Vixen Page 6

  Ion comes up behind me, unlatches one of the wide windows, which is functionally more like a door, and swings it open wide.

  We step outside into the mild night air.

  The stars are twinkling in the twilight above us, and the air is crisp with mountain scents. I breathe in deep draughts of it, clearing my head of the stifled thoughts that plagued me inside.

  Out here, I have little to fear. I could turn into a dragon in an instant and fly away before Ion could even catch up to me, if I wanted to.

  I cross to the railing and place my hands against its cool surface, looking out over the scenic mountains, all shadowed and brooding in the dark.

  It’s beautiful out here. I can understand why Ion would choose to live here—why, out of all his family’s holdings, he’d pick this one as his favorite. The air is so clean. There is no one, save for Eudora and her yagi—no one outside the dragon world, for miles and miles and miles.

  Here, a dragon can be a dragon without fearing what people might do or say.

  Ion leans backward against the railing beside me, perched almost sitting atop the balusters, his body turned inward, toward the castle, his arms crossed over his chest. It’s a bit like he’s facing me, except we’re beside each other.

  “Did you find it?” He asks after a long silence.

  “Hmm?” I’m lost in thought, wondering what it would be like to live out here in these lonely wilds, to live out my almost-immortal dragon life in this untamed safe place.

  “The artifact you were looking for?”

  I keep my expression stoic, completely neutral, but on the inside, I’m fighting a war.

  Do I keep up this masquerade, or tell him why I’m truly here?

  How can I expect him to be honest with me, if I’m not honest with him? He’s been more than generous with his time, his tour, dinner. Do I owe him the truth?

  Do I owe him anything?

  Do I want what I came here to get?

  I turn, leaning my hip against the railing, facing Ion, studying him.

  Do I really want this mysterious man? In so many ways he’s all I’ve ever hoped for. But he’s also burdened with a long, tragic history. I don’t doubt it’s a fascinating history—but is it something I want to live with?

  And most importantly, can I trust this man? Jala’s warnings still ring in my ears. I don’t think Ion has put a spell on me. But how can I know?

  Ion has waited several silent minutes for an answer while I’ve been debating what to tell him. Now he uncrosses his arms and plants his palms against the railing. “Or perhaps you don’t want to tell me whether you’ve found it? Do you need to come back?”

  What is it about his question that makes it almost sound as though he’s reluctant to have me back? “Jala wanted me to fill in so she could return home for a visit.”

  “That’s fine if Jala wants to return home, but you need to recruit someone else to do her job. Someone who’s not a dragon.”

  “What?” I can’t believe I’ve heard him correctly. His words were clear, articulate, and all that, but I must have misunderstood him. I must have. “I fixed your shoulders. You said it’s been weeks since anyone—”

  “Months, actually, but that’s not the point. I can live with caught shoulders. I cannot—” Ion swallows. His palms, which were open, now tighten into fists, which he taps against the railing as though he’s fighting something.

  Not me. He’s not fighting me. I don’t even feel threatened. Whatever he’s fighting is inside him.

  He straightens so he’s no longer leaning against the rail at all, and he turns to face me. For all his life experience, he looks no older than any guy at my school. With his scars all covered up, you’d never guess he was different, except for his glowing eyes. “You cannot visit me again, Zilpha, daughter of Ram and Ilsa.”

  For a moment, I can only stare at him. Is he testing me? Playing some kind of game? “I had a pleasant visit.”

  “Yes. Well.” He flexes his fingers as though to relieve tension. “I hope you found what you were looking for. If there’s anything more you need, state it quickly. I do not intend to receive you as a visitor here again.”

  “But, what did I do?”

  “It’s not what you did. It’s who you are.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Ion’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t explain.

  I’m still trying to sort out what could possibly have caused him to go from being a welcoming, generous host, to turning me away forever. “Did I forget to say thank-you? Was it some point of etiquette? Did I use the wrong fork? You only gave me one fork. Was it a trick?”

