Soul of the Dragon Read online

  She thought quickly. “I don’t think you have room for me. I can make other arrangements.”

  “We have three bedrooms,” Victoria pitched in from the closet where she was hanging the rest of Aunt Ethel’s new clothes. “We’d feel much better if you stay with us.”

  Alexa felt trapped. “The truth is, I’m still on a job. I’ll be in and out, and at all hours. I really—”

  “You quit.”

  She looked at her father. “What?”

  “You can’t be on a job. You told me you quit GenCom.”

  She used to be much better at this, she thought. A few days out of work, and she’d lost her touch. All her touches.

  “It’s private work. I can’t talk about it.”

  “Have dinner with us, anyway,” Victoria begged, her arms wrapped around a navy cardigan sweater. “I haven’t seen you in so long, and I’d love to catch up a little.”

  Alexa could just imagine that scenario. I’m fighting a fire mage to win the life of my soulmate, who happens to be a dragon. He’s the one who torched the house. The mage, not the dragon. We’re at a stalemate, but that’s okay because I discovered his weakness. When it’s over, hopefully my dragon will be a man and we’ll live happily ever after. And then Victoria would faint.

  But it didn’t look like she was going to get out of dinner, so she hustled them down the street to a diner and told the waitress they’d order right away. Her father glared at her, but Peter seemed to think they shouldn’t push their luck and went with it. Victoria, of course, followed his lead, right down to ordering onions with her steak.

  “So, Vic, your brother’s back. That’s pretty incredible.” Alexa set her wrapped silverware to the side and propped her chin in her hand. “You haven’t heard from him in all these years, huh?”

  “Twenty-one, to be exact.” Her gaze flicked to Paul, who sat next to Alexa, and she began to fuss with her napkin and straw and silverware. “Actually, Tars disappeared the same month your mother died.” She looked up at Peter. “We’ve talked about it. What a tragic time.”

  Alexa refrained from voicing her opinion that losing a mother as wonderful as Diane Ranger was much more traumatic than losing a jerko brother like Tars.

  “What was he like back then?” she asked. “I don’t remember him, though I know he’s my age.”

  “He was sweet. Mom and Dad sent him to private school, I think because Mom didn’t like to be reminded of her predecessor.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. The corners of her mouth pulled down and Alexa could read pity in her expression. “He was so nice to me, though. He drew me pictures, and took me to the movies, and taught me how to light a match.”

  She looked up, horror making an “O” of her mouth. “My goodness, I’m sorry! What a terrible thing to say!”

  “It’s okay,” Alexa assured her, nudging her father’s ankle with her foot when he harrumphed. “Have you and Peter decided on a date yet?”

  Now it was her turn to have her ankle dented. Paul rattled the newspaper he was reading and lifted it higher.

  “We’d narrowed it down but it’s back up in the air,” Peter explained. “We’ve got time.”

  “A lifetime,” Victoria murmured, obviously rubbing Peter’s knee while she gazed adoringly at him. Alexa would have made a barfing gesture if the younger woman hadn’t turned back to her. Victoria squared her shoulders and sat up straighter. Alexa raised her eyebrows, wondering what she needed courage for.

  “Alexa, I know your father is not exactly approving of our marriage.” Paul harrumphed again but Victoria ignored him and continued. “I just want you to know, since the trust is half yours—”

  “It’s not,” Alexa corrected her. “It’s all Peter’s.”

  Paul slapped the newspaper to the table. “Whatcha tellin’ her that for? It’ll just encourage her,” he complained.

  Victoria matched him glare for glare. “As I was saying, Mr. Ranger, I have agreed to sign a prenuptial agreement to protect your son’s inheritance. He thinks it’s unnecessary, but I insist. I don’t want any doubts hanging over the start of our life together. How many times do I have to say it?” She leaned over the table. “I love your son. He loves me. There are no ulterior motives here, and if you persist in believing the opposite you will do more damage to your relationship with Peter than you have already done. And I won’t stand for that. You’ve caused him enough pain.”

