Zanaikeyros: Son of Dragons

  I know this sounds crazy, but I’m counting on you, Dan.

  That’s all I can say for now.

  J

  Chapter Twenty

  Jordan, Zane, and Axe sat outside, beneath the shade of an umbrella, in the Exploratory Medical Center’s café, sipping caffeinated drinks, discussing the world of the Dragyr, and waiting for Macy’s surgery to be over. It was 9:15 AM; the three of them had been talking for an hour; and now, as a semi-comfortable silence settled between them, Jordan replayed the earlier conversations…

  So far, they had touched on three interesting subjects: telepathy, human servants, and how the Dragyr moved in and out of human society without being detected. Obviously, on the first subject—the matter of reading minds—Jordan had listened intently. She had wanted to know where she stood.

  After all, during her very first encounter with Zane, when he had taken her blood at the mall, he had been able to read her thoughts…quite directly. And ever since, he’d described them as projections—if they were especially loud, he could hear them—but what about the thoughts that were slightly less…overt?

  Needless to say, Jordan desired a more specific explanation—she needed to know how far the dragyri’s powers went—could Zane see right through her deception?

  Unfortunately, Mr. Saphyrius had chosen to skirt all around the subject—perhaps he didn’t want her to know, to grasp everything he could do—or perhaps he was hiding a few cards of his own, playing his own careful hand…

  Either way, he had only elaborated on the specific powers of ESP, the science behind how it worked, yet during that elaboration, something unrelated—yet interesting—had come up: In a nutshell, Jordan would soon possess the powers of telepathy, herself. She would possess the ability to forge a mutual connection, mind to mind, with any of the immortal Dragyr. The moment her conversion was over, the ability would simply emerge.

  The revelation had been unsettling, at best, and she had shifted back and forth in her seat. In fact, every impulse in her body at the time had wanted to get up and run. Why? Well, the answer was pretty straightforward: Zane had unwittingly opened the topic of Jordan’s rebirth…

  Being made immortal in the temple.

  And that was a topic she’d wanted to keep closed, at least until she was forced to face it.

  It was just too horrifying.

  Too imminent.

  Too incredible…

  Too terrible to even imagine.

  Not to mention, there was no way she was having that conversation in front of Axe: When and if she and Zane discussed that subject, they needed to be alone.

  To Axe’s credit, the blond-haired dragyri had tried (and failed) to come to her rescue, chiming in about another omniscient power she would also receive post-conversion: the ability to speak and understand all of the world’s languages.

  Yes, all of them.

  He had insisted that the knowledge would just magically appear, the moment she was fully converted. Unfortunately for Axe, he hadn’t understood that the topic of conversion was off limits. Just like that, it had happened again—they’d gone back to the subject of rebirth. Like the persistent monster in a child’s dark closet, it just seemed to hover…and linger…and persist.

  Thankfully, the conversation had quickly meandered to the last two original topics: the presence of human servants in Dragons Domain, and how the Dragyr moved in and out of human society without being easily detected.

  Earlier, at breakfast, Jace had made a comment about human cooks and maids, and the reference had left Jordan curious. According to Zane, there was a human sect—a secret religion, of sorts—that served the Temple of Seven. On occasion, some of these servants were brought into The Pantheon and allowed to stay for a time—they served the dragyri in their various lairs; they assisted the gods in the temple; and they played various roles in sacred rites, serving the entire domain. When their time was up, they were simply sent back, escorted to earth through the portal, with the most sensitive—or revealing—memories scrubbed.

  And all of it was by consent.

  According to Axe, they could help Jordan now with any number of tasks: They could go shopping or banking or run various earthly errands, all on Jordan’s behalf. They could retrieve items from her condo—more shoes, more clothes, a computer—and if there was anything she wanted, needed, or simply desired, the humans could procure it for her.

  Apparently, the Dragyr had many earthly holdings—houses, hotels, real-estate investments, and businesses of every kind—and the faithful humans served as employees at most of them.

