Twiceborn (8 page)

He took me by the arms, careful of my injuries. “Kate, this is important. Are you sure you can’t remember anything from the pick-up today?”

I shook my head. I’d almost forgotten that whole mess in my werewolf panic. Losing a little piece of memory just didn’t rate against the possibility of turning into a vicious beast and howling at the full moon every month.

“I remember a woman with blonde hair, but I don’t recall her face or anything else about her. There’s just …” I broke off, some of my relief dissipating. Maybe I already was a vicious beast. “There is one thing. I had a—I don’t know what you’d call it—a vision? I can’t tell if it’s something that actually happened, but I can see my hands covered in blood.”

He didn’t move, didn’t even blink, but I sensed the tension in him.

“That’s not good, is it?”

“No. That’s not good.” He scrubbed a weary hand over his face. I wanted to reach out and smooth the worried lines away. His lips had been soft and warm. I could still taste him on mine. “Trevor said someone died at that address, at about the time you were there. Her name was Leandra, and she was one of Elizabeth’s queen daughters.”

I sucked in a shocked breath. “And you think I killed her?”

“No! No, of course not.” His hands reached for mine, enclosing them in a warm comforting grip. “But I’m guessing other people do. Like that werewolf who attacked you. Must have been one of hers.”

In a way that werewolf had done me a favour. Forget letting life just happen to me, as if I were a piece of flotsam being swept along a storm-filled gutter. I looked back at the person I’d been only a few months ago and marvelled at the change. I’d thought I wanted to die. And maybe, if death had come then, I wouldn’t have struggled.

I gazed into his eyes, their dark brown rich as liquid chocolate. Be careful what you wish for, they say. Death, once longed for, looked different when you were staring it in the face. People—at least, things that looked like people—wanted me dead, because of something they thought I’d done. Maybe I’d even done it. It made no difference. Guess what? I’d decided to live.

Somehow, without my even realising it, life had become valuable to me again.

Perhaps the reason stood before me, brown eyes full of worry. I looked down at our joined hands, then at his mouth, wanting to taste it again. A rush of emotion—and something even more basic—filled me. It had been a long time since I’d kissed anyone.

“Ben. I’m alive. We’re safe. And I’m not going to turn into a werewolf. You can’t imagine how good that makes me feel.” I leaned in till our foreheads touched. Whatever that guilty look had been about, he didn’t draw away now. Sudden heat flared in the little bathroom. My hands tightened on the muscles of his shoulders. Now or never, before I lost my nerve. “Really,
really
good. Let’s celebrate some more.”

He froze as my lips found his, asking a silent question.

“Kate …” I trailed one hand across his shoulder to the smooth column of his throat. His pulse hammered under my fingertips. “This isn’t a good idea. I don’t think—”

“That’s right,” I breathed into his mouth, “don’t think. Just feel.”

He gathered me against him. For once he didn’t argue.

CHAPTER SEVEN

My empty champagne flute clinked against the stone balustrade of the terrace as I set it down and looked out over the dark scene below. There was no moon tonight, but the white dots of streetlights cascaded down the hill below us. Their light showed the rest of the world lay dreaming beneath the summer stars; the only signs of life were up here at the party of the century.

My mother was desperately old-fashioned: the strains of a waltz floated out the open French doors from the ballroom. Of course the dragons knew how to waltz—most of them had been around since before the waltz was invented—but some of the lesser shifters looked nonplussed, eyeing the members of the formally clad orchestra as if they were aliens.

“Better?” asked Luce.

She leaned back against the stone beside me, but she wasn’t relaxed. She hadn’t wanted me out here in the open, but the ballroom was stuffy and I refused to be pawed any longer by lesser creatures looking to hitch their wagons to my star. Her dark eyes were never still, darting from one person to another, constantly assessing possible threats to my person.

No one was armed tonight, of course, in the presence of the queen, not even my security chief, but Luce was a weapon all by herself. Perhaps, like others before her, my mother underestimated Luce because of her slight stature. She had the look of a pretty Chinese doll with her flawless skin and hair like a river of black satin. But Luce had a wiry strength and agility that had to be seen to be believed. Many who’d seen it hadn’t survived the experience.

More likely my mother overlooked Luce because she was only a wyvern. Her aura, the soft blue common to the lesser winged shifters, glowed with a purity that spoke of her vitality and strength, but there was no denying a wyvern was lower down the social scale than a griffin. Valeria, favoured in this as in everything else, had been given a griffin as her security chief. I’d been assigned Luce, and I thanked my mother’s prejudices for it every day.

“The evening seems to be going as expected,” I said, ignoring the question.

“I’d be happier if Valeria didn’t have quite such a crowd around her all the time.” A sour expression marred the prettiness of her wide face with its dark almond-shaped eyes as she glared at my sister. Valeria stood just inside the doors, surrounded by sycophants and opportunists. Her back was turned to us, but I had no doubt she knew where every one of her sisters were, including me.

A flicker in Luce’s aura betrayed the strength of her feelings. She certainly took her job seriously. In fact she was the only woman here tonight not wearing a gown, having opted for a tux instead as being more practical. The fall of her long dark hair was confined in a bun, instead of her usual business-like ponytail. It revealed the elegant curve of her neck, but I couldn’t help thinking she’d chosen the style more for the vicious-looking hairpin that secured it than any consideration of attractiveness. I was sure that hairpin could prove lethal in Luce’s hands.

“Ever the pessimist, aren’t you? The werewolf pack leader seems receptive.”

I was more interested in other dragons than werewolves. Dragons were where the real power lay, but no doubt I could find a use for a pack of the beasts. But it amused me to bait Luce. Predictably, she rose to the bait.

“It’s not pessimism. I’m being realistic. One dragon is worth more than Trevor and his whole werewolf pack.”

