Authors: Annette Blair

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal, #General

Vampire Dragon (18 page)

BOOK: Vampire Dragon

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“The veil between the planes in Salem has been made thin by human magick, I have been told. It is easiest to come through the veil here. Coming was necessary because Killian made the volcano on the island erupt. The heat from it evaporated our endless deep blue sea. Lava replaced water, and now the island shrinks in a sea of boiling lava. Andra is getting us off the island, one by one, to save us.”

“Why one by one?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“If I’m going to trust you, I need answers.”

“Trust does not come easy to you.”

“I trust only Zachary. For good reason.”

“Killian makes it difficult for Andra to move us back to earth. But Andra found that when one moon covers another—you call that an eclipse—Andra’s white magick is shaded from Killian’s black.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes and no. ‘Shaded’ does not mean hidden. Killian caught Andra’s first spell, when she sent Bastian back. Killian tossed out a dark counterspell at a point where she was able to cause our ‘man lances’ to resemble our tails. Earth doctors have assured me and my brothers that this is an anomaly that belongs to us alone and will not affect our offspring.” Darkwyn paled. “Not that offspring is the point.”

“Of course.” In another life, a safe life, she could have cared for this man.

“Why doesn’t Andra change her spell, so you don’t suffer that blip? Though being the recipient of its attention, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Forget I suggested it.”

Darkwyn rumbled deep in his chest, almost a chuckle, though no smile marred the perfection of his focused expression.

“Andra dared not change the words for fear the spell would no longer work. It turns us back into men and gets us here, so every word stays the same, and every one of us will be, ah—”

“Gifted?”

“Why thank you. Yes, endowed, in that way. Now, where were we? Your questions distracted me, and your love of my, er, spell blip, turned my thoughts to, well, leaping.”

“You were explaining
why
I can trust you, something to do with Andra’s magick.”

“Ah.” He took to lathering her breasts, indicating that his turned thoughts remained, while his dancing dragon tail prodded her hip with sexual intent.

He had to work harder now to focus on his story, and she, to ignore his tricky dick.

“I remember where I was,” he said, not quite coming out of his sexual haze. “If I don’t get Andra’s magick back by helping you overcome your problems—”

“Why me?”

“Karma? Fate? Destiny? For Bastian, it was McKenna. For Jaydun, it is Vivica. For me, it is you. Why question the mandates of the universe? You need help, do you not?”

“I need help like you wouldn’t believe, and not just for me.”

“For Zachary, as well, I expect.”

With a nod, Bronte swallowed her fear and refused to give in to the sob stuck in her throat.

Darkwyn took her by her chin and raised her face to his for a kiss, deep and hungry, but sincere, his soul stripped, his vulnerability bared, even to her disdain, or worse, if she wished. “Bronte, you can trust me, because if Andra doesn’t get her magick back, she won’t be able to send the rest of our legion to earth the way she sent me, Bastian, and Jaydun. Now you see why I am to be trusted? I have the welfare of my brother dragons at heart. If I fail you, they will die.”

“Your brothers would drown in hot lava, if you failed
me
?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t want them to die, Darkwyn. My sense that you were someone I could get involved with that first day at the bar; it frightened me. Made me doubt my instincts. Life has been too dangerous for trust. I haven’t allowed myself to believe in anyone. I ran because I thought you were someone I selfishly wanted, for myself. And I must put Zachary first.”

“What is at risk for Zachary?”

“They’ll kill him, if we’re found.”

“They, who?”

“Bronte?” Zachary called. “Are you here?”

“I’m in the bathroom. What is it?”

“News trucks from as far away as Boston and Providence are lining up outside.”

TWENTY-FOUR

Darkwyn held Bronte tighter, saying without words he
was there for her.

“Bronte,” Zachary said. “This is serious. We have two hours until dawn to figure out what to tell them about dragon boy.”

Zachary probably stood in Bronte’s bathroom, given the timbre of his voice.

“Don’t come in here,” she warned.

“I’m twelve. I’m not stupid.”

Darkwyn kissed Bronte’s temple. “The news crews are here because I talked about myself? That is not good for staying hidden, is it?”

“Zachary’s in more danger than I am.”

“I’ll never forgive myself,” Darkwyn muttered. “Zachary, we will meet you in the living room in a few minutes.”

Bronte rose from the tub, allowing him to admire the butterfly at the base of her spine, a reminder of freedom, her goal.

“Zachary,” Bronte called. “Don’t go outside or crack a blind.”

“Sure. And Auntie dearest?”

“Yes.”

“Your bathroom door was open. I can see that it’s empty.”

“Because you’re standing in it. I’m wise to you.”

“Whatever.” The sound of the boy’s voice receded on the word.

“He caught us together, again,” Darkwyn said. “I’m sorry.”

“Who broke into whose place?”

“But he is only a boy.”

