Dance of the Dragon

by Kira Nyte

  Ugh.

  Almost a week without a decent meal, thanks again to her darling mother. She would take a plate of anything, even if it was covered in powdered sugar.

  Dipping her head, she firmly turned away from the café and continued to the riverfront at a quicker pace. The chill of the night easily seeped through her sweater jacket and she shivered as she settled on an empty bench, away from the torturous aromas of sweets she couldn’t indulge in.

  Her fingers clenched the disk. Each minute she spent staring out at the black water, spangled with the reflected lights of the distant bridge, energy trickled through her veins and an alien sense of calm fell over her mind.

  When was the last time I felt…content?

  There was no answer because the only contentment she felt was when she was alone. That wasn’t something her mother let happen often.

  Thirty years old, and her mother had destroyed her to the very core of who she might have been. She was aware of it, just didn’t know how to escape and cope with the damage. Too many years of abuse. Too many skeletons in the closet—

  “There’s a lot of Corvin in you, begging to come out.”

  Gabby gasped, jerking around to face the source of that voice.

  Taryn rounded the bench and held out a large cup of coffee with Café du Monde scrawled on the to-go cup.

  He shrugged. “A peace offering. You’re cold. You’ve been shivering for the last few minutes.”

  “Why are you here?” Gabby couldn’t find it in her to muster anger, regardless of Taryn’s antagonistic attitude at the bar. More surprisingly, she felt only mild uncertainty rather than the fear that should be coursing through her. She thought she saw subtle regret in his eyes, eyes that she could swear glowed in the darkness. “Why are you following me?”

  The blasted man grinned and shrugged. “Trust me. It’s better I’m following you than some of the other lowlifes in this city. I won’t hurt you.”

  Yeah. Right.

  He sure had a funny way of proving it. He’d been far from charming in the club, his words sharp enough to cut.

  “I was out of line earlier. I apologize.” He moved the cup closer, tempting her. “Here.” He nodded to the bag he held in the same hand as a second cup. “Got some beignets, too.”

  Keeping a wary eye on him, she cautiously accepted the cup. The hot drink instantly warmed her icy fingers, which then caused her teeth to chatter. The heat apparently reminded her body the night was unnaturally cool, Louisiana or no.

  “You followed me to apologize. I find that hard to believe,” Gabby said, lowering the cup to rest on her knee. She wished she could summon her earlier disgust. It didn’t help that the man standing beside her was mouth-wateringly gorgeous. It was more than disconcerting, when she was usually immune to men, attractive or otherwise. There were no thoughts coming from him. His mind was silent. But she sensed a strange energy flowing from him. One that countered her natural wariness, leaving her in a state of confusion over this illogical comfort. “It’s creepy.”

  He chuckled and gazed out at the river. The sound was deep and gravelly and alluring. Gabby found herself watching him, picking him apart in her mind, trying to find something seriously wrong with him. His hair was tied in a knot at the nape of his neck, but sandy blond tendrils had escaped to flutter around his angular face in the breeze that came off the river. The dim glow from the nearest lamppost added depth to his features and a strange flicker of red to his russet eyes.

  “Funny, because I had the creeper talk with my buddy a couple months ago, only then it was him, not me.” He brought is attention back to her. She wished he hadn’t as flames licked through her gut, stirring that hated feeling of arousal to life.

  But…after the initial strike, her body’s involuntary reaction was almost natural.

  “Mind if I sit?” Taryn asked.

  “Free world, right?” Gabby shifted to put more space between them as Taryn settled himself on the bench beside her. She cradled the coffee cup in her hands, chasing the cold from her skin. “You said I had a lot of someone in me. Who were you talking about?”

  “First”—Taryn held out his hand—“I should introduce myself. Taryn Chovetz.”

  Gabby scrutinized him. She had no idea what lay beneath the leather jacket and that expensive-looking shirt. What muscles he might have to overpower her and yank her into his arms—

  He’s not Mom’s trash.

  She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat and accepted his hand.

  An explosion of sensation rocked her to her core the instant they connected, skin to skin. A gasp wrenched from her lips. That soothing energy she had felt in him ripped through her on a wave of fire.

  “Let…go,” she managed to say, only to realize she was the one who clung to his hand for dear life even after he opened his fingers to release her. “What are you? Why can’t I hear you?”

  Taryn tilted his head and concern flickered over his expression.

  Gabby yanked her hand back, the cup falling from her knee as she tried to scramble to her feet. She stumbled and fell into the corner of the bench. She didn’t see Taryn move, but somehow he caught the cup before it hit the ground. Eyes on her, his motion deliberate and calculated not to startle, he placed the coffee cup between them on the bench.

  “Would you be willing to give me a chance to start from the beginning?” Taryn asked.

  Gabby’s lips moved, but she couldn’t find her voice. She held tight to the bench—one hand wrapped around the wrought-iron arm with the disk pressed painfully tight in her palm, the other gripping the top slat of the bench back—and stared at Taryn in shock, awe, and disbelief.

  He reached down to the shadowed ground beside him.

  Every warning siren blared to life in her head.

  Run!

  Go!

  Now!

  She remained frozen in place.

