“I love Cait,” I state flatly. “You loved Rainelm. She was your wife for two hundred and seventy-six years. How, Claaron?” Hearing the water shut off, I stop for a moment. “How do you tell yourself it is right to marry them, and to take away their chances at a man who may fall in love with them?”
My House of Graywyne brother leans forward, arms resting on his knees. “Is that what is wrong with you?” He shakes his head. “Despite her position as their Oracle, the elfin High Council would never approve of a fair-born lady residing with a man, dragon or not. The only way I could protect Rainelm from the attempts on her life was to marry her, allowing me to stay with her day and night. Theo, ours was a marriage of convenience that neither of us desired.” Falling back against the sofa once more, he laughs. “Hell, we were married over four years before consummating it. Even that only happened because we’re bound by honor to remain faithful, and she found me attractive enough to be quite willing.”
“Do not fool with me. I didn’t call you here to play games and have you fuck with my head, Claaron,” I grind out between clenched teeth. “There is nothing I desire more than Cait, nothing I would not do to be with her. Please.” Burying my face in my hands, I inhale a deep and pained breath, releasing it in a steady stream. “Stop me. Do not allow me to do this, and prevent her from having the life she deserves.”
He kicks the coffee table, sliding it into my legs. “You’re an idiot. You are the life she deserves, stupid dragon.”
“I heard that,” Cait yells from the hall. I hadn’t noticed she opened her door. Claaron laughs in an exaggerated howl. “I’ve been trying to tell him,” she continues, entering the living room in UMass Boston flannel pants and an oversized coordinating t-shirt, barefoot, hair wet… beautiful. “But he doesn’t listen to me, so thank you, Claaron.”
Instead of sitting on the spacious sofa by him, she perches on the arm of my chair. Claaron eyes us both, watching as I put my arm around her, pulling her closer, and she slides onto my lap. I tell myself I’m keeping her safer than she would be remaining precariously seated as she was.
“You’re welcome, Cait.” They wasted no time establishing informalities. “I feel honored you took so much time dressing to impress me.” His mouth twitches, baiting her, waiting for a reaction. This is a game he never tires of, and Cait will keep him quite busy.
“Oh, yes. I took a great deal of time because, you see, I was attacked by a lunatic vampire this evening, then my dragon went all winged ninja on him, so I’ve had a stressful day.” She huffs, and I can almost hear her eyes roll in the severity. “Actually, I just couldn’t be bothered because I don’t give a flying rat’s ass if you’re impressed or not. You aren’t my type.”
A sinister grin and a hint of teeth replies, as he assesses his opponent. “And just who is your type, dear?” He gestures toward me. “That shaggy, oversized, shabbily dressed oaf?”
“Hm, those weren’t the adjectives crossing my mind last night when he was traipsing around shirtless, but yes, him.… I’m going to get some wine. You two want anything?” And without waiting for an answer, she hops off my lap, leaving my mouth agape and Claaron chuckling.
“She’s quite a little spitfire, Theo. I can see why the Goddess would choose her. Cait is perfect.” His voice remains far too low for her to hear, watching as she moves around the kitchen. “I must say I wouldn’t have minded being chosen, being the one to fall in love with her. You’re a damned lucky bastard, even if you are too stupid to see it.”
Turning away from the view of Cait leaning to retrieve something from the refrigerator, I stare blankly at him, absorbing his words. “Chosen to what?”
“Being the first dragon to fall in love makes you incredibly dense, brother. I think I would have handled it far better. Pity you already got the job. Best I can do is prevent you from failing miserably and fucking up a future that affects us all.”
“I’m in love with her?” Claaron looks at me as if I’ve solved the most basic arithmetic problem ten years too late. “This isn’t what you felt with Rainelm?” He shakes his head painstakingly slow, emphasizing my ignorance. “Then…”
“Oh, for the sake of the Goddess, Theo, go talk to her. I need to call Agtos.” He stands, taking in the view of the city for a moment. “I caught a glimpse of what happened with the king as well as her destiny, Theo.” This doesn’t surprise me. Claaron is one of a handful of dragons with the extraordinary ability to see not only events and destinies of the future, but pieces of an individual’s past as well. “Oliver hasn’t touched her yet, has he? He isn’t aware of what she brings?”