“He’s an old soul, is my Zachary.”

Darkwyn sat forward. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

She wrapped a towel around herself. “I think Zachary should be the one to tell you.”

“I looked up the ‘barn door’ thing,” Darkwyn said, following her from the tub, unembarrassed by his obvious physical interest. “I can tell you right now that it is entirely too late for you to shut that door.” He stroked her from her nose to her chin, along her swanlike neck, between her breasts, to the towel, which he grasped, yanked, and let fall. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

A cat mewed, and they looked up to see Scorch curled atop the towel cupboard.

“When did she get here?” Bronte asked.

“I’m afraid she might have been here the whole time.”
Very afraid.
Killian should not know the details of their relationship or trust. She would use it against them. Then again, he might be wrong about Killian using the cat as a host. Right now, he could not see the cat’s wings. They must tuck back when the cat’s at rest.

He reached up to scratch the kitten behind its ears as Bronte returned to her own bathroom.

Scorch hissed and clawed his hand.

He healed it with the other, then saluted. “Killian.”

A few minutes later, he and Bronte met Zachary in the kitchen. The boy had cooked ham and eggs and French toast. “I thought we needed nourishment. It’s going to be a long day.” He gave Darkwyn a look. “Also, you two need to keep up your strength.”

The double meaning hit Darkwyn as if Zachary were holding a gun. “Are you sure you’re only twelve?”

“About that,” Zachary said. “After breakfast, care to ride the coffin wheel with me?”

“We have another problem for after breakfast,” Bronte said, devouring her meal. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Right,” Zachary said. “Memory’s going. I’m getting old.”

Darkwyn raised a brow but said nothing. “Bronte, you don’t have to face the news crews. I will. Just tell me if I should wear jeans or my Master Vampire disguise. And do tell me what I can and cannot say.”

Bronte nodded as she sipped her coffee. “I’ll write you a script.”

“Even better.” Darkwyn tucked into his breakfast, and went back for seconds.

Zachary rubbed his chin in that having-a-beard way of his. “I think Darkwyn should wear the Master Vampire outfit, mask and all, get Drak’s some free publicity. We might as well profit from his ridiculously tall tales.”

“My only tall tail belonged to the black ice dragon on the Island of Stars. And it was long not tall, and lethal.”

“Black ice? You had ice on a tropical island?”

Scumduggers, that boy can be flip.
“No, but Andra
knew
about it. I was a huge, black dragon. She named me Black Ice, because she said I was less playful than most dragons, and deceptively dangerous. Evidently, one cannot see the potential danger in black ice or know it is there until one is on top of it and out of control.”

Bronte raised her orange juice his way. “I can attest to that.”

“Stick around a couple of months,” Zachary said, not looking up from his eggs. “We’ll find some black ice and I’ll throw you at it.”

A sensation lightened Darkwyn’s chest and erupted without notice. Laughter from deep down, a release of sorts, heralding his optimism at finding these two people who mattered so much to him. “If you saw me in dragon form, you, too, would see the humor in your statement.”

“Satire,” Puck said from the open window, “an obsolete kind of literary composition in which the vices and follies of the author’s enemies are expounded with imperfect tenderness.”

Darkwyn ignored the bird he’d released after Drak’s closed and worried about Bronte’s fear. “What will happen if the people who are looking for you find you?”

Zachary slammed a fist on the table. “Bronte, you told him?”

She ignored the boy’s outburst. “They’ll start by taking us back.”

“Back where?”

“Canada.”

“As I understand it, Canada has a border. Wouldn’t kidnappers be stopped there?”

“At the border, they’d force us through. We’re Canadian citizens, not American. We don’t have green cards. Being legal would help protect us from going back, but we’re illegal.”

Darkwyn sat forward. “Vivica can make you legal.”

“Not fast enough. The quickest and easiest way to get legal is to marry somebody who is.”

“I’m legal.”

Zachary stopped clearing the table. “A legal dragon?”

Darkwyn ignored him. “Marry me and you’re legal. But wait,” Darkwyn added, fork halfway to his mouth. “What about Zachary? Would they take him back?”

“As my ward, wouldn’t he have to stay with me?”

“Bronte,” Zachary said. “If Sanguedolce couldn’t take us back, he’d have his goons kill us here. Or kill me, I should say. But then you, too, ’cause you’d know
who
killed me. And I’m not sure you’ve got a handle on that green card business. I should have stopped building coffin wheels and carousels long enough to do the research.”

“That settles it,” Darkwyn said, leaving the table. “First I’ll read our statement to the news crews; then, Bronte, you and I will get married; then Zachary, you are going to tell me why you have this non-age-appropriate wisdom, and are nearly as weird as I am.”

Bronte stood. “You want me to marry a dragon?”

Darkwyn tilted his head. “You would rather die?”

TWENTY-FIVE