Dance of the Dragon Page 2

  “…calm down. Calm down, Gabby. Easy. You’ve been through worse. This is a piece of cake…”

  Gabby.

  Well, at least he had a name to go with the woman who would lead him into hell.

  It was a cute name. One that didn’t quite match her pink-and-purple hair, tight mini skirt, and revealing halter-top. There was something definitely off about the woman.

  Fuck. Off about the entire situation.

  “She seems to like your storage closet.” The dragon snapped angrily as he considered giving Suzanne a head’s up about pills, as though by doing so he would betray a confidence. Before he could say anything, the woman emerged once more. This time, he was prepared for the sucker punch of arousal when her blue eyes found his. “Ah, and she comes out.”

  Suzanne grabbed the woman’s wrist before she could escape again. With her professionally friendly smile plastered on her mouth, she motioned to Taryn. “This is Taryn. He’s a regular here. You’ll see a lot of him. Good thing he’s easy on the eyes.” She laughed with feminine appreciation.

  Gabby licked her lower lip in a gesture that signified nerves rather than interest. Her eyes sparked with a mixture of emotions that roiled as fast as her thoughts. All too overwhelming for him to sift through and make sense of. Not when he had his own dire question taunting the end of his tongue.

  Taryn took her in, inch by inch. Tall, slender, narrow waist, ample curves where it mattered most. She appeared to be fit, with sleek, feminine definition on her exposed arms and legs. She was everything from a man’s most erotic dreams, down to the subtle sweetness he scented on her skin and the rapid thrum of her heartbeat. Her chest rose and fell with nervous breaths and his eyes flicked to the showcase of her breasts.

  “Who’s your mother?”

  He bit out the question as he leveled his gaze on hers. He hadn’t expected his words to sound harsh. Then again, he hadn’t expected to have a lifemate, let alone for her to be the daughter of a pathological liar whose morals would shame an alley cat.

  Gabby blinked once. The gentle slope of her brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

  “Your mother.” Taryn leaned his forearms on the edge of the bar, pinning her with a demanding stare. “Who’s your mother?”

  Her lips moved as if to speak, but no sound came out.

  Taryn smirked, tipping his head to look at Suzanne. “Don’t think she’ll last more than an hour here if she can’t find her tongue.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to be rude,” Gabby snapped.

  Taryn quirked a brow. Slowly he shifted his attention from Suzanne’s suddenly frustrated expression to meet a flash of an unexpectedly fierce Gabby. “I asked you a question. Twice. And you couldn’t provide me with an answer. I find that rude.”

  “Your question itself was rude. What relevance does my mother have to anything?”

  Oh, a fire burned inside her for sure, but so did fear, regret, and a number of other things that he sensed threatened to snuff out that flame.

  “Everything…doll.”

  “Janice Metz.” Her upper lip pulled back in distaste. Something dark and fierce flashed through her eyes. “And don’t you ever call me doll again.”

  Janice. Of course.

  This was Janice’s daughter.

  This was Corvin’s daughter. Taryn refused to acknowledge his deceased Keeper’s characteristics in her when he saw the woman following Rodney like a rabbit dragged into a den of predators. But they were there. She had the angles of his face, his height, his fire.

  Oh, Corvin. If you weren’t already dead, I’d kill you myself.

  Taryn scowled, making sure Gabby caught every second of his displeasure as he shoved off the bar. “That you won’t have to worry about.”

  As he stalked out of the club, leaving a confused Syn and Briella at their table and a less than pleased Suzanne at the bar, Taryn could barely rein in the hunger and rage that warred within him. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and paced down the sidewalk, oblivious to the pedestrians who dodged him with varying degrees of surprise and irritation.

  His dragon was of no help.

  Neither was his conscience.

  Because in the end, she was his lifemate.

  It was only a matter of time before the need would consume him and he’d fall right into Janice’s thirty-something-year-old trap.

  Chapter Two

  “Rule number one. Don’t piss off the regulars. That’ll get you a one-way ticket out of here faster than you can say sorry. Favor or not.” Suzanne rolled her eyes. “And especially don’t tick off him.”

