When Time Stops: Dragon Shifter Surprise Pregnancy Romance (6 page)

I
wish
I could be surprised by this,
Isobel thought, being led into a large, opulent ballroom the next evening.

Her voice was hoarse and her throat hurt from yelling and cursing for hours on end. It had paid off, as another dragon had come to her door eventually, but the only thing he’d done while giving her a hateful look was to shove the shutter of the hole that looked out into the hallway closed.

After that, yelling had been pretty much useless.

She’d had a sleepless night, tossing and turning in her admittedly very comfortable room. Considering that her captivity had been spent surrounded by Italian marble, hardwood floors, Egyptian cotton sheets and a small fridge stocked with tasty foods, she had almost felt odd about complaining when her dress for the evening had arrived.

But that feeling had quickly passed when she realized that she was, in fact, a prisoner, being used in some cockamamie dragon scheme that no one bothered to explain to her.

Almost feels like home,
she thought, thinking about the Evans clan and how her mother, Alicia, had run her life up to this point.

Out of the frying pan and into the – apparently quite literal – fire. Isobel couldn’t really appreciate the irony, though. She’d thought she’d gotten away from greedy, self-involved dictators when she’d left her mother in the lurch, but apparently that was something that was cursed to stalk after her no matter where she went or what she did.

“And what am I supposed to do here?” Isobel asked, risking a look at the beast of a man by her side.

He had been introduced as Flite, another dragon shifter, as evident by the gold he carried in his eyes every time he looked at her. This guy was another one of the very particular specimen of men that made her skin crawl. Admittedly, all of them had been her kidnappers so far, so that probably had a lot to do with it.

Flite was lighter built than Torren and appeared younger as well. He was somewhat fidgety and looked sullen, but nevertheless he could sure fill out a suit.

The two of them stopped in front of large double doors, a servant looking at them impassively with his hands on the handles.

“You are supposed to shut up and look pretty,” Flite said.

Isobel glowered at him and Flite answered with the cockiest smirk she’d ever seen outside of a high school football victory celebration.

“What if I scream for help?” Isobel asked, running a hand over the curve of her body in a subconscious attempt to calm her fraying nerves.

Her hand stopped immediately when she saw the way Flite was following the movement. His eyes flashed deep, solid gold, with the pupils narrowing and elongating at the same time. For a moment, it looked incredibly familiar to her and Isobel swallowed dryly. She knew who it reminded her of, but she didn’t dare think of him at a time like this.

She didn’t need any additional help to feel shitty about her current situation.

“No one will come, little one. Everyone here has come to see you and be seen as well. They are all going to be competing for you and will consider you as nothing but a petulant little prize.”

Flite seemed to consider this for a moment. His smile evaporated and his gaze slicked up to Isobel’s face again, while her hands crossed over her chest where his curiosity had seemed to linger for a moment too long. It felt like he could undress her with his eyes and that it would take little more than that to have her naked and pinned down on the ground, if he so wished.

“Perhaps in that sense, it would be best if you screamed,” Flite added, leaning into Isobel.

His hot breath touched her neck and she pulled away immediately, revulsion swirling in her gut.

“Flite, stop scaring the lady,” a voice boomed behind them.

Both Isobel and Flite straightened up immediately. Isobel had to turn around to see who it was that had come to her unexpected rescue.

Like the rest of them, Isobel realized with a hint of amusement, he was impossibly tall and built like a football quarterback. His black suit fit him perfectly and though he was covered completely by the clothing, it was like Isobel could see his tight, muscular form even beneath the fabric.

It was uncanny, really. Aeon had made her think much the same, like he wore his strength and his prowess on his sleeve at all times.

His chestnut eyes were quiet and intelligent, but with an edge of something that made Isobel stand a little bit on edge despite the perfectly amiable smile he had on his face. He stopped in front of her and took her hand, never breaking eye contact even when he kissed the back of her hand softly.