  Well, well, well. The kitten had claws. Alexa could have been impressed, but the show actually served only to stir her suspicions again. A woman who could speak this plainly and ferociously couldn’t be the meek follower she acted like otherwise. It wasn’t out of the question that Tars had set his sister up as a mole. She could be, innocently or not, part of his overall plan. It didn’t explain why he’d shown his hand, though…

  They ended up eating in relative silence. Alexa tried to compartmentalize her thoughts, but logistics for helping her family through this warred with ideas for using Victoria as an inadvertent double agent, and both were intertwined with concern for Cyrgyn, alone in the damp woods, and for Ryc, who hadn’t reappeared all day.

  By the time the check was paid she was exhausted. She followed her father out of the booth and stretched. “Thanks for the meal. Gotta go.” She dragged her duffel bag from under the table and kissed her father on the cheek.

  “Wait,” he called after her, but she shook her head.

  “I really, really have to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She took off before they could catch her again and half ran to the footpath entering the woods. The sky was clouded but twilight had just descended, so she had enough light to see where she was going and enough training in wooded terrain to go the last mile in the dark without too much difficulty.

  When she reached the small clearing where Cyrgyn had landed earlier that day—was it still that day? God, so much had happened in such a few hours—she saw no sign of him. He was certainly cloaked, but the ground held no claw marks, the trees displayed no broken branches, and the underbrush around the perimeter looked undisturbed.

  She spun, wondering if she had the right clearing. But the path she’d taken had a sharp left hook at its beginning, so she knew she was in the right place.

  Hoping he’d gone hunting, she dropped her duffel next to a fallen log and zipped her jacket. Tomorrow would be enough time to plan. Now, she would sleep.

  She settled with her back against the log and the duffel under her head, wrapped her arms across her chest, and dropped off.

  * * *

  That was how Ryc found her the next morning. He stood next to a tree about ten feet away and watched her. She didn’t move, didn’t look like she had moved all night. The leaves around her weren’t disturbed. Her chest barely rose as she breathed. If he wasn’t so in tune to her, he wouldn’t have found her.

  He wasn’t sure why he’d come here this morning. He wasn’t really looking for her, as he’d expected her to stay in a hotel. Not here, waiting for Cyrgyn.

  He rubbed his chest again, still feeling the sting of betrayal. That she would even consider giving in to Tarsuinn…

  Her eyes popped open and focused right on him. She scanned the area before she moved, then rose to her feet as gracefully as if she’d just sat down instead of lying unmoving for the better part of the night.

  “Good morning,” she greeted him, sounding like she’d been awake for hours already. Resentment burned the back of his throat. She stretched her arms over her head, yawning and arching her back. Her white sweater that he hadn’t even noticed yesterday outlined her breasts and lifted enough to flash her belly button at him. Her hair, usually in a ponytail, framed her face and made her look younger and sweeter.

  But he couldn’t get the image of her and Tarsuinn out of his head.

  “How’s Cyrgyn?” Alexa crouched and unzipped her duffel. “Did you find him?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “Where is he?” She squinted at the sky. “He can’t cloak when it’
s this bright.”

  “He’s hidden. Don’t worry.” He watched her slide her hands over her hair and snap a band over the ponytail. The tough chick was back.

  She stood and grinned at him. “Hey! Guess what I found out yesterday?”

  Ryc folded his arms and leaned against a tree. “What?”

  “I’m a water mage.”

  He laughed, then realized she was serious. “What are you talking about?”

  “Tars’ trademark is controlling thermal energy, right?”

  “Well, not exclusively.”

  “Of course not, but that’s his power play.”

  Since he’d destroyed more of Alexa’s life than she realized with those fireballs, Ryc had to agree.

  Alexa pulled a shirt from her bag and went behind a screen of bushes. “Yesterday I got angry and lashed out. But I couldn’t find any energy to use.” Her sweater landed on top of the bush and Ryc swallowed hard, trying to keep his mind on the conversation.

