Dirty lying dragons, p.5
Dirty Lying Dragons, page 5
Chapter Six
Ryker
The bear wasn’t as big as it could have been, but it would add to my supplies just the same. I thanked it for its life, cleaned and cut it without much thought as I dwelled on my supplies instead. I was running low on salt and butcher paper; maybe I could pick both up on my way back from Moscow. But the thought of Moscow filled my head with the paths ahead of me.
I wasn’t one to stick my nose in anyone else’s business—not unless I was getting paid—but when a group as dangerous as the leeches was up to something on the other side of the world, I knew the worst kind of trouble was brewing. The bounty I’d collect while using Dani as bait would be an added bonus, but the real heart of the problem was what this Apollo was up to. And Danica . . . I still didn’t know what to make of her.
More important than the supplies at my cabin was finding out why Danica had landed halfway across the world when she was trying to go somewhere in the United States. Whoever gave her that botched activation spell may have been legitimately bad at her job, or she may have had an ulterior motive. Or, hell, it could mean anything. The Sisters were never ones to share their secrets with the rest of the world. On top of that, I could tell the witch was lying about the wolves chasing her. Not that I had to worry about a pack or two coming after my bounty—I’d tear them to pieces first. But I was more concerned to know why they would want her in the first place. First vampires, now werewolves. Things this old didn’t just change their habits for no reason, and it could mean that bigger trouble was on the horizon.
What I was not going to do was think with my dick and throw the whole plan out the window for a snarky witch with a nice ass, as tempting as it was. I had to admit that Dani’s company had been an unusually comfortable change of pace.
I sighed and tossed the last cut of meat into the freezer out back. Washing my hands, I walked down the hill to the spring for my usual posthunt soak. These thoughts were for later, when I could talk them out with Gavin.
Her scent wafted over from the hot spring. Vanilla soap and the fading scent of sandalwood. The distinct scent of her blood. Spicy and familiar, but still infuriating because I couldn’t place why it was so familiar. There were no coincidences in this world, not with so many other forces at play, and I would find out why I was so comfortable in her presence, no matter what.
I reached the bottom of the path and snorted. She had fallen asleep, her bandaged shoulder sinking into the water and her mouth slightly open as she snored lightly.
I’d give her a chance to fix herself up before I got in. I stepped on a fallen branch deliberately, snapping it with a crack in the air.
She startled awake and I could hear the flutter of her heartbeat. Catching sight of me as I sat at the edge of the spring to remove my boots, she turned a shade of red that didn’t have anything to do with the hot water, her eyes darting from my chest, then south, then back up to my face.
“Shit.” She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and grabbed one of the sweaters from the dry land behind her. “I fell asleep, didn’t I?”
“Looks like it,” I said, removing my jeans and kicking them to the side as I slid into the water. She was preoccupied with pulling the sweater over her head.
“You don’t have to ruin my good sweaters, you know,” I grunted.
“I’ll buy you a new one. I’m here for the warmth; I didn’t sign up for a co-ed hot tub. I’ve made that mistake before,” she said, laying her head back on the bench. “Just one drink, Dani! It’ll be fun, Dani! We’re all going to trespass and skinny-dip on enemy coven lands, Dani!”
I chuckled low as I stretched my arms out behind me, sitting across from her in the spring. “Your friends don’t sound like a good influence.”
She shrugged. “Maybe not but it was fun as hell.”
“Enemy coven. Didn’t you say you weren’t in a coven?” I asked casually.
“I’m not. I hang out with an asshole warlock and he’s the one poking around where he shouldn’t be. Besides, a coven of witches isn’t going to call another coven the enemy,” Dani said, and dramatically swooned to the sky. “After all, we are all daughters of the beloved Mother and should love our Sisters as our own blood family.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
She made a fake gagging sound. “Let’s just say they don’t practice everything they preach.”
“As someone who wants to stay out of the magical community so much, I wouldn’t expect you to befriend a warlock,” I said.
“He’s a special case.” She sank a little farther into the spring, hissing as her shoulder went under and popping it back out of the water. “Fuck, that better not get infected.”
“The way you treat it, that might be exactly what happens,” I said.
“I’ve had worse,” she said, then eyed me with suspicion. “You’ve had your fair share of bumps and bruises too. Any stories to share?”
She was prodding for information. Maybe we could both get a little something from the other. After all, it didn’t hurt me one bit if she found out what I was. I had only valuable information to gain from her.
“When you’ve lived as long as I have you accumulate a few scars,” I offered. “I suppose I could tell you a story behind one or two of them, if you answer a question in return.”
“You won’t just tell me what you are?”
“You can’t tell me why the fuck you’re on my mountain, and that’s my biggest concern right now.”
“If I knew what had gone wrong, I’d have told you already. When I get to civilization again I’m going to wring a certain pink witch’s scrawny little neck.” She looked me over as much as she could through the steamy water, sighing through her nose. Enough of my chest was exposed that I knew she could see a few of them already. “Do I get to pick the scar?”
“Sure. You pick a scar, I’ll ask a question, and if you answer my question, I’ll tell you how I got the scar.”
