Chapter Eight
Jacob’s legs felt weighted to the ground and, with every step he forced his feet to take back to the sofa, his head shouted for him to go the other way. He should leave now while he was still a man. He remembered the last time he’d heard River’s music. What if he transformed right here in her sitting room? She thought he looked like Drakkon. Could he ever tell her that he was Drakkon? He should go, before things got more complicated. But he stayed, watching River disappear down the hall.
What was he doing getting deeper and deeper into her life? Replacing her cattle, telling her and her father about Garion’s foster father, Marrkiya, sitting here waiting for her to sing to him. His head wanted him to run, to fly. But his heart refused to let him.
He’d lied to her about Red being in the French Alps. He didn’t want to scare her. He’d stay for a few days and make sure Red wasn’t coming back. And then he’d leave.
But presently, he sat back down.
He thought about her father seeing Marrkiya. Helena had told him in Fiji that Marrkiya, the last of the ancients that Jacob’s father had transformed, had been the one responsible for Patrick White’s death. And he knew why. He didn’t blame Marrkiya. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to tell River.
He’d probed Hagan Wray just a bit, enough to understand the effect seeing Marrkiya had had on his life. He knew nothing he said was going to change the man’s mind, so he hadn’t tried. Besides, he’d sensed River’s heartache for her father. He’d wanted to help.
Why hadn’t she told him about her father seeing the Aqua? That made three Drakkon in this family’s life. What were the chances of that? Were the stars somehow involved? It would be a cruel twist of fate to meet the woman he was meant to be with, now that he was immortal. Now that he’d let her believe he and Drakkon were separate.
She returned a moment later holding her sheet music in one hand and an old guitar in the other. He watched her approach, unable to look anywhere else. He liked the way her glossy hair danced around her shoulders, the kindness and courage illuminating her eyes, her long, coltish legs.
“I thought you might play it on my guitar,” she said, sitting next to him and handing him the sheet music. She continued speaking about tones and pitches, bars and bridges. He hardly heard any of it. It was too easy to lose himself in her large, soulful eyes. Her scent drew him closer. He wanted to take her in, drench himself in her fragrance. His eyes fastened on her lips while she spoke. Kissing her would be too dangerous. He was here to help. There could never be more than that. But he wanted to kiss her, taste her. Hell, he’d never wanted anything so bad. But what if the stars sang?
Helena had told him she’d heard the heavens sing when she’d first kissed Garion. It meant they were life mates, bound together for eternity. Good for them. They were both Drakkon. He didn’t want to spend eternity with one woman. He didn’t want to miss her for that long. Every day, each time he spoke to River, he grew more afraid. What if he lost his heart to her? He was afraid it might happen if they shared their breath in a kiss. He had to keep his control intact. His will could not fail him now. He was leaving soon.
“So if I use this chord—” She looked up from her music and into his eyes. “It should…” She paused, her naturally coral lips parted on a silent breath, then dipped her gaze, veiling her eyes behind long, black lashes.
What was he doing? He was scaring her. This wasn’t him. He didn’t behave like an awkward virgin around women. He was cool, detached, mysterious. This had to be Drakkon. “I’m sorry if I…” he said roughly and moved away.
She lifted her gaze back to him. He was tempted to probe her thoughts more deeply, but he’d promised her he wouldn’t. “Who are you, Mr. Wilder? You hunt dragons and play lead guitar in your spare time—”
“It’s the other way around,” he corrected with a smile. She didn’t approve of his hunting Drakkon. It was an odd surprise to hear from a human. A good surprise. “In fact, I spent many years avoiding hunting them.”
“Then what changed?” she asked.
“I stumbled upon the White while I was vacationing in Fiji. I’ve been tracking him since.”
“You hate him,” she said with a heavy voice.
“No, I don’t. I feel sorry for him actually. Imagine your entire race being eradicated and the only way you’ve survived is by staying hidden from the eyes that would want you dead if they saw you. The eyes of the entire world.”
Not the entire world.
He heard her silent thought and tried not to smile. Not her. He turned his body to face her and lost the battle to remain stoic. “I sense a fair heart in you, Miss Wray.”
A hint of scarlet brushed across her cheeks. It was real and rare. Would she still blush after years of being together?
“Call me River.”
River.
He blinked and his eyes opened wider on her when he realized what he’d done. She blinked as well, hearing his voice in her head. He had to fix it.
What is this you’re doing to the worm?
Drakkon?
Jacob watched, captivated by the faraway look in her eyes, the slightest shift in her breath when she spoke to Drakkon.
“River,” he said softly, pulling her from other thoughts.
Her gaze focused on him and she smiled.
“But sympathizing with them,” he continued, “doesn’t change the truth. We can’t let them refill the sky. Mankind wouldn’t survive it.”
She nodded but looked away. Is he right, Drakkon? Would dragons turn on mankind?
Eventually, yes. The strongest survive.
You would let them kill me?
He should tell her that he was Drakkon. He didn’t care what other Drakkon did. But it wasn’t true. That’s why he was here. He cared. About her.
No, I wouldn’t.
She relaxed her shoulders and Jacob was tempted to touch them, to help her with the weight she carried.
“Do you think the Red will try to contact the White? To join forces or something?
