by Karin Shah
Her very presence made his blood pool far away from his brain.
For another man such a reaction would have been just another Tuesday. But for him?
Amazing as it seemed at his age, though he’d met beautiful women before, his body had never responded like this. Since men had never done anything for him either, he’d begun to assume he was asexual.
Until a few years ago, when the dreams had started. There had most definitely been a woman in those. But her face and details always became hazy in the morning light.
After the dreams started, he’d tested his reaction in every way he could think of, from going to bars and strip clubs to porn, but even if any of the women at those places had been willing to give him the time of day or the women writhing in front of him were gorgeous: Nothing. Only the woman in his dream aroused him. He’d begun to think maybe he was broken.
His response to Sofia made that idea seem laughable. Overwhelmingly so, his first glimpse of her as he’d crossed the camp had brought his feet to a standstill.
It was as if he’d slammed into a hard object at twenty miles per hour and the breath had been knocked from his lungs.
As angry as he was at himself for his brusqueness, it was a miracle he’d managed to speak at all, instead of babbling like a moron.
The touch of her hand had been intoxicating. Both exciting and settling at the same time, like jumping from an airplane and landing safe in your bed. For a moment, his questions about his sexuality had seemed answered.
He wasn’t broken.
He was a one-woman man.
Then the drift of adrenaline on the breeze had hit him. Mixed with her own feminine floral and citrus scent there was no mistaking the origin of the odor. His stomach had plummeted.
She was afraid of him, just like everyone else.
In that moment, the colorful sunset had faded to grayscale. The sky pressed down, and the facts of his life snapped back into his consciousness with the vicious backlash of a ruptured elastic band. He’d almost staggered from the force.
Of course, he’d forgotten.
Since he avoided his reflection, unless he was performing in the sideshow, or someone cringed or shied away, he could escape the reality of his hideous visage for hours at a time.
He groaned, the sound fierce in the enclosed space. Maybe he should stop denying what he was, confront his reflection, seek out strangers, memorize their fear and disgust so he could never forget.
It might be kinder to always keep his abnormality in the forefront of his mind. Maybe he’d become immune to the bite of the stares and hastily turned backs, or the wandering gazes of those too polite to react that way, but who couldn’t force themselves to actually look at him either.
He pivoted to press his spine against the door and slid down the slick, white surface, folding, and buried his face in his hands.
That was a mistake. Sofia’s scent lingered on his palm and fingers.
His stupid heart gave a weird flutter as he identified the fragrance.
It’s no use. Don’t bother to beat harder for her. Dealing with people was hard enough. Infatuation was a recipe for disaster. The urge to go and seek her out flooded his body. He closed his eyes and scrubbed at his face to combat the impulse.
If that brief interaction was enough for him to feel like this, how much worse might it be to spend time with her? How painful would it be to grow to love her, all the while knowing men like him were not meant to have women like her?
He’d been keeping to himself for years. There was no reason to change now.
Chapter 2
Sometime later, Roan sighed and stood, careful not to straighten to his full height so he wouldn’t hit his head on the ceiling of his trailer.
Being too tall for the bunkhouse trailer or a tent, his first bunk in the carnival had been on the ground in a too-short sleeping bag under the shelter of a ride, but as the sideshow had expanded, he’d saved all his money and bought a used truck and trailer of his own.
It wasn’t anything special. At seven feet with an equal arm span, he needed space more than luxury. He’d simply bought the cheapest fully functional one he could afford with the highest ceiling. He still had to duck, but he’d modified his bed to be long enough and re-done the bathroom as money allowed, so he could actually get more than his head and shoulders under the shower.
He stripped out of his T-shirt and peeled off his shorts. At his size, he practically lived in exercise gear year-round. In seconds, he was beneath the hot water. He sped through his shower, he only had a limited amount of water in the tank, and stepped out, grabbing a clean towel from his compact linen closet. He rubbed at his hair, then wrapped the towel around his waist.
As much as he hated looking at himself, he bent down to comb his damp hair in the mirror.
His cheek ached a little. That was strange. He was unusually tough. He should remember any impact hard enough to injure him.
He leaned forward to examine his cheekbone. Did it seem more pronounced than before? Was it swollen? He eyed the other side. It looked larger as well.
He swallowed a surge of panic. What the hell?
“Helloooo? Roan?” The voice of his friend, Lucy, interrupted his examination. She popped her violently-red head around the corner, and seeing his state of undress, threw her tattooed hands over her eyes. “Ugh! Warn a girl will ya?”
If anyone else had acted as if seeing his body burned their eyes he would be wounded, but Lu was pretty much his only friend and she never ceased to good-naturedly rag him for one reason or another. Probably a hangover from her time in the military.
And he gave back as good as he got. “You didn’t exactly wait to be invited in. I guess we can finally put the vampire rumors to rest.”
Lu snorted, the corners of her mouth twitching, but he wasn’t done. “I’d think you were trying to catch me au naturel, if I didn’t know you prefer women.”
