If There Be Dragons (10 page)

With an odd little cry she suddenly reached out to him, her arms going blindly around his neck, her face against his shoulder, her voice muffled. “Oh,
don’t
. Don’t look like that,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to hurt you; don’t let me hurt you.”

His arms went just as blindly around her, holding her to assure himself of the reality of flesh and bone. He felt her heart thudding in time with his own, and it still wasn’t enough. The fear of losing her was suddenly so strong that he would have done anything, sacrificed anything, for the certainty of never losing her.

Cody had never felt so shaken, so desperate. This wasn’t a matter of physical desire; it was a feeling so crucial, a need so imperative that it defied description, refused the flimsy label of words. The steadily building emotions he’d grappled with during the past weeks paled next to what he was feeling then. Always strong, always able to cope with life and with himself, he felt parts of himself never exposed until then open up suddenly, and they were achingly empty because she wasn’t there.

It was a madness just as violent, just as all-consuming as the passion they’d shared earlier. But this madness, this berserk need, was in his mind and his heart. He heard his voice, a rough and grating sound, and knew that the words were welling up from that madness, from that wild place deeper than conscious thought; knew that the words spoke a truth more basic than his conscious mind would ever know or understand.

“I won’t lose you…can’t lose you…darling…my darling…nothing matters but you…nothing makes sense but you…there’s no peace without you…no life…I love you…I need you…so badly…I’ve loved you forever…even before I knew you…Brooke…my beautiful, hurt Brooke…I’m yours more than my own….”

SEVEN

B
ROOKE HEARD HIS
words, heard them with her mind and her heart. She heard the sound of raw truth. She heard a winging wildness and vulnerability, and a soaring need unbridled by the trappings of civilized man. She heard a love so powerful, so basic and essential that it shook her as nothing had ever shaken her in her life.

Not even a dragon could stand against it.

The fear was still present, hovering around the edges of consciousness, demanding a confrontation. But she didn’t try to confront it then. There would be time for that, she knew. Time to discover if she’d been caught up in his madness because it
was
his madness, or because she shared it. Time to hear what price she might pay for the chance she was taking. Time to regret, if regrets there would be.

But in that moment she jumped into the pit, eyes wide open and fully aware of the action. Dragon or prince, she was bound to Cody in some manner she couldn’t fully comprehend, could only accept. It was more than love, more than love knew how to be, and she embraced it and welcomed it because there was nothing else she could do.

Her fingers tangled in his thick hair, she raised her head and looked at him, seeing even through the blur of her tears that his eyes, his beautiful golden eyes, were dim and distant, still in that stark place where the truth had been wrenched from.

“Cody…I love you, Cody,” she whispered, wanting to shout it, wanting to sing it, but unable to force more than the whisper past the huge lump in her throat that might have been her heart. “I love you….”

His eyes cleared, warmed, blazed suddenly with the fire she only then recognized as hers. A sound rumbled in his throat, escaped in a choked groan of relief, of delight. He kissed her with an urgency just this side of savagery, his passion the rare kind not of the flesh but of the spirit.

Brooke responded wholeheartedly, sighing with contentment when he pulled her down on the cushions until they lay close together. “I love you,” she murmured, her head on his shoulder. The hard strength of his body was an anchor in the wind, and she nestled to its warmth with a feeling of coming home.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice as exhausted as her own, as drained by emotion. And there was contentment there, the sound of a man at peace.

The fire in the hearth was long-dead ashes when sunlight began to crawl across the hardwood floor toward the couch. It crept slowly, its brightness waking Phantom momentarily. The wolf lifted his head long enough to see that his humans were still sleeping, then he returned to warm dreams of a summer valley and his sleek and canny mate.

The light crept on.

It shimmered brightly on the glass-topped coffee table, began climbing determinedly up the couch.

Cody felt the light and heat, turning his head away automatically as his eyes drifted open. He saw Brooke’s sleep-vulnerable face nestled close, saw her hand resting trustingly on his chest. She smelled of a curious spicy cinnamon scent that was Brooke, and he gazed into her face intently, trying to memorize what it would take a lifetime to know….

Brooke was dreaming.

She was back with the dragon again, after the dizzying ride through the huge whirlpool, and she was sitting at the bow of her little boat, unworried this time by the possibility of falling into the pit. That first fall, the dragon had assured her, was the worst. It took only a little practice, he predicted, and she’d be quite good at it.

He was floating just a foot or so away from her, his undragonlike face frowning slightly because they were disagreeing again. “You’ve fallen once and jumped once,” he reminded her sternly. “And you still won’t kiss me?”

