Page 5

“The hunger of a dragon is slow to wake, but hard to sate.”

—Ursula K. Le Guin

“Our reconnaissance last night shows that four of the nine Immortals Ryu identified are here at this conference. It is possible more will come before the main event, which is set for tonight.”

Wolfe reported this with terse efficiency. The man was rather taciturn by nature, a trait shared by all of the dragon Beasts in Ben’s acquaintance.

Except for Ere.

But then, Ere was special and always would be.

“Name them,” Ben said, his attention split between the quest for the dragon eggs and his own personal quest for his Mate.

He scanned the hotel restaurant, where the extravagant breakfast buffet was in full swing, for the one person he most wanted to see.

“Jing Bai. A Dark One, by my estimation,” Rui said, taking up where Wolfe left off.

Wolfe was wearing a casual white button-down with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, cargo shorts and sandals. A typical tourist, ruggedly handsome. Rui, on the other hand, wore a sleek qipao styled cap-sleeved shirt with intricate woven buttons, matching trousers and silk slippers. She looked like a Western man’s wet dream of an oriental beauty, except for the edginess of her short white hair.

Though they seemed like opposites, the type of people who might never meet, let alone form a relationship, if you looked closer, you could almost see the invisible strings that drew them inexorably together. The kind that only existed between Mates.

“He is the Asia head of the conference committee, based out of Chengdu, China,” Rui said. “His human cover is an eccentric and discerning collector of antiques. Because of his wealth and status, he has tremendous influence in the field of archeology even if he’s not directly embedded in the profession. By my estimation, he originated during the Shang or Ying Dynasty of ancient China during the second millennium BC, which would put him around three thousand five hundred years old.”

“Very powerful then,” Ben deduced.

“All of the nine Immortals are,” Rui said.

“But yes, he is perhaps the oldest of the four we’ve seen thus far. I don’t yet know what his Gifts are, or if he has any. As old as he is, he could move during the day with little effect from sun-inducing lethargy. Which comes in handy when he wants to interact with humans.”

“Alexander Galanis is another,” Wolfe said.

“Likely Greek in origin, or perhaps pre-Greek. Like the Pelasgians, from twelfth century BC. He also has a Dark base, and I am certain he is the one who possesses an animal spirit.”

Ben didn’t ask how Wolfe could tell. Beasts could always sense each other.

“What kind?”

“Raptor,” Wolfe replied. “It’s in the eyes.”

“He is registered as a guest in the conference.” Rui said.

“When I conferred with Devlin and Grace to look up his background, we found that his human cover is that of a private equity investor and venture capitalist. He is involved in many foundations, donating heavy sums of his personal wealth, including in archeological projects.”

“Then there’s Imran Bayat,” Wolfe continued.

“His whole name is much longer and more complex, but for his human cover and amongst strangers, he uses his shortened name. We believe he hails from ancient Persia, sometime during the Achaemenid Empire, two thousand five hundred years ago. He is a playboy philanthropist by all accounts, and spends his time jetting around the world, rubbing elbows with international royalty.”

“Let me guess,” Ben quipped, “he’s a Dark One.”

It was simple deduction. Pure Ones simply weren’t made to be “playboys” of any sort, even if it was just a cover.

Wolfe gave a brief nod.

“I am unaware that he has any Gifts, just that he always seems to win at any type of gambling. Even when he loses, according to the data Devlin and Grace have on him, it seems purposeful.”

“The fourth person we identified yesterday is Kirana Sinaga,” Rui said.

Ben started, looking away from his vigilance of the buffet for the first time.

“Doesn’t the last name mean ‘the dragon’?”

“It does,” Rui confirmed.

“She is of Indonesian descent, no telling how ancient. I believe she is the Pure One with an affinity for water. As I am a water dragon myself, I can sense her power.”

“Is she the one who actively opposes Dark Ones?” Ben asked.

“We haven’t been able to determine definitively,” Wolfe replied. “But this female is very ancient and very powerful. She is…”

He exchanged a look with his Mate.

“Intense,” Rui answered.

