Dragon Bound (Elder Races #1)(86)



Graydon rubbed his face, covered his mouth with a hand and said, muffled, “Ayup.”

Rune and the others weren’t so circumspect. They shouted in laughter at his expression. Rune explained, “She asked the shopper to stock up all the food banks in the state. To be honest, I think the credit card freaked her out a bit. Maybe she’s more of a flowers-and-candy kind of female.”

As he scowled, Graydon added, “She liked the robe, though. Said it was real nice.”

“Whatever,” he said, dismissing the subject with a wave of his hand. “I think it’s pretty clear to everyone I can’t be around too many people right now or I really might tear somebody’s throat out.”

Bayne grunted. “It is pretty tough to apologize after the conversation degenerates to that point.”

He gave them a grim smile. He finished one circuit of the room and started another. “Another day like today isn’t going to happen. We’re going to start selling off some of the businesses and get life more simplified.”

“Maybe it would be a good idea to go upstate to Carthage for a few weeks instead,” said Constantine in a cautious voice. He referred to Dragos’s 250-acre country estate in northern New York. “You know, take some afternoons and fly out over the Adirondacks, figure out what you really want to do, let stuff settle in your head?”

“Going upstate for a while isn’t a bad idea, he said. “But I’m settled on a few things right now. Aside from the fact that Urien’s got to die, I want to downsize my life and get rid of some of the white noise. And while we’re at it, I want you guys to help me figure out what to do with all the crap I’ve got crammed underneath the subway.”

Under the cover of the shower, Pia sat on the bench with her head in her hands. A backlash from fear and adrenaline hit, and she cried until her throat hurt and her nose was clogged and she couldn’t cry anymore.

The last couple of days had been so full of extremes, she felt like she was suffering from some kind of psychic whiplash. Everything was strange, full of hidden currents and nuances, with bouts of intense joy and sudden sharp spikes in anxiety and isolation. Reality had become a kaleidoscope that kept breaking up and re-forming.

For a while when the shit had hit the fan, Dragos had been her center, her one stable point. Odd, but she had been okay with all the danger and uncertainty that surrounded them. Here Dragos was part of everything else—unpredictable and unknown.

She had moments of clarity when she felt she was connected to him in a way that went deeper than either of them comprehended. She felt like she understood him better than he understood himself.

Then all the certainty slid away and she was left clutching at air. When that happened, she felt fractured inside. Maybe she was the kaleidoscope, breaking and re-forming. Maybe she was part of everything else that was unpredictable and unknown.

He was beyond splendid. He made her breath catch and her heart race, her temper flare and her sense of humor sharpen. He had her sexuality dancing for joy.

He wanted her to trust him, but how could she trust someone she didn’t understand?

How could she love someone who admitted he didn’t even know what love was, who claimed her as his possession, and who was capable of almost killing his oldest, most trusted ally and friend?

Wait a minute. She didn’t just think that, did she?

Well, it wasn’t true. She was suffering from a supersized value meal of Stockholm syndrome. She would admit to having a mouthwatering crazy going-on for him. Heh, not like she could deny that at this late stage. But she would not admit to the L word.

Oh God.

She wanted to go home, but she didn’t have a home. Her apartment wasn’t hers anymore. It might be let to someone else already. Even if it wasn’t, she was afraid that if she were able to step back inside that space, she would find it was cramped and too small and just as alien as everything else had become in her life.

The shower stall opened. She started and shrank back, covering her br**sts in a reflexive gesture, as Dragos stepped in fully clothed.

He knelt in front of her, gripping the bench on either side of her thighs. The severe lines of his face and muscled body were drenched in moments, the gold of his eyes shadowed. She plucked at the collar of his soaked T-shirt and sighed. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve been crying again,” he said. “Why?”

She chuckled, a small, hollow sound. “Hard day, I guess.”

“Don’t deflect,” he said. “Tell me why.”

“What if I don’t want to,” she snapped.

“Tough,” he told her. He took hold of her shoulders and drew her into his arms. “You have to tell me so I can learn not to do whatever it is I did.”

Damn him. How could he end up saying the exact right thing just when she needed it most?

“Who said it was you? I already told you, everything’s getting to me.” She tucked her face into his neck and nuzzled, reveling in his warm, wet skin.

“Still deflecting,” he said. He reached for a bottle of herbal scented body wash, squirted some into a palm and began to massage her neck and shoulders. “You were having a good time with the gryphons. It was me.”

“We weren’t always having a good time,” she grumbled. She bit back a moan at how good his hands felt as he dug into tired muscles. “I’ve had to exert a great deal of my considerable charm on them these past few days.”

Thea Harrison's Books