by Anna Lowe
Right. As if Connor ever wanted to be anything like that. Pampered. Privileged.
“May I ask how long you’d like to stay?” Kai asked, sticking to business.
Draig gave the ice cubes in his glass a little shake. His eyes strayed over to Tessa — or rather, the hem of her skirt — then jumped back to Kai’s face. Connor could see Kai fighting to keep cool. No self-respecting shifter put up with another man eyeing his woman, but this was one of those delicate situations even Connor could recognize. The old geezer was checking out Tessa, but — well, she was beautiful. As long as Draig didn’t go any further — and judging by his old-time manners, he wasn’t likely to — Kai had no grounds to react.
“Our departure is weather dependent, I’m afraid. And regrettably, my captain has informed me that he is having trouble locating a replacement engine part.” Draig frowned and waved a hand as if to say, It’s so bothersome to have to deal with staff. Don’t you agree?
Not just an asshole. A snobby asshole, Tim muttered into Connor’s mind.
Snobby, womanizing asshole, Connor agreed, watching Draig eye the hostess, who moved silently around the room, setting down macadamia nuts and crackers. Anton ogled her even more openly, turning Connor’s stomach.
“I hope not to remain for more than a week or two,” Draig said, sounding bored already. “I so wanted to visit the island, but not quite for so long.”
“I’m sure we could arrange for a private jet,” Kai said in a thinly veiled hint. I can get you away from this island anytime I want.
Draig puffed out three perfect smoke rings. “I’d appreciate that, my boy, if it comes to that.”
Boy? Connor would have socked him for that. Which was why he supposed Kai did the talking. Maybe Connor could learn a thing or two from him.
“And how exactly do you plan to spend your time on Maui?” Kai asked, making it clear he intended to establish strict limits when it came to anyone visiting his turf.
Draig grinned and held a hand to his back. “I’m not quite up to my old carousing these days. Just a little golf. A little wine sampling. Old man activities. Someday, you’ll understand.”
The man was a master of subtly reminding his audience that he was the elder and better dragon.
Kai sat straight, his shoulders wide, reminding Draig — and Anton — who ran this place. Finally, he nodded slowly. “We’d be happy to accommodate your request. With one stipulation — one we insist on for the few dragons we allow on our territory. No shifting and exploring in dragon form. You will remain in human form at all times.”
Anton opened his mouth to protest, but Draig laughed first. “Oh, that won’t be an issue, my boy. I like the occasional swim when the water is warm enough, but sadly, these old bones are not up to flying any more.”
Kai glanced at Anton in warning, then looked over at Tessa, who gave him a quick nod of approval. Connor had to agree. The old dragon might be an ass, but what harm could he be as long as he stuck to golf carts and wine bars? Anton, he wasn’t so sure about, but it was up to Draig to keep an eye on him.
Kai stood briskly and shook Draig’s hand. “Good. We have an agreement.” And I expect you to abide by it, his stern eyes said.
Anton stuck out his hand, but Kai ignored it, as did Draig.
“Enjoy your time on the island,” Kai said. “We’ll check on you from time to time.”
In other words, We’ll be keeping an eye on you.
Connor liked that part, because it assured him his new job wouldn’t only consist of routine patrols around the estate.
“And remember,” Kai finished. “We’re happy to arrange for a jet for you anytime.”
That was polite dragon code for We can boot you off this island whenever we want. That much, even an uninitiated dragon like Connor knew.
He hid a grin. Kai was one smooth operator when he had to be, toeing a thin line between etiquette and threat.
“We’ll be sure not to impose. Now, I couldn’t persuade you to stay for a round of bridge, could I?” Draig asked. His eyes slid over to Tessa.
She barely wrinkled her nose, but the message was clear. No way.
Kai deftly translated that to, “So sorry, but we have pressing business to attend to. Thank you for your time.” Then he took Tessa’s hand and turned to go. Connor and Tim closed ranks behind them, following the hostess who escorted them to the helicopter.
