Treasure Lane Dragons: Complete Series (BBW Paranormal Dragon Shapeshifter Romance) (22 page)

Her hand went to touch another spot on his chiseled abdomen, but he caught her wrist before she could get any further. Touching her sent sparks skittering through him.

“I get it, sugar. I’m broken. I fought a gorilla, and he mopped the floor with me. But I got him back too, and it’s going to be mostly okay by tomorrow, so you can do your little voodoo magic, and we can say I’m all fixed up. Yes? Now, do you want to tell me what you were doing with a punk like him or do I need to duel anyone else to be privy to that information?”

Her hazel eyes were full of surprise, and the color drained from her face. It took real effort to not pull her against him and cradle her soft, curvy body, telling her it was all going to be okay. Because, could he really promise that? And why would he? He barely knew the woman, even though his dragon seemed to think that
she was the one
and
there will be babies in the immediate future
.

Technically, his dragon was never wrong, but he was willing to bet that the redheaded beauty sitting next to him, looking like she was about to burst into tears while holding a big needle wouldn’t agree with his dragon quite so easily.

“Did you win?” she finally asked, after a pause that took years off of Cillian’s life expectancy.

He grinned and flexed his bruised hand, showing off the purple blotches on his knuckles.

“I don’t think we can really say
who
won, but if we count victory through who was conscious at the end and who wasn’t, then yes, I won.”

“Good,” she noted, stabbing him with the needle again.

“Wait, that’s it? No story? So I
do
need to duel someone? Can I at least get the name of the person I need to be on the lookout for?”

“I’ll tell you if I see him. Are you dragons all so nosey?”

“Only when we need to,” he said, falling back on the soft cushions behind him and letting Ruby do her thing.

At least that way he could look at her. That had to count for something. He didn’t want to push her too hard. If she didn’t want to talk, she didn’t want to talk.  The least he could do was to respect that.

CHAPTER SIX

Cillian

Hours passed and Ruby had been tucked away under the Egyptian sheets of his bed, while he was still on the couch, trying to sleep with the city waking up below them. That was the one thing he missed about Emerald Ridge and his family’s mansion – it was never, ever loud there. All there was was calm serenity, with him as the noisiest thing around. Just like it ought to be.

His hands were tucked behind his head, and he’d swapped the jeans out for some cotton sweatpants, but everything else was much the same. Except that there was no Ruby to distract him, which meant his mind was free to cause him as much discomfort as it wanted. One after another, everything came to him to pick and scrape at his wounds until he was certain he would never sleep again.

The family fortune was one thing. The Greenmeadow coffers had been in decline for generations – a secret they’d kept closely, but could only cover up so much. These days, no one other than Cillian’s brothers seemed to care. There were far too few dragon families around to be picky, and in any case, lording over vast fortunes wasn’t a viable career option anymore. But that was a point his brothers, who were looking to Cillian to fix everything ASAP, seemed to be hell-bent on ignoring.

The fact that he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with his life was another thing. He’d thought being a fixer would be what he needed. It paid well – well enough to bolster his and his brothers’ ridiculous lifestyles anyway – and it gave him the adrenaline he always wanted, keeping him on his toes. But there were only so many thieves he could track down and deaths he could cover up before that too stopped being fun and started feeling like a chore.

And then, of course, there was the delicate matter of his younger brother Carrick and his utter lack of belief in Cillian’s strength as the elder of their kin. While Cillian spent his time in the Americas, Carrick had gone back to the fatherland after their parents died, and from what Cillian could tell, his little brother had become quite fond of the ancient family folklore.

Apparently, one Greenmeadow dragon was destined to rise up at the family’s time of greatest need and restore their bounty along with their name, lifting them up from the ashes. All very dramatic, but Carrick seemed to have a point. These were troubling times. However, Carrick wasn’t the first dragon to plot against his elder. It had not been long since Remington Redblade was ousted from his position and lost his seat to his younger brother Romulus.

It was almost unheard of but not impossible, and it had caused quite a stir in dragon circles, creating tension within families and making brother turn against brother. Of course, the Redblades were somewhat of a difficult case. They’d always been warmongers, and Romulus was no different. Now that Remington was gone, Cillian had to admit that though he had had his issues, he had actually seemed almost tolerable next to his wild-eyed, yet curiously reserved little brother. Peculiar.

Cillian had expected Carrick to rebel against him for a while now, and in light of what had happened lately, perhaps even challenge him to a duel for the position. Cillian crinkled his nose at the thought. Unless his baby brother intended to actually slay him, or he somehow managed to disgrace the bloodline so thoroughly that every single Greenmeadow agreed he should be removed from his position as elder, Cillian wouldn’t be wrenched off the proverbial gold pile that easily.

That is, if he managed to form the royal bond – the bond between a dragon and his mate that signified to his forefathers that he was ready to lead, to control, to grow and to have others grow with him.

But that required a mate, and a mate he did not have. When he thought of the word, Ruby’s face immediately popped into his mind. He shooed that pleasant mental image away as quickly as he could, the uncomfortable truth of her being well out of his reach far too distasteful to stomach. Until he was married under the gold moon, Carrick only had to show up at his door, breath some fire in his face and tell him to either battle him or be swept under the rug and live a life reserved for failures and hacks.

