There’s Something About Dragons (How I Met My Monster)

Chapter 18

Cari

Z ed leads me out onto the dance floor. I wish this moment was more romantic and that I didn’t have a lead weight in the pit of my stomach after enduring their back-and-forth bickering.

I was right: this night did give me a chance to compare Zed and Tristan, and I found them both lacking. They’ve been so caught up in their little pissing contest over me that it’s like they forgot I was even there. Tristan came off like an arrogant jerk, and Zed’s insecurities were on full display. Both of them acted jealous and petty.

The gala band starts to play a ballad, and Zed puts his hand on my waist. “I can’t promise I’m a great dancer. I’m a little rusty when it comes to human dances.”

“What about dragon dances? You could teach me one,” I suggest, happy for the change in topic. Maybe this evening can be salvaged.

“Our dances are…um…aerial.” He sounds apologetic as we start to dance a regular old human slow dance. He’s right, he’s not a very good dancer. Not the worst, either, just a little awkward. His broad shoulders and strong arms feel good as he leads me around the floor, though. Safe.

“What’s it like to fly?” The question comes out more wistful than I intended. I guess I have my own insecurities. I’ll never be able to fly like a female dragon. They dance in the air. They can probably have sex in the air. That’s something he’ll share with his future mate that I can’t.

“It’s an incredible feeling. Like the whole world is at your fingertips. There are so many things you can see from up there that you just never experience on the ground. Places you can go that roads don’t.” He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “No, I’m not saying that.”

“What?”

“Sorry, talking to myself. My feral form has a lot of ideas about where he wants to take you when he finally gets his claws on you. Trust me, none of his thoughts are appropriate for a gala setting.”

My core clenches at the images that run through my head, the ones I’ve replayed since I first saw Zed in his feral form, standing in the ruins of our house. I don’t think I’ve had a single orgasm in the last fifteen years without that picture in my mind, and my body is conditioned to respond. “Tell him I’m into it.”

Zed dips his head to murmur in my ear, “Oh, he knows. He can smell you. He really wants to taste you. If you thought my tongue felt good, you’re going to love his.”

Getting licked by his feral form? My thighs quiver and my knees weaken, but Zed holds me up, chuckling softly until I regain the ability to support my own weight.

“Sorry,” I say. “You surprised me with that one.”

“ I’m sorry,” he says, sounding more serious. “About everything earlier. I shouldn’t have sunk to Tristan’s level. I know he doesn’t mean anything to you.”

“He’s my friend,” I correct, a little annoyed that he’s bringing Tristan back into the conversation right now. The angry, unfulfilled buzz in my clit agrees. “But you can’t feel threatened by every male friend I have. That’s not healthy.”

“Not all of them,” he agrees. I start to relax, but then he adds, “Only the ones trying to manipulate you into fucking them by throwing their money around.”

“What?” I stop dancing in the center of the floor. Other couples in tuxedos and satin have to divert around us.

“The donation. The spa thing. He’s trying to buy you,” Zed explains earnestly. “He knows you don’t care about money, so he’s using his money to play on your emotions.”

“He cares about the cause!” My raised voice catches the attention of people around us on the floor, so I lower it slightly.

“He wants you,” Zed says stubbornly. “He doesn’t give a shit about the cause. If you liked preserving the waterfront, he’d donate to Save the Beach. If you were teaching literacy to little kids, he’d throw his money at the San Drogo Public Library or wherever.”

Part of me, deep down, knows there’s a core of truth to what he’s staying. But I don’t like this petty, jealous side of Zed. And I don’t like thinking that I’ve been manipulated, either. I knew what Tristan was doing at the spa. I’m not stupid, and it’s offensive that Zed thinks I’m that gullible.

I pull him off the dance floor into the hallway the food service staff uses to ferry fresh champagne to the guests and dirty plates to the kitchen. “So what if that’s true? I’m not saying it is, but for the sake of argument. He’s still doing good things with his money. If the end result is positive, does it matter what his motivations are?”

“Yes!” Zed nearly roars, grasping his horns with both hands in frustration. “Good things done for bad reasons don’t count. It’s all a lie. It’s fake. The second he gets what he wants, that shell of goodness will crumble and disappear. You’ll see.”