Goodbye, assholes, Tim muttered as he glanced down at the lower deck where Draig and Anton remained.
Connor gave a tiny nod. Assholes he’d be watching closely, just in case.
Chapter Eight
“I figure it’s perfect for you.”
Connor looked around, trying to focus on what his brother was saying. The cliffside location was perfect for a dragon, what with its rocky ledge for takeoff and landing plus the small house with an expansive view over the Pacific.
It was perfect, but something about the night was not. He peered out into the darkness, wondering what was making him uneasy.
“There are just the two rooms up here, but wait till you see what’s down there.” Tim motioned toward a natural tunnel in the adjoining rock. “…or not,” he muttered a moment later.
Connor gave himself a shake and turned to his brother. “Sorry. It is perfect.” He clapped Tim’s shoulder to make sure his brother knew he meant it. The bear shifter had taken the time to check every corner of the plantation for places the others could eventually call their own. He’d found a big, creaky barn that Chase could convert into a wolf den, and a nice, creekside location for Dell, who already had grand plans for the place. Tim had also scoped out this cliffside for Connor and found a split-level coffee shed he could convert for himself. Someday.
Connor hid a sigh. It would be nice to fast-forward to someday, but life didn’t work that way. They would all have to earn their futures, one hardscrabble day at a time.
“It will be great to get this all set up once the plantation house is done,” he added. “Thanks, man.”
Bears weren’t big on showing emotion, but Tim’s lips curled up at the corners, which told Connor all he had to know.
“Yeah,” Tim added. “It will be good. Someday.”
They both looked out over the Pacific, alive with the moon’s silvery reflection. Then Tim gave a little nod and turned to go. “I have a patrol. See you, man.”
“See you,” Connor murmured. “And thanks again.”
The land leading up to that clifftop was dry and scrubby, but Tim walked off, hardly making a sound. Connor would have liked to spend a little longer talking about everything he’d absorbed in his first full day on Maui. But that uneasy feeling of something kept itching at his mind, and he couldn’t settle down. Was it just the bad taste he’d been left with after meeting Draig, or was there really something out there he had to watch out for?
One way to find out, his dragon grumbled.
That was true. And hell, this new job, unlike his old one, actually called for shifting into dragon form from time to time.
Stripping quickly, he left his clothes bundled in the lee of a rock. Then he stepped up to the very edge of the cliff and closed his eyes.
All yours, buddy, he told his dragon. Come on out.
The shift came so fast, he winced as his body elongated and reformed. But a second later, he spread his wings and cracked into a huge dragon grin.
Feels good, his dragon hummed.
It did feel good to be able to shift anytime. Okay, he still had to take the usual precautions not to be seen by any human. But the plantation offered acres of privacy, and once he flew out over the sea, he’d have even more space to roam. Kai had been right when he’d described Maui. It was the perfect place for a dragon to settle down.
Perfect, his dragon agreed. Win over my mate. Settle down.
Connor frowned. Who said anything about a mate?
Quickly, before his dragon got sidetracked with those dangerous thoughts, he shuffled forward until his claws were scraping the e
dge of the cliff. The wind bounced up the sheer rock face, cooling his outstretched wings.
Yes. His dragon peered into the night. The word came out as a throaty grumble, and a second later, he jumped.
Taking off was always a thrill, no matter how often he did it. But taking off from a great height came with its own high, and he reveled in the sensation. The brief free fall. The crash of waves far below. The whoosh of air over his wings.
He dipped his right wing and made a long, sweeping curve over Koakea, taking in the grounds. The plantation house was three-quarters of the way up a rise, lit by a handful of lights. The barn was next to that, and several decrepit coffee processing sheds a little farther to the south. The creek ran down the center of the property, and thick stands of trees guarded their privacy from all sides.
Connor squinted into the night. It wasn’t home yet, but it could be.
His dragon swung its head toward the manicured grounds of Koa Point and growled. Jenna…
Yeah, he’d love Jenna to be part of that equation. But that wasn’t his mission tonight. So he rolled to the left, initiating a long turn out to sea. Night flying was the best, because the world was quieter. Colors more muted, and darkness lent everything a hint a mystery.
