DragonMate (2 page)

He bowed low to Marika, seeing compassion and curiosity in her face and gaining confidence that his decision to trust her was the correct one. “May I have a word in private with you?”

Had he not already agreed to name Xanthus his heir, it would have been a dangerous, outrageous request for one male to make of another. Despite their tie by blood, they were essentially strangers to one another.

The answer came in a growl from the Sjen along with a matching one from Xanthus. Marika touched both of their arms, soothing them automatically, and Kirill could tell they spoke in the way of bonded mates, mind-to-mind.

The Sjen took the form of a cat no larger than a rabbit then left the outer chamber by way of a small fissure in the rock. Xanthus released the magic holding him into a human form and launched into the air to glide and circle above the canyon as a dragon.

“Thank you,” Kirill said, spine stiffening to counter his sudden awkwardness over the nature of his problem.

“Would you care to sit?” Marika asked, a wave of her hand indicating a museum-quality Oriental rug on the floor.

Kirill nodded and followed her deeper into the lair. The carpet was littered with plush cushions but she pushed them away in favor of sitting cross-legged. He matched her pose, though he couldn’t mimic her calmness. For the first time in memory, his tongue felt tied to the bottom of his mouth, held useless there like a fledgling whose wings were still too weak for first flight.

Thankfully she took pity on him. “You’ve been cursed?”

Kirill only barely resisted the urge to look down at his flaccid cock. Was it obvious despite the clothing created by his magic?

Of course it was. Marika would stir any male to life.

He felt heat rise to his face, shame and embarrassment and dragon fury. If he hadn’t already incinerated the sorcerer…

Kirill took a deep breath then exhaled carefully to ensure only air emerged. “Yes.”

The Drui nodded. “I thought so. Granted, I haven’t met many dragons, but all of them except for you have carried what I think of as a signature energy pattern around them. What was the curse?”

Kirill closed his eyes, almost preferring to have the Great Shared Ancestor call him home in that instant rather than be forced to say the word.

The image of his waiting mate gave him the strength to proceed. “Impotence.”

A heartbeat passed. Then a second and a third. Plenty of time for the Drui to compose her features before he opened his eyes and looked at her again. “Can you undo the curse?”

“I need to know more about it first. Was witchcraft used, or sorcery?”

“Sorcery.”

“How was it cast?”

“With words delivered on lightning bolts shot from his fingertips.”

Kirill’s nostrils flared as he remembered them striking him in the region of his hidden genitals, icy cold spears that caused him to drop the mirror he clutched into the ocean surf and very nearly follow it into the water.

Centuries of reading ancient magical tomes in the vain attempt to locate a counterspell allowed him to anticipate her next question. “The sorcerer wasn’t known to me personally, nor was I known to him. It was a chance encounter.”

Marika held her hand out, palm up, and he obeyed her silent command, placing his own palm down on hers. Feminine lips pursed in contemplation. Her eyelids lowered and he hardly dared to breathe as he waited for her verdict.

A slight nod made his heart leap. Dark eyes met his. “You’ve heard that the Chalice of Enos has been claimed and is being kept at Drake’s Lair?”

“Yes.”

“Then you won’t really need an heir, will you?”

Heat coursed through his bloodstream as he envisioned his mate swelling with their offspring. Hope blossomed further in his chest. “You can cure me of the curse?”

“Yes.” She met his eyes directly. “It’s weakening. Two hundred, three hundred years from now and it will probably be gone.”

Surprise took his breath. A dragon female never would have given up such a powerful bargaining chip.

Of course, he had no intention of waiting two or three hundred years. By his calculations, he would soon have only barely enough time to get to the human realm and the location where his mate would be. If he missed her, then she would become the subject of a hunt that might last for years.

“I have agreed to name Xanthus my heir. I will honor my word though our agreement hasn’t yet been formalized by blood-oath.”

“Xanthus said you intended to travel. Do you mean to leave this realm and remain in another?”

Kirill shuddered at the thought of living in the mortal world. “I plan to leave, but only long enough to collect the treasure waiting for me and return.”

Marika’s smile said she easily guessed the exact nature of his treasure. Her fingers curled around his and she leaned forward, unconsciously forcing him to do the same so their faces were only inches apart.

