“It is quite complicated.”
Narrowing my eyes, I glare at him. “Complicated. Why is everything with supernaturals always complicated?”
“As a human, do you claim your life is free of complications?” he questions. I scowl, refusing to answer. “No matter what happens inside, I ask you please remain quiet and allow me to speak on your behalf.”
“I make no promises.” He stares, unblinking, possibly wondering if I’m simply stubborn or insane, or maybe just stupid. I blink. He grins. He did ask nicely. “I’ll try.”
For a moment, we stand staring at each other then he turns and crooks his arm, offering it in a genteel manner unlike typical supernaturals I’ve known. Etiquette training teaches us from a young age how little they appreciate unwarranted physical contact.
“Shall we, Miss Hayden?”
“You can just call me Cait.” Formalities, stiff and false, are my least favorite part of high-society life.
“Not quite yet. It would be improper,” he replies.
“Do I call you Sir Pendragon?”
He laughs, a softer, kinder laughter than I expected. “No. I’ve not been knighted as Oliver has. Theo is fine, or whatever you wish. ‘Hey you’, or ‘yo, dragon dude’, if you like.” He uses a funny voice, making me giggle, which earns an easy smile from the dragon as he gazes down at me, our eyes meeting once more before opening the door leading into the private conference room, and his expression turns serious, though his voice remains gentle. “I will always respond, no matter what you choose to call me.”
I’m stunned. “Okay.” I barely remember we’re joining the king who, a matter of minutes I’d swear were hours ago, acted as though he wanted to eat someone. One of the legendary Brothers of Pendragon has me on his arm, eyeing me with an intensity threatening to burn me alive from the inside out. A vampire draining me is the least of my concerns.
*Theo*
Corrin and his brother stand away from the rest, Z dismissed as a member of the court council, not of the family. My brothers remain, guarding those of the clan within the room: Cedric, Corrin, and Evan. Dante stays as a part of such matters, tied in complicated ways. Cait would find it amusing I define the status of the Goddess’ son as such, though it is quite true.
Cedric approaches without hesitation, giving a questioning glance before reaching to take Cait’s free hand in his, her other gripping my arm, as if she thinks I may leave her. He’s gentle in his grasp, reassuring, and I make no move to stop him given the clan patriarch’s nature.
“Lord Master Corrigan,” she addresses with due respect, lowering her eyes and giving an awkward curtsy as she holds onto me for dear life, her other hand in his.
“Please, dear, call me Cedric.” His reply is warm, his voice smooth with a Gaelic accent she should enjoy. I gather she finds my accent compelling, arousing even, not what I’ve grown to expect of wards over my existence, though I’m finding everything about her unexpected, exciting.
“Excuse me?”
“You should become comfortable calling me Cedric. It’s familiar, and suitable given the circumstances,” he says by way of an explanation, but she’s still confused, and my protective instincts put me on edge. “We want to help, but there are limited options. Let us have a seat to discuss this further.”
As we move to the conference room’s table, Dante’s vivid blue eyes flicker in a discreet warning. Corrin and Evan move away from the corner where they spoke, the king confidently taking his place at the head of the table, while the concerned expression worn on the younger vampire’s face heightens my wariness.
Dante seats himself at the king’s right hand, a vital advisor when not gallivanting around the world for various research pursuits striking his fancy, both student and professor of everything. Always aware of all potential dangers, I assess everyone’s whereabouts, leading Cait to sit at Cedric’s right at the foot of the table then standing behind her with cautious awareness as Evan chooses to slip into the seat across from her rather than beside his brother.
My brothers stand guard as well, Liam at the door we entered, Clifford at the only door exiting to the rest of The Aire, Oliver dutifully at Corrin’s back. Our eyes meet, and he knows what has happened, though he will say nothing of it. The timing is inappropriate, Cait not yet understanding my place with her. Such a thing is a private matter between dragon and ward, one he would never disgrace.
