by Anna Lowe
Thanks, she wanted to whisper. For believing in me. For humming those songs. For keeping me company over all those miles.
Marco could have abandoned her so many times. That first night with Duarte. In the Mercado with Tito. Throughout the endless hours of the previous night. But he hadn’t. He’d stuck with her, and he had even been nice.
Her heart thumped a little faster. Then she caught herself and turned away with a blush. Marco took a sudden interest in his napkin, and for the next few minutes, neither of them spoke.
“Bread roll?” he finally asked.
“Please.” She selected one from the basket he offered. That was just a fraction of a huge array of rolls, fruit, and jams. After a few bites, she pointed over the view. “So, I’m impressed. Again.”
He followed her gaze around then sighed. “Don’t. Any fool can inherit property. This was all my mother’s.”
The sweeping motion he made took in much more than just the house. It included the vineyard, several fields — in short, the entire goddamn hill.
Steps sounded, and a stout woman appeared. A housekeeper, apparently, bringing a tray loaded with cold cuts and cheese.
Laura sank back when she realized what it must look like. She and Marco, lounging around in robes… If that didn’t scream, We spent the night shagging, what did?
But the woman smiled kindly. In fact, she beamed.
“This is Inés. Inés, meet Laura,” Marco said, giving her name that Portuguese inflection she loved. Lao-ra.
“Muito prazer.” Inés poured two coffees while glancing knowingly between the two of them.
It’s not like that, Laura wanted to say, though she stuck with just, “Muito prazer.”
Inés clucked happily, nudged Marco, and tilted her head at the sugar bowl.
He frowned in confusion, then handed it to Inés, who rolled her eyes and stuck an elbow toward Laura.
“Oh,” he blurted, finally getting the hint. “Would you like sugar?”
Not really, but Laura took it to be polite. She did the same when Inés repeated the procedure with the cream. Finally, Marco shooed Inés away with an impatient, “Obrigado. We have everything we need.”
Inés went, grabbing the newspaper. Marco protested — something like, Hey, I was reading that — but the housekeeper’s expression communicated a firm, Not any more, you’re not.
“Sorry.” He sighed when she’d left. “Inés can be a little…overbearing.”
“She seems very nice.”
Marco snorted, but his eyes were bright with fondness. “She was my nanny when I was little. I swear she forgets I’m not actually her son.”
“She still works here?”
He nodded. “She and Adriano take care of the place.” A tiny smile formed on his lips. “They take care of me, too, though I don’t come as often as I should.” His eyes traveled over the view, full of regrets.
“Your mother…?” Laura ventured quietly.
Marco shook his head. “My parents died years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head slowly. “They lived long, full lives — complete with a miracle baby they had at a very advanced age.” He touched his chest and flashed a bittersweet smile.
Laura smiled back. It was hard to picture Marco as anything but the buff, tough man he was.
She slathered jam on a roll and changed the subject before her mind went off in a dangerous direction again. “Madeira — how big is it exactly?”
“About thirty miles across, but only ten wide.” Marco motioned over his shoulder. “The south coast is more developed — that’s where Funchal is, with the airport and all the hotels. It’s much more peaceful here in the north.” His tone carried a note of pride.
Laura considered. As quiet as it was, that didn’t change things.
“So — Fausto and his goons. Why do they keep tracking me down?”
Marco chewed slowly, as if that bothered him too. “I’m not sure. Vampires consider dragon blood a delicacy, but they would never have dared come after a local dragon. Maybe they thought they could get away with attacking an outsider — and a novice.”
Laura chewed the last of her roll with a mouth suddenly gone dry.
“There may be a second reason. That gem.” He pointed to her chest.
She held it up. “I suppose it is valuable.”
The sun hit it, and six rays of silver shone amidst the red of the gem. Laura stared, then offered a weak, “It does that sometimes.”
Marco snorted. “A spelled gem isn’t just valuable. It’s priceless. A piece of long-lost dragon treasure,” Marco murmured, half to himself. Then he looked at her, frowning. “Or maybe not so long. Where did you get it?”
“It was my aunt’s and her grandmother’s before that, and before that…” She searched her memories, but no one in her family had ever made much of that gem. “All I know is that it’s been in the family for generations. No one ever said anything about it being spelled.”
“It shifts back and forth with you. That’s one indicator. Plus, I can sense the power in it.”
“Power?” She wanted to protest, but truthfully, she’d felt it too. Every time she’d wavered on that long, arduous flight, the ruby had warmed and given her a boost. And back in the food court… Had it helped conceal her somehow?
She held it out to Marco, and he slowly extended one finger. When he touched it, his eyes narrowed. No extra shine, no burst of warmth as always happened when she touched it. Marco drew back, more thoughtful than ever.
“Interesting. It’s cold to my touch.”
“Which means?”
“The spell must be particular to your family.” Slowly, he met her eyes. “Only the most powerful dragons possessed treasures tied to their families.”
“But my family isn’t powerful. I’m the first in generations to shift.”
“Dragon blood can fade, and it can resurge. What do you know about your roots?”
She snorted. “Both sides of the family were farmers from inland Portugal. They joked about being poor as dirt.”