“Like a fearsome god of old. Her human cover is that she is descended from ancient royalty, which is probably true. She has no real profession, given the wealth that her supposed ancestors would have accumulated. She moves in rarified circles and seldom makes a public appearance. When she does, it is to bid for obscenely expensive artifacts at private auctions. The fact that she is here, in a public setting, is worthy of note.”

“Any Gifts?”

“We do not know,” Wolfe said.

“But she is well versed in martial arts as well as all types of dance. Grace was able to dig up that last tidbit about her.”

“Of course, given how ancient and powerful all of these Immortals are,” Rui interjected, “we must assume they are all extremely adept in combat, Gifts or no.”

“I’m surprised so many of the nine Immortals are here at the conference,” Ben mused, rubbing his bearded chin in contemplation, his eyes wandering back to the buffet and scanning the enormous ballroom-sized space of the restaurant.

“I wonder what brought them here. No relics are being unveiled as far as I am aware. Only presentations, roundtable discussions and tours are on the official agenda.”

“At a minimum, they must know each other,” Wolfe said. “Just as Ramses knows all of the most powerful Immortals around the world, just to keep tabs on one another.”

Ben nodded.

“Perhaps they are here using the conference as an excuse to meet up for a specific purpose.”

“Or, they’re here individually in search of something or someone at the conference,” Rui offered.

Ben thought that idea had merit as well.

“Have you had any…I don’t know, treasure hunter tingles?” Ben asked Rui.

The relatively cool and reserved woman quirked a corner of her lips up in a barely-there smile.

“Actually, I do have tingles,” she said. “Just a sense of something precious or something important calling to me. I don’t believe what we are looking for is here, in Bangkok. But it’s in the general vicinity of Southeast Asia. I can feel it.”

“The dragon egg or something else?” Ben asked.

“I think it must be the dragon egg,” Rui said. “I can feel an additional layer of affinity to it. As if it ought to be…”

She worried her lower lip and exchanged a loaded look with her Mate.

“Ought to be…” Ben prompted, looking between them.

“ Mine ,” they both said at once.

Which was so startling, Ben blinked at them, nonplussed.

Rui cleared her throat, looking a little shy. Wolfe wrapped one arm around her narrow shoulders in a rare display of affection.

Of all the dragon couples, this pair wasn’t very demonstrative. But it was clear that their love was deep and abiding.

“Then it must be yours,” Ben murmured, empathizing with their desire and yearning, written so clearly on their faces.

“We will find it together and bring it home.”

The three friends ate in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts.

Until Rui said:

“Have you met anyone of note, Benjamin? You seem distracted, your eyes always wandering in search of…someone.”

“She’s here,” Ben murmured, keeping his gaze on the occupants of the restaurant that flowed in and out like schools of fish.

Neither of his friends had to ask who “she” was. And neither of them asked how he knew it was her.

Briefly, he felt Rui’s small palm cover the back of his hand before she let go.

“I am happy for you, my friend,” she said sincerely. “No one deserves a Mate more than you.”

He glanced at her for a moment, flashing a sheepish smile.

“She’s not my Mate yet. She doesn’t even remember me.”

“But she will eventually,” Rui said with quiet conviction.

“In the meantime,” Wolfe put in, “you just have to win her the old-fashioned way.”

Ben smiled wide at his friends.

“Oh, I plan to. Nothing can possibly stop me.”

With that in mind, Ben shoved off from the table, saluted Wolfe and Rui goodbye and went in search of his Mate.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Lizzy should probably be practicing her speech for the evening, but…she was never one for studying and preparing.

Her logic was that the more she thought about something stressful, the more it made her stressful. She had her notes on flashcards. She had her slides and videos that contained all the pertinent information if her brain suddenly shorted on a thought. She’d be fine.

She wished she wasn’t the Keynote Speaker. It was an awful lot of pressure. But there were other much more illustrious speakers before and after her. Hopefully, sandwiched in the middle, the audience would just forget she was there.

Besides, there was a ball right afterwards.

A freaking ball!

With champagne and fireworks at midnight!

