Dragon Seeker Part Two Read online

  Annoyed with the whole world for its betrayal, her mind and body fought for air, suddenly suffocated by the confining walls of the cottage. So instead of heading up to the bedroom as Lyre had instructed, she shot him a final, irritated look, dropped her bag by the base of the stairs, and walked back to the outside world, slamming the cottage’s door behind her. She felt a serious sobbing session coming on, and it wouldn’t do to let him see just how upset she was. Somehow, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d crushed her for the second time in twenty-four hours.

  When she’d managed a few steps, she inhaled a deep breath that sounded to her ears more like a heaving sob. Lyre wouldn’t have heard it, of course, and as Trix moved away she took advantage of his lack of functional ears and let loose, each footstep allowing a new gasp of heartache to emerge from her chest.

  Sod it all, she thought as she clenched her fists so hard that her nails dug into her palms. She was being a ridiculous girl, weeping for a man she barely knew. Weeping for a dream of a man, a fabrication of her fantasies. A man to whom she felt so inextricably attached that he’d held her heart in his palms before their lips had ever even met.

  A man who’d cast a spell on her and then shattered it with nothing more than a few words typed on a small screen.

  But there was more to it than that. Lyre was more than just a beautiful face on a gorgeous body. And she knew that he wasn’t cruel or cold, not really. He was a lovely, kind, thoughtful man, and he was nearly perfect. Under normal circumstances, he even had a wicked sense of humour. Though for whatever reason it seemed to have deserted him temporarily. And to add to all of that, inside him was a Dragon, just as filled with near-perfection as his human counterpart.

  Perfect except for the fact that he wasn’t hers, and never would be.

  She’d allowed herself to get caught up in a fantasy world that she could never inhabit. A world that was rejecting her outright, telling her she didn’t belong.

  Reality was a cruel bastard.

  The land around her, beautiful though it was, seemed so vast all of a sudden, and so, so lonely. She walked towards the cliff’s edge, not out of any desperate desire to throw herself over it so much as a need to regain the ability to inhale properly. And the farther she drew herself from the house, the more able she was to accept fresh air into her suffocating lungs.

  Lyre had knocked the wind out of her. But she would heal from this, as she healed from everything else. Every wound, every blow she’d suffered. She was strong.

  It wasn’t his fault that any of this had happened, of course. And when a few minutes and the initial embarrassment of his rejection had passed, the rational part of her mind even admitted it. Lyre had every right to tell her how he truly felt. He was only being honest, and what kind of a woman would she be to hold that against him? And fuck, it wasn’t as though she wanted to be with a bloke who didn’t want her. That would be a fate worse than death, and she was far too proud to put up with any man who had no time for her, let alone no feelings.

  She reached down and plucked a long piece of grass from the ground, pulling at it with her fingertips as she continued to settle her mind, telling herself that it wasn’t as though she was desperate for a man. Only desperately in love, or lust, or some strange, deep emotion in between. Something had driven her to this place, to him. Something far more powerful than a schoolgirl crush. Far more powerful than anything she’d ever felt.

  So, this was what Neko had warned her about. This was what Dragon shifters did to women. Drew them in and then broke them. Ruined them. Shattered their hearts, and then did it all over again.

  Finally, allowing herself a last, deep sigh, she sat down among the tall, brown-green grasses at the edge of the giant cliff of white stone, looking out at the reflections of deep purple sky on the ocean far below. It was so gorgeous, this place, and a part of her could see why Lyre loved it so much. But it was impossible to open herself to the beauty of it, to revel in its peace and its quiet loveliness.

  And as night set in, she found it hard to imagine the place ever feeling welcoming when its owner had so quickly cast her aside.

  * * *

  Lyre stared for a time out the kitchen window, watching Trix make her way towards the land’s edge. She painted an exquisite image with her body as she walked quickly away from the cottage, away from him. Retreating, no doubt, from his coldness. His cruelty. That beautiful form of hers, silhouetted against the dancing grasses, clouds floating overhead, an almost full moon showing itself periodically through a veil of dark violets and blues.

  Her sword’s hilt jutted out from its sheath at her back, and when she sat down after a time, legs crossed in front of her, she looked like a small, delicate samurai, meditating before a fight. Beautiful, desirable woman.

  Broken-hearted woman.

  All day long he’d thought of her, hoping that she’d come to him. Wishing for it, longing for it. But now that she was here, he’d pushed her away heartlessly. He’d crushed her; he could tell without even hearing the tone of her lovely voice. What she didn’t know was that the moment he’d rejected her, his own heart had dried up and crumbled to tiny pieces in his chest. Nothing in his life had ever pained him so much as saying no to her, and doing it twice? It was killing him. But of course he could never tell her that.

  His powerful Dragon, restless inside him, taunted and tormented him for his stupidity in hot waves of its own fury. Why would you push your Seeker away, you foolish arse? the beast seemed to ask, almost violently beating against his insides. How could you do this to me, to us? You’ve just condemned us to a life of solitude, when we could have had her.

  We could have been happy.