“That sounds good to me.” She bit her lower lip in concentration and studied my right arm. Admittedly, her focused expression was kind of cute. I knew exactly which scar she was going to ask about before she even opened her mouth.
“That one.” She pointed to a small cluster of raised marks near my elbow.
“Are you sure that’s the one you want?” I grinned and she scowled at me.
“No head games. I pick that one,” she insisted.
Feisty. I liked it.
“Tell me about this troublesome warlock,” I said.
“Who, Jerod? An asshole with a liver of steel and a penchant for breaking rules that annoy him. He’s a pretty strong warlock but he’s very low in their ranks because he keeps pissing off his coven leader with cheap pranks and stirring up territory disputes, so they keep him demoted.”
“Trespassing to skinny-dip?” I asked.
Dani snorted. “Among other things. And he knows everybody in the city, I swear. A night out with Jerod is a guaranteed regret the next morning. You’d think he’d have no friends left, but he’s too charming for his own good.”
“Sounds like more trouble than he’s worth,” I grunted, annoyed by the very idea of someone like him.
“Nope. Barely, but nope. Now, come on, I answered your question. How’d you get that scar?” she asked.
“Shotgun, maybe eighty years ago. I was chasing a vamp through the countryside but when we started fighting on some farmland the farmer shot at us both.” I chuckled. “Wouldn’t have done enough to scar if I weren’t already so spent from chasing that leech for two days.”
“You’re like a hundred or so?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Sure, why not.”
“That’s not even close, is it?” She frowned.
“I don’t know, why don’t you pick another scar and see what you find out?” I rolled my shoulders and lay back in the hot water. This was comfortable, enjoying the fresh air, the hot spring water, and for once, conversation. Maybe Gavin was right: I’d been out here alone for far too long.
She inspected my skin and then pointed to a jagged cut near my collarbone. I was surprised she’d even seen it; it had faded over the years.
“That one,” Dani said.
“You found one of the old-ish ones,” I said. “Then tell me, witches can only be born of witches, right? Who is your mother, is she still alive?”
“Her name is Calendula, and she’s not alive,” Dani answered, with no emotion either way. She could have been telling me the time for all the concern she showed. The alarming part of it was that while I smelled a slight lie on her, it smelled a bit like the truth too.
“Are you sure she’s dead?” I frowned.
She shrugged. “Fine, she’s alive.”
The hint of a lie, and the truth too.
“Which one is it?” A slight growl crept into my voice. “Is she alive or dead?”
“She’s something in between, but I haven’t seen her in a while so I can’t be sure that she’s still in that state.” Dani yawned. “No more stalling, what’s that scar from?”
“That little one?” I asked, and she nodded. “That one is from a fight in Constantinople with a pretty nasty demon.”
“You mean Istanbul?” Her eyebrows shifted together in thought. “Oh. No, you meant Constantinople, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “Constantinople. The Byzantine Empire. He split me open pretty good with his horns too.”
“Constantinople,” she repeated, realization dawning on her. “How long ago was that? Holy shit. How the hell old are you?”
I snorted. “If you pick the right scar you’ll eventually stumble across the truth.”
She snapped her jaw shut with a suppressed smile playing across her lips, and rose out of the water a little. “Stand up. Let me see them all.”
I raised an eyebrow but obliged. I stood, the water only barely covering the tops of my thighs. I spread my arms out wide so she could get a good look.
And get a good look she did. The light flush to her skin and the slight ogling of her eyes as they bounced around, both trying to avoid staring at anything incriminating and still landing on something she liked, was endlessly entertaining. She took in a slow, deep breath as she let her eyes flutter shut, then opened them again to keep them locked on mine.
“Haven’t you found one yet?” I teased.
“Shut up,” she snapped half-heartedly, then gave me a more clinical once-over. A bead of water ran down her neck and slipped into the collar of the now-soaked sweater that was going to dry about ten sizes too small at this point. I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit. Not with this feisty witch in my hot spring.
I could get used to this but I shouldn’t get used to this. This wasn’t in the plan. The plan was to use her as bait; there wasn’t any need for attachment beyond that. At the end of all this I would have a pocket full of cash, answers about the vampires, and Dani would be on her way home. But the plan was starting to fray at the edges, and I could feel it. What was it about her that smelled so damn enticing? The only reason she should have come through that teleportation to land here would be if she had been here before, or if I had invited her. This was driving me wild.
Leaning forward, I could hear her raised pulse as her eyes sifted through the steam to pick out her next scar. As she moved to stand for a better look, her eyes drifted down my stomach and she started to slip. I reached out and caught her uninjured arm, steadying her on the slick rock under the water. Her wide eyes bobbed up from the water she’d nearly landed in to meet my gaze.
“Unless you have a spell that can keep the infection out of your shoulder, you should keep it out of the water.”
Her breath hitched. She pulled back, flustered as she sat on the bench again. Avoiding looking my way, she cleared her throat. “Maybe we should call it for today. We can pick this back up later; I should get out of this hot water.”
A pang of disappointment ran through me at the thought of stopping our little game, but there was no reason it should have. Besides, there were still plenty of days left before Gavin came back.
