Manhattan Dragon Page 13

  “Then who is that?” Tobias pointed at the dot.

  Gabriel answered, “It has to be Alexander. He’s the only other sibling in the United States.”

  “Alexander. Of course,” Raven said. “There’s our answer. We find Alexander first. Maybe he’ll know how to find Rowan.”

  Gabriel groaned and rubbed his forehead. For his part, Tobias made a face like she’d suggested eating something off the floor.

  “I know you guys have mentioned that Alexander isn’t in his right mind.”

  A loud scoff came from the direction of Gabriel. “It’s more than that, Raven. He’s not crazy—he’s broken, damaged beyond repair.”

  Raven drew back at the word damaged, but Tobias raised a hand in his defense. “You don’t understand because you’re applying human logic to dragon psychology. Alexander lost his mate. Once a dragon mates, his soul is bonded to his partner as if wax was melted into wax and cooled into a seal. Life has broken that seal. Maiara is gone, and Alexander…”

  “He’s the walking dead. Death would be easier than what he lives through every day.”

  Raven placed her hands on her hips. “What I hear you saying is that your brother is severely depressed, and now that we know where he is, you don’t want to deal with him or help him.”

  Both of them refused to look her in the eye.

  “I’m a witch. I have an entire library of magical spells and healing potions at my fingertips. Perhaps I can help him with the proper draught or elixir. Everything you’ve told me simply makes me surer we need to go to Arizona.”

  A knock came from the door to the library, and everyone turned to find Raven’s sister, Avery, standing just inside the doorway. Raven was struck by how beautiful her sister was, surrounded by dark wood and bathed in the light that poured through the window off Royal Street. Her long hair shone black as polished onyx, and the green dress she was wearing reminded Raven of why Avery attracted so much male attention at the Three Sisters.

  “Avery, how nice to see you,” Raven said.

  “Did I just hear you say you were going to Arizona?” Avery’s mouth gaped at the idea. “You are not going to Arizona. Your birthday party is in five days, and everyone is coming. We can’t have a birthday party without the birthday girl.”

  Raven swallowed. “Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll be here for the party.”

  “And you still need to tell Dad that you’re getting married and that you’re pregnant. Mom and I have been trying our best to avoid him since you told us. I don’t want to lie, but it’s getting harder and harder to avoid his questions about you.” Avery tucked her glossy hair behind her ears.

  “I know. It’s on my to-do list.”

  “Oh, and may I remind you that we have a wedding and reception to plan, which I seriously think you should consider moving up because you are starting to show. By October your ivory dress is going to make you look like the full moon.”

  Raven stepped out of the circle of stones and crossed the library to hug her sister. “Everything will get done, I promise. I’m here. I’ll talk to Dad… soon.”

  Drawing back, Avery frowned at the map and the circle of stones. Her gaze roved to Tobias and Gabriel, who stood motionless, as if holding absolutely still would repel her curious perusal. They looked guilty as hell.

  Avery’s gaze locked on Tobias, her pupils widening as if he were a frosted piece of cake.

  “Avery,” Raven said. “I don’t believe you’ve met Tobias. His wife had to stay in Chicago for work, but he’ll be staying with us for a while.”

  Awkwardly, Tobias grasped Avery’s hand, offering a “nice to meet you” filled with forced cheer. She shook his hand slowly as she took in the rest of the scene.

  “What were you three doing in here anyway?” She eyed the red dress Raven was wearing, the map, and the circle of stones. “What’s this? Where did you get this dress?”

  “Same designer who’s doing my gown. It’s a prototype. My wedding dress would be white, of course. I was just showing it to Gabriel.”

  “This… is… a game.” Gabriel pointed to the stones. “Tobias and I learned as children.”

  Tobias raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Right. Just like old times.”

  Avery’s lips parted and her eyes narrowed. “Are you kidding me?” She turned back toward Raven. “You can’t show him what your dress will look like before the wedding! This is the type of thing I’m here for.”

  “You’re right. I should have called you.” Raven grinned stiffly at her sister.

  Avery’s gaze darted between the three of them. She seemed to guess there was more to the story, but she shook her head like it wasn’t worth her time. “Fine. We need to go.”

  “Go where?” Raven asked.

  “The cake tasting! Didn’t you get the appointment I sent you?”

  Raven shrugged. Was it Saturday already? “Yes. Come help me get changed.”

  She hooked her hand in Avery’s elbow and led her toward Gabriel’s old apartment, leaving the boys to clean up the mess.

  Chapter Nineteen

  She wasn’t sure about the wine. Rowan strode toward Nick’s apartment building, wearing a little black dress that was a few inches of fabric away from being scandalous and carrying a bottle of her favorite Malbec. Yesterday Nick had said he wanted this to be a date. A real date. But when he’d texted her later, he’d also asked her to teach him everything she knew about vampires. Not exactly date material. Was this a date or an interrogation? She wasn’t sure.

  Vampire lessons made her far more uncomfortable than the idea of romance. If Nick knew how to kill a vampire, he might try to do it. But chances were he’d get himself killed in the process. As a human, he wasn’t fast enough or strong enough to survive if a coven of vampires wanted him dead. Much better if the dress and the wine set the tone for the night.