  Her breath ceased when he brought his hand up.

  And held out her purse.

  Chapter Three

  Taryn wasn’t sure if Gabby was about to scream or faint. The startling pace of her heart, her held breath, her widened eyes concerned him. Her knuckles were gray from holding the bench so tightly and every muscle in her body had tensed to the breaking point. She clutched the talisman Amelia had given her like it was a lifeline.

  Her thoughts. Goddess, her thoughts made him dizzy. Just as they had at the club.

  He hadn’t expected to find Amelia on the sidewalk not far from the club after his abrupt departure. The vision she described concerning the woman sitting beside him was alarming enough. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, his anger, he nearly missed the moment the purse thieves approached Gabby.

  He hadn’t rummaged through her purse after he chased down the imbeciles and taught them an excruciating lesson. However, he was tempted to find out what kind of pills were rattling around inside, the pills she so desperately needed at the club.

  “Gabby, calm down.”

  He lowered the purse to the bench between them and slowly, cautiously, reached for her knee. Her heels slid frantically over the sidewalk as she tried to push away from him. Her knee hit his hand and he squeezed gently, injecting a warm sense of calm through their nascent bond. The transformation happened before his eyes as her shoulders began to drop and her fingers loosened their grip. She finally took a breath, though obvious tremors skated along her muscles.

  “Easy. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

  Something about her panicked reaction assured him he would be protecting her from much more than the threat of the Baroqueth or random purse snatchers. What kind of life had she led to this point to instill such an extreme reaction? “I waited for you to get off work to apologize, but you slipped out under my nose.” A shameful confession for one who was supposedly a great and mighty predator. “I saw them take your purse and went after them. That’s all. Everything is in there. They didn’t have a chance to go through it.”

  She reached
for her purse and pulled it onto her lap. “Did you?”

  “Not my style.”

  Had he not been watching her so closely, he would’ve missed the wisp of humor that touched the outer corner of her mouth as she rummaged through her purse. He heard the rattle of pills in a bottle, or bottles, but she kept them out of sight.

  “Why was my mother’s name so important to you?”

  She kept her head bowed, busy with her purse. Strands of blond hair fell over her forehead, silky waves catching sparks in the dim lamplight. Her skin was creamy, albeit a little pale, but her lips were flush and full and pink.

  Taryn drank her in. Memorized every little detail as he drew his hand from her knee, confident she was calm enough to think rationally.

  One day, he’d unravel the mystery of her mind. For now, he needed to grovel a bit for forgiveness and start earning her trust.

  “Are you close to her?”

  Her hands froze. She looked up at him, her expression blank. Only her blue eyes held any emotion, and it was far from what he’d seen in other women at the mention of their mothers.

  She asked tonelessly, “Aren’t all children close to their mothers?”

  “Depends. Most are. Some aren’t. And then there are those who are trapped in a cycle they can’t escape.”

  Her brows furrowed. She pulled her purse strap onto her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should get going. I’ve had a long day.”

  Taryn cursed himself silently as she stood.

  “I doubt the Janice I knew has changed. And if that’s so, she’ll keep spinning the cycle.”

  Gabby jumped to her feet and pinned him with a disgusted look. “Is that why you wanted to know who my mother was? Because she screwed you, too, and now you want revenge? Or did you fuck her and want to make sure you’re not keeping it in the family?”

  He sighed. Seemed Janice hadn’t changed much over the last few decades.

  “Neither. I have my own opinions of her. The real Janice.”

  Gabby scowled and crossed her arms over her chest with a humph. “I think I know the real Janice. I’ve lived under her roof for thirty years.”

  Taryn reined in his comments, speculation, and opinions. He would end up in the same place he had been earlier this night if he pushed. Until he understood this woman—his lifemate—and what trickery her mother might have instilled in her, he’d do best to be cautious.

  As it stood, he thought Gabby presented a façade of strength and a whip of a tongue to protect something delicate or even broken on the inside. He wasn’t sure which, but was leaning toward the latter. Broken, he could fix. Or would fix, if it took his last breath.

  “How do you know my mother?”

  Goddess, he needed to get past the vehemence. The anxiety he sensed skating just beneath her skin warned of another impending panic attack. The last thing he wanted was to set off another fit of fear, one that would draw too much attention from passersby in the Square and the nearby café.

  Well, reconciliation is going right down the drain.

  “I knew her a long time ago. Not good memories, and certainly not a good reputation. She was after one thing, one person, and seems to have succeeded. I can tell you the truth, tell you more, but I’m not sure you’d be willing to hear it.” He folded his hands between his knees and leaned his elbows on his thighs. “At least, from me.”

  “I’m not sure, either.”

  “Gabby, listen—”

  “Wait.” Her head tilted and her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and ice. “How do you know my name?”

  Taryn tapped his forehead. “I can hear you.” He raised his brows at her gasp. “You understand that, I suppose?”

  Gabby blinked several times before she gave her head a small shake. “I’ve gotta go.”

  He listened to the clipped taps of her boots as she began to put words into action. He stared out at the dark waters of the river, giving her a handful of strides to put some distance between them.