His lips felt hot as fire and Isobel pulled her hand back instinctively when he let go of it.

“You must be Isobel,” he said, his voice soothing in a way.

It was like something tumbled and twisted around him all the time, some sort of an invisible aura or a cape that Isobel couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“That obvious, hmm?” Isobel asked, feeling ten kinds of ridiculous for playing along with the game of pleasantries while she was for all intents and purposes a hostage being held against her will.

“Oh, you’ll see in a moment,” he chuckled. “I am Shade Grayson. A pleasure, Isobel.”

“I wish I could say the same, but the circumstances are not in your favor,” Isobel said.

He grinned amicably enough, before looking to Flite. Shade’s eyes narrowed slightly, giving him a dangerous look. He had dark hair and a pale complexion, almost ivory in a way.

“I will take it from here,” Shade said. “Unless you mind, Isobel.”

“No, I’m good.”

She tossed Flite a look, catching the hint of annoyance Flite was doing a damn shabby job at hiding, before taking the arm Shade offered her. He felt warm to the touch.

Like Aeon.

Isobel bit her lip, willing the thoughts away. No, Aeon couldn’t be like
them
. The man she’d had the most satisfying, sexually charged and amazing night of her life couldn’t be a dragon! And most of all, he
couldn’t
have anything to do with what was happening to her now.

If he did, Isobel wasn’t entirely sure if she could hold onto her stubborn belief that somehow, everything was going to work out.

“Don’t worry. We’ll grow on you,” Shade murmured as Flite stepped out of their way and the servant moved to open the doors for them. “And you look marvelous, my dear.”

Isobel was about to counter with a comment about how it wasn’t hard to look like a million bucks when surrounded by a billion, but the words died in her throat. The doors opened to reveal the grandest ballroom she had ever seen. It put the church she had been supposed to have her wedding at to shame, right along with the most expensive reception room in the Tri-State area that they’d booked.

All shimmering crème marble, sloping awnings and delicate craftsmanship on the columns that held up the impressive structure, it was a sight to behold. But Isobel didn’t have long to look at the room itself when the eyes of tens of men were centered on her, quietly appreciating and judging her at the same time.

“Isobel Evans and Shade Grayson,” the servant called, his voice booming.

“See, I told you it would be fine,” Shade said, standing tall and proud as Isobel felt her knees buckling in.

All the men that looked at her, as she stood with Shade on the top of a wide staircase that looped down into the reception area, had fire in their eyes. She felt countless pairs of eyes evaluate and devour her, undressing her the same way Flite had, with a kind of possessive edge to it that made the hair on her neck stand up.

Breath seemed to come to her harder and shallower and Isobel had to fight the urge to clutch her chest, knowing it wouldn’t do her any good. A couple of deep breaths weren’t going to fix this situation. Nothing could, she was beginning to suspect.

She glanced down at her body and a few things became immediately clear. The dress that had been given to her for the evening was glittery and ostentatious, practically blinding her with all the glimmer on it. It looked like solid gold and considering the way that the men ate the sight of her up, she was sure it wasn’t by accident that this particular gown had been chosen for her.

The other thing that she realized was that Flite and Torren had been right. There was no one about to come to her rescue here. And the way some of them seemed to practically simmer at the sight of her, she got the distinct sense that screaming really
would
add to her appeal.

Maybe throw in a nice getaway attempt while she was at it, so they could shove her into a high tower and keep her there until she learned to behave.

“We should go and mingle,” Shade said, nudging her forward gently.

Isobel couldn’t say a word about it when the world seemed to stand still for a fleeting second around her, twisting and turning in patterns that were both completely alien to her and oh so familiar.

“Get your hands off of her,” Aeon growled, coming to a stop right in front of Shade.

So I guess I was wrong,
Isobel thought with a sinking feeling, countered by the sudden elation in her heart.
I guess it really could get worse.

The fact that her head added
and better
to the end of it was something that she was more than willing to ignore.

