Pia Saves the Day (5 page)

“Enough.”
He growled it with such intensity, the ground behind them vibrated. “I have listened to you enough. I have never needed healing from anyone before, and I will not tolerate you trying to convince me that I need it now.”

She stared at him in astonishment and the beginnings of bitterness. “That’s not true,” she said, her voice clipped. “You’ve needed my healing before. You just don’t remember it.”

“If I don’t remember it,” the dragon said, “how can I trust you’re telling the truth?” He spread out one forepaw to indicate the gold and jewels. “You bring me convenient gifts of all my favorite things. Do you think I’ve never seen a trap baited with such as this before?”

She stared at him, breathing heavily, but remained silent. Then her chin came up. “Fine. Maybe bringing the treasure was a mistake, but I’m not leaving.”

“As you wish,” Dragos said.

He glanced dismissively once more at the treasure lying on the ground between them, then turned his back on her, gathered himself and sprang into flight.

The last thing he wanted to do was go hunting, but he needed food to heal and time to think. Either the female would be waiting for him when he returned, or she would not. If she truly wanted to find her mate again, she would wait.

If he returned.

P
ia stared up
at the sky, watching Dragos leave. Normally she loved to see him take flight, but now watching the dragon fly away gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. How far would he go?

How could she be so stupid?

The satellite phone in her pack rang, and she dug it out to answer it.

Graydon demanded, “Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you did he?”

She looked in the direction of the low, nearby peak of a neighboring mountain, where the gryphon hid, keeping watch from a distance. It said something, didn’t it, that Graydon would even ask such a thing. A week ago—a day ago—the question would have been unthinkable.

“No,” she said dully. “He didn’t hurt me.” At least, he hadn’t hurt her anywhere that was visible. Inside, she felt like she was slowly bleeding from some vital artery.

“I’ll follow him.”

“No! Leave him be for now.” Unable to stand still, she paced through the clearing. “It’s my fault he left. I panicked and pushed him too hard. The gold and jewels—they were a bad idea. He doesn’t remember me. He doesn’t remember, Gray, and of course he was suspicious. I’d brought all his favorite things, and he thought I was baiting some kind of trap.”

“Take a deep breath,” Graydon said gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was a good idea, as far as it went. Are you sure I shouldn’t track him? What if he doesn’t come back?”

Scrubbing at her face with the back of one hand, she tried to think. Where would he go? What would he do?

She was excellent at predicting what Dragos would do and where he would go, but she had no idea what this strange, frightening creature might decide. The thought of the dragon prowling unchecked through the countryside made her stomach tighten even further.

But she had roused the dragon’s suspicions, and if he sensed Graydon following him, Dragos might attack him. Graydon could get hurt, or worse, killed. Dragos would never forgive himself if that happened, and she would never forgive herself either. Graydon’s kind, steady presence was one of the reasons why she had made it through such a dark, awful night, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

“No,” she said again. “We can’t risk it. Maybe I raised enough questions in his mind that he’ll come back on his own for answers. He said he needed to think. For the moment, we’re going to have to trust him, and wait to see if he returns on his own.”

Those were some of the toughest words she’d ever had to say. They ranked right up there with telling Liam
you have to be a big soldier now
. The panicked animal inside her wanted nothing more than to chase after Dragos, but the thought of trusting the dragon who was even now acting without Dragos’s memories was almost insupportable.

“I want to join you,” Graydon said. “It’s going against all my instincts to leave you there alone.”

“Well, you can’t,” she replied flatly. “If he comes back, and he smells your scent, he’ll be even more convinced this is some kind of trap.” She glanced once more up into the sky. “For now, we’ll just have to wait.”

“Call me if anything changes, or if you need me to come. In fact, call me every half hour,” Graydon said. “I want to hear the sound of your voice, and know you’re okay.”

She knew what he wanted. Like Eva, he was scared, and he wanted reassurance. With the fact that Wyr mated for life, and with Dragos so critically injured, everything about their lives was unpredictable now, unstable.

But she had no more reassurance to offer Graydon than she’d had to offer Eva.

She said, “I’m not going to pretend to be fine. To tell you the truth, I feel pretty crazy, and I feel like I’m fighting for my life. But you’re going to have to trust me, too. I’m dealing with it. I’ll deal. And I’ll call you if I need you.”

He swore under his breath. After a moment, he said, “Okay, sweetheart.”

Hanging up, she stuffed the phone back into one of the side pockets of the pack. She had to get her act together. She didn’t know how long Dragos would be gone, and she was exhausted. Waiting through the long, terrible night as the sentinels searched for Dragos, dealing with legalities for both the Wyr demesne and for Liam’s sake—just in case—and the long hike up the mountain, along with confronting the dragon, had all taken their toll.

She needed to refuel and rest, at least as much as she was able, because she had no idea what would happen next.

Moving to the spring, she washed her face and arms in the icy water then drank as much as she could hold. Afterward, she forced herself to choke down a couple of vegan protein bars, and she wrapped up the gold bricks and jewels and stuffed them back into her pack.

The heat of the afternoon was fading, and the shadows from the trees lengthened. Even though it was high summer, it got cold in the mountains at night. She pulled one of the last treasures from her pack, a sturdy, flannel-lined jacket. Wrapping it around her torso, she curled into a tight ball against the trunk of the tree and fell into an uneasy doze.

Come back. Please come back to me.

*     *     *

The rush of
gigantic wings roused her.

Scrambling to her feet, she watched as the dragon wheeled overhead. Inside, relief and tension grappled for supremacy, but in the end relief won out.