I feel myself detaching emotionally. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s all a lie. But in the meantime, he’s saving hundreds if not thousands of animals. Would you rather he kept his money in the bank and his intentions clear?”

“I’d rather he kept his hands off you,” Zed growls, his golden eyes glowing as he steps toward me. “I don’t care what the fuck he does with his money.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, his hands aren’t on me,” I snap, backing up until I’m pressed against the wall and he’s only inches away. I put my palms against his taut stomach and push him with all my strength until he steps back and gives me more space, chest heaving as he eyes me warily. “I’m the one who gets to decide that, not you.”

“Is there a problem here?” Tristan asks, striding up to us. “Is he bothering you, Caroline?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I cross my arms and lean back against the wall, feeling miserable.

Tristan kneels in front of me so we’re closer to eye level. Both of us ignore the snarl that rips out of Zed at the gesture. Tristan clasps my hands in his. “What can I do to make this better? I can have security ask him to leave. Or we can just ignore him. He’s nothing, really. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Let’s forget him and have the night we planned.”

He turns his gorgeous gaze on me, and I feel my heart twinge, ready to go along with his plan.

“Don’t fall for it, Cari. He’s not playing fair,” Zed warns quietly.

I pull my hands out of Tristan's, a million emotions running through me. Tristan is trying to manipulate me. He wants me to himself, so he’s reminding me that he had dibs. But I invited Zed to come with us. I wanted him here because I love his stupid, jealous, stubborn ass.

Zed didn’t crash Tristan’s date with me because we didn’t have date. I was always clear with Tristan that we would never be more than friends. When he asked me to come, I already had my own ticket.

Now that I think about it, I’m the goddamn guest of honor because of my years of dedication and hard work. And they both think this event is about them ?

I’m so, so disappointed in both of them.

“Answer one question for me, Tristan. You have to promise to be honest.”

“I swear.”

“Do you really care about the AAW? Would you have donated the same amount if I weren’t here?”

Tristan smiles reassuringly. “Of course.”

“He’s lying,” Zed blurts out.

“You don’t know that,” I remind him.

His scales darken, and his tail lashes behind him. “Yes, I do! He’s a goddamn incubus! He wants you, and lying to get what they want is what demons do .”

“What?!” I rip my hands out of Tristan’s and stare down at him, horrified. “Is that true? You’re a demon?”

Tristan rises, brushing off the knees of his perfectly tailored suit. Perfect suit, perfect hair, perfect smile on a perfect face. Of course , he’s a demon. Why didn’t I see it?

“I never said otherwise,” he says blandly. “I don’t see how it’s relevant, anyway. Certainly less relevant than your lies, Dragon. Care to explain to Cari that TechMeet doesn’t start until next week? That it was no happenstance that you ran into us in the park that night?”

“Is that true?!” I demand, turning on Zed.

“That’s a separate issue. Your kind has a long reputation for being untrustworthy,” Zed bites out, avoiding eye contact with me as he dodges my question. “Cari has a right to know who she’s talking to before she makes any decisions.”

“A client,” Tristan replies in those same cool tones. “A likeminded animal-lover. A friend, I hope.” He turns to me. “I apologize for not being more forthcoming about my species. You can understand why I might not volunteer the information upon first meeting. People tend to stereotype.”

I nod, my heart rate settling down. I can understand the need for privacy. Why you might not tell someone everything about yourself right away. Zed isn’t settling down, though. He paces the short hallway, getting more and more agitated. I need to defuse this situation somehow.

“It’s fine. No harm done. But I wish you’d told me, Tristan. I wouldn’t have held it against you. I have to know, though…have you been using your glamour on me?”

He flashes me an apologetic smile. “For my appearance, of course. And only a few times otherwise. You’re fairly resistant to it. That’s part of why I like you so much.”

Aw. My chilled heart melts a little at the thought that I might be different than other girls. “Wait a minute. Are you using it right now?”

His smile turns into a grimace. “Maybe? It’s not always one-hundred-percent conscious. It kind of just…comes out of me when I want something.”

“Fuck this guy,” Zed growls, pointing a clawed finger at Tristan. “He’s still being a weasel. Apologize for glamouring her and then show her your true form.”

Tristan shakes his head. “No way. Not here. I don’t want to ruin the gala.”

