The Dragon I Fell In Love With

by Mary Abshire

  “Stay here.” He headed toward the hall. The lack of beating heart outside led him to believe Demetri had arrived early, but it wasn’t his normal style. Just to be safe, he wanted Lynn to stay out of sight.

  Pausing by the door, he peered through the long, thin window next to it. Dressed in a long-sleeved black sweater and black pants, a tall man equal to his height stepped in his view. He had his shoulder-length hair pulled back. His clothes were much darker than the hair on his face.

  Marcel opened the door. “You’re early. This is new.” He gave a welcoming gesture for the vampire to enter.

  “I like to surprise people every now and then,” Demetri said as he stepped inside. “And I’d hoped to meet your new female friend.”

  Now, it made sense why Demetri had arrived early.

  “It’s safe, Lynn. It’s Demetri. He came early to meet you,” Marcel said.

  Her feet lightly padded the hardwood floor as she approached. Although he didn’t mind Demetri meeting her, Marcel didn’t want his friend to get into her head. A quick ‘nice to meet you’ would suffice.

  He grabbed the duffle bag he’d set by the closet. He didn’t think he’d need the flashlights, extra rope, or tools, but he liked to be prepared just in case.

  Lynn stopped a few feet from them, holding the phone at her side. She looked so cute wearing his button-down shirt. She’d rolled the sleeves near her elbows. Crossing her arms, Marcel couldn’t see her red brassiere through the shirt as much.

  Demetri’s brows curved up as he faced Marcel.

  “Lynn Winslow meet Demetri Rominique,” Marcel said. “Demetri, this is Lynn.”

  Demetri offered his hand to her. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  She glanced at his hand before looking at Marcel. Her heart was beating faster.

  “I won’t bite, I promise,” Demetri said.

  Marcel scoffed. “Wrong line to use. She knows what you are.”

  Lynn slowly accepted his hand. “Nice to meet you. I don’t mean to be rude. This is all so…new to me.” The beat of her heart began to calm. After a quick shake, she slid her hand from his.

  “I can see why he likes you,” Demetri said as he stared at her.

  Holding his bag, Marcel stepped in front of her and faced his friend. “Now that you’ve met, we should get going.”

  Demetri grinned. “Of course.” He took a step back and then walked out the open door.

  Marcel shook his head as he twisted around. He wasn’t born yesterday. The vampire rarely met people who lived outside the reserve. When he did, he loved to rummage through their thoughts. Thankfully, he couldn’t read the minds of other supernatural creatures. Marcel’s thoughts were safe.

  Lynn handed the phone to him. “Call me when you’re on your way back.”

  He took the phone and slipped it into the pocket in the front of the bag. “It could take a minimum three hours before I return. I’m not sure how difficult it will be to change the tires.”

  “Just be careful, please.”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “No worries. I’ll just eat the big bad wolves or roast them.”

  She stepped closer to him. “You can change into a ferocious dragon, and I’m still going to worry about you. Everyone has a weakness.”

  Now it was his turn for his heart to beat faster. She truly cared about him.

  “Lock the door behind me. I’ll call you when we’re heading back,” he said.

  She put her hands on his cheeks and pulled him down to meet her lips. Of course, he didn’t resist. When she gently pressed her mouth to his, the warmth in his gut began to swell.

  “Thank you for helping me and for caring so much,” she said softly and then slid her hands down to his chest. “You’re a good man.”

  He swallowed hard. “See you soon.”

  He would’ve loved to stay, to kiss her again, to see what might happen, but he had a job to do. Carrying the bag, he grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it as he walked out of the house. The snap of the lock indicated she’d followed his instructions.

  Thoughts still stuck on the kiss, Marcel hurried down the steps on the side of the house. Her fingers were soft on his face. Her lips were gentle, yet telling. She’d initiated the kiss. She’d wanted him to know how she felt. And now the fire within him burned and wanted more.

  Rain hit his head and bare arms as he passed Demetri’s black SUV and strode toward the barn. Demetri leaned against the Jeep with his hands in his pockets. The vampire had a sly grin on his face.

  Marcel dug his keys from the front pocket of the duffle bag. “Let’s go.”

  If Demetri had heard them inside, he’d have a good idea where he and Lynn were heading. Hell, if he heard their heartbeats, he would know. Was Marcel ready to confess the truth to his friend?

  He shoved his bag in the backseat before settling behind the steering wheel. Demetri filled the passenger seat. As usual, he didn’t bother with the seatbelt. The amusement on his face remained unchanged.

  “Are you falling in love with her?” Demetri asked after Marcel had backed out of the barn.

  Marcel shifted gears and then flipped on the windshield wiper blades. “Did you find out if anyone has records about property owners here?”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Because it’s none of your business.”

  “You’re my friend, so it is my business. You haven’t been with a woman in a long time. I told you, you need to get out more and mingle with the human locals every now and then.”

  Marcel switched on the headlights as he steered down the gravel driveway. “I’m not falling in love because I haven’t been with a woman. I’m telling you, she’s special. I think she might have a connection to a bloodline here. Her grandparents lived here. You and I both know humans don’t live here, except the few at the stations.”

