Chapter 11 Jackson #2
“He’s very similar to me, but more instinct-driven, more animal-like.
Rather than multiple personalities, he’s more of a moral compass of sorts, muttering in his own way about things I see.
I know when he likes something, I know when he’s angry, I know when he thinks I’m doing something dumb.
He’s incredibly powerful when it comes to pushing me toward one decision or the other, but not strong enough to truly overpower me. My human mind is still the master.”
“That’s…” She shook her head. “Pretty freaking cool. I can’t imagine that.”
“Saying it out loud does make it seem more mystical,” I admitted. “I guess you don’t really recognize the amazing when you live with it every day.” I frowned. “It’s kind of a bummer, now that I think about it. All this magic and mystery that would blow humans’ minds, and we shrug it off.”
I’d never really thought about it. Now that I did, I sort of understood how special it was.
Shyanne and I ate in silence for a few moments, but the look on her face told me she had other questions.
“Keep asking,” I said. “I’m an open book.”
She rolled her eyes and tossed her empty plate into a trash can by her desk. “Okay fine. I may have been doing some research on dragons and magic and stuff.”
“Oh?” I said, leaning forward, eager to hear what she’d discovered. “Do tell.”
“I’ve read about ancient cultures, like, using alleged dragon body parts for magic and weapons. Is that true? I mean, if some medicine man or shaman way back in Mesopotamia managed to cut off your claw, could he use that?”
An interesting question. One that I had no clue about. It made sense. We were beings of magic, but we’d also been hidden in the modern world long enough that some of the old stories had passed into legend.
“I’m honestly not sure,” I said. “Most likely it would work. Though, I’m not sure how anyone would know how to use that. Maybe as a weapon? I guess?” I offered.
“A weapon? Like using it on other humans?”
“Or shifters. We heal incredibly fast. Most human weapons do damage, but aren’t fatal. Knives, guns, stuff like that? It hurts like hell, and can slow us down, but we usually don’t go down for the count unless they use silver. Or you, know, a headshot when we’re in our human form.”
“Silver?” she asked, leaning forward. “Like with werewolves?”
I tilted my head back and laughed. When I recovered, I nodded.
“Yeah, basically. Silver can really damage us. There’s a few other items like wolfsbane for wolf shifters and dragonsbane for dragons that can hurt or poison us, but silver is really the main thing humans can use to hurt us.
It’s probably how the whole werewolf myth started.
Some random guy thousands of years ago killed a wolf shifter with silver, and boom, legend. ”
“This is fascinating,” she said. “So a weapon made from a shifter could hurt another shifter?”
I shook my head. “I suppose they could, but I’ve never heard of that.
The injuries we sustain from other shifters are always more damaging.
In our dragon form, it’s pretty difficult for anything but another shifter to hurt or kill us.
Dragon, wolf, or bear teeth and claws do more damage, and the wounds heal a little slower.
Stuff like that. In our human form? We can still get hurt.
Like I said, cuts, burns, gunshot wounds?
It can hurt us, but we heal incredibly fast. For a human to kill one of us with anything but a silver bullet or knife, they probably would have to make a weapon out of a dragon claw or tooth or something.
It’s why it’s easier for us to kill each other in fights than it is for humans to hurt us even with modern weapons.
” I shrugged and mimicked her hand waving. “Magic.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said with a laugh. “Speaking of, what is this weird fascination with rocks?”
“Excuse me?” I frowned, unsure what she was talking about.
“Sorry,” she said, wincing. “It may not even have to deal with dragons. It’s just that all these books and articles I read about magic keep coming back to rocks. Like crystals and shit. Does that stuff really work? I always thought it was just for new-age gurus and whatnot.”
I thought about it for a bit, then shrugged.
“Some stones are useful, that’s true. Most can’t heal you or anything, but they can be used to focus magic or even store magic like a battery.
At least, that’s what I’ve heard. Magic usage wasn’t a huge deal for my family other than the healers and a few things here and there. ”
“Battery?” she said. “Weird. I was reading about moonstones and quartz crystals and sapphires. Those were apparently the most powerful. Is that true?”
“No idea. Maybe? I’ve heard moonstones can store a ton of magical power.
Like, almost unlimited. If you had a stone big enough, it would be able to hold as much magic as you wanted.
It would come in handy for any shaman, magician, or sorcerer who might still be out there in the world.
If I’m honest, those people are probably rarer than winged dragons at this point.
It sort of fell out of favor with the witch hunts back in the day.
Rumors are some shifters practice magic, but I’m not sure how true that is. ”
My mind drifted back to the stories of the dragons who had tried to use magic to give us more power.
Look what that caused. A few stupid men had tried to give us more than we already had, and they damned us.
Maybe it would be best if magic like that fully died out.
Greed always seemed to bring about destruction.
“I won’t bore you with any more questions,” Shyanne said.
“It wasn’t a bore,” I said, looking back at her with a smile. “I enjoy talking to you. About anything.”
“I wish I was that interesting.”
“To me you are.”
My enhanced senses picked up the unmistakable scent of arousal, and it was all I could do not to grin at her. Instead, I gazed back with a placid expression on my face. This woman was special. Inquisitive, smart, funny, and gorgeous. I could fall for her. Hell, maybe I already have.
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s head back out. If we stay in here too long, the guys are gonna start thinking something inappropriate is up.”
