Dragon’s Oath (6 page)

“I see a vampyre I could love,” she said with no hesitation. And then hastily added, “But you’re a Warrior, that’s obvious, and I can’t–”

“You see the vampyre you
do
love,” he said. Stopping her words he leaned forward, cupped her face in his hand, and pressed his lips to hers.

Anastasia shouldn’t have been able to feel anything. Later she replayed the scene over and over in her mind, trying to decide how a conjured phantom of a man could have possibly made her
feel
so much without actually being able to touch her at all. But then all she could do was tremble and hold her breath as desire for him, real or imagined, pulsed through her body.

“Ohhh,” she breathed the word on a sigh when he moved slowly, regretfully away from her.

“My love, my own, I am a vampyre and a Warrior. I know it seems impossible right now, but I believe the truth is, to become the person you see—the man of kindness and strength, integrity and humor, wisdom and love—I need you. Without you, without
us,
I am only a shell of what I should be; I am the dragon without the man. Only you can make the man stronger than the dragon. Remember that when the young, rash,
arrogant
version of me attempts to drive you mad.” He continued to back away from her.

“Don’t go!”

His smile filled her heart. “I’m not going. I will never willingly leave you, my own. I’ll be right here, growing and learning.” He glanced behind himself at the frozen statue of a fledgling and chuckled, meeting her gaze again. “Even though that may be difficult for you to believe sometimes. Give us a chance, Anastasia. Be patient with me; we’ll be worth it. Oh, and don’t let me kill the bear. It wasn’t going to harm you. It, like me, was only drawn to you because of a spell going slightly, magickally, awry. Neither he, nor I,” he paused and his deep voice softened, “nor even my young, arrogant self, has anything malevolent in mind this night. And my own, my love, I will never allow anything to hurt you.”

As he spoke those last words Anastasia felt a chill flow through her body as if some god or goddess had suddenly poured ice water into her veins. While she shivered with an odd mixture of foreboding and desire, the adult specter of Bryan Lankford, his gaze still locked with hers, surged backward. Light blazed as he was absorbed into the younger version of himself—who instantly began to move again.

Feeling like she had just been hit by the locomotive of one of those huge, coal-eating trains that traversed America, Anastasia watched the younger version of the vampyre, whose ethereal touch still thrilled through her body. He was wiping his tearing eyes with one hand, while with the other he brandished the sword at the enormous brown bear that appeared so suddenly before him on its hind legs. It was so large that Anastasia thought for an instant it, like the older version of Bryan Lankford, had somehow been conjured by her spellwork and was really mist and magick, smoke and shadows.

Just then the bear roared, making the very air around her vibrate, and Anastasia knew this was no illusion.

Lankford’s eyes were clearing quickly, and he was moving with deadly intention toward the creature.

“Don’t hurt it!” Anastasia shouted. “The bear was accidentally brought here by my spell—it has no malevolent intent.”

Bryan stepped back, out of immediate range of the huge creature’s claws. Anastasia watched him studying the bear. “Do you know this through your magick?” he asked without taking his eyes from the animal.

“I do! I give you my word on it,” she said.

Bryan glanced quickly at her and Anastasia felt a strange jolt of recognition in that look. Then the fledgling blinked and said, “You had better be right.”

Anastasia had to press her lips together to keep from shouting at him:
The grown-up version of you wouldn’t have said that!

She doubted he would have heard her shout. He’d already turned his entire attention back to the bear.

The big creature towered over the boy, but Bryan simply reached down, grabbed the candle nearest to him from the altar, and held it up before him. The flame of the red candle blazed like a torch. “Ha! Go!” he shouted in a voice that held more command than she would have expected from someone who wasn’t even a vampyre. Yet. “Get out of here! Go on! This whole thing was an accident; the priestess didn’t mean to draw you.”

The bear flinched back from the brilliance of the candle, huffing and growling. Bryan moved a step forward. “I said go!”

With a huge sense of relief, Anastasia watched the beast drop to all fours and, with one last huff at the fledgling, trot sedately away toward the river. Acting purely on instinct, she got to her feet and rushed toward Bryan.

“Okay, you’re all right; you are safe, now. Everything is under control—,” he was saying as she ignored him and took the still-flaming red candle from his hand.

“Don’t break the circle. This spell has too much power to waste,” she said sternly. She didn’t look at him—she didn’t want to be distracted. Instead Anastasia covered the flame with a protective hand and carefully placed the candle back in its place at the easternmost position on the altar, before she turned to face Bryan Lankford.

His hair was blond, long and thick and tied back, which made her remember the older Bryan’s hair, which had also been the same light color, long and thick, but had fallen free around his shoulders, framing his kind face. Had it been just a little gray at his temples? Somehow she couldn’t remember, though she could remember the exact color of his beautiful brown eyes.

“What is it? I didn’t break your circle. The candle never went out. See, it’s back right where it was before.”

Anastasia realized she’d been staring at him without speaking.
He must think I’m completely daft.
She opened her mouth to say something that would explain a little of the strangeness of the night, and then she really looked at
him,
the young Bryan before her. He had salt scattered all over his face—crystals of it were caught in his eyebrows, and his hair was covered with bits of bay leaves and cedar needles. Her sudden giggle surprised them both.

His brows went up. “I risk my life to save you from a wild creature and you laugh at me?”

He was trying to sound stern and offended, but Anastasia could see the sparkle of humor in those brown eyes.