  “Regular or not, he was out of line.”

  Gabriella Metz—Gabby to anyone who cared to get to know her—jerked back when Suzanne turned to wag a manicured finger at her face.

  “Regular or not, Gabby, Taryn takes care of us here and provides a solid revenue for this club. Not to mention he’s intervened when some of the rougher customers get out of hand.”

  Gabby fisted her hands by her sides, trying to mentally smack aside the voices torturing her mind. Clearly, doubling up on her anxiety medication in preparation for this evening had been wasted effort. Sadly, nothing could drown out the vicious thoughts that rolled through the owner’s mind as he led her to the bar. Or the disapproval that churned in the bar manager’s head despite the patient expression on her face.

  Not to mention all the rude, condescending thoughts that wafted through the club, unheard by patrons.

  “Fine. Sorry. Won’t happen again,” Gabby said through a clenched-toothed smile. Suzanne eyed her steadily before nodding once.

  “This way. I’m going to give you a tour before I let you shadow Jill. This isn’t your first bartending gig, is it?”

  Mom, we’re talking when I’m done with this shift.

  Because it was her mother who’d forced her into this job. Her mother who’d long exploited her ability to hear the thoughts of strangers to manipulate unsuspecting people into doing her bidding.

  It was that very reason Janice had been able to put the screws to the owner, who happened to be “happily married” with three children all under the age of ten, and blackmail him into giving Gabby a job.

  Right now, she hated her mother more than that jerk who had called her doll.

  How dare that ass…

  But something in his look, the way his gaze stroked over her body and unraveled heat she feared to experience, tempered her anger.

  Something in his look when she disclosed her mother’s name warned her of who Taryn truly was. Of what he was.

  As she obediently followed Suzanne through the small room where she’d stowed her purse and into an adjoining room lined with shelves of liquor, a female’s thoughts slipped into her mind. One she’d heard when Rodney led her from his office into the bar.

  “She wasn’t lying to him. That’s her daughter. That’s his lifemate. And he knows it.”

  Yeah, her mother told her about the lifemate thing. About a man she’d belonged to long before she came into this world. Something about her father holding a special role in a secret society before her mother escaped his wrath.

  At some point, he was killed and left an inheritance for his daughter with the lifemate. Enough money to set Gabby and Janice up for the rest of their lives.

  All you ever cared about, right, Mom? The money. Always the money.

  “I hope you’re paying attention,” Suzanne’s stern voice cut through her thoughts. Gabby cleared her throat and nodded. “Good. You’ll be trained, but this place is high-paced and moves fast between six and midnight. Later on the weekends. You’ll need to have your head in the game.”

  If I’m even here that long.

  No, it wasn’t her first bartending gig, but she wasn’t a pro. Her anxiety and panic attacks often got in the way. She didn’t deal well with crowds, especially drunk ones. She had a niggling feeling that no dose of medication would help her where Taryn was concerned. Not if her body played rebel with her mind. And he was a regular
?

  She was screwed.

  I will not be his property. I’ve been property far too long.

  A chill seeped through her bones. She wrapped her arms around her body and rubbed the goose bumps from her biceps.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll keep you hopping. You won’t be cold for long,” Suzanne said after she finished explaining the setup of the liquor cabinet. She flicked her manicured nails. “This way.”

  * * *

  She survived.

  Barely.

  She shadowed Jill as best she could, making a drink here and there when her trainer allowed it. She fought to ignore others’ thoughts as best she could, but the strange theme of those thoughts left her desperate to escape the club. Some wanted to bite her. Some wanted to sniff her. Some wanted to taste her soul.

  When Suzanne cut her loose before midnight, she didn’t hesitate to leave.

  New Orleans was a city steeped in the paranormal and the occult. She got that. But did people really take it to the next level and actually act on their crazy fantasies of magic and bestial natures?

