Xavier and Arabella were seated in a parlor on a worn green velvet sofa, the fabric bald in spots. It was another contrast in this house full of the new and falling apart. The ceiling was new-looking, but the yellowed wallpaper was peeling in places. It was an odd contradiction for nobility.
Seated across from them was the woman, who introduced herself as Lady Adelle MacAulay, Baroness Roseheath once Xavier’s identity as a shifter was established. Lady Adelle kept her hands clasped in her lap and an uncertain smile on her face as their housekeeper fussed around them, offering tea with biscuits. They were still waiting for the werewolf himself, the baron to appear in his human form.
He did a few minutes later, dark blond hair wild around his head and a feral look on his face. His shirt wasn’t buttoned correctly, but no one commented on it.
Xavier immediately stood up and held out his hand. Just as quickly, he felt like an idiot. He wasn’t sure how to address a baron he hadn’t already been introduced to.
The werewolf didn’t seem to care when he shook it heartily. “Henry MacAulay,” he said, not bothering with his title.
“Xavier Kinnon.”
“I see you’ve met my wife, Adelle.” The baron gave her a soft look that belied his wild appearance before sitting in a chair next to her.
Xavier nodded. “This is my companion, Miss Arabella Greaves.”
The housekeeper bustled into the room again, this time bearing a tray of sandwiches. “I’m sure you’re hungrier than usual,” she muttered under her breath to the baron. To the baroness, she said, “And you, too.” She turned a sharp eye to Xavier. “I’m sure you are, as well. Shifting takes a lot out of a man.”
“It does, indeed.” Now that Xavier wasn’t so worried that he and Arabella would be mauled to death by werewolves, he realized he was starving. Their long-ago late breakfast of croissants and sex was forgotten, and he looked at the tray longingly.
The housekeeper left them, and the baron and baroness helped themselves.
Xavier and Arabella followed suit after a moment.
“Nothing’s been poisoned,” Henry said when he saw them hesitate.
“That thought hadn’t occurred to me.”
“We’re fine to serve ourselves here,” Adelle remarked. To Xavier and Arabella, she said, “If you’re worried about crumbs, don’t be. The furniture is due to be replaced shortly.”
“The whole place looks to be under renovations.” It was an inane reply, but Xavier was unsure how to steer the conversation back to the existence of shifters.
Henry was the one who brought it up. “So, what is a dragon doing in our barony?”
Xavier’s curiosity got the better of him. “Do you know of any others?”
To his disappointment, Henry shook his head. “I don’t, sadly. I had no idea dragons were real until a quarter of an hour ago. You scared the hell out of me.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“I’m a werewolf who’s waiting for the full moon to finally come and go. My patience is thin and my wolf is more protective than usual.” He cast a meaningful glance at Adelle, who smiled back at him.
Xavier didn’t understand.
Arabella nodded her head.
He was distracted by the mention of the full moon. “Is it like the stories then? You’re compelled to shift?”
“I can shift whenever I want, but I have to when the moon is full. The entire barony does.” He leaned back in his chair. “If you had shown up at the manor later tonight, you could have been torn apart.”
“How many are here?” Arabella asked.
“Most of the village. Those that can’t shift are still in on the secret.” His expression darkened. “Our existence must stay a secret. How did you two discover us?”
Arabella squeezed his knee. Xavier sighed and took a fortifying sip of tea.
“Perhaps whiskey might be better right now,” Henry said. Without another word, he stood up and crossed the room to open a carved wooden cabinet, its doors inlaid with brass. He removed an unmarked bottle half-filled with dark amber liquid and a pair of glasses. He inclined his head to Arabella. “Would you like some?”
“No, thank you. Tea is fine.”
From the corner of his eye, Xavier saw Adelle shudder.
Henry set the glasses on the table between them and poured two drinks, handing one to Xavier. He sniffed at it experimentally. What the hell are they brewing here in their stills? Not wanting to insult his host, he took a healthy gulp and coughed, his eyes burning. It took a few seconds for him to regain his breath and voice. “Are you certain you’re not trying to poison me?”
Adelle hid a smile behind her hand, although Xavier noticed she looked a little green at the scent of the liquor.
“No,” replied Henry. He finished his drink as easily as if it was water.
Xavier looked at the half-inch of liquor still in his glass and tried not to retch. Holding his breath, he knocked it back and waited for the nausea to disappear. “Excellent,” he lied. “Do you brew it yourself?”