  “What has she told you, Gabby?” The tap of her boots stopped and the breeze suddenly grew stifling and dense. He tented his fingers and continued to look out over the water. “What has she told you about your father? About me? What poison has she fed you since Corvin was killed? Has she warned you of the dangers that hunt you? Us?”

  “Your dangers are nothing compared to the dangers I face every day.”

  The pain in her voice brought him around. Her eyes sparkled with tears and hatred and shame. She hugged her arms around herself, lowering her head.

  “Do you know about the Keepers?” Taryn asked quietly, putting the question more into her head than speaking it aloud. “Lifemates?”

  She shivered. She let out a sharp breath, shook her head, and fled toward the stairs away from the river. As she disappeared in the crowd, his dragon tracked her through the amulet. While he’d spent the last month sulking at the prospect of being a pawn to a greedy, grasping woman, his friend Amelia had the foresight to create a protective piece that might offer comfort to his lifemate.

  After the last few minutes, he realized he wasn’t the only pawn on Janice’s board.

  Gabby certainly wasn’t fawning over him, which he found both a relief and disconcerting. Until meeting Gabby, he would have bet his soul that a daughter of Janice’s, fed lies and outrageous stories about piles of gold, would have jumped him faster than he could blink.

  Not Gabby. She hid, ran, verbally attacked.

  Gabby rejected him.

  His cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket and accepted the call. “Yeah.”

  “Would you like me to stop her?” Amelia asked.

  Sweet Amelia. He’d be lost without her. Theirs had never been a romantic connection. Their friendship mirrored a brother-sister bond. She kept his head level. Right now, she was working overtime doing just that.

  “No. Let her go.” He blinked slowly, allowing his dragon to take over his sight. Through the thermal gaze and despite the growing distance between them, he easily tracked the jewel of the amulet through Gabby’s fingers as she clenched it, the hurried path she took to her destination. “She’d fight me tonight. She needs to let this encounter sink in.”

  “You won’t have much time, Taryn. Your enemies are going to reemerge soon. They’ve been silent too long.”

  He sighed. Since the Baroqueth slayers had come out of hiding, any length of time that went by with no sign of them did not bode well. The last attack could have been catastrophic, to both the dragons and humanity.

  With only eight Firestorm dragons remaining, survival was crucial.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He disconnected the call and slipped his phone back in his pocket as he continued to track Gabby. He did not move until she reached her destination—an unkempt trailer park on the outskirts of the Quarter.

  When he finally blinked away his dragon vision, he tipped his chin to stare at his tightly knotted fingers. He flexed his hands, fighting down the desire to trek straight to that park and rescue Gabby from such a sad, vulnerable place.

  He knew he couldn’t. He had to learn the demons she battled first. The dangers she claimed to face daily.

  “You can only run so far for so long.”

  Chapter Four

  “Get up!”

  Gabby jerked upright, heart thundering in her chest. For a confused instant, she couldn’t remember where she was.

  Until her mother yanked the blanket off her legs and smacked the back of her calf. The sting was enough to shatter the last of her fatigue.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Sleeping in the damn car.” Janice stepped back and pointed to the rundown trailer. “Get inside. Now.”

  Gabby glanced up at the door to the trailer and felt nauseous. Jack, her mother’s boyfriend of the month, stood at the top of the stairs wearing a pair of low-slung pajama pants and nothing else. His dark eyes pierced through her, his menacing grin anything but pleasant.

  God, the shit she’d seen between him and her mother was
enough to make any decent person retch. Stuff she’d been forced to watch.

  You’re not a decent person. You’re trash. You’re a whore. You’re just like her.

  Her stomach roiled.

  “What I’d do to you, sweet doll. Ohh, what I’d do to you.”

  Her stomach gave a heave at Jack’s crude thoughts. Doll. She hated that word. Hated it so much. Every one of Janice’s boyfriends addressed her as doll. She didn’t know if it was under her mother’s orders, or simply a trait shared by the type of men Janice favored.

  “Well? Whatchya waiting for, girl? Get the hell in the house. I’m freezing my damn ass off out here,” Janice snapped.

  Gabby fumbled with her purse and scooted out of the back seat of the beat-up sedan. One of the pink-and-purple balls of false hair fell to the ground, the pins that secured it giving up, but she didn’t retrieve it. Her back and neck ached from sleeping curled up on a seat with more than one broken spring. Her clothes smelled like stale smoke from the blanket and the car.

  She wanted a shower. Needed a shower.

  Jack’s presence ruined any immediate hope of that happening. No way. Not while he licked his lips like a hungry beast and adjusted his erection in his pants.

  She sidled past Janice and received a smack on the back of her head. “Fucking waste of my time. All damn morning, I’ve been looking for you. ’Bout ready to call the damn police. You ungrateful…Jack, she’s off limits.”

  The corner of Gabby’s mouth twitched as she ducked her head and inched by Jack. The bastard didn’t move, forcing her to brush against him to get into the trailer. His predatory smile shot a dose of ice into her veins.

  Yearning hit her, sending her thoughts to the night before. To Taryn. Oh, what she’d give to go back to the river and not have run away from him. He may have been a complete ass at the club, but at least he’d tried to make up for his behavior.