Dragon Heartstring (2 page)

I followed after her to join the party. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. She was tall like most Morgon women. She moved with elegance. She’d tucked her white wings neatly against her back. I’d never taken much time to note a Morgon’s wings, but now I couldn’t help but examine the high arch that tapered down smoothly at her sides. A female’s wings were thinner and more fine-boned than that of Morgon males, though they still appeared strong enough to lift her slight frame. I suddenly wanted to see her fly.

* * *

I
could feel
his eyes on me as he trailed behind. The thought sent my stomach flipping end over end, and I wasn’t sure why. Demetrius hadn’t remembered me from the Unity Ball. Unfortunately, I remembered him all too well from that night when he barely spared me a cordial greeting. He was the aggressive, workaholic son of Pritchard Cade, rarely on the social scene and extremely overprotective of his sisters. I knew he never brought a date to charity and fundraising events, and he’d never had a Morgon woman on his arm. And I knew him for the aloof, arrogant business tycoon who shied away from mixed company with Morgons. Even still, the serious, controlled man made me stand a bit taller. I wanted his notice, even if it was to prove him wrong.

It was obvious he still held reservations about the mingling of the species. And while Jessen had assured me he had changed his beliefs about Morgonkind being inferior, I wasn’t so sure. I wanted to show him how well Morgons and humans could mix, coexist, thrive. But it wasn’t my place to educate the likes of Demetrius Cade on social politics. Nor did I care to make it my mission to change the mind of an obstinate man such as him.

“Open mine, Julian,” said Sorcha at the center of the crowd. Her mate, Lorian Nightwing, Lucius’s brother, stood at her back, his grave expression in place as always. Funny, but he and Demetrius looked almost like a mirror of one another, except Demetrius was an outsider here. At least he seemed to feel that way. I could tell by his posture, but also his stance, a little farther from everyone else, his hands in his pants pocket. The fact that he wore a full suit and tie to a little boy’s birthday party would also set him apart.

“Thank you, Aunt Sorcha.” Julian took the long, rainbow-wrapped box from her and proceeded to rip off the wrapping. He flipped open the top lid to reveal a long, gold-handled sword.

“Woohoo!” he yelled, lifting the sword by the hilt and waving it around.

“Whoa, there,” said Lucius, taking it from him.

“What the hell, Sorcha?” said Jessen. “He’s only
three
.”

“He’s a warrior. Aren’t you, my Julian?” She tickled him in the ribs. He giggled.

“There is no way I’m—” Jessen started.

“It’s plastic,” said Lucius, slapping the flat of the blade against his palm.

“What? You thought I’d give him a real sword, Jessen?” Sorcha scoffed and feigned shock. “He’s only three. Jeez.”

Snickers drifted through the crowd. Jessen rolled her eyes and passed Julian another gift, a similar shape to Sorcha’s box.

“Not another sword, I hope, brother,” said Jessen, reading the tag.

A few eyes swiveled to him. He shook his head, a corner of his mouth quirking up one side, the bare hint of a dimple showing. I’d never seen a full smile on this man, but I bet he’d wear it well along with his expensive suit, broad shoulders, and tousled black hair.

Exasperated with my wandering eye, I shifted my focus to Julian.

He tore into the package and stood the box up to examine the picture on the side. “Whoa! It’s a dragon?”

Demetrius stepped forward cautiously. “Yes. Well, it’s a kite. But not just any kite.” He pointed to the picture. “It has multiple moving parts, so the dragon looks alive when you fly him through the sky.”

“That is so cool! Did you see that, Dad?”

“I did,” said Lucius in his ever-calm demeanor.

I caught the fleeting exchange between the two men. There had been animosity between them when Jessen had been injured by that bastard she was betrothed to marry. Jessen had told me that Lucius had long forgiven Demetrius, but it seemed they were still none too friendly.