The organizers of this conference really outdid themselves. She’d never attended an archeological gathering that involved formal dancing and extravaganza of any kind.

Lizzy didn’t own any ballgowns. But she brought a long, flowy white dress and called it a day. Maybe she’d even put some mascara and lip color on tonight, some blush too. Maybe she’d pull her hair back in a claw, but she was never great with styling updos. It was a toss-up how they turned out.

She also brought a pair of lightweight heels, the kind that made you feel like you weren’t even wearing shoes. As she almost never wore heels, this was her making an honest effort. They were pretty tall too, almost four inches.

But that was as much thought as she gave to the main event this evening. It was still twelve hours away.

She had the whole day to herself, free from planned activities. The organizers encouraged participants to use this time to mingle and get to know one another, to make connections.

Lizzy was intimidated by social mixers. She was a natural introvert.

She liked getting to know people on a deeper level through one-on-one interactions or in a small tight-knit group. She often didn’t know what to say when strangers at large functions spoke to her. Apart from the greetings and shared professional interests.

She always felt like she could say the wrong thing at any given moment. That she would embarrass or startle the person she was speaking to or, for that matter, herself.

She knew she had this handicap through years of experience. She was an emotionally intelligent person, she’d like to believe, but she wasn’t socially savvy.

Perhaps she inherited this trait from her mother. Serena had a tendency to be too direct. To say whatever popped into her head without a filter.

Like the time Lizzy had a couple of Japanese foreign exchange students over at their house for a month.

One day, one of the girls, Hana, commented on how long Lizzy’s legs were when they were all in their swimsuits to head to the public pool.

Lizzy hated her gangly legs that practically went up to her armpits as a girl. She looked like a giraffe. Had all the awkwardness of one, too. The rest of her only elongated to normal proportions after she turned sixteen.

She was just about to say that she wished her legs were shorter when her mother interjected:

“They only seem long because Japanese people’s legs are disproportionately short on average.”

GAH!

All three girls had swiveled their necks toward Serena and gawked at her with owlish eyes.

“Well, it’s true,” she went on doggedly, not the least disturbed by the impact of her words.

“There are many Japanese residents where I used to live. My grandmother was a seamstress. They took their clothing to her to mend and make. She always had different patterns for the Japanese because of their measurements.”

Lizzy sighed and shook her head just thinking on the memory.

She didn’t think she was as bad as her mother. If she said something inappropriate, she was at least self-aware enough to immediately reflect upon it, and sometimes she even caught herself before it burst out of her mouth.

In truth, if she was awkward (which she definitely was), she rather suspected it was all her. No one else to blame.

Her father was a man of few words, but he always read the room impeccably. He was a natural leader. Lizzy was certain it had at least something to do with his innate ability to navigate people. If she inherited traits, surely some of his finesse would have rubbed off on her?

But she also believed that every individual was born with a unique soul. Their personalities might be shaped by their upbringing and environment, but their fundamental core was all their own.

Lizzy didn’t often think about her “soul.” But she simply knew it was old. Yet, she didn’t feel particularly wise.

In fact, she felt brand new in a way. Reborn. She was discovering who she was day by day. There was so much to learn.

Fancifully she thought that, if there were reincarnations, she liked her current self best. This was her true self. And all the other ones were mere practice.

So, she better get this right!

Her father always said that she could be whatever she wanted; her parents would always support her. But he had one requirement—she must be a good person. She must be kind and fair. And while everyone was selfish to some extent, which was okay, she must be able to empathize with others and resist the temptation to judge.

Maybe Lizzy was more reflective today because she was turning thirty. By Bangkok time, it would occur at exactly 11:05PM.

She had a whole day to herself, and she wanted to give herself the gift of contemplation and exploration. So, once she got an extra set of key cards to her room at the front desk, she slipped out of the hotel to wander about the city before the crush of tourists flooded it.

She was sorry to miss the fancy buffet in the main restaurant, but Lizzy had always loved street food, and Bangkok had so many nooks and crannies of delicious hole-in-the-wall kind of local food.

