Jane Kindred - The Dragon's Hunt

Rhea turned, adjusting her collar, to see him studying what he’d called the allrune on his right forearm. “You asked me to touch it up. You don’t remember?”

“I tend to ignore Leo the Dull. He spends his time studying chemistry or something. It’s a snooze fest.”

“Molecular biology.” Rhea shrugged when he looked up at her with a look of curiosity. “That’s what you said. You dropped out of the molecular biology graduate program at NAU.”

“NAU.”

“Northern Arizona University. In Flagstaff. Where you met Theia.”

“Theia.” Leo’s eyes registered sudden recognition. “That’s why you look so familiar to me. You’re Theia Dawn’s sister.”

The usual irritation at having someone make the connection prickled on her skin. “And that, I presume, is why you’re sitting there sporting your misplaced ‘admiration’ for me.”

His eyes seemed to go a shade darker, and he leaned forward sharply, jerking against the restraints with such ferocity that she jumped back even though she was several feet away. “Don’t do that,” he snapped. “Don’t you dare stand there and try to tell me I don’t know my own feelings.”

“I wasn’t exactly talking about your feelings.”

“Desire. That’s my purview. I know all about desire, and I’m not some stupid animal ruled by my prick who’ll just wave it at anybody with tits.”

Rhea’s face went hot. “I didn’t say you were an animal, and I don’t appreciate the way you’re talking to me. Being Leo’s id—”

“Munr.”

“Whatever—doesn’t give you a free pass to be an asshole.”

Leo looked taken aback. “I’m an asshole?”

“Yeah, you are. Pretty much.”

“You’re the one who just accused me of being attracted to you because you look like your sister. I’d say you’re the asshole.”

Rhea flicked the hair out of her eyes in frustration. “How does that make me an asshole? You dated my sister! When you walked in here two days ago, it was because you thought I was Theia. It doesn’t take a genius to conclude that your interest in me—your desire—is misplaced.”

“I’d show you how misplaced it is if you weren’t such a chicken.”

As Rhea opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell, the realization struck her that she’d been drawn into an argument with a man’s id, and she burst out laughing.

Leo glowered at her. “What’s so damn funny?”

“This...” She lifted her arms, encompassing the room, the evening, the two of them. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you about the sincerity of your hard-on.”

His glower wavered, curving upward into a slight smirk. “I’d have to concede that it’s a first in my experience.”

Rhea returned the smirk. “I thought you didn’t have any experience. Except you obviously remember Theia.”

“But I didn’t sleep with Theia.” That he had no memory of it now didn’t necessarily mean he hadn’t, but the admission was more satisfying than it ought to be. “At any rate, when Leo isn’t boring me into a coma, I can retain some of his memories, but I can’t recall ever having such an argument with anyone. You’d think I’d remember being tattooed, though.” He glanced down, his gaze drawn to the other arm. “Are you going to do this one, too?”

“I was.”

He looked up. “But you’re not now?”

“No, I—He’s working it off. I mean, you’re working it off. So I may do the next one. If I let you stay.”

“And you don’t know if you’re going to let me stay.” Leo nodded thoughtfully. “That’s fair. Just once, I’d like to remember getting tattooed, though.”

“I’ll talk to him about it. He said he might want another new one.” She was starting to talk about Leo in the third person, but it seemed easier to treat them as two different people. “Might be a good way to pass the time while you’re locked up.”

“So you are letting me stay.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you are.” Leo looked smug. “And what about you? Are you sticking around? Going to keep that coat on?”

“Maybe. Going to keep that hard-on?”

Leo laughed in that incredibly sexy way Rhea was starting to want to keep being the cause of, the sort of laughter one would describe as being genuinely “tickled.” Not to mention the throaty richness of the sound he made. He also closed his eyes when he did it. It was probably a good thing he was tied up. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he were able to reach out and touch her right now.

“So what is it with those tattoos, anyway?” She folded her arms, still wearing the coat, maybe subconsciously—or not so subconsciously—trying to keep herself closed to him. “They look older than you.”

Leo opened his eyes, the smile slightly less joyful. “They’ve been there as long as I can remember.”

“But you don’t remember all that much from the times you’re not in control of the skin.”

“True. But I also don’t remember a time when the marks weren’t there.”

“This soul-splitting-off thing with the other Leo—”

“Leo the Dull.” His blue eyes twinkled.

“Okay, Leo the Dull going off to do whatever and leaving you here in restraints—how long has that been going on?”

The smile faded as he pondered the question. “I guess I don’t remember a time before that either.”

“Not even when you were a kid? This was going on back then?”

“I—don’t remember being a child. I suppose that’s a bit peculiar, isn’t it?”

“Maybe not. Maybe it only happened after puberty. If it’s a dissociative disorder, that might make sense. Maybe something traumatic happened to you around the time you got the tattoos.”

“Except it’s not a disorder. I told you that was bullshit Leo the Dull made up to explain me away. It’s Leo’s self-righteous hugr going off to be self-righteous without me.”

“That’s how you see it, anyway.” She realized she was leaning toward the mental illness hypothesis after all.

“And you’re back to analyzing me.”

“Maybe I am. You’re right, I am. Sorry.”

“I’m not objecting. I just find it interesting. Because it means you find me interesting.” He grinned broadly. “Which I can’t imagine is something I share with Leo the Dull.”

“Or maybe I find your tattoos interesting. It is kinda my thing after all.” But she did find Leo interesting, with or without his hugr. “They’ve been there as long as you can remember, and they’re home jobs with significant fading—at least the two on your forearms. The other one looks professional.”

“The other one?”

“On your upper arm.” He was staring at her blankly. “The Midgard Serpent.” He’d worn the long-sleeved Henley today, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. What he couldn’t see, apparently, he wasn’t aware of.

Leo’s face clouded. “He’s marked me with the serpent? That son of a bitch.”

“What’s the significance of the serpent?” She’d noted it with some trepidation. Serpents seemed to be intimately bound up with the Carlisle sisters’ lives. It all went back to the Lilith blood.

“The Midgard Serpent—Jörmungandr—it’s supposed to bring about Ragnarök. The twilight of the gods. The end of the world. Jörmungandr rules the waters surrounding the visible world. It’s a sea serpent. A dragon.”

Of course it was a dragon. It was always dragons.

Rhea sat on the stool once more, rolling it closer to the chair. “So why is it significant that he marked you with it?” It was no use trying not to differentiate between the two of them. “Is he trying to end you?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d love to. But that’s not it. It’s a way of containing my energy just as Jörmungandr contains the world. I assume it encircles my arm and swallows its tail?”