  She’d been surprised a month ago when her mother insisted they move to the Big Easy. Janice had seen something on the news, but Gabby was in the dark as to the details of what that something was. Even after extensive Internet searches at the library, Gabby found nothing.

  Well, almost nothing.

  She did find a blog with an article about a crazy riot of some kind in the French Quarter involving dragons and witches. As if. There was even a short video clip of a spectacular light show in the sky over the Quarter. Her mother hadn’t been forthcoming about the events, choosing to belittle Gabby instead. It was one of her favorite diversion tactics.

  “Does it matter, Gabriella? It’s an opportunity. A huge opportunity for us to finally have the life we deserve. I’m sick of living like trash. Everything I’ve done is for you, and you’re so fucking ungrateful for it all. Let’s see how you thank me once your lifemate gets his hands on you. When he’s showering you in gold and jewels. Let’s see then, girl.”

  Yeah, showering her in gold and jewels while he forced her to do the kinds of things in the bedroom her mother made vividly clear in speech, display, and hands-on tutorials.

  Warmth filled her cheeks at the shaming memories.

  Gabby paused on the sidewalk, staring ahead in the direction of the rundown trailer park they now called home. It was a hike, and her mother refused to let her use the car.

  Behind her, life flared on the streets in the form of music and laughter, the rumble of car engines and the faint clip-clop of horses’ hooves. A momentary escape.

  She tugged her sweater jacket more tightly around her body and veered away from the trailer park to head back into the French Quarter. She ducked her head as she passed the front doors of her newest place of employment and picked up her pace until she hit the bustling streets closer to the heart of the Quarter.

  “Gonna enjoy the city a bit,” she told herself under her breath. With her bag clenched tight to her waist, she slowed to take in the brilliant lights, sumptuous smells from the local restaurants—God, what she’d do to be able to dine in one of those joints—and the people thronging the carless street. “Wow.”

  Her senses took a hit, but her mind, and the endless tangle of chatter happening inside her head, absorbed the brunt of it. Her vision dimmed and her body weakened. She hated the voices, especially the crude ones of passing men who imagined her naked. Or worse.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as the familiar band of fear and anxiety began to tighten around her chest.

  Somehow, she managed to keep her breathing steady and somewhat shut her mind to the dirty and defiling thoughts that trespassed on it. Each breath eased the tension until it was somewhat bearable.

  “Hey, there. You okay?”

  Gabby realized she’d stopped walking and pressed a hand to her chest. She faced the direction of the questioning voice. Two men in their twenties approached, one with a brown bag wrapped around an obvious bottle, the other taking a deep drag from a cigarette.

  The thoughts of both men raised a red flag in her mind and renewed the anxiety she had just managed to calm.

  “Fine,” she muttered, turning away. She managed a step before strong hands grabbed her shoulders. “Hey!”

  Her purse was ripped out of her hands. She grappled for the strap.

  “Hey! They’re robbing me!” Gabby yelled. She tugged on the strap, but the bottle wielder splayed his hand over her face and shoved. She shrieked, losing her balance and her grip on her purse. She hit the ground, hard. Pain shot up her hip and elbow as the men ran off. Slowly, she sat up, brushing pebbles and dirt from her clothes, fighting back the vicious stir of anxiety and the onset of tears. “Damn it to hell.”

  She needed that purse. She needed her meds. She wasn’t due for a refill for another couple of weeks. She could handle losing the twenty bucks Jill had shared with her from her tips. She hadn’t expected a dime on her first night. But she needed her medications.

  “Let me help you.”

  Gabby jerked her head up. A woman with dark hair, startling violet eyes, and a kind smile held out a hand. Gabby watched suspiciously until she heard nothing in the woman’s pleasant thoughts but concern. Cautiously, she allowed the woman to help her up.

  “They were brazen, robbing you so close to Bourbon Street. Did they get away with much?”

  Gabby sighed and brushed off her short skirt. “I have medications that I need. And some money.” She rubbed the back of her hand against her temple, trying to calm the raging storm inside her before it shattered her strength in public. “It’s just the shock of it all.”