Before long, she was lost in the markets on Charoen Krung road. As she milled through the throngs, weaving and winding around each of the local seller stands, she was hit yet again by a sense of déjà vu.

Why did she feel like she was here before? Why did the colors seem so familiar to her eyes? And the sounds seem like echoes of memories past? Why did her mouth water for sticks of fried fish and seafood balls?

And why did she feel the presence of someone else beside her, sharing the treats she discovered.

Like a ghost.

And yet, so real as well. She was tempted to look behind her to check if he was there.

And it was a “he.”

She missed his company. She missed him even before she knew who he was.

Who was he?

Had her overdeveloped imagination run away with her? Was she fantasizing about her dream man even in the real world?

Lizzy knew she was capable of it. Sometimes, when she was alone on archeological digs or simply trekking across deserts or lush green plains, she talked to herself as if he was with her. Told him about her day. About what she’d discovered and experienced.

She talked to him as if he was real. There were no witnesses to hear her muttering to herself, so she felt free to have proper conversations with her invisible partner. She never felt lonely, even when she was alone.

But…

She’d always known it was her own fantasy she was talking to.

Now, she felt as if she’d conjured him into being with her wishful thinking. She could almost feel him…somewhere in the world…coming closer…

He was real .

Suddenly, she stopped where she was, in the middle of the crowd, while people simply carried on around her like schools of fish around coral reef. A faint breeze tickled the hairs on the back of her neck, sending a rash of goosebumps all over her skin.

Someone lightly brushed her bare arm as they walked past.

Involuntarily, she shivered hot and cold, all of her senses going haywire. Especially as the elusive scent of Man with a capital “M” washed over her briefly, faintly.

But it was enough to make her heady. Make her close her eyes and inhale deeply. Filling her lungs with his unique aroma, far more tantalizing than any of the delectable treats all around her. Infusing her veins like the most potent aphrodisiac.

Making her stomach clench with need. Making her heart thump to a powerful, ancient beat.

She wanted to revel in this feeling. She’d never felt anything like it before. She’d never been this affected before.

The closest thing was this morning when her beautiful neighbor had walked toward her like he was walking right out of every wet dream she’d ever had.

Someone jostled her hard, making her come out of her trance.

A short, dark man muttered in Thai, probably something to the effect of “why must I suffer these inconvenient tourists blocking traffic.”

Lizzy murmured an apology and got out of the way, making a hasty retreat to the sidelines, apart from the crowd.

Her heart was still beating hard, her pulse racing inexplicably, while she caught her breath in the coolness of the shade beneath an awning.

Maybe it was the summer heat. She was already covered in a fine sheen of sweat, tendrils of hair sticking to her skin.

But as she tried to calm her short breaths, she felt the insane urge to cry. And the more she gulped for oxygen, fighting the balmy air of Bangkok, the more she gasped, her emotions all over the place.

It was that time of the month. Must be. She didn’t have fits like this— ever . And all because she thought someone was there who was not. All because of some figment of her imagination.

It was ridiculous!

“Get a hold of yourself, Lizzy!” she chided herself in a furious whisper.

“Miss, are you alright?”

A lovely dark-haired woman stood beside her, looking concerned.

“Oh!” Lizzy exclaimed, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, embarrassed.

“No, everything’s fine. I’m just… it’s just…”

“Something plucked at your heartstrings unexpectedly,” the stranger smiled in understanding.

Lizzy paused at the astute assessment, the desire to weep finally subsiding.

“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t usually get my heartstrings plucked though. So this came as a surprise,” she admitted ruefully.

“It happens to the best of us,” the lady said. “The heart is a mysterious thing.”

Lizzy smiled back. She was helpless not to.

The woman’s pretty face was so fresh and inviting. Kind and empathetic.

“I’m Diana, by the way,” she introduced herself, holding out her hand.

Lizzy took it.

Diana didn’t pump her hand in a typical business-like shake; she simply squeezed Lizzy’s fingers gently like a wiser, older woman comforting a younger, less experienced one.