  “I don’t care about etiquette. You’re a dragon, Zilpha. A beautiful, rosy-eyed, female dragon. And your parents would kill me if they had any idea…” his voice trails off. He makes a noise in his throat that might be a whimper or a desperate laugh, I don’t know which, but neither makes me feel any better about this situation. He pulls his hair-tie out again and runs his fingers back through his hair before smoothing it down and tying it back just as it was before. “I don’t understand why they sent you. Is it because you look the least like your mother, and they thought somehow I might not recognize you?”

  “They didn’t send me.”

  Ion stops his fidgeting and stares at me. “Of course they did. To find the artifact.”

  “There is no artifact.”

  Ion’s eyes are hardening into an icy glare. “Do they know you’re here?”

  It occurs to me that, among the cardinal rules of safety when dealing with potential kidnappers or what have you, there’s something about never letting your enemy know you’re alone. Meaning, if Ion wants to do harm to me, the last thing I should do is let on that no one knows I’m here (save Jala, who’s only human, and not nearly a threat to Ion) because if he decided to kill me or lock me away in his dungeon (he didn’t show me a dungeon on the tour, but in a castle of this size there’s got to be one, or at least an inescapable room somewhere half underground) the only thing that might possibly stop him would be the knowledge that my ferocious dragon parents might show up any moment to rescue me.

  Which they can’t do if they don’t know I’m here.

  And they don’t know I’m here, but I don’t dare admit as much to Ion, do I?

  I stand up as tall as I can. “Of course they know I’m here.”

  “You’re lying. You’ve been lying to me all visit long, Vivica. I can tell.”

  Can he really tell, or is he only calling my bluff to see if I get twitchy?

  This is no time to get twitchy.

  I harden my glare. Rosy eyes can turn icy, too. “I am not lying. They do so know I’m here.”

  “To fetch the artifact?” Ion raises an eyebrow that says he’s caught me.

  I stare him down, narrowing my eyes as I try to think. Come on, there’s got to be a way out of this. But what? I’ve already denied there was an artifact. If I go back and say there is, I’ll have to admit I was lying when I said there wasn’t. Either way, I have to admit I lied, which only proves Ion right.

  Meanwhile, Ion has grown tired of playing stare-eyes. “Why are you here?”

  I purse my lips and try to think of a good reason. “Jala wants a vacation—”

  “Don’t.” Ion throws his hands into the air and takes a few steps away from me. “Don’t mock me. I have been nothing but generous to you. I showed you my study. We went in the nursery—a door I should have kept closed forever. Did you come to see if I’m a threat? Are you going to report back that I am a pitiful, miserable excuse for a dragon? Is your family going to sit around the dinner table and laugh at how pathetic I’ve become?” He paces as he talks, not looking at me directly until the very end, when he meets my eyes. “I just want the truth.”

  How can I lie to him after that? Everything he’s just said is true—save for the projections of what I might do, and his self-assessment. He is not pathetic or pitiful. If he’s miserable, well, I’d be miserable, too, if I was al
one for so long.

  He deserves the honest truth.

  “Ion?”

  “Hmm?”

  “My family knows nothing of this visit. It was all my idea.”

  “Why did you come?” He steps closer to me. His eyes are no longer so cold. Does he believe me? I think so.

  My voice is quieter. It’s difficult to admit something like this in a loud voice. It’s not something I’m proud of, not something I want the world to know. “I came here because you’re the only eligible male dragon in all the world. I had no other choice, not unless I want to remain single forever.” My gaze is fixed on his face, which looks almost bewildered, so I spell it out as clearly as I can. “I came here to seduce you.”

  Something snaps like lightning behind his eyes. He doesn’t move, but his voice goes frigid. “You need to leave. Now.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Clearly there’s been a misunderstanding. I shake my head. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just mean—”

  “It doesn’t matter how you mean it. What you’re proposing can never be. It’s late. You need to go and never return.” His voice has gentled slightly, but his eyes are still snapping with a fury akin to terror.