“Family is important to the Drui. When the time is right, I’ll have children. They would enjoy the company of cousins in this realm, your children, Kirill, companions to fly and climb and explore with.

“You know Xanthus doesn’t covet your treasure or your land. He wants only to ensure that his grandmother can pass to and from the portal at will. This isn’t my world, nor is it Tallis’, or even Xanthus’ any longer. Our life is among humans. My days of wanderlust are done with and it’s time for me to do what my kind has always done, serve the land by healing its people.”

Kirill inhaled, taking in the scent of magic. He had known it would come to this.

Dragon instinct railed against letting a Drui leave this realm. And yet the vision Marika’s words evoked, not only of a cure allowing him to sire children but a connection allowing him to be part of an extended family, made him ache with longing. He’d been alone for centuries, self-exiled because of his search for a way to break the curse.

“I will let it be known that I no longer seek an heir. I will enter it into the pledge records that for as long as I, or any of my blood, hold the land at the end of the valley, Xanthus’ direct ancestors, mates and descendants may pass unhindered and without payment of tribute.”

“Thank you,” Marika said, her hand tightening on his before she released it to remove a small oak seed from her locket. “Xanthus is bringing soil from the valley. When he gets here, we’ll begin.”

The Sjen slid through the crevice he’d disappeared into. Cat form gave way to human form. Kirill acknowledged Marika’s introduction of Tallis as Xanthus landed at the edge of the lair and also shifted, being careful not to lose the dirt grasped in his fist.

He joined them, kneeling on the carpet and transferring the earth to Marika’s cupped hand. She placed the seed into the dirt then took Kirill’s hand once again.

“Since the spell cast on you has slowly been dissipating, I’m not sure how obvious my drawing the rest of it away will be to you. It might be best if you concentrate on your upcoming journey and the treasure you intend to return with so we will both be confident the curse has been removed.”

Kirill nodded. Fantasizing about his soon-to-be-claimed mate came easily to him though he didn’t look away from Marika.

She closed her eyes and at first he felt nothing. Saw nothing.

Then slowly there was a tingling in his nether regions, a thawing that had him wishing he’d returned to his first form, where his penis was sheathed inside his body and wouldn’t emerge unless pressed to an opening or forced out by thrusting. As he thought of mounting his female from behind, a sharp spike of heat stabbed through the center of his cock, making him gasp.

A tendril emerged from the bed of dirt in Marika’s hand. It grew upward, into a seedling, mirroring the stiffening and thickening of his shaft as hot lust roared in to fill his penis.

Pride kept him from taking himself in hand. An iron will along with the determination not to spend his seed until he could give it to his mate kept him from coming, though desperation to get to her made his departure abrupt.

He took his first form as soon as Marika signaled she was done. His thanks and formal oath to Xanthus were trumpeted as Kirill launched himself into the air and sped toward the portal chamber.

Chapter Two

Jazzlyn McCabe stopped outside Inner Magick and nervously rubbed her palms over the material of her skirt. Through the glass she could see the store’s owner. Aislinn was an artist in her own right when it came to using stones in jewelry and small statues, though that wasn’t what brought Jazzlyn to the shop.

Now that she was there, the prospect of going in and asking someone who might not even remember her for a favor made Jazzlyn’s chest feel tight and her stomach roil. But what choice did she have?

Despite her cousin’s penchant of hooking up with the wrong type of man, and despite the fact Caro had failed to show up for their great-grandmother’s ninetieth birthday party, no one else was concerned about Carolyn except for her. No one was willing to file a missing person report. And even if they had been, a call to Carolyn’s unhelpful “oh, Caro comes and goes all the time, I’m sure she’s okay” roommate would have sent the report right into the police department trashcan.

Jazzlyn’s instincts said differently. But then, she’d been the one Caro stood up the day before the party. And that was another part of the problem. Carolyn had a reputation for standing the women of their family up, and almost always because of a man. She’d just never done it to Jazzlyn before, though they’d also never had a fight that left them estranged for six months either.

A sharp pain slid through Jazzlyn and she quickly closed her mind to Caro’s hurtful parting words. An internal voice chided,
So get this over with already
.
The sooner you do it, the sooner you can get back to work.