We both contemplated Valeria again. Three men jostled for positions at her elbow; I could tell they were dragons from the red glow of their auras. In fact a veritable rainbow of auras surrounded her, with shifters of every type clamouring for her attention. My mouth quirked with distaste. I probably looked as sour as Luce.

The waltz finished to polite clapping, and one of the dragons broke away from Valeria’s little gathering. He stepped out onto the terrace. The lights from the ballroom cast his face into shadow as he approached.

“Is that Jason Hepburn?” I murmured to Luce. She’d been around so long she knew nearly every shifter in the whole domain.

She nodded, her dark eyes dismissive. “A minor player.”

“You wanted a dragon,” I reminded her, choosing to overlook her impudence. She was not paid to have opinions on her betters.

His bow was carefully calculated to gratify without seeming too subservient. “I see you’re drinking champagne.” His deep voice promised a warmth that was reflected in his twinkling blue gaze. “May I get you another?”

“No, thank you. I find the occasion calls for a clear head.”

“Very wise, my lady. Or may I call you Leandra?”

He could call me whatever he liked if he chose to take my side in the coming war. He was a tall man, handsome in a slightly unconventional way—his nose was a little too big, but his generous mouth and bright blue eyes distracted from that fact. His eyes had the predatory gleam so common to our kind. I could probably have guessed he was a dragon even without the tell-tale colour of his aura.

“That depends if we’re going to be friends or not,” I said.

He wore his blonde hair long, grazing the shoulders of his tux. And what broad shoulders they were.

He leaned closer and my pulse quickened. I wasn’t yet used to my body’s instinctive reaction to the presence of a male dragon. The only one I’d had any dealings with up till now was my mother’s odious little spymaster, and he was hardly the type to make my libido sit up and take notice.

“Why don’t we try a friendly dance and see where it takes us?”

He made it sound as if he were offering sex and my body thrilled in response. I took his proffered hand and let him lead me back into the light-filled ballroom. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead and the hum of conversation filled the large room. He shouldered his way through the crowd to the open space in front of the orchestra, my hand clasped firmly in his. Luce trailed us at a discreet distance, but I was hardly aware of her any more.

He twirled me into his arms as another waltz began, the full skirts of my gown flaring out around us in a cloud of deep blue chiffon, the colour chosen to bring out the gold flecks in my brown eyes. My stomach clenched as his leg thrust between mine and we began to move. I’d waltzed many times before, but never with another dragon. Flushed with heat, I was acutely conscious of his body pressed against mine.

He bent his head close, a small smile playing round those full lips. “Luce is watching like a hen with only one chick. Does she think I’m a threat to you?”

His breath against my ear ignited a fire deep inside. Perhaps dancing was a mistake. I needed my wits about me, tonight more than ever.

“
Are
you a threat to me? You seemed very friendly with Valeria earlier.”

He shrugged, as if Valeria were of little importance. “Did you know there used to be quite a lot of interest in the science of auras?”

He hadn’t answered my question, but I let that pass, curious to see where he was leading. Auras were not something we usually spoke of, since the ability to see them was peculiar to dragons. No need to give away even a hint of the edge it gave us to the lesser shifters.

“I didn’t.”

“Well, this was a couple of centuries back. Before your time.”

Everything was before my time. I was twenty-five, barely mature even by human standards, but considered little more than a hatchling by other dragons, most of whom counted their age by decades, if not centuries. Other dancers whirled by in a riot of colour—both dresses and auras—as I gazed up into his face.

“The proper reading of an aura can tell us many things.” I watched his lips, fascinated. That husky voice made everything he said sound suggestive. We swayed to the music, our bodies moving as one. “Not just a shifter’s type, but their emotional state, their general health—even something of their character. For instance, I can see that your bodyguard is fiercely loyal to you … and that she doesn’t like me much at all. I wonder what either of us has done to provoke such feelings?”

As we circled the glittering room Luce came into view over his shoulder. I checked her aura, but it told me nothing I didn’t already know.

“Don’t take it personally,” I said. “Luce doesn’t like most people.”

He threw back his head and laughed, exposing the strong tanned column of his throat. Heads turned to look at us, but I was too busy fighting the urge to bite his neck to pay any attention.

“Do you know what I see when I look at your aura?”

Hopefully not the height of my arousal. I struggled to focus on the conversation. “What?”

“Bloody-minded determination.” He smiled down at me. “I think perhaps I am the first dragon to dance with the next Queen of Oceania.”

“I’m flattered. Does that mean you’d be willing to consider an alliance?” The lights seemed somehow brighter as the violins swelled to a crescendo.

Before he could answer, Luce appeared out of the eddying crowd.

“Let’s dance this way, people,” she hissed, shoving us both back toward the terrace.

I staggered, but Jason held me up, his arm curled protectively around my waist.

My temper flared. How dared she interrupt? “What’s the matter with you?”

She looked like a small black crow, shifting anxiously from foot to foot in the middle of the colourful swirl of dancers.

“Recognise that woman over by the flowers?”

“Which woman?” There were several in a clump by a huge floral display on the far side of the room.

“The one in red.”

The woman in question stood slightly behind the others, not part of their group, and seemed to be doing nothing more sinister than watching the dancers glide past.

“I can’t be expected to recognise everyone here. What of her?”

“She’s a griffin,” Jason said.

I could see that. Her aura was the right pale blue shade. She had light brown hair and wore more jewellery than was perhaps tasteful, but I could see nothing to give Luce the jitters.

“But which one?” Luce asked him, ignoring me.

“Ah …” He frowned. “I don’t know her.”

That started alarm bells ringing. Jason had been around the court for a long time, long enough to know everyone here tonight. I let him tug me closer to the doors out on to the terrace, though the press of people made progress through the crowd slow.