She tossed her long curls over her shoulder, blew on her black-varnished nails, and buffed them on her matching tank top, making the inked flames scrawled on her cleavage undulate. “One of us has to get lucky.”
He had no comeback for that. Her words made him think of Sofia and he turned to the mirror to hide the direct hit. “What do you want?” His voice was harsher than he intended. He met her gaze in the glass.
“I see some mysterious do-gooder patched the hole in Carl’s family’s tent, so they don’t have to worry about rain or mosquitoes.”
He scoffed. “No do-gooding involved. It’s not like I have much else to do.”
“Yes, when I’m bored I often go around fixing things in secret.” She folded her arms. “You know if people knew all you did around here . . .”
“They’d what? Ask me to dinner?” He glared into the mirror. His slit-pupilled eyes glared back, as unnaturally green as ever. “I don’t think so.”
Lu pressed her lips together hard enough to hide the ring piercing her bottom lip. She had more to say he was sure, but she sighed and shook her head, before leaning her thin shoulder on the wall. “When you’re done admiring your beauty, it’s almost showtime. Do you want a get a beer after?”
He ignored her obvious baiting and changed the subject. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? I’m still paying off this trailer.” If he’d smoked or drank he never could have afforded the used Jayco in the first place.
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, tightwad. You wanna hang with me while I grab a beer and a cigarette?”
Roan wrinkled his nose. “You know how I feel about smoking.”
“Yeah, yeah, it stinks, but I heard some fresh meat signed up to the carnival side and I want to meet her.”
Was she talking about Sofia? The idea made his teeth ache, but he masked the strange feeling with a roll of his eyes. “When you do, be
sure to call her ‘fresh meat.’ I hear it’s the way to every woman’s heart.”
She sputtered and struck out at his bicep half-heartedly. “As if you’d know.”
“No experience necessary for that advice.” He stretched around her and grabbed his boxer briefs, basketball shorts, and a fresh T-shirt from the ledge beside the sink where he’d left them. He’d change into his costume backstage. Each set had a small screened area with props and costumes.
“Holy shit!”
“What?” He drew back, alarmed, pressing his clothes against his chest.
Perfectly-lacquered mouth ajar, she pointed to his nape. “When did you get more mods done?”
He shook his head, damp strands of hair clinging coolly to his neck. What the hell was she going on about? He stuffed his briefs and shorts on under the towel, let it slide to the floor, then yanked on his top. “I haven’t.”
“What are these then?” She grabbed his shoulders, turning his back toward her, then yanked the ribbed collar of his shirt down and pressed a spot between his shoulders. He glanced into the mirror to see.
Under her pointer finger was a shiny bronze-toned lump several shades darker than his body scales.
Fuck! Despite the air conditioning pouring from the vent, the trailer abruptly felt airless and stuffy. The ceiling seemed to swoop down at him, and he crouched in place to make room.
“Come on.” Lu grabbed his forearm and guided him halfway to his feet, so he could stumble into the banquette across from his kitchen area. He slumped into the brocade-backed seat, his feet sticking out from below as they always did, and dropped his forehead onto the cool plastic surface of his table, his hands beside his head.
Lu disappeared for a moment, and he heard water filling a tall glass. She slid it under his hand. “Take a sip.”
His large hand engulfed the glass and he forced himself to follow her directions. As soon as the liquid hit his dry throat, he realized he was parched and drained the whole thing. The base landed on the scratched Formica with a bang and for a moment he feared he’d broken the container. He peered at the glass and sighed as he found it intact.
Lu pushed in next to him on the banquette and patted his fingers. “Better?”
He took several deep breaths. “Yeah.” It wasn’t completely a lie.
A bead of perspiration rolled down his cheek, and he reached up to mop his forehead, raking his hands into his drying hair and encountering a bump.
The room spun around him as he stuffed both hands through his hair, discovering a symmetrical lump on the other side, and a few more running down toward his nape.
His face must have given away his horror.
Lu stared at him, her brows knitted. “Hey, what’s up?”
Panic was a living creature in his chest. He fought for calm. “There’s more of those . . . lumps on my scalp.”
“Shit.” Lu smacked the table with her hands and half stood. “We’ve got to get you to a doctor.”
~ ~ ~
Any luck, Ky?
Though he heard his brother Ty’s voice in his mind, the black dragon that was Kyle Mara’s current form, didn’t physically acknowledge the two dark, purple dragons—his younger twin brothers—flying in flanking position. He simply took another circle over the area.
A crescent moon dusted his and his brothers’ scales with silver and highlighted the snow-covered peaks of the Andes below. It was glacial this high in the mountains, but the cold couldn’t penetrate his thick hide.
He’d felt a pull from this small Columbian city when he and his mate CJ had flown over it while on the run, but now . . .
Nothing, he responded.
Damn! The frustration in Ty’s voice echoed tenfold in Ky’s chest.