Dani pulled herself out of the water, shoved her wet feet into her boots, and picked up her armful of clothing. “See you in the cabin,” she said, and trotted off without looking back.
Sighing, I sank back down. Something had spooked her, or at least had caused alarm to cross her mind, and she’d run from it. I was starting to get the feeling that running away from the big things was what she did. Any more probing for information would have to wait.
Chapter Seven
Dani
What a mix of emotions. Being attracted to Ryker was understandable, considering he was definitely my type. Tall, rough around the edges with that stubble on his jaw, the shaggy brown hair that was reaching for his shoulders, the couldn’t-care-less attitude like he was at the top of the food chain and he fucking knew it. The biceps didn’t hurt either. No, I couldn’t stop thinking with my ovaries and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do to stop it.
But my other problem, and probably the worse of the two, was that he was making me forget my current situation. A witch who couldn’t cast spells, at least not reliably, and on the run from something terrible and dangerous. Apollo and his dogs had already sniffed me out once; they were sure to be able to do it again. Being in Siberia may have bought me time, but in a world of magic with no secrets, that time was limited. Remembering the look in that wolf Amelia’s eyes, my heart sank. There was no way she was going to let her bounty get away like that. And I wasn’t about to pretend she didn’t think of me as prey. I still didn’t know if I could trust Ryker; he wouldn’t even tell me what he was, for fuck’s sake. Everywhere I turned I had shitty options.
Slipping into the cabin, I dashed for the fireplace where I could choose some clean, dry clothes. I had already left the things I’d worn last night by the fire to stay warm, and I felt better after slipping into them and laying out the clothes I’d worn on our little walk today. I’d been here for two full days now and I still couldn’t get used to the cold.
Ryker hadn’t come back for a while, probably enjoying the time away from his unexpected houseguest, and it gave me time to think and to arrange some things in the cabin. Climbing into the loft, I took the extra blankets and pillows Ryker had given me when I thought I was going to sleep on the couch, and I arranged a bed next to his. I didn’t want to roll into bed with him again, so I lined up my backpack between our things. At least I’d be warm tonight. Next, I searched through every cabinet in his kitchen, more out of boredom than any expectation that I’d find more clues as to what he was.
What I wouldn’t give for Jerod’s knowledge and insight right now.
With the loft arranged and my clothes drying, I had to find something to do with my hands, so I started in on lunch. Mystery meat. Again.
The creak of the door brought Ryker in from the cold. The skillet was sizzling over the woodstove, and I locked eyes with him as he stood, massive in the doorway. He managed to pull his jeans back on, which made me thankful, considering the heat he’d stirred in me earlier. We stared at each other for a heavy moment before a sly grin spread across his face.
“I could get used to this, coming home to a hot meal.”
His teasing made me put up an attitude as a defense, which only spurred on his amusement. Hot as he may be, he was also a fucking bastard. Taking the spatula, I cut a sliver of hot meat off and threw it from the pan at Ryker’s face. He laughed a little harder as he caught it, popping it into his mouth.
“You would be able to catch that,” I muttered, my mouth trying not to jerk up into a smile as I turned my attention back to the pan. Sizzling filled the air as Ryker’s heavy steps made their way behind me.
“Do you want to talk about what happened back there?” he asked.
“The scars? I was only looking.”
“Not that. Every time I so much as mention magic you run off.” Ryker folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the door. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Oh.”
On the surface we bickered, but it was nice of him to let me stay. To show me the area, to keep me company, and to show me the hot spring. He’d bandaged me when I got here too. But in a matter of weeks, I’d be out of here; there was no reason to put all my magical faults on display. For all I knew he might dump my ass in the snow so as not to bring my trouble to his door; nothing sucked more than not knowing if you could trust someone while being attracted to them at the same time. I wished Jerod were here; he was a better judge of situations than I’d ever been.
I avoided answering. “Food’s almost done.”
Ryker grunted his answer and pulled the clean dishes off the drying rack, setting up the table. We ate in silence, and I brazenly let my eyes roam over Ryker’s chest and arms. I could tell him I was picking out my next scar to ask about, but we both knew that’s not what this was. I liked the way he looked, the way he moved, the grit in his voice. When even the distraction of looking at Ryker wasn’t helping me finish the steak on my plate, I scooted the rest of my lunch to his side of the table and stood up.
“Hold on,” Ryker said, standing as well. “Let me help you rebandage that.” He nodded to my shoulder, and I couldn’t argue with him. I really wasn’t taking very good care of it.
I sat on the couch before the fire, rolling up my sleeve and peeling back the bandage while Ryker got out his first aid supplies. He didn’t have a lot. A bottle of what I assumed was alcohol—the label was in Russian—and some strips of cloth. He helped me pull off the last of the bandages and I winced at the sight. It was still working on scabbing over; I was lucky it wasn’t deeper.
“Hold still.” Ryker’s voice was firm but not unkind as he splashed the alcohol on my shoulder. I hissed as it bit into the cuts, but it dulled to a throbbing soon enough. Ryker pulled out the new bandages and began wrapping them around my shoulder.