“No. I’ve tried to explain change is coming, but the effect it has on him is too great to speak of. It’s something he must see.”
He nods, the wheels spinning. “We must meet with him soon. Tonight.… I’m sure he’d love to see me.” Claaron grins.
“I’m sure.” My reply reeks of sarcasm.
“Oliver should have more respect for the First Brother of the House of Graywyne, Second House of the Dracopraesi.” Somehow, he manages to let less sarcasm slip through.
“Just as soon as you have more respect for the rules, Claaron.” Never mind that his willingness to break rules gives him the edge, leading to his position as First in his house. My brother Oliver is a by-the-book dragon if ever there was one.
“Well,” he begins, voice louder, carrying into the kitchen as he walks toward the hall. “I’m going to steal your office for a bit. You two kids have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Dear Goddess, he leaves limitless options with that remark.
“Where’s he off to?” Cait saunters into the living room, not looking as though she cares he left us alone, with a bottle of Dante’s best Brunello di Montalcino in one hand, a full glass in the other, and a water bottle tucked under her arm. “If dragons don’t drink alcohol and Dante is never here, why do you two have so damn many bottles of wine in this place?”
“From the looks of it, you may singlehandedly take care of that problem,” I comment, taking the water and setting it on the floor. Water is the last thing on my mind, as I’m too busy eyeing her every move as she sets the wine on the coffee table and slides it back where it belongs, leaning quite provocatively in front of me.
“… The first dragon to fall in love.…” Isn’t that what I wanted him to clarify? Isn’t that what I’ve been waiting for? Claaron didn’t feel this way for Rainelm, his own wife; he didn’t desire her in the all-consuming way I do Cait.
Grasping her by the hips, I pull Cait to me before she picks up her glass, setting her off balance, and she falls onto my lap. Glancing over her shoulder, Cait looks up through thick lashes, coy in her questioning. “Did you want something?”
“You.”
Cait stands, facing me, quite unabashedly appraising me head-to-toe. “Is that what Hell’s snowflake is doing here? Giving you the swift kick in the ass I’ve been waiting for?” My beautiful ward demands an answer, and I grip her thighs, enticing her nearer, breathing her in as she complies, now in the chair with me, body against mine, arms around my neck.
“More or less.” With her so near, I find it difficult to speak, my mind and body having far too many other ideas I’ve refused to acknowledge until now.
She runs her tongue along my ear, her sinful, lingering breath tingling cool on my neck. “You want me.… What is it you want?” Her voice is husky. Cait is maddeningly desirable. I try to slip my hands beneath her t-shirt, but she grabs my wrists, holding me at bay. “Tell me.”
I could break free of her grasp but find her play at dominance enthralling, and submitting arousing. Unhurried, I kiss along her throat, jaw, and chin as I respond. “I want your love, Cait. I want to give you mine, in every way. I want you to refuse Dante. I want you to choose me.” She releases my wrists, and my fingers are in her hair, my mouth on hers tasting the Sangiovese grapes and mild oak flavors of the wine, but nothing more intoxicating than the essence of Cait. “Falling in love wi
th you may yet drive me mad. At least ease my suffering and marry me, Miss Hayden.”
Laughing, she takes my face in her hands and meets my eyes. “I doubt I’d notice a difference. You’re already a crazy dragon, Theo.” Her smile is wide, her eyes bright and happy, just the way I saw in her future, in her destiny.… Loved, in love, and happy. “Yes.”
There’s no resistance when I slip my hands under her shirt this time, running them along the smooth skin of her back, holding her against me, not disappointed as she shifts closer. Fingers fisted in my hair, Cait is as fierce and passionate in her kisses as I am mine, responding in kind to my touch, meeting every excited growl of need from me with fascinatingly arousing noises so uniquely her own.
