Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
CONNOR
B ones lopes into the cottage and goes straight for Fiona. I know the feeling. I’ve been chopping wood for the past several hours to try to cool my fever for her, and the moment I lay eyes on her, she’s all I can see. All I want to see.
All my blood rushes to my dick.
It doesn’t help that the clothes I bought for her are five hundred times more her style than that abomination Roman called a wedding dress or my sweatshirt. She looks relaxed and comfortable, her silky hair in shiny waves around her shoulders. The color is back in her cheeks too. She almost looks happy. Please, Creator, let her be happy .
“You found lunch,” I rumble, unable to keep the dragon out of my voice.
I watch her scratch Bones behind the ears and kiss him on top of his head. First jealous of a stuffed animal and now of my own dog. My inner dragon whimpers at the thought of those fingers touching me in that way. In any way.
“Yeah. Zaire helped me.” She looks up from the dog, and our eyes lock. My heart does an interpretive dance inside my chest. Very undragonlike. I’m in so much trouble.
“Good. I’m glad you’ve made each other’s acquaintance.” I give Zaire a knowing look, and he excuses himself from the room.
She waits until he’s gone to ask, “Why is one of the most famous artists in the world doing your dishes?”
I laugh. “Because he wants to be.”
Her brows pinch together. “No, seriously.”
“Seriously,” I say. “Zaire is here because he produces his best work when he’s feeding off my dragon energy. Living with me opens his mind and allows him to be his creative best, and in exchange, he serves as my Firetender.”
“Firetender?”
“Like a live-in butler,” I explain. “It’s a sacred position to my kind.”
Her mouth drops open. When she doesn’t say anything, I pour myself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table, although what I’d really like is a whiskey given that I sense the tension ratcheting up between us.
“So you’re like a muse or something?” she blurts. Her expression is a mixed bag of wonder and confusion.
I sip the coffee, staring at her over my cup. I trace the graceful line of her neck with my stare, wondering what her skin would taste like if I kissed her there. Take her , my dragon urges. I shove him down deeper within me. “I’m a dragon. It’s the nature of dragons. We were sent here by the creator to inspire humans, to help you evolve. Perhaps you’ve already felt my influence in that department. Have you made use of the laptop?”
She pushes a bean around her plate with her fork. “Yes. Thank you for that. And yes, it’s terribly strange, but I guess I can’t deny it. I have felt inspired today.”
Thank fuck . I hit her with my most charming smile. “Then you understand why Zaire stays.”
“Right.” She takes another bite. “But if you are some kind of muse?—”
“Dragon,” I say, correcting her again.
“If you are a dragon, why would the Order want to kill you?”
I lean my elbows on the table, bringing my face just a little closer to hers. “The Saint’s Order is an organization of the richest, most powerful men in the world. Men who benefit from the status quo. It’s not that they want us all dead. They want the ones of us who might inspire their competition dead. The rest of us they’d like to imprison and use to advance their own causes.”
“The Saint’s Order is about stopping innovation?” she asks incredulously.
I raise my cup. “Innovation, change, progress... Anything that does not benefit them directly. They see us as a danger to them.”
She seems to take that in. “And this is why you’re enemies?”
I look her in the eye. “There’s nothing a rich man fears more than a poor man with good ideas. ”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Dragons were sent from the stars by the creator over ten thousand years ago.”
Her fingers graze her throat. “That’s a long time to stay hidden from humans.”
I chuckle. “We weren’t always hidden. In the middle ages, an aristocrat who became known as Saint George slew a dragon in retaliation for the beast inspiring the princess George was courting to pursue her own dreams, dreams that did not include marrying George. Dreams that involved a place for women in a patriarchal society. Saint George founded the Saint’s Order, to stop the folly dragons induced by inspiring the common man and woman to greater things. Only after the formation of the Order were dragons forced to live in secrecy and our history with your species demoted to mythology.”
She sips her coffee. “I know the story of Saint George. I’ve heard it differently though, that the princess was being sacrificed to the dragon and that Saint George slew the dragon to save her.”
I snort. “Human history is written by rich human men, Fiona, and rarely tells the whole story.”
“Hmm. Every story has two sides though, and I’m only hearing yours when it comes to the Order. Maybe you’re not telling me everything either. Maybe there are things about dragons you haven’t revealed. Things that make the Saint’s Order necessary.”
I bristle. “It would take me years to teach you everything I know about being a dragon, but I can tell you without a doubt that the Saint’s Order isn’t necessary. No more necessary than child labor or human sacrifice.” I say it through my teeth, feeling my hackles rise at the mere thought.
“Was kidnapping me necessary?” Her expression darkens, the happiness I saw only moments ago lost.