“As you are well aware, Cait,” Cedric begins, and I glower down at him. She has not given him leave to call her by such a familiar name. Glancing up, somehow sensing he has misspoken, though the question of my position begs be asked, he begins again. “May I call you Cait?”
Even without the honor bond yet sealed, her unease pulls a response from me. “I believe you should explain your proposition before requesting such comfortable informalities of Miss Hayden at this time.”
“On what authority do you negotiate on her behalf?” questions Corrin with a sharp tongue, my attention snapping to him.
“The authority of the Goddess, creator of the Dracopraesi, ordaining us protectors of the innocent.” My tone is not threatening. It is lethal. Everyone in the room falls still as statues. “I have given my word to protect her. You demand a young woman meet alone with unfamiliar men, powerful beings, and have four dragons in your midst. Did you not expect one of us would take issue with such a thing?”
Gentle in resting my hand on Cait’s shoulder, I find the action lends her reassurance, her muscles becoming less rigid. My eyes remain trained on Corrin, curious how he will react. His jaw tenses, and I run my thumb over skin left bare at the collar of her dress as I wait for his response.
“Corrin.” Cedric calls out his son’s name in a calm voice. “Theo has a point. We are not trying to frighten her. Theo,” he addresses me directly, and with a final glaring warning to the young king, I turn, nodding for him to continue. “Given Miss Hayden’s age, should she be turned over to Neglected Dependent Services, law requires a marriage be arranged to provide suitable familial protection. Of course, considering her vast assets, we are not unaware of the potential for corruption within the system to prevail; therefore, we feel it is in Miss Hayden’s best interests we take direct action.”
It is an archaic practice within United Sovereign America, instituted from longstanding vampire laws, believed to ‘save’ human women from stronger, more influential supernatural beings taking advantage of them. I see a system preying on the young and innocent, incapable of protecting themselves against laws created to ensure they cannot.
“You know we have no need of her assets. They may remain in trust for her benefit as she sees fit.” He looks to Cait, offering encouragement, then meets my eyes again, and I can see his intentions unveiled. For dragons, the eyes truly are the window into the soul in the way we may read it, determining its darkness, its worth, its innocence. I stand motionless, and he knows. “This is for the best, Theo. It’s the way she will be most safe.”
Always dragons at heart regardless of the human form we take, the magick making us everything we are spreads throughout from there, giving us the desire to shift, to destroy, lay to waste any threat against our wards. I inhale, deep, slow, following Cedric’s gaze as he turns away from me, looking across the table to his elder son. Continuing to fight what has gone beyond a desire, becoming a need to shift, I want to remove my hand from Cait’s shoulder, fearing I may harm her inadvertently; but I feel her worry, her own fear, and cannot release my hold.
Corrin pushes his chair back, standing. The vampire is doing his best to ignore me and directs his gaze to Cait. “As your king, I intend to ensure your safety, Cait. I will take you as my wife, resolving this issue myself.”
Glancing to Oliver’s face, I see a rather unsettled expression yet am overwhelmed by a sudden jolt, as though a massive electrical shock ran through my veins, and I realize Cait’s hand is on mine, her skin touching mine. She initiated contact, the honor bond of dragon and ward now formed, but it felt unlike any
other. Everything inside me hums, electrified by her touch, making my hand grip her shoulder as anxiety, fear, and repulsion from Cait hit me in crashing waves.
Emitting a menacing, low, territorial growl, I glare at the king in dark warning. “No. She. Is. Mine.”
Chapter 2
*Cait*
The ‘whose growl is scarier’ contest going on between Theo and the king, which Theo is winning hands-down, ceases. I’ll have to remember never to anger a dragon. I thought vampires could growl, but no, dragons are deafening when infuriated. Even in human form.
No offense to the vampire as our monarch, but King Corrin behaves like a pompous womanizer, treating them as his personal playthings from everything I’ve heard. It’s disgusting the way he uses them, the way he uses anyone to his advantage, and I want no part of it, to be another conquest.
I’m not denying he’s gorgeous, but beauty is only skin-deep. Twisted sycophant goes to the bone.