Imagining the tiny studio apartment that also served as her workshop did a lot to calm Jazzlyn. Polished and unpolished stones could be found on every surface, including the tiny kitchen counter and her bed. Books were often stacked in the same places, or left turned to relevant pages. They were heavy on pictures and light on text, but all of them were invaluable when it came to providing inspiration in creating the pieces of jewelry she made.

Her actual living space claimed only about ten percent of the apartment, most of it accounted for by the king-sized bed she’d imagined herself sharing with a significant other—only so far one hadn’t come along.
My fault
, Jazzlyn thought, accepting the blame.

Despite how often her mother and grandmother told her that with her looks she should be married by now, meeting people wasn’t easy for her. It still didn’t come naturally.

She’d been nearly paralyzed by shyness when she was younger, introverted to an extreme. She was better now, especially one-on-one. But holing up in her apartment and losing herself in her work was still her “default setting”.

Going out took a conscious decision and an act of will. What socializing she did usually involved rock hounds and gem dealers, or other artists, people she’d come to know in the course of making and selling jewelry. And Alexandria, of course, her closest friend, whose two passions were hunting rare books and carving fetishes.

“You’re stalling,” Jazzlyn whispered, feeling her heart start to race at the prospect of going into the shop and asking Aislinn for a favor—especially this kind of favor, especially when only desperation made her consider the possibility Aislinn might be able to help.

All you can do is ask
,
she told herself.

Jazzlyn forced herself to take a step forward, then another. Her palms grew damp again as she reached for the door and opened it.

Gentle chimes sounded, announcing her presence. Aislinn looked up from whatever she was working on and Jazzlyn’s imagination took off on its own flight of fantasy. For an instant Aislinn resembled an elf. The delicate jeweled butterflies perched at the top of her ears gave her a fey appearance, and in the shop’s light there was something otherworldly about her, something making it easy to believe she had a supernatural talent.

Aislinn’s smiled. “It’s Jazzlyn, right? Sophie introduced us at the gem mart in Miami. You made a necklace for her to award as a prize when her latest fantasy story releases.”

Relief poured into Jazzlyn, clearing her mind of whimsy. “Yes.”

“Do you want to look around? Or is there something in particular you’re searching for.”

It was the perfect opening though Jazzlyn’s stomach still cramped when she took it. “I’m hoping you can help me. My—”

The chimes and a whoosh of air announced another arrival. A breathless woman’s voice said, “Sorry I’m late. Today’s been crazy. I’ve been behind schedule and racing all day to catch up. Is it ready?”

Aislinn gave Jazzlyn an apologetic glance. Jazzlyn waved it off. “I can wait. I’m not in a hurry.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

Aislinn ushered the woman through beaded curtains and into a back room. A flash of color caught Jazzlyn’s attention, drawing her to the counter where a round, antique wall mirror lay flat.

Intricate symbols swirled on the frame, curling around one clear stone then another, as if linking them in a complex spell. The thought made Jazzlyn smile and shake her head slightly. Until desperation compelled her to seek out Aislinn, she’d never spent much time contemplating magic. Well, not magic in general. She smiled ruefully. Alexandria’s fetishes were a different matter altogether.

Jazzlyn traced the sigils and was surprised at how warm the stones felt against her fingertips despite their ice-cold color. Her eyebrows drew together in concentration as she studied them more closely.

Not diamond. Not quartz. She didn’t recognize the gems used in the mirror frame.

The longer she looked, the more she thought she saw hints of color, the more intrigued she became. Some kind of hypnotist’s gem? she wondered, picking up the mirror and studying it more closely, trying to determine if it was one of Aislinn’s creations, made to look antique.

Aislinn and her client emerged from the back room. The woman left as Aislinn joined Jazzlyn at the counter.

“This is beautiful,” Jazzlyn said, feeling more confident talking about a craft they shared an interest in. “Is it your work?”

“In part. I restored it. The original jewels were stolen, probably hundreds of years ago. Thankfully the frame survived and wasn’t melted down for the silver.”

Jazzlyn rubbed her thumb over one of the stones. “What are these? I’ve never seen or felt anything like them. I thought they’d be cool but they’re warm to the touch. And the longer I stare at them, the harder they are to look away from.”

The mirror captured Aislinn’s surprise and Jazzlyn started to put it back on the counter. Aislinn stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Hold on to it for just a few minutes longer, please. You’re the first person it’s reacted to.”

