Rare Form: Descended of Dragons, Book 1 (17 page)

I
waited for hours
, but had little faith she would return. Ever. Deep down I knew my mother had abandoned me to my confusion and desperate need for information. Rather than talk to me about who I was, who she was, she left me.

I was overcome with grief, and not just for myself, but for my mother—for the unfathomable pain that she must’ve been in to take such an action. I knew she loved me, knew it without a shadow of doubt.

But love wasn’t enough to overcome the deep-rooted pain and fear that I had glimpsed through her vellum-thin shields over the years. I knew she excessively clung to religion. I knew she was, in many ways, a shell of a person. And I knew she had a weak constitution. But I never, for one minute, thought she’d go that far.

I struggled for comprehension and acceptance, but it never came. My shock and grief morphed into anger. The longer I thought and the more time that passed, the angrier I became. I couldn’t grasp how she had done this
cowardly
thing, leaving me alone in the world. Tucking her tail and running rather than face her past, rather than tell me the truth about who I was. I was bewildered and supremely disappointed. No, not disappointed. Furious was a better word. I was
furious
with her.

Worse, I felt guilty that I was angry with her, and that made me even madder. I’d done nothing to deserve any of this. I was just a child born of love, if I was to believe the legend. A child taken to a new place for a new start. At least there I’d had a loving, protective mother. Now I was in a strange new world with a thousand questions, a volatile body and spirit, and not a single person to whom I could turn or learn the truth behind my mother’s horrific actions.

Dammit! I didn’t know what to do next. I thought I should probably call the police and report her missing, though the note proved she’d left on her own. The police would surely ask me to what kind of ‘old wounds’ she was referring. And ‘the worlds are yours.’ That reference would make her seem unstable. I didn’t want all of her friends and neighbors to think she’d lost it and taken off…even though that’s precisely what had happened.

T
he police arrived
, and I recounted the day’s events to them as best I could without revealing any details about, you know, an alternate universe. I gave them my mother’s letter, and claimed ignorance at her strange wording and ominous references.

“So, you have no idea what she’s talkin’ about when she says,” Officer Steves looked down at the letter over black-rimmed readers before directing his beady glare at me, “‘I cannot reopen those old wounds…’?”

“Well, sir,” I said weakly, “I’d been asking her about my father. But I’d been asking the same questions for years.”

“Mmph,” he grunted, and his gut bounced in concurrence.

“No idea where she might’ve run off to?”

That question I could answer honestly. “No. No idea. We’ve no family; it’s always been just us.”

“You’ve been away at college these last few years. Any new friends she might have made? Any…boyfriends?” he peeked above the readers to note my reaction.

“Not that I know of, no, sir. She spent a lot of time at church. You might talk to the people there.”

“Oh, I will. I will. My deputies and I are going to take a look around the place now, if that’s all right, and then we’ll talk to your neighbors, too.”

“Sure. Let me know if I can do anything else.”

T
he next couple
of days dragged on painfully as my mom’s friends and neighbors brought casseroles and brownies, and then escaped as soon as was prudent. The situation made people uncomfortable, and for good reason.

Officer Steves returned to report that Mom had called her pastor and a neighbor to tell them she was leaving indefinitely. She didn’t elaborate. He assured me the police department would ‘monitor the situation,’ but that if she chose to leave town there was no need to investigate any further. I agreed with him. I knew that, unless she wanted them to, no one would ever find her anyway. She had escaped the powerful Brandubh before, after all. She knew how to disappear.

My college roommate, Lizzie, came by, as did a few old friends. But it was when I returned to Thayer—to my friends from The Root—that I felt normal again. It was amazing the connection I had formed with them over the course of several weeks. It was with them that I was most at home, that I felt right. No one asked me questions or expected details or entertainment. They were content to lend support simply with their presence.

I had gathered with friends at Sabre Bar. When I asked Gresham to join us he declined, citing an unwillingness to fraternize with students. I reminded him that he wasn’t a professor, and not held to such standards, and he finally relented.

He’d been visibly angered at my mother’s disappearance. His reaction shocked me—I thought he was as furious with her as I was. He asked about the circumstances of her disappearance, details. But there was nothing more to tell.

We found our cozy corner and sat comfortably, if quietly at first, in the bar’s over-sized chairs surrounding a low table. The addition of Gresham to my group of friends changed the dynamic a bit. He was so overtly guarded and rigid that the group stayed on edge rather than relax into the companionable conversation we typically found.

After a tense few moments Gresham spoke to Timbra, who sat nearest him.

“How’s your father, Ms. Redfern? I haven’t seen him since a council meeting last fall. He’s well, I hope.”

“Oh, you know my father. He’s tough as a goat and just as stubborn.”

Gresham laughed and Timbra jumped at the unexpected sound before bugging her eyes in my direction. I knew the feeling. That laugh was disarming.