  “I understand.” The woman, whose eclectic garb of velvet and frills and a hooded cloak reminded Gabby of the attire of a masquerade witch, dug into a pouch fastened to a belt slung around her hips. “I’m Amelia.” She held out a small circular disk on a leather cord. “Here.”

  Gabby looked at the offering. The disk was dark, bronze perhaps, with a red jewel set in the center. “No. I can’t accept it.” She motioned blindly toward the busy street ahead of them. “I should really find the cops.”

  “They won’t be able to do much at this point. Thieves are shadows here. Take this. It’ll protect you.”

  Gabby quirked a brow as she lifted her gaze to Amelia’s. The first person, surprisingly, who came to mind as she met the violet eyes was the obnoxious, intimidating regular from the club. Taryn. “I don’t understand. Why would you want to protect me?”

  “You’re new to the Big Easy. As exciting as it is, it’s still a city. And a city filled with…things you wouldn’t otherwise come in contact with.” She tilted her head, a delicate crease forming between two dark brows. “You are here for a reason, are you not?”

  Gabby straightened without taking her eyes off the smaller woman. Amelia nodded once.

  “I’m a psychic and a witch. I’ve seen you before tonight.” She pointed to her temple with a purple-painted nail. “You need protection, and if you’re not open to accepting it from a person quite yet, accept my gift.”

  “Do all of you openly admit to what you are here?”

  The woman’s smile turned knowing. “Do you even know what you are?”

  Gabby stared. Did she know? Yeah. She was a train wreck from a twisted home with little identity she could call her own. She was a penniless, voice-hearing crazy who housed more demons in her mind than any level of Hell might host overnight.

  The only thing that kept her going was a strange, unformed hope of something better that refused to let her be. It kept her afloat in her tarry sea of nightmares.

  Amelia moved her hand and the dangling bronze disk closer to Gabby. “Take it. Please. There are no strings attached. I want nothing in return. There are worse dangers that’ll hunt you down in this city than those two purse snatchers.”

  Gabby’s hand moved of its own accord. As her fingers slipped around the disk, she absorbed a flow of warmth that seemed to suffu
se her chilled body.

  “Thank you.”

  Amelia’s eyes sparkled. “My pleasure. I must be going now. Perhaps you’d enjoy some time by the river? Just to make sure you don’t come across those two again. You never know what blessings might cross your path. You’re a lifetime overdue for kindness.”

  “Yeah.” Gabby squeezed the disk and brought her clenched fist tight to her chest. For the first time since arriving in this city, she found it in her to smile. Honestly smile. “Thank you again.”

  Amelia tilted her head in a regal bow and joined the pedestrians on the busy thoroughfare of Bourbon Street. Gabby wasn’t sure when the woman melted into the crowd, but one moment she was there, the next she was gone.

  Not a single person seemed fazed by the strange occurrence.

  And the merciless thoughts that plagued Gabby’s head just a little while ago had…quieted. They weren’t gone, but the internal volume she’d never learned to control had subsided to a manageable level.

  She looked at the disk in her hand. A faint zing of energy soaked into her palm and she thought the red jewel flickered. Never had she given thought to the possibility of magic. There was no room for it in her bleak existence.

  Yet as she gazed into the jewel, she felt a barrier inside her crack just enough to let in a trickle of wonder. She held something magical in her hand. There was no other way to explain the heat and the energy, or the intermittent flickering of the jewel. She heard voices in her head that weren’t a result of a mental health issue, although it caused a cluster of them in return.

  I should go home.

  Oh, but Amelia’s suggestion of a stroll by the river sounded so peaceful. It would put off the unpleasantness that awaited her at the trailer.

  Gabby kept to the busier streets as she made her way to the river. Jackson Square bustled with artists and mediums and musicians. Café du Monde—her mouth watered as the sweet smell of fresh beignets and chicory coffee wafted toward her—appeared to be doing a brisk business despite the hour creeping close to midnight. She’d barely realized her steps had slowed as she neared the café until her stomach grumbled with hunger.