| |
––––––––
31 July 2004
He stood glaring out a rain-splattered window, staring at a grayish-blue turbulent Pacific Ocean.
“We could have taken care of this without having to fly all the way from France to Oregon,” István pointed out as he, too, examined the scene before them with a jaded look. “The kin in California would have dealt with the mortal.”
“It is not their problem,” Drake said with a calmness that belied his true emotions. He was annoyed. He was enraged. And most of all, he was frustrated.
Why could Aisling not see that she was meant to bind herself to him? That they were fated to be together?
“No, but they would be happy to help,” István insisted, then flexed his knuckles.
Drake glanced at his watch, his temper—and emotions—firmly in check. Even his dragon fire was under steely control to the point where it barely simmered inside him.
Just the thought of Aisling licking whipped cream off her fingers had it roaring to life, though.
“It is almost time,” Drake said, and closed the laptop he’d been using while they waited for Aisling’s mortal ex-husband to appear for the day. Their hotel overlooked one of the parking areas on Cannon Beach.
“You want me to go out to see if he’s there?” István asked, curling his lip at the rain. While it was true that green dragons favored water, the element tied to the sept, very few enjoyed being out in the rain.
“Yes, but you needn’t stalk up and down the beach. Remain in the car and let me know when he arrives.”
István looked doubtful. “Is it likely the rain will stop?”
“Surfers, I am given to understand, will surf in the summer even if it’s raining.” Drake’s phone rang as István headed out to the rental car.
“Is something the matter?” he asked in lieu of greeting the caller.
A few seconds of various muffled and somewhat thumping noises were audible, along with the rhythmic noise of breathing, and unintelligible words by a man. This was followed by a louder thump, at which point the voices could be understood.
“—don’t see why you’re holding it against me. The police cleared me!”
Aisling was speaking. Drake, who had been on the verge of demanding to know why Jim had called him, stood holding the phone, his eyes narrowed on it. Clearly Jim had put the phone on speaker and moved it into position to overhear the conversation.
Drake made a mental note to send the demon virtual funds for its phone game.
“Evidently, they even sent me a reward, which of course I’ll give to you to go a little ways to make up for the aquamanile being sold. I know it won’t cover the part the insurance refused to reimburse you for, but it will help, and as I said a week ago, I’ll do whatever jobs you need to pay off the rest.”
“It’s not the money,” a man’s gruff voice answered her. Drake felt a particularly itchy sensation that he equated with hackles rising. “It’s you. You’re not right for the job. You gave it your best shot, but it’s not going to cut it, Aisling.”
“I can do better,” she said, and for a moment rage rode him hard. Who was this man who so berated his mate? How dare he blame her for what had happened in Paris? Drake had made very certain that Proust, the mortal police inspector, had cleared Aisling of all wrongdoing. “Just give me a chance, Uncle Damian.”
“I gave you a chance. You let the object be stolen from you, and the recipient was murdered. Along with a whole slew of other folks, it seems, but I won’t get into that, since I didn’t sell them the object.”
“I’m innocent of that! Of everything except inadvertently burning ... but that’s not really important. Here’s the check the French police gave me for helping them figure out who the murderer of Madame Deauxville was.”
Drake snarled under his breath. That money was meant to entice Aisling into going to Budapest!
“Please, Uncle Damian, please give me a second chance. I swear I won’t let another item be stolen from me. Although it would ... er ... really help if the object wasn’t made of gold. Just in case. Do you have anything nongold that has to go somewhere?”
“Yes, but I’ll get one of the other couriers to take it.”
“But—”
“No,” Aisling’s uncle cut across her protest. “That’s the end of it.”
“You are the most stubborn, annoying person I’ve met.” Aisling stopped herself in mid-rant to say, “OK, that’s not entirely true. The most stubborn, annoying person I’ve met is in Paris right now, but you’re right there beside him!”
“Give my respects to David and Paula when you next talk to them,” was all her uncle said.
“Gah!” Loud footsteps sounded along with a, “Jim, heel!”
Drake could almost imagine the scene as Aisling stalked out the door. He added to his list of things to question Aisling the identity of this David and Paula her uncle mentioned. He assumed they were family, but it drove home the point that he had no idea about who—other than her uncle and an ex-husband—were important people in her life.
Dealing with the beach bum ex turned out to be quick and easy.
“You will cease harassing Aisling for money,” Drake told the man, whose face was red and somewhat bloated.
He squawked something in response.
“I don’t care what the court order decrees,” Drake responded, guessing what the man was protesting. “She will no longer pay you so much as another cent.”
The man, one Colm Murphy by name, gurgled and twitched.
Drake’s fingers convulsed where they held the man up by the throat. With a little shake, he released Colm, unmoved by the gasping and garbled words that emerged as the ex-husband slid down the stone back wall of an outdoor beach shower.