  It had been a cornucopia of new information, and Jordan had processed it the best she could—but truth be told, she didn’t know how she felt about any of it: the idea of having servants, the idea of the Temple of Seven, or the persistent idea of spending an immortal lifetime with Zane…

  Now, as she absently stirred some sugar from the bottom of a glass of iced tea, as she watched the granules float upward, refusing to dissolve in the drink, she noticed that most of the ice had melted, and she fidgeted with her spoon.

  “Jordan. Jordan!”

  She heard her name being called by Zane, as if from a very great distance, and she immediately lifted her head. Both he and Axe were staring at her like she was from another planet, which, in truth, she kind of was…at least from another dimension.

  Had she been zoned out that entire time?

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m here. I’m here.”

  “What were you thinking about, dragyra?” Zane asked.

  Jordan shook her head. She glanced at Axe, rather than Zane, who for all intents and purposes looked like he’d rather be anywhere else—he must have felt like a loathsome third wheel—and she decided not to answer.

  Again, it was all too new, and the information overload was a bit overwhelming.

  Before Zane could press her any further, there was a commotion in the cafe: Karen Wilson, Macy’s mom, carrying a tray full of fruit, muffins, and crackers, and rapidly heading their way. She was calling Jordan in a boisterous tone, and trying to wave one hand without dropping the platter.

  “Jordan! Jordan, honey! Oh, there you are.” She stumbled up to the table, almost tripping over Axe’s leg; slammed the tray down with a clamor, spilling some of her juice; and brushed her hair frenetically out of her eyes. “Whew!” she exclaimed. “I never thought I’d find you.” And then, without awaiting a reply, she turned her attention to Zane. “You must be one of Jordan’s very special protectors.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “I popped in to see Macy one last time before they wheeled her into surgery, but you guys were already gone. Just the same, she told me all about your terrible…clandestine…predicament.” She looked inordinately pleased with herself as she shifted her gaze to Axe. “And you, young man: You need to keep your legs forward and under the table. I could have tripped and fallen to my death.”

  Axe jolted in surprise, his thick upper lip turning up in a scowl, and Jordan closed her eyes and cringed. Yes, Karen Wilson is eccentric, but please, Lord: Don’t let him flash his fangs…. Grateful that she didn’t have to explain the dragyris’ presence, she spoke in a rather loud tone of her own. “How are you, Karen? It’s so nice to see you.”

  Karen pulled out the last remaining chair, plopped her rear in the empty seat, and rested both of her elbows on the table like she was utterly exhausted. “Oh, I’m fine, dear, just worried sick about Macy—you know how I get.” She leaned back in her chair and brushed some crumbs off her brightly colored blouse. “How are you, Jordan? That’s just terrible that someone has caused you so much distress.” She eyed Zane and Axe conspicuously, then immediately changed the subject. “But you seem to be doing well in spite of things—my gosh, that’s a lovely dress! You look just like a spring flower.”

  Jordan’s heart warmed at the disjointed compliment. “Thank you, Karen. I am doing well. Just here to show Macy my support.” What else could she say? I’ve just been abducted by an immortal dragon. I’m sca
red to death. And you have no idea what—or who—you just interrupted?

  Not hardly.

  Karen nodded ardently, demonstrating her appreciation for Jordan’s support. She took her plate off the tray, tugged it a little closer, and took a long, slow drink of her orange juice. And then she seemed to notice, for the first time, that nobody else was eating. “Oh my, how rude of me,” she fussed. “Would you like a muffin, Jordan? I have two—they’re banana-nut!”

  “Oh, no thank you,” Jordan said. “I ate earlier. I’m just having tea.”

  Karen frowned and glanced around the table, stopping to take a good hard look at Axe and Zane. “What about you boys? You must like banana-nut?”

  Jordan laughed involuntarily, the sound coming out as a bark.

  You boys?