With all the gravity he could have wished for Brooke tried to make him understand what was still hazy to herself. “It’s not that easy. Admitting that I love is one thing, but I’m still afraid.”

“What’s to be afraid of?” he asked reasonably. “People fall in love and have lives together. You know—the pitter-patter of little feet, a mongrel dog, and a mortgage?”

Brooke frowned at him. “You’re not people,” she pointed out.

“I will be when you kiss me.”

She frowned harder. “That’s just it—you won’t be. I mean, I’m not so sure you’re real. I’m nervous of extremes in anything, and you’re just a little too good to be true. If you’re who you’re supposed to be, that is, and I must say that you could look a little more like him if you tried.” This last was said irritably.

“Kiss me and I’ll look exactly like him,” the dragon promised, ignoring the rest.

Brooke folded her arms and glared at him. “You’re not listening to me.”

“You aren’t saying anything that matters.”

“It matters to me!” she almost yelled. “I can’t lose again, especially not
him
. I’d die if I lost him, that’s what scares me. There’s no going back now, I know that, but can’t you promise that I won’t lose him?”

“You know better than that,” the dragon chided gently. “I don’t have the power to make that kind of promise, and I wouldn’t even if I could.”

She was startled, then angry. “Dammit, why wouldn’t you if you could?”

“Only children expect blind promises.”

“I’m not a child! I—”

“Aren’t you?” The dragon floated nearer, huge golden eyes very grave and too perceptive. “Aren’t you asking me to make the same promise you asked your father for when you were five?”

Brooke wanted to rise, wanted to leave, or wake up, or lash out at him, but she was frozen, numbly listening.

“He promised he’d never leave you, didn’t he? But he left, and never mind that it wasn’t willingly. A child couldn’t see that. He left you. And your mother left you, although in a different way. And then Josh left you. He didn’t promise that he wouldn’t; he was too sensible for that. But he left you in the end. And now you want promises from me, empty promises.”

“Not empty,” she whispered. “It’s just that I’m afraid—”

The dragon snorted gently, floating nearer until his golden eyes almost filled her field of vision. “That excuse lacks even the saving grace of orginality, my girl. You’re afraid! That’s the child in you, crying because the room’s dark and there might be a monster in the corner. The woman in you knows that that’s unlikely—not impossible, mind you, but unlikely. The woman in you knows that all she has to do is get up and turn on a light, and we both know that’s better than lying in the dark and crying over what’s quite probably an empty and innocent corner.”

Brooke tried to think, tried to understand. “But I can’t light up every corner now,” she said. “I can’t look ahead into all the future corners and make sure they don’t have monsters in them. Is that what you mean?”

“That’s part of it.”

“What’s the rest?” she pleaded helplessly. “Please, I’m so afraid!”

The dragon shook his head sadly. “The woman knows. Talk to the woman. Being a child is fine if you want to do childish things, but only a woman can love a man the way he needs to be loved. The child can make him laugh and touch his heart—but only the woman can
hold
his heart.”

The dragon began sinking slowly into the pit.

Questions raced through Brooke’s mind. “Wait!” she cried, leaning over the bow to stare into the black pit. “At least tell me how many times I have to jump into this pit!”

The dragon’s voice, wryly amused, floated up to her. “As many times as it takes—until you get it right. Now, jump! He was always there to catch you, you know. Always.”

Brooke fell more than jumped, and it occurred to her vaguely as she tumbled through warm darkness that at this rate she’d never learn how to do the thing right….

At some point she seemed to stop falling and start rising, and before she could be confused about that the dream was only a clear memory and she was awake.

He was there beside her, the arms around her warm and strong, and Brooke felt her love for him bubbling inside of her; there wasn’t enough room within her to hold it all, but that was all right. Everything was all right. She pushed the fear away, pushed it into the pit and left it for dreams. Dream conversations with the absurd dragon seemed to be dulling the edges of the fear anyway.

“Good morning, love,” Cody murmured, his golden eyes bright and smiling.

Brooke lifted her face for his kiss, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand. “I love you,” she told him solemnly, because it seemed she hadn’t said it enough, could never say it enough.

Cody framed her face in his hands, drinking in the look that satisfied a hunger deep inside of him. “I love you too, honey. So much. So very much.” He was just about to demonstrate when a polite—if badly timed—nudge informed them that their houseguest wanted his breakfast and his morning outing.

Laughing, they disentangled themselves and got up from the couch.

“If you’ll feed him while I get dressed,” Brooke said, “I’ll take him out afterward.”

“Deal,” Cody said, his eyes caressing her.