“If we stayed here, would something be up?” My words tumbled out before I realized I was gonna say them, the innuendo heavy, and from the look on her face, I could see she got my meaning.
Shyanne paused halfway through standing, a knowing grin spreading across her lips. “That depends, Jackson. Do you want something to be up?”
My pulse thundered in my ears, and a dozen fantasies flashed through my mind—me taking her from behind, her mouth on my cock, my tongue buried in her pussy, and so much more. Each one was more delicious than the last.
I opened my mouth to say something, though I wasn’t entirely sure what, when someone pounded on the door.
“Boss?” Carlo called.
Shyanne glared at the door in irritation. “Yes? It better be important.”
“Mariposa’s at the door. Asking if she can come in and study?”
Her anger faded in an instant, and she hurried around the desk and opened the door. “Of course. Let her in.”
Carlo nodded and turned around.
“Who’s Mariposa?” I asked, rising from my chair.
“A girl,” Shyanne said.
“Well, yeah,” I said, following her out. “It doesn’t sound like a typical boy’s name. I meant who…”
I trailed off as a young girl, maybe nine or ten years old, walked in, clutching her backpack.
“Hey, sweetie,” Shyanne said, crouching in front of the girl. “How are you doing today?”
“Good,” the girl mumbled. “Can I sit in the waiting area? Like normal?”
“Yeah. Are you hungry?”
The girl went to shake her head, then paused, eyes darting to the pizza boxes on the work tables, then nodded vigorously.
“Go sit down, and I’ll bring you some.”
I was struck by how gentle and calm this powerful no-nonsense woman was with the girl. I nudged Brent.
“Who is that?” I whispered as Shyanne put a few slices on a plate.
Brent glanced up, his usually goofy smile fading. “Oh. That’s Mariposa. She’s a local kid.”
I looked at my watch. “Shouldn’t she be in school?”
“She does virtual school from home,” Brent said, his eyes tracking Shyanne as she walked to the waiting area with a plate of food and a bottle of water.
“Her mom pulled her out of school for bullying or something. The mom tries, but it’s tight.
She works double shifts every day and has no money for a babysitter.
Plus, their landlord is a bitch, who won’t fix the air conditioning.
Place gets to be like an oven when it’s nice out.
She comes here to work on school stuff and hang in the waiting room because of the AC.
Shyanne always tries to feed her when she can. ”
“She does this every time the girl comes by?” I said, tearing my eyes from Shyanne to look at Brent.
“Yeah. She stops by at least once or twice a week. Kid’s great. She never barges in. She knows we’re sometimes doing dangerous stuff and will always knock, and when she does, Shyanne brings her in and mothers her like a damn momma hen,” he said, shaking his head and chuckling.
“Hey, blondie,” Carlo called out, waving at Brent. “You gonna work, or flap that jaw all day?”
Brent grabbed the dirty, oiled rag hanging from his belt and balled it up before throwing it at the other man. “Calm the fuck down. I’ll be right there.”
He went back to his work, and I watched Shyanne speaking to the girl who was chewing pizza as she got her laptop out.
Taking a look around, I found the entire shop buzzing with activity, each person helping the other.
Not a single person wasn’t pulling their weight, and everyone seemed fine with picking up the slack.
It was like a family. Even the good-natured ribbing and name-calling reminded me of siblings messing with each other.
Walking over to the doorway of the waiting area, I listened in on the conversation.
“Do you need any help?” Shyanne asked. “I’m not very good at social studies, but I can give it a shot.”
Mariposa put her pizza down and clicked a button on her computer. “There is one question I don’t know. I’m not supposed to look it up, though. I think we had a lesson on it a week ago, but I don’t remember it.”
“Let’s hear it,” Shyanne said, smiling at the girl. “I bet I know it.”
“Please name the battle with the single deadliest day of the American Civil War. I keep typing Gettysburg, but it says that’s wrong.”
Shyanne grunted, her smile twisting into a frown.
“That’s what I would have said too,” she muttered, then tilted the screen and squinted at it. “Maybe it’s a typo or—”
“The Battle of Antietam,” I said.
Shyanne snapped her head around, and the girl looked at me with the wide eyes of a deer caught in the gaze of a mountain lion.
“The battle of what?” Shyanne said, gaping at me like I’d spouted nonsense.
“Antietam,” I repeated. “Gettysburg was the deadliest battle, but that took place over three days. Antietam was only one day. That’s what they’re asking.”
Mariposa, still eyeing me like a crocodile ready to pounce on her, quickly typed the word in. She shook her head, and I spelled it out for her, then a big green check mark appeared on the screen.
“Oh. Wow,” Mariposa said. “Thanks.”
“Yeah,” Shyanne said, grinning at me. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” I said, warmth spreading through me.
“Are you good now?” Shyanne asked Mariposa.
The girl nodded, continuing with her pizza and swiping at her computer screen. “All good. Thank you, Shyanne.”
“Just let me know if you need anything. Is your mom going to pick you up, or are you gonna walk home?”
“I’ll walk,” she said.
As Shyanne patted the girl gently on the head, I could see the care she showed the child.
It all tied into her love of her neighborhood and the way she did so much for others—even if it was to her detriment.
That was why she was so adamant about helping me save my sister.
This woman cared deeply for people. It was just who she was.
That fact erased all doubt. I’d never met a woman who’d entranced me so totally and completely. I was falling for her.