H
olding
his dragonfire within him instead of letting it burst forth and fry Shade into a crisp was one of the hardest things Aeon had ever had to do.

He kept his gaze steady on Shade, knowing that if he looked at Isobel, he’d come undone immediately. The moment he had stepped into the building, attending the long warmup to the introduction of the prize, he had been able to sense her somewhere near.

But it wasn’t until he had laid eyes on her that he could no longer hold onto the slim sliver of hope that he’d carried in his chest that there had been some kind of a mistake.

That it wasn’t
his
Isobel that was being carted out like prized cattle for men to stare at and to mentally lay claim on. That it wasn’t
his
Isobel that would be fought over by countless dragons with the aim to claim her.

He had never intended to take part of one of these tournaments. Now, he had no choice but to compete.

And to win.

“Aeon Prevoir! You must be the last dragon that I would have expected to see here,” Shade said, grinning pleasantly as if he had not heard what Aeon had told him.

From the corner of his eye, Aeon saw Isobel softly withdrawing her hand from Shade’s arm and Aeon’s dragon calmed down immediately. He didn’t alter his posture though, remaining right where he was, caught in a quiet battle of wills between himself and Shade Grayson.

Liar,
he thought.

There was no way that Shade, of all dragons, had not put one and one together and realized that Aeon would be here. In fact, he could bet that the only reason that Shade had sought out Isobel so quickly was to irk him.

Aeon had been asking around among the dragons that he knew would attend the event, seeing if he could scare up any additional information. While it wasn’t uncommon for dragons to do so, it was certainly a sign of something odd that it was he who was doing it.

Aeon’s disdain for the tournament was known far and wide. Almost as far and wide as his dislike for Shade Grayson. A feeling that was most certainly mutual.

“I was simply offering the lady some comfort,” Shade said with a shrug, glancing at her and making Aeon do the same.

Her gorgeous eyes met his and the breath was knocked from him. It had only been a couple of days since he’d last seen her but honestly, he could have painted her to the greatest detail without ever meeting her again. Every tiny bit of her was imprinted on his mind, there for a lifetime.

And now she was here, standing before him.

“Hey,” Isobel offered softly, smiling uncertainly.

“Hello, Isobel,” Aeon said, struggling to keep his voice level.

“Do you two know one another?” Shade asked conversationally, his posture relaxed.

One flicked glare at him had the fog dragon smirking, rolling back his shoulders.

“That is none of your concern,” Aeon said curtly, only vaguely aware that Shade was sharing the same space as he and Isobel at this point.

Shade’s brows scooted upwards, right along with the corner of his mouth. Had Aeon been paying attention to anything other than Isobel – like he had originally intended – he would have noticed the spark of malice that slithered through Shade’s entire being. Instead, he was mesmerized, just as he had been the first time he met Isobel.

“Everyone’s looking at us,” Isobel whispered, glancing behind Aeon.

Reluctantly, he turned to look at the gathering behind them. The gathered dragons were considering the situation with barely restrained curiosity, gathered in clumps and discussing the situation unfolding before them.

Spirits be cursed,
Aeon thought, irritation rumbling within him.

“Everyone’s looking at
you
, my dear,” Shade purred, smiling slyly at Isobel.

Merely seeing Shade lean closer to Isobel was enough to make Aeon’s dragon erupt within him, roaring with pained annoyance. It resonated as a growl from the back of his throat, one that made Shade grin even wider.

“Come, you need to make your rounds,” Aeon said, offering his arm to Isobel.

“I think I’m good,” she said, a note of hardness in her tone.

She turned down his arm and descended down the stairs, her head held high, leaving the two dragons to stare after her. Aeon’s mind skipped a beat.

How does she do that?

Once again, the peculiar little beauty had thrown Aeon a curveball he couldn’t have seen coming. And once again, Aeon was left wondering how the hell something like that could ever happen.