Marco considered. “One way or another, your family inherited a great dragon treasure — legitimately, or it would not shine for you. The question is whether Fausto was after you for your blood or for the gem.”
She rubbed her arms, fighting away a chill. “He won’t follow us here, will he?”
Marco shook his head quickly, allaying her fears. “Fausto, no. Duarte, perhaps. But the Madeiran dragons will come calling on us soon. We can be sure of that.”
We was comforting. The rest of the news, not so much.
“Who are the local dragons? How many are there?”
Marco’s gaze bounced from cliff to craggy cliff while he conducted a mental count.
“A few dozen, from three separate clans. A highly autonomous group who consider Madeira their private kingdom. They communicate with the Guardians of Lisbon, but mostly, they focus on local matters. The head of each clan sits on Madeira’s Council of Guardians, led by the most powerful one of them all — Quintus de Sousa.”
Laura didn’t like the way Marco’s frown deepened as he uttered the name.
“Sounds ancient,” she half joked, trying to keep the mood light.
Marco nodded. “It’s rumored his family descends from a Roman senator. His clan has ruled Madeira for centuries.”
Echoes of family legends went through Laura’s mind, and she wished she’d paid more attention before the older generation passed. Her great-grandmother always claimed to be descended from Portuguese royalty — an illegitimate descendant, mind you — and someone on her father’s side had mentioned a similar thing. But Laura had always considered those tall tales, with one side of a farming family trying to outdo the other.
Quintus, on the other hand, sounded like the real thing.
“Do you trust him?”
Marco chewed on that one for a long time. “He wants what’s best for Madeira, but that often coincides with what’s best for him. Con
venient, no?” He made a face. “It’s the same with most of the old clans — including my mother’s. Including me, perhaps?”
His voice grew distant, and his focus drifted to the horizon. Laura studied him closely, though his expression didn’t give much away. Was that why Marco had shunned a comfortable living and joined the French Foreign Legion? Did it explain his reclusive lifestyle?
You’re nothing like them, she wanted to assure him. You wouldn’t abuse power.
Deep inside, she was sure of that. Marco was a man of honor. A man who thought critically — of others and of himself. Weren’t the best leaders those who least coveted power?
“Anyway…” Marco sighed. “We’ll be hearing from Quintus soon. But we have a little time. He will be interested in the outsider I brought here, though he won’t be too obvious about it. I believe he’ll give us a few days.”
She gulped. A few days…and then what?
“In the meantime, I’ve called in Finn. He should be arriving soon.”
Laura exhaled slowly. Having backup was great, but it was terrifying to need it.
“You trust him, right?”
Marco nodded immediately. “With my life.”
His intonation told her he meant it literally, and she remembered the Foreign Legion.
Laura looked around. Such beautiful surroundings…such a terrifying world.
“Is this what my life will be like now? Running from vampires and dragons?”
“No. Right now, you’re an easy target.”
She made a face. Great.
“But once you learn more about dragon ways, you’ll be able to protect yourself. No vampire in his right mind would take on a dragon.”
“Not even Fausto? He seemed pretty audacious.”
Marco’s expression soured. “Fausto is a special case. Believe me, I’m trying to get to the bottom of that. But it’s clear where you need to start.”
She sat a little straighter. “Where?”
“You need training. Everything from shifting more quickly to maneuvering in the air. You must learn to defend yourself — and to counterattack an enemy.”
Laura took a deep breath. Putting herself and counterattack in the same sentence had never crossed her mind. But Marco was only getting started.
“Then there’s breathing fire and using other weapons at your disposal.” He flexed his fingers.
She glanced at her own hands in alarm. Did he mean claws?
“Everything I learned in three years of hard training, you need to learn now.”
Her hands started shaking, so she stuck them under the table. “Do you know of anyone who can teach me?”
Please, please, make it someone nice, she prayed. Someone I don’t mind spending time with. The eagle shifter who’d reluctantly given her those first, rushed lessons had barked orders and made her secretly cry at night. Someone not at all like that.
Marco hesitated, and that conflicted look he’d shown so often appeared again. Then his chest rose in a deep breath, and he gave a firm nod.
“Yes, I know someone.”
She waited, ready to cry, Who?
His eyes met hers, submerging her in that magical world of blue.
“Me. All right with you?”
Her lips parted, though she caught herself before lapsing into a full jaw drop. That would be great. Amazing. Comforting, somehow, because Marco felt like her only friend, so far away from home.
But, wait. Didn’t he hate her? Wasn’t he impatient to get her off his hands?
If he had been, something had changed over the previous night, when that endless flight had pushed them both to their limits. His tone had grown softer, his gaze less resentful. And every time their wingtips had brushed…
She gulped. Training with Marco…
Her inner dragon lashed its tail in anticipation of what that might involve. Grappling at close quarters. Flying wing-to-wing. Maneuvering in the air…
Oh, we can maneuver, all right, her inner dragon purred.
Laura swallowed hard and replied as evenly as possible. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”
Chapter Ten
“Ready to breathe fire?” Marco asked as he and Laura soared side by side on another glorious night. They were three miles offshore, where moonlight sparkled over the inky Atlantic, and the wind cooled his wings.
