Rare Form: Descended of Dragons, Book 1 (19 page)

“That was, without doubt, the most foolish thing I’ve seen you do. Stupid…Brave…Fierce. But foolish as hell.”

“Next time I’ll just let your ass fry, how about that?”
I thought. Then,
“Gah! Did I just say that out loud? Not out loud. Did I think that and then you heard my thoughts?”

“Yes, that’s how telepathy works. I can hear your thoughts. Can we discuss the mechanics later? I fear they’ll return. I have a plan.”

“All righty. Shoot. This is awesome, by the way.”

“Can you land and then change quickly back to human? We’ll need to go directly to your room at Radix from the lawn. My wards are blown and we need to get to the protection of the school.”

“Sure, I think so. Hey, Gresham. Did you see how badass I was back there? I was born to fight.”

“Yes, yes. You’re a regular Joan of Arc.”

“You know, you really need some more current references. Calling me Joan of Arc dates you.”

“Oh? Who do you suggest as a comparable current badass? Ripley?”
he scoffed as much as possible within the confines of telepathy.

“
Alien
came out before I was born, Gresham. Good try, though. I really think of myself more a Daenerys Targaryen, considering the whole dragon angle.”

“I’m unfamiliar with the name.”

“Are you kidding me? You really are an old fart. And when I say old, I mean ancient. I bet you knew Joan of Arc.”

“Sadly, she died at 19. I never met her.”
Crickets. He wasn’t kidding.

“Stella. Why are we even talking about this right now? Land. Trace. Regroup.”

“Gresham, you said trace. That’s wonderful.”

“I’ve always been a quick learner. Now land, dammit.”

“
W
hen I agreed
to this plan I didn’t realize we’d both be standing here naked.”

Gresham raised one shoulder. “Well. That’s the thing about changing forms. A lot of enforced nudity. Best get used to it.”

He stood before me without shame, his powerful presence taking up more space in the room than merely his body. Since the moment I saw him, I’d always found Rowan Gresham to be ‘more.’ I swallowed past the lump in my throat, my pulse suddenly racing.

Gresham’s back was to me as he looked out my window for signs of trouble. I took the opportunity to appreciate his incomparable form. His powerful back was wide and chiseled with thick muscles. His wasn’t the distended musculature of a body builder, but a more balanced manifestation of strength. As I raked down his body, definition at his shoulders caught my eye. Farther down the firm crease of his back a powerful ribcage slimmed into a tight waist. He had a good-sized scratch down his side, probably sustained during the fight. It looked to be healing well, though, and quickly. One firm crease disappeared, another taking its place. I shivered and stifled a groan of appreciation.

He turned around and held my gaze. “One thing you may not yet have noticed, Stella.”

“Hmm?”

“Once you’ve found your form, some parts of you change forever. Senses, for example, remain heightened. Not to the level when in form, but stronger than they were before.”

“Senses? You’re saying I can see better? Hear better? I did know that, actually.”

“Yes, and we can scent better, too,” he said as he stalked toward me. “I smell your arousal now, for example.”

I gasped. He was so bold, so comfortable with himself, with sexuality. I supposed that came from
centuries
of experience.

“That’s not something said to someone you see platonically.” God, I was in over my head with him.

“I’ve never seen you platonically. Who am I kidding?”

He was looking at my body. Hard. His gaze had wandered from my eyes and now hung heavily at my bare breasts. His breathing had become slower, more deliberate. He closed his eyes briefly, as if in gratitude, as he took in my nudity. His eyes became hooded, determined.

“You’re trying to kid yourself if you think you can ignore the attraction between us,” I said.
Look at me. I’m confident.
I was so not confident.

He didn’t say another word. He strode toward me and stabbed a big hand into my loose hair. The other arm he snaked around my back to cup my naked hip and pull me toward him. Tucked so firmly into his hard body, my breasts were pressed into sexy round mounds. He looked down, darting his tongue along his full bottom lip.