“Interesting prize this year,” Shade murmured, clapping his hands together behind his back. “And it’s even more interesting that you’ve made it into our modest inner circle. I thought these events weren’t for the likes of you, Aeon.”

Aeon took a deep breath, keeping his eye on Isobel as she seemed to meld seamlessly into the crowd that was there only to see her. The nervous energy he had scented on her was suddenly gone as if it had never been there to begin with and Aeon was left to only shake his head in wonderment.

There was no way that she could be
happy
about this, could she?

Aeon knew enough about how most of these women were procured for the tournaments to assume that no one in their right mind would be content with it initially. It was only later that most dragons won their prizes over, showing them the kind of lifestyle and pleasure that no ordinary man could.

Maybe I’m wrong. Wrong about her.

The thought did not sit right with him at all.

He flicked his gaze to Shade, who was waiting patiently, Isobel seemingly forgotten. Aeon could sense the fog billowing around the dragon Alpha of the Grayson family. Shade’s father had passed around the same time that Chronos had and similarly to Aeon, Shade had taken over the reins of the family and its fortunes.

There was no love lost between the two families and curiously enough, it had all begun centuries ago at an event much like this. Dragon grudges could definitely stand the test of time.

Especially the grudges being held by or against time dragons. Time seemed to really slow down on those.

Forefathers of the Prevoir and Grayson lines had gone head to head in a tournament quite like this one, for the hand of a princess. It was down to the third challenge, with the Prevoir and Grayson dragons as the last men standing. Instead of fighting fairly, using his strength and skill, the Grayson dragon called upon his brethren to aid him in the challenge.

Though they could never prove it, the Prevoir dragons knew that the Graysons in attendance had all focused their powers against the time dragon. The fog dragons could create and manipulate fog in a way in which it turned solid, creating binds, walls and whatever else they could think of out of it.

At that challenge, the Prevoir dragon had been tied down with these fog ropes, bound into place while the Grayson forefather defeated him. One on one, they would have been in for an equal fight. But one Prevoir against the Grayson clan? Defeat had come easily enough.

It was that kind of deceitfulness that they were known for and as far as Aeon was concerned, that defining characteristic had not changed at all over the centuries. They were still conniving, untrustworthy dragons and Aeon had no respect for them.

“I’ve found myself with an excess of time,” Aeon said evenly. “As such I thought to come see what my dragon brothers have been so enthralled by over the years.”

As he said that, a burst of laughter caught the ears of both Aeon and Shade, making them look down on the reception floor. Isobel was in the center of a crowd of admirers, standing around her like a forest of redwood. She was laughing and apparently telling a story of some kind in an animated fashion.

A sharp tug of pain burst through Aeon’s chest as she gave a coquettish smile to a young heir of the European Goldplains branch, the young golden healing dragon obviously puffing up with the attention he was shown. It was only when he caught the way she glanced upwards from under her lashes, at him, that Aeon could find himself capable of taking a breath again.

I need to talk to her.

“And what a year you’ve chosen for it, Aeon. May the spirits be with you,” Shade said, giving him a knowing smile that had no warmth to it, before heading down the steps.

Aeon didn’t return the well-wishes. While Shade may have been perfectly comfortable with saying things he did not mean, it did not come so easily for Aeon. Even the comment about why he had chosen to come to the ball had been cemented in truth. After all, he could not have been sure of whether the information he had received was correct before he truly saw Isobel here.

Avoiding anyone else coming to wring him for information on why he was there, Aeon quietly stalked down the steps, his hands shoved into his pockets. He would bide his time and try to catch Isobel when she was not surrounded by the rest of the eligible bachelors of the European dragon community.

A moment which he sorely hoped would come this night.

Aeon Prevoir was not used to feeling doubtful, or unsure of himself. Tonight, however, he was feeling little else.

Well, the abovementioned, and jealous. Really,
really
jealous of every dragon allowed to breathe the same air or occupy the same space as Isobel currently was.

Another emotion he was not used to.