“Inch it up a bit further, Theo. I almost got a nice view of tit there.” I drop her shirt back in place, looking over to see Claaron leaning against the corner of the hallway wall. “Damn, and it was just getting good. That promised to be quite a show, too. She’s a wild one, a kinky one, I bet.” He winks at Cait, and I growl, wishing I had something to throw at him, but the only thing in my hands is Cait. I am neither willing to throw her, nor is he willing to complain about receiving her.
“If you’re so desperate, Claaron, I’m sure Corrin can give you tips where to find a cheap whore to take the edge off,” Cait offers with an innocent smile, as if recommending where he could buy cookies.
“Unfortunately, dear, until he took an interest in you, the king’s standards weren’t quite up to snuff with mine.” Lips twitching, right brow raised, a typical Claaron expression, one he knows would leave other humans quite uncomfortable, he adds a casual remark. “If you have any friends I might find interesting, feel free to send them my way.”
Cait stills, everything about her demeanor turning frigid, and without a word, she climbs off me, and heads toward her room, walking a wide path around Claaron’s place at the entrance of the hall in avoidance; but he reaches out with dragon reflexes she cannot avoid, grasping her arm, making contact, and she snaps, her reaction unleashed in a furious scream.
“Get the fuck off me.”
He’s swift to let her go, rejoining me as she disappears at a run. “Were you aware of that loss?”
I’m torn, wanting to go after her, yet fearing she wants no one. My head swims with what I’ve just done, what I’ve said to her, her response, and cannot face an angry Cait not knowing how to approach anything between us now.
“Her uncle, Sir Thomas Hayden Greyson, CEO of Hayden Holdings, the vampire who raised her, died four months ago in a traffic accident, decapitated. It was all over the news here. A multi-billion dollar international investment firm, massive assets, and a single descendent to inherit everything. To add fuel to the media fire, the heir to his fortune happened to be an heiress: young, single, and human. You can imagine, given the laws, how up in arms certain factions were.”
“That’s quite interesting and everything, but not the event of her past I caught as she walked by me,” he explains. “This was a young man, possibly a lover, she saw jump off a balcony. Presumably suicide. Can’t tell you anything else. You know how this works.”
I fall back in my chair, rubbing my hands over my face. “I am a terrible fool.”
“Not to argue with such a valid statement, but why is it true this time?” My entire reaction to Cait has him thoroughly amused.
“Because she found me on the balcony railing last night and became quite upset. I attributed it to her overreacting, to being dramatic, perhaps assuming it was a matter of the nature of human females.” I haven’t spent a great deal of time interacting with them. Humans have never been my area of ward protection detail before. “That makes far more sense, though Cait does have an irrational concern for my safety.”
“It’s not so irrational, Theo. She’s a human woman who loves you, of all dragons, for some unknown reason. What you do as a dragon puts you in grave danger at times. Give Cait time to acclimate to your abilities and your eternal nature of existence, then she will relax.”
Finally having a chance to give him a look expressing his personal stupidity, I dryly remark, “You do not know my Cait.”
***
If there were such a thing as a dragon book of etiquette, my brother Oliver would have undoubtedly written it. We have our code of honor, our sense of duty, and a kindred brotherhood binding us together. Nevertheless, there is an accepted notion of ranking and status based on far more than the order the Goddess placed on our six houses. In this grand scheme, Oliver is one position below Agtos, our Lord Regent and the only Dracopraesi Oracle, making him what one might call ‘king of the hill’ among the rest of us.
I’ve often hypothesized this is how he came to be put upon with Corrin as his ward: the hope he could teach the young vampire to hold such a position with dignity and aplomb.
He steps into the hallway, three-piece suit in perfect order, buttoned, tidy, and not a hair out of place, but the look in his eyes tells the state of disgrace into which matters have fallen.
“Brothers.” His greeting remains mild and conservative, typical. “Claaron, it has been a good deal of time.” Oliver leaves the silent ‘but not long enough’ hang between them.