“The manor’s butler does. The recipe’s been in Bensfort’s family for generations.” Henry’s friendly demeanor evaporated, and his flinty expression returned. “You still haven’t told me how you came to know of us.”
Xavier had to start from the beginning. How he discovered he was a dragon shifter. That he had never met anyone else like him. That his academic career in paleontology was derailed when he started his research into mythology, hoping for a human connection. How he came across the old stories of a werewolf pack in Scotland. Of his opportunity to escape and fake his death in Antarctica.
Henry interrupted him when he reached the part of the story of his research into werewolves. “When was this, exactly?”
“Just over five years ago.”
The baron visibly relaxed. “That material was supposed to have been removed from all archives and libraries over a year ago, when Adelle married me. It was part of a deal we made with Westminster. As part of our agreement, we don’t leave Scotland. As long as they leave us be, we leave them alone.” He smiled. “There are a few other stipulations, of course, but they work on our favor these days.”
“The flameless candles,” Arabella said.
He nodded. “They’ve been my most commercially successful invention. The barony and the house are finally having some long-needed repairs, as you can see.” He gestured to the ceiling. “The roof finally gave up the spring before last and we had a hell of a flood in the attic. In fact…”
“Henry,” murmured Adelle.
“Of course. My apologies for going off the subject.” He cleared his throat. “There was an unfortunate incident with someone who found the same information you did and stormed my home demanding… well, quite a bit.” He sent a possessive look Adelle’s way. “His primary demand was that I turn him, which is impossible.”
Xavier’s heart thundered at this piece of information. “Are you saying I can’t make other dragons?”
“I don’t know about dragons in particular, but werewolves can’t be made, only born. We can’t bite someone and make them like us.”
For a moment, Xavier felt as if a half-ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It stood to reason that if a werewolf shifter couldn’t create a new wolf with a bite, neither could a dragon. “Oh, thank God,” he muttered. When he looked at Arabella, he saw she looked a little sad at the news. He made a mental note to ask her about that later.
“So, you really don’t know any others of your kind?” Adelle asked gently.
“None. My parents have passed on and I don’t have any siblings or cousins that I know of.” Loneliness slammed into his chest like a brick in a stocking, a hated feeling. It had been so easy to forget it when he was with Arabella.
Henry regarded him thoughtfully over the rim of his glass, recently refilled. “I wish I could be of more help. Our pack has stories of dragons from medieval times, before England forced us to stay here. They’re few and far between. None of them speak of shifters. The last one I know of took place shortly after the Crusades.”
Xavier’s happiness at finding another shifter was tempered when he realized he might truly be the only of his kind left in the world. “Oh,” he said, voice small.
“I’m sorry,” Henry added.
Arabella reached for his hand.
He gripped it like it was a lifeline. “I suppose it’s like red hair or odd-colored eyes,” he mused. “Sometimes, a body is born with them and no one knows why.” The woman with red hair sitting next to him wasn’t the only person with such a feature in existence. A lump formed in his throat. He didn’t try to speak. There wasn’t a point. He knew he was casting a pall over the room, that everyone else in the parlor felt sorry for him.
Henry tried to lighten the mood. “Why don’t you come out with our pack tonight to shift?” he asked. “I noticed that you breathed a little smoke when we were in our other forms. I will unfortunately have to ask you to refrain from that near the village itself.”
“You’re welcome to stay the night,” Adelle added. “Now that we know you’re not government agents or mercenaries.” She smiled. “We have a room available for you.”
“Or do you need two?” Henry asked.
“One is fine,” Arabella said. She quickly glanced at Xavier. “I apologize, I should have asked. Do you want to stay?”
Xavier ‘s response was immediate. “Yes.”
He had never had a community before outside of the academic, who were bound together by their love of fossils. He wasn’t sure he had one now, but he would take any chance he could to be part of theirs, as small as it may be.
Later that evening, Arabella and the baroness lingered over the supper table while Xavier and Henry went outside to shift.
“Henry’s usually a little gentler,” Adelle said once they were out of earshot. “He’ll be less tense and irritable after the full moon tonight. Another biscuit?”
“Please.” Arabella accepted one from the proffered plate.
There was something she wanted to bring up with the baroness now that they were alone. Since they knew that Xavier couldn’t turn Arabella into a dragon, she wanted to know what the mark he left on her meant. “I have a rather delicate question to ask,” she began.
“Of course.”
“Xavier bit me the other night,” she continued.
Adelle’s brows rose, but she didn’t appear too alarmed yet. “How so?”
