Vampire Dragon (4 page)
Yet, despite these many barriers, his heart beat in time with hers while his wings ached to slip free of their muscular sacs and encircle her with a lifetime’s worth of protection.
THREE
Vivica’s spotted feline raiseda a paw to stroke Bronte’s
skirt for attention, the greedy cat.
skirt for attention, the greedy cat.
“Isis, you magnificat, you,” Bronte said as she stooped and nuzzled her face in its fur, scratching it behind its ears, Bronte’s soft coos calling to the man beast in him.
“You’ve grown so pretty, Isis. I’d love to raise one of
your
kittens.”
your
kittens.”
The cat almost laughed, or so its response seemed.
Vivica mimicked the sound. “No kittens for her. Bronte, don’t you have an orange tabby?”
“Hoover’s cleaning crumbs on the rainbow bridge, these days. Old age won.”
Isis pawed Bronte’s hair, as if consoling her, while Bronte continued to cuddle her, the feline’s human reaction a surprise.
“I’m so sorry to hear it,” Vivica said. “Get another. You love cats.”
Darkwyn ached to stroke Bronte the way Isis did, but he went with an instinct that said he should not . . . yet.
“I miss Hoover so I haven’t had the heart. Maybe. Someday. Still, it’s hard to stay on the move with a cat.” Bronte sighed heavily.
Move
? Darkwyn wondered.
Move where?
? Darkwyn wondered.
Move where?
Vivica studied her. “Are you leaving Salem?”
The barest pink color washed over Bronte’s cheeks. “Not at the moment.”
Darkwyn’s heartbeat slowed with hers.
A shout from the second floor drew their attention.
“A new casket?” Vivica raised a brow. “Bright for death. Is red a special order color?”
“Not at all. Bereaved families may not choose it, but vamps do; they’re glorious in candlelight. Drak’s has a Music Room, a Green Room for live action role players, or LARPers, and now the Crimson Room, with red and salmon coffins, for real vamps. The two factions tend to vie for prominence when sharing space. So much hissing and exposed fangs. Green means eco-friendly, by the way. Lightweight six-sided caskets like old pine boxes, each a unique work of art. Zachary, my brilliant inventor, turns some of them into sofas.”
Zachary again. If he was so important to Bronte, where was this man of hers?
A boy stepped before her, and she embraced him from behind, her love for him lighting her features. She had not only a man but a child? She could
not
be his heart mate, then.
not
be his heart mate, then.
Darkwyn tried not to roar his disappointment.
The boy had yellow hair striped green and blue, and wore a red mask. “Hey,” Bronte said. “Here he is, Zachary Tucker, wonder boy, my brilliant inventor.”
Zachary?
A boy, not a man.
A boy, not a man.
Tingles ran up Darkwyn’s arms and legs, and his inner dragon stood down. He had
not
lost the woman whose true heart spoke to his. Neither had he won her, he must remember. Not yet.
not
lost the woman whose true heart spoke to his. Neither had he won her, he must remember. Not yet.
A longing to transform Bronte’s expression with his presence marched in Darkwyn’s mind beside a need for her to welcome him with an enthusiastic embrace, though he envisioned her welcome to include her supple body moving with his.
“Wearing your Spider-Man mask today, I see,” Bronte said, kissing Zachary’s head, square between her breasts.
The lucky boy gave an exaggerated shrug. “Yeah, ’cause my Einstein and Churchill masks are in the wash.”
Bronte’s eyes danced, and Darkwyn fell deeper beneath her spell.
“Zachary was born an old man.” She ruffled his hair.
“Why are you both masked?” Darkwyn asked.
Whoa, Bronte’s inner fortifications rose like one of Killian’s dragon traps. “Vamps attend my club masked. It adds to the anonymity and allure of our vampiric profile. Tourists are exempt, though most embrace the masks we offer as part of the charm, hence my employees also wear them. Masks extend the enchantment.”
Darkwyn tilted his head as if he were satisfied, knowing her truth had been stretched. “But the boy?” he asked.
Zachary’s own chin went up. “I work for Bronte as an inventor, so I follow the rules of the establishment. I turn coffins into sofas,” the boy said. “A universal bit of poetic justice.”
He spoke telepathically to Vivica.
First lesson: “poetic justice,” please.
First lesson: “poetic justice,” please.
Don’t worry
, Vivica said.
I’m as confused by that remark as you are.
, Vivica said.
I’m as confused by that remark as you are.
Slight consolation
, he replied.
, he replied.
Unaware of their exchange, Bronte beamed at the boy. “Zachary does the real magick around here, despite my botched attempts to learn the craft.”
“Mine is hardly magick,” the boy said, sounding wiser than his years.
Bronte pointed, guiding their gazes to a fenced area at the right of her building, music and laughter sailing on the air, where a huge wheel rose skyward. “Kid,” she said, “you invented the coffin wheel. Not many twelve-year-olds can say that.”
Zachary shrugged. “I didn’t invent anything. I like Ferris wheels so I made a few modifications.”
“Zachary can modify anything,” Bronte said, turning to Vivica. “Sweetie, you
have
to find me a host who can play Master Vamp to my Vampiress. Right now, Ogden, up in the window, there, is doing too many jobs. I need to cut him a break.”
have
to find me a host who can play Master Vamp to my Vampiress. Right now, Ogden, up in the window, there, is doing too many jobs. I need to cut him a break.”
“Workin’ on it,” Vivica said.
In that moment Darkwyn released the spirit of his bold dragon and took Bronte McBride’s arm to escort her down the sidewalk. “I can tell you’re in hiding,” he said, stopping her from pulling away.
