed him to a night club.”

  “Uh-huh. And in that time, you didn’t think to pick up the phone?”

  “You would have told me I was being paranoid,” Griffith said bluntly.

  He heard Zach’s huff of breath on the other end. “Maybe, but I still would have backed you up. I knew Madoc back in the day too, remember?”

  You don’t have it in you to betray your precious code of justice. Once Madoc had believed in that code too.

  Zach had been the one to track Griffith down after the trial. Griffith had driven north until he’d reached a wide enough stretch of wilderness to let his dragon out, not leaving the air until he was physically unable to fly anymore, until his wings were as numb as his heart.

  He didn’t dare shift after that, afraid of what his dragon might do if he did. Burn Madoc to a crisp, most likely, which would be a travesty of the justice he still believed in.

  “I’m calling you now.”

  “Damn straight you are. So what’s your move?”

  “We need to pick up his trail again, but he’ll be watching for it this time. I’m taking Noah to see Sofia first, though. He has the life force of a shifter but had no idea what I was talking about.”

  “Noah, huh?” Griffith heard the question but didn’t take the bait. “If he’s human, Sofia won’t like that you told him about shifters.”

  “He’s already deep into this. I don’t see another way around it.”

  Zach sounded skeptical. “Better you than me. In the meantime I’ll get Tse up to speed and start putting out feelers. We’ll rendezvous later.”

  “Thanks, Zach.”

  “That’s what we’re here for,” Zach said, in pointed reminder before ending the call.

  Griffith put his phone away and leaned back against the kitchen counter. The sky was pitch black through the
small kitchen window. Even if he hadn’t promised to watch over Noah, he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

  Noah. Griffith ran a hand over his face, involuntarily picturing those long legs and full lips, the gray eyes that were too serious for someone his age. Griffith had no business thinking that way about a kid who was still in college judging by the video games and the apartment’s proximity to the university. But when he’d put his hands on Noah it was like his dragon had taken over, laying claim to something that wasn’t his. There might not be a visible mark where his hands had touched Noah’s skin, but it was there. Any other shifter would sense it and recognize it as a claim.

  It had been the only thing he could think of in the moment to save Noah’s life. The only thing that had enough power to jump start Noah’s life force until it could replenish itself.

  The mark called to Griffith’s dragon through the closed door that separated them, awakening a primeval heat and curl of possessiveness that Griffith ruthlessly suppressed. Noah wasn’t his mate. His dragon had no right to claim him as such—it was Griffith’s fault that Noah was in this mess at all.

  And soon he’d be in it even deeper. Griffith wasn’t in the habit of informing humans about shifters—though he had his doubts that Noah was human—but he might not have a choice in how much he told Noah, for his own sake.

  Chapter Three

  Noah woke with a strange tingling warmth on his skin, just under his ribs. He’d kicked his jeans off sometime in the night but had kept his t-shirt on. He lifted up the hem, expecting to see something—handprints, maybe—but the skin was smooth and unmarred.

  The fact that he remembered that, remembered the swift hot burst of fire where Griffith had touched him, seemed to prove the whole night hadn’t been a dream.

  He groaned and rolled over, burying his face in his sheets. He needed to wash them. It was Saturday. Laundry day. He had a pile waiting for him in his closet. Why am I thinking about laundry?

  A noise came from the kitchen and he shot upright, heart pounding before he remembered Griffith. So he’d stayed after all. Noah felt an unexpected warmth at the thought of broad-shouldered, honed-muscled Griffith sleeping on their ancient Goodwill couch. Even with everything that had happened last night, Noah couldn’t help but remember the way Griffith had handled the gun so familiarly and how those hands had blazed on Noah’s skin. Possibly his perspective was skewed, considering that Griffith had just saved his life, but he couldn’t help but find his easy competence appealing.

  Digging around for jeans and a clean t-shirt, he discovered that the one he’d worn to bed still smelled like Madoc and balled it in the trash. When he made it to the kitchen, Griffith was scanning the inside of the refrigerator. “Do you have anything to eat besides cereal?”

  Noah didn’t think he imagined the look Griffith gave him, the swift up-and-down assessment, eyes lingering longer than necessary. The thought made his heart beat faster and the spot under his ribs flare with heat.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Griffith closed the refrigerator door. “Coffee?”

  “There’s, uh, tea?”

  The corner of Griffith’s mouth quirked. Noah wondered what he’d have to do to see that crease in Griffith’s mouth all the time.

  Griffith’s brown eyes turned serious, more than the lack of coffee warranted. “How about I take you to breakfast and explain a few things?”

  ***

  The place Noah suggested was an old diner near campus that he liked to study in since they were open twenty-four hours and had the best pie in the city. At seven o’clock on a Saturday morning it was devoid of anyone under fifty, except for himself and Griffith.

  He wondered how old Griffith was. Thirty, he guessed. Not much older.

  When the waitress came by, Noah ordered oatmeal and Griffith got the full breakfast: eggs and bacon and toast. Noah wondered where he put it—Griffith was well built but lean—but then he probably worked out a lot for his job.

  Which was what, exactly? Griffith wasn’t a cop, despite the gun. If he’d been a cop he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to call them last night. Griffith was a shifter. Whatever that was.

