Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(89)

Whatever thought, or memory, or impression she’d almost had slipped beyond her reach as the déjà vu passed.

The gorgeous blond stepped up to Dr. Parker and extended his right hand in greeting. “Dr. Kyle Parker?” he said, as casual as the day was long.

Kyle’s features were a mask of rage, terror, and indecision, and Macy could see in his eyes that he was deciding between fight and flight—whether or not to throw an offensive punch or to duck—but the perfunctory greeting had thrown him off-balance. “Yes?” he muttered warily.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Axe.”

The doctor stared at Axe’s hand like he had just grown it from a test tube, and then he reluctantly took it and began to shake.

The blond tightened his grip around Kyle’s palm, tugged the doctor’s arm forward, and in the blink of an eye—less than that, really—the dark-haired male twirled a blade through his fingers, caught the dragon-shaped handle, and sliced through Dr. Parker’s wrist, dissecting it at the radius.

He cut his hand clear off.

And then he stuffed it in his pocket. “We’ll stamp it when we get back to the lair.”

Macy gasped and began to hyperventilate.

She tried to scream, but the sound would not escape.

“Shh,” the blond guy whispered, spinning around to face her. He placed his forefinger over his lips. “Relax, sweetheart. Just relax. Look into my eyes.”

Macy met his heated gaze, and her own pupils must have expanded in shock because his jet-black pupils had grown as narrow as a cat’s. As she fell into his gaze, leaned forward, and gaped in wonder, he began to speak a bunch of distant-sounding words: “You’re not afraid; you will remember nothing; you have no interest whatsoever in Doctor Kyle Parker.” And all the while, through her peripheral vision, she saw the other male doing something that defied common sense—something that defied logic, reason, and science.

He cauterized Dr. Parker’s stump with a silver fire.

A flame that shot forth from his mouth!

And then the flame turned silver-blue, and he used it to clean up the mess: to remove the blood from the table and the carpet, to erase the splatter from Dr. Parker’s shirt. And then he reached into the clean breast-pocket of his duster, removed several large stacks of what looked like hundred-dollar bills, and dropped them on the table.

“Get your door fixed, honey,” the blond stranger said. Then he turned his attention on the surgeon. “And, you; invest that shit wisely. You won’t be operating on humans anymore.”

Dr. Kyle looked like he was going into shock.

He brought the stump up to his face and recoiled, but before he could faint or shout—or lapse into hysterics—the dark-haired male cupped his cheeks, seared his gaze into Kyle’s, and began to speak in a soft, hypnotic tone.

The doctor nodded, and nodded…and nodded.

And then just like that, the strangers were gone.

Macy sank into her seat and blinked her eyes, several times in a row. What the hell was going on here? She stared at her kitchen table, at the lasagna and the spilled red wine staining the ivory cloth, and she frowned. “Dr. Parker?” What was her surgeon doing in Macy’s apartment?

He was standing there like a deer caught in someone’s headlights, holding his trembling right arm, and his hand was missing!

Holy hell…

But yeah, that was right—he had lost it in a hunting accident, just the other day.

Hadn’t she heard that somewhere?

But then why wasn’t it wrapped in bandages?

Why wasn’t he still in the hospital?

Her mind went blank, and the questions simply…vanished.

As cruel as it seemed, Macy didn’t care.

Dr. Parker shuffled toward the table and began collecting several stacks of cash. Again, that seemed really odd, but Macy wasn’t concerned. “Would you like a bag?” she asked.

Dr. Parker nodded blankly. “Yes, um, I think I would.”

Macy rose from her seat to go fetch one. “Well, thank you for the house call,” she found herself saying, “but honestly, I think you should be home in bed, taking care of yourself.”

Dr. Parker cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, the word coming out as a croak. “Yes,” he tried again, more firmly. “I believe I will do just that. Um, don’t forget to get your door fixed.”

Macy stared past the living room to the front foyer and frowned. Angling her head to the side, she harrumphed. “Yeah. I’ll call someone right now.”





Chapter Thirty-six

Saturday ~ The Garden of Grace

Jordan stood solemnly before the beautiful but haunting marker—the sapphire statue of a powerful, breathtaking male—the final likeness of Jaquar Saphyrius.

Wait, that wasn’t true.

It wasn’t Jaquar’s likeness; it was all that remained of his soul.

And as the dragon sun shone brilliantly down on the white clay mountains, reflecting light off the sacred ravine where Jaquar’s final sculpture had been erected, words eluded her—what in heaven’s name could she say?

She glanced askance at Zane, who looked both reverent and tortured, and she reached out to take his hand. The gesture was easy now. Not only had they made love Wednesday night, but they had been intimate three more times since then. They had talked; they had shared stories about their pasts—childhood dreams, adolescent heartaches, and adult mishaps—and they had slept in each other’s arms.