Jessen often confided in me about her family. Since Sorcha had little patience for familial issues and Jessen feared raising Lucius’s temper over the matter, she’d tell me of her father, the days of her childhood when he was kinder, and how she longed to mend their relationship. She’d talk of her brother who’d been the mirror image of their work-driven father all their lives, who’d been walking in their father’s footsteps to be every bit the tyrant he was until that fateful day Aron Grayson, who was then Demetrius’s friend, nearly killed her. And some days, she would tell me how Demetrius had changed over the past few years. He had become more attentive to her and Julian and seemed to be trying to bridge the painful gap that had formed between Jessen and her family. He’d even brought their younger sister, Moira, on their park visits when their father had expressly forbidden Jessen from seeing her sister again. This is what perplexed me as I studied him now, closed off with a stern and cold demeanor. I wondered if Jessen was fooled, and his kindness only extended to her and to Julian.

“We’ll fly it next time we go to the park,” said Demetrius.

“Oh, yes. Please, Momma! Let’s go tomorrow.
Please
!”

Jessen laughed. “We’ll see. Now open your other presents.”

The party-goers talked amongst themselves as Julian tore through his other gifts. Two boutique girls, one human and one Morgon, who worked in one of the Nightwing shops, stood in front of me, huddled close together and whispering back and forth.

“That’s her brother?” asked the curvy blonde.

“Where has she been hiding him? Heavens, that suit fits him
so
good,” said the brunette Morgon, ruffling her dark green wings.

The blonde tittered. “I’d like to see him without the suit.”

“He smells divine. What cologne is that?”

“Money, honey. He’s got loads of it. He’s Pritchard Cade’s son.”

Irritated, I moved away from them, which brought me closer to Demetrius. Yes, the man was gorgeous to be sure, but he was also a headstrong, haughty businessman with no feelings for anything but what might put more power in his pocket. The kinder brother Jessen doted on wasn’t the same man the rest of Gladium knew. Why, even last week, I saw a photo of him in the society column of
The Gladium Post
standing with a glass of champagne in his hand next to three other gentlemen who were laughing with two beautiful women. But not him. He seemed to be snubbing them. And beneath the column, the caption read,
Demetrius Cade, Director of Cade Technologies, is the most eligible and the most disinterested bachelor in all the province.

Julian ran off with a gaggle of children toward the cake where Sorcha was cutting and serving up slices. Jessen came and stood between me and Demetrius, who checked his watch.

“You got a meeting or something?” she asked.

“Yes. But it can wait.”

“Jessen, I should be going,” I said. “I want to run by the clinic before I head home.”

“Of course. Thank you for coming.” She pulled me into a tight hug before saying low, “And I want to meet soon to talk more about the hearing.”

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry,” said Demetrius, cutting in. “But what hearing are you talking about?”

Jessen stared at him but didn’t respond.

I decided to tell him. “The hearing before the Gladium Parliament on the banning of Volt guns.”

Jessen turned her head away nervously.

Demetrius’s frown deepened. He slipped both hands in his pockets, a relaxed pose, but the strain in his shoulders said he was anything but. “When is this hearing?”

“In three weeks,” I answered.

“Why didn’t I hear any of this from the Chamber of Commerce?” asked Demetrius, obviously concerned. “I’m on the board.”

“Yes, well, we’ve been keeping it as tight-lipped as possible because of the controversy it will cause.”

Demetrius edged closer, and I was suddenly the focus of those intense brown eyes. “Who is bringing this proposal before parliament?”

“I am. That is, my father and my aunt are on behalf of the Icewing clan. But I’ll be presenting the proposal along with them.”

He stared, and I was entirely unsure what he could be thinking. My pulse raced faster as he measured me while Jessen glanced between us. I didn’t appreciate his scrutiny.

“Don’t get your hot temper going, Demetrius,” said Jessen. “I know this might cause a rift in your business dealings, but you must know whose side I’m on in this matter.”