  And as his hands gripped the edge of the counter, threatening to tear it from its foundations, the man inside him asked himself the same question. How could he do this to that sweet, wonderful woman, let alone to himself? He had to be a madman to turn her away. What sort of wanker would deny himself such a gift?

  But he knew the answer, of course. He always had.

  He was doing it for her. Everything was for her. He would have died to protect her, and, well, this felt like a damned death, only far worse. He’d fallen on his own sword to protect her from a fate that would bring her down, but the sword had a mind of its own. It had taken charge and was killing him slowly. Death by a thousand deep, cruel cuts.

  The truth was that, without ever having bonded, he belonged entirely to the woman who sat outside staring at the sea, salt tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t know it, but she’d claimed him the second they’d met.

  Twins

  Trix sat in silence for what felt like an hour before the quiet shuffling of feet in the grass behind her forced her to turn and look. By now she’d calmed herself, her breathing returned to normal. The wind had helped her fingers to wipe away her tears, and she sat cross-legged, staring out at the darkness, the lonesome sound of waves hitting the coast far below.

  But her calm was threatened now by Lyre’s presence at her side. Silently he eased himself down next to her, arms wrapping around his knees. The body language of a man who didn’t want to touch or be touched.

  So why the hell was he here?

  Trix turned away, fixing her eyes on an invisible point in the distance. No use in looking at the beautiful man she couldn’t have. It would be more of the same torture that she’d already subjected herself to too often, masochistic fool that she was.

  But after a minute or so of their shared stillness, he made the first move, reaching a hand out and drawing her eyes. A light shone from within his palm, the illuminated screen of his mobile. A few words polluted its surface, obviously written for her sake. And in spite of her own shaking hands, she took it from him and read.

  “You asked me last night how I lost my hearing. Do you still want to know?”

  He was turning her way, seeking a reply. She nodded. “Yes, I do.” It was a start, at least.

  And so he typed again, his fingers
moving in a virtual blur. Occasionally he showed her the screen to give her time to read what he’d written.

  “It’s rather a long story, but here we go,” the typed words told her. “Minach was mischievous as a young boy, as was I. Often we’d try to fool our parents—you know, the sorts of tricks that twins play for fun.” Trix nodded a second time, before continuing to read the text. “One of us would substitute himself for the other in order to try and convince our mother and father that their eyes and minds were playing tricks on them. But our parents were clever, of course, and they knew our scents too well for us to fool them, so we settled on the idea of tricking people outside of the family. After a time, we began to play around at school. One of us would write a test for the other, depending on the subject. He was good at science; I was good at French and other languages, and so we may have cheated more than once. We also played tricks on other children. At first, the easiest was to go after humans, who couldn’t smell how different we were from one another. To them we were identical, and to say that we got away with a lot would be an understatement.”

  “Okay,” said Trix when she’d turned his way again. “So you were cheeky little bastards. I assume that you could hear back then?”

  He nodded before typing again. “Yes,” he wrote. “I heard everything, learned everything, did everything, alongside my brother. And as we grew older, we began to learn about the world outside of school and family, and that Dragon shifters often have enemies. Our father was no exception. He’d fought many years earlier with another shifter—another Dragon, a cruel man, to say the least. Years before we were born he’d pursued our mother, wanting her for himself, and he’d decided that he had some sort of right to her. He refused to leave her alone until she and my father had bonded, at which point he had no recourse but to surrender her. And so at last he stopped his pursuit. Eventually he found his own mate, and they had a son, Alric.”

  Trix’s breath grew heavy in her chest. Where on earth was this going? A foreboding feeling expanded within her, darkening her insides.

  “Well, they too had a summer home near Dover,” Lyre wrote. “And that son of his was also a rather nasty piece of work. He was about the same age as we were, or perhaps a little older. Minach and I used to taunt him mercilessly. I suppose we saw him as an easy victim of our twin shenanigans; he used to blow up violently and go red in the face as he screeched at us, and we found it all very amusing. Minach, in particular, had no pity for the cruel little bugger. And I occasionally got caught up in his games and would help him to torment the boy.”

  Trix couldn’t help herself and let out a quiet chuckle. It wasn’t kind of the twins, but it was somehow a little cute to imagine them—Minach, in particular—actually playing.

  He typed some more. “All of this began in the early years, before we’d learned to shift. But after we came into our powers, it’s fair to say that Minach and I became even more naughty. Our Dragons were identical, as were our human forms, and so we had double the fun in shifted form. At times Minach would fly around and taunt young Alric into chasing him while I watched. Alric had also come into his skills, and he would pursue in Dragon form, only to have me end up flying after him, snapping at his tail with my very sharp young teeth and driving him utterly mad with rage. We were terrible to that poor boy. In so many ways I suppose I deserved what was coming to me.”

  When Trix read the last sentence she turned Lyre’s way, sadness scrawled on her features. Already she felt herself softening, a deep understanding making its way through her mind.