Pretty packaging doesn’t make a bad gift any better. Brussels sprouts are Brussels sprouts no matter how you prepare them. Bunny rabbits may not look like New York City sewer rats, but they’re still rodents.
Take me as his wife? Holy hopping hell-bunnies. I think if I’d have managed to eat anything before court today I’d vomit at his half-baked resolution.
But then my mind whirls, recalling incredible, unusual green eyes gazing down at me, the way his raven hair fell against the golden armor on his shoulder as he smiled, watching me peeking from behind him in the courtroom. Theo.
“No. She. Is. Mine.”
Those words ring in my ears. I want them and fear them. He’s a dragon. What that means in this situation, I’m not even sure. Do dragons marry? I can’t say with certainty his claim implied marriage. He did promise to protect me. It occurs to me my hand is still on his, contact I initiated just before his declaration. I move it to my lap, and his retreats to the back of my chair, but there’s a definitive sense of disconnection, touching him appealing to my body with as much natural ease as breathing.
For the first time, Dante speaks, his voice smooth, a softened Scottish lilt dripping off his every word. “Perhaps this would be an excellent time to offer a relatively neutral solution to our conundrum over Caitriona’s situation.” He said nothing during court, sitting, absorbing everything, a picturesque view on the dais with flawless fair complexion, dark-as-night hair, and striking blue eyes.
Dante is every bit his goddess mother’s son, the epitome of beauty.
Cedric leans forward in his chair, hands folded together on the table. “What did you have in mind?” If I had to guess, I would say he sounds relieved Dante offers another option. I suppose a dragon eating his son isn’t a pleasant idea.
The demigod stands and paces in a small circle, brows knit together in contemplative focus, then comes to an abrupt halt, turning and meeting my eyes. He says nothing, staring, and the entire room buzzes, a strange electricity in the air.
His gaze rises, beyond me. “I will marry her, Theo.” And I’m certain my heart stops. “You trust me, do you not?”
“Are you all insane?” I scream, slamming my hands on the table, jumping out of my seat. So much for remaining quiet. “I refuse to sit here feeling like I’m being auctioned off to the highest bidder.” I sure as Hades do not want to deal with Neglected Dependent Services, but this is ridiculous. Why the king involves himself on a personal level in my situation is beyond comprehension.
King Corrin glares daggers at me, or past me to Theo, but I’m damned sure he’s not happy about a woman rebuking anything he says. However, Dante smirks as he watches my outburst. Behind me, the dragon clears his throat.
“I do believe Miss Hayden makes a valid point to be considered.” He places his hand on my shoulder, encouraging me to sit again, and I do so, grudgingly. Across the table, the king’s brother buries his face in his hands, but he’s not laughing. “While it is understandable the monarchy cannot abide by the breaking of sovereign laws, Miss Hayden is indeed a woman of means. At our ages, it is quite conceivable to liken her wealth and social stature to noble ladies of eras past, one whose suitors would vie for her affections, for the right to win her hand in marriage.”
While I’m somehow seeing this whole situation going in reverse, dragging me into the damned dark ages worse than society already, there might be a light at the end of the tunnel this dragon walks through. Choices. Women of means had choices back then. I, for one, would like them back.
“A duel?” The monarch’s eyes brighten, displaying his fangs in a Cheshire grin.
Sir Oliver grimaces. “I doubt a duel is quite the answer, Sire. Regardless of your expertise as a swordsman, even my skill is negligible over Theo’s.”
The room quiets until Evan sits back in his chair, its squeaking breaking the silence. “I suggest vying for her affections in the most literal sense. I’ve said before I disagree with arranged marriages, but if she must choose amongst you then at the very least, allow she find the most happiness.” He plays with the wedding band on his finger. “Is it asking too much she have the opportunity to perhaps marry out of some measure of love?”
Whether his concerns fall to his brother trapped in a loveless marriage or to my best interests, I don’t venture guesses, but I appreciate his disapproval.
