by Kira Nyte
“Why didn’t you say anything earlier about these injuries? This is a lot more than an aching back.” Syn turned her to face him and sighed. “Did it not hurt to change your shirt?”
“I checked my back and saw nothing worrisome.”
“You have glass in your cuts, precious.” She blinked at him. “I think you need to let your friends know you’re not coming.”
“We can make an appearance.”
“If you were willing to forego lunch for pleasure, I think you should definitely forego lunch for injury.”
Briella’s gaze lowered, that delicious blush deepening across her face. She lifted her hand and drew her fingers down his chest in caress that was pure temptation. His jaw tightened. Did this woman have no idea the fire she played with? Not even a dive in the Arctic Ocean could cool his blood at the moment.
“Briella.”
Her hand dropped to her side and she nodded once. “Okay.”
“And work?”
“I’ll call in sick.” She raised her bandaged arm. “Can’t carry trays anyhow. I’ll just have to pick up extra shifts to cover the damages at my apartment.”
“I’ve covered those. And anything else you need.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“Why?” Syn traced her brow. “You’ve accepted it all of your life.”
The gentle woman disappeared behind a wall of steely strength and defiance. “I don’t like handouts. I work for what I want.”
“I never said you didn’t.”
“You implied—”
“Nothing but the truth.” He shrugged. “A conversation for another time when I can show you what I mean.”
“And when will that be?”
“I would like to bring you to The Hollow this evening. My homeland, the place your parents were born and raised, a place you have yet to see, but have every right to.” He folded his hand around her injured forearm and stroked the bandage with his thumb. “These will be gone in no time. If you’ll agree to the trip.”
Interest glimmered in her eyes. Curiosity softened the edges of her expression. “How long will this trip take?”
“If I had a choice, I would never want to return. I respect that your life is here, and you have dreams you’re about to live. I am not the insolent fool from your past, sweet. I’ll do everything I can to make your dreams here come true. The trip should take but a day. Maybe two. A soak in a mineral bath and the natural magic of the world will reverse the wounds.”
“And my parents?”
Syn smiled. “We have four dragons, m’lady. I’ll let you have your choice which of us you’d like to ride. Your parents will have transport as well, since I won’t allow them to stay here if I’m gone.”
“Mmm, who to ride…”
Briella closed the small gap between them, resting her palms against his chest. She pressed up on her toes, tilted her head, and nuzzled her nose and lips against the crook of his neck. He caught himself before he wrapped an arm around her back and held her waist instead, drawing her tight against his aching cock.
“I’ll have to consider my choices, then.”
“You should definitely consider them.”
She dragged those cursed lips along his throat. “I will.” The sensual torture subsided. She tucked her head under his chin and sank into him. “And more.”
* * *
After placing her calls to Emma and her boss, Briella stood in the bathroom and tried to check the cuts on her back. She still couldn’t see any glass. Then again, it was hard to look while contorted like a wrung dishrag. Or when her mind couldn’t seem to keep from replaying what had happened between Syn and herself. What would have happened.
She had no way of explaining what she felt. The only way to describe it was that when she was with Syn, either standing next to him or in his arms, she felt whole. Right. Silly as it was, he completed her in ways she never realized she was missing. Never had she felt so strongly for a man, to the point her willpower and her mind had no say in the pull of destiny. She dug her heels into the figurative mud and stood her ground against him, to no avail. She fought to hold on to the urge to maintain control over what she couldn’t explain.
All her efforts backfired a hundred-fold when she kissed him. Like an elastic band stretched to breaking and finally released, the tension shattered and the natural need consumed what it had long awaited.
Her body continued to ache for him, from the heaviness of her breasts and their heightened sensitivity to the slightest movement against her bra, to the thrum of heat between her legs.
She swallowed, choked, and resigned herself to reliving the pleasure of memory. The feel of his skin against her hands. Hot, hard geography carved with smooth, taut muscle. The heat of his mouth, his kiss, an elixir of tenderness and raw possession. The strength of his embrace, how perfect she molded against his form.
And when he grabbed her hair and tugged…
Briella slumped against the bathroom counter and moaned. “Why bother fighting it?”
Seduction by Syn was going to ruin her in every form and fashion. She craved his kiss. It was a need as strong as the need to breathe. And if she gave herself to him, all of her?
He’ll be my next addiction I have no control over. Just like painting.
“Precious, how are you doing?”
Cursed dragon.
“I still don’t see glass.” I’m not seeing much of anything other than you in my head. “I know you’re busy with Gabe and Emery, but can you send my mom up here? Maybe she can get the pieces out.”
“May I come in?”
Briella squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a slow breath. “Yes.”
She was asking for another round of torture, but the delicious thought of his presence won out.
The bedroom door opened and a moment later, Syn poked his head into the bathroom. His face darkened, as did his eyes. His nostrils flared and his lips grew taut.
He burned her with his slow perusal, and the only person she could blame was herself. She hadn’t put her shirt back on, leaving her standing in her jeans and a bra.
Slowly, she turned her back to Syn. “How many pieces are lodged?”