  “What were you going to do with it?”

  “I don’t know.” She came around the bush, buttoning the shirt. Her taut abdomen was exposed again. He didn’t breathe until she covered it.

  Damn. He shook his head abruptly. Yesterday afternoon he’d have sworn all he felt for her was disgust. This morning, he wanted to lay her back down in the leaves.

  “Anyway, there was a coil of energy on the ground. I didn’t examine it, just threw it at him. He got wet, and it burned him. The way the thermal energy burned my brain.”

  Ryc nodded. “It makes sense. Fire versus water. Strength balances weakness.”

  Alexa frowned and perched on the fallen log. “But I blocked his fireball unintentionally. And he was completely surprised by what happened yesterday. Since he knows magic and I didn’t, it doesn’t make much sense.”

  Ryc was more interested in why she’d been flinging stuff at him in the first place.

  “What were you upset about?”

  She shrugged. “A difference in perspective. It doesn’t matter.”

  It damn well did matter, but Ryc wasn’t ready to admit to following her. He sighed and sat next to her on the log. “Alexa, what do you want to accomplish with this? Fighting him might not get Cyrgyn back.”

  “I know.” She seemed to deflate; her head and shoulders sank a few inches. “To be honest, Ryc, I have no clue how to do this. I think the only way I can get Tars to reverse the curse is to go with him—‘become his,’ as he would put it. But Cyrgyn would freak at that, and Tars wouldn’t even go for it.”

  That surprised Ryc. He would have thought the mage would take Alexa any way he could get her.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Because I said the only way he could have me is if he changed Cyrgyn in front of me, permanently. Tars said Cyrgyn wouldn’t allow it. He actually admitted he’d made a mistake casting the curse in the first place.”

  Sure he did. “But he won’t rectify that mistake now?”

  “No. I think he’s mad.”

  “Well, every time you defy him—”

  “Not angry. Crazy.” She stood and strode a few feet away, then turned. “He speaks sincerely, even compassionately, then gets this light in his eyes that looks completely insane. Then he starts sounding like the evil mage.”

  “So I ask again. What do you think you can do to—”

  “I don’t know!” Alexa began circling the clearing with long, frustrated strides. “I know eighteen ways to kill a person without obvious signs and before they even know I’m there. But if I kill him, Cyrgyn loses. If I try, he may kill me, and Cyrgyn loses. If I convince Tars to reverse the curse by becoming his, Cyrgyn loses.” Tears welled in her eyes and Ryc watched, stunned, as she broke down completely.

  “I can’t bear the thought of Cyrgyn being alone forever. Or even for the rest of his life. He’s been alone so long.” She lifted her hands to her face and sobbed. Despite himself, Ryc stood and wrapped his arms around her. Alexa buried her face in his shoulder and shook as she cried. Ryc pressed one hand to the back of her neck. The other rubbed her shoulder blades in small circles. It was amazing how feminine and fragile she was up close. From a distance, she seemed invincible.

  “It’ll be okay, Alexa.”

  “How?” She lifted her face, but even under the tear tracks and red splotches, she held the confidence and strength that had been so encouraging before.

  “I don’t know.” He smoothed her cheek dry with his thumb.

  “It was a rhetorical question.”

  One corner of his mouth curled upward. “I know.” He rubbed his other thumb across her other cheek. “We will find a way, Alexa.” He bent his head closer to look into her eyes. “We will.”

  In an instant something changed. Alexa refocused on him instead of inward, and with that focus came awareness. He felt her body tense, his own respond. He clenched his jaw to keep from kissing her. From branding her. The more he was with her, the more he wanted to make her his. Even when he thought she was betraying her soulmate.

  He let her go and she immediately retreated to her duffel bag, stuffing her sweater into it and zipping it up. “Well, if Cyrgyn isn’t going to risk discovery by venturing out this morning, I guess I’ll go get Aunt Ethel.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  She tossed the duffel over her shoulder. Her ponytail swung and she gave him a cocky smile. “You might not want to do that. Aunt Ethel suspects I’m gay. If I bring a hunk of man like you around, she’ll either assume you’re gay, too, or she’ll be planning the wedding because I’m not.”