  Oh, man, talk about missing the mark.

  Axe drew back his head like a bee had just darted toward his nose, and Zane furrowed his brow into a frown. “No, thank you,” Zane mumbled, sounding a tad bit surly. “I’m fine with caffeine.”

  Karen paid it no mind. “Oh, don’t be silly.” She waved a dismissive hand, reached for a plastic knife, and promptly cut one of the muffins in half. Then placing each half on a separate, flimsy napkin, she dragged one half in front of Zane, the other in front of Axe, and harrumphed. “There. A piece for both of you. You need to keep up your strength.” She glanced at the mid-morning sun. “And you both need to stay hydrated, as well—you should drink something other than soda.”

  Jordan laughed again, only this time, she joined in the banter. “You’re gonna need more than that,” she mocked, repeating Zane’s words from breakfast, while pointing at his Coke. The subtle dig gave her infinite satisfaction. And then she had the oddest thought…

  What if she just spilled the beans?

  Told Karen Wilson everything?

  Could her best friend’s mother somehow help, create a distraction, or aid in Jordan’s rescue? Did she really have to wait on Dan? Why was she sitting there in a public place, with someone she knew—and actually trusted—allowing the whole dystopian scenario to play out, when she could simply cry for help?

  Zane emitted a low, almost inaudible growl, the sound coming from deep in his throat, and Jordan started. I am doing my best not to read your mind, dragyra—he spoke in her head! But your emotions—your impulses—are still leaking out. Take caution, angel. This is not a game.

  Jordan sank back in her chair.

  What was she thinking?

  No, she could not ask for help, and especially not from Macy’s mother.

  The flighty woman would abruptly freak out; Zane or Axe would take control of her mind; and last, but not least, Jordan would destroy any trust she had built with Zane—she might even lose the privilege to travel back and forth through the portal, albeit escorted by two fearsome beings.

  She felt, more than she saw, Zane’s deep sapphire eyes scrutinizing her from beneath his dark sunglasses, and a shiver rose up her spine: How would Karen Wilson react to Zane’s intense dragon-irises—to sapphire orbs that should have been white? How would Jordan react if she saw them right now, and they were angry, disappointed…or critical?

  Discomfited by the question, she reached for her purse, which was sitting on the table, grasped the leather opening in her closed fist, and yanked it onto her lap, leaning over the bag protectively.

  Zanaikeyros moved like the wind, so quickly that he seemed like a blur.

  He reached for her arm, pulled her out of her chair, and began to lead her away from the table. “Excuse us,” he said, ignoring Karen’s audible gasp. “We’ll be right back.”

  A few heads turned as Jordan shuffled to keep up with him, but a quick compulsion from Zane made them mind their own business. Jordan glanced over her shoulder to check on Macy’s mom—she was afraid of what the woman might do.

  There was no need to worry.

  Axe had taken off his glasses, and Karen was staring blankly into his black-and-sapphire orbs, her own eyes quickly glazing over from compulsion.

  It was just that simple, Jordan thought.

  Zane and Axe were just that powerful.

  And she was just that screwed…

  She yanked her arm free as they came to a halt near a willow tree, shading them from the sun, and she squared her chin at Zane. “What the hell are you doing?” she snapped, feeling her anger rise.

  “Forgive me, dragyra; did I harm you?” Despite his intensity, his voice was thick with concern, and his eyes swept over her arm, searching for signs of a bruise.

  The sudden shift in tack caught Jordan off guard, and she frowned apologetically. Yes, he looked angry…or perhaps he was worried…but his touch had not been brutal. Zane hadn’t marked her skin. “My arm is fine,” she said softly. “What is this about?”

  Zane took a slow, deep breath and reached for her hand. “What is in your purse, dragyra?”

  Jordan pulled her hand away. “What?”

  The tip of his nose twitched in annoyance. “You heard me. What is in that purse?”

