Artistic Vision (9 page)

Sidhe Blades used it to mine information from unsuspecting targets. Etienne would ensure that Tristan fully believed Akane had pleasured him into a stupor before slipping away into the night.

She let him place his hand at the small of her back as they walked out of the restaurant. All of Akane’s appetites had been sated. Tristan’s were still on the edge. “So I’ll follow you back to your place?”

“No need. I think we can take one car, don’t you?”

Something about the way Tristan said it had her dragon senses tingling. The Sidhe was up to no good, and getting in his car would be a mistake. “Oh, but I wanted to make sure I still had my car, remember?”

Tristan tipped her face up. “Trust me. It won’t be necessary.”

That sounded strangely like a threat. Akane gripped his wrist and pushed his hand away, much to his shock. “Oh, I think it will.”

When he shoved her back she nearly fell. “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to tonight.”
 

For some reason she wasn’t surprised when the weapons came out, two silver blades finely honed to a wicked edge. “Nice.” She whipped out her own blade and kicked off her heels. “Bad spot for this, though. Wouldn’t do to let the local yokels get a look.”

“At these? Hell, around here they’re pocket knives.” He slashed out, humming happily when she dodged out of his way. “God, you are the hottest thing on two legs.”

“Should I try for four?”

“Even these people aren’t
that
blind, sweetheart.” He lunged, attempting to disarm her, his off-hand blade shielding him.
 

Akane blocked his blow and swiped at his face with
her
off hand, her black claws drawing blood. “Oopsie. Tristan gots a boo-boo.”

“So does Etienne.”
 

Their swords clashed together, the sound strangely muffled. Tristan had to be hiding them from the humans coming and going from the restaurant. It was the only explanation.
 

Hell, if he wanted to tire himself out on illusions who was she to argue?

She glared at him. “What did you do to Etienne?”

“Nothing permanent. Yet.” He slashed at her side, drawing a thin, bloody line through her favorite shirt. “Who do you work for?”

“Robin Goodfellow. And you? Seen
Her
recently, you Black Court son of a bitch?”

His swords faltered for a moment before he clumsily blocked her blow. “The Dark Queen does not know my face. Can the same be said for yours?”

She slashed at him, driving him back a step. “Puh-lease. Have you met anyone of the Black Court who’d dare say Robin’s name?”

“Say it, yes. But will they sing it?”

As she blinked in shock he disarmed her. The point of his blade rested against her throat. “Sing, little dragon.”

Akane saw red. Her hair lifted off her neck, forming her dragon’s ruff. Her horns pierced through the midnight strands. It was time to break out the big guns. “Eat shit and die, tapeworm.”
 

“Fuck.” Tristan thrust at her throat but it was too late. Akane had shifted. The blade bounced harmlessly off her hide.

Akane bared her fangs at the pale Sidhe. “You were saying?”

Tristan dropped his sword and put his hands behind his head. They were useless against her now, and he must know that. “Just so you know I’m not the only one she sent.”

“Who else?”

He scowled. “No fucking way I’m giving up my partner to you, scum.”

“Scum? I’m not the one working for the Black, asshole!” Akane’s head tilted. “Well.” She sat on her haunches and lifted her back paw, absently scratching an itch behind her ear. “Damn. You work for Glorianna, don’t you?”

Tristan eyed her curiously. “Are you that limber in your human form?”

Akane’s paw dropped. “Don’t make me eat you.”

He grinned.

“In the you-are-crunchy-and-taste-good-with-ketchup way.”

The grin turned wicked. “You are that limber, then.” He eyed her, nose to snout. “Can I lower my arms now?”

She puffed out some smoke, holding her amusement when he coughed. “Where’s Etienne?”

“The trunk of my car.” When she sighed wearily he shrugged and asked, “Where would you have put him?”

Akane shifted back, adjusting her skirt before he got too good a look at the Promised Land. “You do know you shoved a Knight of Oberon in your trunk.”

“Prove it.”

“Sure.” She held up her phone and lit it up. Her finger hovered over the number two. “I have Robin Goodfellow on speed dial.”

“Let me dig out my keys.”

