Grant Xavier stood alone amid the rocks and sand a half mile from his house. He stood motionless, his hands clasped behind his back, while the flames of the funeral pyre blazed brightly before him. He watched her shrouded body burn, returning her to the dust from which she had come. It was what she would have wanted, but still, anger and grief pulsed through his veins.
He’d warned her to stay away; that it wasn’t safe. But she’d been foolish.
Sonya had only just begun her third century, and her life had been snuffed out in the blink of an eye.
He didn’t know why they’d been bearing down on the city, closing in more and more each day, but the number of hunters in the area had grown in the past few months, and Sonya had been caught up in the feud.
By sheer coincidence, he’d heard her scream, recognizing her voice instantly, but it was too late when he’d gotten to her. She’d already slipped away, and those who killed her had fled—and that meant they hadn’t been human. No human could have escaped so quickly.
Not so long ago, they’d only had humans to worry about, but they were not the only creatures that posed a threat anymore. Feuds and fear—it ate away at all of them.
He’d brought Sonya’s lifeless body back to his home and prepared her, washing her wounds and dressing her in a shroud of her family’s colors, then gathered the grave goods he would send with her. It had taken him the rest of the day to decide, thinking of what she would have wanted to take with her. Sonya had been a warrior, but at her core, she’d never wanted to be; he would bury her with the dagger that had been her constant companion for the past two hundred years and her emerald necklace. It had belonged to her mother, a creature who abhorred the fighting, the hunting so much that she’d died refusing to take part in it—even to save her own life.
The medallion that had been entrusted to her was missing from her person, but he couldn't have buried her with it anyway; it would be his responsibility to protect it until a new keeper could be found.
But first, he would have to find it, and finding the woman who’d been in the hotel suite would be the first place to start.
He’d only seen her for the briefest of moments, but before that, when she’d exited the elevator and started down the hall toward the suite, he’d breathed in her scent and it had made him pause. It was something intoxicating; a scent he’d never experienced before. Then she’d called out, and her voice had grazed over his body like a caress. And when he’d caught a brief glimpse of her, he knew he would never forget her. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
But was it also possible she was a murderer? A huntress? She’d taken Sonya’s medallion; he’d seen it in her hand. But what did she intend to do with it?
The fire in front of him began to wane, and he set aside the questions for just a moment. He bowed his head and bid his final farewell to young Sonya, wishing her well in whatever realm she now inhabited.
“I will avenge your death, Sonya,” Grant whispered aloud. “Be ready; I’ll send them to you soon.”
And then he called up the heat that was ever-burning at the core of him. It filled his veins and surged through every fiber of his body, then it spread outward, bursting beyond the confines of his human form. In a flash, his flesh gave way to scales like armor, black and covered with a sheen like diamonds. No other dragon resembled him; he was bigger and the diamond-like patina was unique to his heritage.
He launched straight up into the sky, soaring high up into the shroud of night’s darkness, and then he flew toward the city, knowing she would be there somewhere.
He would find her. He didn’t need to see her to figure out where she was. One deep breath, and he’d know if she was there; one whiff of that intoxicating scent and he’d be able to locate her from miles away.
Minutes later, he had reached the city’s core, and he circled the Las Vegas strip’s hotels and casinos from high above, but she wasn’t there. He spread out further, focused on his task, his senses primed and ready, and then her scent reached him. It was like the finest wine; his mouth began to salivate at its earthy undertone and soft finish.
He followed the heady scent, waiting until the last possible moment to swoop down below the clouds. In a flash, he crossed the distance to the source: the open bedroom window on the fourth floor of an ordinary apartment building. He reined in the fire quickly, touching down on the balcony with human feet, and he peered in the window.
There she was, fast asleep, her lips slightly parted and her long eyelashes dusting the tops of her cheekbones. Seeing her, her body barely concealed beneath a thin sheet, a different fire surged to life, and he gritted his teeth against the arousal that surged through his veins. He’d seen plenty of attractive women—and had a good number of them, too—but no woman had ever had such a profound effect on him. The mere sight of her threatened to dispel every other thought from his mind.
Forcing his eyes off her, he crossed the balcony to a window a few yards away—a living room window, it seemed. Opening it quietly, he slipped inside, moving silently throughout the small space. He checked cupboards and drawers, a purse on the dining table, and even the bathroom cabinet. No medallion. There was only one place left to check, but he could still smell her, the heady scent drawing him closer. And he could still see her in his mind, her arms stretched up above her head on the pillow with just the sheet covering her slender frame.
There was no way in hell he was setting foot inside that room, not with the way he struggled against his body’s sudden need to touch her, to taste her…
Damn it! he cursed himself.
Using every bit of the control he’d garnered over the centuries, he forced himself to turn away, back through the small apartment and out the window he’d entered moments before. He stepped over the balcony’s ledge into a freefall, unleashing the fire from his core and shifting a split second later. He soared high and fast, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the sleeping beauty, now far below.
He flew back the way he’d come, not slowing until he’d reached his home miles away. He circled around several times, trying to make sense of his potent response to the woman. When he could find no answer, though, he pushed the question away, focusing instead on the task he’d charged himself with. He hadn’t retrieved the medallion, nor discovered for certain whether it was in the woman’s possession, but he now knew where she lived. She would have to leave her apartment at some point, and when she did, he’d search that last room and get it back.
He pulled in the fire and morphed as he touched down next to the funeral pyre that had smoldered to nothing. There was one more task to tend to that day, and the thought of it helped to quell the desire he felt for the strange woman.
He grabbed the shovel he’d brought with him earlier and started to dig. It would be a temporary grave—of course, her family would want to bring her home—but her law dictated that she be laid to rest quickly, even if that meant moving her to a final resting place later. With the hole then dug, he approached the ashes that were all that was left of his friend, and he gathered them carefully, first filling the urn that he’d locked away for his own burial, and then laying it gently in the ground.
The sad job done, he returned to his house, bid goodnight to the butler who had been with his family for five-hundred years, and dragged himself to bed. With no task to occupy his mind, he had suddenly grown tired; so much that despite the grief and anger he felt, he drifted off easily into a dreamless sleep.