“Come here.”
She caught his reflection in the mirror as he stretched out his hand. God, those eyes burned with more than hunger. She had never seen desire so raw that it possessed her own body, her thoughts, and left her swaying.
Somehow, she managed not to fall and gave her hand to Syn. He led her into the bedroom and motioned to the bed.
“Lay down on your stomach and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Briella barely heard him leave, but felt the distance between them straight to her core. She climbed onto the bed and settled onto her belly, her feet dangling off the edge of the mattress and her arms tucked under her chin. She considered turning on a light, since the day beyond the window was quickly fading into an array of stark reds and purples.
Syn returned with her mother in tow.
“Sweetheart, why didn’t you have me look at your back while I was tending to your arm?” her mother asked, her delicate brow wrinkled with concern. “Thankfully, we’ll be leaving soon and these can all heal up.”
“I didn’t think it was necessary. A few scrapes and such.” Briella motioned to Syn. “He saw the glass. I tried to see it, but couldn’t.”
“It’s your back, dear. Of course you’d have difficulty seeing it.” Saralyn laid out her medical supplies on the nightstand closest to Briella’s head. “I’ll numb the areas Syn sees glass, but he asked to care for you.”
The smile Saralyn doted on her was one of a mother beguiled by the thought of a potential son-in-law.
“If you’ll allow, of course,” Syn said.
“His sight is far better than mine could ever be, and with the natural light fading, it might be best,” her mother explained, preparing syringes with a numbing agent.
Briella half hid her delight behind her folded arms and
nodded. She noted her mother’s transparent attempt to leave her care in Syn’s hands, which was fine by her. She tipped her head enough to catch Syn’s searing gaze. “I think that’ll be fine.”
“Great.”
Syn settled on the bed beside Briella and directed Saralyn to the cuts where he noted glass and other debris. Her mother skillfully injected numbing medication around each wound, a few sighs and sympathetic noises leaving her lips as she did so. For the first few pokes, Briella gripped the blanket until Syn rested a hand over her fist. His touch alone relaxed her to the point she barely felt another prick.
“Okay, Syn. She’s under your care. Hurt her, you’ll have me to contend with.”
“You should know you have nothing to worry about, as long as she’s under my care.”
“I’m under your care from now on. No more venturing out alone,” Briella assured.
“Good.”
Saralyn regarded him for a few beats before she kissed his cheek and left the room, closing the door behind her.
“Do you have any experience digging glass out of a woman’s back?” Briella asked, half joking. Syn reached for a sterile pair of tweezers, a small basin, and a wad of gauze squares.
“When I’m through, I’ll let you tell me what you think.”
Smart.
“Your dragon is doing the looking, isn’t it.”
Syn’s fingers traced through the maze of cuts and lacerations. Again, she found deep-seated comfort in the gentle touch and relaxed into the bed.
“Yes. If it hurts, you tell me, okay?”
“No.”
“That’s my sweet.”
Syn started the tedious work of digging out glass from each numbed cut, using gauze to clean shards from the tweezers. Between each cut, he worked that calming magic along her spine with those skilled fingers until her eyes grew tired. He worked in silence. She watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, catching his occasional glance in her direction. Dragon eyes, lit by dark fire and slit pupils. There was not a sign of frustration or aggravation in his expression, only the kind of tenderness a man would wear for a woman he loved.
The thought struck her as his eyes lifted to hers.
She could swear he was inside her mind, living her thoughts, relishing her ideas.
A ghost of a grin curved the edges of his mouth. He went back to tending to her wounds.
Strangely enough, Briella found herself dozing off several times during his ministrations. By the time he was through, the sun had set and the noise level on the floor below increased to an incessant rumble.
“Sweet, I’m done.” Syn’s knuckles caressed her cheek, rousing her from another dip into sleep. Slowly, she pushed onto her hands and knees, rolled out her neck, her shoulders, and settled back on her heels. Her dragon protector looked her over, his emotions masked, and climbed off the bed. “Are you in any pain?”
“Not a bit.” She didn’t have to lie. Her wounds were still numb, but his gentle attendance to each cut left her in no discomfort. “I think you’ve done this a time or two.”
“More times than you can imagine,” he snickered, gathering her mother’s supplies in a cloth. Briella laughed. She liked this playful side of the super gentle-dragon-man Syn. It distracted her from…other things. “I’ll send you a survey.”
“Now how would you know about surveys?” Briella hopped off the bed and crossed to the dresser. She rifled through the shirts she had packed until she settled on a simple, deep red split-sleeve piece.
“I’m aware of my surroundings. I listen to people complain about them after hospital stays. Um, I’d make sure you have something to keep you warm. I doubt Giovani brought riding coats, and I’m certain he never had one made for you.”
Briella pulled the shirt on before she faced Syn again. Another piece of clothing between them was a safe move. “Riding coats?”
“They protect you during flight and keep you warm against the colder temperatures at higher altitudes.”
“How do I breathe?”
Syn tapped his nose. “In and out.”
Briella snorted. “I’d throw a pillow at you if I had one close enough.”