  “But I had a very pleasant visit—”

  “That is irrelevant.”

  “I want to see you again.”

  “It is impossible.”

  “No, it’s not.” I might be sort of starting to hyperventilate. Does Ion have any idea what he’s saying? What he’s denying me? “Look, I understand that I upset you. I’m sorry.”

  “None of that matters. You need to go.”

  “I can’t just not see you ever again, okay? I care about you.”

  That got his attention. He looks like he’s seething, or something. “You cannot possibly. You don’t know who I am. We’ve spent one evening together. One. And that’s all we’ll ever spend. Now, if you won’t go, I will.” With that, Ion turns on his heel, marches back into the ballroom, and closes the door behind him, leaving me on the balcony alone.

  I run up behind him and grab the door handles, but by the time I try to turn them, he’s already got them locked.

  “You can’t just leave me out here!” I yell, hoping he can hear me through the glass. If not, he should be able to read the words clearly on my lips. “You told Jala you’d walk me home!”

  Ion pulls the draperies closed. The many yards of silk flutter and float, settling into place over the windows so I can’t see him.

  I stare at the windows, trying to decide what to do. I could break the glass, but the windows are so lovely, I don’t want to destroy them. Besides, what would it gain me?

  I stomp toward the railing and look out at the valley below. What now? Am I supposed to turn into a dragon and fly away? I don’t really want to do that, because turning into a dragon means growing too big for these clothes, which means I’d either have to split them out at the seams so they’d be ruined, or strip down to my bloomers right here on the balcony. Neither of those appeals to me.

  I turn back to face the windows. The other curtains aren’t pulled closed yet, and I can see the candlelight from the candelabra on the piano. Ion wouldn’t leave the candles burning unattended, so he must still be in there. But where? I can’t see him. The only place he could possibly be is right on the other side of the door he closed, behind the curtains.

  Why is he still standing there? Is he having second thoughts about shutting me out?

  I hurry over and stand in front of the door again, shouting so he can hear me through the glass. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this! I care about you. Do you want a child to play with those blocks in the nursery? Do you want to be alone forever? I am not your enemy. Whatever my parents did, that was a long time ago. I am not my parents. Do you hear me? I am not my parents and you can’t just shut me out of your life because of whatever happened—”

  “Be quiet!” Ion opens the door just wide enough to stick his face out and hiss at me. “Don’t you know there are yagi around? Keep your voice down.”

  I pounce on the crack and stick my arm through so he can’t shut it again. (Really, does he not remember I have four siblings? This is not my first shouted-from-the-other-side-of-a-closed-door conversation.) “Let me in. Please? I can explain.”

  “There’s nothing you could possibly explain that would in any way change anything.” Ion’s got the door held firmly in place, so that I can’t get it open any more, but neither is he smashing my arm, though he’d have every right to, I suppose.

  “Why?” I’ve got my face against the crack, now. With one eye, I can see his face, all furious and purse-lipped above me. “You knew who I was when I got here, but you let me in. Fed me supper—thank you, by the way, in case I didn’t say it enough before. All that time you thought I wanted to steal from you, but the moment I confess I actually want to love you, you kick me out.”

  “Don’t say that word. Don’t ever say that word again.”

  “Love?” Any doubt I might have harbored about which word he meant is dashed by the look on his face. I could have punched him and he wouldn’t look so pained. “What’s wrong with love, Ion?”

  “Just go.” He’s pleading now, and his hold on the door has loosened a bit.

  I suppose I’d have to be a real jerk to take advantage of his momentary weakness and push my way in now.

  But I’ve already lied to him half a dozen times, so what’s one more jerkish thing? I give the door one sudden, hefty shove, simultaneously slipping through the gap before Ion slams it shut again.

