Banning had listened intently to every word she said. Memorized the expressions on her face, let the unending emotions his expressive mate experienced be branded upon his heart. What he’d thought would be the last time he would ever see Myanna, soon became so much more.
Completely captivated by the one made for him by the Universe, the Guardsman was shocked when she looked at her watch, jumped to her feet, and exclaimed, “Oh crap! I was supposed to be home by now. The medical supply people are coming to get their equipment and Lillian has choir practice.”
Looking up, smiling so sweetly his heart felt as if it would fly from his chest, Banning could hardly believe his ears when she conspiratorially whispered, “Thank you for listening. See ya’ tomorrow.”
Watching Myanna walk away, unable to do anything to stop her, powerless to accompany her, Banning fought the waves of desperation and held tight to her parting words. She would be back tomorrow, back to see him...to bond them even more closely together.
He’d heard her thoughts, finally been able to reach through their magical link that connected their hearts and souls and see into Myanna’s spectacular mind for more than just a brief moment in time. It had been nothing short of wonderful. Both man and dragon were filled with a renewed hope that they both prayed would somehow lead to a life by her side.
Then it happened…she called him her dragon. Yes, it had only been a thought, a whisper in the deep corner of her mind, but she’d said the words and claimed him as her own. If only he could speak to her, use their bond to communicate, let her know how very much she already meant to him. Searching his memories, looking for a way to cut through the old crone’s magic, Banning began to count the minutes until he would see her again.
When she returned, just as the sun was rising in the east, she’d been drinking her coffee and talking about her day to come. Each word, each syllable, drew Banning closer to actual telepathic communication with his awe-inspiring mate. He’d seen in her mind that she worked with criminals, men convicted of violent crimes. The conflict within both man and dragon was immediate and explosive. Myanna was a strong, intelligent, independent woman, very different from the women of his time, but so alluring and irresistible. Deciding right then and there that if he was ever able to spend eternity as a real and true mate of her heart, he would accept everything about her with no reservation. He would be whatever she needed.
And so it went, day after day, week after week, Myanna would stop on her way to work in the morning, visit him during her lunch hours, and then return in the evening to talk about her day, staying until the last rays of the sun disappeared from the sky, no matter the weather. It was the most glorious time of Banning’s entire life. Love, something he’d never truly understood or expected to have, bloomed like the first red rose of spring, pushing through the barren earth, unfolding its petals toward the sky, spreading the sweet, life-affirming scent of hope for the days to come. It flourished and grew, making the Guardsman and the Dragon King with whom he shared his soul believe in miracles and pray that the Heavens would grant them the only one they truly desired.
It had happened slowly, during the hours that he stood motionless, listening to the woman who’d captured his heart and brought light to his soul, a complete change in his original plans. Banning realized that he had to see her. Had to be with her. Had to look into Myanna’s eyes as he told his tale. There was absolutely no way he could live out his life, whether as a statue or a man, without professing his love. He had to try to break the curse that had kept him prisoner for nearly two centuries.
“And should she reject me, I will return to this fountain and live out eternity as an inanimate object, knowing I did everything in my power to claim the mate of my heart,” he declared to his dragon.
Growls followed by scalding plumes of smoke and the thrashing of his long, barbed tail, signaled Gerallt’s dissatisfaction with Banning’s decision to accept defeat should it happen. Chuckling at his dragon’s discontent, the Guardsman answered, “Yes, my old friend, I too wish I could simply whisk her away. That I possessed the time to woo her, to show her how very much I already love her, and to assure her that I would protect her with my very life, but time is not our ally. We will take the few moments that we are given and make the most of them.”
Calmer than he had ever been, Banning heard the sixth chime of the clock in the tower of the old abbey across the park. Listening intently, his mind free of everything but thoughts of his mate, his heart nearly leapt from his chest when the distinct sound of Myanna’s car echoed through the twilight. Not only was he a bundle of nerves, but his dragon adamantly refused to calm, pushing with all his might against the confines of the Guardsman’s mind and slashing at the black film of the crone’s evil curse.