“Good thing for a few feet of distance between you and the bed.”
He came to the foot of the bed, his gaze drifting toward the covered painting of his shadowy self. She had made sure to lay the sheet over the canvas, otherwise she’d be obsessed with a work of art—when she wasn’t obsessing over the real deal.
“Remember, you aren’t entirely human, Briella. You’re of Keeper blood. Your body will adjust to flight as you adjust to minor altitude changes here. You’ll be able to process the thin air and retain the oxygen you need. Trust me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t dare attempt it with you.” He glanced toward the windows. “The guys are ready downstairs. We should head out soon.”
“I’ll pack a small bag.”
Syn nodded and lifted the bundle of medical supplies. “Let me get these to Saralyn and clean out the basin in the meantime.”
“Syn.” Briella stopped him a few steps from the door. She pressed up onto her toes and planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, sweet.”
Chapter Fifteen
Briella huddled close to her mother on the edge of a field some thirty minutes from the French Quarter, with only dim streetlights half a mile away providing a halo of illumination above the copse of trees. The trees created a buffer around the field, hiding their small group from the prying eyes of any passing drivers. It wasn’t an ideal space, according to Taryn, but unless they wanted to waste another hour to get to a good spot, this had to do.
“Ma, you’re bouncing on your toes like a child,” Briella noted, nudging her mother with her shoulder. “I’m still not quite over this whole riding a dragon thing. How big are they when they’re dragons?”
“Watch, sweetheart. It’s a magnificent sight to see them transform.”
So, Briella kept her eyes on the five men in the center of the field—her father was in deep conversation with the dragon men—waiting for the spectacle to unfold.
“And to think two days ago I was more concerned about landing my first art show, paying my bills, and being on time to meet my friends for drinks. What a funny turn my life has taken,” Briella said, aware of her mother’s attention on her as she spoke. She offered Saralyn a smile. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“I never said you were, dear. But now that you’ve brought it up of your own accord, how are you taking everything?”
Briella shrugged. How was she supposed to take the news that dragons were real, she was about to hop on the scaly back of an oversized reptile to fly to a world that should not exist, and that her future was tied to a man who was about to shift into a mythological creature? The moment her gaze landed on Syn’s sturdy and confident stance, she couldn’t imagine her life before he dropped into it.
“I think I’m adjusting nicely. I guess it helps that Dad filled my head with dragon stories when I was younger, and that I know paranormal entities exist.” She winked at her mother. “Thanks to your contribution to my crazy gifts.”
Her mother laughed. “Great. I’m glad.” She leaned close to Briella and made a faint motion with her chin. “Have you and Syn come to an understanding?”
Briella’s eyes widened. “Ma, don’t you dare start nosing around our personal relationship. I don’t needle for information about you and Dad.” She shuddered. “Not that I want to know.”
Saralyn stared at her, her face relaxed, but her eyes hawkish as they picked Briella apart. A satisfied smile filled out her mouth and she straightened up.
“That’s answer enough.”
“Sweet heaven, help me,” Briella muttered. Her mother’s confirmation meant only one thing. She’d had a vision and saw something Briella had yet to experience. She dared to steal another glance at Syn, and ended up focused on her father instead.
He jogged over, hair mussed, eyes glowing with excitement. “W
e’re ready. Saralyn, Taryn and I both agree that he’d be smooth enough for you to ride. I’ll go on Emery and Belle, you’re going on Syn. The brothers picked up riding harnesses from The Hollow earlier today.” He turned to Briella. “I’ll help you mount Syn and secure you into the harness. His body heat will keep you warm as we ascend. Keep close to his back. And don’t forget to breathe. Your body was made to fly.”
As her father talked, Briella’s brow arched higher and higher. “You mean I’m going to fly on a dragon. Alone. By myself. Dad, did it occur to you that dragons are not horses?”
Damn her father for that mischievous smile and wink. “It’s much easier to ride a dragon than a horse. You can communicate with Syn in the air. He’ll be in tune with you the entire time, and he’ll do whatever he can to ease your concerns.”
“Anxiety, Dad. Anxiety.”
Her father grabbed her shoulders and leaned close. “Excitement, Belle. Just wait. There is almost nothing to compare to the thrill of flight.”
She did not want to acknowledge that spark of said excitement. Truth be told, how many people could say they’d flown on the back of a dragon?
Giovani flicked the lapel of Syn’s leather jacket hanging over her shoulders. He had insisted she wear it over her peacoat as an extra layer of protection. She swam in the thing, but his pocket secured the dragonstone.
“Make sure you’re buttoned up,” her father said.
Briella took his advice and watched the four men in the center of the field spread out. Syn cast her his signature half-grin.
“Ready, sweet?”
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”
His rich chuckle filled her head and eased her anxious nerves.
Briella wasn’t sure what to expect when the show started, or what she dubbed as a show. At the voodoo shop, Syn had swelled to about twice his size, scale-covered and awkwardly contorted between human and dragon. The dragon couldn’t be much bigger. Then again, storybooks depicted dragons from fairy-sized to mountainous.