  “What was coming to you,” she said. “Your deafness?” He nodded again. “But no one deserves to lose a sense like that. It doesn’t matter what you did…”

  His fingers moved with lightning speed as he continued to write. “Perhaps I did deserve it, at least for a time. As I grew older, though, I began to feel for Alric. Pitied him, even. He was nothing more than an insecure wreck of a person, no doubt ruined by his father’s cruelty. But Minach wasn’t quite so sympathetic as I was. And one day my brother felt like being his usual plonker self, but I suppose I wasn’t in the mood. I stayed here on our property while he lured Alric in his usual way. But this time, Minach was playing the trick on us both, hoping to drive Alric mad and to get back at me for not joining in on the fun. Minach found the boy near his house and did something to irritate him, then flew in his Dragon form in the direction of our cottage, knowing that I was sitting up here and that Alric would see me. Minach had even gone to the trouble of dressing as I had that day, in a blue and white striped shirt and jeans, so that we’d look exactly alike. He dashed into the cottage to hide when Alric was approaching. I didn’t pay much attention to any of it; he just looked as though he was horsing around on his own, trying to get me to chase him. Had I known that Alric was behind him, I would have shifted as well, or at least stashed myself inside where it was safe.”

  He turned to face her, and again she spoke. “Safe from the wrath of a young boy.”

  “Yes. A young Dragon, to be precise. Well, in the end my brother’s plan worked out perfectly. When Alric flew over the cottage, all he saw on the cliff’s edge was me, sitting just where you are right now. And all he could think was that I was Minach, resting, thinking I’d won our game. For once of course, I was innocent. But he didn’t know that, and nor was his sense of smell developed enough to tell the difference between my brother and me. It wouldn’t have mattered anyhow; he was angry and convinced that I was the boy who’d tormented him. He flew at me, and of course his déor was much stronger and faster than I was in my human form. So before I had time to react, he’d grabbed me with his talons and dragged me out over the sea, seeking his revenge. He pulled me hundreds of feet out, over the deepest, coldest reaches of the ocean that I could imagine. I remember crying out to him, over and over again, that I wasn’t Minach. I was innocent. I’d done nothing wrong. Of course, by then, he didn’t care. I was one of the two boys who’d tormented him for so long, and I deserved to be punished.”

  “Oh, no,” said Trix to no one in particular as Lyre continued to type.

  “And so Alric dove. Down, down we went, shooting into the ocean, my young form underneath him. I thought that he was only trying to scare me, to torture me into apologizing. And as soon as I realized he was really going to hit the water I tried to shift. But it was too late; when we collided with the surface I was still in my human form. He crashed us both through the freezing cold salt water like a missile, and down we went. We were already so deep, so cold, before I managed to get my wits together to shift.”

  “Lyre…” Trix began. But his eyes were focused on the screen as he completed the story, ensuring that she’d get all the details.

  “And as we sank deeper and deeper, the pressure built up so hard and fast in my ears…and there was a moment when I felt the world go silent. When I finally did manage to shift, to fight him off, it was too late.”

  “What do you mean, too late?” she asked, her fingers on his arm so that he’d look her way. “What happened?”

  “At first I thought the silence was just a symptom of being submerged quickly, something to do with our depth. But it never went away, you see. The doctors said that I suffered what’s called barotrauma. It’s caused by a build-up of pressure, and swimmers and divers often suffer from it, but it’s not usually serious or permanent.”

  His blue eyes were focused on her again. “But for you it was,” she said. “It never went away.”

  He nodded again. “They said afterwards that it was the sudden shift into my Dragon’s form at exactly the wrong moment that did it. That when I altered I solidified the damage, and somehow made it a permanent part of myself, both in my human and shifted states. If I’d stayed human, ironically, I wouldn’t have lost my hearing. Of course, I would likely have drowned.”

  That was where he stopped typing entirely. Trix shifted her gaze, only to see that Lyre’s eyes were fixed on some point in the distance, his stubble-coated jaw clenched tightly shut. In a
moment of impulse and affection her left hand found his right, which was wrapped tightly about his leg. When she touched him, he released his grip and allowed her to weave her fingers between his own. She held his hand hard and to her surprise, he squeezed back. She could all but feel the pain flowing from his body into hers, just as she’d felt it intertwined among every word that he’d written. It couldn’t have been easy to let her in like that, to open himself up. He was a closed book at the best of times, at least in her experience.

  “Your brother,” she said, drawing his gaze as she turned his way. “Minach—he must have been upset, too.”

  “He was,” Lyre typed with his free hand. “Of course he was. He’s never gotten over it. He’s hardly spoken to me since that day, ironically enough. It was almost as though I was the one who’d wronged him.”

  Trix looked out at the ocean below, reflecting the moon and stars in its ebbing waves, and pictured him. A young child, crying out, being torn down towards the water. A shudder went through her when she thought about how much fear he must have felt as Alric’s Dragon had driven him down towards the ocean. Then the agony of loss he must have suffered when he’d realized his hearing was gone. His whole world had gone silent forever. And he’d been sitting right where they were now when it had all begun.

  To think that it had all started with a few childhood pranks.

  “Poor you. Poor Minach,” Trix said quietly, her eyes wet with tears. “Oh, Lyre. I’m so sorry. For you and for your twin. It’s no wonder he hates himself.”

  “Well, I don’t hate Minach for what happened that day. I don’t even hate being deaf—not usually. But I hate what it means for my life. I hate that it means I can’t have the thing I want most in this world.”