Thea Harrison - Dragon Bound

“Oh God.” Her face felt bloodless. “You can’t mate with me. I’m a mortal half-breed. It’ll kill you.”

“That does not appear to be a relevant factor.” He sounded composed as ever but he gripped her hand so tight she couldn’t feel her fingers. “Besides, what you are seems to be in some question. Was your mother mortal?”

“Not until she mated with my father and he died.” She rubbed her forehead. “She held on for a long time. He died before I was old enough to remember him. When I was little I didn’t know any better. But when I got old enough to take care of myself, I could feel her slipping away. She wasn’t interested in life anymore. It was a terrible thing to watch.”

“If you are able to come fully into your Wyr abilities, you will be whatever your mother was.”

“But what if I can’t?” she whispered, staring at him with horror darkening her eyes.

“It is what it is, Pia.” He looked as unafraid as ever. “Everything has an end. Even I will end one way or another. At the moment it’s beside the point. If you want to leave my bedroom or my life, you’d better decide now. I’ll do my best to try to let you go. If that is really what you need. I can’t guarantee anything. It goes against all my instincts, because you’re mine .”

His growl shook the floor.

It shook her too. She tugged at her hand and after a moment he let her go. She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at the olive oil and bits of garlic congealing on her plate. The silence between them became weighted, sulfurous.

The quick rhythm of booted heels sounded in the hall. Graydon rounded the corner to the dining room in jeans and a Harley Davidson jacket. “Hey, boss, I got what you wanted.” He stopped and stared from Pia’s distressed face to Dragos’s darkening expression. “I’ll just come back—”

“No.” Dragos stood in a swift movement. “Give it to her and stay with her. I’m going for a flight.”

A flight, at a time like this? She looked up and said, “Dragos, no.”

His reaction was immediate. He jerked to a halt and looked at her.

“The Fae King,” she said. “He can still trace you. It’s not safe.”

She could tell it was not what he wanted to hear from her. The darkness came back to his face. He said with deliberate brutality, “I’m a lot safer on my own.”

She flinched and looked away.

Dragos looked at Graydon. “I’ll be in telepathic range.” He strode out.

“What does that even mean?” she said. “Telepathic range. Anybody I know with the ability can only speak if they’re within a few feet of each other.”

“Dragos has a range that’s more like a hundred miles,” Gray told her.

She pushed her plate setting away and put her head in her hands.

Graydon sighed and came to sit beside her.

“I’m sorry,” she said into her hands. “I know you don’t want to be here.”

“You shut that up,” he told her. “I’m fine with being here. I just think it would be better if Dragos were here instead.”

She looked at the gryphon over her fingers. He had picked up the bottle of wine and was eyeing the liquid left inside, his weathered features contemplative. The bottle was about a third full. He tilted back his head and drank it all down.

She said, “Feel better?”

“No,” he said. “That would take a bottle of scotch. Or two. Been one of those days, know what I mean?”

She nodded. Yeah, buddy, she did.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gold-wrapped package. Giving her a grimace, he put it in front of her. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to go like this, but okay. This is from the boss.”

She stared at the slim package. “Is it going to blow up in my face, like everything else has today?”

“I dunno. It might, judging from what I just walked in on.” Graydon flattened his hands on the table and stood. “Be right back.”

She picked up the package and tore off the paper. The black case was inscribed with TIFFANY & COMPANY. The sense of the bizarre came back stronger than ever as she opened the lid.

A necklace nestled on ivory velvet, a ring of opal cabochons set in gold. The opals were bigger than the size of her thumbnails and had a multihued brilliance unlike any other opals she had ever seen. Tears prickling at the back of her nose, she set the case down and lifted out the necklace. It spilled over her fingers, the stones flashing with intense colors in the candlelight.

Graydon appeared with a bottle of scotch under one arm. He carried another opened bottle in his hand. He nodded when he saw the expression on her face and took a drink. Then he came around the corner of the table and sat by her side again. He slid the opened bottle over to her.

Johnnie Walker Blue. Alrighty. She took a healthy swig and looked at the bottle. Damn, that stuff was smooth. Cutting it with ice would just be wrong.

“A dragon just gave me a piece of jewelry,” she said. She took another swig and handed the bottle back to Graydon. “Have I been added to his hoard?”

He shook his head and drank too. “No, cupcake,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you’ve replaced it.”

She stared at the gryphon. “What do you mean?”

“He’s downsizing. He’s decided to sell some businesses, and he’s making plans to either vastly reduce the size of his hoard and move it, or shit, I don’t know, maybe he’ll ditch it altogether. Says he wants to get rid of the ‘white noise.’ ” Graydon rubbed his forehead. “I guess maybe hell really does have a cold day now and then. Doesn’t sound like he’s quite right in the head, does it?”

Her eyes glittered wet. Looking alarmed, he reached out to pat her hand, then seemed to rethink the gesture.

He said, “I know he’s not a romantic guy. I mean having me just hand you your present and all. Even I know that was lame, but I think he’s tryin’. There’s even nice flowers on the table and shit . . .”

His voice trailed off as she just looked at him. He offered her the bottle. Her stomach gave another inexplicable lurch. She shook her head. She folded her napkin and whispered, “I need a friend to talk to.”

The gruff gryphon’s voice turned gentle. “What am I, chopped liver? You beat the crap out of me this afternoon. That pretty much makes us pals in my book.”

She picked up the necklace again, turning it so that it caught fire in the light. “I did not beat the crap out of you.”

“If you had one mean bone in your body, you could have,” Graydon told her. “Now Rune’s scouring the city for a Wing Ding expert for us to train with. We’re all gonna learn to go with the flow or whatever the fuck it is you said you did. Think we’ll look as pretty as you did doing it?”

“Not a chance,” she said, smiling as she looked at him sidelong.

His steady gray eyes smiled back. “That’s what I said too. Con, though. He thinks he’ll look like hot shit, but then, he always does. Guy spends an hour every morning getting his hair just so. I’m tellin’ you. Hair styling products for men? That’s just not right.”

She chuckled. A companionable silence fell between them. She played with the necklace while he sprawled in his chair and drank scotch.

“So,” the gryphon said at last, “tell Uncle Gray all about it. Dragos hurt your feelings or something?”

“Wow, that would be simple,” she said. “Been there, done that, going to do it again sometime soon, I imagine. He said he might be mating with me.”

“Oh,” said Graydon. “That.”

“Yes, that.” The words started tumbling out of her. “We’ve known each other a matter of days, and he’s taken over my life. He demands I trust him, claims that I’m his, like I’m some piece of property. He doesn’t even know what I am and it’s driving him crazy.”