  Ryc laughed. He imagined that kind of interaction was normal, but it was new to him. He wouldn’t miss it, and told her so.

  “My car is out this way.” He steered her to the proper path, then followed since she seemed to know the woods so well. She strode ahead without looking back, knowing he’d be right behind her. Like a sidekick. He grimaced, not liking that role much, but willing to play the part to stay near her.

  Just to keep her safe, of course.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Finding retreat the smarter of his potential choices, Tars gave his sister a business excuse and flew back to St. Paul. He went straight to Dragonsoul headquarters and took the executive elevator to the penthouse apartment behind his office. Dealing with business—or Mark—was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

  When he was finally completely alone and confident he wouldn’t be disturbed, he changed from his rumpled travel wear and put on the loose-fitting cotton pants and v-necked shirt he wore when practicing the Eastern arts. Some of their disciplines enabled him to refocus and regenerate more quickly.

  He began with simple meditation and moved into his favorite yoga positions. Once his body felt relaxed and limber, he sat in the center of the floor and closed his eyes.

  He could still see the room around him, but now he also saw a dark box containing swirls of white energy, coils drifting like cirrus clouds above and behind him. He counted six heat sinks, pockets that attracted the thermal energy. But though he searched and searched, and tried to reprogram his mind to detect something he hadn’t known was there, he couldn’t see any water energy.

  He knew it existed, intellectually. The earth balanced herself, so if there was fire-based energy, there had to be water-based energy as well. The wisps of white were atmospheric—of air—while rare clumps of earthen energy collected on the ground. Tars had discovered and used it all. The water energy had eluded him, however. Apparently, it would continue to do so.

  He rose and walked barefoot to his kitchenette. It was possible there was none in his apartment, but he suspected that wasn’t the problem.

  He needed another mage, he thought, pouring orange juice from a crystal decanter in the refrigerator. But the only person he trusted at all was Mark, and the man had no knowledge of Tars’ true powers, never mind any magical talents of his own. He’d have to find some other way to combat whatever Alexa had in store for him.

  It felt quite foreig
n to be in need of training.

  When Tars had been a young child, he’d thrown typical toddler tantrums, with unusual results. As soon as he was old enough to understand what was happening, he’d worked to develop his talents. Slowly, memories of the past came back to him, and somewhere around age eleven he’d remembered it all. Alexa, Cyrgyn, the curse, the lives in between. He’d approached Alexa, expecting her to remember, as well, and confident as only a child can be that he could convince her to be his. That attempt had ended…badly. Knowing he had to prepare and that his family and the town in which they lived would be restrictive, he’d run away.

  At least, they’d seen it as running away, but he’d known he was running to something. He made his way to Scotland, where he met an old man with the old ways who was willing to apprentice him.

  Tars had never told him why he needed assistance. The man had died believing he left a legacy, a surrogate son to carry on tradition.

  When Tars reached adulthood, he regained even more of the strength he’d developed over three lifetimes. He found Alexa again and discovered she was still completely unaware of their past. This time he knew the value of patience, and he’d used his brilliance to build Dragonsoul Enterprises to what it was today, eventually acquiring Alexa’s employer and keeping close watch on her.

  He’d known, as Cyrgyn apparently had, when she was ready. But the dragon had gotten to her first.

  Tars placed his glass in the sink and went to take a shower. Somehow, he had to develop a plan that would work. Somehow, he would make Alexa his. Without releasing that damned dragon.

  * * *

  Alexa found it surprisingly easy to settle her aunt in the hotel suite. Finally acknowledging that his presence would be awkward, Ryc made himself scarce while she collected Aunt Ethel from the hospital. Peter and Victoria prepared and froze a few meals while she did. Her father kept his grumbling to a minimum and even thanked Victoria for her assistance. The young woman graciously accepted.