  He looks at me with pure, simmering resentment. “For your information, I was perfectly happy before you arrived.”

  “Happy?” I raise a challenging eyebrow.

  “Content.” He’s seething at me, all hundred-year-old-dragon-man and dude-who’s-only-my-age rolled into one.

  It’s a fascinating combination. “I’m not content, Ion. I want a family. I want my kids to grow up alongside their cousins—”

  “That is precisely why you need to leave here now.” Ion’s not so much shouting, as just speaking with an intensity that buries my words. “If you and I—” He throws his hands into the air and laughs, as though the very idea is unspeakably absurd. “Your parents loathe, despise, hate, and fear me. Your father has vowed to kill me on sight. There can never be anything between us. To pretend otherwise is to invite heartbreak.”

  “My mother doesn’t loathe you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I quizzed her all about you. She claims you’re evil and out to kill us all, but at the same time, she admits she was never sure about that.”

  Ion’s expression softens slightly. “Never sure?”

  “My dad loathes you, and my mom listens to my dad, but she has her reservations.”

  Ion’s listening, open-mouthed, but then he clamps his mouth shut, grabs me by the wrist, and crosses the room. “This is absurd. I should not even be listening.” He lifts the candelabra from off the piano and heads for the door to the hall, towing me not-too-unwillingly after him.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the front door. I realized once I’d shut you outside, I’d put you in an awkward position. That was not my intention. I was reacting to unforeseen circumstances. You can leave by the main entrance.”

  “You told Jala you’d walk me home.”

  “I told Jala I’d walk Vivica home. You’ll have to give her my regrets. I can’t be rid of you soon enough.” We’re walking through the halls at a brisk pace, down stairs and toward the front entrance. At this rate, we’ll be there any second.

  “Why not?”

  “You just need to leave.”

  “Why?” We’re in the foyer. I’ve got seconds, maybe only milliseconds left. I may never get another chance like this, so I’ll have to hit it with all I’ve got. “Is it because I make you feel things you don’t want to feel? Are you afraid of falling in love?”

  Somewhere about midsentence, he shoves me o
ut the door.

  The last glimpse I have of his face says I’m right.

  I’m exactly right.

  Small comfort as I walk myself home.

  I stomp a couple hundred yards down the path, pausing now and again to turn back just in case Ion has come to his senses and opened the door again. But no, the place is closed up tight.

  Then I realize it’s the middle of the dark Siberian night, and Jala’s probably sick with worry, so I pull out my phone and call her.

  “Are you dead?” She asks instead of saying hello.

  “Why? Is that the only reasonable excuse for calling so late?”

  “No. The other would be that you’ve convinced Ion to fall in love with you.”

  “Oh, he’s in love all right. Or something like that.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “So am I. Things were going really well, and then Ion seemed to panic. He told me to leave.”

  “Any idea why he panicked?”

  “I told him why I was really there.”

  “Zilpha!”

  “It’s okay. I think it was the right thing to do, except for the part where he threw me out. But the real takeaway is that I think he likes me, he’s just terrified about admitting it because my dad wants to kill him, and everyone he’s ever cared about has died, leaving him alone and brokenhearted in a big empty castle, haunted by his failed dreams of happiness.”

  “I didn’t actually follow all that.”

  “I’ll explain it to you tomorrow. I’m exhausted. I’m halfway back to the cabin now. I’ll be there in a bit. Leave the porch light on for me?”

  “It’s on now. But do be careful. The yagi are probably out, especially at this time of night.”

  The moment Jala says yagi, I smell them, and I remember. I’m supposed to be careful of yagi, because they’re bred to kill dragons, and I don’t even have my swords with me. How stupid of me for not being more careful! Just when I was starting to feel smart for figuring out why Ion threw me out.

  I open my mouth to tell Jala I’ve got to go, but the words won’t come. It’s like my mouth is frozen. My body is frozen where I’d stopped the instant I smelled them.