Aislinn’s smile was infectious, further putting Jazzlyn at ease. “Forgive the personal question, but are you involved with anyone?”

Jazzlyn felt her face heat up. “No. Why?”

Aislinn touched one of the crystal-clear gems. “These are called heartmate stones. Or sometimes simply heartstones.”

A jolt of surprise speared Jazzlyn. “They exist?”

Aislinn startled. “You’ve heard of them?”

“I’ve got a friend who collects and sells rare books. She showed me a passage in one of them, and the pictures accompanying it since she knows I’m interested in old jewelry designs. There were two rings, each supposedly set with a heartmate stone.”

“Does she still have the book?”

“Probably. It was written in a language she didn’t recognize. I think she was going to take it to the university and see if one of the professors there could identify it so she’d know exactly what she had in her possession and who the likely buyers might be. There was a penciled in caption under the pictures, someone’s translation.”

“What’d it say?”

Color rose in Jazzlyn’s cheeks as she thought about the conversation that had ensued, the private hopes she and Alexandria had shared about meeting Mr. Right, as they’d sat on the balcony of Alex’s apartment watching the sun set and drinking piña coladas while Jimmy Buffet sang about being wasted away in Margaritaville. “It claimed heartmate stones were incomparable when it came to finding true love.”

Aislinn nodded. “If you’re sensitive to them, they react in the presence of your perfect mate. Usually they’re placed individually in pieces of jewelry. Most people wear them in a ring or a pendant. They’re very rare now, but once they were widely used. They can be any color, though they can only be worked successfully by those with a certain heritage.”

Jazzlyn was reminded of the flight of fancy she’d had when she stepped into the shop—Aislinn as a fey being with supernatural powers—followed by the odd thought she’d had about the symbols and stones on the mirror’s frame being part of a spell. Her sense of humor came to her rescue, allowing her to dip her toe into the waters of magical belief without losing her balance and being submerged in it. “So how does this work? Should I say something like ‘Mirror, mirror in my hands, where’s the man I’m meant to land?’”

“Like reeling in a fish?” Aislinn’s asked, eyes dancing with mischief.

Jazzlyn couldn’t suppress an answering smile. “In my case it’s more likely to end up a fish
story
, about the big one that got away.”

Aislinn’s laugh ended with a slight shake of her head. “Only if you allow him to get away. The next time you see Sophie—after she and Severn return from their honeymoon—you can ask her about the heartmate stone she wears.”

“She’s married?” Jazzlyn asked, surprised. Less than a month ago she’d overheard Sophie joking about the lack of available men.

“For all practical purposes. All that remains is an official ceremony. Severn will probably insist on it the minute they get back.”

Jazzlyn glanced down at the mirror, half hopeful and half afraid, and not completely convinced the magic Aislinn apparently believed in was real. Alexandria would
love
this. “Nothing seems to be happening.”

Almost as soon as the words were out, Jazzlyn thought she saw a flash of silver streak through the stones. Aislinn’s quick smile made her ask, “Did you see that?”

“Yes.”

Jazzlyn worried her bottom lip as her courage started to desert her. Asking Aislinn to find Caro was one thing, even police departments sometimes used psychics, but holding a magic mirror and believing in heartmate stones…

She took a deep breath to steady herself. “How does this thing work?”

“I’m not sure,” Aislinn admitted. “If the mirror is the same one I found referenced in an old book, the original gems set in the frame were sorcerer stones.”

It was too much of a journey into the surreal. Jazzlyn lost her nerve and started to put the mirror down on the counter. Aislinn’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“Please, hold on to it for a minute longer. It’s safe, that I can promise you. If it’ll help, we can talk about what brought you here. Before my client burst in you started to say you wanted my help with something. What can I do for you?”

Jazzlyn looked at the mirror she continued to hold and felt a confusion of emotions, all of them making her uncomfortable. How could she accept one possibility—that Aislinn could help her—without accepting another, that this could be real too? How could she accept that Alex’s fetishes became something
more
than just carved stone, and completely discount this?

Maybe because this was a lot riskier to her heart.

Jazzlyn took another deep, centering breath. She’d come this far, she’d think less of herself if she didn’t follow through. But that didn’t mean she intended to ignore the conversational lifeline Aislinn had tossed out.