The sun must have been up already, but it didn’t matter – the blinds kept all the light out and all the dark in, just like Cillian preferred it. He stared at the ceiling, weighing his options in an endless circle of pick-the-least-crappy-bad-choice.

Did he want Carrick to challenge him? He’d always known that the burden of carrying the Greenmeadow name would be his to bear – his father had never allowed him to forget that even for a moment. But somehow, he’d still managed to put it aside and lock it away with all the other things he didn’t want to deal with. The time he’d managed to spend away from his parents’ watchful eyes in his youth had been spent chasing one thrill after another and finding more and more elaborate ways for driving his traditionalist parents up the wall.

So, wasn’t it a bit ironic that he was now the one expected to keep the Greenmeadow name in good standing?

You
are
doing it by fixing other people’s lives. Is it so damn hard to fix yours?
Cillian mused, closing his eyes.

Another sleepless night spent pondering on questions without an answer in sight. But, as always, his belief that things would work themselves out remained forever unrattled.

***

The bike roared through the Chicago streets, catching a glance or two every now and then, but their helmets hid their identities and wrapped them in a safe cocoon of anonymity. Cillian liked the way Ruby’s hands clung to him tightly, squeezing just a little bit too hard. She’d admitted she’d never been on a superbike before, and a Fireblade was a far cry from a relatively comfy, leisurely chopper. It was the only thing he could ride that would give him any kind of a rush.

Flying from point A to point B wasn’t the most sensible thing, what with most of mankind still safely unaware that dragons even existed outside of children’s fairy tales (not to mention them controlling a sizeable portion of the world’s wealth and being capable of making just about anything happen by throwing substantially large wads of cash at it). That was the one thing he missed about being in Emerald Ridge – no one would even bat an eye if a giant, green and gold dragon suddenly swooped over their house so low it could almost knock over chimneys.

His mind had been racing all morning, trying to figure out a way to make everything alright. The more time he spent around Ruby, the less inclined he was to return her to her parents – it felt like he was offering up a part of his own hoard to be gobbled up by people who could never understand her value. It pained him. His dragon was adamant about forsaking his human form, tossing her on his back and making a break for Emerald Ridge. That way he’d have plenty of time to unravel the mess that were his feelings towards the little mob princess long before Antonio Accardo and Sergei could track him down.

All that didn’t take into account Ruby’s personal opinions on the matter, but Cillian was getting a vibe from her that she wasn’t exactly looking forward to her family reunion either. Perhaps she even liked being around him a little. The way she’d looked at his body when they got up in the morning and he padded around the kitchen with nothing on but the sweatpants and his gold chains and cuffs certainly signaled that she might be interested in purchasing, not just perusing.

He chose to ignore the fact that she might just have been looking at him that way because most of his wounds had magically healed up and he was fit as a fiddle again. Ignorance was bliss in that regard, and he liked his version of the story better.

He could sense her becoming more and more nervous as they closed in on the bar he’d met Sergei and her father in. It was early in the afternoon, so the place would be deserted. Cillian pulled up on the curb outside the bar and shut off the engine.

Reluctantly, Ruby unlatched herself from him, and he cringed a little as she let go. Good thing he had the helmet on. It was silly, really. He’d never bought into the whole fated mate thing, and he barely knew this woman. Cillian was a handsome guy, and he’d messed around with plenty of gorgeous women in his days, but this one was special. This one made his dragon roar with desire, and the man… well, he wanted her. Badly.

He took off the helmet, careful to wipe away any trace of the disappointment he was feeling at having to let her go, and put it on the seat behind him. She was pulling off her helmet as well, and her long auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders in lush waves. Her name suited her perfectly. She was a jewel, alright.

“So, I guess this is it,” Ruby said with a sigh, taking off his jacket.

He’d leant it to her for the drive so she wouldn’t get cold. He got off the bike and put it on, taking a moment to admire the way she looked. She’d stitched up the skirt, and he’d given her one of his dress-shirts so she wouldn’t appall her father’s sensitivities by looking like a hot piece of ass instead of a good, well-behaved Italian woman on her way to becoming a doctor.

“I guess so,” he agreed with a smirk, though the little hint of sadness in his tone wasn’t lost on him. “Come on, let’s get this over with. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think it will.”

Liar, it’s going to be fucking horrific,
he mused darkly, putting a protective hand on her lower back and walking her towards the back entrance.

Even in her high heels, she still only reached to his shoulder. She was positively tiny next to him, even with those ample curves of hers that robbed him of his sleep and made him dream of her. Dragons above, it was torture being so near to her and knowing he’d have to let her go. Even now, his mind raced, looking for ways to extend this little meeting.

Much to Cillian’s chagrin, the door opened immediately, and he walked her in. She trembled a little. Apparently pissing off daddy dearest was a big thing in the Accardo household, and no wonder, if said father was nicknamed the Butcher of Chicago. They passed through the dark corridor and emerged in the VIP area. This time, the club looked positively eerie with not a person in sight, save for a waitress polishing some tabletops at the far end of the bar. Without the flashing lights and sweaty bodies, the place looked drab – but didn’t they all.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured, hopefully bolstering her spirits a little.

“Ruby!” Antonio’s voice called, obviously relieved.

Cillian took his hand off of her and felt a sharp jab go through his heart at having her out of his reach. His effervescent smirk was wiped from his face.