My hips began to move against him. I could feel the heat of him against my belly as another kind of heat exploded through my core.

He attacked my mouth, his full lips encompassing my own. He sucked just under the edge of too hard, pulling my lips, nearly bruising them. As he held my face on both sides, his thumbs pressing together to purse my lips open, I had a fleeting thought of
too much
, but the pleasure was so great that I simply gave myself over to it. When he thrust his tongue into my open mouth with a growl I understood that this portion of the kiss was not intended for reciprocal participation. He scraped my lips with his teeth, letting go so suddenly that my abused little lips were bereft without his attention. Rowan Gresham was not kissing me, he was dominating me. And I was a-okay with that.

Sensual slowly replaced forceful, then sexy teasing replaced dominance. The kiss was an event all on its own. All I could do was hold on and enjoy the ride.

Yes. Perfect. Want. Mine.
Faint fragments of thought ran across my mind, and I knew they weren’t my own. As Gresham got lost in our impassioned frenzy, he’d lost his control. Encouragement and desire communicated during lovemaking had always turned me on. I loved it when guys talked to me—not demeaningly, but
dirty
. Gresham’s uninhibited thoughts maddened me with desire.

He slowed, though, and the flattering thoughts I’d heard moments before were soon followed by some much less so.
Wrong
.
Stop
.
Truth
.

Gresham pulled back, gasping and looked away from me. He braced an arm on the doorframe, measuring his breaths to gain control.

“Gresham?” I asked. “Gresham, what’s wrong? What ‘truth?”’

Moments stretched without end as I waited for him to say something. Anything.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked hoarsely before tracing out of sight.

I sat down abruptly on my bed, struggling to gain my own composure and wondering what the hell had just happened. What. A. Day.

“
S
tella
, a physical communication has been accepted for you at Sabre Hall’s front desk,” Pia intoned somberly.

I was getting used to waking to her voice.

“Physical communication…?”

“A letter,” she supplied.

“Who’s the letter from, Pia?”

“A messenger delivered the communication. There is no return information. You may retrieve it from the front desk.”

“Telepathy, talking PDA’s…all this magic and technology and still I must physically descend stairs and retrieve a hand-written letter.”

“You can always trace,” Timbra hollered helpfully from her room across the bath. Those ears. She was right, though. I really needed to learn to think like a Thayerian if I was going to make this my home.

Once back in my room I opened the sealed envelope. The letter inside was written with a flourishing script, and I had some difficulty making it out.

I bet Gresham’s old ass could read this
, I thought sarcastically, then realized with no sarcasm at all that he was actually was perfect for the job.

I had Pia send a copy to him, and waited. In a matter of moments he knocked on my door. His face was ashen and he stepped stiffly inside.

“What is it, Gresham? What’s wrong?”

“This letter is from Brandubh’s dragons—the ones that attacked us yesterday… They say they’re your mother’s people.”

“
G
resham
, before we do this, don’t you think an explanation about yourself and your past is way overdue? And what the hell happened last night. You took off like the devil himself was after you.”

“I…what do you mean?”

“Oh, stop stalling. You know exactly what I mean. You’ve been alive for ‘centuries,’ but won’t specify how long. You transformed into a dragon, yet had never let on we had that in common. You’ve revealed next to nothing about yourself, yet you know me…intimately. It’s not fair, and I want some answers.”

At my reminder, his eyes closed briefly before darting to my bed and then back to me. I feared my inquisition was in danger of being derailed, so I pressed on before he could act on any of the ideas that were so obviously forming in his head.

“If my mother was thought to be the last existing dragon, yet we have just learned that was not true, how do
you
fit into all of this? Surely you aren’t some ancient forebearer of mine?”
Ew
.

“No, no. Nothing like that; don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, I’m grasping at straws here because I have nothing to go on. You said you wanted to be in my life, Gresham. How can we move forward if you can’t trust me?”