Zed’s still storming. “Fuck the gala.”

“Zed!” I yelp. “Don’t say that. This event is important to me.”

He throws up his hands. “That’s the point! He’s using it to manipulate you! Any threat to him, like admitting his wrongdoing or showing his true self? He turns it into a threat to the gala, because he knows you’ll protect it. He’s always going to do that…anything you care about, he’ll use to control you.”

Anything I care about. My dog is the first thing that flashes in my mind. I feel the blood drain from my face. “Where’s Radar?” I ask Tristan. “I left him with you at the table when Zed and I went to dance. Where is he?”

Tristan shrugs. “He was asleep.”

“You just abandoned him?” I’m already headed across the ballroom as fast as I can in my heels, dodging dancers, squinting to see if I can spot his triangle ears and fluffy tail. So many people brought their pets, it’s hard to pick him out.

At home, where he’s familiar with everything and I’ve scent-labeled the furniture, he can navigate just fine. But here? In a huge venue crowded with hundreds of people and pets? If he wandered off on his own, he could be anywhere! He could have walked out the front door into the street!

I hear Tristan and Zed bickering behind me as they follow me back to our table, but I don’t even care anymore. All I care about is whether Radar is safe. I crouch down, grimacing when I hear a few stitches in my skirt pop.

There, curled up on Zed’s tux jacket, is my little polka-dot pup. I hold my hand out for him to sniff so he knows it’s me before I scratch his head. “There you are, my good boy.”

He blinks drowsily at me, thumps his tail a couple of times, and goes back to sleep.

I stand up and turn to face Zed and Tristan, furious. Both are wearing hangdog looks, like they wish I’d call them good boys, too. But they’re not. They’re both lying jerks who are trying to get what they want without any regard for my feelings.

“I can’t make you leave the event, but I want both of you to stay away from me and Radar,” I tell them. “I don’t want to see or hear from either of you again until I have time to think about everything. I want to enjoy this event, support the AAW, and dance my ass off. That’s all. Please respect that.”

Zed nods, stepping back. “I’ll go. I’m sorry—”

I hold up my hand to stop him. “Don’t. I’ll contact you when I’m ready to talk.”

He swallows hard, nods, and disappears into the crowd in the direction of the front entrance.

“I want to support the Alliance, too,” Tristan says, meeting my eyes. “It’s just as important to me as it is to you.”

I can feel my center go gooey as he tries to glamour me, but I know his tricks now and ignore the sensation. It feels gross, not good. “Fine. You can support them from another table.”

“I’m a ticketholder. A major donor. I have every right to be here.” Is Tristan whining ? The guy who has been using what he knows about me to manipulate me into a relationship I don’t want is acting like a victim because I don’t want to sit next to him anymore?

“You do. But I have every right to ignore you.”

Something hard and ugly crosses his face. I would have missed it if I wasn’t so familiar with his face from his many clinic visits.

“I haven’t turned in my check yet,” he says, patting his breast pocket where the corner of the envelope peeks out. I suck in a breath. Would he really deprive the AAW of his donation if I don’t do what he wants?

“I haven’t written Impy’s new prescription yet,” I say just as coldly. I’d never deny that sweet old girl her medicine, but he’s not the only one who can use the things people love to manipulate them.

To his credit, Tristan looks stricken. “You wouldn’t!”

“No, I wouldn’t. That’s the difference between us. You would.”

“I wouldn’t, either. I swear,” he says, gorgeous eyes brimming with picture-perfect tears, lips slightly swollen like he’s in a high-end lip gloss campaign. “I would have turned in my envelope either way. I just wanted a chance to apologize. To make things right for my bad behavior earlier. Sometimes my demon instincts take over and I go about things the wrong way, but it’s always with good intentions. Let me get you some champagne to make it up to you.”

He lifts his hand to flag down a waiter, and my head starts to throb. Is he doing bad things for good reasons, or is he doing good things for bad reasons? I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing away my impending headache. Why are men so infuriating? Even if Zed is being shady about why he’s in town and where our relationship stands, at least he respected my boundaries and left when I asked.

“Tristan. If you don’t leave in the next thirty seconds, I will.”

Finally, he listens. With a practiced, mournful look, he leaves out the front, his donation envelope still in his pocket.