He beat his wings a few times then glided on the light breeze. Horses had different paces, and dragons did too, each with certain ratios of wingbeats to glide. This was his most relaxed pace, all the way at one end of the spectrum. Over at the speed extreme lay a full-out, teeth-grinding, eye-squinting sprint in which he flapped his wings twice for every beat of his heart — the kind of warp speed he’d only needed to whip himself into a few times in his life. But this was his cruising speed, his walk in the park.
Could do this for hours. His dragon stretched out each glide phase, then powered forward again. As he flew, his eyes narrowed on dots of lights clustered in the south — the anchorage where Draig’s yacht lay. Was that the source of his restlessness?
Just as he was about to fly over to inspect it, something caught his eye. With a quick snap of his tail, he whirled toward the west. What was that?
His nostrils flared, emitting tiny twin flames, each barely bigger than a candle. The first few times he’d changed into dragon form as an adolescent, he’d nearly torched half of northern Utah to the ground. Since then, he’d learned to curb his fire-breathing instincts to go unnoticed and leave the landscape unscathed.
Enemy, his dragon snarled.
He stretched his neck forward to pick up speed and sniffed the air. His eyes focused on a now-it’s-there, now-it-isn’t movement way out by one of the neighboring islands — Molokai. Something just like a bird rising and dipping in an unsteady wind. But he wouldn’t have been able to see a bird from this distance, which meant whatever was flying out there was big.
Dragon-big.
Another little puff of fire escaped his mouth, and his chest burned the way it always did when anger set in. What dragon dared come so close to his new territory?
He sped onward, keeping low to the water, stalking the mystery dragon. Had Draig already broken his word and taken off for a flight? Connor doubted it was any of the dragons of Koa Point. Silas and Cassandra were away on business, and Connor had seen Kai and Tessa fly into the craggy mountains of West Maui earlier that evening. So, who the hell was that?
Wind whistled in his ears as he raced along, his heart pounding faster all the time. The dragon wasn’t flying directly off Molokai, he realized. It was swooping around a rocky islet off the island’s east coast. One of those sheer, craggy islets where birds liked to roost and boats came to tragic ends. There wasn’t a light on that spit of land, nor a boat anchored nearby, which was good. If it did come to some kind of fight, they were unlikely to be detected by humans.
Or so he hoped.
In any case, that was definitely a dragon. And damn, if that was Draig, the old dragon was spry as hell. The beast hovered over a spot in the sea then abruptly climbed higher — not nose first, the easy way, but rather, with huge scooping motions of its wings while its head stayed firmly oriented toward the sea. The dragon made the move look easy, but Connor knew how energy-sapping that maneuver could be. A heartbeat later, the dragon flipped around and dove.
He stared. Dragons soared, glided, or hovered. But going for a dip?
I like the occasional swim when the water is warm enough, Draig had said.
Connor diverted eastward, giving the area a wide berth until he located the dragon. So far, he hadn’t been noticed, and he wanted to keep it that way.
There! He whipped around as plumes of water exploded and the dragon shot upward just as gracefully as it had dived.
Connor went from wait-and-see to full speed ahead, recognizing his moment to catch the enemy off guard. He sped straight for the unsuspecting dragon until he was close enough to see water dripping off its yellow-brown wings. Then he opened his mouth and bellowed in his deepest dragon voice.
“Who the hell are you?”
To human ears, his words would have been a garbled, ear-splitting roar. But any fellow dragon could understand him perfectly.
The other dragon whirled as Connor zoomed past, waiting for the last possible second to angle away from a bone-breaking crash. For a split second, he saw the whites of the unknown dragon’s eyes, spread wide in terror and surprise.
He chuckled and gave himself a mental point for the element of surprise.
“Who the hell are you?” the other dragon spat a moment later.
Connor circled it in the air, letting his teeth glint in the moonlight. “I’m the one who asks questions here.”