“I trust you.” He ran his hands through the hair at his temples, pulling back so far that the skin around his eyes tightened. “I choose to keep some things close to my chest for now. When the time is right, I’ll tell you everything.” His rigid posture indicated that the subject was closed.

Maybe the day before I would have accepted his answer, but I was sick and tired of learning tidbits of information here and there when he decided to dole them out. I was also a little hurt that after what we’d shared he still refused to trust me, to open up. I was the only one left exposed.

“I bet
Livia
knows,” I sneered. Not my best moment.

“Livia does know a lot. She and I were lovers for a very long time.”

Ouch.

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

“Dammit.” I was getting nowhere. ‘
Long enough
.’ Asshole. “Wait a minute,” I said, stunned. “You’re not saying that she’s…immortal, too?”

“Immortal? No. Enough, Stella. Do you want to arrange a meeting with the dragons or not?”

He had a good poker face, but I was catching on to his tactics. He wouldn’t lie, but he would sure evade and mislead before changing the subject. I knew I’d get no further with him, though, and let the subject lie. I did want to meet my mother’s people, if that was who they truly were.

“
T
his meeting is going
to be tricky. And dangerous,” Gresham warned.

“Yes, I agree. If they want to meet me while Brandubh’s away, it’s only logical there’s a chance he’ll return.”

“My biggest fear is that this whole thing is a trap.”

Gresham paced my room. His apprehension was almost palpable.

“It’s possible,” I admitted. “But I have to go. I have to know.”

“Mmmph,” was his only reaction.

“You don’t have to go, Gresham, really. This entire thing is about me. My mother. My relatives. My future. I can trace there and quickly back if I get into trouble.”

Gresham jerked. “I’ll not let you go alone. Don’t be ridiculous.” I had insulted his masculine pride. He had a lot of that.

“I’ve been looking for information on these dragons for centuries,” he said fiercely. “And if you think I’ll miss an opportunity to learn more about Brandubh, then you’re woefully deceived.”

“Wait a minute, Gresham. They’ve invited me there under a white flag. You can’t hurt them.”

“I’ll make no promises, Stella.”

“But, they’re possibly my relatives. They’re my only source of information. I need them.”

“They attacked my home yesterday; they tried to kill us.”

“No, they backed off once they recognized me. You know they did. No one was hurt yesterday. No harm was done, Gresham.”

“They did a hell of a lot of harm to Caraway,” he bellowed.

“Well, I am sorry about the damage to your home. But if you won’t promise not to hurt them, then I won’t allow you to come, Gresham. I’m serious about that.”

He took two steps toward me, which put him far too close. He breathed two or three heavy breaths before visibly calming down. “I’m going. We’re going. At the first sign of trouble, promise me you’ll trace back to The Root.”

“All right. I’m not stupid, Gresham. At the first sign of anything weird, I’ll trace back.”

He nodded, and though the situation was tense, we had an agreement.

“There’s nothing at the location they gave but an old volcanic crater. It’s barren and dangerous. No one has any reason to go there…which makes it a perfect hideout for three massive dragons,” he trailed off. “It must be warded. Surely someone would have stumbled upon them before now.”

“Or if they did, the dragons made a quick flambé.” I cringed the moment it escaped my lips.

My mouth had opened before my brain kicked in. Again. Though the thought did bring up difficult subject matter. If these dragon people were in fact my relatives, how did I feel about that? About them? People died the night of the attack on Caliph Square. They tried to kill
me
. Were they responsible for the Steward Massacre, along with my mother? Were these people monsters, as well as dragons? What the hell was I walking into?

I seriously considered suggesting to Gresham that we abandon the meeting and use the location they revealed to destroy them, ridding my new homeland of a long-known enemy and threat. But that course of action would steal from me the only real lead I had on knowledge of my family, of my mother…of myself. No, I would ride this thing out. I wanted information, and the opportunity to find it had fallen into my hands. If we had to go to war with them after this, so be it.