“I know it for a fact,” Gresham continued. “I assume he’s still fighting the new agricultural requirements.”

“He is,” Timbra nodded with a smile. I stopped following the conversation at that point, though I did wonder about Gresham’s involvement in politics. I supposed someone who’d been around for as long as he had probably had a hand in all sorts of pies.

“Boone, how has your metamorphosis been so far?” Gresham asked a bit later. It looked as if he knew he was the odd man out, and was attempting to make nice with my friends.

“Fucking great so far, sir. Oh, shit. Excuse my language. Shit! I did it again. I’m sorry, sir.”

Gresham’s eyes squinted with amusement, but he was successful in repressing an outright laugh. “No problem,” he said. “Just don’t call me sir, for gods’ sake.”

“Dumbass,” Layla taunted Boone from the side of her mouth.

“I can’t help it,” Boone, who was usually grossly over-confident, whined. “He makes me nervous.”

The gathering of friends had done the trick. I was less distraught about my mother and comforted by my friends. Or maybe I was just distracted by watching Gresham attempt to smooth out the rumpled dynamic that his presence created. The whole scene was fascinating. Gresham was attempting small talk, Boone was agitated and off his game, Bex flirted with Gresham, who ignored her advances. Ewan, no stranger to introspection, was even more brooding.

I watched him for several moments as he stared at Gresham, his jaw tight. He pushed his hands through his dark curls before turning sharply in my direction. He held my gaze for several moments, determination flooding his keen eyes.

“What exactly is your interest in Stella, Mr. Gresham?” Ewan’s blunt question extinguished any other conversation at the table. Ewan forced his gaze from mine and swung menacingly toward Gresham, whose affable smile turned to one better described as ‘chilling.’

“My interest? My interests are my own business.”

“Usually, I would agree with you. But if your interests involve Stella, then they’re my business, too.”

I sputtered, taken aback by Ewan’s assertion. I blinked three or four times as I tried to understand his statement, his gall.

“Ewan, what the hell?” I finally found my voice at the same time Gresham responded.

“It seems the lady disagrees,” Gresham said, turning his predatory smile in my direction.

I shivered. I couldn’t tell if they were the turned-on kind of shivers, or the creeped-out kind. Maybe both. I cleared my throat and attempted to clear my mind. When I lifted my eyes from my lap, I found Ewan looking at me as if I’d stomped his baby rabbit. Shock, betrayal, and pain flicked across his features before they hardened. He took a long swig of his dark beer, finishing off the pint and setting it down onto the table much too forcefully. His nostrils flared as he took several breaths and struggled to regain his composure.

The night was going to shit fast.

With someone else in the hot seat, Boone found his confidence once more and facilitated a change of subject.

“These sure are interesting paintings,” he said. “You know anything about this artwork, sir…ah, Mr. Gresham?”

“Just Gresham, please, Boone. I do know something about that one there.” He indicated a small oil painting near the corner of the room. “If I’m not mistaken, that one is a portrait of a previous vice chancellor…”

Boone and Layla carried on small talk with Gresham. The group eventually grew used to his presence and Ewan’s shit mood and picked up scattered conversation. While the occasion was still too serious for the usual fun, we did enjoy a different kind of rapport, a deeper one.

It was as if we’d met the final threshold for becoming true friends. Together we had first experienced a significant right of passage: our introduction into supernatural higher education. Next we shared the common ambition and ensuing life-altering experience of finding our animal forms. Now my friends commiserated with me as I suffered a confusing loss.

The hole in my heart that my mother’s abandonment had carved was still gaping, but thanks to my friends, the edges weren’t quite so jagged.

“
H
ave
any more details surfaced about the attack on Caliph Square?” I asked a bit later. Since I’d been out of town I had yet to discuss the night of the attack with them. “Has anyone heard a final count of people injured or killed?”

“I heard no one actually died, though there were some fairly serious burns,” Layla said. “And a lot of torched tents.”

“The whole thing is so mysterious,” said Timbra.

“I thought there were no more dragons,” Boone said. “Where did they come from? And what did they want?”

“Fucking dragons,” Ewan spat. “They’re evil. They don’t need a reason to attack innocent people.”

Gresham shot me a weighted glance. He still suspected I was the target. I gathered that the authorities who’d told Gresham they suspected Brandubh were not making that common knowledge. Just as well. It would only serve to terrorize people further, and since there was no proof yet, I could see no need.

Ewan’s vehement loathing of dragons hurt me. I knew most people feared and hated dragons. I could understand why. But with the knowledge that I was one…well…being on the receiving end of such blind hatred cut to the core. It also scared me.

I was emotionally spent, and I stood to bid everyone goodnight.

“Thank you all, again, for your support. I felt your love tonight, and I want you to know that I feel the same.”