“I understand it has perhaps been more time than I should have allowed.” Claaron’s lip twitches in wait. It’s his tell, baiting the ever-collected First Brother of the House of Pendragon.
Oliver’s lips tighten, jaw clenching as he blinks rapidly, composing his expression into a countenance of absolute calm. “I have matters under control once again, brother, but thank you for your concern. It seems I must err on the side of caution while things remain unsettled.” He glances to me. “Hopefully, that will come soon.”
I nod. “She has come to a decision, I believe.” Cait has not given me leave to discuss this quite yet. “Let me assure you, Corrin is not the husband of her choice.”
Claaron laughs heartily. “That much would be obscenely apparent to a deaf, blind, three-century-old elf lord.”
“The king is not entirely convinced the issue is settled, and I believe he should not be counted out without further consideration.” He says this in an outrageously serious manner.
We both stare at him. “I’m sorry, Oliver. Did he sink out there? Did you perhaps dive too deep to retrieve him? Are you suffering some form of oxygen deprivation hallucinations?” I question in a harsh tone. “Or have you let the little twit get to you? You’ve allowed him to believe there’s still hope for him, haven’t you?”
He won’t meet my eyes as he looks to me. “Corrin is not beyond reform, Theo. I can work him through this. He simply needs time.” Desperation seeps through my brother’s declaration. “Miss Hayden showed him such compassion this morning, such a willingness to help him. Do you not believe it is within her to permit him some leeway, some forgiveness considering his condition?”
“What is within her is for you to not permit that bastard to drop fang within earshot of me,” Claaron retorts.
Ignoring him, the First of my house glares at me instead. “Why is he here, Theo?”
“I invited him. He is our brother, always welcome for a visit,” I reply evenly. “And I felt the need for his advice. My ward is far more than you realize, dearest brother. I did try warning you before. You should have listened. Now I fear you chose the wrong path and this evening was the first incident of many between us if this does not come to a close soon.”
“Theo, do not speak in your riddles to me. What do you see for her?” He questions me in a clipped tone, not one to find unknowns acceptable.
“Far more than I can explain.”
Claaron nods. “You must see for yourself, Oliver. I have, and I intend to stick around, to be a part of this… so long as destiny permits.”
*Cait*
There’s a knock at my door, quiet yet strong, and I suspect I know who it belongs to already. “What?” I snap, still sitting on the trunk at the foot of my bed, legs curled to my chest, head resting on my knees.
&
nbsp; Theo opens the door, not waiting for an invitation to step in, closing it silently behind him. “Are you alright?”
“You think just because I’m a girl you have to fuss over me constantly?” I ask bitterly, rubbing my arm where Claaron grabbed me.
There’s a low growl from him, and it would be funny if it weren’t for the fact right now, it just isn’t, not to me. “Did he hurt you, Cait?”
I don’t even want to dignify that with an answer, instead choosing to storm off to the bathroom and brush my teeth, but he follows, standing in the doorway, watching my every move, saying nothing. Once I’m finished, I walk right past him and curl up under the down comforter, facing an overstuffed chair beside the bed.
“You do realize someone does not have to physically harm you to have hurt you, Cait. I am not only referring to bodily injuries inflicted upon your person when I ask you this.” Theo’s voice is soft with his unusual accent. I imagine in his existence, he’s spoken countless languages with accents no human still living has heard of. “Know you can always talk to me. I am here to be anything and everything you need. That is part of what it means to care for you as my ward.” He pauses. “Claaron did not mean any harm, Cait.”
It feels like forever since I had anyone worry over me, want to care for me, though I know it’s only been four months—the four months since Uncle Thomas’ death. I stare at the chair. The kind of caring I want now is different. A friend… and more.
“Then come here, Theo.” I roll over under the covers, facing him and motion to the empty side of the bed. “Whenever my friends spent the night, they’d always sleep in bed with me. We’d stay up talking until all hours of the night.”
Theo doesn’t move from the bathroom doorway. “When was the last time you did such a thing?”
His eyes remain steady on me, waiting, and I know he knows somehow. Running a hand over my arm, I glare at him. “How?”