  “I already told you, the map, a page from the atlas—”

  “No,” Zane argued. “You lied.”

  His words landed like a ton of bricks—it didn’t matter that they were true—Jordan felt insulted, cornered, and disrespected. “How dare you,” she whispered, her own nostrils beginning to flare. “After everything you have put me through.”

  Zanaikeyros shook his head and removed his sunglasses, allowing her to see his eyes. “You misunderstand my words, my angel. I did not say that you are a liar—I have seen your soul, and you are not—but you have chosen to deceive me in this matter because you feel as if you must. And I have done my level best not to invade your mind, not to search your purse, not to push the issue…at least this once. But even with that effort, I already know that you are planning something…reaching out to someone…hoping to escape our fate. And I would be remiss to let it go. What’s in your purse, dragyra? Who did you text on your phone?”

  Jordan swallowed her fear and held Zane’s gaze.

  Fine, he wanted the truth?

  He was all about honesty?

  Then she would give him some truth of her own.

  “Unless you force me, I am not going to tell you. Unless you read my mind, you are not going to know.” She pushed through her dread and gathered more courage. “You are doing what you have to, Zane, and so am I—why is that so hard to understand? Why can’t you allow me one simple dignity? Did you really think I would just come with you, follow you into a whole new world—go along to get along—and never once complain or fight back? Did you really think you could take me from my life and insert me into yours?” She crossed her arms over her middle. “I don’t want this, Zanaikeyros. I’m sorry, but I don’t want you. I want to go back to my life as I’ve always known it, and I will try anything…do anything…say whatever I have to in order to make that happen. So yes, I lied to you.”

  The hurt in his eyes was visceral, but to his credit, he didn’t lash out. Rather, he continued to stare at her, circumspectly, his own shadowy pupils scanning left and right as he peered deeper…and deeper…into her soul. When he finally uttered a reply, his voice sounded hoarse, like broken glass. “I do understand, dragyra,” he slowly bit out. “And I care more than you will ever know about how all of this affects you, how you feel, and what you want. And I would do anything to shoulder this burden for you, to make the change and the adjustment easier, but I cannot.” He took a small step back, and his countenance softened. “I will not destroy your dignity, Jordan. I will not rifle through your purse. And I will not steal your phone. But understand me clearly when I say this to you: I will never let you go. You are mine now, my dragyra, and the world you once knew is no more. If you bring other humans into this, they may get hurt. I am not a human male—my dragon is not merciful—and I will fight to the death for what is mine. Decide not rashly, my angel. You are playing a very, very dangerous game.”

  Jordan gulped and took an unwitt
ing step back of her own.

  She nodded her head in understanding and held his discomforting stare. “Very well,” she whispered. “Is there anything else?”

  He snickered and shook his head in disappointment. And then he raised his hand, caressed her jaw with the backs of his finger, and then traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb—oddly enough, it almost felt like he was testing her mettle, appraising her inner strength. “So brave. So defiant. So beautiful.” He sighed. “Just one more thing.”

  Jordan raised her brows.

  “I would also die to protect you, Jordan, just as I will live for you, now…and all the days of my life. And if you’ll let me—someday, somehow—I promise, I will love you forever.”

  Despite her stubborn, iron will, Jordan staggered to the side, and she had to steady her balance: both physically and emotionally.

  She was still reeling from his confession—he’d known what she was up to all along—and she was stunned by his dragon’s threat. This male absolutely believed she belonged to him, and he’d meant every word he’d said: He would never let her go.

  And now…now…she was also spinning from his surprising pledge of affection, his promise to love her forever. By all that was holy, the dragyri was impossible to gauge.

  He was fearsome, dominant, and tender…all at the same time.

  He was terrifying, beautiful, and savage…all at once.

  But most of all, he was telling the truth.

  It was written all over his face.

  Jordan licked her bottom lip—it suddenly felt dry—and she slowly sauntered past him. “Karen and Axe are waiting.”