“No,” he told her. “The Reds are warriors. They share different beliefs than the Whites, whose purpose in the days of the ancients was to keep the peace.” He stopped for a moment, then exhaled, then raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s a complicated tale.”
“Yes,” she smiled at him. “And you still haven’t told me the first complicated tale about your father.”
“He stole Marrkiya’s treasure.”
Her eyes opened wide, compelling him to look deeper into them. “Why? Why would he do that?”
“Because he was a fool.”
“What was the treasure?” she asked breathlessly, caught up in the story.
“I’m told it was a woman.”
Her lips parted and his gaze dipped there. “The dragon loved a woman?”
“It’s mostly rumor,” he told her. “I won’t go on.”
“I don’t mind.”
Neither did he. That was the problem. He could sit here on her sofa with her and tell her everything. He was telling her too much. Why? Why was he continuing this game of Drakkon and the lady? He was leaving, wasn’t he?
“Let’s see what we have here,” he said veering away from the topic. He reached out and took the guitar from her hands, grazing his fingertips over hers way back, hovering close. He probed. Her thoughts were of him.
When he set the guitar in his lap and played a few strings, he cringed.
“It’s old.”
“It’s just out of tune,” he assured her with a tender glance. “I can fix it.” She’d been content to compose on this thing. He could try to make it sing. He wondered how she could compose music and not be able to tune a guitar. Unless, “You don’t play?”
She shook her head. “It hurts my fingers, but Ivy plays a little. I prefer a piano.”
He dragged his gaze off her and looked around. He didn’t see a piano anywhere. She should have one.
“Do you play anything besides the guitar?” she asked, pulling his attention back to her. How could she think she was plain? Hell, she was mesmerizing, sapping him of strength to resist her.
He nodded. “A few things. My sister is the true musician though. She plays violin for the New York Philharmonic.”
The little gasp that parted her lips made him forget what he was doing.
“That’s amazing,” she said. “Your family must be very proud of both of you.”
“We have no family,” he said and finished tuning the guitar. He set the sheet music between him and River on the sofa and, without any further explanation about his past, began to play. The melody started off soft but then grew heavy, chaotic, a driving force that drew him in and clung to him like vines, tethering him to her.
Her music spoke of something dark and out of control, of longing for the elusive. How did she know? How did she write music that captured who he was?
The only thing that kept him from altering was concentrating on the notes, the chords—and, thankfully, his training in Skye. She hadn’t written an ending, so he added one of his own.
Done, he put the guitar down and kept his gaze hidden beneath his long lashes. Drakkon was close. Jacob could feel the fire burning his eyes. It wanted her. Its feral desire clenched his muscles and stiffened his bones. What would Drakkon do to her besides scare her to death? He had to control it. If he was ever going to tell her the truth about who he was, this wasn’t the time.
“Are you all right?” she asked, leaning in to place her hand on his arm.
He nodded and looked at her as the embers died down in his eyes.
“Did you like it?” she asked a little breathless. “I did,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “You made it sound better than when it was in my head.”
“You just need a better guitar.”
“No, you were feeling it,” she told him, though he was sure she hadn’t probed his thoughts. “I could see it on your face. You played it with the passion it needed and it sounded really good. I love the ending. Graham is going to like it.”
“He’s crazy if he doesn’t but why would you sell it for so little?”
She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Because it’s what the band can afford, and I have plenty more songs.”
“Good, because I could probably help you license them and get them into the right hands.”
Her eyes widened on him, along with her smile, addling his thoughts for a minute. “Why?”
“Because you’re talented.”
“Millions of people are talented,” she countered quietly. “You’ve already done too much.”
One corner of his mouth hooked up in a curious smile. “Too much for what?”
“To ever repay you.”
“Who said anything about repaying me?”
She tilted her head to get a better look at him, then finally turned on the sofa to face him. “Are you an angel? I mean, if dragons are real…”
He breathed out a husky laugh. “Far from it.”
“Then what’s behind your protection and help?”
She certainly had a suspicious nature, didn’t she? Jacob didn’t know what to answer, so he went with the truth. It hardly ever worked in the past, but River was different.
“I like you,” he said, leaning in slightly. The urge to kiss her, to smell her overwhelmed him. She wanted it too, leaning in with him. Her mouth was close. He could smell tea on her breath and vanilla in her hair. He moved in closer, tempted to run his fingertips over the alluring curve of her jaw, to brush his lips over hers, to spread his tongue over the seam of her mouth.
No. He didn’t want to hear the stars, and he believed he would if he kissed her.
He withdrew hesitantly. Denying himself the pleasures of a woman wasn’t something he was familiar with, but he fought his will and won.
“I should go,” he said, moving off the sofa.
“To Tarbert?” she asked. The disappointment in her voice drew him back. “How can you protect me from Tarbert?”
She was either truly afraid of dragons, which was a good thing, or she didn’t want him to leave for other reasons. From what he knew of her so far, she didn’t frighten easily. Hell, he couldn’t help but crook his mouth up at her pretty face. She made him stop thinking of anything else but her. What about flying? His dream had finally come true and here he was, grounded to the earth by a woman of all things! She made him feel weak and willing to do anything, even lie to her, just to be near her. “I was going to go outside and look around.”
“Oh.” Her soft voice fell across his ears. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then.”
“Unless,” he said, despite every warning going off in his head, “you’d care to join me.”