“Not in a… violent way.” At least, not in a violent way that neither of them didn’t want.
The baroness seemed to understand the implication. “Oh.”
“He left a mark on me,” Arabella admitted. “It hasn’t healed. At least, the mark hasn’t gone away. It doesn’t hurt.” Her face burned, unused to talking about physical intimacy with a virtual stranger as she was. No, not a stranger, she reminded herself. A new friend.
“A mate mark,” Adelle said.
“I beg your pardon?”
Adelle cast a quick look around the dining room, as if to reassure herself that we’re still alone. She unbuttoned the high collar of her blue day dress and pulled the fabric aside to reveal a scar not unlike Arabella’s. It was definitely made by human, or mostly human teeth.
Arabella’s hand flew to her own scar, still covered by her flight jacket. “Yes, like that. What does it mean?”
The baroness buttoned her collar again. “It’s a claim among werewolves,” she said. “Perhaps it’s the same with dragons. Henry did it when his wolf recognized me as his true mate. It’s very sacred to wolves. It bonds you for life.”
If she hadn’t already been sitting down, Arabella’s knees would have given way. “What?”
Stricken, Adelle explained, “It’s a way shifters claim their mates. Bonding is just that, connecting a couple forever. After a time, you feel the other’s emotions a little. At least, Henry and I do now.” It took a couple of seconds for Arabella’s reaction to register. “Oh, no.”
Arabella quickly recovered. “No, I’m not upset about it. Just shocked and surprised, is all.” Xavier would be devastated and angrier with himself than he already was. “We didn’t know,” she added. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go into details about how it happened with anyone, let alone the baroness she had just met, friendly as she was. Although she suspected the baroness wouldn’t have minded if she did.
“Will this be a problem for you?” Adelle asked.
“No, at least not for me. Xavier’s going to be very upset, I think. He has been very clear that my willingness to be with him has to be my choice.”
“I see.” Adelle leaned back in her chair. “Would you like a drink?”
“From your butler’s still?” Arabella shuddered at the memory of its scent. “I appreciate the offer, but no thank you.”
“No offense taken. I can’t handle the smell or taste myself these days.” She gave Arabella a knowing look across the table. “We’re expecting a baby in about five months.”
“I sort of already guessed that. The baron is so protective of you.”
“He’s always been like that, but that possessive streak has certainly increased since we found out. Henry usually has more sense than to go out outside in his wolf form, during the day, to investigate an ornithopter at the foot of the drive.”
“Congratulations to you both.”
“Thank you.” She beamed. “I must admit it took some time for me to get used to the idea. Now that my morning nausea has subsided a little, I’m looking forward to being a mother.”
“The baby will be a werewolf?”
“MacAulay babies always are. He or she won’t shift for a few years, though.”
“I wonder if ours would be a dragon,” she mused aloud.
“Are you expecting?”
“No,” Arabella quickly replied. She had never thought much about parenthood, assuming that one day she would find a man who enjoyed flight as much as she did and have a couple of children. She’d always liked the idea of raising a pair of them. They would live aboard the dirigible, as she had grown up. “Although I’m not opposed to them.” It wasn’t as though she and Xavier had taken any precautions, either. She wasn’t usually so irresponsible. We should have discussed this before everything else happened.
“You and Xavier will have a great deal to talk about,” Adelle said, voice soft. “But please know, that at least among werewolves, claiming and marking a mate is done out of love. It’s very special and very rare that shifters meet and build lives with their true mates.”
Xavier was likely the only one of his kind. Rare to begin with, and near-impossible odds that he would find a mate. She needed to find him and tell him they would be all right, that neither of them would ever have to be alone again. That it was nothing short of a miracle that she’d crashed into his Antarctic den. “Where is everyone?” she asked abruptly, standing up. “I have to find Xavier.”
The baroness shook her head. “It’s best to wait until morning.”
“Are the wolves dangerous?”
“They never have been toward me, but they won’t recognize you or your scent. Stay inside for now. They’re likely hunting rabbits or something, anyway.” A shudder rippled through her.
Arabella sighed, a sound of frustration, before plunking back into her seat. Before she met Xavier, she would have run headfirst into a den of werewolves, consequences be damned. Running headfirst into something, disregarding all advice to the contrary was the whole reason she ended up crashed in Antarctica in the first place but she’d learned to be warier of her safety since then. She had a lot to live for now, more than crossing off countries she’d visited. “Of course,” she muttered. “I think I’ll take that drink now.”