Except, Diana didn’t look any older than Lizzy, and Lizzy tended to look younger than her actual age, given her Asian genes. But Diana had an air of serene calm and sagacity about her that made her seem much older than she looked.

“Elizabeth,” Lizzy said. “But everyone calls me Lizzy.”

Diana smiled wider, finally letting go of her hand, making Lizzy realize she was still holding it.

“You have an American accent, Lizzy. Are you just visiting Bangkok?”

“It’s funny you say so,” Lizzy remarked with a grin. “I’m from Omaha, Nebraska. I shouldn’t have any accent at all. And yes, I’m here for a conference.”

“Well, I’m from Monterrey, Mexico,” Diana shared, “and everyone from the United States have a distinct accent to me. I know it differs depending on where you live in the U.S., but you all sound ‘American.’”

“Fair enough,” Lizzy said, nodding.

“And may I say, I love your accent, Diana. Your English is impeccable, likely better than mine, but there’s a sweet lilt in the way you speak.”

“Yes,” Diana acknowledged. “Spanish spoken by the people of Monterrey is often noted for its sweetness. You have a good ear, Lizzy.”

“Are you visiting too, Diana? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The other woman tucked a voluminous wave behind her ear before responding.

She reminded Lizzy of a young Catherine Zeta Jones from the movie Zorro . Her Taiwanese grandmother loved that movie. A lot of Asians did. They generally appreciated the beauty of Latin cultures as well as the people. Even though Ms. Zeta Jones was Welch by origin.

Diana wasn’t as…voluptuous in her beauty as the actress, but she was just as lovely. And more inviting, less intimidating, because of her loveliness.

“I came for a conference as well,” she replied. “I am a writer, you see. It’s actually research for my next book. I pulled some strings and got myself an invitation. It’s always easier to do primary research when I can ask the authors of various publications my questions directly.”

“What kind of books do you write?” Lizzy asked, curious.

“Oh, all kinds,” Diana said with a smile. “I do love a good historical romance, though. The more ancient the better. It’s almost like fantasy, because we know so little of times long gone. Yet, it’s always rooted in kernels of truth, in the artifacts we find. Isn’t it tantalizing that fantasy could be reality?”

“I totally agree.” Lizzy nodded vigorously.

“I daydream all the time, inventing stories for every discovery I make, no matter how small. I’m an archeologist, you see. It’s a field of science, but it’s also very much an art. You can get lost in it so easily, imagining yourself in that bygone time, weaving stories in your head about how people lived. And when I imagine these stories and write them down, I feel like I’m bringing them back to life somehow. Making fantasy into reality.”

She stopped talking abruptly, abashed when she realized she’d been going on.

“Sorry, I tend to get excited when I talk about my field.”

Diana simply shook her head, an indulgent, warm smile gracing her lips.

“I like you, Lizzy. I really do. I feel like we’re kindred spirits.”

Lizzy beamed at her.

“Well, I must be going,” Diana said. “I have a few interviews to do this afternoon. Perhaps I’ll run into you again sometime, Lizzy. I hope I do.”

“Me too!” Lizzy agreed.

After they waved goodbye, Lizzy’s stomach gurgled a sonorous complaint, reminding her that it was time to eat. Her metabolism was a ravenous beast. Like her mother, she needed to eat three full meals a day and snack every two hours, or her “hangry” side would rear its ugly head.

Luckily, she was standing beneath the awning of a spicy crab hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and she loved to eat crab of all kinds.

There was a line, however, to get into the clearly popular place. For a few moments, she was torn between committing to the food here, which smelled divine, and looking for another quicker fix.

Until her short hairs tingled again like spidey senses, freezing her entire body stock still—

As her impossibly beautiful neighbor ambled toward her from within the shop.

Ambled might not be the right word, Lizzy reflected distantly as her nose twitched like a nervous rabbit and her eyes widened like an owl’s.

Sinuously stalked like a predatory feline was more like it. Or was it sinfully stalked? Confidently strutted?

But no, he didn’t strut. “Strut” implied a certain amount of arrogance and cockiness, that might or might not be justified.