Nature decided that the day called for sleet, so she spread an icy coating over the deep snow outside. The weather bulletin on the radio dolefully predicted more of the same for days and observed that the larger part of Montana looked to be snowed-in for the winter.

Mister suddenly rebelled against his self-imposed captivity when Brooke went to feed him, charging out of the barn for all of two feet before halting with a comical look of surprise on his faded gray face when he encountered a snowdrift as high as his chest. Showing the patiently waiting Brooke a yellow-toothed grimace to prove he was still in charge, the old burro worked himself out of the snowbank with dignity and went back inside to the comfort of his straw-lined stall.

And Phantom surprised both Brooke and Cody by breaking his familiar silence. Asking to go outside twice that day, he disappeared around the corner of the lodge as usual for a few minutes, then returned to the back. Once there, he halted several yards away from the back door, gazed off toward the mountain peaks that were barely visible in the driving sleet, then turned his muzzle to the sky and howled mournfully.

When it happened that morning, the eerie sound brought Cody quickly back from his bedroom. He found Brooke at the back door, staring out at the wolf.

“What the hell?” Cody muttered, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her.

Brooke shook her head slightly. “I don’t know. Look—he seems to be listening. D’you suppose he’s calling Psyche?”

Phantom howled again

Cody rested his chin against her hair. “Could be. He’s gained back most of the weight he lost and the leg’s nearly healed. I wonder if she’ll come back for him; the hunting can’t be great around here with this weather.”

They remained motionless, watching the wolf. He howled once more, seemed to listen again, then turned back for the lodge. If he was dejected, only Phantom knew; to the watching humans his behavior was exactly the same. They dried him off, and he lay down on the rug by the kitchen fire with his accustomed rumbling growl.

His human caretakers looked at each other, both of them hoping silently that Phantom’s mate would return. Someday.

It was an odd day, very quiet inside the lodge, very contented. Companionable from the first, Brooke and Cody discovered that last night’s emotional storm had left them more attuned than ever. It was love, but it was more than that, and both were willing to take the time and explore the feelings. And if there was an undercurrent of the strong physical desire that had surprised them both, a spark with every touch, that was fine, too, and worth taking the time to savor.

There was no need to rush.

They talked about pasts. Brooke finished her story, telling Cody how her uncle Josh had heard about the mentalist “shows” through a friend and, horrified at his niece’s life, launched a court battle for legal custody of the sixteen-year-old. About the eight peaceful years with Josh. About the second court battle four years ago when her vengeful mother had reappeared in her life and tried to wrest Brooke’s inheritance from her after Josh’s death. About her mother’s death two years ago.

The story was painful for Brooke to recount, but her bitterness seemed to have melted away. Taking its place was only sadness, a sadness that Cody intuitively understood.

“She died before things could be…resolved,” he murmured, looking up at Brooke. He was lying with his head in her lap, and she gazed down at him with a smile.

“Part of me wanted to confront her with what she’d done to me; I never did that, you know. Never said a word to her. But now I’m almost—glad that I didn’t confront her. I can’t love her, can’t respect her, but I’m glad that the guilt of—hasty words won’t haunt me.”

Cody held her hand tightly. “I’m glad too. And I’m glad that dragon’s been fought.”

Her green eyes left memory behind and lightened in amusement. “Thanks to a certain dragonslaying prince.”

He smiled modestly. “Think nothing of it, ma’am. Happy to oblige.”

Brooke laughed suddenly. “Well, finally! I didn’t think I’d ever hear a Texas accent from you, but that was pure drawl.”

Cody winced. “I tried to get rid of that accent.”

“I think it sounds sweet,” Brooke said consideringly.

“‘I love you’ sounds sweeter,” he murmured.

She bent her head to kiss him, the electricity arcing between them more powerful with this kiss than the last, growing as it had been growing all day, leaving breath a bit ragged and hearts thudding erratically.

Brooke looked down at him, the empty ache throbbing inside of her. The tawny fire in his eyes beckoned, called to her, and at the core of the fire was the love that astonished her.

“You’ve been very patient with me,” she murmured, smoothing back the lock of golden hair from his forehead.

He caught her hand, held it to his cheek. “I love you, Brooke,” he said softly.

She smiled just a little, but her voice was unsteady. “I’d forgotten what any kind of love felt like. And this…I didn’t know it existed. I didn’t know I could feel like this. Do you realize what you’ve done for me, Cody?”

“What have I done?” he asked gently.

Brooke groped for words. “You’ve—freed me. I’ve felt like a—a prisoner inside myself for years; I don’t feel that way now. And my own mind isn’t my enemy anymore.”