Thea Harrison - Dragon Bound

If he meant to shock her out of crying, he succeeded. A snort burst out of her. “That’s awful,” she said. Her nose was clogged. “I mean it, that’s awful. It’s not funny. I’m not laughing.”

He sighed. “It was a long time ago. Thousands of years. Once I really was the beast the Elves call me.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep, shuddering breath and rubbed her fingers along the seam of his T-shirt. “What made you stop?”

“I had a conversation with somebody. It was an epiphany.” His voice was rueful. He rocked her. “From that point on I swore I would never eat something that could talk.”

“Hey, that’s kind of your version of turning vegetarian, isn’t it?” she said.

He laughed. “I guess maybe it is. All of that is a long, roundabout way of saying I’m sorry. I don’t always get the emotional nuances of a situation and I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s everything, it’s not just you.” She turned her head and put her face in his neck.

He held her closer. “I want you to trust me more than you trusted that dumbass boyfriend of yours.”

She sighed. “When are you going to let go of that? Ex-boyfriend. Ex. And anyway, he’s dead.”

“I want you to tell me what and who you are, not just because I want to know but because you want to tell me.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because you’re mine,” he snapped.

“I’m not just a possession, like you’d own a lamp.” She pulled back and glared at him. He just looked back at her, face hard and eyes unapologetic. She sighed. “I guess that’s the possessive and territorial bit, isn’t it? You know, I don’t want to fight with you.”

Like any efficient predator, he scented weakness and acted on it. “Then don’t,” he said. He gave her a coaxing smile. “Just give me everything I want.”

She groaned and let her head fall back. She stared at the ceiling. She had to grant him a lot of respect. At least he was all out there, nothing hidden. He was up front with who he was and what he wanted, and he wasn’t ashamed of a single bit of it. Not like her.

“I guess I’ve got a lot to think about,” she said.

Even as he enjoyed looking at the pure, clean line of her throat, he frowned. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He cupped the back of her head and pulled her upright so that he could look into her eyes. They were a drenched dark violet blue, bigger and more beautiful than ever. She gazed back at him, waiting to see what he would do next. That wasn’t what he wanted either.

There she was, inside of her skin, and she was more of a mystery to him than ever. It was driving him crazy. Curiosity gripped him, and without realizing he was taking a momentous step, he asked, “What do you want?”

Surprise lit her face. She tilted her head and smiled at him. Did she dare to have the kind of courage he had and just say what she wanted out loud? “I guess I want what a lot of people want. I want to feel safe,” she said, lifting one shoulder. “I want to have a say in my own life. I want to be loved. I don’t want to live this half life of not being either human or Wyr. I wish I were one thing or the other. I want to belong somewhere.”

He had a strange, intent expression on his face as he listened to her. His eyes were open and accepting in a way she didn’t think she had experienced from anyone else before.

“I don’t know what love means,” he said. “But you belong somewhere. You belong here with me. I will keep you safe. And I think you might be more Wyr than you realize.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re stronger since we were in the Other land. I can sense it in you.” His eyes narrowed. “Haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, yes, now that you mention it.” She gave a half laugh. “I mean, I’ve been kind of too busy to process everything that’s happened, but I do still feel like I did over there—I don’t know, more alive. My hearing, eyesight, everything is . . . more.”

“You weren’t sure that you could heal me,” he said, as he had earlier. “And maybe you couldn’t a couple of weeks ago. Remember, I said it can make some half-breeds that way when they get immersed in magic from the Other land. Sometimes the magic triggers a reaction and they’re able to come fully into their Wyr nature.”

She gripped fistfuls of his T-shirt. Could what he was telling her be true?

He covered her hands with his, watching her. “How long has it been since you last tried to shift?”

“Years ago,” she whispered. Her eyes went unfocused as she thought back. “After puberty. It was before my mom died. I think I was sixteen. We tried every six months or so. Once I was an adult, medically speaking, we decided there wasn’t any more point in putting either of us through it anymore. She was fine; she loved me no matter what. But I kept getting too disappointed when I couldn’t change.”

He touched her nose. “Sixteen is a very young age to give up. Most Wyr have life spans much longer than humans, even mortal Wyr, and they mature at a later age.”

She hardly dared to breathe. “I don’t know what to think.”

“I can’t make you any promises,” he told her. “But over time I’ve helped a lot of Wyrkind through a difficult first change. If you want to try again and you trust me, I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

She threw her arms around him, hugging him hard. Then she pulled away and paced in a circle, her mind racing. She flung herself at him and hugged him again. He laughed and gripped her by the hips to hold her in one place.

“Did you hear me when I said I can’t make any promises?” he demanded.

“Yes, of course I did,” she said, distracted. She focused on him, her face grave. If it worked, she would be hunted for the rest of her life. But the way her life was spiraling out of control, she was going to be hunted anyway.

“All right, then.” He paused. “Think about it. Let me know what you decide.”

She nodded. He kissed her, stroking her cheek. Then he strode over to the door and opened it. Clusters of talking people in the hall sprang to attention.

“Who needs to be here?” he asked. Most scattered like buckshot. A few of his sentinels, including Rune and Graydon, remained. Pia wiped her face on her sleeves in a vain effort to make herself more presentable.

Cuelebre Enterprises’ PR faerie slipped around Dragos and into the conference room while he talked to the others. Beaming, she bounced over to Pia. “Hi! Oh wow, am I pleased to meet you.”

Taken aback, Pia took the little hand the faerie stuck under her nose. “Hi, thank you. You’re Thistle Periwinkle, right?”

“Oh please,” the faerie groaned. “That’s my stupid TV name. Don’t call me that. Call me Tricks; everybody else does.”

“Okay . . . Tricks. I’m Pia.” She smiled. Much as she had never cared for the faerie in television appearances, it was hard not to smile at this compact package of ebullience.

“Listen, I know we don’t have much time.” Tricks waved her hands. “I’m busy, you’re busy, everybody’s busy. I’ve got a lot I want to say to you, though.”

“All right,” Pia told her. “Hit me with it.”

“First, I’m so sorry about what my uncle Urien did to you guys. I hate him, he killed my family, and we’re going to cut off his head, and then I have to be Queen, but before that happens let’s do lunch, okay?”

Pia felt like the faerie had just jumped on her head and started tap-dancing on it. She said, “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Tricks told her. “And I wanted to say you did an awesome job with Mr. and Mrs. I-Keep-My-Dignity-Stuck-Up-My-Ass. Really awesome job.”