Being a man of science, Xavier wasn’t one to visit churches. He had to admit that the little church that served the barony was charming, and its vicar, while not a shifter, welcoming. Father Paul still made himself scarce after the sun went down and the moon appeared in the sky, bright as a newly minted penny.
With the vicar gone and Arabella confined to the manor, he wondered just how dangerous his walking into a den of wolves would be. He was surrounded by the barony’s shifter residents, all looking a little feral this evening. They were friendly with him, curious about his being a dragon and his ability to shift at will. Evidently, that was a rare talent to have among shifters, save for Henry. Alpha wolves could do it whenever they wanted.
With the full moon overhead, everyone streamed outside the church, naked as the day they were born.
He found a quiet spot away from the others to shift, careful not to breathe fire or smoke. He pawed along the ground, looking for a good spot to take flight, as the werewolves’ bays rang through the air.
He’d never heard a wolf’s howls before. He was surprised that they didn’t sound ominous or frightening, or perhaps it was simply because he knew they were human the rest of the time. The howls were chatter among old friends, reunited after a long absence. In a way, he supposed they were.
A smaller wolf bounded in his direction, then yelped in surprise when he saw Xavier. The wolf shrank back out of instinct.
Xavier tried to convey through his eyes as best he could that he was harmless, then lowered himself to the ground, bowing his head in a gesture of submission. The wolf approached again, sniffed his clawed feet, then barked and wagged his tail like a dog.
A few other wolves came a little closer as well, then joined the smaller one in barking welcomes. If Xavier’s facial ability allowed it, he would have smiled in response. He followed them as they turned and ran into a forest near the church, albeit slower. He lumbered behind them, unused to running, and came to a stop when he realized his body was too big to navigate between the trees. He returned to open space, and let himself take flight. He’d never been above houses before. It was quite the view, a sharp contrast to Antarctica’s endless snowy landscapes or the English beaches he hastily shifted on. He soared higher, flying around the barony, until he reached the manor house the MacAulays called home.
Arabella was inside.
He missed her desperately.
He’d told her he loved her, and he did. He wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake in doing so, making her feel obligated to stay with him like a foundling she’d stumbled across.
A few lights shone in the house’s windows, and he looked for the one that was likeliest to come from the second floor room he and Arabella were given for the night. It had a view of the back garden, he recalled, a few doors away from the suite the baron and baroness used.
A figure with flame-colored hair passed a window with a candle on its sill, then looked through the glass. She jumped, then smiled and gestured for him to come closer.
Xavier was only too happy to oblige.
Arabella unlatched it and opened it, reaching out to pat his scaled snout. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Xavier gave a slight nod and leaned into her hand, small as it felt when he was in this form.
“I spoke to the baroness about the bite mark,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “She says it’s a mate mark.”
Xavier hadn’t been expecting the conversation to take that turn. His contentment with how the evening turned out evaporated. This sounded serious. He put his head through the window, intending to shift back to his human form so they could discuss the mark, but his body got stuck halfway through, too wide for the narrow frame.
“Damn it,” said Arabella. She sighed. “How can I help you out?”
It took a few seconds for him to free his wings and get out of the window, back into the night. He held himself in the air, waiting for her to continue. Perhaps what she said about the mark wouldn’t be too concerning.
“Werewolves mark their mates,” Arabella continued. “It’s a sign of love. It creates an unbreakable bond between the couple. We assumed it’s the same for dragons.” She smiled and stroked his face again. “We’re linked together forever. There will be no one else for either of us.”
Bonded by a supernatural link neither of them knew existed until that evening. It took everything Xavier had not to recoil from her touch. Not because he didn’t want it—he did, more than anything—but because he didn’t deserve it. In the heat of passion, he’d given in to a monstrous instinct that he could have ignored and didn’t. How long would her happiness last once she truly felt the impact of what he had done? That he had trapped her, however inadvertently? He had taken away her choice to do so.
He should shift immediately, tell her what a terrible thing he had done.
Just as he’d run away from England and his whole life before, he could do it again. It would be easier for both of them if he did. It would save an argument over the mate mark, over his horror, that he’d all but branded her against her will. It would be better this way. The sight of her hopeful, happy face tore at him. He dreaded what he was about to do and hated himself for it. He backed away from the window and took flight. Her confused cry made his eyes water in a way he hadn’t known he was capable of before, but he didn’t look back. He sailed into the night sky, away from the barony and Arabella.