  She walked right into his building and took the elevator to his floor. No security. That wasn’t good and was another sign he shouldn’t be taking on vampirekind. No, what Rowan wanted was to keep Nick safe. She’d need to ward his place against supernatural threats as soon as possible. If he insisted, she would teach him about vampires, but she planned to do everything in her power to make sure he’d never face one again.

  Stopping in front of Nick’s door, she heard panting on the other side, a series of sniffs, and smelled the faint aroma of canine. That’s right, Nick had a dog. She smiled. A dog was always a good sign. A well-cared-for animal meant a man was capable of loving something other than himself and was a universal sign of trustworthiness. She raised a hand and knocked.

  “Move out of the way, Rosco,” she heard Nick say. There was a tap dance of dog nails on hard floor, and then the door opened. Rowan had a difficult time keeping her mouth from popping open. Nick stood like some sort of chiseled male art form on the other side of the threshold, his broad chest stretching a plain black T-shirt at the shoulders. What must it take for a human to attain that kind of physique? she wondered.

  “Wow, you look good,” he said to her. Ironic, considering she was thinking the same about him.

  He ran a hand across the hard planes and valleys evident beneath his T-shirt. “Maybe I should change.”

  “Why?” she blurted, then curbed her rabid and embarrassing enthusiasm for the lucky stretch of cotton clinging to his chest. “I mean, I’m the one overdressed.” She lowered her gaze to her stilettos. “When you invited me to dinner, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Last time I saw you, you said you wanted a date.”

  He gave her a slow, assessing once-over. “I did… I do…” He rubbed the back of his head. “You look beautiful, and you wore exactly the right thing. I wasn’t sure what to wear for vampire-killing lessons.”

  “Vampire-killing lessons?” She raised an eyebrow. “You asked me to teach you everything I knew about vampires. Believe me, actually trying to kill them is what I know least about, and doing so is a matter of last resort.”

  He backed up and motioned inside. “Co
me on in before one of my neighbors hears you talking about vampires or killing. I’d never hear the end of it from my colleagues if someone called the cops.”

  She stepped inside and was immediately surrounded by his sandalwood-and-spice scent. By the Mountain, her eyes almost rolled back in her head. She braced herself against the wall.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. It smells good in here.”

  He pointed his thumb toward the kitchen. “I’m making chicken. I hope you like it.”

  “Love it.”

  “Good. I’m just glad it doesn’t smell like Rosco.” He stared at her for a moment with a smile in his gray eyes that was so sexy she almost lost her balance again. What was wrong with her? He took the bottle of Malbec out of her hands. “Come on in. Make yourself at home. I’ll pour this.”

  Turning, he walked into the kitchen area, a galley style attached to the main room, and dug in a drawer for a corkscrew. The place was simple and small but undeniably cozy. A charcoal-gray sofa was pushed against a wall that was painted a warm blush color. Marigold and navy throw pillows offset a pair of plaid chairs in the same colors across from a glass coffee table. There was a painting of an autumn forest on the wall, the yellow and red leaves seeming to welcome her into the room. The furniture wasn’t new, and although the place was clean, Rosco’s toys were scattered here and there. Despite being raised in a palace and familiar with luxury, it was possibly the most welcoming room Rowan had ever been in.

  She walked deeper into the apartment and noticed another open door. His bedroom. She could see the edge of the bed inside and detect his scent, stronger there.

  “See anything interesting?” he asked in a gritty voice.

  Her cheeks warmed. “You have a lovely home. It’s delightfully cozy.”

  He popped the cork. “Is that code for small and suffocating with embarrassingly little storage space?” He poured the wine into two short glasses and handed one to her. “Sorry, no wineglasses. Not a lot of room in here for the extras.”

  She held up her glass and clinked it against his. “Drinks the same. And I was being serious. This place is charming. I love it. And Rosco is the perfect addition.” She stroked the dog’s head.

  “You like dogs?”

  “Love them. I have a passion for deerhounds.”

  “Deerhounds? And I thought Rosco was big.”

  She leaned down and kissed Rosco between the ears. “Oh no, he’s positively purse-sized compared to my last dog, Cerberus. He died a few years ago,” she said softly. “I haven’t had the heart to adopt another one yet.”

  On impulse, she kicked off her shoes. With Nick in a T-shirt and sweats, losing the stilettos would make them both more comfortable. Rosco nudged her palm, and she bent over to scratch him vigorously behind his tall, radar-like ears. She was rewarded with a light bump of his nose against hers and then a lick up the side of her face.

  “Now I know it’s true about you being different. That’s the fastest Rosco has warmed up to anyone, ever.”

  “I have a way with animals. I think they can sense my dragon.”

  “Your dragon? You talk about it like it’s something separate from yourself. I got the sense at your apartment that you were the dragon, you know, with the wings and everything.”

  “I am.” She stood and brushed her hands against each other. “It’s a Paragonian expression.”

  “The planet you’re from originally.”

  “It’s another realm, uh, a dimension parallel to Earth.”