“Would it most please Miss Hayden, I am agreeable to such a compromise,” states Theo, though his tone declares him anything other than agreeable.
Dante nods, remaining in his apparent standard state of existence, thoughtful and contemplative. “As am I.”
With an irritated huff, King Corrin drops back into his chair. “Fine. It is agreed.” His icy stare stays on me as he speaks. “But she must be moved to a secure location where she remains of equal accessibility. Aside from her safety quite lacking, from this point forward, regardless of who ultimately gains victory, I declare her status as betrothed and under the protection of the clan. Should Miss Hayden be incapable of making this decision for herself within seven days, sovereign law prevails, and I shall either choose her husband or relinquish her to NDS.”
“Seven days! What? And you expect me to leave my home? No! Not in Hades’s name will I do any such thing.” Refraining from calling the king insane, out of his mind, or gone mad, I’m adamant in this, but Theo rests one hand on my shoulder calming me, his touch desirable in its soothing effect.
My request to live as an independent woman was a long shot, to say the least. And NDS is a worst-case scenario for someone in my position. This… I release a quiet exhale and nod in compliance. This is better than the alternatives. None of these men need the wealth or power of Hayden Holdings. I’m not a rung in their social ladder. Choosing between the king, Dante, and Theo Pendragon… I should be thankful, not insolent. Most women would kill to be in my designer shoes.
“I apologize, Miss Hayden. This is the best way for now.” Cedric’s tone implies sincerity, though his wording is careful. “We are not asking you relinquish ownership of your home. Depending on your choice, in the end, you may return, as a matter to discuss with your chosen husband.” He says this as if it’s truly an option. Theo or Dante, well, I have no idea, but the king… I’d be a fool to believe he’d give it any consideration.
*Theo*
She presses the button to raise the privacy window between us and her driver Marcum once we’re in her town car, preparing to make what will be the last trip for quite some time to the penthouse apartment where her uncle raised her.
“So can you call me Cait now?”
I expected none of this: my reaction to her, the feelings she elicits, the intensity of my protective instincts with her—things I knew happen to dragons with female wards, but knowledge and experience cannot compare.
“I believe under the circumstances, it would be quite appropriate. One does not court a woman in the formal manner these modern days as was done in the past.”
Cait eyes me, waiting. “Do dragons really marry?” she asks, forthright, honest. Curiosity
and confusion are etched in the features of her face, unaware, unable to yet understand.
For a moment, I revel in the hum of the bond with her, the most pleasant and satisfying sensation of my existence, warm and welcoming, delightful.
“Not for the reasons familiar to humans, such as love or romantic desire. Agtos Pendragon, Lord Regent of the Dracopraesi married Morgainna the Fae, daughter of the Fire Fae king, but it was an alliance more than a traditional marriage. I know of three other dragons who married, each taking their female wards as wives to better protect them.”
“And that’s it? Of all the dragons in the world, only four ever married?” She focuses on her hands, anything but me.
I can’t stop myself from grinning at her rather shocked expression, the flushing of her cheeks. “There are only three hundred and ninety-six of us, Cait, meaning 1.02 percent of us have married over the course of our lifetimes. You make it seem as though the odds are quite impossible. Humans are approximately 0.002 percent likely to suffer a lightning strike in their average lifetime. Do you not think the odds are quite more favorable toward your marrying a dragon given the disparity between those statistics?” I ask with a laugh, hoping to lessen the worry I sense from her as our eyes meet, intensity heightening.
“Do you have any idea how damned frustrating you are?” Our eyes remain locked. I find her frustrating as well, but I am positive it is not for the same reason. “I’m guessing for me, the odds are skewed to be a lot more likely than average.” Her tone is sarcastic. Something deep within me does not want it to be so.
“Indeed.”
I say nothing of the many thoughts running, dancing, spinning in my mind, having a dizzying effect as I lower my eyes, intent on the sight of her lips, pink and soft, parting with such a tiny gap.
“Wouldn’t marrying me be a problem though, I mean, with the clan being your wards or… however that works… you guarding them?”