“I told you. All I wanted was to preserve the peace between us and the Order. If Stefan would just meet with me?—”
“You’d send me home?” Her amber gaze flips up to mine and arrows through me. “That’s what you said, yet here I am after five days. Why am I still here, Connor?”
My dragon rises . Because you are mine and I will never let you go, he urges me to say. I shove him down and mop sweat from my brow with a napkin. “Stefan hasn’t responded to our ultimatum.”
“What?”
I don’t like the hurt I feel along our bond, but it can’t be helped. I face the hurt and I tell her the truth. “He’s ignoring our calls.”
“But that doesn’t make sense!” She raises her voice, agitating Bones. He rushes to her, doing a tap dance and nudging her legs, but she ignores him. “I shouldn’t be here long. If Stefan won’t respond to you, then ask Roman. You say he’s second-in-command. I’m sure he’ll give you anything you want to have me back.”
My jaw clenches to the point of pain. “No, actually. We’ve already reached out to him. He hasn’t responded. Also, he’s told no one you’re missing. As far as the world is concerned, you’re honeymooning in the south of France.”
Her face twitches as if she can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “You’re lying. What about Vivian? My friend Vivian Hargrave saw you take me. She’d tell. They could never keep her quiet.”
I think back to the day I took her. “Your bridesmaid? The one with the black hair who shoved Roman?”
“Yes, that’s her.”
“I’m not sure what happened to Vivian. I’ll try to find out for you.”
For a moment she says nothing, just stares down at the remains of the meal on her plate, frowning. “You bought me the laptop.” She traces the handle of the coffee mug with her fingers, her brow furrowing. “You must have ordered it right after I got here.”
“Yeah.”
She huffs. Takes another deep breath and huffs again. “Why would you bother with the laptop if you believed Roman would do as you ask?” There’s an edge to her voice, one that wasn’t there a minute ago.
“I thought you’d want to write.”
“Why would you assume I’d be here long enough to use it? If you’re telling the truth and Roman knows what he needs to do to get me back, then why assume I’d have time to use the laptop?”
Uh-oh. I see why she’s angry now. She thinks I’m lying about contacting Roman. “I didn’t. When I bought it for you, I didn’t care if you used it for an hour or a day, I just wanted you to have it. If he does as we ask, you’ll be free to go. You can take the laptop with you.”
Fists clenching, she stands, pushing back her chair and glaring at me with all the fury that could possibly fit in her slender frame. “Take me home. Take me home now. If Roman hasn’t responded yet, he’ll never give you what you want. I’m useless to you.”
I grunt and shake my head. “Not a chance, sweetheart. I’m not buying it for a second. No man gives up a woman like you without a fight. He’s bluffing. Releasing you is exactly what he wants. You’re mine until he caves.” You’re mine for always.
“A woman like me? I hate to break it to you, but I’m far less famous than I used to be. I’m no prize.”
I allow my gaze to rake over her, settle on her mouth, her breasts, her waist. I picture the scene she sent me when she was in the shower and let my dragon’s heat fill my expression. “I don’t give a fuck about your fame, and he didn’t either. He knows what he had in you. He wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t.”
“So that’s it, huh? No wonder you and Roman are at war. He’s refined and sophisticated. He’s not a brute who goes around abducting innocent women to get what he wants. I have a life, you know. I have friends… work.” She grinds her teeth.
“Your friends will understand, and I bought you everything you need to do your work,” I force out.
The tension between us has reached a fever pitch. At some point we’ve both rounded the table—I don’t even recall moving, but here we are. My hand is wrapped around the back of her neck, and we’re face-to-face, her mouth dangerously close to mine. I can feel her breath on my lips.
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“The only reason you bought me the laptop is to make yourself feel less guilty.” She lifts her chin an inch. “I should have known it was all about you. Kidnap a woman on her wedding day and hold her prisoner! All you are is a fucking criminal. A fucking criminal who knows how to beat an egg.”
Her insult snaps like a whip. We’re nose to nose, grimace to grimace, her chest rising and falling rapidly in a way I find incredibly distracting. Her eyes dart to my mouth, and the pull between us steals my breath.
The urge to kiss her, to claim her, makes my skin burn. She draws back with a soft grunt, leans forward again. Draws back. Our breaths come in pants as we inhale each other’s air, both of us fighting this thing between us for different reasons.
With a hard shake of her head, she surges out of my grip and past me, pushing me away as she runs for her bedroom and slams the door. I could easily catch her, but I don’t.
I bring my forehead to my fist, the mating sickness sending spikes of pain and need through me again. “Come on, Bones.”
I head outside again to cool off.