He swiveled to face her directly, shoulders squared and tense. “I thought you’d know whose side I’m on.”

“Actually, I’m not exactly sure,” she added.

He stood straighter, his brow creasing as if he’d been stung by her response. “Jessen, I don’t give a good goddamn about the rift in the business world. I’ve seen first-hand the damage Volt guns can do. I watched you nearly get killed by one of those damn things. And knowing there’s a weapon that could kill my nephew within a split second because he has Morgon DNA makes me more than amenable to your cause to ban them. And just so we’re very clear on the matter, we haven’t been a distributor for Grayson’s company since—” He waved at her shoulder, then swallowed whatever else he planned to say. His comm device buzzed in his pocket. After checking the screen, he said irritably, “I’ve got to go. Tell Julian goodbye for me.”

“No, Demetrius. Don’t.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Please. I’m sorry. I should’ve known. I just thought that, well—”

“Jessen. I know now there’s more to life than money and the family business.” He’d softened his tenor, but the pain resonated still.

“Do you?” she teased, pulling on his collar. “Because you go to parties dressed for work. I’ll bet you sleep in your damn suits.”

“Never.” He arched a dark brow. “They’d get too wrinkled.”

She laughed. “All right. Well, you have an appointment with your nephew tomorrow in the park. Leave the suit.”

Feeling as if I’d intruded on a private moment, I stepped away and brushed a hand on Jessen’s arm. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Wait, Shakara. Why don’t you come with us to the park tomorrow? I’ll bring lunch, and we can go over the hearing while Demetrius flies that enormous kite he bought for Julian.”

My heart skittered ahead as I glanced at Demetrius. “That sounds great. Call me with the time.”

With a quick wave, I walked through the living room toward the door, eager to step out of a sibling squabble. And eager to put some distance between myself and Demetrius Cade. The man unnerved me.

“Thank you, Brant,” I said, as he held open the door into the foyer.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Icewing.”

“Good afternoon.”

I stepped into the elevator. As the doors were closing, I heard someone say, “
Wait.
Hold it, please.”

Again, my stomach fluttered at the sound of his voice. Demetrius entered the elevator, and I let the door slide closed.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The air felt heavy in the confined space. My pulse pounded faster with every floor we fell toward the ground level. I was quite happy he wasn’t a Morgon. Otherwise, he’d hear my heartbeat pounding away. And he’d get the wrong idea. The only reason he made me nervous was because Jessen had often told me of her childhood, of a brother who had beat up the boy down the street when the bully had shoved her on the playground. Or the time when Demetrius had threatened every guy in high school who asked her on a date. He was protective to the core, that was certain. He’d thought he was keeping her safe when he’d come between her and Lucius. But he hadn’t understood the love they shared. Not then anyway. And all of those late-night conversations with Jessen when she’d shared intimacies about her family made me anxious standing next to the man. It was like I knew his secrets, yet he thought us mere strangers.

“May I ask you a question?” His deep voice sounded too loud in the elevator.

“Of course.” I tried to smile.

“How come you’re taking the elevator?”

“What?”

“You’re a Morgon. I thought you all flew everywhere you went.”

“Oh.” I laughed, a little too eagerly. “I like a good walk from time to time.”

“I see.”

Our easy conversation of before seemed to have vanished the moment we’d stepped into this steel box. The silence was uncomfortable and strained. I wanted to find something to say.

“That was a lovely kite that you gave Julian.”

That was a lovely kite?

“Thank you. I know how he loves stories of the dragons of old. I thought he might enjoy it.”

He cleared his throat. I stared at my toes in my strappy sandals. Finally, the elevator dinged open.

“After you,” he said.

I swept past him, but he caught up with a long, easy stride and walked me through the marble lobby and opened the glass door for me at the exit.

“Well, Shakara,” he said, offering his hand. “It was nice meeting you. Again.”

I shook his, trying to ignore the pleasurable feel of his broad, masculine hand around mine.