Without warning, Bex hugged me, her lithe arms wrapped around my shoulders. It was so out of character that I let her hug me for a while. She pulled back stiffly and left without another word.

“It’ll get easier with time, doll,” Layla said and gave me an encouraging pat on the back.

I nodded and started to respond, but Boone wrapped me into his big body and squeezed so tightly I wheezed. I allowed myself to droop just for a minute and enjoy the firm support.

As Boone ambled away I felt the tension radiating from Gresham and Ewan, who were standing behind me.

I turned to see Ewan look to Gresham, who stared back. Their expressions were tight, menacing; their posture awkward. They were sure doing a bang-up job of making the night about their machismo instead of my despair. Jackasses.

E
wan huffed and stepped forward
. He pulled me into him, smoothed my hair in far too intimate a manner, and then planted a soft kiss atop my head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Stell,” he breathed and then extended me the length of his arms to give me a reassuring nod. He took his time letting go of my hands, lingering to run a thumb across my knuckles. I swear I heard a growl rumble through Gresham’s chest. Ewan shot him a withering glance before leaving through the heavy doors.

Gresham consumed me then, his large body folding over mine. His presence was comforting, his embrace solid and safe. “I‘d be happy to stay a while longer, Stella,” he said. “I’ve known loss. Comfort is often found in company.” He searched my gaze, his own guileless, concerned.

“No.” I cleared my thick throat. “Thank you. I have Timbra. I’ll be fine.”

“All right,” he agreed. “I’ll find you tomorrow. Goodnight.” I inclined my head and he traced away.

“You’re exhausted, sweetie,” Timbra said. “How about you put on your pajamas, I’ll make some hot tea, and bring it to you in bed?”

That plan sounded wonderful.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll meet you upstairs in just a minute,” I said. “I’d rather walk.”

“Sure; whatever you need.”

I dragged myself up the wide staircase, forcing one leg and then the next to take each step as a sort of cathartic punishment. By the time I reached the fourth floor I was so drained that I planned to fall flat on my face into my warm bed.

My plans for sleep were thwarted when I reached my room and Gresham stood just inside waiting for me.

“Uh. Hi,” I said. “What’s up? How did you get in here?”

“I traveled by intention. I’ve been here before. You obviously haven’t warded against me.” His smile was warm. Or maybe I just felt warm at the implication of having him in my room.

“Traced here,” I corrected. “The kids call it tracing now.”

“I’m not one of the kids.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Have you?” His look held heat for the briefest moment, then he shook himself, seemingly remembering my present grief. He cleared his throat. “I came to make sure that you’re all right. Being alone is when it’s most difficult.”

“Oh. Thank you. I’m so tired. I really planned to crash.”
Didn’t we just say goodbye not five minutes ago?

“Oh, well…” He ran a hand up the back of his neck and eyed the door.

“Stay for a bit, though,” I said. “If you like.” His posture eased at my invitation, and I offered the one chair in the room. I sat on the edge of my bed. Worst-case scenario, I’d just pass out and fall back into my pillow. Seemed a good plan.

We sat in contented silence for a while. Well, I was content. He was acting a bit agitated, like he had something to say.

He turned toward me in his chair and said, “Stella, I hate to be presumptuous, but now that your mother’s gone and any insight on your father lost…well…you don’t have anyone to teach you about your dragon. They’re rare, mystical creatures. I happen to know something about them. I don’t really have anyone myself…” He searched for the right words. I had never before seen him flustered, but that’s exactly what he was. “I am offering to be in your life,” he blurted. “I’d like to be a part of your life.”

Tears once again found their way out of my body. The stress of recent events, extreme mental exhaustion, and the affecting force of the friendship I‘d experienced all combined to reduce me to a blubbering mess. Gresham rushed to my side and knelt beside the bed. He lay one hand on my knee and ran the other behind my head, smoothing my wild hair, wiping my tears.

I really wanted him to hold me again, to shelter me inside his big body. I scooted over and patted the warm bed. When he sat beside me I didn’t think, I just threw a leg over and straddled him. I wrapped my arms around his big neck and tucked my head under his chin. Gresham sat stunned for a moment, but then circled my waist, returning my embrace and breathing deeply of my hair. I never looked back up, I just held on.

***

I woke slowly from the fog of sleep and despondency. The effects of crying myself to sleep had left me feeling hollow, sluggish.

My head, though full of cotton, began working before my body did and I realized with a horrifying start that I’d fallen asleep in Gresham’s lap. I wondered how long he had let me sleep. I wondered if I’d drooled.

Yet embarrassed as I was, I was also warm and safe snuggled against him. In sleep I had nestled my nose to the side of his neck. I inhaled several times to savor the scent of him. He smelled, quite simply, like a man. His was a mix of masculine skin with undertones of cinnamon, leather, and a weighty earthiness. I’d never encountered such olfactory dynamite.