Unfortunately, that didn’t have the same effect on the steamy thoughts running through his mind. Training Laura was a man’s best fantasy but torture too. Shifting back and forth meant seeing her naked — or rather, trying not to see her naked, but imagining it in spite of himself. Flying close together, yet trying to keep things businesslike. Attacking made-up enemies, then getting carried away by the idea of a rival trying to take her from him.
Why had he agreed to train her again?
“Breathing fire? Sure. Ready.” Laura’s voice was a little shaky, but as with everything else she’d faced so far, she steeled herself, prepared to do her best. The woman was a trooper, for sure.
More than a trooper. She’s a natural, his dragon glowed.
It was their fourth night out training, and she had aced every lesson so far. Not that Laura gave herself too many pats on the back. That was another thing — she set her standards so high, Marco found himself striving to do his best too, exactly as he’d done years ago under the dragon who’d trained him.
“All right. First, you inhale. But then you hold that breath for a moment. Remember?”
He’d gone over the theory during dinner — how dragon fire started with a normal breath, then mixed with incendiary fuel in the topmost section of the lungs, and was finally ignited by a spark on the exhale. The problem was, Laura’s fresh, flowery scent had called to him the whole time, and he kept getting distracted. It didn’t help that Inés had served the vineyard’s sweetest, most potent wine and set the table with flickering candles, or that she’d served his favorite maracuja liqueur for dessert.
Then there was the fact that Laura hadn’t been able to bring any clothes to Madeira. Inés had taken Laura shopping, and the outfits she’d come back with were — well, stunning. The flared orange skirt with the white top made her coppery hair even more striking, and the pale green outfit set off the color of her eyes. The beige shorts and demure navy top they’d bought shouldn’t have made his pulse rise, yet it did. And on top of all those were the shoes and sandals she’d come home with.
Love the sandals, his dragon breathed.
Marco loved them too — the strappy ones with long ties that went up around her ankles.
Which was crazy. He’d never had a thing for ankles before.
All that, plus the wine, the views, and the candlelight had gotten to him, and when he’d walked Laura to the guest room after dinner the previous night…
“Good night,” she’d whispered shyly, pausing at her door.
“Good night,” he murmured, inching close enough to feel her body heat.
Laura’s eyes dropped to his lips, and they showed the soft glow of arousal. His had to be doing that too, given how hot they felt.
He pictured a kiss, already knowing how perfect it would be. He would slide a little closer and slip his arm around her waist. She would press her body against his, tilt her chin up, and…
His body heated as it all played out in his mind. Their bodies would mesh, and when the virtual kiss turned into a physical one…
Deep, desperate yearning coursed through his soul, and his chest filled. Laura’s chest rose too. Clearly, she was thinking along the same lines.
Nothing holding us back, his dragon whispered.
He leaned closer, as did Laura. When her hand nestled against his ribs, he nearly sighed. It was funny, how a guy who’d never thought he lacked anything could suddenly feel…complete.
His lips twitched, and he got to within a millimeter of entering a sunny, joy-filled world. But at the last possible moment, his phone rang, and they jerked apart.
“Dammit, Finn…” Marco clicked his pho
ne off, but the moment had passed.
Laura blinked back into focus, then blushed and whispered, “Good night.”
Don’t go! his dragon cried.
But Marco couldn’t get his lips to move, and Laura had slipped away, closing the door. He’d stared at it for a full minute before pulling away.
“Boa noite,” he’d whispered mournfully.
Marco frowned at the memory, then decided to blame it on Inés. The housekeeper was determined to see him and Laura mated, making babies, and living the good life in Madeira. Didn’t Inés know there was no such thing as happily ever after?
Finn hadn’t been much help either. He’d called to check in from Lisbon, reporting no progress on inquiries into Laura’s family. Which left Marco on his own in Madeira, fighting temptation.
Laura, meanwhile, kept up those infuriatingly cute habits of twirling a lock of her hair or biting her lip in concentration — gestures that just made him want to kiss her more. It was only sheer willpower that had kept him from touching her thus far — and bitter memories.
She’s nothing like Olivia, his dragon snarled for the hundredth time.
True, but Laura was still a woman, and he’d sworn to never, ever get involved again.
Yet there he was, with a thumping heart, glowing eyes, and a tingling feeling in his veins, thrilled at another night out flying with Laura.
“Okay,” Laura said in guttural dragon-talk as she flew steadily at his side. “Breathing fire.”
Marco cast a glance back at the lumpy form of Madeira. Although he’d made sure they flew well out to sea before starting to spit fire, he had the sneaking suspicion they were being observed, at least from a distance.
Well, fine. It was only a matter of time before he was called in by the leading dragons of Madeira anyway.
“So, I inhale and hold it…” Laura murmured.
Her cheeks puffed out like a child’s did when dunking underwater, and Marco nearly laughed. “Try to relax.”
When she snorted, “You’re kidding, right?” little sparks went off around her nostrils. Her eyes grew wide, and she wobbled in midair. “Whoa.”
Marco grinned. “See? The fire is inside you. All you have to do is exhale forcefully.”