It didn’t take long to get a groggy Etienne out of the trunk of Tristan’s car and into the back seat of hers. She dropped him off at the hotel room before following a much quieter Tristan to a secluded spot where, if they fought again, no humans would be accidentally barbecued. Tristan, apparently willing to work with her, even let her car block his on the dirt road.
 

“I have a peace offering, if you’re willing.” Tristan held up a bottle of Goldschläger enticingly.

“Dragons don’t get drunk.” Their bodies burned off the booze way too quickly.

“But you do enjoy a good buzz, don’t you?” He shook the bottle. “C’mon. I brought the good stuff. Only the best for my faux dates.”
 

She eyed the bottle warily. Goldschläger didn’t contain enough real gold to give her problems, but he could have tainted the alcohol some other way. “You first.”

He twisted off the cap and took a healthy swig. He shuddered and held out the bottle. “Now you.”

Akane took the offered bottle and sniffed delicately at the neck, looking for signs of poison. The scent of cinnamon liquor hit her, warm and enticing. She could detect the faintest hint of gold in the bottle and she salivated. Her body damn near vibrated at the metallic scent that permeated the liquid.
 

Tristan held his arms out to the sides, obviously
not
reaching for some form of antidote. She had no sensation that her senses were being tampered with.

Akane took a swig, shivering as gold-laced fire raced down her throat. “Mmm.” She rubbed the bottle against her, almost wishing it was the liquor itself.

“Whoa.” Tristan lowered his arms slightly and stepped forward. “Lemme double-check that bottle.”

Akane hissed at him, hugging the bottle closer.

“Alrighty then. You just hold that for now, ’kay?” Tristan’s hands went back up.
 

Akane eyed the Sidhe. She didn’t trust him. He was going to take her gold away.
 

As if she’d let him.

Akane lifted the bottle to her lips and proceeded to down it like she was a five-year-old drinking the last glass of sweet tea on a hot summer day.
 

“Good girl.” Tristan lowered his arms and took a step forward. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this now, but that’s not really Goldschläger.”
 

Akane tilted her head. Gods, he was a pretty, pretty man. Moonlight silvered his golden hair, kissed his pale skin. Something inside her throbbed at the thought of having him between her thighs.

Then the light hit his gray eyes, and Akane blinked. No. This wasn’t the pretty man she wanted. This was someone else.

She wanted the pretty man with the sapphire eyes and the smooth, rich voice. That voice alone could make her come if it whispered the right words.

Akane took a step back. “Then what is it?” Arousal tightened her belly, threatened to put her on her back for the wrong person.

“You see, Goldschläger dilutes the gold it puts into its liquor, and that wouldn’t do for what I had in mind.” Tristan reached out and touched her hair, tugging gently. Akane shook her head, freeing herself. “This is Gold
wasser
. Direct from the original factory.” He poked the bottle and earned himself another possessive growl. “The gold in there is twenty-four carat and utterly pure.”

Akane blinked. Oh. That would explain a lot.

“Once I figured out you were a dragon, I knew the best way to immobilize you would be to have you drink gold.” Tristan stroked his hand down her cheek, blinking when she moaned. “But the effects aren’t quite what I had intended. I merely meant to knock you out for a while, not send you into heat. Apparently my research was… insufficient.” He took a step back. “Akane?”

She was trembling with want, desperate for touch, even his. “I need.”

“I would provide, but I have the feeling you’d hate me in the morning.” He smiled sadly. “Besides, you’ve already been Claimed. If you want this fire doused, you need to find your mate. He’s the only one who can ease the heat.”

What? “How do you know that?”

“Any Sidhe can see it, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” Her teeth were chattering, the arousal climbing to painful levels. “I
hurt.
”

“Whether you believe it or not, I’m sorry for that. It wasn’t my intention, despite how it looks.” Tristan leaned against a tree and sighed. She could scent his arousal.
 
He wanted her, but he held up his hand with a look of regret. “Fly home, little bird. There’s a warm hand waiting for you to land in.”

With a shriek of despair Akane shifted, spread her wings, and flew where she needed to be.

Home.