“I will, however, ensure that the same sum is deposited into your account for exactly six months. After that, you will be responsible for supporting yourself. If you try to contact Aisling again, I will destroy you. If you try to harass her again, I will destroy you. If you try to get money from her, I will—”
“Destroy me, I know,” Colm said, trying to get to his feet and failing, one hand still massaging his neck. His voice sounded as rough as the massive Haystack Rock that towered over the beach. “Like, I get it. You’re hooking up and all. But that doesn’t mean you have to choke me.”
“I’ll do a hell of a lot worse than choke you if you bother Aisling again,” was all he said before striding off to the car, István silent behind him.
“That’s one,” he said a few minutes later when he got into the car, István at the wheel. He checked his phone, read a message from Pal, who’d remained in Paris to deal with some business there, answered it, and then gave István the address he’d looked up shortly after Jim’s call.
“Who’s two?” István asked.
Drake consulted his phone again. “Damian Bell.”
István’s brows rose, but he said nothing.
It took an hour to find the building Aisling’s uncle used to run his acquisition and export business, and within five minutes of arriving, he beheld a shortish, thickset man with a rectangular face, a gray beard and hair, and piercing blue eyes.
Drake frowned at him for a few seconds. “Are you related to Ernest Hemingway?” he asked after greeting the man.
Damian Bell’s expression was set in a mixture of disfavor and distrust. “No, and I don’t know why the devil people keep asking me that. Are you one of those literary people?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Drake answered, and since he judged that polite manners would be wasted on the forthright and gruff man before him, he discarded the lengthy explanations he’d formed on the ride there, and got straight to the point. “I met your niece in Paris.”
“Aisling?” Bell’s eyes narrowed to blue slits. “You the one she shacked up with, or the thief?”
“Both,” Drake answered, taking immense pleasure in the moment of shock that filled the man’s eyes. “I am Drake Vireo.”
“Why are you here?” Bell asked, moving up in Drake’s estimation. Although he was well versed in the mostly European method of dancing around a subject with polite chat, he much preferred people who spoke as they thought.
It was one reason Aisling intrigued him so much. He never knew what she’d say.
“To give you this.” Drake pulled out a certified check and set it on the desk. “It is payment for the aquamanile, which now resides in my collection. With this, you will consider Aisling’s debt paid in full, and will return to her the reward money from the French police.”
“Why do you want her to have the money?” Damian Bell glanced at the check, his expression as unwavering as stone. “You can’t have designs on it if you’re handing me a check this size.”
“I believe Aisling has great potential,” Drake said after a moment’s thought to pick out his words. He had to tread carefully here, lest Aisling’s uncle become obstinate. “She has recently explored some new ... hobbies ... and there is a conference in Budapest which would help her explore them further.”
Bell watched him with a silence that made the fine hairs on the back of Drake’s neck rise. He had done a quick dig into the man’s past in order to garner information about him, but he hadn’t had time to delve into much. He recalled there was a mention of service in a branch of the armed forces, and was instantly certain that Bell’s time in the military included some sort of black ops work.
“Do you agree?” Drake was forced to ask when Bell continued to simply watch him.
“To giving back the check? I don’t have it. I put it in her pocket when she was marching around waving her hands in the air and yelling. As to the other—I don’t know what this hobby is that you think she needs help with, but Aisling is an adult. She makes her own choices. I stay out of it unless it affects me or she asks for help.” His gaze was sharp as he stared Drake down. “You don’t affect me now that you’ve paid for the aquamanile, and Aisling hasn’t asked me to help deal with you.”
Drake dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Then we are in agreement.”
“Just know,” Damian Bell called after him as he turned to leave, his hand on the doorknob. “If you do anything to hurt her—physically or emotionally—you won’t regret it.”
Drake paused at the door, confused. “I won’t?”
“You won’t be alive to regret anything,” was the response.
He thought for a moment, then nodded his head and said, “I agree to your terms,” before leaving the office.
7 August 2004
For a week, Drake felt like an automaton going about his business devoid of emotion, feeling, and hope. He settled in his house in the countryside outside Budapest, restless and unhappy.
Then he received a text message.
JIM
Heya. Aisling’s storming around swearing that you’re trying to bribe your way into her pants, and other outrageous things like that. I mean, I get it, but yeah, this was kind of a low blow just up and sending her money. Gotta say one thing about Aisling: she’s got a hell of a moral compass. She tried to give the money to her uncle, but he slipped it back to her. She’s blaming you for that. She says you engineered the whole thing, and that it’s blood money, yadda yadda.
ME
I did not send the money. I believe it came from the French government as a reward for the arrest and conviction of the murderer of the mortal Mme Deauxville and Albert Camus. In such cases, there should be a letter accompanying the check indicating the source and reason for the payment.