This man simply moved as if he was supremely confident in his own skin. Unconsciously graceful. Smooth and deadly.

Yeah, deadly. Because just the way he moved made her want to melt into a puddle in a fit of vapors.

And Lizzy had never fainted in her entire life!

“Hello, neighbor,” he greeted in that quiet, purring rumble when he came way too close to her as she stood in the back of the line.

Lizzy was a stickler for personal space, but at the moment, her feet seemed permanently glued to the ground. She couldn’t move away if she tried.

His body heat surrounded her like a physical cloak. Except, it didn’t make her uncomfortable, despite the balmy climes. But it did increase her sweating…for different reasons.

In fact, she was “sweating” between her thighs quite profusely.

She swallowed before she spoke, given the pool of saliva that had filled her mouth.

“Hello.”

His brilliant green-blue eyes crinkled down at her.

Lord, but he was tall. And heavens, but his smile was bedazzling.

“I’m glad to see you here,” he said, his voice low and confiding, as if he was revealing an intimate secret.

She shivered.

“You are?”

He inclined his head slightly. Regally.

Everything about the male was regal.

Magnificent.

Splendiferous.

Lizzy swayed unsteadily.

He stepped half a foot closer, their bodies almost, but not quite, touching, as if his mere physical presence would steady her.

But he was the one upsetting her equilibrium in the first place!

“I had a feeling you might come by,” he murmured in that rumbly, husky baritone.

“You did?” she echoed inanely.

Lizzy! Her brain yelled at her with metaphorical hands-on-hips. You have more intelligence than this. Stop behaving like a nitwit!

“Can I entice you to join me for a late lunch?” he invited, looking perfectly calm and unaffected, likely just being nice.

“I have a table in the back.”

“You do?”

She wanted to kick herself for being such a bubble head. But she couldn’t gather intelligent thoughts and verbalize them to save her life.

He leaned in a little, curling down towards her almost…protectively, giving her a whiff of…

That scent!

That unique, mouth-watering, euphoric, I-can-make-you-scream-in-ecstasy scent!

Lizzy’s eyes got even bigger, nostrils flaring. Her heart began pounding in that heavy, momentous drumbeat again, like the building crescendo of Ravel’s Bolero .

(And if there was a piece of classical music more sensuous and passionate than Bolero , Lizzy didn’t know it).

“Don’t be nervous,” he said softly, clearly noticing her discomfiture. He must literally be able to see her sweat.

“I promise I don’t bite,” he offered with a cajoling smile.

That didn’t help.

At. All.

The man’s smiles were lethal.

“I’m not nervous,” she said in a tinny voice.

Then, cleared her throat.

“And biting isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

Lizzy wanted to slap her hands over her mouth when that last thought slipped out without getting filtered.

Suddenly, all of the oxygen got sucked away from the air between them. His pupils all but eclipsed his irises as he narrowed his intense gaze, keeping her arrested, and a vibrating sound seemed to tumble from the back of this throat.

Not quite a growl, not quite a purr. And not made by any animal Lizzy had ever encountered. As if it came from a creature much larger than a lion or a tiger.

The only thing that popped in her head was—

Dragon .

She gulped again and gave herself a mental shake as her extremely grouchy stomach reminded her to focus on the crisis at hand.

“Anyway, I appreciate the invitation,” she managed to say.

“I am pretty hungry.”

His eyes roved slowly, purposefully, over her face, pausing at her mouth, then her throat, before coming back up.

“I am too,” he rasped, his voice even deeper than before. So deep, it made her tremble pleasurably.

She wasn’t sure if his hunger was the same as hers.

And then her “sweating” vagina reminded her that maybe her stomach wasn’t the only part of her that was hungry.

“Come with me,” he said as he finally released her from the gravity of his body by stalking sinuously toward the back of the restaurant.

Lord have mercy!

The back of the man was just as breath-stealing as the front.

She sent a prayer up to the powers that be. Please, if there is a god, don’t let me make a cake of myself!

Taking a desperate deep breath, she squared her shoulders and followed.