  “Fuck if all my years watching Doctor Who didn’t just pay off big-time, because yes, I know what you mean. I just never knew they existed in real life.”

  “We talk about our dragon as if it’s a separate and distinct entity because when we shift, we change. We are still us, but our thoughts become less complex. Our dragons are our most unrestrained self, and sometimes, in this form, we can feel that inner animal trying to get out.”

  “What does that feel like?”

  Her cheeks heated. “When you kissed me last night, I felt her move. My inner dragon finds you very exciting.”

  He finished up in the kitchen and joined her in the living room, so close the intense urge to touch his chest made her fingers twitch.

  “You’re not like other women, you know.”

  She smiled wider. “No. I am not.” She sipped her wine.

  “So, where do we start? How do you kill a vampire?”

  “About that. I don’t think you should worry about killing the vampires, Nick. I can protect you with an enchantment.” She gestured toward the window. “We can put a magical barrier around this place, and I have a charm for you that will make you practically invisible to them.” She dug in her purse for the sachet Harriet had made for her. When she held up the talisman, he shook his head and frowned.

  “Can I ask you something personal? It might seem like a rude question, but it’s something I need to know.” He swirled the wine in his glass, watching the resulting whirlpool without seeming to see it at all.

  “Hmm. You can ask it. If it’s truly rude, I may not answer.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Older than you.”

  “By how much?”

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-eight.”

  “Approximately 462 years, give or take the gap in time between our dimensions.”

  He stumbled backward. “Four hundred…”

  “I was born about five hundred years ago. Came here to what is now the United States around three hundred years ago. To this realm a few years before that.”

  “H-how long do you… do dragons live?”

  “As long as we can,” she said through a smile. “We’re immortal. We will live forever unless we are killed. But we can be killed.” She looked down at her hands. “You asked me once why I saw blood in Able McKenzie’s paintings.”

  “I remember asking. You never answered me.”

  “My eldest brother, Marius, was murdered in front of me. Decapitated.”

  “Oh, Rowan…” His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry.”

  “He was heir to the throne of Paragon. My uncle killed him and usurped the throne for himself before we escaped to Earth,” she said. “It was hundreds of years ago, but something like that never leaves you. Although there comes a time when you have to move on from it. Most often, I can hold the memory at a distance. Horrible events are more tolerable at a distance, don’t you think?”

  His eyes widened. He gulped his wine until the glass was empty, then walked back into the kitchen to pour himself another. A muscle worked in his jaw. Rosco seemed to pick up on his anxiety and followed him, whining softly.

  “Something I’ve said has upset you.” She took a step toward him but stopped when she saw his fingers were trembling on his glass. “Does it bother you, that I’m not human?” Maybe he’d changed his mind and the truth was too much for him after all.

  “No.” He stared into his wine.

  “Then it disgusts you that I’m older than you?” She set down her glass and glanced toward her shoes. She could have them on and be out the door in seconds if he rejected her.

  “No,” he said firmly. He braced himself on the counter and shot her a grave look.

  “Then is it because I’m immortal?”

  “No.”

  She stopped short. “Then what is it? Once I told you about my brother, I felt you change. It’s like all the warmth left the room. Or can’t you admit it bothers you that I’m not human?”

  He snorted, then started to laugh darkly in a way that made his big body shake. “Why should it bother me?”

  She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or trying to make light of the situation, but the longer he laughed, the more her chest ached. She wondered again if she should leave. But then his gray eyes locked onto hers and darkened as if a storm was brewing behind them.

  “Human isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Rowan.” He frowned, his gaze dropping to her chin. “How coul
d it bother me that you’re not human when so much about the human race is nothing short of toxic?” He bit out the word as if it stung his mouth.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve had to do things to survive.” He licked his lips. “There’s something I need to tell you. I remembered something recently, something that has to do with you.”

  She cringed. He must have remembered the night she stole the Raindrop of Heaven. Rowan reached for her glass of wine but kept one eye on the door. “You have my full and undivided attention.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Nick didn’t like talking about his past. It wasn’t the kind of story you could tell among mixed company. Not a nice story. Not something you shared over Waldorf salad at the beach house.

  But he liked Rowan. He didn’t care that she was a dragon. Maybe that’s what he needed, someone with a dark secret as deep and shadowed as his. She definitely wasn’t like other women. Everything about her was durable and down to earth, from the way she handled herself with the vampires and with Verinetti to the way she buried her face in Rosco’s fur. She was no delicate flower. Beautiful, yes, but in the way of an iron butterfly. If he told her who he really was, would she run for the hills? Or could she handle that he’d come up from the sewer and still carried the stink of it on his soul?

  Last night she’d shown him her wings. Tonight he would show her his horns. Let the halos fall where they may.

  “My mother left when I was five,” he began. “Left me with Stan. I’m not sure if Stan was my father, only that he was living with my mother when she left. I never called him dad, just Stan. What happened to me as a child wasn’t the fault of my parents. I didn’t have parents. I had Stan.”

  Rowan traced her finger along the lip of her glass, but otherwise made no indication that his story was disturbing to her. Good. This was about to get much worse, and he wasn’t sure he could continue if she looked visibly upset.