His next sentence would have been So who the hell are you? but the other dragon turned, and the answer popped into his mind.
“Anton,” he growled. Draig’s nephew, the entitled little punk.
Humans stuck their palms up to show innocence; dragons showed the undersides of their wings.
“Um…” Anton stammered, backing away.
“What part of no shifting and exploring in dragon form do you not get?” Connor growled.
“I thought you meant my uncle,” Anton tried.
Connor couldn’t tell if the young dragon was stupid enough to mean that or assumed Connor was dumb enough to buy that crap. He roared, letting a six-foot flame slice into the night. “Try again, asshole.”
“Honestly, I didn’t know,” Anton insisted, skittering away.
“Then what are you up to out here?” Connor demanded.
Anton grinned. He actually grinned. “Pearl diving.”
What the hell? Connor was just trying to puzzle that out when Anton lunged at him. Dagger-like teeth clacked an inch away from Connor’s wings, and the dragon’s eyes glowed a fiery yellow.
“Doing whatever the hell I want,” the punk sneered.
Connor spun away, then roared. The kid wanted a fight? He’d get one. “Not on my turf, you’re not.”
Anton laughed as he darted to the left, avoiding Connor’s next blast of fire. A short, thin blast, because even way out at an uninhabited island, a dragon had to be cautious about being discovered.
“Ha. It’s not even your turf,” Anton sneered. “It’s the Llewellyns’. For now.”
Connor wasn’t sure what pissed him off more — the personal insult or the veiled threat. “You’re messing with the wrong dragon,” he warned, moving in.
Anton’s eyes narrowed to slits. “No, you are. Do you even know who my uncle is? Do you know who my father is?”
Connor scowled. The only thing he hated more than rich, entitled, and self-absorbed dragons was their offspring.
“Someday, I’ll inherit everything they have. I’m the only heir.”
“Lucky you,” Connor muttered.
Anton laughed. “You can’t touch me, asshole.”
Connor was so, so tempted to shoot back a reply. But this was one of those actions speak louder than words moments, and he knew it. So he feinted left as if to bite Anton’s tail, then spun to the right and rake
d his claws across Anton’s chest.
The kid was fast — Connor had to give him that, because he dodged the move by a hair. A split second later, the bastard was on counterattack, swooping low to attack the softer flesh of Connor’s belly. Connor rolled into a quick turn, then flipped back, spitting fire. The kid had better moves than he expected — good enough to drag this out longer than Connor would have liked. Anton was also angry as hell, like all those snobby types got when they had to face up to facts, like maybe they weren’t God’s gift to the world. But that was dangerous, because Anton was likely to pull out all the stops — roaring, breathing fire, the works — without considering the consequences. All that increased their chances of being spotted, and Connor couldn’t afford that.
He reached for Anton’s tail, but the sly bastard saw that coming and smacked it away. Then Connor rose, ready to wrestle Anton to a lower elevation where they were less likely to be seen.
“Try me,” Anton hissed as he twisted and escaped. He climbed higher and breathed fire, just as Connor had feared.
“Cut that out,” he yelled, powering forward and snapping at Anton’s tail. His teeth sank in deep, and Anton screamed in pain.
But damn it, the kid was quick as anything. He spun on the spot and shot a broad volley of fire at Connor, forcing him to deflect to the left. A second too late, as it turned out, because the fire caught him on the wing, and the acrid scent of burned leather filled the air.
Anton roared in triumph, and Connor’s vision went red.
Time to teach that punk a lesson, his dragon growled.
Ignoring the pain in his wing, Connor barrel-rolled straight back and chomped down on Anton’s wing. The young dragon’s scream echoed off the sheer cliff on the islet, and a hundred birds took off in panic.
With a flick of his tail, Connor smacked Anton’s back, and followed that up with a head butt. A full-force, dragon head butt, not one of those now we’re both dizzy human moves. Anton wobbled off, barely avoiding the snaps Connor followed up with. Then Connor hung back, breathing deeply, getting himself back under control.