Pia Saves the Day (Elder Races #6.6)(17)

Meeting his fierce gaze, she told him calmly, “That was one of your best friends. He’s been worried about both of us.”

“I want to know his name.” He gripped her upper arm.

She glanced down at his hand. The gesture was possessive, aggressive, yet his touch was gentle on her bare skin. Thank God, he had lost the impulse to violence.

She covered his hand with hers. “His name is Graydon, and he loves you very much.”

“I want to meet him.” His jaw tightened, and so did his fingers. “But not tonight. Where do we go?”

“Do you remember how to get back to the scene where you got hurt?” She studied him, uncertain how he would take the information. “It’s about fifteen miles from here. You were pretty disoriented when you left yesterday.”

His expression closed down. “Yes.”

She hated when he shut her out like that. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Tightening her lips, she said, “The accident happened roughly two hundred yards away from our house, on the other side of some bordering trees.”

He remained silent for so long, she started to worry. He had thought he’d been attacked there. What if he refused to go anywhere near the construction site?

Finally, he replied, “I’ll take us there.”

Before she could do much other than nod her consent, he shapeshifted into the dragon again, his Wyr form filling up the clearing. He didn’t give her time to gather up her pack. Instead, he scooped her into one of his forepaws, crouched and launched.

Clutching at one of his talons, she narrowed her eyes against the warm summer wind. Telepathically, she said, You left your gold and jewels behind.

Along with her satellite phone, in her pack. While she didn’t want to mention that fact, she fretted at losing the ability to call Graydon. Just knowing she had the sat phone with her had felt like a lifeline.

High overhead, Dragos’s head arched on his long, strong neck as he glanced behind them. His reply was telepathic as well. That mountainside is deserted. I’ll return soon enough for it, before anyone else has a chance to find it.

Discouragement crushed down on her. Bracing one elbow on the curve of his claw, she rested her forehead in her hand. He wasn’t just leaving the door open for a way out. He was actively planning on leaving again.

When he left again, would he let her come?

At that, the focus of her questions shifted drastically.

Would he allow her to leave him? What about Liam?

Her anxious thoughts ground to a halt. She didn’t have any answers, only questions.

They fell silent. The dragon’s powerful wingspread made short work of the distance back.

As they had talked, the moon had risen and silvery moonlight illuminated the countryside. A scattering of lights crisscrossed the land, following roads and highlighting houses. The scenery reminded her of the artwork that hung in his offices in New York.

When they neared their land, he slowed and circled, approaching the area in an oblique fashion. She had no doubt he was searching the area with all of his considerable senses, but she already knew what he would find.

Nothing, and no one. The property had been abandoned the day before, and except for a few safety lights, their house lay dark and deserted. Patiently, she waited for him to arrive at the same conclusion.

Apparently he did, for in an abrupt change of course, he landed in the wide clearing in front of the house and set her on her feet. As she watched, he changed back into his human form and strode over to take her arm again.

“A lot of people were here recently,” he said. “Where did they go?”

“We knew you weren’t thinking clearly.” Snapped at her. She closed her eyes, willing the nightmarish image away. “But we also knew the dragon might come back. I ordered everyone to stay away until I told them they could return.”

She took him up to the house. As they approached, his glittering gaze took in everything—the darkened, empty trailers a short distance away, the few cars that were still parked to one side of the house, the piles of building materials, two Caterpillar tractors resting at the edge of the nearby tree line.

Pausing on the front step, he turned to look over the clearing again, and he made a low sound of frustration at the back of his throat.

“Why do I remember some things and not others?” he muttered. “Those are cars. Those two vehicles are bulldozers. This apparatus attached to the side of the house is scaffolding. You called your friend on a satellite phone. You lit the fire with a BIC lighter. All those details are readily available, yet I wouldn’t know my own name if you hadn’t told me.”

Heart aching, she shook her head. “I don’t know. The mind is a complicated, mysterious thing. We could consult with doctors who specialize in traumatic brain injuries. They might be able to help.”

Other than giving her one quick, frowning glance, he didn’t respond to her suggestion. Instead, he grasped the doorknob and turned it. The door was unlocked. He pushed it open.

Twisting her hands together, she followed him into the house. Inside, the renovating materials—ladders, drop cloths, cans of paint and various tools—had been stacked neatly to the sides of the open spaces.

Silently, Dragos strode through the ground floor. She followed, flicking on light switches as they went.

His pace picked up until she had to trot to keep up with him. He paused in the doorway of his large, state-of-the-art office, and she hovered at his shoulder. “My scent is all over this room.”