“You’re wearing my spellwork, and, yes, that makes you look funny.” It also made him look boyish and quite handsome, but she kept that part to herself. Or at least she thought she’d kept that part to herself. As the two of them stood there, staring at each other, the sparkle in Bryan’s eyes seemed to become knowing. When his lips began tilting up, Anastasia’s stomach gave a strange little lurch, and she quickly added, “Although I shouldn’t laugh, no matter how funny you look. My spellwork all over you means I’m going to have to remake the entire mixture.”

“Then you shouldn’t have thrown it on me,” he said with an arrogant flip of his head.

Anastasia’s amusement began to fade. “I didn’t throw it on you. The wind blew it into your face when I fell because you shoved me.”

“Really?” He held up a finger, as if testing the direction of the breeze. “What wind?”

Anastasia’s frown deepened. “It must have blown itself out, or maybe it has calmed because of the interruption of my spell.”

“And I didn’t
shove
you,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I moved you behind me so that I could protect you.”

“I didn’t need you to protect me. The bear was an accident. It was confused, not dangerous. I was casting a drawing spell, and somehow the bear got caught by it,” she explained.

“So, it was a drawing spell.” The irritation that had begun to creep into his voice vanished, to be replaced by an arrogant chuckle and another knowing look. “
That
is why you called my name. You want me.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Dragon grinned as he watched the young priestess’s face flush a lovely shade of pink.

“You have mistaken my intent,” she said

“You said it yourself—you were casting a drawing spell. I heard you speak my name. Obviously, you were drawing me.” He paused, thinking that it all made sense now. “No wonder I left Shaw and the rest of the Warriors and walked home by myself from the docks. I thought it was because of Biddle. He’d watched me before I left for the Vampyre Games, so I already knew he didn’t like me, but tonight his stare was so hard, so strange, that I supposed it’d made me feel odd, almost as if I couldn’t breathe, and I needed to be out here, where there was air and space and–” He broke off, laughing a little and giving her the beginnings of his famous smile. “But, no matter. The truth is I am here because you desire me.” He rubbed his chin, considering. “We haven’t met. I would remember such beauty. Was it my reputation for prowess with the sword that has piqued your interest, or was it a more
personal
kind of prowess that–”

“Bryan, I don’t desire
you
!”

“Call me Dragon,” he said automatically, and then continued. “Of course you do. You just admitted your drawing spell. You need not be embarrassed. I’m flattered. Really.”

“
Dragon,
” she said in a way that he thought verged on sarcasm. “I am embarrassed, but not because
of
you. I’m embarrassed
for
you.”

“You aren’t making any sense.” He wondered briefly if she’d hit her head when she’d fallen.

The priestess drew a deep breath and let it out in an exasperated sigh. Then she offered her hand and forearm to him, saying, “Merry meet, Bryan Dragon Lankford. I am Professor Anastasia, the new priestess of spells and rituals at the Tower Grove House of Night.”

“Merry meet, Anastasia,” he said, gripping her bare forearm, which was soft and warm to his touch.

“
Professor
Anastasia,” she corrected him. Too soon, she released her grip on him and said, “You weren’t meant to know about this spell.”

“Because you don’t want anyone to know you want me?”
Including me,
he added silently to himself.

“No. The spell has nothing to do with wanting you. It’s the opposite, actually,” she said. And then in a voice that sounded as if she was lecturing a classroom of fledglings, she continued. “This is going to sound unkind, but the truth is I am here to cast what amounts to an anti–Dragon Lankford spell.”

Her words took him aback. “Have I somehow done something to offend you? You do not even know me. How could you dislike me?”

“It isn’t that I dislike you!” she said quickly, almost as if she was trying to cover something up. “Here is the truth of the matter: in the fortnight I have been teaching at Tower Grove House of Night fifteen fledglings have come to me to ask for love spells with which to bespell you.”

Dragon’s eyes widened. “Fifteen? Really?” He paused and took a quick mental count. “I can only think of ten girls who would want to bespell me.”

The professor didn’t look at all amused. “I would say you underestimate yourself, but I do not think that is possible. So I’ll just assume you are better at swordplay than addition. Be that as it may, I came out here tonight intending to cast a spell that would draw to each of your besotted admirers the truth of you so that they could see clearly and honestly that you aren’t the right mate for them, which would end their silly infatuations,” she finished in a rush.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so surprised. No, that wasn’t true. The last time he’d felt this kind of soul-deep surprise was when the night had been illuminated to reveal the masthead of a ship and a new life. He shook his head and said the first thing that came to mind. “This is hard for me to believe. You really dislike me. Women usually like me. Quite a lot, actually.”

“Obviously. That is why thirteen of them asked for me to bespell you.”

He frowned. “I thought you said fifteen before.”

“Thirteen girls. Two boys,” she said dryly. “Apparently boys like you quite a lot, too.”

Unexpectedly, Dragon laughed. “There you have it! Everyone likes me, except you.”

“What I do not like is the thought that so many impressionable young fledglings are infatuated with you. It’s simply not healthy.”

“Not healthy for whom? I feel just fine.” He smiled at her then, turning on every bit of his charm.

Dragon thought he saw her stern look relax a little and those big turquoise eyes soften, but her next words dashed cold water all over him.

“If you were more mature you would care about others’ feelings.”

He scowled. “Really? I’m almost twenty.” Dragon paused and looked her up and down appraisingly. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” she said, lifting her chin.

“Twenty-two! That’s too young to be a professor
and
too young to be lecturing me on being more mature.”

“And yet I
am
your professor of spells and rituals, and someone should lecture you about what you would be if you acted older. Who knows, with a little guidance you might grow up and be a Warrior of integrity and honor.”