Focusing on Myanna, waiting for the moment she would be close enough for their minds to connect, he immediately sensed that something was terribly amiss. Her gait was slower than usual, her head was bowed, and her normally bright and shining yellow, pink, and blue aura had become subdued, the colors taking on a gray hue, looking dusty and lonely.
Time stood still as she took that last, all-important step, passing the row of holly bushes he watched the landscapers trim to perfection every thirty days. In an instant, Banning could feel the warm caress of Myanna’s mind. The worry that had been festering within his own psyche simply evaporated. He felt whole, alive…at home.
Watching as she sat in her usual spot on the marble deck of the fountain pool, the Guardsman could feel his mate’s melancholy, her worries became his, and from one heartbeat to the next, the reason for her distress was playing out in his mind. Looking through Myanna’s eyes, Banning took in the tall, thin, disheveled man, prison inmate, who sat across the table.
Tattoos covered his bald head, neck, and arms; markings of skulls, curse words in large, dark ink, pentagrams, and even a swastika. The Guardsman had to believe there were more but couldn’t see them as the prisoner was covered by the baggy orange jumpsuit monogrammed with the letters DOC and an eight-digit number over the left side of his chest.
“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” the man rasped, leering at Myanna, his blackened teeth showing beneath his sneer.
“I am here to complete your court-ordered therapy. My name is Dr. Myanna Havers. I’m the prison’s psychiatrist.” Banning could hear the trepidation in her voice but was very proud at the way she squared her shoulders and looked the convict in the eye.
If this man dares to touch her, I swear by all the Ancients that I will find a way off this bloody podium and rip his head from his neck…
Grinning as his dragon wholeheartedly agreed, the sound of Myanna’s voice drew his attention back to her memory.
“Why don’t we start with why you’re here, Mr. Dubronski?”
Leaning back in his chair, the man crossed his arms over his chest, rolled his eyes, and sighed. “You know why I’m here, lady, and if you think I’m gonna tell some uppity bitch like you a damn thing about my life then that judge done fucked up.”
“And why is that, Ted?” Myanna laid her hands atop the manila folder on the table in front of her and added, “May I call you, Ted?”
“You can call me anything you want as long as you get down on your hands and knees and show me that tight, sweet ass of yours.”
Red-hot flashes of fury raced through Banning like a runaway train. Gerallt roared, spitting fire while throwing himself against the impenetrable black magic of the witch’s spell. Pushing with all his strength, the Guardsman did everything possible to infuse calm and loving support to his mate, only to have it bounce back. Shaking with fury, he was floored by his mate’s courage and control. She was nothing short of amazing, for the dragon knew that without a doubt he would have torn the louse limb from limb the second he opened his mouth.
And so it went on, sixty long, treacherous minutes, during which time Myanna sat still, staring at the tiny ripples of the water, silent as a mouse. Wishing with every fiber of his being that he could communicate, just say one word, give one ounce of assurance or comfort to his mate, Banning breathed a sigh of relief when she raised her lovely face, tried to chuckle, and gave him a weak smile.
“I had a really hard day and I just don’t want to go home to an empty house. I know Lillian had to go back to her apartment, and for the most part, I’m okay with living alone. It’s just…” Her words trailed off as she looked down and dipped the tips of her fingers into the water, drawing lazy figure eights, her mind awash in more emotions than Banning could distinguish.
“Well, it’s just that I wish I could take you home with me.” She barked out a hollow laugh. “Wouldn’t that be something? How would I ever explain to the neighbors that I took the dragon from the park because I like talking to him?”
Oh, mo ghrá, I love talking to you. Love every second we’re together. I long to have you in my arms, forever and always…
Trying not to be frustrated. Doing everything in his power not to lose faith, Banning hung onto Myanna’s every word. All too soon, she got to her feet, shoved her hands into the pockets of her long camel-colored woolen coat, and smiled up at him. “I thought about bringing a sleeping bag and sleeping right here with you, but I’m somehow sure it’s against the rules.” Leaning closer, she added, her tone little more than a whisper, “But I will be back in the morning. Stay safe my dragon hero.”