He’d managed to find four of the younger brothers his mother had hidden for their protection when they were children, but two remained missing. As much as he adored his mate, he couldn’t settle down and enjoy their engagement after so much struggle, when his brothers might be in danger—or worse.
He shook off the idea that one or both brothers might be dead.
They were all chimeras. Creatures of magic. Being able to shift from human to dragon or lion, or even a conglomeration, only scraped the surface of their abilities. His connection to his brothers, though not refined enough to help him find them unless he were close, still existed. They had to be alive.
He ignored the inner voice taunting him. He only imagined the connection, it insisted, because he couldn’t face the truth that he’d failed them.
There was another option, of course. They could be alive and feral. But that option was as permanent as death, so he refused to consider it, as well.
He issued a clicking growl into the oxygen-poor air and banked to return to Quito airport. CJ and all of his remaining brothers and their new mates were waiting at home in NYC for word.
There’d been quite a melee to accompany him. To keep the peace, they’d finally settled on drawing names out of a hat. Draw or not, he was sure wild horses couldn’t have kept CJ away if she weren’t still battling morning sickness. He’d debated staying with her, but he’d been the one to feel the pull and had the strongest connection to his missing brothers.
Also, when he’d suggested staying, CJ had rolled her blue eyes and told him she could hurl her guts out just fine without him.
He slapped his wings against the chilly air, his and his brothers’ shadows slipping silently over the Columbian landscape.
Nothing called to him here either.
His huge lungs pumped out a massive sigh. If only he’d been able to investigate the strange tug the first time, they might have located Caleb or Ronan. Now, it seemed they were back to square one, without a single clue to go on.
Landing not far from the new Quito airport, Ky ducked behind the scrub by the side of the road with his brothers. A cellphone buzzed as he dressed. He yanked it from the backpack he’d carried.
Thalia.
“Now you’re available.” Though he didn’t feel particularly cheerful, he laughed to show he joked.
“Hey,” Thalia said, “demon possessions wait for no man—or dragon.”
“So they say.” That was somewhat the reason he was bitching. His best friend John was a non-possessing half demon capable of phasing, traveling instantly from one location to another. In instances when they needed to move fast, they usually got him to transport them. At the moment however, John hadn’t been able to leave the feral female chimera they kept in a warehouse in New York.
Thalia was their backup. Both a vampire and a witch, her spells could have shortened travel time considerably, but she’d been knee deep in an exorcism when he’d called. CJ could have transported them directly here, but every time she used that spell, she collapsed. He wouldn’t risk her health.
“Any luck?” Thalia, a Witches’ Champion who also worked as a private investigator, had been searching for his brothers for him for years. She was almost as invested as he and his other brothers.
“No.” A world of regret weighted the word. “If only my mother hadn’t hidden us all quite so well.”
“If she hadn’t, the Kincaid Group would’ve found you.” She paused. “Actually, I’m not just calling to check in. I put out feelers to ensure there weren’t any remnants of Scorpius or Kincaid Group around to bite us in the ass or any . . . repercussions from our searches.” By repercussions she meant video or eyewitness accounts that could out chimeras to the petty, or non-magical, world.
He could sense he might not like what was coming. “And?”
He must have telegraphed his unease to his brothers. They glanced at each other and stepped closer to him, their hearing keen enough to pick up Thalia’s voice on the tiny speaker even without speakerphone.
“I found some chatter in a dark n
et message board about the Kincaid group. The poster seems to have been a chemist who worked there. He says there was more than one chimera incarcerated at their facility during Jake’s first captivity.”
Chapter 3
“No doctor.” Roan snagged Lu’s wrist before she could finish standing, adrenaline making him freaky fast, his voice fading into a growl. “I’m undocumented.”
Afraid he’d gripped her too tight, he released her arm as quickly as if he’d touched a hot stove.
Lu sputtered, her face pale and strained. Had he frightened her?
Finally, she shook her head. “You’re as American as I am.”
He took a deep breath to stifle the panic and rage that seemed to have a life of their own these days. “Maybe, but I’ve got no way to prove it. I could look through missing persons reports, but from where? I know around where I woke up, but not the slightest idea where they took me from or when.”
Plonking her ass back into the seat, she rubbed her neck. “Shit. Too bad a crappy Spanish accent isn’t proof.”
He almost smiled at the slap down and attempted a retort. “Hey, it’s getting better.”
She drummed her nails on the table. “I think it’s time you told me your whole story.”
Talking seemed to be helping his almost crushing hysteria. The ceiling stayed in place for the moment. He inhaled deeply again several times, and began, “Once there was a selfish prince. A beggar woman offered him a rose in exchange for shelter and repulsed by her ugliness—”
“Bullshit!” She slapped his hand. “That’s Beauty and the Beast!”
He shrugged. “It could be the truth. I don’t remember much and I am a beast.”
“No, you’re an ass. There’s a difference.” Lu’s voice was sharp enough to stab. The odor of hurt perfumed the air and further weighted his already heavy chest.