She nearly tripped over her spikes, but she stilled. “What do you mean?”
Because his heart raced, he knew hers did. Fear, he sensed in her. “Hiding inside yourself, I mean. Keeping your emotions to yourself.”
Heart race, full stop. “Oh,” she whispered.
“Let me help.”
“What?”
“My ability to speak in your tongue is limited, but you, too, are a creature of few words.” He couldn’t petition her love—impossible on short acquaintance—so he appealed to her alarm and need. “Let me explain. I am strong. I am fearless; I can be
fearsome
. I would make your goals mine. I would be loyal to the death. I would.”
fearsome
. I would make your goals mine. I would be loyal to the death. I would.”
“We just met.”
Killian, his enemy—she who would stop him from winning his heart mate—would laugh at so bumbling an attempt as this. He’d showed his hand too soon. “You employ workers. I could get your—what did you call those boxes?”
“Caskets,” she said.
“I could get them to the second floor with no effort.” He’d fly them up, under cover of night, if he must. He patted her hand and turned them back toward Vivica. “Call upon me, if you will. I can help.”
“How?”
“Protection. I am stronger than you can imagine. You are also strong. Together, we could be doubly so.” He released her. “Think on it.”
Zachary tilted his head and gave her a half nod.
Bronte appeared thunderstruck, by his offer or the boy’s reaction Darkwyn couldn’t tell. Then she looked from him to the man in the window and back. “Mr. Dragonelli, do you faint at the sight of blood?”
FOUR
A terrible fear gripped Darkwyn. Suppose Killian, An
dra
’s sworn enemy—she who turned his Roman legion into dragons—had disguised herself as Bronte? Andra had warned him that Killian, determined to defeat him, might turn to using a disguise, after his brother Bastian had bested Killian as herself.
dra
’s sworn enemy—she who turned his Roman legion into dragons—had disguised herself as Bronte? Andra had warned him that Killian, determined to defeat him, might turn to using a disguise, after his brother Bastian had bested Killian as herself.
Andra
, he pled, sending his prayer into the universe,
please don’t let her be Killian, because Bronte already owns my soul
.
, he pled, sending his prayer into the universe,
please don’t let her be Killian, because Bronte already owns my soul
.
He considered her request. Did he faint at the sight of blood? In any other situation, he would laugh. As a dragon he’d chased his prey and tore it to bloody edible shreds. “I have no problem with blood,” he replied.
Bronte brightened, a sight that could bring him to his knees.
“Darkwyn has a prior commitment,” Vivica said, “which will keep him busy for two weeks, at least.”
I do
? he asked telepathically.
? he asked telepathically.
Vivica wore a militant expression.
You must be acclimated to this plane like all chameleons of the universe. Magickal supernatural ancients are not simply transformed on arrival. They need lessons, papers, time. You can’t help Bronte unless you’re acclimated properly.
You must be acclimated to this plane like all chameleons of the universe. Magickal supernatural ancients are not simply transformed on arrival. They need lessons, papers, time. You can’t help Bronte unless you’re acclimated properly.
So you know my intent?
Vivica shot him darts of ire with her gaze.
I have been standing here watching you, have I not?
I have been standing here watching you, have I not?
He bowed Bronte’s way. “I will be available in two weeks’ time, Miss McBride.”
She nodded, hesitant, almost but not quite opening to him, fearful but wishful. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Look away from her
, Vivica chided telepathically,
or she’ll read your interest
.
Is she your heart mate?
, Vivica chided telepathically,
or she’ll read your interest
.
Is she your heart mate?
I’m surer by the moment
, he silently answered.
, he silently answered.
She’s a friend of mine
, Vivica said,
but a mysterious one
.
, Vivica said,
but a mysterious one
.
No surprise
, he responded.
I believe that is her intent, to remain a mystery.
, he responded.
I believe that is her intent, to remain a mystery.
Vivica nodded wisely and turned to Bronte to change her thoughts. “You have a flood of Halloween tourists. Great for business, I’m sure.”
“Yes,” Bronte said, “these are the days the Phoenix gets busy. Bite Me serves more food and drink. Fangs for the Memories gives more tours. The fairgrounds stay open later.
“As for the private club, it’s a year-round safe haunt, if you will, a lounge with vamp drinks, smokes, and peer socializing, for Salem’s vampire community. The LARPERS act out original skits written for each evening’s entertainment,” Bronte said. “Zachary writes some. They enact war games, jousting tournaments, blood sports—setting wolves, dragons, shape-shifters against vamps. It’s done mostly in fun, though some take it too seriously. People come to play from all over the country.”
“A safe haunt,” Darkwyn repeated.
“Check it out some time,” Bronte said, issuing a personal invitation, but she must have caught her slip, her back going ramrod straight. “Our VIP room, Vampires in Play, is the learning connection. After newbies graduate, they can role play seamlessly. We had to get the question-askers out of the game, before there was more blood in the Green Room than in the vamp drinks.”
Bronte’s smile reached her eyes, and Darkwyn stepped away from the intense spark, a flash as tangible as fire or lightning.
Too soon
, he told himself, though he had never been a patient dragon.
Too soon
, he told himself, though he had never been a patient dragon.
Without his permission, a lusty roar formed in his throat. He had lived centuries with “kill or be killed” engraved in his essence, and survived. On earth less than a day, and he was felled by a woman.
He fought the sensation of falling and warned Vivica not to tell his brother dragons about Bronte’s effect on him.
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