  “Maybe she’s a descendent of a witch. In the early days of America, witches and sorcerers mated with humans and now it’s a big mess. Thankfully, humans don’t know if they carry the wicked blood. The few who find out end up dead or in jail.”

  “Aside from her connection to someone here, she’s not like the majority of women. We’re quite fond of each other.”

  Demetri chuckled. “Oh, I’d say more than that. If I’d been a mile away I could have still heard both your heartbeats.”

  Marcel clamped his jaw tight. As he’d suspected, Demetri had been listening.

  “She’s a very respectable and honest woman,” Marcel said.

  “Oh, I believe that. She’s also like a curious cat. She wants to know about us, but if one of us makes an unexpected move, she jumps back scared.”

  He paused before steering onto the main road. “She won’t say a word about us. I believe she will keep our secret. I offered to have her memories altered and she actually considered it for a while.”

  “Really? You told her I would erase her memories.”

  Marcel nodded. “Yeah, I told her the truth. She thought about it and decided against it in the end. You’re right, she’s curious and a bit scared. She’s also a strong woman. If she says she’ll keep our secret, I believe her.”

  “We’ve known each other a long time, Marcel. You’re one of the very few people I trust. If you’re falling in love, I wish you happiness. If I were you, make sure she’s willing to reciprocate with love and loyalty. Women today always seem to fall short of both.”

  Marcel agreed in silence. Demetri had read some of her thoughts, but he didn’t know Lynn. Marcel had heard enough from her and seen plenty to realize she was different from the others. Without any doubt, he’d love her. Could she love him equally? He didn’t have the answer.

  With only a few days left before she had to leave, he needed to find the answer soon.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The house felt empty with Marcel gone. Lynn had waited until the Jeep had driven from her sight before walking away from the door. Although she’d only known Marcel for a day, she felt drawn to him. She ca
red about him. Even if he had little chance of running into trouble while he was out, she still worried. Anything could happen at anytime. He wasn’t invincible or immortal. Vampires could be destroyed, too, she suspected. Living or dead, the end would come for each creature one day. And that’s one reason why she’d kissed him. The other…she didn’t want to miss out on a good opportunity.

  Heading to the main room, she rubbed her thumbs over her fingertips. When she’d touched his face, his light stubble had tickled her. When she’d pressed her lips to his, heat rose from her inner core and had spread through her. She’d never felt such longing for a man. Maybe Connie was right—she needed to get laid.

  She’d felt the vibrant beat of Marcel’s heart when she’d placed her hands on his chest. The man felt as if he were made from steel—solid and strong. She wanted to get closer to him, feel more of his strength. For such a rock-hard and tough looking man, he had the kindest, most compassionate heart and personality.

  She stopped at the table in the main room where his sketch pad lay. The detail in his drawing made the picture look very lifelike. It amazed her how he could renovate the house, manage a garden, fix cars, hunt wild animals, and still be able to draw exquisitely. She’d never been fond of any kind of pictures of herself, but his drawing made her look good. She wondered if his other artwork was just as detailed and beautiful.

  Carrying the pad in hand, she passed in front of the fireplace. The small flames still produced heat and the wood snapped softly. Above, several framed photos sat on the mantel. Most were a faded brownish color. One reflected a young couple. Others showed little boys with smiles on their faces, the same boys in the pictures upstairs. She wondered which one was Marcel.

  Lynn continued toward the library. The hardwood floor seemed cold to her bare feet. She’d left her clothes in the dryer before she laid down for a nap. They were probably dry by now, but she didn’t want to change out of Marcel’s clothes. His shirt had a fresh outdoor scent as if it had been hung outside to dry. Maybe she was a little crazy, but having his clothes and scent made her feel comfortable and less alone in his big house.

  She walked into the library and headed for his desk with the laptop. He’d given her the name of his businesses, so she wanted to look them up. She also wanted the Internet ready in case he might need to reach her.

  Laying the pad on the corner of the desk, she proceeded around to the chair. The soft leather cooled her thighs after she took a seat. The lamp on the desk, and two others on the other side of the room, added plenty of light. She lifted the top of his computer and then pressed the power button. While the laptop came to life, she surveyed the bookshelves across the room. Two more were empty while others had piles of books waiting to be returned. She suspected the research hadn’t been proving fruitful.

  As the screen appeared with icons along the bottom and right side, she wondered if he’d browsed for information during his research. He hadn’t indicated such, so she’d search the World Wide Web after she checked on his Facebook page.

  She clicked on the icon for the Internet browser. After it loaded, she pulled up Google, typed Bouton Photography Facebook in the search box, and then pressed the return button. Results appeared quickly. The Facebook hyperlink had a different color from the others, leading her to believe he’d been on his page recently. She selected the link and the screen changed.

  The Facebook page showed a banner with several framed nature pictures hanging on a wall. She recognized one of the photos as the lake behind the house. The pictures were beautiful. Over four thousand people had liked his page. Scrolling down, she read several positive comments about his shots. The man had a great gift to be able to draw and capture beauty with his camera.

  While she wanted to check out more of his work, she needed to spend her time researching. Marcel had done so much already and hadn’t come up with any answers. If she could help him and find something about her grandparents, at least she’d feel a little useful.