JIM
Yeah, yeah, but Ash swears it’s a forgery. I’ll tell her to check with the French police. That should calm her ta-tas.
JIM
It’s just kinda odd that the money the French sent her is the exact amount needed for airfare, hotel, and the conference that’s coming up in Budapest.
JIM
Someone told me that the green dragons are based more or less in Hungary. Kinda coinkydink, that, huh?
ME
I regret ever giving you this phone.
See to it she reads the paperwork accompanying the check.
Alert me if she is in any danger.
JIM
Man, you got it bad. Just hope some day Aisling realizes that.
ME
From your mouth to any deity of your choice’s ears.
Two nights later, he entered the dream state again that allowed him to visit Aisling.
He stood on the beach and eyed her cottage, wondering if she missed him. Did she dream of him? Did she think about him during the day as he thought of her? Did she remember the way she turned to molten fire under his touch?
He ignored the erection that followed such musings, and tapped at the door.
“Don’t tell me, it’s a big, bad dragon come to blow my house down.” Aisling opened the door. She was clad in a pair of striped cotton shorts and a tank top, neither of which hid any part of her delicious curves.
“Would it shock you if I made a comment about blowing in reference to yourself?” he asked, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. It wasn’t easy to pull off that expression given the erection, but he gave it his best shot.
“Yes,” she answered, then, with an odd look at him, moved past to where two white wooden chairs sat. She stood in front of one of the chairs, staring out at the ocean for a few seconds. “You’re a lot of things, Drake, but a crass person is not one of them. That still leaves me wondering why you are here, though.”
“We parted in a less-than-ideal manner,” he said, ignoring her scent, which wafted to him on the breeze. He needed to keep his attention focused. “You seem to think that a relationship between us is optional. It is not the way, Aisling. We are fated to be together. For you to ignore what is between us is the sheerest folly.”
“What’s between us?” she asked, taking him by surprise.
He knew what she was asking, however, and gave her the honest answer she was due, even if he felt oddly awkward speaking the words. “I do not know the shape our lives together will take, but if you seek reassurances that you are necessary to me, then you may have them. I want you, Aisling. In my bed, in my sept, in my life. As a wyvern, I will swear an oath to keep your happiness uppermost always.”
She was silent for a few minutes, her gaze never leaving his. To his horror, her eyes grew shiny with tears. She blinked fast twice before finally speaking. “If you knew how hard it was for me to leave you, to walk out the door in Paris when you were looking so gorgeous, and mysterious, and the way you smelled and felt ... if you knew the pain that grips me each time I see you—even if it is only in a dream—you wouldn’t say that.”
“You weep?” He brushed at a fat tear that rolled down one cheek, for a moment at a loss as to what he could do.
“Yes. I do. Because of you. Please, Drake. I’m trying to get a grip on a whole lot of changes in my life, and you’re not making it any easier. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
He stepped back, feeling physical pain at her rejection. “I do not mean harm to you—”
“No, you don’t. I know that.” Aisling wrapped her arms around herself, half turning away from him. “But it’s almost impossible to get my life in control when you keep popping in and making me feel all sorts of things that I don’t want to feel.”
“We are mated—”
“No, Drake. We aren’t.” She turned to face him, tears still glinting brightly in her eyes. “I don’t know how else to say this, but I don’t want to see you again. I can’t be what you want, OK? I’ve decided I’m going to pursue being a Guardian. There’s a big shindig in Europe in a few weeks, and they offered me a spot since they are nurturing new Guardians, and as the money you made the French police send me will cover it, Jim and I are going. I can’t be what you want. So if you don’t mind, please buzz off and leave me alone.”
Pain was evident in her voice. For a moment, he felt the same sort of shame he’d experienced with the starving woman.
His presence in her dreams was hurting her. It was the last thing in the world he wanted, and he realized that he was going to have to practice an exquisite amount of patience if he was going to survive wooing her to his side.
And that meant he had to give her the space she clearly wanted.
“Naturally, the last thing I desire is to make you unhappy,” he said after several seconds of fighting with himself. “Since it is your wish to live life without me, I will remove myself from your presence. Know this, though.” He was unable to stop from stroking his thumb across her cheek. It almost killed him, but he kept from claiming her mouth as his mind, body, and most primal dragon soul demanded. “If you ever need me, no matter what the circumstances, no matter what the reason, I will be at your side.”
She sniffled, brushed angrily at her tears, and nodded before rising and swiftly returning to her house.
It took him longer to leave. He hung around the outside for a few minutes, just watching the ocean under the light of the moon, then finally turned and walked out of the dream.
Aisling may not wish to admit it, but every fiber of Drake’s being recognized her as his mate. He would wait for her to come to him. There was nothing else to do.
* * *