He had returned, and he didn’t have to. He could have just as easily left. He had no stake in this location. He came back because she was here, and he wanted those answers.

While she had dozed, afternoon had turned to early evening, and the sky overhead had turned vivid, framing the dragon’s bronze body with jewel tones. Light and graceful as a cat, despite his massive size, he landed on the ledge.

His muzzle was coated with bright, fresh blood. She could smell it from where she stood. It was cow’s blood. Somewhere nearby, a farmer was missing some cattle. If we survive this, she thought with grim gallows humor, someone is going to have to hunt that farmer down and pay him for his trouble.

Ignoring her as if she didn’t exist, Dragos strode to the spring to rinse his muzzle and forepaws, sleek muscle flowing under his bronze hide.

She studied him thoughtfully. He seemed to be moving better, with more ease and surety. The jagged wound at his brow looked partially healed, but she didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried about that.

All she knew was that she wasn’t buying his act. He might pretend to ignore her but he knew very well, probably to a fraction of an inch, where she was standing.

Still without looking at her, Dragos said, “Where’s my treasure?”

His treasure. She cocked her head, resting her hands on her hips. If the situation hadn’t been so serious she might have smiled. Even now, amidst all his suspicions, the dragon remained as possessive as ever.

“I apologize for what happened earlier,” she said, keeping her voice as soft and even as she had before. Nonaggressive, nonthreatening. “I understand that you have cause to be suspicious of anyone who approaches you as I did, but I meant no insult by offering the gifts, nor was I baiting any kind of trap. I was only hoping to strike a bargain with you.”

“Ah, yes,” he replied, glancing cynically over his shoulder. “Because I’m the only one who can help you find your mate.”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

He finished washing, circled and stretched out on the rough, stony ledge with all the arrogance of an emperor assuming his throne. Only then did he look directly at her, the expression in his great, gold eyes confrontational and cold.

The impact was almost overwhelming. She had seen him give his enemies just such a look before, but he had never looked that way at her until now.

He said, “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Tucking in her chin, she leveled her gaze at him. While he might have chosen to return, the decision seemed to have put him in a pissy mood. “What difference does it make? You clearly didn’t want it.”

The dragon narrowed his eyes. “I’ve changed my mind. You will bring it to me.”

Normally, her impulse would be to back talk to all that monumental arrogance, but she curbed it. Now wasn’t the time to sass him. There was no hint of indulgence in his current demeanor, or softness. This was all about establishing dominance. His entire attitude demanded that she prove herself.

Bowing her head, she knelt to open her pack and pull out the packets of gold and jewels. Gathering them in her arms, she walked toward him. About fifteen feet away, she slowed to a stop. When she made as if to kneel, Dragos said, “Bring it closer.”

Obediently, she took a few steps closer. The force of his personality pressed against her skin. His Power boiled around his physical form like an invisible corona, and despite the gravity of the situation, the desperate animal inside of her drew comfort from his closeness and calmed.

“Closer,” the dragon said again, watching her intently.

He was lethally unpredictable, easily the most dangerous creature she had ever known or met, and at the moment, he did not remember he loved her.

She was supposed to stay wary of him, but it was too hard to maintain when she was so tired and it went against every one of her instincts. With a sigh, she approached until she could set the packets on the ground between his outstretched forelegs.

When she straightened, he lowered his head until the large curve of his nostrils stopped a few inches from her hair. They stood like that for some time, breathing quietly. As she looked up into one immense, molten eye, she wanted very badly to stroke his muzzle, or to take out her small penknife, slice the palm of her hand and lay it against that terrible, half-healed wound on his brow.

That wound had taken everything from her. No matter how suspiciously or aggressively Dragos treated her at the moment, she never forgot—that wound was the real enemy.

But she didn’t dare go quite that far, not without his express permission. If she made a mistake and pushed him too far, he could lash out at her again, and they would both lose everything.

“Now, tell me about this ‘horrible misunderstanding,’” he ordered.

At a loss, she glanced around the clearing. How could she explain what had happened in such a way that the dragon could accept it? So much depended on concepts and relationships built over centuries.

He was Lord of the Wyr demesne, the head of a multibillion-dollar corporation, and a husband, mate and father, and yet earlier, the dragon didn’t even know his own name.

Taking in a deep breath, she said in a cautious, low voice, “It wasn’t any kind of attack. I swear it. You’ll know that for yourself, as soon as you remember more.”

“If it wasn’t an attack, then what was it?”

“An accident,” she whispered. She wiped her cheeks with both hands. “A terrible, terrible accident. You were helping with building a project, and you were all working together.”

It was impossible to tell if he believed her. The dragon’s face remained expressionless. “How did this accident occur?”

The evening before, she had asked the very same thing of Aryal, but she had only half comprehended the answer.

Now, she said, “I don’t know all the details of what happened, but what I do know is that you were setting off a series of small, controlled explosions in a large section of bedrock that bordered a lake.”

“Why?” He watched her closely.

“The site is where a large building is going to be constructed, so the area needs to be level in certain places. But there was a buried fault line in the rock nobody knew was there. It looked solid when it was inspected, but it wasn’t. You—along with a couple of other men—you all thought you were safe where you were standing, around one edge of the bluff.”

She paused, but he said nothing, his steady breathing stirring her hair. Lacing her fingers together, she twisted her hands and continued, “When the explosion went off, the force of it blew through the fault line, and blasted out where you were standing. They call that kind of accident ‘flyrock’ in construction and quarry blasting—it’s material projected outside a declared danger zone. At least that’s how it was explained to me. When the fault line was breached, a whole section of the area collapsed. You were all buried underneath it. One man died. The rest of you were badly injured.”