  She opened another browser tab and typed in the name of the reserve on the Google screen. A list of links promptly appeared. Since she’d visited the website for the reserve months ago when she was planning her vacation, she knew which one to click on.

  The reserve’s website appeared with a picture of black bears playing in water. A menu with few options appeared on the left. At the top, she spotted a search box. She typed the words property records in the box and then hit the return button.

  Only two responses appeared on a new screen. She selected the first one and a new page appeared. Scrolling through the information, it listed six real estate agents who bought and sold property within the reserve. Each agent had a photo and small biography. Lynn continued down the page and found four properties listed for sale on the reserve. She passed them and continued to the bottom where a small disclaimer appeared. It talked about how owners on the reserve could deny a property from being sold or purchased by means of a vote.

  With a sigh, she slowly worked her way back up the page. She paused when she caught the word records. Skimming through the sections, one described land on the reserve, the estimated declaration of the reserve, first settlers, and how things had changed over the years. Another section talked about the wildlife. The last one discussed the value of keeping land unspoiled. Soon after the final paragraph, she found one sentence that said the central station housed records of all landowners from the establishment of the reserve.

  Her eyes enlarged. She re-read the line to make sure she’d seen it correctly. Wherever this central station was, it had records of all landowners.

  Smiling, she switched to Facebook and then opened a message window. Her fingers worked fast on the keypad as she typed a note to Marcel, letting him know the good news. She added a line suggesting they visit the central station if her car couldn’t be fixed.

  After she sent the message, she leaned back in the chair. If the central station maintained records, it would only prove who owned the property, when, and who her grandparents had bought the land from. Records wouldn’t show if her family descended from any supernatural bloodline. Maybe names would be enough for Marcel or Demetri to figure out if she was connected to any supernatural creatures, but there wasn’t any guarantee.

  She sighed heavily. She had a fifty percent chance at finding answers through property records. What she really needed was a Winslow family tree.

  Looking past the laptop, she saw the stack of books on the table where Marcel had sat. His family had collected a great deal of information about dragons. If she hadn’t met him, she never would’ve guessed there was so much material about dragons. Then again, she hadn’t believed in their existence until she saw one with her own eyes.

  Lynn left the comfy leather chair and strode around the desk. She headed for the end of the table where Marcel had been researching. He believed she had a connection to someone on the reserve and seemed determined to find out who and what bloodline. Now more than ever, she wanted to know, too. What if her family had been descendants of dragons or shape shifters? What if she were a carrier?

  She stopped at the end of the table where he’d left a book open. A brown tint colored the edges of the pages. Many had separated from the spine. The script writing looked old. Words were difficult to read. She sat and then carefully turned the page. A drawing in the shape of a state or island appeared. In the center, the author had written the word France. Numbers at the bottom showed 1532.

  Lynn turned to the next page and it crinkled. She studied the words, trying to make out what the writing said since the script ran together and was very curvy. The author spoke about clans migrating from France and other areas of Europe to the western world. Battles in France had escalated and forced dragons to leave. The author mentioned the clan names Moreu, Bouton, Depaul, Winsloux, and Wiltshire. They had lost many within their families, and had left to find new land where they would be safe.

  She looked at the names again. Marcel’s surname had been mentioned. She wondered if he knew his an
cestors had come from France. Another name captured her attention. Winsloux. The spelling was different from her last name, but the two sounded somewhat similar.

  Carefully turning each page, she searched for references to any of the clan names. The author continued to mention the turmoil in France and fighting among clans. Some dragons had stayed and fought, but they’d perished within years. Entire clans had been wiped out. He noted several of their names.

  She skimmed through to reach the back of the book. The writing had changed from sentences to something else. Setting aside the narrative part, she studied a page with names. The top had a clan name. A line had been drawn to other names noted on the page. It took maybe a second for her to realize she was reading the family tree of a clan. The surname was unfamiliar to her, but it gave her hope as she turned to the next page.

  She scanned one tree after another, looking for any reference to Bouton or Winsloux. Her breath hitched when she found a page for the Winsloux clan. Heart beating faster, she studied the names. If she guessed, at least twenty had been listed. All looked unfamiliar and foreign. Frances, Alexander, Louis, Adel and Margarete had been the last to survive, according to a small note. They’d migrated to the west.

  Curious to know when the book was written and by whom, she picked up the pile of loose papers she’d moved aside. She flipped them over and then searched from the beginning of the book. After a few pages, she found a letter to the reader. He stated his name was William Elgin of clan Elgin. He was born and raised in Scotland, and had made notes from his memory, others he’d met, and elders. His health was declining and his youngest son, Samuel, planned to leave for the west soon since the population of dragons was decreasing in Europe. William wrote the book for his son to share with his family. William indicated the year was 1792 and he was three hundred and thirty-three years of age.

  Lynn leaned back in the chair. If William had been three centuries old, his notes were likely accurate from the sixteenth century to the time he’d written the book. Dragons migrated to the west, which meant they would’ve settled in America and Canada. Columbus had landed in America in the fifteenth century, so it was possible for others to make to America and Canada.