I was more than a little aroused.

The physical indication of his own arousal was pressing hard against me, intensifying the warmth between our bodies as I lay in his arms.

I raised my head to look in his eyes, and there I found a hunger that set my teeth on edge. But it wasn’t fear that left my legs quivering. His gaze was intent, searching mine for a reading of my next move—would I be offended? Afraid? Would I run?

The thought of running did cross my mind. I knew if Gresham and I consummated this moment of lust things would change. For better or worse, I didn’t know, but this was not a drunken mistake or an arrangement between ‘buddies.’ This was a calculated joining of two people who couldn’t be more different, of people who had every reason to steer clear of each other. And probably should.

I dove at his mouth, sliding my tongue along his as I entered him. He met me with like force, his hot mouth covering mine. He was a skilled, passionate kisser. He played with my lips, playfully bit them, and ran his tongue along them for so long that I became lightheaded. He stroked an agile tongue against mine over and over so sensually that I lost conscious thought.

I could feel blood pumping furiously through my veins and….lower, which left me yearning for more attention. Gresham’s kiss was carnal, demanding, and unbelievably lewd. In desperate need, I flexed against him for some small relief, but my body only screamed for more.

One of Gresham’s hands clasped my ass and helped hold me to him. The other, at the back of my head, clutched my hair and pulled it down to expose my throat. He made his way down the side of my neck, the base of my throat, and the tops of my breasts, leisurely kissing the tops of them as he moved lower and lower.

I moaned so long and so loudly that I didn’t hear the knock at my door. But Gresham had. He bolted up, eyes darting and head turned in order to concentrate on the sound. He looked so damned sexy coming up from my breasts that I was having trouble concentrating on anything else. I wanted him. Badly.

I inhaled to tell him so but realized it was Timbra who’d come to check on me. “I know you’re home, Stell. You know these ears can pick up a cricket fifty yards away. Open up. I brought tea.”

With a grunt that conveyed both frustration and resignation, Gresham stood. I righted my own clothes, then glanced up to see him looking back with obvious regret. His gaze shot away and I panicked. Did he regret the interruption, or what we had just so impulsively done?

For my part, I was left empty and aching. My body had anticipated so much more; had anticipated him, and the stark realization that I wasn’t going to have him was crushing. I very seriously considered ignoring my friend outside, but the passionate moment was already lost.

“I’d better let her in before she finds a window,” I said to break the tension.

“Yes,” Gresham croaked, and then cleared the residual lust and disappointment from his throat. “She sounds determined. I should go, anyway.” He ran a hand over his mouth and smoothed his hair, looking around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. He gave a slight shrug and lifted one corner of his mouth in a half-hearted smile. His face held confusion, but not cruelty, and I exhaled in relief as I supposed we hadn’t ruined anything permanently. He turned and traced away.

I still wasn’t used to the abrupt arrivals and departures that traveling by intention made possible. I didn’t know if I ever would be.

I opened our adjoining bathroom door to let Timbra in, and she raked me from head to toe, trying to ferret out the circumstances. In the way that all women “just know,” Timbra grasped the situation right away. Her big eyes swung to take in my tangled hair and mangled clothing.

“The hell was that?” she demanded and set the tea service on my buffet.

“
That
had the potential to be freaking fabulous, and you blew it,” I replied, searching my cabinet for sugar.

“Ho, ho,” she laughed, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I guess we’re even.”

“Hmph.” I guessed we were. She never had come clean about Boone. But I really wasn’t in the mood to reveal all about Gresham, so I didn’t press the matter.

“Gresham, huh?,” she said. “I heard him in here.”

“You heard, and still you interrupted?”

“Yes. I…I debated a while, but you’d had a lot to drink. And you’re impressionable because of everything with your mom. I didn’t want you to make a mistake.”

“I’m a big girl, Timbra. I don’t need a chaperone.”

“I know that! I didn’t know what the right thing to do was. I was concerned. I thought the best course of action was to prevent a mistake. You can always make it later.”

I didn’t answer, just eyed her irritably. She was right, of course. But I was a grown damned woman, and if I wanted to forget myself for a few moments after the shit couple of days I’d had, then I was certainly entitled to that.

“I hope you know I can’t
help
but hear,” she said defensively.

“Yeah, no wonder your adjoining suite was vacant.”

She shot me a dirty look before eying me speculatively. “And Ewan?”

“What about Ewan?”I said. “He’s adorable. I like him very much, though he
did
leave me to my own fate with a dragon. I certainly didn’t plan for anything to happen with Gresham. Though I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been attracted to him from the moment I saw him. It’s a confusing time for me. Honestly, he was a welcome distraction.”

“Ah. Well. Allow me to be the one to distract you now. The first order of business: showering. You look like you’ve been properly fucked.”

“Too bad I haven’t,” I grumbled,