  “So this shifter thing,” Noah said, as the waitress returned with orange juice for Noah and coffee for Griffith.

  Griffith gave him a sharp look. Admonished, Noah sat back, waiting to continue until the waitress had left. “So this shifter thing,” he repeated, in a lower voice.

  “Your parents never told you anything?” Griffith’s coffee was so hot it steamed around his mouth.

  “No, but I never knew my real parents. I’m adopted.”

  “Ah,” Griffith said, as if that explained a few things. “How old were you?”

  “My parents were killed in a car crash when I was a baby.” Noah had never known them. He’d grown up knowing he was adopted; it hadn’t been a thing. His adoptive parents were great—they were his parents. They’d told him everything they knew about his biological parents as soon as he was old enough to understand.

  Except, apparently, this shifter thing.

  “It still should have emerged in puberty, whatever kind of shifter you are. I’d like to take you to see a friend of mine after breakfast. She works a few blocks from here.”

  The waitress came by with their food, and Noah still didn’t know anything about what Griffith wasn’t telling him. Why Madoc had been trying to kill him. What a shifter actually was.

  “You’re one too, I take it?” Noah said, pushing his oatmeal around with his spoon.

  “Yes,” Griffith said, digging into his eggs unabashedly.

  “What does that mean,” Noah said, unable to keep the frustration from his voice.

  Griffith sighed and put down his fork. “It means that I can transform into an animal.”

  Noah stared at him. “An animal.”

  “Yes.”

  “You mean like a werewolf?”

  A pained look passed over Griffith’s face. “There are wolf shifters, yes.”

  “So what kind of animal are you?”

  Griffith picked up his fork again. “A dragon.” He speared a clump of eggs.

  A dragon. Dragons weren’t even real. But Noah had seen the orange glow surrounding Griffith and Madoc, the fire in Griffith’s eyes. Saw the—scales—that had hovered around Griffith when he’d pulled Madoc off of him, more a suggestion than a reality, like they’d been painted on with a few strokes of an artist’s brush.

  “Madoc’s a dragon too?”

  Griffith’s eyes rose sharply to his. “Only another shifter would have been able to see that.”

  Noah sat back, his oatmeal still untouched. It was fine to talk about dragons and shifters and imaginary scales, but the thought that he might be one too was more than his brain could handle this early in the morning.

  Griffith’s expression softened. “It’s okay to be freaked out, Noah.”

  Noah stabbed his oatmeal with his spoon. He was freaked out, but Griffith seemed to think he was a kid needing reassurance. That was very much not how he wanted Griffith to be thinking of him.

  He took a bite of the oatmeal, and it was like the taste woke something inside him and he was suddenly ravenous. He finished it off in a few more spoonfuls, scraping the bottom of the bowl to get the last of it, and looked up to see Griffith watching with amusement.

  “I don’t know why I’m so hungry,” Noah said, after he’d swallowed the bite in his mouth.

  “It’s normal after what I…did to you last night. It’s a good sign that your body’s replenishing its strength.” Griffith waved the waitress over and ordered another bowl for him. Noah was hungry enough not to protest.

  After he’d made short work of that one too, he asked, “So…how many of you are there? How have I possibly not heard of shifters or seen them before?”

  Griffith sat back, his own plate clean. “Not many. It’s a tight-knit community. Understandably, we don’t want humans knowing about us. Humanity doesn’t have a great track record
of dealing with the unknown.”

  “But how can you hide something like that? Don’t people notice when you, uh, turn into animals?”

  “We have a strict code of not revealing ourselves to humans. Same with our powers. We follow human laws and fit in as best we can, but we have ways of policing our own.”

  “That’s why you were following Madoc? What exactly was he trying to do to me, anyway?”

  Griffith looked like he was choosing his words carefully. “Madoc is a leech, for lack of a better word. He feeds off the life force of other shifters. It increases his own power, though the effect is temporary. He’s an addict. He got a taste of it a long time ago and now he can’t shake it.”

  “So he’s done this before?”

  “Yes,” Griffith said shortly.

  Noah would have liked to have known more, but something in Griffith’s eyes kept him from pressing.

  When the waitress came by with the check, Griffith took it without comment, waving Noah away when he reached for his wallet.

  The sidewalk and streets were still deserted as Griffith led the way down the sidewalk. Noah asked, “Who are we going to see again?”

  “Sofia Avila,” Griffith said. “If anyone will be able to tell what kind of shifter you are, she will.”

  A few minutes later he stopped in front of a large brick building with Avila Youth Community Center written above the heavy metal door. Griffith checked his watch. “It should be open by now.” He pulled open the door.

  Stepping inside, Noah was hit by the institutional smell of old lockers and linoleum floor. It had a homey feel nonetheless—the front room sported a couch and a bookcase filled with books and comic books, a few magazines spread out on the coffee table in front of it. He heard the squeak of sneakers on a gym floor, and saw two girls playing basketball through the glass windows that separated the entrance area from the gym.

  Griffith bypassed the reception area and headed down a long hallway flanked by office windows. He stopped at the last one and rapped on the window next to the door. When Noah came up beside him, he saw an older Latina woman, who looked up and waved them in when she saw Griffith.