Shane stretched wearily. Cleaning up the studio always seemed to take forever, and after a day following his father around the farm the last thing he’d wanted to do was come back and sweep up metal shavings and glass shards. But if Akane was going to be coming back here there was no way he’d leave the dangerous pieces around for her to cut herself on.

He put the broom back in the closet and headed for the shower, eager to wash off the dirt of the day. He couldn’t wait until his little dragon showed up. He planned on giving her the present he’d made, the puzzle box gleaming all by itself on one of the empty pedestals in the display section of his studio. Akane would adore it, and if he kept slowly reeling her in without scaring her she’d eventually love the prize inside.
 

A deep, feral growl rumbled through the studio. It bounced off the walls, echoed in the high places. Shane wasn’t certain where it came from, but he knew who it was.

It seemed that, for some unknown reason, Akane was seriously pissed at him.
 

“
A ghrá
?”

A low rumbling sound was his only answer.

“If you tell me what I’ve done wrong I’ll endeavor to fix it.” He tipped back the silly cowboy hat he’d stolen from Robin and stared up into the rafters. Was she there, perched, staring down at him?

“Shane.”

He whipped around, stunned by the pain in her voice. “Akane.”

She stood behind him, panting, arms crossed over her chest. Her horns peeked out of her hair. Her pupils were dilated, the hazel star in her left eye almost obscured. She was trembling hard enough that he feared for her bones.

Shane fought the rage that exploded at the sight. “Who hurt you?”

She took a step toward him and froze. She sniffed deeply. Her head fell back, a look of sheer bliss crossing her face. “Oh yes.” A predatory smile lit her face, her gaze focusing on his body. The trembling stopped. Her arms fell to her sides as she tilted her head, watching him, waiting for him to do…something. He could sense the tension in his mate as she inched closer to him. “I need.”

Only then did he understand what must have happened. Once he’d realized his mate would be a dragon he’d learned as much as he could about them. “That fucker fed you gold, didn’t he?”

Akane nodded, the movement more of a promise than an answer. She crooked her finger at him. The golden star in her left eye glittered dangerously.

“Why, Grandma, what big eyes you have.” Shane stepped back a pace. “If you do this, you’ll hate me in the morning.”

Akane ran her palms across her breasts, and really? That was so not fair. Shane had been dreaming about what color her nipples might be from the moment he met her. She licked her lips, her fingers inching toward the hem of her shirt.

“Oh, now. Hold on there.” Shane held up his hands. “There’s got to be another way. Maybe if we put you to sleep we can ride it out until the gold is out of your system.”

She shook her head. “Want you.” The shirt went flying, and Shane got his first glimpse of her underwear.
 

White. She’d worn white, sheer lace to a date with another man. Shane could clearly see her nipples now, like warm chocolate kisses had melted on the tips of her breasts. He’d always been a sucker for white lace. “Oh fuck me.”

“Good idea.” Akane pounced.
 

“Whoa!” Shane caught her before they both hit the floor. “Okay,
a stór
.” Her legs wrapped around his waist, and damn it, those full lips attached themselves to his neck and proceeded to shut down his forebrain. “Um. Yes. Sleeping it off would be…” He shuddered as her talented lips worked themselves down his neck. His cock beat an insistent tattoo against his zipper, eager to get the party started. “Later.”

Shane turned and started to carry her to the bedroom, his only thought to see if her panties matched her bra. If they did, he was a dead man. His dragon would devour him, and he’d go happily into
that
good night, thank you.

Shane almost dropped them both to the floor when Akane began dry humping him. Purr-like sounds poured from her throat as she ground against him. Sheer lust killed what little was left of his thoughts. Need rode him hard, the knowledge that his mate was willing in his arms overriding everything else.

Shane dumped her ass on the edge of his work table, the one he used to conjure raw materials. It was clean and bare, and thank the gods he’d done that earlier or she’d have splinters in her ass when he was through with her. He ripped her skirt off, groaning at the sight of the sheer lace, white panties. He gripped her inner thighs and pushed her legs as wide as they would go. He leaned down and licked her through those sheer panties, groaning at the warm taste of his mate. Her flavor burst across his tongue even through the lace.
 

Akane leaned back and propped her heels on the edge of the table, holding herself spread open. Her toes curled. “Mmm.”